A/N: I think I'll stick with about one chapter a month. Compared to my fall semester, I wrote a substantial amount over winter break, although still not as much as I hoped. Uh sorry, kinda?

So yeah, 'about' one chapter a month.

But thank you to y'all that have been sticking along with the story, especially to those that have taken the time to write reviews! I can't easily respond to you if you do it as a guest, but I can give quick answers to those questions here:

No, I don't have any non-canon ships planned.

And no, Blake's a late bloomer lol. They're flat.

I also drew a cover for this story, but the display's so small on this site that I just zoomed in 200% lol. I might re-crop it later, though. You can view the full cover on my Wattpad, which I will update within a few hours.

Part 3-2 (Identity)

"Would you like these in a bag?"

"Yes, please." The cashier withdrew a paper bag from underneath the counter and unloaded the stack of thick books into it before sliding it over. I placed a hand under the bag and grunted as I heaved it off the counter and held it to my chest. With a small nod to the employee, I walked away from the cashier and weaved around a few shoppers to head towards the escalator.

The place Youko had brought me to a few weeks ago had quite the extensive collection, with an entire floor dedicated to only foreign books in English. While I considered myself fairly proficient, I was by no means confident in my ability to read technical language in Japanese, even if I had originally applied for a job here. I peeked down at my receipt, tucked into the paper bag. Hashing, networking, and concurrent programming, which accumulated to a grand total of… heh heh, well, I guess I'm eating at home for a while.

Youko had been surprised when I came up to her with a book on encryption, which had been the cheapest one that I wanted. And now, I was back for the others.

One of the books on display caught my eye for the second time as I passed it, but I continued on. Seeing one of my old college textbooks being sold as up to date had been somewhat bizarre. But computers were still fairly new inventions in scale, and much could (and would) change over the next twelve years.

This world was almost the exact same as mine, as if the clock controlling the flow of time had simply wound backwards to plop me in the middle of 2005. George W Bush was the US President, Akihito was the Japanese Emperor, etc. Tokyo Revengers took place in a modern setting, so it wasn't too hard to believe that this world would be nearly identical to the real one. Except for the people I personally knew.

I descended the short flight of stairs and exited the bookstore through the double-glass doors.

The books I'd bought were somewhat outdated in comparison to my time, sure, but the knowledge was still beneficial. Although if I didn't have anywhere to practice or apply it, it wouldn't really amount to much. The storefront of a tech store taunted me with a 'new' laptop model, the bulky block having specs that were pretty pathetic compared to those of my time, yet it was still nowhere near affordable to me. I was not going to be owning a computer any time soon. I plodded past.

My wavy hair and mid-length skirt fanned out before me from the crisp breeze. There was a flash of movement as a crimson maple leaf fluttered down into my bag from the tree above, just one of the countless accumulating on the sidewalk around it. I admired the star-shaped leaf, its jagged edges tinged with gold, before flicking it off. The transition to autumn had brought vibrant colors and mild temperatures, quite the abrupt change from the sweltering summer climate only weeks ago. Thank God that's over.

I looked over as I heard an electronic jingle but halted as a familiar face emerged from the supermarket.

"Hina-chan," I called.

Her copper-brown hair stirred from underneath her beret as the girl walked towards me, my surprise mirrored on her face. "Blake-chan!" A short, dark-haired boy popped his head out from her side and surveyed me. Both had their hands full with reusable bags loaded with groceries. The Tachibana siblings, going on an errand.

This was the first time I'd seen Naoto. I'd been over to Hina's apartment twice, and he hadn't been home. Although seeing him did set me a little on edge, knowing the close connection he would have to Takemichi in the future, right now, he was just Hinata's little brother. Some caution was warranted, but I didn't need to act as if I were stepping on eggshells.

"This is my brother, Naoto," Hina introduced.

Said brother gave a terse greeting. "Hello."

"Hi," I said. "I'm Blake. Myers, Blake."

"Are you also going that way?" Hina gestured with her head in the general direction of their apartment. It was a bit of a detour from my host family's house, but it'd be pleasant to chat with her for a bit. Upon my nod, a smile lit up her face. "Let's go together, then."

Hina and I walked side by side through the city with Naoto on her opposite side. Rather than being shy, he seemed content to not talk. Fine with me.

"What'd you get from the bookstore?"

The paper bag in my arms crinkled as I shifted my hold. "Just a few books on computing. The one a few streets over luckily had quite a few in English."

"Oh, are you maybe planning on becoming a programmer in the future?"

"Yep." Heh.

"That's really cool," she said. "You've already got your plan and are working towards it. I'm sure you'll succeed!"

"Thanks." I chuckled at her cheer.

We fell silent as we joined the crowd of pedestrians waiting for the crosswalk. I idly watched the advertisement playing on the huge digital sign board affixed to a multi-story building, audible even over the passing cars and dull hum of the hundred people crammed between the streets.

"You speak remarkably well for a nonnative speaker," a voice cooly observed. I peered back over my shoulder at the short boy to meet his stare, his black eyes slightly wide. So young and already showing some characteristics of his older, detective self.

"That's true, now that you mention it," Hinata agreed. "Your accent's improved a lot."

Had it? I still received the weird stare here and there after I probably just ignorantly butchered some word's pronunciation, but part of it could likely be attributed to my foreign appearance. I did feel more comfortable speaking in Japanese, though. I might've subconsciously fixed my intonation after staying in Japan for two months. I'd felt a bit awkward whenever I spoke up upon initially coming here despite having one of the least obnoxious foreign accents among my Japanese class, but hands-on experience was the best way to become proficient at a language.

"I didn't really notice," I admitted. "But I— oh God, no."

"Sorry, what?" Hina asked after my sudden English.

'Sorry, what?' were the exact same words that flashed through my mind as I spotted a familiar face for the second time in the past hour, waiting at the adjacent sidewalk. I instantly wrenched my gaze away to stare anywhere else, but I saw the exaggerated wave he sent me in my peripheral vision. And then the traffic light switched red. I squeezed my bag into my chest as he strolled down the crosswalk, a wide grin on his face as if he'd luckily spotted a friend in the city.

I was lucky with Hina. Not you. Shoo.

"I remembered I had something small to do. You can go ahead without me," I said as I finally dared to meet eyes with him. He sent another wave in my direction as we did. It really was me.

"Then we'll wait for you. We're not too busy, right, Naoto?"

"I— yeah, I guess…" he grumbled.

Dammit Hina, you're too nice.

But it was too late to make any attempts to ditch the Tachibana siblings. He was already halfway down the street, and there were only seconds left. "Could you just wait here then, if that's alright?"

"Sure! Take as long as you need."

I weaved my way through the thinning crowd to intercept him on my own terms. That said, what should I do? I glanced down at my long skirt. It wasn't too unexpected that he'd recognize me with my hair down naturally and glasses on; he'd seen me before like that, even if it'd only been once. But I couldn't easily concoct a reasonable excuse about my clothes. It was a skirt. What could I say?

Would this be the encounter where I finally got caught? Atsushi had been the first to notice, but he'd kept to his word as far as I could tell. Would just being seen in some random encounter at an inopportune time get me expelled from Toman? I hadn't even managed to accomplish anything yet. I stared down at the shoes of the pedestrians in front of me and lowered my bag of books as far as I dared to try and conceal as much as my skirt as I could. My arms strained in an uncomfortable position. I couldn't leave. But the decision would be snatched of my hands entirely if an admin, or hell, Mikey, discovered I was a girl. Even though he'd seen me with my hair down, the fact that I hadn't been kicked out of Toman implied he hadn't realized yet. I held my bag tighter against my waist.

