And thus, the legend began.
It started as whispers in the dugouts, murmurs in the locker rooms, and low chuckles among salarymen at izakayas. Then, it spread like wildfire across Mushashinoyamato.
Whenever some poor bastard even thought about making a move on another man's wife or girlfriend, his colleagues would suddenly seize his hands, gripping them tightly.
"Don't."
Confused, he'd blink and ask, "Why?"
And with grave expressions, they'd lean in, voices barely above a whisper.
"When you try to NTR a happy couple..." one would say.
"...the Red-Eyed Ronnins come," another would add, shivering slightly.
"And they shove a bamboo up your ass," the eldest among them would finish, his voice filled with the wisdom of someone who had seen horrors beyond mortal comprehension.
Silence.
Then, the final warning.
"Then you will have to live like a peacock."
A chill would run down the spine of the would-be homewrecker. The air would feel heavy. Somewhere, in the distance, the faint sound of jazz music would play, though no band was in sight.
And just like that, the streets became a little more faithful.
One week passed, and word-of-mouth spread like wildfire. Now, every big shot—whether Yakuza bosses, school gang leaders, or even uptight student council presidents—knew of the Red-Eyed Ronnins.
Principal Sakura Toyotaro of Toyotaro Miracle High was rudely awakened by the blaring ringtone of her phone. Groggy and irritated, she ran a hand through her long, messy purple hair, her violet eyes barely open as she answered the call. It was her advisor, and the news made her blood boil.
"WHAT?! THAT DAMN SHOTARO MUGIWARA DID WHAT?"
She shot up from her bed, wide awake now.
The little bastard—the Shotaro Mugyiwara, the one she loathed with every fiber of her being, the one who burned her daughter with his goddamn heat vision—had started his own delinquent gang. A real one, with a name, a reputation, and an actual following. And of all people, Bird—the same guy Shotaro once beat half to death for bullying Hiroki Mazino—was now standing beside him. Hiroki Mazino himself was part of it too.
Sakura's grip on her phone tightened. Her family had upheld an ironclad anti-gang policy since the Victorian era, and now, for the first time in ages, some punk had dared to start one under her watch.
And not just any punk.
Shotaro. Fucking. Mugyiwara.
That fucking brat.
Her family had run Toyotaro Miracle High for generations—since the goddamn Victorian era. Not once in all those years had a gang managed to take root in her prestigious school.
Her grandfather crushed them.Her father crushed them.And she would crush them.
Yet now—now—that vermin, Shotaro Mugiwara, had the audacity to form one under her watch.
The same Shotaro Mugyiwara she loathed with every fiber of her being.
The same brat who burned her daughter with his heat vision.
Her hand trembled with fury as she whispered through gritted teeth.
"That little bastard..."
The streets may have become more faithful—But Toyotaro Miracle High was about to become a battlefield.
Sakura Toyotaro's furious scream echoed through the grand halls of the Toyotaro mansion, shaking the very foundation of her refined, high-class upbringing. If the furniture had ears, it would've winced.
Meanwhile, in another room of the vast estate, her daughter, Hiryori Toyotaro, sat on the edge of her luxurious bed, idly tracing the nearly month-old burn marks on her arm. The faint glow of the bedside lamp reflected off the bandages still wrapped around parts of her body—a grim reminder of her last encounter with that bastard Shotaro Mugyiwara.
Her grip on her phone tightened as she reread the latest message on social media.
Bird, that spineless traitor, was standing with Shotaro and Hiroki Mazino. Bird. The same guy who once laughed with her while bullying weaklings. The same guy who used to make kids cry at school for fun. Her Bird—except he wasn't anymore.
She felt sick.
Reaching for her phone, she scrolled through her contacts and hit call. The phone rang once… twice…
Then came the tired, irritated voice of Le Chua, her old partner-in-crime and Bird's ex.
"What do you want?" Le Chua groaned. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Bird fucking joined Mugyiwara," Hiryori said, voice shaking.
