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April Fools!
...not
Yes it's pretty stupid that I'm actually posting totes legit fanfic on April Fools of all things, but hey at this point it'd be cliched if I wrote some joke fic now wouldn't it?
This is actually an idea that's been floating in my head for...gee, like nine years now? I originally came up with back when I was 15 and it's undergone a tone of changes over the years, with me debating on whether to actually write it out or not. I figured there was no time like the present and while I'm still working out some kinks, I don't see an issue with actually starting it.
So what's this fic about? Weeeeeeellllll, I don't want to give too much away so I'll just say that it's about gangs, new beginnings and trying to rebel against a system that pushes you down so you can carve your own destiny. Hilarity ensues (hehe).
The fic also takes place in an original region, but we're not actually going to be traveling around it (probably) so don't get your hopes up you worldbuilding freaks. Anyways, on with the story.
The hustle and bustle of rush hour weighed heavily on the restaurant. It created a strenuous and chaotic atmosphere. People walked, yelled and laughed as they gathered to enjoy their lunch and drinks or were simply trying to get through the long and arduous process of ordering their food.
It was a sight he had gotten used to seeing, yet it always managed to stress him out all the same. He shuffled through the crowd and tried his best to avoid being pushed by the hungry and impatient hoard of people. His senses worked overtime as he made sure to keep his eyes out and his ears sharp for any customer that needed his attention. "Two more 52s for table 4 dad!" he yelled out once he made it behind the counter. The fragrant smell of spices and food wafted through his nose. He sniffed the air, a smile crossing his face in turn.
"On it!" he heard his dad call back from inside the kitchen. That was his cue for him to turn back and keep tending to the customers, a sign he’d picked up over the years.
"Wait a minute Keita!" he heard his mom call out from behind him. Her face was completely covered in sweat and her hair was sticking close to her forehead. Not just that but her presence near the kitchen had caused her clothes to absorb the smells of the spices. Keita stepped back a bit when it hit him, if only out of instinct. He couldn’t blame her though; it was something that was bound to happen when you tried to deal with customers during rush hour. "We just got a take out order, could you please deal with-"
"Hey lady, I'm ordering over here!" a loud man called out from in front of the counter. His unkempt black hair and beard was a standout amongst the customers. His bulging eyes and ravenous face reminded him of a rabid Mighteyena.
"I'll be right with you sir!" his mom didn’t miss a beat, trying hard to hide the antagonism in her voice as she turned back to him. "Could you please take care of it?"
"Uh…sure, but do you think that's okay with how busy we are?" the young man asked, glancing hesitantly at the frenzied crowd once more. Sometimes he wasn't sure if they were like Pokemon or if that was just how he had grown used to seeing them.
"We’re used to it, but do be careful when you go out there okay?" she explained. However, he noticed a worried tinge in her voice. Trepidation crawled into his skin. "You're going to Blackwood Street."
The color practically drained from Keita's face when he heard the name. Blackwood Street, one of the most dangerous and desolate parts of the city. "Uh…why do I have to go? Can't we just tell them we don't serve there?" he asked. His lip quivered a bit as he started involuntarily rubbing his hands together in order to keep them from shaking in front of his mother.
"We don't have anyone to do the deliveries after Mirai quit and we're packed here as it is," his mom replied, crossing her arms and sighs. "I'm not happy about it either, but it is only a few blocks away."
Keita stared at his mom, her concerned expression and hesitant look in her eyes proved she at wasn’t happy about sending him out. That’s what Keita wanted to tell himself.
"All right," he finally replied. He noticed that the customers' cries had gotten louder while they had their exchange. "I'll get going." he nodded.
His mom smiled, rubbing his short black hair and causing his glasses to fall back a bit. "Good boy, be careful okay? Your dad already left the order in the back of the store."
"Right. I'll take Link with me.” Still unsure, he made his way to the back of the restaurant. He stared at his dad’s back while he worked over the cooking pots and pans. He seamlessly balanced one of the cooking pans, making the fried berried rice dance in the air as he twisted it around with a spoon. It was a sight to behold from afar, the way in which the grains lifted off into the air only for them to fall back in such a controlled and well-kept fashion. It was beautiful and inspiring. He’d have to note it down for his next drawing.
