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Why was it that people craved power?
Be it social standing, wealth, justice, or authority; they all always wanted something to lift themselves up. But it was a special pleasure to see things from above, to see people below under one’s mercy. It was better that way. Having power provides people with the ability to do what they want to do in life. They have control over more things.
They have the freedom.
They have the things they need.
They could get what they wanted.
That was power.
They could act like themselves rather than having to act as others would like them to be.
Those with power didn’t need to worry about bowing their heads.
Power was a means, similar to money. When one doesn’t have talents, love, or passion, or if they weren’t innocent and childlike, then one would crave attention and recognition.
Because when one couldn’t keep their head high—
The only thing they could do was to bow down to those who could.
卍
The third-year threw a punch.
“Guh-!”
The hit landed on Mikey’s chest, hurling him down. It caused his head to reel sickeningly as it slammed into the floor below. A sharp pain bloomed from his head and back where he landed. His eyesight blurred, colors swimming around. When black dots quit covering his vision, he wheezed, clutching his face, eyes watering.
The knee hit to his face earlier still stung. He felt blood dripping out from his nose.
“Mikey!” Akkun yelled.
“Asshole,” Mikey spat, snorting the blood out of his nostril.
He glared at the person in front of him.
“I’ve seen those eyes before. Don’t get angry at us. It was your fault you didn’t get our drinks,” the third-year said. He pointed at the ground. “As for your punishment for disobeying, kneel down and apologize to me!”
Mikey wanted to tell him to fuck off. Say that they were assholes who only felt good when they looked down on others. But he didn’t have a choice. Any more “rebellion” from him would only result in more beating. He was left now with a swollen eye, busted lips, and a bloody nose. Yamagishi and Makoto laid on the floor groaning. They wouldn’t be able to take hits even if Mikey stepped in to take half of it for them.
Akkun shakily got to his knees and put his hands on the ground, his head touching it. He was shaking; from the impact of the punches or fear, Mikey doesn’t know.
“I… I’m sorry,” he managed.
Mikey gritted his teeth. He swallowed his shame and also got into a seiza-style position.
“W-We’re sorry,” he forced out.
The words made him feel sick to the stomach.
“Heh. Took you long enough to say it,” their senior huffed. “From today onwards, you shits are soldiers of the Tokyo Manji Gang. so work asses off, okay!”
Once the third-years went away, Mikey slumped and fell over. It hurted. His blond hair was a mess, hair tie nowhere to be seen. He didn’t have energy to fix it or push it away. Everything in his body hurted. His arms, legs, and chest were sore. Akkun scrambled to help Takuya, who had the worst injuries among all of them.
“Don’t tell anyone I cried,” Yamagishi sniffed.
“Same here,” Makoto groaned.
This is the worst.
Mikey listlessly looked at the sky.
The Tokyo Manji Gang.
That was right.
It all started from that. The daily hell of them being used in any way those bastards wanted.
Mikey hated them. He hated the gang so much. The members of the gang thought they were cool for that. They have the power to do it so it wasn't like they could be stopped easily. The one who didn't have power was him and no one else.
This isn’t fair, he thought while stuffing a tissue into his nose.
Blood stained his white shirt.
“Go die, you fuckers,” he muttered to himself.
Mikey’s eyes watered and he started sobbing.
It was scary.
So scary.
He doesn’t dare go against them.
He was all bark and no bite. Delinquents were supposed to be cool and don’t bend for anyone or anything, but why couldn’t he be like them? Those delinquents his late brother always talked about. Why was it that it all came back to his useless pathetic, crybaby self? Back to the fact that Mikey wasn’t strong at all.
He couldn’t help sobbing as he laid there, biting on his lips in a useless attempt to stifle the sounds he made.
“Mikey-kun…” Akkun started.
The others kept silent as Mikey curled up to cry.
He was glad none of them tried to make him feel better. It sure hurted. But he didn’t want to be treated as someone fragile either. He was the one who took the hits for his friends, he wasn’t anyone weak. He couldn’t afford to be anyway. As the foundation and support for his group, if the pillar himself were to display weakness, his friends would also be weakened.
