"My how the time has flown, hasn't it? It's cruel how in the blink of an eye nearly twenty years can sneak up on us like a bandit," The stranger sighs wistfully, exhaling a plume of cigarette smoke. "You look exactly as you did the last day I saw you."
Toji is too struck to respond at first, but places a massive hand on your shoulder in an attempt to corral you and Junpei behind him. You resist, shrugging off his gross sweaty palm with irritation. What's his problem? This weirdo in a suit doesn't look like the type to want to muss himself up. You seriously doubt he's here to fight or cause trouble. Business types attend the railyard to give their life a taste of edge, taking great pleasure in the secondhand victories of their wagers as if they won the rounds themselves. This guy looked like any one of them, minus the huge scar.
When he sees Toji's protectiveness, he smiles down at you and Junpei. "…Now I seem to remember that you'd been expecting a son when we last spoke, isn't that right? May I ask…Which of you is Fushiguro-kun?"
He taps his lips with a pondering finger, glancing back and forth between Junpei's eyes and your own. He's looking for resemblances, you realize. Resemblances that weren't there. You don't look anything like Toji, and Junpei's eyes are the wrong shade of green besides being a different shape. His hair is too light to be of any relation to Toji's jet black.
"Hmm..I must say I give up." He chuckles after a good minute of studying the two of you. This smile does not reach his eyes. They remain steady, unblinking.
He's starting to tick you off. The first rule of the railyard is to not speak to anyone, but if Toji is apprehensive of the man he called Sakyo, you don't want him to target Junpei for any reason…
"I'm his son," you announce. There's a huff of disapproval from your right as your 'father' shoots a silencing glare that does nothing. "I don't remember my dad ever mentioning the name Sakyo ever before though. Who are you?"
"Haha! Oh, I don't doubt he's kept quiet about me. But I'm not angry at all. Our history is…special. Isn't it, Toji-san?" This time his eyes twinkle as he turns back to the man he believes to be your real father. "Would you care to tell him how we know each other? Or shall I?"
Having a moment to collect his composure, Toji swings from masking his fear, to reining in his boiling anger. After years of silence, he nearly believed he'd escaped Sakyo and his family only to be found like this out in the open. Toji can tell you're waiting for some sort of explanation. He can only imagine what Sakyo might have locked and loaded to say if he doesn't talk soon.
"I used to work for his father… before you were born," he says finally without breaking eye contact with the man.
Sakyo's smile loses its warmth, that shimmer in his eye vanishing in an instant. "Yes, that's right. You were my father's most valuable employee. He always regretted letting you go. Even until his dying day."
"I am sorry for your loss," Toji mutters respectfully out of habit.
Sakyo's radiance returns, though only a fraction of what it was a moment before. "What loss?"
His remark makes you laugh awkwardly in a mixture of shock and amusement. He didn't seem too bent out of shape over a family member being dead. Maybe he had a shitty dad? It's sort of funny in a sick way. You'd probably make the same joke. Sakyo glances back at you, taking interest in someone with twisted humor.
"What's your name?" he asks, stepping on his cigarette.
You tell him, watching his fake smile return plastered across his face. "At first glance, I wouldn't suspect you were Toji-san's must get your looks from your mother," he says.
The overwhelming urge to crack this guy's skull open leaves you lightheaded. It's impressive how angry that made you, so you return his same heartless smile. "And you must get looks from streetwalkers."
Toji scolds you at once, but Sakyo only throws his head back in amusement. "HAHA! I don't see much of Toji in you, but you certainly have your father's wit."
He pulls out a cigarette case from his pocket. It's gold filigree inlaid with mother of pearl. You notice what looks like real diamonds in his watch too. The indication of his social status makes your eyes widen. Just who is this guy and what kind of work did Toji used to do for his family?
Attempting to take control of the conversation, Toji asks, "What brings you here, Sakyo? This isn't your usual scene."
"And how would you know what my scene is? You left the city as soon as your contract was nullified, so eager to get married and raise your family." Sakyo sighs wistfully. "How is that wife of yours?"
There's a vein pulsing at Toji's temple.
