Author's Note: FINALLY, some good fucking food. Ily Keisuke im srry for kicking you out of DIMH but Takumi is Lana's man now. Anyways I wanted to have fun with this one and I'm basically gonna try to bullshit Keisuke's backstory while still tryna line up with canon!
Disclaimer: I don't own Initial D, all rights go to Shuichi Shigeno.
Beginning...
You still remember the day you met Keisuke Takahashi.
The streets were lined with muted grays, boxy sedans, and the occasional flash of bright neon signage, but the skies were often hazy, pale with the faint smog that hung over the city. The distant whine of passing motorcycles and the steady hum of a nearby radio playing some mellow city pop track made up the soundtrack of the era.
And it was somewhere along those streets—on the way to school, to be exact—that you first metKeisuke Takahashi.
You were both seventeen, both starting your third year of high school.
You remember it vividly.
Not because it was some magical, shoujo-manga moment where your eyes met across the courtyard, music swelling in the background. wasn't how you met at all.
You met Keisuke because he nearlyran you over.
You're still not used to this—new school, new neighborhood, new everything.
Your name is Hoshikawa Bikome. Or, as your mom lovingly calls you, "Biko-chan." It's a nickname she came up with because of your late father, who had introduced her to the Filipino dessertbikowhen they were dating. It was one of those small, bittersweet connections to him. Your dad had passed away when you were still in elementary school, and though you didn't remember him well, the memories of him were warm, like the dish he introduced to your mom. You had long since moved on, though. It didn't hurt as much anymore.
You had only moved from Annaka to Takasaki during the summer, and even though you were a bit familiar with the area, the thought of starting at a new school made your stomach do a little flip.
You woke up early, like you always did when you had a big day ahead. The air was crisp and still, the sounds of the city just starting to wake up. You let out a big yawn and pushed yourself to sit up, the familiar waves of honey blonde tumbling past your shoulders.
It took awhileto convince your mom to let you bleach your hair. I mean, it took a while for her to even get off your ass about your new interest in "dressing like a delinquent" as she put it.
She came around though, once she realized that nothing aboutyouhad actually changed. You were still her daughter—still kind, still responsible, still doing well in school. Just... with bigger hair and flashier clothes. Once she realized your grades weren't slipping, she stopped fighting you on it. Now, she even helped you pick out outfits sometimes, shaking her head with a little smile when you got extra excited about a new accessory.
Your mom might not havefullyunderstood the whole gyaru thing, but she never tried to change you, and that was enough.
You rolled out of bed, stretching your arms high above your head before making your way to the bathroom. The morning routine was second nature by now—wash your face, curl your lashes, pack on the glittery eyeshadow just right, make sure your eyeliner was even. Your makeup wasn't complete without xtreme volumizing mascara and the perfectly drawn under-eye to give you that signature aegyo sal.
You were only a kogal, after all. A young girl, still in school. There was only so much you could wear before you risk being suspended.
By the time you were done, your reflection in the mirror looked just like you wanted it to: feminine, loud, and sweet.
You slipped into your uniform—brown oversized cardigan, a standard red bowtie around the collar of your white button-up, gray pleated skirt rolled up at the waistband to look shorter, and white slouch socks held up on your calves by sock glue. Your schoolbag was more decorated, with charms and ribbons tied around the buckles. Your favorite manga character, Jotaro Kujo, hung off the front buckle in the form of a chibi rubber charm.
You grabbed your bag and rushed downstairs. The smell of breakfast filled the kitchen, and your mom was already sitting at the table, sipping on a cup of tea.
"All ready, Biko-chan?" she asked, her voice warm.
You grinned, charms clinking together as you set down your bag by the door. "Yep!"
She set her cup down and gave you a once-over, an amused little smile tugging at her lips. "You really have to make an impression on your first day?"
"Obviously," you said with a playful smile before taking your place at the dining table, grabbing the chopsticks that lay next to the bowl of rice and eggs your mom prepared and digging in.
Your mom just chuckled, shaking her head. "Just don't get in trouble on your first day, okay?"
"Wouldn't dare, kaachan." You hummed into your food, eating the last bit of yolk-covered rice in the bowl.
She gave you a knowing look but didn't push it further. Instead, she took another sip of her tea while you got up to grab your bag.
"Alright, I'm off," you said, slipping your sneakers on and adjusting your socks.
"Be safe!" she called after you as you stepped outside, the crisp morning air meeting your skin.
The streets were still waking up—store shutters rattling open, the distant hum of conversations floating from open windows, and the occasional car rolling lazily down the road. You adjusted the strap of your bag over your shoulder, the charms jingling softly, and took a deep breath.
New school, new people. No big deal. Youhadthis.
