Suzuki looked on, his face filled with pure and true horror. His teeth ground together, his fingers clenched in unbridled rage. The man who had killed his grandfather—Suzuki had known of him but had never truly understood who he was.
"W-Wait… I remember the name of the man who killed Gramps..." Suzuki muttered as he rummaged through his mind, desperately trying to recall the name of the man who had taken his grandfather away from the world.
"[Name Redacted]. That is the man who murdered your grandfather," Satoshi said in a low voice, his tone taking on a gravity far removed from their previous banter. "Fortunately, he was arrested within minutes of your grandfather's death. That day was the day that the Yūsan Fam died."
Satoshi spoke with his hands intertwined, his knees screaming in pain as he squatted next to Suzuki.
"So there were more of those fuckers?! Gramps died over 30 YEARS AGO. They have to be rotting in a cage by now," Suzuki's dim black eyes, filled with vigor and passion, stared into Satoshi's. He wanted to know more.
"Well… you see…" Satoshi scratched his head, avoiding Suzuki's gaze.
Suzuki, on the other hand, clenched his fists even tighter, to the point he thought blood was going to begin seeping from his palms. He already knew the answer that Satoshi was about to give him.
Satoshi let out a deep sigh before he spoke. "No. While we were fortunate enough to catch some lower-level members of the Yūsan Fam, its uncles still remain unknown and undetained."
Suzuki's annoyance only grew by the second as Satoshi rambled on about things he didn't know.
"You don't know a lot about someone who went head-to-head with this 'Yūsan Fam.' And who the fuck is an uncle? Are these bastards related?"
A vein bulged from Satoshi's head as Suzuki referred to him going "head-to-head" with the Yūsan Fam. He wasn't irritated by the young man but rather by someone else. Don't remind me of that time… Satoshi thought back to his days as a rookie police officer. He covered his mouth, preventing himself from throwing up as his mind wandered. But in a few seconds, his attention turned back to Suzuki.
"No, they are not related. Back in the Original Generation, gangs were more like families—unlike now, where they're responsible for companies or businesses more than anything. With them feeling like families, they went by rank: Father being the leader, Uncles as deputies, and Sons as regular members. Not so complicated if you think about it."
"So you just let two of the highest-ranked members flee? I don't give a shit about uncles, or sons, or original generations. Whoever's tied to Gramps' death is going to get a hell of an ass-whooping once I become the Superintendent General!"
Suzuki pushed himself off the ground, now standing on his two feet, his fist tightly wrapped over his chest. His scowl flipped completely upside down into an arrogant smile.
"I, Suzuki Nakamura, will free Japan of its pollution. Ya feel me?"
Clap. Clap. Clap.
As Suzuki set the stage for his dramatic, passion-filled declaration of his dreams to rid Japan of its worries, a slow set of claps emerged from the entrance of the Yamaguchi Police Department. A dimly lit silhouette slowly inched closer to the two before stopping directly between them.
"Impressive speech—for a shitty bald punk like you." Soft insults splurged out of the mouth of the man before them.
Now closer, his features were easier to see. He was a young man, around the same age as Suzuki, with long chocolate-brown hair tied neatly into a bun held up by two chopsticks. His ink-black eyes analyzed Suzuki's body up and down, his mouth dawning a cocky grin. He already wore the Yamaguchi Police Officer uniform, with a single Sakuraho patch on his shoulder.
Suzuki was quick to respond to the verbal assault. He put on the signature delinquent punk look, scrunching up his face as he gave the man a threatening glare.
"Who the fuck are you?! You think you can fuck with me or somethin'?"
His knuckles squeezed and eventually popped as he spoke. Suzuki sized the man up, looking directly into his eyes without having to lean his head backward or forward.
But before anything could happen between the two, Satoshi stood from his squatting position and placed his hand on Suzuki's shoulder. His grip held no real force yet was still firm.
"Suzuki, it's necessary that you be kind to Yamada. You both are new recruits—"
Satoshi was cut off once again by Suzuki pushing his hand off his shoulder.
"I don't give a shit about this police crap right now. This fucker is going to die."
The young man—now Yamada—had taken Suzuki's words as an obvious threat. His fingers firmly grasped his police baton as he unsealed it in one quick movement. It spun in his hand in a circular twirl until he finally grabbed it.
"Oh, is that so? The feisty bald punk is going to beat me?" Yamada spoke, his tone calm and steady. His expression reflected his way of speech: unbothered.
The young man's arm slowly began to raise, inching higher and higher across Suzuki's height, until his hand's journey came to an end. Yamada's baton rested directly on the left side of Suzuki's neck, his emotionless expression slowly morphing into a soft smirk.
Suzuki could feel his own blood boil as he was provoked. His fists clenched at his side as his left leg took a slim step backward.
The silence in the room was deafening. Both Satoshi and Yoko waited to see what would come as the two rookies sized each other up.
"Die."
Suzuki looked at Yamada, his expression filled with pure hatred and disdain for a man he had just met. His body leaned backward. Suzuki's weight now rested on his left leg, extended farther back than his alternate leg. His right foot was firmly set as his heel dug into the ground.
In one smooth motion, Suzuki burst forward. In the same breath as his thrust, his left leg raised off the ground. Energy generated from both his right and left legs surged through his body as he launched into motion, swelling into a devastating kick aimed at Yamada's head.
"WATCH OUT!!"
Satoshi yelled as he saw the kick Suzuki had wound up. He hadn't yet been able to assess Yamada's skills, so he simply assumed him to be an above-average man. Even though he had beaten Suzuki earlier, he still recognized his strength and skill as above that of a normal man.
Satoshi quickly dashed to move Yoko out of the way, his movement fast and swift, quick enough to land on the other side of the front office before Suzuki could even land his blow on Yamada.
A tension swelled in the office air. The loud sound of bone colliding rang out through the front area of the department.
"Dumbass..." Yamada spurted out, his face clenching from the intensity of the situation.
Muscles bulged from his arms as he struggled to keep up with the power of Suzuki's legs. It seemed Yamada had been able to react to the quick and precise blow. He moved his arm into a position where his baton blocked Suzuki's kick. Both his hands desperately gripped the baton, struggling to fend off Suzuki's leg.
Suzuki, Satoshi, and Yoko were all surprised by Yamada's actions. None of them had thought he would be able to survive an attack like that, let alone block it.
Yamada's cheeky grin held firm as he stared at Suzuki. Just who the hell is this guy?
Yamada poisoned Suzuki deep into his soul, pushing him to want to kill him for seemingly no reason.
Suzuki's leg hung in the air, struggling to push closer to Yamada's head, blocked by the baton. They held this position, testing which of them was stronger.
Suddenly, their war of strength ended, with Yamada emerging the winner. The strength of both his arms pushing against Suzuki's leg was enough to drive it away. But Suzuki, having put so much effort into pushing his leg forward, had completely forgotten to stabilize his rear leg.
The force from Yamada caused him to wobble as he tried to reattach his attacking leg to the ground. Before he could completely balance himself, Yamada was already looming over him, his baton inches from Suzuki's face.
"Die."