Summer, 2003
"I dunno what we woulda done without you, Ryuji."
"Stop, man, it was a team effort."
"Nah. Without you turning on the jets… We were getting smoked until then. You clutched up." Shigeru tossed his arm around Ryuji's shoulder, grabbing the medal he wore around his neck. "We'd only have bronze if you weren't running last." He lightly hit Ryuji in the face with the medal, then dropped it.
Two hours prior, Ryuji and Shigeru were at the Sectional Track and Field meet. They ran for the same relay team, bookending the lineup with Shigeru going first and Ryuji closing out runs. Their victory was in question until Ryuji took over. He was the fastest guy on the track for all of twenty seconds, then it was over. It might not have said much, considering that the competition was other thirteen-year-olds, but Ryuji heard time and time again from coaches that he had a future if he committed himself to training.
After winning, they took a celebratory bus ride with the other runners back to their section. Shigeru and Ryuji, who lived on the same block for the last ten years, walked home together from the bus stop.
"I'm just glad we won. Imagine if they let us go to the regional tournament…" Shigeru's voice filled itself with wonder as his imagination ran away with things.
"Then we'd get our asses kicked. They don't let kids compete," Ryuji reminded his friend. "But you bet that we're going next year."
"Hah! Damn right!"
Shigeru and Ryuji kept walking. The sun almost completed its descent on the horizon. Ryuji's street was dark outside of the streetlights that kept things dim and the orange haze that poured over the tops of houses. As they got further and further down the endless Tokyo suburb, the silence was broken.
"You hear that?" Ryuji asked.
Shigeru nodded. "Sirens." He turned to his left. "Jokes on you, though. I'm leaving you now." They both stopped walking to do their perfected handshake. A horizontal high-five, followed by various flicks of their fingers and fist-bumps, then it was over. "Peace."
Ryuji watched his friend duck behind the gate around his house, then into the front door. He sighed, hearing sirens wail even more. They weren't loud from where he stood, but that's not what worried him. As Ryuji resumed the walk towards his house, the sirens got louder.
Ryuji sighed. He hated that he had grown used to the sound. Based on his previous experiences, he learned that neighbors would call when the shouting got too loud. Takeo Sakamoto must have been deep in the bottle to celebrate his son's victory, right?
As if Ryuji's parents went to the meet. His dad, busy with being the drunkard that he was, also kept Eri Sakamoto from traveling to watch Ryuji run. Eri encouraged Ryuji's athletics as much as she could when she wasn't attending to Ryuji's father. She gave so much energy to him that she had little to none left for Ryuji.
Not that he needed the attention, of course. He rarely spent the days inside, preferring to be out around the suburbs with his friends or running with the team. The perfect summer day meant that Ryuji wouldn't get home until after dinner time when his father drank himself to sleep on the couch.
Ryuji began to round the large bend to his block. With luck, he'd see the cop car parked anywhere on the street except for his place. Police intervention in his parents' dynamics only brought more arguing, more alcohol, and more crying from his mother. She grew more and more unlike herself every month. She stayed inside all day, never talked to Ryuji, and she couldn't even stand up from the coffee table sometimes. It was hard to wake up everyday and see her in the same spot she was when Ryuji got home the night before.
Just as he'd done too many times before, Ryuji finished rounding the corner and saw the same old sight: a police car parked outside his house. No cops were inside the car, yet they left the lights on, probably to let the whole neighborhood know that Takeo had a bit too much fun that night.
Ryuji's posture got worse the closer he got to his home. Once he reached the cop car, he had to remind his neck to actually hold his head up. He raised his gaze to the front gate of his house.
"You wouldn't happen to be… Ryuji Sakamoto, would you?" a police officer asked. He leaned his back on the stone fence that surrounded the Sakamoto house, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other held the cigarette in his mouth while he spoke.
Ryuji met the man's gray eyes. No warmth or comfort for whatever happened in the house was given to Ryuji by the man's cold gaze. All it told him was that Ryuji was in for a tough night. Under his hat was more gray hair, despite his seemingly young age. Stubble roughened the man's cheeks.
"That's me," Ryuji replied.
The cop dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk and stepped on it. He grinded the remains into the ground, then leaned off the fence. Without looking at Ryuji, the cop walked over to the sidewalk, and sat down on the curb that raised itself from the street. "Come on," the man said, patting the bare cement next to him.
