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Sakura woke up to the sting of antiseptic on his skin, he flinched and his heterochromatic eyes, one pale gold and the other deep dark, snapped open as his body coiled instantly for a fight. His vision swam before focusing on the shadowy figure leaning over him.
He was lying on a low velvet sofa in a room with dark wood paneling and dim amber lighting. Endo Yamato sat back on his heels, holding a crimson-stained cotton ball casually between two fingers. His tailored suit jacket was draped over the side of a obsidian table. This revealed a dress shirt with the top three buttons undone and the sleeves rolled past his forearms, exposing the dark, intricate ink of his tattoos, which were crawling up his wrists.
"Easy, easy," Endo said in a low, smooth purr. Though his voice carried no immediate threat, every instinct in Sakura's gut screamed that he was an apex predator. "If you move like that, you'll tear the stitches I just put in."
"What the hell..." Sakura choked out; his throat was dry as bone. He tried to push himself up, but a sharp spike of agony in his lower abdomen pinned him right back down against the plush fabric.
The last thing Sakura remembered was the alleyway near the docks. He had been cornered by a rival crew of six, and his fists were bruised to the knuckle and his lungs were burning. Then, the headlights of a black sedan cut through the fog and some men swiftly and effortlessly cleared the pavement. Endo himself stepped out under an umbrella, looked at Sakura bleeding on the wet cobblestones, and said simply, "Bring him."
"You were making a mess," the older boy said softly, tilting his head as he studied Sakura's face in the dim light. His emerald eyes glittered with an unsettling curiosity. “The guys you were fighting belong to a group I’m currently liquidating. You were collateral damage… or a very loud distraction. Either way, you fought like a stray dog backing off a pack of wolves."
"I didn't ask for your help," Sakura spat, glaring through his bangs. Despite the flare of pain, he forced himself to sit up and drop his feet onto the floor. "I had it under control."
Endo chuckled in a quiet, velvety sound and tossed the soiled cotton into a small glass bowl on the table. He leaned in close, resting his elbows on his knees and closing the distance until Sakura could see the subtle flickers of light in his eyes.
"You had three fractured ribs and a blade three inches from your kidney," Endo murmured. His gaze dropped to Sakura’s dual-colored eyes and lingered there with genuine fascination. "You have terrible self-preservation instincts, Haruka. But you've got incredible eyes. Beautiful, really."
Sakura felt a sudden, hot flush creep up the back of his neck, instantly turning into defensive fury. "Don't look at me like that! And don't call me by my first name!"
Endo didn't pull back and gently wiped away a streak of dried blood along Sakura’s jawline with his thumb. He applied slow pressure that made Sakura’s breath hitch.
"You're in my house now," he said softly. His thumb lingered against Sakura's skin just long enough for her to feel the heat before he finally drew his hand back. "Which means, for tonight at least, you're mine to take care of. Get some rest. We'll talk about what you owe me in the morning."
The taller bou stood up in one fluid movement, picked up his suit jacket, and slung it over his shoulder. He left Sakura sitting on the edge of the couch, his heart hammering against his cracked ribs in the quiet shadows of the room.
Sakura pushed through, his left arm tightly wrapped around his midsection to support his bruised and bandaged ribs. His steps were uneven, his bare feet cold against the stone tiles of the terrace. The rain had slowed to a fine mist that clung to his hair and stung his warm skin.
A few feet away, Endo leaned his elbows against the wrought-iron railing and overlooked the glowing grid of the city. The dark silk of his dress shirt was damp on the shoulders and caught the blue-tinted neon glow from the skyscrapers across the river. Between his index and middle finger, a thin cigarette burned, its ember glowing bright crimson as he took a slow, measured drag.
Endo didn't immediately turn around, though the slight shift in his shoulders showed that he had heard Sakura’s footsteps the moment she stepped outside.
"You should be in bed," Endo said. His exhaled breath drifted into the night haze. "The medicine I gave you hasn't even hit its peak yet."
Sakura stopped a couple of paces behind him and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe to steady himself. His breath came in short, guarded hitches and he glared at the older man's boy, jaw set in a tight, stubborn line.
"Why did you do it?" he asked in a rough voice against the quiet hum of the rain. "In the alley? I'm just some kid from the wrong side of the tracks, and you're..." He gestured vaguely at the man's dark suit and the quiet menace radiating off him. "Why pull me out of the gutter?"
Endo flicked the ash from his cigarette over the edge and watched the tiny ember die as it dropped toward the street below. He slowly turned his head, looking at Sakura over his shoulder.
"Because the men who cornered you were dangerous," Endo said. He turned fully to face Sakura, resting one hand casually in his trouser pocket while holding the cigarette in the other. "And because I dislike seeing something rare get ruined by trash who don't know its value."
He took a step closer until the distance between them closed and Sakura had to tilt his chin up to meet his gaze. Endo reached out and lightly brushed Sakura's chin with his cool fingers, tilting it just enough to force the boy to look him straight in the eye under the pale neon light.
"A stray with eyes like yours doesn't deserve to die in a dark alley over nothing," Endo murmured, his voice dropping an octave to a low, steady pitch. "You caught my attention… That makes you my responsibility."
Sakura slapped Endo's hand away, though the force of the strike was weakened by the sharp pain in his ribs. "Don't touch me! I don't owe you anything, and I'm not your responsibility!"
Unfazed by the rejection, Endo only smiled, taking another slow pull from his cigarette as Sakura backed away toward the open door, his heart hammering against his chest.
"My responsibility?" Sakura repeated another time, his voice cracking slightly on the second word. He gripped his lower ribs tighter as the heat of defensive anger rose quickly behind his eyes. "I didn't ask you to step in! I didn't ask you to pull me into your goddamn car. And I sure as hell didn't ask you to treat me like a stray cat you picked up off the curb!"
Endo didn't flinch. He leaned back against the wrought-iron railing and let the cool drizzle coat the dark fabric of his tailored trousers. He took a long, quiet drag from his cigarette, the tip burning bright red in the dim neon light of the city.
"You didn't have to ask," hesaid smoothly. His eyes narrowed as he tracked the furious, unsteady rhythm of Sakura's breathing. "When someone with fists like iron and eyes like yours is five seconds away from getting his throat cut in my territory, it becomes my business. Pride doesn't patch up a severed artery, Haruka."
"Stop calling me that!" Sakura snapped, taking a sharp step forward.
The movement was too quick, pulling violently at the fresh stitches across his torso. A white-hot spike of agony shot straight up his abdomen, cutting off his breath with a harsh, strangled gasp. He doubled over slightly, clutching his side with his hand, his knuckles turning white against his shirt.
Before he could regain his footing, a loud, deep rumble emanated from his stomach, piercing the quiet ambient noise of the rain and distant traffic. Sakura froze, his face instantly flushing a violent, burning crimson extending all the way to the tips of his ears. He clamped his jaw shut and stared down at the cold stone tiles of the balcony, desperately wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.
Endo lowered his cigarette, his eyes softened with genuine amusement, which he didn't hide. He knew the look well: pride fighting a losing battle against pure physical necessity. A starving man was an unpredictable variable, but a full stomach made even the fiercest stray willing to listen.
"When was the last time you ate something that didn't come out of a convenience store wrapper?" Endo asked tossing the remains of his cigarette into a glass ashtray on the outdoor ledge.
"None of your business" Sakura muttered, refusing to look up. His posture was rigid, though his legs trembled.
"There's a quiet ramen shop three blocks down," Endo said as he turned toward the doors, brushing a few raindrops from his dark hair. "They stay open until three. The broth is hot, and nobody asks questions about bruised knuckles or bloodstains. We're going."
Sakura shifted his weight uncomfortably as his stomach gave another faint murmur. "I told you, I'm not—"
“If you pass out from low blood sugar in my hallway, I’ll have to carry you back to the couch,” Endo interrupted calmly. He paused at the threshold, looked back over his shoulder, and locked his eyes onto Sakura’s golden and dark ones. "And I doubt your ego could survive that."
Sakura stood frozen on the misty terrace for a long moment. He hated the control Endo seemed to have over the space, but the thought of hot food was too tempting to resist.
He let out a harsh, defeated growl and shoved his hands in his pockets, turning away to hide his face.
"Fine" Sakura grumbled, shuffling back inside past the older boy.
The sliding door opened to reveal an interior that instantly shattered Sakura’s expectations of a typical midnight noodle shop. There were no plastic stools, steam-fogged windows, or grease-filmed counters smelling of old lard. The space stretched long and low under exposed dark oak beams. Soft paper lanterns lit the space, casting warm pools of amber light across polished river stone pathways.
In the back, a handful of men in dark, tailored suits sat at recessed, low tables speaking in hushed, measured tones over crystal glasses. Sakura registered the quiet tension of the room in less than three seconds: this wasn't a family diner; it was an exclusive haven for the city's underworld elite or the wealthy.
Endo stepped inside first, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks with relaxed, effortless, and familiar warmth. The host, an elderly man in a white linen kimono, bowed deeply the moment he recognized Endo, sweeping his arm toward a private corner alcove separated from the main room by a traditional shoji screen.
A young waitress with her dark hair swept up in a tight knot approached them immediately, offering a polite bow as she held back the screen. "Good evening, Mr Endo. Your preferred table is ready."
Sakura hesitated at the entrance to the alcove, suddenly acutely aware of his appearance. His oversized black hoodie was torn at the cuff, his faded jeans were stained with grease from the docks, and his sneakers were scuffed. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets and his shoulders were hunched, giving off an air of defensive discomfort.
"Sit down, Haruka," Endo said smoothly as he took his seat on the leather floor cushion near the bamboo lattice partition. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and let it drape behind him. “You’re drawing more attention standing there like a guard dog than you would if you just sat down.”
Sakura lowered himself stiffly onto the cushion opposite Endo, wincing slightly as his bruised ribs protested the movement. He kept his eyes fixed on the wood of the low table, ignoring the sleek, gold-embossed menu that the waitress placed in front of him.