There was silence.
Then—
"…What."
"You heard me."
"…No fucking way."
"He's standing right next to him. With that nerd Mazino, too."
Another long pause.
Then, Le Chua let out a slow, deep exhale. "Oh, I didn't know that dumbass was soft, but this? I bet that bootlicker Hiroki got to him. That, or Mugyiwara bitch-slapped the stupid out of his head."
Hiryori gritted her teeth. "We used to run things, Le Chua. And now one of our own is riding with him."
Le Chua sighed, long and slow, like this conversation was sucking the life out of her. "Tch. Whatever. He was always more brawn than brain. If he's got it in his head that Mugyiwara is the new king of the playground, he's just going to follow him like a dumb puppy."
Hiryori didn't respond immediately. She just stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror across from her bed, the dim glow of her bedside lamp casting sharp shadows on her face.
Bird betrayed them.
And Mugyiwara—no, that thing—was gaining power.
The way they said his name—like some kind of demonic entity, a force of nature rather than a person—it said everything about how they saw him.
Hiryori clenched her jaw. "Why do you act like you don't care?" she muttered. "Bird was one of us. He was your damn boyfriend. You two have been together since elementary."
Le Chua scoffed. "Yeah, well, I kind of left him when Mugyiwara beat us all up."
Hiryori's grip on her phone tightened. The memory burned fresh in her mind. The moment when he—that crimson-eyed monster—tore through them like they were nothing.
"…But now that we look at it," Le Chua continued, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the latest fashion trend, "maybe this was bound to happen."
Hiryori's face twisted. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means, babe," Le Chua said lazily, "we were the villains."
Silence.
Hiryori's nails dug into her palm. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." Le Chua sounded almost amused. "We were a whole-ass villain trio. We picked on weaklings, ruled the school like we owned the place, and tormented anyone who pissed us off. Bird was a fucking henchman, Hiryori. A goon. Of course, he switched sides the moment someone stronger smacked him down."
Hiryori's breath hitched.
"And you know what?" Le Chua continued, voice laced with something unreadable. "I get it. Mugyiwara's a beast. The guy beat our asses into the dirt, and instead of crying about it, Bird got up and fucking joined him. Kind of respectable if you think about it."
Hiryori felt her blood boil. "Respectable? He betrayed us!"
"Yeah, well. We lost."
Hiryori could hear the smirk on Le Chua's face through the phone.
"So?"
"So, babe," Le Chua stretched the words out, like she was spelling it out for a child, "you can either get stronger and fight back… or get over it."
Hiryori's grip trembled around the phone. Her reflection in the mirror glared back at her, eyes burning with something raw and ugly.
Get stronger… Or get over it.
She wasn't going to get over it.
She was going to fix it.
Meanwhile, at Hiroki's place, the three menaces to society were deep into a night of sheer drunken fuckery.
Beer cans littered the floor like fallen soldiers. A half-eaten convenience store bento sat abandoned on the kotatsu, chopsticks sticking out like a sad gravestone. The TV was on, but no one was paying attention—too busy yelling, laughing, and being absolute dumbasses.
Bird, already way past his limit, had one arm draped around Hiroki's shoulders, the other lazily swirling a can of beer. "Bro, bro, listen—LISTEN—we're actually, actually legends now," he slurred, his head bobbing like a broken bobblehead.
Hiroki squinted at him, trying and failing to focus. "No, no, no, fuck you, I BEEN legendary," he declared, pointing a very aggressive finger at Bird's face. "I—I'm the motherfucker that took a bat to Nakahara's crew in middle school—I—I paved the way, you bitches just jumped on the bandwagon."
Shotaro, sitting cross-legged on the floor, silently took a long sip of his beer before exhaling like a retired salaryman. "Hn. Bold of you to claim credit when we literally shoved a bamboo up a guy's ass just last week."
The room went silent for a second.
Then Bird snorted.
Then Hiroki choked.