Besides, it wasn't like this was your first time standing out. Youlikedattention—lived for it, even. If anything, you were more excited than nervous.
The sidewalk stretched ahead, the cityscape shifting subtly as you walked. This area was more bustling than Annaka, not to mention you were now about a 44 minute drive from Lake Usui. Remembering the frequent trips you and your mom made over there during the summer time, made you feel nostalgic. You hope you could go visit sometime, whenever you decided to get a driver's license.
That's when you heard it.
The distantroarof an engine.
Your brows furrowed slightly as the sound grewlouder, sharp andangry, tearing through the quiet morning.
And then-
It was coming straight at you.
You barely had time to react before aflashof yellow cut through the street, a motorbike weaving dangerously fast between the lanes. Your breath hitched, legs locked in place as the bikeskiddedaround the corner-
Way too close.
The rider must've noticed youlast secondbecause the tiresscreechedagainst the pavement, the entire biketiltingin a sharp swerve. Windwhippedagainst your skin as the motorbike barely,barelyavoided slamming into you.
Your heart waspoundingin your ears. You felt strands of your honey-blonde hair stick to your shiny lipgloss, though you hardly felt it compared to the sheer adrenaline coursing through you.
For a second, neither of you moved.
Then, the rider kicked his foot against the pavement, steadying himself. The bike growled underneath him as he turned his head, his features clearly in view.
Sharp, irritated eyes. Thick eyebrows. Blond hair swept up and wild. A permanent scowl carved into his expression.
And then...
"The hell's wrong with you, standing in the damn road?!" He barked, voice dripping withpure annoyance.
You blinked.
…Huh?
Did he-
Did he just try toblame youfor nearlykilling you?!
Your shock melted intopure outrage.
You were going to Bitch. Out.
"ARE YOUSERIOUS?!" You sputtered, whipping your hand up to wipe the strands of hair that clung to your lips. You threw your hands in the air, stomping a foot forward. "You'rethe one driving like a damn lunatic!"
He looked taken aback for a moment before he scoffed, barely acknowledging you as he revved the engine. "Tch. Stay outta the way next time,bitch."
And just like that, he sped off.
Your brain completelyshort-circuited.
Did he just call you abitchafter almostmurderingyou?!
Your bloodboiled.
"WHAT THE HELL?!" you shouted after him, fists clenched so tight your fake nails dug into your palms. "YOU'RE THE ONE WHO ALMOST KILLED ME,ASSHOLE!"
But the only response you got was the distantroarof his engine fading down the road.
You stood there, absolutelyfuming.
What aprick!
You huffed, still seething as the yellow motorbike disappeared down the road. The nerve of thatguy!
Taking a deep breath, you whipped around—only to freeze when you caught sight of the stares. Vendors from nearby stalls, a couple of older ladies walking past, even a salaryman waiting for the bus—all of them had clearly witnessed your little outburst.
Heat flooded your cheeks.
Ugh. Great. Yourfirst dayin this new neighborhood, and you'd already made a scene.
With a flustered grunt, you quickly adjusted your bag and turned to rush off, determined to put this mess behind you.
But then...
Your eyes caught something on the ground.
A small, dark-colored object, lying near the curb where thatassholehad almost run you over.
You stepped closer, bending down to pick it up.
It was a wallet, simple and black, but the quality beneath your fingers told you it was designer brand.
You turned it over in your hands, brows furrowing. The leather was smooth, clean. Damn near brand new. It definitely not some cheap knockoff. You flipped it open, scanning the contents.
There it was. An ID, neatly tucked into the clear plastic pocket. The picture was of a young adult male, ahandsomemale with dark hair and dark eyes, and a killer jawline to boot!
You blushed, blinking at the image.He looked like he could be an actor or an idol. Total hottie!
Your eyes moved towards the details, scanning the ID.
Takahashi Ryosuke.
He lived in Takasaki, Gunma. He's 19 years old, 183 cm tall...wow.
You didn't realize that you were giggling to yourself until you stopped, realizing something else.
Wait a second.
Your lips parted slightly.
Did that bastard steal this wallet?
It made perfect sense! He was obviously some delinquent—reckless, rude, calling you abitchlike it was nothing. Who's to say he wasn't athief, too?
Your first instinct was to drop it off at the police station. That would've been theresponsiblething to do.
But then you checked the time.
Your heart nearlystopped.
Oh,hellno. You werenotgoing to be late on yourfirst day.
Grimacing, you shoved the wallet into your schoolbag, making a mental note to deal with itlater. Maybe you could even personally return the wallet to it's owner, his address was on the ID, after all.
Right now, you had a more important mission:
Making it to schoolon timeand making adamngood impressionwhile you were at it.
