I'd Trade My Life for Yours

Prologue; The Beginning of the End

The harsh neon lights of the illuminated bar blinded many, coaxing them into entering the mysterious, and unfamiliar to most, area. In this so-called bar resided a certain someone, someone unnoticed by all at this moment, sitting down on one of the red seats that barricaded most drunken men from entering the area where the bartender would craft intoxicating drinks for others to lower their guard after one sip.
This certain someone was what you called a "forcible" man, one who would stop at nothing-and truly, absolutely nothing-to achieve his goal. With his outward appearance, however, you could not really notice anything dangerous about the stout, childlike man. To be more precise, "he" was a man of short stature (5'1 as an exact measure), with a blonde crew cut, and distinct curve lines that lined up on either side of his head. Along with that distinction, there was his signature birthmark on the right side of his mouth. Freckles were speckled along the bridge of the man's nose, which resided comfortably on his babyish face. The finishing touch for you to remember him and the power he possessed. You see, this was no ordinary man, this was a yakuza, and the very best one at that. You could even call him the "ultimate" yakuza, which is what most did. The very best in his field of ability, and here he was, getting drunk, in complete bliss, cradling his pathetic cup of alcohol, the name of the intoxication already hidden somewhere in his mind under all the tasks that were piled up, names of men to have a 'talk' to, make sure certain others were taken care of. Ironically, he had already forgotten all of his worries, his preoccupations. Tonight was his. Just his, and nobody else's.
After a few more minutes of occasionally taking a sip of the melancholic drink in his hands, glancing around the dimly lit room and consequently regretting most decisions of what was meant to be his night, he decided to call the bartender over, a tall muscular man who our main character for now determined was over 6 feet, which would have intimidated the-smaller by comparison-male if he wasn't special and didn't have the advantage that was currently hidden to most at this moment.
"Get me a fuckin' check over here..." he slurred his words, barely comprehensive to an untrained person, but the beefy man simply nodded his head, already being trained in the art of drunk speech.
As he walked away, a group not too far from the blonde overhead the one-sided conversation, before muttering to themselves about what they should do. It took a few seconds but they finally decided to take matters into their own hands, or what most others would say, stuck their nose into the poor man's business.
"Do we have a problem here, mister?" The blonde didn't bat an eyelash as all 5 of the men approached him, rattling the wood floorboards of the establishment that most would call not-so-fine.
"Why would you treat someone, who let you come into their bar and drink what they prepared for you, so badly? Huh? Answer me, tiny guy." The man's rude tone, intended just for the other male didn't rattle him in the slightest. As such, the brawny male facing him tried his best to shake him up, make sure he knew who was boss in this bar.
The bartender just slid the fragile-looking man the bill across the counter, and without even taking a glance to the men harassing him, slid the same paper, just with his card and his signature, which ended with his classic flourish, to the stoic man in front of him. His handwriting was quite messy on anything but his signature, something he perfected, and-well, HAD to perfect. The reason for it remained hidden to dear viewers such as yourself. He had tried to walk out, without having even paid attention to the ordeal directed at him, however, the men that clearly thought they were better than he had other plans in mind.
"Oi, where the hell do you think you're going?" a different man, one evidently less educated compared to the previous male said with the noticeable slur, picking him up by the collar of his expensive suit before he even had the chance to put one foot out of the bar.
"Let me go, " he seethed, gritting his teeth in anger.
"Aw, the baby thinks he can fight back! Go ahead, see what'll happen if you do, " a man with a variety of holes punctuating his body said.
"You sure you wanna find out?"
"..." the bar was quiet. Nobody realized how deep and intimidating the voice of the other had become until this side of him finally spoke its first words. To say the least, the tables had turned, and the others started to doubt if this was truly a good idea, going against someone like this new version of the petite male from mere seconds ago.
"...Hey! Who do you think you are! Speaking up to us as if you're some kind of- AUGH!" the man yelled as a natural reaction because what happened next surprised everyone surrounding them. The male held by his collar in another man's big, meaty hand had escaped! And not only that, he had roundhouse kicked the man who has started badmouthing him. His strength that had somehow been manipulated to not be recognizable with his tiny body certainly packed a punch!
Before he knew it, the man was down, and he waited, tensed up to see if anyone would react.
Everybody hesitated, until one remaining silent before, tried to sneak up on him to use the element of surprise to his advantage. Sadly, he was down in a few seconds, the one being attacked grabbing his wrist and putting pressure on his vein. The reaction had surprised many but for him, it was something done casually, with a lot of confidence. This was a practiced move, and everybody could tell.
