A/N: If I don't publish on time, check the announcements on my profile. 

Would you prefer weekly or bi-weekly chapters? I have this arc already fully written out, so it's not too big a concern for me. Releasing every two weeks would give me more time to work on the next arc in the meantime, and there'd be a shorter delay between arcs. If I don't get a response, I'll just publish bi-weekly.

Sorry for the delay, here's the start of the Moebius arc!

T/W for gang violence at the end, although you probably shouldn't be reading this story if it's an issue.

"To a new member of the 2nd Division!"

"Cheers!!"

I clinked my glass of orange juice against five or so others, and around me, other glasses were raised in salute. The twenty-ish members of the 2nd Division of Toman scattered over several tables of the family restaurant broke into lively chatter. The other customers pretended not to stare and the staff didn't approach us, likely because many of the boys were nearly an entire foot taller than me (and I was average height) and spouting distinctively delinquent perms. They were dressed in casual garb, but I assumed it still was a pretty terrifying sight from the outside--and I was smack dab in the epicenter of it.

Hakkai, sitting across the table, made eye contact with me. "Sorry about how rude I was last time, Frank."

I had realized at the last second when Mitsuya asked for my name at that ramen place that I couldn't just give my real one away; anyone who knew me beforehand could simply put the two together, and I'd instantly be exposed for being a girl. So I'd given my dad's name. It was quite bizarre to be addressed as such.

"It's fine, really. I probably shouldn't have been so upfront about it."

"A different gang's been acting up on our turf lately, so Taka-chan and I were a little on edge," he explained. "Seriously, sorry." Hakkai was surprisingly friendly despite his brazen appearance. It was a jarring difference compared to our first encounter, but it was reassuring to know there was someone easygoing enough to talk to in Toman.

"I'm Shiba Hakkai, the 2nd Division Vice-Captain. You can just call me Hakkai. If you ever need a hand, just hit me up."

"Same to you."

"Welcome, dude." A bald teen plopped down on the chair beside me, his dark t-shirt accentuating his broad shoulders. I had no idea who he was, but his wide smile gave him an amicable air. "Sick hair. I like it."

It was ironic to hear that from someone without a strand of hair on his head save for his eyebrows, but I wisely chose not to comment. Hakkai, on the other hand, chortled shamelessly.

"Hakkai... one day your hair's just going to start falling out until there's none left. Stop laughing at me!" the newcomer growled as Hakkai donned a shit-eating grin, but his own continued smile belied his annoyance.

"If it bothers you that much, Hayato, just get a wig," Mitsuya spoke up from an adjacent table, where he'd been talking with some other boys.

Another member joined in. "My sister's got some wigs, and I betcha you'll look amazing in them."

"Never!" the bald teen hissed at his captain before getting off his seat and leaving for the other member who had spoken up. "And shut up you, keep dyeing your hair and you'll be the one trying on your sister's wigs--"

I laughed with the members who were observing the spectacle (or directly fanning its flames). It felt like one big conversation, where nearby people could randomly jump in, and nobody took it seriously. The members of the 2nd Division were connected, be it by friendship or something stronger. I sipped my juice while I simply enjoyed the animated chattering.

"Yo, Frank!" I turned as 'I' was called to look at a table of other members, and they gestured for me to come over. Well, it was my welcome party. I grabbed my glass and pulled up an empty chair to sit with them.

"Do you have a girlfriend? I hear foreign girls are always tryna get into relationships. Know anyone you could introduce me to?" My eye twitched.

"This sucker's never got a girl," another boy explained. "But most of us haven't, anyway."

Question of being in a relationship aside, I was slightly insulted by his insinuation. "I don't know what you're expecting, but girls in the US are exactly the same as those here. They've got better things to do than chase love all the time."

The people at the table fell silent at my words. A tall boy sitting beside me patted my back. "Welcome, comrade," he murmured.

"I'm uncertain what misconception you've all just formed of me, but I can tell you it's wrong. Completely wrong."

Several more members introduced themselves to me. The 2nd Division of Toman was much more hospitable than I expected a gang to be. Part of it may have been due to its Captain and Vice-Captain. I watched as Hakkai took out his wallet and laid a few bills on the tray the evidently-terrified waiter had practically frisbee'd at the table before speed-walking away. We'd paid for our drinks already, although some members had had an early lunch, which they were starting to finish up.

Mitsuya finished up his conversation and casually walked over to sit beside me. "That bald idiot who forgot to introduce himself is Sasaki Hayato." He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the boy from earlier, who had suddenly started arm wrestling with another member. "The gang meets at Musashi Shrine, along Tama River, about every week. It'd probably be better if you came with another Toman member, and Hayato lives near you."

Yeah, I didn't fancy getting beat up by Toman by accident. "That would probably prevent any misunderstandings. I'll make sure to do that, thanks."

"There's that, too, but I meant that another gang's been restless lately. You're a foreigner, right?"

I hummed in agreement. I had a white heritage, and it was evident in my facial features.

