Yang sat slouched on a bench in the middle of the park, staring at the ducks drifting across a small pond.
After he was taken to the hospital, Doppo came into his room, looked at him for a moment, sighed… and left without a word.
Yang didn't know if he was angry or not.
But what he did feel—
Was shame.
A crushing, suffocating kind of shame.
So heavy he couldn't even bring himself to return to Shinshinkai.
"Whoof… whoof… whoof…"
That wasn't a dog barking.
Yang's gaze shifted toward the sound.
A man was jogging past wearing a blue jacket the hood pulled over his head. With each step, he threw two quick punches into the air
Yang leaned forward, trying to get a better look.
But the boxer passed his bench before he could.
…I could kill some time.
Yang stood up.
"Hold on a sec."
The boxer stopped mid-step.
He pulled down his hood and turned toward Yang.
Dark hair. A thick mustache covering his mouth. Eyes calm—but heavy, intense.
"You talking to me, boy?" he asked.
Vrooom… Vrooom…
The sharp, heavy roar of engines cut through the air.
Both of them turned toward the sound.
Outside the park fence, a group of motorcyclists pulled up near a bar.
Yang squinted—
At the front
…!
"Long time no see… old friend," he muttered.
A muscular blond man stepped off his bike, hands in his pockets, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, a headband tied around his head.
Chiharu.
He cast a brief glance toward Yang
Then walked into the bar with his group
"Never mind." Yang waved him off. "Keep jogging."
Then he took off.
He vaulted over the fence and crossed the street in seconds, heading straight for the bar.
The boxer stood there for a moment, dumbfounded.
Then he chuckled—and resumed his workout.
_____________________________________
Chiharu sat slouched in a red lounge seat, a cigarette resting between his lips, his head tilted back against the edge.
His men stood around the table in front of him, playing cards.
The table itself was a mess—almost entirely covered in alcohol bottles, barely leaving any space to play.
"Boss!!"
One of his men burst in, drenched in sweat. "Boss, there's someone outside—he says he wants to meet you."
"Probably another gang hunter." To Chiharu's right, a bald man with a face full of scars grinned, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.
"What's with this weird trend lately?" a fat guy on Chiharu's left added, smoke curling from his lips. "First that bouncer guy, then that wimpy high schooler…"
A haze of smoke hung over the three of them.
"Bring him in," Chiharu said, taking the cigarette from his mouth and flicking it onto the table on top of the scatterd cards—ending the game.
The two men beside him froze.
That only meant one thing.
This was serious.
But Chiharu's expression said otherwise.
He was smiling "I thought I'd have to send him an invitation."
"Boss?"
"What? Didn't you hear me? I said bring him here."
"…No, boss."
Sweat began to pour down his face. "He's already here."
From behind him—
A figure rose into view.
A hand settled on his shoulders as it stepped forward
"No good, Chiharu. You should treat your men more gently," the man said.
"Hm?" Chiharu grinned. "What's more gentle than that? Anyway… what do you want?"
"Straight to the point. I like that." Yang stepped forward and dropped into a seat beside the bald, scarred man. "But first—let's have a drink."
He grabbed a half-empty bottle, sniffed it—
Then frowned.
"What the hell is this?"
"That's alcohol," the bald man replied.
"No, no… I don't drink that." Yang raised his head toward the bartender, who was crouched behind the counter, barely peeking out.
"Excuse me—bring me some milk."
"…Milk?!" Chiharu and his men stared at him, confused.
"Oh right… you're around the same age as the boss, yeah?" Chiharu asked.
Yang set the bottle back down. "How old is your boss?"
"…You're pretending not to know?" Chiharu frowned. "You really don't know?"
Yang shook his head.
"He's nineteen."
"I'm seventeen thats why i dont want to get caught drinking here."
"Pffft—" Chiharu let out a laugh. "Funny. You're fine with killing, rape, and kidnapping… but you draw the line at drinking? You're one funny guy yang "
Yang's expression didn't change.
"When did I do all that?"
"Don't worry—I don't judge." Chiharu bit the cap off a bottle, poured it into a small cup, then slid it toward Yang. "C'mon. Have a drink."
"I told you, I'm sev—"
"I heard you," Chiharu cut in, still smiling. "And I respect conviction."
He tapped the cup lightly.
"But we've got our own. We don't talk to someone who refuses to sit with us on the same level."
…
Yang looked down at the cup.
" and Yang, all of us are minors here. Ain't that right, Tomaji?" Chiharu glanced at the bald man beside him.
