Summer, 2004

"Guess where we're going."

Ren shrugged. He wanted to get away with shaking his head and giving up, but living with Kaneshiro for long enough taught him that such a thing was pointless. "Dinner," he said to amuse his guardian.

"Close." Kaneshiro grinned. The limousine's dim blue illumination glinted off his teeth. Ren sat across from the large man as the vehicle hummed across a rough street, occasionally hitting a pothole and making its passengers squirm. "We're going to have a conversation with a friend of mine."

"Why am I here?"

"If you want your answer, ask yourself why there're wads of yen in your desk drawer." Kaneshiro smirked at Ren's silence. "I don't care how you got it. I'm more interested in being proven right. Always knew you were worth raising."

So, Kaneshiro searched his room. Ren felt dumb to assume anything like boundaries or privacy existed with a man like that.

"Just because I have—"

"You're telling me you got all that cash without a little bit of screwing people over?" Ren thought of cowering eyes of gold, of shadows being overpowered and forced to serve. "You're telling me you earned all of that legitimately?" Ren thought of the downtrodden expressions of those who brought him money—only because they wronged him first, though.

Ren stayed silent. Lying to Kaneshiro was a fool's game, and he was no fool.

"That's what I thought." Kaneshiro took satisfaction in Ren's speechlessness, letting it age to perfection until it threatened his ever-persistent desire for interaction—or attention. "Your progress shows that you're ready to take the next step. Time to carve your name into the business."

"And if I don't want to?"

"What do you think I've been raising ya for?" He had never lied about that. All the people he met, conversations he overheard, and beers he fetched prepared him for the future promised to him the first time he got in that limo. "Today, you're gonna see how the family makes peace."

Already, Ren wanted the ordeal to be over with. "What do I need to do?"

"Stand by the car, watch, then learn a thing or two. That fucking school of yours can't give you a hands-on experience like this, huh?"

Kaneshiro knew about Ren's stashed yen from school, but the truth would surprise him if it ever escaped Ren's clutches. Becoming a self-serving version of Robin Hood brought tons of hands-on experience.

The limousine slowed to a gentle stop. Each door's lock opened simultaneously, prompting Ren and Kaneshiro to scoot toward the closest door. Both of them exited the limo, emerging into the brittle atmosphere of a parking garage. Looking around, Ren saw nothing but empty spots, bar the black SUV and the black sedan that sat on the other side of the building.

Not just them, but their driver, Mutatsu, exited as well. Kaneshiro waddled around the limo, wheezing with every step, then stopped just in front of the car's trunk to join his subordinate in the wait. He crossed his arms and leaned back. His chest still rose and fell with hardship from walking a little bit.

Ren stood up straight. Not even the opening of the black cars' doors ended his stillness. He watched as four men got out of the SUV, then two familiar faces from the sedan. Suguru was Kamoshida's left-hand man (the right being Mutatsu), the orange-haired man (who Ren came to know as Yasuhiro from Kaneshiro's many tales of the "clubbing animal") was a parasite living off Kaneshiro's back.

What he provided to the family wasn't entirely clear. He was on the payroll due to his friendship with Suguru and his sucking up to Kaneshiro, yet it bemused Ren as to why he wasn't at the bottom of the bay for his sheer nothingness. His only guess—based on weekly visits to the apartment that lasted no longer than a handshake and briefcase exchange—was that Yasuhiro had certain connections to suppliers that Kaneshiro had grown to need in his descent down powder mountain.

Kamoshida had the same youth but with a more proper build for his occupation. He stood well over six feet tall and his wingspan was even longer, making him look more like a generationally gifted athlete than criminal muscle. He had to know it, too—his pocketed right hand spoke volumes about his insecurity. If he was squeamish about his missing pinkie, he chose the wrong profession.

