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The entrance to Wonder Whirl Amusement Park was an explosion of flashing lights and cartoon mascots, a garish contrast to the group of rough-looking captains gathered beneath its arch. Nahoya stood at the centre, arms crossed, his signature grin even wider than usual.
“Damn, this is ridiculous,” muttered Taiju, eyeing the brightly coloured rides with an air of disdain. “Who even picked this place?”
“Don’t look at me,” Kazutora said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I voted for a bar.”
“Yeah, but it’s Smiley's birthday,” Takemichi cut in, giving Nahoya a sheepish smile. “He wanted this.”
“Hell yeah, I did,” Nahoya laughed. “What’s the point of a birthday if I can’t drag all you losers through an amusement park?”
Pah-chin groaned dramatically. “I’m too old for this.”
“You’re not even twenty, shut up,” Mitsuya said, rolling his eyes but hiding a grin.
Baji slung an arm around Nahoya’s shoulders. “I say we just throw him on the scariest ride here. That’ll teach him to be so smug.”
“ Y ou’re the one who’ll puke first,” Sanzu snorted, flicking his cigarette away before security could catch him.
Mikey, unusually quiet but already munching on a bag of popcorn, mumbled, “I’m going on the roller coasters.”
“Like hell you are,” Kisaki muttered, adjusting his glasses with a scowl. “We need you alive for the next meeting.”
Izana, smirking from the back of the group, chimed in. “I think we all need to lighten up. Let the birthday boy have his fun. Besides—” his voice dropped to a mockingly sinister tone, “—I heard this park’s haunted after dark.”
“Cut the horror movie crap,” Kazutora shot back, though a hint of unease crossed his face.
With a triumphant grin, Nahoya led the charge through the gates. They didn’t look like a gang today—just a ragtag bunch of arguing brothers, drawn together by obligation and a grudging fondness for one another.
The first ride Nahoya insisted on was The Spiral Vortex, the park’s biggest, fastest roller coaster. The line was long, filled with excited chatter from kids and families, but Nahoya didn’t care.
“I’m not waiting in this line,” Taiju grumbled.
“Then go home,” Nahoya shot back, and the other captains burst into laughter.
As they finally climbed into the coaster’s cars, the banter didn’t stop. Baji and Mitsuya were arguing about who would scream louder. Kazutora was trying to psych himself up. Takemichi and Kisaki were bickering over seat assignments. Taiju was threatening to “jump the hell out halfway through.” Sanzu just looked like he was already regretting his life choices, while Mikey silently munched on his second bag of popcorn, completely unfazed. Izana, of course, was laughing.
The ride was chaos. Nahoya’s cackling echoed over everyone else’s screams, his orange hair flying wildly as the coaster dove into loops and turns. Baji’s voice cracked mid-scream, Mitsuya swore loudly, and Kazutora was practically sobbing with laughter. Takemichi’s fake, cringe glasses nearly flew off his face, and Kisaki, gripping the safety bar like his life depended on it, vowed vengeance under his breath.
When they staggered off the ride, half of them pale and breathless, Nahoya was beaming. “Who’s up for the haunted house?” he announced cheerfully.
“God, no,” Pah-chin groaned.
“You’ll go,” Nahoya said, his grin widening. “Or I’ll post that video I took of you crying on the coaster.”
“You filmed us?!” Kisaki snapped.
“Duh. It’s my birthday. You’re all mine today.”
As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in brilliant hues of pink and orange, the captains sprawled on benches near a neon-lit fountain, the faint sound of carousel music echoing through the air. Their arguing had mellowed into lazy teasing, though it was clear everyone was exhausted from hours of rides, screaming, and competitive food stall games.
Pah-chin was half-asleep with his head tipped back against the bench, while Mitsuya absentmindedly fiddled with the hem of his jacket, trying to figure out exactly what kind of stitch was used here, he might ask Usaida later since he really couldn't figure it out right now. Kazutora and Sanzu were locked in a low-voiced debate about which ride was the scariest, punctuated by the occasional “You’re full of shit” and “Like you even kept your eyes open!” Baji was trying to convince Takemichi to go on one last ride, though Takemichi looked ready to throw up from the roller coasters.
Izana was leaning back, arms spread along the bench, his platinum hair catching the last golden light. Mikey sat cross-legged on the pavement, a rare smile on his face as he slowly munched through yet another bag of popcorn, where was he getting all this popcorn from?? .
Nahoya stood before them all, grinning wide, cheeks flushed from the wind and excitement. He was leaning on a bright pink plastic bag from a souvenir shop, tapping his foot impatiently.
“Oi, oi, where’s the damn cake?” he called out, mock-annoyed.
With a chorus of grumbles and half-hearted protests, Mitsuya finally sighed and pulled something from a paper bag he’d been hiding behind him.
“Happy birthday, jackass,” he said dryly, holding out a single sad-looking cupcake . It was a vanilla one with a lopsided swirl of coral frosting, clearly bought from the nearest cheap stand. Stuck right in the middle, speared by a toothpick, was a badly laminated photo of Nahoya —one that someone (probably Baji) had dug up from years ago.