Tomaji took the cigarette from his mouth and tapped Yang on the shoulder. "Yup. Don't worry about it, bro. I'm seventeen—I drink, I do drugs, and nothing's gone wrong."
Yang's eyes widened for a moment.
"You're seventeen?! I thought you were forty."
"…Ouch."
"You can do it!"
"Yeah—chug that bitch!"
"Do it!"
"Drink!"
Yang frowned, turning his head toward the bar.
It was now packed with bikers, all cheering him on.
He looked back down at the cup.
…Guess it can't be helped.
Then he raised it—
And downed it in one go.
He slammed the cup onto the table.
Blinking, he glanced at Chiharu, then Tomaji, then the fat guy beside him.
"…You assholes. This is soda."
"BWAHAHAHA—!"
The entire bar erupted into laughter.
Chiharu grinned. "Who do you think we are?"
Yang leaned back, arms crossed. "Pieces of shit. That's what you are."
The laughter only got louder.
__________/________________
Later
The two of them walked side by side along abandoned rail lines.
They had stayed at the bar until deep into the night.
Until Yang told Chiharu to come with him.
Chiharu agreed—telling his men not to follow.
…That was easier than I thought, Yang noted, glancing at him.
"You're a good guy, Yang."
Yang frowned. "Where did that come from?"
"Tell me who you really are." Chiharu stopped walking. "The Yang I knew… wasn't really a good guy"
Yang looked at him for a moment.
Then grinned.
"…Fight for it."
Chiharu tilted his head. "What?"
"If you want to know who I am so badly—then fight for it."
"…Is that so?"
Chiharu raised his hands. The jacket draped over his shoulders slipped off, revealing a body carved by countless fights.
A body of a gladiator
Then—
He dropped his hands back into his pockets.
"Come at me."
Yang pulled his right hand back to his ribs—
Then fired it straight toward Chiharu's face.
Chiharu bent his legs
And drove his face directly into the punch.
…This idiot.
Yang almost laughed.
His fist connected—
And the force sent Chiharu's entire body flipping backward, ragdolling twice before landing cleanly on his feet.
Hands still in his pockets.
Blood sprayed from his nose, staining the rail beneath him.
Then—
It stopped.
Chiharu wiped his nose.
"Nice punch."
…What?
That didn't do anything to him.
When the blood cleared—
He looked exactly the same as before the fight started
Unharmed.
Blood gushed from his nose once more.
…Never mind.
Chiharu pinched his nose.
Alright… I'll give you some time.
But instead of clearing the blood—
He moved.
He lunged forward, driving his fist toward Yang.
Idiot.
Yang's left hand snapped up, striking his chin—
But Chiharu didn't go down.
Instead—
He jumped.
His legs whipped up—
And crashed straight into Yang's face, drop-kicking him back.
Chiharu landed on his feet, nailing Yang in place before he could fall then He grabbed his shirt, yanked his head back—
Then drove his forehead straight into Yang's face.
Crack.
Forehead met his nose, and a strange cracking sound echoed.
Even Chiharu paused.
It wasnt exactly a crunch…It sounded like it was already broken.
Yang took that moment.
He placed his right fist just an inch from Chiharu's chest
Then fired.
The punch drove deep into him.
Chiharu folded forward, clutching his chest as his breath refused to come.
Yang stepped in.
His left leg planted firmly into the ground—
Then his right leg snapped upward in a sharp arc, driving straight into Chiharu's chin.
Chiharu rolled back from the impact, his body flipping before his hand dug into the ground—stopping himself mid-fall.
It took less than a second.
He was already back on his feet.
Even Yang looked a bit surprised at how fast he recovered.
…Back then, I really didn't stand a chance.
"♪♪♪" Yang whistled, a grin spreading across his face. "I think this match is going to last a very, very long time… don't you agree, Chiharu?"
"No, it won't."
The voice came from their right.
Both of them turned.
A group of guys stepped out of the tunnel.
At the front—a very short guy with long blonde hair, tied only at the top, the rest hanging loose at the sides.
Beside him stood a tall man, the most noticeable of the group—his head shaved on the sides and back, exposing a dragon tattoo.
And next to the short one—
Yang tilted his head, blinking.
Another short guy. Slightly taller than the first—but sweating like crazy.
…Did it rain today?
I've been in the bar too long…
"Chiharu. You alone?" the dragon-tattooed guy asked.
Chiharu spat a tooth onto the ground. "Pto…"
He rolled his shoulder, unfazed.
