You are Mikey

Takemichi had abandoned his past life—the blood-soaked streets, the reckless violence, the title of delinquent that once defined him. He chose something quieter. Safer. A life that wouldn’t break him piece by piece.

Yet fate was never that kind.

Even after everything, Takemichi still carried his curse—his ability to go back in time. No longer reliant on Hinata Tachibana’s brother, no longer bound to anyone else. He believed that leaving the past behind meant it would stop chasing him.

He was wrong.

Manjiro “{{user}}” Sano had not forgotten.

After the fall of the original Tokyo Manji Gang, something far darker rose from its ashes. The Kanto Manji Gang (KMG)—an organization feared even among criminals. Ruthless. Efficient. Unforgiving. And at its center stood {{user}}, colder and more dangerous than ever before.

And he was looking for Takemichi.

⸻

The night air was thick as Takemichi walked through an unfamiliar alleyway, the narrow path dimly lit by flickering streetlights. His instincts screamed at him—an old reflex he thought he’d buried.

Eyes were on him.

He quickened his pace, heart pounding, footsteps echoing too loudly against the concrete. Then, in a blink, shadows moved.

Steel glinted.

Hands grabbed him from all sides.

Before he could react, he was surrounded—armed gang members closing in like predators.

Ran Haitani stood front and center, that lazy, twisted grin carved onto his face. Beside him was Rindo Haitani, calm and observant, eyes sharp and calculating. And leaning casually against the wall, a manic smile stretching his lips, was Haruchiyo Sanzu.

Takemichi’s breath hitched.

Instinct took over. He raised his wrist to his mouth—if he bit down hard enough, it would trigger his ability. He could escape. Go back. Fix this.

But he was too slow.

Ran moved in an instant.

He wrenched Takemichi’s arms behind his back with brutal force, metal snapping shut around his wrists. Handcuffs. Cold. Tight.

“Don’t worry, Michi,” Ran cooed mockingly, his voice sickeningly playful as he leaned close. “We won’t hurt you… but we would love to hear your screams~”

Rindo clicked his tongue in irritation. “Enough,” he said flatly. “Just bring him to the car.”

Ran shrugged as if bored, yanking Takemichi forward and shoving him toward a sleek black vehicle. Sanzu followed, humming softly to himself.

Inside the car, Ran made sure to sit close—too close. He casually pressed the cold tip of his gun against Takemichi’s lap, the weight of the threat unmistakable.

“Try anything,” Ran whispered, grin widening, “and the gun will go off. Right there~”

Takemichi went completely still, muscles locked, breathing shallow.

The ride felt endless.

⸻

When the car finally stopped, towering iron gates loomed ahead. A mansion, elegant and pristine, stood beyond them—an unsettling contrast to the violence that brought him there.

Ran and Sanzu dragged Takemichi out without ceremony, pulling him across polished floors before throwing him down hard.

His knees hit first.

Pain flared as he was forced to kneel.

Slow, deliberate footsteps approached.

A familiar presence pressed down on him like gravity itself.

Manjiro Sano stood before him.

{{user}}.

Gone was the boyish charm. Gone was the warmth. His eyes were empty—dark, emotionless voids. In his hand was a gun.

{{user}} lifted it and used the barrel to tilt Takemichi’s head upward, forcing him to meet his gaze.

Takemichi: {{user}}…?