The rhythmic steps of your sneakers against the pavement kept time with your quickened pace, heart hammering as youpower walkedyour way toward school. There was no way you were going to let some delinquent on a flashy-ass bike make you late on your first day. Absolutely not.
Besides, this was your fresh start. A new school, a new environment—an opportunity to make a grand entrance. And oh, you weregoingto make one.
By the time the school gates came into view, students were already milling about in small groups, chatting, yawning, adjusting their bags over their shoulders. The moment you stepped through the gates, however, something shifted.
The conversations didn't stop, but you felt them.
Eyes.
You were used to this, but it still sent a familiar thrill down your spine. The subtle pauses in conversations, the side glances, the nudges between friends as their gazes flickered toward you—it was all sopredictable.
A new face was enough to draw attention. Astylishnew face? Even more so.
You weren't just some quiet transfer student blending into the background. No, you wereloudin every sense of the word—honey-blonde curls bouncing with each step, slouch socksperfectlyin place, and your cardigan oversized just enough to give you that effortless, relaxed look. Your makeup was impeccable, lashes long, cheeks lightly dusted with blush, lips glossy. You knew exactly what you were doing.
And the studentsnoticed.
"Whoa, is she new?"
"She's a gyaru, right? I've seen girls like that, they like to party and gossip."
"She's cute, though."
"I wonder what class she's in."
You fought the urge to grin, keeping your expression breezy as if you hadn't just picked up on every whisper, every stare. Instead, you casually adjusted the strap of your bag, letting the charms jingle just enough to turn a few more heads.
You caught a glimpse of a couple of girls near the vending machines whispering to each other, their eyes flicking your way. They didn't look like they were talking about anything malicious, just intrigued by your appearance. Your outfit alone probably had them wondering if you were from another school or just thatcooltransfer student everyone was about to gossip about.
But you weren't one to linger. You smiled politely at a few students who nodded at you as you passed. The "new girl" vibe was a little awkward to deal with, but you made it work for you. There was no point in being shy about it.
As you approached the faculty office, the chatter behind you began to fade, replaced by a sudden sense of urgency. You pulled open the door with ease, a soft chime accompanying your entry, and immediately felt the atmosphere shift.
The faculty office was modest—basic desks lined with papers, a few posters on the walls, and the familiar smell of coffee mixed with the faint scent of printer ink. Behind the counter, a middle-aged woman with glasses looked up from her paperwork as you stepped inside.
"Hello, can I help you?" she asked, her tone polite but with a slight edge of curiosity.
You offered her your brightest smile, the kind you reserved for moments like these—meeting new people, starting fresh. "Good morning. I'm Hoshikawa Bikome,I'm here to get my shoe locker assigned and my schedule."
She gave you a quick glance, then flicked her eyes back to the papers on her desk. For a brief moment, you caught her eyes narrowing, and a quiet silence lingered between you two.
She cleared her throat. "I see. Well, you'll need to fill out this form," she said, sliding a piece of paper toward you. You accepted it without hesitation and began to fill it out, but she continued, her voice a little less warm than before. "I must remind you that students are not permitted to dye their hair in unnatural colors or wear excessive makeup. It's against school policy."
You paused for just a second, the pen hovering over the paper as you processed her words. Of course, you had been expecting something like this. You knew you'd get some kind of comment about your look—it was inevitable.
You didn't flinch or shrink back, though. Instead, you kept your expression pleasant, still writing down your information as if this was just another minor detail. "Oh, I understand," you said politely. "I just moved here, and I really like my hair this way. It's not something I can easily change, and I don't want to cause any problems. I promise it won't get in the way of my work or focus."
The woman studied you for a moment, a slight wrinkle appearing between her brows. It seemed like she was preparing to give a firm response, but you didn't give her the chance. "I've been this way for a while, and I take my studies seriously. You won't find me slacking off or causing disruptions." You offered a reassuring smile.
She blinked, clearly caught off guard by how calm and respectful you were being. Most students would either argue or apologize, but you weren't asking for permission—you were simply explaining your position.
After a pause that felt longer than it was, she sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Well… as long as you follow the school rules and don't make a scene, we can let it go for now. But please remember to keep things within reason."
You gave a small bow of gratitude, never losing that friendly, approachable demeanor. "Thank you for understanding. I'll be sure to follow the rules. I really appreciate it."
To your surprise, she nodded, a small hint of respect in her gaze as she slid a form across the counter. "Here's your locker assignment and class schedule. The locker is number 42, and you'll be in class 3-C. I've included your homeroom teacher's name as well."
You took the papers with a smile, your eyes quickly scanning over the details. "Thanks so much! I'll make sure to be on time."
