A/N: From hereon, there will be spoilers from Black Dragons Arc. While this story will not remain faithful to canon, the core cast and their histories will. Furthermore, you may enjoy this story more if you can recognize where I am deviating from the source material. We will continue to deviate further with each arc.

This will be the final chapter up until the end of December. Not only is the corresponding anime season airing in January, I want to release consistent, monthly updates like I did for Valhalla arc (I missed one month, but meh). I write comfortably at 1.5 months per chapter during the school semester, so this hiatus will grant me a head start.

I'm not doing a preview of the next arc this time. What I will say, though, is that a fifth of it will be in Takemichi's POV. Make of that what you will.

T/W for the same kinds of themes as the manga in this time leap: death(s), violence, drugs, guns, etc. I mostly stay within canon's realm of sensitive topics, so I don't give warnings unless I think it's particularly sensitive. Do not hesitate to tell me if it is.

"Ugh." Takemichi scrunched his eyes shut as blinding light from above enveloped his vision. He raised an arm to his face, but an unusual tug at his shoulder had him squint at his arm under the shade of his hand.

A sleek, dark sleeve extended past his wrist, where a branded, silver watch ticked. This was definitely not his typical casual attire.

After a few more blinks, his eyes adjusted to the sunlight pouring in through the tall skylights. Skyscrapers and busy streets spanned out below him and extended to the horizon, where he could distinguish a red tower against the blue sky. Tokyo tower, most likely.

It was obvious that he should still be in Japan, but returning to the present was like opening a save file for a game he hadn't played in ages: there was no welcome-back tutorial or memories of how he'd gotten to that point, and the game expected him to know what he was doing again.

Or, to be more accurate, it was like lending his game to Makoto and then opening his save file to see that all his party members had been kicked and replaced with hot girls. He had some idea of what to expect, as his past self was the hypothetical friend in this scenario, but there was a niggling 'he wouldn't dare...' in the back of his mind while said friend was playing his game out of Takemichi's sight and control.

He stared at his hazy reflection in the skylight, taking in the single-breasted suit buttoned at his chest that made him look quite dashing, which was complimented by a striped tie and his black, gelled-back hair. He angled his body a bit away and straightened the lapels of his jacket.

Damn, his past self had really been on the grind.

"What are you doing?" a feminine voice scoffed behind him.

The only other occupant of the expansive corridor was a woman a little shorter than him, her thin, copper-brown hair tied back in a bun and a form-fitting skirt extending from beneath her suit jacket. A leather briefcase hung beside her bare knees. "Are you coming or not?" she asked from the shade of the hallway.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry." He stepped out of the sunlight and joined her at the inner side of the hallway.

They walked down the long corridor, her short heels clicking and his dress shoes tapping across the tiles. She seemed to know where they were going, striding past the closed doors and staring straight ahead at the end of the hall. Takemichi let his pace fall behind hers.

Who was she? Where was he? His eyes trailed from her figure to the building. The white tiles were spotless and lustrous, as were the glass skylights stretching across the length of one side of the hall. The noontime sun was enough to brighten the corridor, and the light fixtures embedded in the ceiling remained off.

She turned into a waiting area with a glass-doored elevator. He stopped behind her and watched the brown-haired woman press the down button.

"You said you'd show me out, but you're acting like you're lost. This is your place, y'know. Are you that inept?" She stared back at him through the corner of her eye.

"Eh?" This was his place? He owned it? He was wearing a very nice suit, but owning a building this luxurious, in central Tokyo no less, was on a completely different scale. Even if she meant he owned the floor or only a room, or maybe just worked here, this high-end place was the exact opposite of his shabby apartment and cheap part-time job. He scanned around the room once more, taking in the sparkling marble slab that the glass elevator doors rested in, the crystal chandelier hanging above the sofa at the window, and the delicate bouquet of white roses housed in a porcelain vase beside the open doorway.

"...I'm actually starting to become concerned. You used to be the one most eager to execute the plan, but can you even participate in this state?"

He looked back at her. "Plan? What plan?"

Her expression turned flat. "You must be joking."

The elevator took that moment to arrive, the rising lift bringing a pair of men with it. One wore a choker and the other circular glasses, but both sported shoulder-length hair, tattoos below their exposed collarbones, and an unamused glower. Takemichi stiffened and shuffled to the side. These were people not to get involved with. Maybe he owned the place according to her, but they looked like they'd own him if he annoyed them in any manner.

The woman, however, remained standing at the doors. Takemichi beckoned for her to come join him at the side, but she didn't react. Could she not see him frantically waving at her?

The glass doors slipped open, and the two men stepped out of the elevator, navigating around the brown-haired woman.

"You guys finished?" the slimmer of the two said.

"Mhm." She nodded to the pair.

They knew each other? The professionally dressed woman and the...gangsters was the only term he could use to describe them. Not the gangs of his middle school years, but real, criminal gangs who dealt in illegal business.

"See you tonight. Go take a nap or something beforehand because you're clearly out of it right now."

"Huh? Oh, bye." He blinked out of his daze and waved at the woman, who'd entered the elevator. She raised a hand in response as the doors closed, and the lift descended out of sight.

Now it was just him and the gangsters.

He tried not to directly stare and instead angled his back to the gangsters to peek at them in the hazy reflection on the marble wall.

They stared right back at him.

"Takemichi, the hell are you doin'?"

He swiveled around to face them, his palms raised to his chest. "N-nothing, I'm not doing—wait, do you...know me, too?"

The man with the stubble scrunched his brow but continued speaking. "Feels like a loaded question, but yeah. I mean, there were times I sure wish I didn't, like when you roped us into fighting the Shonan Mermaids and I got my ass whooped first. My specialty's intel, not brawling." He sniffed and adjusted his glasses.

The Shonan Mermaids...that was way back, even before he'd reached his 2nd year of middle school and encountered Toman. His main friend group then had just been the Mizo Middle Five. Wait, glasses and that brown hair...

"Y-Yamagishi?"

"Yep." The man snapped his fingers. "That's me."

"And...you're Takuya," he said with more confidence. The other man nodded.

His friends had leveled-up, too. Takemichi felt very under-leveled in just his suit and tie, even if his attire was admittedly quite nice.

They walked out into the hallway, back in the direction Takemichi had earlier come. Takemichi followed a few steps behind. He knew them better than he knew the woman, but these versions of his friends were so far removed from their middle-school selves.

Yamagishi rubbed his goatee as he peered back at the time traveler. "You've been pretty stressed since Hina-chan's death, but now—"

"Tact. Show some tact," Takuya said as he bumped into Yamagishi with his elbow.

Even if he'd somehow gotten to this level, he hadn't done much in the past this time around. Of course she'd still be dead. But that admission wasn't enough to restrain the stone of disappointment that splashed down in his gut. His eyes drooped, and his shoes scuffed the tiles.

"Argh, shit. Sorry, Takemichi. I didn't mean to remind you." A hand rubbed his back.

"No, it's fine." He sighed and shook his head at Yamagishi, who now walked beside him. "I'm over it now."

They wordlessly turned at the corner into another corridor.

Yamagishi broke the silence. "Hey, y'know Atsushi just suddenly stole my car? I left it in the parking garage with the doors unlocked and the keys in, so I guess I shoulda seen it comin', but he didn't even ask me. I didn't see him do it, but I bet it's him, that bastard."

Akkun?

Takemichi halted. "Akkun's...alive?" he asked with wide eyes.

His friends also stopped. "Well, he's a dead man when he gets back," Yamagishi said.

Hina, Myers, and Akkun. It was those three who died in each present Takemichi leapt to, despite his efforts to rewrite the past. Hina, he had again failed to rescue. But Akkun...had Takemichi done it? Was he saved?

They'd all been alive when he arrived at the previous timeline, and then they'd all died later that night. Akkun had previously died killing Hina, but although Hina was again dead, it didn't necessarily have to be Akkun who killed her or subsequently died in the process. However, it was too early for him to conclude Akkun's survival. Two leaps ago, Akkun had become a Toman admin and survived up to the point Takemichi had returned to the present, but shortly after meeting Takemichi at one of his businesses, Akkun had... Takemichi shook his head.

"Do you know where he went?" Takemichi said.

"No clue. He seemed pretty skittish, looking around to check if anyone else was there. Not thoroughly enough, though," Takuya spoke up.

"Oi! You were just standin' around and watching? The heck, man! If it'd been yours, I would've at least said something."

Takuya shrugged, although his lips tugged into a smile. "I was curious what he was doing, sneaking off in your boring SUV."

"'B-boring'?" Yamagishi spluttered. "Truck-kun would never lose to anyone! A match, Takuya! Let's race on the track tomorrow."

"No thanks. It's a waste of gas." Takuya turned away and continued walking.

"Hey, wait! You're just scared you'll lose, aren't ya?"

Takemichi laughed as he caught up with the bickering pair. They might've changed on the outside, but this part of them had remained the same, at least. Akkun was alive now, and maybe he could hope that fact would remain true.

