Chapter Text
Has life always been this slow?
Or maybe it wasn’t life— maybe it was time. Time spent by Tsumiki’s side rambling about everything and nothing, a true one-sided conversation.
Her face, illuminated by the sun that reflects off of her pale skin, sunken cheeks digging in the dark. His sister looks the same as always, yet with every passing day her status becomes more and more unstable.
In reality, it actually hadn’t been that long. Perhaps it had been 3 months that felt like 3 years, running through the singular season that had passed. The winter air had been so numbingly chilling; with summer entering, nothing had ever seemed to defrost.
Just like now, Megumi’s cold within a jumper and his stomach. The feeling somehow crawling inside of him, wreaking havoc for all that he was trying to do. Everything was too slow, and yet it seemed that the world was leaving him behind.
Megumi knows, that a certain white-haired man was trying to control both of them from spiralling into vertigo— unknowingly, Megumi could say that both of them had failed. Failed each other, themselves and everything else that came with having your sister in a coma.
The day it happened had been strange; eerily, when Megumi looked back at it from the side of her hospital bed, combined with the anti-bacterial scent— overwhelming. No, it wasn’t like she was dead.
With the silence that comes from three parties; Tsumiki might as well be.
Even when his head rang with annoyance at every ringing phone call that would go on for hours on end, their line of it dead— Megumi never picked up, never wanting to hear an unidentified woman tell him his sister may or may not make it through the night.
That day itself has been buried within the confines of what might be his ‘mind’, or his consciousness— but it was never truly there. Softened by day, diminished by thoughts.
One might call it a terrible accident, one might become sympathetic and shower them with pitiful tears; but with so much time passing that wasn’t really much at all, things have become boring. Unamusing.
He tries to look at the brighter side of things— that when Tsumiki wakes up, they will be able to hang out once more, and spend time in their dingy apartment that is too nice for comfort. They’ll be able to see eachother once more, and yet he can’t do anything.
There is only so much waiting, so much time you have to wait for someone to even wake, impatience is no less of a sin than leaving. Life is boring, and until Tsumiki wakes and he can feel the corners of his lips rise once more— for now, it will .
And unfortunately, for one who is not a time traveller nor a hero, there is nothing a 2nd year high school student could do. If anything, the most he was doing for Tsumiki was actually waking up, dragging his chained ankles to school and becoming exactly what Tsumiki would’ve hated for him to shape his mind, Megumi’s own body, into.
Megumi’s unsure, of what exactly makes up the composition of his behaviours and niches, never wanted to look into it in case there was something; something kept secret with reason.
And that is how, one night— he finds himself desperate for answers . Curiosity will always kill the cat, and it seems that perhaps Megumi’s been too consumed with the urge to have knowledge.
It’s how he finds himself upon the bridge that had always been connected to the road; the same one where Tsumiki was hit with an impact of such force that had rendered her in what seems like, an eternal slumber. Her fate had not yet been decided by the universe, he can’t help but think of how cruel that must be.
However, his expectations are not exactly what he sees.
Megumi had expected to see the dingy bridge it once was, abandoned and kept away from society a place notorious for suicides and having a history for accidents. The reason why Tsumiki had been so dumb to have come to this place— Megumi will never know, unless the world decides to stop messing with his mind and relish him with the dream of Tsumiki waking up to return his time machine.
But— it’s nothing like that, absolutely nothing.
The area is crowded, and Megumi finds himself having to shuffle through the mountains and sea of bodies that crowd around this one area, where people stand with their bodies covered in dimmed glow sticks and lights that illuminate the area.
Sniffing the stuffy and humid air, Megumi can’t help but cringe at the obvious scent of dull cigarettes and watered down alcohol.
Is this what the area had become? A place not for mourning, but for partying and what seems to be drug use?
He isn’t so sure— why Megumi feels so offended at the mistreatment of this place, an occasion that covers the death of others of the land they sit upon, a party that overshadows the people that come here for not just one exciting night; but their last.
The lights hurt his eyes, especially when it reflects off of some other’s clothing and blind him until Megumi sees his skin, and clothes— have also absorbed the colours that constantly move and change.
