Souda gaped at Kuzuryuu and attempted to scramble to his feet before feeling another impact on his skull. He slumped to the ground with a hiss, clutching the afflicted area. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he spat, trying not to yell for fear of further brain damage. "I asked you to sing a song and your idea of an equal favor is kidnapping me in the middle of the night?"
Kuzuryuu glared down at the mechanic, seeming much taller from the cold ground, and Souda tried to keep his breathing under control. "What, are... are you gonna hold me hostage and torture me and dump my dead body onto the street when no one comes for me-"
"Hey, shut up!" Kuzuryuu hissed. "Just calm the fuck down, okay? No one's gonna hurt you unless you keep actin' like an idiot."
Souda sniffed loudly and wiped at his eyes with a sleeve, biting his lip in an attempt to stop its involuntary trembling. Kuzuryuu sighed, his thumbs hooked into the pockets of his suit, and Souda could almost have laughed at how casual the gangster's stance was. "I can explain the details of your debt when we get to where we're goin'," the man in question said, keeping his voice low and calm. "We're just waiting for the car right now."
The mechanic tried to refrain from making some smart comment or from breaking down into tears, as he was equally tempted to do either. He chose instead to keep his gaze firmly fixed on his socked feet and take some small relief in the fact that he, at least, wasn't being kidnapped in his pajamas. After some time spent frowning at the fraying threads in his neon pink socks, a soft sound of wheels scraping on gravel draw Souda's gaze upward to a sleek black car parking perpendicularly to the dorms.
Kuzuryuu smirked as he noticed Souda staring, glossy-eyed, at the moon's light reflecting off the car's smooth paint before motioning for Pekoyama to lead him inside. The mechanic sat down heavily after the door was opened for him, and his hands clenched firmly against his knees to steady their shaking. Pekoyama and Kuzuryuu sat on either side, effectively blocking both doors, and nodded at the driver. As the vehicle moved quietly forward, Souda swallowed and pushed away the urge to roll down one of the windows and scream.
The car ride was spent in silence and, thanks to the tinted windows and the darkness outside, Souda had no idea where in the country he was after the vehicle pulled into a large garage hours later. Pekoyama firmly took his wrists and led him between perfectly straight lines of perfectly parallel cars and trucks and vans, and she must have felt his hands twitch with the need to pick every one apart because she tightened her grip as they snaked between the dark, gleaming steel and stepped through a heavy door.
Souda winced against the fluorescent lighting that illuminated the short hallway before noticing that, ahead of him, Kuzuryuu's footsteps echoed one final time on the metal floor before his short figure stepped through another doorway and moved forward with only a muffled shuffling. Souda took a few more steps and looked down to notice the gaudy print of his socks standing atop an elegant black and gold carpet.
The contrast would almost be comical if it wasn't so embarrassing, and Souda was brought into further discomfort upon noticing a group of men in suits staring, stone-faced, at the teenagers.
He was really glad he hadn't changed into his pajamas earlier.
Kuzuryuu spoke in a low voice to one of the men, who opened yet another door leading to another set of hallways. They were led through several turns, which Souda absentmindedly memorized despite knowing that his chances of escape were nonexistent. It helped occupy his mind and calm his nerves, though his anxiety quickly peaked as the group arrived before a set of intricately carved double doors.
"Okay," Kuzuryuu began, "you're going to see the boss now. He'll tell you about what you have to do, and then you can get outta here - hey, stop cryin'!"
Souda sniffled and tried to wipe his damp cheek with the fabric of his shoulder, as his hands were still restrained. Kuzuryuu gave Pekoyama a pointed look over the mechanic's shoulder, and his wrists fell free only to be brought promptly to his watering eyes. After a few moments to compose himself, Souda inhaled sharply and lowered his fists.
