A/N: I likely won't post next month because a) I've run out of prewritten chapters and b) the second half of the semester tends to be busier. 

But thank you to everyone continuing to support this story! I was certainly not anticipating this response when I initially began posting.

Now, here's the chapter.

"Holy shit, Takemichi. The balls," Makoto muttered.

"First Mikey and Draken, now this. Are the Mizo Middle 5 even a thing anymore?"

"We made that boy, Takuya! Even if he ditches us, we were his first. Ah, to see him going up in the world...oh shit, I think I'm actually crying a bit," Yamagishi whispered back as he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

Let's back up a few minutes in case I missed something because that's new.

I peered past the bookcase to peek at the sky, the azure tinged gold at the horizon, then checked the large analog clock above the front desk. 4:20...maybe it was a little early, but it was better not to risk it.

I closed my book on encryption ("Sorry," I whispered to the glaring student sitting across from me as the thick book slapped shut) and slipped it into my school bag before getting up from my seat and exiting the school library.

I hope Kazutora comes today... otherwise I've canceled Hayato's session for nothing.

Through each window, I watched the wispy clouds drift by as I walked down the hallway. The courtyard below was dotted with students heading for the front gate, a wave of dark heads flowing away from the main building. But of those standing still or traveling against the tide, I couldn't spot Kazutora's distinctive hair style.

While I normally would've tried to avoid trespassing on important canon events and contact with people who knew both my identities, Takemichi in this case, his reaction at the Toman meeting to Kazutora had been peculiar, and this was probably the best opportunity I'd get to confirm it. The time traveler didn't seem to know I was 'Blake' when we met then, so that was a bit of reassurance. I exhaled.

It'll be fine. I'm only doing a little recon.

I stepped out from the stairway on the floor of my classroom. There were still a few students passing through the hallway, enough that it wouldn't be too conspicuous if a single student waited beside the stairs. I leaned against the wall beside the stairs, which offered a full view of the entire floor.

A passing group of students dispersed, revealing a huddle of boys behind them at the doorway to my classroom. Takemichi's classroom, by extension.

"Hm?" I tried to walk at a relaxed pace as I approached the room. It was Takemichi's usual gang of friends, although I could now see it was just three of them without Takemichi and Atsushi, who were presumably behind the closed classroom door. I strained my ears and stalled my steps slightly as I passed by the three boys.

"—with Takemichi."

"I dunno, but Akkun looked pretty jumpy. Do you think it's got anything to do with Toman?"

"Eh, maybe. But anyway, how the hell did he get in? Man, I'm so jealous."

"Probably through Mikey, maybe."

They passed out of hearing. Atsushi hadn't revealed my secret yet, as far as I was aware. And of what I knew of him, I trusted he wouldn't. I picked my nails as I continued walking to the end of the hallway, waited ten seconds, then went back.

"—just study harder, dude. It ain't that hard."

"Shut up, Yamagishi. And you did worse than me last time, anyway."

"I ran out of time! If I'd had another ten minutes, I would've aced that thing, easy!"

"Hey, isn't that the girl who had a crush on Akkun? I think she's been pacing around for a few minutes."

I walked faster. I might've dragged my pace too much. Maybe I could instead loiter near the stairs on a lower floor to wait until Kazutora arrived—

"Hey, girl that Akkun rejec—I mean, transfer student!"

Dammit. Why are you calling me? Also, what did you just call me?

I turned to face them. Makoto was slouched against the wall, Takuya standing upright beside him, and Yamagishi a few steps away with his hand held up to me, and all three of them were staring straight at me.

"Are you looking for Akk—Atsushi?" Yamagishi continued. "Or perhaps, maybe someone who's a little shorter, also wears glasses, has the moniker 'The Walking Encyclopedia'— "

"No. Just...no." Takuya facepalmed.

The bespectacled boy clicked his tongue. "Spoilsport. But anyway...he's talking with Takemichi now." He jabbed a thumb at the classroom behind him. "If you wanna, we can pass along a message or tell him you wanna talk later."

I regained my bearings and shook my head. "No, I wasn't looking for him. I was just walking around."

"That's definitely a lie," Makoto whispered on whatever basis he was founding that on.

"Yeah, she was walking around waiting. It must be something urgent," Yamagishi murmured back with a smidge more logic.

'No, it's not,' I imagined whispering into their very-much audible conversation.

"Or do you really need to talk with him now?" Takuya spoke up. "We could just call him over."

"No, I don't," I firmly repeated. "Thanks for the offer, but I don't need it. I'll see you next time." The sun had dyed the sky in reds and purples already, casting long shadows down the hallway. While being at the scene would let me make better observations, I could easily mess things up if I wasn't careful. I just wanted to see Takemichi's reaction to Kazutora, and I could just as easily do so from the other end of the hallway. I turned on my heel and started away—

Yamagishi banged the classroom door open. "Yo Akkun, your girlfriend's leaving!"

I will rip out all your pages and burn them, Mr. Encyclopedia.

"...huh? Why'ya guys so quiet? I don't think I was that scary."

Sitting on top of the desks on the other side of the room were the pair of boys, heads turned towards us. Atsushi flinched marginally as we met eyes, and I broke off to instead look at Takemichi, whose gaze roamed over the three boys then to me. His eyes widened before flickering away.

Takemichi was probably just surprised to see me with his friends; I had turned up out of nowhere. Atsushi's reaction, however, had become the norm since he'd confronted me about my identity. While I couldn't have that leaked, he always looked so nervous whenever we saw each other. I didn't have any intent of causing trouble or hurting his friends, but there was no way he could be sure of that. However, I at least trusted he'd keep his end of our deal.

But it wasn't really out of 'trust,' though, was it. I held my breath.

"I didn't have anything to say. Sorry for interrupting." I lowered my head and walked out the doorway.

"Oh, hey, there's—"

I stumbled into the wall to avoid the person who had been walking up right behind me.

"Ahh, oops. Didn't mean to sneak up on you." Ring.

Too late.

Hanemiya Kazutora towered over me with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, one of which was concealed by his long bangs, dyed with wild streaks of blond. The dark collar of his school uniform only partially hid the intricate tiger tattooed on his neck, snarling to reveal jagged teeth.

"Did something happen outside?" Takemichi called. I heard his and Atsushi's footsteps approaching while I righted myself.

"Actually, is there a 'Hanagaki Takemichi' around here?" Kazutora asked. "Or if he's left already, do you know a way I could contact him?"

I was already smack dab in the middle of this and might as well watch the whole thing unfold with front-row seats. With their focus on the newcomer— all three boys had turned to eye Kazutora with judging stares— I'd mostly fade into the background. It was also an opportunity to see Kazutora up close early. I edged back toward Takemichi's friends, not having to fake my wariness. The three boys noticed me but didn't comment.

