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Post by Kiyama Ryuichiro on Oct 27, 2010 21:01:44 GMT -5
As Kiyama took his first steps out of the restroom, he noticed that it was quiet.
Well, it wasn't library-quiet, but quiet for the arcade. The immediate area was rather empty, and he only could hear some shuffling over the music and sound effects of the cabinets. It seemed like all the "normals" had vacated the place, and those gang members were... somewhere else.
Skin literally tingling with excitement, he ducked in an aisle of shooter games, the tall cabinets providing him with cover. He wasn't completely comfortable with leaving Tsuchiya on his own like that, but he was growing even more uncomfortable by the second from another concern.
Tsukimori.
Kiyama peered around a zombie game to see someone round a corner not far from him. It was a burly bald guy toting a chain... he twirled an end of it around in little circles while wearing a sick-looking smile on his face.
The yankee squared his jaw. It was just one guy, and a guy who didn't seem to notice him yet. Unless he was the Bruce Lee of the seaside town underground world, then he would be easy enough to take care of... even if he did have a weapon.
But that wasn't the problem.
Kiyama had been in enough situations like this to know that you should bide your time, for as long as you can. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to fight -- though he really, really didn't want to -- but a fact of melee battle. You attack one person, and everyone notices. Even if someone doesn't see him attack, the target would definitely cry out or do something to call his buddies over. Kiyama still didn't know just how many buddies were in the building, but with Tsukimori's status dubious, he was on his own and didn't want to take any unnecessary risks before he found the blonde.
Eyes trained on the chain guy, he started considering things. He knew he should not fight. For once, he had a reason not to; he had consequences that he cared about. But Kiyama knew that he wouldn't let anything happen to Tsukimori, not if he could help it. It didn't matter who these people were or what anyone had done to offend them. He couldn't.
Where was Tsukimori?
Kiyama drummed his fingers against his sides; he was growing impatient.
Looking around to see if another gang member was lurking near, Kiyama was briefly distracted by a glance at the crane catcher machine Tsuchiya had been so interested in earlier. Toys and broken glass were everywhere, the actual crane nowhere to be found...
That confirmed it. Something had happened. It had already gotten violent.
"Found him!"
Kiyama didn't know who shouted, but that was the moment his adrenaline really kicked in, and he started running.
...right towards the first guy he saw.
It was a different guy who tried to rush him, but he managed to punch him in the side of the face before another thug came from no where and clubbed him in the face. In between all this, Kiyama caught a glance at where a majority of the gang members were gathered, near the front of the arcade.
Before he could investigate further, his reflexes kicked in and he turned around to grab what turned out to be the chain guy by his shirt. He delivered a few quick punches to the man's face before he dashed off to the area he'd just scoped out.
Wiping some blood trickling from what probably a busted lip, Kiyama closed in one the scene. His eyes widened as he approached and he really could make out what was happening. Some insane loser was strangling the life from his teammate, his comrade, and with a pipe. Kiyama was shaking, he was so angry.
He hated pipes.
Kiyama marched straight up to the guy, delivering a quick elbow to nearby thug's spleen. He made it within a foot of the man, who was too much into trying to strangle poor Ryosuke to notice him. Kiyama grimaced, a trait he'd gotten from Azuma Wataru rearing its head. "Honorable fighting." Article three, section two: never hit a guy whose back is turned. So he tapped the man on the shoulder. The thug turned around, a mixed look of surprise and annoyance on his face.
Then Kiyama headbutt the guy right between his eyes.
He was pleased when he saw the man and his pipe teeter to the ground, a metallic clang echoing above the grumbles of the gangsters and the humming of the machines. At least, he thought he saw them fall -- everything was blurry at that point. Quick and effective they might be, but headbutts had a tendency to screw you up, even if you pulled it off right. But Tsukimori was free at the moment, and looked to still be breathing.
Kiyama looked up to see that a man with a crowbar, who didn't look too happy about that development.
Slightly disoriented, Kiyama took a step forward and swung a fist as hard as he could. His fist came into contact with the guy's jaw. It wasn't hard enough to knock him out, but he did fall in the opposite direction.
There was a blow to his stomach, a quick and hard one that knocked the wind out of him. And then he saw something out of the corner of his eye.
It was in the corner of the room. There was yet another thug, but before he could start feeling hopeless about the situation, he noticed what the man was doing. He was kicking some poor kid huddled on the ground, the type that definitely wasn't a thug or gangster or delinquent of any kind. In fact...
Kiyama's vision was still fuzzy, but he could swear he recognized that person. Why would he be at the notorious arcade, and why on that day of all days? No, it didn't make sense for him to be there. He was probably mistaken; he had hit his head just a minute ago...
Kiyama squinted for a moment at the huddled form, for a second too dumbfounded to do anything but toss out a name.
"Mizusa--?"
Another blow connected with his face; Kiyama staggered a few steps to the side, bracing himself against one the beat 'em up game with the the turtles or frogs or whatever. Frowning, he pushed back off the machine, raising a poised leg and kicking one of the men away. A high-pitched cry let him know that he'd (luckily) caught the guy in the groin.
It took an amount of willpower and balance Kiyama didn't know he had to stay standing after that... though it wasn't for long. He knew it wouldn't be. He was still dizzy, his head was pounding, there were just too many freaking guys around and...
That just might be another one of his teammates being threatened by these thugs he didn't even know, for something that was apparently his fault.
At a loss, Kiyama turned and dove at the guy, sending both of them careening into wall. The thug hit his head against it, stunning him.