The pair stopped beside a closed door near the end of the corridor. Takemichi followed suit.

"You're not goin' in, Takemichi?" Yamagishi asked.

"Eh?" So he was supposed to be in that room. Now he wouldn't have to wander aimlessly, but..."What about you guys?"

"We were just walking you back," Takuya explained. "You were discussing some sensitive information with the boss earlier, so it's probably for the best that we don't enter yet."

'The boss'? The two were working here? According to the woman from earlier, Takemichi himself also had a connection to this place. Was he working alongside them, possibly in some illicit activities...?

He'd find out more if he met this 'boss' of theirs. Takemichi swallowed as he twisted the door handle and stepped inside.

The wide room shared the same theme of decor as the corridor. Pure white tiles covered the floor and receded down into a small lounge area in the center of the room, where an ornate chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling. Skylights spanned the far wall, granting the same scenic view over Tokyo.

He wrinkled his nose as he caught an acrid whiff of...smoke? He looked around, his eyes passing over the wine shelves, the flat-screen TV, the filing cabinets—

"Oh, Takemitchy. You're finally back."

There was a man sitting behind a desk he hadn't noticed at the far end of the room, his back to the city streets through the glass. He had a round face, a black, two-block haircut, and a small earring on his left earlobe...

"C-Chifuyu?!"

"Hm? What's the shock for?" The 'boss' placed his lighter on the table, but his other gloved hand kept a burning piece of paper suspended above an ashtray.

His old friends looked like they belonged to a gang, and since Chifuyu was here, could that mean...they were in Toman? And based on all the hints from the people he'd met so far in this timeline, he was, too! It was his chance to find out what was happening behind the scenes. Why did Toman keep killing Hina, and how did Toman grow evil? While he hadn't uncovered any direct evidence to prove the latter part was still true in this timeline, Hina was still dead. Toman must've killed her again because he hadn't done enough in the past.

He could change that if he just knew what he needed to do.

"What's that you're burning?" Takemichi asked as he approached. Chifuyu didn't seem to object, so he walked up to his boss's desk.

"It's just the letter from the police Yuzuha gave to us earlier," Chifuyu said while watching the flame creep up the sheet. "Can't have this lying around."

"Wait, what—the police?!" A letter from law enforcement to a gang? Had Toman gotten caught? A member arrested, a business exposed? He tried to read the handwritten words, but the scorched streaks made them all but indecipherable.

"Yeah?" Chifuyu placed the remaining fourth of the paper in the ashtray and straightened his pinstripe suit as he looked up at Takemichi. "Didn't you see it earlier?"

"Uh, yeah, I just...forgot for a second." Takemichi laughed it off and ran his fingers through his hair.

Chifuyu raised an eyebrow, then sank back into his office seat and continued watching the final embers eat away at the letter, crumbling into the glass tray as glowing ashes. Takemichi silently joined him. The orange flame winked out in a fizzle of smoke.

"You don't have to attend tonight's admin meeting." Takemichi glanced up at his boss, who still stared at the motionless ashes with a contemplative frown.

"It'll be dangerous...I was the one who roped you into it before Hina-chan died, but I don't want you to take any unnecessary risks. I know this means a lot to you, but I don't want you to recklessly endanger yourself. We'll be on the front lines, and if it goes wrong, you—you really might die. Hina-chan might be gone, but I don't want you dead. Neither do your friends."

It was evidently a serious topic, but Takemichi couldn't share in the sentiment. Was it related to the plan 'Yuzuha' had mentioned, if Chifuyu had been referring to that woman from earlier?

"...the meeting?" Takemichi tried to match Chifuyu's grave tone by dropping the pitch of his voice. "What are we doing at the meeting?"

"The police raid to arrest all the admins. We've been planning this for months, Takemitchy."

Huh?

Chifuyu was collaborating with the police for a raid on the Toman meeting. They were going to betray Toman and eliminate its top.

If only it'd happened earlier, Hina wouldn't have died, a part of his mind whispered.

No. He shook his head to clear that thought. There was no point in moping over what could've happened. This was his first opportunity to witness what Toman had morphed into firsthand. He could use this information in his next time leap to avert Toman's descent, and by extension, to save Hina. He'd returned to the present to find more information about what to do next, after all. Passivity would achieve nothing.

"No, I'll go to the meeting," Takemichi declared. "...although, I don't intend on getting hurt," he added as an afterthought.

Chifuyu chuckled and met his eyes. "Neither do I. I shouldn't have doubted you, partner. You've stayed by my side the entire ride."

"This kinda feels like a movie, working with the police to shut Toman down," Takemichi commented. He swiveled around to scan the room after a late thought occurred to him. "Wait, what if there are wiretaps?! Hidden cameras, anything to spy on us—"

"Don't worry, there aren't any!" Chifuyu laughed and tugged on Takemichi's sleeve with a gloved hand, bringing his attention back. "This room is clear and continuously checked. And you're not alone in that it doesn't feel real.

"Japan's laws on organized crime are too loose—we don't have something like America's RICO, which targets entire organizations, or Italy's 416-bis Criminal Code, which criminalizes gang membership. But Toman's pushing the line compared to the other gangs. Hina-chan's murder is one such factor." Chifuyu regarded him with a sympathetic smile. "Because of that and several other terrible incidents, the police are pulling something unprecedented.

"But now that we're on the day of the plan, I guess I do feel a little regretful." He sighed and looked down at his table as he drummed his fingers on it. "I wanted to bring back the old Toman—Baji's Toman—and I thought I could do that by expelling Kisaki. But Mitsuya showed me it was too idealistic. Toman's grown beyond any sole person's control and is actively harming unrelated citizens—even I've done a lot of bad things. I can't keep clinging to that childish ideal when it's having real-life consequences. Toman has to be shut down."

Takemichi observed the hard determination in Chifuyu's lowered brows and tight frown. It was in moments like these that he truly felt the outsider that he was, intruding on personal moments that were supposed to be shared with the previous version of himself, not him.

"It has to be," Takemichi parroted. "Are Mitsuya-kun and 'Yuzuha'-san also working with us on the raid?"

"Yeah. Mitsuya reached out to me a few years after he discovered Kisaki's schemes, and we've been allies ever since."

His Captain was still in Toman and a good guy. It was reassuring to know that there was a dependable ally assisting them in what sounded like a risky plan. Chifuyu was technically his boss, but Takemichi couldn't quite dissociate the person in front of him from the image of the friendly, 14-year-old boy he had partnered up with in the past. Compared to the gargantuan transformation his friends had undergone, while Chifuyu did look more mature, Takemichi could still see the younger version of him in his face and hairstyle.

Huh, Chifuyu was technically his boss.

"Uh...is there anything I should be doing for you?" Takemichi straightened up and asked the suited man sitting behind the desk before him.

"Could you get me something to snack on? The meeting lasted all morning," Chifuyu said as he pulled out a folder from under his desk.

"Ok." Takemichi looked around and headed for the minifridge at the other end of the room. When he pulled it open, he could only see cans of beer and soda lining the racks. He tried the wall-mounted cabinet above the fridge and closed it upon only seeing glassware. The adjacent cabinet held more alcohol. He stopped opening compartments and simply stared at the handful of remaining cabinets and drawers left to check.

Where?

"Just get me a bag of chips or something. No need to think so hard over it," Chifuyu called.

"O-ok! Just one second." The top drawer was for tableware. So was the cabinet below it. The drawer beside it was for...aha!

He snatched a bag of potato chips and returned to Chifuyu, who was busy pouring over some documents. "Thanks," his boss said as he accepted the bag without looking up. Chifuyu slipped off his dark gloves and grabbed both sides of the bag to pull it open—

"W-what happened to your hands?!"

Lumpy, pale red scars marred the skin of Chifuyu's hands, prominent against his pale complexion and slender fingers. The patches had stretched as Chifuyu curled his fingers, pulling his skin unevenly taunt across his knuckles.

"Huh?" Chifuyu looked up from his work, a confused grimace on his face. "...I got these over a decade ago. Are you okay?" He popped the bag open and grabbed a chip.

Over a decade? What happened between the Valhalla battle and now for Chifuyu to have received such serious injuries? Did he have any others? Takemichi let his gaze roam over Chifuyu's face, to his ears, down his neck...

"Uh, partner? Could you stop staring at me?"

"Oh, sorry." Takemichi looked back up at his boss's face.

"The plan's been decided, and there's nothing you really need to do for now. Go chill with the others until tonight," Chifuyu said with a flick of his hand. Takemichi's eyes flickered to the scars again, but he forced himself to meet Chifuyu's eyes.

"See you later, I guess," he said before he walked to the door and left Chifuyu's office.

---

A woman in her twenties slipped out into the narrow alleyway, shutting the nondescript door behind her. She tugged the pin out of her hair to allow the bleached locks to tumble over her suit jacket, covering up the insignia inked on her neck.