"Yo, Frank!" Time to face the music.

"Hey, Hayato." I gave him a strained smile in response. "How lucky to see you."

"Yeah, right? Tokyo's pretty big. Didn't expect you, either." The 2nd Division member beamed at me, but I noticed his gaze dip a bit lower. "Say, is that…?"

Hundreds of random excuses were generated and instantly trashed. To be fair, the vast majority of them were simply gibberish, panicked grunts, noises, and nonsensical phrases that altogether culminated into an 'artistic' verbal expression of the panic I was currently experiencing. But parsing past the garbage, there were a few potentially plausible responses.

"Yeah," I began with a nervous chuckle after a long silence. "I…"

Option 1: Denial.

Outcome: Hayato momentarily leaves the issue but begins to have doubts about my rejection, and he finally puts the pieces together that I'm a girl. Failure.

Option 2: My friend forced me into wearing it.

Outcome: The conversation naturally turns to Hina, and Hayato associates her as my friend and later talks to her about me for whatever reason, generating instant confusion and a realization when the pronouns don't match. Failure.

Option 3:

"…"

The way Hayato's head cocked in thought did not put me at ease. Unable to come up with a viable excuse, I was letting him form his own assumptions. That was definitely not a desired outcome, but using my own faulty excuses came with its own risks, too.

"I didn't know you cross-dressed."

"…"

I blinked. And then blinked again. There had been no small amount of anxiety that he'd arrive at the worst possible outcome, but that— that worked, I guessed.

"I…cross-dress as a hobby sometimes." In case he caught me in my normal clothes again. "Could you please not tell anyone?" I added, my voice uncontrollably rising in pitch.

"Sure, sure, I gotcha," Hayato grinned. "But damn, you're lookin' pretty good."

Perhaps that was supposed to be support and reassurance. It was anything but.

Am I seriously blushing at a 14-year-old boy complimenting my appearance?

Age aside, who wouldn't feel happy at being told face-to-face they looked nice?

I blame the hormones.

I refocused as Hayato resumed speaking on a different topic. "— weren't at the end of the battle, when Hanma, Moebius's temporary leader at the time, announced he was making a new gang. Valhalla. They've been building up recently and are getting quite big, so you should try to be a little cautious."

This was the first time I was hearing about Valhalla in this world. They didn't make any major moves until the battle in mid-October, if I recalled correctly.

But what about Kazutora? Had he been released from juvenile detention and joined them yet? I knew he'd be in Valhalla by the time Takemichi leaped back from the future, but it was only a week and a half from then until Halloween. There wasn't much I could do in such a narrow interval short of being very bold with my approach, but that would definitely have its drawbacks.

"Do you know of anyone besides Hanma in that gang?" Mentioning Kazutora by name would have been suspicious.

"No." He shrugged. "I don't really know much about them at all, actually."

"Hm, that's fine." That was unfortunate, but I couldn't expect Hayato to somehow know everything. If his status was still an unknown factor, I'd just carry on planning for the more inconvenient case in which he wasn't released until the arc really began or I was just unable to find him. I mentally made a note to myself.

"Seems you were in the middle of something, though. I don't want to hold you for too long." Hayato nodded his head in the direction of the Tachibana siblings. Hina smiled at me as I turned to look. "Have fun on your date."

"Friend," I stressed. "She's just a friend." I did not want that misconception floating around.

He laughed. "Oh, really? Have fun with your female friend, then." He winked. My arms twitched, supporting a heavy stack of books that were just the perfect tool on hand to bash someone's head in with, but I refrained and gave a simple farewell.

Well, that'd gone better than I thought. I comfortably held my bag back up to my chest as I strode back. My two identities had converged in one spot, but luckily nothing had gone too wrong. I was curious to see exactly how dense Hayato was in being unable to figure out I really was female, but I couldn't afford to test those limits.

The pair had dutifully waited for me in those few minutes spent talking with Hayato, leaning in the shade against the side of a building. Hina stood back up upon my arrival, Naoto following her. "You're done now, right? Let's keep going."

I replied in the affirmative, but I noticed Naoto's glance had strayed past me. My blood ran cold as I felt a hand lightly tap my shoulder.

"I forgot to mention, but we're not meeting this week, Frank. So see ya in two."

Fucking hell.

"I— I see," I said as I turned to Hayato with a twitching smile. "I'll see you then." I continued to stare as he disappeared into the crowd.

"'Frank'?" I stiffened at Hina's innocent question.

"It's just a nickname. Don't...pay it too much attention."

Her gaze trailed to the floor. "O-oh, is he, like, your…" The bag slid down her wrist as she made a simple hand gesture, her fingers all curled into her palm except for her pinky, which stuck straight up.

Despite having grown better at intonation, I had not lived here long enough to recognize all the little quirks of the culture. "My what?"

"Your, uh… boyfriend."

I grimaced instantly. "N-no? He's just a friend." Curse that stutter.

"I see." She met my eyes again and winked. I was starting to hate that wink. "Even though things might not have worked out between you and Sendou-kun, don't give up!" Ugh, there was that annoying rumor floating around, too. I only had myself to blame for that one, though.

"He's just a friend. A friend who happens to be a boy. What was that called? 'Guyfriend'?"

"Don't worry, Blake-chan! No matter what happens, I'll help you!" She pumped her fists, grocery bags swinging.

"Listen to me. We're not in a relationship."

"Maybe you just haven't noticed it yet. But I know you'll one day find true love!" Aaaand she wasn't listening.

Naoto, quietly spectating the entire time, met my eyes as his sister continued to throw supportive lines. "You should just give up," he said with a deadpan expression. Wise words.

Hina lightly bonked him in the head with her bag of apples. "Ow!"

"Don't say that, Naoto!" she scorned. "She's trying her best, in the name of love."

"I wasn't talking about that! I was talking about you."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

I watched the bickering siblings with a small chuckle. If only these carefree times could last forever. Well, except for the part in which both Hayato and Hina learned something they shouldn't have, but then again, I was doing this in hopes of achieving such a future. A bit of embarrassment and discomfort meant little compared to that prospect.

And to see my own family again.

My smile turned brittle as they continued to squabble.

"Hey, Frank! Over here!"

I looked up from my phone in the direction of the call and spotted the cluster of boys among the stream of passerby at the other end of the sidewalk, one of them waving at me. I snapped my phone shut and walked out from the overhang, my shoes making small splashes in the puddles dotting the street.

This jacket had been a worthy purchase. Whereas I'd been wearing it at my waist almost every minute over the summer, as 1) it was insanely hot here and 2) it was so sweltering that wearing a jacket would've instead drawn attention with its bizarreness (and did I mention the heat?). But autumn was the perfect weather for it. I'd buttoned it up fully to the collar, which kept my exposed neck warm.

My ears were still freezing, though. And the hair gel wasn't helping any.

The darkness of the overcast sky felt like an early evening, with the car lights and storefronts appearing more vibrant as they were reflected on the wet concrete. I flinched as a fat drop of water struck my head from the overhead tree and stuck my hand out to check. Nope, no rain.

There were roughly nine boys gathered, wearing casual clothes. One was holding a stack of flat boxes, from which the heavy aroma of pizza fought off the overpowering petrichor. My stomach rumbled, forgetting the meal it'd received only two hours ago.

"Hey. You made it," the boy who'd called out to me said. Two others at his side gave their own greetings. They were the three boys previously from the 3rd Division who'd followed Peh-yan to Moebius. Similar to how their Vice-Captain had joined the 2nd Division, they'd apparently entered the 4th. This meet-up wasn't just limited to the 4th Division, though. I returned a small wave to another boy of the 2nd Division, although I didn't recognize most of the others.

