ɢᴀɴɢ-𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗦! [ ᴛʀ x ᴍᴀʟᴇ! ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ]
CH.9
The world we knew — Frank Sinatra
Over and over, I keep going over the world we knew
Once when you walked beside me
That inconceivable, that unbelievable world we knew
When we two were in love
All four of them sat stiffly on the couch.
well, the twins on the couch, Shinichiro on the single chair as far from M/n as physically possible.
The TV was off.
The silence was suffocating.
Shinichiro kept his eyes glued to the floor.
Ran and Rindou were still absorbing the bomb that had just detonated in their brains.
M/n exhaled. Not just a sigh. a heavy, disappointed, world-weary sigh.
All three flinched like they’d been shot. M/n leaned back, pinched the bridge of his nose, and muttered,
“Of all people… of all people, it had to be you, Shinichiro.” Shinichiro sank even lower in his chair. M/n continued, voice calm in that terrifying way,
“I did not, ever expect my dearest, most trusted friend to be the one to unravel my entire past to my two idiot sons.” Ran and Rindou straightened in unison.
M/n added flatly, “Congratulations, Shinichiro. You are officially the world’s biggest party pooper.” Shinichiro visibly winced.
M/n crossed his arms.
“You know, I always thought if someone was going to expose me, it’d be Sanzu. Not you. Not the responsible one." Shinichiro made a small, wounded noise.
M/n side-eyed him.
“Oh, don’t act innocent. You know exactly what you did.”
“F-For the record,” he blurted out, “your sons were about to torture me.” Ran and Rindou both snapped their heads toward him.
Rindou’s face twisted. “We were not—”
Ran looked away, arms crossed. “We were just trying to scare him.”
Shinichiro glared at them, voice cracking,
“You had a baton to my head and Rindou was about to snap my fingers like pretzels!”
“That’s… an exaggeration.” Rindou mumbled,
“It is NOT,” Shinichiro hissed.
M/n held up a hand, silencing all three of them instantly.
“Shinichiro,” he said slowly, “you could’ve held them off until I got home.” Shinichiro’s jaw dropped in utter betrayal.
“You couldn’t hold it for—what, five minutes? I literally walked in the moment you broke.”
“Held them off?? Ran nearly concussed me! Rindou was warming up like a pianist about to play Beethoven on my hand!”M/n shrugged like that was a minor inconvenience.
He turned to his sons, expression softening—not in a comforting way, but in a *parental ‘I expected better crimes from you’* way.
“Well,” M/n said, “congratulations. You finally found out who I was.”
Ran and Rindou sat straight, unsure if they were being praised or scolded.
“Well. You finally figured it out. Took you long enough." M/n scoffed.
“So,” M/n continued calmly, “any violent reactions?”
Ran threw his hands up.
“Oh, don’t say it like that! We’ve been hunting your backstory for months. And you were the Nightingale? The notorious leader of the largest gang in Shibuya for almost a decade?”
Rindou nodded aggressively beside him.
“Yeah. We thought you were some… café guy. Soft. Harmless. You bake muffins.” M/n gave them a flat look.
“I still bake muffins.” Ran pointed at him. “Exactly! The cognitive dissonance is insane!”
M/n sighed. He gestured wildly.
“And you expect us NOT to have a reaction?!”
Rindou nodded aggressively.
“Yeah! That’s— that’s huge! That’s— that’s— M/n, what the actual hell?!”
M/n blinked at them, unimpressed.
“…violent reaction noted.”
Shinichiro slowly raised his hand again, voice small. “Can I… can I go home now?” M/n whipped his glare toward him.
“No. You’re staying. You caused this.” Shinichiro deflated into his chair.
M/n leaned back against the couch, expression unreadable for a moment.
“…Look,” he finally said, voice shifting deeper, older, tired in a way the twins had never heard.
“I didn’t want you two to know because it has nothing to do with who I am now.
And it has nothing to do with who you’re supposed to become.”
The twins quieted, absorbing that.
“I left that world behind for a reason,” M/n continued.
“And no—” he raised a finger before they even asked— “I’m not giving you the whole story. Not yet.”
Ran opened his mouth; M/n shot him a look; Ran closed it again.
M/n softened just faintly.
“I wanted you two to grow up without… all of that. Without the shadows, the dirt, the enemies, or the blood that came with it.”