She pulled a box of cigarettes out of her breast pocket. After igniting one with a handheld lighter, she took a long drag and exhaled a puff of smoke.

A bell faintly chimed. "You work here, right?"

Her gaze sharpened on the slim figure leaning against the grimy wall, previously concealed by the low-hanging signboard of the adjacent building. They wore a black hood that blended into the shadowed path, and she could not distinguish their face, gender, or affiliation. All guests would leave a booking, and their only reservation for today was in the evening. They were likely an ordinary civilian, or perhaps, some trouble-seeking rookie.

"I might," she replied while tucking her hair behind her ear to indiscreetly flash her tattoo.

The figure remained slack upon seeing the insignia. "You've got a reservation for some of Toman's heads tonight, am I correct?"

Someone a little more dangerous, it seemed. She took a final drag before dropping her cigarette on the asphalt and extinguishing it under her heel.

It sounded like a pain to bother with the fuss—she just worked here; why should she care about what happened to the guests? But it was workplace protocol: if they found out she'd let a leak escape, she'd lose more than just her fingers.

Not like they'd miss her, though. She doubted most of them knew her face, let alone would realize if she suddenly disappeared until they noticed the growing line of finished dishes in the kitchen, without a waiter to transport them to their respective guests.

Her pencil skirt tugging at her thighs, she dashed forward, taking the figure by surprise and allowing her to slam her forearm into their throat and pin them against the wall. Her elbow jarred as it hit the concrete, but she didn't hesitate to push down on her wrist with her other hand to apply further pressure. They convulsed under her and futilely clawed at her sleeved arm.

A burst of pain in her shins had her loosen her hold as she grimaced, and the figure—having kicked at her bare legs with the sole of their shoe—overpowered her in that moment, knocking her down and descending with her to wrap their arm around her neck and apply their own chokehold when she collided against the hard pavement. She stabbed her heels into their thighs, but they only wrapped a leg around hers to trap them against the ground.

Whether she was unconscious or not, at the end of it, once her blunder was exposed, she was dead—if this asshole didn't kill her first. She squirmed as she grew lightheaded and her vision hazy, but it was useless in their iron grip.

She saw a flash of black under their hood in her last few seconds. A tattoo of their own on their neck—

A snarling tiger.

Someone a little more dangerous, indeed, she thought as she passed out.

---

"I've finally found you, after one of my guys happened to pass by you on the streets. You've come back in-town all of a sudden, huh? I haven't seen you in years—where've you been all this time?"

Mitsuya sat on the barstool beside the hooded figure, who continued swirling a stout glass of gin in their hand and stared at nothing, lost in some dimension that wasn't this one. Yuzuha swept her skirt under her legs and sat on Mitsuya's other side, with her briefcase in her lap, facing the television mounted above the door but watching the pair out of the corner of her eye.

The small establishment was silent aside from the din of the television and the incessant fidgeting of the bartender.

"I guess we've just become strangers at this point." Mitsuya sighed. His gaze drifted across the wine shelves lining the back of the bar. "I'd like to share a glass, but it's too early in the afternoon to drink, especially tonight.

"So much has changed since then. Toman's grown unrecognizable, and we've all gotten our hands dirty with the blood of innocents...if I'd known this was where we'd end up a decade ago, I would've tried my best to stop it, but we've broken past the point of no return."

He was revealing too much. Yuzuha tapped Mitsuya's leg, inciting a pause from him.

The hooded person was just some stranger who contributed nothing to the gang. Someone without actual power, a figurehead to present to the public. An emperor of sorts. But their 'emperor' never showed his face inside or outside of the gang. He was of no importance whatsoever—but Mitsuya saw something in him. Kisaki, their power-hungry acting leader, was alright with working below him. Everyone in Toman respected him, some revering him, despite his lack of influence on their lives.

Yuzuha could not understand why Mitsuya still cared for him, but perhaps it was because there was no one left for her to feel that way towards.

How ironic. The overly emotional fool used to be her.

"...Toman can't be allowed to exist any longer. I hope you understand, Mikey," her boss said.

Mitsuya, lost in sentimentality, might not have noticed the flash of movement under the bar counter from the figure, but Yuzuha narrowed her eyes and thrust a hand into her briefcase.

Bang!

A gunshot shattered the tranquility of the venue.

---

"I get it, I get it, I'll ask next time," Atsushi groaned as he rubbed his ears.

"You better! I swear, if Truck-kun has a single scratch, you're reimbursing me!" Yamagishi broke off grumbling and stalked out of the office.

"Where'd you go, anyway?" Makoto called back from a couch in the center of the room. Takuya, sitting across from him, crossed his arms and joined watching Atsushi approach.

"None of your business." He tied his parka at his waist as he descended the steps into the lounge area and joined them. Thankfully, they didn't pry for further answers.

Takuya turned to look out through the skylights, where the nightscape of the city below glimmered in the darkness. "Maybe it's just my imagination, but it almost feels a little rowdier than usual outside."

Ten wordless seconds passed. Atsushi could only hear the faint humming of the lights and the pounding of his heart.

"Yeah, I feel the same," Makoto said. "But it's probably just our brains. They shouldn't have even arrived at the meeting yet."

The door reopened, and Yamagishi walked back in with his hands tucked in his pockets. "Hey, ya guys know if they've started yet?"

"Wow, you got over that fast."

"Shut it, Makoto." Yamagishi scowled and plopped beside Atsushi on the couch. "But it sucks we can't join them. All we can do is trust the po-po with Takemichi and the boss's lives. They can't even bring anythin' to defend themselves with."

"It can't be helped," Takuya said. "It'd be too suspicious if we came with them, or if we were caught sneaking around the venue. They have to remain trustworthy and ignorant until the actual raid."

The group relapsed into silence once again.

A silence that made the buzzing of Atsushi's phone all the more conspicuous. Everyone looked around quizzically but focused on Atsushi as he dragged his phone from his pants pocket and tapped the screen.

"Ty for trusting me."

The white text bubble floated on his lock screen for five seconds, enough time for him to reread the message three times word-by-word, before his phone turned off, reflecting his haggard frown.

He'd done it. He'd betrayed Toman. It was now, when the potential consequences would play out if there were any, that the reality of what he'd done crushed him. The plan that Takemichi and Chifuyu had been painstakingly crafting over the past months could go up in flames if he'd made the wrong decision.

Was it the right or wrong one? A week ago, he'd received the outside request to discuss what was supposed to be a confidential raid. Of course not, he'd thought immediately. I won't betray my friends. I'm no disloyal, traitorous bastard.

But then he'd still showed up.

Everything had been simpler when he was a kid. 'Traitor,' 'loyal,' 'right,' 'wrong': there was no question about the meaning of these words. You were loyal or a traitor, right or wrong, and there was no in-between.

Now the boundaries were murky, as murky as his life in the underworld. The urgency in that message implied it'd be wrong for him to ignore it, even if the right answer clearly was to do just that. And he hadn't seemed to provide any new information—just said 'yeah' to all the asked questions. Was he even a traitor? The plan had somehow leaked out before his involvement, but arguably yes, he was, he should've lied, lied like he'd been doing since becoming an adult that there was no raid, the meeting wasn't at that restaurant, where'd you learn this crap, etcetera.

Yet there was something about seeing that face, a face he hadn't seen since middle school, a face he eventually came to trust while he still had the innocence and purity of youth, that had him let down his guard. His younger self had also been full of shortsightedness and impulsiveness, but he probably had a better sense of what was 'right' and 'wrong' than what Atsushi currently had.

I'm pathetic. What am I doing? He closed his eyes and sighed harshly.

"Serious business?"

"A bit," he replied to Makoto and reopened his eyes to see his friends watching him with concerned faces. "But it's nothing you guys should worry ab—"

A thundering boom pierced the quiet room, ripping through his eardrums and slamming a nail of agony into his brain. Atsushi scrunched his eyes shut and clutched his ears with his arms tight to his sides, the sound intense enough to reverberate in his bones and quiver his innards.

He slowly opened his eyes a few seconds later.

The room was enveloped in darkness aside from the faint glow of the city emanating through the skylights. His friends had jumped up from the couch to gawk around wildly. Yamagishi seemed to be shouting something. Atsushi let his hands full away from his ears, but all he could hear was a high-frequency ring overlaid on complete silence.

"—was that?!" He could almost see what Yamagishi was saying just based on the silhouette of his excited lips.

"Hell if I know!" Makoto screamed back.

A hand grabbed his. Atsushi looked over to Takuya, who instead of pointlessly yelling, jabbed his finger towards the chandelier hanging from the ceiling...

Swinging and glittering in the city lights.

His eyes flitted to the windows, where Tokyo beyond swayed back and forth. No, not Tokyo.

Them.