The faculty member gave a small nod and looked back to her paperwork. It was clear the exchange had taken her by surprise—your politeness, your ability to remain composed, and your clear respect for the rules (besides dress code) all seemed to deflate any tension.
As you turned to leave, you felt a little sense of victory, even if it wasn't a big one. Kill em' with kindness, right?
You took a moment to adjust your cardigan, smoothing the fabric over your shoulders as you stepped out of the office, the cool air of the hallway greeting you.
The day flew by in a blur of new faces, lectures, and whispered comments about the new girl—the one with the blonde curls and the style that screamed confidence. Honestly, you weren't surprised. It wasn't the first time you'd been the center of attention. But what surprised you was how natural it all felt. You were friendly, sweet, and actively participated in class without overdoing it. By the end of the day, you'd already gathered a small collection of phone numbers and names, your phone book at home was sure to have a new full page.
There was something about you, the way you carried yourself, that made people want to get to know you. And honestly, it didn't hurt that you were pretty and stylish too.
As you slipped your phone back into your bag, your eyes fell on the wallet you'd picked up earlier. The one from your little… run-in with that blonde-haired dickhead. What was his deal anyway? It had been so out of nowhere—he hadscowledat you, after trying to run you over with his flashy bike. Whatever. You'd held your ground, even made sure to grab the wallet he dropped (probably stolen)as a little parting gift.
Checking the address again, you realized it was only about a 20-minute walk from school. That wasn't bad at all, you figured you'll just take the bus back home.
It was worth it if you could meet the wallet's rightful owner. From what you'd seen on the ID, he was adark-haired hottie, and that was enough to make your heart skip a beat. You imagined casually handing him back his wallet and maybe, just maybe, asking for his number—just to thank you for beingsucha good Samaritan, of course.
Takahashi Ryosuke, hopefully he'll be home.
You giggled to yourself and tucked the wallet back inside your bag before making your way out of the classroom.
Maybe I'll get a little treat on the way there. Something sweet to drink, maybe?
You stood in front of the large white mansion, eyes blown wide at the luxurious building.
This guy wasloaded, holy crap!
At first, you wondered if you were heading down the wrong neighborhood, constantly checking the address on the ID to the street you were walking down. But the digits didn't lie, this was where Takahashi lived.
You cleared your throat, smoothed down your cardigan, even reached under it to quickly unroll your skirt. Only to pause and re-roll it again, if not to show off your tanned legs.
Even if I don't get a number out of this, maybe a cash reward would suffice!
You were well-mannered, but even you had your greedy moments.
Taking a nervous breath, you relaxed your shoulders and put on a sweet smile. You stepped up to the front door, ready to ring the doorbell, knees weak as you prepared to introduce yourself.
Ding Dong!
You waited patiently, wallet in both hands. It only took a few seconds for the light of the doorway to be obscured by a silhouette. Tall, lean, male. Your eyes sparkled in excitement, curiosity skyrocketing as you expectantly waited forMr. Tall, Dark, and Handsometo open the door.
The latch clicked, unlocking.
The door slowly opened.
You gawked as irritated brown eyes met yours, that unmistakable blonde hair still wild and messy.
"What the-Hey!You're that bitch that was in my way this morning!"
Your almost-murderer was standing at the doorway, face flushed and eyebrows furrowed as his lips formed a deep scowl.
"E- Excuse me?!" You stuttered, eyes wide in disbelief as you looked him up and down.
Wh- WHERE'S MY DARK HAIRED PRINCE!?
You internally wept, thinking that you for sure took the wrong street.
Or maybe...
"Did-Did you break into this house?!" You squawked, pointing an accusatory manicured finger at him.
"HAH?!" He growled, eyes widening in anger.
"You totally did, huh!Where'd you put Takahashi-san?! Did you tie him up or something?!" You exclaimed, hands balling up into fists.
Not like you were gonnafighthim, of course. And potentially break a nail? No way! These arefreshnails!
His face went from annoyed to outright shocked. "What the hell are you talking about, you annoying bimbo!" He barked, his hands tightening around the doorframe as he leaned down to stare at you with a mix of irritation and disbelief. You stood your ground, not backing away.
Before you could throw out an enraged retort, a calm, deep voice came from behind him.
"Keisuke? Who's at the door?"
Both you andKeisukefroze. Your eyes darted over his shoulder in anticipation, and your heart nearly skipped a beat as a tall, lean figure appeared behind him. His presence was so... different from the loud, angry guy in front of you. The figure that stepped forward had dark hair—just like the one you'd seen in the ID—dark, almost black, and sharp dark eyes that seemed to pierce through you with a curious glance.
Your hopes soared for a split second.
Could this be- ?
"Aniki! This is... uh..." Keisuke stuttered, backing up, clearly rattled by the appearance of his older brother.
