Chapter Text
Honestly, Akito didn’t think there was any better feeling than hearing an audience go batshit crazy. Stage lights make it so he can’t really see anyone in the audience, so all he can relish in is their cheers. And relish he shall. Akito puts on this tough guy act, but the truth is, he’s all smiles whenever a show goes well. He lowers the mic from his face, exhausted but exhilarated all the same. The lights combined with the audience make the room almost unbearably hot, but it’s so electric Akito doesn’t mind in the slightest. He throws a glance at Toya just beside him, who’s also smiling from ear to ear. How far they’ve come.
“We’re BAD DOGS!” Akito says into the mic, “Thanks for coming tonight!”
Toya nods, waves, and turns toward Akito to walk backstage. Thankfully, he didn’t bow this time. Akito still remembers the snickers they received when Toya used to bow after every show.
Some of the staff members congratulate and bump wrists with the BAD DOGS when they’re out of view from the crowd. Akito just goes through the motions, handing off his mic, checking in with the event coordinator, talking with the other performers and those yet to go on stage. Eventually, the heat started to catch up to him, and he moved towards Toya, who was fending off a slew of nosy newbies.
“I need some air. You comin’?” he asked.
“Sure,” came Toya’s grateful response, “I could use a drink.” He flashed an apologetic smile at the small gathering he’d amassed and quickly turned to follow Akito out of the live house.
Akito breathed deeply once the chill of the night hit him. He discarded his outer jacket and tied the sleeves around his waist, already looking over the selection of the vending machine against the wall.
“What’re you feeling?” he asked Toya without looking up.
“Just water is fine.” Toya still sounded breathless, like they’d just walked off the stage thirty seconds ago. Akito guessed that the energy of the live house was getting a little too stifling for Toya, too. The drinks fell into the caddy with a metallic thud, Akito stretching as he rose to hand Toya the bottle.
“We did well today,” Toya commented after a brief sip. The neon lights of Vivid Street flashed on the walls and threw stray beams of red and purple light onto Toya’s face, catching on the silver of his accessories. Akito let his back fall against the brick wall of the live house.
“Hell yeah we did. We’re not there yet, but that was definitely progress.”
“Agreed. The audience always likes that song.”
Akito shoved Toya’s shoulder. “You’re only saying that ‘cause you always like that song.”
Toya huffed and fixed his gaze on what was apparently a very interesting brick. “It’s a good reminder of our goals.”
“Okay, no need to get sappy with it. Still, we can’t stop here.”
Toya looked back at him. “You say that after every show.”
“It’s the truth,” Akito shrugged. He took another swig of his drink and let the condensation fall onto the pavement, still buzzing. If they can keep singing like that, no, if they can sing better than that, RAD WEEKEND won’t be too far off. Akito could practically feel the blood thrumming in his veins.
The boys sat in comfortable silence as the performances inside continued. It was easy to tell when the next group stepped up to the mic due to the sheer volume. They must’ve sat out there for a good three or four sets. After the cheers dissipated from the most recent performance, Toya looked over at Akito.
“Should we head back inside? We could learn something from the other performers.”
Akito pushed himself off the wall. “Sure, might as well.”
“Oh, no. You’re not going anywhere.”
The new voice echoed easily in the lonely alley, low and threatening, like the growl of a jungle cat. Both Akito and Toya whipped around to face the speaker, but found only shadows. From those shadows stepped three well built figures, the low lighting playing with the dark colors of their outfits. Gleaming pale skin poked through their sleeves in patches, like their loose fitting hoodies were stitched together after being ripped apart. Or maybe it was stylistic, since there was clearly some intent in the cutouts.
“Sorry, do we know you?” Akito made sure he spoke first, not giving these three punk wannabes the chance to make some ominous quip after their dramatic entrance.
“You will,” the one on the left said. Okay…? Akito threw a glance at Toya, who looked about as confused as Akito felt.
“You’re BAD DOGS, right?” the one in the middle asked. His hood was pulled back to reveal a rather ordinary mop of brown hair only made slightly more interesting by a subtle undercut. “Akito and Toya?”
“That’s us.” Toya confirmed, stepping closer to Akito.
“Hah, so it’s true. A stupid name for a stupid pair of losers.”
Akito rolled his eyes. “Look, if you hunted us down just to insult us to our faces, you’ve wasted your time. We’re perfectly fine with being talked about behind our backs.” He pushed a hand against Toya’s back and began to lead the two of them inside when a sharp, annoying laugh came out of the first guy. Seriously, it sounded like a very specific upperclassman of his that he’d rather not name. Despite himself, Akito looked back.
