Chapter Text
————
No one except Sano Manjiro, a.k.a Mikey, caught A̶k̶a̶s̶h̶i̶ Sanzu Haruchiyo's interest. He didn't know when it started but Haruchiyo gained some loyalty and a little bit of protectiveness towards him. Manjiro is his king and his number one priority in life; Haruchiyo devoted his life only to him.
And so that led to Sanzu viewing others as pests who don't deserve Mikey's attention, and this applies to that new kid that Mikey had befriended and would always talk about whenever he got the chance to.
Hanagaki Takemichi is the name of the new kid. And the two don't get along very well ever since Mikey put the blue-eyed male in the fifth division.
Sanzu thought that when Hanagaki joined the Fifth Division, he would only drag them down, but to his surprise, the blue-eyed male didn't.
While Hanagaki isn't the best at fighting and could only throw a lame, weak punch (according to what he had seen), he had the most spirit and never backed down in any fights.
And when it comes to sniffing out and interrogating traitors and rats lurking inside Toman, Hanagaki's the best at it. So again, much to Sanzu's surprise and displeasure, Hanagaki didn't drag the Fifth Division down.
Despite all that, Sanzu and Hanagaki still don't get along well. When Mikey introduced Hanagaki to everyone, Sanzu's first thought of the blue-eyed male was that he was a disappointment. The bright persona that Hanagaki always puts on always ticks him off because he knows it's fake.
He could tell from the way Hanagaki's eyes would lose their focus and their light, even for just a tiny moment, and from the way his smile would look strained, obviously forced on some other days. Though Sanzu would say it's impressive how Hanagaki masked it so well that he fooled everyone. (Everyone except him that is.)
Sanzu doesn't like people like Hanagaki, and he just didn't get the appeal about him the way Mikey did, and he probably never will. In addition to that, Sanzu never hides his dislike for Hanagaki, and the younger male couldn't deal much with people who disliked him, which is obviously Sanzu in this case, so their relationship is a rocky, sour one.
One day, Hanagaki didn't show up for one of the meetings since, usually, he'd be there for every meeting, accompanied by the first division vice. Sanzu didn't care much about it.
Until it happened again and again. And it was the third time that Hanagaki had missed the meeting for the week. It was to the point where he made Mikey worried. How dare he, a lowly human being, make him worried?
Unexpectedly, after the meeting, Mikey approached him alone.
"Haruchiyo, do you mind checking up on Mitchy for me? Oh, you will? Thanks!" Mikey patted Sanzu's shoulders with a bright smile before walking away, leaving no room for any more conversation.
"Wait Mikey— I—... never agree to this..." Sanzu sighed, watching Mikey walked away.
And that was how Sanzu ended up being in front of Hanagaki's house. He observed the condition of the house, and one thought came inside Sanzu. It doesn't look like there's anyone living inside.
Sanzu then walked up towards the door, knocking on it multiple times before waiting for a response, which never came. He knocked once again, but there was still no response.
When he was about to knock for the third time and yelled out Hanagaki's name, the door was then answered, revealing a slightly dishevelled-looking guy.
"Fuck off–... Oh, Sanzu-san? What are you doing here?"
Hanagaki looked at him with wide eyes, flustered by the platinum blonde's appearance. He expected no one from Toman to come visit him, much less Sanzu, the one who hated him.
"You made Mikey worry over your pitiful ass. What the hell have you been up to?"
Sanzu frowned at the sight of Hanagaki looking so miserable, a contrast from his bright persona. When he took a brief look inside the house, he could barely see any furnitures and that was probably why the house looks so dead.
"Ah sorry about that. It seems like I had forgotten to tell him I won't be able to attend meetings this week."
This made Sanzu raise his eyebrow in suspicion, but he didn't say anything about it. It's probably nothing serious.
"Next time inform him."
"I will... well, uhm. Would you like to come in? I feel bad for making you come here just to check up on me."
"No thanks. I'll leave now."
Before Sanzu got to leave, he was stopped by Hanagaki, who grabbed his wrist.
"Ah, wait, I don't want you to leave empty-handed. I feel bad for making you show up all the way here just to check up on my well-being. Give me a moment."
Hanagaki then let go of his wrist and quickly went back inside, not letting Sanzu protest, which made him frown behind the mask he's wearing. Despite that, Sanzu didn't leave and instead waited for Hanagaki to come out. After a while, the blue-eyed male came out with a plastic bag with a box inside it.
"Take this; it's the cheesecake from the café nearby. These are some extras that I brought. I hope you enjoy them. Well then, bye!"