"She's passed on."
Sakyo offers a soft look of feigned pity, "I see…"
He lets the sentence hang, without adding that he is sorry for Toji's loss.
The vein throbs faster. You've never seen Toji like this before, but you don't blame him. Sakyo is clearly an asshole. Whatever their history may be, it didn't look like a pleasant reunion by any means.
"So, Sakyo, what's a guy like you doing here? You got any money?" You inquire knowing the answer already.
He laughs at your brashness. "I suppose that's obvious. I'm a bit of a risk taker. Do you like to gamble?"
You stick your chin out. "I like to fight."
He takes interest in this. "Do you? Trained by your father, no doubt. Are you any good?"
"Hell yeah, I am."
"And…are you here to fight tonight?" His eyes shine with intrigue.
"I am."
"Oh! This couldn't be a better stroke of luck for me! To stumble across my old friend, and his son carrying on his legacy. Please," He opens his arms wide in a gesture of generosity. "Let me place a bet on you!"
Right away, Toji denies this request. "No. We actually need to leave."
"What! No way! You said I could get a cell phone if I pay with my winnings," You protest. How can he change his mind like that? Especially after paying the entrance fees for all of you. There's no way he's actually considering leaving while in the red.
"A cell phone?" Sakyo echoes. "They can be expensive. You might need to win more than one fight for the monthly bills, unless….Someone were to place an enormous wager on your victory"
He's played into your hands it seems. "I guess you're right, Sakyo. So how much are you putting up?"
Toji is still reluctant. "See here, he's just a boy–"
"Who's eighteen," you interject before he can reveal your true age and stop Sakyo from agreeing. You want your money, dammit.
"I'm also undefeated," you say matter of factly. "So betting on me will only make you money."
His icy blue eyes shimmer in the dark, he's closing in on you. "And what if I bet against you?"
"You'd lose," you sneer. What a stupid question.
"How thrilling. I do wonder what that must feel like…There must be so many losers here tonight." He sweeps an arm to the crowd, already whipping itself into another frenzy at the beginning of the current match. You're pissed that this nancy boy is making you miss the action.
"If you're interested, I can give you a taste," you propose.
"I said we're going," Toji insists again. "There's not going to be any bets tonight–"
"Fifty thousand yen," Sakyo offers. "You go in the ring, and I will give you fifty thousand yen. Even if you lose."
"I don't lose." You're already counting his cash in your mind. "So what are you offering up for me to win?"
"Fushiguro…" Junpei's nails had been slowly driving themselves into your forearm little by little throughout your conversation. You can feel his anxiety as he shifts behind you. "Maybe you shouldn't–"
"One hundred thousand yen if you win… on top of the fifty thousand just for going in the ring," Sakyo raises himself.
A hundred and fifty thousand. Most of the bets maxed out at twenty thousand per round. This was a ridiculous sum for a street fight in the dirt you would have done for free. You turn your head to Toji, who is equally as shaken at the proposition. "What do you think, Dad? Is he good for it?"
He clenches his teeth, grunting with frustration. Dammit! He really needs money right now. How is he supposed to walk away from a jackpot like this? Rent will get paid just by you agreeing. Toji knows there's nothing else you'd rather do than take this prick's money. And best he can do is pick some random nobody already in the yard as your foe. Still he knows better than to agree to any wager Sakyo offers him. He's always been the subversive type with ulterior motives, finding any means necessary to tip the scales in his own favor.
How is that wife of yours?
"Yeah. He is. We'll take the bet, Sakyo," Toji agrees. "How are we picking the opponent?"
Sakyo's cold smile returns, then he shouts in a commanding voice,
"WHO WANTS TO FIGHT FOR ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND YEN?"
The din of the spectators quiets as they turn around. Even the fighters in the ring cease their assault mid-swing. Suddenly you find all eyes are on you, and Toji has realized his mistake far too late.
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A young man had pushed his way past the throng to take on the well dressed stranger's ludicrous offer. When he heard the only condition to accept the bet is being eighteen, he knew this was his chance.