Mutatsu's half-century in the business hunched his bank and sank his shoulders. Worst of all, it gave him a painfully obvious wig to compensate for bad genes. Just like his salted scalp, he was a professional underachiever. Yes, he was a saiko-komon, but he was also a driver who had forty years of hits under his belt. He never stopped doing the dirty work because his name brought sneers and scrunched noses, even from his own family, for reasons Ren wished he did not know.

"Kane-sama!" Kamoshida boomed as the two stopped a few feet from their boss and Mutatsu to bow. Ren caught a glance from the tall one; a sinister glare that sent a warning for something his way. Once they finished, the four men from the SUV began walking across the empty parking garage.

In a line, they stopped much farther than Kamoshida and company had, keeping at least ten feet from Kaneshiro and his group. "Junya," said the eldest of the four. His white hair and beard starkly contrasted the youth of his three companions. "I'm glad you're willing to see reason in these dark times," he said. His rasp barely escaped from his lungs.

Kaneshiro spoke louder than usual to point out the difference between the two. "I can't sacrifice profits for too long, Daichi," he replied with a certain edge to his voice.

Daichi, the old man who Ren assumed to be the boss of the opposing family, smiled and turned to one of his men. The younger man bent his knees so the boss could whisper in his ear. With a nod, the man slipped away from his clan and approached Kaneshiro.

"Per custom, I'm sure none of us brought weapons. We're professionals," Daichi said as he watched his man reach Kaneshiro's line of muscle. Without hesitating, he began patting down Mutatsu with the begrudging grumbles of a bitter old man in his ear. Daichi didn't wait for the pat downs to conclude before he got down to business. "There's been a sickening amount of bloodshed on both sides. For what?"

"Don't ask me shit like that," Kaneshiro said. He grunted as Daichi's man began patting down his legs. "You know what I'm after."

"Your construction permits must wait, Junya. These aren't handed out—"

"No shit they aren't handed out, but you have them. That's why your man is in a sidewalk and we're in this fucking garage giving each other bullshit."

Daichi stood straight like Ren, staring down Kaneshiro with unbreakable stillness. Ren observed the two and their pissing match; both of them wanted to show their dominance, yet the other wasn't biting. Kaneshiro ground his foot into the concrete; Daichi seemed to detach his soul from his body with his stillness.

"You insult our honor, Junya," Daichi said.

"You insulted mine when you ordered this guy to grab a handful," Kaneshiro said. He looked down at the man who continued patting down his pants. Ren knew what was coming; he turned away in preparation. "Get this fucking—" Ren heard a grunt alongside the sound of cloth being tugged. Soft flesh hit hard stone as the man was tossed, kicked, or shoved to the ground.

Daichi didn't tolerate it, raising his voice to yell. "This man is—!"

Bone crunched, a man screamed, and Ren winced. He didn't need to look to see a man getting his broken knee ground into the parking garage floor. "What?" Kaneshiro taunted. "This man is yours? Did I insult his honor?" Another soul-slicing scream emerged from the man following another crunch; his other knee.

Ren kept his eyes on the ground and his back turned as the screams continued. Daichi tried to protest, but every word ground Kaneshiro's boot against the lackey's knee.

Suddenly, a hand on Ren's shoulder turned him back around to look up at its giant owner: Kamoshida. "He wants you to watch," he said, then stepped out of the way. Ren could see exactly what he assumed: Kaneshiro stomping the screams out of the man who was just following orders. Despite the provocation, the other clan did nothing.

Kaneshiro dropped his foot into the man's knee again, breathing like he was about to pass out. His face reddened and his hair stuck to his sweating forehead, but he continued kicking.

"So, his protégé can't stand the sight of violence…" Kamoshida said quietly from next to Ren. "He didn't tell you the plan?"

Ren shook his head.

"Seems like you're not here to be helpful, then." Kamoshida stood next to Ren, arms crossed as he passively watched the horrific display in front of him. Blood pooled beneath the man's split knees.

"He said I'm here to learn a few things."

"Like how to make peace?" Kamoshida gestured toward the violence. "There's no peace in this business. That's what he's about to teach you."

