馬鹿！それＢＥＰＳＩじゃない！

Arakita Yasutomo (Yowamushi Pedal) RP blog - I take no credits for the art, please read the rules, thank you ♡ | my bunbun ♡

[bepsibae]

Breakneck Pride | Killing Games

@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.

“Oi...” Calling out to the man, he had no intention to ambush him like a coward, he swung his blood-splattered and needle-covered bat over his shoulder as he approached the man closer. “Kurrrroda, right? Quite the Japanese name for A Russko...” Wiping his mouth and chin due to the humidity-induced sweat dripping down, he cocked his head to the side. “I was waiting to beat you the fuck up into a useless pulp; regaining my pride and the bet money that was put onto your head.” The concept of provocation was merely so he could see the other’s reaction and how he’d react; he wanted to understand his method before he’d attack him. Yasutomo was smart enough to know that he had no room to underestimate an opponent, let alone acting out of rash and brute anger. 

[bepsibae]

Apartment 444 | Fem/Yakuza!AU

[bepsibae]

hakoneonii‌:

because of her italian cultural background, hayato wasn’t very familiar with the stigma towards the number four in japan – she always thought that she was simply too sleepy each time she couldn’t find a floor four in buildings. all that she knew was that the room was reasonably priced & close to the school that she attended. there wasn’t very many schools in the area that had veterinary courses, so even if it wasn’t the nicest, she didn’t think twice once she had the opportunity to move in. another little part of italy that followed her was the ability to treat anyone else as if they were her family. most people were cautious when it came to dealing with the yakuza members whenever they were around, simply looking the other way. rather than shunning the men, she was always waving & greeting them as if they were old friends. perhaps it was because she was an attractive woman that she didn’t get any sort of nasty reactions to her charisma. 

despite the apartment being an ugly mess when she moved in, shinkai was quick to add her own girly touches to the room. considering what she had to work with, it was somewhat homier than it had been in the beginning. it was very hayato so to speak – the room practically oozed the same lady - like aura as her. it was quite the contrast to her younger sibling. though, even with their differences in style, they still fully respected the way that the other liked to portray. the redhead’s kitchen area was the nicest part of the room. she put the most effort into her tiny kitchen – since it was the most used room in the house. in her spare time, she was always baking ( or cooking ) something up & offering it to her neighbors, and even the yakuza men whenever they came around.

hearing the doorbell, she quickly ran over to the door like an excited child. opening it a bit too suddenly – not even bothering to check who it was beforehand, hayato had a habit of being not cautious enough considering the area she lived it. “あらー, yakuza-san.” she said in her usual sweet, airy tone. “is it already that time?” cupping her cheek with her hand, she looked genuinely taken off guard. “i have some cookies that are almost done. would you like to come in? i can get the money for you in the meantime.” taking a few steps backwards, she gave the man a friendly smile. there was no need to open the door any more, considering that she had practically opened it entirely from the start. most other people wouldn’t dare to put themselves in such a vulnerable situation around the debt collectors, but hayato lacked a sense of alertness. sometimes, she just wasn’t fully aware of the fact that some people may not be as pure & kind - hearted as herself.

While the man waited for the door to open, he watched left and right for any neighbours to see him; it would be bad if any of these rats were going to speak about this encounter to either Kuroda or Imaizumi -- it was not a trust issue (at least not so much for Yukinari, really), but this was about keeping his pride and face intact. Completely taken off-guard, Yasutomo turned his head instantly to stare wide-eyed at the woman who had practically thrown the door open for him, if this had been any other tenant, they’d been on gun-point, but Arakita couldn’t find it in himself to treat that woman the same way. 

Her airhead-ish nature made him squint his eyes at her, wrinkling his nose lightly as she kept on calling him ‘Yakuza-san’ which in the essence of it seemed rather degrading than respectful, really, but he’d let it slide for her. It was insane: usually, Yasutomo was the last person to treat women differently than men. While all of them were screaming for equal rights and whatnot, he pressed on the point that if women wanted less chivalry and patriarchy, then perhaps they should also receive less advantages in the sense of being treated as the weaker sex -- it included opening doors for them or paying for both their dinners during a date. And yet, he found himself treating the redhead with such caution that it surprised himself anew each time he was in that kind of situation. 