Hanagaki handed the plastic to Sanzu, who reluctantly accepted it. He doesn't know why he did it (he does; it's because he can actually see how Hanagaki feels bad), but whatever. The blue-eyed male then bid him goodbye, to which Sanzu just scoffed and left.
Once Sanzu was far enough from Hanagaki's place, he took a peek inside the plastic. It's from the same café that he has been going to, solely for their cheesecake. How did Hanagaki know it was his favourite?
"... Stupid."
One week later, just before Toman's meeting, Sanzu straddled his bike near the base of the shrine steps, boot tapping impatiently against the pavement. The sky was a dull gray, threatening rain, and the wind kept tugging at the edges of his uniform. His phone buzzed once in his pocket.
Chifuyu [6:47 PM]: Can’t make it tonight. Something came up so Takemitchy’s out too. Still doesn’t have a ride. Says it’s too far to walk.
Sanzu stared at the screen for a long moment. Too far, huh.
His jaw clenched. The blue-eyed idiot didn’t even try, did he? Four meetings missed now, three of them just last week. And sure, technically, Hanagaki wasn’t doing anything wrong, but… he remembered the look on Mikey’s face when he brought it up. Just a tiny crease in his brow. Barely visible. But there.
Sanzu hadn’t been told to check this time.
Which made it worse.
Because now, he couldn’t blame Mikey for sending him.
He turned the key in the ignition and the engine came alive with a low growl. He didn’t say a word to anyone. Just pulled off, the sound of his bike cutting through the quiet like a blade.
Sanzu soon arrived in front of Hanagaki's house. He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, the low hum of the bike fading into silence. The neighborhood was too still, just like last time. No voices, no light from the windows, nothing that suggested life.
He stared at the front door, expression unreadable beneath the soft fall of platinum hair. He didn’t know why he was hesitating.
Actually, he did. He just hated that he did.
With a sigh, he got off the bike and made his way up the steps. This time, no knocking. He just rang the bell once and waited. A long pause.
Then: the sound of shuffled footsteps. The door clicked open with a low creak. Hanagaki stood in the doorway, hoodie slouching off one shoulder, eyes still heavy with sleep or exhaustion. Sanzu couldn’t tell which. Maybe both.
When their eyes met, Hanagaki blinked, confused. "...Sanzu-san?"
“You're coming to the meeting,” Sanzu said, flat as ever.
Hanagaki rubbed the back of his neck, glancing to the side. "I wasn’t really planning to tonight. I don’t wanna keep troubling you guys with my—"
"You already have," Sanzu cut in.
Silence.
Hanagaki flinched slightly but said nothing.
Sanzu narrowed his eyes, gaze flicking past the other boy’s shoulder into the house. Still the same. Practically bare, lived-in just enough to not be vacant. Like someone was just passing through.
He clicked his tongue. “Get your shoes. Helmet’s on the bike.”
"I..." Hanagaki hesitated. "Are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden."
"You already are."
Hanagaki winced again. But this time, Sanzu didn’t look away. And after a beat, he added, quieter: "So at least be a useful one."
Hanagaki blinked. Then, with the faintest breath of a laugh, tired but genuine, he nodded. "Alright. Let me change into Toman's uniform real quick."
Hanagaki went inside and just a minute later, he was changed into Toman's uniform. As Hanagaki slipped on his shoes and locked up, Sanzu stood on the porch, arms folded. The sky was darker now, clouds gathering overhead, air heavy with the smell of distant rain. When Hanagaki reappeared, Sanzu was already walking back to the bike.
"Are you sure you don't mind?" Hanagaki asked again.
Sanzu didn’t look at him as he handed over the spare helmet. "I don’t care."
It was a lie.
Or maybe not.
Maybe he just didn’t care why he cared.
"…Hold on. I’m not slowing down if you fall."
"Got it."
Hanagaki climbed on, the movement hesitant but steady. The moment his hands touched Sanzu’s sides, Sanzu tensed but didn’t shake him off. They rode off into the twilight.
———
It wasn’t a favor. Sanzu kept telling himself that.
It wasn’t his job. It wasn’t his problem. He wasn’t responsible for Hanagaki Takemichi or his pathetic lack of transportation. And yet, for the fourth meeting in a row, he found himself parked outside the same house, boots resting on the bike’s foot pegs, arms crossed, waiting.
No messages were sent. No warning given.
The only sound was the quiet rumble of the engine and the occasional rustle of wind against trees. The sun was already dipping low, casting gold on the edge of the sidewalk.
The front door opened right on time. Hanagaki didn’t say anything. Just stepped out, locking the door behind him, helmet already in hand like he expected this.