"Order whatever you want," Endo said softly. He rested his chin on his knuckles and watched the boy with the same patient curiosity. “The chashu here is exceptional, but if you want three bowls of extra pork belly, no one will judge you.”
The younger boy glared at the menu, then flicked his dual-colored eyes up to meet Endo’s steady gaze. "I told you I was picking," he muttered. The knot of nervousness in his chest loosened slightly under the mouthwatering scent of the kitchen. "I'm getting the largest portion they have."
Endo offered an amused smile and waved a hand at the waitress to take the order. “Bring him the house special ramen with extra broth and noodles. And bring a bottle of unpasteurized sake for me.”
A massive, hand-thrown ceramic bowl brimming with a rich, dark tonkotsu broth was placed in front of Sakura. Slices of chashu pork, as thick as a finger and torched to a delicate crisp at the edges, floated alongside a perfectly soft-boiled egg, bamboo shoots, and a heap of fresh scallions. Sakura stared at it for a second, his mouth watering so intensely that it made his jaw ache. Forgetting the subtle elegance of the establishment, he grabbed his chopsticks, split them apart with a sharp crack, and hauled up a heavy clump of noodles.
He blew on them once, halfheartedly, before shoving them into his mouth. The broth was scalding, rich and savory.
"Well," Endo murmured, watching him over the rim of a small ceramic cup filled with cold, unpasteurized sake. "looks like you like it."
Sakura swallowed, wincing slightly when the hot food touched his tender chest, but he couldn't stop himself from taking a second bite, followed by a long, noisy gulp of broth straight from the spoon. "I haven't eaten since yesterday morning" he muttered defensively, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His cheeks were slightly flushed from the heat of the steam.
Endo smiled, a slow, quiet curling of his lips. He leaned back against the wood lattice and rested one forearm on the table, idly playing with the stem of his sake cup with his long fingers. He didn't touch the food he had ordered: a small dish of salted edamame and grilled eel, preferring to observe Sakura instead with an unhurried focus.
Between massive bites, Sakura’s mind churned. He looked past the rising steam at the man sitting opposite him. Endo appeared composed and effortless, as if he belonged in a high-end corporate boardroom. Yet the shadows beneath his collar revealed dark, sprawling ink—the intricate scales of tattoo sneaking up his neck—and the restaurant staff moved around him with disciplined fear.
"Who are you really?" Sakura asked suddenly, setting his chopsticks down across the rim of the bowl. His dual-colored eyes locked onto Endo’s face, searching for a slip in the older boy’s mask. “People in that alley were terrified of you. The owner looks like he’s walking on eggshells."
Endo took a slow sip of his sake and let the silence stretch out between them until the low chatter from the main dining room faded into the background.
“Does it matter?” he replied, his tone light and almost casual. “Names and titles in this city are just labels people use to convince themselves they know who to fear.”
“It matters to me,” Sakura snapped, leaning forward slightly and tightening his fingers on the edge of the dark mahogany table. "I don't like owing favors to people I don't understand. Are you a bad guy?"
Endo let out a soft chuckle, a low sound that vibrated in his chest. He set his cup down and leaned in, bridging the gap across the table until the faint scent of cologne and tobacco mingled with the heavy aroma of pork broth. His green eyes glinted under the dim glow of the paper lanterns.
"Bad is a child's word, Haruka," Endo murmured, his voice dropping into a dangerous quiet that commanded total attention. "Let's say… I run a… business. Sometimes that business requires cold decisions and violence against people who cross lines they shouldn't."
He paused, his gaze dropping to Sakura’s lips before rising back to meet her gold and dark eyes.
"Yeah, I'm cruel to my enemies," Endo continued, slowly reaching out to adjust the bowl slightly closer to Sakura. His fingers brushed against his knuckles just long enough to send a ripple of static through the air. "I don't give second chances to people who betray me. But, you know, I'm not a monster to everyone."
Sakura held his breath, unable to tear his eyes away from Endo’s steady gaze.
“I take very good care of the things I choose to keep,” Endo added softly, a faint, lingering warmth touching his expression. "Especially the things I actually like."
Sakura’s heart gave a sudden, violent thud against his ribs. A bright, hot flush surged up his neck and spread across his face. He pulled his hand back as if he’d been burned and grabbed his chopsticks with exaggerated focus to hide the tremor in his fingers.
"I'm not a 'thing'" Sakura grumbled, shoving another huge bite of noodles into his mouth to avoid saying anything else. His ears burned crimson under his split-colored hair.
Endo only smiled, leaning back against his cushion and lifting his sake cup once more. He was content to watch the boy eat in the warm shadows of the alcove.
Sakura kept his head down, staring intently into the broth in his bowl as if it held the answers to every uncofortable question he was trying to avoid. The warmth in his neck and ears hadn't subsided. Each time he shifted his weight on the leather cushion, his bruised ribs throbbed, serving as a dull, constant reminder that he was sitting across from a man operating entirely outside the law. Endo didn't press him immediately, he poured himself another small glass of clear, unpasteurized sake and watched the younger boy navigate his sudden embarrassment with the awkward prickliness of a cornered animal.
“How long have you been sleeping on the streets, Haruka?” Endo asked setting the ceramic cup down with a soft click on the table.
Sakura stopped chewing, his chopsticks hovering just above the liquid. He didn't lift his head, his dual-colored eyes fixed on a floating slice of scallion.
"I get by," Sakura muttered, his voice muffled as he swallowed. He took a deliberate gulp of water from the glass at his elbow, trying to sound unbothered. "I have places to go."
"A park bench behind the train tracks isn't a place," Endo said smoothly. His tone lacked judgment and carried only a observant certainty. "And neither is an abandoned storefront in the rain. You're fifteen, maybe sixteen. You fight like you've been doing it your whole life, but you move like someone who hasn't had a proper roof over their head in months."
Sakura's jaw set hard, a tiny muscle twitching near his temple. He hated how easily Endo seemed to see the ragged edges of his life: the scuffed soles of his shoes, the persistent defensive crouch he maintained even when sitting down, and the frayed cuffs of his hoodie.
"I said I get by," Sakura repeated more sharply this time, finally lifting his glare to meet Endo's tranquil eyes. "I don't need a lecture, and I definitely don't need a social worker. I work when I need to. I find a dry spot when it rains. I handle my own business. End of story."
Endo didn't pull back from the glare but he leaned slightly forward, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. A look of intriguing amusement settled over his features.
"Vague answers," Endo murmured, his gaze tracing the sharp line of Sakura's jaw down to the bandages hidden beneath his shirt. "You guard your history as fiercely as you guard your throat. It's an admirable habit in our line of work, but unnecessary with me."
"It's not 'our' line of work," Sakura shot back. The edge in his voice was diluted, however, by the fact that his stomach was finally full and warm for the first time in days. "I'm not like you."
"No," Endo agreed softly, his voice dropping into that low, magnetic cadence that made the rest of the room seem to fade away. "You're much too honest to be like me. But that just makes you far more interesting."
Sakura looked away again and aggressively splashed his spoon into the broth, trying to cover the sudden, erratic beat of his heart against his bruised chest.
Endo set his sake cup down with a light tap. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the dark mahogany table. His green eyes were fixed on Sakura with a razor-sharp focus.
"I don't offer second chances, Haruka, but I do make investments," Endo said in a quiet voice that easily cut through the ambient noise. "You don't have a place to stay, your ribs are cracked, and the people you pissed off last night aren't going to forget your face. Running around the docks on an empty stomach will get you killed before the end of the month."
Sakura stiffened, his fingers tightening against his knees beneath the table. He kept his eyes locked on Endo, his pulse quickening with a sharp spike of defensive adrenaline. "I told you, I don't need—"
"I'm offering you a job," Endo said smoothly without raising his voice. "Work for me. You'll have a real bed, three hot meals a day, and the kind of protection that will keep every lowlife in this city from ever looking at you sideways again."
The silence in the booth grew dense.
Sakura felt a strange knot tie itself tightly in his chest. A real roof over his head. Food that didn't come from a dumpster or the discount bin. Protection from the same bastards who almost stabbed him in the back tonight. For a moment, the mere possibility of that made his guard slip. Then, his eyes drifted to the peek of dark ink creeping past Endo's white collar and the quiet, terrifying authority the older boy carried like a second skin.
"And what exactly would I be doing for you?" Sakura asked. His voice was rough and his eyes narrowed into a suspicious glare. "Running errands? Being muscle for your syndicate? Beating up people who can't pay you back?"
Endo watched the shift in Sakura's expression: the brief, vulnerable flicker of hope quickly consumed by guarded distrust. Rather than getting annoyed, a genuine smile touched the corners of Endo's lips.
"You'd be under my personal oversight," he replied, tilting his head slightly. "I don't need another brainless grunt to break knees. I have plenty of those. I need someone with drive, someone who doesn't fold under pressure. But I'm not forcing you. The door is right there."
Sakura leaned back against his cushion. His mind raced as he weighed the quiet, dangerous security that Endo was offering against the total freedom—and total misery—of the streets.
"I'm not agreeing to anything yet," Sakura grumbled, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, despite the dull ache in his side. "I don't trust you."
Endo chuckled softly and reached for his sake bottle to pour one last drop. "Smart. You'd be a fool if you did."
The subterranean shooting range, hidden beneath the safe house smelled of burnt gunpowder. Sunlight didn't reach this far down; only fluorescent strip lights hummed overhead, casting a harsh glow over the soundproof walls and black rubber tiles.
Sakura stood at the shooting lane with a rigid stance and arms extended toward the paper silhouette target twenty yards away. A black semi-automatic pistol rested in his hands, its steel cold against his palm. Behind him the steel door clicked shut. Footsteps sounded against the rubber floor, quiet and deliberate.
"You're holding it wrong" Endo said. His voice cut through the dull hum of the ventilation system.
Sakura didn't lower his weapon. His jaw tightened as he stared down the iron sights. "I know how to hold a knife."
"Knowing how to hold a knife isn't the same as controlling the recoil of a gun" Endo murmured.