But the force of the impact stunned Kiyama, too.
It was the other guy who snapped back to his senses first. Kiyama would've cried out, but he was getting choked. Instead, he did the only could reach out with his own hands and grab the other man by his neck. It resulted in a mutual chokehold he wasn't sure he could wriggled his way out of. As the man increased the pressure against his throat, Kiyama tightened his own grip, pushing his thumbs into the thug's windpipe.
"Tsukimori! Mizusawa! Get the hell up and get out of here!"
At least, that what he tried to say, but the only sound he made were a few guttural sounds.
He couldn't talk, but he hoped that they'd regain their senses and get moving. He hoped that somehow, he'd done enough... there was no way he'd been able to take care of all the gang members, but he'd tried. He really did.
Kiyama really hoped that this time, he tried hard enough.
OOC: So, I didn't know exactly how far to go since Satoshi's gone and Ryosuke and Mizusawa both look like they're in bad shape :/ Hopefully this gives y'all something to work with, but tell me if I should change something in case it doesn't or take it out if it seems like it's too much!
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Post by Mizusawa Taku on Oct 28, 2010 3:23:15 GMT -5
ooc: Tagging myself as the person who doesn't have to write an additonal NPC character! XD Sorry, so if anyone wants to roleplay the police, please feel free! I think my post will be short because I'm not quite sure how far I can continue to go with Mizusawa without killing him! ><
ic:
Another. And another. And then another. At this point, the pain was bad enough that he was becoming numb to it. The man had kicked him in the abdomen so many times and so rhymthically that Mizusawa would have felt more surprised not to receive another forceful, boot-induced kick to the stomach. His ribs officially felt like they were on fire, and he wouldn't have been surprised if some had been broken. But that was really the last thought on his mind, as he lay there, his face buried in his hands, allowing the man to beat the crap out of him for the sake of his team. At this point, all he really wanted was to fall unconscious, which he seemed well on his way to doing. Then he could forget the pain, and get away from here. He didn't want to die--there was too much he still had to do, and he couldn't just leave the team like that--but with the way his body ached at the moment, he wasn't sure he would live much longer anyway.
"Mizusa--?"
The voice sounded distant and was difficult to distinguish from amidst the sound of fighting going on all around him, but Mizusawa was awake enough that he heard it, sensed it. Someone calling his name...Someone who sounded a lot like...
The man above him had been grunting with the exertion of kicking Mizusawa repeatedly, despite the fact that his kicks never actually seemed to get any weaker in force. But it seemed that even he was beginning to realize Mizusawa wouldn't be conscious much longer. The boys' body was growing soft, no longer steeling itself against each blow. The man stopped for a moment, taking a quick look at the boy's face, hidden beneath his hands. And he started laughing.
"You're really just gonna lay there, boy? Are you?" Sniggering, he reached down again, now grabbing the boy by the shirt front once more and dragging him up again.
Mizusawa didn't want to have to look at the man--he wasn't even sure if he could. He'd been perfectly intent laying there, about to pass out. Why? Why did this guy have to bring him back now? Dazed, he reluctantly met the man's eyes again. And now he could see why.
The guy, though he was smirking, trying to play it cool, looked annoyed. Why? Annoyed that Mizusawa wasn't fighting back? Or that Mizusawa really wasn't much more than a sandbag? Mizusawa just stared back, his expression unchanging. His stomach hurt, badly, and the sudden movement had made him feel a combination of fire in his lungs and a profound aching in his ribs, followed by a severe feeling of nausea. He swallowed back the bile in his throat, wondering for one near-coma-induced moment what would happen if he were to actually throw up all over this guy.
"You're the most pathetic thing I've ever seen, you know that, kid?" The man stared at Mizusawa angrily, spitting in the boy's face. But Mizusawa didn't flinch, just closed his eyes for a moment. It was disgusting, but then again, everything about this guy was disgusting. "You deserve to die, you know that, right? You and those damn Yankees. Think you're so high and mighty, challenging the real leader of this place."
If Mizusawa hadn't been near-unconscious and completely dazed, he would probably have asked the guy what he was talking about. Was he pouring out his inner feelings to Mizusawa right now, of all people? What did any of this have to do with the fact that he was just "some kid" they had happened to stumble upon? Why was he telling him all this?
Seeing another flash of movement out of the coner of his eye, Mizusawa finally looked away from the older man that was holding up the entirety of his weight by the firm grip on his shirt.
Someone else had joined the fray. Someone wearing black and white, and who was currently getting choked ferociously. Through slightly blurring vision, Mizusawa thought he could see who it was...and his heart was alive enough to skip a few beats.
Kiyama. Kiyama had come to help him and Ryosuke. But it looked like...
No... He breathed, praying Kiyama was okay.
Ryosuke and Kiyama were doing their best to save him and themselves from all of this, and yet, here Mizusawa had done nothing but let himself get pummeled into the ground. And now it was finally occurring to him...the other two were giving up their spots on the team, perhaps sacrificing the entire team itself, just to save his life and their own. And he'd done nothing to help them. Even if they didn't fight back, what god were they to the team dead? And on top of that, Kiyama and Ryosuke had already begun fighting--no matter what, someone had been fighting anyway. The team would be in danger no matter what. But before he could do anything to alleviate that, didn't that mean he had to help the others stay alive, just as they'd jumped into the fray to help him?
Feeling a sudden change of heart, Mizusawa looked back at the gangster, still feeling half-alive, but well enough to say what he said next.