Makoto adopted a sneer as he stalked towards the newcomer. "And what business do— Yamagishi?" He broke off to gawk at the shorter boy, who'd grabbed his sleeve.

"Just hold up, he looks kinda familiar, the bad kind..." He rubbed his chin as his face scrunched up then recoiled like a spring. "Oh shit, shit, Takemichi, don't—" He slapped his hands over his mouth with wide eyes.

"Takemichi?" Kazutora curiously repeated.

"Uh, do you need me for—"

I scrutinized Takemichi as he emerged behind us from the classroom with Atsushi. The time traveler cut himself off as he saw Kazutora. But that reaction wasn't enough for me to discern anything, either. Again, he could've just been surprised to see another person randomly pop up.

Then Takemichi looked straight at me.

I immediately glanced away. What? Had he noticed me closely staring at him? Or was it for some other reason?

But I shuffled to the side as Kazutora strode straight through our group for Takemichi. Yamagishi yanked Makoto back to similarly make way for the tattooed delinquent. "Who even is that?" Makoto whispered.

"It's that guy I was talking about earlier! The number three dude from Valhalla!" Yamagishi hissed back.

The other two boys paled. "Oh shit, that's not good."

Atsushi, seeing their nervous reactions, edged back with a frown as Kazutora came closer. But Takemichi stood in place, no discernable fear on his face, as Kazutora walked right up to him. The fear on Takemichi's friends' faces was soon wiped off and replaced with gobsmacked expressions as the tall delinquent enveloped Takemichi in a big hug as if he'd discovered his long-lost brother.

"Yay, I've finally found you! Takemichi!" Kazutora exclaimed.

Takemichi stiffened, then relaxed and timidly patted the other boy's back. "Uh, thanks?"

The taller boy leaned out of the hug and dragged Takemichi by his wrist down the hallway. "'Kay, we're going to Valhalla's hideout!

"Huh? Wait, wait." He pulled his arm out of Kazutora's grip. The other boy halted and looked back while tilting his head back in a manner that belied his smile, but Takemichi scratched his neck and said, "Could I get my stuff first? I don't want to have to come back."

One of the three boys beside me choked. "Holy shit, Takemichi—"

I reopened my eyes as I finished recounting the events of the past ten minutes. Yes, that was new. Not in a tiny-bit-off-but-still-pretty-much-identical way, but rather, a

something-has-indeed-changed way. The important part was less of Takemichi's resistance to a delinquent suddenly pushing him around and more of where that fearlessness had originated from.

That fearlessness, however, could also get him in trouble.

I held my breath as Kazutora stilled. He was like Kisaki in that I couldn't read his thoughts or predict his actions. But unlike Kisaki, who acted logically for a greater purpose, Kazutora was... illogical. His warped worldview aside, his emotions were all over the place. He sometimes (as he did now) had a carefree, almost playful personality—too carefree, relishing in violence, grinning as he repeatedly struck Mikey at the Halloween battle— yet he'd so quickly flipped a switch when Baji went for Kisaki, abandoning his years-long grudge against Mikey in favor of murdering his closest friend. I didn't think he would actually harm Takemichi— he needed the boy at the moment— but I couldn't be certain.

Kazutora shrugged. "Eh, sure." Ok, then.

The three boys followed Takemichi into the classroom. "Takemichi, this ain't some damn field trip—"

Atsushi walked close to me and quietly spoke, his voice hard in contrast to his earlier nervousness. "Did you call him here?"

I glanced back to Kazutora, who smiled and waved. "No...But he doesn't seem like he's here to cause trouble. I don't think we need to be too worried." I pointedly met Atsushi's eyes. He broke away with a silent sigh. I watched his downcast face for a little longer until Takemichi reemerged with his school bag and the three boys.

" —tora, Valhalla's number three, leader of the anti-Toman force!" Yamagishi finished.

Takemichi stopped and blinked. "The...anti-Toman force?" he echoed.

"Yes, you idiot!" Takuya said. "Have you forgotten you're part of Toman now?"

"Ow!" We all turned to watch as we heard something bang and clatter against the stairs. A few seconds later, two boys, about the same height as Kazutora, slowly heaved their way onto the hallway on crutches. It was just a quiet clack-clack for a whole twenty seconds as we waited for them to struggle their way over. A few bandages covered their faces, and I noticed an uncovered, darkening bruise on the forehead of the boy with bleached hair. If their appearance alone wasn't enough to show that they weren't typical middle or high school students, it was made evident when both boys lowered their heads as far down as they could on their crutches to Kazutora.

"Sorry, Kazutora-kun. The stairs were a bit of a problem."

Valhalla's number three hummed. "That's fine. I'm about done here. Takemichi?"

I turned around to look at the addressed boy, who was standing stock-still with his mouth hanging open. The sweat on his neck glistened in the light of the setting sun. "...oh. Oh. OH."

"Takemichi?" Kazutora repeated.

Takemichi jolted before taking a stiff step towards the waiting delinquents. And another. Eventually, he reached Kazutora, who started for the stairs. The bizarre pair together walked away, Takemichi rigidly placing his feet one in front of the other and Kazutora casually strolling with his hands tucked in his pockets. The remaining pair of Valhalla delinquents watched them go with a haunted look in their eyes before trudging back for the stairs they'd only climbed up a minute ago.

"Good luck, man. Don't die," Makoto muttered.

"R.I.P., Takemichi. Return safely." Yamagishi clasped his hands together before his face.

While I still wasn't certain what Kazutora might do differently on their visit to the hideout, he hadn't hurt Takemichi in the original story. He had some patience, as demonstrated earlier.

But I now had clear confirmation that Takemichi recognized Kazutora, and they'd likely met in the future on good terms, as Takemichi seemed to trust and feel comfortable enough to resist the taller and stronger delinquent that had suddenly started pushing him around. Or, well, he had. Now, he was acting a bit more like what I'd previously expected him to.

Kazutora must have survived.

I turned away from Takemichi's friends as a crushing sense of relief poured over me, alleviated slightly as I exhaled.

Something had gone right. I'd done something right in that timeline that prevented his death. And now that I considered it, Takemichi's appearance in the past didn't necessarily guarantee that the Valhalla arc had ended poorly. After all, the first time he'd leaped back in this arc was for the goal of becoming the leader of Toman, not for Valhalla.

That meant there was a chance, odds a complete mystery, that my plan had succeeded. That another me had done everything needed to ensure no one died in this arc.

I strode down the hallway, enveloped in the warm light of the setting sun.

---

4

Inhale, duck down under a jab, and shuffle a 45-degree angle to my opponent's side while bending my knees.

5

Spring up to throw my weight behind a punch up at the jawline yet keep the other arm ready at my chest in case of a counterattack.

6

A raised forearm knocks away my hand. Backpedal two steps to avoid the incoming fist.

Reminder: opponent is six feet tall and has substantial reach.

