Chapter Text
- Inupi, - a quiet voice echoed through the walls of the abandoned workshop. In better years, there might have been rows and rows of bikes worth hundreds of thousands of yen that belonged to the biggest names in the delinquent world, but as Koko knew, that wasn't the case. This old bike shop might not have even seen the day of its official opening, and the place would have faded into oblivion by now if he hadn't hustled and bought up the whole place in time, using some of his connections. There hadn't been many takers for it, considering there had been a murder right within these walls. However. It wasn't to say that he and Inui were capable of maintaining the place as well as they had in the best years of these walls, but they tried to the best of their abilities. There were still plenty of spare parts from the various models of motorbikes that were scattered around the workshop, which the blonde-haired man tended to at times, amicably wiping down and fiddling with some pieces of iron that Koko had little knowledge of. He spoke well only the language of coloured metals and large denomination notes. But Seishu treasured this place, so Koko didn't mind gathering here. It had become their nook, old and moderately cluttered, but in the midst of the clutter there was something familiar. - Are you sure about that?
- About what, Koko? - the other answered him just as quietly. Seishu was a rather calm man in his own right, many of his subordinates branded him even cold-blooded, who, however, could do unexpectedly impulsive things at times. “Like this time”, - Koko reckoned.
- You know what I'm talking about. The new head of the Black Dragons in the eleventh generation, - he sprawled frivolously on the musty couch, looking up at the ceiling. The young man who sat with his back to him didn't seem to have any intention of taking a break from his activity, fiddling with some iron stuff, so he didn't see fit to try to make eye contact either.
The familiar clanking of metal seemed strangely peaceful, despite the catastrophic nature of the situation. Taiju had fallen, and the elite squad of Black Dragons... the 10th generation had lost to a relatively young gang, the ToMan. Those had already destroyed the 9th generation once before, but surprise - they lost too.
The strangest thing about the whole affair was the nature of that defeat. Their battle group was unable to fight back against Tokyo Manji, however, as it seemed to him, the main thing was not even an official defeat, they had actually lost morally.
At the end of the day - in a clash between the monstrously strong Shiba Taiju and the famously weak Hanagaki Takemichi - what had not become a one-sided beating, despite all common sense.
The strong one fell and the weak one endured.
It was hard to believe, but it had happened. And, strangest of all, something seemed to click inside Inui. He had chosen this particular kid to be the new head. Hanagaki Takemichi. Koko couldn't understand.
- Koko, - the voice came louder, drawing his attention as the owner continued fiddling with the scrap metal, - the Black Dragons will be in good hands.
- Is that your guess? Or your bet? - the young man's back stopped, and along with the smell of engine oil, there was silence in the air.
- It's my belief, - Inui turned to him, looking into his eyes. - You'll see, you'll understand.