"The order's there.” His dad finally noticed his presence and pointed towards a small kitchen stove at the edge of the room right next to the door leading to the alley on the side of the restaurant. There was a bag with multiple containers inside. "Curry fried rice with faux-shrimp and sweet and sour Chiklet-berry cutlets, oh and egg rolls," he said, his voice monotone as he checked on the broth cooking in one of the pots. "Oh and be careful out there."
"Will do!" Keita yelled out in understanding as he grabbed the bag and walked out of the restaurant, letting out a long sigh. A good part of living in a restaurant was that you were always surrounded by tasty food. The bad part? You couldn't eat it for yourself.
He walked over to the small scooter parked on the side of the restaurant. The putrid smell of unattended trash quickly replaced the wonderful aroma of the food and caused his face to turn sour. He walked over to a small white scooter parked on the side of the restaurant. It was an old model and the seat had lost its coloring, but his mom kept it spot-less.
As he sat down the image of riding on Blackwood Street on a small scooter filled with East Johtonean food began to crawl into his head. He also realized he hadn't written out a will.
"Let's just hope everything works out," he muttered to himself before glancing at the pokeball that was strapped to his belt. Not wanting to stall more, he got on the scooter and turned it on before quickly heading off. As he passed by the front of the restaurant, he glanced at the small sign on the window.
"Now Renting" were words that brought an even sourer mood to Keita's face. At nineteen years old, he was already trying his best to have as much privacy as possible; having some stranger move into their additional bedroom wasn't something that would help with that.
He decided to put those thoughts behind him. He had bigger fish to fry, such as hoping he'd be able to deliver that order while keeping both of his kidneys.
***
Lago City was famous for two things.
The first was its wide variety of immigrant citizens that had come to Caliorn for a chance at "a better life".
The second was high level of delinquency and disarray when said immigrants weren't able to fully cement themselves into the country. Nowhere did those two things stand out more than in parts like Blackwood City.
The city's executives had abandoned the area. Sure, you'd hear them talk about renovating and "giving everyone a chance at a better life" around election time. But no change came and when it did it was only in the form of incomplete buildings and roads or maybe one or two fundraisers, only for the money of said fundraisers to mysteriously disappear without leaving a trace.
Because of that, the neighborhood had fallen into ruin. Dirty streets and worn down buildings were the norm. Closed off businesses was also a common site alongside disheveled and starving people that dug around trash cans or stood out on the street begging for money. That type of impoverished and abandoned atmosphere weighed down on everyone, most of all Keita.
It didn't help that this also caused the area to be filled not just with people of really low income, but also with some of the city's worst hoodlums. Many small street gangs or "Teams" as they so liked to call themselves –in honor of famously known criminal organizations around the world- adorned the alleys and streets of these areas, all trying to see who their next prey was going to be.
Unfortunately for Keita, the eyes of everyone he passed by went straight to him. Well not really, first they went to his scooter to see what he was carrying, then to him to see if they could take it from him. Or at least that's what he assumed was going through their heads, but in reality, no one did anything besides just steal a passing glance at him.
"Apartment Building #21, Apartment Building #21," Keita murmured in his head over and over as he passed through each one of the buildings. Keeping his mind on where he had to go helped with his nerves.
And that's when he walked passed the sign he had so wanted to see.
“BlWood #21”.
It stood tall, if faded, and like it had seen better days. The concrete had a layer of black muck around the walls and sides of the building, with broken windows and fallen terraces.
Seeing the place he was meant to go to up close filled him with relief. That was until he noticed that it was surrounded by a threatening group of people. The predominant color seemed to be black. Some wore too much of it, dressed with jackets or baggy pants and jewelry; others were barely dressed at all. Men and women, all looking robust enough to bend him like a twig, but that wasn't what scared him off his boots. It was the familiar Murkrow-shaped marks they all carried on some part of their body that set him off.
He ended up in Team Murkrow territory, and now he was dead. His mind immediately went to thoughts of moving out of home, in the off-chance he made it back alive.
"Oye, niño."
