brief descriptions of violence. alternate universe, lapslock.
he doesn't mean for his first words to him to be a binding promise. yoichi is young, but everyone here is, with chips on their shoulders the size of the moon. he takes his colors and ties them across his left bicep—he has a family now, or so they say, brothers in civil strife, and tries not to think what his mother would say, her only son joining a gang when he turns seventeen.
ryo-san moves like a secret, whisper-fast and silent, his younger brother a tight-lipped boy too small to fight—at least, not the way he can, ryo-san's compact body kicking ass without fear. yoichi whistles, pockets his knife when ryo-san actually throws the last punkass down on the ground, dusts his hands like he'd just swept house. "what are you looking at," ryo-san had said, and yoichi had grinned at him.
"i'm just glad you're on our side."
ryosuke fights like he's trapped in a corner. yoichi needs to learn how he does that, beautiful punch landing like a hammer against a human jaw. he fights like he's desperate to win, a man ready to prove something, and yoichi likes that, too, how he goes for the throat without saying a word, smile curving gently across his face. he fights the way a man holds a gun, leveling the playing field with his mere presence, and yoichi would do anything to be his gun arm, the knife in his hand, and swallows.
"ryo-san," yoichi says, "teach me to fight like you do."
this is how yoichi finds himself pinned down by ryosuke's weight, ryosuke about to punch his lights out. yoichi can't help it; his body locks up, but he still stares ryosuke in the eyes, i dare you.
ryosuke stands up, and doesn't offer yoichi a hand. "you're slow," he says, and yoichi has to protest—he's not, not at all, just taken aback with ryosuke's face pressed so close to his. yoichi shuffles, and ryosuke is dusting off his clothes when yoichi gives him his reply, ryosuke's arm twisted around his back as yoichi trips him, ankles colliding.
ryo-san falls, mouth parted in surprise, but yoichi catches him. push-and-pull. his shoulder brushes the ground, instead, and when ryosuke uses him as leverage to pull himself upright, yoichi stands firm to bear his weight. "not bad," ryo-san acquiesces, and yoichi has to smile.
"so you'll teach me?"
"well," ryo-san laughs, "i guess i could beat some things into you."
FILL: SWAG 2016, TEAM POLITICALLY FORGOTTEN
he doesn't mean for his first words to him to be a binding promise. yoichi is young, but everyone here is, with chips on their shoulders the size of the moon. he takes his colors and ties them across his left bicep—he has a family now, or so they say, brothers in civil strife, and tries not to think what his mother would say, her only son joining a gang when he turns seventeen.
ryo-san moves like a secret, whisper-fast and silent, his younger brother a tight-lipped boy too small to fight—at least, not the way he can, ryo-san's compact body kicking ass without fear. yoichi whistles, pockets his knife when ryo-san actually throws the last punkass down on the ground, dusts his hands like he'd just swept house. "what are you looking at," ryo-san had said, and yoichi had grinned at him.
"i'm just glad you're on our side."
ryosuke fights like he's trapped in a corner. yoichi needs to learn how he does that, beautiful punch landing like a hammer against a human jaw. he fights like he's desperate to win, a man ready to prove something, and yoichi likes that, too, how he goes for the throat without saying a word, smile curving gently across his face. he fights the way a man holds a gun, leveling the playing field with his mere presence, and yoichi would do anything to be his gun arm, the knife in his hand, and swallows.
"ryo-san," yoichi says, "teach me to fight like you do."
this is how yoichi finds himself pinned down by ryosuke's weight, ryosuke about to punch his lights out. yoichi can't help it; his body locks up, but he still stares ryosuke in the eyes, i dare you.
ryosuke stands up, and doesn't offer yoichi a hand. "you're slow," he says, and yoichi has to protest—he's not, not at all, just taken aback with ryosuke's face pressed so close to his. yoichi shuffles, and ryosuke is dusting off his clothes when yoichi gives him his reply, ryosuke's arm twisted around his back as yoichi trips him, ankles colliding.
ryo-san falls, mouth parted in surprise, but yoichi catches him. push-and-pull. his shoulder brushes the ground, instead, and when ryosuke uses him as leverage to pull himself upright, yoichi stands firm to bear his weight. "not bad," ryo-san acquiesces, and yoichi has to smile.
"so you'll teach me?"
"well," ryo-san laughs, "i guess i could beat some things into you."