Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dairiseki Haruka knew what defeat tasted like. He’d bit the dirt more than a few times. He’d dragged himself upright after facing fists, boots, and scorn. He’d lasted long in empty rooms. And he’d survived all of it.

But this, he decided, was the worst defeat had ever tasted—like the memory of food.

When he first moved to the area, he’d lived in an apartment in a different town entirely. It was… nicer there. It was small and had its fair share of graffiti and aimless punks, but still pleasant, with trees and grocery stores and stuff. The apartment itself had been nothing to be proud of; it was barely two rooms, with no fridge or stove, in a ramshackle old complex that promised to burn down one day. Sadly, that day happened to fall about two weeks into his living there.

That had sucked.

He didn’t have much to mourn in the apartment except some meager savings, but it meant leaving Makochi. The slum he lived in now was the only other place within several kilometers that he could afford rent. And if finding work in Makochi had been hard, it was downright impossible in Sunaba.

Haruka was used to scraping by, but even he had a limit.

And here, stumbling down a grungy side street, he wondered if he was reaching it.

His stomach growled, but he ignored it, forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other. He couldn’t risk stopping. His head was so foggy that his odds of getting up again if he sat down were too low. He just had to make it back to his apartment. Then he could rest and try to think about something other than food.

Like getting a job. Which was getting harder and harder; not only did he look outlandish, now he looked fragile. He felt fragile. There wasn’t much to go around in the slum, especially when you weren’t the only one rummaging through the dumpsters, so even his tried-and-true foraging techniques were failing him.

Defeat now tasted like the smell of food he couldn’t have, and he was losing hope of that changing. He just felt trapped.

He’d stopped walking. The late-spring sky was pink on the horizon, and he took a moment to appreciate that he didn’t need a jacket. It was interrupted by the smell of baked goods drifting in from the street behind him.

He needed to keep walking, preferably away from the café he’d been chased out of and towards his hole of an apartment.

But his vision slumped dangerously, and that was that. Resigned, he let himself curl up against a wall, head in his hands, staring at the grimy cement beneath his feet.

The smell from that grubby little café continued to drift around him. He wished he could hate it.

He wasn’t trying to steal, but the baker didn’t care about that. All she saw was a dirty, delinquent brat lingering too close to her storefront, trying to rejuvenate off of the smell alone. His retreat would have been humiliating if he had the energy to pity himself, but he hadn’t had that in a long time.

A few people walked past him as he sat for… he didn’t know how long, but at least they left him alone.

Until, inevitably, a set of worn shoes paused somewhere just within his periphery.

Haruka glanced at their owner. The shot of adrenaline made his head feel marginally better, and he prepared to react if they decided to make trouble. But they didn’t. It was just a scrawny guy around his age, with a billowing t-shirt, a bowl cut, and enormous, empty eyes.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. The only notable thing about T-shirt, really, was the large manila folder he held loosely by his side, and the ripped piece of white fabric wrapped around his bicep. An injury, maybe? Haruka couldn’t tell.

The moment passed. T-shirt kept walking, reaching the main road and turning in the direction of the bakery.

Haruka went back to contemplating the asphalt. Maybe sitting down hadn’t been such a terrible idea—his energy now gathered, he stood a better chance of getting home safely. He just had to convince himself to stand. The tricky part.

But, as he debated, he heard the returning scuff of worn shoes.

T-shirt was back. His manila folder was gone, and in its place he carried a small grocery bag. This time, he stopped in front of Haruka deliberately, his head slightly tilted as if considering an equation.

“…What?” Haruka growled, the noise catching roughly in his dry throat.

The boy blinked. “Nothing,” he said humbly. Then he reached to root around in his bag, hand emerging with a cookie wrapped in wax paper. He tore it in two and lowered one half towards Haruka.

… Huh? Haruka stared at the torn piece of cookie. Then back at T-shirt.

“Take it,” T-shirt prompted.

Haruka started to reach for it, hunger momentarily overruling his mortification, before his mind caught up with his hand and he stopped, blushing. “R-really?”

T-shirt shrugged. “I just ran a few errands for old lady Kuroyama, and she included the cookie as a bonus. I spend the money on cat food, anyway, so it’s not like you’re taking from me.”

Haruka still wasn’t sure, but… he accepted the cookie piece. The boy nodded, satisfied, and continued on without another word. Haruka watched him go before shaking himself back to the present. No one could accuse him of being raised with manners, but he knew about them.

“Hey… thanks.” Haruka called after the boy.

T-shirt briefly stopped and returned an easy thumbs up, his hollow eyes softened by a small smile, before continuing on his way.

Haruka looked down at the piece of cookie in his hand. It was a hearty size, even for just one half.

He’d have to savor it.

T-shirt’s cookie gave him enough blood sugar to make it back to his apartment, splash water on his face, and immediately fall asleep. He woke up the next morning not exactly refreshed, definitely hungry, and marginally better than he’d felt the night before. Better enough to try again.

He decided to strike out early. The crisp morning air left him feeling almost optimistic as he strode through the neighborhood backstreets, hands loose in his pockets, towards the train station. Not that he planned on going anywhere. Surrounding the station were a few meager cafés and convenience stores. Maybe he’d find a table or two of leftovers, or, better yet, someone who needed a hand carrying boxes.

T-shirt’s story about running errands gave him hope that, even if he couldn’t get a real job, he might at least be able to earn a snack.

He was close to the station when he heard shouting.

He paused, vigilant. Several rough voices merged from somewhere around the corner and he recognized the shouts and thuds of a fight. At first he hesitated. Then he heard the words “You idiots—it’s just one guy!”

Never mind.

He took the corner at a run, turning it to see a small band of punks failing to dogpile a guy. A couple of them were already strewn about the ground while four were trying to make a violent heap on top of someone who clearly didn’t want to be there. Haruka took a millisecond to appreciate the lay of the land before hurling himself at the scrum.

A forceful kick dislodged the guy closest to him, sending him flying to join the other two on the ground. It caught the attention of the remaining three as one of them jumped back, fists raised. “Wha—you—!” he managed to yell before Haruka silenced him with a knee to the forehead.

With the last two now sufficiently distracted, the guy under attack managed to tear himself loose. Haruka didn’t pay any attention to him, more focused on the opponent at hand, who happened to be quite a bit bigger than him. Not that it mattered. Haruka folded out of his clumsy tackle into a back handspring, downing the bigger guy with a square kick to the jaw.

Haruka landed on all fours, a bit dizzy from the adrenaline and hunger, but he forced himself back upright for the final opponent.

The final opponent who was already falling under a blow to the head by the other guy.

At first, Haruka didn’t recognize him, half of his long hair spilling out of its mangled bun and into his face. It took a second, Haruka’s mismatched eyes drawing a blank at the guy’s hollow ones, but then—

“Oh. You’re the one from yesterday…” T-shirt said, straightening to catch his breath.

It clicked and Haruka allowed himself to slowly rise, confused, to better commit T-shirt’s disheveled appearance to memory. He was wearing the same baggy t-shirt as yesterday, its collar noticeably stretched and stained, with that same strip of white fabric on his arm.

“Yeah… thanks again… for the cookie,” Haruka said.

The blank smile came back as he untied and retied his hair. “No, thank you for your help,” he said, “It’s nice to meet you properly. I’m Suzuri Shuhei.”

“… Dairiseki Haruka,” Haruka replied. He might have said more but he began to hear the thunder of footsteps behind them.

“There!” someone shouted from down the street. Sure enough, at least ten guys came hurdling around the corner, promising violence. “You leave him alone!”

Haruka tensed, ready for a rematch, when Suzuri rushed to stand in front of him with arms spread wide.

“Wait!” he called, “He’s a friend!”

Haruka did a double take. So did the oncoming crowd. They all came to a curious stop in front of them, murmuring to each other.

“Suzuri, you know this guy?” one of the forerunners asked skeptically.