Kuzuryuu hissed through his teeth and said, "Just stay calm, a'ight? Don't speak unless spoken to, listen carefully to what he says, and you should be fine. You're not gonna get your fingers cut off or whatever." Noticing the slightly quirked eyebrows of a few suited men, he snarled and added, "Unless you fuck up and tell anyone about this. Then we can't really be held responsible." The smooth sound of Pekoyama's sword sliding against her sheath punctuated his statement, and the doors were pushed open.
Souda took several tremulous steps into a candlelit room and could make out a broad-shouldered silhouette sitting in front of a low table on the floor. The man, presumably Kuzuryuu's father, gestured to a pillow across from him, and Souda sat after a moment, folding his legs beneath him and placing his still-shaking hands on his thighs.
For a few tense moments, the only sounds were Souda's shaking breaths and the doors closing behind him as the head of the Kuzuryuu group examined the mechanic's face closely. The two were alone in the small room that smelled of wax and bleach, and Souda had to force himself not to look for signs of blood between the cracks of the wooden floor. He told himself that he was just being paranoid and tried to keep his gaze steadily the man across from him, though the features of his face could barely be seen.
After a few more beats of silence, the man said, "You are Kazuichi Souda, correct?"
Souda startled and was just able to stop himself from squeaking. He nodded, not trusting his voice.
The oyabun nodded slightly in return, seemingly more to himself than the mechanic, and continued. "My son has told me about your mechanical prowess. You are not of a strong disposition, but as you will not be doing any fighting on behalf of our group, this should not be a problem." Souda bit back an exhale of relief. "What you will be doing is far more important. It will allow us to wipe out the existence of a rival group."
Souda swallowed and fidgeted slightly, waiting for the Kuzuryuu leader to continue after his words sunk in. "For several years, that group has gathered resources and members and now makes regular threats to overthrow our syndicate. Their name is not important to you. Though I am not concerned that they will succeed in their efforts, I feel that we should make a public spectacle of their defeat to discourage other organizations from challenging us." Souda felt increasing amounts of dread toward the way the other man's expression never faltered, especially as he said, "That is where you are involved. You will develop a weapon, be it a firearm, an air or land vehicle, or an explosive, that will permanently defeat and humiliate anyone affiliated with that group."
The mechanic blanched but held his tongue as he was given further instruction. "You will have one week to develop the plans for this device and four to build it. I will offer you the assistance of my engineers if it is needed. Your progress will be monitored, and you will be alerted if you need to make changes. Work diligently, and your debt will be repaid."
He did not offer an explanation for what would happen if Souda neglected the work.
"If you have any questions, direct them to Fuyuhiko." The figure stood and gestured to the exit. "You may go."
Souda made sure each foot was planted firmly beneath him before standing, bowing, and walking as calmly as possible toward the doors. They were opened for him by two guards outside, and he was led again to the garage.
The short journey to the car passed without a word from anyone, but as he sat between Pekoyama and Kuzuryuu, between the tinted windows, between his morality and his basic need to live, Souda found his brain overflowing with questions that tasted of bile as they dribbled stickily from his mouth.
"Why..." He swallowed. "Why did you need to kidnap me to tell me that?" he asked, throat and voice raw.
Kuzuryuu looked idly out the window and said, "My dad wanted to see you for himself. Says he's the best judge of character there is and needed to know if you were reliable."
"And they needed to get a high school student to do their work for them?" Souda spat. "I don't wanna make something that's gonna fuckin' kill anyone! Why can't..." He swallowed again, trying to wash away the bitter taste on his tongue. "Why can't he just get one of your guys to do it, huh?"
Kuzuryuu's mouth formed a tense line as he finally made eye contact. "Because you're the one indebted to us. Don't expect to make deals with the biggest crime syndicate in Japan and get off with some stupid little chore." He turned his head away once more, muttering "dumbass" just loudly enough for the subject of the insult to hear.
More questions formed a sour lump in Souda's throat, and he clutched at his neck with one hand as he wiped his eyes with the other, as it slowly sunk in exactly what he'd gotten himself into just for something to impress Sonia.
He didn't say anything else after that.