There was a cold feeling pooling into his gut. He tensed and quickly pushed it down. Until the day it completely consumes him, he wouldn’t give in yet.
“Mikey!” Takuya exclaimed the next day. “I’ve been looking for you!”
Mikey turned back.
“Takuha?” he asked, muffled by the dorayaki he was eating.
“Oi,” Akkun called out. He pushed open the bathroom door. “Everyone, get together.”
Once the five of them were gathered inside Akkun continued, “We’ll be doing an underground fight today too. Kiyomasa just called me.” He looked at each of them grimly. “And the fighter today is Takuya. It’s been decided.”
Everyone glanced at Takuya.
They all knew that he had the weakest body.
“I see…” Takuya nodded.
“But it’s impossible for Takuya!” Yamagishi insisted.
“He ain’t any good at fighting!” Makoto agreed.
Akkun clenched his fist.
“Tell that to Kiyomasa then!” he nearly snapped at them. “Can you?” he challenged before turning away in shame. “...If I could take his place, I would.”
“Mikey-kun…”
Mikey looked up from the floor.
Takuya smiled at him.
“Watch my fight!” he laughed. He jokingly punched Mikey’s chest. “I’m gonna get revenge for you. If I win this, you’ll buy me some gyudon, won’t you?” he asked.
Mikey licked the bean paste off his lips. “Of course. My treat.”
“Do your best, Takuya,” Akkun cheered as he patted Takuya’s shoulder.
“Okay,” Takuya nodded.
“You can’t lose when it comes to determination!” Makoto said.
The three of them left the bathroom first, Yamagishi trailing them. Mikey followed after they were a distance away. As he walked, he stared at their backs. They were either slightly taller or shorter than him, but Mikey couldn’t feel that he was just a bit smaller. He took a deep breath and ran, jumping at Akkun.
“Taku-chin! Let’s go!” he grinned.
Akkun struggled to catch and carry him properly. “Jeez… not again,” he sighed.
“If you strain yourself, just yell alright?” Yamagishi grinned.
“Mn,” Takuya said.
At the park, students roared and cheered as the fighters were brought to the “fighting ring”. It was around after school. Mikey was sitting cross-legged near the back row seats and scanning the crowd. It seemed that a rather large crowd had gathered. He moved his head, bangs covering half his vision.
The wounds from yesterday still hurted and his face was itching from the bandages. He was about to ask Akkun to peel them off when the fight started.
“Hello, gentleman! The competitors are just as said in the email!” the announcer declared. He gestured at a guy with a bad hair dye job and an equally hideous haircut to top it off. “First up: we have Sakura Middle’s Kojima!”
The student raised a hand at the crowd.
“Don’t just stand there, moron!”
“If you lose, I’ll make you eat dirt goddammit!”
The announcer then pointed at another student. “And Mizo Middle’s Yamamoto!”
Takuya gulped, taking a hesitant step forward.
“The odds are 4 to 6 slightly in Junzo’s favor!” the announcer yelled. The mass rumbled in excitement. Mikey wondered how they weren’t found out yet. They screamed threats of punishment; mostly of the money they betted on them.
“Give it all ya got, Yamamotooo!”
“I bet 500 yen on ya!”
Takuya gulped, hands trembling as he balled them.
He looked around the place.
Somewhere on a higher place, Kiyomasa took a drag of his cigarette.
“Begin,” he simply said.
That was when Mikey decided it was enough.
“Hold on just a second you dipshits.”
His voice rang out loud and clear. Everyone turned to see Mikey who had stood up. He was short so he had to step up on his seat. A wind blew through the place and his bangs fluttered. Yamamoto’s face morphed into temporary relief but soon panicked. However, a student clicked their tongue.
“Mi-Mikey!” Akkun and Yamagishi hissed.
“Shit,” Makoto muttered.
“The fuck you doing, shithead!?” someone harshly yelled.
