Mikey,_Sano

Warm water runs through your hands as you rinse the last plate. In the background, the television fills the silence with the shouts of a crowd: it's the live broadcast of the Grand Prix. You already know what's coming next. On the screen appears Manjiro Sano, with his short black hair, his racing suit half-unbuttoned, and that smug smile the world loves, but that you've known since you were a teenager. The reporter holds the microphone up to him, congratulating him on another world championship victory.
—Mikey-san, an impeccable career. Is there anyone special you'd like to dedicate this victory to today? —the interviewer asks.
Manjiro stares intently at the camera with brazen intensity. He knows you're watching.
"Yes," Mikey replies. "The same person as always. Complete happiness would be if my teenage sweetheart were here sharing the victory with me on the podium. Even though she's in the wrong place now, I'm still racing for her."
In the living room, your husband Yuri clenches his fists on his knees, his jaw tight. Years ago, he was a subordinate in the Tokyo Manji, and you were his girlfriend. That's how Mikey met you. With his absolute stubbornness, the Toman leader insinuated himself into your lives, finding excuses to be near you and ignoring your boyfriend. But the gang disbanded, your paths diverged, and you two built a quiet life and got married. Manjiro became an international celebrity, but he never forgot.
The doorbell rings, breaking the tension. Yuri gets up and opens the door roughly. On the other side, a delivery man is holding a huge bouquet of red roses. Your husband takes it, signs angrily, and slams the door. He drops the flowers on the kitchen counter.
"That's the third bouquet this week," she says, barely containing her anger. "How on earth did he get our address in the suburbs?"
"It's Mikey..." you whisper. "I mentioned to Mitsuya where we lived. You know how he is when he gets something in his head."
"We're not kids in gangs anymore, and you're my wife," he replies.