You don't have to read the first fic to enjoy this, but it would lend some context!
Warnings abound for homophobic language/attitudes and implied cissexism in this chapter.
"No, man, you don't get it. This guy's the real deal. He's the man. Not like the Man, but the man, you know what I mean, man?"
"Man, I ain't known what you been saying for the last twenty minutes." Mondo muttered. "Anyways, I prefer Elvis's stuff."
"That's for chicks, cuz. They only hang all over him 'cause of those dance moves. Hey, hang on, is that a pink Cadillac out front? Yowzer! Would ya look at the body on that thing? And there's a cute broad in the seat - reckon I'll give her body a look too. Wanna toss for it?"
"Man, I don't give a fuck. You go."
Souda Kazuichi gave a toothy grin and hitched up his yellow jumpsuit around his hips, where it was loosely tied in a half-knot, the rest of his body scrawny and shirtless as they sweated it out. It wasn't any kind of sight to get Mondo's motor running - he preferred a little muscle.
Not that Souda knew that.
Jimmy Lloyd kept cranking on the radio about the rocket in his pocket, and Mondo took a drag of his cigarette as he wiped down the windscreen of the Fiat they were working on with an oily rag.
He'd always figured that at 21 he'd be thriving, living the high life someplace with his bike and whatever. But maybe it was the lack of substance to that ideal that had led to it never getting realised. He didn't really have a direction, and he sure as hell didn't go to college, not like - not like Ishimaru.
The name was bitter in his mouth, and he tried not to think on it any more.
"So ya see, Miss Sonia - Sonia, was it? - I can get your engine going no problem. I know all the right ways to handle that machine of yours." Souda was saying to a pert little European blondie who he led back into the garage. He gave an exaggerated wink at Mondo every time he made a double entendre, which was difficult not to roll your peepers at. A lot of things about Souda got pretty exasperating, but work lumped you with whoever it lumped you with.
"Thank you, Mr. Souda," she replied, barely giving him a look. "I'm going to be so late, I do hope you can help me."
"Well sure I can, Miss Sonia, sure I can do. Can I ask where you're headed in such a rush? We'd love for ya to stick around, me and Oowada here."
"Leave me out of it," Mondo mumbled inaudibly.
"Ah, I have dinner with my husband at seven on Broadway, and I've got to pick him up from the Civic Centre."
Mondo chuckled into his collar. He'd never seen a man deflate so quickly. Souda shot him a furious glance and tugged him into the back corner hastily, with a yell of "Just gotta discuss somethin' with my, eh, associate," over his shoulder, and Sonia daintily took a seat on the grubby stool next to their cash register.
"Hey, cut it out," Souda murmured, his fist still bundled in Mondo's shirt. "I think I still got a chance."
"Cool it, daddy-o. She ain't interested."
"Man, just 'cause you're jealous!"
"I ain't jealous! I never been jealous of any of these girls you get in and try to make good with, man, so stop makin' me out to be your rival. And stop actin' like a washed up Bronx mechanic like you has a snowball's chance in hell with a rich little princess like that who's already fuckin' married. You're pathetic."
"Is everything all right back there, gentlemen?" Sonia asked rather graciously, considering how loud his voice had risen.
"Fuck, man." Souda shook his head and returned to her car, subdued. "What fucked you over so bad you get this pessimistic? It's a total drag to hang around you nowadays."
"Life." Mondo replied sourly, and started polishing Sonia's tail lights.
Rainstorms in New York City caused crowds to congregate under flapping awnings, so Mondo had to wheel his bike straight through a gaggle of old ladies to get out to the edge of the sidewalk. His old faithful Triumph was still going strong, although it took her a while of spluttering and coughing burning rubber before she'd take off.
He revved the Triumph up like an angry wasp as he skidded past businessmen and the occasional hot-rodder on the streets, but without a gang at his back it became harder to intimidate. Still, on the back of a motor was where his heart felt at home. The carnal nature of the thrill of thrusting a dangerous machine forward, gripped tight between your thighs, didn't entirely escape him. The garage shop was a good twenty blocks from his house, so it was with consternation that he pulled over and realised her engine was giving up the ghost.
"God damnit!" Mondo muttered through clenched teeth as he leapt bodily off the high leather seat and crouched down on the sidewalk, shoving his slick head into the equally oily musk of the bike's underbelly to see what the problem was. Some old biddy tapped him on the shoulder and said something sharp about language, to which he snarled "Fuck you, it ain't the nineteenth century no more!".
Somehow, all the streets got painted in a more miserable light under the grey skies, or maybe that was just Mondo's mood as he was forced to roll the Triumph another ten blocks home with only his leather jacket to keep the wash out. The fear and avoidance in strangers' eyes, the way they went out of their way to make a wide berth around him, all of it bubbled up into rage contained within him, and he wondered bitterly why it was that he never seemed to be happy like he used to.
