馬鹿！それＢＥＰＳＩじゃない！

@kurcda

Ever since the Killing Game started, Arakita was determined to get face-to-face with this Kuroda Yukinari that everyone was betting on. It certainly pissed him off that so many people were betting on a fucking Russko instead of him. Surely, there had been a Japanese guy in the top ranking as well -- but said Japanese was not Yasutomo and that meant war. 

Killing people wasn’t a hard task to him -- at first, it felt weird and off-putting, but eventually he didn’t think too much about it. Quite the contrary, he started adorning his bat with needles, slamming them into the head of the bat as he used it almost like a sledgehammer, so the metal parts would stick out as crooked as possible, causing extra damage to anyone who was unlucky enough to be in the way.

Part of him wasn’t all too thrilled about the death or the money ---- he just wanted to defeat the person who dared to rank above him. All he had to say to that was that it was evident how people would favour others over him -- he was not a people pleaser and everyone could tell by the way he carried himself, by the way he spoke and acted. He never won the popularity polls -- but either way, he’d always find a way to show people that he didn’t need their support or caring in order to achieve something.

Lurking around the worn down buildings, the ruins and parts of concrete walls piled up, he looked around for that obnoxious white-haired boy -- eventually spotting him near the harbour in plain sight; was he being stupid? He was not even attempting to cover his ass and instead made an obvious invite to attack him? And people voted for that guy? Disgusting.

this was the exact reaction that he anticipated from someone like arakita. the man just loved to hear that he was in trouble — or even worse, that he needed help. had it been anyone else that asked him, he likely would have been a bit more friendly about the matter, but the fact that it was imaizumi asking it was given that he was going to be ruthless about it. considering that this was something he intended to do behind teshima’s back, so he wasn’t able to rely on any of his own allies. when you got down to it, he really didn’t have any other people that he was semi - acquainted with. he didn’t have a good relationship with the lone wolves’ leader, but it was better than most of his other relationships.

arakita may have been a few inches shorter than him, but with the glare he was given — he felt as if he was the one being looked down on. the moment that he was asked who it was that he wanted to fight, imaizumi’s expression sharpened. “midousuji.” him & the lizard hell leader have always hated each other, even more than most. while neither of them were exactly friendly with other people, they absolutely could not stand one another.

considering that he wasn’t in a position of power what so ever, he didn’t think there was anything that he could possibly offer to the gang leader that could interest him. it was unlikely that money would peak his interest, despite the fact that he had plenty of that. ignoring the other’s insults, he pretended as if he couldn’t hear them. “what could you possibly want?”

Just by the way the rookie glared at him was enough for Arakita’s smirk to be practically imprinted on his face, unable to get wiped off anytime soon. Yasutomo wasn’t the type of person to turn away from those in need of help ---- he had situations where he practically urged his boyfriend’s younger brother to accept his offers and wanting to help him out no matter just how bratty that boy was, simply because he knew how it was to stand on your own feet in a cruel society like this one ---- but with Imaizumi, it was different: the boy decided to become a Bousouzoku ---- he came from a rich family and ditched that lifestyle. Something about it really made Yasutomo more than curious, deeming it more than just courageous (perhaps even borderline-insane) to leave behind a good life for the thrills that the street life could offer... in a way, it was admirable that the youngster was willing to give up all of that for the shared lifestyle. There were only two things that ticked him off: 1. the fact that everyone and their mother insisted on them being look-alikes (which he denied!) and 2. that snotty and rotten attitude Shunsuke had towards everyone else, still behaving like a rich kid, thinking he was above the others, when he was very much in need of help. But perhaps he was slowly understanding and getting to his senses ---- as much as Arakita wanted to kick him over and over, he was also willing to watch someone’s mental growth and give them another chance.

“Midousuji, huh...” Not too surprised by that name, the smaller started to rub his chin as he pondered about it: as much as the rookie hated the Lizard Hell leader, he saw certain similarities where both of them would constantly bash heads at: both wanted to be the best, both were arrogant, both don’t think too highly of friendship and acquaintances and both were simply so delusional about themselves that they needed a reality check big time. And it was ironic just how similar they were on the inside, but nonetheless they never were on the same page. Perhaps, that was the same he experienced with Kuroda a lot? Not that he had a feud with the man, but he couldn’t deny the fact that the semi-Russian used to hate his guts... perhaps similarity isn’t always the best thing, diversity sometimes brings fresh wind into relationships and friendships alike. A sharp gaze scanned the taller’s face as he pondered about the possibilities, but also the dangers. Taking on such a big gang could easily escalate into something bigger -- something that Arakita was unable to control. And more so, he doubted that Teshima was aware of the man’s plan. There was a lot to take in ---- but the more he thought about it, the more the man realised just how much he was thinking more like Yukinari than himself, trying to get the facts straight instead of going with his head through the wall. It annoyed him to think that the other was rubbing off on him so much.

