Extempore. (A Tokyo Revengers Fanfiction)

I. (Part I.) Through the Oil Slick.

Author's Note:

There will be a few changes regarding the plot for the sake of the story, and yes, it does contain manga spoilers so please read at your discretion.

I don't think that the changes will be too drastic, but some of events that take place in the original manga will be have altered date and times, but I assure you the important plot events will most likely still have the same idea.

Thank you for choosing my story. I poured my heart and soul into this. I hope you enjoy it~

"Just like that, Polka."

A tiny dent appeared on my little sister's perfectly freckled face as her small hands impatiently tugged on the heavy wrench. A small groan emerged from the bike, growing persistent before I stopped her from completely doing permanent damage to the rear axle.

"You're trying to force it. It's going to bend if you do that." I smiled with a sibling like fondness, before brushing a peach highlight behind her ear. "This is Draken's bike. It's more precious than the other bikes we've worked on, so be extra careful, okay?"

Her eyes glimmered with innocent admiration, before letting her auburn irises sweep over the infamous dragon painted along the red paneling.

"If I fix it, will big bro teach me how to ride it tomorrow?" She questioned in her high soprano.

I laughed.

"You're going to have to gain a couple of inches before he can teach you. Here," I said, repositioning the wrench so that it fits on the bolt correctly, "try it now."

The dent of determination returned on her forehead before the wrench safely began to move. A gasp of accomplishment escaped from her mouth as her twinkling eyes looked into mine with a confirmation of approval, to which I smiled.

Before Polka could say anything, my phone began to ring. I snatched my gray Motorola Razr from the couch, flipping it open a familiar voice.

"Kiku?"

"Remi?" I questioned. "Is something the matter?"

There was an unsure quiver to her voice, as if she's been crying. It wasn't a tone that was new to me either, as the clients she dealt with on a daily often affected her psyche.

"We got a call about Kenny. He's been hospitalized from a stab wound. We thought that you were with him tonight! Kiku, please, I need a ride to the hospital—"

I felt my fingers go numb around my cellphone as I blurted out my response, the strain evident in my voice.

"No, I'll go."

The stress in my voice made Polka snap her head up as she stared at me with cautious eyes. For an eight-year-old, she was rather perceptive, so I couldn't let on that the person she looked up to as an older brother was in the hospital.

I cleared my throat before redirecting my attention.

"I apologize for my outburst, but there's no time. I think it's better for me to check on him. I-I'll let you know what's happening."

I ended the call, trying to hide my shaky hands from Polka's now worried expression.

"Big sis...." She started, letting the wrench fall from the bolt.

Why was she so damn emotionally receptive?

"I'm going to be back, okay?" I smiled weakly, petting her head. "Tell your papa I'm going to see Draken."

"I-I want to go too!" She demanded, scrambling to her feet.

"No, Polka. You have to stay here, okay?"