Alexis rolled off Riku, breathing hard, his green hoodie torn at the elbow where Riku's wild swing had grazed him, and he looked up at Paulo with those red eyes that had once watched him drown, now glistening with something that might have been tears or might have been sweat.
"We heard they were coming for you," Alexis said, voice cracking on the last word, "heard it from Miya's brother, Watsu, he's been keeping tabs, trying to make things right after… after everything."
Shin eased off Nijako's throat but kept the cane pressed against her collarbone, his black hair falling into his eyes as he nodded in confirmation, the purple trousers he still favoured stained with grass from the alley.
Nijako coughed, blood bubbling at her lips, but her green eyes burned with hatred as she glared up at Paulo, and he saw the family resemblance in the shape of her fury, the same cold calculation that lived in Takeshi's smile.
Riku tried to speak, managed a wet gurgle, and Alexis silenced him with a sharp kick to the ribs that made the Satoshi cousin curl into a ball, whimpering.
Paulo's mind flashed to the hallway, to the switchblade, to the moment his eye had burst like a grape under Rin's thumb, and he felt the old rage rise hot and bitter in his throat, but he swallowed it down, because these three had just saved him from a fate that might have ended with him in the trunk of that van, and debts were debts, even when paid by monsters.
"Why?" Paulo asked, and the question encompassed everything, why betray him, why save him, why now, and Rin stepped closer, close enough that Paulo could smell the copper of his blood and the faint lavender of the hospital soap that still clung to his skin.
"Because we took something from you that we can't give back," Rin said, voice low, "your eye, your trust, your old life, but we can give you this. A chance to keep the new one."
Shin grunted in agreement. shifting his weight off the cane with a wince, and Alexis just stood, brushing the dirt from his jeans, his gaze just stayed fixed on the ground as if Alexis could not bear to meet Paulo's only eye he has left after that night.
The streetlights buzzed overhead, casting harsh white pools that made the blood look black, and somewhere a dog started barking, the sound distant and frantic.
Paulo lowered the baton but didn't collapse it, the metal cool against his palm, and he looked at each of them in turn, Rin with his ruined face and steady golden eyes, Shin with his limp and quiet menace, Alexis with his guilt written in every line of his body, and he felt the weight of choices stacking like bricks on his chest.
"You could have called," he said finally, "sent a text, warned me from a distance."
Alexis laughed, a broken sound that held no humour, and he shook his head, blonde hair falling into his eyes.
"Would you have believed us?" he asked, and Paulo had to admit the truth of it, because trust was a currency he had spent down to nothing and these three had been the ones to bankrupt him.
Nijako tried to move, her fingers inching toward a hidden blade in her sleeve, but Shin pressed the cane harder and she went still, a whimper escaping her bloody lips.
Riku groaned, trying to push himself up on one elbow, but Rin kicked his arm out from under him with casual brutality, the same foot that had once stomped Paulo's spine now keeping family in line.
"They have been watching you Paulo," Rin continued, "Riku and Nijako, they were waiting for you to be alone, planning something worse than the bridge. We have been watching them."
Shin nodded toward the alley, where a rusty beat-up motorcycle was parked half-hidden by dumpsters in the distance, the same one Paulo had seen Rin ride before everything went to hell.
The cherry blossoms kept falling, sticking to Riku's hairlike accusations, and Paulo felt the surreal weight of the moment settle into his bones, the knowledge that his enemies had become his shield, however temporary.
"What happens now?" Paulo asked, and the question was for all of them, for the blood on the pavement and the ring on his middle finger and the mother who waited at pier 17 with lessons in violence.
Alexis looked up then, red eyes meeting Paulo's single blue one, and he said, "We finish what we started. Tie them up. Call your uncle. Let the family handle family."
Shin was already moving, pulling zip ties from his pocket with the efficiency of someone who had done this before, and Rin hauled Riku up by the collar, slamming him against the van with a thud that rattled the windows.
Nijako spat blood, her green eyes promising murder even as Shin bound her wrists, the plastic cutting into her skin, and she hissed something in Portuguese that Paulo did not catch but made Rin's golden eyes narrow dangerously.
"You think this changes anything?" she snarled at Paulo, her voice nasal from the broken nose, "you are still a dead man walking, cousin. The family will burn you for this."
Paulo crouched in front of her, close enough to see the flecks of gold in her green irises, the same flecks he had seen in his own reflection before the eyepatch, and he said quietly, "Maybe. But not tonight."