"We've got to get out!" Atsushi yelled as he surged forward to grab the panicking pair by the arms and hauled them towards the door. "The building's collapsing! Get to the stairwell—"

The floor of the penthouse office collapsed underneath them, but all Atsushi could see where the floor below should've been was a cavernous abyss that led down.

---

"Please raise your arms, sir."

Takemichi obeyed the burly, six-foot tall man, who surprisingly gently patted him down. He straightened his suit once the man had finished. Chifuyu watched on with his gloved hands at his sides, having already been checked himself.

"Bringing weapons to the meeting is prohibited. We can't come armed in any way—it'll be too suspicious. Act normal the entire way through, even when the police storm the building," Chifuyu had said to him as they prepared to leave.

Act normal...Takemichi didn't even know what 'normal' was in this timeline. It was too far removed from his ordinary, humble life. He quietly entered the building a few paces after Chifuyu, which was inside furnished richly and well-lit compared to the grimy alleyway on the exterior. Wooden partitions ran along the corridor walls, interrupted by an occasional screen door or potted plant. He peeked into the gap of a slightly ajar door and could distinguish in the crack of light from the hallway a turntable occupying the center of the room. An upscale Chinese restaurant?

The sliding of a door and sharp clicking of heels on the polished floorboards was the only warning Takemichi received before he collided into the person exiting the room ahead of him. The person—a waitress—seemed more caught off-guard than he was, tumbling into his chest and leaning against him for several seconds as she caught her breath.

"What the hell are you doing? Apologize immediately!" Their escort instantly turned on her, breaking the calm countenance he'd displayed while welcoming Takemichi and Chifuyu in.

"Ah!" She flew back from Takemichi so quickly that her blond hair whacked him across the face. He reopened his eyes to see her profusely bowing with her serving tray clenched in her hands, which had luckily been empty. "I'm sorry for walking into you, sir! I should've paid more attention to where I was going."

Chifuyu didn't say anything or react to the scene. Takemichi probably wasn't supposed to either, but he gave a quiet "it's okay" to her lowered head, her ponytail draping over her shoulder to reach her knee-length skirt with how deep she was bowing.

He was more familiar with what it felt like to be in her position.

His boss and their escort resumed walking down the corridor, so Takemichi stepped to the side to navigate around the bowing waitress.

"Avoid the food," she whispered.

"Huh?" Takemichi turned around, but the waitress remained bowed, giving no indication that she'd said anything. He watched her for several seconds, waiting for any sort of reaction, then upon seeing none, left to catch up with his party before they traveled too far ahead.

It was a message intended for his ears alone. But why would the restaurant employee not want him to eat their food? Clearly, from a business standpoint, that was just shooting themselves in the foot. Although this was a foreign world to Takemichi, this particular instance was insignificant compared to the things he'd experienced today.

He could hear movement and munching from the lit room at the end of the hall, whose door had remained open. Considering that all the rooms they'd passed along the way were dark, the party waiting ahead could only be that one group. Takemichi gulped as he paused at the doorway.

Showtime.

Chifuyu entered the room first and sat at the seat farthest from the door after their escort pulled the chair out for him. About ten other men were in the room, most of them also sat at the seats surrounding the circular table and wearing formal wear. Various dishes had been laid out across the white tablecloth and turntable. Takemichi tried to not focus on any of their faces, keeping his head low as he walked around the table to reach Chifuyu's side.

The top admins of Toman were gathered around this table. The very people they had been conspiring with the police to arrest were in the same room as him, each within a few meters, and they would be arrested in this room within the hour. Although the square room was wide enough to accommodate at least a meter of space between the large table and the walls, the room felt uncomfortably narrow. Takemichi eyed the ornate, wooden backrest of the empty chair beside Chifuyu. Was he supposed to join them at the table?

"Pah-chin, you're muted."

Takemichi swiveled to the side, towards the man standing in the adjacent corner who'd mentioned the former 3rd Division Captain's nickname. Although his blond hair had grown longer, that fierce scowl and menacing look in his eyes...

Peh-yan-kun?!

The computer perched on a small table beside the Vice-Captain displayed a stout, round man sinking his teeth into a drumstick, who reached forward with his unoccupied hand to fidget with something at the bottom of the screen. The man on screen then twisted to the side, leaning an arm against the back of the cushioned booth he was sitting at to holler off-screen with a hand cupped to his mouth. "Waiter, two orders of mapo tofu! Extra spicy!"

"You're unmuted," Peh-yan said.

Pah-chin and Peh-yan had remained in Toman. After the excitement of discovering the plan and that Chifuyu and Mitsuya had teamed up to bring down Toman, he'd neglected to consider that the other original members could have also stayed. Takemichi looked through the faces of the other men in the room. The 4th and 5th Division Captains sat together at the far end. Hanma sat beside them. He didn't recognize the remaining two people seated.

Arresting Toman meant arresting Pah-chin, Peh-yan, and the other people he'd known from the past. He didn't feel much sympathy for Hanma, but as for the other Captains...while he'd never spoken to them, surely they had some semblance of virtue from having been in Toman while it was still pure.

But Chifuyu and Mitsuya were still proceeding with the plan despite that. They'd probably seen things that he hadn't. Takemichi had been repeatedly shown how twelve years could change a person, yet he never expected it each and every time. All he could see in the man on the screen and the person beside it was the idiotic yet resolved Captain and his intimidating yet loyal Vice-Captain.

It was probably too late for Takemichi to convince Chifuyu to let the previous members go, if it was even feasible for them to pick who got caught and who didn't. He quietly sighed.

Peh-yan was standing, so Takemichi remained standing behind Chifuyu's seat. The empty chairs were probably for the admins who hadn't arrived yet, like Mitsuya.

"Can we start the meeting already? I wanna go home and crash. The others can come whenever," the 4th Division Captain asked after a long yawn midbite. He was the smallest of the assembled admins, but his persisting grin made him the most expressive.

"You're tired already? We've not even started yet," the broad-shouldered man sitting beside him said.

"Cram it, Mucho. I've been working my ass off lately."

"Just wait a few more minutes." Hanma set his chopsticks down beside his finished plate and readjusted his glasses. "We'll start once everyone's here."

After a minute of silently watching the other admins, Chifuyu took the folded napkin on his plate and draped it across his lap. But it was as Chifuyu picked up his chopsticks and reached for a basket of steamed dumplings that the words of the waitress resurfaced in Takemichi's mind. 'Avoid the food'...her intent was too obscure for Takemichi to comprehend, but he should at least inform Chifuyu about it.

With a single finger, he tapped his boss's shoulder. Chifuyu peered back at him with a warning glare, as if reminding him to 'act normal,' but he granted Takemichi's request by leaning back in his seat with an ear angled towards him.

"Maybe you shouldn't eat?" Takemichi whispered. "That earlier wa—"

"Worried for poison?" One of the unfamiliar faces, sitting beside Chifuyu, casually spoke up with no regard for secrecy. The entire room turned to watch them, and Takemichi flinched before he could suppress his reaction. He noticed Chifuyu's shoes slide back under the tablecloth.

The eavesdropper beside them was the only admin not wearing a suit, instead dressed in a red coat, and was slouched against his chair with an arm draped over the backrest. "This is one of Toman's restaurants, but we've still brought along a poison tester anyway. If you want to entertain that thought though, there are countless, slow-acting poisons with essentially undetectable odor and taste. Our tester said the food was clear, but who knows, we may end up six feet under with him before tomorrow." He shrugged but smirked after his morbid comment.

Under the eyes of the gathered admins, Chifuyu deposited onto his plate a few dumplings from the steamer and began eating.

All Takemichi had done was back Chifuyu into a corner. Poisoned food? He hadn't even considered it, but now that it'd been brought up, it was a valid possibility, considering the drastic twist his life had undergone in this timeline. Who knew what sorts of dangers existed here.

"C'mon, don't talk about such gruesome things like that during dinner, Kokonoi," a masculine voice chuckled from the doorway. "It spoils the mood." Takemichi's eyes bulged as he looked across the room.

That crisp voice, those angular glasses, and those overarching eyebrows.

Kisaki strolled through the open doorway, his hands tucked in the trousers pockets of his immaculate three-piece suit. Takemichi heard Chifuyu make a sharp intake over the hammering of his own heart.

Chairs around the table slid back as all admins stood and bowed to Kisaki. "Good evening, sir!" they chorused. Takemichi may have been occasionally dense, but he wasn't an idiot. He quickly joined the others in lowering his head.

Kisaki wore an amicable smile when they raised their heads. It was that same, twisted face that Takemichi despised. Yet this Kisaki felt different. This was his first time ever meeting Kisaki in the present, when he reigned over Toman with power just second to Mikey's. He was more mature, more charismatic, more—

No. Takemichi shook his head. Kisaki had killed Hina, tried to kill Draken, and manipulated Mikey. Nothing could change those facts.

But he'd repeatedly seen how twelve years could change a person...

He remained silent.

The admins remained standing as Kisaki shut the door behind him. "Shall we begin the meeting, then?" Toman's acting leader said.

