The alarm clock rattles violently against the wooden nightstand. Akari groans, her arm flopping out from under the blanket to slap it quiet. She rolls onto her back, hair messy, eyeliner faintly smudged from the day before.
She grabs her phone, the screen lighting up with a message.
Rikaru (text):
"I'm outside. Hurry up, sleepyhead. I've been waiting."
A small smile breaks across her tired face. She tosses the blanket off, dragging herself to the window. She peeks outside — there he is, Rikaru, leaning casually on his bike, his smile so wide it makes her chest flutter. She presses her forehead against the glass, sighing dreamily.
But then—
BANG. Her bedroom door bursts open so violently it bounces against the wall.
Toru storms in like a hurricane, his hair messy, still in yesterday's shirt. His eyes scan the room like a thief. He yanks open her dresser drawers without hesitation.
Akari (snapping awake, shouting):
"HEY! What the hell are you doing?! Get out of my room!"
She scrambles up, tugging her pajama shorts down, face red with fury.
Toru ignores her. He digs through the drawer, pulling out a crumpled pair of boxers, holding them triumphantly like treasure.
Toru (grinning smug):
"Found 'em."
He turns to walk out casually, swinging them in his hand.
Akari (barely a whisper, shaking, furious):
"...That's not yours. That's... his."
Toru freezes. He turns slowly, brows furrowed.
Toru (stepping closer, confused):
"What was that? Speak up."
Akari (snapping, louder):
"I said those boxers you keep stealing—"
Her hand shoots out, finger pointing at the window. Outside, Rikaru waits with his bike.
Akari (screaming):
"—THEY'RE HIS, NOT YOURS!"
Toru's face contorts. His jaw drops, his nose scrunches. He squeals in disgust, dropping the boxers immediately like they're toxic.
Toru (shrieking, voice cracking):
"YO YOU FUCKING-
SMACK.
Akari's palm connects with his cheek so hard the sound echoes.
Akari (screaming):
"WHAT?! YOU WANNA CALL ME A BITCH?!"
Before Toru can react, she slams her knee up, kicking him square in the groin.
Toru (choking gasp):
"GHHHH—"
He collapses, clutching himself, his face pale with pain as he tumbles to the floor.
Akari storms past him, yanking open her door. Her mother Hitomi stands there, arms crossed, her stern eyes narrowing.
Hitomi (sharp, demanding):
"Who is this boy?!"
Akari doesn't even answer. She brushes past, her shoulder smacking against the doorframe, her messy hair whipping behind her. She storms outside.
Rikaru is waiting, adjusting his bike pedals. Akari runs to him, throwing her arms around his waist from behind, clinging like she'll never let go.
Hitomi steps onto the porch, calling out.
Hitomi (stern, louder):
"Akari! Answer me!"
Before she can get closer, Rikaru kicks off, pedaling fast down the street, Akari clinging tightly to his back, her cheek pressed to his shirt.
Behind them, the front door slams open again. Toru stumbles out, half-hunched, clutching his crotch, his face twisted with rage.
Toru (furious, voice cracking):
"YOU LET ME WEAR ANOTHER MAN'S BOXERS?! ARE YOU INSANE?!"
His voice breaks as he tries to chase after the bike, but every step makes him wince. He lurches forward anyway, shouting, his face red, his pride shattered.
Akari (laughing breathlessly, shouting back):
"Pedal faster, Rikaru!"
Rikaru laughs too, his legs pumping harder as the bike speeds up.
Toru finally slows, bending forward, hands on his knees, gasping for air, sweat sticking his shirt to his back.
A black car slows beside him. The window rolls down. Inside are Maki at the wheel and Tokami in the passenger seat, both smirking.
Maki (snorting, amused):
"What happened to you?"
Toru throws himself into the backseat, slamming the door.
Toru (shouting, snapping):
"GO AFTER THEM! NOW!"
Maki raises a brow, trying not to laugh.
Maki (flat, amused):
"We already knew you were wearing dirty boxers."
Tokami bursts out laughing, clutching his stomach, his head falling back against the seat.
Tokami (gasping, between laughs):
"BRO— you've been stealing another guy's underwear?!"
Toru punches the back of Tokami's headrest, his face bright red.
