#kiyumi akuji

[kiyumiakuji]

@fall-of-the-ronin

Sitting at the airport were two figures, extended members of the Akuji family: Kiyumi and her young son Tomoyuki. Tomoyuki was quietly playing with his PlayStation portable, while his mother sat immediately beside him. Pulling out her phone, Kiyumi sent a text message to her brother, typing little more than: “Get over or send someone to the airport a.s.a.p. Tomoyuki wanted to come visit you.”

While true she could have driven a taxi over to Tohoku Towers and waited there, and would have done so if she were alone, she preferred not to risk her ‘most precious thing in the world’ travelling through what was still enemy territory. After sending the text, she brushed the boy’s hair with one of her hands, smiling, before he said to her: “How long until Shogo-ji comes pick me up?”

“I just sent him a text” Kiyumi said to Tomo, “I don’t know how long it’s going to take him to get here.” “Why can’t we walk or take a taxi to his hotel?” Tomo then whined, “That’d be so much easier!” “Walking wouldn’t.” “But what about a taxi?” “I don’t trust taking one in enemy territory.” “But-” “Tomo, please just sit and play your game, the wait will seem shorter.” Tomo pouted, but did as his mother suggested and resumed playing his game peacefully.

[fall-of-the-ronin]

(Account - @queenoftheronin) Kiyumi Akuji sat in the lobby of Tohoku Towers, her legs crossed, with a magazine in her hands as she read from it. Only occasionally did her gaze look up, to check if anyone of interest to her was in the lobby - though thus far only people that were either basic bystanders or minor ronin members were present. How long had she been there? Unknown. She just appeared to be waiting for someone, not saying a word in the process, only occasionally adjusting her scarf.

Shogo just entered the building, exhausted from his last meeting with Ultor. Rubbing a temple as he just wanted to get home, heading for elevators as fast as he could. Though his pace did slow as he swear he notice someone familiar in the lobby. God. Was he really up to talking to her? He paused and looked at direction where the elevators were. Maybe Jyunichi can handle this.

[seizethecringeofproduction]

New Years - Saints Row Fanfic

Featuring: @kiyumiakuji @shuyaakuji @hirokiakuji & @tomoyukiakuji

Is a Ronin Centric Fic; Contains a bit of trolling at the start

2008/1/1 | 8:30 AM

The cool winter breeze flowed gently through the streets of Tokyo throughout New Years’ Day 2008, the first day of January as well as the new year. Even though the sun was just now rising over the western horizon, the city had never been asleep for a second - traffic was still bumper to bumper while the streets themselves were littered with crowds of people walking here and there, be it to their place of work or just to some hangout spots. True that some spots were not as busy as others, but no matter where one went it was still Tokyo. Flashing signs and billboards littered the streets and the sides of the various tall buildings - from high rises to skyscrapers, delivering advertisements to viewers which ranged from the mundane to the far more known wacky if not eccentric type; especially popular were those for that new game show, the one with that pink cat professor that was taking the country by storm.

However, it wasn’t fun, games and heavy traffic for everyone in Tokyo that morning. Case in point being the rather dull boardroom of Tatsubishi - a conglomerate based in the metropolis that is best known internationally for their automobile manufacturing and distribution; ranging from SUVs, Trucks, Cars, Motorcycles and extending even to the likes of helicopters, airplanes and more, it was a name that plenty of people throughout the world would have least heard one time in their lives. What may not be as widely known about it however was the fact that the entire corporation had a rather insidious darker side - seeing as how it was the front for the dreaded Yakuza Oyabun known as Kazuo Akuji. The man was known and feared throughout all of Japan as not only one of the most ruthless businessmen, but also one of the most brutal Yakuza leaders. The crimes which are alleged to be traced back to him are among the most horrifying in Japan’s history, many bodies mysteriously found in rivers throughout Honshu are said to be of those who wronged him. That is, if there’s even a body at all. With a decade spanning career in both the business and criminal worlds, Kazuo is as respected as he is feared. His name instills both honor and dread into those who hear it, as one most certainly does not want to hear it outside of a positive context. 

