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writetomyheart2026-01-09 01:41 am
dusk037.livejournal.com) wrote in writetomyheart2026-01-09 01:41 am
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[team two] The Gravity of a Warning
Writing a SixTONES × Not Me the Series AU, and this snippet blindsided me. I guess spoilers for Episode 12?
To summarize: Ryutaro refuses to carry his guilt alone and confesses to a past misdeed. Jesse chooses restraint he never owed. Shintaro asks for mercy, knowing exactly what it will cost.
“Watch your mouth.”
Jesse doesn’t shout. That’s the part that scares everyone.
His voice trembles—not loud, not sharp, just bare, like it’s being held together by sheer will. His hands are clenched so tightly his knuckles have gone white, but he doesn’t move closer. He leaves the gun on the floor between him and Ryutaro, doesn’t move at all.
He’s looking at Shintaro.
Not Ryutaro.
Shintaro.
The same person who knows exactly what Jesse lost. The same one who asked the impossible anyway.
“You don’t get to say his name like that,” Jesse continues, quieter now. “Not after what you asked me to do.”
Shintaro opens his mouth—then closes it again. He looks wrecked, pale, like he’s already bleeding from this conversation even though no one has touched him.
Jesse swallows. “You asked me to spare him,” he says. “I did that. I stood down.”
His breath stutters, just once.
“But don’t talk to me like I owe him anything.”
The room feels smaller. Everyone feels it—the way the air tightens when something that can’t be put back together is about to break.
“I didn’t pull the trigger,” Jesse says, his voice low now, dangerous in its control. “But he did.”
Silence.
Then, softer—and this part almost hurts more, “You knew who my father was when you asked.”
It doesn’t land like a punch. It lands like gravity.
Shintaro doesn’t deny it. He can’t. He just nods once, the smallest movement, like it costs him something physical.
Jesse exhales through his nose, bitter, exhausted. “I'm sparing him for you,” he says. “Not for justice. Not for mercy. For you.”
He finally looks past Shintaro then, just for a second—at Ryutaro. There’s no hatred there anymore. Just nothing.
“So don’t ever,” Jesse says, turning back, his voice shaking again despite himself, “stand there and act like I’m the one who crossed a line.”
He steps back, putting distance where closeness used to live.
“Because if you ask me for something like this again,” he finishes, “I won’t be able to answer you.”
Not a threat. A warning.
It's your turn, Captain.
To summarize: Ryutaro refuses to carry his guilt alone and confesses to a past misdeed. Jesse chooses restraint he never owed. Shintaro asks for mercy, knowing exactly what it will cost.
“Watch your mouth.”
Jesse doesn’t shout. That’s the part that scares everyone.
His voice trembles—not loud, not sharp, just bare, like it’s being held together by sheer will. His hands are clenched so tightly his knuckles have gone white, but he doesn’t move closer. He leaves the gun on the floor between him and Ryutaro, doesn’t move at all.
He’s looking at Shintaro.
Not Ryutaro.
Shintaro.
The same person who knows exactly what Jesse lost. The same one who asked the impossible anyway.
“You don’t get to say his name like that,” Jesse continues, quieter now. “Not after what you asked me to do.”
Shintaro opens his mouth—then closes it again. He looks wrecked, pale, like he’s already bleeding from this conversation even though no one has touched him.
Jesse swallows. “You asked me to spare him,” he says. “I did that. I stood down.”
His breath stutters, just once.
“But don’t talk to me like I owe him anything.”
The room feels smaller. Everyone feels it—the way the air tightens when something that can’t be put back together is about to break.
“I didn’t pull the trigger,” Jesse says, his voice low now, dangerous in its control. “But he did.”
Silence.
Then, softer—and this part almost hurts more, “You knew who my father was when you asked.”
It doesn’t land like a punch. It lands like gravity.
Shintaro doesn’t deny it. He can’t. He just nods once, the smallest movement, like it costs him something physical.
Jesse exhales through his nose, bitter, exhausted. “I'm sparing him for you,” he says. “Not for justice. Not for mercy. For you.”
He finally looks past Shintaro then, just for a second—at Ryutaro. There’s no hatred there anymore. Just nothing.
“So don’t ever,” Jesse says, turning back, his voice shaking again despite himself, “stand there and act like I’m the one who crossed a line.”
He steps back, putting distance where closeness used to live.
“Because if you ask me for something like this again,” he finishes, “I won’t be able to answer you.”
Not a threat. A warning.
It's your turn, Captain.