[Chapter 3] : Trouble is brewing
I promise this is a serious fic, do not be fooled by Minjiro Micky-
Spoilers for the anime!
Mention of (Y/n) being a lil taller than Mikey bc we love our short king <3
You weren't intentionally eavesdropping on their conversation or anything. Not at first, anyways. As a matter of fact, the timing was purely coincidental.
(Y/n) had lost a game of rock-paper-scissors against Hina earlier today, which implied having to buy drinks for them both. However, while standing by the vending machine, she overheard a rather intriguing bit of dialogue.
At the mention of a brawl, her interest quickly shifted to a small bunch of middle schoolers walking by, one of whom she recognized as Takemichi. They all looked quite downcast, and curious as she was, the girl discreetly crept closer to the group, two soda cans in hand and careful to remain unnoticed as she lurked behind walls and pillars to gather as much intel as she could.
''Takuya, you sure you'll be alright?''
''Well, we don't have much of a choice, do we?''
[...]
''We can't just let Kiyomasa boss us around like that forever!''
''The hell you want us to do? We don't stand a chance against someone of his caliber.''
''Plus, he rules the whole damn thing, you know he can just call his minions to beat us up, like he always does...''
[...]
''Just... fuck those damn third years! And that fight club too!''
''Fuck that entire gang while we're at it!''
''Not so loud you guys! What if they hear us?''
[...]
They headed straight for the boys' bathroom, and (Y/n) didn't dare follow them for obvious reasons. On her way back to Hinata, she began piecing together all the information gained.
'So there's this fight club hosted by some gang somewhere after school, and the one running it is a third-year student named Kiyomasa who, by the looks of it, has been tormenting Takemichi and friends. Well, that's a lot to take in...'
She opted not to tell Hinata about it and to instead look more into this "Fight club" since certain details still eluded her, notably its location. Initially, (Y/n) had envisaged subtly tailing one of the guys at the end of the day but she was too likely to be found out. The last thing you'd want is to come across as a stalker, so that idea was an absolute no go.
Thus, (Y/n) put a brand new plan in action.
She parted ways with her best friend a little earlier than usual, claiming there was a teacher she needed to see before class began.
Since the one leading that club was a third year gang member, you figured you could simply glean the details from an upperclassman - or the first suspect individual that seemed at all mildly menacing, really - though you were quite confident that they wouldn't let the location leak out too readily. The task was no doubt much easier said than done.
On one hand, (Y/n) didn't want to get caught up in a scuffle or draw too much attention, but on the other, she had promised Hina to keep an eye on the blondie... In the end, she resigned to the thought that if trouble were to arise, she'll just bolt out of there in no time.
(L/n) proceeded to the third years' homerooms, scanning the hallways for anyone suspicious enough to be part of a gang, yet still accessible to, at the very least, engage in a proper conversation and not launch directly into making threats.
To her dismay, the area was vacant, with only the occasional seemingly mundane student or two idling about or catching up with their classmates. A sense of dejection was slowly dawning within her as she drew closer to the far end of the hallway, having already covered half of that section of the school. Class would soon commence, and her hopes of acquiring new knowledge on that mysterious club were quickly dwindling...
''Man, can't wait for today's match. Who's fighting again?''
''One of those losers second years. That's what I was told anyways... We might get an interesting show.''
You abruptly halt in your tracks and peer over at the two men loitering in the corridor. They're fairly large and well-built, but they don't strike you as particularly intimidating. One of them sports a distinctive tattoo on his upper arm - something akin to a tiger - while the other bears a scar across his left eye. As you contemplate on how to weasel your way into their conversation, one of them shouts, startling you.
''Hey! You there, the hell you starin' at?''
Whether this was the opening you were hoping for or not, you had no other alternative but to come forward to the pair.
''Oh, um sorry. I was looking for my class and I ended up getting lost...'' you lie. ''Are you two from a Gang?''
The two men eye each other and for a split second you almost curse yourself for being so blunt - though you promptly discard the thought once they turn their attention back to you.
''W-well, not yet.''
''Yeah, but... we're members in the making, right?'' The guy with the scar elbows his friend, who eagerly nods. ''Masataka said he'll put in a good word for us to the Tokyo Manji captains!''