"Wait."

Takemichi looked back at Chifuyu as his boss spoke for the first time at the restaurant. He was frowning. "Mitsuya and Yuzuha aren't here yet."

He was right. They were collaborating in the plan, and although he hadn't been able to learn the full details of the plan he should've technically known already, Yuzuha had mentioned that they'd see each other sometime tonight. Surely, they would be attending the meeting alongside him and Chifuyu, right?

"Ahh, don't worry about them," Kisaki said with a dismissive flick of his hand. "They're with Hakkai right now. Mikey sent them there himself."

The 2nd Division Vice-Captain? What—

Takemichi flinched as Chifuyu suddenly jerked backwards with a bristling snarl, knocking his chair onto its side.

Everything seemed to fall apart from that instant in slow-motion.

Quiet clacking arose from around the room as every other admin reached into their clothes and pulled out a handgun, which they leveled on Takemichi and Chifuyu. The time traveler backed up upon seeing the numerous muzzles trained on him, but his back hit the wall.

They had been stationed the furthest away from the door on purpose.

"Think we didn't notice what you've been planning?" Kisaki continued, his voice much too calm for the scene in front of him. "The more people involved, the more holes to exploit. Your mistake was asking the police for help—I already had moles stationed there. The police received a message from you three days ago postponing the attack. They won't be present here today, so you're on your own."

They'd been caught before they could even betray Toman. It was with a strange helplessness that Takemichi's eyes wandered over to Peh-yan in the adjacent corner, who'd followed the rest of the admins in drawing a gun on them. The computer beside him was still on, but the video had been switched off.

"Why?" Takemichi croaked.

He knew Peh-yan. That honorable, loyal boy who'd sacrificed his pride for his Captain and apologized for his wrongdoings—he'd never do this.

Peh-yan did look the least resolved among the other admins, his brows furrowed and head lowered, but he kept his gun up as he replied: "I might not agree with how Kisaki does things, but you're messing with all of Toman here, Takemichi. Including us."

The computer was silent.

Takemichi looked back to Chifuyu, who stood hunched over in front of him, frozen. Was there any possible way out of this situation? They'd arrived without weapons of their own and were outnumbered. They'd be gunned down before they reached the door on the other side of the room. Even if they miraculously managed to flee the room, they'd be shot down in the corridor on the way to the exit.

If Takemichi died here, was it all over? He'd thought he'd died on the train tracks, yet he'd time-traveled to the past in an arbitrary stroke of sheer luck. But there was a very real possibility that this time, he'd not be so lucky.

He'd die. So would Chifuyu. Hina would remain dead. Toman would continue to harm innocents with Kisaki at its helm. If Takemichi died here, then it wouldn't just be a present. It would be the present, this timeline locked into permanence without anyone to alter the past.

But maybe...maybe if he was dead, then it wouldn't feel so bad. He wouldn't feel anything at all. No frustration, despair, bitterness—just sweet, simple serenity.

The door slammed open, a thunderclap in the silent room that jolted Takemichi back to reality. A third of the admins redirected their weapons towards the newcomer.

The waitress from earlier froze at the doorway, her hand held up to her earpiece.

"Wait, you guys brought guns—p-please don't shoot, let me just talk first—"

Bang! She crashed back into the wall with a hand clasped to her chest.

Takemichi gave Hanma a wide-eyed stare as he blew on his smoking muzzle, his face calm despite having murdered someone point-blank.

"O-ow...thank God I listened and wore protection." Takemichi redirected his wide-eyed stare to the waitress, who pushed off the wall to stand back on her feet. She didn't appear to be bleeding, although she grimaced and gingerly felt the point of impact. Something about her face looked oddly familiar, though. Most of the people here had been in the original Toman, but he didn't remember Toman having any girls, excluding Emma.

A foreign girl even less so.

"Sorry, I thought that'd kill you."

"Apology denied," she said back to Hanma and took a deep breath. "Alright, before anyone else tries—"

"What are you doing here, Frank?" Chifuyu bit out.

...huh? Frank-kun?!

He'd assumed she was a woman because of the skirt, but it'd just been a disguise. Now that he knew it was Frank, the similarities were obvious. He'd fixed his accent, but he was a foreigner with straight, blond hair and a slim build. Although he was a little shapely at the torso, it was probably the bullet-proof vest or whatever he'd used to stop Hanma's bullet.

"Trying to save you two," Frank said. He then looked around at the assorted admins, whose guns had mostly changed targets to the newcomer by now. "I have—"

"Frank, huh? Didn't even realize. That uniform suits you," Hanma said as he chambered his gun.

"Why, thank you." Frank placed a hand on his hip and flicked his ponytail back. "I think the heels are at an impractical height, though. I don't know how the previous waitress managed to serve in these, but I just finished mopping your fried rice off the kitchen floor. By the way, I did, in fact, poison your food as your waitress. If you'd like me to identify which poison it was so that you can take the proper cure, let Takemichi, Chifuyu, and I leave this establishment peacefully."

The ultimatum was met with silence.

"Now that you mention it, the tofu did taste slightly odd," the 5th Division Captain spoke up.

"Any symptoms of drowsiness yet?" Frank said.

The 4th Division Captain's stifled yawn was enough of an answer.

"Fuck this." Takemichi looked at the remaining admin he didn't recognize. The man with the large scar extending across his forehead and left eye stalked up to Frank and positioned his gun a meter away from the foreigner's forehead. Frank stepped back with his hands braced in front of him. "How about we kill you if you don't tell us what you slipped into our food, huh?"

"Now, now." Kisaki placed his hand atop the gun's barrel and pushed it down, his magnanimous smile still present despite standing right next to the uninvited guest. "I'd like to not lose some of my most capable men, and we've been exposed, you and us both. We can find you wherever you hide—all you're doing is delaying the inevitable."

"Is that a 'yes' I'm hearing?"

"It is."

"Splendid. I'll call this place after we leave. Alright, let's go." Frank beckoned to Takemichi and Chifuyu.

He was saving them. Yet the Frank Takemichi knew was potentially Kisaki's ally. In the past, Chifuyu had pointed out to him the evidence to back it up, or at least prove that Frank's background was suspicious. Peh-yan and the previous Captains had become their enemies, and Frank could still be one, too. This could all be an elaborate scheme by Kisaki, for all Takemichi knew.

His boss glanced around at the assembled admins before joining Frank at the door.

Chifuyu was his only ally here. Takemichi strode after him.

"I guess this is the better alternative to you guys' death..." Pah-chin muttered. The video was still off, and Takemichi couldn't see the former Captain's face. Chifuyu also peeked back at the computer, but he wordlessly turned around and walked out the door.

Kisaki redirected that fake smile of his at Takemichi as they passed, and Takemichi didn't bother holding back his glower.

The three of them strode down the silent corridor. The watching employees in the hallway eyed them warily but didn't react, seeming to have received the unspoken message that they were to be granted a peaceful departure.

"I've parked my car just around the block," Frank said as he took the lead. "Is it alright that I drive you?"

"We got dropped off here, anyway," Chifuyu replied. "We don't have a car waiting for us."

"That's convenient." Frank twisted the doorknob at the end of the hallway and held the door open for them to exit the building.

Chifuyu may have trusted Frank now for some reason, but Takemichi, at least, would stay on his guard.

---

The warm glow of the restaurant vanished as the door fell shut, and the crack of moonlight peering down over the alley walls was the only source of light they had as they hurried up the steps to the main street.

There was only one car at the designated parking area: an ash-gray sedan. It wasn't the crimson coupe Takemichi had recalled seeing Frank drive to the recent Toman meeting in the past. He examined it for a little longer while Frank got into the driver's seat and Chifuyu pulled open a rear door. Hm? Someone was already inside, sitting in the front passenger seat...

"Takemitchy, get in already," Chifuyu called from inside.

He didn't have much choice. Takemichi ducked into the car and plopped beside Chifuyu on the polyester seats. He shut the door behind him and looked to the car wall to scrabble for the seat belt in the near-darkness and click it in place.

"Kazutora...why're you here, too?" Chifuyu said. "You shouldn't have gotten involved. Neither of you should have even known."

Takemichi's eyes shot to the front passenger seat, where a person with shoulder-length black hair twisted around, revealing a dark tattoo on their neck. He looked exactly the same as the time he'd saved Takemichi's life twice in the previous timeline at the park, a bell earring bobbing at his ear and his blond bangs framing his angular face. Unlike the three of them, he was dressed in casual wear.

"Frank told me you guys were in danger," Kazutora said as he removed one of his earbuds.

Frank and Kazutora were working together. How strange—the two had fought each other at the Valhalla battle. Why would they be allies now? Takemichi scratched his head. Chifuyu and Kazutora trusted him. Maybe...Frank really was on their side now, after twelve years.

The car hummed to life under them, and the headlights flickered on to illuminate the road. "Sorry to interrupt, but I'm going to escort you two to the officer you've been corresponding with, Tachibana Naoto," Frank said.