And Megumi finds that his attention, consciousness, thoughts and all that it comes with written between the lines, have been consumed by the people and the adrenaline that fills out the crowd. He thinks his heart hasn’t ever beat this fast from anything since he was pushing the lines between healthily and unhealthily, legally and illegally.
His introspection is interrupted, when someone knocks into his side, effectively knocking his knees until Megumi has to steady himself upon the dusty gravel road that a majority of the crowd stands upon. No one seems to mind, as the person who knocks into him draws out, “sorry, ‘scuseee me.”
Planting herself next to him, Megumi is left staring at the crown of her head that harbours strands of ginger hair. “Ah, this is nice.” the girl says, swishing her cup of brown fluid and smiling contently.
It seems that she notices Megumi staring at her, face full of a wonder for answers and yet— she only looks at him strangely, holding her cup higher in the air so that both of their eyes land on the red-solo cup.
“You want some?”
“No, thank you.” Megumi instantly replies— he’s knocked out of his thoughts about the area when she speaks, rendering him useless of even considering what liquid was contained in the cup. It’s so loud, and Megumi has to clench his teeth and focus to hear what the ginger-haired girl says next. “So polite.”
Looking away, she seems to get the hint that Megumi is some type of introvert— outcast by others, and she suspects that is perhaps why he stands around in the midst of the crowd. Feeling somewhat sympathetic with amusement, she starts up their short-lived conversation once more.“So, who’d you bet on?”
And maybe— maybe if he had just been more in sync with the ever-slowing time, the world that was constantly leaving him behind to still comprehend what life really was, he would know. But Megumi doesn’t, and he can’t help but feel vulnerable when he cocks his head.
“Pardon?”
“What?” She says, silently sipping on her drinks and hoping for the best-case scenario, that Megumi actually knows what's going on, hoping that he wasn’t some cop’s son who happened to wander straight into their summer-fun; or summer crime, depending on who you ask.
With his head still bent awkwardly, she finds that his rather green-eyes are now stained with the blue lights, creating an aqua-like colour— looking away from her. “I don’t understand.”
“Bet, win the race? You know?” she starts, mouth downturning into a shocked-frown that no— Megumi wasn’t a cop’s son at all, but he’s even worse. The black haired boy is no one’s son, a clueless boy. “Did you bet on someone other than Yuu— vessel?”
Biting her tongue, she hopes Megumi is just less observant as he acts, it would be painful if she let that slip. Hiding her mistake, “seems like you did, ahh..”
“Newbies are so funny.” Megumi doesn’t say anything, only watching as the woman downs the rest of her drink and ends with an expression of satisfaction; drunken satisfaction, that is. “Hear, next time you see him up— you always bet on him, ‘kay?”
He listens intently— though Megumi is still in the dark. Like he’s always been with the events of his mundane yet unhinged life, he thinks about when the lights will ever be turned on without Megumi running his fingers over every surface that he cannot see, only touch . Only feel.
Though; in real time, through his eyes that burn at the extravagant lights and his ears that ring at the loud crowd— he sees the girl, smiling fondly as she looks down the supposed finish line, that streams empty and silent.
“Never loses a race, ever.” she mutters, just loud enough for the two of them to hear exactly what she lays her bets on.
“I’m sorry,” Megumi can’t help but feel a bit awkward as he interrupts what looks like a rather sentimental and mellow moment— but he can’t stand to be in the dark of a place so full of life any longer. “But I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Megumi thinks he can hear a door creak over the noise of the crowd as the girl’s neck turns stiffly towards him, a rather fabricated disgusted look plastered upon her face. Her chin lowers towards her shoulder, pointing an accusing finger at his taller frame. “Hah?”
Shuffling from one foot to another, he replies. “I didn’t.. bet on anyone.”
“Do you not have money? I got a dollar.” Snapping herself out of her little state of shock, free hand shuffling through her pockets and the small crossbody bad that hands off of her hips. Megumi finds the urge to stop her, he doesn’t need money— just an explanation, for that is all he asks.
Leaning in, “listen,” Megumi says, and whilst she instantly does, he knows that even his rather rude choice of words don’t phase the woman at all. “I don’t even know what’s going on here.”