''Oh I see, then it's my bad.'' Smiling, (Y/n) slyly begins enquiring about their afterschool gatherings with neither of them suspecting a single thing. ''You two look pretty strong so I assumed you were part of one. Do you fight a lot?''
''Of course we do! Every day after school!'' He proudly gestures to the thick stripe of discolored skin stretching across his eyelid. ''All those cool scars didn't come from nowhere, ya' know!''
''Wow, everyday? Is there some kind of secret meet up or something? Like in those western movies?''
The tattooed man smirks boastfully as he sets about detailing the grim picture of the 'bloody and ruthless underground fighting ring in which only the fittest survive'.
''And, where is that club held, exactly?''
Playing dumb sure was a cinch when your target was so easy to win over, but alas, all good things must come to an end. You swallow thickly when it's not a reply, but a skeptical stare that's thrown your way. Perhaps you've underestimated them a wee bit too much in terms of intellect.
''You know, that fight club is no place for pretty girls like you, but... I wouldn't mind bringing you there someday so you can watch those babies in action if you're so insistent on seeing it for yourself.'' Flashing you a wink, he flexes the (almost nonexistent) muscles beneath the sleeves of his plain, white uniform shirt.
Quite frankly, you really could have done without whatever the heck that was. Brushing off his comment, you quickly scramble to invent yet another lie, hoping the crease between your brows wasn't too apparent.
''Sorry, fighting kinda scares me... '' Mustering her most credible smile, (Y/n) continues. ''It's just that the way you're describing it makes the whole thing sound like a pretty big event, so I was a little curious as to where you can hold this sort of club without the police or anybody else catching on.''
And that's how these two dimwits gave you the precise coordinates of the fighting venue. Somehow, you almost feel sorry for the duo, seeing how effortless it was to extract that info from them.
(Y/n) politely bids the two boys farewell, the school bell sparing her from any further wooing attempts -keyword: attempts-, which, at this stage, she feared more than the men themselves.
From then on, things didn't flow as smoothly... At the end of class, she was held up by a teacher due to some unfinished paper, which put some distance between her and Hanagaki, then she missed the train and had to wait for the next one...
Prior to departing from the school, (Y/n) had substituted the uniform skirt for the P.E sweatpants, and upon finally nearing her destination, swiftly donned a hoodie despite the blistering heat outside, silently praying she would not be required to prove by any means that she was indeed a member of their little group - The Tokyo Minaj gang or something along those lines. If you were to sneak into a Gang run fight club, then you were better off concealing your identity, at least until you managed to get close enough to get a proper grasp on the situation.
And now, as you dash down the path previously outlined for you by the two men from this morning, the rumble of a tremendous commotion in the distance gradually fills your ears. Far ahead, an enormous cluster of teenagers, all hollering and clamoring, was gathered in a wide circle. You strenuously push past the masses and arrive at the very front, hood pulled down over your head, just in time to witness Hinata's boyfriend getting absolutely trashed in the ring; enduring one ruthless hit after another, mercilessly. He was resilient, sure, but there's no way he would last much longer.
''Fucking Kiyomasa...''
Casting a glance to the side, (Y/n) spots, a few meters away, a magenta-haired boy she has undoubtedly seen before. Takemichi's friend, whose name remains unknown to her, his eyes full of rage. As her gaze travels down to his hands, she notices the pocket knife he was clutching.
Whatever he was planning presaged nothing good...
A grunt from the blond draws her attention back to the ongoing battle. The young boy rises again, endeavors to retaliate, and receives a fierce blow in the gut. His adversary is hardly putting forth any effort, grinning wickedly at the viciousness embedded within his every movement.
'So this is Kiyomasa...'
(Y/n) doesn't know what precisely came over her at that very moment. Her body acted on its own and last thing she knew, she was yanking Takemichi back, causing him to dodge a pretty hefty punch in the process.
''Oh my, who do we have here?''
The cheers of the crowd soon reduce to hushed whispers and murmurs at your unannounced entrance, and Kiyomasa smiles even wider. A disgusting, devilish smile.
