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Bar 4/7 prides itself in welcoming all. Travelers, wanderers, souls on the last limbs of their journeys. After all, the same misfits that visit the bar are the same ones who comprise the staff.
“Saimon,” Yohei signals to the bar owner. “Those guys have been here for a while.”
However, Yohei feels it's time to make an exception. Odd patrons aren’t uncommon, but Yohei had become attuned to sensing whether a potential customer was prone to introducing trouble in their little slice of the world.
And the trio – consisting of a yakuza leader, a sharply-dressed police officer, and a military veteran in full camo, all with the meanest mugs – Yohei has only seen that on people who are neck-deep in illegal shit.
Saimon doesn't do much to resist Yohei pulling them out of sight but where they can still keep an eye on the front. “You know my policy…”
“I ain't sayin’ your policy is shit, but that dude? He looks smarmy! You know which guy I'm talking about.”
Saimon does indeed know who he's talking about – the one with the glasses – but he simply gives a long-suffering sigh. “We can't kick someone out of our bar just because someone looks smarmy, Yohei…”
Yeah well, I hate it when he smiles and that's reason enough for me. Yohei knows better than to voice that thought aloud though, with the way the conversation makes it clear Saimon was not going to budge on this topic. Saimon's smile is the only one he can stand to look at anyway.
“Let's get back out there. The rush may be over but we still have our guests to attend to. And I mean all of our guests.”
Saimon walks back out – then stops to place a guiding hand on Shiki’s head after the boy almost bumps into him rushing into the back.
“S-Sorry, Owner! There were a lot of drink orders being placed so I was rushing a bit.”
He deposits the glasses safely in the washing sink, quickly hurrying out to fill up his tray with more drinks. That gets Yohei to hurry up; Shiki and Ryu are out there alone with those odd strangers.
The last of the drinks are made, and after Ryu is done wiping down the bar, Yohei sends him to the back to start on some dishes. At the last second, Yohei plucks up the full tray of drinks from Shiki, earning him a squeak of surprise. “Hey Shiki, switch spots with me and man the bar. I need to see somethin’...”
Meanwhile, the members of Mad Trigger Crew wait on their drinks, and for their fellow member to begin speaking.
Samatoki takes an annoyed sip of his water. “Spit it out, Riou. What was so important that you dragged us out here without even givin’ us a lick of information besides ‘it’s of vital importance’? That don't mean shit to us!”
Jyuto tuts disapprovingly, pushing up his glasses. “Speak for yourself. I, for one, would not hesitate in coming to Riou's aid. And you would not be out of the loop in the first place if you had just taken the time to listen to him before rushing out.”
“Hah? I heard a lotta talk comin’ outta that mouth, but nothin’ substantial, just like the spineless cop you are!”
“Of course you don't listen to anyone besides yourself. You can see yourself out, Riou and I can handle this. Isn't that right, Riou?”
“Stop talkin’ like I ain't here!”
The two start up their usual bickering. They haven't gotten physical yet, so Riou does not step in to settle them. Instead he passes his gaze around the bar, subtly checking for emergency exits, memorizing the floor plan, and most importantly, cataloging all the occupants.
Especially the workers. The child that took their drink order should be around soon, and that should give him ample time for a once-over. The child does indeed come around – Riou suspects a frail constitution considering how much he shakes like a wet puppy in their midst – and he orders them three beers on tap.
Ah, they've stopped bickering. Riou is thankful for the beers’ arrival; perhaps they are fascinated by the herbs Riou sprinkled in all of their drinks. Either way, their attention is finally captivated, and Riou feels now is a good time to outline his plan.
“Thank you for coming to my aid, my comrades. It is true that a scouting mission of this sort should easily be within the scope of my capabilities. However, the broadcast that I stumbled across during my thrice-daily telecommunications check had me fearing for my security.”
Riou takes a long sip of his beer. “Someone has effortlessly infiltrated my confidential radio channel.”
Jyuto gasps.
Samatoki blinks. “Wazzat mean?”
Jyuto gasps again, then throws a grimace at Samatoki. “For the love of– It means that Riou’s location and potentially his livelihood are compromised!” He thwacks Samatoki’s arm.
“Fuckin’–! Ow??? I don’t see how interceptin’ a simple radio message means Riou’s doomed.”