The man behind him, Ryosuke Takahashi, took a step forward, casting a sharp look at Keisuke, who had been thoroughly distracted by your outburst. You couldn't stop the spark of excitement from lighting up in your chest.Ryosuke Takahashi.There he was—your dark-haired prince, the one whose wallet you had rescued earlier. He was finally here. You almost felt the need to wave the wallet around like a victory flag.
Keisuke, on the other hand, was a mess. His face flushed red, his words stumbling out as he tried to explain the situation.
"I have- I don't know who this is! She just showed up, and- !" Keisuke sputtered, clearly rattled by your sudden presence and the tension you'd created.
You cut him off with an exaggerated flourish, holding up the wallet, giving it a little shake like you were presenting a prize at an auction.
"I believe this is yours." You smiled sweetly, the way you would if you were handing over a treasure chest. The irony wasn't lost on you—here you were, handing over the wallet with a grin while Keisuke was practically cowering in the background.
Ryosuke, however, was calm and collected, his eyes narrowing slightly as they flicked from Keisuke to you. He stepped forward, his gaze assessing, and you couldn't help but feel a little... small. Not in an insecure way, but in a "Wow, this guy is so composed" kind of way.
"Thank you," Ryosuke said with a nod, his voice calm and steady. He took the wallet from your hand, but his expression didn't shift. You could tell he wasn't the type to get flustered, and that only made you more intrigued.
"Did you walk here?" He questioned you, looking past you to try and spot a vehicle or anyone waiting for you on the street.
Your heart picked up as he leaned forward, his jawline jutting out as he peeked over your shorter frame.
Wowwww...You could feel your soul ascend out of your body as his cologne faintly hit your nose, expensive and masculine.What a guy...
"Yes, I did. All the way from Takasaki High School." You chirped, turning your head to gaze off into the evening sky dramatically. "My feet are kind of sore..." You looked up at the older male, putting on your best pitiful expression.
He chuckled, a deep rumble that made you blush. "Ah, I see. It wouldn't be right to send a young girl off by herself at this hour, especially since you walked so far."
Keisuke squawked, gaze snapping to his brother in disbelief. "Aniki, hold on-!"
"Don't be rude, Keisuke. After all, it wasyourfault that my wallet was lost." Ryosuke was quick to shut Keisuke up, the blonde turning red and averting his gaze in frustration.
Keisuke glanced at you, eyes blazing and huffing in anger before he stomped away, heading back inside his home.
You stuck your tongue out at him when Ryosuke turned to watch his brother stalk away, unable to see your petty expression aimed at his younger brother.
Ryosuke turned back to you with a polite smile, stepping aside to give you room to enter the doorframe. "Please, come in and have a seat at the couch. Ah..."
"Bikome. Hoshikawa Bikome. It's nice to finally meet the man in the wallet," you giggled, beaming at him as you stepped inside, removing your sneakers and placing them neatly to the side.
"I'm sure. Takahashi Ryosuke, though you probably already knew that." He let out another chuckle, a sound you were sure you'd never get tired of hearing.
He's so nice~ And he smells amazing~
Although you were all sweet and politeness on the outside, internally you were frothing at the mouth, floating off the ground and singing his praises.
Ryosuke led you into the living room, offering a seat on the plush green couch with a gesture that seemed almost rehearsed, yet still warm. You sat down, a little giddy from the whole situation, trying to keep your cool despite the way your heart was racing. He sat down across from you, his posture relaxed but dignified. For a moment, there was a brief silence before he spoke again, his voice calm and apologetic.
"First, I want to apologize for my younger brother's behavior." Ryosuke's expression softened, the corners of his mouth pulling up slightly in a more apologetic smile. "Keisuke can be... a bit of a handful sometimes. He tends to act before thinking."
"Yeah... Definitely." You nodded with a small smile, meeting his gaze with an understanding expression. "It must be difficult to have such a rowdy younger brother."
Especially one that almost runs people over!You fumed internally, still a bit upset at the situation earlier.
Ryosuke chuckled, nodding before continuing. "Earlier this morning, Keisuke accidentally grabbed my wallet by mistake when he was rushing out of the house. He didn't even realize it until much later—his mind was on other things, I guess," he said with a hint of a smile.
He looked at you, his expression thoughtful but unbothered, as though losing his wallet didn't faze him much. "I wasn't too worried about it at first. I didn't have any classes today or anything pressing, so it wasn't a big deal. But later when he got home, I asked for my wallet... Only for Keisuke to realize that he lost it. Well, then I got rather frustrated with him."
As you listened to him, you thought back to this morning. Almost getting hit by Keisuke's motorcycle then picking up the wallet, it was reasonable for you to snitch on him to his brother, right? He almost landed you in the hospital!
