Disclaimer: I don't own Tokyo Revengers
Flashback: A Rivalry Blossoms
May 5th 1998
"Hey, coach. You sure about this?"
An adult teenager whispered behind me to his boxing instructor as I stood in the ring preparing to square off with my towering goliath of an opponent.
"Hn." Coach grunted in a gruff tone, fully bald already in his mid-to-late 30s, sporting a black tracksuit with a white stripe running vertically across the jacket. "I don't like it either, Tomohiro, but maybe after the little shit gets his face carved in by Hiroyuki he'll fuck off, crying back to his momma."
"Yeah, but still."
"If things start getting hairy, I'll step in and put a stop to it."
The little shit they were referring to was me and the concern they exuded for my apparent safety was brought about by the mini giant in front of me. Standing at a height at least above 144cm and carrying a beer belly underneath his midnight blue short-sleeved t-shirt with a Bart Simpson emblem on the front, he made for an imposing figure. Like, Holy shit. What were his parents feeding him to pack on the pounds like that? Didn't they care about his dietary needs? Apparently not. Ugh. So irresponsible.
Well, at least they brought him to the gym to try and burn off the excess weight but it should never have gotten to that point to begin with. Apparently, he was only 12-years-old, too, which left me wanting to see his passport to verify it. Just looking at him, one would never think he was 12.
He had a crop of short raven hair gelled up, resembling flames above a pair of focused brown eyes. He had a light brownish complexion typical of any Japanese person.
"Not too late to back out now, Kazu-chan?" He mocked.
"Save the excuses until after I beat ya, Hiro-chan," I quipped back.
"Little jerk," He frowned with a straining smirk. I struck my tongue out.
The ref step between us in the centre of the ring, holding out his arms as though ejecting a forcefield in front of us, "Ready?" He asked, eliciting two eager nods. He swung his hands up, bringing them down with excited energy, "Begin!" He scampered underneath the ropes as my opponent and I slowly advanced in on each other.
Then, Hiroyuki moved with sudden untapped ferocity, nailing me with all the force of a freight train with a vicious overarching haymaker powered against my head protector, launching me against the ropes.
"It's over," Coach said glumly, watching the ref slide back into the ring and begin the 10 count.
"1, 2…!"
"Damn." The teenager said, jogging behind my position curled against the ropes, "Hey, you alright, kid? You get it now or what? Hiroyuki is the strongest boxer at the gym. A little kid like you never stood a chance."
"Hehehehe." I snickered, much to the bemusement of everyone around me. "That's how it is, is it?" I flipped to my feet instantly, stopping the count in its tracks.
"You little shit!" Coach reprimanded, "Stay down! You can't continue after a punch like that."
"Nah, don't think I will."
"What?"
An ultra-satisfied smirk crossed my lips, "Not when I got this guy figured out." I revelled in the bewilderment that my cryptic declaration had brought about like heavy rainfall. Confusion was drawn all over Hiroyuki's face like someone's sloppy drawing.
"Whaddya talkin' about?" Coach asked.
"Big guy here is a lame fatty," I began to elaborate, extending an arm forward. Hiroyuki's face boiled in hotly annoyance but I paid it no mind and continued with my explanation, "So he never had to learn the basics of boxing because he was always bigger and stronger than the other kids."
"The hell?" Coach and Tomohiro musta been sharing astonishment like a squad of players splitting the cash on GTA Online regarding my surprisingly (to them) intelligent understanding of boxing.
My accusations of Hiroyuki not knowing the fundamentals struck a chord, "What, and you think you know all there is about boxing, bastard?"
"I know more than someone who knows nothing," I retorted, intensifying his enraged frown 10-fold, "And I'll prove it now."
Hiroyuki pounded his green gloves together, "Bring it, then!"
"Can do."
We squared off again but this time things were different. I jabbed him, hitting him squarely between the eyes. He threw another wide haymaker my way, but I side stepped it with clever footwork, Floyd Mayweather-style and went to town on his ribcage, battering his sides with 2 roundhouse hooks and a left. Another wild, untamed blow rocketed toward me and another step eased me past it before I reeled his jaw with a sharp uppercut.
"Damn it!" He whined, straightening, "Stop moving!"
Contrary to his demand, I moved once more and snapped him in the face a second time, "No, I don't think I will." I evaded, then countered and repeated that simple tactic until he was forced up against the ropes, desperately trying to cover himself up with his poorly trained guard, "What's wrong, big man?" I taunted, shrugging, "I thought you were gonna teach me a lesson or something? I'm only 6. You telling me you can't even handle one little 6-year-old?