“Yes,” Suzuri nodded, “This is Dairiseki. He helped me out just now,” he said, gesturing at the pile behind them.

Meanwhile, Haruka scanned the crowd, unconvinced. Who were these people? Why were there so many of them together? Then he noticed they all wore similar pieces of white cloth, and a hint of suspicion curled in the back of his mind.

“I haven’t seen him around before,” another guy challenged, eyebrows furrowed suspiciously at Haruka from over Suzuri’s shoulder. Haruka glared back, setting his feet apart.

“I only met him yesterday, but I owe him for taking care of those guys for me,” Suzuri assured. “I was in real trouble.”

An uneasy mutter ran through the crowd. “Sorry, Suzuri…” another one of them ventured. Suzuri cut them off. “Don’t be, even we can’t be everywhere at once. And I’m fine,” Suzuri said, turning back to Haruka gratefully.

“Still,” the first guy insisted, “It’s bad news if they’re sending guys who were giving you that much trouble.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Suzuri admitted.

“Hey,” Haruka interrupted them, tired of being left to his suspicions. “Mind cluing me in on what’s going on here?”

He expected Suzuri to respond, but instead he felt the unsettling attention of about a dozen pairs of eyes locking onto him at once.

“We’re Gravel,” one of them said without preamble. It clarified very little. Haruka squinted, trying to figure out which context clues he was missing, but Suzuri took up the slack.

“We’re a team that works together to cover a lot of odd jobs around here,” he explained. “You probably know this, but it’s hard to find work around Sunaba. We try to take care of each other as best we can by splitting commissions. Still,” Suzuri cast a meaningful glance at the still-unconscious men behind them, “Some jobs attract unfriendly attention.”

“Suzuri’s being modest; he’s our leader, and the strongest guy we’ve got,” added another guy.

The rest of the crowd rumbled with agreement and even Haruka could recognize their protective tone. He considered Suzuri again, remembering how many guys it’d taken to hold him down and the solidity of his last punch. It made him wonder what kind of “jobs” Suzuri meant. Running errands was one thing, but he could imagine what else might come up somewhere as unsavory as Sunaba, and why someone like Suzuri would need to be strong.

It wasn’t unbelievable, but a good look at him and his team(?) showed that none of them were impressively fit. Most of them shared the same hollowed-out look in their eye. A look Haruka had seen in his own reflection last night, right before splashing the handful of water on his face.

Meanwhile, Suzuri cast his team a fond look. “If you guys say so.”

Then he turned back to Haruka, knocking him out of his brooding. “Say, Dairiseki, do you live around here?”

Haruka nodded, unsure of where he was going with this but unsurprised by the comment. “I just moved here.”

Suzuri tilted his head quizzically, a sentiment matched by the group behind him.

“Not… many people find themselves moving here,” Suzuri said slowly. “Did your parents…”

Suzuri stopped as Haruka jerked his head in a single harsh movement. “Nah, it’s just me. I… was somewhere else, but it burned down. Now I’m here.”

There was a lot of blinking at that, though Haruka didn’t know what was special about what he said. Maybe that he didn’t come with parents.

“Oh, well… are you working somewhere?” Suzuri ventured.

Haruka shook his head again, feeling his face flush. He wasn’t sure why he was revealing so many pathetic details to strangers. Maybe he was just out of practice talking to people.

Suzuri stared at him with his big hollow eyes and Haruka didn’t know what to do about it. Then he turned that stare back on the group behind him where it lingered unmoving for some time. For whatever reason, a bunch of them shrugged in response, and Haruka considered that Suzuri might be capable of communicating telepathically.

“Well,” Suzuri said slowly, “In that case… how would you feel about throwing your hat in with us?”

Now it was Haruka’s turn to blink.

“We split everything equally among us, and you did just help me rough up some guys trying to outbid us for a job,” Suzuri continued carefully. “We could use someone strong like you.”

One more blink. Haruka looked over Suzuri’s shoulder at the group behind him. All he saw was neutrality and curiosity, a far cry from their original hostility.

“He is really strong,” Suzuri said the others, picking up on whatever staring context Haruka had started. “He knocked a guy out with a back flip.”

There were some appreciative murmurs at that, and one of the guys spoke up from the front.

“If Suzuri’s vouching for him, it’s probably fine.” Everyone seemed to agree, and memory of the piece of cookie, still warm, snuck into his chest to replace the suspicion.

“I’m glad you think so,” Suzuri said, relieved. “Well, Dairiseki?”

Haruka hesitated, but really, he had nothing better going for him.

“… Okay.”

And so Dairiseki Haruka found himself walking away with a white rag around his wrist and far too much company.

That evening, Suzuri and the others showed him their main meeting place: the dilapidated husk of a playground park.

Covered in mildewing plastic and other layers of refuse, the playground once served the nearby middle schools’ kids, but rust and the ever-present members of Gravel deterred them these days. Suzuri explained that he and most of his friends had met at that middle school. Neither questioned whether the other attended high school.

Haruka also learned that very few members of Gravel could afford phones, he himself joining the ranks of the few that did. It didn’t help him much though—he still had hardly any idea how to use the thing—but luckily for him it didn’t really matter. Gravel was minimally tech dependent as a whole, preferring the word-of-mouth updates funneled through their regular check-ins at the park.

That was also how Haruka found out how big of a team Gravel really was.

Haruka watched as well over thirty guys milled around the park. Suzuri wandered over to stand nearby as Haruka leaned against a concrete planter, scanning the crowd.

“Only a portion of the team meets up at a time, but we try to check in with each other as much as we can,” he explained.

Haruka looked at him, surprised. The group in front of his hardly seemed like a small fraction of anything.

“What do you mean, why only a few at a time?”

Suzuri frowned. “There are a lot of reasons. Some of us have part time jobs or family members that need caretaking, and others are out scouting for work. If there’s a construction job that’s willing to pay under the table, or rumors of a gang conflict nearby, then we can farm out as many of us as they’ll pay for. Then we report back here and decide what to do,” he said.

He saw Suzuri watch his reaction, but Haruka just nodded along. It made sense.

“Dairiseki, are you used to fighting?” Suzuri asked suddenly.

Haruka hunched his shoulders, not meeting Suzuri’s eyes.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Now Suzuri nodded along, thoughtful again. “Yes, it is.”

Suzuri stepped away from the planter and Haruka thought maybe that would be then end of it. He prepared to linger, awkwardly watching from the sidelines, but Suzuri stopped, glancing back.

“I meant what I said, Dairiseki—I can tell you’re really strong.”

Haruka felt his face heat up, unnerved by the compliment, but Suzuri continued.

“Most of my friends aren’t particularly good fighters. Only a few of us can hold our own in a brawl. We rely on our numbers to overwhelm our enemies, but, like you saw today, that isn’t always enough. Even we can’t be everywhere at once,” Suzuri said, his frown deepening.

“When I saw you yesterday, you looked so tired, and I empathized. I feel that way a lot, these days,” Suzuri said, the dark shadows under his eyes exacerbated by the sidelong angle. “But when you saved me today, I empathized with you in a different way. You looked like you’d never accept defeat, even if it killed you. I admire that.”

The dimness in Suzuri’s eyes softened slightly as he looked at Haruka again, catching him as he wrestled his blush into a scowl.

“Dairiseki, will you use that strength to take care of my friends, please?”

The question caught Haruka off guard, and he felt his eyes grow wide. He didn’t know how to answer, but Suzuri seemed to know that. Either way, he kept walking, leaving Haruka to his thoughts.

Namely that one had ever had anything to admire him for before.

Haruka’s routine didn’t immediately change after meeting Suzuri and joining Gravel, except that after the park meeting the next day he somehow walked away the owner of 162 yen. It was enough for onigiri at FamilyMart, and he slept better that night than he had in weeks.

The day after that, Suzuri texted him that he’d found a rumor of a turf war brewing between two rival gangs a town over.