Ren's mind stuck to that word—about. Was Kaneshiro shattering a man's kneecaps not already teaching?

Finally, after heaves of moist breath and resting his hands on his knees, Kaneshiro stepped away from the broken man, leaving him in between the two parties as a show of force. Ren found it ironic; the broken man formed a bridge between the two clans over the bad blood that Kaneshiro created.

Kaneshiro's white pants were bloodied around the bottom edge and his shoes seemed permanently stained. The fat man reached down, pulling his pant leg up and grabbing—

Ren knew what it was before he saw it. He stepped back so he could run around the limo for cover, but Kamoshida's mammoth hands wrapped around his arm. "Stay right here. They didn't bring shit—because of their honor."

Kaneshiro wasted no time in shooting the remaining two of Daichi's henchmen, casually flicking his arm out for the two shots he took. Ren couldn't tell if they lived or not, but both dropped to the ground. Daichi stood in between the bodies.

"How many times," Kaneshiro growled through his teeth as he stepped over his mess toward Daichi, "did I tell you?" He didn't stop in front of the older boss; he kept walking, slapping Daichi to the side with his gun-waving hand. Kaneshiro stood over the poor old man with the gun pointing downward. "Don't waste my fucking time. Those contracts could've been sent over like that," he snapped with his free hand, "but here you are with your dead men and your honor."

"Junya, you were once fair… Iwatodai? We did so much for that city... So, so much... Bōryokudan don't work like this," he said. On his knees, with death in his face and all around him, his will stood taller than Kaneshiro's ever had. "Your time will c—" The gunshot silenced Daichi until his body hit the ground with a fleshy smack.

Kaneshiro groaned. "Fuck…" As if his shoes weren't already soaked, Kaneshiro tip-toed over the corpses and back towards the limousine. Mutatsu and Yasuhiro solemnly looked past Kaneshiro at the mess, likely contemplating who would have to clean it all up. Ren expected the same fate to befall him.

Kaneshiro looked at Ren and Kaneshiro, stopping him just a few feet from the limo's trunk. "See that?" Ren nodded. "That's peace."

The display of gore— peace, as it had been deemed—didn't move. Why would it? No matter how much Ren hated looking at it, no matter how much he wished it would go away, his eyes lingered for far too long. That shade of red seared itself into Ren's head just months prior. Mementos' blood-red walls were the only thing he could think of when staring at the mess, alongside a question.

Could the Metaverse be used to kill?

"Alright, get in the car. We're leaving." Kaneshiro looked flat-out exhausted. Flecks of blood were scattered across his clothes, growing denser the further down they went. Ren never witnessed something more brutally unforgiving, as expected for someone like Kaneshiro. "Mutatsu, Yasuhiro; clean this up."

Ren expected groans, yet the two men silently got to work. Mutatsu went for the twitching body of the man with demolished knees, looking down at whatever life remained. Apparently, it was enough for Mutatsu to step over the man and move on. Yasuhiro went to the dead boss and started dragging him towards the sedan, leaving a bloody streak as he did so.

Kaneshiro walked around the limousine and got in the other door. Suguru and Ren were alone on their side of the limo's exterior. The taller man looked at Ren, who avoided eye contact and watched as blood was spread across the parking garage in the process of cleaning it.

"Kid, I don't know who you think you are, but I," Kamoshida said, jamming his thumb into his chest, "am next in line. I don't wanna hear the bullshit the boss says about your future with the clan, I just want you to know that you'll never be shit while I'm around. Understand?"

Curiously, Ren looked up at the tall, insecure man. What should have been an intimidating glare was reduced to nothing based on the fact that Kamoshida felt the need to talk down to a high schooler.

He was a waste of time.

Ren nodded, then turned away. He got enough distance to get in the limousine without protest from Kamoshida, leaving the man stranded in the bloody parking garage with nothing to do but clean up after a pistol-wielding baby.