"Yeah. Thanks for the invitation." I'd never hung out much with Toman outside of meetings aside from the occasional gathering of the 2nd Division. Despite being the closest friend I had in Toman, Hayato had never asked, correctly assuming that I wasn't type to. That part of me hadn't changed, but perhaps I would accept one of these from time to time, if just to not appear standoffish. That was something I'd gleaned a while back but didn't ultimately pay heed, but now, well, I felt less opposed to it. Part of it may have been the mention of food.

"No sweat." He grinned. "We got a chance to hang out with our temporary Captain, so I thought that we might as well call a buddy over."

"'Temporary?' That's a bit rude to say, isn't it?" a new voice interrupted.

Not one, but two boys with voluminous afros walked up, both of relatively short stature compared to the other assembled members, but their hair made up for it in full, one boy's dyed orange, the other cyan. In addition to the matching bomber jackets, the monochrome colors inverted, I noticed a pair of silver earrings peeking out from underneath their perms. I knew who they were after having seen them at the meetings, the 4th Division Captain and its Vice-Captain, but I'd never been within talking distance of them.

"Sorry, Smiley, but we're leaving the instant Pah-chin gets released. We're yours until then, though."

The one with the orange afro, who'd spoken up, laughed. "I owe that guy a favor, so it all works out. And who's this guy you brought along?" He angled himself to properly face me, but despite the ear-to-ear, cheek-raising, beaming smile on his face, there was something subtly threatening about him that was hard to articulate with words.

"Uh yeah, I'm Frank..." I tried to give my own smile, but it pathetically dried up like a sponge left out under a blazing desert sun.

"Kawata Nahoya, but everyone just calls me Smiley!" he returned without skipping a beat. "And this is my brother, Souya. Or Angry, I guess." He clapped a hand on the other boy's back.

"Hey," Souya said.

I had intentionally tried to avoid looking at the Vice-Captain, who had quietly stood there the entire time, on account of the snarl frozen on his face. His pupils were dilated and his brow furrowed. 'Angry' wasn't a misnomer, although it did feel a little rude to be called such as opposed to, well, 'Smiley.'

"Hi. Say, are you...alright?" I tentatively asked. While I normally would've been much more subtle, knowing that they didn't like to show 'weakness', attempting to defuse that bomb now was preferable to having it explode wonderfully in my face later.

His blue eyes met mine and he glowered.

And stood still.

And said nothing.

A drop of rainwater from a branch above plopped into the puddle beneath me.

"He's always like this," his polar-opposite brother chimed in. "He just has a resting bitch face. Rather, he's actually in a pretty good mood right now!"

"Yeah, kinda," the boy grunted.

"...oh, is that so?" If they were saying so... "Excuse me, then."

"Where is that guy, though?" One of the previously 3rd Division members spoke up. "It's been five minutes already. Is he just not coming?"

"He's probably moping over his break-up," a different boy cackled. "Let's save him some pizza."

"Ehh, whatever." Nahoya shrugged. "If he's coming, he'll find us." He took the initiative and sauntered off, and we followed him. The boys seemed to be heading for a particular location, collectively crossing and making turns around the city streets into the less busy parts. I'd only been informed of the initial meeting location and that there'd be food. The twin brothers would likely play a major role after the point I'd read to in the original story, and that left me knowing little to none about them. Although unexpected, it was good to at least meet them and see a bit of their personalities.

Our destination was made clear as we walked towards a patio-like overhang which had kept the set of benches it housed dry from the noon rain. There would be enough space for the ten of us to comfortably sit and relax. The problem though, was that…

"Nah, hell no! Even though it's just formed, Valhalla's definitely going to beat Toman. 'The Invincible Mikey' is just a nickname. He's got nothing on the Reaper. I tell you, I've seen him fight, and he really is a god of death."

"'Reaper'? Ain't that Hanma?"

"Yeah, yeah! Dude, he's so fucking cool! I wanna join Valhalla."

"But didn't Hanma lose to Toman? At the big fight at the festival."

"That was a stalemate. If they'd continued, I know Hanma would've beaten Mikey, easy-peasy."

Four teenage boys occupied said benches, chattering loudly about gangs, of all things. The boy who'd just signed his death warrant by talking about his idol and bad-mouthing Toman in the process continued to blab despite the dawning horror on his friends' faces as they recognized the 4th Division Captain of Toman approaching from behind. I shifted my weight. A fight wasn't about to break out, right? Because I could very much see one zooming in at Mach speed, the dozen red flags affixed to its wings burning up and being torn to shreds from the sheer drag.

Nahoya tapped the boy's shoulder. "Hey, could you all please move somewhere else?" he asked with his trademark smile.

"Hah?" The ignorant kid growled as he turned around. "And why should—" He immediately shut his mouth, pure terror and dread contorting his expression.

I'll step in if he goes too far…

"Oh no, that's fine if you don't want to, too," the Captain laughed. "Cold weather today, isn't it? I was thinking of warming up a bit." He cracked his knuckles and took a step forward, sending all the boys flinching back.

"This is our spot," his brother interrupted, scowling exactly like when I'd talked to him two minutes ago. "Can you all get out?"

Five seconds later, there was no evidence there'd been anyone there aside from some wet footprints.

"Aww, they left. Too bad."

...well, there hadn't been a fight in the end. Lucky that Souya had cowed them into fleeing before one could happen. I did feel marginally bad about kicking them out, although no one else seemed to care as they sat down on the benches and began chatting. I shrugged and joined them. It was done, anyway.

"I got the food this time, so pay me back," the boy who'd been lugging around pizza boxes announced as he offloaded them on a bench and popped open their covers. "500 yen, each."

I was one of the first ones to dig a 500-yen coin (plus 100 for a tip) out of my wallet and come over to examine what had been ordered. Pizza was rather expensive in Japan, and I'd never received the opportunity to sample it.

Hmm. A classic margherita pizza with tomato sauce peeking past the mozzarella, several sprigs of basil and sliced cherry tomatoes scattered across. A seafood pizza, topped with scallops and anchovies and partially covered by a layer of thick white cheese. And finally, a…was that teriyaki chicken?

Closer inspection and a loud sniff revealed that indeed, that was chicken in dark brown teriyaki sauce, garnished with shredded nori and drizzled with mayonnaise. I could distinguish some bits of corn scattered alongside the pale cheese. I'd certainly never come across this kind of pizza back in the US.

"Are you getting that or not?"

"Oh, sorry." I stepped back from the box I'd leaned into. The blue-haired twin pulled out a slice with a napkin and plopped down beside his brother, his scowl persisting even as he chewed. His reaction certainly wasn't helping me decide. But I might as well just try it while I had the opportunity.

I took a napkin from the stack beside the box and gently lifted a slice. I sat down on one of the benches by myself and stared at it again. The sweet scent of teriyaki sauce wafted from it, and it was invitingly warm in my hands. I took a sizeable bite.

The saccharine tanginess of the sauce was the first component I tasted, as expected, and although not anything unordinary, I did enjoy it. But then the mayonnaise began to accentuate the sauce's tartness as I continued chewing, and the block of chicken in my next bite was soft and tender. Pieces of corn satisfyingly popped in my mouth, adding a small burst of sweetness in addition to the variation in texture. And finally, there was the mozzarella that held it together, both soft yet springy while adding its own flavor to the mix.

I licked my lips as I finished my slice. Time for another.

Sitting by myself and staring out from under the overhang as I ate, I was the first to notice the couple walking in our direction amid the gloomy weather, arms linked in an overt sign of affection. I didn't recognize either the tall boy with the buzz-cut or the red-haired girl's faces.