"All you geezers take a step back before your hearts give out! None of you are anywhere close to your prime," he spat.
Immediately taking a liking to the brute, Sakyo waved him forward. "Alright then! You've got some spirit. What's your name?"
"It's Bui. That's all I'm giving. Names aren't big around here, but I'll tell you mine since you'll be paying me." He dipped his head in a bow that was nowhere near as respectful as it should have been. Sakyo chose to find it comically charming rather than taking offense.
He smiled, appraising the boy's appearance. He's dressed in baggy sweats and a black hoodie with the sleeves cut off. "And you're eighteen?"
"Heh. Sure." There's stubble on Bui's jawline, and Sakyo can smell that he's been drinking as well. Still, he doesn't question him.
"You get paid when you win. Understood? Your opponent is over there." Sakyo points with the cherry of his cigarette.
The 'boy' stares across the empty ring at you on the other side. When your eyes meet, he laughs out loud.
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Junpei begs for the millionth time, "Fushiguro, please don't do this! I- I don't want to see you get hurt!"
You laugh his concern off as you stretch, shrugging out your shoulders and cracking your back to stay loose. "You worry too much. But if you need somewhere to channel that pity, the other guy is over there." You jut your chin in the direction of the opponent Sakyo found for you.
You won't get his name, of course it's not important to you anyway. He's just someone you're going to be pounding into mush for what will be the most money you've ever held. It's going to feel satisfying as hell seeing the look on Sakyo's snooty face when his fighter gets his ass handed to him. He's the one who wanted to make a scene and call all sorts of attention to their match with his announcement. Though it had a secondary effect as well.
It turns out there are quite a few contenders in need of a huge lump of cash like this. Who wouldn't be? In the end it came down to Sakyo's choice since he was calling the shots. Within seconds he commandeered the scene, shooing the current fighters from the ring for your match to take precedence. The air is tense, with several side action bets being placed on top of one another. You hear their chatter, trying not to let it rattle your nerves.
"Two thousand yen says the little guy goes down in under ten minutes,"
"Bet. A thousand more if he pisses himself in the ring. I saw the other boy. He's an ox."
"They're both younger, yeah? I think I heard someone say they're both eighteen. Should be a good fight. Younger boys get good and mad."
Closing your eyes, you exhale through your nose to clear your thoughts. As much as you love to play the tough guy card, this is an entirely different situation tonight. From behind you Toji places a heavy hand on your shoulder. "Hey…You okay? Because I can talk him out of it if you change your mind."
Glaring at him over your shoulder, you shrug off his touch. "I'm not backing out! I said I'd do it, and I'm going to. Just look at him over there."
He follows your gaze. Sakyo is on the opposite side of the yard with the fighter he selected. They're smoking and laughing while glancing back at the two of you, obviously talking shit.
"Don't you want to make him look really, really stupid?" You ask.
Toji sighs, mulling his thoughts over. "I'm putting a thousand on you to win in under ten. Make me money."
What he means to say is 'make me proud.' The knot in your stomach loosens. "Yes, sir."
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One of the bookies takes to the center of the ring for what would be the most official starting of a match the railyards have ever witnessed. Rather than straggling around the outskirts of the action, every spectator is pressed shoulder to shoulder, nearly taking swings at each other for a better patch of dirt to occupy.
"Fighters to the ring, please!" the white cap announces.
You allow yourself one more deep breath before stepping into the public eye. "Here we go," you announce, though your legs feel unnaturally stiff.
"Go get 'im," Toji commands.
"Good luck! But you won't need it," Junpei tries to sound positive, but you catch the break in his voice that betrays his own uncertainty. You can't allow that. Turning back on your heel, you give him a confident wink. "Watch me closely. I won't be long, babe."
His cheeks turn a brilliant shade of pink.
The crowd parts to allow you through. A few men pat your back as you pass, slapping rough palms on your shoulders for good luck. Most of them probably bet on you to lose. You remind yourself that ten percent of their losses go to you when you win, and smile back amicably. It'll be fun making these losers pay quite literally.
