The First Bite

"Wow, so this is his own personal library." Hiroki was amazed, the bat rested behind his neck, comfortably hugged by his arms from below.

"That it is," Remi responded, the both of them walking around. "There he is." She pointed out, Kyoki sitting alone with an open book in his hand.

As the two of them neared, he calmly closed the book, setting it gently on the table. "Report," he said, his tone inviting an informative discussion.

Maintaining a composed stance, Remi positioned her arms behind her back, discreetly shifting to the adjacent aisle. Left to speak on his own, Hiroki answered, "um... we got the job done, boss."

Setting the bat aside, he reached into his shirt, producing a bag of money.

"It's all there." He assured Kyoki.

In a casual yet probing manner, Kyoki inquired, "Did the man give it up scot-free?" He nonchalantly reached into his jacket for a cigarette and, with deliberate ease, fetched a lighter from his pocket. Continuing, he asked, "Or did you have to use force?" The atmosphere carried a sense of curiosity and sophistication as he looked at the bat in between his legs.

Despite the cool room, beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he tried to collect his thoughts. "We had to um...use force. He was refusing at first." Hiroki gulped. With a relaxed demeanor, Kyoki tossed one leg over, leisurely inhaling smoke. His inquiry followed, "how bad?" 

With purpose, Hiroki retrieved his bat and offered it to Kyoki. "He might have to stay out of the restaurant for a while," Hiroki suggested, presenting a potential resolution to the matter.

Hiroki glanced to the book on the table. 

SPQR: A History of Ancient Rome

Is what the title read.

Kyoki observed the fifteen-year-old boy closely, recognizing his fascination with the book. "Does the Roman Empire interest you?" he asked, sparking a conversation based on the boy's evident curiosity.

"No, I'm more so interested in why you're reading it?"

Kyoki scoffed, "if you aspire to lead people, then I suggest you study past emperors, starting with this one." He gracefully stood up, retrieving the book. "Here, the Roman Empire is by no means a bad starting point," he said.

"Woah," Hiroki's eyes sparkled as he felt the books cover.

Kyoki gestured to the seat, "no better time than now," he expressed.

Hiroki nodded his head and took a seat, beginning his reading whilst Kyoki found Remi pretending to search for a book. "We both know you can barely even read," He joked.

Approaching, he loomed over her while she carefully returned another book. His gaze fixed on her hand, and she teased, "I can always start." In a display of playful defiance, she responded by sticking her tongue out, creating a moment of banter.

Taking a moment, Remi noted, "He did well. He's gaining confidence, but," her tone turned contemplative, "how much longer are you going to keep up this 'dad' act or whatever you want to call it?" The sentiment carried a touch of thoughtful reflection.

"Are you starting to care for the boy?"

"I just want to understand. Neither of us are in a position to act like good people, anyway."

"Yes, you're right. We're not the best of people," Kyoki and Remi exchanged glances as they perused the books. Their eyes lingered on Hiroki, who read with genuine excitement. Continuing, Kyoki added, "and he's proof of it," the statement carrying a bittersweet reflection on their shared reality.

Remi had a brief laugh, then shared, "this old hag called out to me a few days ago. She said anybody can change." Her gaze shifted to the ground, a faint smile playing on her lips. Kyoki's eyes remained unchanged, "impossible. We've killed. There's too much blood on us to simply just wash off."

"So, we'll just keep adding?"

"Yes. We picked this road, and we can't go back on our word."

*************

Later That Day

In the cloak of darkness, the moon cast an ethereal glow across the landscape, bathing the surroundings in silvery luminescence. A large metal garage stood as a shadowy sentinel, its massive doors creaking open and shut intermittently. The night air hummed with the unmistakable purr of motorcycles, their engines growling to life and echoing through the cavernous space. The metallic clang of tools and the occasional burst of laughter reverberated within the garage, where motorcyclists moved like elusive shadows in and out of the dimly lit space. The moon's radiance danced on the polished chrome and matte surfaces of the bikes, revealing glimpses of their sleek contours and the determined faces of riders preparing for their nocturnal journeys. As the moon held its silent vigil, the garage became a nocturnal enclave, where the symphony of revving engines and the metallic echoes created an atmosphere both mysterious and charged with the restless energy of the night.

A man, Suzuki Takashi, had a distinctive blonde mullet, standing in the imposing presence of an enormous figure, his boss. Adorned in all-black attire, he and his fellow motorcyclists sported jackets proudly displaying the emblem "The Steel Hounds," marking their identity within the biker gang.

In stark contrast, his boss, Nakamura Kaito, adorned all-white attire, the letters shining in silver. His jet-black hair was neatly cropped, and his chiseled frame radiated strength, every muscle etched with precision and definition. His imposing presence commanded attention.

"Did you and the crew get it done, Takashi?" Leaning casually on his silver bike, he wore glasses over his brown eyes. The question, posed with a calm demeanor, carried a weight of presence in the scene.

"We did," Takashi affirmed, the bag resting around him. Carefully, he removed it, unzipped the contents, and handed it to Kaito. "A total of damn near one million yen," the revelation made with a measured and deliberate tone.

"Kahaha!" Kaito cackled, playing with the money inside the big. Once done, he still had a smirk on his face and said, "did you do it discreetly like we planned? Or do they know?"

"As quiet as a whisper."

"Whoooooo!" They both yelled, the garage making it echo. "I know another spot. Round up the boys, this one's gonna be loud."

"Seriously?!"

"Hell yes! Once they find out, the protection is going to go up, so we need to take our chances now!" He hopped onto his bike.

The motorcycle, a formidable steed with polished chrome and sleek contours, bore a striking emblem on its front—a steel hound in perpetual motion. Meticulously crafted, the hound's ferrous form exuded strength, its sinewy muscles captured in a moment of predatory grace. The gleaming alloys forming its eyes added an artistic touch, glistening with an almost sentient intelligence, transforming the machine into a work of art.

All the riders had either one of the two bikes, a Honda CB400 or a Yamaha VMAX. Kaito had a Yamaha and so did Takashi.

He drove out of the garage, revving his motorcycle with the others.

"Who's ready to get some fuckin' money!!!"

"WHOOOO!"