"Shut up!" He roared, lashing out with a roundhouse I ducked under before burying a jab into his stomach. He gagged, but I wasn't done with him, haymaking his left guard open, then breaking his right apart with another and inhaling, viciously powering a heavy straight right hook into his belly with enough force to cause him to vomit blood and bring him to his knees at once.
"UGH!" He dropped to the mat.
A stunned silence filled the gym.
I turned and made my way back to my corner to see the looks of amazement coach and Tomohiro were gawking at me with.
"…Holy shit." Tomohiro whispered, looking between me and the downed Hiroyuki several times as if his eyes were playing tricks on him. "You actually took down Hiroyuki."
"Not hard beating someone who knows nothing about boxing," I said in casual dismissal of my own lofty achievement. "He needs to go back to the basics and build the fundamentals, cuz bullying smaller kids with size only gets you so far."
"Ya really know your stuff, huh?" Coach stated.
I placed my gloved fists on my hips, grinning like a loony, flushed superhero, "I grew up on boxing."
"You're like 6."
"6 is big enough!" I nonsensically retorted, reddening in embarrassment. Sometimes I forgot I wasn't physically an adult anymore. Oh well. Rolling with the flow of my mistake, I quipped, truly sounding like a child trying to play act as an adult, "I'm a big boy. Heck, I can ride the train to school all by myself now."
"Uh-huh."
The ref eventually snapped himself out of the stupor my knockout of the gym's strongest fighter had knocked him into, "Oh, shit!" He said, sliding back into the ring to deliver a 10 count. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6."
Hiroyuki grunted, dragging himself to his feet and ending the 10 count. I hope he counted his blessing that the ref was such a scatterbrain fool that began the countdown at least a few 7 seconds after he was brought down like goliath because this match would be over, "No way am I gonna lose to a little kid."
"I mean." I said, crossing my arms, "You basically lost already, if you think about it."
He pounded his fists, astonishingly shrouding his entire body in a glittery emerald glow like an aura straight out of DBZ or something.
"Holy smokes. Look at that!" I marvelled at the green light reflected off of the shells of my eyes, 'That's some fighting spirit. Reminds me of the Ex/heat stuff from the Yakuza and Judgement games. I wonder if there's a connection.' Maybe I was reborn into a fusion of the two verses, Yakuza and Tokyo Revengers. 'Wonder if Mikey and Draken have this stuff. Stupid Kazuma! Of course they do.' Mikey was the strongest guy in the Tokyo Revengers world and Draken was top tier.
If some rando could utilize heat energy in the same world they were in, then best believe they would be able to. It was only logical.
"Idiot!" Coach screeched in fury, "Don't let him get in your head."
"No worries, coach. I got this." I assured.
"Moron!" He lambasted me this time, "You don't know what you're up against!"
"Sure I do," I continued my confident assurance, strolling forward to engage my flashy adversary, "Just watch."
"Wait!"
"I'm gonna crush you now, you bitch!" He sneered.
"Just try it!" I smirked, swiftly dodging right from instant haymaker speedily thrown my way, just as heavy as before but twice as nimble and quick. Well, I understood how Hiroyuki was dubbed "strongest of the gym." He was surprisingly speedy and unsurprisingly powerful for a big guy.
Still, I retaliated, snapping his aura-lit head back. I couldn't stick around in one spot for any small amount of time because my man had well and truly unleashed the beast resting dormant within, unloading a wild, desperate barrage on me. I stayed calm, strafing and swerving around his weighty strikes, carefully picking my moments of retaliation.
A left roundhouse hook to his lower ribs, then another to his other side before ducking and crisply catching him on the jaw with a shoryuken-style uppercut: boxing edition. He staggered back a step, and I deviously used that moment to get under his skin, shooting him a toothy, wide smirk. He scowled, bewilderment plain as day over his expression.
"…Just!" He strained, hauling another haymaker at me; the only trick he had in his repertoire, "Fuck you!"
I easily danced around the wide blow, happily accepting the open season from behind him and letting fire on the back of his head, firing three right-handed jabs onto his head. He groaned, leashing with a dirty spinning elbow I did well to lean my upper body out of the way of.
