"Thank you again for deciding to have dinner here with me, Yato." Daijiro admitted, sighing, raising his eyes to the ceiling of the little restaurant.
"Don't mention it. I can understand your concern." The other replied, sipping a glass of water.
"It's just... fuck, those motorcyclists are pretty scary. And all the other places around are expensive as hell..." Daijiro looked around nervously, then resumed, "For a few weeks they have been coming here almost every day, screaming and cursing loudly while devouring half the pantry and then leave."
He sighed quietly, but quickly corrected himself gesturing on the edge of the table, "They've never hurt anyone so they can't be reported or kicked out, but they're pretty annoying. Maybe you're "lucky" enough to meet them today." and held up two fingers to emphasize the irony.
Yato lightly chuckled at that, until there was a loud rumble outside the door go by. There were several motorbikes, which seemed to have stopped right in front of the restaurant.
"Here they come..." one of the waiters whispered as he passed by the table where Yato and Daijiro were sitting.
Several deep voices could be heard mingling approaching the entrance, and a few seconds later a noisy group of stout boys walked briskly into the room.
"Usual table, thank you." The boy who seemed to be managing the group ordered, gesturing haughtily to mock one of the waiters, who even though was the tallest on duty that evening he barely reached his shoulders in height.
"What do you mean by 'usual table'?" Yato asked Daijiro in a low voice of disbelief, resting his elbow on the table.
The other, leaning slightly to follow their movements over Yato's shoulders, explained, "They always use the same table because it's big and they all fit. Consequently, they are forced to always leave it empty."
Yato frowned, his eyes widening. "Are you fucking kidding me?" and he turned, to follow their movements too.
He couldn't hear exactly what they were saying due to the distance, but he noticed the profound discomfort that the same waiter they had talked to earlier was feeling. They seemed to be acquaintances, perhaps? He was writing down in a hurry what the gang was arranging, which from what he was writing seemed like a lot of stuff, and then walked away.
Yato turned to Daijiro.
"Should we do something?"
"Like what? It's not like we can use our job to scare them, or use our personal gun."
"Mh." Yato replied, looking at his hands.
A few minutes of profound discomfort passed, both for the two yakuzas and the customers, where the atmosphere acquired more and more a smell of beer mixed with smoke.
The yakuza just had time to turn around when he saw the waiter come out with a steaming plate and place it on the table, when the same dark-haired boy grabbed him and started yelling at him.
"This is not what I've ordered!" Yato could hear.
"I-I am sorry, I swear it won't happen ag-" The other blabbed.
"Do I look like" the other started, getting up, "I give a shit?" and he threw the plate on the floor, silencing the last voices that still murmured in the room.
The waiter took a couple of steps back, but was abruptly stopped by one of the laughing henchmen at the table.
"Do you want to be beated up, twink?"
Yato visibly tensed, and laid the cutlery back on the napkin, then grabbed the edges of the chair and got up.
Yato visibly tensed, and laid the cutlery back on the napkin, then grabbed the edges of the chair and got up.
"Where are you going!?" Daijiro whispered, hiding behind the table.
Before anyone noticed the yakuza's presence, the waiter between sobs pushed the other one away and yelled, "Shut the fuck up, Naoki!"
Before anyone noticed the yakuza's presence, the waiter between sobs pushed the other one away and yelled, "Shut the fuck up, Naoki!"
At the pronunciation of the name Yato felt taken aback. So did they know each other? Their attitude was, however, disrespectful. And that still didn't justify anything.
He turned to notice that some people were quietly leaving the restaurant, while others were reassuring each other or ignoring the whole situation by staying on their phones.
Yato was brought back to reality when one of the guys yelled "What about that loser standing there?" earning the laughter of some of the people at that table. The same boy stood up, looking straight in his direction.
Even the other one -who had discovered his name was Naoki- stopped annoying the waiter, and turned to him.
"Mind your business idiot, and thank you that we are feeling particularly nice today."
Yato rarely smirked, but he was sure of one thing. He wouldn't let brats like that subdue him. He had been trained not to be afraid, ever.
"Why don't you go somewhere else?" he shouted as he wasn't usually used to.
"Excuse me?" Some of the boys stood up, putting their hands near the pockets of their jeans or leather jackets.
Yato was ready too, if necessary.
"You are disturbing the quiet. Get the fuck out of here."
He could heard some weak 'Yato's behind him almost like Daijiro was praying for him.
One of the boys ran towards him, and before he could pull out the Swiss army knife stuck in his belt, Yato gave him a powerful kick near his lower abdomen which brought him to the ground.
The boy coughed. What the fuck, it was blood!
Some of them looked taken aback. He was so skinny that guy, how could he be so strong!?
Naoki frowned and shouted "Come on Genji, get up. That guy is half as robust as you. You are embarrassing."
Naoki frowned and shouted "Come on Genji, get up. That guy is half as robust as you. You are embarrassing."
"Tsk," Yato grabbed the metallic item in his pocket. "You all are embarrassing."
"Uh!?" but before he could be attacked, he drew his gun.
"Uh!?" but before he could be attacked, he drew his gun.
Everyone froze, and gasps could be heard from different parts of the room.
Naoki, who was in front of everyone at the time, was in the center of the weapon's beam. He was clearly under pressure, but he didn't show it in the slightest.
He took a quick glance at the knife in his hands, and once he looked up, he backed away.
The others, to the surprise and a sort of relief, followed him.
"Piece of shit. You know it's forbidden to walk around with a firearm?" and grinned, hoping for any kind of response from his companions.
"As if you weren't breaking enough rules here already."
Once again, Naoki tensed and showed annoyance. Did he always have an answer ready for anything?
He was about to reply when sirens could be heard coming in the distance.
The boys began to turn away bewildered, when one of them shouted "To the motorcycles!" and everybody followed him.
One of the customers stood up, from which Daijiro noticed there was an ongoing call with the police.
He turned to Yato, who still had the weapon in plain sight.
"Oi, we need to leave! Now!" and they began to run towards the other exit, seeing the blue lights already reflecting off the windows overlooking the street of the restaurant.
Between the hustle and bustle of motorbikes and the scattering of terrified customers inside the building, Yato crashed into someone before reaching the door and, before he could apologize, the other quickly pressed something against his chest and raised his gaze. It was the waiter.
Speaking quickly as he understood the situation, he explained "Thank you so much for tonight, you saved me. Let's meet at the place located on the piece of sheet I gave you, they know where I live and this place is their target so I couldn't think of any other places. Now that you've turned them against you, I have to reciprocate your help giving you some advice, or you risk ending up seriously badly." He grabbed his arm tightly, and whispered in his ear "Hide your gun and run out from the back, I'll take you to the kitchen."
Yato nodded absently, and grabbing the small paper sheet he motioned for Daijiro to follow him.
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