Naoto was working with them to shut down Toman...? That was what Naoto had meant when he admitted he wasn't telling Takemichi the full details of the previous timeline and why he was so busy with work! It would've been like a blessing to Naoto—a chance to enact revenge on the gang that had killed his sister—if only it'd actually happened.

But wait—Kisaki said the police delayed the raid because of some forged message from us. If Naoto was the one working with us, he would surely be diligent and not get fooled...

"Kisaki said he had spies in the police," Chifuyu said. "And it's never been safe to expose ourselves to the police, especially when we're this vulnerable. We might be working together, but we're still criminals."

"Then where will you go?" Kazutora said. "You can't go back to your office anymore." Frank's hand stilled on the gearstick.

"Huh?" Chifuyu frowned. "What do you mean?"

Instead of replying with words, Kazutora pulled his earbuds out and turned on the car radio. Static and arbitrary noises played as he turned the knob, but the radio eventually settled on a specific frequency.

"—further information on what caused the building's collapse?"

Sirens and muffled shouting played out in the background, and the second voice shouted to be heard over them. "Yes, there is! The police have cordoned off the area, but numerous spectators are reporting that they heard a loud explosion and flash of light from a few floors up on the high-rise building before it fell. Many suspect it may have been an explosive, but there were no scheduled demolitions of the building—"

Kazutora shut the radio off, and a heavy silence enveloped the car.

The last time Takemichi had seen his friends had been an hour ago at their office.

They were probably dead now.

Takemichi let his forehead fall against the seat in front of him as he scrunched his eyes shut and dug his fingers into his hair. His eyes, his cheeks, and his chest burned as if they'd been engulfed in boiling water.

Everything was happening so fast. Everything was going wrong. It was all so unpredictable, all beyond his wildest speculations. It was like a nightmare—all the catastrophes that could happen happened without rhyme or reason, and Takemichi had no control over it. All he could do was watch the events play out before him, each bringing him a step closer to the looming termination.

"Fuck. Fuck!" He heard Chifuyu slam a fist against the car door. "That sonuva b—" His voice cracked. "He's killing everyone in his way. He always has been."

Takemichi swayed as the car started forward. He peeked out the window through his blurred eyes to watch them roll out of the parking space and travel down the dimly lit street. The roads were empty.

"I'm sorry. I...I didn't know that would happen." Frank's voice was quiet. "I only knew about the meeting because I broke into the reservation list and confirmed it with a friend in Toman. I did find out about your raid and its cancellation through the police systems, but although I wasn't certain if you legitimately decided to postpone it, I neglected to tell you beforehand because Kisaki might kill you off early if he detected a change. I intentionally kept you guys in the dark."

"So did I." Kazutora sounded more resolute. "I told Frank to hold off on saying anything."

"...it's neither of your fault." Takemichi raised his head as Chifuyu spoke. His boss's head was lowered, but his voice was now more controlled. "Even after what happened back then, you're still helping us."

Frank sighed. "Well, I can't let either of you die. Takemichi, you've been silent for a while. Anything on your mind?"

"I...I don't know," Takemichi said. "This is all so surreal." He rubbed his tears away with his sleeve.

"I don't blame you," Frank said. "Even for us—"

He cut off as light shined in from the rear windshield, illuminating the back of the car in bright white. Takemichi peered back. There was a car approaching them on the empty street, a dark sedan without a license plate.

"Shit, they're following us," Kazutora cursed. A compartment opened from the front of the cabin. "Takemichi, Chifuyu, catch."

"Huh?" Takemichi turned back in time to fumble with the gun that'd been thrown to him. He flipped it over so that the muzzle wasn't facing anyone. The implication was not lost on him. Chifuyu and Kazutora took off their seatbelts and rolled down their windows. The wind noisily blasted into the car. "Um, isn't this a bit excessive?!" Takemichi yelled over the din.

"They'll shoot at us otherwise!" Frank shouted back as they ran a red light. "This car's bullet-proof, but it's not completely impenetrable. That's a semi-automatic by the way, draw the top part back before shooting the first round!"

Takemichi flinched back as a large crack spontaneously rippled across the rear windshield, originating from the small, oblong-shaped thing embedded in the glass.

He looked down at the handgun. He wasn't entirely helpless here—he still had some control over how it played out. Takemichi wrapped his hand around the cold plastic and rested his finger on the trigger.

One of the pursuing car's headlights winked out.

"Chifuyu, where the fuck are you aiming?! Now I can't see their fucking tires!" Kazutora yelled.

"Then try the other tire!"

"I can't shoot at it from this angle!"

So, he needed to aim at their tires. Takemichi unlatched his seatbelt and held down on the button beside the door handle to open his window. He'd seen enough movies to have a general idea of how to shoot a gun. In the light of the remaining headlight, Takemichi pulled back the slide with his left hand. As it snapped back in place, he felt an additional vibration through the grip. The gun should be loaded now.

He lifted his knees onto the seat and slipped his arms outside the window of the speeding car, and using the remaining headlight as a point of reference, he took aim and fired.

The recoil nearly knocked the gun out of his hands, and a bullet casing popped out onto the street behind them as the pursuing car swerved on the wheel he'd aimed for and crashed into a storefront in an explosion of glass. An alarm blared, but no one exited the car rapidly shrinking behind them.

Did...did I just kill someone?

It was a gun. Of course it was capable of murder. But he'd only intended to stop their vehicle, not kill them.

Someone grabbed the back of his jacket and tugged him down onto the car seat. Chifuyu patted his arm, unfazed by the incident. "Nice shot." Kazutora gave him a thumbs-up.

This was what his life was like in this timeline...murder, betrayal, and an indifference to it all. This was what Toman had become. Chifuyu, Kazutora, and Frank might be his allies here against Kisaki, but they were still involved in the criminal sphere. They weren't the innocent, righteous heroes he wanted to believe they were.

Takemichi had to stop it. He couldn't let this timeline happen!

He slipped the gun into the pocket on the back of the seat, where he couldn't touch it. After he rolled up his window, the car was quiet once more. A thought covered up by the recent revelations resurfaced. "Oh, um, don't you need to tell them what poison it is?"

"It's just sleeping pills," Frank replied. "As long as they didn't eat an excessive amount of food, it shouldn't be too much for an overdose. They'll sleep it off in a few hours." He rolled to a stop at a red light.

"That's good," Chifuyu muttered. "...wait, I hear something. Shh."

Everyone stilled. His boss cracked open his window.

Amid the distant sounds of the night city, there was the roar of a motorcycle, gaining in volume, eerily familiar and haunting.

"Mikey's here," Kazutora spat.

"Mikey-kun?!" Takemichi gasped. He'd never met Toman's President in the present. The gentle, compassionate boy he knew from the past had succumbed to Kisaki's manipulation, but maybe if he just—

"Mikey will kill us all if we let him," Frank said. "We can't let him catch up."

"But it's Mikey-kun..." Even his own argument sounded hollow to him.

"Stop arguing over this and just go," Kazutora said. The traffic light switched green, but the car stayed in place. "What are you doing? Hurry up and go!"

"I don't think it's conceited to say he's most likely here for me." Frank's seat belt retracted against the wall.

Kazutora snatched Frank's wrist. "Where are you going?"

The foreigner tugged his arm free and opened the door. "Outside." He hopped out into the warm light of a streetlamp before Kazutora could grab him again.

"Frank!" Chifuyu undid his own seatbelt and pushed his door open.

"Mikey'll kill us all!" Frank shouted. "We don't have time to argue. Chifuyu, take the wheel! You should know where that detective's place is." Chifuyu bit back a reply, and he climbed outside at a more reserved pace.

For some reason, Frank then pulled open Takemichi's door. But it was his chance to talk the 2nd Division member out of this. "Mikey-kun's after us, not you—" Frank reached down to him and snaked an arm to the back of Takemichi's collar. When he stood up again, there was a pin-sized, black device between his fingertips.

"Sorry, Takemichi. I bugged you earlier. Here, wear this." Frank reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the earpiece he'd been wearing at the restaurant.

Takemichi accepted it but continued arguing. "We're the ones who betrayed Toman. You didn't do anything wrong, Frank-kun!"

"Oh yeah?" Frank hummed with a wry smile. Chifuyu slammed the door shut after he got into the driver's seat.

"In his eyes, I killed his childhood friend. Try beating that."

"Huh?"

Frank closed his door, and Chifuyu pulled the car away before Takemichi could respond. He jabbed the button to lower his window and stuck his head out to look at the waving, shrinking figure. "What do you mean?!" he yelled.

The blond-haired man didn't hear him, yet Takemichi caught the slight twitch of his lips as he said something. He quickly fastened the earpiece Frank had given him to his ear and managed to catch the last part of whatever he'd said.

