Hanamiya's head spun a little as he was forced on his feet. For a moment the world was blurry, before focusing on a pale face very close to his. The boy yanked his arms from his captors' grip; his hand flew to his mouth to wipe a trickle of blood running down from the corner of his mouth.

"Wakey, wakey. Sun is not up yet but I don't think you'll see it any time soon anyway." Akiyama chirped and pulled back, pacing back and forth the line Kirisaki team was set in. "Honestly, I expected to see someone... different. And yet here I am and that bastard is just some average looking kid." He mused.

"You seem oddly precautious, facing just some average kid." Hanamiya snarled.

"Well, that's just for my job. I don't do things halfheartedly," the blonde explained, before locking a curious gaze on the boy's face. "What's your secret, Makoto-kun? No offence but you don't strike me as... what's the word... a scum! So either you're not and this whole thing is one big misunderstanding— in that case, I'll personally take your merry bunch back to Tokyo—" Akiyama smiled, crossing his long finger over his heart, "— or there's something more. Care to share?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation Hanamiya had found himself in, he gradually became aggravated; the way the blonde spoke, his mannerism was getting on his nerves.

"You want to know my secret?"

"So there is one! I knew it!" The man grinned.

"I can tell you but you need to come closer."

Akiyama frowned, mockingly glancing at his sides before pointing his gun at his chest. Hanamiya nodded. The man took a step forward.

"Closer."

Akiyama cocked an eyebrow but obliged, now standing right before Hanamiya. The boy crooked a finger, expecting him to close the distance but as Akiyama did, Hanamiya shoved his forehead right into his nose. In an instant, he was grabbed by his shoulders and yanked back.

Akiyama cursed under his breath and clutched the tip of his damaged nose; he started to laugh. With his free hand, he gestured for his peers. Hanamiya wailed as his knee snapped under him, one of the men sending him onto the ground. The pain made him nauseous, radiating from his leg up.

"Hide your teeth, flower boy. You're not calling the shots," Akiyama sneered. "I really have no idea what's with that fuss about y'all... But hey, I'm not the one to decide. Maybe you'll change your attitude when I play with one of your boys. Bring one here." He ordered and shortly after Yamazaki was kneeling before them, 4 people gathering around him, 2 men watching as the others struggled to pin down the wiggling teenager.

"You can always stop this, you know?" Akiyama gazed at Hanamiya. "All you have to do is ask nicely."

Hanamiya's lips pursed in a narrow line. He got the shorter end of the stick but he wasn't dumb.

"Suit yourself."

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Hanamiya!" Furuhashi's stern voice burst on Hanamiya's thoughts. "Just do as he says!"

Hanamiya twisted his neck, vision blurry from the pain. Matsumoto was lying no sign of life on the ground, Hara's lips quivered with shock from what was happening, Seto on the other hand was still, his fringe covering his eyes as his headband slipped in the middle of the fight. It was only Furuhashi, white as a sheet, who managed to finally utter something. 

No one knew where they were so no one would come looking if they were not to come back home by night. They were on their knees, outnumbered by strangers whose intentions were clear, in an abandoned warehouse. They were not leaving this place on their own. One way or another they were fucked and with that in mind, the only thing Hanamiya could think of to spite them was not giving the bastards the satisfaction. With somewhat difficulty, he glanced at Yamazaki. The boy who he wasn't particularly fond of, was looking at him pleadingly, upcoming threat slouching all the colours from his body, and he literally could do nothing to aid him.

"Do as you like," Hanamiya repeated. 

The corner of Akiyama's lips twitched as he gestured for his men to proceed.

"No... please—!" Yamazaki started but his voice got stuck in his throat as a solid kick send his head back, nearly over his shoulders.

Hanamiya's chin dropped, the sound of thrusts, smashing soft flesh mixed with pleading screams, filling his ears. His mind couldn't wrap up around the fact that it all came down to this. He had no idea who could be next and as his brain tried to defend itself from the looming danger, Hanamiya's thoughts drifted away, Miho's face appearing behind his eyelids as if she was with him. He remembered how the girl used to flush when he angered her, how her frame tensed while she was holding a bow, how her voice sounded when she called his name. He started wondering if he was ever to see her again. Hanamiya huffed as he abruptly put an end to his musing; he didn't even notice when his lips stretched out in a small smile. However, Akiyama did. Misjudging the shift in Hanamiya's feature as for the delight of seeing his friends getting beaten up, the man crept closer and squatted before Hanamiya, lifting the boy's chin with a tip of his gun.

