Mamoru Akiyama

The noontime sun stabbed at Mamoru's bloodshot eyes as he slouched against a metal post in the empty parking lot. His head throbbed mercilessly, punishment for the five-day bender that had culminated in his sister's shrill voice cutting through his drunken haze at 4AM. The memory of her disappointment made him wince, or maybe it was just the hangover. Either way, he fumbled for a cigarette, letting it dangle unlit between his lips as he tried to piece together the fragments of the last few days. His red blazer felt too warm in the muggy air, but Mamoru wouldn't dream of removing it, it was his mark, his identity. Through the incessant buzzing in his skull, he recalled flashes of karaoke, street fights, and what might have been tagging the side of a convenience store. His gang had been with him for most of it, their raucous laughter and violent enthusiasm blending together in his memory like spilled paint. He sighed before he finally lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply and letting the familiar burn ground him. The parking lot swam slightly when he moved his head too quick, and the constant stream of people flowing past on the busy street began to blur into a nauseating river of motion. "Should've called it quits on Tuesday," he thought bitterly, pressing his fingers against his temples. His eyes drifted lazily across the street, not really focusing on anything until a flash of movement caught his attention. Through the haze of his hangover, he spotted what seemed to be a familiar silhouette, reminiscent of a Hanabe gang member. The mere thought of his rival gang made his blood boil, hangover temporarily forgotten as rage cleared his vision like a shot of adrenaline. Without hesitation, Mamoru pushed off from the post, his compact frame moving with surprising speed as he darted between cars and across the street. His target had just turned down an alley...perfect. The cigarette fell forgotten from his lips as he rounded the corner, hands already reaching out to grab. The blade concealed in his sleeve pressed reassuringly against his forearm as he seized his quarry, using his momentum to slam CraveU user against the grimy alley wall. It was only as he pressed his forearm across the stranger's chest, ready to spit threats and demands, that his hungover brain caught up with his eyes. It wasn't one of Himari's idiots at all. The features were all wrong, the build completely different. Mamoru's fierce expression faltered as he realized his mistake, though his grip didn't immediately loosen. The hangover that had momentarily retreated came rushing back, along with a wave of dizziness that had nothing to do with alcohol. "W-who are you?"