“It is not just any radio message. It was a message sent out specifically to me, on my highly private, specially developed, classified military channel that only a select few can know about. The fact that I have been contacted alone means I am compromised.” Riou folds his hands, expression grave. “One thing’s for sure: this mysterious invader has talent rivaling mine.”
“...Oh.”
The booth Mad Trigger Crew is seated at becomes cloaked in uneasy silence. The three of them each stew in their own thoughts, mentally shuddering at the thought of an adversary wielding enough power that Riou, their strongest member, takes pause.
“...Well shit. You shoulda started with that. Is that why you told us to meet here?”
“Affirmative. Tracing the broadcast to this location, Bar 4/7, was an easy feat. Almost like they wanted to be discovered. It could be a decoy, or a trap. Keep your guards up, you two.”
“Now you’re talkin’. When’re we gonna start bashin’ in some heads?”
“Tch, typical Samatoki,” Jyuto scoffs, pushing his glasses up haughtily. “The best thing you can do is to let us handle the investigation. Lord knows you don’t have the delicate touch a detective such as myself has. As long as you stay out of trouble, why,” he shines his teeth, “I’ll even pay for your drinks if you sit still like a good little yakuza.”
“Why you–!”
“Hello sirs, how’re you doin’ today.”
A drab voice interrupts Samatoki’s outburst, and the three of them turn towards the sound. A very sour-looking man in a leather jacket and dark blue curtain bangs accentuate the sour look that has been etched into the man’s face. Years of more than simple retail service has weathered the man down, though he is no less handsome for it.
“Oi,” Samatoki speaks up. “You're not our waiter.”
The man shoots him a no, shit, really? look with his deeply tired eyes, but speaks in that same tone, “I jus’ wanted to come around the bar and say hello to you. You look like yer from out of town. If you need any help finding your way around, come and ask me.”
“Can I get another beer–”
“Hush, Samatoki, dear,” Jyuto shushes him rather quickly, and Riou sees why – there's a glint of opportunity that he spies shining in his gaze, and Jyuto wants to pounce on it. His smile turns sweet, charm cranked up. “Sorry for the bad manners on this one. My boyfriend recently started going to behavioral classes, and he hasn't quite gotten to social interactions yet.”
“It’s called anger management, not behavioral therapy, and STOP TALKING ABOUT ME LIKE I'M A FUCKING DOG–”
“Is that the bar Master over there? I think I'll go pay him a visit,” Jyuto slides out of the booth and takes up a stool on the bar, where Saimon is blissfully unaware of Yohei's attempts to gauge their suspicious guests. Samatoki reluctantly follows, muttering up a storm. Yohei looks between Riou and his teammates, then with a final grimace leaves the booth to trail after the two.
Only Riou remains behind. He is unsure of how to proceed next. Perhaps his teammates are creating an opening for him. In that case, he resolves to hold his position and observe.
His vantage point is ideal; from here he can see how Jyuto shifts his posture, smile alighting into something in between approachable and seductive – there’s a nuance that only the police officer can achieve, and Riou is thankful he’s never been on the receiving end of it. He prefers Jyuto’s goofy smile just fine.
“Saimon-san, you’re a professor as well? My, what many talents you have! I can just imagine the conversations we might have, should this become my new favorite bar.” Jyuto is laying it thick, which doesn’t seem to move Saimon any one way or another.
Meanwhile, Samatoki and Yohei are still eyeing each other suspiciously. Hearing Saimon chuckle at a pun, though, has Yohei huff an incredulous laugh. “Damn linguistic nerds.”
Samatoki takes a measured sip of his drink. “Damn nerds is right.”
A long silence ensues. Then, Yohei takes the plunge: “D’ya ever think all the people who grow up to be nerds have the same taste in glasses?”
“BRO, you too????”
Yohei has hit the nail right on the head. An animated Samatoki is now having trouble sitting still in his seat. “I’m not sayin’ it’s every single guy, but it’s pretty damn close!”
“Because every person I know who’s gone to college – which isn’t many – all manage to pick out the same set of eyewear. S’like they traded notes on the ‘I’m a smartass bookworm’ forum. They’re all connected an’ shit, I swear.”
“Shit’s freaky.”
“They’ve gotta be connected.”
“That’s what bein’ smart gets ya. Telepathy or whatever it’s called.”
“I think it’s called neuropathy. Saimon was tellin’ me about it one time.”
“Speakin’ of, how’d you and Bar Master over there meet?”
