His friends had become secretive recently, along with the few scratches && bruises that peppered their usually unblemished skin. They smiled a lot less, spoke even lesser && at times, the carmine haired teenager felt as if they ignored him altogether. It bothered him, but if they really wanted to talk about it, they would have told him already. But they didn’t.
Taking the initiative to change whatever had changed between them, Momotarou waits until after school knowing all too well that they met behind the bleachers next to the field. Observing the trio from a safe distance, he watches them talk amongst themselves && after a moment, they’re on the move, trudging through the school’s dense foliage && hopping the fence that separated the road from campus. Momotarou waits a few heartbeats before following them again. Before long, they stop at a rundown warehouse near the edge of town. It looked inconspicuous enough–like a secret hideout he had fantasized about as a child.
Checking if the coast was clear, the ochre haired teenager follows his friends as they duck into the building, only to be swamped by a crowd near the door, && the nearly deafening shouts and guffaws that ricochet off the rickety walls of the rusty warehouse. Whilst distracted, Momotarou loses sight of his friends who had melted into the multitude of bodies that seemed to have amassed further as the seconds ticked by.
Lost among the throng of people who seemed to circle around the middle of the warehouse, Momotarou has no where to go but forward, having already lost his way to where the entrance was in the hype of the crowd. Weaving through the bodies, the teen figures he might as well sate his curiousity. As he becomes part of the front of the crowd, the sight that greets him is shocking. Two people stand in the middle of the man made ring, duking it out with their fists, feral grins on their faces as they exchange blows until one is left standing && the crowd goes wild–the audience cheers reverberate deep into his bones, making his body tingle && his heart pound painfully in his ribcage.
He feels out of place here, as if he was on the outside looking in–literally && figuratively. The point is further proven when he meets the penetrating teal gaze of a man twice his size. He speaks to Momotarou, but the citrine eyed boy could hardly fathom what had just happened. Him? Fight?
❝W-What? First night? I have to fight? This is some joke, right?❞
The crowd lets out a collective snicker as they all stare at him, making Momotarou uncomfortable until someone pushes him onto the proverbial stage. Stumbling on his feet, Momotarou catches himself quickly, standing upright as his eyes dart too && fro in hopes of finding an escape route, but all for naught. But his eyes do land on his friends, who stared back at him with matching wide eyed gazes before their faces melt into expressionless masks. Hurt by their actions–they weren’t going to help, were they?–the carmine haired teenager faces forward, uncertain as to what to do now.
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