Mitsuya Takashi 🥀

You'd loved him for a long time. Since before you could even put a name to what you felt. You loved him when he spent entire afternoons sewing uniforms for his gang, when he cared for his sisters as if the world would break if they cried. You loved him when he came back with scraped knuckles and empty eyes, but he still smiled at you.

He never told you he loved you. He never asked you to wait for him. But the way he looked at you… it was the most brutal confession anyone could give.

One night, while the city slept, it called you. His voice sounded low. Hard. Unsteady.

-Can come?

You went without thinking.

You found him in his workshop, surrounded by dark fabrics and a sewing machine that never stopped humming.

-What are you doing?

—The last uniform I'm going to sew —she whispered.

You didn't understand. You approached, took his arm. He was trembling. And then you saw it: tears in his eyes. The first ones you had seen in all the years you had known him.

—What's up, Takashi?

—I promised to protect you all. But you... I failed you.

—You haven't failed me.

—Yes. Because I love you. And I didn't tell you before. Because I thought I'd have time. That I'd tell you when everything was calm. But calm never comes in this world.

His words were knives.

He hugged you, and for the first time you felt like that hug was a goodbye.

—What are you going to do?

—Whatever I have to do to keep you safe. Even if it wipes me off the map. Even if I can't come back.

You tried to stop him. You begged. You cried.

But Mitsuya had already chosen.

He left that night. Days later, you heard: a raid, an ambush, a confrontation. His body was nowhere to be found. Only his stained jacket and the chain he always wore.