Caught up in the euphoria of finding a kindred spirit, Yohei is blindsided by the question. “Wh– Um… F-first of all, I’m the one that’s the Bar Master. Saimon can make a mean drink, but he’s the owner. But yeah, he and I… we go way back. Me, him… It felt like we could conquer everything, even surpass our idols, as long as we stuck together.”
“Yeah… I feel much the same ‘bout me and my Crew.”
“Oh yeah,” Yohei throws in casually, “and his wife. Can't forget about her.”
“Yeah, can't ever forget about– Hold on a minute,” Samatoki does a double take. “You were into him while he was with his wife–”
“What about you? How'd you and smarmy glasses guy meet?”
Much the same way Yohei did, Samatoki sputters in deciding which part of the question to answer first. “No offense meant,” Yohei clarifies. “But he seriously looks the part.”
“Well, that makes two of us then,” Samatoki settles on saying. “If it ain't smarminess, it's definitely resting bitch face. And the two of us, two people who weren't afraid to get our hands dirty for the people we care about? I'd say that made us a match made in hell. Honestly, we did the rest of the population a favor and saved them from havin’ to get with our menacing asses.”
Samatoki laughs dryly, fondly reminiscing. “Now Riou, on the other hand, he was love at first sight. Strong man with strong values, and the strongest will I've ever seen.”
“All three of you together, huh?”
“Yeah.” Samatoki looks down, almost shyly, into his beer. “Best damn decision I ever made, and I've made some real fuck ups of decisions.”
“Same here, man. Same here.”
Yohei contemplates a moment more, then rounds the bar to make himself a neat whiskey. “But as long as you stick to those decisions, you'll get through it. Cheers.”
“Hah. Yeah. And nothing's gonna stop me. Cheers.”
They clink glasses together and down their drinks, newly found ground broken between them. Samatoki looks down the other end of the bar where the topic of their discussions are deeply engaged in conversation. He makes a face.
“Aw shit, they’re talkin’ about cheese n’ wine pairings. Jyuto will be here forever.”
Yohei also grimaces, but for different reasons. Those reasons walk into the bar. “Don't look now, but my ex and his new boyfriend are here…”
“Yooo-hooo, Danna!”
“Hello, Kanbayashi-san! It’s been a while.”
Much as he was having fun with his new kindred spirit, Yohei is secretly grateful for the backup in the form of Iori and Zen. There’s safety in known allies, and Yohei’s wariness is reinforced when Samatoki stiffens at the newcomers, retreating back into his shell.
“‘Danna’?”
Mostly, at least.
Yohei rolls his eyes hard enough that it says, just pretend that didn't happen.
The one decked out in gold bling approaches the bar. “My usual, please,” he says with a garish smile.
“You don't come here often enough to have a usual,” Yohei deadpans.
“But you know what I like to drink normally! You're such a painnnnnnnn.”
“And I'll be a pain in your ass because you're a pain in my ass, Iori.”
The man, Iori, whines dramatically. Yohei doesn't smile, but there's a glimmer of amusement clear in his eyes. Somehow, the short exchange warms Samatoki to his core. He and Sasara used to be just like that, and he took it for granted…
“‘scuse me. Mind if I sit here?”
Iori materializes smoothly next to Samatoki. Too smoothly, in fact. Samatoki nods his assent with narrowed eyes, guard fully back up. Iori lights up his personal pipe, smile never faltering. And yet, there's something so deeply dangerous about his sharp red eyeliner.
Samatoki probes this newcomer with a careful opener. “Yo.” Flawless .
Iori raises a cool eyebrow. “Yo~.”
“Nice bling. You carry it well.”
“Thanks~~. You've got a nice style ‘boutcha. Very minimalist.”
Samatoki grunts, because he doesn't really know what to say to that. “Say, what do you…do. In terms of work.”
Iori tilts his chin up. The air shifts. “Family business. You?”
Samatoki takes a drag from his cigarette. “Family business.”
The two leaders stare each other down. The auras around them crackle, two distinct but equally lethal forces. Smoke muddles the air, one from an ornate pipe and leery smile, one from the blue-gray storm of a modern-day gangster.
“Wow! What a coincidence!” And then there's Zen, who exclaims cheerfully. “I too work in the family business as well!” He turns towards Jyuto. “Do you work in the ‘family business’?”