"Some gangs are antagonistic towards foreigners. Something about being 'protectors of the traditional samurai spirit.' Toman's not like that, though; the Vice-President's girlfriend is a foreigner. Just a small warning about that, especially with another big gang recently prowling around Shibuya."

I blinked as I processed all the red flags that had popped up at that statement. Mitsuya must've noticed the momentary flash of panic on my face because he was quick to reassure me. "Don't worry, Hayato's not half-bad in a fight, even though his hair was always a losing battle."

"Shut up, Mitsuya!" Hayato yelled across the restaurant as he slammed his opponent's hand into the table.

"But jokes aside," Mitsuya continued, "we might be going to war with them. It'll definitely be addressed in the next gathering unless something unexpected occurs before then. Toman's fairly new, and we were bound to clash with the neighboring gangs eventually."

I swallowed nervously. A 'war,' huh. I knew with certainty there would be one between Toman and Moebius, the gang he was presumably talking about. A full-blown brawl between its members. I'd experienced a fight for the first time and got my ass handed to me without Mitsuya even breaking a sweat, but this was different. They wouldn't wait for me to prepare, and they would show no mercy if I fell. Yet Mitsuya was now on my side, as was all of Toman. Toman would surely win.

But then there was Draken...

The party began to wind down after an hour, to the palpable relief of the restaurant staff. The gang had paid in full, but they'd still caused a commotion. Not to mention, the rows of distinct gang motorcycles parked beside the storefront had probably scared off the majority of potential customers. I observed them more closely after exiting the restaurant. Despite each bike being customized differently, the manji symbol was proudly emblazoned on some part of it. The differences included both structural and the paintjobs, and a few recurring motifs I noticed were the tall seat backs and tight handlebars. The 2nd Division members began to take off on their bikes, and I flinched when they roared past me. Their mufflers must've also been modified to be so harsh-sounding.

I walked down the sidewalk and started to head home. It was midday, and the weather was pleasantly cool for a change.

"Frank!"

I looked back as Hakkai easily caught up to me on foot, a helmet dangling from his neck. "Did you walk here? I can give you a lift to the station."

Behind him I saw Hayato, the sun glinting off of his bald, helmetless head, as he ran a red light. A car honked angrily at him as its tires screeched to a stop. He shot the car the bird.

Come to think of it, they were mostly middle schoolers, i.e. they weren't old enough to legally drive. Perhaps the driving age was different in Japan, but I doubted any of them actually had a bike permit. There was an accident just waiting to happen.

"Uh, no thanks."

Hakkai shrugged. "Your loss. Do you have a bike, though?"

The Tokyo Manji Gang was a bosozoku, a bike gang. Having a motorcycle was an obvious requirement, but they didn't seem too strict on it. Takemichi had joined without one, and the bike Mikey gave him had just mysteriously disappeared.

"I'm saving up for a bike since they're kind of costly."

"Yeah, they can be. But you might be able to find an older member in the gang who's retiring that could pass their bike down," he advised.

"I see. Thanks, Hakkai."

"No problemo. And welcome to Toman!" Hakkai waved cheerfully, and I returned it before continuing back home.

---

It would have been nostalgic to wake up early on Monday and walk to school if I wasn't still half-asleep as I trudged through the corridor. Waking up in the morning as a teen actually physically felt more exhausting than as an adult. I yawned painfully into my hand for the third time in the past minute and felt tears forming at the ends of my eyes. I hated being a kid again.

Several students were lounging about outside of their classrooms prior to class. I recognized a few of them and replied to their greetings. Two weeks had already passed, and I was beginning to settle in, as much as I could as a 26-year-old surrounded by 14-year-olds. It was bizarre to think that I could get used to this, but I did. Humans adapted to the challenges life hurled at them, including the most perplexing crap from straight out of a fever dream.

Before I could enter the classroom, the door slid open right while another student was making their way out. I had a firsthand lesson with Newton's Third Law of Motion as I slammed into them and fell painfully on my butt out in the hallway. The door rattled in its frame as the other student grabbed it to keep themselves from falling. A few students watched the commotion, but none made any hint to interfere, several of them even looking away, to my surprise. Eh, whatever. I readjusted my fake glasses as I stared up at the student I'd walked into. "Sor--" I cut off.

Blond hair gelled back in a manner vaguely reminiscent of a mohawk. It was Takemichi. But there was something different about him. Instead of the bumbling air he'd given off in the past few days, he seemed colder. His mouth was set in a frown and his eyebrows were lowered, almost as if he was glaring. He eyed me with such a stare and gave a muttered apology before walking away, slouched with his hands in his pockets.

I stood up and patted down my skirt as I watched the boy leave. Past Takemichi was actually a bit of a jerk. That was an unexpected discovery, but he had been a delinquent. It was just so far removed from the personality I'd gotten used to. I picked my bag up and went inside.

I spied Hina among a few of her friends, chatting. I headed to my desk, unintentionally capturing her attention (since we sat right next to each other).

