Toda Kiyoken strides to the tarp-covered crates and snaps two fingers. His men stop hovering with suspicion and start passing out gauze, antiseptic, and a battered first-aid tin.
Toda Kiyoken
Patch them up. The bridge is under my roof tonight, and I am not having blood on my floor.
Akira kneels beside Kantorou Mashashiba at the edge of the campfire glow, carefully cleaning his wounds while the Osaka-gen crew keeps watch in a loose half-circle.
Kantorou Mashashiba
The bandages are rough, but they hold.
Toda Kiyoken
Do not mistake this for charity. Your trouble follows you like smoke. I want to know who lit the match.
Akuma stands apart in the dark, silent as a blade in a sheath, his crimson eyes fixed on the black water beyond the pillars. Toda notices that look, then glances back to Kantorou with a hard, measuring stare.
Akuma
Weak hands make loud trouble.
+ Story Quest Added
Find out who stole the duffel bag
“Toda-san. I helped you with your car a few weeks ago yeah? Thanks.”
SUCCESS (Fair Diplomacy, rolled +4)
Toda’s stare shifts. The hard edge in it eases by a fraction, like a blade laid flatter on the table.
Toda Kiyoken
A few weeks ago? Hah. You are the kid who fixed the ignition under the overpass near Namba.
He hooks a thumb at the first-aid tin, then points at Kantorou with a short, knowing nod.
Toda Kiyoken
That was useful. So was not asking questions when I needed a hand.
Kantorou Mashashiba
...Yeah. That was me.
Akira
He really did. Got grease all over his sleeves and never complained.
Toda gives a low grunt, half approval, half amusement, and reaches into his coat.
Toda Kiyoken
Then we are even on manners. Not on debt.
He drops a folded, oil-stained receipt onto the crate beside Kantorou, then taps the paper with one finger.
Toda Kiyoken
Your stolen bag passed through a cargo yard in the east district. One of my runners saw the same crest painted on the van. You want the rest, you talk while she finishes wrapping you up.
“*lights cigarette* Thanks Akira, apprecite it brother.. we rest for as long as Toda-san is willing then we ride.”
SUCCESS (Superb Willpower, rolled -1)
Kantorou flicks his lighter open, the flame catching under his cupped hand. He draws once, slow and steady, while Akira keeps the gauze snug around his side.
Kantorou Mashashiba
Thanks, Akira. Appreciate it, brother. We rest as long as Toda-san is willing, then we ride.
Akira
Mm. Good. If you try to ride with that cut opening again, I will bandage you twice as tight.
Toda Kiyoken
Hah. Listen to her, kid. A man who survives long enough to get patched up is worth something.
Toda eases back from the crate and gestures toward the campfire. The oil-stained receipt stays in plain view beside the first-aid tin, a paper trail waiting to be followed.
Akuma
Your friend has a steady hand. That matters. A fighter who cannot stay standing has no future.
Akira glances up at Akuma, then back to Kantorou, her expression softening despite the hard set of her mouth. The bridge hums overhead, but down here the circle feels briefly held together by smoke, bandages, and trust.
Akira
Hold still a little longer, Kantorou. After this, tell me what kind of trouble found your bag.