Skid

by Emrood

When Yoyo's newest masterpiece catches more attention than usual, everyone's curious to the inspiration that birthed it. But it's his honesty that lands him an awkward moment of silence, and a slather of memories to mangle his conscience. He could have lied. He told the truth. (Oneshot)

Skid Marks

Hi and hello, just a friendly note from the author. This story is totally do-able as a read alone, but it contains facts and mentions from my other story "If Thoughts Could Be A Melody". Both are written in a similar fashion, so feel free to read that before this one if you wish to read in chronological order. Thanks and enjoy!

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Awkward quiet.

Over the years as life throws curve balls, society has grown to learn that there are different stages or levels of silence. Mothers hush young ones to soothe their unsettled nerves; fathers hush them in respectful training for the outside world. Education facilities practice the trait to control the majority.

A level of quiet for sleeping.

A level of quiet for a passing life.

A level of quiet as one admires another.

Each and every event in life could possibly hold a moment of silence for any particular reason, but all could agree that regardless of a person's location on earth, the worst and most devastating kind of quiet is the awkward kind. Awkwardly quiet situations were often followed by slews of questions, dispersal, or even shame. Awkwardly quiet situations never affected one soul, but many at a time.

But by far, the worst of them all were the awkwardly quiet situations that were just beginning or were still in motion, the smiles and laughs prior, now awol.

Eyes darting as throats are too fearful to even clear.

Pure hell for the solitary soul who triggers it.

---

"Yoshiharu, what have you gotten yourself into?"

The boy's head lifted from the nook his arms had made, right hand still clutching the side of his head, fingers sloppily lopped over. His brows furrowed in confusion for a moment, unable to recall sharing his favored secret thinking spot with anyone...and the only soul who did know of it was horribly disappointed in him at the moment, if not worse. But regardless of his memory, someone had climbed the height of the billboard overlooking the Rokkaku-Dai reservoir, had known precisely where he was, and was analyzing just how high they were exactly.

Her slender brow lifted ever so slightly, pulling away from the barred edge of the rails as she tucked her hands along her back, finding the view fascinating, but irrelevant. Her shoulders shrugged as she tucked her elbows into her palms, blue painted lips curving lightly.

He avoided eye contact, finding his dirty sneakers much more intriguing. Or at least, he pretended to.

Her own black kicks thudded against the ironwork woven grates until she plopped next to him, allowing enough space to breathe as she tucked her legs into a circle and rested back on her palms.

Relaxed.

Comfortable.

Nothing ever seemed to bother her when situations such as these arose. Unprovoked, she was a silent angel, an opened armed goddess of the streets who, at a single prod, could snap a finger and, by extension, a leg. It was a trait he always admired about her. Always calm and collected when it counted.

His shoulders sagged as he sighed, head digging back into his clutch.

What now?

"So, I'll be the first to admit that it's probably the worst idea right now for me to be to be happening, but...here I am."

Her voice was jovial, eyes closed as she absorbed the setting sun and all its warmth. The bright molten hues had burst over them, highlighting the canvas of her head in all kinds of citruses, weaving into shadows of taupe and creams. It detailed the tan tones of her skin, and drenched the paleness of his away, hugging them both adieu until the rays would bask upon them at day break.

Or when they emerged from their rooms midday. Whichever came first.

But the warmth of the day nor the quiet calm between them could warm the coolness his heart had settled into, so frigid she could nearly spy the icicles hanging off his loom.

"Never thought I'd see the day Yoyo lost his smile." she noted lightly, lazily opening an eye at the weary teen, though he made no effort to reply. Instead, he chose to step on his own shoelaces, lost in his own thoughts, ignoring all others. The sunset didn't seemed to boost his energy as it did for her, and that was quite a pity. Of all people to appreciate such things, she would've thought him number one on her list. But he was too preoccupied at the moment. Too concerned with what others thought, and what they thought of him.

She couldn't blame him.

It had been quite...awkward.

Thumb catching within her sleeve, she played with the fabric on her left hand, slugging into her right shoulder. Her cheek pinched up as she pouted, finding the silence hardly silent at all. Birds, city ambiance, wind, but most of all, the memories of not so long ago, and she softly smiled.

"Look, if you want me to play Death Ball for the GGs, you gotta give me someone I can work with. It's a tag team sport and your people aren't livin' up to the name. It was by pure miracle we were able to win the first time, and that's only because Beat's pretty fast. But he's not savvy in the Death Ball ways."

Arching a brow, Corn eyed the girl leaning along the broken banister, skate hooked behind the other as she gazed out at the basketball game below. Basketball on skates was always an interesting option, but the boys had decided on a wheel-less game, and so their feet had to be just as quick as their torsos. Combo's massive size was a grand advantage to his team, and quite noticeable as the scores evened up every so often, but kept ahead by a point or two for the most part. Her soft brown eyes locked along each player for a while, fingers tapping her elbows in her lean. There had to be someone worth a decent game of Death Ball in the crowd.

"Jazz, I've literally hooked you up with the best we've got, an' you didn't want anything to do with any of 'em. I'm startin' to think you're just gettin' picky." the blond noted flatly, using a light step to roll him toward her way. He popped a thumb in count, "Beat's heart's not in the game. Soda's too slow. Combo's easily distracted, Clutch flirts too much –and that's not even touching any of the girls. Gum's too competitive, Boogie's not competitive enough. Rhyth's too nice? C'mon." His brows flattened as she rolled her eyes, "With the amount of people I've set you up with, we have a whole Death Ball team."

Curving her back out, the young woman sighed.

It wasn't that the others weren't good at the game. They all had their strengths and their weaknesses. And when first paired up with Beat, she had nearly thought him passable. But too soon did she realize that Beat's heart wasn't in the game. It was in himself. And Death Ball happened to be a team sport. Apparently Beat hadn't gotten the memo. He was nimble on his feet, but he hadn't anticipated the traps set for those blasting through with speed. The arena was like one big mouse trap made just for rudies, and every wire seemed to trip him up. Relying on her as a second option seemed offensive to him for some reason, swearing that he could make the race or die trying. Well, he nearly did.

Soda was a relaxed soul, but relaxation was not something you could afford in the arena. He never quite seemed to care enough when the ball wasn't in their clutches, or if he was falling behind (which he often was). She didn't want to carry the team, but with Soda, she had become Beat, and therein lied the problem.

Her brows narrowed as Combo came to mind.

That fool had truly attempted to bring his boombox in with him.

Death Ball didn't have many rules, and that made it simple enough for everyone to understand and play. Having the use of both hands wasn't a rule, but it was a stupid option to abandon if availability was there. The odds of him gripping the eight pound ball from whichever angle she happened to throw it from diminished greatly minus one hand, not to mention his balance would be completely off with the concern of his retro speakers. It was beyond her why he would even risk bringing it into an arena filled with mud and roller derby recruits, but there he had been in all his glory.

Clutch…

She smirked.

He was an obstacle all of his own, and if it wasn't for her constant reeling, his focus would be on all else but the very game he was involved in. It would be on her mainly, but for all other reasons than Death Ball. When he was paying attention, he had a knack for tricking their opponents that she admired greatly, but that greatness would often be lost with his attention span, and her patience.

Gum understood the game well. A little too well. At least, the shit talking aspect, anyway. The first and last time Jazz had teamed up with her, Gum had been removed from the arena for getting too personal with a Love Shocker. Needless to say, fists had flared and Boogie had to step in as her replacement. If you could call her that. Mud wasn't Boogie's thing. Neither was utilizing herself like a battering ram to knock other opponents off their balance. A few bruises and occasional dislocation were necessary in the likes of such a game. Boogie disagreed.

And Rhyth…

Jazz tucked her cheek into her palm, sighing hopelessly.

The girl could have bark and bite when she put her mind to it, but in the arena, she was sweet as a kitten with game play to match.

Jazz liked the GGs. Their understanding of expressive freedom appealed to her inner artist, inner soul. They were unlike any of the other gangs who focused on their own themes as a unit rather than each individual. For that alone, Jazz held a mountain of respect for Corn and all he fought for. And the GGs adorned him as king of their gang, and her personal hero who managed to bail her from trouble at the arena where they had met (under a misunderstanding, but she wasn't complaining now). He had offered her an open spot in his ragtag family, and with nothing better to do and no further options, she had happily accepted, able to find friendly faces in a world of discord.

But now the world she knew and loved seemed to be fading away, and it threatened her with every losing race.

She couldn't handle another loss. Not as a representative of the GGs. Not with those stats.

"GGs...you guys are all great. You really are. But I can't give you my best if I'm not getting it in return. And we're all gunna suffer for it, Corn. I just can't do another race the way we're going. I need someone I can work with...and someone good." she huffed, flicking a bit of lint from her sleeve. Head bobbing lightly, the young man shrugged his shoulders, cracking a knuckle along the rail. "Well, I mean we got a few more heads we can roll, but..."

Her eyes trailed along the bottom floor, watching as the shortest of them all managed to swipe the basketball from Combo's pawed grip, weaving in and out as the others mobbed him, team and team alike. With practiced flexibility, she watched him dodge Garam's swipe and swing away from Clutch, using Beat's back as a rolling springboard and launch his foot from the dog's kennel, flinging the ball up and backward in a ridiculous twist. The basketball thudded against the back board, ringing the rim twice before falling in, earning a grin from the runt, "Bingo!" he howled, clapping a palm with Beat in victory.

"Aw, hell nah you little cheatin' ass, that don't count! You can't be jumpin' off the damn dog house!"

"Says who? Nothin' in the rules sayin' I couldn't." the short teen pointed out as Garam eyed Combo, shaking his head.

"And what the hell was the barrel roll-"

"Hey, team sport, yo. If I got a teammate, I'm gunna use him." the loud mouth chuckled foully, dodging the playful punch Beat tossed his way, but never saw the human bullet coming, slamming into him so hard his sunglasses nearly flew off (though they did manage to cling on at the very edge of his nose). "W-What the fu-"

"You!" was the only response he received, realizing that he was practically being carried off, halfway dragged and carted as the boys grew slightly distant, though they all shared the same confusion. He tripped up the steps as her grip never loosened on his hoodie, feet scurrying along with her skates as he did his best to keep up until she stopped, shaking him by the sleeve.

"Him. I want him."

Staring ahead as his mind processed the words, Yoyo tugged his arm away from her in a short snap, brow arched. "Excuse me?" he uttered, poking his sunglasses back to a respectable distance. Corn seemed to be deep in thought as he analyzed the teens before him, molars grinding lightly as the gears turned, and Jazz crossed her arms, tucking her chin in.

"It's him, or I'm retiring my matches for the GGs."

Eyes darting between the two, Yoyo's nose scrunched, tucking his hands into his hood, "The hell are you talkin' about?"

"Death Ball." Corn answered, though his voice still held question. "Jazz, you...sure you want Yoyo? He's kind of a rookie at all that. No offense, Yosh, just keepin' it real." he shrugged at the teen's immediate frown. Her arm hooked onto the boy's shoulder, shaking him a bit, "He has the potential to be the best. He's what I'm lookin' for. Quick, tricky, thinks on his feet, uses his surrounding area, understands his placement on a team, and I have a feeling a few bumps and bruises won't scare him off. He looks durable enough. In a race or two we can determine his speed, and see where we can balance out. You afraid to get dirty, kid?" she questioned, smirking when he exhaled sloppily in response at such a ludicrous suggestion.

Crossing her arms, the young woman tilted her hip, rolling her left skate back and forth, "It's all or nothin', Corn. I'm not gunna be made into a joke. I'm one of the top ranked Death Ball players on the charts...let me bring the GGs on the rise. Aren't you tired of losing?" she sighed, glancing at Yoyo intently. He still appeared curious, but no longer confused in the least.

"...You think I'd be good?" he asked quietly, the fresh option sounding quite tantalizing in his stream of thoughts.

Her elbow leaned along his shoulder, poking his head, "Kid, by the time I'm done with you, you'll be battered, banged up, beaten, bruised, and blistered, but I swear on my rank, if you survive the training, you'll be the best there ever was."

A sleek grin instantly capped his cheeks.

That sounded like a pretty good deal.

Corn tucked his thumb into his pocket, observing the two, and it was then that he realized what Jazz had needed all along. He had given her the best of his gang, but Jazz needed more than that.

She played with chemistry.

And Yoyo was a set ready to explode.

A light chuckle escaped her as she fell into her slouch, peering down between the holes of the grate into the urban labyrinth below. A bit unsettling if you focused too much, but displacing herself from the reality of the danger always worked. She poked a finger through, feeling the breeze rush by lightly. Almost like flying. Almost.

