FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

You wake up.

And like every morning when you do, you wish you could go back to sleeping your days away like you used to. But your body's grown to reject the long days of sleeping so much longer than necessary and wills you awake without your permission. You roll over and look at the time on your digital clock. The only shred of light that permeates your darkened room, kept that way by the thick, pitch black curtains that shroud your window.

The time is almost 10 in the morning, so a little later than you normally rise. But well, it's not like you ever have anything pressing to do in the morning. Or the afternoon. Or the evening. So time is practically irrelevant. You roll over again and force yourself out of bed, and right onto the floor. Purposefully, because the sudden impact and the jolt help bring you to clarity and alertness quicker. The pain reminds your body that it's alive, or whatever the saying is. Which is exactly what you need because you feel pretty dead. Your soul died years ago, your body is just strangely unaware of the fact. So your heart continues beating and your brain continues sending signals in order to get you to proceed with the empty objective called living.

You push yourself off the ground and stand up, fully alert now that your body's been kickstarted like a faulty generator. You drag yourself over to the bathroom near your room so that you can take care of your daily necessities. As you finish up, you glance at the mirror and catch a glimpse of this disheveled monstrosity glancing back at you. Of course, it's only you, but seeing your reflection constantly gives you this "who the fuck are you" kind of feeling. Granted, it's not like you're vastly different, these past two years you haven't changed physically. Your hair's grown, and aside from the wild bedhead it's long enough to cover your eyes and damn near blind you. But your eyes. The look in your eyes are why you seem so foreign to yourself. Because it's so disconcerting that those eyes that once held so much hope and joy, can now look so... Empty.

You head back to your room to dress in your simple everyday outfit. After you're dressed, you reach between your bed and your nightstand and grab the only thing you'll ever hold affection for ever again. Your DeMari 300 baseball bat. Your dad bought it for your sixteenth birthday. You were going to use this to make him proud. You were, but. Can't be done anymore.

You love baseball. Or at least you did. Maybe you still do, considering you still pick up your bat, and walk yourself down to that old batting center almost every day. But your reasons for doing so aren't so clear anymore. Because you enjoy the game? Because it's all you have left? Maybe you'd give it up if you could, but you can't seem to. Following those long months in your vegatative state, when your body decided that it couldn't take lying in bed another day, you immediately got up and went back to that batting center. It felt right, but not fulfilling. Like you could only do this because you had to and not because you had any true desire to. And yet you still do. Autonomously.

And you engage in that autonomy again as you walk out of your room and down the stairs. Toward the front door, you hang a right and step into the kitchen. Walking to the fridge, you even question yourself why you constantly do this part. You throw open the fridge door to find. A whole lot of nothing. A bunch of stuff went bad at one point and you threw it right out, but never stopped to restock any of it. So the fridge is practically barren. Even though at one point it was stocked full of things you loved, and some things you don't. Someone might think you were being neglected looking at this, but you're not. Well, if anything you're neglecting yourself. But you never really learned to cook anyway, and you don't have the drive to do so, so you'll just stop and get something on the way back from the center whenever you're hungry. But this act of opening an empty fridge is just an act that you used to do back when things were right and you could take whatever you wanted whenever you pleased. So you emulate it in an attempt to trick yourself into thinking that things are alright. Even though you know they aren't.

Back on task, you close the fridge and walk up to your front door. You reach over and grab the door keys, and hold your gaze on the large mural of photos set on the wall near the door. Pictures of your parents from varying stages of their relationship, the oldest ones set higher up, and the more recent ones reaching the bottom. Right beneath you is the last picture, one of you and them, some time right before your highschool graduation two years ago.

"I'm heading out." you say in departure to the mural of your parents.

You walk out the door, lock it behind you and make your way down the road, walking from your pleasant neighborhood toward the more urban part of your city.

