Chapter Text
A new wind was blowing into the town of Makochi, a wind of great change and disruption.
The lanterns hung up outside of each storefront swayed, their paper casings crinkling. Wind chimes jingled, the sound clear and crystalline. The moon was partially obscured by thick, dark clouds, and lights from the nearby city blocked out most of the stars.
The wind ruffled Haruka Sakura’s black and white hair, dragging its warm fingers down the back of his neck and the apple of his cheek. His hands were jammed in the pockets of his pants, and his head was held low.
He had just arrived in town last night, settled his few possessions in his cheap apartment, and now, he had nothing better to do than lay and rot on his futon or explore the town.
Overcome with restlessness and unable to sleep, he had chosen the latter. He’d prefer to get to know the town’s layout at night, anyway. Then, there’d be less people to sneer at him and inevitably push him away.
Pent-up energy squirmed beneath his skin as a group of twenty-something year old guys passed by, yammering on and on about some stupid crap Sakura didn’t care to listen to.
The guy walking at the front of the group’s shoulder collided against Sakura’s, making both of them stumble. The impact knocked the man’s half-empty beer bottle out of his hand, and it shattered on the ground. The frothy tan liquid bubbled before seeping into the concrete with a low hiss.
The guy stalked towards Sakura, jabbing a sticky index finger in Sakura’s face. “Hey, watch it kiddo…” His breath reeked of alcohol and bad decisions, and Sakura’s nose wrinkled in irritation.
The pent-up energy was begging to burst free from beneath his skin.
The man’s eyes widened as he roamed over Sakura’s glowering face, taking in the odd black and white split hair combined with his blue-grey and gold eyes. “What a freaky lookin’ mug ya got there, buddy!” he slurred, wobbling on unstable legs. His friends chuckled behind him, and whispers about Sakura’s unusual appearance began to arise. “You’re gonna pay for spillin’ my drink,” the man rasped, pulling back a weak fist like he was actually preparing to hit him.
Sakura’s teeth clenched as a torrent of rage surged through his body. He hated guys like this, weak assholes who thought they were strong.
The guy swung clumsily and his group of jerk friends began to spur him on with a chorus of oohs and ahhs.
The punch had absolutely no power behind it, and Sakura quickly ducked beneath it before retaliating with a blow of his own.
The satisfying crunch of his fist against the aggressor’s nose made the corner of Sakura’s mouth twitch up in a smirk. This feeling, of putting weak, arrogant assholes in their places, was unrivaled ecstasy to Sakura.
The man fell after the one blow, his body crumpling like a used napkin and his eyes rolling back until the whites were visible. Rivulets of bright red blood dripped from his broken, already purpling nose.
Sakura’s knuckles throbbed deliciously from the pain, and he flexed his fingers.
The unconscious man’s friends quieted down, their eyes wide with apprehension like carnivorous animals that had sighted a true apex predator. The tension in the near-empty street was thick enough to taste.
The crowd’s shoes scraped against the concrete, and Sakura almost thought they were going to turn tail and run like a pack of cowards, before one of them let out an intoxicated yell and smashed their empty beer bottle against a nearby lamppost. The group of weaklings clamored forth, swinging wildly.
It was almost too easy for Sakura to beat them into a pulp. None of them even lasted for more than three punches.
When the last man slumped to the ground, Sakura leaned down and lifted the original aggressor by the collar of his shirt. “Weaklings like you make me sick,” he drawled before tossing him back to the ground.
Sakura’s bloodied knuckles throbbed as he jammed his hands back in his pockets, and he turned on his heel to continue on his original path, when a low, appreciative whistle and the sound of slow clapping registered in his ears.
Sakura whirled around, already back in a defensive stance before his eyes even fully locked onto the emerging figure.
It was a man, tall and broad shouldered, with curly black hair, glimmering teal eyes, and a lopsided smile. His cream colored flannel jacket hung low on his forearms and his black tank top clung to his muscled chest and shoulders, exposing the array of dark tattoos covering his arms and torso. “That was quite the performance, kid! What’s your name?” the black-haired man asked. His strides were long and self assured as he strolled forward.
Unlike the drunks, this man radiated an aura of effortless power and strength.
Sakura was still tense, every fiber in his being on edge like a cat with all of its hair standing up. “Haruka Sakura. What’s it to you?” Sakura said, narrowing his eyes in scrutiny at the approaching man.
What was this guy’s deal? Showing up out of nowhere, not being immediately hostile towards him despite obviously witnessing the violence he’d just committed… It was something Sakura had never experienced before. His ears were burning from embarrassment at the compliment and the interest.
The man paused when there was a little less than a foot between them, his lopsided smile breaking into a full, toothy smirk. “Just curious. Can’t say I’ve seen you around before,” His ocean green eyes flicked up and down Sakura’s rigid form, taking note of the split colored hair and blue-grey and gold eyes.
Sakura’s lips pressed into a thin white line as his mind raced. “I just moved here. Who are you? Why do you care?” Sakura said, flexing his fingers like he was preparing to swing again. Not that he’d make that choice. Something about this man told Sakura that messing with him would be a bad idea.
The man sighed, his smile falling slightly, and Sakura internally prepared for a blow. His eyes followed the man’s tattooed hand as it rose, but all the man did was roughly clap him on the shoulder.
Sakura stiffened, and his embarrassed flush spread at the sudden and unfamiliar touch. The man wasn’t… fighting him, or trying to hurt him outright. He was being… friendly? He could feel the warmth of the touch through his jacket. It was odd to feel that warmth without the accompanying sting of pain.
“Lighten up, kid! The name’s Yamato Endo. I’m just wondering why anyone would move to this dead-end town,” the man, Endo, laughed heartily. He didn’t remove his hand from Sakura’s shoulder. In fact, his grip tightened, fingers digging into the fabric of Sakura’s jacket.
Sakura scoffed, a weak smirk coming to his lips as he donned confidence like a shield. “I came to fight my way to the top of Furin,” he declared, ambition evident by the battle-hungry gleam in his eyes.
It made Endo chuckle again. His shoulders heaved in a shaking sigh, and he let go of Sakura’s shoulder before he started walking again, brushing past his side as he passed. “Top of Furin, huh? Well, Sakura, you’ve certainly got potential. I wish you luck,” he purred, casting a glance back at Sakura as he stalked off in the direction of the city. “You’d better scram before these guys wake up,” Endo advised, nudging one of the passed out, beaten guys’ faces with the toe of his sneaker.
Sakura watched, torn between chasing after Endo and returning back to his shitty apartment.
He stood motionless, letting the changing wind tousle his hair and clothes, until a few low groans began to arise from the collapsed men. Endo was long gone by then; vanished into the winding alleyways.
He turned, giving one last look towards the city before walking back home.
Once he returned to his falling-apart apartment, he tossed his jacket onto the floor, slumped down on his thin futon and closed his eyes. Even after letting out some energy, he couldn’t sleep.
Images and sensations flashed in his mind: the fulfilling feeling of his fist crunching against the first guy’s nose, the solid sound of his blows landing on each man and of them falling to the ground, the odd warmth of Endo’s hand on his shoulder, and the aura of power radiating from him.
His mind fixated on Endo. He’d called that street brawl those men initiated a ‘performance.’ He wasn’t fazed at all by Sakura’s violence, and unlike a normal person, approached him.
He thought Sakura had potential.
How was he involved with Furin? How strong was he? Was he the top guy? These thoughts swirled around in his mind, prickling at the edges of his consciousness until he eventually was able to finally go to sleep.