"...What's funny?"

Her eyes lifted, joining his weary ones as he finally accepted her presence. A poor battered soul he was. And not a single one to turn to.

Her brows knit playfully in thought.

Well, that wasn't true. She was there, wasn't she?

"Thinkin' about when I volunteered you for Death Ball. I was on the verge of quitting. That's how serious I was, an' Corn thought I was nuts." she smiled, poking the rest of her fingers through the holes behind her, closing her eyes once more, "We showed him." The summer winds trickled by with his silence, and she craned her neck back, cracking a few joints, "Now, not that I'm not totally flattered or anything, but...you knew shit was gunna hit the fan with that one."

He sunk further into himself, poking his knee, "...Yeah."

Bouncing her thighs lightly, she tilted her head in disbelief, "What were you thinking?"

Combing the tips of his fingers into his hair, the rudie shrugged, curling an arm under his chin, but the words found their way through, regardless of how he often felt.

"Guess I was tryin' out the truth for once." he muttered, glancing her way when she laughed.

"And how's that workin' out for you?"

"Ain't doin' it for a while, yo." he answered flatly, frowning when she shoved his shoulder playfully, tucking half of his face into the cowl of his hoodie.

"You just need more practice." she teased, leaning forward to dust off her hands, "The truth can be surprisingly nice once in a while. It's all about delivery."

"Then what's the difference between tellin' the truth or lyin'? Sounds the same to me." he grumbled.

"The truth is fact, and no matter how many walls of lies you build, one fact can blast it all away, leaving you naked and afraid."

The boy grimaced as his eyes rolled, "Ain't interested in the fancy rhymes, Jazz."

She snorted, tilting her head back once more, "First off, that didn't even rhyme. Secondly, if it wasn't true, you wouldn't be up here hiding."

"I'm not hiding." he growled, "I just needed some space. It got mad awkward. I'm a loud kinda guy. I need noise to fill in the cracks."

"Interesting. I thought you were a spotlight kinda guy."

Falling out of his body curl, Yoyo rested back flat against the grate, pulling his hood over his eyes, arms curling behind him. "Right now, I'm the everybody's judgin' me kinda guy."

Poking the bit of skin his hoodie had revealed on his belly, she leaned forward, tucking her cheek into her resting palm, "I don't judge you."

And though most of his face was hidden away in the clothed nook, his frown was prominent, slightly confusing her.

"That's part of the problem."

Her eyes darted to her door, startled out of her reading for the night.

"Hey neighbor! Open up, it's me!"

Leaning up, the young woman rolled her eyes, fixing the baggy tee hanging on her. Almost midnight. Cracking her neck, she glanced around, "Hang on...lemme find some shorts." She swiped along her bed, scooping up some cut offs as the handle on her door spun, but to no avail. Jazz was a woman of sound mind and common sense, and as much as she adored her friends (whom she often thought as family), one could never be too careful. She had thought it strange when the spare room offered to her had come with an additional deadbolt lock aside from the usual two on an average front door.

The previous owners of the garage (a small humble duo of obtaining and distributing car parts) had lived in the area until the new and upcoming shop a few blocks away drove them out of business and into bankruptcy. With a bit of paperwork, a bit of cash, and a few pulled strings, the property fell into Corn's lap, convenient enough to open up his own fixer upper business of sorts. He was a gizmos and gadgets kind of guy, but as a side project, the young man enjoyed tweaking the lost souls of the streets, offering them a home in return for their alliance. Everyone pulled their own weight, money flowed in, meals were served, rooms were had, bathrooms worked, and music streamed at all hours. It wasn't luxury, but they managed.

Storage rooms had become bedrooms for most, either small enough to cram a bed and cabinet of drawers into, or big enough to park a whole car. Rooms were claimed by those willing to clear them out, some on the main floor, and some buried within the depths of the hollowed out moat the gang used as a raceway. Sunken rooms obtained little to no light from their lack of windows; main floor rooms were a bit smaller, but most had at least one tiny window each.

Jazz's room was the only main floor room that lacked any outside light at all. Corn had pointed it out when propping open the door, but the layout had been cozy and satisfying, and the best perk was a single shared wall.

Every other spare room on the main floor had been sandwiched between two other rudies or propped against a bathroom, neither of which appealed to the girl in the least. One neighbor didn't seem too horrible, though Corn had warned her that if she worshiped her peace or solitude, this was not the room for her.

Well, he hadn't been wrong.

Curiosity had easily won her an instant visit from her new neighbor, a shorter than most teen with a grin so sly she had to eye her wallet, just in case. But suspicious as she was, he offered to help her move spare parts and overall junk from her new room to salvage through. In a few hours, the bulk of it had been disposed or spared out to Corn (who liked to tinker with such things) and a temporary cot had been laid out until she managed an eventual bed frame.

He had been a quick talker, eager to brag and boast, but not only of himself (which he did quite well), but of all the GGs, from Corn's leadership to Beat's speed (and wasn't afraid to poke fun here and there at their faults, either). He knew many secrets, and knew exactly when to stop talking, knew intel on opposing gangs and police radar. He remembered names and dates, he could read music (she had tested him on this if it were truth or not) and played piano (though he preferred drums). He adored his dog over all else and considered it the only life he would put himself down for. In a single sitting he managed to do most of the talking in his one sided conversation, but she had been interested in nearly everything he had to say, and found that once they finally parted ways for the night, she knew more about each individual of the gang than any of them even knew her name.

The youngest of the GGs certainly had a lot to say and typically visited when everyone else's patience had worn thin, though a few of them had a specific amount set just for him. He found her oddly quiet as a neighbor, but couldn't complain in the least. Being so secluded, he often confused solitude with quarantine. His own corner, far from most…

"No need to get fancy on my account, yo."

Her brow arched, buttoning up the shorts. "Hah, cute." she smiled quietly, tucking in a bit of the overflowing shirt into her right pocket.

In a few short steps, she twisted the bolt, the second bolt, and finally the tiniest bolt in the center of her handle, nose nearly breaking in as the door swung open with a hard shove from her guest. In a quick spin, he pressed his back against the door, bolting the strongest of the deadbolts with a deep breath, head knocking back. His shoulders slid a bit in relief before realizing his odd behavior, perking a large grin for the young woman crossing her arms, "Jazzy J, how's it goin'?"

Leaning her hip against her dresser, she lifted her brows curiously, "Whaddja do?"

His head shook playfully, green strands bouncing in rhythm, "Pffft, nothin'. I'm bein' a good roomie an' checkin' up on you, yo! Nuthin' wrong with that."

Her lips parted for a brief moment, but not quick enough to wash out the hardened slams against the door adjacent to hers, rattling her dresser on the shared wall.

"YOYO, YOU LITTLE SHIT! I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GUNNA END YOU! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!"

Tilting her chin up, Jazz arched a slender brow at the teen who's grin had disappeared into his hood, looking a bit paler (a thought she had previously assumed impossible). His hazel eyes darted from the door behind him to her calculative face, and the smile cheekily returned, ducking around her and fading away with the rest of him into her closet. Glancing quickly at the door, her brows knit, leaning into the wall, "First of all, you better have jumped right out of the shower 'cus those clothes are clean in there. And secondly, what the hell's all this goin' on? You bringin' hell to my room?"

Crouching in between folded jeans and hanging blouses, the teen leaned against a bag of laundry, wincing slightly, "Well, I might've pranked Beat pretty damn good and he might not be able to take a joke..."

A harsh slam seemed to do the trick as Yoyo's door apparently broke open, his own weak lock no match for the attacking fury Beat contained.

Eyes widening, the loud mouth became surprisingly quiet, brows curving nervously, "Oh shit…"

The angered shuffling was muffled as things were overturned or slammed to the ground, ruffled through and searched, but to no avail. Yoyo just wasn't in his room.

Tucking her fingers into her pockets, Jazz shrugged her shoulders as the shuffling moved closer and closer to her own door before a gentle knock graced it. Slowly glancing toward Yoyo, she held up questioning hand as he pressed his palms together, poking both pointers against his lips for her to keep quiet.

Her arched brow only unsettled his nerves.

"Please." he mouthed, shrinking into himself as her door was knocked again, "I didn't mean to break his goggles...that part was an accident, I swear, Jazz!" he whispered weakly, eyes shutting tight as the hardest fist knocked again. Close to danger, but not quite close enough, and still he acted as if Beat's knuckles were about to make contact. Rolling her eyes, the young woman couldn't help but take pity on the poor soul, and as much as she wanted to kick herself for it and knew better than to fight his battles, she pulled his hood over his head and tossed a shirt on him for good measure (his flinch earned him a small smile, but he was too preoccupied to notice).

Peering at herself in the mirror, Jazz grabbed a spray bottle from her dresser and spritzed a bit around her head, ruffling the moisture into her locks for a messier bedhead before patting her face for appropriate blotching. She stepped into her mini hallway, unlocking the bolt before squinting out at the patient, but clearly fuming teen.

"...What?" she mumbled, rubbing at her ear.

"Shit...I didn't realize you were sleeping."

"Yeah...so, what?"

"I was gunna ask if you've seen Yoyo around." he uttered darkly, quick to his point.

Leaning her shoulder into the door, Jazz rubbed along her head with a tiny yawn, "Kid comes and goes. I only know if he's around when it gets loud. It's been quiet until now."

Offering her a quick nod, the speedster waved his hand in dismissal, though she noticed his goggles were absent. He looked different without the massive gear clouding his features, young and handsome, but hardened from his stoic nature. And yet, he also looked incomplete from the person she and the rest of the GGs knew to be their Beat, and not just anyone else's. It was apart of him, a signature of some kind, and a bold statement he was fond of.

"Sorry about that. If you see Yoyo around, send him my way. I have a score to settle with that asshole."

Nodding her head heavily, Jazz slowly closed the door, "Yoyo's dead. Got it..."

The door clicked shut, and neither moved within until the skates brisked away, scratching at the tiles until they echoed no more. Shaking her head until the droplets dispersed, the young woman turned, knuckles pressed against her back. Yoyo had found his freedom, lounging about on his back and peering at the magazines sprawled across her bed. All fashion and makeup, not a single thing more. How boring. Lifting his shades up to his head, the boy closed his eyes, curving his arms behind his head, "I owe ya one."

"Damn right, you do. I don't appreciate you draggin' me down with you in this kinda nonsense. I like my room the way it is, thanks." she muttered, pressing the flat of her foot against her dresser as she rested back on it. Her arms crossed loosely, running her fingers when he glanced her way with a small pout, "I...know. I was gunna tell ya, honest! He just didn't give me enough time to. Got nervous. Headin' to my own room would be a dead giveaway."

Glancing back to her door, Jazz's head tilted in pity, "An eye for an eye, Yoyo. Beat's gunna take those sunglasses of yours and shove 'em down your throat. He's not a forgive and forget kinda dude."

"No kiddin'," the teen muttered, "But I kinda wanna avoid him as long as possible until it all blows over. All of forever if that's what it takes." he shrugged casually as if his idea were feasible.

Her pointer ran over her thumb's cuticle, eying the shine of her nail.

"You're gunna have the nastiest black eye come tomorrow. Boy's gunna drag you through hell and back."

"Not if he can't find me." Yoyo corrected, wagging a finger before peeling off his soiled socks. Curving his knees into the bed, he bounced, testing the springs of her mattress. Firm, yet cozy. Nice.

Sighing shortly, Jazz rested herself into the thin wooden rocking chair she had pressed up against her bed, barely enough room to contain it next to the edge of her dresser and the corner where she kept a small triple tier cabinet for accessories and such. Claiming one of the magazines, Jazz fingered back to where she had been looking through earlier, "You'll be in your room. Or whatever's left of it. Probably wood and shrapnel."

Her arm jolted to the left as he grabbed onto her wrist with both hands, chest pressed against her pillows, "Aw, c'mon. I'll take the floor! Please?"

"Oh, that's cute." she chuckled, turning the page, despite his grip, "You thought you were staying here. Precious baby."

"Please, Jazz! Just give him a bit to cool off first! You know Beat's a volcano ready to blow all the time!"

"And who's fault is it for provoking him?" she pointed out, arching a brow narrowly, "By the way, how'd your prank backfire so badly?"

Rolling onto his back, the teen hung his head off the edge of her bed, running his fingers along his gut, "So he was nappin' on the couch an' I filled his hand with some canned cream–"

"…Really?"