Tokami (yelling, still laughing):
"HEY! Don't punch my headrest!"
The car fills with their chaotic laughter as Toru sits there fuming, face buried in his hands.
⸻
The faint buzz of a Samsung flip phone alarm breaks the quiet. The screen glows: 6:00 AM.
Daiki stirs first, his head resting awkwardly against the wall, his arms numb from being Shion's pillow all night. He stretches, groaning, then looks down. Shion is curled against him, her cheek damp with dried tears, her lashes stuck together.
He shakes her shoulder gently.
Daiki (soft but annoyed, half-smiling):
"Crying in my arms all night, now you won't even wake up for school."
Shion buries her face deeper against him, groaning.
Shion (muffled, grumbling):
"Five more minutes..."
Suddenly the door slams open. Hiroshi, their foster dad, fills the doorway like a thunderstorm.
Hiroshi (booming, rushing):
"SHION! GET UP FOR SCHOOL!"
The door shakes with the force. Shion jolts upright, hair sticking up in every direction, yawning so wide her jaw pops. She stretches her back, wincing.
Shion (complaining, groggy):
"Ugh... why didn't you tell me to sleep in bed last night? My back is killing me."
Daiki stands, yawning loudly, stretching his arms behind his head. He shoots her a side glance, lips twitching.
Daiki (teasing, sarcastic):
"While you were busy crying all night about how much you hate your life... and how you regret faking your death... I kinda fell asleep too."
His tone is light but biting, like only a brother can pull off. He turns on his heel, heading for the door.
Shion glares at his back, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
She stands slowly, dragging herself to the mirror. She freezes.
Her reflection stares back — pale skin, puffy eyes, dark eyebags, hair messy. A stranger.
She touches her swollen eyelids with trembling fingers.
Shion (soft, muttering):
"Ugh... I look like a ghost."
Her hand drags open a drawer. She pulls out her makeup kit, flipping it open.
Shion (sighing, trying to force cheer):
"Nothing a little makeup won't fix..."
Her voice trails, quiet. But her eyes in the mirror don't shine.
—
The hallway hums faintly with fluorescent lights. The air smells faintly of floor wax and pencil shavings. Shoes squeak against polished tiles, and low whispers ripple like static.
Near the stairwell—a crowd gathers.
A photo of Hana sits framed against the bulletin board. Around it, white chrysanthemums sag, lilies browned at the edges. Candles flicker faintly in the draft. Notes scrawled in messy handwriting are taped up:
"We'll miss you."
"Rest in peace."
"You were too pure."
Most of the students never even spoke to her. Still, they bow slightly, drop flowers, then rush off like it's just another school day.
Toru drags his feet down the hall, head down, earbuds dangling silent around his neck. His hands jam deep into his pockets, shoulders heavy.
Toru (in his head, biting mantra):
"Don't look. Don't look. Don't—"
But his eyes betray him. They lift. They meet hers.
Her photo smiles faintly at him, frozen forever. That soft curve of lips he didn't realize he memorized until just now. His chest caves inward like the air's been punched out of him.
He stops walking. His breath stutters.
Toru (muttering, lips trembling):
"...What happened to giving me a flower every day?"
The words slip out before he can stop them. They hang in the air, too real, too raw. His hand shoots up, covering his mouth instantly, panic flashing in his eyes.
Toru (frantic whisper):
"Wait—what? She... really told me that?"
He looks around. The other students are too busy lighting candles, whispering condolences. No one heard him. He's invisible in the crowd.
He leans hard against the wall, fingers dragging through his hair, his pulse racing.
Toru's thoughts (spiraling):
"Why do I remember that? It feels like yesterday... but it can't be. Did I... actually love Hana like that? No—I did. I know I did. So why is it only now crashing into me? Am I losing my mind?"
His chest tightens. He stares at the photo again, eyes glassy.
Toru (whisper, almost prayer):
"...Why are you making me remember now?"
The hallway swirls with sound—laughter, footsteps, chatter. But for Toru, the world has shrunk to the frame, the flowers, and the memory clawing out of the grave inside him.
⸻
Classroom
The classroom buzzes lightly before homeroom. Desks clatter, voices overlap, pencils tap against wood. Sunlight cuts through the blinds in dusty stripes.