"Good morning, Blake-chan!"

"Good morning, Myers-chan."

I greeted them back as I opened up my school bag and took out some stationery. We had math in a few minutes, and it was only algebra and some trig. Being a computer science major, I was already well-acquainted with math and only needed to give the textbook a cursory glance to review. It was similar for most of the other subjects, so I still had a considerable amount of free time after school after doing my homework. Maybe I could try to find a part-time job to make some spending money.

"I think he's giving back our history test today. How do you think you did?" I froze with my hand still in my bag. Oh shi--

"I thought it was easier than normal. You too?" a second girl said.

"Yeah, it was quite easy this time," Hina replied. Another friend agreed.

I had been trying to forget about that test. Easy? I'd known roughly half of the material only because I crammed the day prior. I'd lacked the background in japanese history to sufficiently understand it, so I'd just memorized it. Even so, there were multiple questions on content earlier on in the textbook that I hadn't reviewed yet. History had always been my weak point, but it would be the death of me now.

"Myers-chan, how about you?" I stiffened as I was addressed.

"I might have made a few mistakes..." I trailed off, my lips pursed tight. Admitting I'd probably failed was shameful, especially considering the context that I was technically older than them.

Hina spoke up. "She's from America, so she must've not learned about Japanese history. It must be a lot of work to catch up." I took advantage of Hina's provided excuse and nodded.

"I guess that's true. I almost expected you'd be good at it too, since you're really smart at the other subjects."

"Oh, thank you." I fidgeted slightly at the naked praise and continued prepping for class, but I listened in on their conversation.

"By the way, Hina-chan," one of her friends began, "I saw Hanagaki just leave. Are you going to chase him?"

"Hmm...I'll be able to talk to him later," Hina said.

"Recently, I feel like he's changed. But he's back to normal again. That wasn't just me, right?"

"Yeah, I noticed too; he was a lot nicer. I wonder what that was. Any idea what's going on with your boyfriend?"

"He's acting a bit different," Hina admitted, "but it's still Takemichi-kun!"

"What's that supposed to mean? And wait, when'd you get on a first-name basis?!" Hina's only response to their demanding questions was a laugh.

---

"I'm home." I shut the door behind me and removed my shoes before stepping onto the foyer.

"Welcome back. How'd school go?" Youko's voice faintly called out from the kitchen. I went into the room and saw Youko past the screen door, dressed in loose, casual clothing with a sun hat atop her head. She was out in the backyard holding a potted plant with her gardening gloves, which she placed among a row of other pots. I waited for her as she stepped back inside.

"It went as normal. I did... not very well on a test, but I did really well on another one instead." It would've technically been lying if I didn't admit it at all, but at the same time, I was trying to justify it. A right canceled out a wrong, or something along those lines.

"If you ever need help, you can always ask us. To be honest," her voice dipped down to a more secretive tone, "Shigeru was never very good at academics, so it's probably better you ask me. He means well, but it's not one of his strong points."

I eyed the wife who had just sold out her husband. Well, it was possibly true that confronting Shigeru for help would have resulted in embarrassment for both of us, him being unable to answer the question and me feeling bad for asking in the first place, so perhaps she was trying to avoid that. In a way, she still was looking out for him.

She continued. "I know you're a smart girl, but there's nothing wrong with consulting help. Especially since you came from a different country; you've already accomplished much on your own."

"Okay." For history in particular. But while I still had Youko's attention, there was a question I'd been thinking about since the morning. "Do you have any advice for how I can get a part-time job?"

Money made the world run in this capitalist society, and it didn't hurt to have a larger sum of it. In addition to just having more spending money for myself, I could make some investments towards the gang, including buying a bike, treating others out more, etc. I wasn't expecting much out of a part-time job, but it would accumulate over time. Sure, I needed to put more time into one or two subjects, but the other classes compensated for them, and it'd become easier after a while.

"I was thinking of tutoring? In math and english." I considered myself fairly skilled in both (I was a native speaker, after all, I better be), and it should've been more than enough to help with another student.

Youko paused in thought, her head cocked slightly. "If I recall correctly, I believe the minimum age to work was 15."

...and there went that idea. A tear mentally rolled down my cheek. My birthday still wasn't for a good while, so I was stuck at 14 until nearly the end of my time in Japan. How could I possibly convince my host parents to buy me a motorcycle without feeling like a jerk...saving up chump change it was.

"Although..." Youko hummed thoughtfully. "One of my friends has mentioned her son's been having trouble in school...I could ask her if she's willing to accept a tutor."

I perked up. "I would appreciate it if you did." I felt bad asking her to do more after how much she'd already done for me, but this was a chance I didn't want to pass up.

"I'll see what I can do. But don't get your hopes up," Youko warned.

"I won't. Thank you."