Upon the other’s question, he had to snort, shaking his head and shrugging at the other for a moment. “Well, for starters: how about you tell me what Teshima would be thinking about that act and whether or not you’re acting out as a wild card?” Honestly, he knew the answer already, but he simply wanted the gratification of rubbing it into the other’s nose. “If I help you in your selfish crusade against Midousuji, I am going to be targeted, or at least my gang, that means that in dire times, I will request for you to be the cannon fudder instead of my men. If you consider yourself inadequate for the task, I will lend you my right hand man to fix the situation. But the point I am making is: the moment I ask for your ass to haul and accept the dangerous situation, your ass is gonna haul immediately, no ‘if’s or ‘but’s.” Surely, that was a wide range of possibilities, but either way, Arakita hasn’t been a gang leader for a day, he knew the drill and he knew how to ask for more than he was giving. Squinting his eyes at the taller, his glare was more intimidating than anything else, wondering if the man was going to call it quits or if he was going to stand by that.

@kurcda

The stereotypes sometimes were painfully true; groaning in the backseat as he was sprawled out and lying on the nice leather of the car, Arakita decided to close his eyes instead of opening them and feeling motion sick. He (clearly) had one too many drinks at the bar with his colleague Kuroda ---- and if there was one thing he should’ve known better was not to take on a drinking game with a Russian ---- especially not if he wanted to prove a point that Japanese weren’t drunk faster than others. Arakita usually prided himself that he could take much, much more alcohol than his fellow Yakuza colleagues, but he surely found his limit tonight against the white-haired man who drove the vehicle ---- if Yasutomo was sober, he surely would’ve objected to the other driving when he had a few drinks himself, but honestly, he was no use talking to at the moment.

Muttering and mumbling nonesense, Yasutomo reached his arm up and slapped the driver’s seat roughly. “YER SPEEDIN’... FUCK...” Even though, the other was not capable of understanding his surroundings properly, he insisted that Yukinari was speeding (it probably was just the impression he had gotten from being so dizzy). “Damn Rrrrrussko... we are in JAPAN. OUR rules apply, dammit...” 

@hakoneonii

“This is stupid...” Talking to himself, he was pondering about the situation at hand: while Yasutomo was sick of collecting debt money from door to door of tenants and he had his trustworthy (yet look-alike workers) to do so, there was one person in particular he ended up going to frequently even though it no longer was his duty. Apartment nr. 444 -- no Japanese tenant wanted to rent this place due to the superstition surrounded the deadly number 4, so he could only wonder about that redhead girl who had no issue with said apartment. In the beginning, he was curious about her being so unfazed about the superstition, wondering if she was perhaps not as Japanese as he considered her to be (perhaps she was a natural redhead? It would be a rarity around here, but either way, it was quite interesting) -- but the more they ‘interacted’, the more he was more so surprised about her inviting and kind nature towards him. People usually tried to talk as little as possible, sliding money through a mere slit between the door and the doorframe -- she, however, was fine leaving the door wide-open and sometimes asking him to come inside as if he was a friend or an acquaintance, offering him dinner and cookies at times, it bewildered him. But on the other hand, it also made him more curious about her.

Each time, Kuroda and Imaizumi suggested to take the route where the redhead resided, he interfered and said that it was alright if he took that route; he almost felt like a fool for acting up like that, but either way, it was a nice change to sometimes be treated like a human being instead of a monster.

@kurcda

With meetings, it was always Russian Roulette -- one couldn’t tell how long they’ll end up to be, some where quick to come to an end, some just lasted the entire night. And Arakita really had no nerve for this tonight. He had a tight schedule as it was, mostly with assassination and such, he had to be on point with his times and whatnot; the longer the conversations would last with their boss, the less likely he’ll finish his planned tasks for tonight. But he was in no rush, really. It only meant that he could finish his work another time -- after all, he was in good terms with their boss and he could slack off whenever, it was no issue for him.