Toru sits slouched at his desk, fiddling with a pencil between his fingers. His eyes are far away, thoughts somewhere else entirely.
Arata struts up, camera in hand, confidence dripping from her every step. She leans right into his space, lens close to his face.
Arata (teasing, sing-song):
"Hey, Toru! Look here. Everyone, this is our most handsome guy—though right now he looks totally brain-dead."
Students laugh softly. Toru slowly blinks out of his daze, eyes moving lazily to the lens, then back to Arata. His palm drags across his face.
Toru (flat, muffled, tired):
"You're like a mosquito in my ear right now..."
Arata (rolling eyes):
"Rude as always. But you're good at piano, aren't you? Why don't you ever play for us?"
Toru suddenly slams his hands on the desk, rising halfway up, glaring. Arata doesn't flinch—her camera keeps rolling.
Arata (smiling, hopeful):
"The festival's coming up. Maybe you could play again...?"
For a moment, Toru just stares. His eyes flicker toward her, unreadable, before sliding away.
Arata's cheeks flush red under the lens.
Arata (flustered, mumbling):
"Well... do you just not talk, or...?"
Suddenly—another face fills the camera screen. Long black hair, fair skin, curious eyes. Shion snatches the camera, examining it with a grin.
Shion (excited, nostalgic):
"Wait—this is from Gogo Frame, right? Omg, I love that movie!"
Arata's eyes light up.
Arata (surprised, bright):
"No way! You've actually seen it?!"
Shion (mimicking a line, playful):
"I'm the boss! We take pictures of everyone and send it to the boat!"
She salutes. Arata bursts into laughter. The two connect instantly, giggling like old friends.
But Toru groans, slamming his head down on his desk.
Toru (snapping, shouting):
"PLEASE GET OUT OF MY EAR!"
The room falls silent. Everyone stares. Arata awkwardly steps back, biting her lip. Shion frowns, crouching slightly toward him.
Shion (soft, whispering):
"Hey... are you okay?"
Toru turns his head away, eyes closed, lips pressed tight. She touches his arm, worried.
Shion (nervous, gentle):
"Toru..."
Toru (snapping, muffled):
"Why do you care if you slapped me yesterday?"
The words sting through the air. Shion freezes, eyes wide. She forgot—the kind Toru she used to know doesn't exist anymore.
He glances at her, pouty almost, before closing his eyes again. Shion sighs, putting her head down too, their faces tilted toward each other across the desks.
For a second—their eyes meet. His are heavy, unreadable. Hers go red with warmth.
Toru scoffs, rolling his eyes.
Toru (sarcastic, biting):
"Who slaps the guy they like?"
Shion's face burns.
Shion (defensive, casual):
"You called me weird. I didn't like it."
Toru (snapping back):
"Doesn't mean you slap me!"
Shion (gentle, softer now):
"...You were just trying to help me, right? You hate seeing a girl cry alone in the rain."
Toru's eyes twitch. For a moment, they soften—puppy-like. But before he can say anything—
Ms. Endo (stern, cutting in):
"Shion Asagiri. Move your seat."
Toru stiffens. That name—Asagiri. It rings inside him like a bell.
Shion (panicked, pleading):
"No! Please, I'll be quiet, I promise—"
Ms. Endo (strict):
"Switch with Arata Fujinami. Now."
Toru suddenly grabs Shion's wrist, eyes blazing.
Toru (snapping, stubborn):
"I'm not sitting with Arata. Unless you want fights all year."
The room buzzes with whispers.
Classmate 1 (whisper):
"Toru must like her."
Classmate 2 (skeptical):
"No way. He doesn't even look at the prettiest girls. He just hates Arata and that stupid camera."
Classmate 3 (excited):
"Wait—didn't he say he'd play piano at the festival?!"
Ms. Endo (shouting):
"ENOUGH! One more word and it's extra homework!"
The class groans. Toru leans back, arms crossed, eyes still flicking toward Shion.
Her name still echoes in his mind. Shion Asagiri. Why does it feel so familiar?
The hum of fluorescent lights echoes down the stairwell as Maki descends into an underground basement. The deeper he goes, the louder the noise — a dull roar of voices, the clang of metal pipes, the smell of cigarettes and sweat. The concrete walls are tagged with graffiti, posters for old fights half-peeled and curling.