" –an' that was set so I kinda took a big scoop of ice cream from the container–"

"C'mon, Yoyo. Just because you can't eat it doesn't mean the rest of us don't want to. Wastin' our food–"

" –but it slipped off the scoop so it slammed on his face, which was fuckin' hilarious by the way, but it gave me no chance to slip out the way I wanted, an' I ended up trippin' up on his goggles. He had 'em on the floor –how am I supposed to know that? Dude never takes 'em off, an' of all days, he picks today to do it. Can't totally blame me for how it went down..." he mumbled, poking his fingers together in thought as Jazz rolled her eyes, cheek propped into her palm.

"No, of course not. You were perfectly in the right. What could he be thinking?" she uttered mockingly, lips curling when he grumpily frowned.

"You sound like Whiny."

"Aw, that's adorable. You got pet names now?"

"No. We're just friends." he mumbled, face pressed into her pillows when she snorted, lightly.

"You're a li-ar." Jazz singsonged, licking her thumb to turn the page.

His hand flung up into a point, "That's true." he admitted, tilting his face halfway out with a simple shrug, "But for reals though, just friends. Like best friends."

"Mhm. And you didn't hide away with her because…?"

The hazels fell on her quietly, poking his finger into her blankets as he drew invisible symbols in thought. Why hadn't he gone to Rhyth? If anyone was an expert at hiding the teen for his own mistakes, it was her. As much as he teased her for her worry wart ways, Rhyth was good soul who looked out for him in times of need and boredom. His logical thinking (or lack thereof) often fell onto her lap where he could run off and have the fun he wanted to without the conscience or consequence. They were the younger of the GGs, and though Yoyo was the youngest by a few months, they often felt a sense of guardianship over the other and an obligation to keep the other safe, no matter how stupid the reason. If not that, they were bickering in nonsense spats, teasing songs, and playful banter, sealing their friendship to a waterproof status.

So...why Jazz?

It would've been easier to stow away with Rhyth, far from the danger that was brought right to Yoyo's door. She would've hid him as well. She would've kept an eye out for Beat in the morning, allowed him to spend the night. She would've had snacks for him and stories and art. She would've done all the things Jazz just had, but she would've done them with a frown. And not because she would have lost her patience with Yoyo. Not because she would have thought less of him.

Yoyo found a comfort in Rhyth that was indescribable. A long term friendship that had survived many fights and celebrations, land mark moments in life, and moments they wished they could both forget. She understood him in a way most could not, and she never complained about or belittled him like some of the GGs had done. Rhyth was a good friend. A best friend. A friend he adored more than most.

But Rhyth found the good in everybody.

And sometimes, Yoyo just wasn't in favor of it. He didn't want to hear how Beat was unsuspecting or misunderstood. He didn't want to hear how Beat's temper obviously meant he was storing away raging emotions. He didn't want to hear how good of a person Beat was, who didn't deserve his goggles to be broken or his nap to be disturbed.

Sometimes, Rhyth forgot about Yoyo, and that bothered him the most.

"You..."

He paused, wincing an eye as he pinched along the blankets. How to word this correctly?

"For some reason...I feel like I can...I dunno," he shrugged softly, nestling his cheek along his arm, "I feel like I can talk to you about stuff. Tell you stuff, even if you're not for it. You won't get mad...I guess. Won't forget I'm here." His eyes lifted up to her curious ones, "You know?"

The magazine gently closed in her hands, jaw protruding in thought.

"...Forget you're here? What do you mean?"

His fingers curled along his forearm, brows softly knit. He was quiet for a moment, finding the words he knew would best explain quicker than he realized, but it wasn't tongue tying that kept them locked away from everyone. It was the truth, and Yoyo wasn't quite sure if that was something he was on speaking terms with. It wasn't something he practiced with, something he was fond of. But Jazz was eying him head on earnestly, head tilted down as if attempting to understand the unspoken. Perhaps it was forbidden. She wouldn't know unless he chose to admit it. And with an unstable gut, he sighed quietly.

"...Everybody talks to me like...like I'm not around. Could be judgin' or talkin' shit, an' I'm right there. Makes no difference. I fuck up, everybody knows it. An' I get everybody's opinion, too." he muttered, staring at the magazine on her lap. "Everybody's...but yours." His eyes rose for a moment, brows knit with confusion, "Why?"

Placing a light hand along his head, the young woman ruffled his mop of hair, peeking in at the roots. Those would have to be redone soon; they were growing out.

"Because it's not my job to. Gossip, drama, and all that's not my deal. Life's less stressful that way, especially in the world we live in. The less stupid stuff we worry about, the better. You prankin' Beat isn't exactly on my high alert list." she smirked, leaning back into her chair, "We all make mistakes. Everybody has quirks. Sure, if I wanted, I could make a laundry list of things that piss me off about everyone around me, but why? We're fighting for something bigger than us. Bigger than other gangs and bigger than society around us. If anyone's fucked up, it's the government letting its people down. It's Rokakku stamping us out left and right. It's the police, protecting the criminals instead of the innocent. You're not perfect, Yoyo." Jazz shrugged, but settled her cheek into her shoulder with soft eyes, "That's what makes you an incredible artist. You reap the seeds of a polluted society and breathe into them new life. You create chaos, unafraid. You cultivate a language in the dyes of a universal truth. You use your gifts for the overall benefit of others, and that's what matters. You're a good kid, Yoyo. Who am I to corrupt a spirit so free?"

His grin stretched firmly across his face, head buried halfway in the nook of his arm, but his other waved his hand out playfully with a chuckle. "Bah, you're just sayin' that. Sounds nice, though. Like poetry, yo."

"I try." she smiled, pulling herself up from her seat, "By the way, your hair needs updating."

Her eyes closed for a moment as the winds rushed up against her face, calming, soothing, and comfortable. The shortness of her hair never felt like a drawback in times like these, fully able to feel the brush of winds tickling along her scalp freely, tickling her neck. Her fingers curled along the edge of her cheek, tan and slender.

"It's been a while," she uttered, head tilted back, "You never do remind me when it's time."

Peering out from under his hood, the teen's eyes rolled back in, the green mass poking into his eyes a mere distraction, but a sense of comfort as well. Always something for him to hide in. He wouldn't prefer it any other way. Rubbing his nose, his body relaxed, foot rocking from side to side in the silence.

"You need a trim, too."

He hummed for a moment, contemplating.

"...S'alright. Doesn't bother me."

It hardly ever did.

"Full hair doesn't mean overgrown hair. It keeps the dried ends under control and trims out the damage from over bleaching." she noted firmly with a shrug, "Sorry, Yoyo. No hair under my care is going rogue. Besides, it always looks best after a fresh cut. I can keep it shaggy if you want, but neat. You are my favorite plaything, after all."

The slight frown he wore deepened, foot pausing in its stride.

"...You shouldn't say stuff like that." he muttered, peering out once more, "It gets me in trouble."

Curling her knees up, Jazz rested her arms around them, tucking her chin.

"You don't need any of my help getting into trouble, Yoshi. You're quite the expert on your own. You could've lied."

"...I know."

"But you didn't."

"...I know."

His arms uncurled, sprawling out flat against the grates, fingers turned up toward the sky. It always felt so amazing up there, so high up. The danger of a sliver of metal framework keeping him from death gave him an incredible rush, and often the best kind of distraction in times like these...when he didn't know what to do, but needed to feel...something. Adrenaline forced him to think fast, keep on his toes.

But not all adrenaline rushes were the same.

A jolt from a boost dash was not the same as the completion of a song.

Out running a cop was not the same as watching a scary movie.

None of those things could compare to his location right now, for the blatant open height was thrilling and comforting and distracting above all things. Near death experiences were precious in their own right. At least, he thought so.

And yet, it hardly phased Jazz. That or she was a better actress than anyone he knew. She was looking off into the distance now, the tiniest sliver of fear a faraway thought. It didn't bother her. Nothing did. None of this, anyway. He had approached it so bluntly when asked. He hadn't had time to prepare. Everyone just...wanted to know. And as easy as it would've been to lie and carry it off as the truth, something deep down inside him demanded that he spill the beans, because she deserved it. She was worth the acknowledgment. She was possibly one of the most inspiring people in his life.

The small smile that had begun to curl fell away as he stared into the sky.

Why did it feel so wrong to admit that?

Was it because he had surprised everyone?

No one had expected it?

No.

He knew why. It simply bothered him to remember it. His mind wandered away, refusing to recall the situation just yet. Yoyo was a keeper of secrets, many of them belonging to others, seldom his own. And those he did keep to himself, he treasured most.

"Were you outta your fuckin' mind when you tried pullin' this stunt?" the redhead uttered, tapping the glass of his beer against the counter as he swung it between his fingertips, "I just wanna know if you were using it at all when you decided to put everyone's lives on the line. Much appreciated, by the way. I always wanted to know what it might be like to explode at any given moment."

The clink of the spoon swirling rocked to a smoother rhythm, followed by a muffled crunch.

"So Tinman found his heart after all," the teen muttered, shoveling a second spoonful into his mouth, "Figured after three days of nothin', you finally learned to let a grudge go."

The garage was quiet that night, a warm comfortable breeze rushing the boys from its prior mugginess of the day. Warm enough for a thin tee and shorts. Warm enough to be barefoot. Warm enough for a battered and weary rudie to have assumed he could eat a bowl of chilly cereal in peace. His toes curled along the beam of the four legged stool, the damage of his ventures far from gone.

He waved it all off.

It had been nothing more than an accident. If he hadn't gotten himself caught, he would've been spared.

The stares had certainly been awkward. The pity haunting him through their eyes. But he couldn't be held back. They had come too far. And when he emerged from his room, wobbly legged and a sight for the sorest eyes, everyone leaped at his every whim, much to his chagrin. The mourning of their friend had long since been traded for something more reasonable now that he was in their custody once more. He was alive. And he was theirs.

The love for one of their own turned sour just as quickly, earfuls of banshee stern talking to's and muffled shady lectures growing old very fast. Even the newest rudies whom he had yet to properly meet had something to say interestingly enough, though he personally felt they had some nerve talking down to someone who had risked his life for all rudies in the long run. If they felt like getting involved, that was on them. He had nothing to do with that.

He had nothing to do with the idea of a rescue, either.

His left ear had the best chance of hearing loss at this point from Rhyth alone as her concern had certainly unwound her calm and collected thinking. Not that he hadn't appreciated his best friend's relentless dedication to discovering his whereabouts, but the deadly combination of neck crunching hugs and pinned ears made it very simple for her to screech as angrily as she could to the semi-conscious Yoyo and his already battered body. First impressions were important he'd like to think.

He certainly wouldn't have minded a 'be kind, rewind' on the whole situation, but it was what it was. Done and done.

And it was still far too fresh of a wound to forget so easily.

It might even leave a scar.

He would have to work twice as hard to build up the trust everyone had in him. And some would never quite forget. His eyes trailed over lazily toward his unwanted guest, crunching the bunch to mush. A barely started bowl. He'd be here a while. Great.

Beat's goggles had been suctioned to his forehead, headphones dangling around his neck as he silently judged his younger teammate. Without a responsible family to claim him, Yoyo had been pure bait for the GGs to scurry and scramble like rats to a cage. Not a single parent to press charges. Not a single guardian to claim brutality. Who was going to listen to a bunch of rambunctious law breaking teenagers when the rest of their world was kept in line by fear and corruption? Yoyo's death (had there been one) would've have been a simple cover up of street gang violence. All gangs had enemies. All gangs had wars. What was one less member in the world?

Beat's brows furrowed darkly, mouth a thin lipped sneer.

"You fuckin' idiot."

The spoon rattled in continual lost patience as Yoyo glared back, "Get lost. I got four days of bullshit an' I just wanna eat a bowl of cereal. In peace."

"Four days of bullshit," the redhead spat, debating whether or not to fling the bowl right off the counter, "Let's add up all the days you were missing. Add in a few more of stolen identity. Add in the time we had to track down any leads on why you'd fuck us over. Do remember that when you fuck up this badly, eyes start fallin' on me."

Head lowering slightly, Yoyo scooped a heavy spoonful, "Corn knows better than that, yo. You're not my problem."

"And you shouldn't be mine!" Beat hissed, though his voice had significantly lowered in volume, eyes darting before setting back on his target, "They have your prints now, Yoshiharu. All they gotta do is quick pick you the next time they're feelin' lucky, make it all nice and public, an' deport your ass off to Europe. An' the second they get you, it'll be a matter of time before they get me. You know we can't exactly dodge the bullet on that one." he growled. The younger rudie said nothing, muffling his options and thoughts with his food, refusing to deal with the reality of the situation.