Nope. Dead.
Keita, reluctantly raised his head, just now realizing he had instinctively lowered it, and came into view with a skinny dark-skinned man. He was wearing a bandana on top of his head, which contrasted with the fact he had no shirt on, allowing him to show off the mural of tattoos on his chest, with the one that stood out the most being one in the shape of a Murkrow . "You lost, my friend?" the man asked, his tone both mocking and venomous.
Keita tried to come up with a response, but all of his thoughts went to the Murkrow that was perched on the man's right shoulder. The small dark-feathered bird Pokemon glared at him with its large red eyes. It’s top-hat looking crest made it all the more menacing as its talons gently rubbed against its Trainers shoulders as if preparing to pounce.
"U-uh." Keita stuttered, causing the rest of the gang members who stood around the entrance to let out a laugh along with the man.
"No seriously, boy. What's a four-eyed, scrawny kid on a scooter doing here, with Johto food no less." He walked around Keita’s scooter and lifted the bag of food. "Hey, did someone order Johto food!? Cause if so then they're getting a beating for not sharing!” he yelled out, issuing more laughter and causing Keita to clench onto the handles of his scooter as tight as he could.
"I-I came to deliver the food…t-this is the address they gave me in the order," he finally replied, though it was mostly inward than anything.
The man smiled brightly at this, lowering the bag. "Really, kid? Then did you at least get a name? Cause if you don't have one then you have two choices. Either scram or we’ll make you scram.” His Murkrow let out a squawk into the air that made Keita jump back.
The young man tried his best to regain his composure as he weakly raised the note was given to him with the address and the name of the customer. "M-Miguel…"
"Miguel who?" the man asked incredulously. "We're a mostly Hispania gang, boy. We've got enough Miguels and Carloses to go around."
"Yo soy Miguel!" Keita heard a random gang member shout from the stairs that led to the building.
"Nadie te pregunto, Miguelito!" the man called out, his voice made the other gang member sit back down in fear. "Seriously, I thought we kicked him out," he said while rubbing his forehead. He glared back at Keita. "So. Last name? "
"Uh…there's none.” Keita trembled, making sure to show him the note so he'd be able to see. The man grabbed it and scanned it carefully, only for his eyes to open in realization as his Murkrow kept its eyes focused on Keita.
"Hm, could it b-"
"Juan!" came a scream from inside the building, followed by an overweight teenager running out. He had a short afro and was wearing a simple black shirt and a pair of dark green shorts. The man known as Juan turned towards him, his face turning sour.
"Que pasa, gordo, que no puedes ver que estoy hablando con este ni-"
"El Jefe-"The overweight gang member started, though he stopped due to running out of breath. "El Jefe dice que él fue el que puso la orden," he finally spat out, though then again, Keita couldn't understand anything they were saying.
"Uh…what did he say?" he asked hesitantly, making Juan turn back to him.
"Lárgate," he said to his friend, waving him off before handing the note back to Keita. "It seems like our boss is giving you clearance, though I don't know why," he groaned, smirking. "You can go. Fifth floor, apartment 5B."
Keita nodded his head. He was in disbelief of the fact he'd be able to deliver the food in the end. However, just as he stood up and grabbed the bag, he saw Juan pull his scooter back and swiftly sneak his hand on his belt, grabbing his pokeball.
"Hey!"
"Can’t have you packing inside," Juan stated with a chuckle. "You'll get it back once you leave. Probably."
Keita was still scared, but he also felt rage bubbling inside him as he glared at Juan. He wished he could do something to defend himself. But he couldn't. They outnumbered him and he had no way to defend himself, all he could do was comply and lower his head in a silent nod.
Why was he so weak?
***
With that, Keita was allowed to enter the building. Unfortunately, the elevators were out of order, so he had to go through the stairs. This gave him a pretty good look at the apartments from the inside.
It wasn't any better from the outside. The halls were a mess, and there were apartments that had their doors removed, some of which laid broken on the floor. The walls had black marks all over them from excess of humidity. There were even ventilation holes that seemed too irregular to have been planned. All of that was coupled with gang members, both male and female, at every corner. Some just stood by the walls guarding while others were simply going about their day by talking to each other. However, everyone of them took at least a moment to glance at Keita. “Who invited the Niponian here?” he heard one of them muttered, which got him to tremble a bit.