At the bottom, a crowd has gathered around a makeshift ring. Fists slam against the metal fencing, cheers and curses mix into a chaotic chorus. Bills of yen flash between hands as bets are made.
Maki steps through, hoodie half-zipped, hair pushed back lazily, cigarette hanging from his lips. His eyes scan the room with a practiced calm. He's been here before.
Onlooker (grinning, calling out):
"Maki's here! The champ showed up!"
The crowd reacts instantly — claps, whistles, shouts. Maki only smirks faintly, tossing his cigarette aside as he rolls his shoulders. He doesn't need to hype himself up; his reputation does it for him.
Inside the ring, his opponent — broad, sweaty, with bruises already decorating his cheek — paces like a caged dog. The bell clangs.
The fight is brutal. Maki dodges the first swing, counters with a quick jab, his movements almost lazy but efficient. Every punch he throws lands heavy. The crowd howls, stomping their feet. Blood sprays against the chain-link.
Within minutes, the opponent crashes to the ground. Maki stands over him, chest heaving but face calm, like it was just another routine. He doesn't even smile as the referee lifts his arm.
Crowd (chanting, overlapping):
"Maki! Maki! Maki!"
As he steps out of the ring, a man in a hoodie and mask blocks his way. His voice is distorted, deep, deliberately disguised.
Masked Man (low, smug):
"Easy money for you, Mori. But if you want the real payout, I've got a challenge."
He slips a photo out of his pocket, sliding it toward Maki. Shion's face stares back — caught mid-slap, her palm striking Toru's cheek from the day before.
Masked Man (taunting):
"Date her. Break her heart. Then the cash is yours."
The crowd around them murmurs, some craning their necks to see the photo.
Maki freezes. His jaw clenches as recognition sparks — Shion, the girl from the school, the girl who stood there fearless against Toru. Tokami's fists balled at his sides yesterday , ready to fight for his friend. Maki had to drag him back.
Maki (low, dangerous):
"...Why her?"
Masked Man (shrugging):
"Doesn't matter. You play the game, you get paid. Simple."
The crowd titters, whispers rippling like wildfire. Maki's eyes narrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward — not in amusement, but in disgust.
Maki (cold, flat):
"I don't break girls like that. Not her. Not anyone."
The man chuckles behind the mask.
Masked Man (mocking):
"Soft. For someone who fights for money, you've got too much heart."
That's it. Maki grabs him by the collar, slamming him against the wall. His fist flies once, twice, three times — the thud of knuckles against bone echoes. The crowd gasps, shouts erupting.
Onlooker (yelling):
"Oi, Maki! Chill! You'll kill him!"
Maki lets him crumple, the masked man coughing, spitting blood — but even then, smirking.
Masked Man (raspy laugh):
"...This isn't over."
Maki wipes his knuckles on his hoodie, scoops the money off the floor, and pushes through the crowd. They part quickly.
⸻
Maki's Home
The drive-through of his small apartment complex glows under dim streetlights. Maki pulls up on his bike, the night still buzzing in his veins.
But there she is — one of his casual flings — sitting on the hood of his car, twirling her hair, waiting. Her mini skirt shimmers under the light.
Jyuho (smiling coy):
"You weren't answering... so I thought I'd wait."
Maki sighs, rubbing his temples.
Maki (gentle but firm):
"Go home. I've got a friend coming over."
Jyuho (pouting):
"I'll wait inside."
Maki (shaking his head, sharper now):
"No. Not tonight. Go."
When she doesn't move, he steps closer, grabbing her wrist — not harsh, but with enough pressure to show he's serious.
Suddenly, headlights sweep over them. A car creeps up, engine humming low. A shady-looking man leans out the window, his face shadowed.
Maki instantly pushes the girl back toward his apartment door.
Maki (low, urgent):
"Inside. Now."
She blinks, confused, but doesn't move fast enough. Maki steps forward, meeting the man at the car. He slips a small bag from his pocket — marijuana wrapped tight.
Maki (flat, cautious):
"Money first."
The man shoves cash into his hand. Maki takes it, but his eyes never stop scanning the street, checking shadows, watching for flashing lights.