“And yet,” he continued, rubbing his forehead,
“it just so happens I adopted the exact two idiots I didn’t want my kids getting involved with.”
"That were delinquents?" Rindou asked to which M/n nodded.
“But even then… even knowing you two came from a background like that…
I wanted you to have chances I didn’t.
I wanted you to grow without being dragged into the past I left behind.”
He looked at them more seriously now.
“So just… be careful, alright?” His voice dropped softer.
“And I hope… I really hope you don’t end up like I did.” The words hit the twins’ chests like bricks.
Ran looked down at his hands, expression twisted with something he rarely showed; confusion, respect, maybe a hint of fear.
Rindou tugged on his sleeve, quietly overwhelmed. Shinichiro sniffled, wiping his eyes. Ran glared at him.
“Oh my god, are you crying?”
“I— I’m emotionally sensitive—” Shinichiro squeaked.
“Oh shut up—”
“Both of you, stop,” M/n snapped.
M/n stood, stretching his back. He pointed at the twins.
“You two, no more schemes. No more horrendous stunts. If I catch you pulling another brain-dead plan, I’m making you scrub every corner of the house with a toothbrush. Understood?”
“…Yes, M/n,” they mumbled. M/n rubbed his temple.
“…Good. Now someone turn the TV back on or something. I need to cook dinner before I lose my mind.”
.
.
.
.
.
.
The kitchen was peaceful.
M/n chopped spring onions with the precision of a surgeon. Ran and Rindou sat at the table like two students observing a dangerous creature in its natural habitat. Shinichiro hovered behind them, wringing his hands, hoping M/n wouldn’t skin him alive.
Every time the knife hit the chopping board, all three flinched. M/n didn’t even look at them.
“Stop staring at me like I’m about to summon a demon.”
“We’re just… observing.” Rindou murmured,
“Observing what, exactly?”
M/n turned slightly, eyebrow raised, the kind of look that could make gang leaders fold.
“You… cooking. Knowing you used to be Nightingale… It’s like watching a lion make salad.” Ran swallowed.
Shinichiro weakly chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.
“He’s always cooked well, even back then—”
M/n shot him a glare so sharp Shinichiro visibly shrank. The twins exchanged looks. Shinichiro mouthed sorry.
They ate in silence at first, the twins stealing glances at their father every few seconds. M/n ignored them or pretended to.
They escort Shinichiro to the door. M/n steps outside with him while the twins peek from the living room like nosy cats.
Shinichiro sighs, leaning against his bike.
“M/n… I really didn’t mean to expose you like that. I panicked.”
“You panic by dropping nuclear information?”
M/n crossed his arms. Shinichiro looked genuinely guilty.
“They were this close to breaking my fingers. You adopted delinquents, you know.”
M/n snorted softly, the first crack in his irritation.
“I didn’t raise them to torture my friends.”
M/n massaged his temples.
“Of all people to threaten, it had to be you.” Shinichiro smiled sheepishly.
There’s a moment of quiet, the warm streetlight above them flickering softly, casting a nostalgic glow.
Shinichiro glanced at him.
“You’re still the same, you know. Even after… everything. Still protecting everyone but yourself.”
“I didn’t want them learning about my past like that,” M/n said, softer now.
“But it’s not your fault. They’re persistent.”
“They’re your kids,” Shinichiro said gently.
“Of course they’re persistent.” M/n’s eyes shifted, surprised, touched.
“…You think so?” “Yeah.” Shinichiro leaned against his bike, smiling softly.
“They got your stubborn streak. And your heart.” M/n rolled his eyes, but the tips of his ears turned a suspicious shade of pink.
“Don’t make things weird.”
“I’m being honest!” Shinichiro laughed.
“Look— you raised good kids, M/n. They’re rough around the edges, but I'm sure they'll care for you soon enough.”
M/n rolled his eyes, but his expression softened in the edges.
“Don’t get poetic on me. You’re still on thin ice.”
“But not falling through?” Shinichiro teased gently. M/n looked away, pretending not to smile.
“…Not yet.” Shinichiro swung one leg over his bike.
“You’re still my best friend, M/n. Even if you glare at me like I’m about to be stabbed.”
“Good. Keep that fear. It keeps you polite.” Shinichiro laughed, that warm, familiar laugh M/n likes to see plastered on his dearest friend's face.
“I’ll visit again. Preferably when your sons aren’t planning to interrogate me.” M/n stepped closer, adjusting Shinichiro’s helmet strap like he always used to back in their teenage years.