If only your city itself was as pleasant as your neighborhood. Well, San Vanargrand isn't the worst place to live. But it definitely isn't the best either. It's got its fair share of good and bad, although the bad has been piling up a lot more recently. Of course, that's got nothing to do with you, you are a man of singular purpose, treading the exact same roads day in and day out, rarely deviating from your predetermined course. The goings on in the rest of the city are as far from your mind as the stars beyond the sky. You walk the path you've walked countless times, passing the sights you've long since grown desensitized to. The few homeless, the graffiti'd buildings, the bits of trash. What city doesn't have these things? Although, once again, it seems that it's gotten worse over the years. You pause at the stoplight and wait for the crosswalk light to change. A police car passes by your side of the road, and you could almost swear that the officer was staring at you a little deeper than he should have been. But he continues on, so maybe you imagined it. Could've just been because you're walking through town with a baseball bat over your shoulder, but oh well.. Even though their presence has increased a tiny bit, they still never seem to be where they should. Like, if they were more in force, even back then, then maybe... But you've long since given up on those thoughts. The light turns, so you cross the street.

Thirty minutes since you've left and you come up on Old Man Lou's Batting Center. This place has been around for a long time, and word has it the owner, Old Man Lou himself, has been around even longer. You've met him when you first started coming here when you were just a kid, and you've even seen him a few times recently, taking swings inside, even though he should be long past the age where such physical feats were possible. You almost think he's immortal sometimes. You open the front door and prepare to greet the only staff member who works in this place, when loud, annoying laughter startles you from the far right side of the center. No one but you comes to this place. Literally, you're practically the last surviving patron of this batting center, so it's surprising that anyone would actually be here enjoying themselves. Curiosity forces your gaze in the direction of the commotion.

"What the fuck." spills out of your mouth unconsciously.

A dark, almost murky green assaults your vision immediately. Green bandanas mostly. Wrapped around necks, arms, ankles. The obvious and disgusting colors of one of San Vanargrands infamous groups of wannabe gangsters, 6th Street. These worthless idiots, along with several other groups are the reason San Vanargrand is becoming such a shitshow. These ones are like a bunch of highschool bullies that refused to let go of their highschool days, so they took to bullying others out in the city. So all in all, they aren't the worst group out there, they're just super fucking annoying. It could've been worse though. You could've had Blaine Park Hunters in here, or even worse than that, the Southpoint Reapers. Those are the real dangerous ones, and while all of them are shitty to deal with, you're momentarily glad that those two groups stay all the way downtown.

That boisterous laughter sounds off again and one of those dummies bangs on the window he's sitting near hard enough to almost shatter it. Considering how old this building itself probably is, that wouldn't be too difficult to do. You roll your eyes as you continue in, trying to block out the idiocy invading your ears. Luckily it's not hard to do, because they quiet down. Unluckily that means it's because they've noticed your entrance. But your business is not near them so you don't have to interact. You aim your attention at the woman working the counter, a borzoi with mostly white and blonde-like, almost golden spots of fur. She's been watching the 6th street losers with characteristic disinterest, laced with a suitable amouint of wariness, until you step into her field of veiw.

"Hey Shelby." you say to her. "Can you start me up?"

She nods, already hitting the keys on her computer to start up the pitching machine. You turn and head toward the cage marked with a large number 3 painted into the mesh, the cage you've always used. You're just a few steps from reaching it when a heavy hand claps onto your left shoulder and holds you in place.

"Hey slow down there buddy." Someone speaks to you with the air of a long time friend. "You know if you wanna use this place you gotta pay, right?"

"Yes I know." you say calmly, attempting to keep things civil, since you really don't want to get into it with these dumbasses. "I have an agreement with the owner so I pay for my games when I'm all done for the day."

You can already tell that he didn't mean paying for your games, like they would care about that. But maybe that obvious answer will let you off for now.

"What, nah, I don't give a fuck about your games." he chuckles, pulling on your shoulder and spinning you so that you face him. "I mean us."

You look up at him. He's about half a head taller than you and surprisingly scrawny looking. Piss yellow blonde hair, probably some shoddy dye job.

