Chapter 26: "Burgers, Bruises, and a Very Familiar Name"
(Where We Learn Our Gang is Named After Anime Supervillains)
Let me set the scene for you: a group of bruised, sweaty teens with limping pride, hunched over plastic arcade chairs, surrounded by blinking lights, retro game music, and the sweet, healing aroma of grease-soaked fries.
In other words, paradise.
Ukita was using a bag of frozen nuggets as an ice pack. Ikki was sipping a milkshake through a bent straw like it held the cure to all injuries. Koga was sulking in the corner with ketchup packets for company. And me? I was lounging in the middle booth like a benevolent overlord, nursing a sprite and victory.
Kisara sat across from me, chin propped up on one hand, expression sharp. "So, fearless leader," she said, stealing one of my fries without shame, "you've recruited us, beat us up, and dragged us into your grand mission of redemption. But you haven't told us one thing."
I blinked. "Is it how I get my hair to look this good after a fight?"
"No."
"How I learned to fight like a mini Bruce Lee with ADHD?"
"No."
"Then it has to be—"
"The gang's name," she cut in. "You never told us what we're called."
Oh. Right. That.
I sat up straight and cleared my throat with all the drama of a magician pulling a rabbit from his hoodie. "The name… is Akatsuki."
A pause.
Then: "The Red Dawn."
Another pause. This time with extra blinking.
"Isn't that… from an anime?" Ikki asked slowly, like he was solving a crime scene.
"Yeah," Koga muttered. "Pretty sure those guys tried to blow up the moon or something."
"It's a name from a legendary mercenary group," I said, ignoring the snorts and slowly raising my burger like a sword. "They were made up of the strongest fighters, united not by nation or family, but purpose. They hunted monsters… and became legends."
"Yeah, and half of them were monsters," Ukita said around a fry.
Kisara leaned back, arching a brow. "So you're telling us our new identity is stolen from anime villains?"
I shrugged. "Rebranded. Think of it this way—we take the name and give it a new legacy. Less moon-exploding, more delinquent-saving. Same dramatic flair, though."
"I do like dramatic flair," Kisara admitted. "And we are kind of walking anime characters already."
"Exactly!" I pointed at her like she just discovered the cure for math. "We're the new Akatsuki—The Red Dawn that brings change. And fries."
"Okay," Ikki said with a sigh. "But I'm not wearing a cloak with clouds on it."
"I mean, I wasn't gonna force you…"
"…Unless?"
"…Unless we're doing a photoshoot."
Kisara laughed for real this time, and something in the group shifted. Like bruises and punches had turned into trust and potential.
We were no longer just a group of fighters. We were Akatsuki. Not the destroyers of worlds, but the rebuilders of futures.
And for now, we'd start with a burger, a bond, and maybe a team-up match in Street Fighter.
-------------------------
"So," Kisara said, one leg slung over the other like she was running a job interview and not still sipping soda with a bruised lip. "You got a name. Cool. Dramatic. A little nerdy. But what about your base of operations?"
I blinked mid-fry. "Our what-now?"
She rolled her eyes. "Your base. Your lair. Your hangout spot that doesn't include rusty swings and old men yelling at clouds. Please tell me you've thought of that."
I scratched the back of my neck. "Well… the park's got great trees. Excellent pigeons. Very scenic."
Ukita helpfully added, "There's a vending machine that sometimes gives you two drinks."
Koga muttered, "And that one bench isn't that broken."
Kisara gave me the look. You know the one. The really? face all girls learn at birth. "So basically, no base. You're a gang of ambitious squirrels."
"Okay, ouch, but… fair."
She sighed dramatically and slid a folded paper across the table like she was giving me a map to Atlantis. "There's an abandoned construction site near the river. Used to be part of an old mall project. Good space, sturdy walls, mostly abandoned except for raccoons."
I took the paper like it was a sacred scroll. "Wait, are you offering us your place?"
"I'm offering to share it. Don't get cocky, Red Dawn." She gave a sly smile. "Think of it as a co-op of chaos."
"That," I said, tapping the table like a contract had just been signed, "is the most generous and coolest offer I've ever received from someone I punched in the face."