“Keeping track of time ain’t your forté, huh?” The tall man retorted as he leaned in a little -- usually it was giving off the intimidating vibe, but she hardly reacted to these things. “Arakita-san.” He added, rolling his tongue almost in an angered manner. “Yakuza-san sounds pretty rough. I ain’t one of many.” His thoughts instantly formed a picture of Tooji; he wouldn’t want to get thrown into the same bucket with the one-legged bandit (surely that was an exaggeration, but still, it made for a good nickname... at least to him). It didn’t hurt to offer her his family name ---- after all, the man carried it with pride. It was a strong name among the Yakuza, mainly thanks to the things he had achieved himself. He was in a position, where police and other forces were hyperaware of his existence and yet were unable to touch him in his rights due to his power in the society as it was. One would be surprised how many politicians approached the Yakuza for an assassination, or a kidnapping ---- they paid good money, too. And they’d most likely shoot themselves in their own feet if they were going to prosecute Arakita or one of his men. Amnesty was something men like Yasutomo flaunted with. Perhaps not exactly the clean-up crew of the Yakuza, but the more power you had, the less likely it was to be endangered. Sharing his name with her was -- by no means -- endangering him, even if she wanted to be funny and rat him out to the police.

Letting the woman walk off to go get the money and such, he wasn’t responding to her offer, however he looked around the apartment for a moment and inhaling deeply before entering; he knew exactly the kinds of crimes that went down in apartments like these ---- mostly this one was cursed, he was certain of it. Perhaps it was superstition, but he could swear the moment he stood in the apartment, breathing became harder, the air became thicker and he felt watched by someone or something. Unlike his fellow collectors, Arakita had the decency to take off his shoes after he closed the door behind him and stepping into the hallway, looking around as if he was expecting something to jump at him. Four previous tenants hanged themselves in here, four had been shot (not by Yakuza) and four were found either overdosed or wrists cut open in the bathtub. He could swear that someone was breathing down his neck, but the moment he turned around to check, nothing was there. How was that woman not noticing or caring about these creepy circumstances, the eerie air that was radiating off of the walls? 

As he stood in the hallway, a mirror right next to him, he swore in the corner of his eye he saw someone move right after he heard someone call out his name in a mere whisper; but the moment he looked at his reflection, there was nothing unusual. This alone was enough of a warning to move quickly and practically rushing over to the living room where the woman prepared the envelope with money. “O-Oi, oi, you got guests over?!” Frantically Arakita asked as he quickly turned to look behind him just to make sure that nobody stood there -- only to stare back at the redhead a little frazzled. At this moment, he was way too freaked out to even care about how stupid and unprofessional he looked ---- he wasn’t scared of any human being, but he couldn’t possibly fight anything paranormal with weapons of this world.

[bepsibae]

yorinuki‌:

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.

“What do you say, hah? Give a little, get a little.”

[bepsibae]

Будь пьян с любовью | Yakuza!AU

@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...” 

Honestly, he’d just be happy to go home and fall asleep on the couch or bed, he really didn’t care... but he was not anticipating the killer-headache from being hung-over in the morning.

[bepsibae]

Apartment 444 | Fem/Yakuza!AU

@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.

As he stood in front of her apartment nr. 444, he hesitatingly rang the doorbell and waited for her to open up. There was a strong smell of chocolate or cookies coming from inside the apartment, so he was prepared for her taking a little longer opening the door if she was busy in the kitchen. 

[bepsibae]

Oil & Fire | Bōsōzoku/Yakuza!AU

@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. 

Panting in his anger, he got out of the car quickly to confront the stranger, not to look whether or not he was alright, but more so to take a huge piss on him and let him feel his anger first-hand. “The fuck’s wrong with you? Did you win your license in the lottery, hah? NOBODY OVERTAKES ON THE RIGHT LANE, FUCKING MORON.” Stepping further to stand in front of the man, he didn’t bother to help him up onto his feet, wanting to make it obvious that this was not a friendly encounter and more so to pick an unnecessary fight with some scumbag.

[bepsibae]

Heart’s Desire | Fem/Yakuza!AU

[bepsibae]

saikurisuto:

onoda was completely fulfilled with her day – she’d been scouting out new merch since last week & finally she was holding quite literally all of it in her own two arms. she could barely manage to carry it all herself, but she’d sooner give up her left leg than her love ouji merch. it was all near & dear to her heart, and she’d spent her hard earned cash on these – maybe a little too much cash, but don’t mind the details. clumsily pushing her glasses up further with her elbow, she was surprised to see that it was already dark outside. time seemed as if it passed multiple times quicker when she was surrounded in the excitement of akiba. 