And suddenly, the entire room exploded into drunken laughter.
"BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—"
"BRO, HE SHIT HIMSELF SO BAD—"
"WE TURNED HIM INTO A PEACOCK, DUDE—"
"HE SQUAWKED, I SWEAR TO GOD, HE SQUAWKED—"
Bird was rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach. Hiroki was slamming his fists against the kotatsu, face red from wheezing too hard. Shotaro, in his usual composed way, just took another sip of his beer—but the slight twitch of his lips betrayed him.
Then, suddenly—
"Oi, oi, Hiroki," Bird sat up, wiping a tear from his eye. "Where'd you even get that bamboo, man? That shit was marinated—"
Hiroki, still barely breathing from laughter, wiped his face. "My uncle—he—he makes his own hot sauce, bro—"
"Bro," Bird gasped, "what the fuck."
They all sat there for a moment, eyes unfocused, minds swirling in drunken haze.
Then Hiroki's expression turned serious—well, as serious as a man with three beers in his system could be. "We really did that, huh."
Bird grinned. "Yeah."
"Our names are out there now."
"Damn right."
Shotaro stretched, cracking his neck. "That just means more work to do."
The three shared a glance.
Then, as if on cue—
"KANPAI, MOTHERFUCKERS!"
Cans clashed, beer spilled, and the night stretched on—three idiots, one reckless dream, and a legend in the making.
Hiroki leaned back against the kotatsu, stretching like a lazy cat. "Aniki, the snacks are out," he muttered, nudging Shotaro with his foot.
Shotaro, barely registering the words in his drunken haze, wobbled to his feet and stumbled toward the fridge. He yanked it open with the grace of a collapsing Jenga tower, peered inside, and, after a few seconds of intense concentration, pulled out a neatly wrapped tray. "Let's eat this."
Hiroki blinked, suddenly alert. "Oi, wait—wait, wait—how the fuck did you find that?"
"Find what?" Shotaro asked, holding up the sushi.
"That sushi, man!" Hiroki hiccuped. "Kanoko hid that shit from me! Damn woman must've known we'd drink tonight—" he let out another hiccup, "—too bad she's not here. She's having a sleepover at her college friend's dorm or some shit.*"
Bird, leaning dangerously close to tipping over, slurred out, "I'm pretty sure—" he hiccuped, "—she's getting fucked, my brother from another mother. Your older sister, as we speak, is probably getting railed while we're here drinking her beer and eating her snacks."
Hiroki froze for a moment, processing Bird's words with all the speed of a dial-up internet connection. Then he hiccuped again and shrugged. "Damn." He took another swig of his beer. "Well, good for her. We're getting our cream pies, she's getting hers."
Bird snorted so hard beer nearly shot out of his nose. "BRO—"
"Shut up, bro," Hiroki wheezed. "We all winning tonight."
Shotaro, in the middle of tilting back his drink, suddenly lost his balance and face-planted onto the tatami floor, nearly sending the entire stash of snacks flying.
"BIRD!!" Shotaro yelled from the ground, one hand still gripping his can like a war flag. "ONE MORE PEG!"
"BET!!" Bird shouted back, already reaching for another can with the reckless enthusiasm of a man who had nothing left to lose.
And so, the night continued—three drunk fools, a stolen sushi stash, and absolutely zero self-preservation.
At some point, between a toast to their so-called "glorious uprising" and Hiroki nearly setting himself on fire trying to light a cigarette with a gas stove, Bird leaned back and lazily asked, "Oi, where's your mom, anyway?"
Hiroki, halfway through attempting to drink his beer upside down, pulled himself up and waved a hand dismissively. "Eh? Oh. She's pulling an all-nighter at the office. Something about quarterly reports, I dunno—hic—boring adult shit."
He hiccuped again before dramatically throwing his arm around Shotaro and Bird. "But tonight, my brothers, the Mazino residence is no mere house. No, no—tonight, this is our bar."