“.. You’re saying you just,” closing her purse, she uses her once-freed hand to exaggerate the area and the people that constantly move at the speed of the world. “Showed up here?”
Grimacing— no, he didn’t just turn up here. In reality, what Megumi doesn’t want to admit is that he is here to remember and to mourn the future that was foreseen and taken from his grasp. Though really, it was just never a grand idea to ever spill, sell yourself out like that to a stranger. “I don’t have any reason to tell you.”
Rolling her eyes, the woman tosses her cup into the crowd and Megumi can’t help but cringe at the thought of her litter; before he can even make a comment, she returns her attention to her after quickly sticking her eyes to the still clear finish line.
She nearly growls at him with her next sentence, “I don’t this, I don’t that! Boy,” though, it isn’t anything more than glass teeth on a smug-ego, as she gives him this smirk that holds more than Megumi can even describe with his words.
“This is street racing.”
As much as he wants to deny— it comes together. Surely, he is not the dimmest of bulbs in a group of people, but it is only just as much as someone normal who wishes to not get involved with crime. Serious crime. “.. For real?”
Breaking out into a small laughter, she quickly steadies herself to push out a response to the other’s oblivious question. Funny guy, she thought. “What else does it look like?”
“No,” he says— Megumi hadn’t realized how undisputedly insensitive, rather stupid, he sounded. Saving himself, he runs a tongue over his now drying lips. “I just thought street-racing was something on TV.”
The ginger-haired woman looks as if she’s really enjoying his innocence, the way he words things and the expression she notices on his face as he trails off. She feels like an older sister who’d been caught coming back late at night, faced with curiosity and horror.
“If we were on TV— we would be cuffed and j a iled.”
When he has nothing to respond with, she slowly nods her head off and focuses her gaze on the road. Is Yuuji coming soon? And even if she asks, she already knows the answer. Yuuji will come, and he will be the first to. There was no question in it, just trust and instinct.
She knows they’ll be able to hear him when he does, but for now— all they can listen to is the people and the next words that spill from his kitten-licked tongue.
“So,” he says, fingers fiddling at the bottom of his jacket, finding themselves picking at the dried-cuticles and lacing themselves in, out and in and out of each other. “This is illegal.”
Fishing her phone out of her once closed purse, the girl gives him a devilish grin. “Very.”
Megumi isn’t so sure how he feels about it.
He shouldn’t be standing here, shouldn’t be watching with curious eyes in the same place Tsumiki has closed her in the bout of interest that had caused her and others to come to this bridge anyway— in the same place that Tsumiki lost what she used to create such marvel.
And yet— Megumi finds himself asking more, tripping over his own thoughts and thoughts that could be what he thinks and or what he believes in; that is something that he will always be unsure of. Never certain, don’t ever blindly trust yourself in the pursuit of the future.
Since you can never be so sure, will never be able to truly say— that you know when your last will be.
“I still don’t get it.” Megumi comments, watching as even as nothing happens in the direct area they stand in, the small society of criminals continue to increase in volume, dying as violently loud as they can. “You all risk your lives to race and be here?”
Shrugging her shoulders, the woman nearly goes back to screaming with the crowd of sweaty people before responding. “Yeah, what about it?”
“There are better things—” he finds himself interrupted, and the defendant is the woman whose face is lit up with a white digital screen, ginger eyes now on display and separated from the vibrant colours around them. “Newbie, c’mere.”
Putting a finger up and making a motion that tells Megumi to lean down, he follows her lead and Megumi leans his head down until her mouth is within reach of his rather red ears. “What is it?”
“Some people,” she starts, eyes not looking at him— but at the bodies upon bodies that are nothing but people, smiling happily like this was the best night of their entire lives; or perhaps, the best night of their deaths. “Just ain’t got anything else to live for.”
And she finds herself smiling to herself once more, as that is what seems to get the other to shut his mouth and take a good, good look into what really surrounds him.
It’s louder— louder than Megumi has ever heard before, and that says someone who is directly involved with someone like Satoru; and just the mere thought of the man sends his face into a near-permanent scowl. Megumi wonders how the white-haired man would react if he saw Megumi, standing in a group of criminals— fugitives, foreshore. People, nonetheless.