Spring, 2016

Kanji opened the door, standing behind it and gesturing for Ren and Ryuji to go in. Ren nodded thanks, then entered The Madcap Bar. Owned by the Kuzuryu family, Madcap was an eternally dark and uncrowded place. Even with its few customers cleared out for the sake of the sit-down, not much changed. Shafts of light managed to pierce the maroon curtains.

The floor of the bar was dusty and uncleaned, noticeable enough that Ren didn't need light to be upset about it. He wouldn't complain—he'd settle for considering it another of Fuyuhiko's slights against him. Empty tables with barstools stacked atop them littered the room, bar one on the other side of the room from the entrance.

As Ren walked toward Kamoshida and his men, Fuyuhiko stood up from the same table. "Ren."

He stopped approaching. The door closed behind him, dimming even more of the restaurant as Kanji and Ryuji trailed behind. Ryuji's suit matched Ren's as well as Kamoshida's. All of them wore the same outfit, no matter their allegiances.

Behind Fuyuhiko, Kamoshida and his men sat. The first—Mutatsu—had gotten saggier and somehow balder since he'd taunted Ren at L'Effervescence. The second—Munehisa—had the same years behind him as Kamoshida but looked a decade younger. His disinterest in family politics kept him fresh. His buzz cut missed his usual cap, and he lacked the lollipop he almost always had. Ren assumed that Kamoshida didn't allow something so not-gangster at the sit-down for fear of looking like an idiot.

Out of the three men of the Second Kaneshiro—Kamoshida, Mutatsu, and Munehisa—Ren liked only one of them. Two were insecure idiots who became more hypocritical with every passing year and every growing wrinkle on their skin. The other was someone who neglected so many of his duties to being bōryokudan that it was a wonder he still ranked so highly, which made him Ren's favorite.

All three stood up at Fuyuhiko's beckon. "Standard procedure." Munehisa stepped around the table while Kanji walked to Fuyuhiko, reaching his hands out before he even stopped walking. "The Hell? Get the fuck away from me, I'm not getting pat down!" He stepped back into one of the overturned barstools, knocking it to the ground. The sound of splintering wood stopped Kanji and Munehisa in the center of the room.

Ren smirked; he told Kanji to do that before they entered.

"Fuck are you doing? Get to it!" Fuyuhiko yelled. Kanji glanced at Ren for approval, receiving a nod. He walked over to Mutatsu and started the pat-down process.

On Ren's side of the room, Munehisa stopped walking. "Surprised to see you here, kid," he said quietly in his gruff voice. Ren put both his arms out, letting Iwai feel for concealed weapons. "How've ya been?"

"Never better. You?"

"Doing alright. They dragged me here, and these things always go off without a hitch, so…" Trailing off implied that someone would get shot by the end of the ordeal. Ren expected it, even with the pat-downs.

"How's the kid?"

Iwai brushed his hands over Ren's pant legs. "Hanging in there. Spends most of his time reading."

"He's on the right track."

"Thanks for letting me know," Iwai remarked before moving on to check Ryuji. "He's good!" he called back to Fuyuhiko, who nodded at Ren and motioned for him to step forward.

Ren walked to the round table at the center of the room. Five chairs sat around it; two on one side, two on the other, then one in between to mediate. Ren stood next to one chair, waiting for the pat-downs to end. He didn't dare to sit down. As much as he hated Kamoshida, starting the sit-down with an insult like skipping the customary bow would be idiotic.

Mutatsu's pat-down finished first. He approached the table and stood next to one of the chairs. "Enjoy the wine?"

"It warmed my soul," Ren said, thinking of Makoto's stunned look when he sent the bottle back with the waiter.

"Wonderful. And, if I may ask, how did your date enjoy it?"

"It earned me a few points with her."

"Aha. I knew it. Suguru and I were debating the quality of that bottle and decided to make a friendly bet."

"Then I'd like a five percent cut of your earned yen."

