High & Low Oya High Fanfiction (Temporary Discontinued)

Chapter 5

(Fitting Music:  Nightcore - Let You Go - Mountenz)

     I never realised joining a school would be such a peculiar experience.  Given that it was Oya High, nothing was normal but needing someone to vouch for me was not something I had accounted for.  My mind races at the knowledge I would see Cobra from Hoodlum Squad again, and a whirl of emotion twists in my chest.

"I thought Oya High weren't on the  . . . best terms with Hoodlum Squad," I mumble.

     A deep chuckle emanates from Murayama.  He had left Furuya and Seki behind to watch the school.  I shove my hands into my pockets, struggling to keep my anxiousness from showing.  I was alone with Murayama, and that thought burned heavily in my mind.

     The streets were narrow, and small colourful businesses dotted the corners.  Water pools in cracks in the pavement, a testament to the recent rainfall, but Murayama pays them no attention, splashing through it.  I carefully skirt around them, cringing at the slapping noise of the man's wet shoes hitting the sidewalk.

"I respect Cobra," blurts Murayama, "Doesn't mean I can't hate him."

     I blink, my brows furrowing.  A loud crash from a side alley disrupts my thoughts, and I jump, quickly scooting closer to the man.

"That doesn't make any sense," I reply pointedly, but Murayama only graces me with a half smirk as a response.

  He stops outside a building.

"Itokan Diner," I read out, "It looks empty."

"He's here."

     I eye the building sceptically.  Keeping my thoughts to myself, I follow Murayama inside.  The door was unlocked, and a small bell chimes above my head, announcing our presence.

     The strong scent of polish mixes with a musty, smokey smell.  The interior was primarily built of wood with soft orange lights, and a few pictures of the gang hang on the walls.  A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips and I pick up a photo of Cobra.  It depicts a colourful image of him as a kid, a red scarf slung across his neck.

     Murayama disappears around the back, returning a few moments later with a quizzical expression.  "He's not here."

     I raise an eyebrow mockingly, breaking into a light chuckle.  "Who would have thought," I tease, flopping onto one of the seats.

     The male shakes his head, but I catch the hint of a grin before he turns away.

"The Tanaka family is different from what you think," I begin seriously, placing the photograph back on the table, "We're not as close knit as . . . as we appear."

"I don't need to know," cuts in Murayama, drumming his fingers over the counter, "I need someone to vouch for you, not your backstory--that's your business."

"I'm not telling you my story," I defend, "But considering that I could end up causing you trouble, you need to know something."

"And what is it I need to know?"

"My Uncle wants me gone," I whisper, "Permanently . . . and I think he's going to try something soon."

     A silence falls over the diner.  Murayama keeps his back to me as he runs a hand through his dark hair and takes a deep breath.

"What makes you think soon?"

     My nails bite into the soft skin of my leg, the small spark of pain serving as a distraction to help clear my frantic mind.  "My parents left me the family business, but until I become an adult my uncle takes care of it.  My birthday is next weekend, and he suddenly sent me to a school notorious for violence.  It's too much of a coincidence, he has something planned."

     The shrill ring of a bell echoes and a sudden rush of voices fill the once peaceful atmosphere.  My head snaps in the direction of the front door, catching the attention of one of two men.  He had a mop of pale blonde hair, dark eyes and a red scarf wrapped around his neck--Cobra.  His friend has his arm draped over Cobra's shoulder, but he pauses slowly removing it once he spots Murayama at the counter.

"Do we have a problem?" he asks boldly, his gaze flitting between us.

     An eerie chuckle emanates from Murayama as he begins to inspect his nails.  The man steps forward, but Cobra sticks his arm out, holding him back.  Shaking his head, he approaches my table as he responds evenly, "They're not here to start trouble, Yamato."

     Yamato does not look so sure and keeps a cautious eye on Murayama as if daring him to try something.

"Cobra," I greet, climbing to my feet.

"Yuki," he responds, giving me a quick hug, "I heard about you moving schools."

     Cobra's hand flickers in indication to the seat as he drags a chair over, reverses it and sits down.  "What do you need?"

"Can you vouch for me?" My gaze shifts away from the male, and I wring my hands nervously.  I could feel the heat of a pink blush rising up my neck, and an uncomfortable twinge twisted my stomach.  I hated asking people for favours, and Cobra was no exception.  

     The blonde leans forward, resting his arms on the headrest of the chair, his gaze unreadable but he does not say anything.  Murayama remains somewhat awkwardly beside the counter, so I take it upon myself to fill the silence.

"Since the Tanaka family hasn't been on the best terms with Oya High, it is a little odd for me just to show up.  It is a bit of a complicated situation, but Murayama needs confirmation that I'm not . . . working with Mr. Tanaka."

"Are you fine?" questions Cobra after a stretch of silence, jolting me from my thoughts.  My brow furrows, but the male's pointed look leaves no doubt behind his meaning.

"For now."

"You can come back to us, Yuki," offers Cobra, "The boys still miss you."

     My teeth bite into the soft skin of my lip, and my vision softens as a sudden whirl of emotions dance inside my chest.  "No," I whisper, finally, "I want to stay at Oya High.  I won't run this time."

     Cobra drops his head into a nod before rising to his feet.  "If that's what you want.  Give me a minute with Murayama."

"Thank you," I mutter, forcing a smile and following Yamato from the building.

    As soon as I step outside, Yamato swings his arm over my shoulder, ruffling my hair so it fell like a curtain over my vision.

"Yamato!" I complain, swatting his hands away.

     A hearty laugh ripples from the man and a wide grin splays across his face.  "You're still uptight," he teases, "People don't change."

     I flash him a smouldering glare and give him a quick jab with my elbow.  "You haven't changed either," I defend.

"I don't care if you're with the Tanakas' or Oya High," suddenly begins Yamato seriously, "You'll always be one of us."

     I fall silent, a small smile spreading across my lips as moisture gathers in my eyes.

"Thank you," I breathe, wrapping my arms around Yamato's wide frame and giving a tight squeeze.

     He responds by patting my back and ruffling my air once more.  "You'll always be the baby," adds the man, his signature grin returning in full force.  He does not seem surprised when I slap his back playfully, letting rip a deep, throaty chuckle.

"I'm not a baby," I insist.

"Tough luck, Yuki."