The present members turned away from their conversation upon hearing the couple's footsteps and joined me in silently observing them stop a short distance away from the overhang and talk as if they were in their own, little world:

"It's cold today, and you're going to be staying outside for a while. Wear this," the girl said as she fussed over her boyfriend's appearance, propping up his jacket collar and setting on his head a wide-brimmed hat with a scarlet ribbon the same hue as her dress. "The forecast said it might rain again later today, so take this umbrella, too." She proceeded to take a folded umbrella out of her purse, but he pushed it back in and plopped the hat on her head instead.

"You don't need to be so concerned over me," he said. "I'll be alright. Rather, I'm more worried about you. It's quite far from your house, isn't it? Sorry I can't walk you back."

"I-I'll be alright," she stammered, her cheeks red even under her makeup. She leaned up from her heels and titled the brim of her hat up to give a quick peck on his cheek, which he returned. "See you later, then!" The girl walked away with a spring to her step, the bangles on her wrist clattering.

I heard some of the boys behind me scoff at the loving display. "Who does that asshole think he is?" someone muttered.

But then he approached us, strolling up to the overhang. "Sorry for being late. Just had a date."

"Hah? Who the fuck are you?" one of the boys growled in a clearly uninviting manner, and I noticed the rest square their shoulders or tense up as they gave their own cold glares. I simply did nothing and played an unrelated bystander. If he was provoking a fight of his own volition like this, then I wouldn't feel guilty whatsoever if he got his ass handed to him.

It still made it hard to enjoy my pizza, however. I rested both my hands on my lap, the unfinished slice quickly losing warmth in the cold weather.

"Huh? It's me. Me!" He unhelpfully jabbed a finger into his chest. "How the heck could you forget me?"

Silence pursued, although there was now an added element of confusion buried among the death stares.

Unexpectedly, Souya was the first to recognize him. "Wait, you're… you shaved your hair?"

"Yeah, in apology to my girlfriend for cheating." He scratched the back of his ear. "That really seemed to win her over."

Ah, it was that guy from the Toman gathering who was being teased. I didn't get a good look at him then, so combined with his new haircut, no wonder I didn't recognize him. I wasn't expecting to go as far as shaving it, knowing that much of the gang permed and groomed their hair almost religiously, but eh, it worked.

Everyone else appeared to have their own moments of realization, although their reactions were strangely pronounced, eyes wide and mouths gaping in disbelief. Nahoya maintained his trademark smile, but his lack of words was telling.

"...your girlfriend?" someone repeated. "So you...didn't break up?"

"No? We made up—"

"YES!" One boy abruptly yelled and pumped his fists. I jerked on my bench but kept a tight hold of my pizza. "HOW'S THAT, DAMMIT?!"

Interesting expressions flashed across the others' faces, their lips pursed in frowns in reaction to some unknown subcontext. "Tch," someone clicked their tongue as they collectively shifted in their seated positions to reach into their pockets.

Every boy except Souya defeatedly proffered a thousand-yen bill to the celebrating member.

"Just take it, no need to rub it in our faces," someone grumbled.

"Wait..." the reunited boyfriend began, their initial disbelief reflected across his face. "You… you all actually bet that I'd break up?"

One of the boys who'd been previously teasing him now grabbed his collar, his beaten expression gone. "You got caught twice. How the hell did you save your relationship?" he demanded.

"I'm not really sure myself, but I tried to honestly apologize to her and say I was sorry." He scratched his head again, uncomfortable with his new haircut.

They'd made up and seemed genuinely happy together. I resumed eating my third slice, which, despite having gone cold during the spectacle, now tasted a hint more delicious than before.

"Ah, Frank!" he called after he noticed me, sitting quietly at the back by myself. "Thanks for the advice. It really helped."

Everyone's heads collectively swiveled to stare, their eyes conveying an immense amount of hate as they redirected their ire onto me. I returned him a thumbs-up while I continued to chew. I took another bite as an excuse to stay silent, and eventually their glares dropped and they returned to their conversation. The newcomer smoothly slipped into the group, and he laughed animatedly with the others as if nothing had happened.

They were quite lively. 'Annoying,' I would've instead called it three months ago. But as I became exposed to their antics over time, it began to feel more like a youthful playfulness of sorts, a last defiant stand to their freedom before they grew into adults.

But there wasn't anything wrong with that, aside from being neighborhood nuisances when they roared through the night on their bikes or beating up idiots who were dumb enough to pick a fight with them. It was their final chance before they joined the workforce, which came with brand-new responsibilities and regulations that had to be followed.

I watched them chatter and laugh without a worry in the world.

"You must be Blake-chan. Come on in, come on in." The middle-aged woman ushered me into the apartment with a hand on my back and closed the door before the autumn wind could wreck anymore havoc inside. The pages of a selection of open books at a nearby table fluttered to a stop, although a pencil rolled off the table and clattered on the wooden floorboards.

Despite the slightly run-down exterior of the apartment block, the home was well maintained, the ground and furniture spotless aside from the growing stacks of loose papers at the table of books, several of which had also been blown off in the earlier gust. As I took off my shoes, I eyed the small collection of picture frames standing atop a nearby bookcase, one displaying a young, black-haired boy standing between a smiling couple.

"Keisuke! Your tutor's here," she called, taking a moment to pick up the fallen papers and flip through the book pages with a small scowl. A few strands of dark hair came undone from her bun, but she didn't pay them any mind.

"Coming, Ma!" a boy's voice echoed from the hallway. At the sound of hurried footsteps, I pushed my glasses further up and peered down into my tote bag. Stationery? Check. Scratch paper? Check. 500-page book on concurrent programming that was taking up 90 percent of the weight in this bag? Yup.

I was undertaking tutoring as myself, i.e. 'Blake.' Hayato had been a test run of sorts, and I really couldn't afford to make any slip-ups with Baji, who would be leagues more perceptive. I was 'Blake,' not 'Frank.' While 'Blake' wouldn't have normally brought along that huge book to some random kid's session, further distancing myself from a delinquent's image would help keep my identity safe. My mid-length skirt brushed my knees as I shifted my weight.

And then the man himself arrived in the doorway. His shoulder-length black hair was neatly tied back to expose his forehead, and he wore his school uniform, a white blouse and striped tie with a pair of trousers, despite it being the weekend. But what really made the most impact were the thick-lens glasses, which he kept fidgeting with each time they slipped down his nose. I disguised the small snort that arose as a sneeze. It was rude to laugh when he'd clearly made an effort to dress properly but seeing the sharp-eyed and ferocious boy dressed all prim and proper was bizarre, even if I'd rarely seen him beforehand. He was never at any of the Toman gatherings, although I couldn't canonically recall why. I 'sneezed' again.

His mother stood up from her books as he entered the room, although she continued to flip through them. "This is Keisuke," she said after wrenching her gaze away to meet my eyes. "If he's not paying attention or acting rude, just call me over, okay?" Her son visibly shivered.

"Alright, ma'am." I looked over to him and he faced me in turn, although it was hard to see his expression with his glasses obscuring much of his face. No. No—pfft—no laughing. Be serious, me. "Is there a—cough—particular place you'd like for us to study at?"

"Uh yeah, my room, please." He walked back into the corridor, and I took it as an invitation to follow. On my way out, his mother had returned to the desk to busily pour over her work. I increased my pace to pursue Baji down the hallway.

Baji's room came off as…suspiciously neat. Aside from the essentials, his room felt bare. Nothing on the walls and no noticeable personal items. The bed was neatly done, his dresser closed, and only textbooks and a row of stationery waited on the desk at the back of the room. I noticed several too-perfect spots devoid of a light layer of dust on the cabinet beside the doorway. Perhaps this was his way of trying to focus, similar to his spurious dress.