7

Protect the eyes PROTECT THE E—

"How about we stop now?"

I slowly lowered my forearms from my face and creaked my eyes back open as Hakkai withdrew his arm to rest at his side. "It'd probably be better to not exercise too much before dinner," he continued.

How kind of him. I wasn't complaining, though. I wiped some sweat off my forehead with my long t-shirt and leaned against the wall of the brick alley as I greedily downed the bottle of water from my bag. I stopped for several wheezes before finishing the rest of it. Hakkai, barely winded, came over to stand beside me. He unrolled the sleeves of his school uniform and cracked his neck.

"Thanks for—hahh...— accepting a second spar."

"Mhm. It's good practice for me, too. Wanna do another before the battle coming up?"

"Oh...sure. Thank you."

We wordlessly watched the Tokyo skyline, glowing gold past the wire fence at the back of the alley, darken to a reddish orange, with only the sounds of my heavy breathing and the occasional passing car.

"Hey...have I gotten any better? Are there any places that I haven't?"

I'd felt that I'd improved while training on my own in the past month-and-a-half since our first fight. I'd started to run regularly and research online on unarmed fighting through my small smartphone. The second had been taken with an entire saltshaker, but there had been overarching mindsets and tips that were potentially practical. From the bout we'd just had, I could now predict and react to his moves better and stay active longer. And I knew I'd become quicker.

Hakkai had effortlessly annihilated me again, however, even with his "no need to hold back against me because you can't hit me, anyway." He hadn't said the second part, although it'd sure felt like it during the bout. I'd landed one hit past his guard, which had barely grazed his cheek. However, that was a big step up from the previous total of zero. And then there were the ten more times since last session he'd tapped a fist against my face or torso. Was my improvement just a self-conceived notion?

"Hmm..." he rubbed his chin. "Well, you're getting faster, in both attacking and defending. That's definitely an improvement. However, at the same time, you feel more...stiff and predictable. As in, I can see what you're about to do, and you tend to approach or respond in similar ways each time."

"I guess I do default to the same base stances. But I've not really changed anything... there were a few tricks I learned, but aren't I fighting the exact same way as before?"

"Oh yeah, there was that. Ahaha, that was a close call, you almost actually decked me. The gang would tease me for days," he laughed and brushed his cheek. "You mentioned last time how you fought to a 'beat,' and I did notice both this and last time. But this time...I'm not fully sure why, but I can predict your timing a lot easier. And that lets me counter your attacks and break into your guard."

I didn't reply. What exactly was I doing wrong? I stared back over the skyline, now a mix of vibrant reds and purples. 'Stiff and predictable.' Hakkai was saying I'd gotten worse, but I really was still fighting the same way as before, maintaining a precise beat to help coordinate and sync my body with my attacks. In a way, moving with purpose and efficiency. But why was it different now?

I couldn't afford to get overwhelmed at the battle. Even if everything played out according to plan, there were still tasks I needed to accomplish during the fight that couldn't be done beforehand, and I needed to last it out until then. The plan would greatly boost those chances at the fight, but it was not an adequate substitute.

A hand patted my shoulder. "Honestly, you're doing a lot better than I thought." Hakkai said with a smile.

"You use your body effectively to land some pretty decent blows, even though you're not that physically strong. And you're pretty short, too, and have less range." I ducked out of the way of his looming palm, but not far enough as his hand plopped on my hair.

I'm not short. You're just tall. All of Toman is. Stop. You do not have permission to pet my head.

He grinned at my repulsed expression and took his hand away. "I am the 2nd Division Vice-Captain, y'know. If you could beat me, I might as well step down from my position.

"Don't worry, Frank, with your agility and reflexes, I'd say you're better than most. It may have been because we've been sparring for nearly an hour, but even if they can read your timing, it doesn't matter if they can't react in time. Although...you might have a little bit of trouble at the battle, but you should be fine! Just stay focused, and don't tire yourself out too quickly. But you should probably stay near the Division, just in case. Just in case."

The bout had painted a different picture, even if he was a Vice-Captain.

"Thanks." I gave him a small smile. "That's reassuring to hear."

"Mhm." He nodded, then tilted his head and thought over something for a second. "Hey, actually, do you wanna have dinner together after this?"

"Hm?"

"I usually go out with Taka-chan on Tuesdays, but he said he was busy..." His eyebrows furrowed and his mouth quirked to one side, but he ultimately shrugged. "Mm, he just wants to be alone, I guess."

Mitsuya, huh. He had been rather calm after the nomination ceremony... "Have you noticed anything about him?"

"Yeah, actually. He's seemed kinda distracted lately. I don't think it's anything too big, but yeah." I really just hadn't been familiar enough with him to distinguish anything unusual.

"Anyway, how about it?"

"Sorry," I said with a shake of my head. "I'm eating with my family today, and it's a bit too late to cancel."

"That's fine, that's fine...I'm pretty much done here, so I'm gonna go. See 'ya."

"Bye."

---

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mitsuya. Are you busy right now?"

"Not really. Is there somethi—"

"Who are you talking to? When is dinner done?" a young voice butted in over the connection.

I yanked the phone away from my ear as something brushed over the mic in a burst of static.

"Five more...Why don't...call Luna over for me, too?" came Mitsuya's muffled voice.

"Oh-kaay."

I set my phone on my lap and combed my fingers through my wet hair as I waited, although I eyed the lit screen with a frown. For some reason, I hadn't expected him to actually be busy.

"Sorry. What did you want from me?"

I quickly wiped my hands on the towel around my neck before picking the phone back up. "...it's alright, we can talk later—"

"Now's a better time, 'cause I'm eating right after this." Porcelain and metal clacked against wood. "So?"

Straight to the point, then. "I just wanted to ask if you were okay. You seemed a little distracted after the nomination ceremony." Hakkai hadn't given an exact time, but I had a pretty good guess at when it had started.

Clank. "Yeah, I'm fine. If that's all you—"

"No, I really mean it," I interrupted. "Are you okay?"

I had considered he might be affected by the tangled mess that was the nomination ceremony, as both a Captain and a founder, but I assumed he was alright after seeing his unperturbed state after the meeting. But Hakkai's raised concerns proved I had assumed wrong.

A lot of people depended on him. His family, his Division, his leader. He was an important supporting figure to numerous lives, and he, aware of that, tried to act calm and responsibly. Not that his entire personality was faked, but that he wouldn't show when he was disturbed or worried. He'd try to hide it, at least, like how Hina had when she'd found out about Takemichi's hospitalization. I hadn't been able to tell, but I trusted that Hakkai would be able to read him the best. But Hakkai might've not realized it was a big issue. Or maybe it really wasn't, but it didn't hurt to check-in with Mitsuya himself.

The extraneous noise of him preparing dinner halted. I held my breath and waited for his response.

"Did Hakkai put you up to this?"