Mikey nonchalantly gazed at the people and place. As usual his blank face only stirred more mutters. “Ain’t it really boring having the same type of fights every single time?” he asked, tilting his head. “Don’tcha wanna watch something more interesting?” he added. “You’re bored of this, right?”
“He’s pretty smart for a first year punk!”
To the person who said that, I remember your face, Mikey grumbled.
“Who is he anyways?”
“A second year?”
Kiyomasa regarded Mikey. “Something more interesting?”
Mikey waved his hand aside. He had an amused smile on his face despite the twisting feeling in his stomach. “How about… the king versus the slave?” he suggested.
The park was filled with confused mutters.
“Hah?”
“The fuck that mean?”
“Oi, oi, oi. A badass dude did come!”
“Huh?”
“Kiyomasa-kun. Let’s have a one-on-one fight,” Mikey said. He gripped his wrist.
As he walked down to meet the third-year, he whispered to Takuya. “If I win this, buy me omurice, okay?” he asked. “I want a reward for my hard work.”
Kiyomasa’s frame loomed above him when he arrived at the ring. The boy was not small by any means. Mikey leisurely tied up his hair, leaving some bangs on the front. A vein bulged out on Kiyomasa’s forehead.
“Don’t regret this later,” he warned.
Mikey nearly didn’t register the hit coming at him.
In a flash, he dodged it. Kiyomasa stumbled past him, cursing as bad as his personality. Mikey reacted. He threw his leg up and hit him square on the jaw.
“Eat shit,” he muttered.
He spun and threw a punch.
Kiyomasa caught his hand, grabbed it, then threw him to the ground. Mikey felt himself go light. He let out a grunt but didn’t stay long. He barely managed to roll away as a hit came down to where he was. He scrambled to his feet, clenched fists in front of his face. He shifted his body a little to the side.
Kiyomasa’s next hit came from below. Mikey pushed his head down, bending his knees slightly.
The limb went above.
He tumbled, bobbing back to his place in a “U” shape.
“Impressive,” he mumbled.
Then Mikey was slugged on the side of his ribs. He didn’t, no— couldn’t react fast enough. His mouth opened but no sound came out. Without a second of waste, Kiyomasa planted his knee into Mikey’s stomach. He was barely keeping himself alive and standing. Defending would be futile.
I can’t win. The difference in strength is that great.
Mikey’s head was beaten. It rang after. Kiyomasa hurled his foot up and hit his chin.
Mikey achieved a few steps of distance.
Blood splashed on the ground.
He wiped his eyes.
Kiyomasa dug the heel of his shoe into Mikey’s face. Mikey swayed backward. His head looked up. The sound from the people was muffled, as if his head was submerged under water. For some reason, he remembered something he once said. It was something like a dream but not exactly either.
“I want to create a new age for delinquents.”
Oh.
It was that childish dream again.
The last string pulled hard and he was brought back. Every spectator — including Kiyomasa — was bewildered to see him still standing.
“You little bastard…”
Mikey’s eyes twitched.
“I’ll kill you.”
The watchers stood up. They cheered like it was on a battlefield, chanting “Finish him!”. But they soon stopped. With blood on his face, Mikey was somehow smiling, yet also crying. “I’ll fucking beat you into shit,” he promised.
Kiyomasa appeared to be just slightly intimidated. “Bring me my bat!” he ordered.
A person ran to get it.
Mikey panted.
“Bring it on. I’ll kill you too,” Kiyomasa said.
Mikey only kept staring. His black irises were unnerving. ‘Do it, I dare you,’ it seemed to say.
There was a steely anger just beneath it.
“You’ve drawn quite a crowd, Kiyomasa,” a new voice drawled.
Everyone stopped.
It sounded soft and gentle, and very comforting. Mikey wondered if it was a teacher. But as soon as Kiyomasa saw the person, his eyes widened. He looked scared. There was no way a voice that sounded like chime bells could scare him. Curious, Mikey dazedly turned to the side to see who it was.
