ɢᴀɴɢ-𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗦! [ ᴛʀ x ᴍᴀʟᴇ! ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ]
CH.11
Angry too - Lola Blanc
Does it get your blood boiling?
Does it make you see red?
Do you wanna destroy it?
Does it get in your head?
'Cause it gets my blood boiling
And I'm coming unglued
It would hit you like poison
If you knew what I knew
You would be angry too
M/N walked alone through the quiet streets. The streetlights cast long shadows behind him, stretching across the pavement as he stepped into a narrow alley.
Inside, a group of teens lounged around, smoking, joking loudly, kicking at empty cans.
One of them spotted M/n approaching.
"Huh? Who the hell?"
"Is he lost?"
"Do you think he needs something?"
M/n stopped a polite distance away, hands at his sides.
"Good evening," he said gently.
"May I ask if you know any other gangs in the city?" They stared.
"...Are you serious?" one teen scoffed.
"Bro, who just asks that?"
"Is this some undercover cop crap?" A boy with dyed red hair pushed off the wall and came forward, gripping a metal bat. He pointed it at M/n's chest.
"Hey old man, this is our turf. Do you think you have the right to waltz in here and just ask us casually?" M/n blinked once.
"I will repeat it," he said softly.
"Do you know any other gangs-"
The teen swung.
-THUD
The bat hit M/n's head. His head tilted slightly from the impact. But he didn't flinch. Didn't even blink twice. The alley fell silent.
"W-What the-?"
"He didn't react-!"
"Dude, what IS he?!"
M/n slowly turned his eyes toward the leader.
His polite expression was gone.
His face blank. Cold. Calm, but empty.
"That was rude," he murmured. M/n suddenly punched the leader across the face with force that echoed through the empty alley. He reached out, grabbed the leader's shirt, and pulled him forward effortlessly. The bat slipped from the teen's hand, clattering to the concrete.
The rest of the group froze in horror. M/n's voice was soft, nor matching with his eyes.
"Now. Do you know any other gangs?"
No answer.
Just stunned silence. M/n lowered his gaze... then calmly picked up the fallen bat.
He lifted it, resting the end lightly against the side of the leader's head- not swinging it, just placing it there like he was lining up a shot.
He smiled politely.
"If you don't respond quickly," he said in a whisper,
"your friend's skull might hear the knock before you do." That snapped them back to reality.
"Y-YES! There are gangs! T-Tons-!"
"We know some!"
"Just-just don't hit him!"
"Good," M/n said with a soft nod. He kept the bat resting against the leader's head.
"Next question: do you know the Haitani Brothers?" They all nodded immediately.
"Of course we know them!"
"They rule Roppongi!"
"No one messes with them-like ever!" M/n tilted his head.
"So do you know anyone who holds a grudge against them?" They all shook their heads frantically.
"No! No, no, no one's that suicidal-!"
"Everyone avoids them!"
"I see," M/n whispered. He stepped closer, lowering the bat.
"One last question. Are there any gangs nearby?" A boy with trembling hands pointed toward the end of the alley.
"T-There's one! Uh-Black Vulture Gang! They hang out in an old warehouse near the docks! You can't miss it! It's big, dark place with broken windows!" M/n's expression brightened instantly.
"Thank you. That's exactly what I needed."
He released the leader's shirt gently, as if he had merely been adjusting a collar. The boy stumbled backward, gasping. M/n tossed a small pack of bandages to them.
"You should go home," he said kindly. "It's late." The entire group stared as he walked past them, disappearing deeper into the alley's shadows.
They didn't move.
They didn't breathe.
And far ahead, M/n's voice drifted softly:
"Now... let's visit this warehouse."
The city had never been this quiet.
Or maybe it only felt quiet because every step M/n took was purposeful, echoing like a countdown.
He arrived at the warehouse first. The metal doors screeched open, lights flickered on, and a dozen thugs froze mid-card game.
"...Who the hell are-"
M/n shut the door behind him.
"Good evening," he said politely. "I need information."
Fifteen minutes later, the whole gang was on the floor, groaning and terrified as M/n adjusted his sleeves.
"Next question," M/n asked gently while the leader trembled.
"Do you know any gangs near here?"