"I'm not sure if maybe it slipped out of his pocket while he was riding down the streets or he dropped it while walking around town, but I'm glad it landed in your responsible hands." Ryosuke nodded at you gratefully, flashing you another small smile.
"It was nothing, really." A small flush spread across your face. It felt like such a blessing to be the target of his gratitude, you'd definitely never forget meeting him. But then you paused, mind flashing back to Keisuke. You opened your mouth, about to ramble about the accident he almost caused, only for Ryosuke to beat you to it.
"That kid... He's been such trouble for our parents lately." Ryosuke frowned, looking down at his hands. "I don't know what's gotten into him. He recently joined a bosozoku gang, those guys with their flashy motorcycles. I mean, I didn't mind at first, I have my own hobbies in cars and- well,recreational activities.But..."
You held your tongue, watching as Ryosuke's face turned rather serious. "Those guys, they're a bad influence on my brother. He gets into fights, comes home with bruises or a bloody nose sometimes. Our parents are seriously worried for him, and so am I."
His usual calm composure had given way to genuine concern, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him.
It was easy to see that Ryosuke took his role as an older brother seriously. Despite his composed demeanor, there was a vulnerability that slipped through when he spoke about Keisuke's troublesome behavior. You could almost sense the weight he carried—worry for his brother's well-being, frustration with his reckless actions, and a deep sense of responsibility.
"I can see why you'd be worried," you said softly, your voice steady as you offered him a sympathetic smile. "If I had a younger sibling, I'd be scared for their safety every time they left the house after joining a gang like that." You tried your best to reassure him, despite the tension in the air.
You hesitated on the next few words, hoping that you weren't being too invasive. But to be fair, he started this serious conversation in the first place. "What... What do you think made him want to join those guys?"
Ryosuke looked at you for a moment, and for a second you feared that you asked something rather inappropriate. But then he let out a sigh, the tone heavy and burdened. "It might be because of me, if I'm being honest."
You blinked, surprised by his words.
"My parents, they're surgeons. Our family owns the hospital a few blocks from your high school." Ryosuke began to explain, surprising you more by the details of his family.
Oh damn, no wonder these guys are so rich.
"They've always pushed for us to go to college as soon as we graduate, especially me since I'm the oldest. I'm a medical student right now, but before that, my parents wanted to make sure I got into a good university." Ryosuke turned, sending a small glance towards the stairs that Keisuke climbed earlier.
"I think that... Maybe they didn't realize how much attention they'd been giving me. My brother probably started feeling like he had to get their attention, in any way possible."
That explanation hit a little too close to home.
You weren't from some prestigious family or anything, but you knew what it was like to feel overshadowed, to crave acknowledgment from people who were too busy to notice. Maybe Keisuke had been screaming for attention in the only way he knew how—by acting out.
Your expression softened, the irritation from earlier fading slightly as you considered the bigger picture. You still thought he was reckless, but now... maybe you understood why.
"That makes a lot of sense," you murmured, glancing toward the stairs as well, imagining Keisuke storming up them in frustration. "He must feel like he's always in your shadow. Not because you did anything wrong, but because everyone expected you to be the perfect one."
Ryosuke looked at you with something almost like surprise, then a quiet chuckle escaped him. "I suppose you could put it that way." He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. "Keisuke and I... we used to be close when we were kids. But as we got older, our parents' expectations started driving a wedge between us. I was always too busy studying, preparing for my future, and he- well, he started looking for something else to focus on. Something that made him feel like he mattered."
Your hands played with the ends of your cardigan, getting lost in thought with Ryosuke. You totally didn't expect to get hit with this guy's life story, nor the dude who almost ran you over this morning. But it was nice, being opened up to like this. Even if it was sort of out of nowhere. You felt rather proud that you seemed trustworthy enough to get this handsome, prestigious guy to open up to you.
"Do you ever talk to him about it?" you asked after a moment, tilting your head slightly.
Ryosuke let out a quiet breath. "Not as much as I should. I try, but Keisuke... he doesn't like talking about feelings. He gets defensive, and I don't want to push him too hard. I just- I don't want to lose him to this lifestyle."
There was something in his voice that made your chest ache a little. The frustration of an older brother who cared too much but didn't know how to fix things.
"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm just spilling everything out in the open like this to a stranger. You probably just wanted to go home as soon as you dropped the wallet off." Ryosuke chuckled, though it was rather strained. To your surprise, his cheeks went pink, probably feeling embarrassed or ashamed of being so vulnerable like this, especially to a younger girl.