...
The first hints of a sunrise turned Souda's shadow a dark red as he made his way back to his dorm to get what little sleep he could. He still had school that day, which he had briefly contemplated skipping before realizing that it would just draw suspicion and force him to come up with some vague excuse. Any hint toward his involvement with the Kuzuryuu group would result in nothing but bad things for him.
Too exhausted to bother thinking of new designs or, better yet, a way around making a weapon designed to kill a whole group of people, Souda dragged his feet back to his dorm room and opened the door. He noted that Tanaka, thankfully, was still asleep before crawling into bed.
About an hour later, his alarm sounded, and he stumbled to his feet muttering something about how one person could only take so much shit before he went to take what he hoped would be a rejuvenating shower.
Shortly afterwards, Souda found himself slouching in his desk and fiddling with the ends of his wet hair. Hinata took a seat beside him some time later.
"Good morning, Souda," he said, sounding somewhat cautious. "How are you?"
"I'm a'ight," Souda mumbled, trying to blink away the heaviness in his eyelids. "Just... didn't get much sleep." That wasn't unusual, as he usually lost track of time working on one project or another. Nonetheless, he still made sure to be careful of what he said.
"That's not good," Hinata said, tracing figure eights on his desktop with a fingertip. "Maybe you should take a nap later?"
"Yeah, good idea."
The two fell into their own daydreams as more of their classmates filed in, and Souda could have sworn that his eyes weren't closed for that long, but his next conscious thought was that whoever was shaking his shoulder really needed to stop. He swatted in the general direction of the assailant and heard an exclamation in a voice that sounded suspiciously like his teacher's.
As his blurred vision came into focus, Souda blinked at the wrinkled hands on either side of his desktop and looked up to see the likewise wrinkled features of his math teacher.
He was reminded that the next month wouldn't be kind to him and could feel Kuzuryuu's glare from across the room.
Throughout the day, Souda kept catching Hinata in the middle of concerned glances and had to refrain from simply leaving the class and abandoning all human contact for the next five weeks. Hinata probably thought that he was still upset over Sonia, which had actually been put on the back burner to deal with if he ever lived through his favor.
If he did, though, Tanaka needed to watch his back.
After forcing himself to stay awake through a few classes, Souda made it to lunchtime and sat at his usual table, trying to make conversation despite the half-formed plans and doubts occupying his thoughts.
"So," he started. He left that hanging in the air while he tried to think of something else to say, and the newer additions to the table, namely Komaeda, the swindler, and Mioda, along with Hinata looked over curiously while Nanami played her game, oblivious. "Um," he continued. "How are you guys today?"
Mioda, to no one's surprise, jumped to answer first. "Ibuki is fantastical!" she said, drumming her hands rhythmically on the table. "She had lots of fun with everyone yesterday! Oh, oh, can we all go out again sometime? We could go to that cool restaurant that Sonia told Ibuki about or another karaoke bar or a concert or we could make our own concert or - "
"No more heavy metal, please," Nanami murmured.
"Hey, Mister Porkfeet, you should play the keyboard! If you washed your fingers, they would be perfect!" Mioda gasped. "Or you could leave fingerprints of food all over the keys! It would be like your own trademark! So cool..."
The swindler nodded absentmindedly. "I am sure that I could learn."
"You'd need a stage personality, though, yes, yes!" Mioda flicked a pea from her lunch tray at Hinata as she thought. "Hm, Ibuki wonders if Mister Imposter could try being himself for the public? We'd have all these intense light rockers onstage and just one calm, cool keyboardist!"
"I doubt anyone would want to see my normal self."
"Aw, c'mon!" Mioda drummed insistently on the swindler's arm. "You'd be a big hit! Think about it, okay? Ibuki wants to form a band with her friends!" She whipped around to face Hinata with a grin. "Hajime already agreed to be the drummer, right, right?"
Hinata nodded, mouth twitching between a frown and a small smile.