"S-Shadow Piercers! They're three blocks over!"
"And anyone with a grudge on the Haitani Brothers?"
"N-No! No one targets them! We swear!" M/n nodded, thanked them, and walked out leaving the Black Vultures whispering:
"...Was he their bodyguard?"
"No dude, worse he was smiling..."
"Don't ever mention the Haitanis again. Ever."
Next was the Shadow Piercers, and just like the other gangs-
They tried to dogpile him.
Tried.
When M/n brushed aside their strongest member and pinned him with just a hand on his shoulder, the rest surrendered immediately. He questioned them one by one.
"Any gangs nearby?"
"T-The Yin Yang! They're down the underpass!"
"Grudges against Haitanis?"
"No! Not unless someone wants to die!"
M/n nodded. Half the gang watched him leave with tears in their eyes.
"...Is he even human?"
"He didn't break a sweat!"
"Yo don't tell anyone we got beat by one guy-"
The Yin Yang was...unique.
They surrounded him with chains, knives, brass knuckles. M/n wiped dust off his shirt after they all ended up on the concrete.
"Gangs. Now."
"U-Uh-Serpentz! The ones with the green bandanas!"
"Haitani grudges?"
"None! They're legends, man!"
"Thank you," M/n said kindly as he walked away. The Yin Yang gang swore they'd never approach a stranger again.
A rooftop meeting turned into a rooftop massacre of egos as M/n made their leader fold in two seconds. He stepped back, dusting his palms.
"Gangs near here?"
"The Blue Shards! Take the alley to the east!"
"And Haitani enemies?"
"N-No... they're untouchable."
M/n nodded. A Serpentz member whispered shakily,
"Bro... was that the Nightingale-?"
"Shut up! Don't say his name!"
Blue Shards was more...cowardly and maybe even smart.
This time no one attacked. They dropped their weapons as soon as he stepped in.
Probably because M/n was carrying a bloody bat as a souvenir from Yin yang gang.
"We'll talk! We'll talk!"
"Just-just don't get close!"
M/n blinked.
"Oh. Thank you."
He questioned them. They answered everything. He left them with a polite bow.
They stared at him like he was death wearing a human's skin
The night blurred into a rhythm:
Enter.
Get provoked.
End the fight in seconds.
Ask the same questions.
Move to the next.
Every gang pointed him toward the next group like dominos falling.
He had become an urban legend in just one night.
And every gang, no matter how loyal or proud, ended up whispering the same thing afterward:
"Is he protecting the Haitani Brothers...?"
"Or hunting for them?"
"God-whoever hurt those brothers is dead."
The last referral led him to a rusted building marked with a red fang logo.
Crimson Fangs.
The biggest gang out of all the ones he visited tonight. Brutal. Territorial. Known for grudges. The flock was full of young adults.
M/n stood at the entrance, the air heavy around him.
Finally.
He tightened his grip
"If there are answers," he murmured softly,
"they will be here."
He stepped inside-
And the door slammed shut behind him. The room was dead quiet except for groans and the sound of M/n's breathing was steady and terrifyingly calm.
The moment M/n stepped into the scrapyard, the boys lounging around snapped up, cigarettes dangling, hands instinctively gripping their pipes and machetes.
One of them muttered,
"Who the hell is this guy...?" Another whispered back,
"Dude walked in like he owns the place."
Their so-called leader appeared last, descending the pile of wrecked cars in a dramatic, heavy-footed march. The red cloak swayed behind him like he was some post-apocalyptic warlord. He planted himself in front of M/n and tilted his chin up.
"You must be insane to walk in here alone," he said, tapping the machete against his shoulder. "Crimson Fangs territory. Either brave or stupid." M/n blew at a strand of hair lazily.
"Neither. Just busy."
The leader blinked. "Busy?"
"I'm looking for answers," M/n replied, already bored.
"You give them, I leave. Simple."
A ripple of confused laughter spread across the gang.nOne teen leaned over to another.
"Bro, he's serious? Like we're some info booth?"
"I don't mind humoring him," the leader said, though irritation crept into his tone.
"Ask your little question, old timer." M/n scanned the yard.