Ryuji looked at the still blinking police lights. "Sorry," the man said. He reached into his pocket. The lights stopped as soon as his hand came out of the pocket.
With the street dark again, Ryuji felt comfortable even though he knew he shouldn't have. Whatever happened in his home warranted leaving one of two cops to wait outside for the Sakamoto son to return and keep him outside. Ryuji copied the police officer and sat on the edge of the sidewalk.
"I'm Akihiko Sanada. My partner, Masanori Niijima, is inside right now." Officer Sanada pointed his thumb over his shoulder, back to the house that Ryuji wanted no part of. "We're responding to a noise complaint. Any idea what that's about?"
"I… Yeah. I think I know."
"Are you gonna tell me?"
"Uh…"
"Kid, I already know what happened—I've been inside that house. Your answer helps with the report, that's why I'm asking."
There was no harm in telling, right? Dad couldn't be angry if he was in deep shit. "My dad drinks a lot and stuff like this happens every few months. He drinks too much, yells at my mom, neighbors hear it, then you guys show up."
"Uh-huh." Akihiko stretched his legs out, then dragged them along the pavement back to a bent position. "Your dad ever do more than drink?"
"I don't understand."
"Ryuji." He flinched when a large hand found its way to his shoulder. "Your father… He got violent tonight and your mom's been injured. Don't panic."
"What?!" Ryuji tried to shoot up from the sidewalk—to run into the house and knock his dad's teeth out—but that hand on his shoulder was there for more than comfort. It kept him sitting with its strength, and with the threat of an angry cop. "Let me—"
"You're gonna stay out here with me, kid. Paramedics have been called, and my partner is cuffing your dad right now. Your mom's gonna be fine. Just a night in the hospital, and—"
Ryuji balled his fist, ready to punch Akihiko's arm and sprint into his home. "I don't give a shit. Let me see him!"
"I can't do that, Ryuji."
"Why not?!"
"Because I can't. You'll understand when you're older." Akihiko's hand squeezed Ryuji's shoulder. "Your dad's gonna be in prison for a long time. Judges are less forgiving to domestic abusers these days. You'll never have to see him again."
"Eff that. I wanna tell him how much I hate him."
"You think you do, but you don't. You'll scare yourself."
"I don't care."
"Then tell him how much you hate him through glass when you visit him in prison." Akihiko turned around to look at the house. Ryuji heard the creak of the wooden door opening, then started to turn his head. Quickly, Akihiko's hand went from Ryuji's right shoulder to his left. Akihiko pulled Ryuji to him, stopping him from turning his head.
"Hey! I—" Ryuji's face was smushed into Akihiko's police uniform and silenced.
Even from the hug/headlock, Ryuji could hear the pattern-less footsteps of his drunk dad. He heard a stumble then, a laugh as each step took longer than the last.
"Hurry it up, Sakamoto," a new voice said, this one smoother than Akihiko's but with less friendliness. "You're dragging this out."
Takeo Sakamoto, as if he was emerging from a bar at three in the morning, was absolutely plastered. "A man can't keep his woman in line anymore, huh?! What's the world comin' to?" He slurred his words more than his steps lingered.
"Keep it up," the other cop said. Ryuji heard the steps get closer and closer until—
"Ryuji! How'd the… R-running go? I wanted to go, but that nagging bitch—" Takeo was cut off by the sound of something hitting metal. Despite the pain inflicted on him, Takeo refused to keep his mouth shut. "Hah! You shouldn't care how I treat my wife, officer, if you're this violent with me."
"You sick fuck," Masanori muttered. Ryuji heard grunting from his father as Masanori did something, he just couldn't tell what. "Get in the car." He heard a door open, then the sound of someone being hit, then the door closed. "Akihiko, I'll wait in the car. You… Uh… Take your time."
Ryuji felt the unrelenting force around his head lessen. He immediately pulled away from Akihiko so he could stand freely. As soon as he shot up, he saw Takeo. Ryuji's father leaned against the window of the cop car, blood on his forehead and below his nose. His eyes were barely open.
"Does that make you feel better, Ryuji? Seeing him?"
"No."
Akihiko stood up from the sidewalk, moving closer to Ryuji. "An ambulance is gonna arrive soon. Do you wanna go inside and see your mom, or…?" As mature as Akihiko tried to be, Ryuji could tell that the cop had no idea what to do from then on out.
"No. I'll stay out here."