"Waoh... amazing..." Akiyama's brows levelled with his hairline. "I've seen many things but you really are something, Makoto-kun. I know many scums, damn!, I'm one of them—" He tapped his gun against his chest. "But you truly are human trash. Un—fucking—believable..." Akiyama stood up. "If you don't want to dig through a frozen ground, stop with the red-head," he commanded his minions. "Save some energy for fresh meat."

The blonde strode casually, sliding his eyes over his future victim's faces. 

"You want to be next?" He asked Hara. 

The boy was shaking, seeing Yamazki being dropped on the ground, his face unrecognizable.

"Or maybe you?" Akiyama turned to Seto. "No? Then you it— Oi! I think there's something very wrong here." The man frowned suddenly.

"No shit," Hanamiya mumbled but Akiyama ignored him already scanning his surroundings.

"Oi, Nobu! There are only six of them. Where's the seventh?"

Hanamiya's heart clenched.

"Only they came," the older man explained.

"You really are too old for this..."

Himura clenched his jaw but didn't say anything.

"Where's the girl, Hanamiya?" Akiyama asked.

Despite his blood furiously pumping through his veins, Hanamiya managed to keep his voice impassive.

"What girl?"

"The one on your team." Akiyama inquired, his patience long gone.

"It's an all-male team, dumbass. You can check for yourself but as far as I know they are all men—"

A knockout punch in the jaw send Hanamiya's head backwards; he hissed in pain as his broken knee bend further. Liquid started to gather behind his pursed lips; Hanamiya nearly gagged on the taste of the blood on his tongue. Throbbing pain in his face travelled up, numbing his senses. With difficulty he straightened his back spitted out the red content of his mouth, three teeth clicking soundly on the cement ground.

"Now let's not do that in the future... let's talk nicely and find some common ground, okay?" Akiyama proposed. "Where's the girl?"

Hanamiya bared his teeth in a bloody grimace. "With that ugly mutt of yours, no wonder you can't find any."

"Jesus fucking Christ! Knock some sense in that empty head of his!" The blonde gave an exasperated sigh.

Hanamiya was pulled back onto his feet, a strong grip firming him in place when his injured knee gave in under him. Another blow came after another and by now he didn't even have enough strength to cry out loud. It felt like his insides were burned with a hot iron, pain halting his scream down his throat. He wanted them to stop, for all of this to be over, even if that meant he'd not walk out of this hell on his own. Hanamiya tried to concentrate on something, truly anything, only to maintain the last bits of his sanity but his mind slowed down as if to spite him, focusing on every single blow he received. If it lasted an hour or just a few minutes, he couldn't tell, but as they stopped he sunk to his knees, breathing raspy.

"Alright now... maybe this will help you answer." Akiyama tugged on Hanamiya's hair, hauling his head up. 

A photo of a young, brown-haired girl in a school uniform was pushed right before Hanamiya's nose. Miho looked down on him, her usual glare twisting his insides, judging. His eyes grew wider, which didn't escape Akiyama's attention.

"So you have some idea who she is. Kou Miho... where is she? We were specifically told to bring her, yet I don't see her here."

Akiyama unclasped his fingers and the photo fell on the dirt. The face of Miho was covered with a thin layer of dust. Hanamiya could no longer see her eyes. He could feel the terrified looks of his colleagues on him, which did not help him keep a cool head.

"I know many girls." Hanamiya looked at Akiyama, who smiled sardonically and tilted his head.

"Maybe you're not that tough after all... Look, Nobu, you should have brought the girl. It'd go much faster," he mused, before glancing at his watch. "I guess it's not too late yet, huh? Send the boys to get our princess. She already missed enough. Let's not make her wait."

If Hanamiya thought his heart was pressed earlier at the mention of Miho, he was now almost sure it was gone; his pieces were dented in his ribs. Before he knew it, he was struggling to his feet, ignoring the stupefying pain in his broken knee, and lunged at Akiyama.

"Don't you even fucking dare to lay a finger on her, you bastard!" He roared, but before he even touched him, two pairs of hands dragged him back.

Akiyama looked at him clearly bemused and oddly satisfied.

"And yet you have something of a human in you. See, Nobu? You should have brought the girl. There's no person, who can't be broken." He smiled, before motioning for one of his goons to bring him one of the metal pipes they brought. "If his mind gave in after such a long time, I'm honestly curious about how long it will take to finish what's left of him."

Hanamiya, still being held down by the thugs, thought that this really was it. He thought about the disappointment he had been, the disappointment he had turned out to be. Not only to himself. Faces of his parents, teammates, and finally Miho's flashed before his eyes, while Akiyama took a massive swing at his head. He no longer counted the blows that fell on him. After the third one, his thoughts fogged up because the pain was too overwhelming to focus on that. All he could hear was his shallow breathing, which weakened with each passing second, and the dull screams of his colleagues turned to white noise in his ears.