𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗟 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗗𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗟
ғᴛ. ᴋᴀᴡᴀᴛᴀ sᴏᴜʏᴀ
⌈Tokyo Revengers⌋
ᯓ꒰ •̫͡-•̫͡꒱ᯓ
❘❘❘❘❘❘ ❛ Living with your cousin, your attention was caught by a cute cinnamon roll who has anger written on his face, and you just couldn't resist but ask him out the f...
━───You unfold the letter carefully, the faint scent of paper and ink filling the air as your eyes land on the word "Dear" in the opening line. A small chuckle escapes you, a sound barely louder than a whisper. Your cousin, Baji Keisuke, using such a formal word? That was almost laughable. But then again, it would be just like Chifuyu, the younger blonde-haired kid Keisuke often mentions, to influence him into trying something so proper. Chifuyu Matsuno. A name you've heard almost as frequently as you've heard Keisuke's, each mention coming with its fair share of complaints and praises.
As you begin reading, a warm hint of nostalgia lifts your mood, but then a strange feeling settles in, your sense of delight dimming as your gaze drifts further down the page.
'Dear, Kazutora.
How are you? Today is the first day of school. I repeated a class because I failed the exams. It's boring in my previous school so I transfered. It's that school that's near your school too—'
You stop, the words blurring as your mind catches up to what you're reading. Kazutora. Your cousin's letter is addressed to him.
It's almost instinctive, the way tension builds in your chest, an old resentment stirring as memories surface. Kazutora Hanemiya. You've never met him, and yet his name is as familiar as a bad omen. How could it not be? He's the one responsible for dragging Keisuke into that dark spiral, the one who planted the seed of trouble that eventually bloomed into Keisuke's Juvenile Detention sentence.
You've heard the story, every painful detail of it, about the night Sano Shinichiro died. And though Keisuke shouldered his share of the blame, it's Kazutora whose reckless decisions tipped the scales.
So...you dislike this guy.
Your knuckles tighten around the edges of the letter, faint creases forming in the fragile paper as your gaze dulls, a scowl pulling at your lips.
You know about Kazutora's past, the way he was raised in a home devoid of warmth, the family dynamics twisted beyond repair. Keisuke had told you about it in bits and pieces, insisting that you understand what Kazutora went through. You remember his pleading voice, the way he defended Kazutora, telling you about their good days, of simple, happy moments the two shared as if that would be enough to soften your opinion. Keisuke didn't want you to hate his friend.
And so you tried, you really tried, to put that resentment aside, to trust your cousin's word.