A dark shape twitched past the curtain to his balcony. I flinched. Too small to be a person…a pet? Or maybe just some stray bird?

Baji beckoned me in, who was still standing at the doorway. I obeyed while keeping the balcony in my peripheral vision.

"I'm Baji Keisuke. I'll be in your care." I looked back as he lowered his head to me.

"Myers, Blake. I'll also be in yours," I hurriedly returned with my own bow. Perhaps it was just my eyes. On second thought, I really hoped that wasn't my eyes. Surely I haven't managed to ruin my eyesight over the span of three months.

I shook my head to clear those thoughts. "Let's start, then—" I cut off at the soft but definitely audible thump from past the curtain.

Baji heard it, too, by the indicator of him walking past me to shut the door to his room. I awkwardly stood in place with my tote bag. As he returned, his neutral mask faded away when he sighed and unlatched the balcony door.

Four cats padded into his room and encircled him, tails raised high and ears perked.

What.

"C'mon, Ma'll get mad if she sees you all here again." With another defeated sigh, Baji withdrew a box of cat food and bowl from one of his drawers (which I idly noticed were crammed with arbitrary items, in stark antithesis to his seemingly orderly room) and let some kibble tumble out from the box. The cats gathered around the food bowl.

I stood frozen for a full minute. They didn't have any collars, and also taking into account their well-kept pelts and stocky frames, they were likely feral cats. One was missing an ear entirely.

Said cat was purring like a lawnmower in his lap as Baji rubbed its white underbelly.

"...Y'know, that's exactly why they keep coming," I muttered.

"What?" His glasses slipped down his nose to reveal his slanted eyes. He pushed them back up again.

"It was nothing." A yellow tabby rubbed its head into his arm, and he shared some of his attention with it, scratching it under the chin. After a full ten seconds of affection, it weaved away to scratch its back against the leg of a table, a meter away from me. Well, the cats were nearly done eating, and Baji was distracted with another cat… I eyed the tabby before squatting down and slowly extending a hand to pet it.

It violently recoiled with a hiss and trotted away.

A small whine escaped my lips.

We looked over as the food bowl clattered on the wood floor, one of the cats having pushed on it with a paw. "It's empty," its flat stare seemed to convey.

"No. I'm busy right now. I fed you all, so shoo." Whether the cats understood Baji's words or his hard tone, they received the message, padding away to the open balcony and slipping past the curtains. He got up and shut the door behind them, and his face brightened by 500% as he came back.

"Ahaha, I'm sorry about that," Baji laughed with a lopsided grin, revealing his unusually long canines. "They'd be meowing the entire time if I just ignored them, so I didn't. Hope I didn't make you wait too long."

I could feel the whiplash in how abruptly his personality had jerked from a defeated yet gentle slave to cats to this peppy, polite student. And this was still light years away from that fight-loving and car-burning boy. If I'd randomly passed the person currently in front of me on the street without having read his backstory chapter, "Baji" was the last suspect I'd possibly think of, if I even noticed the boy in the first place.

Maybe I should take a page from his book.

However, his acting ability did raise some concern if I'd be able to glean anything from him, which had been a major reason I'd decided to take on this job. There still was a little over a month left, which was plenty of time to get to know him better, but if he kept this up the entire time, including when the final week rolled around, then there may be an issue.

Regardless, it was a job. And he still needed help with school.

"It's alright," I said. "Shall we get started, then?"

"Yes, please!" He dragged a second chair over to his desk and nudged his glasses back up. Even if they were probably fake (like mine), he could've at least found a pair that fit him.

I sat on the offered seat and leaned my tote bag against the leg of the chair. Baji took the other and looked to me, waiting expectantly.

I took the initiative. "Is there a particular subject you'd like to start on first?"

"No, not really. We can do anything you want."

"How about English, then?" I suggested. "To see where you're at, let's try having a simple conversation." It'd also work as an icebreaker of sorts.

"Uh, okay. I'm not really good at speaking, though." He scratched his cheek.

"It's fine, that's why I'm here. Just try to answer as well as you can," I reassured him. Alright then, based on the level of what's been taught in my class so far:

"It has become autumn now," I slowly began, carefully choosing and enunciating each word. "Do you have any plans?" Personal questions, although a bit obtrusive, were the best way to open up with someone.

"I… " His eyebrows scrunched up. "I… meet friend in few weeks. We is...uhh...no see, two years. I is excite."

Horrendous grammar aside, he could at least comprehend the question. And he'd even dropped a little hint, but it wasn't very revealing. Would pressing for more information be obtrusive?

"That's great. You must have much to talk about." I intentionally didn't phrase it as a question.

"Yes, yes. Very much." Baji nodded repeatedly and pushed his glasses back up. "Too much information. One friend— " he stopped. "One friend, move away. Other friend… has injury." His smile lessened for a fraction of a second but reappeared, a perfect replica of the one before it.

I wasn't going to push more than that. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything else you plan to do?"

"I meet other friend today. We eat dinner, and talk."

The session proceeded somewhat smoothly as we distanced ourselves away from the real world and delved into academics. He was...worse-off than Hayato. It was wrong to compare my students, but I couldn't stop the thought from rising. Everyone had their strengths and weaknesses. But even though he was admittedly sloppy at his studies, or at least math and English, he was polite and eager to learn. Whereas Hayato and I were friends, Baji and I were technically strangers, with a more formal teacher-student relationship between us even if we were (again) technically about the same age. It was a different kind of experience, and it certainly wasn't an unwelcome one.

"Meow." Thud.

I flipped a page of my book as I leaned back into my seat. Baji was busily jotting down his homework in the light of his desk lamp, which he'd turned on a few minutes ago as the sun began to set. The session had technically ended five minutes ago, but I was letting him finish up to see if he had any questions first. I could've answered them in the next session, but I had the free time, and it'd be more effective to respond to them as they arose.

A gentle knock came at his closed door. "Just another minute!" Baji called as he continued to write. From the thin silhouette I could see past the gap between the door and floorboards, the person seemed content to wait. I shrugged and kept on reading. This section seemed important. I quietly added a neon green post-it to it and turned the page, letting it join the rising number of colorful markers.

"Mrow…" Thud-thud. Bang! "Mrrrrrrrrrawr."

"I'm done," he announced five minutes later. I snapped my book shut and sat back up to check over the proffered paper. Hmm. I circled a problem's number and a few others with my pencil. While he had improved in both subjects over the two hours, expecting him to immediately absorb everything was unreasonable.

Creak… I looked over as Baji opened his balcony door again and waved away the gathering cats. I looked back to his work and cleared my throat a few minutes later, and he hurriedly closed the door and rushed back to his seat.

"For this question, if you substitute this value back into the other equation, you'll see that it doesn't work, since you can't take the square root of a negative number," I explained. The boy leaned over as I tapped the mentioned parts with my pencil. "So, it's an invalid solution to this system. The answer must satisfy both equations."

"I see, I see," Baji nodded along. He scribbled down a note on a piece of scratch paper.

There was another rap on the door (the inside one, not the balcony's), a little louder this time. Baji swiveled in his chair. "I said another damn minute, didn't I?" The knocking stopped, but they still waited at the door. Baji clicked his tongue and resumed writing. It wasn't his mother, who probably would've just barged into her son's room without a care. Baji also wouldn't have been so forceful if he knew it was her; I'd seen the fear in his posture as his mom subtly threatened him earlier. Whoever it was, they were used to his brash attitude but also patient enough to wait on his unreasonable demand despite multiple minutes having passed.

