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Chifuyu knows about Takemichi and time, in the same way he's heard of Takemichi and the future that was and Takemichi and the future that wasn't. In hushed whispers, both their heads on a shared pillow, a tiny island where the preposterous became sensible and the sensible became all around absurd.
He knows of the shadows over Takemichi's knees where scrapes had scabbed over, the soft pink lines over his arms and the dips of his face where violence had not healed quite right. He's traced the soft, shadowed give of the gouge of his hand, sensitive and dead to the world by turns, the bumpy line under his chin that’s all crooked. Takemichi has a mess of constellations on his scalp, marks of points of impact that have healed unseen, the kind that have turned his x-rays into spiderwebs, like broken glass. He's got hard fingertips from biting at them when the knowledge of what happens in the after if he doesn't succeed in the now gets too much. He's got soft knuckles, peppered with bruises and tender spots, from where Chifuyu is teaching him to throw a proper punch, even if it takes a lifetime and a half, even if it costs him his own.
He knows all these spots, soft and rough and pale and ruddy and lovely and ugly, and he treasures each of them. He knows the way Takemichi's eyes get heavy and half-mast when he's tired, bruises under his eyes and a furrow to his brows. He knows the way they sparkle like a pond under the sun when he's excited. He knows the way they get wide and intense and violent with hope, with a determination so bright it burns Chifuyu to touch. It's an unyielding thing, no give to it no matter how anyone pushes, no matter how hard the world crashes down upon Takemichi, and it's as beautiful as it's blinding. Takemichi's eyes are water, ever changing, ever evolving, constantly in movement, even if they're a little slow, a little odd. Confusing, maybe.
Vicious whirlpools of irreverence for those he doesn't like, those he thinks are wrong, azure pools of affection for those he holds dear to his heart, bright puddles of warmth for Chifuyu and Mikey and Hinata. Roiling waves of furious resolve whenever he makes up his mind, relentless and blind to the struggle of it. Come hell or high water, he'll do it, so help him God.
Chifuyu loves it. Loves each and every look, each and every mark, each part of whatever it is that constitutes to this partner of his. This guy, weird and stupid and hard-headed as fuck, who chose Chifuyu of all people to stay by his side, to take on the entire goddamn world for however long he has to. It's about as heavy a burden and as mighty a goal as it gets, but it's something Takemichi chose, even if he didn't know what it was he was choosing at the time, and it's something Chifuyu chose, because there was no going back, even then.
It's fucking bonkers on the best of days, to stop and think and realize that he's somehow followed Baji's will all the way into being known, all the way into knowing someone in ways he hadn't even gotten to know Baji, and it's crazier still to admit that somewhere along the way, he'd stopped following Baji's will and started walking after Takemichi's.
Craziest of all, maybe, to see that at some point, he'd settled on the trail of his own, and found Takemichi by his side there, too.
Through it all, he's learned to tell all the ways in which Takemichi cares, be them angry, gentle or clumsy; all the ways in which he smiles, boyish and bright and nervous; all the ways in which he blisters with anger, glares and screams and shitty blows. All the ways in which he's scared and stupid and sad, and all the ways in which he's happy, laughing and crying and lost through them all. He's learned the way the waves in his eyes crest into something nothing short of extraordinary when he decides forward is the way to go, and the way dimples burst forth whenever he grins, all teeth and wrinkling eyes.
He learns, faster than he's ever learned anything else, the difference between Takemichi and his Takemichi.
There's the childish pouts and the whines and the endless friendliness of Takemichi, the way he follows so easily, the way he lets Chifuyu drag him to hell and back, even if he complains all the way. He's got swagger, bravado, smirks that hardly hold up to scrutiny and he's playful, tussling with Chifuyu until they're both filthy and breathless. He's got a big heart, though, something that never changes, and he's got kind hands, warm whenever they hold Chifuyu's, and he's got soft eyes, and a mushy, mushy way with words. He flushes easily, flusters even more easily, and what he lacks in confidence he makes up for with enthusiasm.
He's got a well of love as deep as the ocean itself and a nasty habit of fussing that most of them have all but given up discouraging.
Chifuyu mostly gets to know Takemichi in blinks and bursts, a day or even half of one at a time, through mere handfuls of time before his Takemichi came sweeping in, blinking those guileless eyes and that wide grin away, dull and hazy for a breath before something different, something steady, settled in. His eyes did not sharpen; they softened, instead, into something less innocent, more knowing, narrowed into something less hopeful and more determined. Something tired, in a way, in the way Mikey sometimes looked, in the way Takemichi often seemed to feel.
His Takemichi is a bright star, his to see and his to hold and his to keep for however long he chooses to stay, for however long he can entertain a past he won't be able to live through properly before he returns to a future he'll have worked through all his blood, sweat and tears for. He's easy to wind up and he lets things get to his head too fast, he cries when the wind so much as blows, he can't win a fight to save all their lives. He's a shit liar and a shit runner, too; Chifuyu's had to carry him like a sack of fucking potatoes more than once during one of their adventures, and though he may complain, it'll only get him a shove and a hiss of I told you it was a bad idea!