"...Leave...my friends...alone..." He was surprised by the raspy quality of his own voice, until he recalled that he'd had the breath kicked out of him repeatedly for the past five minutes or so--what had felt like hours. He didn't react to the surprised and then amused look on the man's face, and instead tried his best at punching back, for the first time.
He missed. He missed by a lot.
Somehow, the guy had seen what was coming, maybe because Mizusawa was moving much slower in this dazed state. But just because the boy had finally chosen to fight back, the gangster looked pretty happy. Not that that meant he was going to finally go easy on the boy.
Ah, this is more like it," the man snorted, tossing the boy back to the ground. He stepped over Mizusawa's spread-eagle form, a bigger grin on his face. "Next time, though, try to hit me. That's the general idea, isn't it?" He laughed again, and delivered a swift kick to the boy's groin.
Mizusawa doubled-up in pain, a small cry escaping his lips. So much for trying to fight back. This was why he shouldn't have even bothered--he wasn't a Yankee, he wasn't Kiyama or Ryosuke, he was too weak...He wasn't made for this kind of thing.
There wasn't much more time for him to think anything else, because a moment later and the gangster had gotten on his knees, now sitting directly on top of Mizusawa's aching ribs, more pain shooting through them from the man's additional weight. The guy glared down at Mizusawa, pinning the boy's arms with one hand and punching him in the side of the face with the other.
The pain was excruciating. Mizusawa tried to shake back his blurring vision, tried not to choke on the taste of something metallic in his mouth, staring at the man's hand now and wondering how it could possibly hurt that much. He saw the glinting again, and realized...the man was using something other than his hand to punch him with? There wasn't much time to figure out what though, because a moment later and there was another hit, directly to his nose.
"Aaah!" he cried out in pain, unable to stifle the sound of it. He wasn't sure how bad the injury was, if his nose had been broken or not, but the telltale feel of blood dripping out of his nostrils told him it was bad enough. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing another hit would come soon, struggling to free his pinned arms from the man's grip so that he could go back to blocking his face.
Please...please someone help... He pleaded to himself, more scared than he'd been even before. They were all dying, all three of them. Maybe Ryosuke was already...He didn't know, he hadn't seen him since before the fight had begun...
"Please, st--" he tried again, choking on the taste of the blood in his mouth, but the man swung once more, this time with an uppercut to the jaw that slammed his head back into the ground. Now spots were appearing before his eyes. He could see black pouring in on either side. Was he finally going unconscious? Or, was this it...? He saw briefly through a nearly completely-gone vision that the man was preparing to swing again. But before he could feel the pain of that swing, he was out.
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Tsukimori Ryosuke
Karasumori High School
Karasumori Gang Member & Tumbling Team
Avatar by me!
Posts: 244
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Post by Tsukimori Ryosuke on Nov 16, 2010 18:21:50 GMT -5
[OOC: I....progressed this nowhere. Except to save Kiyama! >< But now no one is saving Mizusawa!!! >0< If it's necessary, I will try to hop in as NPCs to save them, so let me know! I just wanted to establish what was happening to Ryosuke and save at least one of the people being attacked!
EDIT: CJ will be joining us as Nanako! NANAKO TO THE RESCUE!
The majority of the arcade had become dark, almost completely invisible now behind the black screen which had settled over Ryosuke's vision. He felt a strange numbness in his chest--he wasn't sure if that was from the pain from the iron bar of the man who had been striking him or because he no longer seemed to be breathing--and he was just about to pass out, what was left of the colors in the room slowly melding into that same, frightful black and gray that told him his vision and consciousness were going, when something happened.
Ryosuke didn't know what that something was, but the next thing he knew, he was lying face down on the arcade floor. Flat on his stomach, he squinted, his body still numb, his eyes level with discarded candy wrappers and game tickets and all the other otherwise unnoticed pieces of debris left behind in any normal arcade.
Where had.....the gangsters attacking him gone? Ryosuke didn't even have the strength to get up and look. As it was, he could barely blink an eye--now that he thought about it, it seemed he was seeing double, because what he'd thought were two identical candy wrappers on the floor beside his head happened to actually be one of the same. His mind just hadn't settled yet.
"Mi....Mizu...." Ryosuke shut his eyes quickly. He was....so dizzy. The candy wrapper in front of him had become two candy wrappers again, and the mess of feet a ways from him, feet wearing dark shoes, feet he was sure belonged to gangsters, seemed to triple before his eyes. They were gathered in a group around someone or something, though he was pretty sure he knew who. And....he couldn't....
Ryosuke clawed the ground in front of him, trying to crawl forward. Frig, he just.....he couldn't even see straight and....and...
Kiyama? Wait. No....Kiyama....
Even with his foggy vision, the blonde Yankee could see his friend and comrade clearly. One of the gangsters had him up against a wall, his ugly looking fingers wrapped around the dark-haired Yankee's throat.
Ryosuke felt his heart sink. No....no he thought Kiyama and Satoshi had gotten away. Did that mean Satoshi was here too? Already hurt?
"S.....stop!" The words were barely audible over the ruckus. Ryosuke felt like he'd aged 90 years within the course of a minute. He was too weak to see properly, let alone move, and the voice that came from his mouth didn't sound familiar at all. He resembled a feeble old man, though, recalling the feeling of the iron bar pressing so tightly against his throat that it had just about rendered him unconscious, he wondered if maybe he had lost his voice.
Still....He had to get up. He had to do something. He couldn't just....just.....lie here, waiting for it all to be over. Maybe the guys who had been attacking him were gone for now, but they'd be back. Or others would take their places. While the coast was clear, even if he was battered, he needed to try....to help.