“You drive safe,” M/n murmured. A rare softness. Shinichiro blinked.
“…You still do that?”
“You still forget to close it,” M/n said quietly. Their eyes meet, years of friendship in one shared look.
Shinichiro smiled, tender.
“I’ll see you, M/n.”
The bike engine roared to life. Shinichiro gave him one last look, soft and warm, before driving off into the night.
M/n stood there a moment, exhaling, before going back inside his house.
The moment Shinichiro turned the corner and M/n disappeared from his rearview mirror, something inside him burst.
He let out the loudest, dorkiest, most lovesick laugh into the night air.
“OH MY GOD—HE WALKED ME OUT—HE FIXED MY HELMET—HE’S SO CUTE—”
He kicked his legs on the bike while riding like an idiot, swerving slightly.
“AND HE LOOKED SO MAD—SO MAD—OH MY GOD—”
He slapped his chest with his free hand.
“WHY IS HE EVEN HOT WHEN HE’S PISSED—WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME—”
He practically floated down the street, smiling so wide his face hurt.
He swerved slightly from sheer emotional damage and immediately corrected himself.
“Focus, Shinichiro! Focus! Don’t die before he agrees to marry you—”
He stopped at another red light and leaned forward on the handlebars, kicking his feet like a teenager who just got noticed by their crush in homeroom.
His mind drifted back to when they were fifteen.
The night his gang got completely, utterly, spectacularly wiped by M/n’s.
He remembered lying on the ground as M/n looked down at him, unimpressed, offering his hand:
“Get up. You lost.”
Shinichiro had fallen in love on the spot.
The smirk, The voice, The confidence, The way M/n pulled him up like he weighed nothing.
That was the night Shinichiro decided:
“I follow him now.” And he did. Everywhere. He was M/n’s shadow, His tail, His stray dog, His ride-or-die.
And now, today…
…it felt exactly like that again.
Except worse.
Because now Shinichiro knew what love was.
And he’d been drowning in it for years.
Shinichiro parked the bike and walked in through the front door looking like a man in love for the first time in his life.
Mikey was in the kitchen, bottle of water in hand. He raised an eyebrow as Shinichiro passed.
“Welcome ho—” He got ignored. Shinichiro just drifted past him, eyes sparkling, smiling like a love-struck idiot with cherry blossoms floating around him in a shoujo manga filter only he could see.
Mikey turned his head slowly.
“…what the hell?” Emma and Izana were on the couch playing a game, but stopped the moment they saw Shinichiro gliding across the living room like hewas in a musical.
Emma blinked.
“Izana… is Shinichiro… sparkling?” Izana squinted.
“Shinichiro, are you… okay? Did something happen?” Mikey twisted open the water bottle and answered flatly:
“M/n happened.”
“Ohhh,” Izana said, as if everything suddenly made sense.
Emma giggled.
“He’s in love again.” Shinichiro continued drifting down the hallway like a princess entering her castle.
As soon as Shinichiro got to his room, He shut the door gently, Then exploded.
“HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—”
He flopped onto the bed face-first, legs kicking violently behind him. He rolled onto his back.
Thrashed with a pillow. Clutched his chest like he’d been shot by Cupid.
"M/N IS SO CUTE!! AHHHHH"
He slapped the mattress.
“He said ‘Get home safe.’ HE SAID IT IN A CUTE WAY TOO—WHAT DOES HE MEAN BY THAT—AAAAA—” (Delulu)
Then he froze. Gasps. Sat up.
“…phone.” He fumbled for it like a man retrieving a sacred artifact. His hands shook as he typed:
Shinichiro:
Got home safe. Thank you again for earlier.
He stared at the sent message like it was a bomb. Three seconds later, his phone buzzed.
M/n:
That's good to hear, don’t stay up late. M'kay?
Shinichiro’s soul left his body, ascended, spun, and re-entered with enough emotional force to kill him. He rolled onto his side, hugging his pillow, cheeks burning. He buried his face in the pillow and muffled a scream.
“…I’m so hopeless.”
.
.
.
.
M/n lay in bed, phone held above his face. Shinichiro’s message glowed on the screen:
Shinichiro:
Got home safe. Thank you again for earlier.
M/n’s lips tugged upward before he could stop them.
He typed back:
M/n:
That's good to hear, don’t stay up late. M'kay?