Without waiting for permission, he stepped up directly behind Sakura. Sakura was hit by the sudden proximity like an electric shock , the solid heat of Endo's chest nearly brushing against his back, his presence overwhelming the small space of the firing booth.
Before Sakura could pull away or protest, Endo reached out. His calloused hands slid over Sakura's, and his fingers wrapped firmly around the boy's knuckles and wrists. His grip was calm, absolute, and unyielding.
"Relax your shoulders," Endo instructed, his breath fanning the sensitive skin of Sakura's neck. "If you lock your elbows like that, the kickback will go straight into your chest. You'll reopen those stitches."
Sakura froze, his breath catching in his throat. Endo's hands felt searing against his skin, sending a sudden, chaotic pulse hammering against his ribs. His instincts, honed from years on the street, screamed at him to throw an elbow and create space. However, the firm, grounding weight of Endo's grip held him in place. His dual-colored eyes widened slightly as he stared straight ahead at the target, unable to look back.
Endo adjusted Sakura's posture with slow, deliberate pressure. He shifted his hips, tilted his forearms down, and pressed his thumb lightly against the side of her wrist to align the sight.
"Breathe out," Endo murmured softly in a low tone. His chest rose and fell against Sakura's shoulder, quietly reminding his of the physical distance between them. "Align the front sight with the center of the mass. Don't rush it."
Sakura swallowed hard; his throat was as dry as bone. He let out a slow, shaky exhale, forcing just enough tension out of his shoulders to settle into Endo's forced stance.
"I don't miss" Sakura grumbled, his voice barely more than a rough rasp in the quiet room.
Endo let out a amused hum against Sakura's back, his hands steady on the boy's. He smoothed his index finger over Sakura's and placed it gently against the trigger.
"Then show me" Endo whispered.
Sakura squeezed the trigger. The deafening crack of the gun echoed off the concrete walls, drowning out the sound of his racing heart. The thunderous crack of the 9mm bullet tore through the basement, instantly followed by the metallic clatter of a spent brass casing bouncing off the rubber tiles. Smoke curled lazily from the barrel, drifting into the stale air, which smelled heavily of burnt gunpowder, ozone, and cold concrete.
Down the long, dimly lit lane, twenty yards away, the paper target fluttered. The bullet had punched a jagged hole clean through the paper, just an inch to the upper right of the red center circle.
Sakura lowered the gun slightly; his arms trembled from the residual kickback and the tension that held his body rigid. His breath came fast and shallow and his gold-and-brown eyes were wide as he stared down the sigts. A mixture of adrenaline and frustrated shock washed over his face.
For a moment, the only sound in the firing booth was the low, rhythmic hum of the overhead exhaust fan.
Then Endo broke the silence and suddenly let out a genuine, amused snort. He threw his head back slightly and let out a warm, relaxed laugh, the kind of spontaneous, lighthearted reaction you’d expect from a guy at an arcade, not an underworld syndicate executive.
"Look at that," Endo said, his tone dripping with playful mock disappointment as he looked over Sakura's shoulder at the target. "Close, Haruka. Very close. If that paper target were a guy running away sideways, you might have clipped his shoulder blade.”
Sakura’s face instantly burned hot, a vivid crimson spreading from his cheekbones to his throat. He snapped his head around and glared furiously up at Endo through his messy black-and-white bangs.
"Shut up!" Sakura shouted. His jaw was tight, and his shoulders were hunched up defensively. He gripped the pistol handle so tightly that his knuckles turned white against the matte-black metal. "I haven't shot a real gun in my life! Try doing it with three fractured ribs pulling on your skin every time you squeeze the trigger!"
Endo didn't pull back or get defensive. He merely raised his eyebrows, his eyes crinkling at the corners with quiet, fond amusement. He reached into his pocket, casually sliding his hands inside as he watched Sakura fume.
"I'm not criticizing you," he said smoothly. His tone shifted into something softer and steadier, yet still encouraging, without losing its playful edge. "A near-miss on your first shot ever is terrifyingly good. It means you've got the instinct for it. We're going to be working together from now on, so we've got plenty of time. Next time, you'll put three right through the center of the target."
Before Sakura could process his words, Endo stepped closer and reached out a hand. With a quick, easy flick of his wrist, he ran his long fingers through Sakura's dual-colored hair and tugged affectionately at his bangs.
The touch hit Sakura like a splash of boiling oil.
"Hey! Don't touch me!" he barked, reacting on pure muscle memory. He smacked Endo's wrist away with the flat of his hand and took a sharp, unsteady step backward until the back of his thigh hit the edge of the wooden shooting bench.
His heart pounded wildly against his ribs, partly from the recoil of the weapon and partly from the sudden warmth of Endo's disarming gesture. He stood trembling with wide, fiery eyes, while Endo stood his ground, his hand still suspended in the air.
The steam in the tile-lined bathroom had barely dissipated when Sakura stepped out with a fresh towel slung over his shoulder. The hot water had done little to dull the ache in his side: his ribs still throbbed in time with his heartbeat but it had washed away the lingering metallic smell of burnt gunpowder and sweat from the shooting range.
Wearing a clean, oversized black T-shirt and loose gray sweatpants provided by Endo, Sakura padded barefoot down the cool hardwood hallway of the penthouse.
His throat felt as dry as paper, so guided by the faint strip of light under the door, he entered the kitchen. It was a minimalist space made of brushed steel, black granite, and frosted glass. Near the central island, with his back to the door, stood Chiika.
Endo’s most relied-upon enforcer looked impeccably put together, even in the late afternoon heat.
Sakura stopped in his tracks, his hand lingering on the metallic handle of the double-door refrigerator.
From day one, the dynamic between them had been clear. Chiika looked at Sakura the way a seasoned guard dog looks at a stray puppy brought in from outside: with cold, quiet disdain. He rarely acknowledged Sakura's presence, passing him in the halls with total silence. While this was hostile, it suited Sakura just fine. Ignoring each other was an easy rule to live by.
Sakura opened the fridge door and reached into the cold interior for a bottle of green tea. He twisted off the cap and took a long, hurried gulp, eager to grab his drink and vanish back into his room before any unspoken tension boiled over.
"You're holding the stance wrong."
The voice was cool and smooth with a flat, dry edge.
Sakura froze mid-swallow and lowered the plastic bottle. He slowly turned his head, locking his gold and dark eyes onto Chiika, who had turned around to lean casually against the granite counter. He held a small porcelain espresso cup between two fingers, his eyes fixed on Sakura with a calculating, unblinking intensity.
"What?" Sakura muttered, instantly adopting a guarded, defensive tone.
Chiika took a slow sip of his coffee and set the saucer down on the counter with a quiet click. He crossed his arms over his chest.
"In the basement. With Endo," he said in a quiet, almost bored voice that carried the weight of a man who had pulled triggers for a decade. "I watched the feed from the security monitor. You're leaning into your left heel because your ribs hurt. If you shoot like that in an actual confrontation, the recoil will throw you off balance, and someone will shoot you in the neck before you can realign the sights."
Sakura felt a hot spike of annoyance flare up behind his sternum. "I didn't ask for your opinion."
"You don't have to," Chiika replied evenly, taking a step toward the center island. His eyes flicked down to the faint bulge of bandages visible beneath Sakura's shirt, then back up to his face. "Endo has a soft spot for unusual things. He finds your temper entertaining. But don't mistake his patience for protection. In this house, weakness isn't just a flaw… it's a liability for everyone around you."
Chiika paused, resting his hand on the stone surface and leaning in just enough to bridge the space between them.
"If you're going to stay here and take up space," he murmured softly, his expression unreadable, "learn how to pull your own weight. Because the next time a rival crew shows up, Endo won't be the only one expected to bleed for you."
Sakura stood his ground, his knuckles turning white around the tea bottle and his pulse pounding in his throat. The two stood in the quiet, tense atmosphere of the kitchen.
A hand-carved obsidian and marble chessboard sat on the coffee table between them.
Sakura leaned forward on the dark leather sofa, his elbows resting on his knees and his hair falling into his eyes. Over the last week, he had learned the basic rules of chess, mostly out of boredom, but also because these late-night matches provided him with a quiet space to focus his mind when the phantom pain in his healing ribs or memories of the street began to creep in. He wasn't passionate about the game, but focusing on the eight-by-eight grid helped clear his mind.
He stared intently at the board, jaw set, tracking the remaining pieces with his dual-colored eyes. After a long moment of silence, he extended his hand and slid his white rook forward two squares, knocking Endo's bishop off the board with a decisive clack.
"There," Sakura grumbled, wiping his thumb against his sweatpants. "Check."
Endo sat back against his cushion, completely unbothered by the loss of his piece. Reaching out with tattoed steady fingers, he effortlessly slid his black queen diagonally across the board, settling it right into the soft underbelly of Sakura's defense.
"Checkmate, Haruka," Endo said softly.
Sakura blinked and stared at the queen. Endo had mapped out every possible escape route in his head: king to the left, blocked by his own pawn; king forward, taken by the knight; rook back, completely out of position. His jaw tightened so hard that a muscle jumped near his temple.
"You walked right into it," Endo chuckled. It was a quiet, velvety sound that vibrated smoothly in the amber-lit room. He picked up his teacup and took a slow sip, watching the boy's face over the rim. "You concentrate so hard on attacking the front lines that you completely ignore what's sneaking up behind you. You play chess the exact same way you fight."
"I don't play chess like I fight," Sakura spat defensively. He leaned back and crossed his arms tightly over his chest. His eyes were fixed stubbornly on the floor. "It's just a stupid game. You've been playing this for years. I've been playing for six days."
Endo set his cup down with a light click. He didn't reset the board. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He closed the distance between them until his dark, observant gaze locked onto Sakura's flushed face.
"It's not about the game," Endo murmured. His tone shifted from light banter to something quieter, more perceptive, and more searching. "You've been quiet all evening. You hardly touched your dinner, and you're acting like your mind is three miles away from this room."