Ryosuke reached a shaking hand out to the nearest machine--another racing game--and tried to muster as much strength as he had left in him to get himself to his feet. Using the seat of the racing game for support, with some effort, he managed to hoist himself up, but he immediately swayed, unsteady on his two feet, his vision blurring fast. The mess of gangsters around was frightful. With the way he was feeling now, it looked like a battleground.
A battle they'd already lost.
And....
Ryosuke turned. Kiyama was closest. Kiyama and his assailant, though the former seemed to be going fast. He needed to get over there, stop that gangster before he killed his classmate. But Mizusawa.....Where the hell was Mizusawa?
The Yankee tried not to think about it. With all the strength he had left in him, he dived forward, pushing off from the seat of the racing game for extra momentum, his whole body slamming into the guy holding the other Yankee firmly by the throat. He almost took the guy down with his weight alone, still unstable standing up, but instead, with everything left in him, he used his momentum to swing the creep around by his dark jacket, sending the man sprawling into the mess of gangsters that was standing in a kind of huddle towards the center of the room.
Ryosuke's vision wavered, but he saw the man take down at least a few of the other gangsters. He pressed a hand to the wall by Kiyama to steady himself again--the landing had hurt immensely. Ryosuke briefly thought about the bruising his front had taken and wondered if he'd broken a rib for it to be so painful.
"Ki....Kiyama...." The Yankee was almost breathless. He was....so weak.....When had he become so weak? "Kiyama....Mizusawa....Mizusawa is......"
He intended to finish that thought, to let Kiyama know that the last time he'd seen the other boy, the gang leader had been onto him, when suddenly he was the one going flying. Someone had come out of nowhere and pulled the same stunt he had with Kiyama's assailant.
Ryosuke tumbled into three of the guys standing near the gang leader, bringing two of them down to the floor with him. Yet the third stayed upright, and grabbing the Yankee by his shirt, brought him back to his feet to knee him hard in the gut. Ryosuke doubled up, felt the wind knocked from him, and already short of breath, the blackness took over again. But this time, he didn't come out of it.
Everything went dark.
And that was when the "cavalry" came in.
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Post by Watanabe Nanako on Nov 17, 2010 8:44:55 GMT -5
Nanako exhaled, the smoke spilling and curling from her lips, as she walked along the street. It was starting to get dark out, and the street lights were starting to flicker into life. As much as she loved her grandmother, she’d had to get out of the house for a while. To breathe, and get some space. The cool, salt air was nice, and even if it was cloudy and all, it still felt good to be outside. Right now, she sat on a wall of the harbour, smoking one last cigarette before she would head back home. She could only guess as to how long she had been out already... Perhaps two hours? Maybe three? She couldn’t say. Whatever it was though, it had been a while. And she was half-expecting her cell phone to ring any moment now with her grandmother calling to ask when she was coming back. She figured it might be best to just head on back after she finished this cigarette, to save her grandmother from worrying, and perhaps she could just relax and listen to music or read. Inhaling the final drag from the cancer stick between her fingers, she hopped off the harbour wall, dropping the cigarette butt on the ground and crushing it beneath her shoe. Starting to walk back, her shoes only made the smallest of noises on the ground as her steps were quick and light. Reaching the streets, she could hear all sorts. Tvs from inside the houses she passed, chatter and music...before things quietened down a little a few streets in. That was when she noticed it. Or, rather, she heard it first. Voices – and a lot of them by the sounds of it. There were also some banging and smashing noises. At first, she just passed it off as some of the local yankees trashing someplace and was just going to ignore it, but as she neared the corner and turned it a little, she realised it was all coming from the arcade. She frowned, not all pleased by the discovery as she took in a smashed window at the front of the building, and some of the thugs that lingered outside the entrance. She’d been offerred a job at the arcade only a couple of days previously, and now these guys... She twisted her lips, wondering what exactly she should do. On one hand, it was none of her business what they were doing, really, but on the other hand...when had that ever stopped her before? These guys...they didn’t look the slightest bit familiar. And by now, she had at least seen a lot of the yankees from around the area. These guys weren’t from around here, and had only come to pick some trouble. Whether out of boredom or for a specific reason, she couldn’t guess. Sighing, and still unsure what she was going to do, she started to walk forward down the street. However, her mind was pretty much made up for her by the thugs that lingered outside the arcade entrance. One of them had spotted her, and nudged his friends to look over as well. A frown immediately down-turned her lips as the guys started to approach her, ending up standing in front of her and blocking her way down the street. “You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” one of the thugs said, and she pulled a face in disgust as his hand touched her cheek. She slapped his hand away, a snarl pulling up her top lip slightly. “Try to touch me again, and see what happens,” she threatened lowly. The guy just laughed. “Looks like she wants to play games,” he said to the few other thugs behind him. He then made the mistake of reaching his hand out to touch her again, and this time she didn’t hesitate when her first collided with his jaw. The expression of shock that appeared on his face was almost comical, as he stumbled slightly to the side, a hand automatically going up to his jaw. Nanako felt a small sense of satisfaction at that. She was always being underestimated, both because of her sex and her size. But if martial arts training had taugh her anything, it was that none of that mattered. What mattered most was skill, and she was pretty sure that she had more of that than these goons did. Besides, they didn’t look all that intelligent either. “You little bitch,” Thing #1 growled, removing his hand from his jaw, apparently having recovered from the shock. He made to lunge forward, and Nanako was made to move