"—didn't work. I wonder if I'll get it this time," Frank murmured. There was then the clacking of heels. "Ah, crud. This thing's got limited range." Cloth rustled in the background, followed by repeated tapping. "C'mon, let me swap the connection—"

The earpiece went silent.

"Frank-kun?"

"What happened, Takemichi?" Kazutora twisted back to look at him. His concern was evident in his frown and urgent tone.

"It suddenly cut off. I-I can't hear anything. I think Frank-kun turned it off..."

Kazutora settled into his seat with a loud sigh. "What is she doing ..."

'She'? Were they still talking about Frank?

"I've got a secure house nearby under an alias that I doubt Toman or the police know about," Chifuyu interrupted from the driver's seat. "I still think it's better to wait it out there for now rather than going to the police. It's too risky to meet anyone from there."

Takemichi sat up abruptly. "No! We have to meet Naoto." He had to return to the past to fix this mess. If he missed this opportunity, he could die before he reached Naoto, and then the present would remain stuck like this.

"But Kisaki said he'd got—"

"Please, Chifuyu," Takemichi begged. "We need to see him."

Chifuyu didn't reply for a few seconds and tapped his fingers on the wheel. "Fine. I'll trust you, partner." He switched the signal light to blink left instead and turned the car in the corresponding direction when the traffic light changed.

"Ack!" Takemichi grunted as the car suddenly jumped upwards then quickly fell back down, the car squeaking and clattering in protest as its tires dropped back onto the road. He tugged on his seatbelt and peered out the window at the sidewalk curb they'd probably clipped.

"Hm?" Kazutora turned to Chifuyu. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just—" He yawned into a hand. "A little tired, that's all. It's getting late."

'It's just sleeping pills.' Frank had warned them not to eat since he'd poisoned the food at the dinner, but Chifuyu had ended up eating because he'd been left with no choice if he wanted to act normal. "You ate at the meeting..." Takemichi said.

Chifuyu didn't deny it. "It's not that bad. It's just a little hard to keep my eyes open. And that's the police I'm not hallucinating, right?" Takemichi temporarily removed his earpiece. He could distinguish a couple of sirens through his open window.

Kazutora clicked his tongue. "You're not imagining that. They've probably got our car recorded. Even if you guys are working with the police, we're blatantly breaking the law here. Are we near that detective's place?"

"His apartment's five blocks away," Chifuyu said.

"Let's ditch the car and walk, then. We'll be too recognizable otherwise." The long-haired man undid his seatbelt.

"Let's do that," Takemichi agreed. He recognized the shops along this street; Naoto's place had remained the same in this timeline. He was so close to returning to the past.

Chifuyu pulled the car over to the curb and untwisted the key. Takemichi joined Kazutora in climbing out of the car, yet Chifuyu remained in the driver's seat, collapsed against the headrest with his eyes shut and his hands in his lap.

"Chifuyu? What are you waiting for?" Kazutora walked around the front of the car and pulled Chifuyu's door open.

"...I don't think I can walk fast enough in this state," Chifuyu mumbled. "I'll just take a nap here and wait for you."

"But then the police might catch you! Toman might!" Takemichi said. "You've got to come with us."

"And then what, Takemitchy? What happens after we meet Naoto? Maybe you know about something I don't, but I can't see what he can do to help us...he may be our ally, but he's just one man."

Takemichi bit his lip as he stared down at his clearly exhausted boss, who was still able to deliver cold logic. Could he trust them with his time-travel abilities...?

"Move." Kazutora pushed him away from the doorway and leaned into the car. He tugged Chifuyu's arms over his neck so that the shorter man was resting against his back and inserted a hand under Chifuyu's knees. "Stand up a bit." Chifuyu complied, his legs straining above the car seat, and Kazutora scooped him up onto his shoulders as he withdrew from the car, with a hand wrapped around both the suited man's elbow and knee. He then turned to Takemichi. "Lead the way."

They were trusting him regardless of his obscure motives. Takemichi wouldn't squander this chance. He nodded and strode for the tall apartment complex several blocks away, its lit, open-air balconies rising above the dim signboards and streetlamps like a beacon in the night sky. Thick swathes of clouds had obscured the moon, but a pinprick of white was visible past the electrical cables splayed out overhead.

He felt weary, drained in both spirit and body, but Kazutora and Chifuyu must've had it worse, Kazutora's shoes scraping the pavement as he followed behind while hauling Chifuyu on his shoulders. Takemichi pulled his phone out of his trousers pocket. 1:30 AM. No wonder he was tired. Now, without the adrenaline pumping through him, his exhaustion had resurfaced while walking down the empty, quiet streets of Tokyo.

"You should call Naoto to...inform him beforehand," Chifuyu murmured.

"Yeah, but I don't have his number." Takemichi had tried to contact the detective earlier in the day, but he'd been missing from his contacts list. He checked again on his phone.

"Use mine." Takemichi turned around as Chifuyu weakly outstretched a phone to him with his free arm. Kazutora twisted to the side to help him pass it. When Takemichi accepted it, Chifuyu's arm dipped down, and his head lowered.

"He's gone slack," Kazutora said as he readjusted his grip. "He's unconscious."

Frank had said it'd just been sleeping pills. Takemichi took a deep breath and turned Chifuyu's phone on. It was unlocked. He flicked across the home screen, the black cat wallpaper persisting as he scrolled, and tapped open the contacts list.

Frank's earpiece emitted a tiny beep. He froze in place.

"What's wrong?" Kazutora asked as he walked up to Takemichi's side.

"I...I just heard something from the—"

"I hope you can hear me. My phone says it's connected, but if you're not listening, then I can't do anything."

"Frank-kun!" Takemichi said. "I can hear—"

"I'll assume that's a 'yes,'" Frank said.

Kazutora wrapped Chifuyu's arm over his chest so that he was holding the smaller man's knee and wrist in the same hand. He beckoned to Takemichi with his now-free hand. "I'll call instead," Kazutora whispered. "Keep listening and walking."

"O-okay." He handed Chifuyu's phone over and cupped a hand to the earpiece. They resumed trudging towards Naoto's apartment.

A scraping footstep. "—just realizing now that I could've called Kazutora so that we could actually converse, but it's too late, and you're the one I need to speak to."

Why Takemichi? Why him specifically? He and Frank never had any close connection—that he knew of, anyway. Wouldn't it have been more important for Frank to speak to Kazutora instead?

"I'm feeling pretty bold right now, so I hope this doesn't mess everything up... I used to be so scared of being exposed and tried to do everything on my own, but neither worked out. I still have no idea how you of all people never found me out." Frank chuckled. "I managed to fool most people, but we saw each other almost daily."

Takemichi only recalled ever meeting him while the rest of Toman was around. Daily? Was it somewhere among his personal life? He couldn't recall anyone new moving into his neighborhood around the time he'd met Frank, and he'd lived in the past for several cumulative months already. Somewhere else that he was on a regular basis...school?

He didn't know what school Frank went to, but it wasn't his. Takemichi had never seen a blond-haired foreigner in his...

No.

He had.

"Are you done, Frank?" A second voice coldly butted in. Mikey's. It was most similar to the solemn tone he commanded Toman with during the meetings, but the passion, the regard, the very life stolen out of it. A hollow husk of the powerful voice he'd once respected, having decayed and corroded with time.

He—no, she—snorted. "I guess you never knew my real name, either. It's Blake. Blake Myers."

"I don't care."

Takemichi flinched at the harsh crack that blared out of the earpiece, then a booming clatter and dull thud. He slowed his pace to a crawl and strained his ears in the following silence. A heavy pair of footsteps receded away from the mic, a lever squeaked, and an engine roared into the distance.

There was no sound: no faint movement, no warm voice, no indication of life—that had been stolen by the boy whose own was missing. No! It couldn't be true. No one had died, and no one had killed...

"Blake! BLAKE!" he cried into the earpiece.

...but no one was there to affirm his wishful thinking, and his voice echoed through the impassive streets. Even if the communications had been two-way, the result would've been the same.

"So that was her name, huh." Kazutora lowered Chifuyu's phone from his ear. The lit screen showed a call was in progress.

"Myers, Blake...Mikey-kun killed her." Takemichi sniffled as his eyes filled up with tears once again. The night streets in front him unfocused into a hazy blur, the pale streetlights piercing and overwhelming.

Hearing of his friends' deaths earlier had prompted boiling tears of frustration, but these ones...he didn't know what they were. They rolled down his cheeks for no logical reason. Crying achieved nothing practical; they helped him cope and provided him an outlet for his emotions, yet they had no physical impact on the world.

Akkun admired him for fighting despite crying.

Hina loved him for crying for the sake of others.

But Hina, Akkun, and Myers were dead. Again. Hina had died to Toman. Akkun had died in Toman. Myers had died against Toman. Takemichi had told Naoto they had infinite chances to change the future, but this was his third attempt, and those three facts had occurred over each.

He wouldn't give up. That was his vow and he intended to keep it, but...