Sakura shifted uncomfortably under that stare, turning his head toward the rain-slicked balcony glass. "Nothing's wrong. I'm fine."
"You're terrible at lying," Endo said softly. A faint, lingering warmth touched his expression as he studied the defensive tilt of Sakura's chin. "Are your ribs bothering you again, or is there something else eating at you tonight?"
Endo slowly reached out across the low table, casually trapping one of the marble pieces with his long fingers. He waited patiently for Sakura to drop his guard just enough to answer.
The younger boy dragged his eyes away from the defeated white king and fixed his gaze stubbornly on the dark leather armrest of the sofa. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. He could still hear Chiika’s smooth, clinical voice from the kitchen earlier: "A liability for everyone standing next to you."
The words stung like a fresh burn, but there was no way he was going to bring that up. Complaining to the boss about his top enforcer felt cheap, like running to an authority figure to solve a fight he should handle himself.
"I told you, it's nothing," Sakura grumbled, hunching his shoulders inward and pulling his arms tighter across his chest. His voice was lower than usual and carried the rough, guarded edge of someone accustomed to keeping his own counsel. "I'm just tired. The shooting range wore me out."
Endo didn't move to reset the chessboard. He rested one arm on the back of the sofa and tapped his long fingers in a thoughtful cadence against the leather. His eyes remained fixed on Sakura's side, tracking the subtle tightness in his jaw and the restless shift of his feet against the floor.
"You're a terrible liar," Endo said, his tone completely devoid of judgment. It was just a quiet statement of fact.
Sakura let out a defensive huff and turned his head further toward the rain-slicked balcony glass. "Believe what you want."
The older boy stayed silent for a moment, letting the sound of the storm fill the space between them. When he spoke again, his voice was lower and stripped of its usual playful mockery. It carried a rare, unvarnished sincerity that made Sakura’s pulse hitch.
"The night I pulled up to the street," Endo began, his gaze drifting slightly as if replaying the scene in the dim light of the room. "I didn't head down that alley to check on the rival crew. I was there to finish a routine sweep."
He paused and leaned forward just enough to cast his shadow over the carved marble pieces on the table.
"Then I saw you," Endo continued, locking his dark eyes back onto Sakura’s profile. "You were bleeding, outnumbered, and breathing through broken ribs. But you were still swinging like you intended to tear down the whole city before they took you off your feet. I’ve seen hundreds of thugs, enforcers, and stray kids in this city, Haruka. None of them looked like that."
Sakura’s throat felt dry. He kept his eyes locked on the dark floor, but his chest tightened, and a strange, heavy heat rose behind his collar.
“Call it cliché. Call it ridiculous if you want,” Endo said with a faint smile touching the corners of his lips. His eyes remained serious. "But it was love at first sight…Or something very close to it. The moment I saw your eyes under the streetlights, I knew I wasn't leaving you in that gutter."
Yet the defensive snap Sakura usually relied on failed to materialize. He sat frozen, feeling the warmth in his neck spread up to his ears. The rain outside sounded strangely distant against the glass.
"I don't expect you to trust me overnight," Endo said gently as he reached out and pushed one of the fallen white pawns back into an upright position on the board. "You've survived by trusting no one, and I respect that. But you're under my roof now. Whatever is on your mind… whether it's the streets, your health, or someone in this house making things difficult for you… you don't have to carry it alone. I'm here. Whenever you're ready to speak."
Sakura swallowed hard, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his elbows. He didn't look back at Endo nor offer a sarcastic retort.
"I'm going to sleep" he muttered, his voice barely audible above the steady fall of the rain.
He pushed himself up from the sofa with a stiff, careful movement, shielding his healing side. He headed toward the door without waiting for a reply but Endo didn't stop him. He simply sat back against the dark leather and watched the boy's retreating figure with a calm, patient gaze as the heavy door clicked softly shut behind him.
Heavy, persistent rain had settled over the district, turning the narrow alleys into glistening black rivers that reflected the harsh crimson of neon signs overhead.
Sakura stood by the low wooden table with his feet planted shoulder-width apart. He wore a clean, dark blue windbreaker over his black hoodie and his hands rested near the zippers of his pockets. Beneath the fabric, his ribs had finally stopped throbbing with each breath, though he maintained his guarded stance out of habit. Pressed firmly against his ribs, under his jacket, was a sealed leather portfolio bound with brass clasps.
Sitting across from him in a plush leather armchair was the intermediary.
"You're late, kid" he said, his voice carrying the dry rasp of a heavy smoker. He set his cup down on the table with a soft clack.
"Traffic was backed up near the bridge," Sakura replied curtly, refusing to apologize. He reached into his jacket, pulled out the thick portfolio, and placed it on the table between them. "Endo said you'd have the key."
The man eyed the portfolio without immediately touching it. He leaned forward, his fingers reaching into his coat pocket to produce a small silver key attached to a heavy brass tag. He inserted the key into the central clasp, turning it until the lock gave a sharp, metallic pop.
Sliding the leather open, he pulled out a stack of water-marked bearer bonds and property deeds. He flipped through the documents with practiced speed, his thumb dampening against his tongue every few pages.
"All twenty-two deeds," he murmured after a solid two minutes of inspection. He slid the papers back into the leather sleeve, snapped the lock shut, and pulled a heavy black briefcase from beside his chair, setting it on the table. He popped the latches open, revealing rows of neatly banded, unmarked bills. "Count it if you want. It's all there."
Sakura didn't bother counting the bills individually. He glanced at the uniform thickness of the stacks, noted the clean seals on the straps, and snapped the briefcase shut with two firm clicks of his thumbs.
"I trust Endo's math," Sakura said, lifting the briefcase by its reinforced handle. The weight settled heavy in his arm, but he didn't let his posture dip. "We're done here."
The man offered a dry smirk that stretched the scar on his lip. "Tell Endo that the transfer for the southern docks will be finalized by Thursday."
Sakura turned without another word and pushed through the heavy velvet curtain into the main parlor. Old men sat there in quiet concentration over clattering mahjong tiles under low-hanging lamps. Sakura walked out the front exit and stepped back into the cool, rain-washed alley. He pulled his hood over his dual-colored hair to shield himself from the downpour and reached into his pocket, pulling out the smatphone Endo had given him. He tapped the single contact on the screen and brought the phone to his ear.
The phone rang twice before the line connected, fading into the smooth, low background hum of Endo's voice.
"I take it the exchange went smoothly?" Endo asked quietly, the faint sound of classical music playing in the background.
Sakura pulled his jacket collar up against the cold wind as he headed toward the car waiting for him at the end of the block, his shoes splashing through a puddle.
"It's done," Sakura said into the receiver, his fingers tightening around the briefcase's handle. "I'm heading back now."
Rain from the canal cut through the narrow brick corridor with relentless force, driving sheets of gray water against the rusted fire escapes and overflowing gutters. The alleyway behind the mahjong parlor was narrow and choked with plastic trash bins, barely wide enough for two men to walk abreast.
He didn't hear the footsteps until the shadow crossed the wall above him.
Before he could pivot on his heel, a pair of leather-gloved arms lunged out from the dark alcove beside the freight elevator. A heavy forearm slammed directly across his throat, cutting off his air with a sickening, wet choke. A brutal weight slammed into his back, pinning him against the damp brick wall.
"Got you, little dog" a rough, nicotine-strained voice rasped directly into his ear, heavy with the stench of cheap grain liquor and stale sweat.
The attacker was a massive man wearing a coat. His face was obscured by a cap pulled low over his broad nose. He was one of the survivors from the dock crew that Endo had been sweeping out weeke ago.
Sakura’s instincts fired in an instant. He drove the corner of the heavy briefcase backward into the man's knee, but he barely flinched. Using his height and momentum, he yanked Sakura off his feet and his back hit the wet pavement hard. The impact jarred his healing ribs and sent a white-hot surge of blinding agony straight through his chest.
The man straddled him, pinning his wrists to the slick cobblestones with his heavy knee digging directly into his bruised sternum. The brute leaned down, a cruel, yellow-toothed sneer splitting his face, and clamped his dirty fingers hard around Sakura’s jaw, forcing his head back against the concrete.
“Endo thinks he can clean out the docks and leave us with nothing?” he growled, tightening his grip until Sakura’s teeth clicked together. "First, I’m taking his delivery boy, then I’m taking the case."
Sakura thrashed, kicking his heels violently against the cobblestones and straining to reach the small blade tucked into his shoes with his left hand. But the weight on his ribs was crushing and suffocating, robbing his limbs of leverage.
Then, the oppressive weight above him vanished in an instant.
A sickening crack echoed through the narrow brick corridor as ’s head snapped back violently. A dark leather shoe had struck the side of his jaw with enough force to lift the man clean off of Sakura’s chest. He was sent sprawling into the flooded gutter with a heavy, wet splash.
Sakura scrambled backward against the brick wall, coughing violently as air rushed back into his lungs. He hauled himself up to one knee, clutching his side and his gold and dark eyes were wide as he looked up through his dripping, dual-colored bangs.
Endo stood in the middle of the rain-drenched alley.
He hadn't brought an umbrella. His dark hair was slightly plastered to his forehead and moisture darkened his tailored black suit coat across the shoulders. He looked calm and almost ethereal against the dingy backdrop of the alleyway. However, his green eyes were cold and empty of warmth. They were filled only with terrifying, absolute malice. He held a sleek, silver-handled cane in his right hand; the solid steel tip dripped with a smear of fresh blood from the man's jaw.
The man groaned in the mud and pushed himself up to his hands and knees. He spat blood into the puddle. "Endo—"
Endo didn't speak and stepped forward with a fluid motion. The silver tip of the cane came down with merciless precision, striking the back of the man’s knee. The joint gave a muffled, terrible crunch.Finally, the man shrieked and collapsed flat into the water.
Without a second glance at the writhing man, Endo stepped over him. His shoes splashed softly in the puddles as he closed the distance to where Sakura leaned against the damp brick.