   when she was in the city, filled with anime – an otaku’s paradise – onoda lost her sense of suspicion & fear. she didn’t think of the possibility of men harassing her or getting robbed. she just felt safe surrounded by her love ouji merch as she quietly hummed the theme song with each step.

it wasn’t until she neared a different section of the town that it became creepy. she was only trying to make her way to the train station, but with the bars & late - night shops, bad people began to congregate there. however – onoda didn’t want to let herself worry too much … she simply strode on as fast as possible while still managing to carry all of her findings. seeing a nerd like herself in such a nerdy town was not very odd, but it always seemed that there was plenty of people that thought they were better than her simply because they had more curves & perfect vision. 

keeping her head tilted down, onoda tried her best to ignore anyone that may attempt to even catch her wandering glances. if she looked at someone, there was a high chance that they would attempt to speak to her. she figured that would the hard way, when a man caught her curious eyes & took it upon himself to move towards her. 

Of course, the area where she lived was not the most pristine area, considering that it was one ruled by Yakuza and tenants usually either were in need of money or really needed a roof above their heads. Surely, there had been rougher and worse parts in town -- but there had also been safer parts, without a doubt. As of right now, she was heading through an area that Arakita was more familiar with from past times ---- back then, when he was more or less ‘scouting’ Kuroda into the Yakuza, that’s where he hung out to find someone fit enough, yet desperate enough to be obedient. Yukinari may have been a joker at times, but he surely would not act out behind Yasutomo’s back -- no matter what. But being around here also meant that they would encounter some street rats. 

Getting bored of following tail like that, the tall male snipped the small fag of his cigarette off his fingers and carelessly stepped on it as he walked further on, side-eyeing the area as he already took note of a few guys hiding in the shadows, lurking as they spotted the bespectacled girl. Disgusting. They probably were also too frightened to pounce on her and not only steal her belongings but most likely also her clothes, for these guys were vile and rabid animals more so than men -- key reason for their fear may have been the fact that they were hyper-aware of Arakita’s presence and more so, knowing where he belonged and what kind of trouble he meant, considering that he had been around here to scout a few guys off the streets. By no means was he in good terms with these people ---- they were scum in his eyes, useless. Some people were unfortunate to have landed on the streets, despite their skills and whatnot (like Kuroda for example), but some just belonged here because they were the epitome of trash. The head assassin had no interest in being on good terms with useless scum. 

As he picked up his pace, he slowly walked beside the girl, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and shushing her before she was able to make a sound, leaning in a little closer. “You’re either really lucky to have me around or really unfortunate, the choice is yours, megane-chan.” With that approach, some men instinctively moved away, not wanting to compete with Yakuza or getting into trouble with them at all -- the man squinted at them, before turning his head to look at the otaku. “It’s not safe here to walk alone for a guy, let alone a girl. Let’s go, alright?” Pushing her back as he kept her frail body close to his, he pretended as if they were close enough to behave like that (may it be a couple, siblings or whatever, he really didn’t care what the others thought of them, as long as they would not attempt to interfere), trying to get into a casual and light-hearted conversation with Onoda while they were heading out of that criminal area. “What’s in these bags? Anime merch? Always had a feeling, you were into that stuff.” Nodding his head towards the bags as he spoke, he did not mean to sound as if he was mocking her or making fun of her ---- quite the contrary, he thought it was somewhat adorable to see a girl into nerdy things; he really had no opinion on women, or types, usually he just avoided attachments and tried to make the best of it. But if there was one thing that he had to admit it was that nerdy girls less likely were the types to go around and play with a guy’s heart for shits and giggles. 

Though, the question here may be whether or not she was too uncomfortable to see herself with a guy like Arakita.

Wait. What was he thinking? ‘Sheesh, shut up!!!’ The man scolded himself, as he grimaced (with his usual resting bitch face), turning to stare at the small college student. “Like, my younger sisters kept talking about Pokémon and, uh, what’s it... Love Ouji? I think? Yeah... I got my fair share of information...” Maybe it was a desperate attempt to have a normal conversation with her that was not including any money exchange for the rent, really...

[dandancchi]

b l i n d   r a g e

[bepsibae]

cyclingprincess:

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.” 

Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to call it a day and drop him off back home ---- but Arakita was way too stubborn for that. Oh no: he will teach that twat how to ride a moped. And he will do it right now!!

[bepsibae]

hakoneonii:

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?