Two days later, Haruka watched the world speed by outside the train window, crammed into a car with the several dozen other white-bands with the change to spare for the ticket.

He barely knew these guys. He resisted fidgeting with the scrap of white cloth he’d stuffed in his pocket, his knuckles pale as he squeezed a pole. A few of the others were talking quietly. Collectively they ignored the other passengers who ignored them in turn. Fortunately, the trip was short, and they emerged atop an overpass station dividing a suburb from a bar district. Their destination was neither, but Haruka couldn’t help casting a pensive glance down before reaching the stairs.

Makochi had been wreathed in cherry blossoms when he’d first moved there, but now the town glimmered green.

He descended with the others. They kept their white cloths stashed for the time being, under strict instructions from Suzuri not to cause a scene until they reached their rendezvous point. Haruka, possessor of a cell phone with a brand-new map app and tentative familiarity with the area, wound up taking point.

The aforementioned client was a group calling themselves ‘Zinc.' Haruka decided he didn’t like them pretty much immediately. Suzuri explained in his texts that Zinc had taken some serious hits from a stronger team recently, and now their rival, the Spaltips, threatened to make a move on their territory.

Haruka couldn’t care less about all that. The guys they met up with didn’t impress him at all, snipping out rude remarks from behind luxury sunglasses and fake gold chains. Haruka shut it down as best he could with some well-placed glares, but it barely worked.

At least he was geared up when the fighting started.

Zinc told Gravel to stay back at first, let the Zinc guys lure the Spaltips into their empty warehouse-base, before blocking off the exists and backing up Zinc. It made Haruka uneasy, admittedly, standing here among perfect strangers, watching at a distance as more strangers pummeled each other to pieces. He didn’t like the feel of these Spaltips guys that much better, with their mocking voices and matching leather. They were all lame, so where did they get off thinking any of this had a point.

One of the guys next to Haruka flinched, hard, as someone in the mess broke another’s jaw on concrete. Haruka clenched his fists, feeling the tension from the cloth around his wrist and remembering Suzuri’s words before they left.

“Remember; if even one of you makes it back victorious, we’ll all win today. This is how we can take care of each other.”

Haruka turned to look at the handful of guys behind him. He saw a mixed bag of apprehension, dulled concern, and determination. The rest of their team was scattered around the perimeter, thinking who-knows-what. Probably about the fact that this is what it took to eat something tonight.

“Hey,” he said, just loud enough to catch their attention. “Only one of us needs to win, right?”

The guys looked at each other before nodding in agreement.

“Great. In that case, you all can just stay here. I’ll take care of it on my own.”

He turned around to face the opening of their alleyway, uncaring of what their response might be. The Zinc idiots hadn’t clarified a signal or anything like that, because they were idiots, and Haruka had long had enough of waiting. He bolted through the open door.

The rest of the Gravel guys must have taken that for the unofficial signal, because the rest of them came pouring in right after.

Haruka didn’t really care, he was just tired of watching losers squabble over their stupid pride.

It was a blur of flying fists and kicks for a while. He knew, on principal, that he was only supposed to be aiming for the Spaltips’ black jackets, but he didn’t have the energy to spare ensuring that the Zinc idiots were okay. So, he ignored everyone, singularly focused on getting this over with, busting the heads of as many Spaltips as he could find.

The fight was over in minutes.

“Yooo, maniac!” someone crowed as Haruka scanned the warehouse survivors. It took a moment for Haruka to realized they were calling after him.

“What.”

“You’re some kinda berserker, you know that?” leered one of the Zinc guys Haruka vaguely remembered bossing people around earlier. Haruka scowled. What could this joker possibly want…

“Tell you what,” Bossy faux whispered, leaning in conspiratorially. “With skills like yours, you can do waaaay better than those filthy penny-pinchers. How about, instead of getting ripped off by that Suzuri brat, I pay you to come over to our side-“

Bossy crumbled under a blow to the stomach. Haruka stared down at him, revolted.

“Could you be more lame?” he spat. “How about you cough up what you owe instead?”

Suzuri was clever; Haruka could respect that he’d demanded a downpayment on their services, but Haruka had been warned that sometimes people liked to avoid paying.

Haruka couldn’t be bothered with these losers anymore. He stuffed his bloodied hands in his pockets, determined to leave whatever shake-down to people who actually knew what they were doing. A few Zinc guys tried approaching him, but he just growled at them, a warning to back off.

It worked, mostly, except one nervous-looking guy who ran up and offered him an envelope with shaking hands. “I-I’m the-the treasurer…” he stuttered.

Haruka stared, teeth still bared, trying to remember if that word was significant.

Treasurer… Treasurer… oh… someone who took care of money… what did a street gang have a treasurer for?

Haruka accepted the envelope, not knowing what else to do, feeling the eyes of everyone in the warehouse on him. He… did not know what he was supposed to do with this. Should he count it? He did not have the energy for that. He stuffed it in his pocket instead.

“We’re leaving,” he said. He didn’t raise his voice to say it, it kind of just spilled out, a natural slip of honesty. The rest of Gravel surprised him by taking it as another cue, following him as he stormed back towards the train station, eager to put distance between himself and the ingrates.

“You’re good,” one of them murmured as they left earshot.

“Hah?” Haruka grumbled, more focused on gaining distance.

The guy who spoke—Haruka had no clue what his name was—just coughed sheepishly. Haruka noticed him wiping away a bloody nose.

“I just mean, it’s always a hassle getting people like that to pay up if Suzuri isn’t here. Normally it takes a bunch of us stonewalling until they do, and it can get messy. But you’re strong, so… I’m glad it was easier, this time,” Bloody Nose said, shrugging. A few of the others mumbled agreements.

Meanwhile, Haruka couldn’t help picking up the pace, his face burning.

“What-whatever,” he stuttered. “Let’s just… get back to Sunaba.”

And so, they did, but this time the train ride was far from quiet. The guys kept trying to introduce themselves, and Haruka’s blush never did die down as he forgot all their names.

The Zinc job paid well. Divided between everyone it couldn’t last forever, but it seemed to put Suzuri in better spirits, at least.

Over the past few weeks of watching him, Haruka settled on a pretty solid grasp of his moods. Haruka, used to judging the changing whims of irascible adults, felt confident in saying that Suzuri wasn’t that bad. He respected him, even. His priorities were always the same—taking care of the guys—and he always followed through. Still, while the dim, hollowed out look in his eyes never fully went away, he had better and worse days.

Sometimes, he barely spoke at all at their meetings, except in a bitter monotone. Those days Haruka usually noticed him picking at his scabs, at hangnails, or making a raw mess of his finger pads. Sometimes, though, his tone was lighter, warmer, much like it was when they first met. Those were the better days, when the light seemed to return to his eyes if just for a few hours.

It usually correlated with when they’d had a successful job.

Today must have been one of those days. They’d just wrapped up a meeting and several groups turned in money from various manual labor jobs. Haruka walked homewards alone, feeling the five 100-yen coins in his pocket, trying to decide what to get for dinner. Then the feeling was joined by a finger tapping his shoulder and he jumped, startled.

“Hey! What gives?” he griped, embarrassed by the pitch of his voice as he waved away Suzuri’s raised hand. Suzuri looked unbothered, his blank face almost fond, as he fell into step beside Haruka.

“Nothing, I just thought it’d be nice to walk with my new friend,” Suzuri smiled. Haruka felt his face get even worse.

“F-friend!?” he stammered, “You think you know anything about me?” But Suzuri’s expression didn’t change as they walked.

“Maybe. Did you know you’re very easy to mortify, Dairiseki?” Suzuri asked good naturedly.

Haruka spluttered, burying his face in his hunched shoulders as he powered onwards. “Did you know you look like you cut your own bangs?” he retorted.

Suzuri frowned. “What’s wrong with that?”

Haruka snorted. “You look like you just slap a bowl over your face and call it a day,” he said, eager to divert the topic away from himself.

