Brute Force (Baki x reader/story)

Chapter Thirteen: Porch Steps

{Leroy's character development?! 🫣 AND A LONGER CHAPTER THAN USUAL??? 😀}

Once Y/n arrived home, guess who was sitting on her porch steps? Leroy. "Come on... it's too late for this." Y/n complained, extremely tired.

"I'm not here to fight." Leroy simply replied as Y/n squinted her eyes in caution. "Well...I was waiting for you to get home since 8:00 pm but you didn't show up. So I'm tired, as well." Leroy explained.

"Cool..." Y/n nodded before she tiredly sat down beside Leroy on the porch steps. Tiredly sticking her hands into the pockets of her sweater. Basically falling asleep.

"What were you up doing so late? Don't tell me that Retsu dude is keeping you up this late." Leroy spoke, his British accent showing just how annoyed he was.

"Are you not a fan of Retsu?" Y/n scoffed as she glanced over at him with a grin. As Leroy replied with a shake of his head.

"Back to my previous question, what were you doing out so late?" Leroy asked again. "I went with a friend to help get rid of Dorian. And it ended up finishing really late." Y/n sighed.

"Was the friend Retsu?" Leroy asked as Y/n chuckled and squinted her eyes with a smile. "He was one of them," Y/n admitted with a shrug. As Leroy let out a sigh. Before taking out a random cigarette and lighter. Lighting the cigarette and began to smoke it. The smoke partially getting in Y/n face, making her have to fan it away with her hand. Before he was bold enough to offer Y/n to smoke it. In which she shook her head.

"I don't understand how you can be so young and be fighting. You have your whole life ahead of you. But you choose one of the most harmful paths? Unbelievable." Leroy began. "What do you mean? How old are you?" Y/n asked curiously. "I'm 42 years old." Leroy simply replied. "God damn your old." Y/n joked.

"Girl, says the one who's built like a pez dispenser." Leroy replied as he then flipped Y/n off. Making Y/n laugh, "Yeah...well...you're British." Y/n tiredly chuckled, too tired to reply with an actual response. "The fuck does that mean?" Leroy replied surprised as he raised his eyebrow. Taking another puff of his cigarette.

"You know...you look just like someone I used to know..." Leroy sighed as he looked over at Y/n. "Yeah? Who?" Y/n asked as she slightly tilted her head. "My daughter." Leroy looked down at the dirt, still sitting on the porch steps. Before reaching in his back pocket to reveal a small folded paper. Before he began to unfold it with his free hand.

Revealing a picture of a little girl with a younger version of Leroy. She did look like Y/n. "Her name was Kiara. But I used to call her Kiki instead." Leroy chuckled, making Y/n glance over at him. Noticing just how close he was to crying. "That's a cute name." Y/n replied with a smile.

"I loved her...but that was when I began my underground fighting career.... my wife divorced me, scared that I would endanger her and my daughter...so she took her away...and it's been exactly seven years since the last time I've seen her..." Leroy sighed as he looked deeply at the photo. Y/n felt sympathy. Maybe he didn't escape the prison just to meet her.

That's when it hit her. He must have mistaken her for his daughter. "I didn't actually want to hurt you at first. I actually thought you were her. I was just...enraged...about the fact that I was wrong..." Leroy explained folding the picture back up and placed it back into his pocket. "You should get to sleep. You'll be acting like a zombie if you don't." Leroy sighed as he gently placed his hand on her shoulder. When suddenly a few rain drops began to pour down. In which Leroy raised the hood of her sweater over her head to prevent her from getting wet.

"Get some sleep." Leroy instructed before suddenly pulling the hood over her eyes. Making her push it back to reveal that he was gone. Making her look around her surroundings before getting up from sitting down on the porch steps and walked inside the house. Closing the door behind her before taking off her shoes and put it on the shoe rack.