As you approach the middle of the ring, you finally get a chance to size up your opponent. Shit! This guy is a full head taller than you. He's seriously supposed to be the same age? Well, you weren't exactly being honest either, but that didn't give you any advantage in a fight where your opponent was lying to make himself younger! Christ, is that a five o'clock shadow? You rub your own smooth chin self consciously. Would anyone notice you're not an adult? Not likely, these people just want their money. There's an uproar of cheers from all sides that goes straight to your head immediately. You've never heard the yard this loud before. Even Toji looks uneasy. Usually he's your loudest support, cheering from behind you in a way that you only pretend is embarrassing. Truthfully you notice he smiles non-stop for the rest of the night after a victory. Being the reason behind that smile makes you feel a certain way. Without knowing the reason why, you chase it.
"No weapons! No vital strikes! Go until the other man says 'Stop!' Fighters ready?" The bookie asks, looking at each of you, as he backs away to the edge of the ring.
"Sure am," your enormous foe nods, laughing and looking around at the captive audience with arrogance. He's already bathing in his victory. You never take your eyes off him for a second.
"Ready," you agree.
"Fighters, begin!"
Deciding to use your speed first, you run straight for him without hesitation. He definitely wasn't expecting you to charge and takes a staggering step back before quickly regaining his footing and lowering his center. Good, just what you wanted him to do. Now he's on your level. You knock aside his clumsily placed hands with the backside of your fist. He made the mistake of only bringing up at the last possible second, not thinking he'd need to protect himself against someone much smaller than him. You slice your elbow up into his chin. His head snaps back and your feet continue on their path, kicking down into his chest. You land with a puff of dust beneath your sneakers as the previously noisy crowd takes a moment to gape in shock.
"First blood!" the bookie cries unnecessarily, as if anyone in the yard could have missed it.
"YEEAAHH! GET SOME!" Toji roars amidst the lull, finally allowing his usual gusto to take over.
"Tch," you smirk and spin to face your opponent again, not about to assume two hits would be enough to bring him to a full halt. You're correct. He sits up like Michael Myers, gawking at you in disbelief that he'd been knocked on his ass.
"You gonna get up? Or do you wanna take your beating sitting down?" you ask.
The taunt forces him to laugh out loud, as if he isn't bothered at all by you taking the lead. "Alright. I'll give you this, you're faster than I thought you'd be. Ballsy too." He gets up, dusting his hands. As soon as he's on his feet, you rush in again, not giving him the chance to look back up. It's his fault for thinking your fighting etiquette would allow him to let his guard down. You may not hit a man while he's down, but once he's up again, he's still asking for it.
He's almost ready for you this time though, and brings a stiff forearm forward to block what would have been another shot to his face. "I figured a big guy like you could take the fall no problem. You grow up somewhere nuclear, or something?" you ask.
He laughs again, bringing his other hand up to his center, not about to let you reach his core again. "Hey, be nice to me. It's my birthday." He flings you easily away, sending your feet sliding through the dirt.
"Aw, why didn't you say so? I'd have bought you a beer before we started." You'd gotten close enough to catch a whiff of alcohol from him. If he's drunk, he's going to have delayed responses. Both to self defense and to pain. Meaning he could keep going even past his own safety. Another factor you have to keep in mind. He's not going down easily.
This time he takes the first steps forward, letting you meet him with an uppercut into his cheek. "Ain't you a pal? You can come over to my house and fuck my sister anytime!" His knee slams up into your gut. Thankfully you'd jumped at the last second to lessen the impact, but being in midair is a shitty fucking place to be. His enormous hand closes around your upper arm, both pinning you close, and rendering it useless. There's a fist the size of a brick rearing back just for you.
There's only one option with your feet off the ground like this. Here goes nothing…
Using his still raised knee as a step, you twist your lower body upright to flip yourself up onto his shoulders. His hold on your arm becomes the hinge that assists you to climb him like a cat. Surprised by your literal ass in his face for all of a second, he flinches and hesitates on his punch long enough for you to lock your legs around his neck. The crowd hollers in a chorus of whoop, and you ride him as he struggles beneath your weight. You already know what he's going to do next. He's gonna–
The ground hits your back as he slams you into the dirt. Your legs stay around his neck. His feet are kicking furiously, stirring up blinding clouds of dust around the two of you. Through the screams and boos of the crowd, one voice is cutting through to you.