“It’s not like I can afford a hairdresser,” Suzuri admonished.

“Neither can I,” Haruka reminded him, “But I can’t help my hair being jank—you’ve got no excuse.”

Suzuri was quiet. At first, he actually wondered if Suzuri’s frown meant he’d gone too far. He’d done that plenty of times. But then it bubbled into a real, soft laugh, and Haruka’s blush worsened.

“No one’s said anything about my hair in a while,” Suzuri sighed. “See, we’re friends.”

Haruka knew no reply of his would survive the garbling heat in his throat without affirming Suzuri’s point, so he shut his mouth, miffed. It was amazing, and annoying, how Suzuri’s blank eyes could somehow twinkle like he’d won something, if only for a few paces.

They parted ways after both buying something at the convenience store. Haruka took longer to decide, but for some reason Suzuri stayed by his side anyway.

Haruka couldn’t fathom why.

Suzuri walked as far as his own apartment building before turning off, waving Haruka a small goodbye.

Suzuri’s bad days weren’t his worst days, Haruka discovered. Sometimes, he wouldn’t show up at all, but the guys had a word for it.

“He’s probably sick again,” one of them concluded gloomily an hour into waiting for him to arrive to their evening meeting. Several others looked at each other meaningfully, murmuring their agreement.

Haruka cocked his head. He’d changed habits since first joining Gravel. Instead of leaning against the crumbling planters, now he leaned against the rusting storage lockers in the back. It gave him a better view of the Gravel crowd over Suzuri’s shoulder while still having something behind him. Suzuri often took advantage of his placement to ask him for his input. He was still, slowly, getting used to being called on in meetings.

“’Again?’ He have something chronic?” Haruka wondered aloud.

It wouldn’t surprise him; none of them had a great shot at being particularly healthy, but Suzuri’s pallor was distinct even for them.

A few of the guys looked at him funny, but one spoke up morosely.

“Kind of,” he said (Haruka was still having a terrible time remembering their names. Who could blame him; there were over eighty guys, none of whom he saw regularly except Suzuri).

“Sometimes Suzuri just feels really bad. Usually a few of us try to check on him, but he won’t get out of bed. He kind of just… shows back up again… after a few days.”

Haruka frowned. On the one hand, it didn’t really sound like Suzuri, the loyal leader and caretaker of Gravel, to choose to lay around. But on the other… Haruka had seen the chasms behind Suzuri’s expressions, siphoning away any glimmers of hope that a few good jobs lit. He knew what depths like that could do to a person.

“Well, screw him! How are we supposed to get paid when he’s flaking out on us!?”

Haruka threw his head up, catching the sulky face of the guy who shouted. A few other guys rumbled in anger, both at the shouter and with him, the crowd suddenly fizzing with unspoken frustration. Haruka, thrown by the hostility, felt an inexplicable wave of anger well up in his chest.

“Hey, knock it off with that crap!” Haruka shouted out over the din.

To his surprise, it worked. Not every face was happy doing it, but the arguing died as everyone gave him their attention.

“Why should we-“ Shouter grumbled, but another cut him off, “HEY! Listen to Dairiseki!”

But Haruka didn’t know what to do with their attention now that he had it. He could feel heat creeping up his neck. He scrambled, trying to remember how every other meeting Suzuri led went.

“Um… yeah. Anyway. Has anyone… done anything recently? Any… updates?” he tried. His hands, once crossed for comfort, now clenched tightly in his pockets.

A few guys looked at each other, but one eventually shuffled to the front, holding out a 7-Eleven bag full of change.

“I… uh… asked them to use small change beforehand,” 7-Eleven explained. “I’m kinda glad I did, usually Suzuri handles breaking the bills down.”

“Oh. Yeah. Good. There’s… 83 of us… right?” Haruka asked. Several heads nodded, and a few thumbs went up in the back.

“Okay.” Haruka fumbled, finally reaching for the bag. “How much was the commission?”

“15,000 yen,” 7-Eleven said confidently. “That’s about 180 yen each!” yelled someone from the back, holding up his phone’s calculator app for proof.

“Right. Um… okay. Anything else?” Haruka asked.

A bit of muttering came to nothing, and eventually everyone just shook their heads.

“Alright.” Haruka stared down at the bag. “Alright, everyone come up here, I’ll hand you your money, and then when you get your money go straight home and get yourself something to eat. We’ll check back in tomorrow—hopefully Suzuri feels better.”

And somehow, that worked. Each guy came up, watched Haruka clumsily count out their change, and left. 7-Eleven left last, staying beside Haruka as he counted out the amount leftover for the absentee members.

“I’m still kinda worried about Suzuri,” 7-Eleven said as Haruka picked out his and Suzuri’s coins.

“I’ll… check on him. Give him the rest to hand out later. His place is on my route,” Haruka said.

He suspected Suzuri was the only one normally trusted with making distributions for a number of reasons, one of which being that he was the only person with everyone’s name and face memorized. He really hoped no one doubled back in line, because he’d have no idea.

“Good,” 7-Eleven said, sounding relieved. “I live in the opposite direction. I’ll text him, though. And… thanks for handling everything today.”

“Don’t mention it,” Haruka said, hoping the twilight would hide the pink in his cheeks. He still didn’t understand why they listened to him. Maybe it was because of the Zinc job.

“Yeah…” 7-Eleven lingered, like he was weighing something. Then he surprised Haruka further by reaching into his pocket and pressing a few more coins into his hand. “Hey, do me a favor; would you stop and get Suzuri a cookie? Tell him it’s from the guys?”

Haruka froze, startled by the suddenly contact, but nodded at 7-Eleven’s earnest expression.

He swung by the same convenience store as always, taking a moment to browse the pastries in a way he never had before.

The streets were dark as Haruka made his way to Suzuri’s apartment. A few dismal streetlamps and neon signs flickered obstinately, but Sunaba couldn’t afford to replace what it broke. As he neared the stairs up to the complex, Haruka had to squint to make out the number. He was pretty sure he knew the right one.

He banged on the door. No one answered. He banged some more. After the third bang, Haruka scowled and pulled out his phone.

let me in i’m bringing you stuff

He waited an agonizing while, wondering if Suzuri would even check his phone. He was preparing to leave a bag on the doorstep when his heart skipped a beat, the reply bubble appearing innocuously.

There’s a spare key in the boots

Sure enough, one of the peeling grey rain boots coughed up a key. Haruka wrestled it into the door and opened it to a black entryway.

The apartment was entirely dark and smelled like dirty dishes. Haruka flicked on the hallway light before toeing off his shoes, creeping through the dim, cramped space. He didn’t take much time to glance around, but if Suzuri lived with his family they weren’t home.

He found Suzuri’s room easily enough. It was the only one with a light on.

He knocked and entered to find Suzuri curled up on a futon, barely illuminated by a dingy, kitschy cat lamp. There wasn’t much else in the space, but what was there felt threadbare. A stack of homemade playing cards littered the floor. A Grubby tin of nick-nacks sat strewn across an abandoned desk, and clothes rendered its one chair unusable.

Suzuri barely stirred, his back to Haruka.

“Hey,” Haruka said, crossing to crouch near the futon. “I brought you a cookie.”

Suzuri didn’t move at first, but then he unwound, seemingly forcing himself to sit up. He didn’t say anything, instead emptily staring at the ground, but Haruka decided to count it as a win. He hated talking to people when he felt like crap, too.

“Here,” he said instead, setting the bags down where Suzuri could reach.

He hauled himself up to leave but Suzuri stopped him with a soft,

“Wait.”

Haruka looked back at Suzuri. Suzuri still didn’t look at Haruka. Instead, his head was in his hands, his fingers split to let his eyes stare at nothing.

Haruka resumed his seat, feeling fidgety. He really… had no idea what to do in this situation.

Eventually, Suzuri released a bone chilling sigh and reached for the convenience store bag. As he scanned its contents his dim eyes softened.