"Hey!" I bitched, "Asshole." I went on the assault this time around, gatling firing a near endless barrage of devastating short uppercuts, haymaking him on both cheeks before sending him crashing against the corner with a heavy uppercut. "Get rushed, cheater."
"…Fuck." He groaned, low and miserable.
I ambled toward him, spreading out my arms with supreme arrogance brimming off every pore of my body, "C'mon bitch!" I taunted, "Fight back."
He gritted his teeth, trying to do just that with an unskilled lunge I evaded like a prime Ali. I then switched gears into Mike Tyson mode and started rocking him like a beaten sandbag with the Todoroki rush straight out of Lost Judgement. All the while I just kept chanting, "Fight back, bitch! Fight back! Fight back! Fight back!" As I unloaded my unrelenting fury on his sorry ass.
"That's enough!" The ref finally saw fit to stop my petulant onslaught, wiggling between us and gesturing me away whilst my opponent fell battered, bruised and broken to the floor, "You've made your point clear, Kazuma-kun. This match is over."
I shrugged, turning from my fallen opponent and heading toward the ropes. "Kazuma!" Hiroyuki cried, halting me on the spot. I looked over my shoulder to find he had managed to push himself up to a knee, clutching at his swollen ribcage with a single arm, "This ain't over, damn it!"
"Uh, I think it is, though!"
"I'm not talking about the match!" He snapped, bruised and salty pride on full 8k display. He took a moment to breathe, inhaling deeply, "You may have won the battle but you won't win the war! We're gonna have a rematch and next time, I'm kicking your ass from here, all the way to Yokohama Chinatown, you hear me!"
I chuckled, grinning boyishly, "Alrighty," I fisted my hips, "I accept the challenge, but you might want to touch up on the basics before you try stepping to me, cuz you ain't gonna get close to beating me being a one-trick pony."
He snickered darkly, "Oh, don't worry. I'll learn all there is about boxing, then I'll put you in your place, you cocky fuck."
My smile softened with sincere euphoria.
"I look forward to it then."
Chapter 2
The Optimistic Delinquent: Hanagaki Takemichi
July 4th 2005
The audible swooshing motion of my bedroom window sliding open penetrated the quiet morning air, arousing me and Terror from our peaceful slumber.
"Woof, woof!~" The dog barked happily, sitting up and dashing over to our visitor, 7 years older.
"Hi ya, Terror-chan!~" Hina bubbled with warm affection, leaning back to brace herself when he stood on two legs, balancing himself on her shoulders. He had grown considerably over these last seven years, understandably enough considering dogs age significantly quicker than humans. Although he was middle age, he was still healthy and strong enough to defend Grandma from intruders if needs be and I had trained him to attack any trespasser he didn't know on sight. Random pedestrians who didn't show signs of aggression toward him were generally safe from his wrath since he was intelligent enough to distinguish the difference between a home intruder and a civilian on the streets.
My nan had fortunately grown up around dogs all her life so she was cool with us taking in Terror.
I had a perfect view of her, lying upon my white futon on my belly. She had her mainline canon look from the 2005 past; a pretty, glossy peach-cream complexion, embellishing her shoulder-length, wavy rose-gold coloured hair styled in a bob. Her distinctive mole still rested beneath the left side of her bottom lip. She had a thin, curvy waist and noticeable developing breasts shining through her cloud white school dress shirt she kept tucked into her short grey skirt and a red tie with white stripes smartly tied underneath the collar of her shirt.
All in all, she looked impeccably cute, wearing an affectionate smile accomplished by a warm light brown gaze she beamed only at me.
She sat the dog aside, shaking her pretty head and placing both hands on her hourglass figure at me, "Oh, you." She said, tiptoeing toward me on her socks-clad feet. She lowered herself at the foot of my futon on her knees, audaciously lifting up and pillowing my head on her soft lap, lighting twinning her fingers through my hair with an affectionate gaze, "What am I gonna do with you?"
Hina's family had coincidentally been my Nan's next-door neighbours for the longest since she left my grumpy grandad in the country and relocated to Tokyo to be closer to the family. The old saying 'opposites attract' was true in the case of my grandparents. Grandma was a social butterfly and Grandpa was an anti-social loner who found comfort in solitude.
Grandma had been good friends with Hina's folks for years now, which worked to Hina's benefit as she got to see more of my softer side when Grandma teased me about us. As you can imagine, this only increased her confidence that she could snag me and, credit to her, she did.