Though it was no secret that the man was not getting any younger. Many debated just how old he was, but regardless of the specific age he was old. Most knew only that he was at least late 70’s or early 80’s.  While most of his body, hidden beneath his blazer suit, was littered with innumerous tattoos befitting an oyabun of his caliber, the parts of him that were visible to the naked eye were still very much wrinkled. He seemed to look both perpetually irritable as well as tired - and to be fair, much of the time that would be considered an accurate description of his mood. His hair, long ago a rich shade of black was long since greyed. He still had a full head of it, but it had receded some since the bloom of his youth. While most of his body had seemingly taken a withered and somewhat frail appearance, he was still nevertheless considered to be a mighty swordsman - more than capable of defeating even a much younger man in battle even in spite of the fact his joints would very likely give him hell not long afterwards. 

Point was though, he was in the evening of his life. Soon, would be the eternal night. The only surprise left for a man his age. Sitting at the head of the board room with all of his underbosses sprawled about before him, all he saw were men who a few decades ago were introduced to him as the young sons of those who sat before them. Granted, these men themselves were not spring chickens either - most of them were at least in their 30’s or 40’s and at most in their 60’s, but all of them had in common the fact their one and only oyabun during their lives was none other than Kazuo - the man sitting before them on that very day. 

Thinking over this fact with a contemplative sigh, he realized one thing that had been on his mind for the past 18 years. That the day he had long since been waiting for had finally arrived. It was time for his own next in line.

As he stood up, he didn’t need to make any sound at all. The entire room of underbosses and bodyguards fell entirely silent - all eyes instinctively turning to Kazuo himself as he moved, his eyes scanning the entire room to ensure their attention before he even began speaking. Not even a cough was made, nor a sip of tea. Any such disrespect would have been grounds for very swift ‘discipline’. Cupping his hands behind his back once the silence of the room was truly deafening, only then did the old man finally speak what was on his mind:

“Gentleman, this has been a very pleasant meeting. I am very proud of the work you have all done over the previous year - the clan has grown ever more honored as it is feared throughout Japan. I have been the oyabun of this organization for longer than most others of my rank have been alive; let alone operating free of imprisonment. I have seen as many of you and your fathers go as I have the winter change into spring, and spring into fall. I have fought in wars, I have married, I have had three children and three grandchildren. I have turned my clan into one of the most powerful and influential not only in our corporate world - but in our criminal world as well.” he then had a particular pause as he finally arrived to the true point of his speech, “However…” he said, “I have come to the decision that there will be more changes this year than simply the succession of my subordinates; I myself will be stepping down as your oyabun.”

His words elicited many wide eyes from all of his underbosses, as well as chills echoing down their spines. Even the famed - and bald - swordsman Jyunichi, standing right behind the old man, was surprised to hear the words. While none of them said anything, they looked at each other in bewilderment, their discussions being as silent as the room itself when Kazuo wasn’t talking. Only when he began speaking again did their attention sharply turn back to him.

“I know that this change is most unprecedented, but after many months - years even, of rumination over it, I have come to the conclusion that it is for the best. My retirement shall be effective as of the first of this April, giving you the next four months to become adjusted to my chosen successor; my son.”

With one of Kazuo’s hands now gesturing towards the double doors used to enter the room, all eyes were promptly on said doors as they - as if on cue, flung open for just a few seconds as another figure entered the room. It was, of course, a young man. A very much younger man than Kazuo, though. In fact, the man was no older than 18 - just barely an adult.

Actually, he was technically 17, though only until April. That was not a coincidence.

His face was completely devoid of wrinkles, and his hair was entirely jet black and slicked back in a ‘respectful’ style. His body was slender - toned well by regular exercise. Even as he stood there dressed in a black blazer suit complete with black power tie that featured a golden dragon etched onto it’s ‘tongue’, while he vaguely looked like his father one would not have guessed their actual relation in a million years. Yet this baby faced, smooth skinned boy was in fact the oyabun’s son. All of the underbosses stood from the seats and promptly gave this late teenager his due respect by bowing in his presence as he walked to be right beside Kazuo - the son exchanging a respectful bow of his own to Kazuo, his father saying to him;

“My son, you have little idea of how long I have waited for this day to come. Counting only the years since you have been born, it has been only eighteen. But counting the years before, it has been since I first became oyabun.”

Looking to his father with the utmost respect, the son returned his sentiments:

“It is an honor to be your successor, father” he bowed again, “I will continue leading the clan to greatness, just as you have before me.”