“You got me a cookie,” he repeated.

“Yeah,” Haruka muttered. “Don’t like owing people.”

“It wasn’t a debt,” Suzuri said quietly. Still, when he broke the cookie in two and offered half to Haruka, he refused.

“It’s from the guys. They wanted me to bring it to you.” Well, one did, but he’d seen the way they respected Suzuri. He figured he could get away with the white lie.

Suzuri’s stare was still blank, but at least now it was aimed at the cookie. Finally, he took a tentative bite.

“It’s chewy,” he commented.

“Yeah. You prefer crumbly?” Haruka asked mindlessly.

“No,” Suzuri answered immediately, distant.

They continued to sit in silence for a while, punctuated only by Suzuri’s quiet chewing. Then Haruka’s phone buzzed, and he checked it instinctively. It was a weather update. Windy.

“Do you have any phone games?” Suzuri asked, intruding on Haruka’s processing.

“… Huh?” Haruka asked.

“Apps with games on them. I think sometimes they’re free,” Suzuri explained.

“Oh, uh… no. I don’t know how to play games like that,” Haruka admitted. Really, he wasn’t sure he knew how to play any game. Not like anyone ever wanted to show him.

“Oh,” Suzuri said. He went back to staring at the last few bites of the cookie. He had a small one left in each hand.

“My phone is old, so it isn’t compatible with most games. Have you…” his stare at Haruka looked effortful, “Ever played any video games?”

Haruka slowly shook his head. Suzuri looked sad, but he finally put one of the cookie pieces in his mouth.

“Have… have you?” Haruka asked.

Suzuri started to shake his head, then let it list to the side. “Once… in elementary school, I got invited to a friend’s house. He had a Gameboy, and he let me play Mario Kart on it.”

Haruka watched, saying nothing. He’d never heard of Mario Kart.

“But his dad lost his job, and they moved away,” Suzuri finished, contemplative. He pinched the last cookie piece in his fingers. Haruka suspected it might stay there for a while.

“You-you should show me how to play, sometime,” Haruka suggested, at a loss.

Suzuri gave him a sideways glance. “How?” he asked mirthlessly.

Haruka shrugged, crossing his arms, still uncomfortable.

“We’ll just have to save up,” he said.

He thought that might have been the wrong thing to say, because Suzuri now looked at him like he was stupid. He felt stupid. He wanted to leave.

Then Suzuri’s eyes softened again, and he shook his head, finally eating that last piece of cookie.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “I guess that’s all we can do.”

They didn’t say much after that. Eventually, Haruka took his leave, stowing the spare key back in its boot and returning to the dark streets.

It was windy.

In early-summer, things started to deteriorate. Most of the jobs they took paid too little. Haruka watched the tension in Suzuri’s shoulders increase by the day, everyone’s nerves exacerbated by the summer heat.

Haruka didn’t see any way he could help, either. He didn’t know how to find work for himself, let alone dozens of people. He didn’t know how to stop Suzuri from tearing up his own palms except by challenging him to a fight for catharsis, which he curtly rejected anyway. They couldn’t waste their energy.

Haruka had plenty of energy, hungry or not. The chasms in Suzuri’s eyes kept getting wider.

There was one job, churned out by some underground marketing, that was the first to rub Haruka the wrong way.

A shop-owner in the red-light district paid Gravel to ensure certain trespassers never broke into her store ever again.

“She wants us to lie in wait and take everything they have on them. Wallets, clothes, everything. She says we can keep what we find, on top of what she pays,” Suzuri explained. “She really has a vendetta against these guys. We can profit from that.”

Haruka wasn’t above violence, but he didn’t steal for a reason. And this… it was close enough.

“Suzuri,” Haruka said as they walked towards the park to announce the job. “I… I can’t be involved in this one.”

“Why not?” Suzuri asked, confused.

“I’m… not about to flat out rob some suckers. That’s lame.”

Suzuri’s brows pinched, but Haruka interrupted his angry reply.

“I won’t take a cut. That wouldn’t be fair. It’s… I get it. They sound like they have it coming. I won’t get in the way of anyone else taking the job. I just… I’ll step away from it.”

Suzuri still looked mad. They kept walking in silence, for a while, and Haruka bore it. An early summer storm crackled overhead, wind promising rain.

Eventually, Suzuri let out a cavernous sigh.

“Fine. I’ll respect that,” he allowed.

The wind blew harder, and Haruka bore that, too.

Haruka should have known it would all come crashing down one day. It wasn’t even that he’d dared to hope it wouldn’t, he’d just gotten used to prioritizing putting one foot in front of the other. He got used to showing up to jobs and Gravel meetings and helping Suzuri in the few ways he knew how. Without noticing, he became someone Gravel relied on. But by then it was too late. Relied on or not, he just couldn’t help being himself.

It wasn’t too unusual for Suzuri to come find him before meetings. Neither of them could afford to oversee each job, but it was a known fact that having either one of them on a job significantly simplified the payment process. So, if a big job came up, Suzuri ran it by Haruka first.

Those interactions were icier after Haruka backed out of the trespasser-mugging job, but it was fine, Haruka could handle that. Things went back to normal eventually.

So, Haruka wasn’t worried when Suzuri texted him to come to the park early to discuss a new commission.

The summer sun still beat down on the tired park when Haruka arrived. Suzuri’s baggy white t-shirt stood out against the grey where he sat hunched over his phone. He barely acknowledged Haruka when he stopped in front of him.

“Dairiseki, I’m going to need your help for this one. Actually, we’re going to need everybody on this job,” Suzuri said without preamble.

“What kind of job is it?” Haruka asked.

“It’s to find a person. He’s paying 170,000 yen.”

Haruka’s eyebrows hiked. He’d never even heard of a payout that big.

“Thing is, the guy who posted the job sent it out to a bunch of other teams, too. Only the team that finds her gets the money. We need to get on this immediately,” Suzuri continued, still scrolling and texting.

Haruka crouched down beside him, looking over his shoulder. As he did, Suzuri pulled out a polaroid photo, snapping a picture.

The photo was of a young woman. She was speaking with someone off-camera, wearing a simple dress and dyed blonde hair.

“Is she the missing person?” Haruka asked.

“Yeah,” Suzuri confirmed distractedly. “She was engaged to a businessman but decided to run away, and now he’s got some guy in charge of rooting her out of wherever she’s been hiding. She’s from Sunaba, but apparently she’s been spotted working in the red-light district.”

Haruka’s heart sank, and he could feel the color slowly draining from his face.

Despite the lack of opponents, felt his hands curling into fists. He stayed there, crouched, for some time, studying this woman’s face while Suzuri sent her image out across near a half-dozen messaging apps.

He should have known it might come to something like this.

“Suzuri.”

“What?” Suzuri said.

“That’s… how can you talk about hunting a girl like that?”

Suzuri paused. He cast Haruka a side-long stare, dark eyes wide and expressionless. “We take manhunt jobs all the time,” he said carefully.

Haruka shifted, antsy. “Yeah, I know. I’ve-I’ve been on a few. But those are like… debtors and missing drunks and stuff… not…”

“Dairiseki.” Haruka met Suzuri’s eyes with a hard look of his own. Whatever Suzuri said, Haruka knew he’d already made up his mind.

“Are you going to back out on this job, too?” Suzuri asked, deadly calm.

Haruka squared his shoulders, standing up from his crouch.

“I won’t drag a girl back to some… rich guy to do whatever he wants with her. That’s...” Haruka’s mind was made up, but he didn’t have words for it. He split the difference by glaring at the ground between Suzuri’s feet, letting whatever that said capture what he meant. Suzuri, eyes still blank and dark, eventually lowered his own to his phone.

“I guess that’s how it is, then,” he said. Haruka wondered if he imagined the bitterness lacing the words.

Haruka stood there, frustrated, for a moment longer. He took a final look at the polaroid, trying to commit it to memory. Then he turned and left the park.