''Got your lil' girlfriend to fight for you? Wanna get beaten down together, that the plan? Gotta admit, does sound pretty romantic.'' He spits out the words like damning hexes, voice brimming with arrogance.
You look over at Takemichi, who had fallen to the ground amidst the ruckus. He looked stunned, eyes wide and mouth agape, cuts and bruises adorning his entire body, blood coagulating beneath the formerly spotless white shirt -now soiled with grime- he had on. You expected as much, after all, you did just interrupt the match, indirectly challenging the club's leader. Yet, his reaction seemed to bear a much more profound meaning...
Not like it's your priority at the moment.
The numerous males surrounding the three of you start roaring once again. A flurry of mindless screams, wagers, cheers and boos reach your ears; it's so intense your brain is on the verge of bursting. The third year facing you lets out an eerie laugh.
''See that, boys?'' He yells out to the audience. ''Seems like missy over here is looking for trouble.''
He stomps towards (Y/n), who resists the urge to take a step back, bending his knees in an effort to match the girl's height. He was clearly intent on taunting her, yet she refuses to give in to his game.
''Whatcha gonna do little missy? You gonna slap me with thos-''
Smack.
Not allowing him time to finish his sentence, you land a punch at full power on his cheek while he is still distracted. The element of surprise, combined with the intensity of the impact, sends him reeling backwards and onto the hard, rocky gravel. Naturally, it's nowhere near being enough to leave anything more than maybe a bruise judging by his solid stature.
He recovers with ease, rubbing his temple with nonchalance. Despite his cocky demeanor, he is visibly upset. The fury overflowed out of him, spilling out and dampening the atmosphere.
''A feisty one, hm? Oh, I won't let you get away with that. Get me my bat.'' He commands, jet black irises firmly glued onto your own.
The public gradually quietens down as uncertainty and confusion engulf all those present. The lack of public support towards him is crystal clear, but he couldn't care any less, consumed by a sole objective.
'So, this guy's basic stats were already off the chart and now he gets a +10 in melee?? Talk about a fair match...'
''I really oughta teach you kids not to mess with the elite. Our skills just ain't comparable.'' As someone scurries to retrieve the wooden weapon, he mimics the motion of a swinging bat with the aim of frightening you.
''If you need a damn baseball bat to beat a middle schooler in a fucking fist fight, then maybe your skills weren't shit to begin with!'' Only when the words slip past her lips does (Y/n) realizes that it might not be wise to aggravate him any further, however much she is convinced to be absolutely right.
She stances upright before her opponent, watching his features contort in rage and his fists clench. Even the onlookers seem alarmed.
''Geez, this is bad.''
''Masataka looks really pissed.''
''She's gonna regret what's coming, that's for sure.''
For a split second, you envision grabbing Takemichi and fleeing the arena, but his friends are still here, hidden among the audience. If not her and the blond, surely they're the ones who'll get pummelled as punishment.
Crap... What can she do?
She's fairly certain Kiyomasa shouted something her way, but (Y/n) was far too preoccupied mulling over her next course of action to even consider indulging in the madman's ramblings.
If there is no possibility of escaping, she will have to fight. No, not to fight. To win.
''Oi, Kiyomasa, you're scaring the crowd.''
Everyone falls silent, including the thug right in front of you. You're reluctant to avert your gaze and grant him the perfect opening to possibly strike, but your own curiosity overrides all rationale. Diverting your focus to the figure behind Kiyomasa, your eyes lock onto what you can only assume is a high school student of some sort. His blonde hair is neatly plaited and a large dragon tattoo is etched upon one side of his head.
''Why are you getting so worked up? You're the host here.''
He was treading leisurely, casually strolling over to the one he had called out. Trailing after him, a much smaller, and seemingly younger male nibbling childishly on a snack.
''Hey hey, Ken-chin!''
''Huh?''
''I'm all out of dorayaki.''
(Y/n) frowns slightly at the odd pair. Are they allies? Or enemies? They definitely stand out from the mass, and their aura feels far more pervasive, yet they don't strike her as hostile.
The public bows in greeting.
''Good work, president!''
President?
