❝ 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑! ❞
⇢《 you don't have a choice. 》⇠
Tears pricked the corners of their eyes, feeling heavy and desperate. Everything was blurry, and they could smell the harsh scent of their own blood, soaking their hair as it ran down the side of their head. Y/N didn't know what happened, really. One moment they were walking home from box practice and the next minute they were ambushed. Hit with a metal baseball bat so hard that they couldn't think for a second to fight back.
Right now, all of their limbs were quickly growing numb. Y/N could no longer feel any of them; not their bruises or broken bones, not their bleeding head nor the swollen purple eye that formed. They didn't know why they were attacked so suddenly, as they had always been morally righteous... but Y/N supposed that it didn't matter anymore.
L/N Y/N was going to die. But I don't wanna die, they internally cried, yet not a peep came from their throat. They lost all energy long ago, and the assaulter had left moments before. Y/N wasn't even given a chance to realize what was happening before the person attacked, leaving Y/N all the more vulnerable.
They didn't want to close their eyes, yet everything felt so damn heavy. Their breaths slowed down, up until they no longer could. As they begrudgingly closed their eyes, Y/N whispered desperate pleas for life before drifting off into an undesirable slumber.
Only to wake up in an uncomfortable bed, located in an unfamiliar room. A gasp flew past their lips, heart racing as it rapidly pumped blood through their veins. Y/N could finally breathe again, but for what? What even happened? Sweat dripped down from the side of their face, breathing heavily as they held their chest tightly. Where am I?
Sitting up, Y/N squeezed the thin layer of blankets that was covering them, looking around to assess their surroundings. From the looks of it, Y/N wasn't the only one in the room. It was currently nighttime, and there were two bunk beds, Y/N being placed on one of the bottom bunks. Who even... Y/N then glanced down at what they were wearing, eyes widening in shock at the words imprinted. Juvenile Detention and Reform? So, juvie? But that didn't make sense. Y/N has always carried strong morals, and yet here they were. This must be a mistake. That was until Y/N came to a haunting realization after observing their upper torso and hands. I don't look like this. Why am I so much smaller and... younger looking?
Y/N's eyes furrowed, gulping down a cry from their confusion. Nothing made sense. Nothing felt right. This wasn't their body, they knew this, but that would be completely absurd, right? It's quite literally impossible for a person's body to magically change overnight? Unless they were dreaming? Right, Y/N shook their head, this is nothing more than a dream. Or maybe this was the afterlife? They did die, after all. But if this was the afterlife, then this sure was a fucking weird one.
Breathing in, Y/N focused on keeping a steady pace, their lungs scorching from the emotional turmoil. It was quite awful, don't you think? Being attacked by a person that they didn't even know, only to die and wake up in some unfamiliar place and be branded as a juvenile delinquent. It made absolutely no sense to Y/N; at least, that was the information that they gathered after looking around for a short bit.
They were tempted to stand up but felt awkward doing so. The iron door was obviously locked, and if this indeed was juvie like their pajama uniform stated, then acting irrationally would be a terrible idea. So waiting patiently, even if they had no idea what was going on, was the best course of action. At least I am alive.
Sucking in a breath of air, Y/N then sighed, feeling themself physically calm down. Their mind was still racing with thoughts, but at the very least they weren't hyperventilating. It was truly shocking just how calmly they were taking in this situation, even if it was completely bizarre. But that didn't mean that they weren't taking this situation seriously. No, it was quite the opposite. Their head was pouring with theories as to how they got here, and none of them were optimistic.
This was obviously kidnapping if they were alive because Y/N doesn't recall ever getting here. A possible theory was that they didn't actually die, just severely knocked out, only to be drugged to a point where they acted upon violent, compulsive desires that ultimately landed them in this reformative institute. But that wouldn't add up to anything, either, because Y/N doesn't remember anything. Unless they were now suddenly an amnesiac? Regardless of the ideas that Y/N came up with, none of them could explain their sudden body change. They didn't belong in this body, and they were starting to ignite a migraine just thinking about it.
Their head was spinning, and they quickly began to feel nauseous. All of the physical aches and pains that they had felt previously when they were attacked were gone, and yet there was still a phantom of nerves that still tingled where they had been beaten. It was a cruel fate. One that Y/N struggled to understand, struggled to really ponder about. Who could have hated them so much to do this? To kill them? Unless it was a random murder, and Y/N just so happened to be unlucky enough to be the victim.
It might be best to wait and see what happens next... and hope that this is nothing more than a dream. With that thought in mind, Y/N laid back down, feeling the back of their head pressing against the white, thin pillow. And without even meaning to, they fell back asleep. They were utterly exhausted.