"Are you all right, Haruka?" Endo asked gently. The terrifying, murderous aura that had surrounded him a moment ago seemed to evaporate, replaced by the soft cadence that belonged only to Sakura.
Endo dropped to one knee in the dirty water, completely unbothered by getting his tailored trousers soaked. Reaching out, he gently cupped Sakura’s jaw with his long fingers, lifting his face toward the dim gray daylight. His thumb stroked softly over a fresh red mark where man's fingers had clamped down.
Sakura’s breath hitched and he tried to pull her head back, but he was too weak, and his ribs throbbed again in time with his rapid heartbeat.
"I...I had it," he choked out, his voice hoarse and raspy from the chokehold. “I was getting my knife.”
“I know you were,” Endo murmured, his dark eyes searching Sakura’s face with an intensity that felt far more dangerous than the groaning man behind them. He slid his hand down to Sakura’s neck, his palm warm against his rain-slicked skin. "You fought well. But you don't have to do it alone anymore."
Endo stood up and extended a hand down to the boy. "Come on, let's go."
Sakura was still struggling to pull himself up against the wet masonry, breathing in ragged, hoarse gasps, when the shadow in the gutter surged back to life.
Driven by adrenaline and pure rage, the scarred man pushed himself up from the puddle. His shattered knee dragged uselessly against the stones. With a guttural growl, he lashed out with his hand, locking his fingers around the bone-handled hunting knife lying half-submerged in the mud. This time, he didn't target the boy, his wild, bloodshot eyes were fixed on Endo’s back.
"Look out!" Sakura rasped, his voice catching in his throat.
Endo began to turn, his expression calm. However, the heavy rain and tight confines of the alley cut his reaction time by a fraction of a second. The man lunged forward from the ground, driving the blade upward with a desperation born of absolute ruin.
The steel bit deep.
Endo shifted his weight just enough to save his neck, but the six-inch blade buried itself in the flesh of his left shoulder. A muffled gasp escaped his lips and his posture broke for the briefest moment as the force of the blow drove him back half a step.
"Endo!" Sakura screamed.
The sight of Endo's blood springing dark and hot through the torn fabric of his tailored jacket shattered whatever pain had kept Sakura on his knees. The fear that had paralyzed him seconds ago instantly transformed into a blinding fury.
Ignoring his own agony, Sakura lunged forward. He slammed his body weight into the man's side and used the black leather briefcase like a battering ram against his attacker's wounded face. The metal corner of the briefcase cracked sharply against his jaw, throwing the brute off balance just as he tried to twist the embedded knife.
The enemy roared and turned his head to strike Sakura, but Endo had already recovered.
Despite the deep gash pouring crimson down his left arm, his right hand moved with cold precision. He reversed his grip on the silver-headed cane and drove the solid steel pommel directly into the man’s windpipe with brutal force. The heavy man let out a strangled, wet wheeze, and his grip on the knife slipped completely.
Before he could fall, Sakura caught him by the lapels of his greasy canvas coat and drove a vicious knee straight into his cracked jaw. The combined force of the blow and Endo's strike sent him crashing backward onto the cobblestones. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he went completely limp in the flooded gutter.
Silence returned to the alley, broken only by the steady drum of rain and the harsh, ragged sounds of two men breathing.
Sakura stood over the unconscious man for a moment. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His entire body trembled with residual adrenaline. Then, his eyes snapped to Endo.
The older boy leaned slightly against the damp brick wall, his right hand pressed over his left shoulder. Dark blood seeped through his fingers, staining his white dress shirt and dark suit jacket. It washed away in thin red streams down his arm under the pouring rain. Yet his face remained maddeningly calm, with a tired curve touching the edge of his lips as he looked at the boy.
"You have a good knee strike," Endo murmured softly. His voice was a little lower than usual, but his tone was light. "I'm impressed."
"Shut up! Just shut the hell up!" Sakura yelled, his voice cracking with a volatile mix of panic and rage.
He marched over and grabbed Endo’s uninjured arm to steady him. His dual-colored eyes were wide and fierce beneath his dripping bangs. His hands shook violently as he looked at the dark stain spreading across Endo's chest.
"Why did you do that?!" Sakura spat. His jaw was tight, and his voice was thick with raw, ugly anger that he couldn't hide. “You could have dodged! You could have moved! You got stabbed because of me!"
"I got stabbed because I wasn't paying attention," Endo lied, letting Sakura support his weight as they slowly made their way toward the mouth of the alley where the car was idling. "And I would do it again without thinking."
"You're crazy," Sakura muttered. His throat tightened as he hoisted the heavy briefcase.hand and kept a firm, desperate grip on Endo’s coat with the other. "A complete, arrogant idiot."
Sakura stood outside Endo’s bedroom door, he had changed into a clean, oversized white T-shirt and black sweatpants, but his wet hair still dripped occasionally onto his collar. His left arm was tucked loosely against his side; his bruised ribs gave an occasional dull throb, though it was nothing compared to the sharp, churning anxiety in his throat.
He raised his hand, hesitated for three long seconds, and then knocked twice against the heavy timber.
"It's open" Endo's voice drifted from inside, low and untroubled.
Endo sat on the edge of the bed with slightly relaxed posture. A house doctor had come and gone hours ago: the deep wound on his left shoulder had been cleaned, stitched, and covered with a white medical bandage that wrapped snugly over his chest and under his arm. He wore only a pair of loose dark navy pajama pants. Without his dark suit jacket or dress shirt, his tattoos were on full display. On the nightstand beside him rested a glass of water and an unlit cigarette, though he hadn't touched either.
When the door clicked shut, Endo lifted his head and locked his eyes onto Sakura. His expression subtly softened as he watched the younger boy hover near the threshold, his posture rigid and his hands shoved deep into his sweatpant pockets.
"You should be resting, Haruka," Endo said softly. His tone was entirely devoid of the cold authority he carried in the streets. "The doctor said your ribs need time to heal."
"I'm fine" Sakura muttered, his gold and dark eyes fixed firmly on the white gauze covering Endo's shoulder. He forced himself to move, shuffling across the dark floor until he stood a few paces from the foot of the bed. Up close, under the dim amber glow of the lamp, the stark contrast between Endo's pale skin, the dark ink, and the pristine white bandage made the injury look far too real.
The smaller boy clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together so hard that his jawline went rigid. He glared at the floor between his bare feet, his chest rising and falling in short, tight breaths.
"The doctor said it wasn't too deep," Sakura rasped, his voice rough and uneven. He carried the awkward weight of someone who didn't know how to navigate vulnerability. "He said you were lucky."
"Luck had very little to do with it" Endo replied quietly, resting his right hand casually on his knee but he didn't interrupt, simply giving the boy space to speak. His green eyes observed every microexpression on Sakura's face.
Sakura took a shaky breath. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and clenched his fists at his sides, turning his knuckles white.
"It was my fault," Sakura blurted out. The words burst from his throat like a confession he’d been choking on for hours. Finally, he lifted his head, his dual-colored eyes burning with a painful mix of anger and guilt. "I was too slow. I let that bastard get behind me, and then you had to step in. If I had just been faster and hadn't hesitated with the knife, you wouldn't have taken that blade for me"
He took a step closer to the bed, his shoulders hunched inward. He looked down at Endo with an expression so intensely raw that it seemed to physically pain him.
"I don't like owing people," Sakura spat. His voice cracked slightly, edging toward a defensive growl. His eyes remained wide and glossy with unspoken dread. "And I hate... I hate that you got hurt because of me. So, I'm sorry, all right? Just... damn it, don't do that again!"
The room fell completely still, save for the quiet drumming of the rain against the glass.
Endo didn't laugh. He neither mocked the awkward, aggressive apology nor brushed it off with a casual dismissal. He slowly shifted his weight, wincing slightly as his wounded shoulder pulled, and held out his right hand toward Sakura.
"Come here," Endo murmured.
Sakura hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to turn around and run back to the safety of his room. But the steady, magnetic warmth in Endo's voice pulled him forward, so he took two slow, reluctant steps until he was standing beside the bed, within arm's reach.
Endo reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around Sakura's wrist. He didn't pull hard, just applied a light, grounding pressure that anchored the boy in place.
"Look at me, Haruka," Endo said quietly.
The boy swallowed hard and forced his gaze up to meet Endo's steady eyes.
"I didn't step in front of that blade because you were slow," Endo said, brushing a slow, comforting rhythm with his thumb over the sensitive skin of Sakura's inner wrist. "I did it because I chose to. There is a vast difference."
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening as he traced the defensive line of Sakura's jaw.
"You don't owe me an apology for surviving," Endo continued in a low voice that filled the dim room. "And you certainly don't owe me your guilt. My shoulder will heal in two weeks. But if that blade had hit your throat..."
Endo paused, tightening his grip on Sakura's wrist just a fraction, exposing a rare, terrifying glimpse of the possessive intensity beneath his calm exterior.
"That is something I would not have forgiven."
Sakura felt a prickling flush surge up his neck and spread rapidly across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. His heart gave a sudden, heavy thud against his healing ribs; the intensity of Endo's focus made his stomach do flip-flops. He tried to pull his wrist back, but his effort was weak and lacked force.
"You're...you're insane," Sakura grumbled softly. He looked away toward the nightstand, trying to hide his burning face, though he didn't break the connection between their hands. "You talk like a lunatic."
Endo offered a faint but genuine smile and slowly slid his fingers down from Sakura's wrist, they lingered on the boy's palm before finally releasing him.
"…Maybe," Endo admitted, leaning back on his bed, against his pillows and exhaling quietly. "Now, go back to bed, Haruka. We both have a long day tomorrow."
Sakura stood there for a second longer, his hand still tingling where Endo had held it. He shoved his hands back into his sweatpant pockets, turned his back, and headed for the door without another word.
"Hey," Sakura muttered over his shoulder without turning around. "Don't skip your medicine tomorrow morning."
Before Endo could reply, Sakura pushed the door open and slipped out into the quiet hallway. He left the older boy sitting alone in the warm amber light with a quiet, lingering smile on his lips.
