Chapter Text
Mondo’s eyes are training on the floor when he hears it.
A mumble at first, voice tipped with the sense of urgency and a body shifting suspiciously close to his own. They’re facing him, he realises, but still keeping a respectable distance. The only part visible being a pair of shiny, knee-high boots.
“— ondo…! Mondo Oowada!” It’s louder, steadier and, hell, that’s his name, isn’t it? It would just be easier to ignore it, but something nags in the back of his mind. He’s never backed out of a challenge, not really, and if a punk wants to start something on a train of all places, then he’s gonna encourage it.
Except, of course, that’s not the case at all.
People looking for a fight don’t usually look like this. All straight laced and trousers tucked in, this is the definition of a good guy. He takes another step closer and Mondo’s attention is automatically drawn to him. An insistent pull of something that doesn’t make sense, but still tugs him to move the back of his hand against the back of his neck. A nervous habit — he doesn’t know this man, but they’re not strangers. He's sure of it, but can't understand why.
“Kyodai? You... really don’t remember me, do you?” Everything neat about him starts to fall apart in that moment, the neat lines of his irises fading out behind the mist on his eyes, his cheeks darkening slightly against his unblemished features. This guys about to cry, Mondo thinks, this guys about to cry and he can’t even figure out why, or what he needs to do — how he’s going to make himself remember as he watches him step back. A wounded animal, his previous joy falling from the stifled tears in his eyes. Moving away from him and rushing out of those train doors.
Mondos hand flies out to him before even he registers what he's doing.
“ Hey — you’re gonna spew all that shit and not tell me who you are? What the hell's ya name? ”
It’s a laugh that’ll ring through his ears for years after, the guy bowing an introduction between bodies slamming past him. Hand tugging frivolously against an object on his arm. The sound only growing as he throws the item towards the gang leader with pride. Public morals, it states, Mondo can’t help but laugh with him.
“My name …" He calls, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Is Kiyotaka Ishimaru!”
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Mondo awakes with a start.
It’s too bright and too quiet. He can’t hear the steady blare of his alarm or daiya’s constant swearing from the kitchen. Chuck’s paws bounding across the floor or the general horns of the car’s outside. He can’t hear anything but the ringing in his ear, which is impossible, nothing’s this quiet in the city.
His thoughts come to a halt as he registers it.
He’s been crying again. Tears wet and heavy against his cheeks. Forcing him to wake up, and sit up, or maybe sit up and wake up. It’s been a regular occurrence, quite recently. The tears and the dreams. He can never remember what happens in them, but it’s bad enough that it affects him out of them. The leader of the fearless gang the Crazy Diamonds, reduced to tears by something even the smallest of children could understand was fake.
There was a reason he was keeping this from everyone, after all.
A good one.
As soon as he buries those for another day, Mondo decides it’s better for him to wake up now rather than later, even if it’s just to get away from those wandering thoughts for a brief moment. He follows the usual routine with the simplest of steps, finding his phone and working out why the alarm hadn’t gone off in the first place.
Except, he can’t find his phone and, the more he thinks about it, he doesn’t even remember his bed ever feeling this way. Hard on the back and a little bit cold, too. He edges over to where the bedside table should be, but instead finds his body half hung over plain flooring, as plain as the walls he catches in the glimpse behind him. The ringing of his ears actually being the shaking clock that rests beside him, minutes past the time it should’ve been turned off. It feels impersonal, the room he’s residing in, with it’s barely covered walls and only a couple stacks of books to greet him. The inspirational posters would be a nice touch, if not for the mix of charts and the kendo sword placed beside them. At least there’s a weapon, he thinks, in case things turn messy. Before focusing on the main focus at hand. Himself.
It’s not new, waking up in someone else’s house. It’s not new that he can’t remember how he got here, but what is is the way his skin is slightly paler. How his white shirt looks brighter than when he brought it. The way his shoulders are still broad, but smaller than he remembers them being. Mondo places a hand to his forehead, only to be met with the lack of hair on his head and then, only then, begins to understand it.
This isn’t where he’s supposed to be.
He should know better, when his gut instinct is telling him this isn’t right. He’s starting to get lost in his thoughts again, when his body lifts up. His mind has no clue where he’s going, but the body falls almost naturally to a direction of a mirror, to prop him in front of it. Mondo splashes his face with water from the tap, dries it with a towel and takes a deep breath as he looks into the mirror.