Kisara raised her soda. "To mutually-assured bruises and new beginnings."
We all clinked cups. Even Koga. Though he still looked suspicious of the raccoons.
Later, as we limped toward the new base-to-be...
Kisara jogged ahead, still way too energetic for someone who'd been kicked into a dumpster twenty minutes ago. "So, fearless leader, what's the plan for the other gangs?"
I tilted my head. "Well, first I figured we keep it peaceful—offer alliances, maybe a cookout?"
She snorted. "Freya's group would probably stab you with a fork at the cookout. You know they fight like they're doing interpretive dance with knives, right?"
"Yeah, they use weapons and formation tactics. Definitely tougher to deal with directly."
"So go for Thor first," she said. "Their leader's a literal sumo wrestler. Strong, sure, but slow. You could dance around him like a fly with caffeine addiction. Plus, if he's out, Freya loses muscle backup."
I grinned. "So your strategy is: pick off the tank, weaken the support."
"Exactly. It's like a boss fight. You clear the minions and soften the raid leader."
"Are we... nerds?" I asked, staring at her.
She didn't hesitate. "Absolutely."
I was starting to really like Kisara. Not like that, don't get weird. But battle nerds? Those were rare and beautiful creatures.
As we arrived at the old construction site, I stood on a pile of bricks, wind blowing through my hair dramatically (okay, it was probably just a passing garbage truck but still), and declared:
"This shall be the new Akatsuki headquarters! From here, we shall plan battles, train our minds and fists, and maybe, just maybe, find a working microwave!"
Kisara clapped slowly. "Yeah, yeah. Just clean out the raccoons before naming anything."
----------------------------
So, turns out Kisara wasn't kidding about the base.
Except… she was wrong about one thing. It wasn't raccoons. Nope. The place was crawling with cats. Fuzzy, lazy, purring, occasionally sassy cats.
And that's when Kisara dropped the real bomb.
"Oh yeah," she said casually as she scratched a smug black-and-white cat behind the ears, "did I forget to mention I'm a cat person?"
"Person with cats, or…" I hesitated, eyeing her head suspiciously. "Should I be looking for ears?"
She smirked. "That's for you to find out, fearless leader."
I decided I wasn't ready for that kind of quest and stepped inside the actual base — and immediately had to pause. Because, uh, it was basically heaven.
There were arcade cabinets against one wall — classics and modern titles. There was a legit kitchen with industrial microwaves (plural), a stocked fridge, and someone frying eggs like we weren't in a gang hideout. There was a gym area with punching bags and weights, a half-court basketball setup, a foosball table that looked like it had seen actual war, and even a cozy PlayStation corner with beanbags and anime posters.
"This… is not what I expected," I said, turning in a slow circle.
Kisara walked past me, tossing a towel to a guy bench-pressing a suspiciously shaped Hello Kitty weight. "What, you thought we all sat in the dark and plotted crimes like Saturday morning villains?"
"Well… yeah. A little."
She gave me a look like I'd just insulted her cat's fashion sense. "We're The Predators, not psychos. We hang out. We chill. We fight when necessary, but mostly this place is just a safe zone."
"You guys even have a football goal. That's not a gang thing. That's a PE class thing."
"Exactly. We're not criminals. We're just awkward kids who happen to know martial arts, have rough pasts, and too much free time."
I blinked. "So you're basically anime side characters who formed a club."
"More like anime main characters who haven't had a plot arc yet."
Touché.
Kisara motioned to a guy with green hair hunched over a PlayStation controller like it held the secrets of life. "That's Mondo. He thinks with his fists but has the reflexes of a ninja squirrel. That's Reina over there — she looks sweet, but she's a black belt and once suplexed a vending machine for stealing her change."
"Respect," I whispered.
And yeah, despite the bruises still fresh on all of us, everyone here looked… happy. Goofy. Like this was the first place they could breathe.
Ukita wandered in and immediately joined a foosball game like he'd been born for it. Shogo was already scoping out the gym like he'd found a new religion. Even Kenichi was making awkward small talk with a girl who had a scar on her jaw and a lollipop in her mouth like it was her weapon of choice.