Sakura sat on the edge of the armchair in the corner, his knees spread, hands resting on his thighs. His ribs had finally settled into a dull, manageable ache, but his mind refused to shut off. Every time he closed his eyes, he replayed the quiet intensity of Endo’s room from three nights ago, the feel of Endo’s fingers around his wrist, and the possessive look in his eyes.
Then, the heavy front door clicked open.
It was Endo, he was missing his suit jacket, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, exposing the pale skin above his bandages and the intricate black ink crawling up his neck. He smelled strongly of cigarettes and alcool.
Beside him stood Chiika, his red hair immaculate despite the hour, his shoulders easily supporting Endo’s weight. Chiika’s dark eyes flicked toward Sakura the moment the boy entered the hallway, his expression flat, unreadable, and laced with his usual quiet disdain.
"He's had half a bottle of twenty-year-old single malt," said Chiika, his voice smooth and devoid of humor. "And five glasses of high-proof sake with the district captains."
Endo lifted his head slowly. His green eyes were slightly unfocused, but when they landed on Sakura’s dual-colored gaze, a slow, ridiculously fond curve touched his lips.
"Haruka," Endo murmured. His voice was thicker than usual and carried a heavy warmth that sent a sudden spike of heat up Sakura's neck. "…You stayed up."
"I didn't stay up for you," Sakura spat defensively, crossing his arms and glaring at the pair. "I couldn't sleep. What the hell happened to you?"
"Party," Endo grumbled softly. He let out a quiet, breathy laugh as Chiika guided him two steps forward into the hallway. "Boring people. Loud music. Too much alcohol."
"He insisted on walking up from the garage instead of using the private elevator," Chiika added dryly. He shifted Endo's arm off his shoulder and stepped back, leaving the taller man standing unsteadily on his own feet. "He's yours now. Don't let him tear his stitches out."
Without another word, Chiika turned on his heel. His shoes clicked sharply against the floorboards as he returned to the private corridor and allowed the heavy door to close behind him. Sakura stood frozen, staring at Endo, who swayed slightly, his hand brushing against the wall to steady himself.
"Hey—don't just leave him to me!" Sakura yelled at the closed door, but it was already locked. He swung his glare back to Endo, his teeth grinding together. "Damn it! Get over here before you fall on your face."
He stepped into the space, reluctantly extending his hands. "Grab my shoulder. Come on."
Endo didn't hesitate, reaching out and draped his warm arm over Sakura's shoulders. His fingers curled loosely around Sakura's right arm. The sudden, solid weight of the older man hit Sakura hard. He had to plant his feet wide against the floorboards to keep them both upright. Endo was taller, broader, and considerably heavier, even with his lean build. The heat radiating from his skin was staggering.
"You smell awful" Sakura growled. He groaned as his healing ribs pulled under the sudden strain. He ducked his head and pulled Endo slowly toward the living room.
"You smell sooooo good" Endo whispered into Sakura's ear. His warm, whiskey-laced breath fanned against Sakura's sensitive neck, making his entire frame stiffen.
“Shut up and move your feet,” Sakura grumbled, his face burning a fierce crimson under his black-and-white bangs. "You're heavy as hell."
Endo thought he was so small under all that anger, his eyelids drooping as he felt the fierce, unyielding strength in the boy's frame holding him up.
They made it to the charcoal sofa. But as Sakura tried to ease Endo down onto the cushions but the taller boy foot caught the edge of the low coffee table.
Endo let out a muffled groan and lost his balance completely, dragging Sakura down with him. They crashed onto the plush velvet cushions in a tangled mess of limbs. Endo fell flat on his back against the sofa, and Sakura landed heavily on top of him. He kept his hands firmly planted on either side of Endo’s chest to prevent his face from slamming into the older boy's wounded shoulder.
The room went dead quiet.
Sakura held his breath whil he was hovering just inches above Endo’s face. In the dim amber glow of the floor lamp, he could see the faint gold flecks in Endo’s dark eyes, the fine stubble along his jawline, and the steady, heavy rise and fall of Endo’s chest beneath his unbuttoned shirt.
“Haruka,” Endo murmured softly. His hand rose slowly from the cushion and rested gently against the back of Sakura’s neck. His fingers tangled lightly in the dual-colored strands of Sakura’s hair. His thumb stroked the hot skin behind his ear with a slow, hypnotic pressure. "You're very loud when you're worried."
"I'm not... I'm not worried," Sakura rasped, his voice barely audible above the quiet patter of rain outside. "You're just an idiot."
Endo’s heavy-lidded eyes fluttered open, but his gaze locked onto Sakura’s dual-colored eyes with an intensity that felt sober. A slow, languid smile spread across his lips.
"Maybe" the raven haired boy murmured softly, his voice a low vibration.
Instead of letting his hand fall away, Endo shifted his weight, sliding his fingers up from the back of Sakura’s neck to firmly grasp his black-and-white hair. He pulled down with slow, deliberate pressure, forcing Sakura’s head down until their foreheads touched.
Sakura’s breath hitched in his throat. Every muscle in his body went rigid. "Hey—what are you—"
“Stay still” Endo whispered against his lips, his breath hot and heavy with scotch.
Endo’s thumb traced the curve of Sakura’s spine through the thin cotton of his hoodie. He applied a firm, possessive pull that drew Sakura’s lower body closer and pressed their hips together against the cushions.
Endo tilted his head, fixing his eyes on Sakura's mouth. He leaned up to close the remaining fraction of an inch between them, brushing his lips lightly and tantalizingly against his bottom lip.
"Endo, wait—" he choked out, his hands trembling where they were pinned to the couch.
"You're always running," Endo murmured, his hand slid further up Sakura's back. His fingers hooked into the waistband of his sweatpants and tugged him down firmly. "Just stop running for one night."
The heat, proximity, and absolute certainty in Endo's grip sent a jolt of pure panic through Sakura's system. It wasn't fear of Endo; it was an overwhelming, terrifying loss of control that threatened to swallow him whole. Relying on muscle memory, Sakura twisted his torso sharply to the right. He drove his forearm flat against Endo’s uninjured right chest, using the leverage to push himself backward with all his might.
The movement pulled at Sakura's healing ribs, causing a sharp spike of pain to shoot up his side. He ignored it, however. He scrambled off the sofa, his socks slipping slightly on the hardwood floor, and caught his balance against the edge of the low table.
Endo’s hand slipped from Sakura's hair and fell onto the armrest. He didn't chase after Sakura, simply leaned back against the dark velvet cushions.
"Fast," Endo noted quietly, his raspy voice sounding hoarse as he let his head sink deeper into the leather. "You're getting your quickness back."
Sakura stood three paces away, his chest heaving. One hand was clutched tightly over his bruised side, and the other wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. His face burned a brilliant, violent red, and his gold and dark eyes were wide and wild beneath his bangs.
"You're out of your damn mind!" Sakura barked, his voice loud in the quiet room. He backed away toward the hallway, his steps uneven, but he kept his eyes locked on the older boy. "Go to sleep!"
Endo let out a faint laugh that faded into the quiet hum of the rain. He closed his eyes as the alcohol pulled him under. Sakura didn't wait to see if he would open them again. He turned on his heel and hurried down the dark corridor, his heart beating like a war drum against his ribs all the way back to his room. He stood frozen in the dim, narrow hallway, his back pressed flat against the dark wood of the doorframe. The floorboards beneath his bare feet were cool, but his entire body felt ablaze with a searing, prickly heat that spread from his neck up through his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Inside his chest, his heart hammered with an erratic, terrifyingly violent thud, a wild, trapped pulse that vibrated all the way down to his trembling fingertips.
He raised a hand that shook uncontrollably and pressed his palm flat against his chest to try to steady his breathing manually. It did nothing. The air caught in his throat, coming in short, uneven hitches that pulled painfully against his healing ribs.
His dual-colored eyes were wide and fixed on the floor ahead and glittered with raw, undeniable terror. This was not the clean, simple fear of a rival gang drawing a knife in an alley, which Sakura understood and could punch or bleed through. This was an unfamiliar, disarming panic born from a complete loss of control, a sudden realization that the walls he had spent years building around himself were dissolving under the weight of one man's touch.
He reached his bedroom door, his fingers slipping twice against the cold metallic handle before he could turn it. He slipped inside, closing the door as quietly as possible, and leaned his forehead against the smooth panel in the dark. He was unable to calm the wild, frantic beating of his chest.
Endo kept both hands lightly resting on the steering wheel, his fingers relaxing into the turns with practiced ease. That day he wore a charcoal-gray, three-piece suit that concealed the fresh white bandages tightly wrapped across his shoulder. His expression was completely tranquil, and his green eyes tracked the traffic flow through his sunglasses.
Sakura sat stiffly in the front passenger seat, staring out the side window at the blurring ladnscape.
Neither of them mentioned the midnight incident on the sofa. There were no lingering glances over breakfast, nor any loaded comments while loading the car. On the surface, everything was back to normal like a silent pact to return to their functional routine.
Sakura cut the thought short, turning his head further toward the window and narrowing his gold and dark eyes at the passing skyline.
"The man we're meeting is named Togame Jo," Endo said, breaking the silence with his measured cadence. He didn't turn his head, keeping his eyes on the road as he flipped the turn signal. "He handles distribution out of the container yards near the port. He's a dick. Don't let his casual demeanor fool you."
"I know how to deal with guys like that" Sakura grumbled. His voice was rough from disuse.
"I know you do," Endo replied smoothly, a faint smile touching the corners of his lips. "That's precisely why I need you to stay three steps behind me and keep your hands out of your pockets. Togame deals in heavy ordinance: modified assault rifles, tactical gear, and illegal imports. He's careful. If he sees an unfamiliar face reaching into their clothes, his men won't hesitate."
"I'm not an idiot" Sakura spat, turning to glare at Endo's profile.
Endo slowed the car as they reached the off-ramp toward the industrial dockyards, pausing for a moment. He turned his head slightly and adjusted his sunglasses with his right hand. His eyes caught Sakura’s through the tinted lenses.