fast in order to avoid the blow, quickly bringing up a knee to connect sharply with the thug’s stomach before she shoved him while he was stunned enough, and he ended up barelling into a couple of his friends Thing #2 and Thing #3, knocking them back too. Things #4 and #5 didn’t look all too pleased either. In fact, Things #4 and #5 weren’t at all pleased as they proceeded to start approaching her, expressions of equal anger and annoyance on their faces. Thing #3 stumbled over as well, his ugly face just as anger-filled. #4 started to throw a punch at her, but she side-stepped to avoid it. If they wanted a proper fight they were going to have to work for it a bit better. #3 and #5 started bearing down on her, both of them a lot taller than her by far, but that wasn’t anything new. As much as she was on the slightly taller side for girls, if not just above average, male yankees had a tendency to be...tall. Almost abnormally so, for some of them. Thing #4 came back at her with another blow, which connected with the side of her face, as #3 and #5 tried to grab her arms and get her trapped. Almost unbeknownst to her, Nanako was being backed into the arcade entrance. By the time she realised it, she was just in front of the door. Her right shoulder bashed into the doorframe, and she glanced back at it to see what she’d hit. “Shit,” she cursed, turning back to the thugs in front of her. She was being backed into where the main business was happening, where the main ruckus was coming from. Unluckily for her, her moment of distraction had been enough for Thing #4 to lunge forward, and get a hold of her hair in one hand, and grabbing her arm with his other hand. He shoved her in the arcade, even as she struggled, gaining the attention of a few more of the thugs inside. “Look what we managed to find,” Thing #4 drawled for some of the other thugs to hear, pulling on Nanako’s hair until she was in front of him. “A little she-yankee.” He looked around at the other thugs, before leaning down to speak into Nanako’s ear, although loud enough for the others to hear too. “What do you say we have some...fun , sweetheart?” he drawled in her ear, and she felt her skin crawl in disgust. He and the other Things behind him laughed, as well as a few of the thugs around them. Nanako gritted her teeth, a noise of irritation and anger that sounded a little like a growl leaving her mouth. She yanked her arm free from his grasp and elbowed him sharply in the ribs, kicking backwards with her heel and hitting him hard on the shin bone. He winced and almost let her go, but he managed to keep a firm enough grip on her hair that she was still captive. The slimey and hateful words that came out of his mouth next were only for her to hear, and the anger and disgust they rose up in her were perfectly clear on her face. This time, she elbowed him straight in the solar plexus with her free arm, and yanked her other one free, aiming a hit at his stomach. It was enough for him to let her go, his grip on her hair loosening enough. She immediately turned and punched him in the face, grabbing his hair to force him down a little, thanks to her height, and kicked him straight in the stomach, sending him back, hard, into Thing #3 and Thing #5. It was then as she took a step back that she managed to have a proper look at what was going on inside the arcade. There was an unconscious guy with blond hair lying not all that far from where she stood, and there was also a kid lying on the ground with some of the guys bearing down on him, and another set of commotion seemed to be happening not far over. The kid on the ground was still conscious and looked like he could use a hand, so she backed up until she was closer to him and the yankees around him, keeping an eye on those in front of her that didn’t like very happy. The boy on the ground didn’t look like a yankee at all, so she figured it was safe to say that he wasn’t the best fighter in the world. There was no reason he had to stay here and get hurt further. The only thing she could do was to try and push some of the thugs back so he could get out without much further harm. That was when there was a shift in the other group, and she saw him. The guy from the roof, Kiyama. It was him that the other crowd were closest to. He didn’t look in all that good of a state either. Looking around at the remaining thugs, they were still out-numbered, but if Kiyama was still able to fight...they might manage this. Keyword being might. Hopefully someone had called the cops, at least, and if they had, hopefully they wouldn’t be long in arriving. By now, after having to deal with a couple more of the thugs, she looked back to see that the non-yankee kid was now unconscious, and that cowardly son of a bitch on top of him was about to hit him again. Turning and grabbing onto one of the solid, heavy plastic guns from a practically broken shooting games, she yanked it until it was completely free. “Hey asshole!” she called at the tall guy with the knuckleduster, who was bearing down on the non-yankee boy. As soon as his head turned, she greeted it with the hard plastic gun, swung as hard as she could. She thought she heard a crack, but she couldn’t be sure what with all the noise from the machines, and the commotion going on. She shoved the asshole back into one of the machines as a few more thugs approached. She managed to get the first guy that threw a punch her way in an arm lock, grabbing his forearm and twisting it so that he partially turned around and his arm was behind his back. She kicked out at another guy that came at her, catching him rather painfully in the chest, she gave up trying to hold onto the guy who’s arm she still had in a lock, so instead slammed the palm of her other hand up into his elbow, forcing his arm up and, being so close, she heard a nasty-sounding snap. The yankee cried out as she shoved him to the ground, kicking him for good measure. They were still out-numbered now, but at least the numbers were going down and getting more managable. If Nanako could stay basically uninjured then she could be of serious use to the boys in them getting out of this. It was plainly obvious that they were the ones being attacked here, and that they didn’t deserve it. Or, at least, she knew Kiyama didn’t. She had never gotten that same creepy or bad vibe off of him that day on the roof that she got from basically all the other yankees in the room. She didn’t have to stay, and she didn’t have to help. She could have just as easily fought her way back out and made her own escape, leaving the other boys to fend for themselves, but...she couldn’t. She couldn’t just leave them, because if she ever heard that something had happened to one of them if