Tokyo Revengers 𝕎𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖

ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴄʜᴀᴏᴛɪᴄ ᴍɪɴᴅ

Takemichi shot up in bed, gasping for air as if he had just surfaced from drowning. His heart raced violently against his chest, and his hands clutched the damp bedsheets. He couldn’t breathe right; every inhale felt shallow, strained. His body trembled as the remnants of the nightmare clung to him, fogging the line between memory and reality.

It was always the same. Over and over. He saw Mikey—dying, killing him, or worse. The scenes blurred together, like fractured glass reflecting pieces of a broken reality. Which one was real? What timeline did he wake up in? Was this the one where everyone survived? Or did Mikey...?

He felt the room spin, cold sweat clinging to his skin. The nightmare kept pulling him back into a confusion so deep it paralyzed him. His thoughts spiraled, flashing from one distorted memory to another. Baji... No, he’s alive. Right? Shinichiro? He’s alive too. Mikey? Is Mikey going to kill me again?

Takemichi’s legs gave out as he dropped to the floor with a soft thud, shaking uncontrollably. He pressed his palms against his thighs, trying to anchor himself, gripping hard enough to leave small red marks on his skin. His breaths were shallow, erratic.

Will someone hurt me? Am I alone?

He couldn’t stay in this room. The walls felt like they were closing in, suffocating him. He needed to see Mikey. He needed to know if Mikey was okay, if this was the timeline where he survived.

Without thinking, he forced himself to his feet, the world still tilting as he stumbled toward the bathroom. Cold water splashed against his face, but even that didn’t seem to help. When he looked up into the mirror, his reflection was a stranger—pale, wild-eyed, drenched in sweat. He closed his eyes, pressing his hands on the sink. But that sensation again—the feeling of someone standing just behind him—made him whip around, heart pounding. No one was there.

It wasn’t enough. He had to be sure. He needed to see Mikey.

Takemichi grabbed his jacket and threw it on without checking the time or even caring. The night air hit him like a slap in the face when he stepped outside. His mind was still a foggy mess, but something about the cold began to pull him back into his body. He was walking through the streets before he even realized it, his bike forgotten. Maybe it was for the best—riding it in this state wouldn’t have ended well.

The Sano house came into view after what felt like forever. Takemichi’s footsteps faltered as he approached the garage where Mikey stayed. He knocked softly, hesitant. It was the dead of night, and he knew he was probably waking everyone up. His hands were trembling so badly he had to ball them into fists to stop the shaking.

Mikey, please be okay. Please be here...

After a moment, the door creaked open, and there stood Mikey, bleary-eyed, hair a messy halo around his face. He blinked at Takemichi, clearly confused by the sudden intrusion. Takemichi stood frozen, eyes darting over Mikey's form, still unsure whether this was the Mikey from this timeline or the one who had caused so much pain.

"Takemichi?" Mikey’s voice was thick with sleep, but it was enough to snap Takemichi out of his daze.

He flinched, and for a second, he wasn’t sure what to do. But then Mikey moved—soft, deliberate—and before Takemichi could process it, he felt the warmth of Mikey’s arms wrapping around him. The embrace was unexpected, a stark contrast to the cold, chaotic mess in Takemichi’s mind. His body reacted before his brain did, leaning into the warmth, clutching at Mikey’s shirt as if it were the only thing tethering him to the real world.

"...Don’t leave..." Takemichi’s voice cracked, barely above a whisper. He hadn’t even realized he’d said it out loud.

Mikey tightened the hug, his own warmth bleeding into Takemichi’s frozen, shaking body. "I won’t," he murmured softly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

For a moment, everything stilled. The nightmare that had been clawing at Takemichi’s mind receded, and the realization hit him like a wave of relief. They were teenagers again. This was the final timeline. Mikey was here. Everyone was alive. Thank god.

Takemichi’s breath hitched, and he felt the sobs before they even started. His grip on Mikey’s shirt tightened as the tears finally came. He buried his face in Mikey’s shoulder, soaking in the reality of the present—solid, warm, and real. This wasn’t a dream.

Mikey stood there silently, patient, letting Takemichi cry without question. Only when Takemichi’s sobs began to quiet did Mikey pull back slightly, guiding him inside the garage. It wasn’t much warmer, but it was enough to cut through the cold that had been biting at Takemichi’s skin.

"Come on, sit down," Mikey said softly, guiding him to the couch. Takemichi sat down, still gripping Mikey’s sleeve like a lifeline, not ready to let go.

Mikey hesitated for a second, then stood up, heading towards the corner of the room where a small mirror and set of clippers sat. Takemichi frowned slightly, his chest tightening again as Mikey disappeared into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Mikey emerged with a towel draped over his shoulders. His hair was shorter, drastically so. Strands of freshly cut hair still clung to his shirt. Takemichi blinked, momentarily taken aback.

Mikey sat beside him again, taking Takemichi’s hand in his. "Please don’t be scared of me," he whispered.

Takemichi’s heart lurched. He remembered the fear that had gripped him earlier, the terror of not knowing which version of Mikey he was facing. But now, with Mikey’s shorter hair, his gentle touch, Takemichi could separate the two. This was his friend—Manjiro Sano, not the monster from his nightmares.

"Was it a nightmare?" Mikey asked softly, his thumb brushing over the back of Takemichi’s hand.

Takemichi nodded slowly, swallowing hard. "Y-yeah. I... I couldn’t tell what was real. It was like... everything was mixed together. Past, present... it was so real." He shuddered, the memory still too close.

Mikey’s expression darkened for a moment. "It happens to me too," he said quietly. "And I only remember one other timeline. I can’t even imagine what it’s like for you."

Takemichi stared at him, noticing for the first time how tired Mikey looked. He hadn’t been the only one haunted by the past.

"You mean a lot to me, Mikey," Takemichi said, his voice trembling but sincere.

Mikey didn’t respond immediately, but he squeezed Takemichi’s hand in silent acknowledgment. They sat there together, in the quiet of the garage, the remnants of Takemichi’s nightmare slowly dissipating into the warmth of their shared reality.

A/N:
Heyy!
This chapter is written a bit differently and maybe kinda chaotic and messy. I tried my best. But it's mostly bc I wanted this chapter to show the insides of Takemichi’s mind and how paranoid he has become.
I also hinted on a derealization disorder.

And since the beginning I definitely imagined Mikey and takemichi to appear differently bc it's a new start of their lives.
But this chapter was when Mikey realised that takemichi is scared of HIM. And it made him feel so guilty that he just cut his hair in the heat of the moment.

I really hoped you enjoyed this chapter. I might add a takemichi×Mikey tag soon bc I do tend to go deeper into their bond and relationship with each other and it may involve into a romantic one.