"Neither of us speak English. How the hell are we gunna navigate over there? And even if we do find the bastards, you really think they're gunna give a shit about us? We got nothin' to go on but names, and look how well that turned out for us here. Not exactly so traditional, are we?" the speedster grunted, not one to so openly camouflage his genetics. He truly was his father's boy, as Yoyo was his own, and no matter how hard either had tried to run from it, fate always tracked them down.

Fate had linked these two together, and fate had yet to rip them apart no matter how determined they were. Where one traveled, the other eventually followed. Neither spoke of it amongst the rudies. Simply best friends of an odd love hate relationship. Favoritism was a dangerous thing. Both had sworn allegiance to their cause, not each other. Neither was responsible for the other. Corn respected their wishes.

But as deeply as Beat desired to sever himself from anything pertaining to the youngest of the GGs, he couldn't help but feel the burning rage of involvement tearing at his soul until finally, he would crack with disastrous results. The gang had searched high and low for intel on their missing member. He had searched above and beyond. It was he who had found Clutch in all his troublesome thieving ways, simply looking for a bit of excitement in his boring world. He who had nearly beaten him senseless for what he claimed to know. If it hadn't been for…

Finishing off his drink, Beat slipped the bottle off with the rest of them in the corner of the nook by the fridge, adjusting his goggles for less of an itch.

"You owe it to Rhyth." he uttered quietly, "If it weren't for her, Clutch would be dead."

The chewing paused for just a second, rushing to make up for lost time before the swallow, "That temper of yours is gunna get the best of you, Junji." the youngest noted with the point of his spoon, breaking down the wall of cereal within his bowl.

"You put her in a state like that again an' I'll kill you myself. You don't need to drag her down with you. She's better than the both of us combined. I'm just trapped by contract, as they'd say."

"No one says that." Yoyo muttered, brows knitting sourly when he felt the knuckles brush against the back of his head rougher than kindly.

"Just watch your step," the redhead uttered through grit teeth, "Don't make me do somethin' I'm gunna regret. I have enough on my plate without your stupid shit."

Spoon dangling from his mouth, Yoyo's head sank between his shoulders as his elbows flattened against the counter, listening as the echo of scratching skates darted off in the pattern of their specific owner. Off to blow off some steam, most like.

The teen rolled his eyes, gazing back on what was left of his meal.

"...Bastard."

He plucked the spoon from his mouth with a sigh.

"Go easy on him. He's had a rough few days."

Head lifting, the teen's eyes darted to the right, finding a young woman sitting in the stool adjacent, torso stretched over the counter with her cheek rested in her palm. When did she–

How?

Oh.

Sneakers.

Of course he hadn't heard her. It was rare to hear anything but skates on the linoleum and his focus had been pegged on Beat anyway.

"Uh...hi." he greeted awkwardly, unable to place a proper name to the silver haired girl. She appeared a bit older than him, or at least the structure of her face made her seem so, sleek jawline and calculative eyes that gazed at him curiously, but not cluelessly. She had an athletic frame as most rudies did, but wore a checkered scarf draped across her shoulders. It caught his eye above all else. It simply popped from the rest of her earth tone outfit, his eyes lingering on it for a moment before darting back to her face. Pretty. Another GG.

A lot had changed since his displacement.

"Satsuki, otherwise, Jazz." she smiled, twirling her hand toward herself, "And you must be the infamous Yoyo. Y'know, I pictured you a lot differently."

Arching a brow, the youngest GG pouted ever so slightly, "Yeah?"

"Nah," she chuckled, nodding her head over her shoulder, "Rhyth showed me a pic on her phone of you guys making silly faces. Just so I'd keep in mind what you were like for real. Not a psycho or somethin'."

A small smile curved along the boy's face, knowing exactly which photo she was talking about. Rhyth kept it as a screen saver. It was one of her favorites. That had been a better time. Stretching his face with a massive grin, the teen waved two fingers and froze for a moment, earning a light laugh from his visitor.

"Yep, that's it. Minus the black eye, and that's the same dude." she smiled, though it fell away as she leaned a bit closer, pressing her thumb to his cheek just under the damage. For the most part, his injuries were starting to fade into yellow green blotches, the darkest of remnants particularly clustered about his damaged eye socket, or at least the vessels surrounding it. The swelling had gone down significantly to the point where he could actually open it and see. She sighed lightly, "That's one mean shiner. Shame, you're a cute kid, too."

Waving her hand away, Yoyo popped another scoop into his mouth, "You make it sound like I'm disfigured for life, yo. It'll be gone in like two weeks, max."

"You must have nine lives or somethin' to make it out of Gouji's hands with nothin' more than bumps and bruises."

"Bumps, bruises, reputation's in the trash, gangs out to get me, my own gang hates me. I think bumps and bruises are the least of my worries." he laughed bitterly, glancing at her when she hummed.

"You're a pretty popular guy. Either that or your friends are loyal until death do you part."

He couldn't help but snort.

"You might know them a lot better than I do...but you weren't here for the panic and mayhem. Especially from Beat and Rhyth." she added quietly.

His thumb ran along the edge of the bowl, her words lingering.

As much as he could swerve the wheel from the destination she was trying to get at, he was well aware that the truth was inevitable. Rhyth was his best friend, and the fraction he had witnessed upon his rescue was only a smidgen of the paranoia that had been haunting her since his disappearance. She often took pride in a day where she could deter him from too much unnecessary mischief, quick to set a safety net if the situation got too deep. It always won him an instant scolding or a thick knuckle to the head, but Rhyth was a soul with bountiful forgiveness, and as sour as she often could be with him, he was well aware that deep down, there was a soft spot just for him. Rhyth always did have a thing for the runts of the litter.

And Beat…

Yoyo scraped up another spoonful, nearly finished.

Beat was...trapped by contract.

"Kiyoko's a bleeding heart. She's there for you no matter what, even if she doesn't wanna be, and especially when you don't deserve it. It's kinda just who she is. Like a glass half full but there's still enough for everyone to drink kinda person." the teen noted with a small smile.

"Sounds like a solid girlfriend. You better appreciate that." Jazz smirked, wagging her finger at him, "There aren't too many like that these days."

Sipping the rest of his cereal, Yoyo slipped off his stool, swerving around the edge of the island counter top to rinse out his bowl. "For real. We might look like we're always at each other's necks, but I trust her with everything. She always knows what to do."

Leaning comfortably into her palm, Jazz smiled, "Now, there's a gent."

He glanced over his shoulder with a grin, spinning the tap on, "Yeah, but if you call me her boyfriend to her face, all kinds of hell will break loose. Just a warning."

The silver haired girl pouted, "Aw, boo. I thought you two were the cutest things. The chemistry seemed right."

Yoyo simply shrugged, the grin settling into a light smile, tucking the bowl into the rack to dry.

"Just best buds. She's into the hulking stupid type, anyway. If she wants to hold hands with misery and woe, I say let her. Learnin' the hard way's the only way to learn." he chuckled darkly, though the girl slowly smiled, finding a hint of jealousy woven between his words. Best friends they might be, but that never cleared either of them from a subject of interest. She was going to have fun observing them in this new light. It would make for decent entertainment.

"Guess that's why your brother was on your case earlier."

The warm smile Yoyo had curved along his face dropped within seconds, trading for a more analytical gaze, "Brother…?"

Her brow arched lightly, the curiosity hardly fading.

His brows flattened, "Beat? He's not my brother. He's an asshole. Always on my case for somethin'. Just how it goes around here. He's not the worst, but he's pretty damn close to it." he shrugged aimlessly as if it were some form of a weak compliment. Sitting up a bit, Jazz tilted her head, resting her cheek along her shoulder, "Hm...could've sworn. Considering all that chat sounded pretty...relative, anyway."

"Guy just overreacts." he shrugged, brushing it off bitterly.

Her finger wiped along the counter top in casual thought, finding a few grains from a tea bag sticking to the tip. Flicking them away, she squinted at her cuticles, "Don't come across many redheads in these parts." Her eyes lifted, locked on him, "Natural redheads, anyway."

His calm reaction was interesting, as if he had perfected the act of performing for an audience, but his silence spoke volumes. Yoyo wasn't a quiet person, and when he chose to be, he was carefully planning his steps. She hadn't been around long enough to know his quirks, but stories and rumors went a long way.

She offered him a coy smile, a simple shrug adorning her shoulders, "Your roots are growing out."

His brows flattened, chin tilting up ever so slightly. "You always profilin' people, or am I just lucky?"

She rocked herself lazily on the swivel, playing with the end of her scarf, "Little things add up. It isn't hard if you pay attention. I figured you two were best friends from the way he was so focused on getting you back. Endearing, really. Impatient, but he followed orders like a pro. For a while I thought he was the number two guy, until I realized the right hand spot is a leadin' lady. Still. Got a hold of Clutch and had the guy in a hardcore strangle until Rhyth calmed him down. We find you, disable the bombs which was nuts by the way, and we all realize we actually pulled it off. Prize and all. He wouldn't let anyone else carry you back when you knocked out at the Zone. Combo was ready to scoop you like a rag doll, but Beat got to you first. Piggybacked you all the way here. Cleaned you up himself and literally passed out on the couch. Don't get me wrong, everyone showed concern. Rhyth swore she was gunna smack you up when you were good and ready, so heads up on that. But there was always something about Beat that handled differently, like a personal vendetta."

Yoyo listened carefully, hand in his pocket curling tightly.

Damn it, Junji.

He had let himself get too emotionally involved. He never did know when to hold back.

"Idiot," the teen muttered, shaking his head, "He's always like that. I wouldn't make it too personal. Beat's just obsessive when it comes to order around the gang. I'm the runt. He lets me know it. Give it a few days, he'll be talkin' high an' mighty about how I owe him."

"Is he trustworthy?"

The teen paused for a moment, cracking a knuckle.

"More than I'll ever be. I won't be able to sneeze straight without somebody suspectin' somethin' now."

Her brow arched lightly, "You mean people trusted you, knowing you were a chronic liar?"

His smile curled into a curious set before scooping up the dog bowl next to the cabinet's edge. "I'm not a chronic liar. Just a good one when I gotta be." he admitted proudly, opening the side door to the counter and burying the bowl into the bag of dog food hidden away. He settled the dish back to its usual spot for Potts in the morning, pausing when her words were barely whispered, but audible all the same.

"Like how no one knows your relation to Junji?"

His brows furrowed, glancing over his shoulder before shutting the door stiffly. "I already told you he's not my brother."

"I can believe that."

His glare held strong as she neither seemed intimidated nor bothered by how long it kept before they blinked, "Then what's your deal? Why do you keep sayin' it?"

"I didn't. That time."

The hazels darted in thought, ending in a deeper furrow. She was right. She had worded her accusation differently...and he had fallen into the trap.

"You like playin' mind games, don't ya?" he noted bitterly, but her lips curled, waving her hand about,

"Girl's gotta have a hobby. I'm what you call a people watcher. Comes in handy when you're out in a Death Ball arena...interrogating an enemy. Scoping out a friendly face. Analyzing a new neighbor. I'm not much for making a fuss about the secrets people keep. Not my business. But I don't have to do all that much for the answers to come my way regardless. Don't give me that eye, you use your talents on your friends, too. Or am I lying?"

Her eyes studied him thoroughly.

And for possibly the first time in his life, Yoyo felt stripped of the safety nets he knew, uncomfortable and desperate for a life line to hang on to. His hands dug into his pockets, feeling a lump of lint loosening between his fingers as he kept silent, eyes scanning the area to make sure they were absolutely alone. Pressing the flats of his forearms against the counter, he leaned into a hunch, head ducked between his shoulders. His fingers knit loosely, eyes lifting sternly, "...What do I gotta do to make sure everything stays buried where it belongs?"

Her cheek leaned into her palm once more.

"…Unspoken rule number one. Cut all ties. Gangs have a hard time trustin' people who are loyal to each other instead of to their leader." he uttered darkly, fingers stretching in his grip, "Corn trusts us...we trust him. Life is good here, for as long as it lasts. We don't need anybody messin' that up."

His head tilted lightly, "So what do you want?"

Fingers curling under her chin, Jazz smiled, slipping off the stool, "I already told you I don't like making fusses. It's not my thing. But since you're kindly offering, I could use a helping hand sorting out my room. It's over on the right side, upper floor. I'm next to the corner room."

Brows knitting in thought, the teen glanced up to his left, eying the shadowy corner, "...That's...my room. Wait– We're neighbors?"

Shrugging cheerily, the young woman grabbed his elbow, leading him along, "Funny how things turn out?"

