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He hurried out of the classroom, brushing past all the students heading to their clubs. His excitement continued raising as he rushed down the streets of Ikebukuro, shoes pounding the pavement until they had reached their destination.
It was a store he was deeply familiar with: the cold touch of the door handle, the heavy aroma of musty wood, the peaceful sound of silence; all so inviting to him.
He glanced over at the new arrival section. The table had an abundance of board game boxes stacked high, and an example board was laid out with the game pieces glued on in random places, emulating a match already in session.
An overwhelming feeling filled his chest as he walked over, hand gliding over the edge of the table. He couldn’t take his eyes off the colorful stones and dice, the elegant font decorating each game card, nor the brilliantly arranged tiles printed on the board itself. It was a masterpiece, something he had been months for since its announcement.
He reached out and smoothed a few fingers over the box it came in, the thick cardboard walls hardy, yet velvety to the touch. It was textured in a few places, swirling around the corners and lining the edges. Everything about the cover art was tasteful and sharp, showing everything but revealing nothing.
He looked around for the price sign, heart coming to a full stop as he saw the number of zeros following the two digits in front.
There was no way he could afford it, and there was no way he could ask either Ichiro or Jiro for any money. He swallowed the lump that had grown in his throat, weighing any options he could find, but none of them could find him. He was left helpless.
He frowned dejectly, turning to leave the store. “Ooff!” His face had slammed with something hard, nearly knocking him to the ground.
“Tch...!” The thing he had bumped into clicked its tongue in distaste, and immediately, Saburo could smell the heavy scent of tobacco mixing with the deep mahogany.
He glanced up, pale whiteness filling his sight before his multi-colored eyes met with bright red ones looking down at him half-lidded.
“Sa-Samatoki...!” He stepped back in surprise, arms coming up as a guard until he remembered that there was no reason for conflict between them at the moment. His expression faded from the displeasure to curiosity as he put his arms back down. “Why are you here?”
The Yokohama yakuza grimaced. “First off, you brat, it’s ‘Samatoki-san,’ and second...,” the man’s voice stopped as his eyes turned to his left, directed at the table Saburo was just at. “That just came out today, didn’t it?” He was as forceful in his speech as always, but the youngest brother was sharp enough to tell there was a minuscule hint of hesitation.
“M... Mnh...,” Saburo hummed out with uncertainty in where the man was taking the conversation. “You knew?”
Samatoki snapped his eyes back forwards again. “Hah? When you’ve been talking ‘bout it nonstop? How could anyone not know?” He paused at the boy’s clueless stare before turning his entire body away.
“Just grab how many boxes you want, kid.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, opened it, and tossed a wad of cash onto the front counter, the thud it made making Saburo and the cashier jump.
“Ah, Samatoki–“ The man was already walking out of the door as the middle schooler tried speaking up. He groaned in annoyance, taking just one box as he followed after.
“Wait!” He pushed the door open and spun his head side to side, spotting the MTC leader lighting a cigarette as he walked away down the street. Clutching the game box close to him, the boy hurried over before the man could get too far. “Samatoki...,” he called out once more, getting him to stop.
He was the hesitant one this time, struggling on his words of gratitude. “Th... Thank yo–“
Something had stopped him, covering his mouth and pressing into his lips; it was warm and soft, with the faint taste of tobacco he was so familiar with. It lingered on his tongue even when the man had pulled back.
“You don’t have to say anything,” his voice was uncharacteristically quiet, echoing in the boy’s dazed head. He placed the cigarette between his lips again and went back on his way, uninterrupted this time.
Saburo stood silent, watching the man fade into a tiny dot before disappearing completely. He reached up to his lips, the remaining heat still warm to the touch. It slowly spread like a fire across his entire face as the memories from months ago flooded back in his head: the smoky air in the tiny office, the dim twilight shining through the open windows, the quiet rustling of the board game magazine; the yazuka leader didn’t even look like he was listening.
Once more, he squeezed the box tightly to his chest, feeling his heart race against the cardboard.
Idiot, I only mentioned it once...