"Leave me alone!" cried the twelve-year-old boy, backing into the wall with a folded black laptop clasped in his arms. He lifted his trembling eyes to the two elder boys, who were laughing sardonically.

"Takeshi, I can't believe that this little brat we're dealing with now is your brother," said one boy, grinning, "How old is he? Twelve years or twelve months?"

"Go away," he croaked, feeling the tears running down his cheeks.

"Oh look, now he's crying," mocked the boy unsympathetically, "He's is just too pathetic for his age. Kids are lucky nowadays; they're spoilt with loads of those expensive high-tech stuff. I don't even get what's worth a pair of raggedy sandals for my birthday."

"So Tomoki, are you going to hand over that laptop or what?" said the other, "Do you want a good shaking?"

Tomoki looked at their menacing expressions for a moment, and then desperately blurted out, "No! You are not to take this away from me!"

"Hey! Stop that brutal act at once and leave the poor kid alone!"

The shuffling of feet was heard, and a boy, slightly younger than Takeshi himself, emerged from the shadows of the alleyway. The three boys turned to stare at the newcomer. He looked about fifteen, but his expression showed great confidence and strength. Shaggy auburn hair framed the boy's slightly bronzed face, and Tomoki could make out two brown eyes that seemed to glare vibrantly beneath flashes of sunlight. He was clad in a simple red T-shirt with baggy biscuit-coloured breeches to complete the 'tough-guy' look. A pair of square safety-goggles dangled around his neck, making him look more ferocious than ever.

The first boy flinched, his spectacles practically falling off his nose from gaping so hard. However, Takeshi's irritated grimace quickly faded into a menacing smirk, as he tightening his grip onto Tomoki's arm, making him yelp out in agony. The brunette frowned.

"Takeshi Himi," he mumbled, his voice faltering with silent hatred.

"Takuya Kanbara, what a surprise,"

"Tormenting the smaller ones again, I presume?" Takuya scowled, avoiding eye contact with the older boy's steely glare. Takeshi eased his tense body and released his squirming victim, gazing disdainfully at the teenager's dishevelled mane that glistened under excessive amounts of gel. Plastering on a satisfied smile, he ran his slender fingers through his own lustrous hair with unmasked admiration.

"Show-off,"

Takeshi advanced towards him until his chin met face-to-face with Takuya's sweat-polished brow (he was a head taller than him). Takuya gritted his teeth as a powerful fist grasped his collarless shirt and lifted him off the ground. Nausea swept over him like a plummeting surge of salty sea-spray and he lurched backwards, eyes nevertheless unwavering.

A flash of cold metal crushed the boy's dignity; flooding memories of blazing wrath as intense as the thirsty flame-tongues in a smoldering fire into his mind.

The watch was exquisite, so perfect that it looked as though it had been chiseled from a slab of silver by the skilled hands of an expert. The dial was disc-shaped, with twelve gold numbers engraved in the rounded plate, and attached at each end of it were straps of genuine leather.

Takuya caressed it tenderly, his chocolate-brown orbs shimmering wistfully at the splendor of its workmanship. This was the very stuff of his dreams, a watch – not just any watch, but a watch that would gain his classmates' approval and earn him their respect for him as a Somebody, instead of an underprivileged with lack of daily pocket-money.

The salesman tapped his fingers impatiently on the counter, occasionally darting glances at his wristwatch and producing a yellow, roughly-squared fabric from his trouser pocket to wipe his spectacles. Blushing, Takuya grinned sheepishly and jingled his cloth bag (discolored and congealed with grime) that was tied with a bit of cord, deciding at once that he would buy it.

After the money was raked over into the salesman's hands and the watch delicately bedded into a little casing among bulges of mauve velvet, he bounced out of the shop, as ecstatic as a child who'd just received a present. Hoarding his life's saving in a secret depository he buried under his bed had been a grueling and costly task, but every coin was worth it. Takuya congratulated himself cheerfully, so thrilled with his new possession that he was quite oblivious to two suspicious figures lurking in the background.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. His body was slumped on the freshly rain-sprinkled loam, as frail as a half-starved cat; his face, limbs, and other parts of his anatomy which were bare were encrusted in clotting soil and bleeding cuts. Even his clothes were stained with dirt.

"Katsuko, stop hasslin' the stupid schmuck and come over here,"

Takuya felt himself being thrust aside, his face shoved into the moistened loam, and a sharp pain seemed to have wrenched at his ankle. The sound of a box being brusquely yanked open, escorted with a trace of muffled clinking, drained his sun-darkened hue from his skin instantly.

"What the hell— what's that?"

"A stinkin' scrap of metal. Why ambushin' the louse simply to pinch his cast-offs? I told yer' before - we could've pocketed somethin' better from that bigheaded jackass – what was his name again – you know, the fat bloke whose pop manages the Italian Latte Pastry Corporation,"

"We can't pull the wool over the chump's eyes every time, Takeshi. If his old tiger ever discovers this swindling of his beloved offspring, we'll be damned. He'd jellify us,"

There was a pause, as if the other speaker was brooding over this setback. Then, in a casual voice, he mumbled, "The geezer wouldn't find out... he's as dippy as his own son,"

"I suppose so,"

"Yup,"

"At any rate, this set of recycled batteries would bring home the bacon,"

"Bacon?"

"Good, solid cash, I mean. It's a terrific way of harvesting money–"

"I don't get it. Why would anyone buy this trash? Nowadays, folks are rummagin' about in the shops to get their scroungin' hands onto one of those exclusive watches with watertight batteries installed in 'em. This one looks as though it was disgorged from a one-hundred-year-old hippopotamus' gullet in the nineteenth century,"

"Wait, just listen. I know a chap who'll be interested in swapping a few coins for this prehistoric gadget,"

"Now that's a thought," remarked the other heartily, "Let's now get a move on and hire a cab."

"What about him?"

"Who d'ya mean ?"

"The pint-sized mongrel,"

"We can dump him here. It's easy as eatin' pie. Speaking of pies, why don't we grab a mouthful of Old Flab's latest Tropical Mango-and-Banana Quiche as we hustle downtown?"

"Splendid,"

Takuya grinded his teeth and prodded his fingers into the grime, wishing that the ground would suddenly open and swallow him up.

With things figured out, Takuya dug his fingernails into Takeshi's flesh, causing him to release his grip on the red stretch of fabric and yelp in pain.

"You little bastard-"

"Takeshi, you're one fucking helluva human thesaurus," Takuya barked, seething with anger, "You're fucking impressive, but you can always admit your cowardice, you fucking monster."

The words just escaped from his mouth without further deliberation. Takeshi's face paled at this outburst, his jaw dropped; he felt his Adam's apple bobbling laboriously behind the contours of his throat. Suddenly, he felt helpless. He felt helpless standing opposite to this enraged boy, whose emotions had been hauntingly provoked by the past.

The fucking past, his mind moaned in anguish, when I started it all.

Takeshi fell to his knees, regretting the day he was born. Tomoki's bloodshot eyes, sunken with fear, widened as he watched his brother humbly conceded defeat before the person he once victimized.

Takuya then patted Tomoki's head and gave him a sideways glance, baring his pearly-white teeth into a lopsided grin.

"Come on, little fella',"

His face was alight with admiration as he willingly took his proffered hand, allowing his savior to lead him away from the possible dangers that might involve himself.

Footnote: Apologies for such straightforward writing! I've been quite clueless while working on this chapter, so the words are quite unrefined and hollow... but here's the good news. What'll you say if I snap myself back into consciousness and start polishing up thescenarios of the next chapter? Savvy?