"Any other gangs near here? Anyone you're afraid of?" A bark of laughter burst from the leader.
"Afraid? Us? You must be new. Everyone around here bows to Crimson Fangs. We dominate Roppongi now."
M/n arched a brow.
"Roppongi, hm? Speaking of which... do you know the Haitani brothers?" That stopped the laughter.
Then the leader cracked a grin, wide, arrogant, triumphant.
"Oh, we know them." He tipped his head back and laughed harder.
"We know them very well. In fact-" He thumped his chest. "-we got our revenge today. Put them in their place. Those two? They're nothing. Pretty boys playing gangster."
M/n's smile stretched slow across his lips, sharp as a knife.
"Found you." The leader blinked.
"Found... what?"
"The ones who laid hands on my sons," M/n answered softly.
Silence dropped like a guillotine.
Then the leader burst out laughing again, loud, ugly, echoing off metal.
"Your sons? Ohhh, that's good!" He clutched his stomach. "So the Haitani babies went crying home? 'Daddy, daddy, help us!'"
Snickers erupted around him. Someone behind him added,
"Maybe we should spank them next time!" Another chimed in,
"Poor dad, cleaning up after his brats!"
M/n tilted his head, studying them like they were insects buzzing too close.
The leader stepped closer, eyes full of bravado. "They begged, you know. Those fragile little-"
His sentence shattered.
A sound tore through the yard-a sickening, sharp;
CRACK
and no one even saw the punch. One moment the leader was smirking. The next, he was flying backward, flipping through the air before slamming down the metal slope of junked cars, rolling like a ragdoll until he hit the ground.
The gang gasped.
Weapons fell. Cigarettes dropped.
One boy whispered, voice trembling,
"W-What just... happened?"
M/n flexed his fingers, utterly calm.
"I didn't like the tone." The leader groaned from the floor, barely able to lift his head. "Y-You... bastard..."
M/n walked toward him, steps slow and deliberate.
"You're the first gang," he said, kneeling beside the half-conscious boy,
"who didn't just pass me along like cowards."
The leader struggled to lift his machete. M/n stepped on his wrist, pinning it to the dirt with a gentle pressure, too gentle for how much it hurt.
"So let's be clear," he whispered.
"Who touched my sons first?"
Around him, the gang froze, silent, wide-eyed, their earlier bravado evaporating into fear.
Crimson Fangs thought they had found prey.
They didn't know they had woken a monster.
The Crimson Fang boys circled him, breathing hard, clutching their makeshift weapons.
M/n rolled his shoulders, cracked his knuckles, and let out a slow breath.
"Last chance," he said, voice low and almost bored. "Apologize to my sons."
No one did.
M/n smiled - small, cold, inevitable.
"I thought so."
A boy roared and charged at him with brass knuckles.
M/n stepped forward, met him halfway, and slammed a fist into his jaw. The attacker dropped instantly.
"Pathetic effort," M/n said, brushing his hand off like dust. "If that's the best you can do, you shouldn't have touched my boys."
Another swung a metal bat at his head.
M/n ducked, the bat whistling past as he murmured:
"Wrong angle." The bat smashed into the brass-knuckled boy on the floor. Someone cursed. M/n straightened slowly.
"You're doing my work for me."
A third member hesitated before rushing him. M/n didn't even look at him.
"What, you think numbers help?"
He sidestepped, grabbed the boy's collar mid-run, and sent him stumbling into two others behind him. They crashed together in a pile.
"Come on," M/n said. "Don't waste my time. I've fought scarier men half your age."
"Shut up!" someone yelled, trying to kick him from behind.
M/n caught the leg mid-swing. He stared at the boy with calm, amused eyes.
"Do you know what I hate most?"
He twisted just enough to break the boy's balance.
"Cowards who kick from the back."
He pushed, sending the boy sprawling. A heavier member tried to put him in a chokehold. M/n exhaled.
"Seriously?"
He leaned forward, flipped the guy over his shoulder, and let him slam onto the floor.
"That's what you get for touching me without permission." The room descended into a messy montage of chaos:
A fist flying at him, M/n caught it, tilting his head.
"Is this a joke?"
A swing of a pipe, M/n swayed aside, brushing past like a dancer.