Jyuho, standing half-hidden by the door, raises her phone. Confusion and curiosity drive her. She hits record.
Maki shoves the bag through the car window, voice low.
Maki (muttering):
"Get lost."
The car pulls away, taillights disappearing into the dark. Maki exhales, shoving the bills into his pocket. He turns back — only to see the faint glow of Jyuho's phone screen.
His eyes narrow.
Maki (stern, warning):
"...Delete that."
Jyuho hesitates, biting her lip.
____
Later that day..
The late afternoon sun bakes the school parking lot. Kids pour out the gates, shoes scuffing against pavement, laughter and chatter echoing in the air.
A black sedan idles by the curb, engine low. The driver's window rolls down—Maki Mori, shades on, arm hanging lazily out the side, cigarette glowing between his fingers.
Maki (calling out, casual):
"Oi. Hurry it up. I don't got all day."
Tokami jogs up first, bag slung over one shoulder, grin cocky. Toru trails behind him, head low, hands shoved into his pockets, expression unreadable.
The two slide into the backseat. Tokami immediately sprawls across the seat like he owns it, legs wide, tapping on the window.
Tokami (grinning):
"Damn, nii-san, you look like a gangster. Pickin' us up in style."
Maki (snorting, not looking at him):
"I am a gangster. Seatbelt."
Tokami laughs but clicks it in. Toru slouches against the window, staring out.
The car pulls away from the curb, weaving into the street.
⸻
Tokami (sighing dramatically):
"So, there's this girl. Real cute, kept leaving notes in my locker. I told her we should hang out sometime. But..."
(he smirks, leaning back)
"...I don't actually like her. Just wanted to see if she'd buy me lunch."
Maki glances in the rearview, unimpressed.
Maki (flat):
"You're a piece of shit."
Tokami (grinning wider):
"Oi, oi, don't act like you weren't worse at my age. I know you had girls lined up."
Maki (shrugs, smug):
"Difference is, I didn't waste their time. If I wanted them, I took them. If I didn't, I said so."
Tokami (groaning):
"Tch. That's why you're smooth and I'm not."
The brothers chuckle. Toru finally speaks, still staring at the passing scenery.
Toru (low, casual):
"...Think Shion likes me."
The car goes quiet for half a beat. Maki's hands tighten slightly on the wheel. His eyes flick to the rearview mirror, side-eyeing Toru with a raised brow.
Maki (slow, skeptical):
"Shion? That new transfer girl?"
Tokami (snorts instantly):
"Hah! Likes you? After she slapped the shit outta you in front of everyone?"
Toru shoots him a glare.
Toru (snapping):
"She slapped me 'cause I called her weird. Doesn't mean she doesn't like me."
Tokami (cackling):
"Bro, that's some kindergarten logic. 'Oh she punched me, she must have a crush.' You're a dumbass."
Toru exhales sharply, refusing to argue.
Maki shakes his head, smirking faintly, but doesn't say more. His silence makes Toru shift in his seat, annoyed.
Tokami (changing subject, leaning forward between seats):
"Oi, brother, tell me. You still got those dirty magazines under your bed?"
Maki (snorts, deadpan):
"You think I need magazines?"
Tokami (laughing):
"Ehhh, true. You're 21, you've probably got porn girls calling you by name."
Maki just smirks, eyes on the road.
Toru (muttering, eyes still out the window):
"You're one to talk, Tokami. I've heard you in the shower."
Tokami whips his head around, scandalized.
Tokami (yelling):
"OI! Don't say shit like that out loud!"
Maki (grinning now, finally joining in):
"So it's true, huh? How many times a week, Tokami?"
Tokami (defensive, pointing a finger):
"Don't act like you weren't the same! Everyone does it. Even Toru!"
Tokami (yelling, pointing at Toru):
"Don't act like you're better than me! You're probably some silent freak who goes at it every day!"
Toru (smirking lazily, voice low):
"Every day? You think I've got that kind of stamina?"
Tokami (grinning now, leaning forward):
"Then how often, huh? Say it, Kanzaki. Don't be a pussy."
Toru lifts his head just slightly, his dark eyes glinting under his messy hair. He doesn't flinch, doesn't blush — he just smirks, lips twitching upward.