Shin then finished with Riku, the Satoshi cousin's face a mask of blood and bruises, his colder blue eyes unfocused as he sagged against the van, and Alexis stood guard, his posture tense but determined, the boy who had once laughed as Paulo sank now ready to fight for him.
The street was still empty, the old man's azaleas forgotten, the yakitori vendor long gone, and Paulo pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over Takeshi's contact, but he paused, because this was not just family business anymore, this was his life, his choices, his debts.
"We take them to the warehouse," Paulo decided, the words tasting like iron, "pier 17. My mother's there. She will know what to do."
Rin nodded without hesitation, already moving to open the van's back doors, and Shin lifted Nijako like she weighed nothing, tossing her inside with a grunt that spoke of old injuries and new purpose.
Alexis hesitated, red eyes flicking to Paulo's face, searching for forgiveness that had not been offered yet, and Paulo met his gaze steadily, the baton still in his hand like a judge's gavel.
"Get in," Paulo said, and Alexis obeyed, climbing into the driver's seat with shaking hands, the keys dangling from the ignition where Riku had left them.
The engine roared to life, cherry blossoms swirling in the exhaust, and Paulo slid into the passenger seat, the ring on his finger catching the dashboard lights like a tiny star.
The drive to pier 17 took twenty minutes that felt like twenty hours, the van's suspension rattling over potholes, Nijako and Riku bound and gagged in the back with duct tape Shin had found in the glove compartment, their muffled threats vibrating through the metal floor. Rin rode behind them on the motorcycle, a shadow in the rearview mirror, while Shin sat in the cargo area keeping watch, his cane across his lap like a sword.
Alexis drove with white-knuckled focus, his red eyes fixed on the road, and Paulo watched the city slide by in streaks of neon and shadow, the Tokyo he had once known as a student now a battlefield where family lines blurred and enemies became allies in the space of a punch.
The warehouse loomed ahead, its broken windows glowing with the harsh fluorescent lights Sara preferred for training, and Paulo felt the familiar ache in his muscles, the anticipation of violence that had become as routine as homework.
They pulled up to the loading dock, the van's tires crunching on gravel, and Takeshi was already there, leaning against a concrete pillar with a cigarette dangling from his lips, Sara at his side in her charcoal trench coat, her red hair tied back in a severe bun that made her look like a general.
The motorcycle cut off behind them, Rin dismounting with a grace that belied his injuries, and Shin hauled the cousins out one by one, dumping them at Sara's feet like offerings to a goddess of war.
Takeshi's scarred smile widened as he took in the scene, the blood, the zip ties, the unlikely trio of Rin, Shin, and Alexis standing guard, and he said, "Well, well. Looks like the kid's making friends."
Sara's blue eyes, Paulo's eyes, narrowed as she studied Riku and Nijako, then flicked to Paulo, a question in her gaze that he answered with a single nod.
"They came for me," Paulo said, "these three stopped them." Sara crouched beside Nijako, tilting the girl's chin up with a gentleness that belied the steel in her voice, and she said, "You forgot the first rule of family, little cousin. Blood protects blood."
Nijako tried to spit, managed only a bubble of blood, and Sara stood, wiping her hand on her coat with disgust.
Takeshi ground out his cigarette under his boot, the ember hissing against the concrete, and he looked at Rin, Shin, and Alexis with the calculating gaze of a man who had buried more enemies than most people had friends.
"You three," he said, voice like gravel over glass, "you have got guts, I will give you that. But guts do not buy trust."
Rin met his stare without flinching, golden eyes steady, and he said, "We do not want trust. We want absolution."
Shin nodded, leaning on his cane, and Alexis swallowed hard, his red eyes fixed on the ground as if the weight of Takeshi's attention might crush him.
Paulo stepped forward, the ring catching the light, and he said, "They earned a hearing. At least that."
Sara's hand found his shoulder, a silent approval, and Takeshi barked a laugh that echoed off the warehouse walls.
"A hearing it is," he said, "but first, we deal with these two."
He gestured to Riku and Nijako, who were beginning to stir, their muffled groans filling the air like a dirge, and Sara signalled to the enforcers who had emerged from the shadows, silent figures in black who moved with the efficiency of machines.
They dragged the cousins inside, the zip ties cutting deeper into their wrists, and Paulo followed, the baton still in his hand, Rin, Shin, and Alexis trailing behind like penitent sinners.