In the photo, Nahoya was mid-laugh, eyes half-shut, with cotton candy sticking to his teeth and his hair a windswept mess. The lamination job was uneven and full of bubbles, making the image even worse.
The entire group lost it .
“Are you kidding me?!” Nahoya howled with laughter, doubling over. “Who the hell found this photo?!”
“Kazutora did,” Takemichi snickered. “But Baji made the laminated version.”
“It’s art,” Baji said, smirking proudly.
Sanzu was doubled over, wheezing. “It’s— it’s so bad , it’s beautiful.”
Taiju, despite his earlier grumbling, had a faint smile as he added, “Perfect for a clown like you.”
Nahoya, still cackling, snatched the cupcake and held it aloft like a trophy. “You guys are the worst—and the best.” His eyes sparkled as he mockingly sniffled. “I feel so loved .”
Kisaki, arms crossed and trying not to laugh, muttered, “Don’t get used to it. You’re lucky we even showed up.”
“Shut up,” Nahoya said, still grinning wide. “You all love me.”
And as the group sat there, lit by the neon glow of the amusement park and the last blush of the setting sun, they were still laughing, arguing, and pushing each other around. But there was something warm beneath the teasing—a rare moment of peace and camaraderie, where the captains of Toman were just friends , celebrating one of their own.
Meanwhile with the Vice's ...
The beach was loud . Not from the crashing waves or squawking seagulls, but from the sheer, overwhelming chaos that was the Toman vice-captains celebrating Angry's birthday. It was a riot of voices—shouts of laughter, playful insults, and the constant thud of volleyballs hitting sand. Someone’s portable speaker blasted a mix of obnoxiously upbeat J-Pop and chaotic punk, occasionally drowned out by Senju’s shrieks as she chased Kakucho with a water gun. The air smelled of salty spray, sizzling skewers on Atsushi’s improvised grill, and sunscreen. Every few minutes, a splash erupted as someone cannonballed into the surf, followed by raucous cheers or exaggerated groans of mock disappointment. The seagulls kept their distance, wisely staying far from the hurricane of energy the group created, while stray beachgoers looked on in amusement—or horror—as the vice captains turned the sandy shore into their own personal festival of nonsense.
“WHO THE HELL SAID THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?!” Peh-yan shouted, staggering as a wayward volleyball smacked him square in the back of the head.
“That would be me,” Chifuyu admitted, his grin sheepish as he and Hakkai chased after the volleyball, their bare feet kicking up sand. “But it’s for Souya-San , so stop complaining!”
“Exactly!” Souya called from the surf, his voice unusually loud over the crashing waves. For once, his face was flushed with happiness, and his usual tears had been replaced by a wide, if shy, smile. “This is so fun ! ”
“I didn’t even think you liked the beach,” Inui called from where he and Koko were attempting to construct a very structurally unsound sandcastle.
“I didn’t,” Souya said, plopping down into the sand near them. “But I do now.”
Senju, dressed in a neon-pink swimsuit with a bucket hat, was gleefully chasing Kaku along the shoreline with a water gun. “YOU’RE GONNA GET IT, KAKUCHO!”
"Not the full name, holy shit."
“I’M SORRY I DUNKED YOU, IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!” Kaku shrieked, but his laughter gave him away as he bolted through the surf.
Atsushi—who had somehow gotten sunburned already despite it only being noon—was attempting to grill skewers over a makeshift beach fire. “Does anyone even like shrimp skewers?” he asked, looking uncertainly at the slightly charred sticks.
“I do!” Hakkai called, jogging over with his hair dripping wet from a failed attempt at body surfing. “Souya should get first pick, though.”
“Damn right I should,” Souya said, standing up and brushing sand off his knees. He beamed at them, his cheeks pink from sun and laughter. “This is awesome . Thanks, guys.”
The chaos didn’t stop there though. They organized a sandcastle-building contest (which quickly devolved into Chifuyu and Peh-yan declaring war with their half-finished forts), a beach volleyball match (which no one kept score of because everyone kept arguing over who stepped out of bounds), and an impromptu surfing contest where Koko somehow wiped out within five seconds and spent the next twenty minutes sulking under a towel.
“Hey, come look at this!” Senju yelled, waving her arms frantically.
Everyone gathered around a sand sculpture that was— badly —shaped like Souya’s head. It was more of a lumpy mound than an actual likeness, uneven and starting to crumble in places. Someone had stuck a pair of mismatched seashells where his eyes were supposed to be—one white, one pink, both cockeyed—and tangled strands of damp seaweed for his hair, draped messily over the top. A few extra shells were haphazardly pressed into the mound to form a crooked smile, but the overall effect was more comically unsettling than accurate. There were footprints in the sand around it from where Peh-yan had tripped and fallen during construction, and a small bucket lay abandoned nearby, still half-full of damp sand. Despite how ridiculous it looked, everyone was snorting with laughter, pointing and taking photos as if it were a masterpiece.
“It’s… beautiful,” Peh-yan said with mock reverence, wiping a fake tear from his eye.