"Yeah, and we've been practicing our headbanging!" Mioda tossed her hair around to demonstrate. "Hey, Kazuichi, you have that hardcore look! You're gonna join, right?"
Souda stared into his barely-eaten food and mumbled, "Not if you're gonna play the kinda music you were singin' a few weeks ago."
Mioda stopped headbanging and thrust her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. "No, no, that was different from Ibuki's normal style! You just need to develop your own taste for light rock! Y'see, it's a really diverse genre so there are lots of different styles and sounds and if you can find a kind that you like then you'll see how awesome it is and Ibuki can lend you some of her CDs and she even has some tapes and records if you want those and - "
As Mioda continued, the swindler picked a few strands of her hair from his food and smiled.
...
Souda escaped into his workshop as quickly as possible once the school day ended and planted his back firmly against a wall, between clamps and welding supplies and scraps of metal, before sliding to the floor. He drew one knee close to his chest, slung both elbows over it, and wondered how the hell he could get through this without anyone ending up dead.
As he stared at the blank concrete floor, he saw sketches forming: tanks, helicopters, jets, bombs, guns. All were weapons to kill, and none were weapons that he ever wished to create. Wiping the slate clean with a blink of his eyes, he tried to envision other weapons: smoke bombs, tranquilizer guns, sleeping gas. Better, much better, but he didn't know how the Kuzuryuu group would work with those or if they would even consider his debt repaid if he built a type of pacifistic device. They probably had access to all of those weapons and more, anyway.
The potential blood on Souda's conscience swam across his vision and filled the room with deep, suffocating red, but he blinked that, too, away and tried to think of something else, tried not to break down crying at the sheer size of the task assigned to him because he didn't have time to waste.
He needed something that wouldn't kill the group, just... incapacitate them. He didn't even want to do that, really; he didn't want to hurt anyone, but they would have been hurt or killed even if Souda never involved himself in the whole mess, so the least he could do was try to minimize the violence.
It was a sad sort of logic that he realized no high school student should have to contemplate, but it was what he had to deal with and what he had to get through to even continue his life. Still, he promised himself that after his debt was repaid, he'd create wonderful things to help people, to make up for any suffering he caused.
With that resolution, he began his work.
...
Elsewhere, Sonia and Tanaka sat in their usual corner of the library and worked on their homework together. After most of their short-term assignments were finished, Sonia stretched her arms upward and said, "So, Mister Tanaka, I spoke with Tsumiki last night and she said that she will try to free up some time next weekend for an outing; she is quite busy most every evening, unfortunately." She sighed quietly. "Now that you have had some time to reflect, is there anyone else we spoke with yesterday that you would like to approach again?"
Tanaka finished his last sentence before setting down his feather-tipped pen, which he claimed had "fallen from the outstretched wing of a noble black falcon." Sonia thought it and the corresponding inkwell added to the man's overall charm, but most of her classmates thought it made him seem like "a big nerd," which she only knew as a popular American candy.
While Sonia went off on a brief mental tangent, Tanaka contemplated her question; both spent a moment lost in their thoughts before the latter said, "I suppose, as you have opined, that the... colorful personalities of our classmates do have their own charms. However, despite any redeeming qualities that may exist in the shadow of his towering ego, I do not think that Hanamura in particular is a good match for one of my noble and calm temperament." He fiddled delicately with the frayed edges of the feather. "Have you already forgotten his disturbing teaching methods we witnessed firsthand not a month ago?"
Sonia blinked slowly, eyes wide. "No, I have not forgotten. I try not to think about it."
Tanaka shifted in his seat. "Ah."
"And it seemed to have been a misunderstanding, so I have since forgiven him." A black fingernail tapped against Sonia's lips as she said, "I believe it would be wise to meet with him exclusively in more public areas, however. If he ever does something like that again, it will be reported immediately."
Tanaka cleared his throat audibly. "Yes. Well. In any case, his aura mingles too disagreeably with my own, and I believe certain others would make for more promising comrades."
