Chapter Text
Over the years Bon’s gotten unfortunately used to Shima Renzou tearing out his heart and stamping on it. It started with thanks for trusting me until now and continued with him realising that he barely knew his best friend at all.
But for everything Renzou’s done, all the betrayal and the lies and spying, this is the worst.
Bastard had to go and get himself murdered.
--
Mephisto’s office was full of Renzou’s family. His parents. Juuzou. Kinzou. That should’ve been the biggest clue.
Instead Bon took it to mean Renzou had done something. Fully chosen a side, and probably not theirs. Killed someone. Let slip something he shouldn’t have. None of this would’ve been a surprise.
“Suguro,” Mephisto said. “Have a seat.”
Bon didn’t take a seat. He stood on pins and needles, looking at everyone. They all looked sick. Sick like he felt.
“What’s going on?”
“Ryuji,” Juuzou said gently. “Really, sit down.”
“What’s that asshole done now?” Bon asked, resigned. Renzou’s mum let out a choking noise. Right. Probably shouldn’t call Renzou an asshole in front of his family, even if it was incredibly true. “Do I even want to know?”
“He’s dead,” Mephisto said. Mephisto was never one for dropping things lightly.
Bon laughed, because he thought that it was a joke. But then Shima’s family didn’t crack a smile, and Yaozou bowed his head, and Bon’s entire world crashed down.
“No he isn’t,” Bon said, like saying it would make a difference. “He’s not.”
“This is difficult for all of us, Ryuji,” Yaozou said. “We will recover in time.”
You’re already thinking about recovering? Bon wanted to yell. He always thought in a situation like this, he would yell. Turns out grief isn’t what you think. Turns out grief is blindsiding.
“Shima isn’t dead,” he’d said again. “He’s not the type of person to die.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Kinzou demanded. “Anyone can die at any time, and this time it was Ren. We’re having a funeral next week. My band’s going to play.”
“Shima hated your band,” Bon said. In the back of his mind it was starting to hit. “I have to – go.”
The corridor seemed too long when he stepped into it, as if whoever made it couldn’t bear to see it end. He expected to see Shima waiting for him laughing. Look, see, it’s just a joke, I’m fine, look at your face! But there was nothing. There was no one.
--
Their first day at True Cross Renzou showed up with pink hair. Not a mute pink, either. Pink like the covers of the porn mags he never bothered trying to hide. Konekomaru did the biggest double-take on the planet. Bon just gawped.
“What are you staring at?” Renzou asked, smirking like he didn’t already know. “Something on my face?”
“Ha, ha,” Bon said. “What the fuck is that?”
“What the fuck is what?”
“That on your head.”
“Uh,” Renzou said, “my hair?”
“Why pink?” Koneko asked. Deep down Bon’s always known that without Koneko, his and Renzou’s friendship would be very different.
Renzou posed.
“Chicks dig it.”
“Chicks will never dig you,” Bon said, even though that wasn’t true. For all that he was desperate and sometimes creepy, Renzou did have the numbers of quite a few girls. “You look ridiculous. Have you looked in the mirror?”
“What, like your hair isn’t ridiculous? You look like a rooster.”
“Say that again,” Bon demanded, stepping forward. Renzou grinned with raised hands.
“Hey, hey, I’m just sayin’ what I’m seein’. Your hair is cool, Bon, but if your hair is cool then my hair is cool. And mine is. It’s like a strawberry.”
“Strawberries are red,” Bon snapped. Now that he’d had a chance to look at it properly, it suited Renzou. It was kind of weird to seeing someone who’s always had black hair suddenly have it bright fucking pink, but it was distinctive. Character-suiting. “When did you do this, anyway?”
“Last night. Figured my dad shouldn’t see.”
“I like it,” Koneko said. “You’ve always talked about dying your hair.”
Had he? Renzou never talked about it to Bon. How did he miss that memo? He can’t have. Suguro Ryuji did not miss things. Especially not about his friends.
Except.
Skip forward six months and Bon stared at the abandoned boxes of dye in the True Cross boys’ bathroom. Three empty ones in the bin. Four untouched. One half-used.
Renzou wasn’t dead. Not yet. But right then, looking at those boxes, it felt like it. Bon’s friend who was not his friend and maybe never was. It didn’t feel real. He’d been trying to push it back, to distance it, to think of what was happening as an anime or manga so he wouldn’t have to face the truth. That Renzou wasn’t Renzou anymore. He turned at some point and must’ve been Bon’s friend at that point, which meant that he missed it, which meant that he could’ve stopped it if he saw, which meant that this must have been Bon’s fault.