As he did, he heard Suzuri call his name.

“Dairiseki,” he said, and Haruka looked back.

“Don’t ask for a cut of the reward,” Suzuri said tonelessly.

Haruka narrowed his eyes.

“Wasn’t planning to.”

He had a different plan, but as he walked towards it, he wondered what it might cost. He wondered if he would ever get to walk freely into this park again.

Haruka hurried to the red-light district. He’d taken a few jobs there and knew how to get there on foot, but it still took him over an hour. The sun was starting to set as he crossed the threshold onto Keisei Street.

He wandered the streets, keeping his eyes peeled for several things. He’d stowed his own white wristband, but he wanted to be sure he avoided any Gravel search parties in case they recognized him (which wasn’t a stretch). Alternatively, he also kept a look out for any other suspicious groups. Suzuri said the job went out to a bunch of people. Maybe Haruka could use that.

Finally, he kept his gaze honed for the woman in that photo.

He needed to find her before someone else did.

It wasn’t going to be easy. Keisei Street was alive with crowds, bar-goers and cafe clientele mixing and laughing and pushing on all sides. Haruka was used to big crowds, but he was already running on hypervigilance. It didn’t help.

The sun was fully set when Haruka was forced to take a break. He turned off out of the crowd to gather himself at the entrance of an alley. It was quiet enough for him to hear his beating heart in his ears, but he could ignore that. He just needed to recollect. Then, something caught his attention.

Footsteps. Someone was running, the clipping sound of heels fast approaching from behind him.

Haruka barely had time to jump out of the way. A woman, clothed in a crystal blue dress, came sprinting out of the mouth of the alley to burst into the busy street. Haruka hardly caught sight of her terrified face as she disappeared in a blonde and blue blur.

But Haruka’s eyes widened. That was her.

And she wasn’t alone. Haruka heard heavier footsteps barreling down the alley behind her, now behind him. Sure enough, a half-dozen thugs emerged from the dark at speed.

“Get outta the way!” one of them yelled.

Haruka did not.

“Move, punk!” another shouted as they approached, arching fist in Haruka’s direction. Haruka ducked under the punch, ramming a kick into the oncomer’s kidney. The thug went down easily, and Haruka met the rest with similar efficiency.

A few shocked hits and harsh expletives later, Haruka dashed back out onto the street, determined to find the woman.

Seeing her bolstered his determination, especially in light of the assholes he’d just thrashed. But now he had no idea where she’d gone. He looked around, hoping to somehow catch a glimpse of her, but she’d used his cover a bit too well. Haruka growled and shoved his hands back into his pockets. Square one it is then.

His fingers found the familiar texture of the white cloth he’d shoved in his pocket after leaving the park and he couldn’t help toying with the fabric.

He hit the streets again, face set, and kept searching. This time, at least, he knew to look for crystallin blue.

That turned out to be key.

He spotted a flash of blue and blonde in the distance and shot after it. There she was, about to make a break around a corner when a grown man yanked hard on her wrist.

“You can’t run forever, bitch!” he sneered.

“Let go of me!” she shrieked, doing a valiant job of beating her other fist against her attackers.

It was enough; Haruka was on him in a flash.

He forced the guy holding her wrist to let go by breaking his elbow. That had the added benefit of incentivizing him to fall to his knees where Haruka could kick him unconscious. Three more men emerged from the woodwork as Haruka positioned himself between the woman and the attackers. Fortunately, they were chumps. They didn’t last more than a few well-timed kicks.

But now the woman was running again.

“Wait!” Haruka shouted after her, trying his best not to sound frustrated, “I’m trying to help you!”

She didn’t stop. Haruka bit off a growl and took off after her again. He stayed in pursuit, clearly terrifying her, debating what to do. He tried to imagine if there was anything someone could say to him to make him stop running, but really it had been so long since he’d had things he could outrun. He mostly fought. Or survived. When was the last time he’d faced an opponent and not fought them?

Unbidden, a memory stirred. A herd of white bands bearing down, and Suzuri running out in between them, intercepting and dispelling the tension with a few clear words and meaningful expressions. What did he say, again?

“Hey! What’s your name?” Haruka called out. “My name is… Dairiseki Haruka! I’m-I’m a friend”

It didn’t work right away, and Haruka grimaced. But, subtly, he saw her steps falter. She glanced behind herself, meeting Haruka’s eyes with her frightened ones. Slowly, hesitantly, she stumbled to a stop, finally allowing Haruka to catch up with her.

She was panting heavily. Haruka’s breathing wasn’t much easier She stared at him, wide-eyed, her fists clenched in front of her as she searched his face.

“… Narita Shizuka,” she said cautiously.

Haruka nodded, breathing slowly evening out.

“Are you… are you with Roppo Ichiza? I haven’t-I haven’t seen you around before,” Narita asked.

Roppo Ichiza? Haruka couldn’t remember if he knew what that was. He shook his head.

“I’m… I’m with a team called Gravel. We were hired to find you. But!—” Haruka interrupted himself as he saw her tense defensively, “I’m not here to do that! I… I don’t… you shouldn’t have to deal with this. Is there somewhere safe you can go? Can I help you get there?”

Haruka floundered, with no clear idea what he was doing. He knew he couldn’t stop Suzuri from taking the job, not with that kind of payout. But, unlike the mugging job, he couldn’t sit idly by while this girl ran for her life. It burned a pit in his stomach.

Not that he knew what to do with that pit. Or what to do while not sitting idly by. This was the best he could think of.

Narita didn’t look convinced. She wrung her hands, taking in the tears on her sleeve with a hurt expression.

“I… I work at a bar called Ougi. I have friends there that can help me. I… I just need to make it there,” she said, her lips trembling as she fought to keep them stiff. Haruka nodded.

“Okay, I’ll help you get there. Just… lead the way,” Haruka said.

Narita still looked doubtful, but she met his eyes, at least. Slowly, she started walking, allowing him to follow her.

Narita clearly knew her way around. She slipped easily between wide shopping streets and access alleys, navigating the hordes of people with polite ease only punctuated by a few nervous ticks. Haruka wasn’t faring better, constantly periscoping his head across the sea of night life in search of suspicious faces. They made it several streets before finding any.

Really, the suspicious faces found them. Some jerk in gaudy leopard print strolled up to them like a businessman, and Haruka and Narita tensed in unison.

“Hey, boy, hand over the doll and no one gets hurt, you feel me?” Leopard Print drawled.

Haruka glared at Leopard Print and his posse, sizing them up. They’d clearly underestimated him, but there were at least ten guys. It would be a pain. But he didn’t want to tell Narita to run, either, and risk being picked off.

Better to just get this over with, then. Hopefully they weren’t packing any surprises.

Haruka flew at Leopard Print. Leopard Print had the wherewithal to dodge the fist, but not the knee that followed it. Haruka caught him right in the stomach and he collapsed with a groan. Haruka fell into a rhythm from there, darting between opponents and back again, trying to balance herding them away from Narita and destroying their bones.

It was horrible business. With four more remaining upright, Haruka found himself with his back to Narita, keeping her sandwiched between a wall and his shoulder blades. The thugs were a blend of angry and chuckling, reveling in the growing panic Haruka imagined he exuded.

What was he thinking? He wasn’t some kind of hero—he was a discarded piece of trash barely qualified to help Suzuri make ends meet. He couldn’t even save himself, let alone a damsel in distress.

But Narita released a muted cry of fear, and Haruka prepared to throw himself back at their horrible sneering faces.

“HEY!”

Haruka, along with his opponents, startled, their attention firmly caught by the bellow down the street. There, marching towards them, was a tall man in a black suit.

His face was livid with hatred as he stormed forward, but Haruka heard Narita’s sigh of relief.

“Kan!”

“STOP TREATING SHIZUKA LIKE YOUR DAMN CHEW TOY!” Kan(?) roared, rapidly escalating his speed to slam into the guy between him and Haruka. Fully distracted, the other three now rounded on the new threat. Haruka took the opportunity to deck the guy closest to him.