Thinking harder , inkling closer to the lava that surrounds the reasons and the stories of all of the people that find themselves here tonight, subjecting themselves to those under society and the law, Megumi finally finds the words to say. The right ones, maybe not; words, yes.
Biting his lip, Megumi listens to all the people who yell profanity, cheers and their bets publicly. “Has he really never lost a race?”
Frantically, her head nods up and down until Megumi finds himself even more dizzy just looking at the action. “Yu p! He’s my best-friend, an idiot but—” she smirks, pointing a finger gun straight at him. “He’s good at anything he loves.”
“.. And that just so happens to be an illegal activity.”
“That’s us for you.” she says, and the conversation is put on hold as they hear the sound of engines and the trickity sounds of someone incoming, at a speed too fast to possibly be legal. Well— what they were doing, engaging in and enabling was anything but legal, everybody, even him; now knows that.
The crowd begins to cheer once more— and the orange-haired girl considers they are so loud tonight because of the secluded and small city area, there was a low chance that anyone could hear them as they sang loudly, blasted lights with the rays of the sun, or even put the effort to call authorities.
Just as everyone’s volume begins to rise, a name that seems as a pen-name howling throughout the crisp air— Megumi’s green eyes notice the other girl is silent, lips reading a completely different word than the rest, though he isn’t so sure what it is. “You're not going to cheer him on?”
Pausing, a pout forms on her once silenced lips. “Why would I kiss his ass?” Laughing, her currently crescent-shaped eyes meet his own rather wide, and doe ones. “God knows he’s gonna win anyway, look—”
And when Megumi turns his head to where her gaze has landed by the end of her sentence, there is a hue of warm headlights that graze the ground and illuminate the thousands of pebbles that lay on the ground.
“There he is.”
Blinking, you would have missed it. The car swiftly passes the line, no sign of any competition behind him, biting the dust that had already been won over. Megumi has never, ever— seen so much power, and so much speed happens in what may only have been a second.
Slowing down, the crowd goes silent, awaiting as the car begins to shut itself down and the doors are opening— although his eyes are chained to the sleek black car that everyone else stares at, infatuated; Megumi notices the girl who stands beside him, hands gripping upon the gold chain of her purse.
The car that had raced in first, bringing the wind and gravel along with it— opened with a poof of dust, be it from the car or the ground they stood upon. Stumbling out, Megumi caught sight of a helmet and a figure with admittedly; a nice figure.
Green eyes could only stare, though never realising his action until the person had come closer, helmet ripping itself off of his head, revealing a sweat-lined face calling out to the woman who was basically investigating him. “Kugisaki!—”
“Ah, this is?” The pink-haired man said, turning his eyes over to Megumi who unconsciously backed away; the pure energy that radiated from him.
It wasn’t unpleasant, by any means— but he still found the urge to leave, the push of running away from something deemed bad for him, the pull of attraction telling him to stay. And from what everyone has learnt so far; fate cannot be denied.
Shrugging her shoulders, Kugisaki— as Megumi had just learned, gave him an irritated eye whilst pointing with her thumb. “Dunno, just found him here.”
Quirking a brow, the man rests his helmet upon his hip and Megumi can’t help but notice the pink and blue lights that reflect off of everything — like everything driven past him without realising, leaving him in the past— time, had finally passed. “Here?— Hello!”
Megumi finds himself nearly turning around to walk straight from where he had come from in the first place; until he hears exactly what the other had to say, voice booming with vibration to garner the attention of everyone. And he means, everyone. “Who brought the cute boy here, anyone?”
Something similar to a court, the winner of the race standing as victorious as the judge— everyone had fallen silent, eyes scanning from the man to Megumi, who stood awkwardly with his back facing the other. Cute boy, he hoped no one had seen his rose-flushed ears.
“Eh— ..” The other says, facing Megumi’s shoulder blades with a questioning voice.