She leaned in lightly, arms folding behind her back, "You can relax. I don't bite. You're a pretty clever guy, for what it's worth. It's your cousin who needs to watch what he says when he's frustrated."

Frowning deeply, the teen poked his hands into his pockets once more, shoulders lifting, "...You scare me. But I gotta admire you for it."

Secrets had come to haunt Yoyo more than he cared to realize. It wasn't often people could figure him out so easily. Even Rhyth (with her lecturing ways) hadn't managed to pry such information from him...but Jazz had figured him out by the end of their very first conversation. He couldn't help but be in awe of such talent...a talent that neutralized his own. And interestingly enough, she had yet to use her talents to foil him in any way.

"You look lost."

His arms crossed behind his head, staring out at the alternating violet skies. He wanted it to be lighter. Bluer. Earlier, where the world felt more open. Darker colors closed in on him. Hid everything. He hated that. He didn't need any help with such things.

But it seemed the earth had its own secrets to hide, at least, for a few hours. Maybe he was lost. Lost in his thoughts, anyway. He often felt that way when alone. What was he supposed to do?

His entire life he had always felt cheated out of proper guidance. Everyone else had a person to talk to...a mind to share. A wise elder to bestow worldly wisdom to the emerging youth, curious about the universe and everything in it. Not him.

It was shameful to call attention on himself, or, so he had been told. A smack or two never quite did the job for him, too loud and curious, too bright and bold.

Had he been another child...they might have been proud.

A clever child. Artistic and talented. And his surreal ability to hold onto a memory…

–but he was still that child. And if they had taught him anything worth remembering, it was children of his caliber were meant to fade away into the shadows where they belonged.

He hated them all. He didn't need them. Not anymore. Not now, that he had others somewhat like him. Others willing to tolerate.

His mind wandered to Junji...raging temper when provoked, but all around likable for most conditions. It had been an odd chance of circumstances how their fates had intertwined, two perfectly indifferent strangers wandering about the school halls. It was never a question of interest between the two boys, though they often passed each other like startled cats when their paths did cross. Careful footwork. Inquisitive stares.

Red was indeed a rare color among a sea of black hair.

But they had ignored each other for the most part, neither quite friends with a shared party.

Not until a teacher had questioned the linage between two of his students did the two acknowledge each other properly, albeit, awkwardly. The genealogy research had been meant to broaden a student's awareness to health traits possibly inherited by bloodline. Never in all his years did the man think it would unite two unsuspecting teens to face demons of their past. European names were hard to come by in the area. Shared paternal surnames. Shared genetics. He had simply thought the boys were being lazy in completing their assignment.

The realization of the other pried open locked doors...doors that hadn't intended to be opened.

Rose more questions.

Instigated more arguments.

His eyes closed slowly, inhaling deep. Junji had always been his alternate life line until they chose to emancipate themselves vocally from each other. An odd and awkward mix, hardly a need to feel shame among others who were different themselves, and yet, the shame was embedded in their soul from careful family grooming.

Mixed blood.

Bad blood.

The curse of the two travelers who had come for a stint, spent their time, and left just as quickly, neither quite realizing they had left packages behind.

Shameful or not, it had always been out of his control. But it was nobody's business but his own.

Well...he, Junji, Ko, and then, Satsuki.

Alerting Corn to the little personal fact had been a requirement upon arrival, but Jazz...no one could hide anything from her. It had been an intimidating factor at first, tiptoeing around her casual stride until Yoyo found no reason to honestly fear her. Jazz never quite seemed to get mad at nonsense like everyone else did. Her interests were always so fascinatingly mature to him, and a bore all the same.

And he couldn't help but want to pique her interest at times for a simple gem of knowledge that she so often carried with her.

A world before her seemed odd in his memories. It had surely existed, but somewhere in there was a pocket of air missing it's piece. A title or figure missing that he hadn't realized he wanted. Maybe needed. Because he was a growing young man...and yet, a child all the same.

"First rank races are always overwhelming. Lots of noise, lots of fans. It's enough to blast your head off. Keep it cool, you know?"

She glanced over her shoulder at the green head following closely, but it seemed his attention had already been claimed by the screaming crowds above and all around. The den the group had emerged from had muffled a small percentage, but witnessing the event up front and personal was a whole new experience for the boy, eyes wide and unable to keep focused.

Faces stored within the cubicles of the arena merged into a blur.

Voices canceled out other voices.

The time of day seemed irrelevant as he peered up toward the glass ceiling, heavy industrial lights blinding him to the skies.

The air tasted of sweat and dirt, smelled of tension, casually threatening him and anyone else who dared to pursue the path of Death Ball. The construction restricted stadium held no bounds to the amount of people that were determined to fill it, and as his eyes crossed over the many, he felt his gut clench as he recognized the familiar uniforms prowling through the podiums.

"Oh shit, we got cops." he hissed, tripping back into Jazz as she held him steady. His eyes locked up to her mellow gaze, assuring him all was well,

"Deep breaths, man. They ain't gunna do nothin'. They're outnumbered for starters, and the ones who are out here are just spectators."

"Spectators?" Beat muttered, arching a brow, "Last time we matched here, they practically deconstructed the stadium."

Garam swung passed, feigning a mocking bow toward the youngest of the team, arms extended, "All hail Lord Yoyo."

The group broke into laughter, a rumble of teasing erupting as Yoyo was bounced playfully from grip to grip until he giggled, smacking them away, "All hail me."

A short "whoop" of a siren pierced through the air catching Jazz's attention, fingers looping along the rookie's arm, tugging him along, "Get a move on, your majesty. We gotta check in the charts. Disqualification due to absence isn't how I roll the dice."

"Alright, but heads are gunna roll later, trust." he smirked, cutting at his neck toward Garam.

The GGs disbanded among the majority, some eager for smuggled stadium food, others searching for a good spot to witness the action. He lost sight of them all soon enough as the crowds along the raceway blocked him off from his own feet, trying to keep close, lest he loose Jazz, too. Her scarf was an easy enough target, eyes locked as it whipped here and there until nearly invisible. But even with her distinctive marker, he found himself drowning in the crowd, fingers out until he managed a few of her own, and she paused in surprise, glancing back.

"You good?"

"Yeah, just...suffocating." he chuckled, and she wrapped an arm along his back, scooping him close with a small smile, "You're gunna wanna ditch that hoodie, then. You'll be thankin' me later. C'mon."

They broke their way through to the registration table, elbowing until their names finally reached the scrap of paper, a stoic Noise Tank scanning them down. The cyborg's presence was hardly a surprise for the silver haired rudie, as they had wormed their way into the access points of all useful raceways to conduct decent matches. It was possibly the only benefit of their existence in her opinion.

"Jazz...clarify. Tonight's session is duel racing."

A reassurance, if anything.

Her brow lifted, "Sounds like you understand it pretty well."

"You are a solo rank."

"Not anymore. I'm flyin' with the GGs now. Seemed to be a mistake last time I was around here, but I figure it's for the best. Got a partner and everything." she smirked, ruffling her fingers through the teen's green hair. His grin slumped when the robot's attention focused on him, unsettling like a mannequin spying on its prey, but Yoyo refused to blink or look away, readying himself for anything. He had been through far too much to ever let his guard down again.

And even still, when the blinking UV blip exploded from the visor of the Noise Tank, the teen's shoulders lurched, back slamming into Jazz for the second time that night. He nearly felt shame for the obvious weakness, but found the arm that had darted over his chest comforting in a world in which he was unfamiliar. The tension in her arm spoke before her lips, teeth grit, words stiff and sharp,

"What the hell is your problem–"

"Your team is insufficient. Banned members cannot participate." the Tank answered simply, indifferent to the rising blood pressure he had caused, but with a quick breath, Jazz cleared her nerves, parting the clouds that blocked her focused thoughts. It was easy to unleash a temper in the arena, but she had to save it for the raceway. It would be wasted on the trash before her.

"Excuse me, banned member? What the hell are you talkin' about? I've been in the ranks for years now, and Yoyo's never been registered before today." she stated point blankly, knuckles barred into the table, the other set neatly smashing her pelvic bone.

The Noise Tank made no effort to display equal forethought.

"Cybernetics cannot participate. This rule is absolute."

Pinching along the bridge of her nose, Jazz lazily extended her hand in question, "You lost me."

"Due to past grievances with the GGs, the NT-3000 was deemed banned by the collective board, as was its genesis, by extension." he explained frankly, handing a pen to an awaiting competitor.

Shoulders settling low, the young woman's brow furrowed deeply, far more serious than Yoyo had ever witnessed before. Jazz wasn't one to lose her cool on nonsense. Two things seemed to matter most to the young woman (he had come to realize), two things he could honestly justify: the happiness of her friends, and her ranking in Death Ball.

Before Jazz, Death Ball had been a sport Yoyo had only known of by word of mouth. The claims of the brutal sport had sounded so outlandish at the time, it could only be witnessed to be believed. And now, as Jazz grit her teeth and glared down her motionless opponent with a lust for blood, he only wished he could have taken the rumors more seriously. He was positive Jazz on the fast lanes would've been a sight to behold.

The boy's brows suddenly furrowed as the robot's words clicked.

The NT-3000?

"The NT-3000 wouldn't've been a problem if you cybernetic nerds weren't kiss asses to Gouji. You're banning me for your fuck up?" the teen snapped, growling as the robot remained as stoic as death.

Insulting a Noise Tank always came up emptier than hoped for, always emotionless and calm. It was hardly worth the effort. But Jazz crossed her arms in thought, nose scrunched in the moment. Her thumb cracked along each finger, dark browns lifting with a stern stare of her own.

"I know the board is made up of Tanks and some high end gamblers. It's a shame they wouldn't take up an offer concerning Yoyo, considering he's a well known face in these parts, all thanks to you." she shrugged, thumbing behind her, "Trouble is what riles these people up. The stakes are always more rewarding when the odds are against you...so, I'm gunna make you an offer."

The robot whirred as he leaned forward.

"Denied. Overriding the board is beyond my jurisdiction."

Her hands slammed against the table, jostling the pens into a mad scatter, "I wager my own ranking title in exchange for a lift on the ban."

Yoyo's furrowed brows popped in disbelief, hazels snapping onto her heated bet. His fingers scaled her arm, tugging like a nervous toddler, words losing their luster in the atmosphere, "U-Uh, Jazz?"

The fire burning within her eyes was hard to miss, her desire to win the argument, and by extension, any race, appeared to be her only concern...and by any means necessary.

A tiny squeak escaped him, but it was deaf on her ears.

"Nobody ever could buy me off. I make solo races hard for the gambling business, don't I? Shitty rankers stay at the bottom where they belong." she uttered, waving her hand before him,"Here's the deal, metal man. You take your pick of any of the duo racers on the line up tonight, and we'll head 'em up, first race of the night. We win, the ban's permanently lifted and Yoyo becomes an official Baller."

Curving his palm along his neck, Yoyo glanced around at the attention they had unintentionally gathered, a few glancing off once discovered, others' curiosity only further increased when acknowledged. Wagers always made for a more interesting race, especially when stakes were on the line, but Jazz was a common face in these parts. People knew Jazz. And the louder she got, the more eyes she gained. Whispers began to dart through the crowds, and as Yoyo felt the pressure overloading, the Noise Tank spoke, stealing the attention back,

"And if you lose," the Noise Tank replied, rolling all the pens back into alignment, "You step down from your pedestal. Permanently."

The incredulous fear haunting Yoyo's eyes appeared completely overlooked as Jazz tilted her head back with a scowl, "I guess you have a lot more power over your jurisdiction than you bullshit about. If you pick my team's opponent, Yoyo races. The deal works under those conditions only."

The small group gathering them awaited anxiously for the sealed deal, fingers inching toward the dial buttons on their digital watches and cellphones.

"I will...analyze the options with the board. Keep your observations toward the charts; the final decision will be revealed there." the Tank answered simply, turning his attention away to the oncoming team sign ups.

Calls were made.

It took a few seconds of cooling off before Jazz realized the grip on her forearm had grown tighter with each passing second. Her finger curved under his thumb, but found the paleness of the boy's skin a bit alarming, even for his usual lack of pigment.

"With, all due respect, Jazz," he muttered, blinking toward her as he released, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He yanked her back toward the stands where Corn waved them down, but paused before getting too close, "You just threw away everything you worked for! Why would you do that? The gang depends on you for this kinda stuff!" he hissed, capping the thumb he jerked, insinuating the group behind him, "I've only practiced techniques; I've never actually played the game! You're like a pro rank! If they take your deal, they're gunna screw you left and right, and you know it!"