“I know you will,” the old man replied, “I am the one who trained you. Now..” he then gestured towards one of the open chairs directly to the side of his own, “Let us sit and endure the rest of this meeting, my son.”

2008/1/1  | 1:55 PM

“So how’d it go?”

“Well, I’m going to be the oyabun as of April. Aside from that, most of it was uneventful; talking about finances and operations.”

“Hold on, you’re going to be the oyabun? That’s your birthday gift this year? All he ever gets me is money, literally just money!”

“Don’t worry, Shogo, you know you’re basically going to be my right hand man once I’m in that seat.”

“I know, Hiro, but still! You’re going to be the boss of the entire Akuji Clan!”

“I know, it’s a big responsibility, and an honor. That’s why he’s waiting until April to step down, he wants me to see how he handles things up close before making the switch completely. After that, I won’t have any training wheels.”

The two young men speaking along the side of a kinokuniya international shopping center, and in fact leaning against the walls of said store, were identical twin brothers Hiroki and Shogo Akuji - the sons of Kazuo. Hiroki being the one introduced as his successor mere hours before, though no longer dressed as prim and proper as he was before. He now had a pair of black jeans on rather than silk slacks, with his pants held up by a black leather belt with a dragon styled buckle. Over his smooth body was a yellow polo with a popped collar and white undershirt - and his hair was no longer slicked back but now worn down in a more spiked and ruffled style. His shoes were even exchanged for a pair of black tennis shoes, and around his neck was a golden ‘lucky’ 5 yen coin; all of these clothes and features were copied fully by his brother Shogo save for one - resting on Hiroki’s forehead was a pair of yellow designer sunglasses with black lenses, while on Shogo’s rested a pair of the same brand colored white. 

The two brothers stood in that parking lot in the early afternoon, leaning with their backs and one foot each on the wall of the store, the other feet on the concrete ground beneath them as they enjoyed this most casual conversation - the day around them being quite beautiful. The breeze was still very much a cooled winter wind, and the sky was cleared of clouds; it’s blue color joined with the light of the sun to illuminate the entire city of Tokyo in a vibrant and joyous form of brightness.

“Honestly, Hiro” Shogo spoke plainly to Hiroki, “I don’t think you even need those training wheels.”

Smirking, Hiroki gave Shogo a certain cocky look as he retorted:

“I see you’re already brown nosing.”

“No, I’m being serious,” Shogo answered back in a quick yet blunt tone, “You’re totally ready to handle the family business on your own. I mean, it’s basically what he prepared you for the entirety of your life..” and for a moment, Shogo bowed his head in a moment of sudden melancholy that his brother quickly noticed even as the younger twin muttered beneath his breath “Unlike me…”

Placing a hand onto Shogo’s shoulders, Hiroki spoke to his brother in a serious tone of his own:

“Shogo, you’re going to be my-”

“No, I’m not” Shogo interrupted Hiroki, walking away from the store wall, hands in his pockets before he took a deep breath and faced his twin again, “I’m leaving Japan after our birthday this year.”

“What?”

“I’m heading to America” the younger Akuji elaborated, “There’s this place that’s going through total anarchy right now after one of their previous gangs died off, I heard about it from eavesdropping this morning on one of father’s calls. It’s that place those people he wanted to buy parts from come from, I did some research and it’s prime real estate for gangs right now.”

“And you’re thinking of setting up your own gang there?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Wow” Hiroki bounced his brows a bit, remarking “And you did this all without consulting me? What happened to us doing everything together, brother?”

“Well, I hatched this plan during you and father’s meeting today and was gonna bring you into it like always, but…”

“It’ll be difficult while I am the oyabun.”

“Yeah….it would....”

The two brothers then shared deep breaths, sighs. The realization that things were changing between them wasn’t an easy pill to swallow, often Hiroki was all Shogo had through his youth - seeing as how Kazuo would often leave Shogo alone while he spent time with Hiroki, and their sister being a teen girl at the time was not interested in giving her younger brothers much company. After their mother died, Shogo came to cherish the times when Hiroki was with him, allowing him to escape from the fact that Kazuo all but neglected his existence save for when it was time to be mad at him or berate his lifestyle choices. Yet now the brothers were growing up, and while Shogo would love to rule the family organization at his brother’s side - he also wanted to spread his own wings and make a name for himself,rather than only live in Hiroki’s shadow. Perhaps in time, their father would be proud of both of his sons rather than only his first.