Megumi knows — knows he shouldn’t tell this man his name at all. If anything, the last thing he should be doing is being here and the very last words of his life, to which Tsumiki had taught him to choose carefully in case they were his last— should not be said to the one he does, and the words he chooses.
".. Fushiguro Megumi.”
Just like that— the intimidating aura is gone, and the other returns to using that easy-going voice he had first used.
Megumi’s caught off guard from the area he stands, when a sudden firm arm swings around his shoulders and Megumi feels a certain ginger’s eyes burning into his thinned biceps. “Fushiguro!” He says, Megumi’s name and words feeding themselves directly into his ear.
“How’d you get here? Not saying you can’t but,” biting back words, Megumi can tell the other has things he wants to say, though choosing to keep quiet for what he was thinking. “You look like you don’t have a clue what’s going on!”
Does he think I’m dumb? Megumi thinks, his patience growing thin as time begins to pass faster than the brown-eyed boy had when he had finalised the winner of the race. “Do so,” pulling away from the other’s oddly affectionate grasps— it’s in vain, as the other only stiffens his arm and they go straight back to square one. “Street racing.”
They act like it isn’t obvious— the revving of their loud engines that fill the neighbourhood and yet nobody wants to get involved with the outcast. The cheers that sing the birds to shame every time they come to a close, the prominent scent of addiction floating through the air. And to his avail, Nobara talks loudly over the music that plays once the race is over. “Smart and cute! Yuuji, I think we should keep him.”
The pair of best friends stare at each other, eyes revealing the whites that surround their irises as Nobara realises her mishap. Though, just as Yuuji always does— he only laughs it off, continuing the conversion before any of them get too concentrated on the reveal of his name.
Nodding, Yuuji claps his hands together over Megumi’s face— and for a second, he wonders if Yuuji will hurt him from the way his arms wrap around the shorter. “Nice, nice! But,” he says, Megumi’s image of this day being his last slowly fading into the past and it’s memories, “not a cop, not a cop’s son— right?”
Finally gathering enough force, power and courage to rip himself from the confines of the man’s arms, Megumi breaches away and stands rather far from the other— which earns him curious eyes and questioning glances. “I don’t think I would be talking to you if I was a cop.”
Surrounded by a world Megumi had never been introduced to; he knows that he’s all bark no bite, and Megumi wonders if Yuuji sees right through his act. Though, it seems that things become heavy — so sincerely serious when it comes to racing, and stopping a race. “There’s a reason we race, Fushiguro.”
“.. I don’t see why.” Megumi says— and he truly doesn’t. Surely, the speed they fly by is unfathomable , but what he doesn’t quite understand is the legality of it.
Committing a monstrosity, one that is no dirtier than cold-blooded murder, is one’s ticket to what some call Hell. Megumi personally does not believe in any gods, or anything at all. Perhaps it is the fact that he has lost it, and hasn’t felt “faith” for many years now. But, what he does believe in is the undeniable law.
Justice. Something that we have all wished for upon loved-ones, strangers and ourselves. However, when it comes to us standing as the defendant, Megumi has no choice but to play dumb and hope that one day; he does understand.
Smiling — Yuuji only nudges him in the side and Megumi feels the odd sensation of fresh fruit burst throughout the touch. “Not my stories to tell, cutie.” He says, almost as if he was to persuade and seduce Megumi; who had long decided to keep quiet, though egged on in amusement. “But I’ll tell you this, shh!”
“Don’t tell any cops.” Sternly, Yuuji gives him a look of hopeless promises. Silently, the crowd watches on.
Looking down at his nose that had never moved from out of his vision until he saw Yuuji, helmet and all — Megumi avoids eye contact like he had avoided living. “.. Street racing is illegal.”
He knows that there is no shock factor in it; they all know, and the only one with their eyes bulged, the only one who didn’t know — is Megumi, who still can’t comprehend that all these people show up every race and laugh so loudly.
To his surprise; or demise, Yuuji only laughs in his face. It isn’t malicious, more a genuine realisation of innocence and naivety. Just what has this man seen? “New kid, everybody — like everyone knows that.”
Digging a finger into the collarbone of his shirt, sticking out funnily like a cat in a pile of dogs — he presses on, in not only touch. “It’s you who chooses what to do with that information.”