Fortunately, he made it to the fifth floor before too long and was wonderfully surprised to find out that there were no members up there. The level also seemed to be taken care of a bit more and still retained a somewhat natural appearance. Keita walked along the halls of the floor, waving his bag along until he ended up in front of apartment number 5B.
That's when it dawned on him. He was about to go in to meet the leader of Team Murkrow, one of the more famous and fearsome gangs in Lago City. Should he be careful of what he said or even of how he came in? What if he annoyed him by walking there with food that was starting to get cold? All those thoughts and more flooded Keita's head as he stood in front of the room.
Nevertheless, he powered through, gently knocking on the door before receiving a loud "Pase!" from the other side. He didn't know what that meant, but he assumed it meant he could come in.
The first thing that stood out to him upon walking in was the single bedroom and bathroom that stood on each side, both with their respective lights on, this, in turn, allowed them to shine light onto the otherwise dark hallway.
The next thing to grab his attention was the two red couches facing away from each other in the center of the room. They seemed old but well taken care of and there were a few Pokemon pillows and plushies. He spotted a Growlithe, Murkrow and Pichu plushie in one and a pair of Meowstick pillows on the other.
Then there was the bookshelf to the left, filled with different kinds of books he could barely detail but aside from the occasional comic and manga he could also distinguish some law and finance books. Lastly there was the end of the hall, where a large, wooden, business desk stood with two leather chairs in front of them.
The closer Keita got to the desk also allowed him to see the person sitting behind it. He could see the top edge of a black beanie poking up from the chair, but what stood out the most was the fact that whoever was behind it was playing some game on a Holophone.
"Ugh!" a male voice groaned out. "Why is a Shinx harder to catch than a damn Mewtwo. Paying for more hearts is going to be a pain." The male, who sounded pretty young, groaned in annoyance.
It was then that he seemed to take notice of Keita's presence and proceeded to spin the chair around, allowing him to come into full view.
He was certainly not what Keita expected. The leader of Team Murkrow had tanned, slightly brown, skin and straight black hair. He didn't seem that much older than Keita thanks to his young, almost boyish complexion and similarly looking brown eyes.
His clothes also weren't what he was expecting based on the other gang members. He was wearing a white and orange hoodie, the center pocket of the hoodie had a white pokeball symbol that matched with the similar logo on his black beanie. Lastly, he was wearing a pair of fingerless gloves, with one of them having some tape over the center of it. The one thing that did give away his association with Team Murkrow was the aforementioned bird perched on his shoulder however.
Keita wanted to feel afraid. But he couldn't. It was almost as if any pressure and hostility he felt in the building suddenly lifted upon seeing this young man.
"So," the leader finally broke the silence. "Is that my food?" he asked with a slight smile, innocent and kind.
This was enough to take away Keita's words. Instead, he just stayed in awe for a few more seconds before finally mustering up a sentence. "Ah, yes. Curry fried rice with sweet and sour Chicklet Berry cutlets and a side of eggrolls."
"Does it come with soy sauce packets? I love me some soy sauce," the young man stated with a laugh as he stood up and walked around to the front of the desk, causing Keita to step back as he saw him lean up against it. "Sorry the guys gave you a tough time, they tend to forget their manners around guests."
"N-No! It's okay! And, the packets come in regardless of what you ordered," he replied, his voice sounding more high pitched than he hoped. Why was he so nervous now, it was different than before too, less about fear and more about…
"Awesome," the boss replied, stretching his hand out towards him. "I'm Miguel. Mind staying for a chat?"
Any other day, heck, even ten minutes ago, Keita would've refused that offer, left the bag on the desk and run out without even bothering to ask for the money. But there was something that compelled him to do the opposite. "Sure," he said awkwardly. "I'm Keitarou Kageyama," he added, stretching his hand out to shake Miguel's.
On that moment, the gears started turning.