"Too slow."
Two guys rushing him together He grabbed one by the shirt, used him as a shield, and sent both tumbling.
"Coordinate better."
Every movement was sharp, precise, almost effortless. The boys fought like their lives depended on it. M/n fought like he was correcting bad choreography.
Minutes later, the building was filled with panting, groaning, defeated bodies.
M/n stood in the center, chest rising and falling, sweat dripping down his jaw.
His eyes burned bright, cold, merciless.
He cracked his neck. Pop.
Crimson Fang members lay scattered across the floor, clutching sore ribs, bruised wrists, trembling from adrenaline and fear.
M/n stood in the center, shoulders rising and falling, sweat sliding down his temple.
He cracked his knuckles slowly, the sound loud in the silent warehouse.
His voice came out low and cold:
"Now..."
A pause.
"...are any of you willing to apologize?"
Not one of them answered.
Some squeezed their eyes shut. Some looked away. Others simply froze. M/n's calm expression hardened.
"Stand up."
A few lifted their heads in shock, unsure if they heard correctly.
"I said-" his voice sharpened, dropping into a tone that shook them
"-stand. Up."
They flinched as if struck.
Hands scrambled. Legs shook.
But still, nobody managed to rise fully.
M/n tilted his head, disappointment dripping from every inch of his expression.
"So no one?" he asked, voice soft, almost sympathetic. "You hurt my sons and can't even get on your feet?"
He stepped forward, slow, deliberate.
"Fine. If an apology is too hard for you..."
He stopped, his shadow falling over the boys in front.
"...I'll give you a replacement."
Their bodies stiffened. M/n's eyes narrowed into cold slits.
"One hundred hits. For each of you. Enough to make sure you'll never forget this night." A ripple of panic hit them like a wave.
"W-Wait-"
"Please-!"
"We'll apologize! We'll apologize!"
They scrambled, pushing themselves upright despite the pain, voices overlapping:
"We're sorry!"
"We're really sorry!"
"We won't touch them again!"
"Please, no more-!"
M/n watched them without blinking, unmoved by the frantic chorus.
"You misunderstand," he said, voice quiet but sharp enough to cut.
"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."
Their voices died instantly.
"So don't relax yet."
He stepped back, arms crossing as his cold stare swept over them.
"I'm not done ruining your pride." Their breaths hitched. No one dared speak.
.
.
.
.
.
Ran was asleep, half-buried under his blankets, when-
KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK.
His eyes cracked open.
"Ugh-" Pain shot up his ribs. "Damn it..." He lifted his leg and kicked the underside of the bunk.
"Oi. Rindou. Wake up." A thud, followed by a curse.
"What the-!? Ran! you do it, you're already down there!"
The knocking grew frantic, faster, louder.
Ran groaned. "Shut up... I'm going..." He grabbed Rindou's arm and dragged him halfway out of bed, earning more swears.
"Stop-! Ran, fuck, my back!"
"Then get up!" The knocking intensified.
"WE'RE COMING!" Ran yelled. He limped toward the door, hand on his side, irritation bubbling in his voice.
"If this is one of Kokonoi's stupid-" He opened the door. And froze. Rindou, leaning over his shoulder, froze too.
Right outside their house-
The entire Crimson Fang stood there, bruised, battered, terrified. And at the very front, hand raised from knocking-
Their Father.
M/n gave them a calm, utterly normal smile.
"Good morning, boys." Crimson Fang bowed in perfect unison. Ran and Rindou were speechless. M/n placed a hand on each of their shoulders.
M/n stepped aside, revealing the gang more fully.
"I spent the whole night combing through every gang I could find," he said casually, like he was talking about grocery shopping. "Asking the same questions over and over. It was... tiresome."
Crimson Fang collectively flinched. M/n then walked toward their leader, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
The leader jolted at the touch like electricity ran down his spine. M/n let out a soft chuckle.
"But it became worth it the moment I found them." He squeezed the leader's shoulder lightly.
"They were difficult to persuade."
His smile widened.
"Very difficult. But in the end... they gave up."
He tilted his head, eyes closed, voice lowering.
"Right?"