Jazz gazed blankly at the teen, as if the very concept had just become too real for her to comprehend.

She had indeed bet her favorite past time for the availability of a player.

A rookie player.

So rookie, the very idea of racing made him nervous.

Fearful of letting his friends down.

Concerned of his own capabilities.

But most of all, he worried of her approval…

...and her ability to race on.

Running her fingers through her hair, Jazz gazed back at the starting point of the track. People were still gathered all around, blocking a proper view, but she eyed it none the less, knowing in a half hour or so, it would be cleared for the first race of the night.

And possibly her last.

"Well, shit."

A small smile curved along her lips, confusing the boy as she ruffled through his hair, "Better make this a good race then. I'll be pissed if it ends up boring."

"Jazz-"

"And another thing," she noted quietly, "I'm more than just a Death Baller for the GGs. No need to insult me after I just tossed you a bone into the arena. I may have lost my temper back there, but the offer still stands, and I'm not about to go back on my word. I wouldn't dare do that to you."

He eyed her sternly, well aware of their stuck predicament. Jazz had done the irreversible, and now they could only wait for the line up to decide their fate. And all for what?

She sighed as his grumpiness refused to subside, tucking her thumb into her pocket.

"Look...it might not mean much to you now, but I swear you have it in you to pull this off. Being number one...it was a fun ride, but it gets boring when you've got no one to share that with. And I thought, hey, maybe joining up with the GGs will give me that teamwork I was lookin' for, but it wasn't exactly the fit I wanted. Hanging with you guys...I can't give that up now. You're all like family, and I don't wanna trade that in for anything."

She glanced up at his curious gaze.

"You're the one that clicked, Yoyo." she admitted quietly, "Wasn't forced, just natural. And it...it makes me wanna race again."

Her eyes fell on a few of the GGs shambling around on the bleachers above, shoulders settling, "There's a lot to be said about a rookie who aces his first race. Popularity, money, fans..." Her arms crossed over her chest, smug smile pulled, "A lot to be said about anyone endorsed by me, not to toot my own horn or anything."

The weariness still haunted the boy, but he couldn't deny her the small smile that sneaked its way out along his face. She truly did believe in him.

For some reason or another.

Her arm scooped along his shoulders, lips dipping near his ear, "And...if our names do hop up on that board...let's keep all this our little secret. No need to throw shit into the fan if there's a fifty percent chance of it never existing, right? Corn's got enough to worry about."

His brows knit for a moment, "But what if-"

Her grip sandwiched him into her as she led him forward toward the group, "Grin like you mean it," she uttered through her grit smile, "Rumors were you had a mastered silver tongue. Or you just savin' that for Rhyth?"

The boy said nothing, but the plastic grin grew as he faced the oncoming gang, the friction of his teeth clamping down sure to erode his molars.

"I'll kill you." he hissed under his breath as Corn waved them down, giving her a quick glare when she pinched his cheek, leading the way, "Save it for the arena, tough guy."

Corn wasn't a mystic of sorts. Simply, a logical guy. He played plenty attention to detail, so when the two shambled back, eager to jump on the first race of the night, he couldn't help but feel a few feathers ruffling in his subconscious. Jazz was a solid Death Baller, hands down, but Yoyo...something interesting was going down tonight. He could feel it in his blood, but calm and collected as always, he tucked his hands into his pockets, head tilting back, "Yo, Jazz. What's the good lotto for tonight?"

"Depends on who's up against who. The Love Shockers blow against any of the 99's, and occasionally you'll get a Doom Rider in a race or two. Komatsu's a speedster, but that tends to screw him over. Either he's too fast or his parter's being pelted. It's a rough game. Gotta have the skin for it. And a bit of brains." she shrugged lightly, skimming through the teams bound to race at least once for the night.

"Yeah...and what about Poison Jam?"

"Eugh...always a messy game with them. Pure rough housers. Usually end up stealing the game."

Her sleeve tugged down firmly, as Yoyo once again seemed to have forgotten speech as part of his natural everyday life. Brows knitting, the young woman eyed him sternly, but found his gaze fixated on the boards above, their names blinking in the very first column for all to witness.

Jazz & Yoyo

vs

Boysen & Bane

"...I'm not exactly down for losin' money but, gotta support my team. You know how it goes."

Her eyes clicked to his calm blues, the small smile he shared bestowing his final blessing on their race. Fingers curling in, she nodded sharply, "I'd stake it on the higher end. Might as well make it fun for us while you're at it."

His hand waved off casually as Yoyo stared at her, skating to block her view directly, "Really? Really?"

"He knows something's up. He's just bein' a good sport about it. I'm startin' to see why you all like him so much. He keeps his cool. Besides," she added, dusting him off, "You need a little motivation. My say might not mean a whole lot, but you have the GGs backing you now. And they all believe we can do this. Even Junji." she smiled as he rolled his eyes, freezing as he focused toward his nose.

"Oh, shit. Can't sacrifice these bad boys." he muttered, plucking off his shades, "You keep your scarf on for racing?"

"It's a lucky article."

"Lucky nobody's choked you with it." he snorted under his breath, skating over toward the lower booth where the GGs were predominately located. Legs dangled toward them as a few had chosen to sit on the metal barriers, others on the stairs that led the way up from the raceway to the benches. Best seats in the house.

Beat had stolen some of Rhyth's popcorn, munching on the light snack as he pegged a few at Yoyo with a smirk.

"Nice knowin' you, squirt. Boysen's gunna wipe the floor with your face and feed what's left to his piranhas." Garam laughed, immediately silenced with a sharp jab to his arm.

"Not. Helping." Rhyth hissed, her glare cold enough to freeze hell over and back.

Brows flat lining, the green haired teen eyed his partner, "Nice to know the support is solid." he mocked, reaching out his prized eyewear toward Rhyth's extending hand. He tugged at the cowl of his hoodie, pulling it up, over, and into a sloppy folded ball, though she had been less than ready to catch it, "Hang on to that, too. I don't want it getting' dirty."

Nearly spilling her popcorn, Rhyth glared down at him, shaking her fist within the hood, "What the hell do I look like? A coat rack?" she snapped, sighing sourly when Clutch scooped a handful from her bag, waving his hand around and spilling nearly half of his winnings as he leaned over the bannister, "Woo, take it off! How about you, Checks? I bet you could pull of the scarf only look."

Grabbing a handful of her scarf, the young woman wrapped a piece of it around her chest in thought, "Mm, you're prolly right." She tossed the rest over her shoulder, "But it wouldn't be a fair game, then, would it?"

"Pfft. Who'd fuckin' care at that point?" he grinned, ignoring Garam's shove.

"Mind y'manners 'round the lady." he scolded playfully, looking around as did everyone else when a short siren looped marking the five minute preset.

Elbowing Yoyo lightly, Jazz analyzed her gear, "Check your wheels, fuel, make sure it's all ready to go. We gotta be up front in five."

"...Shit." he muttered, following instructions, the enthusiasm building within her puncturing his own. Most rudies were competitive by nature, but what would happen if the GGs lost their top racer because of him? Either the thought hadn't crossed her mind (which he doubted), or she simply didn't care (which he doubted). It didn't seem like a move Jazz would make on the fly, but here he was with the weight of the world on his shoulders, checking for things like pebbles between his wheels to completely throw his game and ruin the future of the GGs forever.

A hand clamped firmly along his arm, scooping him in, "You're nervous."

"No, I love being the center of attention when my neck's on the line." he replied, plastic sarcastic grin slipping into a frown.

She eyed him softly, hand plopping atop his head.

"Do me a favor...forget about the GGs."

"S'cuse me?"

Her hand extended toward the track, pulling him along, "This isn't about them. It's not about turf wars or impressing leaders or any of that. There's no bank if you're miserable and struggling to keep some kind of a title. So, forget about them. Just for now. You'll be a lot happier when you start impressing yourself first. You proud of your past?"

"Not particularly..." he uttered.

"You set with the future?"

He shrugged casually, "Hasn't happened yet."

"Then be with the now. It's the only thing you can do something with. You gotta be proud of yourself before anyone else can be."

The roar of the stadium grew with every passing second on the count down: lights, sounds and pregame sweat lingering around him. It burned its way into his memory, trying to absorb all as this was his very first, very real race.

The very eyes of the audience staring him down from their nosebleed seats, necks craned for a digital view. He squinted up at the screen.

How tiny he looked in comparison.

Jazz in all her experienced splendor.

Waving at the audience as they screamed and cheered her name.

Her arm swung along his shoulders, head leaning in, "Promise me something?"

The cheers grew louder as the Jammer reps made their way across the track, the sheer size of the hulking duo enough to distract the teen for a moment. In a game of tag or anything of the sort, they would be dream opponents with the broadness of their shoulders, but this game had nothing to do with spray. Broken bones were going to sing their song tonight. Arching a weary brow, Yoyo glanced at Jazz, "What?"

She pointed up at the timer, "The second that thing goes off...I want you to have fun. Screw everything else. Live in the now. You got me?"

His hazels slunk over toward the Jammers cracking their knuckles just for him.

Typical.

Shoulders settling, the teen cracked his own neck, "Is there any other way to live?" he smirked, wincing lightly when she shot a playful punch.

"You'll know what to do, squirt. I trust you."

She trusted him.

But, why?

For what reason had he ever given her to sucker her in?

With his jumbled reputation and still, she bundled up her genuine reliance and put it on a stage before hundreds of eyes to witness, shoving him front and center. And for whatever backwards reverse psychology she had going for her, it managed to work.

It made him work.

Pushing harder than before.

Fighting for what was his.

And banged, bruised, beaten and nearly left for dead, he had done it, ball in one arm and multiple dislocations in the other. Of course he laughed it off and practically broke her hand when she helped him up. He won the screams of new fans and the screams of old, the latter most importantly his friends who hadn't known quite what to think of their poorly lucked companion, but he hadn't thought it a curse in the least. The adrenaline boost had been like no other, the urge to hunt and destroy and survive pumping through his veins and nothing else existed in that moment but he and the game of Death Ball.

And he felt happiness.

Not for the GGs, though that came later when they praised and honored him with the respect he often desired. The pizza had never tasted so pleasantly fattening.

But, for himself.

He had done it. Not alone, though. And he had to keep reminding himself, lest he dive into the ego trip of Narcissus, but he had taken her advice, and understood.

He was proud. Had fun. And refused to compare himself to anyone in that moment, but instead chose to live in it (because clogged arteries were a thing that could attack overnight).

And when everyone decided it was best to turn in for the night, she ruffled his hair while he made sure all bones were in their proper sockets, yawning with a small smile. And in that quiet moment, there was a sense of completion in his life, even if only for the end of that day.

It was all he needed.

He could always refer to it at another time.

And he did.

The boy's brows furrowed a bit, finding himself feeling guilty over the fact. He often questioned his own happiness when feeling happy, unsure if he would ever top the pedestal, resulting in a damper on his current mood. To live in compliance with his happiness in the state of being was more and more error with every trial he attempted. But it hadn't ever interfered with his mindset concerning anyone but himself. And when Yoyo found himself baffled for answers and at the end of his rope, she was the one he turned to, for her wise answers always found the way to make things right.

But...what now?

The rope was dangled, fraying, and on its last straw without an s.o.s. to call to.

He had unknowingly set fire to his lifeline, and as he mentally tried to stomp it out, he found himself fearful of the aftermath.

"...I just...I don't know what to do, yo. Nobody lets me finish a sentence an' I get one word out and it's suddenly judgment day. They don't get it...and I can't take it back." he muttered, suddenly jolting up and resting back on his palms, "Wait, fuck that. I won't take it back! It was straight up truth! It's just all misinterpreted –that's a word, right?"

Her head lightly nodded, her small smile growing.

Head falling back, it dangled between his shoulders, sighing darkly.

"...Why do I still feel like shit then?"

Her gentle smile fell into one of pity, balancing a straightened elbow over her knee. He knew very well why he was feeling the way he did. Repeating or pointing out the obvious wasn't going to help anyone or solve anything, and in the end, she couldn't straighten out his life for him. It was apart of growing up, and everyone had to fight their own battles at some point. But she understood the stress and strain of the sword and shield...and the lack of an army to back up her vows.

He stared off into the urban terrain, scooping a hand through and freeing himself from his hood.

"This is like when you dipped out a while back..."

His voice was quiet, stealing her attention regardless as she gazed in the same direction as he. The rays of sunlight were barely peeping over the horizon, shadowing all as it left them for other people on other horizons, contemplating their own problems not so far from their own. People were people, regardless of where they came from, and everyone made the same kinds of mistakes. But he didn't care so much about them than he did himself, and the people he was directly influenced by.

