(and this is why you'd not survive gang life, akira.

it'd be a lie to say he isn't watching from afar, eyes following the boy as he makes his way through the sea of monsters while mikey remains in safety by his bench, feet on top of the table and fingers absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. perhaps a text or two. not all of the tokyo manji is here, but the ones who are make him happy all the same.

once he returns, mikey takes his bubble tea into his hands, wasting no time in attacking it.)

Targets, huh? You know, I noticed something. You got a knife on you, but can you fight without it? There's honor in winning with your own two fists, you know.