"We run this place now you see," he continues. "So if you wanna play you gotta pay entry fees. So I'ma need you to go ahead and turn out your pockets."

You roll your eyes, in his face, now that he's made you face him. "If I give you everything I've got, how would I pay for my games when I'm done?"

He shrugs, uncaring. "Sounds like a you problem, don't it?"

You look over to Shelby, who has her phone poised up in an obvious declaration. "I'll call the police if I have to" is what the gesture seems to imply. But the problem with that, is that Shelby cannot speak, she's completely mute. So telling them what the problem is, would be difficult. And if they didn't think it's a prank, especially in this city, you'd probably have to bank on them, what, hearing the sounds of you getting your ass beat by these two bit gangoons? You shake your head slightly at Shelby. You look back at the scrawny asshole about to mug you, then to his group of similarly worthless comrades. There's about three human men, a black furred rat looking guy, and some sort of canine that you think is a coyote. There's also a girl who could not be any more goth, and a red squirrel girl.

"What's your name, guy?" you ask as you turn your attention back to the one in front of you.

"Call me Jack." he says. "But I also respond to sir, my lord. And daddy." He turns to Shelby as he says that last one and both you, and her cringe heavily.

"Alright well, Jack." you say to get him to focus. "Let me explain this to you. You don't run shit."

Well damn, you didn't mean to say it like that, what happened to keeping things civil?

"Not only that, but I've never even fucking heard of you." you continue."If anyone should be running anything here, it should be me. So why don't you go sit your ass down with the rest of your fake little gangoon friends and get the hell outta my face with this bullshit?"

You aren't entirely sure where all of this is coming from. You were by no means a confrontational kid, and you were even less so after the accident, so choosing this moment in time to become a badass may not have been the smartest move. Even Shelby looks distraught during the small glance you give her. You didn't mean to, but there was just something completely wrong. Hearing this two bit wannabe call the place that you've spent the better part of your life in, his.

You casually take a step back and continue to take the last few steps toward your cage where your first round has been patiently waiting for you.

"You think you can just talk that shit to me?" Jack says, apparently not done and ready to save face after getting told off in front of his posse. "You don't know who the fuck we are? Well you're gonna learn today! We're fuckin' 6th Street you little-"

He throws his hand on your free shoulder again and whips you around with much more force than last time. Extremely unfortunate for him, as you used that momentum to your own advantage and bring the baseball bat he obviously didn't pay attention to out and up. It collides with his raised arm and smashes his own fist right into the side of his head. Which is disappointing because you were hoping to clock him in his empty skull with your bat. Oh well, he stands dazed for a moment by the blistering pain in his arm and the sudden rattling of his own skull, so you reel back again and bring your bat across his lower torso, bashing him in the stomach and expelling every ounce of air he had and maybe whatever he might've had for breakfast. He crumples to the ground and writhes like a worm pulled from the dirt and thrown onto bare concrete.

"Oh shit!" one of his comrades call and the rest spring to action. Well. This is it. There's five more of them and one of you.You don't know why you brought this course of action on yourself, but you've dug your own grave. So this is just where you die.

... But you're not gonna go without a fight.

They approach but quickly freeze. The reason being you're currently holding what could in this moment be described as a deadly weapon. What kind of gangsters walk around unarmed? The kind that only mess with regular people and think their colors are enough to scare them into submission. You take a step forward and they go backward, but they try to spread out in order to circle you. That's no good, if you get surrounded you're done for. So you act, going for the person on your right, you stare him in the eye and raise your bat up like you're about to strike at his head. When he immediately flinches and brings both his hands up to block is when you alter your trajectory and tag him right in the bend of his knee. He screams out and grips his leg as if you had caved in his kneecap, which all in all, might've been the right thing to do. The coyote rushes forward with his hands out to try and grab your bat from you, but just because it's the most dangerous thing about you in the moment, doesn't mean he should neglect the rest of you.