"The detective wants to speak with you." Kazutora handed the phone to him after several seconds of watching him cry. The long-haired man didn't seem like he'd break out in tears with him, but there was a definite downward tug at his eyebrows and the ends of his lips.

Takemichi accepted the phone and held it to his ear to speak to his closest ally. "I-I'm here, Naoto."

"So, my sister's friend died." The detective's voice was neutral.

"Frank-kun was Myers-san." So many parts made sense: Frank's obscure background had been nonexistent in the first place, and Myers's recurring involvement in Toman in each timeline had stemmed from her prior connections to the gang. Akkun's wariness around Myers must've been because he'd known her Toman identity, and Myers's subtle avoidance of Takemichi was because he already knew her in Toman.

"Shortly after you returned to the past, I recalled hearing one of her friends calling her by that name." Naoto sighed. "But enough about that. Meet me on the street behind my apartment."

"Behind? We're coming from the front side, so I think it'd be easier if you met us there." Takemichi peered up at the tall apartment complex rising out of the next block.

"No, walk around to the back. Try...not to stand out, if possible."

"Okay." A beep signaled the end of the call. Takemichi turned the phone off and looked to Chifuyu, who was still unconscious on Kazutora's shoulders. He slipped Chifuyu's phone into his own pocket instead. "Naoto wants us to meet behind his apartment," Takemichi relayed. Kazutora nodded, and they continued trudging down the street.

Kazutora broke the silence. "Frank contacted me a month ago and asked for my help to save you and Chifuyu. We weren't too close, but I didn't expect she'd sacrifice herself for this."

"Weren't you at...Hina's death? With Myers-san."

"'Hina'? Who's that?" Kazutora asked as he stepped onto the curb.

They hadn't been at Hina's death in this timeline. His actions may have somehow changed that, since Akkun didn't kill Hina this time, and Naoto had mentioned that Myers found out about the planned murder from Akkun. "Never mind. So, you didn't rejoin Toman after Valhalla disbanded, but you're fighting against them now?"

"Yeah. Baji didn't want me to get involved after I chose not to reenter, and then Chifuyu tried to do the same. Not for any longer, though." He smiled bitterly.

Come to think of it, he'd not heard anything about the 1st Division Captain in this leap. Chifuyu had become a top admin and Takemichi his subordinate. Had Baji left the gang? It felt uncharacteristic of the headstrong boy Takemichi knew of, but there could've been special circumstances that forced the decision.

"Takemichi-kun!"

"Naoto?" Takemichi's eyes flitted across the street, searching for where the voice had called from, and eventually settled on the shadowed form waving at them from a dark alley across the road from the apartment. "Naoto!"

Takemichi crossed the street, with Kazutora following him, and they slipped into the alley. The light of the streetlamp didn't reach the narrow gap between the stout buildings, and it took a few seconds for his eyes to acclimate to the near darkness.

Naoto looked the same as he did in each timeline, his short, black hair parted to the side and his suit pristine. After the chaotic hour, it put a smile on his face to see someone who Takemichi recognized and knew was the same inside. He still had someone he could rely on.

It was a little odd for Naoto to ask to meet them in this rundown alleyway, though.

"The detective's here," Kazutora said after he gently offloaded Chifuyu on top of a cardboard box. "What now?"

"I need to return to—" Takemichi cut himself off. He couldn't disclose his time-traveling abilities to anyone in case it affected the events afterwards. However, this wasn't the past...maybe it was fine since they were all allies here. Kazutora could tell him anything he needed to know, and he'd have a better chance at saving everyone.

"Takemichi-kun, I must first apologize," Naoto interrupted.

"Huh?" They turned to the detective, who'd remained silent since they'd met up with him. He was frowning with his eyes averted from them.

"I was the representative working with you on the raid and Kisaki's spy in the police force."

What?

Naoto had been Kisaki's spy...Naoto, the diligent detective working to disband Toman and achieve revenge for his sister, had been working for Toman.

It made cold, logical sense. It was unlikely that Chifuyu wouldn't have heard about the raid's delay from the police, who would confirm the change to what would've probably been a gigantic operation. Similarly, the police would've been skeptical of a sudden, last-minute cancellation of said plan. But if the person maintaining communications between the police and their branch of Toman, the person controlling the flow of information, was the spy, then it wasn't impossible. Rather, it was the only reason that made sense.

"I forged a response from you, postponing the raid to a later date, while pretending to you that it would continue tonight. I'm so sorry, Takemichi-kun. It must've been a terrifying experience—"

"'Terrifying'? You sent them to their deaths!" Kazutora grabbed Naoto by the collar to shove him against the wall. The detective stumbled onto the asphalt with a grunt. "They may have luckily escaped, but your actions killed—"

"Stop!" Takemichi shoved himself in-between them. "It wasn't Naoto. Not this Naoto!"

"Not him? He just confessed to it!" The long-haired man tried to push him away, but Takemichi stood firm as Naoto climbed to his feet behind him. Kazutora was angry that Toman had killed Myers and stuck them in this situation. He understood that. But the Naoto he was working with didn't deserve any of the blame; he must've been as horrified by this present as much as Takemichi was.

"This isn't your Naoto! He's from my timeline!" he yelled. "He did nothing wrong!"

Kazutora froze, his brows lowered and mouth open. "...what?"

"Kisaki called me a few minutes ago to ask for your whereabouts, and I told him I had no idea." Naoto stepped beside Takemichi and dusted off his suit. "He'd threatened me with the rest of my family, and the me of this reality caved in."

Naoto had already lost so much: not only had his sister kept dying, but he'd dedicated his lives to stopping Toman. Anymore, and he'd truly lose everything. "I-if Kisaki finds out you lied to him, then he'll—"

"This is just one timeline." Naoto grabbed him by the shoulders and stared into his eyes with such intensity that Takemichi flinched back. "I can't let you die at any expense. Do not return to this present until you've made a significant impact in the past—Toman will kill you if they catch you. It's too dangerous. You must leave immediately."

Takemichi sucked in a breath. "I got it, I'll—"

"You...you can travel through time."

Kazutora watched them from the mouth of the street, his face backlit by the nearby streetlight. A cacophony of police sirens wailed in the background. Naoto's hands fell from his shoulders as Takemichi turned toward Kazutora.

"I can," Takemichi said.

"Hm, maybe you can get us out of this situation because I sure don't know if we'll manage to escape." Kazutora laughed, but it was half-hearted at best.

"Takemichi-kun, you should leave soon," the detective said. "Considering Toman's extensive list of misdemeanors, the law will be harsh on you. You cannot be caught by Toman or the police—"

"Can you go back as far as twelve years ago? Around the time Toman defeated Valhalla?"

Takemichi swallowed and looked back at the former Valhalla member. "I...can."

Kazutora was motionless. The sirens had now grown to piercing wails, echoing through the night streets. Flickering blue and red lights bounced around the alley, faintly illuminating Chifuyu's sleeping face, Naoto's stoic frown, and Kazutora's wide eyes.

"Then you can...you can stop it!" Kazutora rushed over and seized him by the wrists. Takemichi winced as the man's fingers dug into his flesh, but Kazutora didn't seem to notice as he peered into Takemichi's eyes with pure, glimmering...

Hope.

"You were in Toman then, right?" He didn't give Takemichi a chance to respond. "Don't trust a thing Kisaki says. Frank didn't kill Hakkai—Kisaki did! And he's responsible for Baji's death, too. Save them!"

Huh?

"Hakkai-kun and Baji-kun...died?" Takemichi whispered.

A patrol car cruised past the mouth of the alley and skidded to a halt a second later, doors opening and voices shouting—

Kazutora was too fixated on Takemichi to notice before a uniformed officer tackled him from behind, and a second officer weaved past the policeman pinning the alleged criminal to the ground and charged at Takemichi.

Naoto dove for the time traveler, hurling himself across the alley with his hand outstretched—

Their hands collided, and the world was no more.

---

Takemichi opened his eyes.

His pillow enveloped his head in a cool embrace, and the sleeves of his sweater were snug under his blanket. A gentle glow from the nearby streetlight through his shutterless windows illuminated the ceiling in faint gold, outlining the dark shapes of his furniture arranged around his room.

He was home.

This was the reality he'd become accustomed to. Not that intense, chaotic, and nightmarish timeline he'd just witnessed.

He wished it was all a dream. It would be so much easier to believe it was so. He'd recount how terrifying that vision was, laugh at and berate himself for being scared, then sink back into the comfort of his bed with the reassurance that none of it was real.

But it was, and if he did nothing, then it would come true.

That timeline could not happen, no matter what. Takemichi could not let it happen. It was too terrible! Toman's descent had warped all the people he held dear.

"But how...can I stop it?" he mumbled.

Was it even in his capabilities to stop the past from escalating into that?

He rolled onto his side and snuggled into his blanket, but now his pillow felt sweaty under his neck and his covers heavy over his chest.

Takemichi did not sleep well that night.