And with that, he dramatically chugged his drink, as if he were a battle-hardened warrior downing his last sip before a final charge into enemy lines.
Shotaro wiped his mouth and immediately slammed his can down. "Fuck yeah, a bar needs a bartender! Bird, you're on duty—pour me another!"
"Say less!" Bird grabbed an unopened can and, instead of handing it to Shotaro like a normal person, yeeted it straight at him.
Shotaro barely caught it before it smacked him in the forehead. He blinked, then cracked it open. "Perfect service."
Hiroki burped. "We are so getting alcohol poisoning."
Bird grinned. "We die like legends."
The Mazino residence had long since descended into pure, unfiltered chaos—three idiots, deep in their drunken conquest, rewriting the rules of stupidity with every passing second.
Hiroki, wobbling where he sat, scratched his stomach absentmindedly before suddenly freezing. His eyes widened in horror. "Nooooooo! I'VE BEEN STABBED!!"
Bird, already halfway through another can, nearly choked. "What?! Where?! Lemme see!"
Hiroki lifted his shirt, pointing at his belly. Bird squinted, then gasped dramatically. "FUCK! I THINK IT'S CONTAGIOUS! I HAVE THE SAME WOUND!" He lifted his own shirt, revealing—unsurprisingly—the same "stab wound."
Shotaro, slightly more sober but still very much an idiot, sighed deeply before leaning in, poking each of their stomachs with investigative precision. After a moment, he slurred, "Blurp—You dumbasses, these are your belly buttons."
Hiroki blinked. "Woah…" He traced the tiny indentation with the reverence of a man discovering an ancient relic. "I never figured out what these are for."
Shotaro cracked open another beer. "They're, like, the connection between mother and child."
Bird, still staring at his own belly button like it held the meaning of life, nodded sagely. "I guess that's why the Parvati chakra is located here. Shit makes sense now." He hiccuped.
There was a moment of silence as the drunken epiphany settled in.
Then, out of nowhere, Hiroki's lip wobbled. "WAHHH, I MISS MY MOM NOW!"
"WAHHHH ME TOO! MY MOM'S TOO GOOD!" Bird howled, throwing himself into Hiroki's shoulder.
Shotaro watched them, taking another sip. "Good for you," he muttered. "Mine got blown up by an RPG. On God. Right in front of me."
The room went dead silent.
Then Hiroki, still very much hammered, swayed slightly before murmuring, "Damn… That must've been…" He blinked slowly. "A blast."
There was a beat.
And then all three of them burst into uncontrollable, drunk-ass laughter. Stupid, ridiculous, borderline insane laughter.
Hiroki wobbled over to the wall, yanking down the framed family photos with all the grace of a man who had lost his battle with gravity. He stumbled back to the table, slamming them down like they were ancient relics, before grabbing another bite of egg fry.
The three of them leaned in, drunkenly squinting at the images while chugging their beers.
Bird pointed a shaky finger at one of the photos. "Yo, ain't that Yakuza: Like a Dragon–type final boss your old man?"
Hiroki hiccuped. "Y-yeah… One and only, Ichiro Mazino."
Bird let out a low whistle. "Damn." He shifted his gaze to another picture and snorted. "Oh shit, look at that—high school uniform. Kaede Mazino, huh?"
Shotaro, mid-sip, raised an eyebrow. "Your mom was still in high school when she fell for your dad?"
Hiroki nodded, poking at his egg fry with the intensity of a man solving quantum physics. "Yeah. They ran away and got married."
Shotaro's eyes narrowed slightly. "Wait, so she was like… 16? And your dad was…?"
Hiroki lazily held up his fingers. "26."
There was a beat of silence.
Bird blinked. "Bruh."
Hiroki, still completely wasted, waved a hand. "It wasn't looked down upon back in the '80s and '90s." He hiccuped again, taking another swig like he was some kind of history professor giving a lecture on questionable romance ethics.
Shotaro stared at him, deadpan. "That's not making it sound better, dude."