Too ashamed to even speak anymore with his counterpart, he didn’t even think that Shinkai would want to talk to him anymore; if anything, he would not be surprised if the man started hating his guts for treating him so poorly. “Sorry.” The taller mumbled under his breath, moving over to the next best water fountain in the hallway, but more so to splash the cooling liquid into his face in hopes of simmering down his anger.

[bepsibae]

Odd Pair | (Freshmen)

@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?”

Turning around to be face to face with someone around his height, he leaned in closer and glared at them, opening one eye bigger than the other to threaten them. “OI, megane. You need another pair of glasses? You wanna fight or something?” He was just way more irritable when he didn’t have his bepsi fix for hours...

[bepsibae]

Request | Yakuza!AU

@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. 

Sometimes, true strength would be visible while bowing to the person you hated the most... right?!

[bepsibae]

Eat Your Heart Out | Yakuza!AU

@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.

“Anything else you wanted to report about, Onoda-chan? Anything except Tooji?”

[bepsibae]

Heart’s Desire | Fem/Yakuza!AU

@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?

Wait-- wait, wait! What was he thinking?! To actually care about that goofball? Was he being sick?!?! It was quite the shocker and he felt his heart race behind his rib cage, but instinctively, he started following the college girl, keeping a good distance at first to not scare her all the while he enjoyed his smoke.

[bepsibae]

ヒットマンナンバー4 | Bōsōzoku!AU

[bepsibae]

ycmagucci:

unlike the lone wolves’ leader, who had a habit of showing his emotions like an open book … yamaguchi was a man that struggle with emotions. he lacked the feelings necessary to change his facial expression – he hardy smiled, cried, or blushed. it just simply was how he lived, the same straight - laced lips plastered across sullen features. he wasn’t one for leaving the base in search of trouble, surely he had plenty of reading that he could be doing, but midousuji always made sure that he had handfuls of work to keep him busy each second of the day. it was nice to have something to do – but on the other hand, he was exhausted from being overworked all of the time. it wasn’t as if he was handed simple jobs either, he wasn’t just thieving or collecting debts. he was stuck with missions that were far more complex, ones that required stealth & cunning – and more often than not, bloodshed. unlike the likes of the gang, he wasn’t woozy at the sight of blood. like always, he was dead pan about it.

standing over his handiwork, yamaguchi was caked in blood – his hands, jackets … even his face were splattered with the viscous liquid. it was an all - too familiar feeling, to have such a sin displayed on his body. it wasn’t like anyone that saw him would be shocked … while the wild fangs had their gambling, lizard hell had their murder. it was just the things that groups were known for. no one would be surprised by a man in a lizard hell jacket with blood splattered across his person. 

flicking his knife closed, the freckled man stuffed it into an inside pocket of his jacket. so long as he didn’t display his weapon openly, he doubted that anyone would try to get involved with him. the body wasn’t necessarily a problem … he had to leave it at a specified spot & someone else would pick it up and dispose of it for him. it was the perks of being in such a large, organized group. if he was the one to kill someone, he never had to worry about the clean up. despite hearing someone yelling out to him, yamaguchi remained clam – continuing to move the body by it’s arms to the designated spot ( located off to the side, in the shadows of the alleyway ). 

finally, he would turn to face the lone wolves’ member, hearing them yell something about territory – of course, midousuji didn’t respect the laws of territory. if someone was on his hit list, he’d send someone else, no matter whose grounds the mess was made on. staring at the opposing member with a look of surprise in his eyes … he immediately recognized the face as the leader of the lone wolves. it was only his luck to run into such trouble – surely the man was going to be ridiculously angry about this … 

“i’m done here. pardon the intrusion.” the smaller said politely, trying to keep their speaking to a minimum. he was never exactly good at talking to people – and to a gang leader nonetheless.

The irritation was visible on the man’s face, muscles twitching in displeasure when the other just would not react as he wanted him to. Surely, that one was either a slowpoke or someone who really was not fazed all too much... and if he didn’t know any better, he’d presume this was Tsuji -- someone who hardly had gotten any reaction out of himself, unless it was about Midousuji, really. Which he could not blame him for at all -- but the height just was not right. And it struck him to think that he had not seen that man before... was he even part of the old Lizard Hell, when they used to be Hell’s Angels?! Arakita could not wrap his head around it just yet, but he snapped open his pocket knife just in case that this was one of Midousuji’s lap dogs whom he was not too fond of. 

