Let's get this trainwreck moving.
There is no emotion within the void, for the flame consumes it all.
Miki's mother lives in my city. Miki lived in my city.
"You didn't tell me you lived in my hometown."
"I...I'm not sure I wanted you to know, after what you said about your family. Sorry."
"Don't apologize, I'm just surprised. It's a big city, I can avoid them if I want to."
I don't want to, though. Not anymore. One last visit should be all I need, one final closing chapter in the book of my life with blood-related family. A final, true, goodbye.
I've brought all that I need to bring, just a few changes of clothing; they're all black, of course, because what color suits me better? Certainly not one with an actual color, to be sure. Only the absence, the void, truly means something.
As the bus rolls along, and I stare out the window, I see faces I know. Faces of people I protected, or beat up, or that I'm simply familiar with. Moriya, the man who owns a pizza parlor downtown, going into a convenience store. Issa, a guy I had to beat some sense into when he harassed a girl, leaning against the side of an alley smoking a cigarette.
Well, like it or not, the king has come into his castle. I wonder if my old buddy Mondo is still running the streets around here after dark? He should be, he's damn near unstoppable in a fight. I think I'm the only person who's ever won against him, actually, and even then I didn't really want to fight him...whatever's going on, I can't feel that the city's changed too much.
That thought is enough to rile me up.
"Ah! You must be James."
"Yeah, that's me." What is it with mothers and pointing out the obvious? It's like they think we never grow up, or something along those lines...that's my first reaction, though. Maybe she's just trying to connect the dots, and doing so out loud is the only way she can reliably accomplish that?
"Your room is down that hall." She smiles. "Don't keep me up too much!"
"MOM!" Miki shrieks, scandalized, as her mother winks at me. I let out a short, wry laugh, and then Miki rounds on me as well. "Fine, you two!"
"And here I was, thinking she'd be insensitive to that kind of thing." I tend to make a lot of false assumptions regarding people, especially about Miki. It's a bad habit of mine. "Given the way she acts, it doesn't seem like that'd bother her."
"She may act a lot like a boy, but she's still a girl."
"I noticed."
The comment draws a raised eyebrow, and we laugh again. Miki's mother is much easier to get along with than I'd have thought, given my experience with my own mother...but there I go again, with my preconceived notions. I really need to try stopping that habit.
"I won't really ask for much, you know. This is her first relationship, so I don't expect you to stay together for the rest of your lives or anything like that, but...take care of her. Even though she acts strong, she can falter quickly. You've probably seen the difficulty she has with her missing hand?"
I nod. She's gotten better about it, over time, but every so often she'll try to do something with fingers and a palm that don't exist anymore. Usually, it's something that needs two hands to do. She'll get frustrated easily, and then angry, sometimes even to the point of crying. It's not an encouraging sight to see, but I'm always there to help her whenever she needs it.
The conversation dwindles, but then a realization sparks. "I don't know if Miki told you about my condition, but I'll need to go to the hospital-"
"Every Sunday, some time between noon and three, for a blood transfusion."
"Alright. I don't actually need you to take me, but I just wanted to make sure you would know where I was in that sort of situation."
"Thank you, James."
The rest of the day passes uneventfully, with a large dinner that we devour after dark. The next several days are the same, uneventful sort that happen when you're on vacation and have nothing you need to do. I try to find it enjoyable, but I need out. I need the darkness.
It's a Monday night, warm and breezy, when I leave the house. Miki and her mother are both asleep, and it's high time for me to do something in blood.
You can take the need for a fighter out of the ring, but you can't take the need for the ring out of a fighter.
I walk a few blocks, dialing a number I haven't heard from in a long, long time. "Eh? Who is this?"
"You know who it is, you bastard. I'm on the corner of Cherry and First. Knowing you..."
"Slae'im, ya son of a bitch! How ya been?"
"Bored as a snail trying to climb a mountain. Anything going down?"
"Ya called it. Bloodhounds trying to move in on our space...ya want in?"
"Would I be talking if I didn't? Tell me where it's at, I'll get there."
"Nah, man, we're headed your way anyway. Ya need anythin'? Knife, brass knuckles, whatever ya want...we'll prob'ly have it here, waitin' for ya."
"Since when have I needed anything but my hands?"
"I hear ya, brother. We'll bring an extra bike for ya."
A minute or so after we hang up, A herd of motorcycles pulls up ahead of me. Their leader, orange hair shaped into a pompadour, is in his ceremonial white trench coat and pants; as a rule, Mondo generally wears the black set, but when you go to beat the crap out of someone...and Mondo's always been proud. The white sets him apart from everyone else, even more than his height.
Fortunately, I'm wearing a similar outfit in black. This way, we look just different enough to be similar; we are, in more ways than one, and maybe this other group that Mondo's gang is going to fight will realize that. The back of his coat reads, "Crazy Diamonds," the name of his gang, embroidered in gold. Mine, though, has, "Violence, Bloodshed, Victory" emblazoned in a rich red. His has a pair of diamonds sewn into the pattern, but I have two hands raised in the corna, of metalhead tradition.
He's one of the few friends of mine to still be alive, who wasn't afraid of me even in the beginning. We've fought a lot in the past, but those fights have only made our friendship stronger.
I get on a modified bike, a low rider with huge pipes on the sides and long handlebars that make the motorcycle feel more like a drag racer than a bike.
"I'm ready. I'll ride diamond."
One behind Mondo, who's at the head of the V-formation, between the second and third people on either side, I call it diamond because that's the shape it makes. If I were riding between the last people, I'd call it triangle, and anywhere else would be arrowhead. I like naming things.
"LET'S RIDE!" Mondo revs his engine, and we shoot out as one entity; we're a living, breathing spear of flesh and metal. This is what their lives are like on a daily basis. This is what it means to be a bosozoku.