Toru (calm, blunt):
"...Every night."
Tokami chokes on his own spit, slamming the seat in shock.
Tokami (screaming):
"EVERY—?! What the hell, bro?! No wonder you're so tired in class!"
Maki bursts out laughing for the first time, his calm composure cracking. He slaps the steering wheel once, his laugh deep and unbothered.
Maki (between laughs, amused):
"Every night, huh? You've got some nerve saying that out loud."
Toru shrugs, unbothered, leaning his cheek against the window glass.
Toru (flat, almost cocky):
"At least I'm honest. Not like Tokami, lying about his numbers to look cool."
Tokami (offended, hitting his chest):
"Oi, I don't lie! I'm a proud four times a week! Healthy balance!"
Toru (deadpan, without looking at him):
"More like once. And that's when you're drunk."
The car explodes with noise. Tokami lunges across the seat, trying to grab Toru's hair.
Tokami (yelling):
"SHUT THE HELL UP! HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?!"
Toru finally cracks a grin, shoving him back with one hand.
Toru (mocking, smirk wide):
"Thin walls. You moan like a dying cat."
Maki nearly swerves the car, laughing so hard his cigarette almost falls out the window. He regains control, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.
Maki (teasing, voice low):
"Goddamn, you two are hopeless. If the neighbors ever complain, I'm blaming Tokami."
Tokami (still grappling with Toru, shouting):
"You're both assholes! I'm not the only one in this family who—"
Toru (cutting him off, cocky drawl):
"Difference is... when I do it, at least the girl's real."
The words hit like a grenade. The car goes silent for half a second. Then Maki bursts out laughing again, his voice echoing in the small space.
Maki (howling):
"OHHH SHIT. He called you out, Tokami!"
Tokami's face goes bright red. He flails, trying to hit Toru again, but Toru just blocks lazily, smirk never leaving his face.
Tokami (sputtering):
"You—You little shit! You think you're smooth just because Shion slapped you?!"
Toru (leaning back, calm as ever):
"Didn't deny it though."
He shoots Tokami a sideways glance, his smirk sharp, almost dangerous.
Maki side-eyes Toru again in the rearview, his laugh fading into a thoughtful silence. He exhales smoke, lips curling into a small grin.
Maki (muttering under his breath, almost amused):
"...Kanzaki Toru. You're gonna break some hearts."
Tokami finally slumps back into his seat, still red in the face from Toru's roast. He crosses his arms, glaring at the window.
Tokami (grumbling):
"Whatever. I still get more girls than you, Toru."
Toru (flat, smirking):
"Not if they've heard you moan."
Maki (chuckling, blowing smoke):
"Alright, alright, enough dick measuring. Let's settle this the old way."
He glances at them in the rearview, smirk tugging at his lips.
Maki (teasing):
"Favorite type. Go. And don't lie."
Tokami perks up immediately, leaning forward.
Tokami (grinning, too loud):
"Boobs. 100%. If she's stacked, I don't even care what her face looks like."
Toru (side-eyeing him, disgusted):
"You're a dog."
Tokami (defensive):
"Oi, at least I'm honest! What about you, mister 'every night'?"
Toru leans his cheek against his fist, staring out the window again. His voice comes out low, almost lazy.
Toru (calm, blunt):
"Legs."
Tokami bursts out laughing, slapping his knee.
Tokami (howling):
"LEGS?! Who the hell says legs?!"
Toru (deadpan, smirk tugging):
"You don't get it. The way they cross 'em, uncross 'em... skirt riding up just a little—"
Tokami (screaming, covering his ears):
"SHUT UP, YOU PERVERT! YOU SOUND LIKE AN OLD MAN!"
Maki can't help it — he barks out a laugh, shaking his head.
Maki (grinning, amused):
"...He's not wrong though."
Tokami (betrayed, whipping around):
"Nii-san! Don't take his side!"
Maki exhales smoke slowly, eyes flicking back to the road, a sly grin tugging at his mouth.
Maki (smooth, casual):
"I've always been an ass guy myself. Can't beat the view."
Tokami gasps dramatically, pointing between them.
Tokami (screaming):
"LEGS and ASS?! I'm the only loyal one here! Boobs are classic, timeless! The kings of porn for a reason!"
