Unji, are you jealous of my umbrella?

"Ah…at my old school - people often used to think I was some sort of a violent guy." He manages a small self deprecating chuckle as he lightly tugs at the tips of his hair.  "Unfortunately - while your school might be plenty crappy - my old one had its problems too - was plenty judgmental about people - could be about anything, even just how they looked…" He shakes his head, not missing that place in the least.  "Can't say I'm sad to be gone from there."

But to be honest, at least he gave reasons for people to be judgemental. As far as he could tell, Ryuji didn't, so people being judgemental of him was extra shitty.

It didn't take long for Zuma to approach the place where his crew hangs out alongside Ryuji. The young delinquent took the lead and promptly called his crew to look over.

"Yo! This guy here's new to Renjaku's school, his name's Ryuji! He had a shitty time in his old school. So, if any of ya bastards make him feel unwanted in this school, I'll kick all your asses, ya hear!" Zuma bluntly yelled while pointing to the bleached-haired blond.

An unreadable silence fell over the introduction. The members of the crew just scanned the other up and down with tough to read expressions, until they finally broke the silence.

"Welcome to our school, Ryuji!" One of the guys exclaimed. "If there's ever any trouble, just holler! We'll be right there."

"Heeey, he's kind of cute," One of the gyaru-looking girls said, giving a flirty smile. "You have a girlfriend back there?"

|| ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙾𝚃𝙸𝙲 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁

(Add "+🔁" or "+ reverse" for the reverse)

“Don’t panic, but I may have accidentally joined a cult.”

“Good news: I found a sword. Bad news: It’s haunted.”

“How many chickens are too many chickens?”

“The raccoon is not our pet. Put it down.”

“I need you to distract the cops for… reasons.”

“The good couch is on fire.”

“Do you think we could fight God? Hypothetically.”

“I replaced all your mugs with skulls.”

“There’s no law that says we can’t rob the mayor.”

“The plan is flawless. Step one: chaos. Step two: profit.”

“That’s not my blood, and that’s all I’m willing to say.”

“I bought a cannon.”

“Quick—pick a crime!”

“You can’t prove I’m the one who summoned it.”

“This is fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. (It’s not fine.)”

“Why is there a medieval knight in our kitchen?”

“I think the fridge is possessed.”

“You said you wanted excitement!”

       ❝   She's  my  grandma  actually,   ❞   she  stated  matter-of-factly.  It  wasn't  the  first  time  someone  had  made  that  mistake  and  it  certainly  wouldn't  be  the  last.   (   In  fact,  if  she  recalled  correctly,  near  everyone  made  the  same  assumption.  She  couldn't  necessarily  blame  them  ;  they  were  right.  She  did  look  young  for  a  grandma.   )   Her  smile,  which  had  briefly  flickered  away  when  she  spoke,  returned.

       ❝   But  hey,  who'da  known  ‘  big  bad  Zuma  ’,   ❞   a  title  given  in  jest,   ❝   was  also  a  chef?   ❞   Hands  laced  behind  her  back,  she  added,   ❝   It's  a  deal.  Y'got  some  pretty  tough  competition  though.  Granny  and  Vamola  are  wicked  cooks.   ❞   Her  smile  dialed  up  a  bit  then,  eyes  having  fluttered  shut.   ❝   I'm  kinda  excited!   ❞

Well, Zuma decided to let it go. It was probably rude to talk about how old someone looked or not, and the boy was trying to be more polite nowadays, per Masamichi's threat-I mean, request.

"Hey, beatin' people up ain't the only thing I'm good at..." The boy chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. It was... odd to just drop his defenses like this with anyone, let alone someone he had met not that long ago.

But... it felt weirdly natural with her. "Mother wasn't great in the kitchen, and... my bro was too young, so cookin' duties fell to me."

Fuck, what's happening to you, Unji Zuma?

-

Zuma had prepped himself as they both got back to the house. He put on an apron and some cloth around his head so as to not let any hair fall on the food.

The way he knew just how to to push Jins' buttons irritated him to no end, but he was certain that Zuma was well aware. Just look at him. Standing there. Exposing himself and begging for Jin to make the first shot.