End of Chapter 1
Next Time: The Little Crow
...not
Yes it's pretty stupid that I'm actually posting totes legit fanfic on April Fools of all things, but hey at this point it'd be cliched if I wrote some joke fic now wouldn't it?
This is actually an idea that's been floating in my head for...gee, like nine years now? I originally came up with back when I was 15 and it's undergone a tone of changes over the years, with me debating on whether to actually write it out or not. I figured there was no time like the present and while I'm still working out some kinks, I don't see an issue with actually starting it.
So what's this fic about? Weeeeeeellllll, I don't want to give too much away so I'll just say that it's about gangs, new beginnings and trying to rebel against a system that pushes you down so you can carve your own destiny. Hilarity ensues (hehe).
The fic also takes place in an original region, but we're not actually going to be traveling around it (probably) so don't get your hopes up you worldbuilding freaks. Anyways, on with the story.
In the Streets of Lago
1st Street: Fateful Meeting
1st Street: Fateful Meeting
The hustle and bustle of rush hour weighed heavily on the restaurant. It created a strenuous and chaotic atmosphere. People walked, yelled and laughed as they gathered to enjoy their lunch and drinks or were simply trying to get through the long and arduous process of ordering their food.
It was a sight he had gotten used to seeing, yet it always managed to stress him out all the same. He shuffled through the crowd and tried his best to avoid being pushed by the hungry and impatient hoard of people. His senses worked overtime as he made sure to keep his eyes out and his ears sharp for any customer that needed his attention. "Two more 52s for table 4 dad!" he yelled out once he made it behind the counter. The fragrant smell of spices and food wafted through his nose. He sniffed the air, a smile crossing his face in turn.
"On it!" he heard his dad call back from inside the kitchen. That was his cue for him to turn back and keep tending to the customers, a sign he’d picked up over the years.
"Wait a minute Keita!" he heard his mom call out from behind him. Her face was completely covered in sweat and her hair was sticking close to her forehead. Not just that but her presence near the kitchen had caused her clothes to absorb the smells of the spices. Keita stepped back a bit when it hit him, if only out of instinct. He couldn’t blame her though; it was something that was bound to happen when you tried to deal with customers during rush hour. "We just got a take out order, could you please deal with-"
"Hey lady, I'm ordering over here!" a loud man called out from in front of the counter. His unkempt black hair and beard was a standout amongst the customers. His bulging eyes and ravenous face reminded him of a rabid Mighteyena.
"I'll be right with you sir!" his mom didn’t miss a beat, trying hard to hide the antagonism in her voice as she turned back to him. "Could you please take care of it?"
"Uh…sure, but do you think that's okay with how busy we are?" the young man asked, glancing hesitantly at the frenzied crowd once more. Sometimes he wasn't sure if they were like Pokemon or if that was just how he had grown used to seeing them.
"We’re used to it, but do be careful when you go out there okay?" she explained. However, he noticed a worried tinge in her voice. Trepidation crawled into his skin. "You're going to Blackwood Street."
The color practically drained from Keita's face when he heard the name. Blackwood Street, one of the most dangerous and desolate parts of the city. "Uh…why do I have to go? Can't we just tell them we don't serve there?" he asked. His lip quivered a bit as he started involuntarily rubbing his hands together in order to keep them from shaking in front of his mother.
"We don't have anyone to do the deliveries after Mirai quit and we're packed here as it is," his mom replied, crossing her arms and sighs. "I'm not happy about it either, but it is only a few blocks away."
Keita stared at his mom, her concerned expression and hesitant look in her eyes proved she at wasn’t happy about sending him out. That’s what Keita wanted to tell himself.
"All right," he finally replied. He noticed that the customers' cries had gotten louder while they had their exchange. "I'll get going." he nodded.
His mom smiled, rubbing his short black hair and causing his glasses to fall back a bit. "Good boy, be careful okay? Your dad already left the order in the back of the store."
"Right. I'll take Link with me.” Still unsure, he made his way to the back of the restaurant. He stared at his dad’s back while he worked over the cooking pots and pans. He seamlessly balanced one of the cooking pans, making the fried berried rice dance in the air as he twisted it around with a spoon. It was a sight to behold from afar, the way in which the grains lifted off into the air only for them to fall back in such a controlled and well-kept fashion. It was beautiful and inspiring. He’d have to note it down for his next drawing.
