Chapter 15
The First Heartbeat
The red-light district was not very busy, given it was still mid-morning. The few men that were present seemed hungover and dazed, as if they had only just woken up from a long night of partying. As the group of young adults walked down the wooden path with red carpeting, they noticed the occasional man or two exiting the buildings on either side of them, most of them being barely able to walk, much less walk in a straight line. The girls behind the wooden bars that beckoned passersby seemed only mildly interested in their jobs, barely putting on airs as to best represent themselves for prospective clients. Not that they seemed to be in dire need of money, given their dresses, hairdos, and makeup.
There was a heavy layer of incense on the air, heating up their nostrils and lungs. Given the nature of the establishments that surrounded them, Makoto suspected that there were likely elements of aphrodisiacs within the incense, if only for the benefit of effective advertising. There seemed to be no effect on herself or her companions thus far, but she had no intention of sticking around to test how long would be required for such a thing to occur.
"As cool as this is, what are we even doing here?" Ryuj asked impudently. "Like, are we talent scouting for Akiyama or something?"
"Maybe one of the girls is the informant?" Mishima asked while trying to pry his eyes away from a redhead to his left. "If only he'd given us more to go off of."
"Let's just keep focused," said Akira sternly. "There had to be some reason we were sent down here. He is the guy your family trusts, right, Yusuke."
"Of course, though I had no idea this place was real."
All present looked to Yusuke curiously. "You knew about this?" asked Ann.
"I'd heard rumors, yes, though never paid much mind to them. Rumors about the 'secrets' of Kamurocho are abundant, and most are obviously false. But this… this is truly remarkable."
Makoto leaned against a pillar, noticing more girls attempting to beckon the young men with her toward their parlors. "What have you heard about it, Kitagawa?"
"I've heard there was a secret red-light district called 'Purgatory' located in the Kamuro underground from some of the older members of the Family, but little else. I have heard through the grapevine though that there is a girl called 'Milky' here that is apparently of considerable talent in her craft. Her name has been mentioned after a few drinks three separate times at my Family headquarters after a few drinks, and the men have nothing but praise for her."
Makoto rubbed her eyes annoyedly and Ann pursed her lips, raising her eyebrow. "That's all?" she asked plainly.
"Well, it is a secret."
There was no appropriate means by which to respond to such candor, and luckily there was no need to either, for behind them there appeared a beautiful woman with a much more stern and far less enticing expression on her face; the kind of discontent and malign glare that indicates even among the important people you work with, they are all well aware that you are truly and verily important. And yet, here you are, making contact with a bunch of kids that look like their mothers were spending too long chatting in the park and they then got bored and wandered off, and now are desperately searching for the exit upon finding out they were in a place of "sin", but still are trying to look cool about it in a futile attempt to minimize their sheltered embarrassment.
"You kids here from Akiyama?" she asked, crossing her arms in front of her.
"Uh, yeah," Akira responded awkwardly. "Who's asking?"
"The person who can point you in the direction of your contact. Head in there," she motioned to a door to their right. "Don't worry, it's not a brothel, just a casino. You're looking for Tamura, he's at the Blackjack table past the bar."
"Well, uh, thank you," Akira stammered, trying to make heads or tails of the situation. "You've been a great help."
"Akiyama is a special case down here," said the woman. "Your affiliation with the Clan helps, as does your reputation."
"I'm almost getting used to hearing that by now," Akira muttered, his expression souring slightly.
"If you think Kamoshida made all the men in this town afraid, consider how the women felt." The woman then met Ann's gaze and gave her a knowing nod. "You did a good thing, all of you," she remarked. "Kind of wish I could have been there to see the guy get butchered though."
Akira twitched, his right eye blinking quickly, his right hand curling into a fist for a moment before relaxing. Ann noticed this in its entirety, and she felt her heart sink. "The reality of the situation wasn't so glamorous," Akira stated, his voice becoming deeper, harsher, a distinct rasp permeating his words in a way that did not sound like his natural self. "I wish more people would understand that."