Hina was far more determined than I ever gave her credit for, though her initial character was based on the strong-willed, shy female archetype and that carried over to her real life persona, so maybe I should've expected it.
Can't lie, her persistence grew on me. Even when I attempted to return to my shell of hardass delinquent following that day back in 1998, she never let that deter her, baking and making me all kinds of treats likely with the assistance of her mother and continuously forming conversations with me whenever she had the chance. Once she felt confident enough that my façade was just that; a façade, she started joining me for lunch in the rooftop.
Now she did whatever she wanted, be it holding my hand, looping her arms around mine, kissing me and coming and going into my room whenever she felt like it.
"Yeah, yeah," I smiled against Hina's bare lap, her natural smell almost lulling me back to sleep. I relaxed there momentarily, cheek against her warm thighs before dragging myself up, peering up at Hina's loving smile, "Alrighty, I'm up."
"I'll go get breakfast ready," She remarked, standing up and smoothing out her short grey school skirt.
"Thanks, Hina," I said, warming her smile.
She elegantly skipped her way out of my room, figuratively running into my grandma by the sounds of things.
"Oh, Hina-chan! It's good to see you, dear. Come to pick up your future husband, Kazu-chan?"
"Hehe. Of course, Sakamoto-san!"
There goes that grandma of mine, teasing one of us whenever she got the chance.
I scratched my head in mild irritation whilst Terror whimpered nonchalantly beside me.
"Well, better start getting ready for another day," I caressed Terror underneath his chin, grinning. "Right, boy?"
"Woof!"
I stepped out my nan's apartment with Hina in tow 40 minutes later after downing a bowl of rice and a raw egg, showering and getting dressed, not particularly in that order.
"Alright, Grandma! I'm off now!" I hollered, stretching my head past the doorway so she could hear me from where she sat in the living room watching TV. The dog was there by the doorstep to see us off.
"Okay, Kazu-chan! Have a lovely day, son!" She yelled back with affectionate warmth colouring her tone.
"Will do," I said, lowering my voice and smiling down at Terror sitting on his haunches like an obedient boy, "Look after Grandma for me, okay, boy?"
"Woof!" He barked, wagging his tail when I tickled him underneath his chin.
"And don't escape and go off looking for me again," I warned, sternly pointing at him. Terror cocked his head, feigning ignorance. I sighed.
I closed the door, turning right into Hina's lips who laid a soft one right on mine, tiptoeing.
"What was that for?" I breathed when Hina pulled away, landing back on her heels.
"No reason." She chirped, arms behind her back holding her school briefcase. She left an extra pair of shoes at ours so she could go in and out my room without having to circle back to retrieve her footwear.
I threw a hand behind my head sheepishly, "Well, thanks."
"You're welcome!~" She bubbled, removing an arm and looping it snuggly around mine, "Come on, kohai."
"As you command, senpai," I chuckled.
Hina was my senior in middle school. If you cast your minds back, the Tokyo Revengers "canon kicked off" with Hinata and Takemichi – who I will henceforth be calling Jack – (more on that in a bit) as second-year middle schoolers, but I was a year younger than both and was just starting my middle school existence for the first time this year, or maybe the second time? Depends how close you thought England's secondary school and Japan's middle school were really.
Air quotes on canon starting, too, because really, would it even begin in these circumstances? I had already drastically altered the story of Tokyo Revengers, albeit inadvertently, by stealing Hina's affections away from Jack. There was no reason for his boy Atsushi, aka Akkun, to commit homicide on him now, prompting his spontaneous, haphazardly explained time-leap twelve years back.
As I established seven years ago in elementary school, Kisaki orchestrated the deaths of both Hina and Jack because he was mad salty she didn't pick him. Without that fundamental development between the two, Kisaki had no incentive to target Jack. If anything, he would be gunning for me now and I'd bet my life-savings he was still meticulously planning to worm his way into Toman and off me and Hina.
The only reason I hadn't offed the guy yet despite all the shit he pulled throughout the series was solely because I felt bad and queasy killing another Jack (I swear I'm gonna explain what I mean by this Jack character and why I'm using him as a referential point for wimpy characters).
Soon as he teamed up with Hanma, then I would decimate him.
Just had to make sure to get to Mikey before he does.
xXx
(Later that day)
xXx
I came to enjoy my early commute to school via the train because it meant I could snuggle up behind Hina under the guise of shielding her from predators in our packed cart, warmly wrapping my arms around her waist and lightly resting my chin atop her crown; a whiff of her shampoo flowing into my nostrils. Well, it wasn't all an excuse to cuddle up with Hina.