Unmoving, and unchanging — Megumi only raises his gaze, pupils finding themself observing the world inside of the other brown ones; and if he does? “And if I don’t tell?”
The layers of silence build and construct themselves, Yuuji gets lost in his ideas that are unconvincing and said despite that fact. “We get to do some beginner friendly races, and you—” He stops, only because Megumi gives him a disgusted look because there is no way that he is going to do that. Not in this life, or the next.
“Whatever! Fushiguro,” Yuuji whines, removing himself from the shoulders he’d perched himself upon. Manipulative; and charming no else, Yuuji only leans his face in with a smile that is not even the tiniest hint of mischievous. “Just promise me, don’t tell.”
And because he has only trusted in the law, no reason and no others to believe in other people who have always left Megumi handing by the laces of his shoes, can he agree? Should he? “I don’t get anything out of it, though.”
“Come on! Let me think.”
For what seems like 8 seconds but in reality might be closer to 8 minutes, as Megumi hears the snickler of a familiar voice come from behind them. And when the time had finally come, Yuuji’s fingers removed themselves from his own chin and quirking an eyebrow at the curious expression on Megumi’s face.
“How about,” he starts, now raising both of his eyebrows in a ‘deal’, “I let you race?”
Megumi is really, really starting to consider the fact that Yuuji has been completely and utterly consumed by the act of racing. Whether it was the adrenaline that enveloped him opaquely, or the love that drove him and his car; he didn’t know.
But Megumi isn’t, wasn’t. He won’t be. Will never be — perhaps. Just maybe. Huh.
No, illegal. Bad, terrible; protected by law under reasoning, under education. For god’s sake, Megumi can’t even drive yet.
Shaking his head repeatedly, Megumi attempts to peel himself away from the whole ordeal; unsure of what Yuuji wants and what he wants. “Can’t drive. I need to go—” Megumi spits out, until he’s cut short once more.
“Fushhigurroo! None of us learned how to drive.” What the pink haired man leaves unsaid is that; perhaps street racing isn’t the only thing going under the bar of the law.
Instead of his eyes nearly popping out of his sockets— Megumi only sighs heavily. Do people think he is blind, that he couldn’t see Yuuji turning and twisting the car as if it was his own body; like in the driver’s seat, in the heart of the city, he belonged? ".. You are literally driving?”
“The cars chose us,” Yuuji says loudly, eyes lingering from Megumi and fondly looking over at the participants and on-lookers who slowly begin to dwindle thinner. The green-eyed boy almost thinks that maybe— Yuuji is just overly proud, but it’s defeated through his next sentence. “And maybe you can choose to keep quiet, yeah?”
Just how old is this guy? The other is just a few glances shorter than Megumi; but the way in which he speaks suggests that perhaps he is older, though the way he sheepishly smiles rather than snakily— entails that perhaps, he’s just a child stuck in an adult’s world. Stuck, forced, left; just maybe.
It seems that he is selfishly holding onto something rather than destroying it.
“You’re all gonna die, or be comatose— perhaps.” Megumi says, remember that cars and humans were probably never meant to co-exist— there will be one winner upon impact of a car and a human being. More often than not, as Megumi has learnt throughout the past 3-year-months, is that the car will have an overwhelming victory.
And Yuuji just smiles. Megumi hypotheses he just might be a bit braindead, too deep into his love and his actions to care about consequences. But what he knows for sure , without doubt; is that Yuuji has not changed, you cannot change into a subject when you are the embodiment of it.
It shines through the neon lights that have begun to dim and leave as car engines whistle throughout the warm air, the heat lowering as the bodies make their way in and out. When Megumi ends with, “and it’s not gonna be by a cop.”
Giving Megumi a thumbs up with his gloves hands, Yuuji gives him a rather excited smile; a challenging one, one that is so obvious yet contains too many options at all.
“Well, Fushiguro,” Yuuji calls, moving his body so that they stare directly into each other’s eyes that glisten in the moon and the now warmer, white lights. And what Megumi hears next stays with him throughout his entire dream-filled slumber.
“You can’t live without tryna’ die!”