---

I stared up past the gate of the ashen, two-story house that was several blocks away from my home. This building seemed more compact and modern, loosely resembling a generic rectangular block. There was a balcony embedded in the second floor, the wall of the first rising up to serve as a railing. A single, dark gray roof overshadowed the house, and a few trees dotted the front lawn.

Youko had managed to land a deal with her friend. I'd have a cheap trial session, and depending on how it went, they might seriously hire me. It was unofficial of course, but I'd be paid a set rate for each session I did, which still had yet to be negotiated. Youko had given me their phone number to hash the details out myself, and we'd agreed to have the first session on a late weekday afternoon. I still hadn't directly interacted with the boy I'd be tutoring, but we were apparently the same age. His mother had seemed a little frantic to reassure me that he was a nice kid, for some reason.

As Blake, myself, I hadn't really done much either than attend school or hang out with Hina in town. I wanted to do something more meaningful, if not only for others to see, but also for myself. I pushed up the frame of my fake glasses. Maybe this could be it, if it played out well. I just hoped I could get along with my student. I took a deep breath before pressing the buzzer on the gate.

Not long after, the front door of the house opened to reveal a boy a foot taller than me, his head gleaming in the afternoon sun. It was a very familiar shine I'd seen not too long ago at a certain welcoming party.

"Wow, you sure look completely different with your hair down, Frank."

I looked at the bronze nameplate above the buzzer, inscribed with the surname 'Sasaki.' I looked back at him. I took another look at the name just to be sure. I looked back.

Sasaki Hayato. Member of the 2nd Division of Toman. How had I not connected the dots? Mitsuya had even mentioned he lived nearby to me. To be fair though, I'd come across about five different Sasaki households on my ten-minute walk through the neighborhood; it was a fairly common name. How the hell was I supposed to know that he would be living in this exact one?!

"...how'd you know?" In less than a week, my identity was already compromised. Had he recognized my face? Was my disguise ineffective? Wait, though. He just said I looked different from 'Frank '...?

"Your phone number." I blinked. Huh. That was a very, very serious security failure I had neglected to consider.

"You really look like a girl, though." I blinked again as I had yet another revelation. He hadn't noticed I actually was a girl. Part of it might have been due to the fact that I was dressed in pants and a loose blouse, not distinctively feminine clothing nor form-fitting enough to give away my biological gender.

Thank God it was this idiot who had noticed. That had provided a momentary scare, but I had now learned a valuable lesson to be more cautious. I wouldn't let anyone less dense draw a link between my Blake and Frank identities. There were some aspects that I couldn't do much about, such as my address, but there were ways I could lower the risks of being caught.

"But dude, I was surprised when my Ma gave me your number and I already had it. Didn't take you for an academic sortta guy," Hayato continued.

Was that an insult? Unintentionally made, but I felt a small spark of eagerness to disprove him. Challenge accepted, kid. "I might be able to help with some subjects. Let's go inside."

My master's degree in computer science wasn't just for show, y'know.

---

"You really do know your stuff."

"Thanks," I replied, immaturely smug inside. I'd taken off my glasses and tied my hair back in an attempt to disassociate my two identities, but the damage had already been done. I doubted he'd spontaneously forget how I normally appeared, but maybe if he didn't see me again, he'd gradually lose recollection of it.

Our two hour-long review session was approaching its end, and we'd started to grow more relaxed. I thought it went pretty well on my part; Hayato wasn't afraid to bluntly tell me when my words turned into gibberish, but he eventually seemed to get it after I tried to explain a different way. Perhaps it was because we already knew each other and were less nervous with being upfront. Or maybe that was just how he normally acted.

On second thought, that probably was it.

"Do you wanna call it a wrap? I can't concentrate any more." I could tell based on the sudden spike in wrong answers and number of tangents he'd started talking up.

"Yeah, that'd probably be for the best. I can tell you're distracted."

Hayato guffawed at my candor. "Was it really that obvious?" I shot him a deadpan stare. Who was the one who had started obsessing over bikes in the middle of trig?

I scooted away from his desk as he pulled up a school bag and unloaded his textbooks and homework into it. It was a different design than Mizo Middle's; he went to a different school. That was one less thing to worry about, luckily.

I stared around his room as he packed up. His black Toman tokko-fuku hung from a hanger in his closet, "2nd Division" embroidered in gold on the sleeve. The centerpiece of his room was the large flag with the manji symbol and gang motto, proudly displayed on his wall. Several pictures were pinned up on the board in front of his desk, a few of them on motorcycles and his school friends, but the vast majority of them on Toman. I recognized some of them, even if they weren't in their dark gang garb. Mitsuya. Hakkai. Peh-yan. The afro-boys I'd spotted on the street a few days ago. I guessed they were part of Toman...now that I knew that, wasn't the orange one of the Division Captains? Alongside the tall, buff dude that looked more like a high-schooler and had an outcropping of blond hair atop his head. I couldn't recall anything about the blue-haired afro boy, though.

"I actually feel smarter. Thanks for that, Frank. I'll give you a good word."

I drew my attention back to him. "No problem. And thanks."

