𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙽𝙰𝙶𝙴 𝙳𝙸𝚁𝚃𝙱𝙰𝙶 ,, high&low

chapter thirty - eight | can't kick up the roots

chapter playlist: i. can't kick up the roots // neck deep ii. filthy / wstr iii. rookie // the relentless iv. i threw glass at my friends eyes and now i'm on probation // destroy boys v. and so it went // the pretty reckless ft. tom morello vi. to be loved // papa roach

thirty eight

can't kick up the roots

"Ikuzo temera!"

I ran forwards, grabbing the first Doubt member who swung a metal pole at me by the back of his collar, driving my knee into his nose. I winced as I felt the nose bone shatter underneath my knee, the blood soaking my jeans and the skin on my knee. I made a mental note to ask Rocky about how the White Rascals got blood out of their clothes. Another Doubt member came up behind me, wrapping and arm around my throat in a combination headlock and choke hold. I rammed my elbow into his stomach to get his hold to loosen before using all my weight to flip over, likely breaking his arm as I sailed over his head, landing mostly on my feet before swinging around to kick another guy in black behind me

The Daruma Babies were having the time of their lives, screaming and whooping with joy as they landed kicks and punches, Agyo and Hiroomi grabbing two Doubt guys by the collars and slamming their heads together before dropping them to the floor. Hyuga and his three most important guys had hung back by the cars, playing it smart and waiting for the stragglers who made it past the rest of us to make their way over.

Sakura was holding her own, and frankly I was impressed. She and Yasushi made a good team, using each other an leverage to gain momentum. Sakura used the shorter boy as a springboard, her auburn pigtails bouncing as she became airborne, taking out three Doubt men twice her size on her landing while Yasushi did a lot of spinning and kicking before bouncing off one of the Daruma's cars.

"Hey kid!" Shu Kato shouted, kicking another Doubt member. "Watch the goddamn car!"

"Sorry man!" The kid shouted back, sliding off the hood. "But don't bring a classic car to a fist fight!"

Housen were doing what they do best: wrecking havoc. Doubt were no match for the Skinheads, picking people up and throwing them across the road like they had once done to our dear friend Tatsumi. Odajima moved fast, his unexplainable knowledge of pressure points coming in handy as he got Doubt guys to drop like flies.

I took the next two guys in stride, employing what I knew would be the most painful of judo throws once they hit the ground: throwing guys over my shoulders and sidestepping their falling bodies as I scanned the fray for my boyfriend. I had the utmost faith in him, but I still wanted to make sure Murayama was safe.

I didn't have to worry: Murayama was having the time of his life as he tag teamed with Seki and Furuya, using several Doubt members as a springboard ladder, leaping into the air and taking out two more that were on Seki's back, his maniacal laughter echoing around the street as he did what he did best: beting the shit out of people.