Ryuji slowly lowered himself to the edge of the sidewalk, once again sitting with his legs out in the street. Akihiko stood over him, watching the car with Takeo Sakamoto drive away.
"You'll be better than him, Ryuji. You have to be."
Winter, 2003
"Ryuji! Customer out front!"
"Right away," Ryuji replied to his boss. He finished tying the straps of his apron around his waist, then stood up straight. In the mirror was the spitting image of a hard-working Tokyo citizen, except for the age. Ryuji was the youngest person working at Nakau Beef Bowls in Shibuya, not even old enough to work there legitimately.
A little lying and a little bit of negotiating got Ryuji hired. His boss didn't ask too many questions, considering how desperate he was for workers.
Ryuji exited the break room, navigating through a tight hallway of pushable doors with greasy fingerprints on them. He found the other end of the hall and pushed open the door with his shoulder. On the other side was the customers' side of the restaurant. Two U-shaped counters existed for one sole purpose: to serve the best beef bowls in Tokyo.
Not many customers were in. It was the weird hour directly in the middle of lunch and dinner where everyone figured they would just wait until later to eat. The only people wanting beef bowls were stragglers from lunch, and gray-haired cops with grins on their faces.
"Sanada-san!" Ryuji said as he took command of one of the U-shaped counters. On his side were various buckets of ingredients and the tools to form those into bowls, while the customer side had stools, silverware, and napkins. "What can I get ya?"
Always excited to check on Ryuji, Akihiko sat up straight. He took off his hat and rested it on the counter, showing off his short gray hair to the restaurant.
Following Ryuji and his mother's move to Tokyo, Akihiko regularly checked in on Ryuji at the beef bowl shop. He also may or may not have helped Ryuji get his illegal job by signing off as a reference. Even if Akihiko was a cop, he knew how necessary getting Ryuji a decent-paying job was.
Eri Sakamoto's hospital stay changed her. After moving out of the suburbs and into the skyscraping city, she withdrew from the world even more. She had a hard time finding any work, or the motivation to actually get out of the house and get a job. It was on Ryuji to work, and to go to school, and to buy groceries, and to do everything else for the Sakamoto household. He became a man overnight, all while still in school.
He became too busy to worry about himself, his mother, or running. All he had time for was working and school, one of which received far less attention than the other. Ryuji kept his grades high enough to get into a private high school, but he did nothing to exceed that expectation.
"What kinda question is that?" Akihiko pressed his hands into the counter and smiled. "The usual."
"Gotcha." Ryuji's hands got to work on the bowl. Below the counter, he reached to grab a clean bowl in one hand. The other hand reached for a spoon to get the base for the bowl.
He learned the inner workings of beef bowls remarkably fast. After only a week at the beef bowl shop, Ryuji had no issues with any kinds of orders. The occasional picky customer who didn't know how the shop worked would throw him for a loop, but he was fine otherwise.
Ryuji finished scooping rice into the bowl. He moved on to the toppings: grilled steak (which Ryuji would have to cook himself), brussel sprouts, and a fried egg. The sprouts were kept warm in a pot all day long. It was rather gross, but that was the way of the food industry. As for the steak and the egg, Ryuji had to make those himself. He slid a slab of meat onto the grill and cracked the egg, giving himself a few free minutes to wait for those to cook.
"How's school going?" Akihiko asked.
Ryuji leaned against the side of the U-shaped counter, so he stood perpendicular to the direction Akihiko faced. "It's fine. The tests are easy, so I stopped doing homework."
The officer didn't approve. "Ryuji…"
"I'd rather work more hours here. I need the money."
"You need to worry about school, too."
"Why should I?"
"Because you can't expect the future to fall from the sky and hit you over the head." Akihiko shook his head and looked down at the counter. "You need to do well in school to make a future for yourself."
"I need to work and take care of my mom, Sanada-san. School can wait."
Akihiko sighed. "I can't argue with that… How's she doing?"
Giving Akihiko the truth would force Ryuji to remember how ghostly his mother looked every day, which would distract him from his goal of crafting a beel bowl. He stuck to purposeful vagueness. "She's hanging in there."
Ryuji went back to the steak and egg. He moved the steak to a cutting board, quickly dicing it then sliding the slivers off the board and into the bowl. The fried egg slid off a spatula and onto the steak. Finally, Ryuji held a spice-shaker above the ball to put the last touches on Akihiko's favorite.