The boy looked up. "And then?" he asked, back to the eager student persona.

"Same issue with this question." I pretended the slip in character didn't happen. "For the others though, check your factoring or arithmetic. And this one can be factored without using the quadratic equation. Your answer looks correct, although it's a lot more time and work."

"Okay, okay."

"And that's it. You do have some places to catch up on," I admitted, "but you're improving. We should be able to make good progress in time."

He set down his pencil and properly faced me as he bowed, hands respectfully in his lap. "Thank you very much for the session. It was enlightening." He fidgeted with his glasses for about the millionth time as he rose out of it.

"It was one for me, too." I returned the bow without thinking. Japanese customs were really starting to rub off on me. "I look forward to the next." I slipped my supplies into my bag and stood up. My legs wobbled after having sat for a while, and I steadied myself on his desk.

"Let me show you out." He got off his chair and headed for his door before I could, swinging it open to reveal a shorter boy with bleached hair piling over a dark undercut. He wore a snug sweater, the sleeves of which extended past his wrists. His silver earring glinted in the light of the hallway.

"Ah, Baji-san. Your mom almost didn't let me in...hm?" Matsuno Chifuyu said as he met my eyes.

It wasn't the most mind-blowing event to encounter him here, but neither had I been expecting it. They lived in the same apartment block, if I remembered right, and Baji had mentioned he was going out to dinner with a friend. This was the first time I was meeting him, even if I had seen him standing alone at the fore of the 1st Division during the meetings. But I was 'Blake.' I was not related to Toman in any manner.

"Good evening," I politely greeted.

"Oh, hello." He offered a small wave.

"Mee-ow." Thud-thud. No one bothered to look over at the balcony.

"Chifuyu, could you please wait a bit?" Baji interrupted.

"Yeah, sure." The shorter boy stepped back into the hallway and didn't seem to see anything out of the ordinary with his Captain's appearance. I went past him and followed Baji towards the entrance, where he waited for me to slip on my shoes before pushing open the door for me. The books had been left on the table, but his mother was gone.

"Thanks." I stepped past his hand and went outside onto the apartment balcony. The lights had been switched on down the corridor and in several of the surrounding homes. "I'll see you in a few days, then."

"Yes. Goodbye!" the boy cheerfully cried as he shut the door. My gaze lingered on it for a minute now that I was alone. But before I could walk away, I could hear them having a muffled conversation:

"I told you just three hours ago that I was having a tutor over and to come later." The weird peppiness in his voice was gone, replaced with a more casual drawl.

"Sorry, I forgot." A chuckle. "But you got a tutor? Seems pretty young, too."

"My Ma did. And she's an exchange student staying at a friend of a friend's place."

"Mhm…ohh yeah, your mom told me she went to get something from her workplace. She looked pretty rushed when I came."

"Let's just go eat now, then."

I left at that line, heading for the stairwell at the end of the balcony. The setting sun flashed as it passed between the line of apartment buildings on the other end of the street, sharing with Tokyo its last few minutes of light to ward off the encroaching night. Violet and crimson clashed against navy blue, and thousands of light splotches drifted beneath them. I extended a hand to catch a rainbow beam of light and admired it rippling over the sleeve of my coat as I continued walking.

A son, a student, a food-giver, and a friend. There were many who would be devastated if Baji were to die. And this time, I would save him. Not just for my ultimate goal of protecting Hina to return home, but because I didn't want to lose anyone or have to watch anyone else lose someone.

But words were just words. As the scheduled time crept closer, new doubts had begun to lap at the shores of my mind, an impenetrable dark sea that steadily swallowed up the coast with the rising tide.

I buttoned up my dark coat despite the wind having already died down.

Quiet beeping greeted me as I gently opened the door and slipped into the room, the sharp odor of an antiseptic making my nose crinkle. The other occupant observed me noiselessly as she had ever since she'd noticed me standing outside in the corridor from the large window, looking into the brightly lit room.

I passed the colorful collection of cards propped up on a table and navigated the narrow walkway to sit at the folding chair set up beside the bed, directly opposite the electrocardiogram and numerous IV drips that comprised only a fraction of the devices cluttering her beside.

"Hello. I hope you're doing well," I softly said.

Her pale hair rustled as she closed the book sitting in her lap and placed it beside the bear plushie resting on her pillow, careful to not disturb any of the cords trailing over the edge of the bed.

"As well as I can be," she replied in a voice even softer than mine. The small smile on her lips disappeared into a wince after she tried to chuckle.

By the time of this long-overdue visit, the bruises on her face and what I could see of her neck under her hospital gown had vanished. She looked considerably different since the incident, her fair skin unblemished and light hair neatly rippling down her shoulders. This was the real her, not the broken and paralyzed doll I'd seen that night with Moebius.

But despite her clean appearance and friendly words, there was a sort of anxious air to her. Her dark eyes had instead stared at my shirt the entire time and her blanket crinkled as she fidgeted in place. She flinched when I reached a hand into my skirt pocket, and I slowly withdrew it with my palm facing up, showing my hand was empty.

After half a minute of silence, I spoke again. "I can leave, if you'd like." Several responseless seconds ensued, so I quietly sighed and stood up.

"Thank you," she whispered.

I shot her a thumbs-up without looking back while heading for the door. But I hesitated as I again passed the table of cards, reaching into my pocket once more— and letting my hand fall back out.

The corner of my card bit into my leg with each step as I left the ICU.

I stood on the tips of my boots as I peered through the dissipating crowd of black-garbed members in the plaza. In addition to the insufficient illumination of the moon, the uniform clothing was disadvantageous to finding individuals, although I had no clue what he'd normally wear outside of the Toman uniform. Even though the prime chance to spot him was back during the meeting, when everyone assembled by division, I had been unable to find him among the fifty members of the disproportionately large 3rd Division.

"What's the hold-up?"

"Sorry," I apologized to Hayato, who waited several paces ahead. Other members flowed around us and down the stairs to the shrine's parking space, their chatter mixing into a dull hum. I started after him.

"Frank!" A young-sounding voice called from behind me. Hayato turned back to look, but he quickly lowered his head in a bow.

I did the same, my hands pressed to my sides. "Good work, President."

"No need to be so formal; just call me Mikey. The meeting's over, yeah?" Mikey said with an amicable smile. He drew his black Toman coat back over his shoulder after a gust of wind caused it to flare up behind him. I let my carefully blank face relax, seeing he wasn't the imposing and commanding leader from the meeting only minutes ago, although my jaw remained tight.

"Anyway, come to the Shibuya Crossing at 2 PM on Saturday, 'kay?"

"Wait, wha—" slipped out of my lips.

"Don't worry about finding us," he added over his shoulder as he left and descended the stairs. My gaze lingered on the steps even after he passed out of view, only able to stare blankly.

Why?

"You're lucky, Frank. The Prez rarely shows that side of him to anyone out of his circle," Hayato commented from a few meters away, where he'd watched it all.

Lucky? Perhaps, if I'd just been an ordinary member. But with my secret, the President of Toman showing interest was conversely alarming. His personal visit right after the festival wasn't too unreasonable, although I couldn't fathom why he'd approach me again.

And he's seen me with my hair down, even if I haven't been kicked out. Yet.

But I realized a more prominent issue as I stood in front of the station exit at the scheduled time. While cars passed through the four-way intersection, masses of people began to accumulate at each side, from what I could barely make out between the sea of heads in front of me. I moved out of the way with a quick apology to allow the people streaming out of the station to join the crowd. The light switched green, and akin to a dam cracking, a small trickle of pedestrians first stepped out onto the street, then followed by the entire crowd on all four corners simultaneously. Each mob converged at the center (and it was a mob, with every inch of the intersection being covered as people spilled out over the sidewalk and conglomerated into one massive yet confused mass, pedestrians slipping past each other in all four directions, before just as rapidly trickling away. And after those 30 seconds the process repeated again, neverending.