The patrons of the bar were still processing this when he kicked the man sunk to the ground on his knees in the chest, causing him to fall on the floor and not be able to breathe. The tiny male, his foot placed on a man with a very impressive physical appearance had shocked many, this wasn't a scene that you'd witness day-to-day, and that they hadn't either.
The men backed off, his facial appearance at the moment could have scared anyone into becoming submissive, which was exactly what happened with the burly men surrounding him. Nobody thought that the male that was slumped over one of the many red bar stools just moments ago, a small shell of what his real strength was, was actually a beast in disguise; a brute. Why would someone, who could influence a huge crowd, as demonstrated by the act just displayed in the bar, brutally take a beating when he clearly had the advantage of skill and precision? His battle with the giants would have taken less than a minute, most believed. How could a man with such crafted intelligence, be seen as a boy in the previous public's eye? It was a curious spectacle, that was for sure, and it would stay in the customer's mind for most of their life. The blonde grabbed his half-empty cup, downed all of its contents and slung his coat over his right shoulder, left hand casually stuck in his pant-pocket.
And just as soon as he arrived, he was gone, the effects of the alcohol not fazing him in the slightest as it had before in his speech with the forbearing bartender. Out of the group of men, the quickest one to snap out of the hypnotic trance that the smaller male had placed them all in stormed over to the server, heavy feet stomping on the floor.
"Who was that man? What was his name? I NEED ANSWERS." He yelled with such force, voice raising at the end of his short-lived rant.
The bartender shook his head, after all, it was against the rules to disclose information of other customers. Unluckily, or more to say lucky for us, the man caught a glimpse of the check. What he saw next shocked him.
Because the previously thought weakling that he went against with five others and got brutally defeated was no other than someone from the Kuzuryuu clan, the biggest yakuza clan in Japan. He took a step back in shock before running out the door of the bar, trying to be able to take one last look at the dangerous man. However, it was as if he disappeared into the night, never to be seen again by those men.
Back to the mysterious man, we see him walking down a dark alley. Although not shown before, we see that as his confidence wore away, so did his act of concealing his drunkenness, so he wobbled a bit while trying to make it to his estate. He'd rather die than tell anyone this, but in reality, that drink hit him, hard. It was very strong, and the blonde could barely see in front of him without his vision swimming with words and phrases and such.
Just as he thought that he was gonna be fine, after leaning against a brick wall with one hand on it and the other clutching his head, he sunk to his knees on the concrete floor with such force that his kneecaps started bleeding. He groaned and tried to get up before remaining unsuccessful in this feat and staying down. He wondered for how long he would stay like this, it was two in the morning, but maybe if he could just reach his phone...
"Hey! Are you okay?" A faint voice called out to him, or so he presumed since he was the only one around here in this alley as his sight could reach.
The man called out again, less faint now and seemingly getting closer. Faint steps could be heard approaching him before a late-teenage male walked over to him. In a worried tone, he repeated the question before getting swatted away by the opposite man, arm falling from the other's shoulder.
After much insisting, the man decided to take matters into his own hands, rummaging around the smaller man's coat, jacket, breast pocket, and pants before finding his phone, a very advanced model that the clueless man had no idea how to work but guessed with all his might. He grabbed the drunk male's hand before pressing his thumb into the phone's home button, a very lucky guess on his part, or maybe that was just his smarts trying to understand how to best help the petite male.
Before the other knew it, he was in the others arm and being carried towards a bench, where the other male got to work. At the top of his frequent contacts was someone's name, which in the spur of the moment guessed that they would be able to help him best. He quickly called the number, a woman with silver hair and glasses grinning from ear to ear, eyes closed tight.
In a frantic voice, he started begging for the (presumed) familiar of the man in his charge to pick up until, after several prolonged rings, a very tired-sounding woman responded.
"Young master? What are you doing calling this late at night? We knew you would be out late but this is unexpected-" the man wasted no time in responding.
"Hello, I don't know who you are, except that here you are addressed as Peko, but your 'young master, ' or however you call him, has passed out. He's currently in my care, however, I felt like I should advise you of this situation that has just arisen, " the woman, Peko, was shocked into silence until, in a very awake voice, started commanding the man in a very stern voice, what to do next.
"As I cannot leave the establishment at the moment, I will need you to take young master-er, the man to our abode. Do you perchance have a car? If you don't we'll need you to walk very quickly to our home. Here are the directions." After abruptly ending the conversation, the man decided to run hurriedly in the direction of the house, trying his best to understand which way to go (was it east?), before falling into a sort-of rhythm unto which he ran as fast as he could to his extent before finally, after what felt like hours, and unsurprisingly were, and too many miles to count, he got to a grand mansion with golden gates.