While you still have absolutely no clue as to who these guys are, or why they even bothered showing up at all, it is evident they're quite prominent. Your gaze is trained on their every move as you remain vigilant, not uttering a peep.
They make their way towards you and Takemichi, who has staggered back to his feet, and when they reach Kiyomasa, the latter speaks up for the first time since their arrival. The wrath that was previously emanating from him had vanished, leaving only a sardonic smile on his thin lips.
''Good work.'' While he sounds mildly apprehensive, his tone conveys a strong sense of pride.
You watch as the "president" blatantly ignores his existence and carries on forward with the same steady pace, unbothered. A sudden, sharp and dry cracking noise pierces the dead silence prevailing in the area when the tattooed giant delivers a powerful knee kick aimed directly at the guy's stomach.
''Kiyomasa, who died and made you king?'' His voice is low and flat, almost -if not completely- bored. ''Make sure you're that far down when bowing to our commander.''
''Y-yes sir...''
You don't feel even the least bit sorry for that miserable scumbag. If anything, he had it coming for him. Now, the main concern lies with the two newcomers... The shorter one trots past you and heads straight for the dazed and beaten Takemichi, inching in so close he sends the injured second-year student tumbling back down onto the ground.
''What's your name?'' His tone was more solemn than when he had been complaining about running out of dorayaki.
''H-Hanagaki... Takemichi.'' The reply comes out weak, sluggish. It's hardly surprising given his current state.
A brief pause ensues among the silence of the once raucous arena. You wanna help the beaten boy up. You really do. But interrupting this odd interaction might not be the wisest move so, casting your doubts aside for the moment, you let the exchange go on.
''I see. Takemitchy.''
''Huh? Takemitchy?''
''That's what Mikey said, Takemitchy.'' You hadn't noticed, but in the meantime, the tatted-up high schooler has made it over to your side, shooting you a quick glance when you look up at him.
'So he's Ken, and that's Mikey...?'
''Are you... really a middle schooler?'' Mikey asks, amused as he crouches down, clutching the back of his interlocutor's head.
Takemichi -or Takemitchy- seems a bit disconcerted by the unexpected question. Without missing a beat, Mikey rises to his feet, heedless of the answer, and, much to your surprise, marches up to you. He doesn't intrude on your personal space to the same extent as he did with Mitchy, but he still closes in more than enough. (Y/n) quickly notices the height difference. Mikey is a couple of centimeters shorter than she is, requiring him to tilt his head up to meet her eyes. In a way, it makes him a little less threatening.
''And you are?'' The words are playful, and a faint smile clings to his lips.
''Um, (L/n) (Y/n)...'' She mumbles.
Sensing the girl's caution and perplexity, Mikey extends his arm and, before she can fully process his motives, gently pats the top of her head. (Y/n)'s expression slowly loosens to one of puzzlement, the sensation of her muscles finally relaxing making her aware that she has been frowning for some time now. Mikey takes a few steps back so as to be able to face both you and Hina's boyfriend.
''Takemitchy. (Y/n)-chan. Starting today, you're my friends, all right?''
''Huh?'' ''The hell?''
He turns to Kiyomasa, the latter looking pretty pitiful with his knees bent and head hung low, like a little kid put in timeout during recess.
''You the host?'' The president inquires.
Upon confirmation, the blond smiles, and then another dry, crisp noise rings out. A fierce kick thrown by Mikey.
''Who the hell are you?''
Amidst the whacking and smacking sounds, a few fearful murmurs emerge from the crowd as Mikey batters Kiyomasa. It goes on for a while, long enough to wipe the confusion off your countenance and leave you furrowing your brows yet again.
''Okay then. Let's get going, Ken-chin.'' Satisfied, he beckons the other boy to follow suit. ''Taking bets at this little fight club is lame.''
Large hands stuffed into the pockets of his oversized jacket, his friend makes ready to depart, muttering something about Toman's reputation in the process.
''(Y/n)-chin, Takemitchy.'' Mikey calls out one last time. ''See you later.''
''Yall wake up and scram already.'' Ken's hand waves in a shooing motion, gesturing for everyone to disperse.
And with that, they were gone.
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