"The order's there.” His dad finally noticed his presence and pointed towards a small kitchen stove at the edge of the room right next to the door leading to the alley on the side of the restaurant. There was a bag with multiple containers inside. "Curry fried rice with faux-shrimp and sweet and sour Chiklet-berry cutlets, oh and egg rolls," he said, his voice monotone as he checked on the broth cooking in one of the pots. "Oh and be careful out there."
"Will do!" Keita yelled out in understanding as he grabbed the bag and walked out of the restaurant, letting out a long sigh. A good part of living in a restaurant was that you were always surrounded by tasty food. The bad part? You couldn't eat it for yourself.
He walked over to the small scooter parked on the side of the restaurant. The putrid smell of unattended trash quickly replaced the wonderful aroma of the food and caused his face to turn sour. He walked over to a small white scooter parked on the side of the restaurant. It was an old model and the seat had lost its coloring, but his mom kept it spot-less.
As he sat down the image of riding on Blackwood Street on a small scooter filled with East Johtonean food began to crawl into his head. He also realized he hadn't written out a will.
"Let's just hope everything works out," he muttered to himself before glancing at the pokeball that was strapped to his belt. Not wanting to stall more, he got on the scooter and turned it on before quickly heading off. As he passed by the front of the restaurant, he glanced at the small sign on the window.
"Now Renting" were words that brought an even sourer mood to Keita's face. At nineteen years old, he was already trying his best to have as much privacy as possible; having some stranger move into their additional bedroom wasn't something that would help with that.
He decided to put those thoughts behind him. He had bigger fish to fry, such as hoping he'd be able to deliver that order while keeping both of his kidneys.
***
Lago City was famous for two things.
The first was its wide variety of immigrant citizens that had come to Caliorn for a chance at "a better life".
The second was high level of delinquency and disarray when said immigrants weren't able to fully cement themselves into the country. Nowhere did those two things stand out more than in parts like Blackwood City.
The city's executives had abandoned the area. Sure, you'd hear them talk about renovating and "giving everyone a chance at a better life" around election time. But no change came and when it did it was only in the form of incomplete buildings and roads or maybe one or two fundraisers, only for the money of said fundraisers to mysteriously disappear without leaving a trace.
Because of that, the neighborhood had fallen into ruin. Dirty streets and worn down buildings were the norm. Closed off businesses was also a common site alongside disheveled and starving people that dug around trash cans or stood out on the street begging for money. That type of impoverished and abandoned atmosphere weighed down on everyone, most of all Keita.
It didn't help that this also caused the area to be filled not just with people of really low income, but also with some of the city's worst hoodlums. Many small street gangs or "Teams" as they so liked to call themselves –in honor of famously known criminal organizations around the world- adorned the alleys and streets of these areas, all trying to see who their next prey was going to be.
Unfortunately for Keita, the eyes of everyone he passed by went straight to him. Well not really, first they went to his scooter to see what he was carrying, then to him to see if they could take it from him. Or at least that's what he assumed was going through their heads, but in reality, no one did anything besides just steal a passing glance at him.
"Apartment Building #21, Apartment Building #21," Keita murmured in his head over and over as he passed through each one of the buildings. Keeping his mind on where he had to go helped with his nerves.
And that's when he walked passed the sign he had so wanted to see.
“BlWood #21”.
It stood tall, if faded, and like it had seen better days. The concrete had a layer of black muck around the walls and sides of the building, with broken windows and fallen terraces.
Seeing the place he was meant to go to up close filled him with relief. That was until he noticed that it was surrounded by a threatening group of people. The predominant color seemed to be black. Some wore too much of it, dressed with jackets or baggy pants and jewelry; others were barely dressed at all. Men and women, all looking robust enough to bend him like a twig, but that wasn't what scared him off his boots. It was the familiar Murkrow-shaped marks they all carried on some part of their body that set him off.
He ended up in Team Murkrow territory, and now he was dead. His mind immediately went to thoughts of moving out of home, in the off-chance he made it back alive.