Bird, shaking his head, let out a drunken laugh. "Yo, Hiroki, YOU & KANOKO BOTH LOOK SO LIKE HER IT's LIKE UNCLE's GENETICS DIDN'T EVEN TRY"
Hiroki slammed his beer down. "Shut up, ME & KANOKO GOT OUR GLORIOUS STRENGHT!"
And just like that, their drunken history lesson continued—three idiots, deep in nostalgia, rewriting family legacies one fried egg at a time.
Shotaro, still nursing his drink, tilted his head at Hiroki. "Y'know… you're starting to look like your old man." He took another sip, smirking. "Thanks to my training, obviously."
Bird, in a rare moment of sharp observation, squinted at something behind Hiroki. "Hiccup—bro, she's starting to look like your mom."
Hiroki blinked. "Who's looking like my mo—"
"HAHAHA, SHE DOES!" All three of them burst into laughter.
For about half a second.
Then it hit them.
.
.
.
.
The air grew deathly silent as the alcohol-fueled haze in their brains struggled to process the horrifying realization.
Standing at the doorway, arms crossed, radiating an aura of pure, motherly menace… was Kaede Mazino.
Hiroki hiccupped. His soul had already left his body. "M-Momma… I—I thought you were at work… the whole night???"
Kaede took a slow, deliberate step forward. The dim room lights reflected off her indigo eyes, and the way her blonde hair fell over her shoulder made her look way too calm for the sheer amount of ass-whooping energy she was exuding.
Shotaro, Bird, and Hiroki—all powerful in their own ways—felt true fear for the first time in a long, long time.
Kaede Mazino scanned the room slowly, her sharp indigo eyes flicking from the half-eaten fried eggs to the empty beer cans littering the floor, then to the three drunken fools who looked like they had just seen the gates of hell open in front of them.
She took a deep breath. A long, deep breath.
Then she spoke.
"So this... is what you dumbasses do when I'm not home?"
Hiroki swallowed. "M-Mom, I can explain—"
"Oh, please do." Kaede gestured toward the absolute war zone that used to be her living room. "Explain why my house looks like a damn izakaya full of unemployed old men who peaked in high school."
Bird, in his drunken wisdom, tried to defuse the situation. "Technically, we haven't peaked yet, ma'am—"
"Shut up, Bird."
"Yes, ma'am."
Kaede's sharp gaze shifted between the three of them, lingering especially on him—Shotaro Mugyiwara.
She hated him.
This was the boy who dragged her sweet, chubby little Hiroki down into this life of delinquency. Once upon a time, Hiroki was a nice, soft, harmless kid—now? Now, he was some kind of battle-hardened, beer-drinking thug. And it was all because of Shotaro.
If Kaede was locked in a room with Shotaro, Hitler, and Jake Paul—with 30 bullets—she would shoot Shotaro 35 times. She would buy five extra bullets just to make sure.
That's how much she hated him.
And Bird. She hated Bird too, just by association.
She knew exactly what kind of scum these two were—bullies, delinquents, bad influences. She had seen it firsthand. Hiroki used to be his punching bag, for god's sake! And now? Now, he was one of them.
Her baby.
Her sweet little Hiroki.
Tainted beyond repair.
Fuckers.
Kaede inhaled deeply through her nose, reigning in the overwhelming urge to either dropkick Shotaro or yeet him out of her house entirely.
Hiroki, still too drunk to sense the sheer murderous aura in the room, hiccupped. "M-Mom, please, it's not that bad—"
Kaede took a slow, deliberate step forward.
All three of them flinched.
"I finished my work early," she said, voice dangerously calm. "Because Kanoko was at her sleepover, and you were home alone." She crossed her arms, glaring at Hiroki. "I thought, 'Oh, my sweet son, spending the night in our beautiful, peaceful, respectable home.' But no."
Her gaze darkened.
"You brought these two low-life fucks into my house."
She kicked an empty beer can across the room, watching it clatter against the wall. "And you turned this pure home of ours into a damn low-rent bar."
