Weak (Tokyo Revengers x MHA x Female Reader)

Chap. 010:

"W-What...?"

"You heard me. You can stay with me if you wanna."

"If anything she should be staying with me, I found her first!", Mikey exclaimed as he pushed Hanma away from the girl, taking a protecting stance in front of the girl.

He didn't know why, he just had the need to protect her from any evil.

And Hanma was a potential evil.

She was this innocent little girl while Hanma was the big bad wolf, a predator, waiting for the unsuspecting little lamb to lower her guard so he can attack and drain her life-span.

And Mikey wasn't about to let that happen.

There were too many things Hanma could do to her.

He could manipulate her or use brute force on her, either way Y/N would end up getting harmed, and the thought of that...

The mere thought of this sweet girl he just met, getting hurt, that awoke something dark in him.

Something he had lastly felt when his big brother Shinichiro had died.

And Mikey wasn't about to let fate rip her away from him.

He was ... possessive of her... and Mikey did not know why or how, but he liked it.

Manjiro Sano liked the thought of the girl belonging to him, of staying with him and never leaving him. He liked the idea of coming home to see her every day, all-day, for the rest of his life.

"Manjiro-san?", Y/N asked as she tugged at the hem of his white T-shirt.

"Yes Cupcake?"

The nickname caught the girl off guard for a split second.

"I-Is something wrong? You're holding my hand relatively tightly..."

Y/N muttered under her breath as she looked at her frail hand which laid in Mikey's robust hand.

His hand was rougher than expected.

From the look of Mikey, Y/N would have expected his hand to be soft like a baby's hand, or like a baby's chubby-cheeks.

But instead his hand was rough and had a firm hold to it. Like he was an experienced fighter, like he was used to hitting people with his fists.

Mikey, too, looked down at his intertwined hand with Y/N's hand.

He wasn't really surprised.

Her hand was soft, frail and had this nice touch to it. It was cold; yes, but which girl did not have cold hands due to iron deficiency?

The only imperfection on her left hand were the scars, but even they felt soft.

Her hand laid lightly in his own, and he was wondering if he was hurting her by his ruff grip, if his hardened hand was scraping her scars open, if she would start bleeding because he had ripped those scars up, but she did not bleed, nor did she whine or hiss in pain.

She just looked up at him with curious eyes.

And Mikey could get lost in her eyes.

Her eyes, her large wide eyes, those white eyes that had a little tint of lilac in them, those crescent shaped irises. Those little shimmers in her eyes whenever the wind blew her hair out of her face and would allow the down going sun to give her eyes this spark.

It was indescribable, it was something on its own.

Nothing Mikey could even think about describing, because there was no word fitting the way she looked to him in that moment.