"Oye, niño."
Nope. Dead.
Keita, reluctantly raised his head, just now realizing he had instinctively lowered it, and came into view with a skinny dark-skinned man. He was wearing a bandana on top of his head, which contrasted with the fact he had no shirt on, allowing him to show off the mural of tattoos on his chest, with the one that stood out the most being one in the shape of a Murkrow . "You lost, my friend?" the man asked, his tone both mocking and venomous.
Keita tried to come up with a response, but all of his thoughts went to the Murkrow that was perched on the man's right shoulder. The small dark-feathered bird Pokemon glared at him with its large red eyes. It’s top-hat looking crest made it all the more menacing as its talons gently rubbed against its Trainers shoulders as if preparing to pounce.
"U-uh." Keita stuttered, causing the rest of the gang members who stood around the entrance to let out a laugh along with the man.
"No seriously, boy. What's a four-eyed, scrawny kid on a scooter doing here, with Johto food no less." He walked around Keita’s scooter and lifted the bag of food. "Hey, did someone order Johto food!? Cause if so then they're getting a beating for not sharing!” he yelled out, issuing more laughter and causing Keita to clench onto the handles of his scooter as tight as he could.
"I-I came to deliver the food…t-this is the address they gave me in the order," he finally replied, though it was mostly inward than anything.
The man smiled brightly at this, lowering the bag. "Really, kid? Then did you at least get a name? Cause if you don't have one then you have two choices. Either scram or we’ll make you scram.” His Murkrow let out a squawk into the air that made Keita jump back.
The young man tried his best to regain his composure as he weakly raised the note was given to him with the address and the name of the customer. "M-Miguel…"
"Miguel who?" the man asked incredulously. "We're a mostly Hispania gang, boy. We've got enough Miguels and Carloses to go around."
"Yo soy Miguel!" Keita heard a random gang member shout from the stairs that led to the building.
"Nadie te pregunto, Miguelito!" the man called out, his voice made the other gang member sit back down in fear. "Seriously, I thought we kicked him out," he said while rubbing his forehead. He glared back at Keita. "So. Last name? "
"Uh…there's none.” Keita trembled, making sure to show him the note so he'd be able to see. The man grabbed it and scanned it carefully, only for his eyes to open in realization as his Murkrow kept its eyes focused on Keita.
"Hm, could it b-"
"Juan!" came a scream from inside the building, followed by an overweight teenager running out. He had a short afro and was wearing a simple black shirt and a pair of dark green shorts. The man known as Juan turned towards him, his face turning sour.
"Que pasa, gordo, que no puedes ver que estoy hablando con este ni-"
"El Jefe-"The overweight gang member started, though he stopped due to running out of breath. "El Jefe dice que él fue el que puso la orden," he finally spat out, though then again, Keita couldn't understand anything they were saying.
"Uh…what did he say?" he asked hesitantly, making Juan turn back to him.
"Lárgate," he said to his friend, waving him off before handing the note back to Keita. "It seems like our boss is giving you clearance, though I don't know why," he groaned, smirking. "You can go. Fifth floor, apartment 5B."
Keita nodded his head. He was in disbelief of the fact he'd be able to deliver the food in the end. However, just as he stood up and grabbed the bag, he saw Juan pull his scooter back and swiftly sneak his hand on his belt, grabbing his pokeball.
"Hey!"
"Can’t have you packing inside," Juan stated with a chuckle. "You'll get it back once you leave. Probably."
Keita was still scared, but he also felt rage bubbling inside him as he glared at Juan. He wished he could do something to defend himself. But he couldn't. They outnumbered him and he had no way to defend himself, all he could do was comply and lower his head in a silent nod.
Why was he so weak?
***
With that, Keita was allowed to enter the building. Unfortunately, the elevators were out of order, so he had to go through the stairs. This gave him a pretty good look at the apartments from the inside.
It wasn't any better from the outside. The halls were a mess, and there were apartments that had their doors removed, some of which laid broken on the floor. The walls had black marks all over them from excess of humidity. There were even ventilation holes that seemed too irregular to have been planned. All of that was coupled with gang members, both male and female, at every corner. Some just stood by the walls guarding while others were simply going about their day by talking to each other. However, everyone of them took at least a moment to glance at Keita. “Who invited the Niponian here?” he heard one of them muttered, which got him to tremble a bit.