Like Chifuyu doesn't know. It doesn't matter, if it's with Takemichi.
His Takemichi rarely complains about the way things are, even while he laments the shit he gets himself into, and Chifuyu would follow him all the way to the depths of the Atlantic, because Takemichi would lead him and their entire division back if it killed him. His Takemichi's smile is a softer thing, warm as it is, something of a caress in the way it unfurls, and his shouts are an anchor, something to hold onto. He's like gum, sticking to you whether you want it to or not, and he's not very smart, but he's wise in the weirdest of ways, in the way he's loyal and careful with people's hearts in a way he's not careful with his own. His Takemichi is kind, kinder than anyone Chifuyu has ever met, kind enough to kill.
His Takemichi is someone worth following, someone worthy of all the love Chifuyu's got to give, of the trust Mikey has put into him, of the respect of their division and Toman and their friends. He's worthy of a lot of things, not many that Chifuyu thinks he's bound to get anytime soon, not many of which any of them can give him, not many of which Takemichi himself will accept.
But he does deserve them, even if he may not want some of them, and maybe that's what makes it so.
One day, his Takemichi leaves, without much fanfare, with a wistful look and a hug that lasts too long and yet not enough. With a promise he doesn't speak into reality, and a touch to Chifuyu's eye, the one that he didn't get to see for the first few weeks they knew each other, soft and tender in a way that makes Chifuyu feel cherished. In a way that feels out of place with the people they are, goofy and stupid and kind but messy. Always messy.
Chifuyu watches him go, feeling more alone than he's been in much too long. He'd gotten comfortable in the easy ebb and flow of his Takemichi, the simple rocking of them. It feels a bit too sad to be real, a bit too final, and it's not something he likes at all, not something he sees any point in entertaining for long. His Takemichi won't be back when they walk together next morning, but Takemichi will be, and that's more than enough.
So, his Takemichi goes, not without warning and not without a proper goodbye. And he doesn't come back for a while.
Chifuyu enjoys Takemichi in whatever form of himself he is, whether that be the obnoxious bluster and the relentless doting of Takemichi, or his stubborn loyalty and habit to focus on the most ridiculous of details. However he is, whatever he does, he's Chifuyu's partner, and he'll stay by his side and damn well enjoy it.
But his Takemichi is special.
His Takemichi is—well, his. Simple as that. It's not just that at all, because nothing about Takemichi is ever just that, but it is that simple.
So, Chifuyu awaits his return with patience he has for little else and settles in for the long haul. He drags Takemichi into all sorts of messes, cajoles him into all kinds of pranks, runs them out of all sorts of disasters. He gets as stupid as he possibly can, just because he's allowed to be, because he can be smart later. He watches him bicker with his friends, watches him grow taller, watches him grow a bit less foolish, though not much smarter. He watches him piss Mitsuya off, and bicker with Draken, and exist in Mikey's orbit in a way that makes their commander act his age and fuck around some. He basks in all his smiles and all his attention and tells him all the things his Takemichi already knows, and all the things he'll have to tell him sometime soon, and he drills the memories that matter in real good, so his Takemichi will remember them twelve years from now, if he tries hard enough.
He enjoys every moment, laughs more than he maybe ever has, visits Baji's grave to tell him about it every now and again. When he's sad, when he's grumpy, when he gets mean, Takemichi lifts his spirits in that ridiculous way of his, yells back if that's what Chifuyu does, and even when they argue and huff and puff, they find their way back. He thinks his Takemichi would be proud, and when that makes him miss him, he thinks that there's a future waiting for him, waiting for them both, when he'll know him.
He'll have his Takemichi, and he'll get to hold his hand and argue with him and poke at the uneven scar on his cheek and wipe his tears even as he teases him about them. There's a future that they've fought for that they'll get for sure, and that seems good enough for him, really.
So he enjoys the now and waits for the after and reminds himself to be grateful that he has either, that he has both.
And then, one day, as he walks to the place where he's meeting up with Mikey and Draken and Takemichi, he sees the blond spikes of hair and feels his heart soar. Because he hasn't seen him in a little while, and a little is too much. Even half a day has annoyingly become too long, and maybe Chifuyu's getting greedy, getting as comfortable with Takemichi as he got with his Takemichi, as he did with Baji, but his Takemichi did tell him to get greedy and comfortable and demanding in his own way, before.
So, here he is and here they are, and Takemichi only has himself to blame, really, for how tight Chifuyu holds onto him every now and again, for how he pouts and whines so he'll stay longer, for how Takemichi's parents know him as well as his own do, for how Peke J chooses Takemichi as a perch every time he comes over.