"Ta-da!" Ryuji passed the bowl down the counter to Akihiko, who procured a fork from his side.
"Thanks. Looks like you're getting good at these."
"Good?" Ryuji was offended. "It's perfect."
"Perfect," Akihiko corrected with an apology. "Sorry." He got to work on consuming the carefully crafted masterpiece, letting Ryuji sit back and rest. More customers would be coming within the hour, but he had time to talk with Akihiko. "You know where you're going this Spring?" the officer asked in between bites of the beef bowl.
Ryuji had given it some thought, but he narrowed his options down to one school. Shujin Academy was close to where he lived and where he worked, so it would be little trouble commuting between the three places.
The academics were pretty good, too, but that didn't matter. It was where most of the people he met at school in the last month would be going.
"Shujin Academy in Aoyama."
"Never heard of it."
"They've got a lot of attention for their sports, but they've got really great teachers and stuff. Campus is fancy, too."
"Wow, good for you, Ryuji. I'm sure you'll like it there. Are you planning on using those 'great teachers' to keep up with your schoolwork?"
"Uh…"
"Thought so." Akihiko set his fork down and wiped his mouth clean with a napkin. He stared at Ryuji, the same way he did when Ryuji arrived home on that hot summer evening a few months prior. "You can't spend all your time working, Ryuji. Go to class. Make friends. Get in trouble, even, but not too much. At this point, you're only hurting yourself. You still have a childhood to live."
Ryuji sighed. He turned around and looked at the logo of the beef bowl shop: an ugly, fat, cartoon cow that grazed in a bowl. "It's an awful lot of work for jack shit," Ryuji said as he turned back around.
"What—school, or the job?"
"Everything. Life, in general. I gotta do all the shit you just said, plus take care of mom, and work?" Ryuji shook his head. "What do I get for all of this?"
"I think about that a lot." Akihiko took another bite from his bowl, this time not caring to wipe his mouth. Grease dripped from his chin and into the bowl that Ryuji worked so hard on. "I'm starting to think that those of us who live in Tokyo are cursed to scrape by, except for the people who take shortcuts."
"What do you mean?"
"There's always a quicker way to make money than slaving away, but… Can you guess what the catch is?"
"No."
"All of it is illegal. My job is to make sure the desperate people don't make that kind of money." Akihiko wiped his chin and sat up straight. He decimated the bowl, leaving no steak or egg behind. Only rice with light sauce and spice remained, all of it disheveled by the aggressive spoonfuls that Akihiko took. "Better to work a job like this than give in to the urge. It's never worth it."
"I know, Sanada-san."
"Good." Akihiko dropped cash next to the almost-finished bowl and stood up from his stool. He wiped down his uniform, then looked at Ryuji. "One last thing. How old are you?"
Ryuji smiled at the test. "Fifteen." Thankfully, it wasn't a lie detector test. Taking one or two shortcuts was necessary to survive.
Spring, 2004
"Right here, Sakamoto-kun," the guard said. Ryuji nodded, pulling their chair out and sitting down. He scooted in, then centered the chair between the cubicle walls on either side of him. The guard backed away, then walked back down the hall. Ryuji heard the footsteps fade into nothing with the sound of a metal door slamming shut.
In front of him was a glass wall. The other side had a set-up that perfectly matched his: phone on the cubicle wall and a chair for the prisoner to sit in. Ryuji happened to be on the visitor's side.
Ryuji could hear other hushed voices throughout the hall; the other visitors talking to their family on the inside. Some let sobs interrupt their words, some were harsher, and some could barely speak at all. Ryuji feared which one he would be whenever his dad came around the cubicle wall and sat down.
Taking time out of his busy week to visit his father was a tall task. Ryuji and his mother received roughly one letter per month from the government stating that Takeo Sakamoto made a visitation request. He wasn't allowed to directly contact them unless they permitted it.
Ryuji had to notify his boss a month in advance so he wouldn't be scheduled for a shift that day. Begrudgingly, he was granted the day off, but there would be no celebration for Ryuji. He wasn't going to reunite himself with his father; he was going for closure. He wanted the last word between them to be spoken by himself and no one else. Ideally, his father would sit down, pick up the phone, and Ryuji would speak his mind until he couldn't anymore.
On the other side of the glass, Ryuji saw shadows walking down the wall. They came from the right side, or where prisoners sat for temporary detainment before they could talk to visitors. Ryuji drew his last calm breath as the shadow stopped walking.