The air quotations are palpable, but he is about as subtle as a bowling ball hitting glass. Nonetheless, Jyuto cannot resist answering that glittering, innocent stare. “Ah, um…” His attention is drawn to his gains. “Just a bit.”
“Truly? Then we share similar circumstances!”
He flexes bared arms. Jyuto’s mouth runs dry. “Simi… lar? How do you mean?”
“You’re a detective, I was a cop, we are both involved in family business,” Zen explains. “I’m sure we have many tips to share!”
“Only the PG-rated tips, Zen honey~,” Iori calls over his shoulder sweetly, which has Zen flustered and bashful in record time.
“Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jyuto finally collects himself, shaking off the trance. “What I really want to know is how hard you worked on these muscles. They remind me of my own boyfriend’s dedication to staying fit.”
“Isn’t that skinny lean one sitting next to Waka your boyfriend?”
“Tragically, but I was talking about my other, superior boyfriend.”
Now, while these adults got absorbed in their mingling, Riou had taken the opportunity to slip away and do some investigating of his own. It was easy to abandon the booth, no distrustful eyes to keep tabs on him.
And it was also easy to gain access to the stairs that granted entry to the loft. That had been Riou’s goal from his initial survey: if there's anything to be hidden from prying eyes, it would be up here. Picking the lock is child's play, and he lets himself inside.
“…”
…With how easily his defenses had been breached, Riou had been expecting his adversary to be a great deal more cunning than this.
Not that he is complaining. Dead ahead lies the source of his woes. A giant, antique radio sits by the window of what must be classified as a child's room, given the bunk bed and multiple stuffed animals lying around.
So, this is his enemy’s so-called secret base. Hah. Ha ha! “Infiltration success,” Riou whispers victoriously, striding up to the radio to tinker with it. Finding the actual culprit would've been ideal, but this discovery is nearly as good! All he has to do is sabotage it, and he'll be safe…
“Do you like it?”
Riou whirls. A boy stands between him and the stairwell entrance, dressed in colorful, abstract clothing. He hasn't seen him before.
“Do you like it?” The boy tilts his head innocently. “Do you like Ryu-kun's radio?”
Riou's eyes narrow. He's been compromised, but the promise of more information roots him. “You know whose radio this is?”
“Yes. It's Ryu-kun's!”
“And who is this ‘Ryu-kun’?”
“Ryu-kun is Ryu-kun!”
“Do you know anything about this Ryu-kun individual?”
“Wellllllllll first of all, he's eight hundred years old. His favorite food is the one that snaps, crackles, and pops. His special skill is swimming in lakes of fondue and chocolate – he can transform into any fruit or mushroom for dipping. And of course, he can be a spaceship for liftoff.”
The boy does a twirl unprompted.
“..............I see.” Riou does not see.
“Has the Pelican of Human Connections dropped off a human for Ryu-kun to make new friends with?”
“Pelicans do not migrate to Japan at this time of year.”
The boy's eyes sharpen, as if cutting straight through him. “Then you will be culled.”
Riou's blood runs cold. “What–”
“INTRUDER ALERT. BEEP BEEP BEEP. BEEEEEEEEEEEEP!”
The shrill beeping from the boy comes out of nowhere, shocking Riou's limbs into fight or flight mode. He grits his teeth, torn between escaping through the window and abandoning his teammates downstairs or launching himself at the boy to shut him up.
“The hell's goin’ on up here???”
Yohei and Saimon burst in behind the boy. Yohei points an accusatory finger at Riou. “I knew it! I knew y’all were fishy! Who the hell are you and what're you doing in the kids’ room???”
Shit. He's overpowered. He digs around for a last resort…
“I was,” Riou thinks hard, “looking for the bathroom.”
“On the second floor through a locked door? Nice try bud.”
Riou flinches as if hit. How do they know he doesn't prefer indoor plumbing…!
“Now,” Yohei steps up menacingly, stare hard and unforgiving, “you’re going to tell me exactly why you're here, and you and your friends are not leaving until you give me the real answer. Got it?”
Though cornered, Riou stands his ground. “I… I need to talk to the one who is Ryu-kun.”
“Ryu?” Saimon chimes in. He casts a flabbergasted look at the boy.
“So this,” Riou stands up straighter, hope filling him anew, “is the Ryu-kun of legendary hacking renown.”
Ryu is busy picking his ear. “Fishing, fishingggg~.”