He jogged down the steps and offered a smile. "Hey. Sorry. Did you wait long?"
Sanzu didn’t answer. Just looked away, as if the question had offended him.
Hanagaki didn’t seem fazed anymore. Not like the first few times. He climbed onto the bike without hesitation, looping his arms loosely around Sanzu’s waist. Not too tight, never clingy. Like he knew better now.
Sanzu didn’t speak the entire ride. He never did. But the silence had stopped being awkward. It was just... what it was.
At the shrine, people didn’t even question it anymore. They’d just glance up when the familiar pair rolled in and go back to whatever they were doing.
Chifuyu had offered the first time, half-joking, half-serious. "You want me to take him next time?"
Sanzu had looked at him once. He didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.
There hadn’t been a "next time" for Chifuyu.
Just Sanzu. Every time.
———
A week later after one of their meetings, they walked side by side toward the bikes parked under the shrine steps. The air was cooler tonight, stirred by a soft breeze that made the loose ends of Sanzu’s coat flutter as he walked.
Hanagaki glanced at him once, hesitant. Then again, a little longer.
"...Did you notice the way Chifuyu kept nodding off tonight?" Hanagaki said, voice casual, like he wasn’t testing the waters.
Silence stretched out. Too long.
Hanagaki let out a soft breath, mostly to himself. "Thought he was gonna fall off the step at one point."
Sanzu scoffed, faint and sharp. Not quite a laugh, but close.
Encouraged, Hanagaki tried again the next time. And the time after that.
It was never much. Just comments about other division captains, or how the moon looked weirdly big that night, or how someone had gotten a new tattoo and was clearly showing it off on purpose.
At first, Sanzu didn’t answer.
Then he started responding. Short things. One-word replies. A sideways glance. A subtle twitch of the lips. And then one night;
"...I think the gas station’s cat recognizes you now," Hanagaki said over the wind, speaking near Sanzu’s shoulder. "She ran up to the bike when we pulled in earlier."
Sanzu didn’t answer. But when they stopped at the next red light, he muttered, "It’s probably because you keep feeding her."
Hanagaki blinked. Then grinned. "I didn’t think you noticed."
"I notice everything."
It wasn’t said with pride. More like a statement of fact. A curse, even.
Still, Hanagaki smiled. "Guess I should be more careful around you, huh."
Sanzu didn’t answer. But he didn’t tell him to shut up either.
And that was something.
Sanzu dropped Hanagaki off just before sundown. The younger male swung off the bike with practiced ease, pulling off the helmet and stretching his arms above his head.
“Same time tomorrow?” Hanagaki asked without thinking, already halfway to his door before realizing what he’d said.
He looked over his shoulder, blinking.
Sanzu paused, still seated on the bike. "... If I feel like it."
Hanagaki smiled. “Alright. I’ll be waiting.”
That night, Sanzu circled the block once before heading home.
Later that week; late night after a gang brawl, they were both tired and scraped up, nothing serious, but enough that the silence between them felt heavier than usual.
Sanzu sat on the curb, elbows resting on his knees, watching a flickering street lamp across the alley. Hanagaki sat nearby, gently dabbing at a shallow cut on his hand with the corner of his sleeve.
"…Thanks for not letting that guy get the drop on me earlier," Hanagaki muttered.
Sanzu didn't look at him. "You were too slow."
"I know."
A pause.
"You owe me cheesecake."
Hanagaki chuckled quietly, voice a little hoarse, "I'll get you two."
Sanzu just huffed.
One quiet afternoon, Sanzu didn’t know why he stopped by Hanagaki’s place. There was no meeting. No directive from Mikey. No real reason. He didn’t even knock.
Just sat outside, leaning against the bike, eyes closed, arms crossed. A few minutes later, the door opened.
Hanagaki blinked down at him. "... You good?"
Sanzu shrugged. "Had time to kill."
"...You want to come in?"
Sanzu didn’t move. Then: "Got cheesecake?"
Hanagaki blinked again, then smiled. " Yeah. Leftover from this morning."
"Then I’ll come in."
———
It started to become a pattern. Nothing scheduled. Nothing promised.
But every couple of days, Sanzu would show up. Sometimes before a meeting. Sometimes after a patrol. Once, even outside a convenience store just past midnight, where Hanagaki emerged with a pack of melon bread and a can of black coffee and nearly dropped both when he saw who was leaning against the wall.
"Oh—Sanzu-san. You scared the hell out of me."
Sanzu didn’t move. "Then you should be more aware of your surroundings."
"You are my surroundings at this point," Hanagaki muttered, half to himself.
Sanzu raised a brow. "What?"