"Oh, I at least am well aware," said the woman. "I can't speak for everyone else in Purgatory, but I understand the real nature of killing a monster. I just wish I could have been there to see the monstrous king be cut apart like the rabid animal he was."
"Cut apart?" asked Akira. "What exactly have you been hearing about it?"
"That you butchered the most dangerous criminal that's shown his worthless face in this city in a long time. That's about it. When they called you a 'Butcher', I just assumed it had something to do with knives."
Akira crossed his own arms, looking away with an uncomfortable scowl for a moment before looking out of the corner of his eye, meeting the woman's gaze once again. "Then let's just say your sources are unreliable." His voice remained uncomfortable, that hint of rasp becoming more apparent. "Whoever told you that obviously wasn't there."
"Sounds like quite the story," the woman remarked. "I'm sure Tamura will want to hear it too. Now, please excuse me." Without another word, she walked past the group back toward the entrance.
Left alone, the young adults shifted around on their feet awkwardly after such an encounter. "Guess Akiyama really is well connected," Mishima said. "I wonder how deep his info web goes."
Makoto stroked her chin thoughtfully, looking at Akira who was instead staring off into the distance. "You seem like something of a celebrity," she said to him. "I didn't think that killing Kamoshida would be cause for such widespread praise."
"Neither did I," Akira replied sharply. "Almost everywhere I go nowadays, someone seems to know what I did, and those that don't immediately recognize me have at least heard of me. I've been suspicious about it for a while; Sojiro just keeps telling me that I'm a hero, and it's something to be proud of."
Ryuji put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You know that we think you're a hero, man," he said. "Don't let these rumors get to you too much."
"Thanks, but it's not whether I'm a hero or not that worries me." Akira caught one glimpse of the mysterious woman before she disappeared through the exit back into the sewer. "Everyone has heard different versions of what happened, and it's the more brutal versions that seem to be more popular. I'm not like that," he said as if speaking to no one in particular. "I'm not some monster."
Akira did not wait for a response and instead made his way to the casino's entrance. The awkward tension that settled over the group prevented them from speaking up further, instead only following their friend into the casino.
Upon opening the large metal door, they were greeted with the sight of a small casino and lounge bar hosting a few poker and roulette tables, only three of which were occupied with players and dealers at the time. There was a small bar in the back to their left being tended by a mature and beautiful woman in a similar short cut kimono to the girls outside. The waitresses were dressed much the same and seemed just as enthusiastic about their job as anyone else present. That is to say, not at all. The dealers were consistently staring into space when not looking at the table or players, and the players were taking their sweet time calling, raising or folding on each hand. The bartender and waitresses seemed more interested in the traditional oil paintings on the walls than looking for any customers to serve, not that there were many to begin with.
The group scanned the room, looking to the back corners as they had been instructed to do so. Sure enough, in the back left corner closest to the bar was a Blackjack table with two players and a dealer. One player was an elderly salaryman nursing a cup of water and popping a medicinal pill in between asking the dealer for another card, and the man beside him was a bookish younger gentleman with thick glasses, a long brown coat and slicked back short brown hair. He placed his cards on the table and rung his hands together pensively, pondering on what play to make next.
"Guess one of them is our guy," said Makoto. "Let's go."
"This better be quick," Akira muttered. They walked over to the Blackjack table, catching the attention of the dealer who seemed more confused than annoyed or suspicious at the sudden presence of a group of young adults in a secret red-light district. "One of you Tamura?" Akira asked abruptly as they stood over the table.
The older man looked Akira up and down, glaring at him no doubt on account of the rude interruption. Akira, however, was unconcerned with his manners at this moment, making this known by pursing his lips and glaring at the old man in turn. Said old man just pointed his thumb at the younger gentleman beside him, drawing everyone's attention to him. "I'm Tamura," said the younger man wearing glasses. He seemed to be in his thirties by the looks of him; his voice was weak and scratchy, and his demeanor was all together unimposing - not what Akira would have expected from an informant for the yakuza. But then again, he really had no idea what information brokering in the Tokyo underground looked like. He was thankful he had not said his previous thought aloud. "What can I do for you?"