she hadn’t stayed then...well, she would feel guilty as hell. At least this way, she could tell herself that she tried, and with her there, at least the boys had to be a fair bit better off than they would have been otherwise. Kicking one of the guys in the groin, she backed up quickly, crouching beside the boy on the ground and shaking him until he regained some amount of consciousness at least. “Get out. Go somewhere safe,” was all she said to the boy on the ground, before she had to duck another blow from one of the oncoming yankees and she stood back up. If the boy didn’t move soon, she was most likely going to be overwhelmed. Glancing back at the boy and hoping that he was conscious enough to have heard her, she decided to call again. “Move it!” she yelled at him, to make sure he got the message, as a fist was thrown at her face and she didn’t manage to move out of the way in time. She could taste blood in her mouth now, so her lip was probably busted. Gritting her teeth, she threw a punch back at the guy, and succeeding, at least for the moment to keep the thugs at bay. However, now she was being forced backwards, a little further into the arcade. She hoped that the non-yankee kid had gotten out alright, at least. She dared to turn her head for a moment, her gaze going back to where Kiyama stood, not all that far from her. “Kiyama! Think I can get a hand over here?” As much as she had her pride, and it hurt to ask that, she wasn’t an idiot, and she knew she couldn’t do this on her own, against this many guys. If she didn’t get some sort of help, then she’d most likely end up in just as bad shape as the unconscious blond, or the non-yankee kid. She ducked again, using the weight of the big guy who had came at her to her advantage, as he ended up barelling right over her, over an air-hockey table and into another machine. “If you’re able,” she said, adding onto what she had been saying before, a very slight teasing tone in her voice. If they could just hold out a little longer, she was sure that they’d get through this. ((ooc – outfit here~ I think the reactions to being saved by a girl will be interesting, no? XD anyway...I hope this post is good enough! It’s cerainly long enough. Let me know if I should change anything~ Alex, you can have the gang leader do whatever you want, maybe even try and stop Mizu leaving? I dunno – but Nanako’s not gonna back down ))
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Post by Kiyama Ryuichiro on Nov 22, 2010 0:26:29 GMT -5
OOC: Obligatory apologies GO! lolz, you can probably figure out the parts where I got tired of describing stuff... XD And then my grammar in this post is so much balls. Like that sentence. Anyhow, I think we're trying to wrap this thread up, so blah blah blah more self-deprecating comments no for real I hate this post so much
Kiyama was filled with regrets as he found himself being choking a guy that looked ten years older than him, while being choked at the same time. He was regretting not anticipating something like this happening when he'd planned this afternoon. He was regretting losing sight of Tsukimori, and somehow not noticing when the hell Mizusawa had showed up to the game center. He was regretting that freaking smoking habit that was seriously cutting into his "being choked" stamina. But mostly he was regretting whatever he'd done so that karma kicked his ass so frequently and he ended up in these messes all the time.
All those thoughts were flying through his head as he felt his dizziness increase, this time from the lack of air. Perspiration was spilling out of his forehead and stinging his eyes as he tightened his grip on the other guy. It was beginning to look like his only hope was the other guy choking before he would.
But then something -- no, someone -- flew across his field of vision, taking his attacker with him. Kiyama could only stare at the wall where his assailant as he grabbed his neck and started gasping for air.
It seemed like he stood there forever trying to catch his breath when he saw Tsukimori stumble back into view. The blonde looked like he was in much worse shape than he was and he definitely sounded it. "Ki....Kiyama...." he started, looking as he'd fall over at any second. "Kiyama....Mizusawa....Mizusawa is......"
"Tsu...Tsukimori?" His own voice was raspy and barely above a whisper; his lungs were still burning. He couldn't scrape up enough... anything to ask what the other yankee was trying to say or if Mizusawa was alright, so he just stared as the blonde kept sputtering names.
And he was staring as another guy came out of nowhere and tackled him. Even if Kiyama could really talk, he still would've been speechless, everything was happening so fast. And... the way Tsukimori fell he'd dragged some of the opponents with him. But he'd missed a guy. And Kiyama didn't have a chance to do anything as that guy grabbed the blonde and delivered a final blow.
Tsukimori was out.
Tsukimori might've had a chance to get out of there himself, but no... he opted to help him out, and now look at him, look what had happened, look what he'd--
Kiyama charged into the guy who just knocked out the blonde, shoving him into the side of a game cabinet, and punched him in the face. He was still punching when thick blood was draining from the man's nose, and a sudden commotion near the arcade entrance.
“Look what we managed to find!” boomed a husky voice. Despite how disgusting it sounded Kiyama couldn't help but want to look at what was going on. In that time, the thug he'd been attacking had slid to the ground, and his face had a dazed expression that suggested that the guy wouldn't be getting up to mess with him any time soon. The yankee stumbled to his feet to take in the scene that had garnered the attention of what seemed to be every able person in the building.
It took his brain a moment to process what he was seeing, but there a tall guy who looked to be the owner of the voice was pulling a much shorter guy around by some really long hair. In fact, he was very short, and looked very resistant, still trying to work his way out of the thug's grip even as he presented his prize to all his friends:
“A little she-yankee.”
The sight of a young girl literally being yanked around by her hair seemed to do nothing but excite the gang members around Kiyama, who found himself a dumbfounded. There was only one person whom that phrase brought to mind, and a second look at the scene in front of him confirmed it. It was her. Watanabe, that diminutive girl from the roof that day, the one that was sitting in his chair. He never really got over that. Nor did he ever shake the feeling that, if he ever did bump into the girl again, it would be in a situation like this.