Split between Haruka and the new guy, the last four thugs went down fairly quickly. But that left Haruka with a brand-new problem.

As soon as he wrapped up knocking the last guy unconscious, “Kan” rounded on Haruka, fury emblazoned in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Narita struck out from her hiding spot, running towards the new guy. The sight of her captured Kan’s attention immediately, if it hadn’t held if already, and he opened his arms for her, rushing to check her for injuries.

“Kan, you’re here—I’ve been trying-“ Narita hurried to say, but Kan cut her off.

“Your arms! Are you hurt?!” he turn on Haruka, shoulders squared angrily. “If you touched a hair on her head, I swear I’m gonna-”

“Kan!” now Narita interrupted him, tugging his hand to redirect him.

It didn’t work. Kan took a step toward Haruka, still furious, seemingly without realizing it.

Haruka subconsciously raised his fists.

“Kan, listen to me!” Narita shouted, finally raising her free hand and slamming it down in a knife chop against Kan’s head.

That one did work.

“Kan, Dairiseki’s been helping me! He protected me from these guys and he’s trying to help me get back to the bar. There’s no need to fight him!” Narita scolded.

Kan, apparently cooled but the knife-hand, now looked between the two of them, increasingly contrite.

“Wait,” he said, shaking his head, “How many people have you been running from?!”

Narita didn’t answer right away but her eyes grew big. Kan’s softened, and he reached out to cup the side of her head. This was around that point at which Haruka’s nerves got the better of him

“Who-who even are you!?” he spluttered, trying to ignore the burning on his cheeks at the gentleness on display.

Narita startled like she forgot Haruka was there, and Kan renewed his frigid glaring. Neither answered immediately but Narita coughed, now blushing herself.

“This is Nakamura Kanji,” Narita introduced, “He works at the same bar I do—he’s one of the people I was talking about. Kan,” she said, turning to Kan Nakamura, “This is Dairiseki. Like I said, he protected me.”

Something seemed to sink in the second time she said it, because Nakamura’s expression changed completely. He whirled on Haruka, who kept his fists raised, but shocked him by falling hard on his knees into a low bow.

“Dairiseki, please accept my humble apologies and gratitude for protecting Shizuka. I can’t thank you enough for putting yourself on the line to keep her safe!” he shouted, voice muffled against the concrete.

Haruka had even less of an idea on how to deal with this than he did the gentle touching.

“Wha-whatever, it’s not like I did it for you—I don’t even know you! And I don’t-I don’t know her either, it’s really not a big deal,” he stammered, blush burning.

“Well, it matters to me!” Nakamura shouting before, to Haruka’s immense confusion, slamming his forehead hard enough against the concrete to leave a weak blood stain.

Narita gasped, reaching down to grab Nakamura’s collar and drag him upright.

“Kan, we’ve talked about this! Take a deep breath!” she urged, “Let’s just focus on getting to the bar!”

The redirection was enough for Nakamura, who rallied and got himself up off the ground, face now dusted with debris and blood.

“You’re right, Shizuka. I’ll let the rest of the guys know where we are; we were all worried when you didn’t show up for warm-ups.” He briefly fished out a cellphone, rapidly typed something, then turned his full attention back on Haruka, calm enough to look thoughtful.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before… why… why did you protect Shizuka?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Haruka stalled answering. Yeah… why did he…

“I’m… I’m with a team called Gravel. We’re from Sunaba,” Haruka slowly admitted, drawing the white cloth out of his pocket. Narita’s eyes widened at his words, her shoulders hiking.

“We’re… we’ll take any job that pays us. We don’t make trouble ourselves, it’s… just… it’s how we make ends meet. But, this morning, my—Gravel’s leader got a commission to find Narita for someone, but…” Haruka trailed off, chest feeling stony. “That’s just… it’s evil. I guess. I couldn’t stop my team from taking the job, but… I dunno. I couldn’t just sit around, let people compete to merc her, if I could stop it. That’d be so lame.”

Narita looked as white a sheet the more he spoke, and he felt a bit bad for her. He didn’t know whether she knew about the job, or what she’d told Nakamura, but he didn’t know what else to say but the truth.

“Is that what you think?”

Haruka froze.

He turned around, meeting Suzuri’s derelict gaze. Behind him, countless other white bands coalesced from the crowd, convening in a loose formation. Haruka had no idea what to make of their faces, but some looked at him expectantly, while others look to Suzuri, confused.

Only Suzuri looked angry, and two thoughts struck Haruka simultaneously: the suspicion that Suzuri could only just have made it within in ear shot, and that this was the most emotion he’d seen on Suzuri’s face in a long time.

The two groups, one vastly outnumbering the other, stared at each other. Nakamura and Narita seemed to grasp the situation fairly quickly as Nakamura fell in to step in front of her protectively. Haruka felt a million things crunch together inside of himself. It all tasted bitter.

He’d tasted worse.

Haruka squared his shoulders, meeting Suzuri’s gaze with a flat one of his own.

“Hunting down girls to serve our own asses is textbook lame. You should know that.”

Suzuri’s expression didn’t change at all. The rest of Gravel rustled nervously behind him, reactions mixing in the background, but none moved without his word. Instead, Haruka’s attention caught on Suzuri’s posture. The tightness in his shoulders. The blood in his nails.

“Someone was going to catch her either way, it’s not like we’re making any difference in what happens to her,” Suzuri pointed out, deceptively calm.

“No way!” Nakamura interjected, “She’s under the protection of Roppo Ichiza; we won’t let anyone take her without a fight!”

Suzuri still didn’t react. His eyes were entirely distant, lost in their own chasms. Haruka hated that look.

“That’s rich… it sounds like the only reason another team didn’t take her already is because of our own Dairiseki,” Suzuri intoned. More mixed rustling from Gravel. Anger and hope filtered through the existing divisions, and Haruka shoved down his despair at understanding any of that.

“Wait.. what’s going on?” one of the guys behind Suzuri, whom Haruka abruptly recognized as 7-Eleven, asked cautiously.

“Yeah what the hell’s going on, Dairiseki?” another challenged him directly.

Haruka didn’t answer and neither did Suzuri.

Instead, Suzuri huffed, rolling his bloody fingers in his palm.

“You know, Dairiseki… this is pretty disappointing. I only brought you into Gravel because you’re strong. I thought you’d be useful. But you’re just a hairbrained…” Suzuri’s eye’s darkened even further as he snagged on whatever he meant to say like a hangnail. “None of us have the privilege of being heroes. You should know that, traitor.”

Nakamura inhaled to say something, and Gravel erupted into confused murmuring, but both fell silent at the sound of Haruka’s scoff.

Haruka’s attention stayed firmly on Suzuri. As it turned out, the crunching ache in his heart made for the perfect kindling, and it smarted.

“Don’t give me that crap!” Haruka snapped, taking a harsh step forward. “I don’t believe a word you just said. There’s no way in hell you thought I’d be useful, strong or not—when we met I was starving.”

The air tasted like metal, and their audience faltered. Haruka didn’t. He didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed just yet.

“I didn’t have anything to give you, and you still gave a damn about me. You gave me that damn cookie…” but now he did falter. Haruka grit his teeth, trying to force his thoughts into words, alien as it felt. “That’s why… people trust you.”

Whatever impact his words had on Suzuri, though, it didn’t stop him from ripping new tears in his fingers. Haruka watched the tightness in his jaw clench, his eyes stock still as they gazed nowhere, blown wide the whole time. It was frustrating.

“So, there’s no way I’m going to let you take her anywhere! You’re a good guy, I won’t let you do something that lame,” Haruka swore, raising his fists.

Something in Suzuri’s expression finally cracked, and Haruka wondered if it was literally the sound of his jaw. Either way, he regarded Haruka listlessly before gesturing behind him.