"We're here on behalf of Akiyama. He says you can help us with an errand for the Clan."
Tamura straightened his glasses, looking between the group of young adults and the cards in his hand. A four of spades and an eight of diamonds; a good hand to start with, leaving comfortable room to take more cards and get near the big twenty-one before staying his play. Tamura looked to the dealer and knocked on the table twice, prompting the dealer to provide him with another card. A five of diamonds now, putting him at seventeen, within the infamous danger zone of Blackjack. "Didn't expect Akiyama-san to hire a bunch of kids," said Tamura, stroking his chin as he weighed his options for his next play. "Guess he's feeling impatient today."
"We weren't hired by him. We were asking him about the…" Akira paused, thinking of something less suspicious to describe the RZ-412 with, "…the recent delivery, and he pointed us in your direction."
Tamura hit the table once more, and received a seven of clubs, busting him out of the game. He sighed, laid his cards down, and excused himself from the table with a bow. The dealer waved him off and thanked him for playing. As Tamura stood to his feet, he looked over the young adults before him incredulously, though without a hint of malice or masculine indignation in his eyes, something Akira found very refreshing. "Let's have a seat in the lounge area," said Tamura, indicating toward a small seating area by the bar.
They did just that, pulling up chairs to accommodate everyone. Tamura leaned forward, his expression becoming more serious under his glasses. "You're interested in the RZ-412, correct?" he asked.
"That's right," said Akira, nodding. "And I'm sure you're already aware of the shootout last night?"
"All of Tokyo is, kid. Half of Japan has already heard about it, and I'm sure the news reporters will circulate the story until at least most of the country has heard about your little adventure."
Ryuji crossed his arms, glaring at the man. "You don't approve of our little adventure?"
"On the contrary, it was quite exciting to hear about. But not everyone else in Japan will see it that way." Tamura leaned back in his seat, folding his hands in front of him. "That awards ceremony going on for the police this morning? They're using your shootout to rally more support for their officers, which could prove problematic should you continue to operate in Kamurocho."
Makoto was the next to speak up, her expression and tone both deadly serious. "One shootout will be the least of the people's worries if we let men like them run free. We have no choice but to fight."
Tamura raised an eyebrow her way. Makoto expected him to look down on her for her gender or age while being so stalwart in her goal, yet he exhibited no such perceptions. "I was hoping that's how you viewed it," he said. "When I first saw you, I knew you had to be the group that tried to secure the RZ-412 from the warehouse, and that also meant at least some of you were involved in the Kamoshida case," he looked to Akira, who's expression immediately soured. "It's an honor to make your acquaintance, sir," Tamura bowed his head. "That whole business was terrifying for everyone who was aware of it. I can't imagine what it was like for you."
"Not the first time I've heard that," Akira scowled, prompting a bump on the shoulder from Ann, who happened to seat herself next to him without him immediately noticing. He looked her way, and she was glaring up at him, silently telling him to watch his mouth. Akira took a small breath before continuing. "The guy was a monster, as you likely know. I did what I did, and this city is safer for it, I suppose. That's the long and short of it."
"You suppose?"
"I don't like giving myself credit for it. Though I really don't need to, since so many people shower me in credit around town anyway."
"They respect what you did, I think."
Akira was about to respond when a thought struck his mind, a question that seemed now more than ever able to be answered. "You're an informant, Tamura. Do you know how the information propagated so much?"
Tamura's expression did not change, his posture remained completely still and proper. "I'm afraid I do not," he admitted.
"You sure?" Akira pressed.