He grimaced.
The tall thug was leaning over, as if to whisper something in the girl's ear, though everyone could clearly hear what he was saying. “What do you say we have some...fun, sweetheart?”
Then he actually whispered something; it was something that everyone in the room could make a guess at. Kiyama had time to take a single step towards the pair before... things started moving again.
The girl spun around, delivered few quick blows to the guy's gut, punched him in the face, then kicked him straight into a couple of the other gangsters.
Okay.
She was quick, and had a distinctly trained quality to her fighting, much different from self-taught brawlers like Wataru and most of the yankees Kiyama knew. It was impressive, and... interesting to watch, to say the least. It looked like she could take care of herself, and he had absolutely no problem with that. He almost found more five big reasons not to have a problem with it as he nearly turned around to a face full of fist. Once again, all hell had broken loose in the arcade, an Kiyama was once again a target now that the little show with the girl yankee was over.
A step backwards was all it took to dodge the attack, but it happened that right behind him was the collapsed body of a thug that someone had knocked down before. They were making progress although that progress was getting in the way. Kiyama nearly toppled backwards, regaining his balance at the very last second. In what was a freak incident of luck, in that moment he was leaning back, one of the gang members hadn't anticipated the kid nearly tripping and kept on charging forward -- right into a large racing game machine.
"Kiyama!"
Bracing himself against a wall, and trying to trip over any more bodies, Kiyama turned around in the direction the shout had come from. In the corner of the arcade was Watanabe, hunched over the beaten form of Mizusawa.
"Think I can get a hand over here?”
But... it wasn't until he stopped moving that he realized just how bad off he was. He was winded and bruised and hadn't yet shaken off that dizzy feeling... but he was still in this. He had to be. Tsukimori was out for the count, Mizusawa was about gone and he wasn't supposed to be in the fight in the first place. And now that girl yankee he knew would be trouble had gotten mixed up in this... even if she seemed to be able to fight, he couldn't allow anything to happen to her, either.
“If you’re able," she went.
For a moment, Kiyama forgot that he was in the middle of a fight, because he was wondering if she knew was she was. Was she joking? Was this something to joke about? Was she even a real yankee? Did she know what could happen in brawls like this? People could... they could...
Kiyama sighed, using the release of energy to power a roundhouse kick at a guy who was careening towards him; that guy collided with another nearby thug and both ended up slamming against the wall, and on top of the man who'd failed that tackle earlier.
With his few seconds of calm, Kiyama turned and looked to what was going on in that other corner of the arcade. Watanabe looked to be staying near Mizusawa. The boy looked to be hanging on to consciousness, but just barely. Maybe because there to two of them still over there, or maybe because one of those two was a girl who seemed able to hold her own and that offended the group of thugs -- Kiyama didn't know, but most of the remaining gangsters seemed to be going in that direction instead of his.
Kiyama glanced over to Tsukimori's form, passed out beside a few of the thugs he'd somehow taken out earlier. He was really down, and luckily the opponent wasn't so low as to keep beating up on him, so maybe he'd be alright. As alright as he could be when he's knocked out. Shoving aside twisting feeling in his chest, Kiyama silently apologized to the blonde yankee before dashing to the other side of the arcade.
He immediately grabbed a guy that was also going in the direction of his two schoolmates by the collar and slammed him into a tall fighting game cabinet. He immediately crumpled to the ground.
The yankee took about half a step toward Watanabe and Mizusawa when he was picked up. Off the ground. By the neck, by a man even taller by him... but quite a bit. He neck was already bruising from the choking stint.
Kiyama struggled to break free from the guy, but seemed to be matched in strength, too. If this guy got to Mizusawa... to Watanabe... he had do do something.
He brought a leg back and kneed the giant as hard as he could, hitting what felt like it was his ribcage. He was immediately dropped to the ground, falling into a dazed heap, while the huge guy keeled over beside him.
Kiyama knew he should move before the huge guy recovered. Because he was going to recover soon, and take it out on the yankee, and then the girl and then the kid who had nothing to do with anything.
And then came the most beautiful sound Kiyama could've heard.
It was faint at first, blending into the high-pitched ringing of some of the machines. But as they drew closer, it became louder, more distinct.
Police sirens.
"The cops!"
"Oh sh-t!"
Move it!!
There was a cacophony of curses, dropped weapons, and heavy footsteps. Immediately, the mysterious gang went into motion, grabbing their injured and getting the hell out of the place. It seemed like only seconds later that only four people were left in the building; a quartet of defeated and worn high school students.
Kiyama turned to see Watanabe's efforts to rouse Mizusawa. That kid... he wasn't used to fighting; this kind of thing happening to him just wasn't fair. He promptly got back to his feet and made his way back to where Tsukimori was lying on the ground... motionless.
"Tsukimori?" he called. Of course, there was no answer. Kiyama did his best to keep his composure and quickly went to work, poking for the veins on the blonde's neck, holding a hand before his lips. He was still breathing, if barely... there was still a pulse, there didn't seem to be any grave wounds anywhere...
What it something was broken? Kiyama suddenly snatched his hands back not wanting to make the situation worse than it was. He hoped it wouldn't get worse. There wasn't a lot of leeway for worse, the way Tsukimori was looking...
How did this happen? Again? And again?
There were some authoritative shouts from the outside, and Kiyama was pretty sure they were directed at him. And then there were footsteps. And more shouts. They were louder that time.