What? "No."

—actually wait a minute, that reaction had felt a little contrived...

"Hmm. Whatever, that doesn't matter. Yeah, I really am fine." Clink. "There is something that's been bothering me a bit, but it's not something you need to concern yourself over."

"Alright." It kind of was part of my business, although he didn't need to know that. I doubted he'd spill to me, but I'd just wanted to see how he was, and he seemed fine. Even though I couldn't read him well, as demonstrated earlier.

"But if there ever is anything you need help with, you can ask for it. Hakkai, the 2nd Division, or even just anyone from Toman. We'd be happy to help."

Whether he really listened was out of my control, but if he just remembered the offer being this plainly stated, that was enough.

Clang-clunk. "...y'know, I am your Captain." But his tone of voice sounded more light-hearted than serious.

"And at the same time, we are your friends. I can't speak for all of them, but I think they'd rather help than watch you struggle alone."

"..." I checked the screen after ten silent seconds. The call was still in place. Maybe dropping the f-word was a little too much.

"...thanks, Frank." I brought the phone back to my ear. "I'll keep that in mind.

"Yeah." I smiled. "Bye, then."

"Later."

"Hey, you done yet? I'm hung—" click.

I closed my phone and set it on my desk. Mitsuya would probably be fine, as he had in the series. But I had mostly wanted him to remember he could ask others for support, too. Not just now, but in the long run.

There were two raps against my door. "Blake, are you almost finished? Dinner's ready," Youko's muffled voice called.

"Yeah! I just need a minute." I ruffled my hair with my towel then draped it over the back of my chair. I reached for the folded pair of glasses on my desk and slipped them on. The world didn't get any clearer with them, but they were now a part of 'me.' I glanced at the mirror and patted down some rumpled locks of hair before opening the door.

My host parents' voices echoed from downstairs, and I headed to join them.

---

"Excuse me, but do you know where Valhalla's hideout is?"

"Huh? Well, yeah." Two boys stood up from the bench to flank the third, who crossed one leg over the other and draped his arms over the back of the seat. "But why should we tell you?" the sitting boy drawled. The display would've been a bit more intimidating if the standing boys weren't the same height as me and if the sitting boy's fly wasn't down.

It would be easier to just give in so I could get the information I wanted. I switched my dripping umbrella to my other arm and wiped my hand on my pants before taking my wallet out of my hoodie pocket. "How much do you want? I only have 2,000 yen on hand."

3,000 yen really, but I'm not giving away all that.

"Wait, wait, no!" The boy on the right waved his arms. "That's not what he meant."

"Hey!" the sitting boy turned around to hiss.

The boy on the left took over with a monotonous voice. "He means that you're talking to the newest member of the Shonan Mermaids, so pay some respect."

I glanced down at my wallet and slowly slipped my fingers in. "So..."

Sitting-boy jabbed left-boy in the side, who let out a high-pitched yelp and nearly stumbled out into the rain from under the overhang. "J-just take off your hood! It's rude to not even show your face, y'know?!" Center-boy cried as he leaned off the bench.

I hesitated and kept my wallet open. "Could I just...pay you?"

"Huh? What? No, I don't want your money. Just take it off!"

I put my wallet back as I surveyed the street. While it normally would've been packed between the high-rise stores, it was right now before the evening rush-hour of people returning from work and raining steadily. Colorful umbrellas hustled across the streets, more eye-catching than their owner's faces. I'd just have to hope that no one from Toman would see me. Being caught here was fine, unlike being caught at Valhalla's hideout. I brought my hood back from my face.

"Ahahahaha!" Center-boy tossed his head back and chortled while pointing at me. "That hairstyle looks ridiculous, doesn't it?"

"Ha ha ha ha." / "Ha-ha!"

I stared at the immature brats while sustaining a carefully neutral face. Well, they didn't seem to recognize who I was or that I was from Toman. That was good. Perhaps it was because Yamagishi had told those other boys that they recognized me when I was heading to Hakkai's birthday gathering a few months ago.

"—ha hahh..." Center-boy panted for breath and slouched back on the bench. "Ok, you can go now," he said with a flick of his hand and a smug smile on his rather chubby and punchable face.

"Wait, so are we not telling him where the hideout is...?" Right-boy whispered to Left-boy, who shrugged in response.

"Oh crud, I forg— ahem." Center-boy regained his cool. "I did say that, didn't I?"

"You did," Left-boy said. Right-boy elbowed him before Center-boy could get up.

"A-anyways, it's three blocks over that way." He pointed across the street. "An abandoned game center, with a headless angel spray-painted on it. Can't miss it. But, y'know, you shouldn't get too close to it." He leaned in with a hand cupping the side of his mouth, and his voice dropped in volume. "Valhalla—they're a dangerous bunch. And this is coming from a member of the Shonan Mermaids."

The Shonan Mermaids again. Hmm, had I heard that before? But regardless, they'd told me the location and given a good word of advice. Too bad I wouldn't be following it. "Thank you." I slipped my hood back on as I left.

"...what the heck, guys, I thought we agreed on how to handle this. You made me look f—"

Rain pattered against my dark umbrella and covered up their chatter. I crossed when the traffic light changed, taking a big step over the large puddle forming at the edge of the sidewalk. Several other pedestrians walked across, their faces obscured by their umbrellas, and many more faceless civilians moved about on the other end of the street.

I zipped my jacket higher and continued walking in the direction they'd pointed me in. Today probably wasn't opportune, with this weather. It'd only been two days since Kazutora kidnapped Takemichi from school, but it was better that I started early. If I didn't catch him today, then I could try again tomorrow and the subsequent days until I did.

Block 1.

Nothing had veered completely off the rails so far except that Takemichi hadn't taken Baji's charm, but that had instead provided an opportunity for Baji to (somewhat) receptively listen to me. While yes, that charm was a critical item that had helped snap Mikey out of his rage in the series, it was mostly because Baji had died just moments prior that it made the impact it did. Not that it was meaningless by itself, but it'd be considerably less significant. Using it to talk to Baji was a better trade-off than giving it to the founders still in Toman and going, "Look! He cares!" Toman's relationship with Baji was less vital than Baji's relationship with Kazutora.

Furthermore, I was uncertain how the founders in Toman would react if I did give them Baji's charm. In that sense, they were unreliable, like why I'd decided to act in the first place— not just because I wanted to ensure there were no casualties along the way, but because I couldn't trust Takemichi would succeed. Oh, I knew he'd definitely try his hardest, risking his life to grapple with fate over and over, but there was no guarantee he'd win.

Although, I did have a picture of Baji's charm in the event I needed it for anything. Didn't hurt.

Block 2.

A sedan streaked through the gutter, plowing through the miniature lake. My shoes and trousers from the knee down went cold instantly, and I cringed as my socks squelched in my next step.

Yup, today was a terrible day.