Once they were done, the black-haired man was determined to go home and get some rest -- perhaps he was getting too old for these kinds of things and he was determined to find people capable of doing his job while he was merely the one in charge of giving directions and orders. Old being a wide-term though ---- he was hardly turning 30, but he also was working with people before their mid-twenties. You could only keep up with the youngsters that much, really. Especially when he was here to make more enemies than friends, and most of them did not like to work together with him, therefore, he was all by himself. A lone wolf so to speak -- among the Yakuza.

Entering his expensive car, he started the engine in order to drive off back home -- this late at night he was able to go over speed limits, hardly anyone was around. Surely, he’d occasionally see these street gangs and Bousouzoku boys who loved to show off their pimped motorcycles, but either way, they were usually smart enough to stay away from the big fishes such as himself. The key term being usually.

Suddenly, one of these motorcyclists cut him on the road to accelerate and pass him, causing Yasutomo to move the steering wheel in a manner to avoid the worst, though his car was turning to the side and leaving marks of his tires on the pavement. Nothing made his blood boil more than some half-ass gangster thinking he can fuck around unharmed like that. “Fucker...” The man hissed out as he hit the gas pedal as hard as he could to chase after the man in his rage ---- despite the Yakuza priding themselves as the calm and collected wanna-be business men, Arakita more so acted like a street-rat in the nicest attire possible. Pushing the limits of his sports car, he didn’t need too long to catch up with the idiot who cut his road, being quick to move his steering wheel in a manner to push the motorcyclist between the car and a railing, once said railing was over, he gave him a push by taking a turn and pushing the side of the car forcefully against the man and causing an accident. 

he’d been a bit wary of the other ever since their rather big argument they had. it made him feel as if arakita didn’t care for his presence … so the invitation to go out & play around with his moped was a shock. of course, he had to accept – how could he not? if the yankee was willing to look past their differences, he certainly could do the same. 

considering that toudou was from a wealthy family, he never had the pressure put on him to learn how to drive. if anything, his mothers would prefer that someone more skilled in driving was around to take him places. that way, they weren’t constantly worried about their son. he wasn’t expecting that arakita was planning on teaching him to drive the little … bike thing. while it was similar to a roadracer, it was still a motor vehicle in the eyes of the law. that meant, that it was decisively more dangerous than a pedal bike. somehow, the other had managed to get his license – with that hot head of his, it was a mystery to the entire team how it worked out. 

it wasn’t so scary when the man picked him up & drove them … but when he pushed toudou to the front of the seat and swapped to the back, he found himself holding the handles rather tightly. it was clear that he was tense about all of it. once arakita was sitting ( very, very ) closely to his back, he was really starting to feel the pressure. “i got it, don’t worry.” he assured the man, thinking that he knew exactly what he was doing. though, when he twisted the gas a bit too hard, the moped lurched forward with surprising speed – veering directly towards what felt like the only tree in the whole area. letting go of the handle bars out of fear, toudou let out a girly scream & the bike began to tilt. luckily – the two just missed the tree … but the whole bike had flipped over onto the ground, scattering the two.

toudou wasn’t sure what he was more scared of … seeing his hair in that moment, or the rage he was expecting from arakita. lifting himself off the ground with a soft “いーいったー痛い … “ he looked up to try & see just far arakita had gone in the wreck. 

Once he had the other seated in front of him, Yasutomo started thinking that perhaps this had been not the smartest idea he had in a long, long time. Surely, Toudou barely looked like he was able to ride anything but a bicycle -- anything with an engine would be too much to handle for that prissy princess... was that a mistake? Was it idiotic to bond with him in such a manner? 

Nervously, he placed his hands onto the man’s hips, feeling nauseous all of a sudden ---- no, no, he had to keep a cool, level head!!! He couldn’t let the other’s anxiety rub off on him -- that was so lame!!! “You got nothing, you aren’t even LISTENING to me--” Arakita interfered, pointing towards the handlebar and the way Jinpachi clung onto it. “You’ll make the engine go crazy if you turn it like tha--”

And... that’s it. It was too late to warn him. Without any further warning, the vehicle practically went flying in an unstable manner; Toudou was unable to keep the handlebar straight forward (which would be a funny joke to crack, but NOT right now!!!), the girly scream only added to the panic mode that Arakita experienced, he felt as if he sat in a roller coaster, left, right left, right, way too fast -- though, when he saw them get closer and closer to LITERALLY the only tree in their vicinity, he couldn’t help it and just grabbed the man’s face violently from behind, wanting to get him out of the way to see where he could reach and grab for the handles to save what’s left to be saved.