The leader frantically nodded so hard his glasses nearly fell off. M/n stepped back, hands folding behind his back.
"Alright. Say it." Crimson Fang snapped into position. And in unison, shakily shouted-
"WE APOLOGIZE TO RAN AND RINDOU FOR BEATING YOU UP!" Ran and Rindou stared, mouths open. M/n suddenly snapped, voice booming:
"LOUDER. AND MAKE IT SINCERE."
The entire gang jolted, nearly tripping over themselves.
"WE'RE SO SORRY!!!"
"WE WON'T TOUCH YOU EVER AGAIN!!!"
"PLEASE FORGIVE US-!"
Ran took a step back.
"What the-M/n???" Rindou whispered,
"He's terrifying..." M/n turned around with a pleasant smile.
"Is that all?" The gang glanced at each other, confused. One idiot muttered under his breath, "Isn't that enough-"
His teammate punched him instantly.
M/n's smile thinned.
"...Who owns Roppongi now?" Silence. Then one member blurted:
"U-uh... we do?"
Dead silence. M/n slowly turned his head toward him, the boy went white. His teammate elbowed him HARD.
"BRO. SHUT. UP." Crimson Fang scrambled to fix it-
"Roppongi belongs to Ran and Rindou!"
"They're the rightful rulers!"
"It's always been theirs!"
"We swear!"
M/n's expression softened again.
"That's better." He tapped his chin thoughtfully.
"But a verbal apology isn't very sincere, is it? No action. No effort."
He sighed. "It's quite disappointing." The gang stiffened again. Then M/n snapped his fingers.
"Go buy them something. Food, drinks, bandaids, something to show sincerity." The gang exploded into motion, sprinting down the hallway like their lives depended on it.
Only the leader remained, trembling. M/n patted his back.
"Well? Aren't you going?" The leader bolted so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet.
Ran and Rindou stood there, frozen, while Crimson Fang limped and scrambled away to buy snacks and bandaids like terrified errand boys.
M/n dusted his hands off, as if the chaos behind him were nothing more than a warm-up stretch.
"Alright. While they're shopping, what do you two want for lunch?"
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM!?" Ran finally exploded, pointing at the trail of groaning bodies.
M/n blinked. "Huh? Oh. That."
He waved dismissively at the battlefield that used to be a warehouse.
"I just... convinced them."
"CONVINCED!?" Ran repeated, voice cracking.
"You beat them half to death!" M/n tilted his head.
"Half? That's generous. I'd say only a quarter."
Rindou rubbed his temples.
"Why... why would you even go this far?"
M/n answered instantly, with the same tone someone uses when asked why they breathe.
"Because they touched my kids." Ran's jaw dropped.
"SO YOU INTERROGATED EVERY GANG IN THE CITY?"
M/n shrugged.
"Well... not all at once. I paced myself." Then he added proudly,
"Only took me three days." Ran looked ready to pass out.
Silence.
The warehouse still echoed with distant groans.
Then, Rindou exhaled shakily, glanced at the battered gang members, then back at M/n.
"...It was kinda cool, though."
Ran whipped toward him. "HUH!?"
Rindou raised his hands.
"No-I mean-just a little! Bro, he made a whole gang apologize! Who even does that? That's like... final boss energy!"
M/n perked up. "Awh, thank you, baby."
Ran gawked at both of them.
"ARE YOU TWO INSANE!?"
Rindou muttered, cheeks red,
"I'm just saying... if Dad wasn't terrifying, we could've died." M/n placed a hand on his hip, satisfied.
"See? Rindou gets it."
"NO," Ran sputtered, "no he DOES NOT-Dad, you broke at least four people's ribs!"
"They'll heal," M/n said.
"Besides, they started it."
Rindou held up both hands. "I'm not saying the methods were normal! I'm just saying the result was kinda-"
"Kinda what?" Ran demanded. Rindou sighed, crossing his arms.
"...badass."
M/n chuckled softly, Ran buried his face in his hands.
"Oh my god... you're encouraging him."
"I'm not!" Rindou argued.
"I'm just being honest!" M/n stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on Ran's shoulder.
"I only did what a father should," he said softly. "You were hurt. I wanted to make it right." Ran's panicked expression faltered. His shoulders slackened just a bit.