Block 3.

I didn't even need to cross the street to notice the arcade halfway down the block, partly on account of that side of the street being completely devoid of civilians, but primarily from the building's dilapidated state compared to its neighbors. Granted, those stores were about a third the arcade's size, but they at least didn't have graffiti and muddy stains on their walls. The arcade looked like it'd been abandoned for years, although the blinking sign and dim light through the tinted glass proved otherwise. I wonder who's paying for that.

I leaned against the building just a street down from the arcade, tucked into a roofed alley slightly elevated above the street. Some wet footprints on the paved ground reflected the gray sky, but it was drier than outside. Falling rain echoed throughout the passageway, the rhythmic tapping broken only by passing cars. I closed my umbrella and tried to wring some water out of my trousers, all while intently watching the front doors of the arcade.

A few people in Valhalla's signature jacket entered and exited over the next ten minutes. I was close enough to catch a glimpse of each of their faces despite the slight haziness induced by the rain, but I recognized none of them. This would be a good spot to wait in tomorrow, too.

"What the fuck are you doing in front of our hideout?"

A hand yanked my hood down from behind, and I whirled around to see five tall boys in white bomber jackets behind me, carrying plastic bags weighed down with cans. The rain must've masked the sound of their footsteps when they passed through the alley from the other side, and although the rain itself wasn't an overwhelming noise, my hood must've muffled any unusual sounds, too.

Alright, no need to panic. They've just asked what this stranger's doing loitering near their hideout. No punches thrown yet.

"Ko...KonNIchiwa, I lost. How do I walking to the...uh, train station? I not from around here, you see." I pulled my best Nahoya impression as I beamed, peering up at them through squinted eyes.

Tone down the smile a little. Okay, it somehow worked with Kisaki. Please work here, too.

"A tourist?" one muttered.

I killed my dignity and let the words flow freely. "Sushi, geisha, sumo, japanimation, saikou! Conan, saikou!"

I narrowly ducked away from the punch the boy who'd taken off my hood threw at my face.

Wait, why are you assaulting the tourist—

My shoes lost traction on the slick pavement, and I tumbled back onto my arms with a splash into the puddle at the alley's entrance. My umbrella smacked the ground, and raindrops struck my exposed head. I pushed up as he charged, but I fell back with a gasp as pain shot up my wrists. He shoved me onto the floor.

Thunk! The world went piercingly bright for a second as my head bounced off a rug of grass sprouting along the sidewalk, still jolting my skull, but much more forgiving than the exposed asphalt would've been. My breath whooshed out as he straddled my gut.

I glared up past the haziness at his calm frown— then shot out an arm to snatch my fallen umbrella. Yet he drove my elbow into the pavement before I could withdraw it, sending a jarring tingle down my forearm that caused it to clatter from my fingers. He leaned over me and easily batted it away with his long reach. Cold began to seep into my jacket as I panted and lied in place without further struggle. Watching him. Waiting.

"Why bother?" I peered down from the ground at the remaining three boys, still slouched over in the cover of the alley. "It's just a kid."

"Even so, you guys didn't see the other foreign tourist we caught two weeks ago. Dude was loaded to hell," the one pinning me down called back.

Being mugged because they thought I was a tourist. Well, I couldn't wait to see their faces when they saw the measly 3,000 yen in my wallet, even if that hadn't gone soggy already. Which probably wouldn't end very well on my side...

"And it's been hella boring lately," he complained. "Everyone's just kinda waiting for the big fight, and everyone else just runs when they see us. I haven't gotten to slug anyone in weeks..." I tensed up.

"Why not do this inside? It's cold here. The boys might wanna watch, too."

"Yeah, we're not going to fucking wait for you in the rain."

"Inside?" the boy sitting on me echoed. He looked away from me to regard the other boys. I slowly inched my extended arm back through a puddle and kept it bent at my side. "Hey, is Hanma here today?"

"He requested a hot coffee." I heard a plastic bag crinkle.

"Oh... okay then, you're coming with me—"

I shot my right palm up at his chin as he turned back, snapping his jaw shut and knocking his head back. My wrist ached from sustaining the force of my fall earlier, but I didn't stop as I hooked the leg straddling my left further in with my foot and then shoved off the ground with my other leg and elbow for leverage, trying to flip him over his now precarious center of gravity and get on top—

Even while winded, he managed to shoot an arm out to catch himself.

Probably should've actually practiced this with a real person. I doubt it was meant to be used on someone 50 pounds heavier than me, though...

A fist flew for my face and I managed to get my hands out from under me to pull off a hasty block, although I crashed back onto the wet pavement. But he then grabbed my arms and held them away from my sides, leaning over me with our faces a foot apart.

"Yup, you're definitely coming with me." I crinkled my nose as I caught a rancid whiff of whatever he'd had for lunch. "Get up, we're moving. If you try to run, I'll kill you."

You are currently sitting on me. I cannot possibly get up, as you have just proven. However, he did stand up, brushing some water off the sleeves of his jacket while keeping an eye on me.

I could try to escape again. I slowly pushed myself off the ground with my elbows and tried rotating my wrists. They ached when I bent them back but were still fully mobile. Getting beat up aside, I didn't want my face seen here.

Or, I could go obediently and see who was inside the hideout.

I wasn't naive enough to believe I'd be able to fight them off, let alone all members currently present at the base. But if I could get a glimpse inside, a quick scan of who was there and who wasn't, then immediately escape through the open door, it could just work. The boy who'd knocked me down was stronger—but I was (hopefully) faster. Perhaps they'd also let down their guard by then.

"Hurry up."

I climbed to my feet, and he clamped his hand down on my shoulder. "Ugh, you're wet."

I couldn't tell, thank you.

His hand was rather warm through my drenched jacket, though. I squeezed my hands over my chest and tucked my arms into my sides. One of the boys took my fallen umbrella and popped it open, to which another boy tried to squeeze himself under. It was just a cheap one I'd bought from the convenience store an hour ago, but it still was saddening to have it stolen. Rain continued to stream down my face. At least I couldn't get any wetter than I already was. Colder though, yes. It was late October and well into autumn, and unlike the mild summer rain during the festival fight, the current downpour felt akin to a cold shower, even though the climate wasn't particularly cold today.

A boy holding two bags of cans handed him one as they came over, and then my aide and I started off for the abandoned arcade, the others loosely flanking us.

Even if my hood was now sopping wet, it still was a hood, capable of concealing my face. Anyone from Toman potentially watching right now sure couldn't misunderstand this scene—civilians on the other side of the street peeked over at us and then strode on with their eyes set on the floor—but I didn't necessarily want Valhalla to see me, either. Especially right as I was being given a first-class cruise to their headquarters, dressed in drip, and escorted by my own little entourage of servants.

