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The moment that the fifth division showed up outside Takemichi’s house, Chifuyu had known something was wrong. It grabbed him by the lungs and forced him to keep his eyes open, to breathe deeply, to stand on the balls of his feet--ready to take off. He was afraid, he realized, and Takemichi wasn’t. This difference would be the root of all their upcoming problems.
As strong as he’d told Takemichi his own division was, the Mizo Mid guys didn’t stand a chance against the twenty odd guys waiting for them. It’d be a bitter fight, but all of them combined may have beaten Mucho, but that said nothing for Sanzu and everyone else. They were fucked, and he was the only one that knew it. He didn’t know how Takemichi managed to function with the weight of other people on his shoulders, because in this moment alone, Chifuyu could’ve thrown in the towel. Every decision of his felt too slow, time moving too fast to keep up with, but he took a beat and gathered himself.
Instead of blindly walking out behind Takemichi, he pulled Takuya and Makoto aside. He mustn’t’ve been as good an actor as he thought, because they grew serious as he whispered to them.
“Go out the back door and grab your bikes. When the car pulls away, you follow it. I don’t care what you have to do, just don’t lose it.”
Takemichi was just about out the door, but Atsushi stopped him, a quick flicker of his eyes showing that he’d picked up on Chifuyu’s panic. The blonde would have hugged him if possible. Before he could lose focus, or Takemichi could run headlong into something he didn’t understand, he gave one final order.
“The second you find where it stops, you call Mikey. Draken, me. Everyone, okay?”
The grim determination that lighted the duo’s eyes allowed a tiny part of his soul to relax, to feel the comfort and confidence that Takemichi walked around with, because he knew they would try their best. They weren’t battle hardened gangsters or anything like that, but they’d been riding peddle bikes a lot longer than Chifuyu had, and they were the two most apt to do it. (He could still recall the time the lot of them had raced, his spot in dead last still a touchy subject. When Makoto had pulled away instantly, five meters turned to ten, to fifteen, Takuya--who had stayed back with the rest of them--shot off like a bullet as the other boys laughed. Makoto’s long legs had always made him faster than most, but Takuya was just fucking fast. He overtook the boy in a few seconds, and by then the race had been won. It had actually been won from the start, but the true competition would be who came next.)
Chifuyu trusted them, not because he had to, but because he believed in them.
Before he could offer any words of solace, to explain to Takemichi what the fifth division meant for them, the blonde was already taking off. The second Yamagishi, Atsushi, and himself were out the door, people were grabbing them and Takemichi was getting hurt. Knowing that Mucho would not get very far wasn’t reassuring when his friend was bleeding onto the concrete, feet barely staying beneath him. Chifuyu didn’t feel any less panicked, he didn’t fight any less. Atsushi seemed to be reacting similarly.
When Takemichi finally went limp and Sanzu packed him into the back seat, Yamagishi surprised everyone by sinking his teeth into the arm of the guy who was holding him. The car was already pulling away, but the sound of that poor grunt’s screaming attracted the attention of everyone who was on foot. Yamagishi was promptly let go, and he started to make a break for door.
Pandemonium ensued.
People started scrambling for the kid, grabbing ahold of his clothes, which he slipped out of. He managed to slap a hand on the back trunk before someone tackled him to the ground. Chifuyu was getting ready to howl when Yamagishi was suddenly back on his feet. He was standing over the boy who’d laid him out, blood dripping down his fisted hand. Being the smart little shit that he was, he’d purposefully snapped his glasses and used the pointed plastic-slash-glass piece to give the boy a wicked cut. The kid was writhing, the arm to his uniform cut, and weeping blood on the road.
Yamagishi managed to stay on his feet for about a minute--a pretty good time for the second weakest kid in the group--and made a total of seven people bleed. Chifuyu was proud to admit that sometimes being smart outweighed strength. With everyone thoroughly focused on Yamagishi’s boldness, not a single person saw two kids on bikes start after the car.
He sent a silent thanks to the bespectacled kid, who was now getting the everloving shit beaten out of him, because Mokoto and Takuya were now home-free. Yamagishi didn’t last more than a few punches before he was lying still on the concrete, but he’d done enough.
(The part of him that sounded like Baji laughed, a pointed smile clear in his voice, as he thought the kid had spunk. He seemed like he’d be fun, and if not, someone good to have on your side. He’s got guts, that’s what Baji would have said.)
With no other reason to stick around, everyone present got a sucker punch for their efforts and were dropped to the ground. People streamed away from Takemichi’s house like nothing had ever happened--some climbing on bikes, and others just leaving through the alleys. The blonde had only ever heard stories about the fifth division, but everything that had just happened seemed in line with what he’d happened to hear. Nothing ever had to be reported by the fifth division, so there was no way to know if they’d truly been mobilized or if some low levels just wanted to make shit up for clout. (He owed them an apology.)
Chifuyu gave his hand to Atsushi, who was still reeling from the parting punch, and pulled him to his feet. Evidently, his hair had been pulled because it hung loosely in waves around his grateful smile.
“Thanks,” he grunted.
The blonde just nodded, fondness leaking into his features.
“Are they gone?”
From where he’d been lying Yamagishi was frantically checking the streets, trying to catch sight of any other Toman members.
“Yes, you little rat, they’re gone,” Atsushi sighed. “They fell for your little ‘playing dead’ act.”