"Get him, Fushiguro! Wear him out!" Junpei cheers.
Your legs tighten their hold and you resist the urge to close your eyes against the dirt storm. You can't let your opponent out of sight. He keeps throwing glancing blows upward to dislodge you. A few are way more than glancing. You catch a full set of his knuckles to your temple repeatedly, and try to tuck your head in to protect yourself. But that only gives his other fist a better angle. It's a battle of your leg strength versus his will to tap out. And he isn't showing any signs of stopping. You've more than humiliated him by now. If he taps out, he'll never live down the shame of being ridden like an animal in the ring as everyone watches. His body rises up again, and he drops you a second time.
WHUUUMPP!
Your grip slips, unable to keep it up with your wind being knocked from your lungs. Fuck! He's on top of you now. His face is nearly purple from a lack of oxygen and rage. He slams his knee into your groin in a cheap shot. What the hell?! If you had balls that would have severely fucked you up! A few bystanders who caught what he did gasp in disbelief, but the bookie says nothing to stop the fight. No one expects him to. This sort of thing doesn't happen here. The ring isn't for hurting someone out of rage. Or winning two months of rent in a single fight. The stakes are too high for anyone to dare speak up to stop the match.
Bui continues kneeing you again when he sees it does little to stop your resistance. Toji's fists clench at his sides. He can't say anything to interrupt, or Sakyo may take it as an affront. Toji knows how much he hates to be disappointed. He watches the smug face from across the ring. Sakyo smiled with soft amusement as if he were enjoying a refined night at the symphony. Bastard! For all he knows you were born a boy and his fighter is devastating your body, but still he shows no concern at all. He loves seeing what poor people will do for money.
Before Bui can attempt to ram into you a third time, you bring your own leg up to block him, bracing against it with all of your strength. It feels as if there's a volcano in your chest. Your hands grip either side of Bui's hoodie at his neck, crossing your wrists to cut off his air again. You scream with exertion as your legs lift him off of you, shoving both feet into his gut to simultaneously push the air out of his lungs. There's a single moment of wonder in his eyes as he loses his contact with the ground entirely. He struggles at first, but there's no way he's breaking free. His face is burning and his vision sparks. You've been slowly wearing down his air, taking it little by little to sap his strength. It doesn't matter how big he is if he can't catch his breath long enough to fight back. He's struggling above you, abandoning his hold on you to try to pull your hands free from his shirt. Your wrists cross tighter across his throat. You watch a tiny blood vessel in his eye burst.
"TAP OUT!" You demand.
He shakes his head in refusal, despite barely clinging to consciousness.
From the outside of the ring, a familiar voice cheers. "GO FUSHIGUROOO! KICK HIS FUCKING ASS!"
You exhale with force as your legs launch his nearly limp body. Shoving your palms into the dirt, you keep your feet coming up, curling over your shoulder in a flip that brings you upright again. Bui is flat on his back on the ground, gasping for air and clutching his neck. You throw your etiquette out the window, letting your full weight come crashing down with an elbow drop to his sternum. Something cracks. He wheezes and rolls over onto his side, waving his open palm in the air. The sign to stop.
"He's done! Match lasted eight minutes, forty four seconds!" the bookie announces, sending up a resoundingly unanimous echo of disappointment. Well, almost unanimous.
"THAT'S MY BOY!" Toji hollers.
Something drips into your eye, stinging terribly and blinding you. Ah, shit, you're bleeding from your left temple. Alot. But that's normal for a head wound right? Still, sitting down sounds like a good idea, so you plop down for a second just to catch your breath.
As they rush in to check on you, Toji is grinning from ear to ear until Junpei tackles you. Not caring that over a hundred other men are watching, he kisses you. You can feel his heartbeat pounding against yours. Barely pulling back he whispers to you, holding your face in both his hands, "You're incredible!"