Yet still, they were brothers. Though it hurt both of them to an extent, they both understood each other’s needs and desires - though it was hard for him to fully understand, Hiroki understood without being told what Shogo desired more than anything else. Approaching him and placing a hand to his shoulder, the older twin said:

“Well, brother, I look forward to working with you and your gang, even from a few thousand miles away.”

Smiling at his brother giving his approval and nodding as he patted Hiroki on the shoulder as well:

“Thanks, Hiro.”

“Of course, Sho” Hiroki replied, “Besides, lord knows we both need to move out of that crazy house.”

“Speak yourself” Shogo answered before replying with a rejuvenated cocky tone, “If I were, I’d tell Kiyumi to buy her own place and kick her ass out as soon as I get the chance. That place is pretty bitching.”

Smirking and even nodding as he genuinely imagined the scenario which his brother planted into his head, Hiroki’s only response was an agreeing:

“That is also an idea.”

The two brothers then shared a laugh with each other at that moment as they both looked out to the streets surrounding them, as well as all of the people walking and driving about who paid them no mind at all. Shogo couldn’t help but remark:

“To think” he quipped, “You can become the oyabun, but you take an hour on Pumpkin Hill.”

“Oh shut up, ‘How was I supposed to know about the air necklace’.”

“Well, at least we both kinda suck at Yakuza, I guess,” Shogo laughinly confessed, “Though I’m pretty sure I beat the first game before you did.”

“Only because we shared a save file and it happened to be your turn at the time, Sho!”

“Fair enough, but you know one thing I know for a fact you can’t beat me at?”

“What?”

“Getting back on my bike first!” Having been looking right towards him and his brother’s parked kanedas right by the sidewalk on the other side of the avenue road facing them - right in front of a building they liked to refer to as ‘MaxMara’ due to the sign on the front of it. Shogo then darted right towards his - the one that was silver colored with etched in dragon decals and accents of glowing yellow lights throughout it’s form. Hiroki’s was of course, golden colored. 

Accepting his brother’s offer for a race, Hiroki soon darted right after him:

“Alright, but you know that getting on is only the first leg of the race!”

“You’re on!”

Managing to quickly break into a sprint as he crossed the street, Hiroki was able to catch up to Shogo in a surprising amount of time as they ran through the parking lot with youthful vigor, Hiroki’s last words before he would have overtaken Shogo being:

“I’m catching up to you, Shogo!”

“Not anymore, Hiro-”

BAM

All it took was a single moment

The loud echoing sound of a gunshot from a tall building located just across the street from the store could be heard from some feet away, though the form of the gunman could only be seen fleeing the rooftop for but a fraction of a second. By the time he had actually heard the shot itself, Shogo had just planted his body down onto his kaneda - and excitedly proclaimed victory:

“Ha!” he laughed, “I won leg 1! Get ready to….Hiro?” the first thing Shogo noticed was that his brother was neither on his bike, nor standing behind him. Instead, much to the younger brother’s horror, he was laying on the ground - a pool of blood forming on the concrete just beneath his head. The left side of Hiroki’s head was marred by what looked like a line of flesh and hair torn right open, with the tip of his left ear being blasted clean off. Blood was absolutely covering the entire left side of his head, though also along the ground were chunks of what was no doubt his skull bone. Despite the occasional twitch, it was clear that Hiroki was not conscious by any stretch of the word - and just looking at the scene, Shogo feared the absolute worst.

“Hiroki!” Without any hesitation at all, Shogo ran towards his brother and almost tripped onto the ground once he knelt down close to him at the speed he had been going. With one hand he scooped up his brother’s head while the other tried to shake Hiroki’s head, desperately trying to just get his brother’s eyes to open; “Hiroki! Wake up! Wake the fuck up, Hiroki!” he couldn’t help but then lash out at the crowd forming around him, “What are you looking at?! Why are you just standing there?! Someone call the fucking ambulence!”

Looking at Hiroki’s face at this moment, in broad daylight, Shogo could see not only the coat of blood dripping from the side of his own brother’s head, but also the heartbreaking fact that his brother was not making any response at all. Whatever he was, he was not asleep. Tears formed from Shogo’s eyes as he realization was striking him oh so hard:

“Don’t die on me, Hiroki” he said while trying and failing to hold his tears back, “Don’t you fucking die on me, Hiro!”

