I'd let the world burn for you... || Tokyo Revengers

Saving Kojiro III

- "Step aside, Kaiya Hanemiya," Blue Pine commanded, his tone a blend of authority and barely concealed impatience. His tall figure loomed over her, his eyes—cold and calculating—locked onto hers as if willing her to obey. He could feel a knot of frustration tightening in his chest, almost daring to hope that this time, she would listen. But Kaiya was nothing if not persistent, a fierce determination burning in her eyes. She wasn't the type to back down, especially not now.

Across the dimly lit alley, where the walls seemed to close in with an oppressive weight, Chifuyu and Ryusei stood like coiled springs, ready to explode into action. Their eyes darted between Blue Pine—Soichiro Matsuno—and his menacing companion, Yellow Dragonfly—Ayumu Tobishima. The tension was palpable, a simmering storm waiting for the smallest spark. And lying between them, like a broken doll, was Kojiro. His body was crumpled on the cold, hard ground, unconscious, a dark crimson trickle seeping from the back of his head, staining the dirty concrete beneath him.

Kaiya, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps, held her ground despite the palpable danger surrounding her.

- "No," she replied, her voice soft yet resolute, tinged with a hint of uncertainty. She dropped to her knees beside Kojiro, her hands trembling slightly as she reached out to him. "I'm just going to help a... friend." The word lingered on her lips, as if she was trying to convince herself of its truth. Could she really call Kojiro a friend, simply because of his bond with Ryusei? The doubt gnawed at her, but there was no time to dwell on it. Kojiro needed her now.

Blue Pine's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he fought the impulse to pull her away from the battlefield. Every instinct screamed at him to keep her out of harm's way, but before he could act, Chifuyu sprang into motion. With a swift, calculated movement, Chifuyu's fist shot toward Blue Pine, but the seasoned fighter sidestepped effortlessly, his movements precise and controlled. Ryusei wasn't far behind, his foot slicing through the air in a powerful kick aimed at Yellow Dragonfly's face. Ayumu, with an almost eerie calmness, leaned back just enough to let the attack miss by a hair's breadth.

Kaiya, now oblivious to the clashing titans around her, focused entirely on Kojiro. Her fingers worked quickly, but with a tenderness that seemed out of place amidst the violence. She had prepared for this—before rushing out of Ryusei's room, she had grabbed a roll of bandages, knowing she might need them. She pressed them gently against the wound on Kojiro's head, her hands steadier now, driven by a singular purpose: to keep him safe, to keep him alive.

The alley echoed with the sounds of scuffling feet and sharp, heavy breaths. But then, Ryusei's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and accusatory.

- "First that red scar guy, and now you," he growled, his eyes locking onto Yellow Dragonfly with a mix of suspicion and disdain. "I haven't seen any of your faces in Yotsuya before. Who the heck are you guys?" His words dripped with a challenge, his demand for answers hanging in the thick, tension-filled air. "I guess you're the guys Kensho brought in from other gangs," Ryusei continued, his voice dripping with suspicion as he stared down Ayumu. The smirk on Ayumu's face only deepened, a taunting expression that sent a surge of irritation through Ryusei.

- "You've got that one wrong," He finally spoke, his tone light but laced with mockery. "We were all guided to him by this thing called fate." His smile widened, as if relishing in the absurdity of his own words, clearly enjoying the frustration it sparked in Ryusei.

- "Tch! All you do is spout nonsense!" Ryusei snapped, his temper flaring. He kicked an empty beer can lying on the ground towards Ayumu, who casually raised his hand to deflect it. The can clattered to the side, but before Ayumu could react further, Ryusei surged forward, driving his foot into his stomach with a brutal kick. Ayumu doubled over, wincing as the pain shot through him.