Takeo stepped around and into the cubicle. He dragged the chair out, almost sliding it past himself with his strength, and dropped into it without caring for the force of his movement. Ryuji first noticed the presence of a patchy beard on his father's face; it faltered on the left side of his face yet connected his sideburns all the way across his face. As gross as it looked, it was in character for someone who couldn't be bothered to care about himself or his family.
Ryuji and his father grabbed their phones at the same time. "You look tired," Takeo said immediately. By speaking first, he threw out all of Ryuji's plans on what to say. He forced Ryuji to have an actual conversation with him. "School's that tough, huh?"
Shujin hadn't exactly been tough so far. Ryuji didn't pay attention in his classes, or do homework, or even maintain perfect attendance. What he had done, however, was make a friend; the first in a long time.
"No. I have a job," Ryuji said. "I cook."
"Wow, you're making something of yourself. I'm proud."
"I'm not here to catch up."
"Then why'd you finally grant the visitor request?"
"I wanted to speak with you—sober—one last time."
"Last?" Takeo chuckled through the phone. "As if you could forget about your dad. Doesn't matter what you think of me, Ryuji, you can't erase me from your life."
"I know I can."
"Then you've gotta stop skipping class and stop being an idiot." Takeo's face contorted. His lips smiled but his eyes winced. He didn't want to discuss what Ryuji brought up, and could change at his whim because Ryuji was too weak to say otherwise. "How's your mother?"
Ryuji looked his father in the eye and lied—it wasn't difficult. "She's doing fine." Eri Sakamoto's irregular behavior worsened. Ryuji would wake up in the night to hear her screaming. When he would check on her, she was silent by the time he cracked her bedroom door open.
She'd been to several doctors, all of whom recommended her the same expensive medication. Paying for the medication gave Ryuji even more incentive to skip class and make beef bowls.
Takeo doubled down on the question. "Is she?"
"Yeah."
"Hm…" Takeo leaned forward, propping his phone-holding hand up with an elbow on the desk. "Your mom's sick, Ryuji. She's always been that way. If she's not doing better—"
"She's doing great without you."
"Maybe she is, maybe she isn't. Doesn't change the fact that she only got worse while I was married to her. Couldn't even leave the house on her own by the time they dragged me into that cop car."
Ryuji was silent. He looked down, not wanting his father to stare into his soul.
"Whether or not you wanna admit it, you got parts of both of us in you. You might get sick or you might be like me."
"I won't—"
"Don't lie to me, Ryuji. You're not exactly setting yourself up for success with all the classes you're skipping. I'd slap some sense into you, but…" Takeo waved his hand at the glass wall between them. Unintentionally, he reminded Ryuji of the circumstances he found himself in. He was free, and his father was locked up for long enough to be forever. Ryuji could cast his father away and not care.
Takeo meant nothing to someone as busy as Ryuji Sakamoto.
"This was a waste of a conversation."
Takeo grinned. "Did you at least get what you came for?"
"No." Ryuji wanted to stand up, throw the phone through the glass, and walk away, but then his father wouldn't be able to hear his last words. "It just made me realize that I didn't need to come in the first place. You're not worth talking to."
Ryuji didn't look at his father as he stood up. He felt his father's stare, an amused grin with laughing intermixed, on his back as he turned around and walked away. Somehow, he knew his father remained sitting in the visitor cubicle, laughing to himself at his idiot of a son.
Ryuji's day off changed nothing. It only made him more paranoid and worried. His mom was sick, and what was he doing about it? Enabling her to spend her days in medicated purgatory?
He wanted more for her; for himself; for both of them. The Sakamoto family wouldn't be left to rot just because some asshole decided to enjoy a bottle of sake a little too much.
Ryuji stepped out into Shujin's interior courtyard. The sun peered over the rooftop, illuminating the many groups of students spread out on the grass. Ryuji looked for one person in particular. As per usual, under the same tree where Hitoshi apologized and the past few lunches were eaten, Ryuji saw Ren. Alone he sat, lunch bag in hand alongside a brown bag courtesy of Shujin's student snack shop.
Ryuji reconsidered befriending Ren. Over the lunches they ate and the conversations they had, Ryuji grew to suspect his new friend. It wasn't for questionable character or behavior, but his home life. Ren never explicitly stated that he was living among criminals.
It was only implied.