After shoving his bike in the yard, figuring he'd just take her down to the shop tomorrow, he rattled his key loudly in the door before entering to make sure that Daiya wouldn't forget to close the damn living room door if he had a girl around. As both of their bedrooms were stinking rot-filled shitholes, Mondo had discovered the hard, traumatising way that Daiya preferred to keep some semblance of class by fucking his dates on the couch. Luckily, the door was closed, although nothing could shut out the gasps and grunts. Mondo stomped upstairs, finding that as per usual their father was nowhere to be found.
He half-smiled as he remembered that he'd always vowed one day when Daiya was out to pull the same act without him knowing. It would be sweet, sweet satisfaction to have ground Ishimaru into the cushions of that couch-
But it had never happened.
There was still half a bottle of Bud next to his bed. Angrily, Mondo drank.
His fingers found the handle of the drawer before he could consciously prevent them, and even though he knew how much it stung every time, he ended up fishing it out again - that neatly folded rectangle of Harvard-branded paper, the fanciest piece of correspondence he'd ever gotten. It didn't leave a good taste in his mouth, and he knew it almost off by heart, and yet still he traced the inky scrawl and read it once over again.
Harvard College
86 Brattle Street
Cambridge, MA 02138
Dearest M,
I'll bet you're surprised to see this. Didn't I say I'd write you? We may be awful far apart now but don't worry. I gotta come back soon to see Grandpa - and you. Mainly you! Gosh it's pretty "wacko" over here as you might put it. Definitely a far cry from the Big Apple. My roommate's okay although he sure knows how to snore.
Running outta space but I can save most of my stories for when I come visit. It'll be soon. Gee I miss you and I sure do think about you a lot. College is really opening my eyes to the world around us. There's gonna be change soon, just you wait. Our time is gonna come.
You better not be listening to any of that crazy rock music now. Stay out of trouble on that bike. You know I worry.
All my heart, Kiyotaka.
That was three years ago.
That was the last he'd heard from him.
He didn't know how long he stared at that signature, swigging occasionally from the bottle, until he became aware that the repetitive thumping from downstairs had subsided and his brother was yelling his name.
"Mondo? You home?"
"Been home half a god damn hour! You was a little busy," he shouted back crossly, even though Daiya had come up the stairs and was now about three feet away.
"Aww, shut up. Just 'cause you never get any."
"I'd rather keep my distance from those two-dollar whores you bring back with you."
"Yeah, don't I fuckin' know it."
Abruptly, Daiya was in his room. Mondo flipped over and shoved the letter under his pillow, but he knew Daiya knew what it was. He'd caught him sneaking in and reading it a couple of years back, and had torn his brother a new asshole yelling about privacy. They still never really talked about that stuff, but now Daiya was in Mondo's space, and taking a seat next to him on the bed in a suspiciously fraternal manner. Mondo felt the fright of this we-need-to-talk atmosphere run down his spine, and he knew they were going to be talking about the thing. The thing about him not bringing girls around.
"Listen, dude. I been thinking about your problem, and all. I don't want you to think I'm just rejecting you for it. I'm still your big bro, you know? I oughtta help you out with it."
Daiya leaned conspirationally close in to his face, and for one laughably bizarre moment Mondo thought his brother was going to kiss him.
Instead, Daiya muttered low in his ear. "I talked to a coupla guys and they said they know a place to get you started on skirts, ya hear? Start out with this and we can wean you back onto a healthy 'preciation of the female form. Don't think I ain't lookin' out for you."
Daiya's hand caught his, warm and intimate, and slipped something into it. Mondo swallowed, turned red, shifted. Stared at the little pink square of cardboard that looked like it had been torn out of a phone booth.
KIMIKO'S BAR - FOR GENTS AND "LADIES"
T GIRLS FOR YOUR ENJOYMENT - DANCING - SERVING DRINKS -
LOCATED IN BROOKLYN - BUT YOU'LL SEE PLENTY OF QUEENS!
SECRET LOCATION - ASK SOMEONE IN THE KNOW.
There was a little picture of a woman with a mannish face and a lot of makeup on, and Mondo had to say he was baffled.
"This guy knows the address, so it's wrote down on the other side for you. Go out there sometime, 'kay? Meet some - you know - chicks. We'll get you back on the right track in no time."
Daiya patted his hand, then slapped his back bracingly, standing up, as Mondo sat in silence. "Anyways, I'm gone. Got plans with the guys tonight. Also, someone telephoned for you."
"Hey, it's stormin' like hell out there, you oughtta be careful" Mondo objected, speaking for the first time in a while. "Who phoned?"