'Don't worry about finding us' my ass. How was I supposed to spot that 5-foot average-height midget— wait, 'us'…?

A lone head bobbed along above the current of pedestrians, halted, and swiveled to reveal a stylish dragon perched atop it.

Oh, that's why.

"Frank!" Draken called as his dark eyes met mine. He eased through the crowd and reached me on the sidewalk. A second, comparatively much shorter boy was revealed to be walking by his side, but Draken made dwarves out of pretty much everyone.

"Hey, Vice— Draken. And Mikey," I returned to the pair.

"You never visited me in the hospital," Draken commented. He seemed perfectly fine now, his complexion healthy and skin unmarred from what I could see of his neck and forearms past his trademark diamond-patterned jacket.

"Ken-chin gets lonely easily, you see," Mikey interjected with a light pat on the towering boy's back.

"Oi, is that why you kept bothering me every hour? And why are you even here? I just asked you to pass a message."

"For the same reason I kept calling: to watch over you," Mikey said as he started to cross the street while staring pointedly at the other boy. Draken snatched his caretaker back by the neck of his long-sleeved shirt as a late car attempted to bypass the red light.

"Hey, what'd you do that for?"

"No, what are you doing?"

With a deadpan expression, I watched the two boys squabble as we crossed the road, me being ignored. While I presumably could've found where he was hospitalized by asking the right Toman member, I hadn't on account of knowing the boy would be okay. And on not waltzing into a hospital with Frank's get-up, which would earn its share of reasonably nervous shares and possibly get me reported to security. Hopefully, I would never have to. My gaze wandered away from the pair to stare at the shops we passed.

Eventually, the two seemed to reach some sort of consensus and fell silent. Draken cleared his throat. "As for why I called you… thank you, Frank." He grinned at me. "The docs said that that injury was almost fatal, and any help was critical. If not for you and Takemichi and his friends, I might not even be standing here." Mikey looked on with a smile of his own despite their earlier bickering.

"Yeah," I replied while meeting Draken's eyes, but I couldn't quite share in his cheer. He was well so it was a good outcome, yet I still felt a prickling discontentment. No one had died, but not everyone had emerged from the arc unscathed. Even if she wasn't a 'major character,' it'd happened when I was there...but she was steadily recovering right now. It was alright.

"If there's any way I can repay it, don't hesitate to ask," he continued.

"It's fine. I'm…satisfied enough that you're still alive."

"Hey, I saw you sharing a ride last time," Mikey butted in. "Do you not have a bike?"

"Huh? Well, I'm saving up for one…" Although my wallet was recovering and growing steadily, now that I was tutoring two students, it was still a pitiful amount compared to the market price for a cheap motorcycle. And money aside, I had no idea where I'd store it. A parking garage, perhaps.

The pair caught my unspoken words. "I can try to find you one," Draken proposed.

"No, no, no, you don't have to go that far," I objected, waving my hands for emphasis. "Don't bother yourself with it."

The tall boy laughed, his braid swinging. "It's not like I'm buying you one! As the Vice-President, I've got a lot of connections. So, any preferences? Or, if you're not sure, I could compile a list of whatever I can find for you."

I still wasn't reassured about him doing what felt like a humongous favor, but they continued to wait for my response as we crossed the street. "Well?"

I finally gave in after half a minute. "A car, if you can find one. I'm not too good with bikes," I admitted. Even after having ridden on the back of Hayato's bike on numerous occasions, I still hated the sensation that I was about to tumble off. And although he ran the occasional red light (to which I'd raise an eyebrow at his back but not comment on it, so I was also complicit), his driving was actually pretty tame compared to the weaving motion that I noticed many members doing when they cruised down the street. If Hayato ever tried that, I'd likely hurl from my nerves, the blasting wind, and just good 'ol motion sickness.

"A car?" Draken echoed. "Not that that's an issue, but do you even know how to drive one?"

I had a license. I didn't think it existed in this universe, though. Shame. "I've... driven a few times back in the US, so I know how to operate one. Either manual or automatic is fine." I hadn't driven a manual car before, but it shouldn't be too different from an semi-automatic, right...?

"The US?" Mikey asked. "Oh yeah, how's your gang compared to Toman?"

I blinked at this second tangent. "Well, I'm not in any back home," I admitted, but I could infer the part they wanted to know about. "Although, my hometown's actually quite infamous for having a lot of gangs."

"The gangs back home can be pretty dangerous. Drugs, extortion, robberies…" I tapped a finger for each one. "It's completely different from Toman." But it was Toman that I knew was the outlier. In a way, it didn't even feel like a gang. It was only because it was Toman that when I tried to enter months ago, my common sense hadn't immediately shot that idea down the instant it arose. Although, this was still kind of a stupid plan, but it was paying off so far.

"I didn't live downtown and never came across any trouble. However, I did hear about the occasional gang-related incident." I watched cars streak down the street, their taillights leaving behind scarlet afterimages. Rather than melancholy or even nostalgia, I felt calm, my mind crystal clear. It hadn't been a key detail of my past, but it was just…there, second-handedly seen or heard through rumors in school, the weekly news, gang graffiti in narrow alleyways. "I was never personally affected, but I had a few schoolmates who ended up partaking in those kinds of activities, and it changed them."

The two boys were quiet as we continued to traverse the city. I glanced over to see them staring forward with their mouths set in neutral lines, so I joined them.

Mikey suddenly spoke up from beside Draken, his tone almost contemplative as he watched the traffic light blink. "Those sorts of gangs do exist here, too. But we… Toman wasn't made for that, and I'll never let it become something like that." He regarded me with a serene smile, not as Mikey, but as Sano Manjirou, 1st Generation President of Toman. "I swear that, Frank."

My lips parted, but I could only give a hum of acknowledgement past my suddenly swollen tongue.

If only that was true.

The light turned, and with Mikey in the lead, we crossed the road. "Where are we even going, Mikey?" Draken asked the boy who'd been the one to first start walking.

Mikey took a sharp turn into the public restroom affixed to the outside of a convenience store.

"This guy…" he grumbled while rubbing his temples. I felt the corners of my mouth twitch marginally upwards, cured of their earlier numbness. "Ugh. Hey, wanna hang out at the arcade after this?" Draken invited.

Although I now felt more relaxed, I still wasn't willing to risk getting too close with them. While there were definite perks in becoming friendly with the two heads of Toman, being exposed as a girl and expelled was an incomparable risk.

"Sorry, but I'm busy after this," I lied.

"That's cool, that's cool," Draken reassured me. The tall boy fell against the building with an exasperated sigh. "There's something I've been trying to win, but crane games are so goddamn annoying…"

Crane games, huh? The vast majority of them in Japan displayed cute plushies inside the brightly lit displays, but Draken didn't seem like the type who'd collect them. I had a pretty good guess who he might be doing it for.

"You can ask the staff for help if you're really struggling."

"No, I'll do it myself."

"Figured so." I chuckled.

Roughly ten minutes passed, and Mikey hadn't left the bathroom. "What's taking him so long? If he's not taking a shit, he better not have somehow fallen asleep on the can," Draken groused.

I raised an eyebrow. While I did recall it was ordinary for Mikey to fall asleep in public locations and Draken to be forced to look after him, surely...

"Maybe you should check."

"Yeah." He was already moving for the open doorway, but a sudden cry from down the sidewalk had us both turn.