"No, no. Please, don't feel bad or anything!" You jumped to reassure him, reaching out dismissively. You give him a small smile, settling back into the couch. "It's honestly no wonder that it all came out so suddenly. Losing your wallet is definitely an important thing to lose, so... It might've been sort of a breaking point for you since your brother has been stressing your family out."
Ryosuke stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he let out a breath, a small, almost resigned smile tugging at his lips.
"You're pretty sharp, Hoshikawa-san," he murmured, shaking his head slightly. "I guess I didn't realize how much I needed to get that off my chest."
Your heart did a little flip at the way he said your name—smooth, almost thoughtful. But you kept your cool, nodding with an understanding look. "Sometimes, it's just easier to talk to someone who's not, y'know...involvedin everything. No expectations, no judgment."
"Right," he agreed, rubbing the back of his neck, still looking a bit sheepish. "And, well... I appreciate it."
That small, genuine moment made your chest feel warm. You hadn't expected this when you picked up his wallet this morning, but somehow, it felt like you were meant to have this conversation.
Before the atmosphere could get too heavy again, you decided to lighten things up. You stretched your arms with a playful grin. "But you know, since Ididlisten to all that, I think I deserve a reward."
Ryosuke raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And what exactly are you expecting?"
Your number, perhaps? A date, maybe?
You blushed to yourself but shoved down the inappropriate thoughts, knowing this was not the time for that.
"Hmm... I was thinking maybe some tea, but now I'm kind of curious—do you know how to make snacks too?" You beamed, tilting your head.
That got a real chuckle out of him, and you couldn't help but feel a little proud of yourself. "You're a bold one, huh?" He stood up, stretching slightly. "Fine. Tea and a snack, as thanks for your… unsolicited therapy session."
You gasped dramatically. "Unsolicited?! Wow, and here I thought we were having a moment."
His chuckle followed him as he walked toward the kitchen, and you couldn't help but grin to yourself. Maybe getting nearly ran over was worth it.
You glanced at the clock hanging on the wall and let out a small, startled gasp.Crap, it's already this late?You could already hear your mother's voice scolding you in your head.
You stood up from the plush green couch, brushing off your skirt before offering Ryosuke a polite smile. "I should probably get going. My mom's gonna freak if I don't get home soon."
Ryosuke, who had been lounging comfortably in his seat, sat up a little straighter. "It's getting dark out. You sure you'll be alright taking the bus?"
You waved a hand dismissively, chuckling. "I'll be fine! I do it all the time."
Ryosuke, however, didn't seem convinced. He tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes watching you carefully. "The bus stop's a bit of a walk from here, and I'd rather not have you wandering around alone this late." His tone was firm, but there was a casual kindness to it, as if he wasn't going to take no for an answer.
You blinked, your face warming slightly at the unexpected concern. "Oh, um… I mean, if it's really not a bother-"
"It's not," Ryosuke interrupted smoothly, already standing up and reaching for his keys. "Come on. I'll drive you."
Before you could protest again, he was already leading the way toward another door on the side of the room. Realizing there was no winning this, you simply followed, trying to ignore the sudden nervous flutter in your stomach.
He certainly has a dominant side. As expected! I totally got that vibe from him.
The cool air of the garage greeted you as you both stepped inside, and that's when you saw it—his car, along with a white Mercedes 190 and Keisuke's flamboyant motorcycle parked inside.
A clean, white MazdaFC3S RX-7, gleaming under the ceiling lights like something out of a dream. You stopped in your tracks, staring for a second too long.
"You coming?" Ryosuke asked, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.
Snapping out of it, You hurried after him, feeling a little embarrassed. "You havereallynice taste in cars," you admitted, eyeing the FC with open admiration. "This thing isbeautiful."
Ryosuke chuckled, unlocking the doors with an effortless motion. "Glad you think so. She's my pride and joy."
You slid into the passenger seat, immediately sinking into the comfortable interior. The scent of leather and something distinctlyhimfilled the cabin, and you had to will yourself not to get distracted.
As Ryosuke started the engine, the deep purr of the rotary engine sent a shiver down your spine.Damn, that's sexy.
The drive was smooth, almost too smooth, as Ryosuke maneuvered through the streets with an effortless confidence. Even at a casual speed, there was something mesmerizing about the way he handled the car—controlled, precise, like it was an extension of himself.
You stole a glance at him, his expression calm and focused, one hand resting on the wheel, the other casually shifting gears.Yeah, okay,you thought to herself.That's kinda hot.
"You live a couple blocks away from the high school, right?" he asked, breaking the silence.
You blinked. "Oh- yeah! Near the market with the penguin mascot."
Ryosuke nodded, smoothly taking a turn. "That's certainly a ways away from our house. Keisuke always rides to school since it's a bit of walk. Well, when he decides he wants to go. You really would've taken the bus this late?"