"...Yeah," he muttered, "but you didn't have to interrogate the entire city." M/n gave a tiny shrug.
"I wanted to be thorough." Rindou snorted.
"Yeah, no kidding. You turned half the gangs into rumors already." M/n blinked innocently.
"Oh? Did I?"
Ran sighed deeply.
"Yes. And now they're out buying bandaids for us. Bandaids." M/n brightened.
"Physical apology is important."
Crimson Fang arrived at the house in the most miserable parade ever recorded.
Fourteen plastic bags dangled from trembling hands, drinks clinking, snacks rustling, bandaid boxes poking through like surrender flags.
Not a single one of them could stand straight. Bruises bloomed on every face, limps everywhere, shoulders slumped in defeat. They shuffled in a crooked line down the hallway like ghosts who regretted everything in their short criminal lives.
The leader stepped forward, head bowed so low it nearly hit the floor.
"W-We... brought the apology items." One by one, the bags were placed carefully at the doorstep, as if any sudden movement would summon M/n's wrath again.
The plastic made soft thuds, food, drinks, bandaids, even a random loaf of bread someone panicked and grabbed. No one dared make eye contact with the twins.
And as soon as the last bag touched the floor, the entire gang bowed in a perfect 90-degree angle-
"THANK YOU FOR NOT KILLING US- I MEAN- WE'RE VERY SORRY!"
Then they sprinted away like their lives depended on it.
Because, in a sense... they did.
The hallway went silent again. M/n closed the door, "...I'm too old for this," he muttered, and dropped onto the couch like a felled tree.
THUD.
Ran winced. "Is... he dead?"
Rindou nudged Ran with his elbow. "Bro, he survived fighting like seven gangs last night. He's fine."
They both stared at M/n, sprawled on the couch, one arm hanging off the side, hair a mess, shirt wrinkled, breathing softly like he hadn't just threatened fifty teenagers.
They stood there for a moment, looking at the father who had terrorized half the city and then passed out like a deflated balloon.
Ran dragged a hand down his face.
"Bro... everything that happened tonight was insane."
"Insane?" Rindou scoffed. "Try legendary. Who combs through entire gangs just to avenge their kids?"
Ran's lips twitched.
"M/n, apparently." Rindou froze mid-snort.
"...I didn't mean it like that."
"Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Rindou clicked his tongue, but his gaze softened when he looked at M/n, the calm rise and fall of his breathing, the exhaustion in every muscle, the quiet peace replacing fury.
"...But still," Ran admitted,
"seeing all those guys bowing? Because of him? That was... kinda cool."
Rindou smirked. "So you are impressed."
"I never said that."
"You literally just said-"
"Shut up," Ran muttered, cheeks slightly warm. "I'm just saying... having someone who'd go that far for us... it's... nice."
Rindou voice lowered, sincere for once.
"Yeah. It is."
They stared at M/n again, the man they'd resented for so long, now sleeping like a worn-out guardian who carried an entire night of battles on his shoulders.
A tiny crack formed in their coldness, small, fragile, but real. Ran exhaled softly.
"...For today, I'll cook breakfast."
Rindou turned to him with a raised brow.
"You? Cooking? Don't burn the place."
"I won't."
"You will."
"I said I won't!"
But Rindou was smiling this time. With a sigh, he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, lowering the volume to a soft hum so it wouldn't disturb M/n.
Minutes passed before Rindou glanced back.
M/n was curled awkwardly on the couch, clearly uncomfortable but too drained to move.
Rindou clicked his tongue.
"...Tch. This is bothering me."
He stood up, grabbed a blanket, and walked over. He paused, staring at the man who single-handedly made an entire criminal network fear the Haitani name again.
"...Stupid old man," he muttered quietly. He draped the blanket gently over M/n's shoulders.
Ran watched from the kitchen doorway with a small smile.
"Soft," he teased.
Rindou shot him a death glare.
"I WILL TURN OFF YOUR RICE COOKER."
But the warmth stayed, in his voice, in his actions, in the room.
And just like that...
For the first time in years,
the house felt a little less cold.
A/N: Guess who will make an appearance on chapter 12.
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