Footsteps In The Dark

Promises In The Night

The night sky burst into a kaleidoscope of colors as Takemichi and Hina watched the fireworks from the rooftop. The explosions echoed in his chest; each boom a resonant reminder of the fleeting nature of moments like these. As a particularly bright spark of light shredded the darkness, Takemichi felt an impulsive warmth surge through him. He reached out, guided by the desire to intertwine his fingers with Hina's, only to grasp a smaller, more rugged hand instead.

"Naoto?" Takemichi's voice was tinged with disbelief as the world around him began to distort, the vibrant colors and sounds of the festival fading into nothingness. A jolt ran through his body, and suddenly he was no longer on that rooftop but lying in a bed, staring at a ceiling that seemed all too familiar and foreign at the same time.

"Wha—?" His eyes darted around, finding himself in Naoto's room, the younger boy looking at him with concern etched onto his features.

"Back already, huh?" Naoto's voice cut through the thick veil of confusion clouding Takemichi's mind.

"Yeah," Takemichi sat up, rubbing his head as if to clear the remnants of temporal disorientation. "I met Mikey and the others... It's complicated," he said, trying to piece together the information trapped in the whirlwind of memories.

"Mikey..." Naoto's expression hardened. "Toman has grown worse over the years. They're not just a gang; they're a scourge."

"I need to speak to Mikey. I have to understand why Toman turned sour," Takemichi insisted, a determined glint in his eye.

"Mikey's a ghost, even the police can't track him down," Naoto replied, shaking his head in frustration.

But then it struck Takemichi—the one link to Mikey that might still exist. "Ayame! She was close to him... really close." His voice wavered with hope. "Can you find her for me?"

"Let me see what I can find." Naoto's fingers flew over the keyboard of his laptop, the tapping sound filling the silence between them. Moments later, Naoto's hand froze, and he turned the screen toward Takemichi with a solemn look.

"Married?" he stuttered, reading the text next to Ayame's picture. "To Tetta Kisaki?"

"No way..." Takemichi stumbled back, a cold sweat breaking over him. "That's wrong. Ayame loved Mikey. How could she... with Kisaki?"

"Things change, Takemichi," Naoto said, though his voice lacked conviction. "People change."

Change. The word echoed in Takemichi's mind, a cruel reminder of the power and pain of time. But some things were meant to stay sacred, and the bond between Ayame and Mikey had been one of them. Something was amiss, and he could feel it in his bones. Ayame married to Tetta Kisaki? Impossible. Unthinkable. And yet, there it was, in black and white before his very eyes.

Takemichi clenched his fists, the digital image of Ayame's gentle smile burning behind his eyelids. This was not the future he had fought for, nor the past he remembered. Somewhere along the line, their stories had taken a dark turn—and he was determined to set it right.

•• ━━━━━ ••✾•• ━━━━━ •••• ━━━━━ ••✾••

The neon glow from the club's sign cast a pulsating light over the faces of Takemichi and Naoto as they walked through the heavy, soundproof door. Inside Akkun's hostess club, the air was thick with perfume and the clink of glasses. Akkun, now wearing the polished look of success, greeted them with a wide grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Long time no see, Takemichi!" he boomed, clasping Takemichi's hand with a grip that spoke of new-found power.

"Been a while, Akkun," Takemichi replied, trying to keep his voice even despite the gnawing anxiety in his gut.