Who… is that? Mikey blinked.
“Blond hair…” Akkun mumbled, “And an armband with a manji symbol…”
“No fucking way!” Makoto exclaimed.
“That’s the President of the Tokyo Manji Gang! Hanagaki Takemichi, also known as the Unrivaled Takemichi!” someone exclaimed. “It’s the leader!”
But Mikey could not see why they would be so scared. Takemichi Hanagaki, Tokyo Manji Gang’s leader, had his posture hunched which made him look informal. People who were sitting down stumbled to get up. As soon as everyone was, the members on both sides bowed their heads low.
“Good work, president!” they shouted in unison.
Takemichi’s expression turned flustered. “A-Ah… you don’t have to call me that!” he awkwardly tried. “Just Takemichi is fine! I-I won’t mind! Seriously, you all!”
I see. This guy is…
Mikey was starting to get the gist of it in the midst of his dizzy mind.
Tokyo Manji gang’s leader.
“Ta… Ta… Hanagaki-kun!” a person greeted him. “I’m with… the third special attack unit. I’m Akaishi.” Mikey recognized him as the guy who beat him and the others the other day. His mood spiraled and he was pissed again.
Takemichi took one glance at him and turned back.
“Do it later.”
Mikey had to stop himself from laughing.
“O-oh uh… I-I’m sorry,” Akaishi said as he stepped away.
Takemichi walked up to Kiyomasa. Now that he was nearer, Mikey realized the person wasn’t even much taller than him, reaching about Kiyomasa’s shoulder. Takemichi stopped and stared at Kiyomasa. The other reluctantly bowed.
“Good work,” he said.
Takemichi smiled. “Face or stomach?”
“Huh?”
"Face it is.”
Takemichi promptly decided that before reaching out to grab the other’s head and pulled it down to his raised knee. In an instant Kiyomasa doubled over.
“Kiyomasa-kun. Since when did you become so important?” Takemichi asked. His happy face was still the same but somehow it turned slightly dark. “Were you seriously going to greet me with that shallow bow? That’s rude.”
“I-” Kiyomasa coughed. “I understand!”
“Good,” Takemichi smiled.
Mikey finally realized Takemichi was walking towards him.
“Ah…”
Come to think of it, he has been wondering who was the leader for some time. He remembered getting angry at whoever the person was since they let Kiyomasa and several other people do whatever they wanted. He hated them for giving others the standing to do it. One night he promised to hit the person if they ever met.
With that in mind, Mikey readid his stance and launched a kick at Takemichi. To hell if it would get into something that would come back to bite his ass. But the after effects of the fight’s strain must have caught because he slipped.
“Ah! Be careful!”
Mikey didn’t fall immediately.
Takemichi was holding from his back before setting him down slowly. “Are you okay?”
“Uh-”
Great.
He forgot how to speak.
“What’s your name?” Takemichi asked, leaning down close to Mikey’s face.
“Mi… Mikey,” he gulped.
“Hm, I’m pretty sure that isn’t a Japanese name,” Takemichi said to no one particularly. “What’s your real name?”
Oh wow, he’s got some really bright blue eyes, Mikey thought as he stared into them. He realized the question was for him and snapped his head up.
“It’s- Sano Manjiro…” he trailed off.
“I see.”
Takemichi nodded. “Manjiro. Okay, I’ll call you that.”
“Huh?”
Mikey felt his face heat up a little. Truth to be told it has been years he ever had someone call him by his real name. Not even his family referred to him other than Mikey’. So having his real name — his first name no less — called by a stranger felt a bit intimate. Especially when Takemichi suddenly squatted and somewhat straddled him, it was natural Mikey made a squeak.
Takemichi’s hand snaked behind him and suddenly clenched Mikey’s head even nearer to his. “Hey, are you sure you’re a middle schooler?” he asked.
Mikey blinked, intimidated by the close face.
He swallowed hard.
“Manjiro-kun, I’ve decided.” Takemichi smiled. “From today onwards you’re my friend!”