Chapter 89: After the Battle

Aoki Tsukasa slowly lowered his head, gazing calmly at Ueno Yo, whose face was still twisted in fear. His tone was flat. “From now on, I’m the boss of Muyou.”

Ueno Yo nodded silently, shifting his body across the ground, his eyes burning with both anger and terror as he tried his best to distance himself from Aoki Tsukasa.

Stepping over the crowd of delinquent high schoolers still writhing on the ground, Aoki Tsukasa went through the group of shaved-head youths, helping each of them to their feet. When he reached Fujiwara Mio, he even fished a cigarette pack from his shirt pocket, drew out the last one, and tucked it into the mouth of Maeda Tora, who could barely stand with Aoki’s support, and personally lit it for him.

Maeda Tora, with his battered cigarette, took a single drag before passing it, with a trembling hand, to Aoki Tsukasa.

Aoki Tsukasa chuckled and took just one puff himself before handing the cigarette to Matsuzaka Daitake.

Matsuzaka, bruised and battered, mimicked the gesture, grinning as he took a hefty drag, then passed it to Fujiwara Mio.

The single cigarette made its way around all thirteen of the swaying, barely-standing shaved-head youths, as if they were drunk. By the time it returned to Aoki Tsukasa, the filter was burning hot to the touch. He took the last puff without concern, then crushed the butt and placed it on the edge of the street’s trash bin.

“Starting tomorrow, no smoking until you’re adults!” Aoki Tsukasa suddenly declared.

“Uh…” Fujiwara Mio and the others exchanged looks, then broke into wide grins. “Got it, boss!”

“We’ve finally taken over Muyou. Shouldn’t we get a drink to celebrate?” Maeda Tora, still being supported by Aoki Tsukasa and barely able to keep his eyes open, rambled on, “Let’s hit a bar, find some pretty girls, it’s on me!”

Aoki Tsukasa smacked him on the head without mercy, making Maeda Tora grimace in pain, his sleepy eyes snapping wide open.

“No drinking until you’re adults either!”

“Aw…” Maeda Tora sighed in disappointment. “But in ‘Yakuza Storm,’ all the bosses started smoking and drinking in high school.”

“That’s just a movie!” Aoki Tsukasa shot him a glare. “But if you really insist, you can do it their way—cut off your own pinky for me, and I’ll let you drink as much as you want.”

“Heh, no thanks, no thanks!” Maeda Tora’s bruised and swollen face lit up with a broad smile.

Fujiwara Mio and Matsuzaka Daitake linked arms, staggering along behind them. “We did it,” one of them murmured.

Maeda Tora’s smile slowly faded, his expression turning earnest. He nodded heavily, replying solemnly, “Yeah.”

Aoki Tsukasa looked up at the darkening sky, the glow of the setting sun casting everything in a golden haze. His tone was light, “Ah, the summit isn’t as hard as I imagined. Without realizing it, I’ve come this far.”

“The summit!” a chorus of young voices shouted, laughter and boasts about ruling the school echoing under the scornful stares of passersby. With arms slung over each other’s shoulders, they left the park behind, heading home.

In the rundown park behind them, Ueno Yo, his sturdy frame slumped in defeat, slowly rose to his feet. He gave a gentle kick to a groaning underling sprawled on the ground, his tone despondent. “Get up. Call an ambulance for the unlucky ones still lying there. Let’s go home.”

The underling staggered to his feet, clutching his stomach, his voice trembling. “That’s it? If you’d gotten serious, boss, we wouldn’t have lost! We didn’t even call in all our guys this time! I—I…”

He choked up, his eyes reddening. “I can’t accept this!”

Ueno Yo yanked him up, forcing him to meet his gaze—eyes burning red.

The underling fought back tears, his voice breaking. “We lost!”

“We lost,” Ueno Yo echoed, sorrowful, his hands trembling as he repeated, “We lost!”

The underling finally broke down, sobbing, collapsing at Ueno Yo’s feet and clutching his shirt like a child. “I can’t accept it! We’re seniors now! We fought for three years and never made it to the top! There won’t be another chance! Why?!”

Ueno Yo raised his head, refusing to let the little brother who’d followed him through countless storms see his tears. “A loss is a loss.”

He quietly wiped his tears away, then kicked the underling aside and hauled him back up by his collar, meeting his gaze with bloodshot eyes. “I can take a loss! Don’t cry like a little girl—stand up!”

“I’m Ueno Yo! Until Aoki Tsukasa showed up, I was the one closest to the top of Muyou High!” His voice was sincere. “It’s my fault I couldn’t take you all to the summit. I wasn’t strong enough!”

“But I… I did my best!” Ueno Yo pounded his chest with a heavy thud. “We were outmatched. That’s the end of it.”

“What, you don’t want to stick with me now that we’ve lost? Thinking of joining Aoki Tsukasa?” Ueno Yo asked, grinning. On his plump face, blood and sweat mingled, yet his expression was unexpectedly gentle.

The underling sniffled, wiped his eyes, and, still clutching his stomach, managed to stand. “That damned baldy could never beat me into submission!”

“Even if he’s the new boss, if he bullies you, I’ll still stand up for you!” Ueno Yo pulled another bloodied underling off the ground, wiping the blood from his face. “All of you, get up! We're going home!”

“Anyone still able to move, come eat at my place tonight!” Ueno Yo grinned. “I’m going to steal my old man’s prized liquor—let’s all drink together!”

“Oh!!” The battered delinquents staggered to their feet, their faces no longer showing any fear of Aoki Tsukasa’s victory. They followed Ueno Yo out of the park, arms around each other, supporting one another. Their figures were tinged with melancholy, but not defeat.

As for the other delinquents who weren’t Ueno Yo’s followers, they got up by themselves, a little worse for wear, gazing blankly at the empty fountain park as if in a dream. As for Koda Kofu and the other second-years, as losers, they’d already left before this last fight even began.

Yasuda’s pompadour was completely ruined, and he lay miserably on the ground, clutching his arm and wailing, “Call me an ambulance! My arm—my arm’s broken!”

His slightly bent baseball bat lay at his side, but it was doubtful he’d be taking it home.

The glow of the setting sun filtered through the sparse autumn leaves, casting speckled light on the ground. The battered fountain park finally returned to calm, save for the bloodstains on the pavement, silent witnesses to what had occurred there.

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PS: My first ever major recommendation—thank you to the editor for your support, and even more to my readers for sticking with me. Lately, my writing has suffered from low spirits due to family matters, and it’s been hard to feel joyful. I’ll adjust as quickly as I can and keep bringing you happiness. This extra chapter is dedicated to all of you who have supported me. Love you all.