"What does it look like?"
"Good. So he's alone." The short guy stepped forward. "Draken, stay back. All of you—don't move. I'll handle this."
He started walking toward them.
A vein bulged on Yang's forehead.
He sneered, glancing at Chiharu. "Gimme ten seconds."
Then he walked up to the short guy, lowering his head to meet his gaze.
"Hey there, little guy. C'mon—let big bro Yang-chan give you some uppies." He beckoned him closer with both hands, like a mother encouraging her child's first steps.
The short guy didn't even look at him—
Until that.
He stepped forward—
Then his leg snapped up, driving straight into Yang's groin.
Yang froze.
No crack.
Good.
That meant everything was still intact.
But the pain—
Yang bent forward slightly, legs closing, hands clutching himself. "Al… alright… that wasn't nice…"
…Thought he'd swing when I got close.
Guess he's a taekwondo guy or something.
The short guy walked right past him.
"Mikey!!!" the tall one shouted.
The short one—Mikey—instinctively raised his right hand toward his head—
Yang moved.
His fist slammed into Mikey's forearms.
Crack!
"Kid… you a fighting freak too?" Yang stepped closer.
"…Is this garbage talking to me ?" Mikey stood up, glancing at his swelling forearms before looking back at him.
"It takes one to know one."
They stared at each other for a moment—
Then closed the distance, step by step, until they were face to face.
Yang struck first.
His fist shot straight for Mikey's head—
But Mikey vanished.
Only his jacket remained in Yang's hand.
…Hold on.
Yang squinted his eyes at the shoulder part of the jacket
There was a very bad symbol stitched into the sleeve.
Then
He looked up.
Mikey was already in the air, spinning
A kick snapped toward Yang's head.
Caught off guard while inspecting the jacket, Yang barely leaned back, the strike grazing his nose.
Before he could react—
Mikey's other leg lashed out, snatching the jacket right out of his hand
"Time's up."
Before Yang could fully turn back toward Chiharu—
A fist slammed into his cheek.
Yang staggered.
Chiharu grabbed him by the hair with both hands and yanked him down to his knees—
Then slammed him again, blood from Yang's face splattering across Chiharu's jeans.
Through the blur of blood, Yang caught a fast-moving shadow rushing in from behind.
Mikey.
It looked like Chiharu noticed too.
Yang reacted first.
He wrapped his arms around Chiharu, locking him in place.
And Mikey leapt—
Both legs driving straight into Chiharu's face.
Because Yang held him in place, the force of Mikey's kick was amplified.
Yang looked into Chiharu's hollow eyes—
Then smiled.
He hauled him up.
"Wake the fuck up!!"
And threw himself backward—
Slamming Chiharu straight into the ground.
His head cracked hard against the railway.
Even Mikey gasped.
For a moment, he thought that kick alone had killed him.
He didn't expect Yang to pin him like that—
And he definitely didn't expect this.
"…Is he a psychopath?!"
Yang looked down at Chiharu for a moment—
Then back at Mikey.
"Yo… guess it's just us now."
"…You think?" Mikey replied.
"…So," Yang shrugged, "you still wanna keep going? I'm only here for this guy." He jerked his thumb toward Chiharu's body.
"Got him already. No reason to stay."
Mikey glanced back at his men.
Fear and worry.
Even Draken was contemplating joining his friend
This was the first time they'd seen Mikey struggle like this.
…If I want to win—
I have to go all out.
He took off his jacket. "Takemitchi."
"Ah—y-yeah!" The guy who had been kneeling on the ground, sweating like crazy, scrambled up and ran over.
Yang scratched the back of his head. "Is this some kind of tradition? Taking your clothes off like perverts?"
His eyes shifted to Takemitchi—
Who immediately froze… then started tearing up before looking away and taking Mikey's jacket.
"Heh. Calling your friend to the heart of it… kinda inconsiderate."
"As long as I'm here," Mikey said calmly, "no harm will come to him."
…!
All three of them snapped their heads back.
Chiharu.
He was standing.
His eyes bulged slightly, brows raised unnaturally high, hair almost standing on end.
"You know what pisses me off the most?" he said, pressing two fingers against his eyes—forcing them back into place.
"…That Buddha could stand and talk the moment he was born "
What?
Mikey and Yang both stared at him.
…Did that slam scramble his brain?
______
Draken
Mickey
Sorry if my knowledge of the Tokyo revengers seems lacking last time I've read it was like 7 or 8 years ago