Train groping or Chikan as it was known in Japan was a real issue here, most likely due to the long hours Japanese people tend to work. They neither have the time nor the energy left for sex by the time they finished work and just like a drug addict suffering from withdrawal, the deprive leaves them thirsting for any contact with the female sex. Secondary, trains were so stuffed during early morning rush, it ended up being remarkably simple for an offender to get away with the act of Chikan.
And thirdly, even if they were caught, the poor female victim gets put in a vastly uncomfortable spot when taken down to the station for questioning, asked all sorts of awful enquiries like "How they were touched?," "How long they were touched?," "How they were touched?," and "Why didn't they do anything sooner?," (implying they liked being fondled by some pervert they didn't know), and often by male officers, too.
It was even left to them whether they wanted to press charges or not.
All things considered, it was a headache they really didn't need.
Going to school, leaving school and taking a break from school during recess were the best parts of my day since I got to be with Hina, and everything in between were the worst bits, e.g. being in class, because it meant I couldn't be with her. Damn. I hated being a grade younger than Hinata.
I was handed a reprieve of my crushing boredom by the door of my current class venomously sliding open.
"Kazuma-kun!" The respite being young Takemitchy, rebellious blond hair now atop his crown with an open collar and baggy pants. I swear. Please, I beg this wasn't just me but those black pants looked heinous. They resembled clown's pants with how far wide the lower half was. Good lord. Could never be me.
"I formally request a duel!" Oh, right. We were doing this. Every study period Jack would come to my class and ask for a sparring session under the guise of fighting. It started after I schooled him and his crew while considerably pulling my punches during my first week of middle school when they tried to be hard and cut in line, the fools.
"Here we go."
"Hanagaki's come to get his ass kicked."
"Don't know why he bothers."
"Yeah, he's gotta know by now no one can beat Kazuma-kun, not even the third years."
My classmates gossiped loudly amongst themselves, reddening Jack's face who strained and grunted, lowering his head and balling his fist. He loosed a breathless scream of untapped ferocity, only drawing amused smiles from everyone around him. Brother was about as threatening as an injured kitten.
"None of that matters!" He exclaimed, thrusting a thumb at himself, "Because today's the day I, Hanagaki Takemichi, finally beats Sakamoto Kazuma and makes him acknowledge me as his senpai." He proclaimed, pointing to me who barely even paid him any attention, lazily resting a cheek against my fist.
"If you say so, Jack," I replied in dismissive indifference, slowly pushing myself from my desk and rising to my feet.
The dubbed Jack stomped his feet on the ground like a petulant child, "Damn it! Stop calling me Jack! I'm your senpai!" He insisted, but I ignored him, sauntering past him and leading the way through the hallway, "Who even is Jack anyway?"
"Just a weak little loser," I remarked, slouching with hands in pockets. I glimpsed over my shoulder in cool nonchalance to see his face reddening this time from intense rage, "Kinda like you."
"Bastard."
Jack was a wimpy guy I knew in my previous life when I attended secondary school. In all fairness to the lad, he was a nice guy despite being a little bitch, and I could reward him his props, in hindsight, for at least knowing his limitations, unlike Takemichi. You wouldn't see Jack roaming the halls or streets trying to pick fights. Naw. He knew he was weak and cowardly so he kept his head down and just got on with his life.
Hanagaki was essentially a what if version of that same wimpy kid – A "What if Jack pretended to be a delinquent?"
Takemichi was the answer.
We slipped into our outdoor shoes, meeting up outside in the front yard.
A needless gust of wind blew past us as we stood across each other like something right out of a wild, wild west movie. The second generation of Jack tried his darndest to look intense and cool, arms crossed, legs spread apart and face set in a stern scowl, but it was futile. After seeing him reduced to a snivelling pile of lame throughout the series, I couldn't see him as anything more. Even when Ken Wakui tried to portray him as "badass," it just came off as cheap because he didn't do anything to earn it besides from sprouting cheesy, emotional talk-no-jutsu like speeches.
"This'll be a one vs one fight." He clarified, all serious.
"Just get on with it, man," I intoned, hands still slacked in my pockets.
"Damn it!" He frowned, "I was trying to be sportsman-like!"
"And I'm saying I don't need it," I answered, "How many times have I handed you your ass already?"