However, that’s when he noticed the man dragging something like a body on the ground. Yasutomo stood still in his tracks, even more so determined to use his knife now -- if that man was mad enough to lunge forward and injure no one less than the Lone Wolves leader, then he would be having the worst time of his life. Arakita had been known for his violence impulses for a reason. “Yo, I don’t care about your business, but the FUCK you’re doing on MY territory?! KILLING PEOPLE? Everyone’s gonna stick it to me and my group... oh no, not on my watch, bastard.” Of course, he could figure as much as Akira wanting to draw bad attention and bad publicity towards rivalling gangs... it was nasty, but what about that man wasn’t?! 

The man finally turned to look at him and he shot him a glare. That face, he had seen it before... barely, but he had seen it. Overly polite and rather held back with emotions, it was sending chills down his spine, as if he was talking to a non-human entity, something straight out of hell. But Arakita was not the type of man to just get scared that easily. Stepping closer to the smaller figure then, he made it obvious that he held a knife in his hand so the man would not do anything funny. “Intrusion. I don’t give a fuck about how sorry you are. This is my property. We are on my gang’s territory. MY gang. MINE. And you...” Standing before the other, he used the blade of his knife to place underneath the man’s chin to make him look up. “...you think it’s smart killing people around here under my name, huh?” If it was not clear before that the man had been very territorial and protective of his gang, then it certainly would be now. If he had known more about that man’s origins and if he could actually pinpoint that he was from Midousuji’s part of the gang, he’d beat the shit out of him. But without the clarity, he did not want to move onto Ishigaki’s bad side. 

Though, this being Yasutomo, he also had absolutely no problem addressing issues vis-à-vis.

“Are you Midousuji’s lap dog or are you one of Ishigaki’s guys?” 

Surely, a man could lie to save their ass -- but either way, the man wouldn’t know how the Lone Wolf would react, if he was going to be erratic and impulsive or smart about it... 

“Your name? Or should I just call you... hitman number F O U R.” Knowing of Midousuji’s obsession to give numbers instead of names to people, he made sure to pick one that was the unluckiest and most deadly number of them all -- it surely seemed fitting for the situation at hand.

[bepsibae]

バナナ

@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.

It was inevitable though, the longer he’d watch the other, the more nervous he’d become, going as afar as to cross his legs and attempting to stare elsewhere... though, now the best part was coming: Hayato actually eating the damn thing. Waiting in anticipation for that, his eye started twitching -- he did not even notice his mouth part the slightest upon watching the other man doing so in order to eat, beads of sweat forming on his forehead and praying that the redhead would not catch a glimpse of that rough look... almost like a feral animal in heat.

[bepsibae]

Freshmen

[bepsibae]

hakoneonii:

the huff that he got in reply to his presence couldn’t have bothered him any less, shinkai had a bad habit of not being able to tell when his presence was wanted of not – either that, or he just didn’t care all that much. he was going to sit down & befriend his new teammate whether the man wanted him to or not. after all, they would be spending a lot of time together in the very near future. being on friendly terms before everyone else just gave him that step up. who would have expected it of him too? shinkai was known for being aloof & not strongly spoken … two traits that didn’t do much for making friends. 

       “you think?” he proceeded to shove a wad of food into his mouth before continuing. “i think that once you get outside, you’ll disagree with yourself. it’s so much different.” the rollers were certainly no fun, for anyone. though, hayato didn’t mind so much when there was scenery flying past him, the wind rustling in his hair. it make biking so much more fun than staring at the poorly decorated club room walls. he wasn’t entirely sure when juichi would stop being so harsh on the newbie & actually let him practice outside – or maybe, he was just sure that he could get the man to quit early if he couldn’t stand such discipline. 

while he knew nothing of arakita’s grief, of course he had some of his own. he was still rather traumatized from accidentally killing an animal while biking – he loved animals more fondly than other people !! this lead him to having a bunny that he cared for on the side, leaving him spending most of his free time at the school. it was something that changed his style of biking since that point on and still gave him great anxiety with each turn of the pedal. though, despite having a handicap like that, he was still one of the strongest sprinters on the entire team. strong enough to be in the interhigh even. 

     “of course i do.” he answered blandly, not caring much for the insult at the rest of the team – it wasn’t as whole - hearted as he figured that arakita wanted it to sound. “but, you’re a new moron for me to hang out with. the old morons have gotten enough shinkai hayato in the past – they won’t die from withdrawal.” the redhead teased back, not missing a beat. 