Shinichiro’s reply came instantly, almost like he’d been waiting with the phone in both hands.
Shinichiro: Yes sir.
M/n snorted. “What a dork…” He was still smiling as he locked his phone, already reaching over to set it on the bedside table—
Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
The screen lit up again. He frowned, thinking Shinichiro wasn’t done being clingy, but—
It wasn’t Shinichiro.
It was Taiju.
Taiju: Are you free tomorrow?
M/n stared for a second.
“…Huh?” He unlocked the phone again, the shift from soft warmth to confusion almost comical. He checked his schedule out of habit.
He was free after work.
M/n: Yeah. After work.
The reply came quickly, but not Shinichiro-level quick.
Taiju: I’ll pick you up then.
M/n raised a brow. “You will, huh? Bold.”
He typed:
M/n: Where are we going?
A small pause.
Taiju: I want to show you something.
That answer made M/n sit up slightly.
“…Show me something?” he repeated under his breath. Not suspicious. But definitely mysterious.
And considering they’d only met once?
Very weird.
M/n narrowed his eyes at the screen, half skeptical, half curious.
“If he tries anything stupid, I’m knocking him out.”
Still, he answered.
M/n: Fine. But don’t be weird.
Taiju’s reply came back almost immediately, surprisingly earnest:
Taiju: I won’t. Goodnight.
M/n blinked at the message, feeling that same strange warmth from earlier creep back into his chest.
“Goodnight, big guy,” he murmured before sending his final text:
M/n: Night.
He tossed the phone aside, smirk lingering on his lips.
He lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the soft glow of the screen lighting his face.
Taiju Shiba wanting to pick him up after work?
Taiju wanting to show him “something”?
That alone was enough to make M/n raise a brow.
“If he tries anything weird, I’m knocking him out,” he muttered to himself, hugging a pillow under one arm. The mental image made him smirk. “Big guy or not, I’m not carrying him home.”
But the longer he thought about it… the less it felt like a threat.
Taiju wasn’t acting like a creep.
If anything, he acted more like a nervous giant trying not to scare a kitten.
M/n rolled onto his stomach, kicking his feet without noticing—an unconscious habit whenever something piqued his curiosity.
He remembered how awkward Taiju had been the first time they met.
How he tried to talk but kept losing his words.
How he stared a moment too long whenever M/n smiled.
“Wow. He’s really doing this seriously,” M/n whispered, a small, involuntary smile tugging at his lips.
“Fine,” he murmured to himself.
“Show me something tomorrow… Just don’t make me knock you out, Taiju.”
With that, he shut his eyes, still smiling faintly as sleep pulled him under.
Tomorrow was going to be interesting.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The alarm buzzed at 6:00 AM sharp.
M/n opened his eyes with a quiet groan, stretched once, and sat up. Light filtered through the curtains, and for a moment he just rubbed his face, gathering himself.
“Alright… let’s get this day moving.”
He padded to the kitchen, still half-asleep, tying his hair up loosely as he flicked on the stove.
Soon enough, the house filled with the soft sounds of chopping, sizzling oil, and the familiar rhythm of a morning he’d long perfected, Fried rice, Eggs, A little leftover pork from last night, Coffee brewing on the side.
He worked quietly, The twins were still asleep in their rooms, typical delinquents, both nocturnal and impossible to wake up early. But he cooked anyway.
Once the food was done, he set the table neatly and poured coffee into his metal travel tumbler.
Then he showered, letting the warm water wash away the stiffness.
He dressed in his work clothes, clean slacks, a fitted button-up, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Simple, but he always managed to look good.
Before leaving, he grabbed a pen and wrote a note for the two on a small piece of paper, placing it beside the plates on the table:
'Eat before going out,
No police calls, No crimes, Clean the dishes.
—Father.'
He hesitated, then added another line.
'Don’t be out too late. (I know you will.)'
M/n smirked at the end of the note before heading to the front door. He slipped on his shoes, grabbed his bag, and stepped outside, locking the door behind him.
The morning air was crisp.
A new day, and… a weird one, he could already tell. As he made his way down the street toward work, he muttered;
“…Now let’s see what Taiju’s big mystery is later.”
.
.
.
Ran woke up first, or more accurately, he jerked awake, eyes snapping open like someone had splashed cold water on him. Rindou stumbled out of his bed a minute later, hair sticking up in every possible direction.