Four hours later, a loud banging sound erupted throughout the building; various shouts such as "Everybody, wake up!" could be heard. Rubbing away the built-up gunk in their eyes, Y/N sat back up once more, processing the loud noise that plagued their eardrums. It was too loud.
Blinking, Y/N sighed, gritting their teeth at the realization that none of it was a dream. This was reality, and they had no clue what was even happening. Why were they even here in the first place? Y/N did not know, but they damn sure will figure it out. The trauma of being brutally beaten was still fresh in their mind, but they ignored it, instead choosing to focus on the present moment. The current issue at hand...
The other three that shared a room with them were already up and ready to leave, as the iron door had opened moments before. Deciding to follow the crowd and hope for the best, Y/N got up from the bed that they were lying on, exited the room, and headed toward a much larger group of inmates. It was all mind-boggling, but Y/N cooperated, standing in a line while one of the guards conducted a roll call. Maybe after this, Y/N will be able to ask what happened? Ask why they were here?
As names left the guard's lips, he eventually went on to pronounce a hauntingly familiar name. "Hanemiya Kazutora," he called out, briefly looking around the room to see if he was there.
Y/N froze, feeling all the air from their lungs escape them as they shakily gasped. Their eyes darted around, trying to see if that person was really here, only to find him nowhere. Maybe I misheard?
"Hanemiya Kazutora," the guard repeated, this time walking up to Y/N, surprising them even further, "just because you're new doesn't mean that you can zone out. Pay attention to when I call your name, or else there will be consequences." A warning. A warning that Y/N felt confused about--because they aren't Kazutora?
"But I'm..." but before Y/N could continue with their words, the guard backed away, now continuing on with roll. Y/N thickly swallowed, confusion plastered deeply onto their features as their skin burned from the boiling emotion that soaked them up with each passing second.
Hanemiya Kazutora is a manga character specifically from the Tokyo Revengers series that Y/N knows and loves, yet has not completed. They were close to finishing the manga, but they never did, only reaching the point where Kakucho saved everyone from the ongoing train commenced by Sanzu Haruchiyo. Y/N was nothing more than a casual manga enthusiast who read in their spare time outside of boxing, so why did that guy call them Kazutora? He must be wrong, right? There was no way that was possible.
However, once they thought about it, it would make sense. Y/N has already recognized that this was not their body, because it was much thinner than they were and a hell of a lot younger. Well, not by much in age, but that didn't really matter. Y/N was used to their own well-defined muscles that they had accumulated over the years, yet this body had none of them. All of their work over the course of several years had been wiped away. All of the competitions that they had won during their boxing career, gone. All of the friends and bonds that they have formed, gone. Their friends, family, boxing coach, and everyone else... was now gone, if what the guard had previously called was the truth.
Y/N would like to deny the possibility of any of this being real. The juvenile delinquents that surrounded them from both sides, all lined up against a wall? An illusion, as this all had to be some silly dream that they hadn't yet woken up from. The guard that scolded them, claiming that they were Hanemiya Kazutora? Either he was delusional or it was just some sort of game that their brain unfortunately made up, trying to trick their own conscience into believing that all of this was real when it was so painfully obvious that it wasn't.
But all of this is real, whether they like it or not.
Regardless of the reluctance to believe any of this, the next scheduled stop for the inmates was to head into the shared bathrooms and bathe themselves, along with all of the other basic morning necessities like brushing their teeth and stuff. It was a routine that seemingly everyone was accustomed to by now, and yet Y/N had no idea where to begin. Breathing in, Y/N first decided to take a shower, thinking that maybe the experience wouldn't feel real, confirming the idealization that everything happening to them was nothing more than a heartlessly cruel dream.
But the moment that they took off their clothes and turned on the shower head, Y/N couldn't help but choke on their own saliva, struggling to keep the bile down their throat as the water hit their skin. This was real. Each drop of water that hit them was real, feeling just like it normally would with scary hyper-realism. Never before had Y/N experienced a dream so realistic, and they were on the verge of thinking that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't a dream after all. But even with that thought, that alone didn't stop them from coming up with other considerations, because apparently, Y/N needed to be smashed with a bulldozer of proof before they could admit it, which didn't even include the process of acceptance. Since Y/N won't accept it.
They never will.
Forcing themself to calm down, Y/N began to feel sick to their stomach as they opened a bottle of shampoo, squirting it onto their hand before using their fingers to knead it through their hair. Hair that felt... different, from the one that Y/N was used to. It was in a totally different hairstyle, and Y/N wasn't necessarily appreciative of it. Y/N eventually went on to wash the bubbly shampoo out of their hair before moving on to body soap, quickly cleaning themself before turning the shower off and leaving. Everything about the experience was disgusting and dysphoric, even if it was just the process of taking a shower. Because everything about themself felt so hauntingly unfamiliar, and my god did Y/N hate that feeling.