“Masterpiece,” Inui added, trying to keep a straight face.
Kaku solemnly nodded. “A true work of art.”
Souya turned bright red, laughing and trying to hide his face. “ Shut up! ” he said, though his voice was thick with happiness.
But the best part was when Chifuyu finally dragged over a birthday surprise —a slightly squished cooler that had a cake box inside.
“ T a-da! ” Chifuyu said, opening it to reveal a simple vanilla cake, decorated haphazardly with whipped cream and sprinkles. Sticking out of the top was a crooked candle and—just like Nahoya’s —a badly laminated photo of Souya , this one from when he was caught mid-cry while Nahoya playfully dumped a water bottle over his head.
Souya gasped, covering his face with both hands. “Oh my god! WHERE did you find that photo?!”
“Koko,” Chifuyu said proudly.
Koko smirked, leaning against Inui. “Don’t underestimate my photo archives.”
Everyone sang—loudly and off-key—as Souya’s face turned every shade of red imaginable. His laugh, soft and real, was almost drowned out by the sound of the waves and his friends’ awful harmonies.
“ B est birthday ever, ” he said quietly as he blew out the candle, his eyes glistening with more than just salt water.
Senju ruffled his hair, Chifuyu slung an arm around his shoulders, and Peh-yan attempted to shove a frosting-covered finger into his mouth. The chaos, the sand, the laughter—they were all Souya’s favourite parts of today.
And in the distance, the sun sparkled on the water as if to say: this was his day, and it was perfect.
And finally at home ...
The chaos of the day had finally died down. The captains and vice-captains had gone home, their laughter and bickering fading into the evening air like echoes of a wild festival. Now, in the quiet glow of their shared apartment, it was just the twins.
Souya was curled up on the couch, wearing a too-big hoodie—probably Nahoya’s, judging by the stretched cuffs. His damp hair was mussed from the ocean breeze, and a faint sunburn painted his cheeks. He was absently scrolling through photos on his phone, pausing now and then to smile at a blurry shot of Hakkai launching a volleyball or a group selfie with everyone crammed in.
Nahoya shuffled in from the kitchen, balancing two mismatched mugs of tea. His hair was still damp from the shower, and he was wearing a pair of plaid pyjama pants and a loose T-shirt. He handed Souya a mug without a word, then flopped down beside him, leaning against his brother’s shoulder.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They just sat there, cocooned in the quiet intimacy of their apartment, where the air smelled faintly of ocean salt and worn cotton. The soft, golden glow of the string lights they’d hastily strung up last year—and had never bothered to take down—washed over them like a memory of simpler times, casting gentle shadows on the walls. Outside, the world moved on without them, but in here, it was as if time had slowed, wrapping them in a hush broken only by the quiet hum of the fridge and the subtle creak of the old couch beneath them. The mugs of tea, cradled carefully in their hands, radiated gentle warmth against their palms, a small, steady comfort that reminded them that no matter how chaotic the day had been, this—this space, this quiet—was theirs alone.
“Today was pretty fun,” Souya said quietly, his voice a little rough from shouting and saltwater.
“Yeah,” Nahoya agreed, his usual grin softer now, eyes crinkling with genuine warmth. “They’re all idiots, but they made it a good day.”
Souya let out a small laugh, his head resting lightly against Nahoya’s. “I’m glad we both got to celebrate. With everyone. And… with each other.”
Nahoya was quiet for a long moment, the silence between them settling like a soft weight. Then he spoke, his voice low, almost a whisper. “You know, it doesn’t matter how many birthdays we have, how many dumb parties or cakes with ugly pictures we get—” His words caught slightly in his throat, his grin faltering into something raw and real. He paused, his gaze drifting to Souya, who was watching him with wide, glassy eyes, as though trying to memorize every word, every line on Nahoya’s face. “—I’ll always be here. Always.” His voice cracked just a little, and for a heartbeat, it wasn’t the loud, grinning Smiley captain talking—it was just Nahoya, a twin who had seen too much and still clung to his brother like a lifeline.
Souya’s hands trembled slightly as he set his mug down on the coffee table. “Me too,” he said, his voice cracking. “No matter what happens—Toman, gangs, the world, women, men, anybody, jobs, people—I’ll stay by your side. Forever.”
Nahoya’s grin trembled, and he wrapped an arm around his brother, pulling him close. “Of course you will, you idiot. We’re twins. There’s no ‘me’ without you. And there never will be.”
Souya buried his face in Nahoya’s shoulder, his laugh muffled and wet. “You’re the idiot,” he whispered.
The two of them sat there in the quiet, the weight of the day finally settling into something soft and lasting. Outside, the city buzzed with life, but in their little apartment, it was just them—the Devil Twins, wrapped in the kind of bond that no fight, no gang war, no distance could ever break.
“Happy birthday, Nahoya,” Souya whispered, his voice catching.
“Happy birthday, Souya,” Nahoya said, his grin shaky but unbreakable.
And they stayed there—shoulder to shoulder, heartbeat to heartbeat—until the apartment was filled with nothing but the steady rise and fall of their breathing synchronised, and the promise of forever.