Those piercing red eyes stare back at him. After all, he knows this face from somewhere.
“ What the fu — ?! ”
CRASH.
A figure appears at the door the moment Mondo grabs this man's chest, still reeling in shock from the fact that the face that stares back at him is most definitely not his own. She looks friendly enough, with the same dark hair and red eyes as whoever’s body he has, looking around the room until she spots him.
“Kiyotaka…” She smiles with a tilt of her head. Her gaze drops down, eyes zeroing onto the hand stuck in the middle of an act. Mondo can't help but scowl at being caught, too embarrassed to let go.
It only makes things worse.
There’s no warning when her demeanor changes. The sharp narrowing of her eyes and the sudden look of disgust that slides it’s way across her features, more familiar than the polite mask would appear to admit. Her grip on the sliding door is becoming crushing, before she lets out a breath and yells. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU —— ?!” She pauses for a moment and, like the flicking of a switch, the pleasantness passes onto her face once more.
“Nevermind. Grandma asked to inform you that breakfast has been ready for a little while now, she would like to see you before you go. Please get dressed and ensure you visit soon, or you will either have to forgo your tardiness or the morning conversation.” With that, she closes the door. Leaving Mondo and the stran- Kiyotaka’s body, alone.
“Fuck — !” He slams his fist to the side for a jerk reaction, knocking down the book holder on the end with a thundering slam. He doesn’t react as the thing splinters into a couple of pieces. Nor the books that follow. It’s what he does best, breaking things. That’s what people know him for.
After all, it's just a bad dream. Right?
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Today, Kiyotaka Ishimaru has breakfast with his family.
His sister, Celeste, is sitting with her back to him. Curls as rigid as her back on display, not daring to move an inch. To a stranger, it would appear unusual, cause a concern, but it only serves to make Kiyotaka’s last steps to become quicker. She has been waiting, after all.
His grandmother sits at the head, seemingly content with the sound of the radio above. Her gaze doesn’t leave him as he finally settles down. Eyes slightly roundening as he remembers; “Good morning, both!”
He collates some rice into a bowl, attempting to measure out this spoonful compared to what he can see around him. The knuckles on his hand are bruised.
“You’re back to normal today.“ His grandmother remarks. Kiyotaka can’t help but look straight at her.
“Why yes, it appeared as though you had lost your mind. For the whole of yesterday, in fact.” Celestia giggles, sound muffled by the front of her hand.
“Wait just a moment, unusual?! I —?”
Before anyone can respond, the calm music from the radio is now replaced with a loud chime, followed by a public notice from the council. “ Good morning everyone. This is an announcement from Kaiseidan Town Hall. Regarding the mayoral election to be held on the 20th next month, the election committee would like to remind you that… - ”
Grandmother pulls the plug. Kiyotaka turns on the TV in her wake. The anchor speaks of better news, the comet that is due to visit in one months time. It’s expected to be visible for several days to the naked eye, a notice for watchers and not. Many people will be out to watch this.
It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.
“It would fare you well, to consider talking to him.” Celestia comments, dropping the chopsticks in her hand and placing her attention back onto the two figures at the table. Kiyotaka makes a rush to finish his next mouthful.
“Celestia! That's not our business!” Kiyotaka replies, the only one of the two up awake studying while the fights took place. His father's words are still familiar today. Celestia does her best to hide her annoyance with a gaze to her side, mouth forming a thin line.
“I have asked you countless times to refer to me as Celeste, but it appears that we are now running out of time,” She stands up. Not even pausing before she’s straightening out the ruffles of her skirt. “before we get going, Taka, aren’t you forgetting something?”
He’s missing his armband.
Kiyotaka takes a steady walk back to his room. Eyes falling immediately to the side of his mirror. His books are all over the floor and the holder appears broken below them on the carpet. This is not Celestia’s doing, he notes by the grooves that appear to be on the stand by the mirror, it’s his own. That explains why his knuckles are hurting, but not the reason behind it. Kiyotaka has never been the type to consider violence, even with reason and never to his own stuff. He won’t be able to afford new stands for a couple of months. However, he doesn’t have time to think about it now.
Grabbing the hanging armband nearby, Kiyotaka hurries off to meet his sister at the doorway. The two of them sharing a joint goodbye as they walk out and down the steps of the shrine.