Ann nudged him once again, catching his attention, and he could feel on his face that he seemed much angrier about the whole matter than she actually was. "Just drop it," she said to him. "It's not why we're here."
Akira cursed himself internally. "You're right," he muttered, turning back to Tamura. "Sorry, I got sidetracked."
"No, I'm the one who brought it up," said the informant. "It's my fault and I apologize." He bowed his head once again before continuing. "But regarding the RZ-412, has Akiyama-san informed you as to how we came to know about it?"
"He did," Makoto answered first, seeming to take much more interest in the topic once again. "He said that another informant in your network tracked it to Shibuya, and it was possessed by an associate of one Kaneshiro."
"That's correct. We were unaware of who was in charge of the drug ring until recently, and when we found out it was Kaneshiro, we were about to send word to the Boss. He's a former Sakura man, after all, though your Clan was under the impression he was dead."
"Do the police know about this?" Makoto asked quickly.
"Not that I am aware of, no. It's highly unlikely they've had any contact with the man. For being such a big guy, he's pretty good at hiding."
"How did you track the drug?" Akira continued. "Is it being circulated in Kamurocho?"
"I do not believe it is in circulation yet, but the possibility of that coming to fruition grows stronger with every day. I was working with Akiyama's other man to make sure nothing came to our town, and if it did, to report on it to Akiyama-san. Well, yesterday we had a confirmed case discovered about ten miles north of here, and I went to investigate; heard about it from some hobos that act as our eyes and ears in other districts. Turns out one of their friends was hitchhiking from the Shibuya area, and this gentleman got his hands on—" Tamura cut himself off, looking around the lounge as he placed a hand on his breast pocket. "—a sample," he finished.
Tamura put his hand in his coat and revealed a small clear plastic bag sealed tightly. Inside it was a black chalky dust that sifted around in the bag like sand. The color of the substance seemed unnatural and off-putting, the dark shade of it being so entirely black yet gave off a slight shimmer in the low lighting. "There is fourteen milligrams of the RZ-412's active ingredient in this substance," Tamura explained. "According to my source, if taken improperly, this alone is enough to kill a man."
"Goddamn," Ryuji muttered under his breath.
"The substance is so strong that it can be mixed into a liquid and maintain most of its potency, and God help you if you smoke it."
"What is it for?" pressed Makoto. "If it's so dangerous, I doubt it's some sort of money-making scheme. Most users would die before they could get a chance to get addicted."
"That, we do not know. All we are aware of is that it's some sort of super stimulant, and my contact claims it can trigger extreme aggression in the user even in the tiniest available dose, though no one has been willing to try it out. We'll need a toxicologist or some other scientist to analyze it safely."
"Maybe Takemi could help," Ryuji added. "She has a history in pharmaceuticals."
Akira nodded. "Good idea." He turned back to Tamura. "Can we take it off your hands? Should we escort you back to the LeBlanc?"
"The hotel would likely be best. We can contact Akiyama-san from there and coordinate our next move." Tamura looked to the bag in his hand, his brows furrowing with unease. "I am afraid of this, my friends," he admitted in a low voice. "Whatever this 'Shadow' is, its purpose is entirely evil. And what with the attack we endured last night, the thought of whatever its producers have planned for it is… frightening. One of my associates has already gone to ground on account of this whole mess; I'm thinking it would be best to follow his example."
Akira stood to his feet with a nod. "Then let's get the hell out of here," he stated confidently.
Tamura stood up in turn, offering the young man a slight bow of his head. "Thank you so much. I've always been able to count on the Sakura Clan to take care of me, and I'm glad that mentality survives in its younger members."
Akira's stomach still tightened most times when he was perceived as being affiliated with the yakuza, but he decided to let it slide for now. He had already nearly started one pointless argument for no other reason than his own insecurities, so starting another for the same reason would only slow them down.
He then received another nudge on the shoulder, though it turned out to be from Makoto instead of Ann. The young woman seemed concerned and pensive as he brought his attention to her. "We should be careful," she said quietly. "We likely won't get so lucky with the next informant."
