Anthem Of The Lonely

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This took me three hours and so much brain power to finish. I'm not exactly sure what it is, but I like it. Anyway, I hope you guys like it too and please tell me what you think!!

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"I want to fight." The kid says. And he really is just a kid, Kindaichi notes, his face young and his eyes wide, blue, and childlike. He can't be any older than twelve, all skin and bones in the rags he was trying to pass off as clothes, his bare arms and legs scuffed up with dirt, mud, and dried blood. 

Dozens of eyes turn to him, some narrowed in suspicion, others widened in surprise or brightening with amusement. The kid stands with his hands limp at his sides, his back ramrod straight and his feet planted firmly on the mucky ground.

Kindaichi has to give him credit, he doesn't waver despite the looks the other boys were giving him. At that age, Kindaichi would've pissed his pants and went running for the hills.

The tallest boy up near the front, the leader of the group, raises an eyebrow at the kid and grins. He was the leader for a reason, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, and standing at a towering six foot four. He was the alpha of their little ragtag pack, a wolf staring down a scrawny street mutt.

"Well then," he leers, his grin widening even more as he easily meets the kid's glare. The boys behind him follow his lead, sneering at the kid maliciously, some cracking their knuckles, ready to tear him apart if given the order. "Ain't you a bit young to be running around here, kid. This ain't a daycare, only big boys roaming these parts."

"You say that like I should be afraid."

Kindaichi about has a heart attack right then and there. Chuckles sound from behind the leader, the whole lot of them obviously amused at the kid's display.

The leader, Miyamoto, moves closer to the kid, never breaking eye contact, until he stands toe-to-toe with him. The kid has to lean his head back to keep looking at Miyamoto, but his gaze remains steadfast.

"Guess I'll have to try a bit harder then, eh?"

The kid continues to stare him down, not saying a word as his hands curl into white knuckled fists. Kindaichi can see his legs shaking, but he doesn't dare comment on it. Whether it's for himself or for the kid, he's not sure. Miyamoto's amber eyes glitter dangerously in the dim light of the alleyway, and he nods, unphased by the silence.

"Well, if you wanna fight, we ain't going easy on you. You gonna be fighting with the big boys."

"Obviously."

Miyamoto barks out a laugh at the kid's words. "Hey now, don't get too confident!" He says, his tone playful, but Kindaichi can hear the edge hidden in his voice. A couple of guys hunch over behind Miyamoto, their eyes widened excitedly at the prospect of a fight. Kindaichi holds his breath as Miyamoto leans closer to the kid, their noses nearly touching. "If you cock an attitude, we'll tear you apart, kid."

Another moment of silence passes as Miyamoto and the kid continue to stare each other down, challenging the other to speak again, to make their next move. Finally, the kid drops his gaze, glaring down at the frayed laces of his sneakers. Kindaichi tries to remember how to breathe as Miyamoto brings his hand up to ruffle the kid's hair playfully. The kid leans away, his face scrunched up in surprise and disgust as Miyamoto laughs again.

"There we go!" He crows before his voice is drowned out by the others, their boisterous laughter thundering through the alley. Then he backs away, smiling down at the kid.

"Now why exactly you wanting to fight, junior? You look like you just got out of primary school. I'd rather not have a bunch of cops on my ass if you turn out to be some rich kid runaway or someth-"

"I'm not a rich kid." The kid blurts.

"Oho! A street rat then! So mature!"

Kindaichi watches as the kid flushes, his face bright red as he glares back up at Miyamoto, then rakes his gaze over the laughing boys behind him. "You underestimate me." He says, his tone furious.

Miyamoto looks down at him again, his smile wide and lazy, his eyes glinting, like a predator about to eat the prey. "What's your name, kid?"

"Kageyama."

"Ooh, Kageyama. Ain't you a little macho man! So manly!"

"Can I just fight already?" The kid, Kageyama, interjects, flexing his fingers restlessly. "Or are you guys just gonna waste my time with your talking?"

Miyamoto sneers down at him, but the kid doesn't flinch. Miyamoto's gaze returns upward, and Kindaichi bites his tongue around a yelp when those amber eyes focus on him.

"Kindaichi." He says simply, but it's enough to have Kindaichi straightening himself, his arms stiff at his sides and his gaze aimed directly at the ground.

"Yes!" He calls, praying to every god in existence that his voice didn't waver.

"Take this kid to the Delta ring. They'll show him a good time. "

"Yes, boss!"

Kindaichi bows once, then he's standing erect again, moving foward until he's right next to Kageyama, so close to Miyamoto, and he's motioning for the kid to follow him.

He doesn't look back once, not even when the other boys start making a fuss, jeering and hooting at the kid as they push wordlessly through the crowd. He knows that the kid is tougher than he looks, he can see it in his eyes, the way he holds himself, even at his young age. He knows kids like that, don't want to be seen as weak, like they need to be coddled. Like they aren't worth a lick of anyone's time.

He knows, only because he used to be one of them.

So he just strides forward, ignoring the shrill whistles and teasing cat calls echoing across the alleyways and in his ears, and wonders how long it will take them to realize that the kid, while still a kid, wasn't going to break that easy.

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