I raised a hand up to my hood, not too slow to make it seem like I was trying to hide the action but also not too fast to alert him, but a tight squeeze around my shoulder (which helped remove some water from the spot he'd been keeping dry for the past minute) had me set my arm back down. There wasn't just the risk of 'Frank' being seen; the rain was washing the gel out of my hair, some of which had become somewhat disheveled during the earlier tussle. My hair clip and hair tie were holding back most of my hair, although some of my bangs had fallen back down and become plastered to my cheeks. Those two accessories alone still changed my image quite substantially, as 'Blake' hid much of her face by her hair. I could only hope they'd be enough.

As for the other part that could endanger "Frank's" identity... I stared straight down.

Thankfully, I'm a late bloomer. Puberty? Psh.

I squinted through the glass as we stopped under the rusted canopy shielding the door of the arcade. The comical, human-sized cherub emblazoned on the wall beside the entrance was particularly pale with the bleached light of the overcast sky, and my eyes gravitated to the empty spot where its head should've been.

I can't see shit. It seemed they were paying for heating too, as a layer of fog had clouded over the glass. Even if it wasn't very bright outside, which would render the tinted glass mostly useless, I could only make out fuzzy, dim lights inside, but no more. Just a bit inside, and then I'll bolt. Rain continued to incessantly patter on the canopy.

Perhaps the boy gripping my shoulder could read my thoughts, as he shoved me in front of him. I stumbled but caught myself on the door. My palms slipped on the glass and wiped away the fog, granting a clear window inside.

50. At minimum 50 white-jacketed boys lounging on the various benches and booths scattered around the muddy, tiled floor, with likely even more past the rows of arcade machines lining the back half of the building.

Yeah...nope. Bye.

"What're you—" I let myself slide down against the door, twisting around as I fell into a crouch and planted a foot on the thick glass. My hands slapped down in front of me on the wet asphalt in a hasty imitation of a crouch start.

"Wait—"

I kicked off the door and darted forward, staying low to ground to avoid their outstretched hands as they realized that I was about to escape. Their voices overlapped as they cried for me to stop (whatever that was supposed to achieve), and I drove my hands down on the edge of the curb to pivot left down the sidewalk once I'd broken past them.

One of them kicked my feet out from me, and I fell forward onto the ground. My arms helped cushion the impact, but my wrists still stung from earlier. Regardless, I shoved myself back up and kept running, running down the length of the arcade and away from the group of boys, who were only just starting to give chase. My heart pounded in my ears.

A dark blur in my peripheral vision was the only warning I received, but combined with the wet sidewalk, it was enough for me to (intentionally) slide under the fist and crash sideways into the shuttered wall, which buckled but held. I felt almost all my hair that wasn't tied back fall out of its gelled position as I brought my head off the cold shutter, which I'd luckily managed to distribute the impact of across my side. I panted lightly.

"So, who's this little shit damaging our property?" Hanma Shuuji drawled as he let down his arm, with Kazutora beside him holding the sole, clear umbrella that kept the both of them dry. Hanma sipped from the coffee cup in his other hand and seemed content to wait while I steadied myself against the freshly formed, slight indent in the thin metal. I took the chance to hastily sweep my bangs back and reclip them.

I doubt this building legally belongs to you, and you're ruined it leagues more than I have.

But I ignored the tall boy's lackadaisical stare in favor of the chilling smile of the boy beside him. The person I'd been waiting for: Kazutora. Simultaneously so close and so far. If I could've just caught him exiting the arcade by himself and talked to him in private... He met my gaze and grinned mirthlessly.

"Hanma!" The boy who'd lost me an umbrella gasped from behind.

"Y'all were taking so long that we just went to get our own drinks," Kazutora said and slurped from his own cup. "Although, that ended up being more of a hassle than originally intended."

"Yeah, no joke. Hmm, I feel like I've seen your face before." My eyes trailed back to Hanma, who was still looking at me. Observing my face and attempting to locate it in his memory.

A late thought occurred to me. 'Frank,' right...? I'd technically seen everyone before, if not in-person then through manga panels. But the same didn't apply in reverse, and trying to recall who I'd actually met was like scrambling the pieces of two separate jigsaw puzzles and attempting to assemble them without a reference of the end result. I could vaguely recall meeting Hanma a few months ago, even if we didn't talk.

But there was also the possibility he'd seen me as 'Blake.' The possibility that he'd spotted me on the streets, from any time since I'd first appeared here to just a few hours ago when I was returning from school, and arbitrarily remembered my face. Blake could not be found here.

Then again, neither could Frank, 2nd Division member of Toman.

Well, I'm screwed either way.

"Ah." He snapped his fingers. "The fight at the festival. You're one of Toman's."

"Toman...?" A boy from behind me muttered. "Seriously?"

"Your authority's being questioned, Hanma," Kazutora quipped.

"Hey, even if I did drop out of school, I can play a mean game of concentration. But anyway, it's not really like Mikey to send a spy." Hanma loomed over me, a pleased smile on his face. I swallowed and took a step back. "But I appreciate the thought. Send him my regards, will you?"

"Hanma, I am not going to hold the umbrella over you while you fight. Nor will I be your cup holder."

"I'm...I'm not here under Mikey's orders!" I interjected. The two boys looked back at me. "Not as part of Toman. I'm just here for myself."

Hanma hummed and bobbed his head. "I see, I see. Anything else you want to say?"

I'm dead. Hanma was as strong as Draken, Draken was much stronger than a Valhalla mook, and said mooks had overpowered me less than ten minutes ago. While "is stronger than" wasn't necessarily a transitive relation, as fights could have quite unpredictable results, it did seem logical to conclude that Hanma could absolutely destroy me.

But the battle was in less than a week. I could not afford to be debilitatingly injured here (not that I'd be okay with it any other time). I had to escape as unscathed as possible, not just for the fight itself but for the few days remaining. There were things I needed to do before it, and a major one of them was just out of reach...

"Nothing? That's also fine, I guess—"

"I wanted to talk to Kazutora!" I blurted out. "I'm not here on Toman business—I just want to talk with him!"

"Hah?" A boy behind me scoffed. "You think you can—"

"Sure, I'll humor you." Kazutora cocked his head, the chime of his earring faintly audible past the rain. "I'm bored anyway. And the hideout always reeks of cigarette smoke." I tried to keep the hope out of my expression.

"Suit yourself," Hanma said and shrugged. He took a wide step from underneath their shared umbrella to the door of the arcade and slipped inside. The remaining boys stole a last glance at us before following Hanma.

Just Kazutora and I right outside the hideout, me completely drenched and Kazutora sipping his drink from under his umbrella. I clasped my hands over my chest and glanced back at the overhang, but Kazutora didn't seem like he planned to move from his spot.

"So?"

I turned back to meet his unblinking stare. "O-oh. Um..."