Kisara leaned beside me and asked quietly, "Still think you're just leading a gang?"
I looked around and… honestly? No.
This wasn't a gang. This was a family in waiting. A bunch of outcasts trying to find a place that didn't kick them out for being weird, strong, emotional, or just plain too much.
And now… they were my people, too.
"So what do we call the new setup?" Kisara asked. "Still Akatsuki? Even with all the PlayStations and microwave popcorn?"
I nodded with a grin. "Yeah. Akatsuki. The Red Dawn. Every dawn starts a little weird. Ours just happens to involve cats and foosball."
One of the cats meowed like it agreed.
--------------------------
You know how you expect certain things from your life? Like, maybe a pop quiz or a late-night ramen run or even the occasional run-in with a guy who thinks shirt buttons are optional and has fists the size of small cars.
But what you don't expect is to be walking through a cat-infested gang hideout-turned-hangout with the Queen of Kicks herself, while she grills you like an underqualified teacher on parent-teacher night.
"So…" Kisara said as we strolled past the PlayStation zone (where Ukita was currently losing to a smug twelve-year-old in Street Fighter), "how exactly did you end up with the berserker on your side?"
"Shogo?" I asked, pretending not to wince at the memory of his punches. "Yeah, good question. Still figuring that one out myself."
Kisara gave me a sideways glance, the kind that said you're either lying or you just forgot your own origin story. "No offense, but I didn't think Issei had it in him to make that guy listen, let alone follow."
"Oh, I completely agree," I said with a grin. "Honestly? Shogo could crush me like a paper cup if he wanted to. He's definitely on Gonzui's level… maybe stronger."
She raised an eyebrow. "And yet here he is, following you around like a pitbull with a new favorite chew toy."
"He saw something," I said, and even I was surprised by how honest I sounded. "Potential, maybe. Or just a chance for some chaos that's not completely aimless. I think… he liked that I wasn't afraid of him."
Kisara was quiet for a second, then smirked. "So basically, he likes the vibes."
"Exactly! Big guy's a vibes-based follower. Very modern of him."
We passed through the gym section, where someone was attempting to deadlift with absolutely horrible form, and I had to physically restrain myself from jumping in with corrections. Kisara glanced over at me again, more serious this time.
"Well, let's see what you can do, then, leader." The word leader came out half-tease, half-test. "Just don't expect me to approve if you start pulling dirty stuff. No crime, no extortion. I won't let you drag this place into something rotten."
I nodded. "Don't worry. I didn't come here to become a villain. Or a shady businessman. Or, like, the final boss of a yakuza game."
"Good, because you don't have the wardrobe for it."
"Rude but fair."
We reached a quieter part of the base, somewhere between the foosball warzone and the questionable beanbag meditation corner. I leaned against the wall and looked out at the rest of the gang, some laughing, some sparring, some feeding tuna bits to a smug-looking calico.
"I just want to guide them," I said, my voice softer now. "Not all of us are built for school and desks. I mean, I have to study… for reasons," (that reason being my life is a whole lie and I have ninja knowledge to keep fresh), "but these guys? They'd never make it that way."
"So what? You want to run a fight club?" Kisara asked.
"Kind of. But legal. With tournaments, martial arts dojos, training videos. Actual structure. We could turn our strength into a career — security, bodyguards, maybe even stunt work. YouTube channels, sponsorships…"
Kisara blinked at me. "You just described a financially responsible path to channeling violent tendencies."
"I am full of surprises."
"You are a surprise," she muttered, almost like she didn't mean to say it out loud.
I grinned. "Look, all I ask is a little faith. If they follow me, I'll lead them somewhere that doesn't involve jail time or ending up as some mid-tier villain's disposable lackey."
She nodded slowly, like she wasn't entirely sold, but also like she wasn't not sold either. "I'll be watching you, Boss."
"That better be a friendly watch. I don't need another person trying to roundhouse me through a wall."
Kisara smiled — the kind of smile that made you think you'd passed a test without realizing you were taking one.
"No promises," she said.
And just like that, I knew I had her.
Not just her strength. Her trust. Her belief. And if I could win her over, maybe — just maybe — I could make something real out of all this madness.