The man, too intimidated to ring the doorbell, once again grabbed the phone which he had slipped into his jean pocket, used the man's finger as gently as he could to open the electronic device, and called the woman.
After just one ring, with unfaltering precision, picked up and hurriedly talked to him, apparently walking down a set of stairs, he recognized, with her panting directly into the speaker.
"Hello, are you outside? I've been worried sick. Did you run all the way here? That was an impressive feat, for someone that sounded much like a teenager over the phones receiver. Please tell me your whereabouts, I am descending the stairs at this very moment and I need you to stay with me, connected to tell me how he is faring."
He and the woman stayed together, as she descended the stairs he told her about what he could see from his symptoms. Faint stirring from him in the man's toned arms, eyes barely open, and when they were, less than half-lidded. Mutterings of what sounded like his work. Before the tan male knew it, a woman of height power-walked over to him, standing on the other side, a fence barricading the three.
She spoke quickly, asking him if he knew who they were, what was his name, occupation, before telling him that now that he was involved, he would need to stay with them for a while. Safe to say that he was certainly intimidated by the authority in the woman's voice. She explained how today was her young masters day out, forever by her since he was taking work too seriously and feared that eventually, that would overwork him to the bone. She was a caring woman, hidden under the façade that if she tried asking questions that could easily be guessed as purely work-intentional, people wouldn't recognize that she deeply cared for the small man in the other man's arm.
She also told him that no one could come in or out of the mansion when nighttime came, although he was perplexed as to why and the woman sounding mildly angry while explaining this. From 12-4 in the morning, no one could come in or come out, other than the man in his (exceptionally tired) arms. As they spoke about their next course of action, he learned that he would be able to address her as Peko, since he was now forced to be a part of this... Whatever this was.
Finally, an athletic man (the likes of which the 'poor boy, ' as called by Peko, has never seen before), walked on over to the gates control room, a small square room in which he controlled who came in or who came out. He glanced at the phone in his hand and saw that it was indeed exactly five in the morning.
Peko walked over to him, red eyes gleaming in the sunlight, demanding that he raised the gates immediately, since the blonde was too drunk to do anything, much less open the gates for his own advantage.
The man complied and soon enough, the boy walked into the mansion property.
"Now that we are concealed in our establishment, we can talk freely, " she explained, confusing the young man but not enough to ask her why.
"Let me formally explain, the young man that you are carrying (if you drop him ill slit your throat open), " she muttered the last part under her breath, intentionally making the male able to hear her and wear a shocked expression on his face, "is the heir to the Kuzuryuu clan, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu."
If Peko hadn't prepared him earlier with her threat, he would have dropped him without a second thought. He was scared beyond belief of the innocent-looking man, suddenly seeing him in a (much more negative) different light.
"Hey, pay attention, " she snapped her fingers before the man's face, " I gave him this morning, and yesterday night I suppose, time to do whatever he would like since he is currently getting ready to take over the Kuzuryuu clan, which you no doubt have heard of before. Now, since you know where we are located, where we remain, and the inner workings of our clan, you will need to be under our control. I am very sorry for your soon-to-be losses, but it is needed for you to remain under us and our domain. Now, I deeply apologize for not asking about you or telling my full name, so I will ask for your information, ranging from blood type to age, to various other questions. My name is Peko Pekoyama, sometimes called the Ultimate Swordswoman, due to my ability and training. I am required to protect young master, even if it costs me my life." Her tone was scaring the poor man way too much, so he simply nodded, unable to communicate what he wanted to say through his words.
"Now, you need to tell me about yourself, we'll need for you to train with us, and become one of us, essentially. Sadly, that is the way that our clan works. As you ran all the way to our establishment, there is a possibility that someone followed you, being able to recognize young master, and as a result of that, you would surely be in massive amounts of danger if you were to leave. State your name."
As Peko spoke to him, they suddenly stopped in an empty room, no doubt one of many. He wondered why he was suddenly thrown into this barely comprehensible mess, honestly feeling very homesick and eventually trying to trick himself into believing that this was all just a prank. But gazing into Peko's gleaming red eyes, in which he now determined close-up that they were more crimson-like, he doubted his thinking and completely abandoned the blissful wish.
He stood silent for a minute, before deciding that he honestly didn't have a choice in the matter. He resigned to this and reluctantly told the harsh woman what she had expected to hear.
"I'm Hajime Hinata. Nice to make your acquaintance."