"Nothing."
They walked home together that night. No bike. Just quiet footsteps echoing off pavement.
One afternoon, they were both at the shrine early, uncharacteristically early. Mikey hadn’t shown up yet, and no one else had arrived. Just the two of them, leaning against opposite ends of the railing.
Hanagaki tapped his fingers against the wood absently. "You ever notice how Mikey always shows up right after the wind picks up?"
Sanzu glanced over, unimpressed. "That’s not a real observation."
"No, I’m serious. It’s like,,, wind gust, three minutes later, Mikey."
Sanzu looked back at the stone path. "Then maybe you’re just good at noticing stupid patterns."
Hanagaki snorted. "Guess I am."
Silence returned, but it felt less suffocating now. Like it was making room.
After the meeting, Sanzu was dropping Hanagaki off, the younger male sliding off the bike and stretched his arms, neck cracking slightly as he rolled his shoulders.
"Thanks again," he said, handing back the helmet.
Sanzu took it, wordless.
Then, on impulse, Hanagaki added, "Hey... you hungry?"
Sanzu didn’t respond right away.
Hanagaki scratched his cheek, a little sheepish. "I was just gonna make rice and egg. Nothing fancy. Figured, if you weren’t in a rush or whatever."
Sanzu stared at him like the question had a second, hidden meaning. It didn’t. But still.
"... Fine. Ten minutes."
Hanagaki blinked. "Really?"
"If it’s bad, I’m throwing it at you."
It was just as empty as before, but now Sanzu noticed little things he hadn’t before.
A cracked mug being used as a pen holder, laundry folded too neatly on the floor in the absence of furniture, a fraying rug in front of the bathroom.
Hanagaki moved around the space easily, like he was used to working with nothing. The rice cooker whirred softly. He didn’t ask Sanzu to sit, didn’t fuss or fill the air with unnecessary talk.
When the food was done, they ate in silence on the floor.
Halfway through, Hanagaki murmured, "So… what do you even do when you’re not stalking me?"
Sanzu glanced up slowly. "You think this is stalking?"
"I mean… you just show up sometimes."
Sanzu took another bite. "You still get on the bike every time."
Hanagaki smiled to himself. "Touché."
Fast forward to when Sanzu was about to leave, on the doorstep, Hanagaki rubbed his arms, the night air colder than before.
"Be safe going back."
Sanzu paused, halfway down the steps. "... I will."
He didn’t look back. Just walked off into the dark.
Hanagaki stayed at the door a little longer than he needed to.
———
There was no single moment where it changed.
It was in the way Sanzu didn’t flinch anymore when Hanagaki touched his arm to steady himself. It was in the way Hanagaki stopped asking if it was okay to talk. It was in the way they existed beside each other. Not comfortably, not effortlessly, but consistently.
And in the smallest things; Sanzu showing up with melon bread without being asked. Hanagaki saying, "You don’t have to stay," and Sanzu replying, "I know," but never leaving. The brief moments of eye contact that lingered just long enough to feel dangerous.
Not friendship. Not yet.
But something in that strange, quiet space between distrust and familiarity. Where the sharp edges had dulled just slightly, and neither of them knew what to do about it.
———
The night air was cooler than usual, and they sat on the edge of a low retaining wall behind an old train yard, backs to the chain-link fence. The city buzzed distantly in the background, a low hum of neon signs and passing trains.
Hanagaki was mid-story again, animated as usual, half-laughing as he spoke.
"—and then Chifuyu got mad at me because I accidentally swapped his bento with Baji-kun's, and you know Baji-kun doesn’t even chew half the time—"
"You talk too much," Sanzu said, cutting in.
Hanagaki blinked, then let out a breathy chuckle. "You say that like you don’t keep showing up to listen to it."
Sanzu didn’t deny it.
Just leaned back slightly, one hand braced against the wall, eyes fixed on the sky like the stars had something worth listening to.
Then, without any warning, he said, "stop calling me with honorifics."
Hanagaki tilted his head. "... What?"
Sanzu didn’t look at him. "It’s unnecessary. You’re not a civilian. We’re not strangers."
A beat passed.
Then Hanagaki gave a small, surprised smile. "Okay. Sanzu it is, then."
The name, without the formality, hung lightly in the air, like it didn’t quite belong there yet, but wasn’t out of place either.
Hanagaki glanced sideways at him, tapping his foot idly against the bricks.
"...Then you should stop being so formal with me too."
Sanzu finally turned his eyes toward him, brows slightly furrowed.
"Everyone else just calls me Takemichi," Hanagaki added with a slight shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. "You don’t have to use my whole name every time. Unless you like saying it. It is kind of long."