Interacted with.

Lived every day with.

The navies had settled in below them, the garage still lit as always in its sparkling industrial lights, but an oasis in a valley of shadows. The water out in the reservoir wrinkled here and there with the occasional wind, choosing when to flicker a beacon of hope to whoever wanted it, and way above, floating in the clouds, the two of them could still see the tiny dot that resembled the brightest star in their universe.

All that wonder, and still, his world felt so small.

The door wrenched open with a sloppy knock, the wielder never quite intending to wait for a proper response before opening anyway, "Jazz, I got a huge problem; I swear to you I didn't anythin' wrong, but I'm about to lose my fuckin' min–"

The words lost their luster as he lingered frozen in her doorway, the light hazels scoping the situation and suddenly finding his own affairs on the back burner.

A moment of silence before she sighed, zipping up the final bag.

"You call that a knock?"

His hand slipped off the doorknob, suddenly unsure if he had dropped it or broken the tab before gripping the door itself, awkwardly thumbing outside, "Uh –oh, I...was just, wanted to," he fumbled before looking outside for any onlookers.

None.

He stepped in, closing the door only a fraction of the way behind him, the sunlight still beaming through the slip, but only slightly.

He held the doorknob behind him, arms looped. He found it difficult to accuse her the way he wanted to. He hadn't prepared for this...never thought about it. Hadn't crossed his mind that this day might or would ever come, though it was inevitable. And still, he found himself unable to gaze at her directly. Only at the four suitcases loaded on her bed, the cleared off dresser, and the neat and tidy pile of folded blankets at the foot of her mattress.

"...Y-You're leavin' us?"

Corn was a firm believer in personal choices. It was what made people who they were. Whether people were free to follow their own morals, or to follow the morals of others, it was their choice, and theirs alone. Most, if not all other gangs, required a blood bond to their gang of choice. Gangs of violence, abuse, drugs, sex, wealth. That wasn't freedom.

To follow in those steps would only be equal to the corruption in the suits.

And so, if and when a GG felt it was their time to part, they sat with Corn, explained their reasons, and with a few side rules to remember, their stint was over.

No bats or misconduct.

No fingers or multiple member beat downs.

No broken legs or missing teeth.

No sexual assaults or death threats.

All Corn required was a heads up, a beer, and a promise of loyalty. Connections were an important thing in any field of work. Besides, it was nice to keep in touch with friends.

But Corn never required anyone to confront the gang. It was something he, as a leader, was more than capable of handling. Having their back. That much, he could promise in return.

Combing her fingers along the back of her hair, Jazz sighed, resting her knuckles along her hip. This hadn't been the plan, but leave it to Yoyo to shake things up a bit. The broken look in his eyes twisted in her chest, knowing she would have had to come to terms with this sooner or later. He wouldn't have forgiven her otherwise.

"It's not like that, Yosh, I promise."

His brows knit for a moment, scoffing at the defense, "Looks like it to me. What? We weren't good enough for you?"

He was young, merely sixteen to her three years senior. First line of defense, a decent insult.

She swallowed it down gently, ignoring the slight aggravation it brought. It wasn't his fault. She hadn't told him anything.

And she hadn't planned to.

"If I really wanted to leave, I would've been outskie before I even met you. The GGs have treated me well; I can't complain. And I met some people I won't ever forget." she added softly.

His hands tucked firmly over his chest, immune to her words.

"Sneakin' off without a word is pretty cold if you ask me, but what's a few ice blocks between friends, am I right?"

His tone was bitter. Unforgiving.

She was abandoning them and without so much as an air of guilt.

Or at least, any that showed.

She shifted one of the bags along her bed.

"The nice thing about ice is that it melts with the right amount of warmth."

He snorted. The junkyard dog in him scowled.

She sat on the edge of one of her suitcases, fingers running beside her.

"Something...serious came up. Life throws curve balls at us all the time, Yoyo. In a perfect world, we'd be able to bat them all, but most of the time, we just strike out." She rubbed along her shoulder, eying him, "I love you guys like family...but we can't forget our original ones, either."

He scratched along his ear quietly, feeling the anger and frustrating draining from him like a helium tank losing pressure. It left him oddly lightheaded, and still, with firm determination, he still felt the awkward abandonment lingering.

"...You...so, for how long?" he shrugged lamely, and she winced in thought, eyes skimming up, "Mm...could be a while. It's a whole passport paperwork mess...I dunno how fast things like that go through in India so..."

"India."

She looked up as if realizing this for the first time.

"Oh, yeah. That's...the destination. So I'll be out of range for a little while."

She tapped her smart watch, smile falling short. Only a few of the GGs bothered with cellphones. Their watches worked with long distance ranges free of charge, but no one had ever tested it from country to country. It was...extremely doubtful that he would even get static.

"It's funny," she sighed, folding her hands into a loose ball on her lap, "When I waved him off to the airplane, my mom had already taken off to study in America. She didn't force me to go, so I stayed behind, keeping an eye on the house and everything. And I wasn't sure what to do with myself. I had a good life. Better than most. I still have access to it. But I never felt a sense of accomplishment or attachment. Older brothers are supposed to keep an eye out for the rest, so I've heard. And it's such a damn chore to bail him out for something stupid like getting into a bar fight and losing his passport, but that's how it rolls. And we'll hug and chat and catch up..."

She stared at her sneakers, digging the heel into her floor, "And I'll feel like garbage because I know I love the guy...but I won't miss him like I will you guys."

He remained quiet, fingers tightening along his upper arm, finding his own words chilling to the touch. The feeling of trash was mutual.

"So, what was the big problem? Before you got distracted." she added with a small smile, but he only stared at her, cheeks finding their flush.

"Uh, it's not import–"

"Don't give me that bullshit, Yoshiharu. Just 'cus I'm headin' out for a little bit doesn't mean I'm not gunna do my job here and now."

"It's not like tha–"

"Being a friend is a full time gig. Now spill it before I hand the situation over to Beat. I'm sure that'll roll smoothly." she smirked.

Running a hand through his hair, he tugged on his neck with a weary voice, "God, please don't. I mean he kinda knows, but I don't need to be goin' to him for nothin'; it's already awkward and I need a girl's viewpoint on this. Someone I can trust." he muttered quietly, though she arched a curious brow.

"Why not Rhyth?"

He remained silent aside from the hefty exhale abandoning his lungs, the hue of his cheeks turning for the worst.

And though she tried her hardest, Jazz had to fight herself to keep a painfully neutral face, that of which failed to a pinned lipped smile that kept growing and shrinking in battle. He immediately glared, rubbing his gut hard, "It's not funny, yo! My options are practically spent and I got nobody to talk to. I don't wanna lose another friend." he mumbled, eyes shifting between her and her bags.

"First of all, you haven't lost anybody, and if you still think that when I get back, I'll be sure to smash your head into the racetrack next practice." she shrugged casually, flicking off a finger, "Secondly, what's goin' down? I thought you and Rhyth were like, best buds?"

"Wull, we are, but...shit got complicated; she won't talk to me." he muttered under his breath.

Tilting her head curiously, Jazz pouted in thought, "That doesn't sound like Rhyth. I'm sure there's a reason."

Yoyo kept quiet, leaning his shoulders firmly against the door, pressing it shut behind him. His cheeks remained flushed as he sighed, tipping back against his arm as he pinched the fabric of his hood along his gut, "So, uhm...she… –Okay, so, remember that time she was feelin' pretty crappy for a while and I figured a trip to Sky Dinosaurian would be an easy pease fix?"

"Yes?"

"She's...been avoidin' me since then."

Brows curving gently, Jazz leaned against her luggage, "Aww, but I thought it went smooth! She was back to herself after that. No more gloomy moping. It wasn't healthy for her."

He remained quiet, ears dusting pink.

Jazz's eyes scanned him, cupping her knee as she leaned forward.

"...Yoyo?"

Her voice held a playful tune, knowing something worth something was eating the boy alive, lest he explode.

His neck ducked into his shoulders, wincing as if the very words caused him pain.

"S-She, uh...kissed me."

He jumped in a slight startle when the Death Baller breathed in firmly through her nose, eyes closing as she balanced her hands beside her, palms skyward,

"I believe the universe is finally in fair alignment as prophesied by the gods of old. The urge to say I told you so is burning so deep in me I'm getting heartburn, you don't even know." she smirked, brows lifting in thought, "So, what's your next move? I mean when a lady kisses you, it's only fair–"

"...Well, I mean, I didn't stop her..." he admitted in a tiny voice, pulling on his thumb, "Look, it –it just happened an' I wasn't expecting it; I just wanted her to have a good time!"

"Mission accomplished, stud." Jazz chuckled as he flushed further.

He clammed up for a moment, collecting his thoughts, voice of reason.

"But now she won't talk to me. She just avoids me all the time and the more we wait, the more awkward it gets. I don't wanna lose my bud over somethin' like this...I mean, she –I thought...I dunno what I fuckin' think anymore..." he sighed, rubbing his gut once more, "Maybe I fucked up somewhere...I just...She's really confusin' me right now. Is this a girl thing?"

"Let me ask you something."Jazz scrunched her nose lightly, "Did Rhyth think you two were on a date?"

The boy stared at her as if she had uttered a completely foreign language, slowly morphing the statement into something he could comprehend, until finally, his eyes widened, hands combing into his scalp, "Oh shit!" I mean, we were just hangin' out, but I wasn't thinkin' like...that she would think it was like that. I thought it all went pretty well an' then she caught me off guard an' I ain't complainin' but..." His fingers hooked in a massive knot, brows set nervously, "It's not gunna be like it was before."

The two had often been inseparable, a tag team of balance and strength. When one toppled, the other dove for the save. A fantastic chemistry of an alternate kind. Jazz could appreciate such loyalty.

Yoyo was a barrel of fun and games.

Rhyth was his conscience.

And when Rhyth needed a tone of nonsense in their stressful danger-riddled lives, Yoyo was there, brushing off all problems with the flick of a wrist.

Nothing major ever quite bothered him as it should.

Perhaps that was a soothing thought.

But the balance was broken...and Yoyo was afraid.

"Never will be. I have a feeling that scares you," Jazz figured gently, leaning an elbow along her bags, "That's understandable. But you know, the step into change has already been made...you can always make the best of it."

"But she won't talk to me."

"You want me and her to have a chat?"

The teen thought over the offer with an awkward wince, shrugging lightly, "Y'know...I'm pretty sure she'd appreciate no one really knowin' about this?"

Jazz lightly smiled. Perhaps he was right. After all, she firmly believed that fate drove people together, and far be it from her to interfere in the young lives of her friends, even if they came crawling on hand and knee for her advice.

"Brings up a solid point. Maybe she's embarrassed."

"...About me?" he uttered quietly, wondering if his sole existence was a hindrance to the girl in blue.

"About what she did to you." Jazz chuckled, "I can only imagine the worries going through her mind whenever she sees you. Believe it or not, Yoyo, she actually likes you. And she managed to muster up some courage to show it. I don't think she was prepared for the consequences of her actions, though. Rhyth's previous boyfriends were easier to handle. They scouted after her, you know?"

His knotted hands rested against his gut, gaze lost as he pulled a mental list of Rhyth's past heartbreaks, disgusted with every face that penetrated his mind. Couldn't honestly think of a decent one he had been too fond of. Rhyth always had to strangest taste in men.

His nose wrinkled.

Ironic.

Jazz's voice pulled him back, reasoning her logic, "You're Yoyo. Someone she knows and trusts. Someone who makes her laugh regardless if she needs it; someone who knows her secrets. She's cool with who you are, even if you make mistakes. There's a heavy risk when you fall for a person on the inside. Especially when you're not sure how they feel about you."

He appeared awkwardly lost in thought, processing her analysis with little hope for a reset. He merely had to play the cards in his current hand, and face the consequences. Thumbing along her chin, Jazz crossed her arms loosely, tilting her head.

"If you don't mind me askin'...how do you feel about Rhyth?"

A bit of silence.

He gazed at her floor, a million thoughts crossing his mind, unable to pick just one. It was a difficult question riddled with questions of his own, doubts and fears.

"Okay, well, how about this. How did you feel about her before any of this happened?" she tried, and he seemed to come to life, more willing to answer.

"She was like...a solid person. You know, motivated me to get things done. Even small stuff, but it all counted in the end. She kept things grounded. Stuff gets...rocky with Beat sometimes." he muttered with a light shrug, "Beat's not much of a listener. He's a doer. And when he couldn't be there for me...she was." he admitted quietly, nose suddenly scrunching, "Not that I needed Beat for emotional therapy or anything. But, you know, have a chat once in a while. Guy's a stiff."

