MY PRETTY || Tokyo Revengers

- 20 -

Hours had passed since you last saw Mikey and Emma. You had to admit, you enjoyed your time with them, they were kind to you and not an ounce of hostility was felt from them.

Night had already fallen hours ago and you were driving home. The streets were eerily empty as you drove back to Roppongi.

It was lucky that you looked old enough to drive a car, your appearance was convenient especially when making your fake ID.

It was around fifteen minutes into the drive back that you suddenly noticed the strangely constant shining of headlights on your rearview mirror. One that would appear with every corner you turned.

You begun to grow suspicious, deciding to drive around the block once to test out your suspicions only to find you were correct.

A strange pickup truck had been tailing you.

"You've got to be shitting me right now," you swore, jaw clenched in irritation.

It's a wonder your a target, being a Haitani meant a lot of eyes were on you, especially for being known as the weakest link.

You hated it, and you had a habit of taking your anger out on those who sought you to get to your brothers. You would not be known as a weakling, and you made sure to leave a message to prove that each and every time.

"You're shitting me," you growled, eyes trained on the car behind through the rearview.

You didn't like doing this, if anything you despised it, but what choice did you have? Probably a more logical one, but your mind was clouded with irritation, and when things get like this, any sense of compassion for human life is thrown out the window.

You're not going to pity people who target you for being the weakest link of your family, you're not going to show them mercy they wouldn't have shown you if you couldn't fight back.

Bracing yourself, you gassed on the reverse pedal, the seatbelt strapped across your chest knocked the wind off your lungs upon impact as the car slammed into the front of the pickup truck, and your airbag went off.

You were stunned for a moment, stuck in place as smoke rose from the point of impact at the back of your car and the front of the pickup.

Shaking it off, you grabbed the knife in your belt and poked holes into the airbag, releasing the air and gaining back space to move more freely. Then, with the knife you cut through the seatbelt before stepping out.

Your heels clicked against the concrete pavement as you dusted off your clothes, slowly approaching the overturned pickup truck.

As you reached the window, you could see a man hanging upside down, face bloodied from the sudden crash. With a heavy sigh, you kicked the window, shattering the glass before crouching down and reaching inside to open the door.

When you finally did, you cut the man's seatbelt, carelessly dragging him out of the car and dropping him onto the pavement where he laid disgustingly.

Raising your leg, you stomped down on his stomach, digging your shoe into his abdomen as a pained yell left his throat.

"Speak," you growled. "On who's order did you follow me?"

The man remained quiet, panting from the exhaustion and pain brought by the crash.

"No?" You scoffed, whipping out a burner phone, you always had one with you. "Fine, have it your way then."

Without warning, you carved the Haitani name into his skin with your knife, ignoring his begging screams of desperate agony, tuning out any humanity in your heart.

"This is what happens when you try to hurt my family." Your voice was low, venomous, one that poisoned the soul. "Next time, I'll put a bullet through your skull."

With the burner phone in hand, you dialed an ambulance and the fire department before carelessly tossing it back into the wreckage.

You decided you had no other choice but to walk the rest of the way home. And you prayed to God that you'd have no more run-ins, because God knows you wouldn't hesitate to slit their throats after tonights incident.

Not an ounce of guilt wracked your body despite knowing the man could die if the cars explode, because whenever things like this happened, you left it all to God to save those who have wronged you.

* * *

"Kei-chan! What do you say we go shopping today, hmm~?" You barged into the apartment, not bothering to knock.

You spotted him flopped on the couch, blanket draped over him with various items scattered on the ground next to him. His arm hung off the couch and his glasses lay discarded on the coffee table.

He was still asleep, blanket not covering much of his torso, luckily the bandage wrapped around his waist covered foe the blanket.

"Oi! Kei-chan!" You frowned, shaking his shoulder.

It was around two weeks ago that you started calling him by the nickname, it simply appeared out of nowhere, but he didn't seem to mind.

In fact, ever since you did call him that, he'd refuse to acknowledge you if you called him anything else. Safe to say he was pretty attached to the nickname.

He groaned, shifting closer to the back of the couch and away from you. "Five more minutes."

"Five more minutes my ass! It's noon! Get your ass out of bed right now!" You demanded, not ceasing your violent shakes on his shoulder.

"Two more minutes," he debated sleepily.

"No!" You frowned. "Get up!"

He sighed heavily, one of pure defeat as he carefully hoisted himself up with a reluctant groan. "You're so irritating."

"You'd sulk if I left you and shopped by myself, don't lie to me." You shot him a playful glare.

But he knew you were right, Baji had been getting quite clingy lately and he absolutely hated it when you went out and left the building without him. Even though you had given him the freedom to go out if he wanted to, he refused to go unless he was with you.

You found it strange really, because this boy is the same boy who so badly wanted to leave this place. A part of you liked to believe the only reason he wasn't escaping was because he'd get lost, either that or he was too afraid to run away.

You liked to think the first was the real reason.

"Make me breakfast," he demanded childishly as he sat up on the couch.

You squinted at him. "And if I don't?"

He gave you his best puppy dog eyes. "Pretty please?"

You laughed at that, playfully leaning in and messing up his pretty hair. "Okay, just for you my pretty boy."

He seemed satisfied with that, a cute little grin on his face as he watched you retreat to the kitchen. He didn't care what concoction you'd come up with, he liked whatever food you made for him. Because to him, all the food you made was good, and thats all that mattered.

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