"It is pretty lucky, I'll say. Let's just keep a low profile from here on. It's still morning and I'm already tired of this mafia agent shit."
Makoto covered her mouth as she chuckled to herself. It was strange but interesting to see this seemingly stoic and calculating action girl actually laugh at his off-color remark. "That doesn't sound much like a hero," she said.
"Who said I'm a hero?" Akira responded with a wry smile. "I'm just knee deep in someone else's shit…" He trailed off, walking slowly as they made their way out of the casino. "And I got a bunch of other people involved in my own mess," he finished. His tone was harsh but almost tired.
Makoto did not respond immediately, which surprised Akira. He had practically gotten used to his friends, especially Ann, immediately responding to his self-deprecating comments with something along the lines of "You're definitely a hero!" or "You did something good.". He did believe it… occasionally, sometimes, depending on his mood and how much sleep he had gotten the night before, how much he had been drinking, the over all mood of the conversation, whether the person saying it was a particular blond and spunky female with an assertive attitude (this specific case tended to help a great deal). But Makoto did no such thing, instead deigning to simply look him in the face with an examining glare like she was searching for some intangible or unspoken confirmation of his comment.
She finally spoke up, and the response sent a shiver up Akira's spine, along with a biting pang of guilt. "You're not the only one with problems, you know." Her tone was flat, but her glare that focused on him until she finished speaking was indicative enough of how she truly felt. Makoto said no more, but did move to the other side of Yusuke, away from Akira.
He was stunned for a moment, his head tingling and starting to ache in that way when one knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that you have really, truly, and gloriously insulted a young woman without realizing what you were saying until it was too late. I'm becoming such a cunt, he thought, holding his head low. I need to apologize to her later… And watch what I talk about from now on…
Sojiro said the same thing, about me not being the only one with problems. Shit… fuck… dammit…! Cunt!
That was when the scream of an old man sounded off from the other end of the canal. Everyone turned their attention toward the sound, most people gasped, and then there was silence. Coming down the canal in a small boat was a group of six men in suits staring down those standing on the landing brazenly. At the head of the boat was a tall man with a long head, smirking with a devious glint in his eye. He removed a long dagger from the back of the man who Akira assumed was the boatman and tossed him into the water. The body splashed in the murky canal and floated up to the surface face down, blood starting to pool around it and cloud the water in deep red.
The few workers and patrons present fled into the buildings, though Akira and his companions did not budge. The leader of the mysterious men met Akira's gaze, his smirk turning into a snake-like smile as the younger man scowled his way, his fists clenching and his breathing becoming slightly shallower. Tamura stood at the back of the group, keeping his arms close to his torso as he unconsciously protected the RZ-412 sample.
Makoto put her fists up in a fighting stance saying, "I have a really bad feeling about this."
"Just a few more asses to kick," Ryuji muttered with venom in his voice, cracking his knuckles. "We can take these bastards."
"Steady yourself," Yusuke warned, his voice stoic and strong in a way not yet exhibited by him in the time they had known him. "Our guests approach."
The tall man with the long head stood in front of the group, his shoulders back and his posture stern, at the ready. His eyes moved between each young adult, though particular interest in Akira. His lips curled into a smirk once more as Akira moved his left foot back a few inches, putting him in a strong and readied stance.
Ann mimicked him, feeling more nervous about the situation than she assumed the rest of her companions were. "I don't think this will be as easy as the other night," she remarked to Akira.
"Don't worry," he replied immediately. "I'll keep you safe, I promise." He turned to look at her over his shoulder. "Just like the other night."
Ann nodded lightly and smiled, the fearful twinge in her gut abating slightly.
The tall man let out a deep breath, his eyes moving from Akira to Tamura. At last, in a raspy and imposing smoker's voice, he spoke. "This can all be resolved so much more easily if you just hand over the dose now. We're yakuza, but we don't want to kill a bunch of kids if we don't have to."