Kiyama couldn't make out what they were saying, and he couldn't find the presence of mind to care, or to defend himself from whatever accusations that were probably flying at him, or even mention that the two other boys were in desperate need of medical attention. He couldn't do anything but stare at the unmoving form of Tsukimori in front of him.
Because Kiyama was out, too. His eyes were open, he was breathing just fine... the proverbial lights were on upstairs, and it would be a while before anyone got back home.
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Post by Tsuchiya Satoshi on Nov 26, 2010 1:06:52 GMT -5
ooc: This too forever XD Sorry for the lateness. This thread is finally finished!He didn’t know how long he was out; only that someone was shaking him, and shaking him hard. Satoshi lifted a hand, trying to block out the harsh light making its way through his closed eyelids. There were voices, asking him questions, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He struggled to open his eyes, wincing at the light shining in his eyes, forcing them shut again. “Please,” There was a tingle in his chest, and he opened his eyes again. That was right. He had another attack. But… why? Policemen were everywhere. Two were kneeling in front of Satoshi while another stood a ways away. He was talking into one of those walkie-talkies cops always seem to have. ”We found one male a few blocks away from Misaki Playland; conscious. Any news on your end?”The walkie-talkie buzzed to life, “Four suspects; three male, one female; two unconscious.”Satoshi sat up, only to be restrained by one of the cops. “W-wait. My… my friends. My friends were there. You… need to help them.” The second cop shared a look with the cop holding Satoshi down, “Your friends?”He nodded, gritting his teeth, “Yes. They…” He pushed the cop’s arm off, sitting up but not moving, “Why aren’t you there? They might be hurt, or worse!” Cop #2 scribbled something in a notepad while Cop #1 looked back at Cop #3. They didn’t believe him. Satoshi didn’t know why, yes, he was passed out in a random alley, but the longer they stood around, doing nothing, the longer those thugs that were ransacking the arcade while he was escaping were probably still hurting his friends. He got to his feet, pushing away at the cops’ incessant need to tell him what to do. “My friends are in trouble, I need to see if they’re okay.” With that, Satoshi took off. When he left the arcade, it was through the tiny bathroom window, the glass broken from when Kiyama broke it. Now that he stood outside the arcade itself, one couldn’t tell if the window was broken due to an escape or a brawl. There were more cops outside the arcade, many more inside, and the closer Satoshi got, the more he could see that there were four people who stood out amongst the authority. Satoshi muscled his way in, blinking at the form of Mizusawa on the floor with a girl hovering above him, while Tsukimori lay on the floor with Kiyama kneeling beside him. His feet instantly brought him over to Kiyama, the other looking like he wasn’t with the program. There were more cops, asking the older boy question after question, but he remained silent. No one seemed to notice a boy wearing an oversized jacket in the middle of the arcade. It was weird. The whole arcade was weird. The majority of games and machines were either smashed or broken in some way, the crane game Satoshi was looking at earlier in pieces, the actual crane tossed a few feet away. There were discarded weapons everywhere. He stepped over a stray pipe as he neared his fellow classmates, the cops finally noticing his presence. “Boy, you can’t be here.”Satoshi held firm, even as the cop turned to face him, even as a shout was heard behind him. He winced, recognizing the condescending tone of Cop #2. Again, he pushed his way forward, resting a hand lightly against his classmate’s shoulder, “Kiyama-san? Kiyama-san, are you okay?” He glanced down at Tsukimori, and then Mizusawa and the strange girl he didn’t know, before focusing on the cops. “Why are you all standing around? My friends need help!” Cop #2 kneeled next to Satoshi, “The ambulance is coming, but we’d like to ask you a few questions…” The notepad came out again, “Who started this?”“But we don’t have time—” The first year took a deep breath, “I’m not sure why, but these thugs… they came in here and started a fight, a random fight, and Kiyama-san, Tsukimori-senpai, they were trying to stop them. They did nothing wrong.” Satoshi dropped the hand he had on Kiyama’s arm, “It was… I don’t know who started this fight, but Kiyama-san, Tsukimori-senpai, they wouldn’t cause a fight for no reason.” He turned back to the cop, his eyes hard with conviction. Cop #2 swallowed hard, and quickly put the notebook away, “One moment…” He got up, leaving the three on the floor. Satoshi glanced over to where Mizusawa was. When had he shown up to the arcade, why had he shown up there? Something jerked in his chest, and he frowned, was it his entire fault that Kiyama, Ryosuke, even Mizusawa, had gotten hurt because the day he decided to go to the arcade, an epic brawl occurred? And now, not only was no one getting any decent help, but the cops were being completely incompetent. He heaved a sigh, the sooner the paramedics came, the sooner everyone would be dealt with, and they would be out of the arcade… …and hopefully there wouldn’t be any problems with the club. There was a lot at stake, when Kiyama went back into the arcade to get Tsukimori, there was an unspoken agreement they all shared, back when the Yankees first joined, that if any of them got into a fight, the consequences would affect them all. But Kiyama hadn’t just joined a mindless fight. He went back to save a friend. It was self defense. They couldn’t get in trouble for that… could they? A few more cops entered the arcade, gesturing to Cop #2. That was when Satoshi saw it. The ambulance. Lights flashing, paramedics running out… The questions the cops wanted answers to, they could wait, but right now, help was here, his friends would no longer be in pain, and soon this whole day would be a memory. One that hopefully they would never think about again… The paramedics made their way over, taking the two unconscious boys first, before attending to the rest. But at this point, Satoshi blocked it all out. The horrible events of the day were over. Finally. CLOSED
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