“Oh, we’ve hunted you down to do more than just hurl insults, I assure you.” The middle guy held up his fists to reveal hand wrappings and a smile that did nothing to hide his hostility. “We’ve come to kill you.”
Akito made an incredulous noise. “Huh? We don’t even know you guys!”
“Are they being serious?” Toya said low enough for only Akito to hear.
“I dunno… You remember pissing anyone off recently?”
“No… Unless you count Arata?”
Akito waved a hand dismissively. “Arata was months ago. Besides, he wouldn’t send lackeys after us.”
“Lackeys? Oh, no. We’re no one’s lackeys. You hurt us, so now, we’re here to hurt you.”
The confusion clearly showed on Akito’s face, because Toya shrugged again when their eyes met briefly.
“Sorry,” Toya said, his hands held in a placating gesture, “We don’t know what you’re talking about. Would you mind explaining?”
Ah, Toya. Ever the eloquent negotiator. Unfortunately, the trio blocking the alley did not find Toya’s polite question to be, well, polite.
“Of course they don’t remember us,” the middle one mumbled into his hand. “Surely you must remember BREAK? After all, it was only two weeks ago.”
Oh, Akito did remember that event, actually. A battle type event he and Toya competed in as a duo. They didn’t win, but they did end up with second place. Not too terrible, but not perfect. Akito felt indifferent about that event as a whole.
“Sure,” he said, crossing his arms. “What about it?”
“BREAK was supposed to be a smaller event for up and coming musicians,” the leader jeered, “but you two HAD to come and steal the show from the little guys.”
Akito scoffed. “We didn’t even win. Why’re you after us?”
“Oh, we’re going up the podium, don’t you worry. You’re just another stepping stone on our path to victory.”
“I’m going back inside,” Akito grunted, “You comin’, Toya?”
“Yeah,” Toya said, nodding. He still looked faintly confused, brows furrowed in thought. He was probably trying to figure out the true motive of these guys, but Akito really didn’t give a shit.
“Not so fast!”
The trio whipped around Akito and Toya, deftly putting themselves between them and the entrance to the live house. Then, the leader of this freakshow rushed Akito, a wound-up punch aimed right for the face. Akito threw his arms up in a block but the hit still knocked him off balance, causing him to stagger backwards and step on Toya’s toes.
“You wanna fight?” Akito growled, “Alright, let’s fight.”
“It won’t be much of a fight,” the lackey giggled, throwing another punch up at Akito’s head.
“Akito!” Toya called, shortly followed by a grunt of effort as he, too, set himself into a defensive stance. The other two teens had set their sights on the weaker link. Toya was no pushover, but it’s clear that Akito was more experienced in street fights. Regardless, Akito couldn’t protect Toya and fend off this whirlwind of a fighter.
“It’s fine, Toya!” Akito yelled between blocks, “They hit first, so it’s all self defense now! Don’t hold back!”
“Focus on yourself!” The teen swept low and landed a hit on Akito’s stomach, the pain sparking like a hot iron throughout his abdomen. His hands dropped as he doubled over. Akito could practically feel the pride that radiated from the lackey as he went in for a kick to the head, but the maneuver left him wide open. Akito stuck his leg out and aimed right for the ankle, knocking the kid flat on his back.
Just as Akito was about to make some comment about talking a big game, the teen was back on his feet again, another flurry of blows locking Akito back into defense. With the constant assault, it seemed like Akito was just being toyed with.
Or rather, his opponent was trying to wear him down. Akito scoffed internally. It was clear he had this kid outclassed in build and stamina. He lacked the technique and speed, though, which is exactly what’s forcing Akito to remain on the defensive. He had to do something, standing here and taking punches wasn’t going to anyone any good.
Akito sidestepped and stuck his leg out in an effort to trip the kid, but his opponent just laughed and made a big show of resetting his stance. He rushed Akito again, sweeping low, too low for Akito to go in for a hit without leaving himself open.
White hot pain lanced through Akito’s ankle and he faltered, the ripped fabric of his pants already feeling sticky. He didn’t even have time to process the original wound before silver flashed and he received two more cuts to the forearm he haphazardly threw up in defense.
Before today, Akito had never truly understood what tunnel vision meant. He knew it was something that happened for all sorts of reasons. He thought he’d experienced it before in a fight or two, or up on stage. But not like this. The world narrowed until it was just Akito, the person before him, and the knife. The teen swung wildly with his weapon, massive, arching strikes that were aimed for lethality. Adrenaline thrummed through Akito’s senses as he kept his focus locked on that glinting silver blade. Occasionally, he’d land a punch or two and the kid would hesitate for just a fraction of a second. Then he’d go back to waving around the knife like a rabid dog.