Shogo was able to overcome his tears for long enough to call medical professionals himself, though he shook as he dialed the number - cursing every time he accidentally dialed them incorrectly. He wasted very little time in yelling the moment he had the operator on the line:

“Get the fuck over here! My brother was fucking shot in the head by some, by some fucking assassin or hitman or something! Get over here now, he’s bleeding to fucking death!”

“Okay, okay, sir, I need you to tell me where-”

“I’m, we’re, by the curb on Aoyama-dori Avenue!” Shogo tried to speak more calmly, though he still was in an incredibly frantic tone, “Right in front of that building with the MaxMara sign on it, you know, the Mar’s building! Just, get here fucking quick before he dies!”

“Okay, sir, we have ambulances heading for your location right now, but I need you to please try to remain calm-”

“Remain calm?! My brother is dying in my arms right now!”

“I understand sir, but it will be best for both of you in this situation. I suggest please finding some kind of tourniquet to slow or stop the bleeding-”

Before the lady on the other end even finished, Shogo quickly gasped as he realized he had completely forgotten that. Without even thinking he removed his polo shirt, leaving his body dressed only in the white sleeveless shirt he had underneath. He didn’t care about any of that though, how he looked for once was last on his priorities list - instead he just tied his polo tightly as he could around his brother’s head, desperately trying to do anything he could to slow down the bleeding. He could see the deep stains forming across the fabric even while still tying and tightening it - and it was a hard sight for him to look at. He was no stranger nor fearful of blood, but he was also not ready to watch his brother die. Just beginning to hear the sirens approaching, he looked in their direction with a renewed sense of relief as he said to Hiroki:

“It’s alright, Hiro, I’m not gonna let you die. They’re gonna have you up and walking in no time, I know they will. They have to...you’re gonna wake up...you hear me? You’re gonna wake up…”

Please wake up….

F-Father!

Shogo? Why are you calling me. How much do you need me to pay to get you out of your problem now?

This isn’t anything to do with me, father!

Then what is it Shogo?

It’s Hiroki...he’s in...he was...he’s in the hospital right now!

….

Which hospital?

2008/1/1 11:30 PM

 There was a most uncomfortable silence in the hospital room on the night of January 1st, the day of the fateful gunshot. Hiroki now had proper bandages across his head, a respiratory mask across his mouth and IV’s in his veins to keep him alive - though his eyes remained closed in what only looked like the purest and most silent of sleeps. Kazuo himself sat in a chair right beside his bed, gazing at Hiroki’s motionless form with a look that had innumerous emotions running through it at once. The chief among them being shock, grief and utter rage. From the moment he had finally gotten it out of Shogo what happened, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind what had happened - he knew exactly who did this. Who would target his heir in broad daylight like this, killing him in one of the most dishonorable ways imaginable; on a holiday no less. 

He repeated the name many times in his head…

Wong.

Wong was the only person Kazuo could think of who not only had a motive, but also the willingness to strike that which Kazuo prized the most. As much as the oyabun understood very well why Hiroki was targeted, he had neither sympathy nor tolerance for it. Watching solemnly as Hiroki fought with all he could to stay alive, it was a sight that no father wished to see in their lives. It was a sight that made Kazuo’s blood boil knowing in his heart and mind who was responsible, wanting nothing more now than to see Wong be put into the ground for this transgression. 

With every beeping of Hiroki’s heart monitor, Kazuo’s rage grew beyond his own expectations. Put bluntly, it would be within Wong’s best interests - if one were to ask Kazuo, if Hiroki made a full recovery. 

So far however, none of the doctors or nurses were confident in the chances of that happening.

Seated across from Kazuo in the room, the scene was not much different. Shogo waited, covered across his arms and torso in the now dried blood of Hiroki from earlier. His eyes were wide in fear, and body shaking. He could hear the beeping of the heart monitor on account of the door being opened, and was deathly afraid that any moment soon he would hear it flatline. Only by a miracle did that not happen yet. Sitting next to him was the rest of the immediate family - that is to say his older sister and her children. Jyunichi was standing guard by the open door.