"Act like my associate," Endo said, his voice dropping into that quiet, magnetic tone that made Sakura’s throat go dry. “Watch the room. Watch his people. If something about the arrangement feels off, give me the signal.”
Sakura held his gaze for two long seconds before looking back out the windshield. His heart did a brief, unwelcome flutter against his healing ribs. "Fine. What's the signal?"
"Just cross your arms," Endo murmured, turning the wheel to guide the heavy car into a gravel-covered alley bordered by rusting shipping containers and corrugated iron warehouses. The sharp smell of brine, diesel fuel, and damp rust filled the vehicle as the automatic climate control adjusted. "Simple, clear, and very much like you."
The car came to a smooth halt outside a converted brick warehouse near the water's edge. Two broad-shouldered men in dark coats stood by the steel entrance, their hands resting loosely by their sides.
""Remember," Endo murmured as he opened his door and slipped his phone into his breast pocket. "We're here to negotiate, not tear the place down. Keep your composure."
"I know" Sakura muttered under his breath as he stepped out onto the wet gravel. His posture shifted instantly into an alertstance, and he fell into step right behind Endo's right shoulder.
The interior of the converted warehouse opened up into a space with high ceilings, smelling strongly of machine oil and the bitter tang of chicory coffee brewing somewhere in the back. Mid-morning sunlight cut through the dusty clerestory windows high above, illuminating thick steel support beams, stacked wooden crates, and an old iron staircase leading up to a catwalk, where two guards stood in quiet observation.
Togame Jo sat in the armchair on the left and looked far less hostile than Sakura had prepared himself for.
"You look well, Endo," said Togame, his voice a low tone that carried easily across the quiet space. He casually gestured toward the glass table where a silver tray held two porcelain cups and a glass carafe. "Especially for a man rumored to have gotten himself into a messy situation near the docks some nights ago."
Endo sat across from him in the opposing armchair; his charcoal-gray, three-piece suit was immaculate and hid the bandages beneath. His dark eyes held a cool, unblinking sharpness.
"I'm not here for this," Endo replied smoothly. His tone was even and polite yet carried an underlying chill that made their mutual distaste almost palpable. "I prefer to discuss facts. Specifically, the military-grade optical sights and submachine gun conversion kits mentioned in our preliminary manifest."
Sakura stood three paces behind Endo's right shoulder, taking a slow breath as he settled into the rhythm of the room. He shoved his hands into his windbreaker pockets, remembering Endo's warning a second too late, before dropping his arms loosely to his sides. He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart and shifted his weight subtly off his healing ribs.
"Accurate" Togame murmured, leaning back in his leather chair and resting his hands on the armrests. His eyes briefly flicked past Endo, taking in Sakura's dual-colored hair, youth, and sharp, guarded posture before sliding back to Endo's face.
"We can discuss the unit price for the whole lot or negotiate per crate. But let's not waste each other's afternoon with corporate posturing."
Endo leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes fixed on Togame in a silent, calculating stare as the low hum of the dockyard machinery echoed outside.
The silence inside the warehouse was broken only by the distant, rhythmic clang of shipping containers being stacked along the docks outside and the high-pitched whine of an overhead ventilation fan.
Togame didn't immediately respond to Endo’s terms regarding the crates. Instead, he uncrossed his long legs, reached over, and poured himself a thin stream of dark coffee from the glass carafe into a small cup. He took a measured sip, his eyes drifting past Endo’s left shoulder to lock onto Sakura squarely.
"You must have the patience of a saint," he said, cutting smoothly through the quiet room. He tilted his cup slightly toward Sakura in an easy, informal toast. "Living under the same roof as Endo... I give it two months before you lose your mind.”
Togame paused, his eyes crinkling with mocking warmth as he took in Sakura’s rigid stance, scowling face and defensive glare.
“Look at you,” Togame chuckled softly, setting the cup back onto its saucer with a delicate clack. "Standing guard like a brooding Othello. Does he even pay you, or do you just enjoy looking miserable?"
Sakura’s jaw dropped for a moment. He blinked, caught completely off guard by the sudden change in direction of the conversation. His eyes widened slightly and his brow furrowed in a mix of genuine confusion and rising irritation.
Before he could respond or take a step forward, the temperature in the room plummeted.
Endo didn't shift in his chair or change his relaxed posture, but the quiet, polite mask he wore hardened into something razor-sharp.
"Don't get too familiar with him, Togame" Endo said. His voice was low and smooth, laced with an icy command that cut off the guards quiet laughter on the catwalk above.
Togame raised his eyebrows, holding his coffee cup halfway to his mouth, completely unbothered by the sudden shift in tone.
"Just making conversation,Endo" Togame murmured evenly, setting the cup down. "No need to get defensive over your entourage."
"He isn't part of the negotiation, and he certainly isn't your entertainment," Endo replied in a emotionless tone. He leaned forward slightly, the dark fabric of his tailored suit shifting over his bandaged shoulder as he rested his right hand flat on the glass table between them. "We're here to settle the price on thirty units of heavy ordinance. Address me, or this meeting is over."
Sakura glanced at the back of Endo's neck and watched the subtle tension in the older boy's jaw. His heart beat erratically against his ribs as the negotiation resumed under a far colder and more dangerous silence.
Endo walked quickly, his shoes crunching against the gravel. His hands were jammed deep into the pockets of his charcoal suit pants, and his shoulders were squared and tense beneath the fabric. His usual quiet, effortless composure had vanished, replaced by a sharp agitation that made the air around him feel dangerous.
Sakura trailed two steps behind his right shoulder, his windbreaker was zipped up to his neck. He breathed through his nose and kept his jaw tight as he matched Endo's rapid stride.
"He's pissed" Sakura thought, his eyes scanning the empty shipping containers lining the alley.
Endo reached the side door of the black car and stopped dead in his tracks. He didn't unlock the vehicle. He stood there for a long moment, his chest rising and falling in deep, controlled breaths as he stared down at the wet gravel.
"Unbelievable," Endo muttered, his voice dropping into a harsh rasp that cut through the distant hum of the dockyard cranes. He slowly turned around, resting one hand against the roof of the car. His greem eyes locked onto Sakura through his sunglasses. "The nerve of that arrogant bastard talking to you as if he had any right to look your way."
Sakura took a step back, shifting his weight onto his back foot. His hands remained shoved deep in his windbreaker pockets. "He was just trying to get under your skin so you'd lower the price. You said it yourself, he plays games."
"He was looking at you," Endo corrected sharply, taking a step forward until they were face-to-face. He reached out and caught Sakura's chin with his fingers, lifting his face with an unyielding, possessive grip that forced the boy to look straight into his dark, storm-filled eyes. "Nobody looks at what's mine like that. Not Togame, not anyone in this city."
Sakura’s throat went dry as the word "mine" echoed inside his head like a physical blow.
The memory of the previous night, Endo's heavy weight on the sofa, his fingers tangled in Sakura's hair, the taste of whiskey on his breath, came crashing back with suffocating force.
"I'm not your damn property!" Sakura barked, his voice tearing out of his throat in a raw, defensive snap.
Pure instinct caused Sakura to swing his right arm up and slam the flat of his forearm against Endo's wrist. With enough force to send Endo's arm back against his side, he knocked the older man's hand away, taking a sharp, heavy step backward into the wet gravel.
"Don't touch me like that!" Sakura shouted. His jaw worked and his eyes burned with a fierce, unstable mix of anger and panic. His knuckles were white inside his pockets and his chest heaved under his hoodie. "I came here to do a job, not to be your fucking trophy! If you want to compete with Togame, leave me out of it!"
Endo didn't strike back, he stood perfectly still where Sakura had shoved him. His arm was suspended in the air for a moment before he slowly let it fall back to his side.
His eyes narrowed slightly behind his sunglasses as he studied the fierce pride blazing in Sakura's face. Fierce, terrified of being bound, and impossible to look away from.
A quiet, dangerous silence settled over the gravel alleyway, punctuated only by the distant caw of gulls circling the harbor and the steady idling of the heavy engine.
Slowly, the tension in Endo's shoulders began to ease. The lethal edge of his expression softened, replaced once again by his maddeningly patient composure. He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out the sleek electronic key fob, and pressed the unlock button. The car's headlights flashed twice and emitted a soft, mechanical beep.
"Let's go," Endo murmured, his tone was completely even, as if he hadn't just claimed ownership of the boy five seconds ago. "We have another stop to make before heading back."
Sakura stood his ground for two more seconds, his throat tightening as he glared at Endo through his bangs until his eyes burned. Finally, with a harsh huff of frustration, he yanked the passenger door open, threw himself inside, and slammed the heavy door shut behind him.
Endo parked near an alley lined with overhead telephone wires and tangled power lines. Instead of leading them to the marble entrance of a five-star hotel or an exclusive private club, Endo headed toward a small, unobtrusive ramen shop tucked beneath an old railway trestle.
The storefront was humble and nearly hidden. A faded, rain-stained, maroon noren curtain fluttered above the sliding wooden door, which was painted with chipped white kanji. Inside, the space was tiny, with just six worn vinyl stools along a scuffed wooden counter and two small laminate tables near the back.
An elderly man in a bleached apron nodded silently behind the counter, not pausing his work.
Sakura stopped just inside the doorway, his hands shoved deep into his navy windbreaker and his dual-colored bangs damp against his forehead. He looked around the cramped, steamy room with a sharp frown; his gold-and-brown eyes were filled with total confusion.
“What is this place?” Sakura grumbled, his voice low and defensive. Shielding his healing ribs, he shifted his weight and gestured vaguely toward the worn counter. "If you brought me here to eat, you wasted your time. I'm not hungry."
Endo didn't push him or make a sarcastic remark but he unbuttoned his jacket and eased himself onto one of the vinyl stools in the corner near the back wall, well out of sight of the street window. He carefully adjusted his position, revealing the dull ache in his bandaged shoulder with a subtle tightness around his eyes.
"Please, sit down" Endo said quietly, tapping the empty stool beside him.