She let him ramble his thoughts, a small smile crossing her lips. Another defense mechanism to protect the image he strove so carefully to preserve. It masked the true admiration between the bloodline, or so he seemed to think. She'd allow it this time. It wasn't her place to interrupt at the moment.

"We always have each other's backs...or we did, until this happened. Now I kinda feel like I'm out of a shell. I never really thought about what would happen if she straight up...ditched me." the young teen mumbled, rubbing his thumb along the inside of his forearm. The phrase seemed to stir a memory of some kind as his eyes lost complete focus of his surroundings, diving back into the past somewhere. He shook himself from it just as quickly.

An awkward broken laugh escaped him, shoulders lowering, "God...never thought I'd be so messed up over someone who's seen me stuff my face with moon cakes to the point of barfing on myself."

Snorting, Jazz propped her cheek with a grin, "Utterly charming. Garam seemed to think so."

He leaned his head back against the door with a sly grin, "He was piiissed. Should've moved though. He knew it was gunna happen."

"And she cleaned you up."

His grin dimmed to a small smile, falling away in guilt.

"Yeah."

Her hands pressed along her thighs, lifting her forward to a stand. "Well, Yoyo, you know two things, and with that information, you can do what you want. First thing, Rhyth is your best friend. This little scenario that happened hasn't changed that. Not yet." she noted, finger up as he prompted to talk. He fell back into himself as she continued on, "You aren't in a fight, you're just at an awkward standstill. That's not gunna change until somebody makes checkmate. And you're gunna be living in this gross, gut twisty guilt fest until somebody does something about it. Second thing," she listed quietly, taking a firm step over, a finger gently pressing against his chest.

"If what you say is true, and I have a feeling it is, then that means somewhere in that big heart of hers is a soft spot for you. Always was, but now we know just how tender it is. With that information, you can do a whole lot. Wonderful things. Painful things. It's up to you. But the longer you wait to resolve this problem, the further you two will drift, and if you don't do something soon, I dunno where your friendship will be by the time I get back."

His eyes gazed at her longingly, brows pressed in determined thought.

"...You mean it?"

"Of course I do! If you guys keep ignor–"

"You'll be back?"

Her lecturing posture fell away, the soft brown in her eyes skimming over the lost boy in search for the guidance he was afraid to lose. She took in a deep breath, arms scooping the teen close, able to smell the light scent of chocolate he had munched on minutes before. His arms slowly wrapped around her back, pulling her in tightly, brows firmly knit in discomfort.

He didn't want her to go.

He was angry, but could no longer justify his reasons. He was selfish, but didn't care. She wasn't his, and he knew that. But abandonment ran deep into the soul, long term damage that would only heal over years.

"I swear." she whispered, pressing her cheek into his head with a gentle smile, fingers ruffling up the back of his hair. He said nothing, but accepted her deal. It was the only option he had. "But, Yoyo?"

"Mm?"

"Whatever you do...y'know, about the whole Rhyth thing?"

His arms seemed to suffer from a light case of frostbite.

"Just be honest with yourself."

A concrete piece of advice he could surely take to heart. She knew the boy was filled with colorful language, and not all foul, more capable of handling situations than he seemed. Perhaps another self defense mechanism. She wouldn't judge. It wasn't her place. She could only observe as she did best, and offer her help when sought for.

And when things played out smoothly in her favor, she often smiled.

Fate liked to play into the lives of mortals more often than not, so when Corn called them all out for small side projects and tag clean ups, Jazz nodded it off as good fortune. When he personally paired off the teams and discussed their tasks, she approved. And when Yoyo's name wound up paired with Rhyth's, Jazz found the circumstances agreeable.

Her elbow playfully found his arm, though her attention never wavered from their leader.

His eyes darted for a brief second, mind skimming the possibilities.

And with a small smile, Jazz watched his hand claim Rhyth's ever so subtly, focus forever on their leader, or at least he had trained his outer being to. And whether by anxiety or bewilderment, Rhyth's hand remained, a timid agreement that perhaps on their mission, they would solve a few riddles of their own.

"No, it's not."

Her voice broke through his thoughts, strong but friendly. A light hearted laugh somewhere in the tune of it all. She knew the answers. She often did. His hazels peered at her sternly, but were only greeted with a tender smile, cheek resting along her arm as her fingers wiggled against the wave of winds.

"I'm not going anywhere, Yoyo."

His gaze fell away through the grate holes, the unsettling drop greeting him by a landslide.

"You didn't do anything wrong..." she added softly, staring off into the distance as the speck of light finally rested into another horizon, and the skies above them were coated in darkness. Full darkness. Quiet darkness. Honest darkness.

Her smile gently faded as well, a more serious take for more serious matters.

"But you know you still have to make things right. You're the only one who can."

A heavy exhale left his lips, fingers roughly combing through his hair, "I don't even know what to say."

Brushing herself off, Jazz lifted herself to her feet, stretching out her arms above her head. "It'll come to you. It's a long climb down. And anyway, just remember...be honest with yourself."

---

He found his search nearly all for naught when he discovered the garage mostly void of life upon his return. Some had turned in for the night, others out tagging or doing what they did best in the late hours of the evening. No one had seen her since...then. Beat had shrugged awkwardly, wondering if sooner was better than later.

Yoyo had made up his mind already.

However, it seemed sooner would end up later, regardless of his efforts.

She just didn't seem to be around.

His hands scooped along his neck, stretching his head back up to gaze at the stars, fingers pulling along his skin with a deep sigh. When did things get so complicated? In comparison to being hunted down by the world's loosest cannon, he supposed it wasn't the biggest of dilemmas, but the sickly feeling haunting him would beg to differ. A frown on her face simply did not belong...

His fingers curled around the soda can weakly, staring at the rim of condensation it had left behind on the counter.

"I saw it."

The can nearly dropped from his grip. In fact, it did. But not far enough to spill a drop. It merely clanged against the counter, fizz within sizzling in anger. Hand slapping against his hood to dry off the moisture, the teen spun, incredulous of how he had completely missed the sound of her skates or the pattern of her scratchy steps. How far had he been gazing into oblivion?

"R-Rhyth! There you are, I looked every–"

"It's beautiful."

His jaw clamped shut to her tiny voice, a sound not often used unless...damaged. He knew that dangerous tone. A tone too often used in the past...one that required coaxing. His hand remained on his gut, a disgusting churn of guilt daring to eat him alive. His cheeks winced as her gazed focused elsewhere, slender hands intertwined with each other as she kept her safe distance. A frightened deer.

A timid kitten.

"Please...Kiyoko, don't–"

Something in her eyes seemed to flicker darkly in her defense...and he swallowed the phrase.

A negative order. He had to mind his steps. His back pressed against the counter, arms dangling awkwardly until one grasped the bicep of the other. Her skates, his focus.

"I know that tone..." he admitted quietly, hardly able to finish off the rest, "That's the one you save for scumbags."

Surely she hadn't yet organized him into that category? He hadn't even had a chance to redeem himself.

Or maybe he had, and his opportune moment had been spent hiding away in solitude. Or attempted solitude.

What had she thought of him in all this time?

"Funny…I thought being truthful would've made life a little more easier." he mumbled, a half smile lifting, but found her solemnness incredibly contagious. "I didn't think answerin' somethin' so simple would...do this." His finger pointed between them, hand slipping into his pockets. For a moment, only the ambiance spoke, cityscape haunting their very tiny world.

"They were curious." she replied quietly, arms tucking behind her, "We all were."

Her back wheel slid silently along the linoleum, eyes along her arm, "It really is your best stuff yet."

If so, why did he feel so trashy about it?

Why did it make him feel worthless?

Why did it raise such doubt between them that upon her next set of words, he lifted the brim of his hood and pressed her hand firmly against his chest without chance of missing the painful thump keeping him alive. "I don't...th-that look you're givin' me is makin' me nervous, Whiny. You feel that? Tell me you feel that." he nearly whimpered, eyes locked nervously on her face, though she only gazed at the hand hidden away, startled at his sudden movements.

"C'mon, Ki...it's me! I mean, I know I'm not perfect, but I–"

He could feel the thumping pressure in his ears, the heat rising to the tips, the spreading pain lumping into his throat. He knew that kind of look she was wearing. It scared him. That look of sadness.

A kind, even he couldn't cure.

His fingers grasped at hers, holding both before him. Not angry with him. Simply...confused.

Shoulders lowering with a deep exhale, the teen kept a sturdy grip, but gentle nevertheless.

His eyes closed for a moment.

Be honest with yourself.

They opened, finally meeting her own. His one chance to set things right.

"Rhyth...I love Jazz."

The cold distance in her eyes seemed to lock in place, as did the rest of her muscles, but he refused to release her hands, still clutching them tenderly –clutching them close to himself. The sharp pain haunting her nearly ripped right through before he offered a smallish smile, sheepish and awkward and terribly inexperienced with such things, but honest all the same, "But I'm not in love with her."

The girl's eyes blinked rapidly, her level of understanding a frazzled mess. Her lips parted, but proper communication appeared to have fled her consciousness until she shook her head, hands giving his a squeeze, "Yoyo, I-"

"Spot's kinda filled already, you know?" he admitted shyly, eyes lingering on their grip.

She remained quiet: nervous, embarrassed, shameful, and elated, not quite sure of the end result until her shoulders rose, eyes closing tight, "I feel so stupid."

His brows fell gently, curving in concern, "It's not your fault. Weird question, wasn't ready for it, came out weird-"

Her hands fell away, gazing along the ground, "I...swore I wouldn't be one of those kinda girlfriends...y'know...the ones who get stepped all over..."

He stood slightly frozen in her words, face a true canvas of the freshest emotions. No masks. Not for her. Never for her.

Her hand clasped her arm, a weak shrug lifting with a weak smile, "I've had such bad examples set for me...I was...Mmph," her palms curved along her cheeks in a heavy sigh, refusing to look up, "I almost...I ruined everything."

A hand clapped over his chest, head dipped back toward the stars, "Christ, Rhyth, you're gunna give me a heart attack." Rubbing the unsettling feeling from his torso, he gazed at her softly, refusing to accept the guilt haunting her. With a light bump, he woke her from her cover, a gentle smile lingering just for her, "I couldn't step on anybody if I tried. I'm not tall enough."

Her shoulders jolted in a silent laugh, eyes closing when his head bumped along hers.

"I could make somethin' for you, if you wanted."

Her eyes opened sharply, pulling away with a firm point to his chest. The damage would be ever increasing that night. "Don't you dare." she warned sternly, falling away from his wide eyed stare, "That...the one you did...that came from the soul. Don't you dare insult Jazz like that. It...means something to you."

Yoyo relaxed into a small smile.

"Like a guardian." he clarified, to her curious gaze, "She keeps an eye on ya' boy. You know if it wasn't for her...I dunno...Might've not known what to do about us when you wouldn't talk to me back then. You know I can't think when I'm ignored. She gives pretty good advice when I'm freakin' out."

The small smile along the girl's lips turned stale.

"Wait, you-...When I –You told her about–"

"Yeah."

"Yoyo!"

"Hey! She told me to be honest about how I felt...and I did. And I still do...an' I...uhm...y-you know. Love you." he mumbled shyly, sinking into the cowl of his hood, "Like...love, love...you know?"

The slight irritation that had built up within her dissipated in his moment of pure honesty, a sliver of him most appreciated by her personal standards. A treasure to behold. "I think I do." she tenderly replied with a timid smile, arms looping his head before he could react, the firm squeeze of joy just enough to pop an eardrum at any second, but it was all worth it. His first grin of the night spoke volumes as her lips pressed along his jawline, nerves settled for more positive heart stammers, all affairs in the green.

All was certainly right with the world once more. Stars aligned. Horizon balanced.

And with her shoulder resting against the billboard column, Jazz smiled.

---

Author's Note: I enjoyed writing in the fashion of multi shorts within a major story line, so I wanted to try my hand at it again. In my head cannon, Jazz is a sisterly kind of soul, minding for the younger siblings she never had.

Plans for the future: so I've been very busy finishing up school and the like, so I write when I can. I have 5 individual stories that'll be posted soon, and every month a few readers have asked about my story The Past and if I'm ever going to update it. I have a plan for that story, so it's not dead. I promise. It just takes me a while to get to writing. I do it in my spare time when I get the chance. And I know I write a lot of stories with Yoyo (I'm horribly biased for my favorites), but I'm going to try my hand at some other GGs as well in my shorts. It's only fair.