It really did not take a genius to understand that Shinkai was... either not the smartest or simply not really caring all too much about what others thought. Surely, he couldn’t make presumptions of others that quickly... he may have been a hot-head but he loved to create an image of people by letting them create it for him, by acting, talking and behaving in their own way, allowing it to become an image instead of making it up himself ahead. Whether or not Hayato was simply dumb or if he was looking past the man’s behaviour and simply being a decent human being, it was up on getting to know him better. And frankly, if it wasn’t for the redhead approaching him whenever he could, it would not even happen.

Now, that did not mean that Yasutomo did not want to befriend anyone. Frankly, he was thrilled to make teammates, becoming friends and such; he was a loner and had always been one, but team sports were team sports for a reason -- and even in baseball he learnt to get along with the boys as much as he could. Though, these guys had something oddly haughty about themselves... at first, he thought, they were all full of shit... but soon he realised, the could back up that behaviour with the results they offered, able to practice on the rollers with no biggie... the only one that rubbed him the wrong way this far had been the headband... though, as much as Arakita hated to say it, that guy was arrogant as fuck, but he really excelled at what he did. It was frustrating to be treated like a street rat and all he could do was actually take it, because he knew that he had nothing to back himself up with. That’s why Fukutomi kept him on the rollers -- to learn the discipline needed, yadda yadda... it was a punishment atop a punishment, really, but he would not blame Shinkai for what Juichi was doing... after all, Yasutomo prided himself in confronting people who deserved it.

It only stung to see them all get along so well and being buddy-buddy, while he had to suck it up and pass out after the rollers. There was no fun in that.

“If I get outside.” Making it clear to the redhead that he had no hopes set up for himself, placing his chopsticks down as he paused from eating; he lost his appetite again just thinking about going to the club room. It would’ve been different if he was able to take a bicycle and race through the slopes, the straight lines, the downhill roads, all by himself -- he’d enjoy freedom, a tailwind guiding him wherever his heart desired to be. But with the pressure of people’s acceptance and expectance, it had been cruel. The only thing worth-while for now had been the fact that Fukutomi actually believed enough in him in order to make him part of the team. Even if he was giving him a hard time for now -- that was more of a chance than he would’ve been given by anyone, considering he had been a capital yankee and spreading fear among fellow HakoGaku students.

As little as his counterpart knew of his own issues, he was just as unaware of the other’s; the only person he was more or less talkative with until now had been the blondhead of the team... and he was not really the talkative type (more like, stone-faced). Surely, these blue hues didn’t give away too much either -- that man was kind of a mystery... airhead-ish with that far-away-look on him... Arakita could only guess what it was that the other thought, but even so, he would not be pushy about it. People had their own pace, so did he as well. 

With the man’s response, he slowly turned his head and looked at him more carefully, rather impressed with the fact that the man was going as far as to directly call him out as a moron; Yasutomo did not mind the rough-housing and insults, he had been used to it from his younger sisters. It was rather charming to have the other not be so butthurt about the man’s rough way of talking and more so adapting to it ever-so-slightly. An airy laugh emitted from his lips as he smirked down onto his own bento, unsure how to reply at first, but only because he was not prepared for the other to actually be en par with him. 

“Maybe they fancy the withdrawal and go ‘Thank GOD that SHINKAI is off pestering that YANKEE now, sheesh!’... or something like that...” As much as he wanted to keep a distance to all of the members, it was really easy talking to the man, once the ice had been melted away. Certainly, Yasutomo was still on-guard with his team, but he could sense a little less hostility from the ace sprinter than from others. Leaning his head back against the tree they sat against, he closed his eyes and knew that he wouldn’t be able to finish his lunchbox anymore, instead, he enjoyed the draft of win caressing through his hair, inhaling deeply and trying to collect his thoughts; the days had been so, so exhausting, he hardly recovered from fainting the other day as he went all out and kept sweating, dehydrating himself and then picking a fight with Juichi. His limbs felt heavy, his body felt sore. It had been some time that he was involved in a sports thanks to his broken arm and all, but even so, thinking back -- the old Yasutomo wouldn’t have been able to deal with the rollers, either. They were just really taking it big time, a toll on his body like no other.

Lifting his bento over to the redhead, right under his nose, he merely peeked at him through small slits, being tired and wanting to rest himself as much as he could before school was over and the rollers called for him once again. “You’re a big eater, I heard. Want my leftovers?” That was by no means any disrespectful attitude. Yasutomo just thought it would’ve been a waste to toss his food away, when someone else would actually want it. Perhaps even an odd way of bonding with the other for now. He was not so talkative among new people -- instead, he showed his interest with small gestures such as this one.