Consider that a deduction in coolness points! Not low enough to plunge into the negatives, but he was damn nearing it.

"You're SO on!" The corner of his mouth twitched into a toothy smirk, all the while limbering himself up with outstretched arms and prepping his right in particular.

"Just don't go cryin' to your gang to avenge you afterwards." He adds as he steps closer until gradually picking up the pace. Once within range, he lowers himself with his right at the ready and aims it straight for the delinquents' gut in a full swing. He intends to cause damage regardless, anything to prove that he meant business and didn't need Evil Eye to back him up on it.

"Ooof"

Zuma let out a grunt along any air he had in his lungs as the other's punch hit. Goddamn he was strong, he just felt years of physical training right on his gut right now.

Goddammit!!! He couldn't even play it off, clingy boyfriend was actually legit—more than legit. He was tougher than many wannabe punks out there.

"That's some Ivy League punch there, clingy boyfriend." He tried to let out a laugh but the lack of air made it difficult.

He held the other in place with his hands on his shoulders, his gaze filled with pure aggression.

The suggestion to hit Zuma comes as somewhat of a shock at first, because he wasn't looking for something so one-sided but he supposes the way the other frames it is true, and he can't really argue so he tries to assume a position to throw a punch. He then immediately realizes that he doesn't really know what position he should assume to throw a punch other than a closed fist and winding back his arm. Even in fights he's now realizing he hadn't thrown many punches at all but plenty of kicks. His only forms of attack were usually with his head or his legs and never anything that relied on the strength of his puny arms.

The air left Unji's body as he felt the other's punch on his abdomen, taking a step back to make sure he doesn't fall down. Eyes bulged out for a second, only to close right after.

What.

The fuck.

Was THAT?!

He held his stomach, trying to contain the pain. He knew the nerdy guy was made of strong shit. But he packed more than a mean punch. Zuma felt like he just had a truck run over his stomach. The delinquent got into a lot of battles before, but few ever made him wince like that.

If the kid was training, this definitely felt like it.

"Holyshit..." The young man regained his composure after the blunt pain of the fist passed, leaving just a dull ache. "Kid, ya don't gotta worry 'bout not bein' strong. You're plenty damn strong."

After recovering Zuma took a deep breath and went back to his stoic self, his eyes scanning the other like trying to see where this much strength comes from.

"It's official. You ain't weak- you're insecure." He stated rather bluntly, rotating his shoulders and neck as if stretching his body. "Lucky you, I know the best way to build confidence."

"C'mon, we're scrappin'!" He cracked his knuckles, his voice not holding any sort of aggression despite the aggressive sentence. In fact, his tone felt quite matter-of-fact. "My ol' man used to say: There ain't no better way to see your own worth than when you get punched in the face and see how much you can handle. I heard you been through a lot of shit, but how many times have you been punched in the face by another person?"

"...Just like that?" Zuma inquired, rather curious about the other's straightforward philosophy. Trust didn't come easy for the former delinquent, not after the whole ordeal with his mother.

He still loved her, he loved her deeply, and he knows that it was his fault but... it was hard... to get himself trusting after something like that.

Funnily enough, Zuma had instead become someone whom others trusted, a safe pillar for the poorer, more marginalized folk to lean on. He had to become it, because he knows how tough it is to trust others when you're at the bottom.

    "Uh, not to disappoint you or anything... but wearing glasses doesn't automatically make one smart, okay? It just means as individuals, we're optically challenged," Vivian finally brings herself to hesitantly point out before casually adjusting her glasses further up along her nose.

"Really? You ain't smart at all?"

That was actually quite a surprise for the young man. Sure, part of it was the fact she looked like a nerd, but also because she spoke so passionately about stuff he barely understood, making him think she was highly intelligent. But maybe Zuma just mixed up "otaku" with "smart" in his head.

But maybe Zuma just mixed up otaku with smart in his head.

"Completin' high school is good enough. I'm tryin' to get my Kōsun, anyway," the young man stated, revealing an envelope containing practice questions for the Japanese GED. It was a test that required a perfect score to prove mastery over upper high school level knowledge.