Yamagishi sat himself up at a speed that made it seem like he hadn’t just gotten beat to hell and back. “For your information, I am not a rat, I’m a possum. And I’m also a genius, so you’re welcome.”
Chifuyu couldn’t help the laugh that left his lips. “That was a pretty clever move, keeping everyone’s attention on you and not the boys.”
“Of course!” the boy shouted. “That was entirely intentional!”
Atsushi merely groaned at his antics, and sat himself down beside the other boy. In lieu of anything else, Chifuyu joined them. Because all they could do was wait. It felt like hours, but it was probably only minutes. (Probably, he told himself. Probably.)
When his phone finally rang, he could barely understand what Takuya was saying. The other boy was wheezing and trying to whisper, but the moment Chifuyu caught the street address he made the boy promise to not let Mucho leave with Takemichi. He was already dialing Draken’s number, not even bothering to hear the other’s assent.
When Draken and Mitsuya rolled up to the warehouse, they did not expect a single thing that they saw. Two of Takemitchy’s school friends were pacing outside of the building, every door wedged shut with scrap that was lying around, or in one case, Makoto’s bicycle. From inside, they could clearly hear Mucho shouting, but neither boy even stepped foot near the door he was screaming behind.
The second Mucho got involved, Draken wanted to leave him be; there were rules set out for the fifth division to investigate, and it simply wasn’t any of Draken’s business. He told the duo as much, and stepped forward to open the door when Takuya bodily blocked his way.
“You’re not gonna open that door unless you can convince me you’re gonna kick his teeth in,” the blonde hissed.
Taken aback by the balls Takemitchy’s crew had, he crossed his arms. He wasn’t threatened in the least--a bit miffed for being talked down to by someone who shouldn’t have even been in a gang, but he wasn’t angry. (He was surprised more than anything. Maybe even entertained.)
“Oh? And why is that? You’re gettin’ in the way of shit you don’t understand.”
“Seeing as this has nothing to do with Mucho--the fifth division leader of Toman--and everything to do with Mucho--one of the founding members of Tenjiku--I think you might not want to let him escape.”
The kid looked at him without fear, yet his hands shook where he held them out, his posture hunched in preparation for a beating. At the very least, whether he believed it or not, Takuya did, and he’d be fighting tooth and nail for it. Draken couldn’t ignore a conviction like that--even if he thought the kid was full of shit.
“That’s a pretty big accusation,” Draken drawled. “Got anything to support it?”
Draken was ready to see him flounder, to come up with some lie right on the spot. Takuya didn’t move, didn’t so much as blink in the face of Draken’s scrutiny. (He was impressed.) Instead of the kid waxing poetic, or rightfully keeping his mouth shut, a hollow scream sounded from within the building.
Draken took a step back, and quickly searched for Mitsuya’s eyes. They shared a twin look of what the fuck? before looking towards the two before them--who didn’t so much as budge.
“That was Koko,” the tall one--Makoto--spoke. “Inui and Takemichi are in there too.”
The scream started up again, but this time the words were telligable. Draken really, truly wished he hadn’t heard them
Please, the kid sobbed. Stop it! Stop hurting him! I already said I’d go with you! I agreed! Inupi please wake up, please. Stop!
Draken came to the conclusion that maybe Takemitchy’s friends were a bit rougher around the edges--stronger than he’d thought they were--because they’d been here for who knew how long listening to the veritable torture of his friend and division mates. He also realized that maybe these kids had a point; deals were not something Mucho was allowed to make.
Draken made to gra the door, but Takuya grabbed his wrist. His face was blank as he stared at Draken--scared shitless, no doubt--but he put up the facade pretty well. “Convince me,” he said.
Draken didn’t smile, because he thought the kid wouldn’t take it well, but he did send a sidelong glance to Mitsuya. “I don’t really think there’s anything I could say to make you believe me, but considering that bastard just made that sound, I’m fully willing to stop whatever’s going on in there. So, you gonna let me or do I need to kick your ass first?”
Apparently that was good enough--or maybe his friend had waved him off--because Takuya stepped away.
An hour later, Takemichi woke up in his bed, Inui deposited beside him, with Yamagishi and Koko both asleep leaning against the mattress. Every bone in his body ached, and he wasn’t convinced he’d be able to see out of his right eye for at least another day, but it seemed like everything had turned out alright in the end. (However that actually happened.)
He simply rolled onto his side, relieving the ache that was starting to build in his back, and met the half opened eyes of Yamagishi--which lacked glasses, he might add. He had road rash reaching from the collar of his shirt all the way up to his hairline, and there were puffy cuts on his upper lip and nose.
“Who did that to you?” Takemichi snickered, knowing the kid had to have been dragged across concrete.
“Shut the fuck up,” was the sleepy response, but Yamagishi was smiling. “We staged a full-scale, para-military strike to get you back, alright? No making fun of us--especially me--until I can beat your ass for it.”
Takemichi just laughed, warmth replacing the icy feeling of dread that had made a home in his chest.
Takemichi didn’t think he appreciated his friends this much the first time around, and that was downright criminal of him. He ought to do something to make it up to them one of these days, but just what would do the trick?
He fell asleep to a winding staircase of thoughts, trying to figure out how to thank the only people in his life who didn’t need his thanks.