Four boys in matching white bomber jackets stood several meters away, the red tag on one boy's arm swinging as he pointed an accusatory finger at Draken. I stiffened as I recognized the outfit, even without seeing the open-armed, headless cherub that would be emblazoned on their backs.

"Huh? Want something with me?" Draken's voice dropped in pitch as he glared down on them. The passerby nervously kept their distance from us, hustling past with their gazes firmly set on the ground.

"Hell yeah I do! You knocked me out in the festival fight."

"And me."

"And me, you bastard!"

"I wasn't in Moebius and don't really have a personal grudge, but sure." The three boys momentarily stopped to glare at the fourth.

What to do? Their strength would at least be on par with Moebius's individual members, roughly half of which had been absorbed into Valhalla. While Hakkai had taken up my request for a spar (and unsurprisingly trounced me), even with the few pointers he'd given, I had no confidence I'd be able to take one of them on again. And four of them, no less. Draken was still recovering and couldn't fight—

The boy who'd been stabbed in the torso two months ago rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles, a wide smirk spreading across his face.

Correction: shouldn't be fighting.

I was saved from further worry as a sandaled foot shot out of the bathroom doorway and spun down in an arc to bash an unsuspecting member into the pavement. I winced at the sound of something cracking but did nothing to intervene. The remaining boys backed away warily as Mikey casually stepped over his downed opponent, his hands in his pockets, and stared at them...before striding over to Draken and jabbing him in the ribs, causing the tall boy to hunch over with a squawk.

"No fighting! You're still recovering," Mikey rebuked.

"I…didn't even…do anything yet," Draken bit out. "And that fucking hurt!"

"I saw you warming up. You were about to fight."

"And what were you doing in the bathroom in the past fifteen minutes?"

The remaining three boys, who'd been slowly backing up, froze as they met my eyes. Their gazes flickered to the bickering boys and back. I gave a shrug in reply. Taking it as a dismissal, they immediately spun around and bolted.

That resolved nicely. Save for the unconscious dude collapsed at the bathroom door, who didn't appear to have any external injuries from what was visible of his skin aside from the very big and very red bruise blooming across his cheek. I'd at least prop him up against the building and maybe call an officer over, depending on if I discovered any other injuries. After these two kids finished squabbling and left.

"That's it, Mikey! I'm not dealing with your shit anymore."

"Oh yeah? Well, neither am I! You're on your own today, Ken-chin!"

Clack.

I firmly placed my pen beside my notebook. The black ink and neon highlighter across the current page shone in the pale light of my desk lamp, my tidy scrawl littered with bold circles and disapproving crosses. It was rather messy compared to how this notebook had initially started out, to the point where probably only I could decipher it. I shut my eyes as I sunk back into my chair, but the page's afterimage was imprinted on my eyelids.

11 days left.

My advantage was my knowledge of a 'future' where I didn't exist. If I influenced events too heavily, it'd become obsolete. Although there was a possibility of finding the exact sequence of events that resolved the arc without conflict, there was also a high possibility of failure, which could be any number of things going wrong, not just the immediate consequences of Baji's and Kazutora's deaths.

However, I'd be causing a momentous change by the end of this arc if I managed to save them. It would undoubtedly shake the succeeding arcs up, with two strong allies on Toman's side. It'd likely alter Kisaki's plans, too, and really deviate from the story I knew…but enough. If I worried incessantly over the future after, I would become blind to what was happening right in front of me. The most important time was now, the time I was living in.

Baji and Kazutora were the key players. If Toman and Valhalla were to evenly fight, Toman would win, with Mikey on our side. I was certain of that. So I wasn't too concerned over Valhalla as a whole.

But how Kazutora could be helped out of his denial without as strong a stimulus as Baji's death was a huge puzzle, one I had been trying to assemble over the past month. I sometimes felt like I lacked the proper pieces to complete it, but how would I know, short of actually putting it together? Connecting the individual parts piece-by-piece, only to be left with a gaping hole in the picture that rendered the entire puzzle defective…

I stared at the drifting motes of dust illuminated by the lamp, sparkling specks against the shadowed walls of my room.

The logical thing to do was team up with Takemichi or even anybody. Failure wasn't an option. Someone, be it Kazutora, Baji, or both, could die. The entire timeline might become doomed if Mikey were to become twisted permanently, and I didn't even know if this was the first or second timeline.

Yet something inside me inexplicably said not to.

"— don't say that, Naoto! She's—"

"— you all actually bet that I'd break up—"

"— told you just three hours ago that I was having a tutor—"

"— on your own today, Ken-chin—"

Their voices echoed in my ears, high and shrill against the silent room.

I didn't have the time to keep thinking over this.

I stood up from my chair and stretched, my back satisfyingly giving a light pop, before taking off the dark blazer and skirt of my school uniform and changing into a pair of trousers. I stared down at my blouse, shrugged, and took it off, too, in favor of a loose t-shirt. Only Hayato would see me in these clothes, but I didn't want to risk him somehow recognizing my school just from a collared shirt.

I snatched the shoebox inconspicuously resting beside my dresser before opening one of the drawers to grab the white belt coiled among pairs of socks. But for the too-distinct pieces, I had to unzip my suitcase and reach under a carefully concealed flap to pull out the top of my Toman uniform, its gold embroidery and buttons shining. The pants were a red herring, stuffed in the back of the dresser. While I doubted my host parents would search my room without permission, I couldn't take that risk. I unloaded them all into a tote bag and popped in a bottle of hair gel alongside some water.

Flicking off my desk lamp enshrouded my room in black, and I quietly stepped out and descended the stairs, using only the dim light of Youko's room. A small sigh of relief slipped out my mouth after I reached the front door. I felt for the door handle in the darkness and gently turned it.

"Going out again?"

I flinched as Shigeru's voice came out of the darkness. He emerged a few seconds later, his hair slick after a bath. The downwards angle of the light deepened the contours of his face.

"Y-yeah." I pressed my tote bag into my side.

His tight brows receded and mouth relaxed into a neutral expression, but the shadows emphasized his features and made him seem almost haggard. Resigned.

"Make sure you return before midnight."

"I will…I promise."

He steadily held my gaze for several more seconds before turning away with a nearly inaudible sigh and walking away, a clear sign of permission, which might have not been willingly granted but was given nonetheless.

"...bye," I softly called after him. I could no longer see him in the darkness, but I caught a glint on his wet hair as I pulled open the door and stepped outside.

A few blocks away, I tucked away my glasses into my bag and poured a little water onto my hands from a bottle. I shivered at the cold sensation but then gently weaved my fingers through my hair. I repeated the motion several times before taking out some hair gel. By touch alone, I swept my bangs back and used a comb to better integrate the gel in.

Hayato stood at the other end of the street beside his parked bike, waiting in his uniform. "Heya," he greeted. He spared a second to glance at my casual clothing. "So, stop by a bathroom again?"

"That would be appreciated. Sorry about that."

"No worries, it's fine." He smiled. "But thanks for putting up with my request to come early. I just want to meet with Peh-yan before the nomination goes down."

"To be honest, I wanted to arrive a little early, too," I admitted. "There's someone I want to meet."

And I might as well look nicer, I thought as I continued to comb my hair back. I peered into the street mirror while Hayato fiddled with his bike. Now satisfied, I clipped down my bangs. A hair tie snapped the rest of my hair back, leaving my nape exposed.

First impressions were lasting, after all, and if I was going to waste his time, I better look good while doing it.

A/N: I did mention at the end of 2-4 (the really, really long chapter) that this story is now in part 2 of 3, not necessarily divided by length. I hope you can see why, particularly from this chapter.