Toru (smirking, calm):
"Boobs are overrated. Every idiot likes boobs."
Tokami (shouting back):
"And only creeps like legs!"
Maki (snickering, egging them on):
"Oi, oi, sounds like you two need to settle this. Porn mag showdown?"
Tokami's face lights up like a kid.
Tokami (grinning wicked):
"YES. We each bring our favorite mag tomorrow. Winner gets bragging rights."
Toru finally cracks a full grin, leaning back with his arms crossed.
Toru (smirk wide):
"You'll regret that. My stash is undefeated."
Tokami looks personally offended.
Tokami (pointing at him):
"You think you're gonna out-stash me? Nii-san, tell him! My collection is elite!"
Maki just smirks, flicking ash out the window.
Maki (cool, smug):
"...You both still use magazines? Pathetic."
Both brothers freeze, staring at him like he just admitted to murder.
Tokami (screaming):
"WHAT?!"
Toru (blinking, confused but amused):
"Then what do you use?"
Maki smirks, eyes hidden behind his shades.
Maki (calm, cocky):
"Wouldn't you like to know."
The car erupts — Tokami yelling, Toru laughing, and Maki just grinning as he drives, the king of their dumb little world.
___
Shion walks alone down the narrow street, her bag slung over one shoulder, her long black hair swaying with each step. She kicks a pebble across the cracked sidewalk, her face still thoughtful from the day's chaos.
From behind her, the low hum of an engine grows louder. Headlights cut across the pavement as a sleek black car approaches.
Inside—
Maki is at the wheel, shades still on, one hand lazily gripping the steering wheel. Tokami is leaned halfway out the window, still animated from their last argument, while Toru slouches low in the backseat, his cheek pressed to the glass.
He glances up—
And freezes.
Shion. Walking. Her hair catching the faint gold of the evening sun.
His chest tugs, his fingers twitching against the seat.
Toru (suddenly alert, snapping):
"Stop the car."
Maki doesn't even look at him.
Maki (flat, dismissive):
"Nope. She slapped you yesterday. Not my problem."
Tokami (perking up immediately, grinning):
"Wait, she's out there?! Pull over, nii-san! I'm gonna pounce on her for hitting my best friend!"
He starts bouncing in his seat like an idiot, ready to fling the door open.
Toru (snapping at him, annoyed):
"Sit the hell down! You're not touching her!"
Tokami (mocking, smirking):
"Ohhh, protective all of a sudden, huh? Thought you said she liked you."
Toru (yelling at the front):
"Maki! I said STOP the damn car!"
The tension in his voice makes Maki's smirk twitch. He exhales smoke, finally giving in.
With a slow brake, he reverses, backing the car down the narrow street until they roll up beside Shion.
Shion looks up, startled at first—then her eyes widen. Toru. Tokami. Even Maki. For a moment, a small light flickers in her face, as if she actually expected him to step out.
The tinted window slides down. Toru leans out, his smirk lazy, voice teasing.
Toru (taunting, low):
"Looks like I've got a ride. And you don't."
Shion's hopeful expression drops instantly, replaced by fury.
Shion (snapping):
"Then why even stop?!"
Before she can move, Maki slams the gas, the car shooting forward. The boys burst out laughing, chaos filling the car.
Tokami (pointing out the window, cackling):
"LOOK AT HER FACE! HAHAHA!"
Toru (snickering, smirk wide):
"Try and keep up, Asagiri!"
Their fingers point at her out the window as the car speeds off, J-rock blasting the whole neighborhood
⸻
On the street, Shion lets out a sharp scoff, rolling her eyes. But despite herself, a small smirk curves her lips. She jogs a few steps as if to chase them, then gives up, laughing under her breath.
She pulls out her flip phone, flipping it open with one smooth motion.
Shion (sighing, muttering with a smirk):
"...Idiot."
She presses speed dial, holding the phone to her ear.
Shion:
"Hiroshi? Come pick me up."
The camera lingers on her face as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes still glowing faintly from seeing Toru—even if he just drove off laughing.
The headlights of Hiroshi's van sweep across the street as it pulls to a stop. Shion climbs in quietly, tossing her bag onto the seat. Her hair is still slightly windblown from jogging after the Mori boys' car, but she keeps her face calm, composed.