"So now that we're done, do you wanna hang out?" Hayato suggested. Done? Are you serious? Go study more, boy.

"I'm kind of busy, so maybe later." And before I forgot: "my host family doesn't know I'm in Toman, so I'd prefer if you didn't reveal it..." or better yet, don't come by at all.

He made a sound of understanding. "Yeah, it might be bad if you got exposed since you're not from here. I gotcha, bro. They won't find out from me. But wait, don't you have finals, too?"

"I transferred only a few weeks ago, so I'm allowed a pass this time." Mizo Middle had a final exam before summer vacation, and the other schools seemed to follow the same schedule. Some subjects I wouldn't have trouble with, while others would require very serious cramming sessions. A fate I managed to escape. I'd already had plenty of sleepless nights as a student...no more, thank you.

"Eh? That's not fair," he grumbled. "Then--" he withdrew a textbook from a nearby bookshelf and flipped it open to a random page. "When did Akechi Mitsuhide betray Oda Nobunaga?"

Japanese history? Ugh. "Uh, it was the Honnoji Incident, right? So...somewhere in the 1600s? 1640?"

"1582." He snapped the book shut. "You're really smart at some things, but you're pretty terrible at others!" he laughed.

"Oi, you didn't know either." Look who was talking, boy who still hadn't known how to factor a quadratic.

"I should have, though," he admitted. "But so should you." Cheeky, wasn't he?

"Well anyway, I'm done here, so I'll be going," I announced as I stood up from my chair. "Bye."

"See ya later. And I hope you end up becoming my tutor. That'd be dope."

Two hours ago when I was nearly caught, I had dreaded how the rest of the session would go. But now, after a surprisingly alright time with another member of the 2nd Division?

"Same."

---

"Thank you for tutoring my son. I was a little worried about his finals, but his scores have improved considerably."

"He has a short attention span, but he's motivated. It was a valuable experience for me too, ma'am." Hayato's mother was a housewife in her mid-thirties, unexpectedly young considering she was one of Youko's friends. Her thick, black hair was tied back in a bun, and she stood at about my height, a foot shorter than her son. I'd briefly passed her husband in the hallway once, and Hayato took after him more closely--in more ways than one.

She revealed an envelope she'd been holding behind her back and held it to me in a clear gesture for me to take. I did. It was...surprisingly thicker than I thought it'd be.

"I apologize that I wasn't here for the previous sessions, so there's 2,000 yen in there for them, along with a small bonus since Hayato did well."

He'd gotten 70's to 80's in the subjects I'd helped him with; it was hardly an amazing performance in my book. But it was much higher than I'd expected the first time I'd tutored him. I closed my eyes and sighed, but I could feel a small smile forming on my lips. I felt inordinately proud.

"I hope you can continue tutoring him for a while. Of course, I'll still be paying you," she said.

"It'd be my pleasure," I replied honestly. Sensing the end, I turned the handle of the front door and stepped out into the evening. I waved back at her as I walked to the gate and slipped past. It clanged shut behind me.

It was unpleasantly warm this evening. A gust of stifling wind blew in my face, sending my bangs astir. I didn't mind the weather much, though. I stared down at the envelope in my hands. I'd originally flown to Japan for my first job; I'd never had one before, including part-time. This was my first 'paycheck.' The word made my chest glow. I'd earned this money.

She mentioned she included a small bonus, though. I fingered the hood of the envelope in anticipation. It would have been disrespectful to check right in front of her, but now I was alone. It would probably be safer to do so once I reached home, but the suspense combined with my excitement spurred me to flip it open, nudge the bills out slightly, and start counting.

1, 2, 3...4? 4 1,000 yen bills. 4,000 yen. Roughly 40 USD. That 'small bonus' was double the actual payment. I reccounted and arrived at the same number. Should I return and check? But if it was intentional, would it be rude to do so? I was about halfway home, and it was only a few minutes back to the Sasaki house. For money-related matters, it was better to just confirm. I'd feel guilty for the rest of the week if I didn't.

I stopped in my tracks and turned back, but a barely audible sound coming from a distance had me perk my ears and glance around uncertainly. Hm? The dim, white streetlights along the road didn't provide much visibility, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I couldn't see anyone else walking through the residential area at this time. I ignored it and continued on.

Right in front of the Sasaki house, I heard it again, albeit a touch louder. It sounded as if two hard objects were being struck against each other. I was used to hearing random noises in the city during nighttime, but something about this particular one bothered me...

I abandoned the house and warily walked in the direction of where I thought it'd come from. I only heard my footsteps on the concrete. I was starting to not recognize the streets, so it was probably better to turn back, especially since it was night.

A high-pitched shriek shattered the night before being abruptly cut off. It wasn't the most notably loud sound, but I'd been on high alert and was listening closely. That was most definitely a person. Was it a cry for help? I abandoned all caution and dashed towards where this sound had more clearly originated from. What happened?! Were they hurt?