"Aw, don't you worry so much, you old maid. I know how to handle a motor in any kinda weather. An' I dunno. Some... dude. Wasn't Souda."
He sat up and ignored the question in Daiya's eyes. "This... dude leave a message?"
"Said to meet him in Glaser's Bake Shop out in Yorkville. I dunno, man. Place likely won't be open this late anyhow. Gotta fly, now, dude, catch you on the flipside. And hey. Remember that card."
Daiya gave a conspirational wink, and before Mondo could protest any more about the abysmal weather conditions, his brother was out the door.
Yorkville would be a good half-hour even on the subway, maybe more. It didn't seem worth going. Besides, he didn't even know this punk who'd called him. Might even be an ambush by old gang guys, to lure in the fairy boy for a beating. It wouldn't be the first time. In this rain, it sure as hell wasn't worth it.
And yet something made him want to.
Mondo Oowada threw on one of his dad's old coats over his leather jacket and headed out into the rain.
"You want more soup, babe?"
"Don't worry about me so much, Aoi. I am perfectly fine. I feel terrible leaving you with all the chores around the shop, though."
"Don't be silly." Aoi Asahina set down a tray with a bowl of chicken soup and eight doughnuts, which she considered to be a moderate side dish. Wiping glazed hands on her overalls, she leaned in to kiss Sakura's forehead, who was lying flat out in their double bed with a bad cold. "I love fussing over you, and I already swept up and all. Tomorrow's bread is already baking, and I made extra batches of doughnuts, in case our guest gets hungry during the night, and all. I oughtta make him dinner soon, too. Gosh, it feels later than it is. I hate fall darkness!"
"Knowing our guest and how much he protests our kindness every mealtime, I don't think we have to worry about him eating twelve doughnuts for a midnight snack, sweetheart. That's only you." Sakura smiled tiredly up at Aoi and stroked her girlfriend's face with one calloused palm. "You switched off the lights for closing time?"
"Aww, crud, knew I forgot something! I'll be right up."
Aoi thudded down the stairs, folding her arms over her apron to cushion the painful bouncing of her ample chest, but paused on the last stair with her heart in her mouth as she saw a tall, intimidating youth in a leather jacket trying to shove the bakery door open, his faint curses audible. She gathered up her courage and went up to the door, making sure that a sturdy rolling pin was within arms' reach, and began to firmly state "We're closed for the night, sir-" when she saw the familiar golden pompadour and gasped, throwing the door open.
"Oowada? No way! Oh my gosh, it's been years! Come on in! How did you know to find us here?"
"Aoi?" Mondo stared, looking as though she was the last thing he'd been expecting, too. "You run this place?"
"Oh, for sure! Me and Sakura live upstairs. Come on in from the cold!" She shut the door behind him and took his jacket off for him, and then after a moment's pause they embraced.
"Geez! It's good to see you, Aoi."
"You too. Who woulda thought my old high school sweetheart would drop by?" she grinned into Mondo's shoulder, and then indicated for him to pull up a chair at one of the sweet little cafe tables, grabbing a pile of cookies for them both. "You haven't changed a bit."
"Nor've you. So you an' Sakura still, uh..."
"Yep." Aoi blushed, ducking her head. "You just missed our four year anniversary. I baked up a storm."
"I'll bet. I can't believe you run a bake shop now. Given up on swimming entirely? I can't imagine Sakura doesn't still do sport."
"Aww, no, we both still do that stuff on the side, but there's not enough money in women's competitive sports to fund us entirely. But we're happy where we are. Apartment's small, but it's home."
Aoi nibbled fretfully at her cookie, and her eyes flew to the ceiling as Mondo heard someone's boots thumping around. Weird - Sakura may be a giant, but she was a light treader. And was it him or did Aoi look just a little nervous? Before he could ask, she cut off his thought. "So... what are you doin'?"
"I, uh - well, I work in a garage shop." Somehow, it felt embarrassing to admit. "Still living in the same old shack. Dad's fucked off, but my brother's still around."
"So... Uh, like, not that it ain't good to see you and all, but if you weren't expecting to see us, why'd you come around? I know Mondo Oowada isn't passionate enough about baked goods to travel all the way from the Bronx for this ol' place at six PM."
"I - well, I got a call. Some guy? Some guy phoned from your place and told me to come here tonight."
"S... some guy? You didn't know him?"
"My bro took the call while I was at work. Mighta been a friend, who knows."
"Listen, Mondo." Aoi bit her lip. "I... I wasn't gonna mention it, 'cause I know how things ended on a bad note with you guys but - but seein' as he called you, you ought to know we actually got someone staying with us-"
"Aoi, I cain't hear a word you're saying. Who the hell is thumping around so loudly on the st-"
The thumping stopped all at once. Kiyotaka Ishimaru stood frozen in the stairwell.