So Keisuke goes to the same school as me. Surprised I didn't see him yesterday. No- wait, he probably skipped or something.
You laughed sheepishly. "I mean, yeah? It's notthatbad."
He hummed, clearly not convinced. "Well, now you don't have to."
You smiled, resting your head against the seat. The soft hum of the engine, the crisp night air filtering through the slightly cracked window—it was oddly comforting.
You could get used to this.
When Ryosuke got home, he hung his keys on the key rack by the door and removed his shoes, stepping into the clean paneled floors of his family home. He paused, mulling over the words Hoshikawa told him earlier.
"He must feel like he's always in your shadow. Not because you did anything wrong, but because everyone expected you to be the perfect one."
The older Takahashi brother frowned, glancing at the spot she sat in earlier.
Her words lingered in his mind longer than he expected. He wasn't sure why, but something about the way she said it—so matter-of-factly, yet with an understanding that felt deeper than just casual observation—unsettled him.
He must feel like he's always in your shadow…
Ryosuke sighed, rubbing his temple as he made his way through the quiet house. The lights were dimmed, their parents long asleep, but he could still hear the faint hum of the television coming from upstairs. Keisuke.
He hesitated for a moment before heading up, his footsteps nearly silent against the wooden stairs.
Ryosuke lingered outside Keisuke's room for a moment, listening. From inside, he could hear the low hum of Keisuke's stereo, some kei rock band playing just loud enough to drown out the silence. With a sigh, Ryosuke lifted his hand and knocked twice before pushing the door open.
Keisuke was lying on his bed, arms folded behind his head, one leg propped up over the other. His gaze flickered toward Ryosuke, eyes narrowing slightly. "What?" he muttered, not bothering to sit up.
Ryosuke stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "You should be lucky," he started, voice calm but firm, "that she isn't pressing charges."
Keisuke shot up immediately, eyes blazing with anger. "That bitch-! She fucking told you,didn't she?!" His fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight. "I knew she was trouble the second I saw her!"
Ryosuke merely sighed, shaking his head. "No, she didn't. I heard you myself when you were at the door earlier. You were mouthing off about hergetting in your way.That was enough for me to put two and two together."
Keisuke gritted his teeth, looking away. "Tch. So what if she was? It's not like she could afford to sueus, anyways."
Ryosuke's expression didn't change, but there was a sharpness to his tone when he spoke next. "Keisuke, do you even hear yourself right now? You nearlyran her over.Do you even realize how serious that is? You could've put her in the hospital- or worse."
Keisuke scoffed, but there was something defensive in the way his shoulders tensed. "She's fine, isn't she? If she was really hurt, she would've made a big deal out of it."
"She hadevery rightto," Ryosuke snapped, his patience thinning. "The only reason you're not dealing with a bigger mess right now is because I softened her up. I made sure she wouldn't go to the police,becauseI knew exactly how reckless you are. You and your guys drive like idiots,dangerousidiots."
Keisuke's head whipped toward his brother, eyes flashing. "Don't you say athingabout my guys." He hissed, his temper rising at his brother's disrespect towards his gang.
Ryosuke remained unfazed, his gaze cool and level. "Yourguysaren't the ones who almost put a girl in the hospital today.Youdid that."
Keisuke's fists clenched, but Ryosuke continued before he could retort. "Do you think this is some kind of game? Racing, fighting, acting like a punk—it's not justyourlife at risk, Keisuke. You don't get to decide who walks away unscathed and who doesn't. One wrong move and you could ruin someone's life.Or lose your own."
Keisuke's jaw tightened. "You don't get it," he muttered. "You never get it."
Ryosuke let out a slow breath, his patience wearing thin. "Then explain it to me," he challenged. "Because all I see is my little brother throwing himself into danger like it's the only way to prove something."
Keisuke's lips parted slightly, but he didn't say anything. For a brief moment, it looked like he might. Like hewantedto. But instead, he scoffed, shaking his head. "You don't need to pretend to care,Mr. Perfect." His voice dripped with bitterness. "Just keep being the golden child and leave me the hell alone."
Something in Ryosuke's expression shifted—something almost like hurt, but it was gone before Keisuke could be sure.
For a long moment, there was only silence between them. Then, Ryosuke exhaled through his nose, looking at his younger brother as if debating whether to say more. Finally, he turned toward the door.
"You're my brother, Keisuke," he said quietly, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. "That means whether you like it or not, Idocare."
Keisuke didn't respond. He just stared at the floor, fists still clenched at his sides.
Ryosuke didn't wait for an answer. He opened the door and stepped out, closing it softly behind him.
And for the second time that night, Keisuke was left alone with his own thoughts—thoughts he'd rather drown out with the noise of his stereo.
To be continued...