A flash of light peeking past the bushes of a small park had me stop in place and soften my footsteps. I could hear the chattering of more than just a few people. Then a grunt of pain. The scream had come from around here, and it seemed the culprit wasn't alone. I ducked down and concealed myself past the foliage while trying to get a good view of the situation.

Motorcycles. Illegally modified in a similar manner to the ones of the 2nd Division. But in place of the manji symbol, an infinity mobius loop was branded across each bike. And off to the side, a handful of people clustered around something. They had gangster-like hairstyles and were dressed in white tokko-fuku, their backs displaying "Shin ∞ juku" followed by some four-character kanji I couldn't decipher. Judging from everything else though, I had a pretty clear guess at it.

They moved around casually and laughed, but it came off as mocking. I couldn't tell what they were looking at since the way that they were positioned blocked my view. Move, I inwardly begged them. Don't tell me they're doing what I think they are. They lolled around without form or order, unresponsive to my silent demands.

"Woah, two million yen?! The hell, did your parents just rob a bank or somethin'?!" the supposed ringleader of the group exclaimed as he rifled through a wallet.

"MPMH!" My eyes shot to the other end of the park through the gaps between their shins, where another gang member kicked at a topless teenager kneeling on the ground, his skin showing visible signs of a fight. Nasty bruises marred his head and torso, and blood trickled from a cut on his forehead. Not too far from him lay a girl, similarly beat up with her blouse stained with blood, but her arms twitched weakly. It must've been her I heard yell.

"They can't answer, bro."

"It was a rhetorical question, dumbass."

I squinted as I made out another collapsed person--no, two--on the ground, previously hidden under the shadow of a tree. They seemed to be adults. I doubted the gang would go as far as killing them because the consequences would be severe, but I couldn't fully confirm it with how far away I was. Grass snapped under my grip.

It was a mugging. The Moebius gang was on Toman turf and attacking civilians. This was as good a declaration of war.

I silently broke away and headed back into the streets before whipping out my phone to dial in the emergency number, but my sweaty palms made it challenging. 119 was for fire and paramedics, 110 police...which for this scenario?!

"Shibuya Prefecture Police Department, what's your emergency?"

"There's--" I choked on spit and broke off, coughing painfully.

"I need you to calm down. Take a few deep breaths." I nodded with a hand caressing my throat. "In...out. In...out." I followed along shakily.

"I-I'm good now." I most certainly wasn't, but it was the best I could get in this situation.

"Alright. What happened?"

"There's a m-mugging. A gang's beating up a couple of people. Some of them are injured." I heard typing over the connection.

"Where are you right now?" The operator's voice was weirdly calm in juxtaposition to how panicky I was. I read off the address of the building in front of me, a street away from the incident.

"They're in the park across the street. I...don't think they saw me."

The questions continued. "Are they armed? Can you describe them to me?"

"There's about seven of them. They look like highschoolers, and they're wearing white tokko-fuku. I didn't see any weapons. But they have bikes," I hastily added.

"Ok. You mentioned injured, right? How many are there?"

"I saw four, but I'm not sure if that's all." I was starting to regain my composure after talking to the operator for a while. Their tone was soothing, despite the crackling audio of this outdated flip-phone. "Only two of them seemed unconscious."

"Ok. We have officers and paramedics on the way right now. In the meanwhile, could you stay where you are and answer some more questions for me?"

"Yeah, if there's anything I can do to--"

"NO!" I spun as I heard the girl's voice again, but there was a hard edge of desperation to it that made it hurt the most of what I'd already seen and heard. I bit my lip and stared down at my feet before coming to a decision.

"Sorry," I said to the operator, "but I think I can get you some better identification of the culprits." I shut the speaker off before they could reply but kept the call on as I dashed across the street and into the park.

There was courage and there was idiocy. I knew I was being stupid--what could I hope to accomplish against a group of boys older than me who wouldn't give a flying fuck about beating me up? But at the same time, I was just standing around as someone else was getting hurt. Doing nothing in the meanwhile rubbed off my conscience the wrong way. At the very least, I could distract them for a bit and alleviate the victims' suffering until the cops arrived.

A fallen branch cracked underneath my foot, and several of the gang turned around, noticing they weren't alone. I noted with disgust the girl being restrained on the ground, clad only in her undergarments. That was all I needed to abandon my hiding spot and step forward.

"Stop it, or I'll call the police!" I yelled, brandishing my phone above my head. "I took a picture of you guys, and they'll track all of you down." My hand was clasped over my screen to hide the fact that said call was already in progress. I also didn't have a picture, but it should have been an ample enough threat for them to properly acknowledge me regardless.

Everyone looked at me, including the two conscious victims. Some of the gang leered, but they made way as the ringleader slowly approached me. He was as tall as Hakkai and about a foot broader, too. "And what's stopping us from breaking your phone and taking your money, too?" he rumbled.