Chifuyu calls out a greeting absently, raising his hand, and Takemichi perks up, jumps to his feet like a puppy, turns around fast enough Chifuyu wonders if he even saw it through the blur, turns to look straight at him, and—
Chifuyu's breath catches, fingers going slack around the handles of his bag. Takemichi's eyes are bright and wide but deep, deep enough to get lost, deep enough for Chifuyu to pick out every concern and every want and every crashing wave of determination—and his smile, God, his smile, wide and broad, all teeth and dimples and tiny pinpricks of color in his eyes. His mouth quivers with relief, eyes pretty and shiny with tears, with the sheer joy of seeing Chifuyu...seeing him alive.
He's running before he even realizes.
His bag hits the ground at the same time his body collides into Takemichi's, a violent embrace that will gentle into a bruise, and he tightens around him like a vice, all limbs and warmth as they go down. It's greedy and insistent and it is knowing, the way they mold together on instinct. Takemichi coughs with the impact of the pavement against his back, under the weight of Chifuyu's entire body, but he wheezes with laughter, simple bubbles of mirth and pain, and he holds back just as tight, fingers digging into the flesh of Chifuyu's body until he feels it'll break. He wouldn't mind.
They're one big bruise, the way they often are, Chifuyu's knuckles bruised the way they are nine out of ten, Takemichi's peeling at spots from their newest attempt at teaching him how to fight anything but his shadow and stand a chance, a bandaid over his nose that wasn't there yesterday, a violet shadow on his jaw that swells with pain he probably only notes in the distant way Chifuyu does. His chin is tough and painful where it digs into the crown of Chifuyu's head with momentum, and his heart is a beast under the cold of Chifuyu's piercing, wild and cheerful and fast. Relentless.
Chifuyu leans back, then, just enough to look down at his face, delight pulling at his features so tightly it hurts, reminiscent of the way everything hurt after Baji beat him to a pulp, and he doesn't mind, he doesn't mind at all. Some pains aren't bad, and some aches are kind, and Chifuyu's starting to think all the ones he acquires by Takemichi's side are like that.
"You're back," he breathes, and he sounds awed even to his own ears, drinking in all the tiny little differences in Takemichi's face, all the delicate ways in which he is the same, all the ways in which he is not.
"I'm back," Takemichi agrees through a dying breath, coughing to his lungs' dismay, smiling up at Chifuyu through the pain. He's used to that.
His nose is wrinkled with affection, lips pulled back with the sheer brilliance of his smile, hands shaking with how fucking tight they're gripping at Chifuyu's back, and he's stiff with how he's probably struggling with Chifuyu's weight, but he doesn't push him off, doesn't shift, doesn't say a thing. He just stares, gaze roving over Chifuyu's features, heavy as fingers are, like he wants to touch, to make sure he's real after all, to cherish in that graceless way of his, the one Chifuyu leans into without fail, until his Takemichi laughs and says he's just like Peke J.
Chifuyu bites at the pads of his fingers when he says so, light and playful, just enough for him to feel it, never enough for it to hurt, and Takemichi looks fond, so fucking fond, the same way he does now, even though Chifuyu's hardly done anything other than breathe, smile, exist.
He feels his smile grow, then, dopey and gooey and stupid, and drops himself, splatters against Takemichi like an unfortunate ice-cream at the height of summer, foreheads knocking together painfully. Takemichi groans and Chifuyu hisses, but it turns into laughter because, predictably, Takemichi doesn't do a thing to push him away, merely delights in the hurt of him, the way Chifuyu digs into him too harshly for it to be make-believe.
He's back, Chifuyu thinks, somewhat absent, somewhat awed still. His Takemichi is back, back here, when he can see and touch and smile, where he can call him partner and know for sure he understands what it means, feel it to the quick the same way he does. He's back, he's here, and Chifuyu holds him tight while he still can, digs his fingers in so Takemichi knows he knows, and feels the hot puff of air against the bridge of his nose as he sighs in response, relief and affection and so much more.
"What the fuck?" Mikey says, sucks almost all the inflection out of it with how confused he sounds, and Takemichi laughs at that. Mikey makes an odd sound, a cross between a huff and a hum, and Takemichi laughs harder.
"What is wrong with you?" Draken asks, long-suffering, and it's more of an annoyed sigh than anything, but he sounds as disgruntled as Mikey's huff did, and that alone amuses Takemichi into hysteria.
Chifuyu watches, stares as his partner's eyes shut with the undiluted delight of it, and he could stay here and watch this forever. Just them, like this, happy and hazy and soft and ridiculous, 'till kingdom come.
He can't. Chifuyu knows that much. But he can enjoy it a little while longer.
So he does, and he drills it into his memory real well, so he'll remember it in the future Takemichi came back for, so he'll remember it for as long as his Takemichi remembers them all.