"Hah!" Mutatsu reached across the table with urgency just to shake Ren's hand. "Always ready to crack a joke." Ren matched the handshake as much as he had to in order to be polite, then withdrew.

You know where his hands have been.

Ren waited for Mutatsu to glance back to Suguru, then he wiped his hand on his pants. He resumed his silence and stillness until Ryuji joined the chair next to him. On the other side, Kamoshida stood next to Mutatsu.

Fuyuhiko walked around the table to his chair. "Gentlemen, we are here today to mediate the conflict between the Aka Handan Ikka and the Second Kaneshiro." Ren was surprised at the properness that Fuyuhiko spoke with. "I needta introduce anyone?" Just like that, it was gone.

Ren and Kamoshida shook their heads. Kanji walked around the table to stand behind Ren and Ryuji while Munehisa did the same for his boss.

"Great. Before we start, we swear on the things we hold dear to settle this…" Fuyuhiko looked around. Apparently, the reactions he got weren't interested enough for him to continue the standard introduction. "Eh, fuck this. Just bow." Ren, Ryuji, Kamoshida, and Mutatsu all bowed over the round table, holding it for three seconds and then raising. Ren's back strained; bowing to anyone hurt. "Alright, let's get started." The men pulled their chairs out from under the table and sat down.

"The Aka Ikka persist in being thorns in the side of larger, more serious families," Kamoshida began. "They have killed two men of the Second Kaneshiro; one high-ranking member, and one—"

"And who exactly was that?" Ren interrupted.

Kamoshida looked him dead in the eye. "Yuuki Mishima."

"The Aka Ikka, nor any of its affiliates, contributed to the death of Yuuki Mishima."

"Then who did?"

"Who knows? These things happen in power vacuums."

Kamoshida scowled, pausing to turn to Mutatsu. The bald man nodded. Ren hoped that meant they would move on from the touchy subject. "As I was saying, the Aka Ikka killed another of my men: an innocent store manager." He leaned forward and raised his voice. "We don't kill civilians."

"You forget our place in your world. We don't operate on the same principles," Ren said. His voice faltered at the end as his tone shifted into something more forgiving. "But I understand, and I apologize for that. It was never my intention to have that man killed."

Mutatsu, leaning back in his chair enough that Ren thought it would tip over, spoke up. "Then what have you done to punish the shooter?"

"He's been dealt with," Ryuji said. Ren prayed that Ryuji would halt the explanation there. If it were revealed that Yusuke wasn't in the country and Ren was unguarded, there would be consequences.

Both Kamoshida and Mutatsu stayed silent, observing Ren and Ryuji for their reactions.

"You also killed a soldier aft—"

Ryuji lightly hit the table. "After he murdered one of our guys in public!"

"An eye for an eye is a common belief among every family," Mutatsu said. "You were expecting someone to die, weren't you? It shouldn't be a problem—"

"If it shouldn't be a problem, why are we here?" Ren said.

"Because you continue to provoke us. Is war your goal, Ren? Are you trying to be like your father?" Kamoshida smirked. His voice drifted into teasing Ren, ironic considering that he was the one accusing the other of provocation. "If you are, you're doing a poor job. Junya would've ended the meeting by now and gotten what he'd have wanted."

"Because he'd have cracked a bottle over your head and slit your throat with it."

"Do you really think that's the truth—that Junya resorted to violence every time a problem came before him?"

Ren knew it as the truth. Any instance that proved otherwise must have been wiped from his memory. "I know that he wouldn't have tolerated pointless questions at a sit-down."

Mutatsu laughed; Kamoshida remained stone-faced. "He didn't tolerate a lot of things... Like his men getting killed."

The palpable silence stilled the room. Only eyes moved as each person looked around the table to see who would make the next move—and if that move would be to end the sit-down in violence.

"Are either of us tolerating that?"

"You're forcing me to."

"Am I?"

"You killed Yuuki Mishima. I know you did."