Both of them moved like zombies toward the kitchen.
They sat down, stared at the food, and automatically began eating. For a full minute, it was silent.
For about thirty seconds, all was calm. And then Rindou suddenly froze, spoon halfway to his mouth. Ran blinked.
“…What?” Rindou slowly lowered the spoon.
“…Ran.”
“Yeah?”
Rindou swallowed air.
“Do you remember what happened last night?”
Ran opened his mouth, closed it, blinked twice, and then whispered;
“…Oh shit.”
Rindou whispered back, “OH SHIT.”
“…Holy shit,” Ran whispered. Rindou swallowed hard.
“It wasn’t a dream.” Ran put his spoon down dramatically. “M/n… is Nightingale.”
Rindou leaned back in his chair, his face blank with shock. “The leader of Extravaganza. The guy that shook Shibuya for almost a decade ago.”
Ran let out an unenthusiastic laugh.
“We literally live with him. Ate breakfast with him.”
Rindou tapped the table with his fingers, thinking. “No wonder he’s strong. No wonder he’s always calm. No wonder he wasn’t scared when we—”
Both of them paused, memories flooding back.
Ran grimaced.
“Bro… we jumped him when he first adopted us.”
Rindou covered his face. “We broke his arm. We broke Nightingale’s arm.” Ran hissed. “We’re lucky we’re not dead."
Ran sighed deeply, rubbing his temples.
“I don’t even know how to feel.”
Rindou nodded slowly. “…Proud?”
“Terrified?”
“Confused?”
“All of the above?”
“Do you think he’s mad we found out?” Rindou added, shivering at the thought.
“He was looking at Shinichiro like he wanted to disintegrate him.” Ran shook his head, trying to forget how M/n looked when he's angry.
Rindou winced.
“He didn’t even yell. He looked… disappointed.” Ran chuckled dryly.
“At least we know now why he’s so good at parenting delinquents.” Rindou nudged him.
“Yeah. Because he raised a damn gang before he raised us.”
Both brothers stared at nothing for a moment, reality settling in. Rindou finally raised an eyebrow. “…So what now?”
Ran sighed, leaning back.
“Now we… pretend we’re cool with it.” Rindou snorted. “We’re not cool with it.”
Ran leaned forward.
“But atleast he’s not dangerous to us?” Rindou softened.
“…Yeah.” Ran smirked a little.
“Kind of cool, though.” Rindou blinked.
“Cool?”
“Our dad was basically royalty in the delinquent world.” Ran shrugged his shoulders.
Rindou couldn't deny it.
“…Okay yeah that’s kinda cool.” Ran raised a brow.
“And terrifying.” Rindou nodded.
“Extremely.”
Ran poked at the last piece of egg on his plate, still trying to adjust to the idea that their sweet, sleepy father used to run Shibuya like it was his backyard.
Ran suddenly snapped his fingers.
“Oh—wait.” Rindou looked up.
“What now?”
“Shinichiro didn’t tell us,” Ran murmured, brows slightly raised.
“That incident thing. You know, when he started talking a little? He mentioned something about an incident.” Rindou blinked at him. Then blinked again.
“…Oh. Yeah. That.” He shrugged, picking up his plate.
“Whatever. I don’t feel like dealing with Shinichiro this early in the morning.” Ran snorted.
“Fair. He might cry.” Rindou smirked, but waved the thought away like dust.
“It’s probably not important anyway.”
Ran hesitated, thoughtful, but then shrugged. “Yeah. Sure.” Just like that, the topic dissolved between them. Rindou stood up, stretching. “Anyway… you wanna come with me to the park?” Ran looked up.
“Why?”
“I wanna buy something,” Rindou said vaguely.
“Also,” he added, side-eyeing his brother,
“we should probably get out for a bit to freshen up.” Ran huffed a laugh.
“Yeah, good idea. I need to check something out anyway.”
Their earlier tension faded as they grabbed their jackets and headed toward the door,
talking about normal things, casual things, anything that wasn’t about Nightingale, the past, or Shinichiro’s half-finished stories.
They didn’t even notice how quickly the subject had been dropped, Forgotten, Buried.
And neither of them realized...
'the incident' wasn’t something small, or something harmless, or something that stayed quiet forever.
No...
'Incident' doesn't cover the whole thing, it should be called 'The turning point for M/n.'.
A/n: Wazzgood
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