Hiroki gulped. "M-Mom, I—"
Kaede wasn't done.
Her eyes snapped to Bird first. "You."
Bird straightened up like a guilty student caught red-handed.
"How the hell do you still have the audacity to step foot in my house after the years you spent making Hiroki's life miserable?" Her voice dripped with venom. "You bullied him so bad he cried in his room for weeks at a time, and now, what? You're his best friend?"
Bird tried to speak. "W-Well, actually—"
Kaede didn't let him.
"You think I don't remember? I almost went to your house to personally slap your mother for raising a little bastard like you."
Bird looked terrified. "I—I've changed—"
"Changed my ass! The only thing that's changed is that you're drinking my beer instead of stealing Hiroki's lunch money."
Bird shrank in his seat, eyes darting around for an escape route. There was none.
Then, Kaede turned to Shotaro.
And oh, he knew.
Shotaro knew she hated him. With every ounce of her being.
He was the reason Hiroki was like this now.
He was the reason her sweet, chubby boy was now some kind of battle-hardened delinquent.
He was the goddamn reason why she walked into her house tonight to see three drunk idiots talking about belly buttons.
She wanted to throw him out.
She wanted to suplex him into the next century.
She wanted to—
"Shotaro."
He met her eyes, still lounging like he didn't just commit a crime against good parenting.
Kaede exhaled slowly.
Then she slapped him upside the head.
Hard.
"Ow," Shotaro said flatly, rubbing the back of his skull.
"Shut up," Kaede snapped. "I don't want to hear a single fucking word from you. You are the worst thing to ever happen to my son."
Shotaro blinked. "Damn."
Hiroki and Bird did not dare laugh.
"You are the literal reason Hiroki is like this," Kaede seethed. "Do you understand how much I hate you?"
Shotaro shrugged. "Probably a lot."
She grabbed an empty beer can and threw it at his head.
"Ow—"
"I hate you so much."
Hiroki prayed. He prayed hard.
Kaede's patience was already hanging by a thread, and Shotaro—drunk out of his goddamn mind—was about to cut it.
She was still fuming, her voice cold and sharp. "Is this what I come home to? You brought these two low-life fucks into our house and turned it into a goddamn dive bar?"
Shotaro, far too gone to comprehend the gravity of the situation, suddenly stood up—wobbling like a man with zero balance and even less self-preservation.
His crimson eyes scanned the room without focus. His body swayed dangerously.
Then, he lifted a shaky hand and pointed at her.
"YOU!!"
Kaede's eye twitched. "...Me?"
"YOU!!!" Shotaro repeated, hiccuping between each syllable. His finger wobbled in the air as he tried to steady his stance.
Bird and Hiroki watched in horror, knowing damn well that their idiot brother-in-arms was about to die.
"AUNTYYYYY!!" he continued, drawing out the word like he was a little kid begging for candy.
She folded her arms. "You have exactly three seconds to say something intelligent before I commit a felony."
But Shotaro? Shotaro was not a man of wisdom.
"YOOOOOOUUUUUU!!" He dramatically swung his arms out, nearly toppling over. "Are wrong."
Kaede's expression darkened. "I beg your pardon?"
"Thissss placcccce…" he slurred, wobbling side to side, "isssn't a dive baaaaaaar."
Hiroki squeezed his eyes shut.
Bird stared at the ceiling like it held all the answers.
Kaede's knuckles cracked. "Oh?"
"Cauuuuuuuse iffffff itttt wassssss—" Shotaro hiccupped, lazily swinging his arms around, "youuuuuu woulldnnnn't havvveeee kicked an empty beeeeer bottllllleee."
Kaede's fingers twitched. "And what, exactly, would I have kicked?"
Shotaro took a deep breath.
Then, in a tone of absolute, unshakable drunken confidence, he bellowed:
"A TOPLESS STRIPPER!!!"
The room was silent.
Not a peaceful silence.
