Virtually every student in every school in Japan wore a uniform. A necessary measure, they said. It made for easy identification of the school each student belonged to. After all, without a uniform, you couldn't tell which student belonged to Taiyo and which belonged to Gorin based on the appearance of the student alone.

Of course, this did not apply for the students who attended Gedo. Even without the telltale pin that each student wore on their left collar, and even without the bright yellow uniform that many (though not all) of the students at that school dressed in, it was still painfully obvious that they were the drug-pushing, thieving, bloodthirsty maniacs known as Gedo students. The kind of people that worried parents warned their little babies about. Dangerous people.

And danger travels in packs.

Danger on this night traveled in a pack of five. None wore the uniform, as today's school session had been out for quite some time, but their appearances all just screamed "Gedo". Most kids dressed in a clean-cut, though casual, style when out of school; these ones did not. Unusual hairstyles were aplenty, and earrings among the five young men were commonplace.

Three of them followed the other two, who were the two leaders on this job. That pair also stood out in comparison to the others. This was not due to their age difference; the other three were sophomores and freshmen, while their superiors were juniors.

Gan Sekidou happened to be the one most eyes were drawn to, out of the members of the crowd. He stood at a very impressive height, his limbs thick like branches from a huge tree. His feet thumped against the ground loudly, half due to his size, half because he wore massive wooden sandals on his feet. Clad in entirely green, a stiff collar protected the back of his neck, and a thing encircled his waist, a thing which looked remarkably like a barrel with a rope entwining it. Most people would likely be teased for wearing such a thing, but who would dare harass a man of such size? Only an idiot, which was precisely what Gan was. Dense. Even his gaze indicated this as the group drew closer to their destination.

The other, Edge Yamada (his real name was Eiji, but few called him that), stood at a decidedly average height and was remarkably thin, made to look even smaller because of his close proximity to Gan. He wore a pink shirt and purple jacket and pants, with short white boots; coupled with Gan's choice of clothing, this clash was sure to make any close observers go blind. Maybe that was the purpose. A pink headband helped raise his long, blond, gel and hairspray-coated hair up to some degree. A simple gold earring hung from each ear, and he had stuffed his hands into his pockets. Edge chewed fitfully at a piece of bubble gum as they walked. Was he worried? Maybe. Knowing him, though, the word was anticipating the moment. He loved doing this sort of thing.

I better get to use my knife. The thought accompanied a small giggle, though none of the others thought twice of it; they were used to it. These sort of thoughts plagued him when he was supposed to be doing something else; more than occasionally, he went out of his way to start a fight so he could use it. Too zealous about fighting, he was told, and he never listened. It was fun, and there was nothing more to say.

One could say that ever since the incident at Justice High, Edge had mellowed out. But the difference was only the loss of a few drops in a bucket full of water. Few would even notice the change.

The other three gang members dressed in more ordinary attire. Two had short hair; out of these two, one was a blond and one had brown hair. The other, the young man with long red hair, wore a coat over his clothes. The blond was Taku; the redhead, Sho. The brown-haired boy called himself Muso.

As they began to approach the gathering of cars, the lighted place in the midst of all this darkness, Edge distinctly heard loud and extremely obnoxious American pop music playing as female voices screamed from either intense pain or intense pleasure. However, the five trespassers did not yield.

They had a job to do.

No sooner had they entered the area, voices which none of the gang members could understand called out angrily, annoyed, perhaps telling them to stop. The stench of cheap liquor loomed heavily in the air. Edge gave the area a quick glance around, seeing the American exchange students in the middle of groping and kissing each other; he immediately spotted their next victim and headed for the young man's car, the others following him. Finally, whoever was playing that damn annoying music decided to cut it, and it drifted into silence. Apparently, the American football player - what was his name, Alen Barrock? - was the only person who hadn't noticed them coming; hell, even that girl he was with stared at the intruding group, wide-eyed, as they peered inside through the front right door's window. Edge tapped on the glass to get his attention.

The window to the ridiculously large, European-made car unrolled, and the young man muttered a few words. His girlfriend sneered at Edge, yelling at her companion in what sounded like English... but bad English. He replied to her in much the same tone.

"Hey, speak Japanese!" Edge ordered. They both stopped bickering with each other and they twisted to face him.

"R-right..." Alen stuttered.

"Got it," his girlfriend replied.

"In any case, Alen," he crowed, mocking his victim's own name with a taunting grin, "you owe the Soubanchou some funds. Pay up. Now."

Alen's eyes connected with his, and his jaw dropped. He damn well knew that he needed to give Daigo Kazama - or the Soubanchou, as the Gedo students often referred to the school's gang leader as - his money. Of course, like they all did, the idiot would play stupid.

"Funds? What funds?"

Knew it.

Gan snorted in the background, and Sho burst out laughing. "You know. Funds. Money. You ask us for something, and we deliver. When you don't pay up, you get punished. Your favor in question is the steroids you were sold, but you didn't pay for them yet. So the Soubanchou says to pay up. Right now."

His lover shot him a dagger-laden look, and she yelled at him. Soon they erupted into bickering again. Edge sighed. Can't we just get to the interesting part? He half-considered blading the car's tires, but thought better of it.

"Shut up!" Again, their attention was wrapped up in Edge, though he could tell from the look in their eyes that they really wanted to go again. Dammit, do they ever shut up...? "Damn, just listen! Do you have the money or not?"

Alen blinked. "Of course I don't have the money! I don't owe you anything!"