“I CAN’T DIE TODAY HOLY FUCK!!! HOW WILL AKI-CHAN KNOW I LOVE HIM GAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!”

But meddling around like that, they ended up landing in the grass (THANKFULLY instead of into the tree), the moped on one leg of his, his other leg twitching as the taller male attempted to realise that he was not dead and that he was still in one piece. Turning his head to shoot a glare towards that headband, his eyes twitched in fury. The way Jinpachi whined about being in pain, it was the LAST thing he needed  to hear right now. THEY COULD’VE ENDED UP WITH BROKEN BONES OR... I don’t know... DEATH? Grabbing a fistful of grass, a low grumble sat in the back of his throat as if he was snarling like a dog.

“てめ…” 

Ripping the grass out of the ground, he threw it at the other in his hissy fit, ready to headbutt him. “THE FUCK YOU WERE THINKING??? I was in the MIDDLE of EXPLAINING how it’s done... but NOOooOOoo... oh NO! Mr. “I-got-it-don’t-worry”!!! The hell’s wrong with me thinking I could have you ride a moped, even your mom looked at me as if I’m crazy as fuck...! Shit man... SHIT!”

Kicking the moped off of himself, he stood up again, feeling his legs shake and tremble, the ex-yankee had the urge to place both hands onto his knees and try to regain his composure somehow; it was so lame, really... to scream bloody murder because his moped sped closer and closer to a tree. He’s had worse when he used to be a yankee, but even so, he was in control of the shit he had done ---- at this point, his life was literally in Toudou’s hands and that’s what frightened him the most. Exhaling deeply as he stood tall again, he did not even think to reach a helping hand out to the other to make him stand on his own two feet, instead he decided to glare at him angrily. “You’ll stand up or sit there whining like a pussy? Get the fuck up, it’s like riding a bicycle -- you fall, and you get up and you fucking try again. Let’s go.” 

lashing out.

the magnitude of yasutomo’s out-burst took him by surprise. just what was happened to set him over that edge was unknown to the redhead, but it was clearly something. while always angry about something, it wasn’t often that he was the object of yasutomo’s verbal abuse – if anything, he was usually the exception that was exempt from his verbal lashings. when his collar was grabbed, foreheads roughly bashed together, hayato didn’t know what to say. despite being arguably air-headed, there was no way that he could miss that this seething rage from his counterpart was directed at him in specific. 

   the shaking & the grabbing certainly was enough to intimidate shinkai – while, he wasn’t the weakest of people, he was by no means a fighter. if anything, hayato was a pacifist. never once had he laid a hand on someone else with a harmful intent, and not even yasutomo’s intimidation could change that. while yasutomo was only mere inches taller than him, it was beginning to feel like a much larger gap – the shouting making hayato feel as if he was feet shy of the other’s height. 

his teeth clamped down on plush, red lips, trying to hold back the initial reaction of crying – despite the tears already beginning to well up in his eyes. it wasn’t very often that he was yelled at with such brutality, but – any yelling towards the redhead could very well illicit such a reaction. rather than trying to talk & negotiate with the other, who was obviously beyond reason at this point, he just gave a simple nod – indicating that he would settle simply agreeing with what he was saying. it’s not like he really did understand just what was going through the other’s head & he wouldn’t pretend that he did.

the team? that rookie? he had no idea just what it was that yasutomo was referring to, but asking at the moment didn’t seem like it would solve any of their problems. “ i’m sorry. “ is all he says, trying to diffuse the situation. though, as he spoke hayato accidentally caught himself starting to sob – his voice cracking & a few tears sliding down soft skin. immediately trapping his lips back between his teeth, a sniffle came from him. 

Surely, he knew that it had been way out of line to react in such a manner -- towards Hayato out of all people, too! -- but Arakita was a very passionate person and didn’t hide his feelings all too well. Even when he attempted to, it was more than clear what he felt. But apparently, his emotions were a blur to the redhead at this moment and it caused him to simply nod and agree, apologising and crying over and over -- it was a pathetic sight, a sight Yasutomo really did not want to deal with. At all. As selfish as it may have sounded, he couldn’t be expected to pat the other’s head now and tell him that he was sorry for his outburst -- that anger was nowhere near gone! And he still had ways of venting about it. Instead, the smaller’s reaction just made it worse and he didn’t know how to cope with it. Punch a wall? No, he knew that his arm had been fragile and prone to broken bones ever since his baseball accident. More yelling? It would only lead to more sobbing and more apologising; how infuriating! 