Fuyuhiko stood up. "Alright, this is getting off track. Why don't—"

No one gave Fuyuhiko the attention he demanded but didn't deserve. "You're willfully incorrect, Suguru, and it's slowing the sit-down to a halt."

"Just admit and apologize, that's all I want to hear." He smiled, his lips devilishly curling with the expectation of Ren conceding defeat. That smile, which Ren saw too many times, always preceded Kamoshida's ego inflating to new heights. "Apologize and I'll make you an offer for territory. It's that easy."

Ryuji, as the man who'd been managing much of the business for the past years, would be interested in that offer, but Ren couldn't give less of a shit. He stayed silent as he waited for Kamoshida to get offended by it.

"You and I—we've made ten times what we need to live. We're set." Kamoshida shrugged as the smile continued. "These guys—Munehisa and him…" Kamoshida pointed to the unintroduced Kanji. "These guys are the ones risking things for us, but we do nothing for them. Just admit that you killed Yuuki Mishima and it'll ensure the safety of every man and woman that has ever thought about helping the Aka Handan Ikka."

Ren didn't show his true reaction to the threat—panic. He couldn't admit to killing Mishima because then the Aka Ikka were liable for starting the conflict and would get no support from other clans if they needed it, and he couldn't refuse without guaranteeing war.

"If I killed Yuuki Mishima, I would've gotten some information out of him first," Ren said. Ryuji squirmed in his seat but went along with whatever plan Ren conjured up. "He probably would've told me that the Second Kaneshiro are going to use their unquestioned control of the Port of Tokyo to throttle smuggling shipments as leverage over other families. He also would've told me—before I put a bullet in his head, of course—that the Second Kaneshiro are going to ship in more guns than Tokyo's ever seen." Kamoshida's grin dropped and Ren got what he wanted. "Just a hypothetical."

In place of the silence, Ren took over the negotiating table.

"I want Shibuya. Take the Port if you want, but you must preside over it as the Fourth Tosu did."

Mutatsu felt some type of way about the Tosu, enough so to derail the negotiating. "Kubo was a fool! He didn't know what he had!" Ren looked across the table, and Mutatsu shrank back into his perpetual chair-leaning, his bravery gone. Only Kamoshida could be taken seriously, though not too seriously because, at the end of the day, every family boss was just an insecure man in need of therapy with enough baggage to make a plane nose-dive.

"I've spoken to the other bosses; they don't care what I do with the Port."

"Who's lying now?" Ren asked. "You think someone like Masayoshi Shido would pay extra to you?!" Turning to Ryuji, Ren let out a performative laugh. "The Second Kaneshiro are not what they once were, powerful as they may be."

"You wanna test that?" Kamoshida growled.

Fuyuhiko stood. "We're getting into threats, and both of you need to reign it in."

"Shibuya and the continued sharing of the Port—that's it."

Kamoshida crossed his arms. First, he looked at Fuyuhiko, not getting any response except for Fuyuhiko's quivering round eyes looking back at him. He glanced at Mutatsu. The old man had replicated Kamoshida's pose and disposition, trying to look intimidating as much as he could with his face hanging from his skull.

The giant man stood. In response, the table followed. Ren knew things weren't going south; he had already won when Kamoshida stopped speaking. A hand reached across the table, and Ren shook it.

"There it is," Fuyuhiko said. "Good job, everyone. That concludes—"

"Truce," Kamoshida said as his hand clenched around Ren's. The smile from before returned, telling Ren that the truce may have been valid but it definitely wouldn't last. All Ren had done was buy the Aka Ikka time to muster and weed out the unprepared. A few months would go a long way in winning the unavoidable war.

"Truce," Ren repeated.


A/N: Apologies for the wait. Internet connection was unexpectedly poor during a vacation I took and I did not have the time to edit the new chapter. I got back last week, but took the week to tweak some upcoming chapters and finish this one.

Thanks for reading!