Logically, he knew it wasn’t. Renzou has always been himself. But this was different. This was genuine, actual trouble.
Bon crushed a box of dye in his hand. How pathetic, welling up at hair dye. It was embarrassing even as he did it. But it made it all real, in an awful way. Renzou had carved a hole in Bon’s life and it wasn’t getting filled in.
Looking back on that now, it’s hilarious. Renzou would laugh. Bon thought there was a hole when Renzou was off with the Illuminati? The real hole came with Renzou being dead.
It’s weird, having a dead best friend. It still doesn’t feel real, but at least when Renzou was alive and doing things it was just a problem to solve, no matter how hard. This thing is insolvable. There’s no way to fix it and no right thing to do. Bon had to tell Koneko and Koneko locked himself in his room all day. It made Bon angry but that wasn’t fair. Koneko wasn’t who he was angry at. Isn’t who he’s angry at.
“It’s you, Shima,” Bon says aloud, staring at his phone. Renzou’s the third message chain down and the last thing he sent was three weird emojis that Bon ignored. “I’m angry at you.”
Silence. Right. Like he was expecting a response. Like he wanted one.
His grip tightens on the phone.
“This is all your fault,” he seethes. “You did this to yourself. You could’ve stayed with us and been safe and we would have looked after you. And you knew that, you always did. I told you that. And you still went off to them.”
His phone dings. For a terrifying, exhilarating second he thinks the message is from Renzou.
It’s a spam text from some fake insurance company. Bon looks at it for ten seconds before his face tightens.
He deletes Renzou’s number. But not the message chain. He’ll read it later. He can’t stand to read it now.
--
“Why do you always call me Shima?” Renzou asked abruptly when they were twelve. “You don’t call my siblings that. And there’s two thousand of them.”
“Five.” Six.
Renzou waved a hand.
“Whatever. It’s just weird, y’know?”
“I call you Shima because you’re the main Shima I have to deal with.”
“’Deal with’? So mean, Bon.” Bon refused to think that Renzou’s pout was adorable. He folded his arms and scowled.
“You got a problem with that, Renzou?”
“Oh my god, that sounds so weird. I’ve changed my mind, never call me that again.”
“Renzou, are you kidding me? You say it’s weird that I don’t call you that and then say it’s weird when I do call you it? What was the point of this entire conversation, Renzou? What a huge waste of time!”
“Stoppp,” Renzou whined, covering his ears. Bon smirked.
“What’s wrong with Renzou, Renzou?”
Renzou glared, lowering his hands. “I hate you.”
“Sure thing, Shima.” Bon leaned back, grin turning into a smile. “I always think of you as Renzou, you know. But you’re right. It does seem weird to say it.”
“Uh huh,” Renzou said. “Y’know what’s weird? Your face.”
“Good one.”
“Thank you.”
For the rest of the day Bon mused on it. He’d always said Shima because, let’s face it, Renzou had always been really embarrassing and being on a first-name basis with ‘The Erotic Demon’ would not be good for his reputation. Then again, he’d never tried to hide being friends with him, so that explanation was starting to fall flat.
He really does think of him as Renzou. When he’s especially feeling affectionate, Ren, but that one almost never gets spoken out loud. Last time was…huh. At least two years ago. How time flies.
When time’s flown even more and everything has gone down, Bon kneels in front of his best friend’s grave and says: “Renzou.”
He doesn’t know what to say after that. It’s not like he’s in a rush, really, with the person he’s talking to being dead and all. Renzou would fucking crease at him kneeling here. It rained last night and his knees are already soaked. That mud is not coming out anytime soon. A couple years back he got chewing gum stuck on his trousers where someone had left it underneath the train table they were sat at. Had to throw his trousers away. Renzou had laughed at that, too. Renzou laughed at everything.
“You’re a real fucking asshole, you know that?” Bon says. “How dare you die. You’re not allowed to die. And you didn’t even do that, you got murdered, how pathetic is that? Someone actually hated you enough to make sure you weren’t around anymore. Worst part is I can’t even blame them. Stop laughing from beyond the grave, I can sense it.”
From the second Renzou said this is who I am Bon knew he was gonna get his ass killed. He could sense that, too. He’s always had good instincts. Well. He didn’t sense that Renzou was in Real Actual Trouble or in the Illuminati or a double agent or…anything, but he has good instincts, okay? He just does.
Sometimes they get clouded, that’s all. Like when someone he trusts and cares about is giving bad vibes.