"How noble of you," said Makoto. "Even though you've already killed one innocent man."
"He was about to go back on his word and sound the alarm, girl. And I hate men with no honor."
"A hell of a way to make an entrance," Ryuji replied. "You want the dose, then you're gonna have to come over here and pry it off our goddamn corpses."
The leader laughed, the men behind him laughed. Akira lowered his stance further, focusing the "heat" within his core. The familiar, quiet ringing in his ears began, and his eyes narrowed as his body steadied.
"If you're so willing to throw your life away," said the man, "then the informant spilled his guts about how important it is. That means we really do have to kill all of you. Shame, I've heard a lot about your friend here," he pointed to Akira. "Lots of people will be disappointed when your carcass in found a few miles up the river."
"Who the hell even are you?" Akira glowered at him.
"I am Hayashi of the Omi Alliance," said the leader. "And I have explicit orders to take that sample of RZ-412 off your hands and back to headquarters. You hear that, Tamura-san? Your sorry ass was sold out. Turns out your little friend wasn't as good at hiding as you thought. And now his head and his body are on two different garbage trucks to be dumped like the worthless waste you both are."
"That bastard," Tamura muttered. "We can't let him get the sample. Maybe we can lure him into the city?"
Akira nodded. "You're not on your home turf, asshole," he said. "One word about this slips through the cracks, and it'll be a city-wide manhunt for you and all your men."
Hayashi chuckled to himself again. "I think your city has bigger problems than us."
"What are you talking about?"
"At this very moment, the Omi Alliance is making their presence known in your worthless cesspool of a city. Your old washed-out fuck-up of a patriarch better be ready for the hell my clan is about to rain upon him, because all thirty-thousand members of the Alliance have sworn to exact retribution for his past transgressions. We will see the War of '67 avenged, and our contribution to the effort starts with sending every goddamn one of you home in boxes."
The ringing in Akira's ears increased by a small margin; the heat in his core intensified, sending an instinctive wave of warmth through his arms and legs. He stood up straight, brandishing his own smirk to Hayashi. "Tell me, do you even listen to yourself when you open your mouth?"
Hayashi nodded, baring his teeth in a deadly grin. "Don't believe me? Doesn't matter, you won't live to see it anyway." He looked over his shoulder to his men. "Go!" he commanded. "Kill this arrogant mother fucker!"
Akira instantly dropped to a lower dragon stance once again, his smirk intensifying into a cocky smile. "Just what I needed to hear," he muttered.
"Here they come," said Yusuke, adopting the fluid and graceful stance of the crane. "Ready yourselves."
Hayashi's six men charged forward toward the group, and Akira was the first to meet them. He sprinted right past them with a powerful cry toward Hayashi and leapt forward, his first brought back in preparation to let loose a punch with all the force of his body behind it. Hayashi smiled and guarded himself, blocking the blow as Akira came down from the air on top of him, fire and rage burning in his eyes.
HAYAYTO HAYASHI
OMI ALLIANCE
Hayashi pushed back against Akira, who landed deftly on his feet and immediately adopted the dragon stance once again. Akira rushed in with strong punches left and right, but Hayashi blocked every one with a rigid defensive stance. He pushed Akira's right hand out of the way, parrying the right hook and punched Akira in the chest hard. It was as if the young man had taken a rock to the sternum, forcing him backward and nearly losing his balance. Saliva immediately built up in his mouth, and there was a dull soreness at the point of impact that intensified rapidly, telling Akira that he had already taken one nasty bruise.
Hayashi chuckled that same devious chuckle. "Is that all you got?" he taunted. "All flash and no real power?"
"I'm just getting warmed up," Akira shot back, his body bobbing back and forth like a boxer before he lunged forward again.