“You don’t have a fuckin’ clue, yet you stand here apologising, nodding as if you fuckin’ did. Don’t piss me off...” Hissing the last part of the threat, he snarled at the smaller, though he let go of his collar ---- finally, he decided to be the bigger person and to stop bullying someone else. He should lash out on Imaizumi. Perhaps lash out on himself, too. But not Shinkai ---- he really had nothing to do with it... right? Right...

Balling his hands to fists, digging his nails into the skin deeply while his knuckles turned white, he could not even side-eye the sobbing mess, turning away. “Don’t act dumb. You kept being chummy-chummy-buddy-buddy with Imaizumi. People keep saying how he is my look-alike, and it pisses me off. It pisses me off that you talk to him. Pisses me off that they say I look anything like him.” Quite frankly, it was such a far-fetched lie -- if anything, Shunsuke had been on the scale of ‘handsome’ rather than ‘what the fuck is with his face?’, which was more so Arakita’s side of the scale. And it always bugged him how someone as handsome as Hayato would even bat his eyelashes towards Yasutomo’s direction, let alone date him, hold his hand or kiss him. Even that elitist behaviour was more so suiting for the HakoGaku team, nothing like a loudmouth yankee, right?! 

“Bet his times don’t fucking drop all of a sudden, too. If that keeps happening, Fuku-chan’s gonna send me to the rollers again. I’ll break his face if he makes me go on the rollers again. And I’ll break Imaizumi’s neck if he talks to you again.” 

Now... these were really violent threats; but he couldn’t handle his jealousy well. Turning to look at the other, disappointment visible on his face -- though it was more so him being disappointed in himself than the sprinter. “Stop sobbing, I stopped yelling at you.” Intending to leave the man behind now, he couldn’t cope with fixing what he had broken just now; his old destructive behaviour was showing all too much, something that he had hoped to have abandoned along with the promise of becoming a disciplined team member more so than a street-rat-yankee. But jealousy would take out the ugliest of human’s faces, isn’t it so?

@saikurisuto (kinjou)

It was not a rarity for the yankee to go all the way to Chiba with his moped; he made friends over there with fellow yankees who loved to live the dangerous life and all. Yasutomo even ended up crashing at their places, so he could stay for a few days before heading back home. That was only possible however on the school-free days, mostly now that he had been entering as a freshman in HakoGaku -- they were really elitist about everything, and it was only due to his parents urging him to go there. If it was up to him, he’d drop out of high school and just work somewhere. But they really wanted their only (and oldest) son to become something, to go to university and such. It was all beyond him... but he’d do as they ask simply to not start more of a family feud than he already had with his ‘phase’ as they called it.

Walking into a family mart, he looked around for a bottle of bepsi to refresh himself with after a long ride -- to his dismay, they had been out of bepsi. Snarling at the cashier, he slammed his fist on the counter, “The fuck?! What do you MEAN you’re OUT of bepsi???” ready to start a fight, but instead he decided to not waste his time on that bugger and move to the next market.

Once he arrived there, he found his favourite drink (thankfully) and moved to the cashier’s. There had been a small queue (which was odd for this kind of hour, really; people wouldn’t go shopping this late, right?) -- and he waited and waited... until someone behind him (probably accidentally) bumped into him. 

“HAH?”

@saikurisuto (tooji)

It had been unbearable. Perhaps it had been a mistake to introduce Sakamichi to the Yakuza? Perhaps it was only his own fault for being so reckless about it? Of course, Onoda would not be part of the hitmen -- he was not cut out for that job... and of course, he wouldn’t help Tsuji with the prostitutes -- that boy was practically the same height and body-size as Nobu, he would have to work as a call-boy himself. And Yasutomo would hate to see that. More than anything else.

Of-fucking-course, he would end up with the one person he did not want to be around Sakamichi -- Tooji Kanzaki. That smooth-talker, that flirtatious fuck, that guy with the most disgusting smile on his face while he tried to woo all the ladies around him with sweet nothings hushed towards their direction. Of... fucking... course, Onoda would fall for that kindness. 

But it made him think: was he really that unbearable to be around? Was he really that much of a monster? Surely, working the death-row of the Yakuza would harden your personality, and your heart, in ways that it seemed inhumane. It was inevitable, but was it entirely the fault of his job or was he himself to be blamed? 