“Whatever you say, it doesn’t really matter,” he said. “There’s no way two people can stop all of us, no matter how strong they are.”

“How about seven?” a chipper voice called.

Haruka whirled around, a move only made safe by the fact that the voice distracted Suzuri, too.

At first, Haruka assumed the five guys (wait… one of them might actually be a very tall woman) arriving on the scene were whoever those ‘Roppo Ichiza’ guys were that Nakamura mentioned. If they were, they seemed pretty eclectic. Notwithstanding the aforementioned tall one, there was a small guy in a hoodie and a spray-painting mask, another wearing glasses and a traditional looking ponytail, and a fourth with bleached hair gritting shark-like teeth. They were led by a guy in a T-shirt that read ‘Grilled Meat.’ The thing that really struck Haruka, though, was his white hair.

“Hey Kanji!” the tall girl (guy? That was a deep voice) waved, “I’m taking a wild guess but, didja mean to text me?”

Nakamura, whose attention had also been captured by the new arrivals, now laughed. “No, actually! Sorry, I meant to text my guys.”

“Hey, no harm done!” White Hair said warmly, walking up to grasp Nakamura by the forearm like this was a casual meet-and-greet. “We just so happened to be in the area for Tsubaki’s show.”

“It’s so fun to have friends in the audience,” Tall (Tsubaki?) cooed, as nonplused by the setting as White Hair, instead wrapping Narita in a reciprocated side-long hug.

“Even ones that are trouble magnets?” Shark Teeth groused, bringing out—of all things—a packet of heartburn pills.

“It can’t be helped. Umemiya would never ignore a call for aid,” Glasses said, removing his glasses to clean them.

“Especially one that doesn’t actually call for him,” Shark Teeth snapped in reply, now dry swallowing the pills. Paint Mask just snickered, engrossed in a sketchbook.

“Come on Hiragi, Nakamura’s a buddy of Tsubaki’s! No way we leave him high and dry,” White Hair (Umemiya?) chided.

He glanced back at Suzuri, who met it with an equally confused look. Despite the circumstances, Haruka couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret realizing how easily they met back on the same page.

So, Suzuri didn’t know these people, either.

Haruka’s eyes darted between the two groups he was stranded between. The crowd of Gravel guys looked, as always, like a motley blend of riled and curious and ready for Suzuri’s signal. Meanwhile, Nakamura and Shizuka visibly relaxed as the five new additions gathered nonchalantly around them.

The atmosphere had once again shifted, but Haruka couldn’t recognize what it had become. It wasn’t a feeling he could quite grasp. It made him uneasy.

White Hair turned towards Haruka. Behind him, members of Gravel murmured uncertainly, and Haruka couldn’t help clenching his fists.

White Hair approached Haruka with a raised hand.

Haruka instinctively readied his stance.

The hand turned into a thumbs up. Joined by a second thumbs up.

“I overheard some of what you were saying earlier—I like your style!” White Hair said, a smile lighting his face.

Haruka froze.

“So… I’m guessing you guys are buddies, then?” White Hair wondered, casting a questioning look at the crowd behind him.

Haruka didn’t know how to answer that, but he didn’t have to.

“Dairiseki is Gravel’s second-in-command!” Someone in the front of the crowd asserted, the claim eliciting a quiet rumble of affirmation. Haruka thought White Hair had thrown him for a loop before, but now he was blown away.

Second-in-command? Him? When did that happen? A mortified blush rushed up his face and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it.

He couldn’t help looking at Suzuri. He caught the final moments of a look of… pain. But Suzuri didn’t dispute it.

“Wait… Dairiseki?” White Hair asked. “As in… Dairiseki Haruka?”

Haruka endured his third double-take of the hour. How in the world did this guy know his name?

“You didn’t happen to be enrolled in Furin High School for this Spring by any chance?”

“Um,” Haruka lowered his fists, “Yeah… but, how do you know about that?”

“I’m the student rep for Furin! My name is Umemiya Hajime,” White Hair Umemiya introduced, sticking his hand out. Haruka ignored it. Umemiya breezed on, turning the gesture into a casual wave. “I saw your name on our roster—we don’t get many new faces, so it stuck out. But then you never showed,” Umemiya said.

“Oh,” Haruka said dumbly. “Sorry. My, um… my apartment burned down. So, I moved.”

Umemiya's eyebrows hiked in surprise. “Wait, I remember that fire! That’s terrible, I hope you weren’t hurt.”

“No, I… I was fine.” It wasn’t fine. It just… needed to be fine. What was this guy’s deal, anyway?

“Even so,” Umemiya pressed, “I’m sorry, I wish I’d known one of our students lived in that complex. I’m sure we could have helped you figure something out.” His earnest expression softened. Haruka wondered how much his skepticism showed.

“Still would, if you still need it.”

Haruka didn’t know what to do with that. Too much was happening at once. He felt buffeted, unsteady. Torn. He needed an excuse to focus on something else.

A pained hiss from behind gave him one.

“That’s not how this works,” Suzuri rasped.

Haruka’s skin crawled at the sound. He turned around, facing Suzuri, who now angled his warped expression at the ground. A watery tear of blood dripped innocuously through his clenched fingertips, unseen by anyone who didn’t know to look for it.

Haruka glared at it.

“Suzuri-“

“I don’t want to hear it!” Suzuri snapped. Now everyone’s eyes were on him, but his eyes where still stuck on the ground. “If you want to run off a play hero with some new friends, FINE, but don’t act like life just magically works out for everyone!

“Don’t try to lecture me on what’s right for the team like we don’t go to bed hungry every night. Trust? Good and Bad? Those are luxuries. You should know that.” Suzuri’s voice fully cracked, and Haruka was faced by the very real and terrifying possibility that Suzuri might start crying.

Haruka grit his teeth. He was entirely lost, but this had long gone far enough, and Suzuri was more lost still.

No one stopped him from marching up to where Suzuri stood hunched over, stopping just where he knew Suzuri could see him in his periphery.

“Suzuri.”

Haruka didn’t expect Suzuri to look at him, so he wasn’t disappointed.

“I think I know you.”

Suzuri scoffed, but Haruka cut through it. He knew he wasn’t eloquent, and he knew both of them would probably rather just start throwing punches at this point, but he forged ahead because he had to at least try.

“And I think you know me. I think… I know you care about the guys. And that you feel trapped.”

Finally, bafflingly, Suzuri raised his eyes to look at him.

“So…” Haruka steeled himself, bolstered by the intensity of Suzuri’s stare. “Since you’re trapped, how about this—I,” Haruka took up a ready stance, “Am going to beat the crap out of you. Then, we’re all going to go home and try again tomorrow.

“Because everything you just said is bullcrap. All the guys trust you to be a good guy and it’s not a damn luxury. I don’t care if you hate me; I won’t let you blow that for them.”

Suzuri blinked. Then his shoulders rose and fell with a deep, terrible sigh, before starting to shake. Haruka couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying.

“So… you want me to try turning off and then on again?” Suzuri said incredulously. “What the hell, Dairiseki…” He shook his head. Then paused, head lolling to the side, eyes closed. When he opened them, they were a little brighter. Like on a good day.

“You’re right. I am trapped. And I might hate you a bit, right now…”

Suzuri took up a ready stance of his own.

“But, yeah… I would hate to blow it for them.”

Haruka grinned despite himself.

“Hey!” He shouted to no one in particular, and eyes locked onto him from all sides. “All of you, go away or don’t intervene. This is between us.”

“We’re not leaving,” someone asserted from the crowd behind Suzuri. Others nodded with him.

“Same,” Nakamura rumbled somewhere behind Haruka.

“Yeah, no need to go so soon when we’ve just met,” Umemiya said mildly.

Haruka huffed and raised his fists. Suzuri’s hands, now unclenched, hung at the ready.

This was far too much company. Surrounded on all sides, the expectation hung thick in the air. Haruka breathed it in, nonetheless.

It tasted like the hope of release.