"Such as?"
"Nidai has always been of the admirable, if rambunctious, sort, and the songful one also possesses a bizarrely cheerful spirit." He shut his eyes for a moment and hummed in thought. "I believe the former is easier to comprehend, however. Even my keen ears, heightened and trained through nights spent alone in dark forests, do not always catch every word Mioda flings so haphazardly from her pierced tongue."
Sonia giggled and stood up. "Wonderful! Shall we go find Mister Nidai, then?" She began gathering up her books.
"Sonia, please wait."
She stopped, fingers loosely clutching her math book, and stared across the table. "Yes?"
"I..." Tanaka sighed. "I hope my words will not offend you, but I believe that this is something I should be able to do on my own. I do greatly appreciate your assistance, but I must learn how to interact with mortals firsthand if I ever wish to draw close to them." He twirled his pen idly between a finger and thumb. "Do you understand the message I convey? The group outings you have proposed will help, surely, but it seems necessary for one to speak one-on-one with another to form a true bond."
The princess smiled and sat back down. "Yes, I understand. I am sorry if I pushed you into any situation yesterday that made you uncomfortable; it was only my intention to help, but if you feel you must approach others on your own, that is excellent!" Her smile reached her eyes as she said, "I am very proud of you, Mister Tanaka."
"It is nothing extraordinary," Tanaka muttered. He readjusted his scarf and chuckled. "One could choose any day of my life on this earth and pick from an assortment of otherworldly accomplishments! When bards sing of my divinity, they will not think, with their small and fickle minds, to mention this day, as the sheer number of feats to praise will overwhelm and overshadow a simple attempt to reach out to a mere slave driver!"
Sonia nodded vigorously and said, "Yes, I never doubted that! I am sure that not even a traditional Novoselic ballad lasting from sun up to sun down could measure the scope of a life so richly lived!" Her gaze softened. "But even comparatively smaller accomplishments could also be considered impressive, Mister Tanaka."
Tanaka dipped his pen back into the inkwell and muttered something that sounded of thanks as he resumed writing. Sonia smiled and re-opened her textbook, halfheartedly trying and failing to memorize formulas.
...
A week later, Kuzuryuu approached Souda after class and requested a copy of the mechanic's plans for the oyabun to look over. Souda hastily made his way to the copier after sneaking into the teacher's lounge and later gave the documents to Kuzuryuu, fervently hoping that he wouldn't be reprimanded for making a different type of weapon than the infamously violent group may have expected.
Not 24 hours later, he was told that no changes needed to be made.
He had already begun constructing the project's rough skeleton and collecting the necessary materials, so he could have easily accommodated any suggestions; the fact that none were requested puzzled the mechanic, but if he could make something that wouldn't kill anyone and that would pay off his debt, that was good enough for him.
The next few weeks were spent in an anxious sort of routine; after classes every day, Souda would go to his workshop, work on the weapon in a secure corner hidden behind mounds of scrap metal and machinery, finish whatever homework he could well after the sun went down, and get a few hours of sleep before dragging himself through another cycle. Hinata would ask if he was okay, if he was getting enough sleep, but was waved off with a nod and a tired grunt.
A week into his building time, a smaller-scale prototype was built; Souda had no way to test its effects, of course, unless he wished to knock out Tanaka during a particularly long spiel, but he set it off in the workshop in the earliest, sleepiest hours of the morning, the detonation relatively quiet and the gas released strong enough to make him dazed when he walked in after classes that evening, and deemed it fit for use. He immediately set to work on the real bomb.
Dimly, groggily, he took note of upcoming tests, unfolding relationships, the way Tanaka and Sonia and Tsumiki always seemed to be together and the respectful nods exchanged between Nidai and Tanaka, but all seemed insignificant compared to the ongoing project. The only person the mechanic seemed to talk to regularly during those hellish weeks was Kuzuryuu, and they initially only spoke of plans and progress.