I smirked triumphantly. "Even if you do, I use cloud storage, so I've still got your identities, asshat." My bad habit was coming in handy, because if I wasn't acting so cocky, I would have bolted already. Smart-ass me had balls of steel. Figuratively.

"Cloud storage? The hell is that?"

"In layman's terms, it saves data over the internet, meaning that even if--" you break this phone, I can still access it was what I was about to say until I realized--

Wait, this isn't a smartphone and--

Wait, is mobile cloud storage even a thing at this time?

I knew it existed before the 20th century, but did consumer devices widely have it at this point? I had so readily taken advantage of technology in my time that I failed to consider a world where it didn't exist (yet? Would it ever?). This technically wasn't the past of my world. Huh, with my computer science background, couldn't I exploit the hell out of this? I immediately came up with some potential avenues that reeked of opportunity--

I was brought back the present as he plucked my phone out of my hand, dropped it, and crushed it under his foot. The screen flickered black as it cracked. Suddenly, I felt a whole lot more alone and conscious of the situation I'd barged into. I took a step back as the ringleader towered over me and the other members edged closer. My false bravado quickly escaped, my ballooning ego popped.

He continued from earlier. "We can do this two ways: either hand us all your cash, nice and easy..." He trailed off expectantly, but I didn't take the bait, my fear finally catching up with me.

"Or?" another member squeaked in some stupid falsetto after an uncomfortable silence.

The ringleader kneed his subordinate in the gut, laying him flat. "We take it from you the hard way."

I swallowed as I witnessed the ruthless display. "This is all I have," I said quietly as I handed over my paycheck and the remainder of what was in my wallet. As he took the envelope, counted its contents, and pocketed it, a sense of loss washed over me. It was a trivial issue in context, but I still felt a melancholy akin to spilling my morning coffee over the floor.

A white boot suddenly lashed out at me, but I sidestepped it narrowly, having expected an attack. There was no concept of fairness in a street fight. If you were alone, they wouldn't hesitate to gang up on you. If you fell, they wouldn't stop until you were unconscious or dead. If you surrendered, they wouldn't let you go without taking something in return.

I barely dodged a punch that came from a second member, but it placed me in front of another fist. I locked my arms over my face, my footing too unsteady to properly avoid it, and grunted as his knuckles struck my forearms, sending unpleasant vibrations up my bones. I was barely getting by, aided only by pure instinct and my athletic body. My heart beat irregularly in my ears, and I had no time to fight back. It wasn't like they were as quick or heavy as Mitsuya's, but it was their sheer number that was overwhelming.

A hard boot kicked into my back from my blind spot, driving me into the ground. My chin painfully cracked against the ground and everything alarmingly went black for a moment, but I managed to shove myself out of the way to avoid a stomp.

I noticed the shards of my broken phone, within my reach, but I didn't take them. It wasn't unlikely that they had weapons of their own, and I didn't want to escalate it even further. I climbed onto my feet, warily watching as four of the gang threateningly approached me. If I stayed on the defensive, I'd eventually go down. I had to attack.

I sucked in a breath and tried to steady my nerves. I latched onto the tempo of my heartbeat, which was now slightly less erratic, and focused on it. After bobbing on my feet for a second, I dove in at the leader.

1

I covered the scant meters between us instantly while arcing my right fist back, my eyes focused on his nonchalant mug. His eyes widened slightly in surprise as I appeared in front of him.

2

My hand snapped forward on a direct course for his jaw, my body shooting forward with the motion. But he caught my wrist in a vice grip and wrenched me closer, who was already unstable on my feet, and crashed a fist into my cheek with his other hand. I struck the ground and slid backwards a little, wincing as my skin scraped the floor.

3...

5?

I rolled my head from side to side, trying to disperse the sense of disorientation. He towered over me. I tried to lift my head, but a sudden dizzy spell had me rest it back on the ground. His white boot pressed down on my chest, and I grunted as he transferred all his weight onto it, essentially standing on me.

It didn't hurt to the extent of the punch, but the pressure on my rib cage was terrifying in a different sense. It felt as if something were about to snap. In a sudden burst of strength, I grabbed his ankle and snatched it from underneath him, sending him tumbling onto the ground beside me. I took the opportunity to get up, but I wobbled unsteadily and sank to my knees. A white-sleeved arm from behind slipped around my neck and jerked me backwards into their chest as they strangled me. I clawed at their bare hand with my fingernails and elbowed my captor in the stomach, but they kept their hold firm. The other members wrestled control of my arms and pinned them down beside me. I couldn't move, and it was getting hard to breathe.

That bastard took his time standing back up and patting down his clothes, a scowl on his face. "You know what? I'm actually kind of irritated. I'm not just going to take your money and beat you up. No, you deserve much more."

I was losing consciousness. Before long, I wouldn't be able to do anything at all. Faced with that realization, I at least wanted to get a word in. Oh, he was angry now? Well, I wanted him to howl with rage. I was aware I wasn't in the right state of mind, but some petty revenge sounded very appealing at the moment.