Fortunately, he made it to the fifth floor before too long and was wonderfully surprised to find out that there were no members up there. The level also seemed to be taken care of a bit more and still retained a somewhat natural appearance. Keita walked along the halls of the floor, waving his bag along until he ended up in front of apartment number 5B.
That's when it dawned on him. He was about to go in to meet the leader of Team Murkrow, one of the more famous and fearsome gangs in Lago City. Should he be careful of what he said or even of how he came in? What if he annoyed him by walking there with food that was starting to get cold? All those thoughts and more flooded Keita's head as he stood in front of the room.
Nevertheless, he powered through, gently knocking on the door before receiving a loud "Pase!" from the other side. He didn't know what that meant, but he assumed it meant he could come in.
The first thing that stood out to him upon walking in was the single bedroom and bathroom that stood on each side, both with their respective lights on, this, in turn, allowed them to shine light onto the otherwise dark hallway.
The next thing to grab his attention was the two red couches facing away from each other in the center of the room. They seemed old but well taken care of and there were a few Pokemon pillows and plushies. He spotted a Growlithe, Murkrow and Pichu plushie in one and a pair of Meowstick pillows on the other.
Then there was the bookshelf to the left, filled with different kinds of books he could barely detail but aside from the occasional comic and manga he could also distinguish some law and finance books. Lastly there was the end of the hall, where a large, wooden, business desk stood with two leather chairs in front of them.
The closer Keita got to the desk also allowed him to see the person sitting behind it. He could see the top edge of a black beanie poking up from the chair, but what stood out the most was the fact that whoever was behind it was playing some game on a Holophone.
"Ugh!" a male voice groaned out. "Why is a Shinx harder to catch than a damn Mewtwo. Paying for more hearts is going to be a pain." The male, who sounded pretty young, groaned in annoyance.
It was then that he seemed to take notice of Keita's presence and proceeded to spin the chair around, allowing him to come into full view.
He was certainly not what Keita expected. The leader of Team Murkrow had tanned, slightly brown, skin and straight black hair. He didn't seem that much older than Keita thanks to his young, almost boyish complexion and similarly looking brown eyes.
His clothes also weren't what he was expecting based on the other gang members. He was wearing a white and orange hoodie, the center pocket of the hoodie had a white pokeball symbol that matched with the similar logo on his black beanie. Lastly, he was wearing a pair of fingerless gloves, with one of them having some tape over the center of it. The one thing that did give away his association with Team Murkrow was the aforementioned bird perched on his shoulder however.
Keita wanted to feel afraid. But he couldn't. It was almost as if any pressure and hostility he felt in the building suddenly lifted upon seeing this young man.
"So," the leader finally broke the silence. "Is that my food?" he asked with a slight smile, innocent and kind.
This was enough to take away Keita's words. Instead, he just stayed in awe for a few more seconds before finally mustering up a sentence. "Ah, yes. Curry fried rice with sweet and sour Chicklet Berry cutlets and a side of eggrolls."
"Does it come with soy sauce packets? I love me some soy sauce," the young man stated with a laugh as he stood up and walked around to the front of the desk, causing Keita to step back as he saw him lean up against it. "Sorry the guys gave you a tough time, they tend to forget their manners around guests."
"N-No! It's okay! And, the packets come in regardless of what you ordered," he replied, his voice sounding more high pitched than he hoped. Why was he so nervous now, it was different than before too, less about fear and more about…
"Awesome," the boss replied, stretching his hand out towards him. "I'm Miguel. Mind staying for a chat?"
Any other day, heck, even ten minutes ago, Keita would've refused that offer, left the bag on the desk and run out without even bothering to ask for the money. But there was something that compelled him to do the opposite. "Sure," he said awkwardly. "I'm Keitarou Kageyama," he added, stretching his hand out to shake Miguel's.
On that moment, the gears started turning.
End of Chapter 1
Next Time: The Little Crow