Denial. I was in no way a psychiatrist, but that was my suspicion of the cause for his current state. Denial that he'd done harm when he'd tried to help, refusal to believe in the consequences of his actions— but that was just me trying to apply logic to his illogical motivations. The root of the problem was likely far deeper, far more complex than could be described with a simple label, but it was good enough to start with.

"I did slightly lie earlier when I said I wasn't here on Toman business...'' I observed his neutral reaction and continued. "But it is closely related. I heard you used to be close friends with Mikey—"

"Which limb would you like broken?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

"Right or left, arm or leg?" The rest of his face remained still as he smiled.

I was too upfront. "Um, none of them?"

"Then shut up, please. Is that all?"

Mikey was too sensitive a topic. Well, there goes my three-page speech. If I couldn't talk about Mikey and (likely) the incident, then what else? I had an opportunity right here and now; it'd be a waste and possibly a major mistake to let it pass.

An old draft rose to mind. A shorter script I'd trashed for being too abstract and irrational, but it was the only one I had that didn't mention Mikey whatsoever and probably the only one he'd be willing to listen to.

"Sorry, I won't talk about him." I waved my arms. "But I do have a bit more to say." When he didn't reply, I continued.

"I knew someone who would do everything he could for the sake of the people close to him. He was beyond an unconditional friend and would likely take a literal bullet to protect those he cared for. He was a violent guy, but he'd talk about believing in his friends and such."

"Sounds lame," Kazutora intoned and took another sip.

He doesn't realize. I was silent for a few seconds. "...I guess you can say that. And in the end, he really did sacrifice his life. I don't think death is meaningful; there's no beauty in death. There's nothing glorious in forfeiting your life to save another's, and in an ideal world, no one would have to encounter that scenario in the first place. But of course, that's impossible. I believe he should've at least asked for help and not quietly loaded the burden onto himself— in the end, he ended up more hurt than that friend."

"If you're trying to lecture me, I'll break all four of them."

I sighed. "Then I'll be frank. Maybe try to look around yourself more, because even if everything seems gloomy and against you, there are people who care for you."

"Duly noted." He folded up his umbrella and left into the hideout. An invitingly warm current of heat billowed from the open door before being choked shut. I watched him walk away without looking back, unaffected and uncaring, through the fogless patch I'd wiped clean.

I started down the street while rubbing my hands together to conserve any last body heat I had. I peeled open my hood and put it on but flinched when the icy cloth stuck to my bare skin. In the end, I decided against it.

That hadn't gone too well. I took out my wallet and gently tried to separate the waterlogged bills under the cover of my own body. I wanted another chance later, now that I had a better idea of what not to say and could prepare better.

But I knew the major event behind why he'd changed and had seen that he could be reformed, in an alternate timeline. A plan that revolved around Kazutora regaining himself was still plausible.

As for Valhalla as a whole...

He drove my elbow into the pavement before I could withdraw it, sending a jarring tingle down my forearm that caused it to clatter from my fingers. He leaned over me and easily batted it away with his long reach.

My fingers stopped moving.

Seeing Draken and Emma easily dispatch them had skewed my perception of their strength. 'With Mikey on our side, Toman wouldn't lose under normal circumstances'? Toman had been losing the battle before Kisaki interfered to 'save' Mikey. I had been essentially useless against the members of Moebius.

While a loss was still improbable— Mikey would likely be able to drag the entirety of Toman through the battle with pure strength and charisma if necessary— it would make moving around the battle much—

"Are you alright? Do you need help?"

"Huh?" I looked up from my wallet as the light from above became tinted red. A middle-aged Japanese man looked down at me in concern, the back of his suit and briefcase exposed to the rain as he held his umbrella over me.

"I can help you to the police box if you're lost. Or if you need a little money, I can give it to you," he continued in English.

I shut my wallet. "Thank you, but it's fine. I'm not lost, I—sniff—just got caught out in the rain," I chuckled. "And I still have enough coins." I shook my wallet and was rewarded with jangling.

"Oh, I see." He switched back to Japanese. "Try to stay dry if you can. You'll catch a cold."

"Yeah, I will. And thank you."

He was hesitant to leave, but after a few seconds he brought his umbrella back over him and walked away, leaving me alone in the rain.

Maybe if I didn't currently look like a lost, bedraggled, foreign kid, the few people present on the street wouldn't all be staring at me. They hustled away when I openly stared back. It was an apt description, though. I had no idea where I was, as I'd opted not to bring my phone with me in case I lost yet another one to the rain, but I was walking with the blind faith that I'd find a convenience store if I just went far enough in any direction.

I wasn't hungry, but I should at least buy another umbrella and maybe something hot to drink, too. I rubbed my arms and sniffled. Getting sick would put me out of commission in the same way that getting punched into next week would.

There were plenty of cafes and diners lining the next block, warm light leaking through their storefronts. An umbrella was top priority, though. If I didn't have enough coins left to splurge a little at a cafe, I could at least leech off the convenience store's heating until I got kicked out. However, this street did look strangely familiar. I surveyed the nearby buildings in more detail.

Huh, this is the exact intersection I found Kisaki at this weekend. Perhaps it'd been because it was only a few blocks away from the hideout. Well, I wasn't lost anymore. That was good.

That means I just passed the cafe I visited with—

"Frank?" A voice too high to be from one of the boys of Toman.

Ignore it. Walk away. Pretend you heard nothing. But my body halted, frozen in place.

It wasn't that I couldn't be caught here. I was rather away from Valhalla's hideout, so that risk was mitigated.

"Frank!" A door fell shut as a pair of heels stopped behind me.

I can play this off if I stay calm. There's nothing wrong with Frank walking around in the rain with his hair half down and getting absolutely drenched. He just fancied an afternoon shower. He was also curious what hypothermia would feel like.

I swept back the hair that had fallen loose as I turned around. "Emma, was it? Hey..." I didn't remember having properly met her, but she'd probably gotten my name from someone in Toman. I rubbed my nose and sniffled.

The blond girl lightly panted on her knees, her hair in disarray and the sleeves of her school blouse rolled up. "Hey, I finally found you." She leaned back up and adjusted her umbrella against her neck. Her honey-colored eyes trailed up to meet mine.

Had she been searching for me? For what? The only time we'd met was at the festival, if I recalled right. "Did you need me for something?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to..." But her gaze was a little too fixated on my face. As if observing it and attempting to locate it in her memory.

"...Blake?" she whispered.

Emma knew both of my identities beforehand, so like Atsushi, all she had to do was connect the two to catch my act. Emma, however, was a considerably more critical threat. Sister to Toman's President, girlfriend of its Vice-President. I could lose my position in Toman and so much more if they found out.

Denial would be futile. Emma didn't appear uncertain; in fact, she was staring into my eyes and waiting for my response, even when the silence dragged on to an awkward length. So I did the only thing I could:

"Please don't tell anyone!" I bowed my head and begged. "I can't be caught, no matter what. Please, Emma!" Even if it means lying to your brother. Even if it means misleading Toman.