Hiroshi glances at her as he pulls back into traffic. His jaw tightens, the silence stretching heavy between them.
Hiroshi (gruff, low):
"I heard from Ms Endo that you've been involved with those boys lately, talking to Toru.. what's his name? the boy who plays piano. You haven't been hanging around them have you?"
Shion stiffens. She looks out the window, watching neon lights blur past.
Shion (flat, defensive):
"...They just drove by just now. That's all."
Hiroshi exhales through his nose, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.
Hiroshi (firm, warning):
"I don't like it. I've been hearing things, Shion. From people I trust."
Shion turns, frowning slightly.
Shion:
"...What kind of things?"
They pull into the driveway. Hiroshi parks, shuts off the engine. For a moment, he doesn't move. His hand lingers on the keys. Finally, he looks at her, his face shadowed in the dim light.
Hiroshi (serious, deliberate):
"Maki Mori. The hothead's older brother. People say he's dealing drugs. That he runs around at night like some thug. You think a man like that cares what happens to kids like you?"
Shion's lips part, surprise flashing in her eyes. She shakes her head, almost laughing in disbelief.
Shion (quickly, brushing it off):
"That's not true. He's... he's rough, but he's not like that. He's good to them. He takes care of Toru and Tokami. You don't know him."
Hiroshi's eyes harden.
Hiroshi (pressing, sharp):
"And Toru? Another one. Breaks girls' hearts, smokes behind the gym like he doesn't care about his future. I heard he's good at piano, really talented. But if he keeps living like this? His reputation will be gone before he even graduates."
Shion bites her lip, turning away. The image of Toru leaning out that car window, smirk on his lips, still burns in her mind.
Shion (muttering, defensive):
"...He's not all bad."
Hiroshi (snapping back):
"Not all bad isn't good enough. And Tokami—always violent, snapping at anyone who looks at him wrong. You think that's strength? It's a time bomb."
Shion's fists clench at her sides.
—
Once they got home the argument still continued, Shion raising her voice now at the front door as they step in.
Shion (raising her voice):
"They're not monsters! You only hear rumors. You don't see them. They're just... people. They're good people. You don't understand them like I do."
The door slides open. Daiki steps in, his schoolbag still over his shoulder, clearly catching the tension.
Daiki (frowning, annoyed):
"What's going on?"
Hiroshi (gesturing toward Shion, frustrated):
"I'm warning her about those Mori boys. The whole lot of them are trouble, and she refuses to listen."
Shion (snapping at Daiki, hot):
"Because he's wrong! They're not like that!"
Daiki's eyes flick to her, then to Hiroshi. He sighs heavily, dropping his bag onto the floor.
Daiki (firm, siding with Hiroshi):
"Dad's right. You're being naïve. People don't just make up stories like that. If everyone's saying they're dangerous, maybe it's because they are."
Shion (furious, stepping toward him):
"You don't know them either! You don't see the way they are when it's just us. They're funny, they're real. Maki looks out for them, Toru's... Toru's more than you think, and even Tokami—he's not just violent, he's loyal."
Daiki (shaking his head):
"You're blind. You can't always think you can save people, Shion. But some people don't want saving. Some people will drag you down with them."
Shion (snapping, almost shouting):
"Better them than being stuck with people who judge without knowing anything!"
The house falls silent for a moment. Hiroshi stands stiff, arms crossed, jaw set like stone. Daiki glares at her, irritated and frustrated. Shion's chest heaves, her cheeks flushed, but her eyes are blazing with stubborn defiance.
Finally, Hiroshi speaks, his tone low, final.
Hiroshi (warning):
"Keep running with those boys, Shion... and you'll find out the hard way why people talk. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Shion's breath catches. She turns away, refusing to let them see her eyes shine. She storms down the hall, her footsteps sharp against the wooden floor.
Daiki picks up his bag again, muttering under his breath.
Daiki (to Hiroshi, quiet but bitter):
"She's just gonna learn the hard way, huh?"
Hiroshi doesn't answer. His eyes stay fixed on the doorway Shion disappeared through, his face unreadable in the dim light.
_______
End of chapter 12