Sakura lingered for a long, stubborn second, his jaw set hard, before letting out a sharp sigh through his nose. He dragged himself over and dropped onto the stool, leaving six inches of space between them.
The old man behind the counter set two steaming cups of matcha tea on the scarred wood, then stepped back into the kitchen.
Endo wrapped his long fingers around his cup, letting the heat seep into his palms. The volatile anger from his confrontation with Togame had completely dissipated, replaced by quiet exhaustion and reflection.
"I didn't bring you here only for a meal," Endo murmured, his gaze fixed on the rising steam of his tea. "This was my grandfather's favorite spot forty years ago. Nobody from the family comes here. No captains, no informants."
He slowly turned his head, his eyes locking onto Sakura’s guarded face with unvarnished, quiet sincerity that caught the younger boy completely off guard.
"I realized something on the drive over," Endo continued in a low, soft voice that felt strangely intimate in the small diner. "I dragged you into my world. I dressed you in my clothes and gave you a gun. I expected you to stand at my shoulder while people threw threats at us. But I haven't asked you a single time how you're actually doing."
Sakura blinked, feeling an awkward thud in his chest. He gripped his untouched teacup so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He stared down at the dark liquid inside.
"I'm fine," he spat out automatically, his voice rough as he tried to erect his usual defensive wall. "My ribs don't hurt as much and I can handle myself. I don't need you checking up on me like I'm made of glass."
Endo watched him silently, a faint warmth touching his expression as he took in the fierce, unyielding pride blazing in Sakura's eyes.
"You're not made of glass," Endo said softly. He reached out and rested his hand on the counter between them, his fingers just inches from Sakura's wrist. "Far from it. But that doesn't mean I want to take you for granted. Before we go back… I just wanted a few minutes where it's just the two of us, without a target on our backs."
Sakura swallowed hard. His throat tightened as he stared at Endo's fingers on the wood. He wanted to refuse again and pull away, but the quiet honesty in the older boy's voice held him in place in the warm, steamy quiet of the shop.
Sakura sat frozen on the worn vinyl stool, his fingers still tightly gripping the ceramic teacup. His reflection in the dark liquid showed his dual-colored bangs hanging low and partially shadowing his gold and dark eyes. The heat from the cup seeped into his palms, but inside, his chest felt hollow and cold.
Across the scarred wooden counter, Endo sat unmoving, his eyes fixed on Sakura with patient stillness. He didn't rush the boy nor offer platitudes. He simply waited, his right hand resting flat against the wood between them.
A shuddering breath escaped Sakura’s lips, rough and uneven. He stared down into his tea, his voice dropping into a flat, raspy monotone, as if he were reading a police report about a stranger.
"There wasn't any place to go after my parents kicked me out," he began, his words dry and raw. "I slept under the river bridges during the winter. If you didn't find a dry spot near the heating vents by six, the older guys would push you out into the rain. You either freeze or get beaten until you move.”
He pulled his hands back from the cup and shoved them deep into his windbreaker pockets. His posture slumped slightly as memories pulled at him.
"When you're fifteen and sleeping on cardboard, you don't have many choices," Sakura continued. His jaw jumped as he swallowed hard. "I took money from whoever offered it: sometimes, I carried packages across the district, and sometimes, I let some drunk executive use me behind a pachinko parlor for three thousand yen so I could buy bread and a fresh pair of socks."
He tilted his head slightly and his dual-colored eyes flicked toward Endo. He was defensive and sharp, expecting to see disgust, pity, or judgment written across the elder boy's face.
"I took hits from iron pipes. I slept in overflowing gutters with broken fingers. I let scum touch me because the alternative was starving to death in a ditch," Sakura spat. His voice rose just enough to cut through the hum of the kitchen. "That's who you're keeping in your house."
Endo didn't flinch. His expression didn't shift into shallow sympathy, nor did he pull his hand back. Instead, his eyes softened into something profound and still.
Slowly and silently, Endo reached across the small gap in the counter. His calloused fingers wrapped firmly around Sakura's right wrist, and his thumb pressed against the boy's rapid, erratic pulse.
"You survived," Endo murmured softly "You fought through the mud and kept yourself alive until I found you. There is no shame in that, Haruka."
Endo tightened his grip just enough to keep the trembling boy anchored to the stool.
“The men who hurt you are scum,” Endo added. His eyes flashed with a lethal promise that sent a shiver straight down Sakura's spine. "Anyone who looks at you like prey now will answer directly to me."
Sakura stood perfectly still, his wrist heavy in Endo’s palm. The heat of his confession lingered in the air between them like smoke: ugly and unvarnished. He kept his jaw clenched tight and his eyes fixed on the scarred wood of the counter waiting for the shift or the subtle recoil, the clinical pity, or the heavy-handed paternalism he usually got from other pleople when they realized how deep the mud ran.
Endo simply let out a long, quiet breath through his nose. His expression remained composed, but the dangerous edge that usually guarded his features softened into a grounded and surprisingly tired look. He loosened his grip on Sakura’s wrist, giving the boy space to pull away if he wanted to. However, he kept his hand flat on the nearby counter.
“I hear you, Haruka,” Endo said quietly. His voice was a steady tone that carried no theatrical gravity, just simple, matter-of-fact recognition. “I’m not going to pretend I’m glad you had to live through that. It’s filthy, and the people who took advantage of you were cowards.”
He paused, reached for his ceramic cup, took a small, measured sip of the warm green tea, and set it back down with a faint click against the wood.
“But I’m not going to treat you like a victim who needs my permission to exist,” Endo continued, turning his head to look directly at Sakura. His eyes were clear and entirely free of condescension. "You survived because you’re stubborn, smart, and tough enough to keep breathing when everything else gave out…. If I start treating you like you're fragile now, I'm disrespecting the exact strength that kept you alive long enough to walk into my life."
Sakura’s throat hitched., he had braced hmself for a lecture, for Endo to cling to him even more tightly out of some twisted sense of protection, but this was different. It was anacknowledgment of his agency, a quiet recognition that despite everything, Sakura belonged to himself first.
"I want to protect you, Haruka," Endo admitted in a flat, candid tone, devoid of posturing. "That’s my instinct… Given what happened three days ago, I doubt that instinct will go away anytime soon. But I also know you know what you want. You chose to stay in the car today. You chose to walk into that warehouse with me. You aren't a hostage here."
"I can handle myself," Sakura muttered. His voice was rough and slightly hoarse, though the hostile edge had bled out of it. "I can fighting my battles."
"I know," Endo murmured. A genuine smile touched the corners of his lips as he signaled the cook for the check. "Which is precisely why I trust you at my back."
Sakura picked up his wooden chopsticks, his knuckles still pale from tension, and dipped them into the deep stoneware bowl. He pulled a small cluster of noodles from the steaming broth, blew on them once, and took a quiet, careful bite. The rich, savory heat hit his chest instantly, spreading a grounding warmth through his exhausted frame.
"Thanks," he murmured under his breath, his voice barely audible above the quiet bubbling of the broth pots behind the counter. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on his bowl, refusing to look directly at Endo. Though the guarded edge in his posture had finally softened. "For listening."
Endo didn't make a big deal out of the moment. He simply offered a brief smile that barely reached his eyes but carried genuine, quiet warmth, then he picked up his chopsticks.
"Eat before it gets cold he replied softly, his voice low and calm as he began his own meal.
For ten minutes, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was no longer filled with the volatile tension of the morning's arms deal or the raw panic of the alleyway; rather, it was filled with a quiet, shared breathing space. The elderly cook moved quietly in the background, wiping down stainless steel counters and rinsing ceramic bowls, leaving the two boys to themselves.
As Endo reached across the counter to pick up his glass of tea, a sudden, subtle hitch caught in his throat. His right hand winced as his fingers tightened against the smooth glass. A sharp spike of pain shot through his left shoulder where his bandages pulled tightly beneath his charcoal suit jacket. He set the glass down with a faint, unsteady clack. His breath caught in a short, suppressed gasp, and his posture stiffened.
Sakura's eyes snapped up instantly. His fatigue vanished immediately, replaced by a protective instinct.
“Hey,” he said sharply, dropping his chopsticks onto his bowl. He turned on his vinyl stool and leaned closer to Endo, his brow furrowing with genuine concern. "Your shoulder. It's pulling, isn't it?"
"It's fine," Endo murmured, his voice slightly raspier than usual. He maintained his composed mask exhaling slowly through his nose and attempted to shift his weight back. "Just a muscle spasm."
"Don't give me that bullshit," Sakura growled softly. His tone was laced with the familiar rough worry he always masked as anger.
Without asking for permission, Sakura reached out and gently placed his hand over the dark fabric of Endo’s right forearm, steadying him in the process. With his other hand, Sakura carefully slid Endo’s tea glass closer to him, putting it out of reach of any sudden movements that might further strain the wound.
“You spent the whole morning driving around, dealing with Togame, and getting worked up,” Sakura muttered. His eyes were locked on Endo’s face as he searched for any sign of hidden pain. “You’re supposed to be resting that arm, idiot. The doctor said no sudden stress."
Endo looked down at Sakura’s hand on his arm, then back at the scowling boy. The quiet intensity in Sakura’s eyes was now entirely undisguised: raw, anxious, and deeply caring despite his harsh words.
"Oh? You're very bossy when you're taking care of someone" Endo noted quietly, a small, genuinely amused glint touching his dark eyes.
"Don't make me regret it," Sakura grumbled, a faint blush dusting his cheekbones as he slowly withdrew his hand. He remained leaned in close, though. "I just don't want you bleeding through your shirt in the middle of a diner."
"Fair enough," Endo agreed softly. Relaxing his shoulders, he let the tension drain out of his posture as he looked at the boy. "Thank you, Haruka."
Sakura huffed and picked up his chopsticks again, shoving another mouthful of noodles into his mouth to avoid replying. As they finished their meal in the quiet warmth of the shop, however, the wall between them felt a little thinner. The shared pain of their wounds, both old and fresh, was a little easier to bear together.