When we arrive and dismount, there's somewhere between forty and fifty of them waiting. Including me, we have eight.
"We're giving them, what, six to one? Seems a little unfair to them, if you ask me."
"Almost makes ya wanna pity the poor fucks, ain't it? Kinda sad."
"You and I could probably take them by ourselves. Give them a chance."
"Yeah, but these are some a the newest guys I got with me. Can't exactly lead em if they ain't ever fought."
"Fair enough. You ready?"
He nods, and the trash talking begins between Mondo and the leader of the Bloodhounds. I don't pay attention to it, opening myself up to the flame and the void and the music starts to come into my ears. Some words change, to fit the scene, but the song remains the same throughout in its message of pain and death.
Listen as this blood-stained fist is slowly fastened to a choke around your frail esophagus, staring at the black of my clothing and your doom; the fetid taste of fear as you gulp and swallow pride? I am but a part of a well-oiled machine that splutters death, suffocating people with my unique brand of violence and bloodshed. All around the globe my name is feared by all your kind who will succumb to extinction, the crowd remains in fear of me, faceless behind their terror, runs. Their screams can be heard from atop my throne of skulls from whence I rule by blood! Can you hear them scream? They scream out that no amount of kindness or wealth can save you from this. Your corpse will be strung up with the rest of all the weak-
The song ends not by choice, but because the fight begins. With a wild cry, I leap and plow both feet into one opponent's gut, landing to stand on him. My hands clench and windmill, hammering into another set of enemies. I'll leave Mondo to his glory of leader against leader, and content myself with annihilating all the rest. Once again, an anthem rises; it's one I've heard before, my favorite lines from the song, and I scream them out.
"KNEEL! YOU ALL SHALL KNEEL TO ME, OR DEATH WILL SET YOU FREE! YOU ALL SHALL KNEEL TO ME!"
I feel a jaw break under the pressure of my punch, and I can't see anything but the fire of the flames inside the void.
"FALL! YOU ALL SHALL FALL TO ME! VENGEANCE WILL BE SWEET! YOU ALL SHALL FALL TO ME!"
I backhand someone into a wall, and hear a sharp crack, but there's no time to turn around. The flame doesn't allow for any thoughts outside of destruction.
I am invincible, unstoppable, inexorable. I remember now what I've missed so dearly, and why I always believed that fighting was my purpose: I was born for it. I was born to do this. My creation was intended in such a way that I could destroy any and all things.
I ram my head forward, and feel it connect with bone, before punching the opponent in the gut and twisting his neck until he slides unconscious.
I've fought my share in every land, I cannot count the men I've killed. So many friends died with bloodied hands, but the warrior's death was never granted me!
I hear no more movement, and the flame leaves me. So does the void.
Mondo and the rest of the Crazy Diamonds are looking at me with something between reverence and joy. There is no fear in their eyes.
Maybe I chose the wrong path, then, but I can't go back now. It's a shame that this is, perhaps, the only time in my new life where such a display of anger and violence will go appreciated by the people around me.
"I never understood before." Mondo says. All trace of his rough accent is gone, and it's like he's having some sort of religious epiphany. Hell, maybe he is. "I didn't really get why they called you 'the King.' Sure, you'd beat three or four guys at once, but I could do that too, so I couldn't get why I wasn't just as scary as you, but...I get it now. Holy shit, man, I'm glad you're on my side."
I give my smile, the one for pain. "Everyone's glad I'm on their side, brother." Not the first time I've called him that, but it feels a little too formal given the situation. "Those who aren't with me...they don't stay conscious for long enough to regret it."
"Hey, Slae'im...keep the bike. It's been lookin' for a good owner for a while now, and I can't think a someone I'd rather give it to."
"Will do, brother...will do."
The fight is on the news that morning and afternoon.
"You did this." Miki isn't asking me.
"I don't know what you're talking about, I was asleep in my room the entire night."
Her mother gets up and leaves the kitchen, though I don't doubt that she'll be listening from the other room. Miki and I have a propensity to shout when we get mad, even though we've never been mad at each other.
"You're lying to me!"
"A friend of mine needed help!"
"So you go out and beat up fifty people? I can't believe this!"
"He was going to fight. He needed help." My voice is getting dangerous, and Miki knows that, but she presses on anyway.
So much for a fun vacation.
"What could possess you to...oh my...what is WRONG with you?"
"I FOUGHT!" My shout would carry through the house even if I controlled it, so I let the full volume take effect in this small room. "I BROKE THEIR BONES. I MADE THEM BLEED. I ENJOYED IT! I HAVEN'T BEEN IN A FIGHT FOR SO LONG IT WAS PAINFUL, MIKI! IT FELT LIKE I WAS DYING INSIDE! SO WHEN MONDO SAID THAT HE WAS GOING TO GET IN A FIGHT, I WENT AND FOUGHT WITH HIM! I FOUGHT FOR HIM! I DID MY JOB AS A FRIEND, AND I FULFILLED MY DUTY AS A FIGHTER!"
Miki stands still for several seconds, shocked and fearful and paralyzed by the fact that I'm yelling at her. I probably shouldn't, but I don't care right now. I'm angry.
She shouldn't be the one telling me what to do or not do, she shouldn't be condemning my actions, she shouldn't...she shouldn't...
Before I can start yelling again, spewing my mindless rage at her, she runs.
A wave of guilt passes over me, but I crush it with all the anger that's inside of me right now. How dare she? I'm my own person, I'm free to make whatever decisions I choose.
Everything's internalized, eventually, and I realize I should probably follow her to her room and apologize. I should. That's what a responsible, caring boyfriend would do. That's what I should do.
That's why I go outside, get on the motorcycle that Mondo gave me this morning, and drive.