They had been so, so distant, the bespectacled male and Yasutomo -- ever since their argument over Tooji. It was so ridiculous, it was as if he started a fight with a girlfriend, when they were nothing like that. He just meant to keep Onoda close to himself, close to his heart, like a little brother he never had (biologically), like a small brother he meant to protect from all the evil that happened in this world, he wanted to keep him safe and sound. 

Desperate situations asked for desperate measurements, it seemed.

As he entered the casino, people already staring towards the man’s direction, not expecting someone of his calibre to walk in here -- it was no secret that he had his fair share of beef with the right hand man of Naruko. But that’s exactly the person he meant to face-off. Some had a weird feeling -- thinking that Arakita was here to start a fight, to call out Tooji, to punch his teeth out for getting all too close and buddy-buddy with his little Sakamichi. But they couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Oi. Kanzaki.”

Once he found the man in the midst of gamblers and Yakuzas, he stood next to him, face-to-face; everything about his body language screamed that he wanted to pick a fight, his eyes glaring at the man he hated the most -- the man who fucked up the biggest show-stopper offered to him in Yakuza’s history -- tense shoulders and hands formed to fists as if he was preparing himself to deck him right in the nozzle. 

But instead... he did something nobody would’ve expected him to do.

Bowing deeply in front of the brunet, he kept his head as low as he could, while his arms were tight against each side of his torso, his fists twitching turning knuckles white. 

Shocked about his own actions, he was unable to speak up, waiting up for the man’s reaction before he’d make his request. 

@saikurisuto (ono)

Tooji.

Tooji.

Tooji.

That name was ringing ins his ears, causing him to feel nauseous and angered more so than ever.

Ever since Onoda had been assigned to the gambling department, it seemed as if that boy had been dotty about that Kanzaki. It was Tooji here, Tooji there. Tooji, Tooji, Tooji. Honestly, it reached a point that he had heard that name so many times that the sound of it morphed into something entirely different and he felt disassociated with it. 

Slamming his fist onto the table at which the two were sitting, he glared at the smaller, hoping that the shock was making him shut up for a moment.

@saikurisuto (f!ono)

As little as Yasutomo liked the Akihaba area of Tokyo, he had to go there sometimes in order to report to the gambling department (as long as he was able to talk to Naruko instead of Kanzaki, it would’ve been okay), but still, one would never know who they ran into ---- it was practically riddled with Yakuza, it was just not that obvious to those who weren’t involved. The otakus and fujoshis passively aiding in the growth of the Yakuza by coming here and spending their money on the goods and the games, the slot machines and cranes ---- they really had no idea, but they didn’t have to know. Fact is that this was not Arakita’s world ---- he preferred going door-to-door and asking for people to pay their debts, threatening them, even telling Kuroda to kill some off if they weren’t in time... all that jolly bullshit with sparkly colourful idols and anime-faces wasn’t his. 

Though, as he walked out of a store where he bought himself a pack of cigarettes, he looked around and recognised a familiar face. 

Megane girl. The one who banged her head against the door while she was all panicky and opened the door for him while he collected the rent money. Checking his wrist-watch he had to say that it was rather late for a college girl to be out on the streets. Surely, she always gave him these otaku vibes, but now he actually saw her in person in the otaku’s stronghold Akihabara. 

That’s when the Yakuza decided to stalk her; not in a bad way, no... he just... had to make sure, she was okay and would not be harassed... right?

@hakoneonii

Perhaps if he ignored it a little harder, this wouldn’t bother him as much?

Shinkai took it upon himself to introduce even more banana-flavoured things into his diet; the energy bars weren’t enough, whenever they went out eating, he’d pick anything with said flavour. Ice cream, smoothies, pancakes, energy drinks, well down to the most obvious thing -- a banana. 

While the redhead loved to eat and eat en masse, he also kept talking about not gaining too much weight (which Yasutomo did not understand where that came from in general, considering the man was a walking talking skeleton -- oftentimes compared to that KyoFushi climber whom he ever-so-lovingly called gloomykid -- and he would not complain about gaining some weight and thus some muscles), so, Hayato tended to eat more healthy. More veggies, more fruits. Bananas really came in handy then, for the man was so in love with their flavour. 

Though, there had been one tiny issue.

All the while the other was taking off the peel of that rather phallic looking fruit, Yasutomo’s eyes wandered off to watch his hand work so gently and skilfully; it surely was mesmerising. And despite how he felt almost filthy for his thoughts, his eyes didn’t show the panic mode just yet.