blackmail; shuji hanma

nine. the calendar

"I'm not going to hit you over the head with a frying pan." Hanma said, unamused as he looked down at her. While she washed the dishes, he dried them and returned them to their designated place, a routine he seemed to be used to. In his hands was the frying pan she had washed last, holding it up out of her reach before she could get an insane ideas in her head.

(Y/N) jumped up, trying to grab the frying pan from him, but fell short. "Come on. You even said it would be good for me to go back in the past too!"

"That doesn't mean I'm going to promote hitting you," he scolded. At first he was playfully offended by her suggestions, but now he just seemed concerned about her wellbeing, which was weird, because she hadn't had somebody do that in a long time. 

"Fine, then how do you suggest I knock myself out?" (Y/N) asked, her hands on her hips. 

He shrugged, turning back to the dishes he was drying with a small towel. Since he wasn't any help, she brainstormed while she scrubbed the dishes, the soapy suds falling over the side of the sink at her absentmindedness. It was once she turned to hand Hanma another plate and changed her stance did her foot land in the soapy water that had made its way on the floor. She lost her balance, falling back onto the tile and hitting her head on the corner of another cabinet, losing consciousness for the second time in under twenty four hours. 

The last thing she saw in this future was his hand reaching out to her, the plate he had been holding dropping so that he could try and catch her before she fell.

.

.

(Y/N) jerked awake, pulling herself into a sitting position and immediately regretting the action as pain reverberated throughout her entire skull. She reached up to figure out why she had such a killer headache, if not from the kitchen counter, and felt a bandage wrapped around her head, allowing her to remember what had happened in the past. The baseball bat did more harm than she thought it would, hissing in pain when she accidently pressed down too hard on her gauze. 

"Welcome back," Hanma greeted from her bedside, causing her to flinch at his sudden appearance and how much he sounded like his future counterpart that apparently knew her secret, "From the dead, that is."

A sigh of relief left her. So he hadn't figured it out yet. 

"I certainly feel like - what happened to you?" (Y/N) cut herself off when she saw the state the delinquent beside her was in. There was a nasty bruise on the right side of his face, to the point his cheek had split open, and his hands were slightly bloodied and bruised as well. He looked worse for wear, probably more so than she did.

"You should see the other guy," Hanma teased, nonchalant about his own injuries. 

From his shirt pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, fully intent on smoking one, until she pointed out the no smoking sign in the hospital room and he reluctantly put them away. Despite the ring of pain it caused, she laughed at his faux annoyance, impressed he had even listened to her in the first place.

(Y/N) leaned back in her hospital bed, more relaxed now, and asked, "So, what made you fight this 'other guy'? A rival gang member? To blow off steam?"

He looked at her like the answer should be obvious.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" she couldn't help but ask when he didn't reply.

"I beat the idiot who hit you over the head," Hanma said slowly, as though she should have expected this, "And I told him that if he ever even looked at you again, I'd kill him."

Alright, this may sound strange, but she could definitely now see the appeal as to why she had married him. No one had ever gone that far to stand up for her, and yes, it was a little concerning the extent he was willing to go, but it also made her stomach flip and her heart beat the slightest bit faster. It would take a while to get used to knowing Hanma chose to get married to her in the future, her of all people, though she was starting to understand just how he felt about her and vice versa. 

Suddenly embarrassed by her own feelings, (Y/N) began to nervously play with the blanket of the hospital bed. "Thank you, for, uh, getting revenge on my behalf."

"No problem, doll, I'd do it any day."

There was a noticeable lull in their conversation, one that was comfortable. Hanma ended up digging through the hospital cabinets to locate bandages to wrap around his knuckles. Without saying anything, (Y/N) got him to let her clean the wounds with a wet washcloth first. She even wiped away the blood left from the cut on his cheek, ensuring she was gentle, not that he would have flinched anyways. The pain in her head was beginning to subside, so it didn't push her to do such small tasks.

As she placed a butterfly bandage on his face wound, Hanma said in a low tone, "Before I knocked him out, I asked the guy who hit you why he did it." She gave a small hum to tell him she was listening. "He said he saw you with me and wanted to get back at me for beating up his little gang." A laugh of disbelief left him. "The funny thing is, I don't even remember him. But it pisses me off to know that some idiots would try and avoid a direct confrontation with me by taking it out on you."

"Well since we can't stop people from having seen us, I suppose I'll just have to protect myself better," (Y/N) said lightly.

She pulled back and admired her work, pleased to see he looked a bit better now that his face was cleaned and patched up. 

"And how are you going to do that?" Hanma asked, curious and without a hint of doubt.

"That's easy. Make my status as an info broker known to the city of Tokyo."

And so, the infamous Blackmail was born.