It didn’t feel right to hurt these guys. Not before. They were just jealous kids who’d been knocked down a few too many times. But, that’s exactly what made them dangerous, and Akito severely underestimated them. He kept his body small and tense, drawn into himself to minimize extraneous targets. He dodged another plunging swing and waited until the teen got close enough to him again before bringing his leg up in a solid kick to the gut.
A sharp gasp followed by a heaving cough stopped the teen in his tracks, eyes wild, but Akito was already on the offensive, striking the boy’s outstretched arm and knocking the knife clean out of his hands. Now, it was Akito’s turn to send a flurry of punches at his opponent, forcing him to stagger backwards, still gasping. Eventually, Akito’s taller stature overpowered the teen and his guard broke, which meant Akito had no issues knocking the kid on his ass.
He stood above his beaten opponent, chest heaving, catching the regret shining in the teen’s eyes. Akito didn’t even have to say anything for the fight to be considered over, the kid scrambling to his feet and calling after his friends.
His…friends…
“Toya!” he called, the alley suddenly throwing itself back into view. It was hard to get a full breath in. “They…they have a knife…!”
“I know,” came Toya’s breathless response, and Akito was able to look at him for the first time since the fight began. He had his hands held up in fists, stance wide but grounded, entire body pulsing under the weight of his heavy breathing. The skin of his knuckles was red. His hair stuck to the back of his neck and forehead, his outer jacket slipping from his shoulders. Other than looking a bit disheveled, Toya seemed unharmed.
As soon as he laid eyes on Akito, though, his dazed expression fell into one of genuine horror. Given that their opponents were scrambling out of the alley at that point, Akito had no idea what that look was for.
“Akito, you’re…” Toya gasped, staggering towards his partner, “You’re injured!”
Huh. Was he? If you counted the slice on his ankle and the two little cuts on his forearm, then maybe, but they weren’t deep and didn’t hurt. “I’m fine, Toya. Did they get you?”
“Those cuts look bad, Akito, you need to sit down.”
“I told you already, I’m fine—“ He tried to take a step forward but the world spun dangerously and Akito staggered into his partner. Firm hands held Akito upright as he blinked furiously to clear the spots from his vision, nausea roiling behind his eyes. Did he get hit somewhere else? No, surely not. He didn’t feel anything at all. Except for the nausea. And the crushing weight on his chest that didn’t let him get enough oxygen in.
Once the spots danced away to a more manageable degree, Akito gave himself a once over. Interestingly, the white of his shirt had now become smudged with bright crimson just around his waist. His pants, too, ripped at the ankle and down the seam of his right leg, sticky and damp with something that definitely wasn’t sweat. The cuts on his arm started to hurt a little bit too, now that his stumble into Toya has aggravated them.
“Damn brat,” Akito cursed, “He got me.”
“You…you should sit down…Akito. I’ll find something…to help stop… the bleeding.” Toya got each word out slowly and with immense effort, as if just the act of speaking was enough to put him out of commission. As the adrenaline cleared Akito’s system and he became far more aware of his surroundings, and of his injuries, he couldn’t help but notice how tired Toya sounded. Even he had begun to breathe easier, and those cuts were starting to hurt like hell.
Regardless, he allowed Toya to guide him to the brick wall of the live house, offering a hand to help him slide to the dusty ground. Akito grunted when his cuts were jostled.
“Sorry,” murmured Toya. He crouched in front of Akito, hands fluttering over his various injuries, looking unsure of where to start. Akito hated seeing him like this. Still breathing heavily, the thinly veiled panic burning behind those grey eyes of his, the slight tremble in his fingers. He hated it.
“Toya,” he said, trying to keep the pain out of his voice. “C’mere.”
Though a bit confused, Toya obliged, shuffling around Akito’s outstretched legs in order to be within arms reach. He didn’t say anything, but his nostrils still flared with the effort of his every breath. Worry took root in Akito’s gut. He placed a hand on Toya’s forearm, squeezing ever so slightly. “I’ll be okay. Stop freaking out.”
Toya nodded but still looked rather dazed. “I’ll try. What hurts the most? I can start there.”
“My leg, I think,” Akito answered truthfully. When Toya nodded again and moved to examine the cut, Akito’s hand brushed against his partner’s side. Toya winced. Akito’s hand came away wet.
Oh.