As for the sister sitting next to Shogo, Kiyumi was a 25 - going on 26 in February, year old woman. She has been described before as the spitting image of her late mother, though very unlike her in personality. Her hair was long and straightened, and her slender, figured and beautiful young body was dressed in a golden dress - with matching heels and a black designer leather jacket to cover herself in the winter cold. She only looked so fashionable and had makeup one because she was out shopping at the time of Kazuo furiously calling her. Sleeping on either side of her lap were her youngest children, Tomoyuki and Mitsuko. A boy and girl respectively, twins of four years old, to be five in June. On the far side of the bench, next to his younger sister, was Kiyumi's first born - her 9 year old son Shuya, though he will be 10 come November. While not asleep like his siblings, he still sat there surprisingly quietly; largely on account of being bored and increasingly tired. 

Speaking of which, that was a reason why eventually Kiyumi quietly stood up - waking up her younger kids and prompting them to softly whine and rub their eyes as she walked towards Kazuo, softly whispering to her father:

“I mean no disrespect father, but my children should be returning home now; it’s getting late and school starts up again as soon as next monday.”

Kazuo first responded with a sigh, looking to Hiroki one last time before looking to his daughter;

“Go. I am not forcing you or them to stay. Just leave me in peace.”

Giving her father a respectful bow, she then turned back to her kids as she began walking towards the door - gesturing for them to follow her. Shuya got up first, followed by the younger two. However, it wasn’t long before Tomoyuki with another whine said to his mother:

“Mother, I have to pee, can I go before we leave?”

Followed not very long afterwards by his sister in a very similar manner:

“I have to pee too, mother!” she whined. Shuya rolled his eyes in annoyance, while Kazuo was too fixated on Hiroki. As such, Kiyumi centered her gaze onto Shogo as she spoke up just enough to grab his attention:

“Shogo” she said, he was at first startled because of his own mindful gaze being locked on Hiroki, though calmed once he realized it was his sister speaking to him as she continued with “Can you take Tomo to the bathroom while I handle Mitsu?”

At first, Shogo tried to deflect the order;

“Why don’t you just ask Jyunichi like you did a few hours ago?”

“Because Jyunichi is in the bathroom of his room right now” Kiyumi said, gesturing to the small room offered within the patient room itself. The door was currently closed. “He’s napping in it, since he needs to have as much energy as possible - father having assigned him to guard Hiroki 24/7, remember?”

“Oh...right…”

“Mother!” Tomoyuki whined again, this time a bit louder, “I really have to go!”

“Okay, okay” Shogo responded, standing up and taking the five year old’s hand, “I’ll take him.”

Leaving the room wasn’t easy for Shogo though, even with the preschooler basically leading him out. He still gave his brother one last look before he was back out in the hall, leading his nephew towards where he remembers the bathroom was. It must have been very weird for those few others in the hall at this hour to see a teenager with so much blood on him walking down the hall with a four year old in hand, let alone the mother so casually holding her daughter not far behind them, the eldest child trailing behind. Nevertheless, nobody said a thing about the sight. 

Upon reaching the bathrooms, Kiyumi led Mitsuko right inside of the ‘ladies’ bathroom - and Shogo did much the same in regards to the ‘men’s. There wasn’t really much to it, being a public restroom and all. The room was tiled from the floor to the walls, and while it attempted to match with the white and sterile look the rest of the building had - albeit with a bit more blue, it being a bathroom used by men it had its share of grime and dinginess. On one side of the room was a line of stalls followed immediately by urinals - opposite to the row of sinks on the other side, as well as mirrors.

“Alright, so, you do know how to use a urinal, right Tomo?”

“Mmhm!” Tomo nodded, not even having to be told to walk on over to any urinal and begin fidgeting with his pants. Shogo decided to let him handle his business on his own, and turned away towards the sinks. It was then that he was staring right back at himself in the mirror. At his brown eyes, still looking as though they were in shock - and sporting dark circles beneath themselves from how tired they were. The fact he only had his  white tank top on, with it being covered in blood - just as his hands and arms were. Normally, he would take pride in that - but knowing this was the blood of his own brother, he couldn’t help but freeze at the sight. Memories of just a few hours ago flashed again in his mind - cradling Hiroki’s head in his hand, wrapping his polo around Hiroki’s head to stop his bleeding, even the ride to the hospital in the back of the ambulance; staying at Hiroki’s side right up to this very moment. He could picture it all as if it was happening in that moment right before his eyes.