Not having any of this, Toji scruffs the boy by the back of his shirt. "Not here! Get a hold of yourself!" he hisses as he pries your friend off of you. Kneeling down, he takes on the role of medic, assessing the severity of your wound. "Not too bad. We'll get you fixed up when we get home. You won't need a hospital, but he probably will," Toji jerks his head toward Bui who still hasn't gotten up.
You're still starstruck by Junpei's affectionate display, and giggling as you pour blood from your head. "I think I broke some of his ribs! Heehee!"
"You goddamn idiot, pull it together! We still have to get paid!" Toji reminds you, giving you a rough shake to rattle some sense into you.
Ohh, yeah…Money. Nice. Your thoughts are fuzzing a little too much from being punchdrunk, but you remember you're getting your phone with this prize money. It's going to be so nice to be able to call Junpei whenever you want now. You look up at him and return the enormous smile he still has plastered on his face. He managed to get some of your blood on his cheek too. It looks good on him.
"Well, that was quite exciting, wasn't it?" Sakyo's smooth voice announces his entry into the ring, finally showing up to face his loss. You can stand for this. When you hop up a little too quickly Junpei offers his support to brace you upright against him. You put a grateful arm around his shoulder.
"Sure was. And the fun's not over yet. You get to feel like a real loser," you chuckle. "Now, pay my dad what you owe us."
Seemingly unbothered by the loss, Sakyo pulls something from his inner pocket. "As agreed, I already have the check drawn up for you."
"A hundred and fifty thousand," you remind him, watching the check change hands. Sakyo's fingertips brush Toji's purposefully when he delivers it.
"Yes, that's right," he agrees. "This was such a grand time, and your son definitely takes after his father. You must be so proud."
"You bet I am," Toji folds the check. "It's been a pleasure taking your family's money. It's just like old times."
"We should do this again soon," Sakyo offers.
Toji's demeanor switches, losing his winner's glow. He already senses Sakyo to be laying another trap. "Maybe not. We aren't here often."
"I see. A pity. We shall have to catch up some other time then. Won't we, Toji-san?" he purrs.
With barely a nod of his head, Toji takes both you and Junpei by your shoulders, escorting you through the crowd of people still exchanging cash around the ring. "Come on, boys. We're leaving."
From somewhere to his right, a sore loser pipes up. "Yeah, get those faggots out of here!"
WHAM!
The gentle hand that had been guiding you through the crowd leaves to bury itself in the jerk's face. "Keep your shitty comments to yourself," Toji snarls.
You grin, feeling the spots where you're already beginning to bruise. "Ow…"
Fingers interlock with yours, and you squeeze them back fiercely. Junpei. You can feel that he's still beaming with pride as he keeps in stride with you.
Once you're safely buckled in the backseat of Toji's car, he tears into the two of you right away.
"What the hell was that back there?!"
"What do you mean?" you ask in confusion. You won, didn't you? He got his money, and after cashing that fat check you're sure to get your cut and your new phone. What's the problem?
His face flushes, he looks embarrassed to be acknowledging what he saw. "You boys…kissing in the ring?! What were you thinking?!"
Junpei slumps in his seat, feeling ashamed for possibly embarrassing you after your fight. He was just so overwhelmed at seeing you in action, he couldn't help himself. Once he was close enough to touch you, he had to kiss you.
Your hand grips his tighter, pulling it onto your knee so Toji won't possibly miss it.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I guess …I wasn't thinking." You say softly, still unable to erase the look of pure bliss off of your face. The afterglow of your victory combined with the heady buzz from still holding Junpei's hand has you feeling more than a little invincible.
Toji stares at you incredulously. He can handle you screaming back at him, calling him a mother fucker, pig fucker and the like…But you agreeing with him, calling him Dad like you mean it and it's not just for show anymore… He grunts in frustration, whipping around to buckle himself in.
He mutters under his breath, you only catch the ending.
"...useless dogs in heat."
You smile triumphantly at Junpei, still holding his hand in yours.
On the ride back home, when the road is dark enough for his confidence to swell, he rests his head on your shoulder and sighs happily.
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To Be Continued…