To Ryuji, it made sense. He saw first-hand how quickly Hitoshi's confidence in false-power crumbled within a few days of assaulting Ren. He heard the rumors of how a certain new student was forced into the student roster just days before school started. Ren dodging questions about his free-time, where he lived, and his parents didn't help his case.
Nonetheless, Ren was kind to Ryuji. He cared enough to include Ryuji in Hitoshi's apology, from which the money went a long way. Hitoshi gave Ryuji four shifts of pay in one lunch period without any work from Ryuji.
Scratch that. He got a black eye, bruised ribs, and awful headaches for a week, but other than that? Ryuji was completely fine.
Now, knowing that Ren was a strange person who likely came from a shady past, Ryuji considered turning their friendship into a business deal. Ryuji needed money, Ren seemed to be able to easily procure capital.
He could afford to take another shortcut, right?
Ryuji began his approach. He doubted himself more with every step he took, yet he didn't stop walking.
"Hey," Ren said without looking.
Ryuji sat down, too uptight to reply naturally and too focused to have an actual conversation. He just wanted to get the moment over with because the feeling in his gut was torturous.
"Ren," he began as he set his sweaty palms on his knees, "that thing Hitoshi did… How often could you make that happen?"
Ren breathed deeply without exhaling. "Why do you ask?"
"I was curious if there were some opportunities to make some cash."
"Ryuji." He turned to Ren, seeing his friend already staring at him. "I forced him to give us that money through means you don't want to know about."
"I figured… I just—"
"You just need the money," Ren finished for Ryuji. He leaned back against the bench, closing his mouth as a group of girls walked past. They waited in silence until the group was out of earshot. Finally, as Ryuji watched them sit down some distance away, he turned to Ren to hear what he had to say. "If you're asking, then you have your assumptions about me. Do you trust me?"
"I…" Ryuji paused. He didn't want to give the wrong answer to a guy like Ren.
"It's fine if you don't."
"No. I can't say I trust you, even if you're a friend."
"But you're asking me for money." Ren didn't say it as an insult, just a statement of the facts to remind Ryuji what he was doing, to make him feel queasy and back out. Ryuji noticed Ren's intelligence almost as soon as he introduced himself on that first day of school; it was the scariest and most telling thing about him. "If we start doing this, there isn't a stopping point. You'll need to trust me."
"Why couldn't we stop?"
"It makes everything else pointless." Ren sounded so sure that it convinced Ryuji. The guy had too much confidence for a fourteen-year-old, let alone one who just got beat up two weeks prior.
"Then why—."
"You need to trust me because I'll be the one in charge."
"I don't know how I can do that. Maybe we start early, then trust will happen someday?"
Ren shook his head. "Can't. Need your trust from the start. If I…" Ren stopped speaking, smirked, and looked away from Ryuji. He pointed his head up at the tree branch above. "If I leave a visible mark on this school in the next few weeks, you'll trust me to lead you."
"What, like graffiti?" The thought of Ren spending time spray-painting a mural made Ryuji laugh. The stupidly simple idea reminded him that they were just teenagers at the end of the day, not gangsters. They wouldn't be smuggling drugs or running whore houses; just scamming spoiled dickheads out of cash that their parents gave them.
"You'll see." Ryuji paused, waiting for Ren to laugh off what had to be sarcasm. It never came. "We'll shake on it now, but take the time to reconsider, Ryuji. Seriously. There's a lot of risk with this."
Ryuji would have laughed again, but Ren glared the first time. Still, the way Ren took things so seriously was amusing, even for someone who got things done like he did. They were scamming dumb teenagers and not going beyond that. Ryuji needed the money badly enough that he didn't ask the proper questions, and he wasn't keen on letting any opportunity slip through his grasp.
Ren extended a hand, which Ryuji immediately shook. "Now, we're stuck being friends," he said, nervously laughing as he remembered that first day where he followed Ren down the sidewalk.
A part of him hoped that Ren was joking. If he really could "mark" the school, he was guaranteed to be yakuza-affiliated. How did the only friend Ryuji made within a year turn out to be bōryokudan ? Ryuji needed the money, and he didn't see any other way to make it, but did it have to be done like this? Plus, Ren took the agreement so seriously. That scared Ryuji.
It made him think of his mom, the empty pill bottles on their kitchen floor, and the fridge full of uneaten food. She needed help and Ryuji would get it for her, whatever it took.
He wished his heart didn't sink when that mark showed itself.