Sanzu blinked once. Then looked away again, as if dismissing the thought entirely.
"…Takemichi," he muttered a second later, like he was testing it.
It didn’t sound casual.
It sounded like someone trying on a word that didn’t quite fit their mouth yet.
Hanagaki didn’t comment. He just smiled again, smaller this time, gaze dropping to the sidewalk between his shoes.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward.
It was… settled.
Like something had quietly clicked into place.
Two days later; the routine had grown quiet, unspoken. Sanzu didn’t knock anymore. He just waited outside, engine idling. And Takemichi, like always now, came out just as the sun dipped low.
They didn’t talk much on the ride. They didn’t have to.
But that night, when Sanzu pulled up in front of the house again, Takemichi didn’t get off right away.
Instead, he leaned slightly forward, arms still loose around Sanzu’s waist. He rested his chin on Sanzu’s shoulder, just for a second, before quickly pulling back.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "That was weird. I didn’t mean–"
"Takemichi."
The name came quiet. Certain.
Takemichi froze. That was only the second time he’d heard Sanzu say it since that night. The first had been clipped, almost like a dare. But this...
This one felt settled.
Sanzu didn’t look at him. Just stared ahead, fingers still curled around the handlebars. "Don’t do things you’ll apologize for."
Takemichi swallowed. "Right." He climbed off the bike. Then paused, hesitating.
"... You coming in?" he asked, voice softer now. "I’ve got leftover curry. Still warm."
Sanzu didn’t answer immediately. Then he turned the key in the ignition, shutting off the engine. "Ten minutes," he muttered.
Takemichi smiled as he unlocked the door.
They ate on the floor again, cross-legged, plates balanced on their knees. Takemichi spoke now and then, small things. A broken vending machine. Someone mistaking him for a middle schooler again. A crow stealing his sandwich.
Sanzu listened, occasionally giving a grunt or an unimpressed blink, but... he stayed.
After the meal, when Takemichi started gathering the dishes, Sanzu took them wordlessly. Washed them, even. Like it wasn’t a question. Like it was something he’d always done.
The domesticity of it wasn’t discussed.
And later, as he slipped on his coat by the door, Takemichi said it, quiet, almost an afterthought, "...thanks for staying."
Sanzu looked back at him. There was something unreadable in his gaze. He didn’t say you're welcome. Didn’t say don’t mention it.
He just said, "...don’t lock the door next time."
Takemichi blinked. "What?"
Sanzu was already halfway down the steps. "No point," he called back. "I’m coming anyway."
The next time Sanzu showed up at Takemichi’s place, the door was already unlocked. He didn’t knock. Didn’t call out. Just let himself in.
The inside still looked like it belonged to someone halfway moved in. No real furniture, just the bare essentials but there was something lived-in now. A faint smell of laundry detergent and soy sauce. A jacket that wasn’t his slung over the door frame.
His voice floated in from the kitchen. "Welcome back," he said, casual, like Sanzu had always come and gone like this.
Sanzu set his coat down on the back of the only chair. "…You made tea?"
"Kettle’s still hot."
Sanzu didn’t say thank you, he just poured a cup. And sat down like it was habit.
Because by now, it was.
On another night, the rain was light; misty and quiet, tapping against the windows. Takemichi sat with his legs tucked under him, curled in a worn blanket, while Sanzu flipped absently through the channels on his busted remote.
Nothing good was on. But neither of them left.
Takemichi spoke first, voice low and tired. "You always stay this late."
Sanzu didn’t look over. "You always fall asleep before I do."
Takemichi huffed a soft laugh. "I’m starting to think you like it here."
Sanzu said nothing for a long moment. Then, quieter: "You don’t lock the door anymore."
"…You told me not to."
Sanzu paused on a channel. Static-filled, too loud. He lowered the volume slightly. Then, "you listen to me too much."
"You keep showing up," Takemichi replied. "That’s worse."
They didn’t look at each other. They didn’t need to. The silence between them stretched out, filled with flickering TV light and the sound of distant thunder.
The intimacy didn’t arrive like a confession. It arrived in rinsed tea cups left in the sink. In a second helmet always hanging by the d oor.
In the quiet "I’m home" murmured under Takemichi’s breath, not for himself, but to Sanzu, when he was already sitting on the floor inside, waiting. It arrived in the way Sanzu started sleeping for more than three hours at a time. In the way Takemichi started humming again when he cooked.
In the way they never talked about what they were doing, but somehow always did it together. They didn’t call it anything. But they both felt it.
Every day.
Quietly.
Unspoken.
But there.
———