His companions were at each other's sides, fighting the men with everything they had. Yusuke's fighting style was much more in line with kung fu than karate and judo like Akira's, with quick jabs and sweeping kicks that emphasized speed and control of the area rather than overwhelming power. There was a grace to his moves that was exhibited as he ducked under a strong haymaker with the fluidity of water before kicking the yakuza in the gut from his lowered stance. In the brief moment his opponent was stunned, Yusuke twirled around as he rose back up into a backhand across the man's face that transition beautifully into a roundhouse kick to the jaw, sending the man downward to smash face first into the ground.
With this exception display, Yusuke then adopted a graceful pose in which he held his legs together, put his fingers under his chin thoughtfully, and looked down his nose at the man now realizing he had three teeth in his mouth along with all the blood. "A tour de force, if I say so myself," said Yusuke.
He did notice the scrawny yakuza coming up behind him, his fist inches away from coming down on top of his skull. That is, until the man shouted in pain and was thrown to the ground by Makoto. Her aikido skills were immediately made apparent as the small man was still larger than her, and she effortlessly but him into an arm hold before palm-fisting his elbow, snapping the joint with a crack and cry of more pain. "Watch your back!" she shouted to Yusuke as she got back to her feet. "Leave the celebrations for when we win!"
"Uh, of course," Yusuke stammered awkwardly, returning to his fighting stance.
To their left was Ryuji and Ann, with Ryuji doing the majority of the fighting as he was the more experienced street brawler. His style was a tactless, angry force colliding with all in front of him. He grunted, shouted, and glowered like a starved beast with every strike, though seemed to maintain enough cognition to watch out for the blond woman at his side. Where Ryuji fought hard with nothing held back no matter how his body twisted or ached, Ann was more careful and considerate. She was not very strong physically compared to her companions, so she instead baited their assailants into positions that put them at a disadvantage against her friends. When one heavy set brute swiped at her from the left, she dodged backward diagonally just enough to turn him away from Ryuji, who then struck him in the spine and brought both his fists down on the brute's head with a victorious roar.
Ann whooped at the display, pumping her fist in the air as the brute crumbled to the ground, holding his head and writhing on the floor. "This is a bit more fun than I expected!" she proclaimed.
Ryuji pumped himself up like a proud orc in one of those RPGs many people his age liked, and in reply, shouted, "I fucking LIVE FOR THIS!" and charged forward to aid Mishima, who was putting a yakuza in a hold from behind. "Special delivery, asshole!" Ryuji proclaimed, and unleashed a powerful haymaker that collided with the yakuza's temple, causing his eyes to roll back and the enemy to be knocked out cold.
"Nice one, Sakamato!" Mishima gave him a thumbs up with a gleeful, excited grin. "You've upped your game since high school!"
"You don't got a choice in the yakuza, Mishima. You gotta learn quick how to really kick some ass!"
At that same time, Akira's punch had been caught in mid-air by Hayashi. The older yakuza continued to smirk at the young man, who's glower only grew in intensity at the same time. "You got guts, kid, I'll give you that," said Hayashi. "But you're more out of your league than you can imagine."
"I get that a lot," Akira retorted. "But they all still end up face down on the pavement anyway." Akira threw his whole body weight backwards at an angle, using the force to get away from Hayashi and transfer it into a roundhouse kick that caught the yakuza off guard. The kick connected with Hayashi's shoulder and Akira unleashed a flurry of jabs and kicks on him, forcing him toward the water. The "heat" within him intensified; his body moved faster and easier, his attacks became stronger, he blocked more attacks than he endured. Hayashi drew his arm back quickly, crying out as he tried to catch Akira in the middle of a kick. Before Akira consciously knew what was happening, he reset his stance and punched Hayashi's arm, knocking it away.
The yakuza was temporarily out of breath, shaking the pain out of his arm as Akira regained his dragon stance. "Impressive," said Hayashi. "You're not some dumb kid after all."
"I'm stronger than I look. If this is the best the Omi has to offer, then this is going to be a hell of a short war."