Putting on the juvenile uniform that was slightly different from the pajama one, Y/N then promptly walked up to a sink and mirror, clenching their jaw as Y/N's eyes met a shade of golden brown, so different from the one that they were naturally born with. Cold sweat trickled from their sides, breathing heavily at the sight. Painted on the mirror was none other than Hanemiya Kazutora, the sole body that Y/N now resided in. Wide, golden-brown eyes with a mole right underneath, his hair short and black. This was the younger version of Kazutora. The one before he grew his hair out and dyed it. The one that had murdered Sano Shinichiro not too long ago.
So this was the early period of Kazutora's time in juvie, and instead of it being Kazutora who spent his time repenting, it was L/N Y/N replacing him.
No, no... Y/N continued to deny the truth, intrusive thoughts flooding their mind as they could feel Kazutora's breathing become heavier. His heart pounded within his chest, making this experience feel all the more real. Y/N hated how real everything was. They didn't want this to be their reality. I didn't kill Shinichiro, but now I have to face the consequences for him? Tears swallowed his eyes, his knees feeling weak as he abruptly dropped down, catching the attention of all who were around him.
L/N Y/N was having a panic attack.
This can't be real... Two guards rushed into the shared bathroom after hearing various shouts, nearing closer to him once he was spotted. All of this has to be a dream. Kazutora cried out in hysterics, mumbling incoherent sentences that the guards could only presume to be an abrupt continuation of what Kazutora was documented to be saying after the death of Sano Shinichiro. How he would mumble to himself and trick himself into believing false delusions. It was the guard's only conclusion.
They tried calming him down with words, telling him to stop crying and such, but all were left in futility. The guards were then left with no other choice but to forcibly remove Kazutora from the bathroom, a third guard being left on standby so that the situation could be settled. Y/N writhed and fought back, feeling suffocated by the feeling of being touched. They didn't want to be touched, because that made their situation feel all the more real, all the less dream-like.
"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!" Y/N shouted through the voice of Kazutora, feeling their tears trickle down Kazutora's face.
Once they were away from the other inmates, the guards did exactly what was demanded, thinking that if they were to let him go then he would stop acting like an out-of-control hooligan. One guard was a woman, whilst the other was a man.
It was the woman who spoke. "Mr.Hanemiya... please calm down and breathe. Someone is on their way with your medications."
"Don't... don't call me that. Please." Y/N heaved, desperate in tone. They could feel Kazutora's body beginning to tremble, the overwhelming soar of emotions curdling like spoilt milk. It was disgusting. His name was disgusting.
"I don't understand what you mean?" Said the woman, kneeling to reach his eye level. Although they were guards and needed to enforce strict regulations, she also needed to acknowledge that these juveniles were human beings, and considering that she was aware of Kazutora's reasons for being here... she could only rightfully assume that he received trauma.
"That name. I don't want to be associated with a murderer." Y/N wasn't thinking clearly, they just said what their heart was against. They weren't calming down, but at least they weren't getting any worse.
From both of the guards' perspectives, it seemed as though Kazutora was simply in denial that he had actually killed someone. That he was trying to delude himself into being something or someone else. It was a worrisome thought, one that they will probably have to observe and see what happens for the next while.
"But that is your family name, is it not?" The female guard wasn't going to cooperate, because she didn't want to feed into his struggling complex, but she at least shared an alternative solution. "If you don't like who you are now, then work on associating that name with something else. Change yourself for the better, into someone that you want to be."
If only it was that easy. Hanemiya Kazutora is not L/N Y/N, and L/N Y/N is not Hanemiya Kazutora. They were supposed to be two entirely different people, one real and the other cast in fiction. So it was hard to accept such a reality, especially when they had to serve two years' worth of punishment for something that they didn't even do.
The guard didn't even know the real reason why he, or Y/N, was upset. She simply spoke words in response to whatever she already knew about Kazutora, as she herself along with other guards had already reviewed his files days before his entry.
She then continued after a moment of silence, "You have only been here for two weeks, Mr.Hanemiya. I understand that this is not a position you want to be in, but please take the chance to better yourself." Because she is, wholeheartedly, an advocate for juveniles' rehabilitation.
Kazutora's throat was sore, voice cracking with each word that Y/N would speak, "I... alright." He calmed down, slowing his breathing as Y/N pondered the advice given to him.
Mold him into someone else. Someone more like L/N Y/N.
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