Taking a breath, Shogo approached one of the sinks and decided to at least wash the blood off of his arms and hands to the best of his ability. It wasn’t hard to do, but it was hard to look at. Seeing the blood flow off of his limbs with the knowledge of who it all belonged to, it made him stare not at the mirror but instead at his hands as if in a trance. Shogo was not normally like this, if this was anyone else he wouldn’t even be here - but this was his brother. Not some ordinary person, and not some clan member who happened to get bumped off in front of him. This was someone he actually cared about, and one of the only people in his entire family who he felt truly was there for him these past 17-18 years. Not only did he feel lost, but he also couldn’t help but to feel even colder than he actually was as he looked after his now cleaned hands, tuning out even the sound of the sink’s running water as he just silently gazed down onto his palms - in this moment unsure of what to do anymore. 

THUD

That sound, followed by the whine and cry of a small child, quickly diverted his attention. What he saw was something to no surprise, but too much irritation. Tomoyuki was on the ground, having been shoved into the wall of one of the stalls by none other than Shuya. Letting out a very irritated sigh, Shogo walked in between of the brothers - at which point Tomoyuki did manage to get up and hid behind Shogo’s legs for protection.

“Stop” Shogo said as firmly as he could, not having the patience for this right now, “Just, stop.”

Shuya was completely unmoved by Shogo’s tone of voice, and the words he said only egged his uncle on even more:

“He brought it on himself, he was taking too long to finish!”

“Kid, you can’t control how long you have to go” Shogo said, looking down at the petulant brat, “I get you’re tired and wanna go home, but have some fucking patience.”

“You mean like you did, waiting until this moment to become the next in line?” Shuya callously remarked with a smirk across his face as he watched Shogo’s reaction turn from annoyance into full anger, “I guess once we leave you’ll be sucking up to grandfather to seal the deal in?”

Shogo didn’t say anything. In fact, he didn’t even think. He only acted. His face now red with anger, his hands curled into a fist before he punched Shuya in the face. Shogo himself wasn’t the strongest person by any means, but Shuya being so smaller and even less of a fighter than him meant that the young boy was sent back - letting out a high pitched squeal as he fell to the floor, holding his eye in shock. Tomoyuki flinched at seeing the contact, having peered from behind Shogo’s leg. His mouth was actually agape as the reality of what Shogo did came over him; he froze, not knowing what to do in this situation. Shogo just looked down on Shuya with a face of silent rage, not feeling any regret at all for what he did - in fact, if anything he felt satisfaction over it.

Shuya, starting to immediately tear up as he held a hand over his now sore eye, sobbingly whined:

“I’m...I’m telling mother!” and with that, Shuya immediately ran out of the room - the door slamming behind him in his hurry. Only after it closed did Shogo realize what would likely happen now after what he just did, and let out a sigh. He then turned to Tomoyuki though, who had still been behind him up to this point - the boy flinched a little, but then Shogo in a softer tone asked him;

“You okay? No serious damage or anything?”

Shaking his head, the four year old replied “Nu-uh...I’m okay....”

“Okay” Shogo nodded, “Good.”

After a brief pause, and a bit of twiddling his fingers, Tomoyuki asked in a soft though concerned tone:

“Is….is Uncle Hiroki going to be okay?”

That was not a question Shogo was at all prepared to answer. He looked down at those big, innocent young eyes of his nephew for what felt like a while, desperately wanting to tell him ‘yes, duh’ yet knowing that he had no idea at all whether that was going to be the truth or not. Gulping and kneeling down to be level with Tomoyuki’s eyes, Shogo said the most truthful answer that he could:

“I hope so, Tomo. I really hope so.”

Tomoyuki without saying anything more than gave Shogo a hug, something which Shogo was not expecting - but he couldn’t help but feel a bit better. As ‘badass’ he wanted to pretend to be, he couldn’t deny that this sweet little moment made him feel at least the smallest bit better. Smiling for just a bit, he even patted the young boy on the back. It was a shame that this moment didn’t last longer than it did, because it was just as that face of his broke into that smile when it came crashing down.

Shouting from outside in the hall was the booming voice of his father:

“Shogo!” he yelled, “Attacking your own nephew?! Are you demented?! Must you shame me everywhere we go?! Get out here immediately!”

Shogo could only sigh.