I opened my mouth to speak, but it was a bit hard to do so when said air to speak with was in limited supply.

"Loosen up," the ringleader said. "I'm not letting her escape this unconscious." I indistinctly noted that he was less dense than Hayato in being able to distinguish my gender. His subordinate complied, and I heaved in several deep breaths and spoke up before he could continue:

"That's all you got? Toman could kick your sorry asses ten times over, Moebius trash." I choked as the arm around my neck suddenly convulsed.

"That's it, bitch." He adopted an expression of cold rage. "No one insults the gang. I hope you're ready to die." The rest of the watching members had come over, cracking their knuckles in what they thought was an intimidating manner. The temporary rush of satisfaction was nothing compared to my escalating fear.

The loud blast of a muffler-less motor heralded the approach of the bike that swerved into the park, its driver wearing the Moebius outfit. His allies stopped to watch, but their hold on me remained firm. "There's trouble, bro! The police are coming!" He was greeted with a full second of silence. And then there was a sound, faint and very far off, but unmistakably a police siren.

"Shit. We're leaving," the ringleader announced. I winced as my assailant dropped my head on the ground and they all hurried to their bikes, but I didn't bother getting up. They were retreating; what was the point?

The leader stayed in place as he imparted a final message to me. "You're saved this time, but if we ever meet again, you're dead." The threat was loud and clear. My lips involuntarily trembled as a chill ran down my spine.

He went back to his bike and kicked it into motion. With him in the lead, the gang roared away, leaving the park empty aside from the victims.

Crap, I didn't know what state the injured were in. I struggled onto my feet and headed for the two people collapsed in the undergrowth, vaguely aware of the other two victims watching silently behind me. As gently as I could, I dragged them out into the light of the lamppost. It was a man and woman, seemingly in their mid-forties. I couldn't see any external wounds on their faces aside from some nasty bruising, but I wasn't sure about under their clothes. Unlike the other two, they had at least been spared that fate. They seemed to just be unconscious and (hopefully) not in any immediate danger. I sighed and plopped down on the grass, arms propping me up.

"Th-thank you." It was the topless boy, with what I could see of his skin bruised and his arms bound behind his back. His head was bowed so deeply it touched the ground. He sniffled loudly. Even in such a shameful appearance, he was thanking me. "Thank you so much."

I sluggishly pushed off the ground and walked over to them, the adrenaline out of my system. I'm sorry I didn't step in earlier? I would've been in danger if I did, even if I kept my mouth shut; I had only been saved by the impeccable timing of the police. I didn't have any honest words to say to him, so I didn't reply. Instead, I sat behind him and carefully unwound the duct-tape binding his wrists together. His head stayed on the floor as he sobbed. I hesitantly patted his back lightly after removing his restraints and went over to the girl, still splayed on the ground and partially naked.

I slid my hand beneath her head, elevating it slightly. "Can you get up?" I quietly asked. She had a face that would have been quite pretty if not for the black eye forming and the dried blood streaking her bleached hair. I saw her grimace in pain as she tried, the muscles in her neck tensing. She was in a much worse state than the others.

"I-it hurts too much," she rasped. My eyes roamed over her body, which I had previously been avoiding to protect her privacy. I could see several bruises splotching her pale skin, but in her mid-torso, unnatural red splotches had formed, the skin slightly deformed around it. I averted my gaze.

"Let me just get your clothes, okay?" She gave a slight nod, and I gently set her head back down.

I trudged over to the bundle of clothes thrown a few meters away and bent down to pick it up, but a wave of vertigo nearly knocked me off my feet. Out of everyone left, I was the least injured, but I'd still sustained some damage from the fight. I tried to grab it again and succeeded. As if stirred up by the motion, a realization arose.

This wasn't just an instance of Moebius picking a fight with Toman. This was the incident that had led to Toman declaring war on Moebius. The attack on Pah's friend--the boy crying uselessly--friend's girlfriend--the girl laying weakly--and friend's family--the two adults collapsed motionlessly. This was the plot.

Following canon meant allowing incidents like these to happen. Was I alright with it? Most certainly not. I couldn't stand watching someone else get hurt; I'd clearly learned that about myself today.

But there was Draken...I knew Takemichi would be able to save him, but what if I did something that interfered with that and led to Draken's demise? The first timeline resulted in his death. If this second one, centered around Takemichi, also failed, then it truly was over. But at the same time, I knew there would be casualties along the way that spurred the plot, no, were necessary to the plot, even if everything went "right." This sparked the war with Moebius. Baji's death spurred Chifuyu's relationship with Takemichi. Toman in the future would cause an unsaid number of casualties, including innocent bystanders, even if Hina was saved. What was "right"? There was no perfect, flawless answer. What should I do? I didn't know.

I stared helplessly up at the night sky, but the thick mass of clouds offered no answer.

A/N: Hayato is the only named Toman OC that will be a recurring character. I might reduce his involvement in future arcs depending on your reactions, though.