"Oh, that tears it!" He roared, skidding his foot off of the ground and kicking up dust as though powering up the engine, "I'm kicking your ass now!" He charged full steam ahead at me with a clumsy haymaker thrown over his head, much to my annoyance.
"Good luck with that." I quipped, effortlessly grabbing his fist in a slacked grip and absorbing all of his momentum without being moved an inch. "Don't throw haymakers off the bat, bruv! You're just asking to be countered!"
"I know that!" He persisted when he freed and pushed himself away, flying back toward me with a short yet still uncontrolled jab, guard wide open.
"Keep that guard up, too," I instructed, easily side stepping the elongating limp and slapping his head back with a lightning quick jab of my own and although I severely pulled my punch, it still left him seeing stars, "See what I mean? You're like a punching bag without your guard up."
"I know that!" He protested again, turning his arms up horizontally to cover his bruised nose and face.
"Stay on your toes!" I advised, lightly bouncing on the balls of my heels to demonstrate. "S'important to always maintain good footwork in boxing so you can evade your opponent's moves. Don't just remain rooted to the ground cuz you'll make yourself a prime target and ya don't want that."
Jack observed the rhythm of my feet with quick glimpses downwards before awkwardly trying to copy me but he ended up looking like he was trying to skip from the side to side. "L-Like this?" He strained, flushing in obvious embarrassment.
I rolled my eyes, "No, homie. Not like that." I stopped, lifting up a leg before placing it delicately down on my toes, "Just like this. Place the tips of your shoes on the ground and keep the ends of them off it. Then," I bounced, landing back on my feet and strafing speedily to the side before bouncing anew, "Bounce. Move. Bounce. Move, keeping your brain active, alert and aware to danger at all times."
Jack – to his credit – tried to soak in everything I told him like an eager cram school student, ironically the only times he ever resembled one. He attempted to stay on his toes. It was a little awkward but at least he was trying to perfect the fundamentals, which was more than I could say for his 26-year-old canon self. Never understood why he never learnt self-defence during the series considering how massively unintelligent he was.
It would be a lot more satisfying than just seeing him wailed on but persevering through 'sheer Naruto-like determination' that was for sure.
"Like this?" He grunted, keeping his guard close to his face.
"Close enough," I said, curling a sharp roundhouse hook into his ribs and drawing another groan from him. "Keep your guard midway so you can shuffle it between your face and midsection. If you just hold it over your face, then it's gonna be open season on your ribs."
"…Right. Got it, sensei." He wheezed, visible sarcasm dispelling from his lungs like hot air.
A few minutes later found Takemitchy depleted, flopping haphazardly to the dirt floor eagle-spread on his back. He exhaled, long and hard, "…Okay, I'm spent."
"Good," I said, awarding him his imaginary flowers, "Not bad, bruv. Not bad at all. You're getting a little better."
He snickered, "You bet! Soon enough I'll be ready to take you on, Kazuma-kun!"
"Don't get cocky," I laughed, pocketing my hands, "You still have an avalanche of progress to climb before you even get close to my level." I jerked a thumb at my posture of playful pride, "I've been boxing since I was in diapers."
"Yeah, yeah," He sulked, puckering his lips and folding his arms behind his head. I shook my head. Mans in my previous life really thought this motherfucker was an unique protagonist because he was weak and lacked all semblance of a brain when in all actuality, that couldn't be further from the case. When you dissect his character, you realize he was essentially another Naruto, just stripped of nearly all of his redeeming qualities save for his resolve and made a pathetic crybaby.
"Oh, yeah," He perked up, "Me and the guys are gonna fight some second-years over at Shibuya middle school today," He sat up, lining his lips with a smirk. "I'll put everything I picked up from you into practise when I kick their asses."
There we go, that was what I was waiting for; for Takemichi and his boys to roll on up to Shibuya just to get the stuffing kicked out of them by Kiyomisa's group.
"Sweet," I remarked casually, "Taking the incentive I see. Cool. Just don't get in over your head."
Takemichi brushed off my concerns, "It's fine, man. My cousin Masaru-kun runs the place down there." Ah. The cousin that was also a little bitch, just like you buddy, and only pretended to be a bigshot just to impress your naïve ass. "If things get dicey, he's our ticket out of there."
I shrugged, "Alright. Looks like you have it all planned out, champ." I grabbed him underneath his armpit, gently lifting him to his feet, "Give them hell."
"Don't worry. I intend to."