"The hell you don't! You buy steroids, you pay for them!" What a moron. He looks like he's been using steroids. Yellow skin doesn't come from nowhere. Neither do breasts. He giggled at this. He has breasts... well, sorta.

Alen glared at Edge. "What's so damn funny? And who cares, even if I have! No fucking Japanese bastard's gonna tell me what to do! I've got the whole damn American system on my side!"

Edge's laughter only grew louder. "Tch, so? What're you gonna do? Get the American President over here to kill me? Is that it? Eh? Eh?"

"What're you gonna do if I don't pay?"

Sho laughed again as Muso taunted with a quiet, "He shouldn't have saaaaaaid that..."

"Oh, nothing that you won't mind. Do you have the keys in your car's ignition?"

"Yeah... I kept them in for the heat..."

"Okay then. Gan?" He looked back at Gan, grinning from ear to ear.

Gan returned this with a quizzical look. "Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?" the large man asked in that methodically slow voice of his.

"Probably. Try not to have too much fun," Edge chirped, giggling.

"Gah ha ha ha!" Gan laughed, then opened the door to the window and pulled Alen out first and dropped him unceremoniously onto the ground nearby. Next came his girlfriend, who was deposited as well, but in a considerably less harsh manner. Better talk to Gan about that, Edge thought, shaking his head slightly. Shouldn't show mercy to these lowlifes.

Ironically, and perhaps due to the expensive car in front of them, Edge realized that these so-called lowlifes had a hell of a lot more money than he ever had and ever would have. Not to mention that these spoiled rich bastards weren't gang members. But as he saw it, at least he paid the money he owed.

"Gan, Sho, Muso, Taku. Hop on in." He grinned maliciously at Alen and said one last thing in the presence of the deadbeat.

"I'm driving."

Alen's eyes widened with shock. "What? Did you just say..."

The five gang members then piled into the car. Edge took the driver's seat, Taku the passenger's seat, while the others forced their way into the back.

"You're really gonna..."

Taku smiled brightly at Alen. "Yeah, we are. See ya!"

"No! Stop! You can't!"

No sooner had he said those words, Edge rolled up the window, started the car, and took off with his prized possession.

Alen mumbled some curses in English as he watched the car speed off.

After a few minutes of this, he decided that his favorite one was "fuck".

Confucius say: Car not worth shit in urban Japan.

Edge grinned as this thought came to mind as he and the other four stood in the garage, waiting for the mechanic to return. Unlike most car repair garages, this particular one stayed open at night for reasons which many could speculate if they wanted to.

But really, cars had no real use in a crowded city, teeming with people, the streets filled with stationary vehicles who were so stuck in heavy traffic, it was a wonder that more drivers didn't pass out from inhaling too much exhaust. None of them needed the car; none of them were licensed, but even so, only Edge and Taku could drive, and neither of them wanted to keep stolen property, license plates and all. Driving here hadn't been too much of a struggle, but it was past midnight, after all.

As the mechanic returned with a stack of yen, Edge realized that even though the car was not worth shit, the parts that had once been a car were worth quite a bit.

"Here ya go," the man said, handing Edge the money. "Quite a nice haul, if I do say so myself. Where'd you manage to get one like her?"

"It used to belong to a Pacific High School student. You know how they are. Money-making machines," Edge replied with a smirk, stuffing the wad of cash into his pants pocket.

"Kids, eh? So they're stupid, too? Shit." The "mechanic" couldn't help but laugh. "Shit, man, that's just sad. Parents shouldn't be giving them so much money to throw around."

Edge shrugged. "Eh, more for us."

Gan yawned, making no effort to suppress it. "Edge, are we done? Can we leave? I want to go home..."

"Yeah, guess so. Let's go, then."

Of course, now that they lacked a vehicle, walking was the only option left at this time of night. Fortunately, they all lived relatively close to the mechanic's garage, so a struggle it was not. The money could always be delivered to Daigo in the morning.

Eventually, they all parted ways until only Edge and Gan were left. Now that the others were gone, Edge could now ask that important question that burned in his head.

"Gan?"

"What?"

"Can I stay at your house tonight?"

Please say yes, please say yes...

"Uhhh... Sure, Edge. But why?"

Don't laugh, don't laugh...

"Because I..."

Gan blinked and stopped walking. "What?"

"I'm... Y'see, I'm kinda scared..."

"Of what?"

Edge swallowed quickly. "My brother and sister... They'll have my ass reamed if they catch me going home this late..."

"Oh. Uh, sure."

"Good."

"Edge?"

"What is it?" He hoped that Gan wouldn't question him further.

"What does 'reamed' mean?"

That was the last thing he expected to be asked. "The hell should I know!" Edge spat. "Just thought it sounded good, I guess. I dunno."

"Oh."

As they both approached Gan's house, Edge remembered how fucking big Gan's family was. He lived with his parents, and he also had three brothers and three sisters. Would their house have enough room for him? Probably, he guessed.

Fortunately, no one in the household was awake, so they easily made it inside without being questioned. Edge felt quite fortunate for this.

Gan soon led Edge to his room. Edge had never seen the inside of Gan's room before, and for the most part, it was bare. Only a small television on a short table, a dresser, and a bed sat in it. He vaguely wondered if Gan kept any porn under there. He'd need something to do to pass the time.

Almost immediately, Gan kicked off his sandals, flopped onto the bed, and fell asleep.

Edge sat on the floor and sighed, disgusted. Gan wouldn't even stay up to keep him company. Not that Gan made for anything even slightly resembling intelligent conversation, but it was better than nothing.

This is gonna suck.