One late night in the shop, however, Kuzuryuu entered to find Souda singing loudly and tunelessly as he welded two pieces of metal together. He put the torch down and flipped his mask up, drumming on the newly-formed husk until he screeched at Kuzuryuu's reflection in the metal.
"Holy shit, don't do that!" Souda whimpered. He cautiously picked up the torch that had clattered to the floor during his convulsion.
"I could ask you the same," Kuzuryuu said, uncovering his ears and glaring.
"Don't think I like Mioda's stupid music style, it's just that this one song is really catchy and it's good stress relief-"
"I don't give a shit." Kuzuryuu sighed and massaged his forehead. "Even being around you gives me the worst headache... how is the project coming along?"
Souda scoffed at the insult and carried the newest piece of the weapon to his work table. "It's fine. I still have two weeks; you don't have'ta hound me about it all the time," he mumbled, assembling the outside of the bomb to assure that every piece fit together.
Kuzuryuu snickered. "It looks like an egg."
"Yeah, so?" Souda snarled, snatching up a drill. "As long as it does what it's supposed to do, I don't see the fuckin' problem."
"And what is it supposed to do?"
Souda pressed the trigger a few times, trying to channel his stress into the aggressive whirring noise of the tool. "You saw the plans. Shouldn't you know?"
"I had to give them to Peko to show the boss," Kuzuryuu said, crossing his arms. "And I probably couldn't have read your shitty writing anyway."
The mechanic spun around, still clutching the drill in one shaking hand. "Hey, I'm workin' as hard as I can, I'm not sleeping properly, and I'm stressed as all hell thanks to you. If you're just here to insult me, then get out."
Kuzuryuu pursed his lips and met the mechanic's sneer with one of his own. "I'm waiting for you to tell me what this metal egg does." He noticed the sheen in Souda's eyes and added, "It's nothin' to cry about. Don't kill yourself over this thing." He grinned. "We'll do that for you if you fuck up."
Souda whimpered and turned back to the table, wiping his eyes with the back of his wrist. Kuzuryuu could barely make out the other student whispering "I know" before continuing into an explanation. "It's basically a bomb that, when detonated, will fill the surrounding area with a knockout gas." Souda sniffed and looked blankly at the drill, setting it down on the table when he realized he didn't even need it in the first place. He instead sorted through miscellaneous parts occupy his hands.
Kuzuryuu snorted, seeing through the act with one glance, but didn't comment on Souda's nervous temperament. He enjoyed having that effect on people, or at least told himself that he did. "You really don't wanna kill anyone, huh?"
"No," Souda said, hands tightening around a bolt. "Hell no."
"This had better be your last deal you make with the yakuza, then," Kuzuryuu said, shaking his head. "People like you would never last."
Souda turned around and braced his hands against the table behind him, finally looking his peer in the eye. "How do you?"
"What?"
"How do you last? Being the son of the head of the biggest criminal group?" He took a deep breath before pushing on. "You're just a teenager like the rest of us. There's no way you could really be alright with having all that... that blood on your hands, right?"
Kuzuryuu stared into Souda's still-watering eyes, expression blank. After a few beats of silence, he smiled softly, almost mockingly. "Never thought you'd have the balls to ask something like that." This time, he was the one to turn around. "It's a stupid question, though. Hinata asked me something similar a few weeks ago. Remember that I was raised with a completely different kind of mindset than the rest of you." He started walking toward the exit. "Maybe I'll give you a better answer if you repay your debt." He stopped with one hand on the door and hesitated before saying, "Keep up the g... keep up the work. Hopefully, you won't screw up too badly."
As Kuzuryuu stepped out, Souda gripped the table with all his strength and stared at the floor, amazed that the heir hadn't just exploded at him and stormed away.
He couldn't reflect on it for too long, though. Hinata seemed to have a pretty significant influence on his classmates; perhaps he had even succeeded in mellowing Kuzuryuu out a bit. Souda resolved to get an answer later and went back to work.