A funeral silence.
Bird stared at the floor, begging for divine intervention.
Hiroki stared at God, begging for a time machine.
Kaede stared at Shotaro, begging for an excuse to commit manslaughter.
And then—
Something snapped.
"YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING IMBECILE!!!"
Before anyone could react, Kaede moved.
She lunged forward like an apex predator, hands shooting out and clamping down onto both Shotaro's and Bird's ears with the wrath of a thousand ancestors.
"AAAAAAAAGGHHHHHH!!"
"MY EARRRRRRRSSSSS!!"
Hiroki, in his drunken stupor, could only watch as his two best friends were ripped from the earth and yeeted toward the front door.
Kaede's grip was merciless, her stride unforgiving.
"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU NO-GOOD, SHIT-SPEWING, BRAINLESS, ROTTEN-ASS DELINQUENTS!!!"
"MRS. MAZINO PLEASE—" Bird wailed.
"I HAVE DONE NOTHING WRONG IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!!!" Shotaro screeched, flailing like a fish out of water.
"BULLSHIT!!!" Kaede swung the door open and, with the strength of a woman fueled by pure, motherly rage, she hurled both grown-ass high schoolers out into the night.
They landed hard.
"ACK—"
"UGH—"
"AND STAY OUT!!!"
Kaede's voice boomed through the neighborhood as she stood in the doorway, hurling a barrage of slurs, insults, and possibly some ancient curses that would have made even the most hardened yakuza flinch.
It was 2 AM.
The neighborhood was quiet.
A window creaked open from the house next door.
An old man peered out. "...Again?"
Another window slid open. A middle-aged woman sighed, rubbing her temples. "At least it's not Hiroki this time."
Kaede turned her fiery glare toward them. "WHAT?!"
Both windows slammed shut.
Bird groaned, face-down on the pavement. "We deserved that."
Shotaro rolled onto his back, staring at the sky. "...You know, statistically speaking, that could have gone worse."
A shoe flew out of the house and smacked him in the face.
"GO HOME!!!" Kaede shouted.
The door slammed shut.
Silence.
Bird sighed. "...I liked that shoe."
Shotaro groaned. "Shut up, Bird."
Shotaro, still drunk as hell and now pissed off beyond reason, wobbled to his feet.
And immediately fell on his ass.
"...Shit," he muttered.
Undeterred, he forced himself back up, legs shaking, arms flailing, his brain-to-body coordination at an all-time low.
Then, like an absolute menace to society, he turned back toward the house.
"OI!!" he bellowed at the Mazino residence, "YOU THINK I'M SHIT?! WELL, YOU'RE RIGHT! I AM! I AM! I AM A FUCKING BITCH!!"
Bird, still on the pavement, whispered, "Bro, please—"
But Shotaro was already storming back.
Or at least, staggering aggressively in the house's general direction.
"THAT CODDLED SHIT WAS A FAT LITTLE PIGLET WHEN I FOUND HIM!!" He threw his arms out, nearly losing his balance again. "A SAD, WEAK, LITTLE BOY!! AND WHOSE FAULT WAS THAT, HUH?!"
His voice cracked as he stomped—more like stumbled—forward.
"YOUR FAILURES! YOUR GODDAMN TRAUMA DUMPING OVER YOUR YAKUZA HUSBAND'S DEATH! YOUR—YOUR—YOUR SHEER DELUSIONS!! YOU DID THAT TO HIM!!"
Inside, Kaede froze.
"AND WHO FIXED HIM?!" Shotaro slammed his palm against his chest—
Once.
Twice.
Again and again.
"ME!!!"
His voice shook with something ugly and raw.
"I—SHOTARO FUCKING MUGIWARA—PULLED HIM OUT OF THAT SHIT!!!"
His breath hitched, but he kept going, fuelled by alcohol and something far deeper.
"AND YOU THINK WE TAINTED HIM?!" His crimson eyes burned. "YOU THINK WE MADE HIM WORSE?!"