Yohei's jaw hangs open. “Are you sayin’ he's the reason you three bastards are here scopin’ out our bar–”
“Riou!”
Samatoki and Jyuto run up the stairs to the landing, sandwiching Riou's enemies in a pincer attack. “Stay the fuck away from him!” Samatoki shouts, his presence quickly overtaking the small room.
“You stay away from all of us!” Yohei shoots back.
“Fuck off, you’re messin’ with our guy, no one does that kind of shit to MTC and gets away with it!”
“Can’t we all just talk this out…”
“Hell no, Saimon! Not after the shit they pulled!”
“All I did was touch that man’s gifted muscles,” Jyuto sighs dreamily. “I shouldn’t even be a part of this.”
“I mean sneakin’ around and breaking into my kids’ room! And guys like him need to be protected from smarmy creeps like you!”
“Wh– smarmy? Well, I never–”
“Yohei, I didn’t realize you thought of them as our kids.”
“Not the time, Saimon!”
“ENOUGH.”
Samatoki stomps his boot down, sending a thunderous shock through the wood floors. “You all get one last chance to stand down before we rain down hell upon you motherfuckers.”
Yohei, equally enraged, steps up to meet his adversary. Saimon gets into a defensive stance, unused to fighting but prepared to sacrifice anything to protect his family. For all that Jyuto nags at Samatoki, he stands firm and tall next to his leader, smirking to herald his victory. Whose jingi, whose code of honor, shall prevail?
Thunk!
Shiki’s jingi shall prevail, apparently, in the form of something loud clanging against the back of Samatoki's skull.
Samatoki goes down unceremoniously. Directly behind him, a pale Shiki holds a steel serving tray in trembling hands. “M-Master, Owner, Ryu-kun…! I heard lots of scary noises up here. Did I… solve the problem?”
The rest of the room is shocked into silence. “YAHAAAAA, Shiki eliminated the invaders!!!!!!!!!! Deleeleeleelee~!” Only Ryu sings and dances in victory.
Yohei lifts his jaw off the floor. “Hot damn Shiki. Remind me to never get on your bad side.”
“Shiki… That wasn’t necessary, but we appreciate your help.” Saimon looks over at Samatoki concerningly. “Is he alright?”
“Oh please, he’s taken harder hits. Get up,” Jyuto nudges him with his foot.
“Ugh, ‘m up you bitch. D’we win?”
“Fight didn’t even start yet.”
“Fuck.”
“Ahem. Now that all our heads have cooled off,” Saimon takes the opportunity to lend a hand to Samatoki, “let’s not try to fight each other and sit down and have a talk, hm? It seems all this has been one huge misunderstanding.”
Saimon’s serene smile dissipates the last of the fighting spirit in the room. Samatoki takes the hand, heaving himself up. Riou rejoins his teammates as Ryu bounds up to them. “Right ho! Question one-y! Are bean bags boneless sofas?”
Yohei thwacks him on the head. “A relevant question, ya noodlehead.”
“Ata–!”
“Fuck the questions,” Samatoki groans. “It's clear our mission’s a bust so just let us leave with some dignity. God, I can't stand any more of you nerds yappin’ away about pilates or Greek mythology or some shit, sheesh.”
Not the smoothest of missions, but Riou reluctantly agrees that yes, their mission is a failure, and that the threat that loomed over him was less of a threat and more of a freak coincidence. He sees now the carefree way Ryu operates the dials on the radio, lost in his own little world, with no rhyme or reason. Riou sighs, strangely unfulfilled despite ensuring his safety.
“Camo-san.”
Ryu tugs at his pant leg, looking up at Riou with clear brown eyes. “Do crabs think fish can fly?”
“Negative,” Riou answers surprisingly readily. Yet, in his enemy, nay, in this young lad – he feels camaraderie. “Crabs are capable of climbing the same altitudes as a fish can. Therefore, they would consider them as equals.”
It must be the right answer – for Ryu’s eyes wobble in admiration, and his smile burns away all the bad feelings festering in Riou's chest. “YAAAAY, Pelican did give Ryu-kun new friend, new friend, new friend!!!!!!!”
“Kid, what are you screechin’ about now–”
“Ah, Riou, he's climbing you–”
“Not to worry,” Riou smiles, supporting Ryu from behind as he grips onto Riou's back, humming a happy tune. “He is no longer a threat.”