Hayashi laughed at his remark, standing to his feet. He rolled his neck slowly, cracking it as he popped his knuckles. "You ain't seen a damn thing yet, punk," he sneered. "We're gonna burn this whole motherfucking city down to its foundations!"
"NOT ON MY WATCH!" shouted the voice of Makoto as she came charging at Hayashi from his flank. The man turned around to barely be able to block a punch from the girl much stronger than he expected. Hayashi retaliated with four punches, and Makoto blocked every one deftly before sneaking in a sucker punch to the gut. He reeled backward as Makoto tried to put him in a hold and throw him to the ground, but Hayashi managed to spin her around with a furious cry and toss her at Akira. They collided with each other, and Makoto landed at his side in a daze.
Akira quickly regained his senses, the heat within him now reaching a furious temperature. Hayashi stood where he was, laughing at them as their comrades tried to knock out the remaining yakuza. Akira looked down at his hands as he kneeled on the ground, noticing they were shaking. The ringing in his ears increased, and his body felt almost painfully hot. Almost. His vision then shifted, being tinted in a shade of light blue. He felt like his body was on fire… and could have sworn he saw small blue flames radiating from his hands. Akira nearly was able to process what was happening, but then like a pot boiling over, his heat exploded within him, and he felt a rush all encompassing, invigorating, and monstrously, delectably powerful.
Akira glowered at Hayashi and let out a low roar in his throat that grew to a crazed crescendo as he got to his feet and broke into a sprint toward the yakuza. He flung his whole body into the air in a leap, grabbed Hayashi's shoulders, threw back his head with a warrior's cry, and headbutted Hayashi in the forehead as he tackled him to the ground. Akira rolled off of the man's crumpled form, and Hayashi was out cold for about ten seconds, his eyes having rolled back and drool dribbling from the corner of his mouth.
Akira stood to his feet, breathing heavily as his body quickly calmed down. He looked to his friends, seeing them standing over the lain-out bodies of the other yakuza. They looked to him with nothing less than complete shock, but their focus seemed not squarely set on himself, but something around him. He looked on his shoulders and barely believed what he saw: the final fading flashes of tiny blue flames before they disappeared, and Akira suddenly felt like his muscles had been drained of a year of training's worth of strength. He stumbled, repressed the need to vomit, and nearly collapsed on the floor, barely keeping himself upright.
"Whoa," Makoto remarked, standing herself up slowly. "What the hell was that?"
Akira looked down at his hands, feeling a dull heat still flowing through them and his arms. He looked between Makoto and the rest of his friends awkwardly, then rubbed his head as he finally felt the pain of headbutting a man full force setting in. "I have no idea," he remarked.
"Whatever it was," Ryuji added, "that was fucking amazing."
Akira chuckled with an awkward nod. "Sure doesn't feel amazing anymore."
"Are you saying it did?" asked Ann as she walked over to him. Her face was wrought with concern as she checked for any obvious injuries. To her happy surprise, she saw none. "I mean, I couldn't quite tell," she continued, "but it looked like you were on fire! And not, like, saying you were kicking ass, which you were, but like, you were actually on fire."
Akira looked down at Hayashi, who was starting to come to but still barely able to move. He was truly incapacitated by… whatever the hell had just happened to Akira. "Yeah," he said slowly. "It did feel… amazing."
Further questions were deemed untimely as they still needed to escort Tamura to safety. The group made their way out of the red-light district and back up to the park above. Hayashi and his men could flee empty handed or die by the guards and yakuza, there was nothing else they could do. The rest of the group did, however, tend to keep a slight bit more distance from Akira, who's mind pondered on whatever had just happened to him.
I have no idea what that was, he thought. But I'll be damned if I've ever anything felt like that before.
Mom… what the hell were you not telling me all my life?
[Reviews are always encouraged. Thank you so much for reading. Writing this story has never been easy, but any reviews you guys offer makes the process all worth it. Thank you again for reading thus far.]