"NO, YOU WEAK-ASS, DELUSIONAL BITCH—"
And then, like a true dumbass, his foot caught on nothing.
He collapsed, face-first, into the dirt.
Silence.
Bird slowly sat up, blinking. "...Holy shit."
Kaede stood there.
Still as a statue.
She had heard every single word.
Outside, Shotaro lay sprawled in the dirt like a passed-out idiot, while Bird sat up, blinking at the absolute war crime that had just left Shotaro's mouth.
But inside—inside, Kaede turned to Hiroki.
Her face was unreadable. Too calm. Too controlled.
"We're moving," she said, her voice final. "You're transferring schools. Away from them. Away from Mugiwara."
Her tone left no room for discussion.
"Everything will go back to normal."
Hiroki just stared at her.
For a second, it was like he was twelve years old again, standing in a different house, hearing those same words.
After Dad died…
"...Isn't that what we did last time?" he said, voice quieter now. "We ran away."
Kaede's jaw clenched. "You don't get it, Hiroki—"
"No, you don't get it."
Her eyes widened slightly.
Hiroki never cut her off.
"You think moving will fix everything? That running away from them will make my life better?" His voice grew rough, the emotions bubbling just under the surface. "Like it did last time? When I was just some fat, quiet kid pretending to be okay?"
Kaede reached for his arm. "Hiroki—"
He pulled away.
"I'm already where I belong."
And with that, he turned.
Walked past her.
Out the door.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
Kaede's scream ripped through the house, through the streets, through the goddamn universe itself.
"I HATE YOU, MUGYIWARA!!!"
Her voice cracked, raw with rage, frustration, and something else she refused to name.
Outside, Shotaro was still face-down in the dirt, too drunk to process his victory, while Bird sat cross-legged beside him, eating a cold fried egg like this was a nature documentary.
Hiroki didn't stop walking.
Didn't look back.
Kaede hit the floor.
Her hands trembled, her breath hitched, her whole body felt like it was shutting down.
Hiroki kept walking.
She blinked.
For a split second, she still saw him—her Hiroki. The short, chubby kid with big, round cheeks and teary eyes, always hiding behind her, always reaching for her hand.
But then—
Reality snapped like a bone.
That boy was gone.
What stood there now was a man. Tall. Strong. Laughing as he pulled Shotaro up, as if the bastard hadn't just called her every name under the sun. As if they hadn't just destroyed everything she'd worked for.
Kaede hit the floor, her nails digging into the wood as her whole body shook. Her vision blurred, her breath ragged.
And then she screamed.
A guttural, ugly sound ripped from her throat—raw, broken, more animal than human.
"You ungrateful little shit!" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "You think you're grown?! You think you're a man now just because you have these two dogs beside you?!"
Hiroki kept walking.
She gasped for air, like she was drowning. "Do you even remember who raised you?! Who held you when you cried, who cleaned your piss-stained sheets, who lied to you every single night and said it would be okay?! You think they did that for you?!"
Her voice cracked on the last word.
"You are mine. My son. Not theirs! You don't get to walk away like that!"
She pushed herself up, staggering to the door, gripping the frame like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
"SHOTARO MUGYIWARA!!" she roared, voice raw. "I swear to every fucking god in the sky—I will KILL YOU!! You took him from me! You poisoned him! You twisted him into—this!"
The three of them kept walking.
"You think you're family?! That's not your brother! That's my baby!" Her words were slurred now, incoherent with rage. "You are nothing! NOTHING!"
She could barely see them anymore.
Hiroki didn't turn back.
Bird laughed at something Shotaro said.
And Kaede—
She screamed again, so hard she thought her throat would tear open.
"AHHHHHHHHHH!!! I HATE YOU, MUGYIWARA!!!"
Her knees buckled.
Her hands slid down the doorframe, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
They were gone.
Kaede sat there, trembling.
And for the first time in her life, she realized something truly, painfully horrifying.
She had lost.