Akuyaku steps out of a small phone shop in Hoshikawa with the replacement device secured in its packaging. Seishin Academy's rumors remain behind him, along with Daigo and Kaito at the boxing gym.
Renji Kuroda
Yo, Akuyaku! New phone, same suspicious face! Did the old one finally surrender under the weight of all those Mad Baddie rumors?
Across the street, Renji Kuroda, a large athletic seventeen-year-old with tousled black hair and silver earrings, waves both arms beside a vending machine. He keeps his own phone in his pocket.
Renji Kuroda
Relax, I’m not filming you, and I’m not posting anything. I just enjoy witnessing school gossip become a full-time job.
Renji waits for the crossing signal, then jogs over once traffic clears. His grin is familiar, but his eyes flick briefly toward the academy, measuring how much the rumors have changed.
Renji Kuroda
Seriously, though, why did you suddenly join Seishin’s boxing club? You could fight anywhere. Was the tragic old gym secretly hiding something good?
Renji Kuroda
Come on, tell me the real reason. We can talk somewhere away from campus, before another student decides your answer is breaking news.
+ New Item Acquired
Replacement Phone
“Can i trust you?”
SUCCESS (Fair Empathy, rolled +2)
Akuyaku
Can I trust you?
Renji’s grin fades. Traffic rolls behind him, but he turns fully toward Akuyaku and gives the question the quiet attention it deserves.
Renji Kuroda
Yeah. You can. I’m loud, nosy, and occasionally an idiot, but I don’t sell out my friends.
He taps the phone in his pocket, then leaves it there. His silver earrings catch the afternoon light as he keeps his eyes on Akuyaku.
Renji Kuroda
I won’t record you, post your business, or run to the school with whatever you tell me. If you want something kept between us, it stays between us.
Renji Kuroda
And if this is about the boxing club, Kaito, or that stupid Mad Baddie rumor, you can ask me straight. I’ll answer straight.
Renji steps away from the vending machine, opening a quieter path toward the side street. For once, he does not fill the silence with a joke.
“I joined because... my mom loved the sport and was really good at it, she taught me the basics when I was only 4. But then.... she got kidnapped and my father was never in the picture. It's js me bro... and of anything in life tought me, it was to judge something because of its looks. That gym and coach make me feel like he wants me to box because he see potential ot another "big moment". He is more focused on the players than he is about the gym itself”
FAILURE (Fair Willpower, rolled -2)
Akuyaku
I joined because my mom loved boxing. She was really good, and she taught me the basics when I was four. Then she got kidnapped, and my father was never around.
Akuyaku
It’s just me, bro. But she taught me not to judge something by how it looks. That gym looks rough, but Coach Daigo cares more about his fighters than the building.
The explanation comes out unevenly, stopping where the hardest part begins. Renji listens without interrupting, but the quiet afterward makes clear that the meaning did not fully reach him.
Renji Kuroda
Okay. I get why your mom matters, and I get why Daigo earned your respect. But the kidnapping and your dad disappearing? That is not a casual answer, man.
Renji looks toward the side street instead of pressing closer. The conversation shifts away from boxing gossip, but his earlier promise now carries a boundary: he will not pretend he understands everything.
Renji Kuroda
I’m not going to dig into what you didn’t finish. But I also can’t treat this like normal school drama anymore. If you want me here, tell me what I’m allowed to know.
Renji Kuroda
And for what it’s worth, I won’t judge that gym either. A place can look dead and still be where somebody starts rebuilding.
✓ Quest Accepted
Tell Renji what he is allowed to know about Akuyaku’s past
“We have to go somewhere private”
SUCCESS (Good Agility, rolled -1)
Akuyaku
We have to go somewhere private.
Renji Kuroda
Yeah. I figured we weren’t finishing this beside a vending machine. Come on.
Renji leads Akuyaku through a narrow side street to the back courtyard of a closed neighborhood community center. The brick walls block the traffic, leaving only distant engines and the vending machine’s electrical hum.
They reach the courtyard without interruption, but a passing student, a human student visible only as a backlit silhouette, recognizes Renji’s silver earrings and pauses at the corner. Renji notices too late; the student photographs the two silhouettes before walking on.
Renji Kuroda
Great. Private enough for a conversation, apparently not private enough to stop the rumor machine. I’m sorry, man.
Renji Kuroda
Still, nobody here can hear us. Tell me what you need me to know, and I’ll keep it between us.
“Can I just text you it”
FAILURE (Fair Willpower, rolled -1)
Akuyaku
Can I just text you it?
Renji Kuroda
Yeah. That works. Send only what you want me to know, though. No pressure to explain everything out loud.
Akuyaku opens the replacement phone and types. Renji reads out his number, but the message stalls beneath a notice that the new device is still completing activation.
The unsent text remains visible on the screen, its words about Yuna, the kidnapping, and Akuyaku’s father exposed in the courtyard’s fading light.
Renji Kuroda
Don’t send that yet. Your phone hasn’t secured the connection, and I don’t want your family history hanging in some activation queue.
Renji Kuroda
Write it in your notes for now. When the phone finishes, you can choose whether it goes to me, and exactly how much.
The draft saves locally instead of leaving the device. Renji steps beside him, not reading the screen, while the activation bar continues its slow progress.
“Ok”
Akuyaku leaves the draft saved in the phone’s notes. The activation bar advances another step, keeping the private message safely local.
Renji Kuroda
Good. That’s the smart move. You decide when the message leaves, not some stupid setup screen.
Renji turns toward the courtyard entrance, giving Akuyaku space without abandoning the conversation. The last daylight catches on his silver earrings.
Renji Kuroda
When it’s ready, send me the version you’re comfortable with. Short, messy, incomplete, whatever. I’ll read it and keep it private.
The phone chimes softly. Activation completes, and the messaging screen becomes available beneath the unsent draft, still untouched.
Renji Kuroda
There. Your phone works now. You can send it, save it, or delete it. Your call, Akuyaku.
“I sent it”
FAILURE (Fair Willpower, rolled -2)
Akuyaku taps send. The message leaves the draft screen, pauses beneath a spinning indicator, then returns with a red notice: delivery failed, recipient address unavailable.
Renji Kuroda
What? I gave you my number right. The phone probably saved it wrong during activation.
The draft remains intact, but the messaging app locks it behind a delivery error instead of leaving a simple resend button. Its recipient field shows an incomplete contact entry.
Renji Kuroda
Don’t keep hammering send. Copy the text somewhere safe first, then I’ll make a proper contact card for you.
Renji takes out his own phone and opens a contact-sharing screen, keeping it angled toward Akuyaku rather than reaching for Akuyaku’s device.
Renji Kuroda
Scan this when you’re ready. After that, you can choose whether to send the whole thing, cut it down, or leave it saved.
“OK well ima go home”
SUCCESS (Good Agility, rolled +3)