If I lost Toman, I lost easy access to the gang's affairs. The right to be at any of the gang's battles. Any influence I had on the gang's decisions. And probably any of the people I met in it. It wasn't immediately over if I was removed, but it would be such a major setback to a mission that already had an uncertain future.

"—" Emma murmured something indistinct.

I peeked up. Her dark umbrella had dipped down to conceal her face, and she made no visible movement. I slowly rose back up while watching her umbrella, and I sighed quietly at her lack of response.

But her umbrella quivered, and then Emma laughed.

"Man, you got me good." She popped her umbrella back, revealing her grin. "If we didn't meet four days ago, I probably wouldn't have even noticed. Don't worry, Blake. I'll keep your secret."

She was rather receptive about it, nothing like how Atsushi had been. Rather, she was almost too receptive. "You...you will?"

Emma nodded. "Yeah, of course. After all, friends cheer each other's love lives on, don't they?"

"Huh—what?"

Her smile sharpened into a smirk. "I never pegged you to be into delinquents."

"Wait, no..." She just gave me a valid excuse, you know. "...no, wait."

She chuckled. "Blake, I won't spill your secret. I promise."

Could I trust her? Or rather, where was her trust in me coming from, if it was genuine. Why was she willing to deceive Toman for my sake? We barely knew each other.

"Oh, thanks," I mumbled as she stopped beside me, sharing the cover offered by her umbrella. A hand squeezed mine, but I drew away without thinking. The warmth lingered on my fingers before fading away.

"You're pretty cold." Emma wiped her hand dry on the skirt of her uniform. "Let's go back to the cafe. I'll get you something hot."

"No, it's— sniff— fine. I can pay for myself."

"Are you crying from my charitability or just cold?" I didn't answer. "Yeah, I thought so. I'm paying, so you better accept it, Blake. Capiche?" She poked her face into mine and squinted.

"I..." Emma stood face-to-face with me, her pale curls rippling over her shoulder and glowing amber in the light of a nearby diner. She smelled of fresh coffee, cozy and inviting, and I could almost feel the warmth emanating off her through my soaked clothes.

Perhaps I could believe her. I wasn't in the best state to make a logical assessment, but my emotions were assuring me she was trustworthy. That she would keep my secret regardless of what happened. And as irrational as the feeling was, I temporarily surrendered to it.

"...thank you."

"Of course."

---

"Vrrrr...."

He watched his grandson set down his chopsticks and pull out his phone under the dining table. Beside him, his granddaughter paused mid-bite to peek at her brother's lap.

Kids and their electronic devices.

"Manjirou, you can answer that later. Eat your dinner, first," he ordered.

"Mmkay." The boy pressed something on his phone, set it face up on the table, then picked back up his chopsticks.

"Sir, I have a report for you."

"Mhm," Manjirou mumbled as he shoveled rice into his mouth. "Mm lisenning."

He rolled his eyes and slurped his soup. This was the kind of attitude he'd gotten used to from his grandson, and while it rarely irritated him, there were times where the boy would just refuse to listen.

His gang, for example. Before he'd realized it, his eldest grandson had converted Manjirou into a delinquent, too. He'd always tried to talk Manjirou out of it, even more so after the incident that'd taken his other grandchild's life, but the boy was always so stubborn about it that he'd eventually given up.

Manjirou could take good care of himself, the fighting prodigy that he was. He sighed into his soup. If only he'd use that talent for the dojo...but the boy had to take after his older brother in that regard. He peeked at the empty seat beside him, now reserved for guests.

As long as he didn't drag Emma into his affairs. Oh, he'd made sure she could adequately defend herself, considering the abundance of gang crime in the city, but she still had years to go until he'd be reassured.

"We caught Frank, of the 2nd Division, talking to Kazutora at Valhalla's hideout. Sanzu should've just sent you the pictures. They appeared to be on talking terms, but Sanzu couldn't get close enough to hear them without giving himself away—"

"Boy, that escalated quickly." He looked up from his meal as his granddaughter suddenly spoke. "Just because they were talking doesn't mean that he's a traitor. For all you know, he could've been asking for directions."

"...Emma?" the caller muttered. "Well, that may be true, but Kazutora—"

"—was, over coffee, smiling while telling Hanma how he planned to kill Mikey. I met him earlier, as much as I wish I didn't." Emma frowned and laid her hands on the table. "Yeah, he's a traitor, through and through."

"I'm not denying that, I'm saying—"

"—Frank is a traitor? He helped Takemitchy save Draken while you all were occupied fighting Moebius. You're accusing him of being a traitor?"

"Emma, that's enough." Manjirou put down his bowl. He met his sister's narrowed eyes. "I know. I wouldn't have done anything, anyway. Mucho. Don't act on Frank without my permission. Understood?"

"...certainly, sir."

He watched his granddaughter resume eating, breaking off part of her fish with more force than necessary.

Immediately after Shinichirou's death, he'd felt many things, primarily rage. Rage at some kids breaking into his grandson's shop to steal and then murdering him. One of them had even been a previous disciple. But all he'd felt at the funeral was just...exhaustion. With his old age, he'd seen many close family and friends move on. It happened eventually to everyone, regardless of cause. He'd accepted it and moved on himself.

His grandchildren saw it differently, though. Shinichirou had been their everything, especially since they lived away from their birth parents. Whenever he was busy with an extra session at the dojo, Shinichirou would take them out for dinner. For the time he couldn't make it to Emma's sixth year sports festival, Shinichirou had attended in his place. His influence had been more akin to a father figure than a brother's at times.

Emma had sobbed the entire time, but Manjirou, sitting on his other side, had been stock still. It was a side he'd never seen to his grandson, but loss did tend to bring out different sides of people. It was just after it happened enough times that its effects wore out. But the stifled sniffling and stillness in the funeral hall as the people around him silently suffered in anguish? That never got old.

He looked down at his wry fingers, spindly but callused from a lifetime of training. He had plenty of years left in him. Even his doctor had (unabashedly) called his continued living a miracle, the annoying whippersnapper who was always nagging him for "moving around too much." But if he could just keep the dojo going for another decade, at least until his grandchildren had grown up and settled into their lives.

"We do, however, also have a report about the new 3rd Division Captain—"

"Can this wait until after he's eaten dinner?" His chopsticks clanged against the plate as he picked up a portion of his fish. "This is not a suitable topic for eating."

Several seconds of silence greeted him. "...sir, is your entire family listening in?"

"Is that—snap! —a problem?" Manjirou asked around a carrot.

"No, sir."

"You heard him, then. I'll call you back later." His grandson ended the call before the other person could reply then stowed his phone in his pocket.

No words were exchanged for the rest of dinner.

A/N: Props to you if you recognized the Gintama quote.