You throw your leg up as he comes forward and kick him with full force and attempt to neuter his ass on the spot. He lets out an agonizing bark of pain as he folds in on himself and hits the ground face first. The last two humans and the rat approach but only the one on your right still looks like something can be done in this situation. The other human and the rat are looking at the piling bodies and are beginning to understand that these numbers didn't give them an advantage.

The guy with no fear rushes at you and tries to throw this awful flying kick at you. You've got good sense for reading objects coming at you at high speeds so you easily step out of the way of that pitiful maneuver and twist your baseball bat around in your hands. You bring your right palm against the knob end of the bat, and as the 6th Street goon turns to find your position you jab the end of the barrel into his chest as if you were trying to put your bat straight through him. He takes a step back from the force and you repeat the action to his stomach. He wraps his arms around his torso from the force and you finish your assault with one more heavy jab into his face, right against his nose. The result is immediate as blood pours from his nose before he even hits the ground. He lays on the ground feebly cradling his busted nose. You turn your gaze on the last two remaining gangoons, but they just stand there dumbstruck. You return your baseball bat to its resting place over your shoulder and stare at them for a moment, waiting for them to make a move.

"Done already?" you ask in a tone reminiscent of boredom, with a mask of total indifference etched on your face..

The other human says nothing, but the rat nods quickly.

"Good. Now, tell Jackie when he comes to, that this place he so stupidly chose to commandeer, is mine. And he can have it when I'm fucking dead." You look to the girls who haven't moved an inch. The goth girl could not care any less that her comrades just got their shit kicked in, but the squirrel girl looks extremely impressed. "But if you come back I won't be so nice. Now get this fucking trash outta my center." you finish with as you step back to allow them the space to retreieve their fallen mates.

The two survivors eye you warily as they attempt to carry their buddies out. The girls help Jack stand but he had to rely on the goth for support since the squirrel is like half his height. She puts a hand on his back and side for minor support, but as they walk out she throws a final appraising glance at you and smiles to herself. As they vacate and your battle high comes down, you realize once again exactly what the fuck it is you just did. You just made an enemy of a gang. It would be great if they got the message and never came back, but you know quite well from media that this isn't going to end. But fuck it, you won't allow garbage like that to desecrate this place. This is your paradise, your Garden of Elysium, you'll fight to protect it. If you don't hold onto this at least, you really won't have anything anymore. Though if they come back with vengeance on their mind, the center should be the least of your worries.

A hand taps against your arm and you reflexively tense, thinking you missed a 6th Street goon. But as you turn, radiating malice, you find it's just Shelby. Who's staring at you with big brown eyes filled with worry. She puts her hand on your free shoulder and slides your bat out of the way to place her other hand on that shoulder too. Then begins patting and rubbing your shoulders wordlessly, never taking her eyes off yours for a moment. Of course, she can't speak, so she can't lend her voice to the action and explain what she's doing or why. But you can kind of infer that she's trying to console you, or at the very least calm you down. You did randomly explode and beat four people with your bat.

"I'm alright Shelby. Sorry." you say to placate her worry.

She doesn't seem to believe you, continuing her actions to console you.

"Seriously, I'm okay." you try again. "Just didn't want those idiots hanging around here. I'm sure Lou would be upset if he came back to that."

She tilts her head for a moment, but acquiescing to your words, she releases you. You look behind you to the site of your small battle.

"Want me to help you clean that up?" you ask, pointing to the puddle of blood that you caused.

She shakes her head and ushers you toward your batting cage, so you take that as her telling you to return to your routine. So you do as told. You walk in and press the button that starts the game. As the pitching machine revs up, targets descend mechancically from the far wall. A little something to increase the difficulty.

Or at least it was.

The first ball comes out, and you hit it with pinpoint accuracy and smack the ball right into the first target. Another ball, another target hit. Then the machine throws a curveball, but you still manage to hit it right into a target. Then it'll alter its speed and throw them even faster, or slower, curveballs, screwballs, sliders. You hit them all, and each hit is launched directly into a target. On the last ball, a tiny target appears. The ball fires out and you hit, just barely making contact with the tiny target. A short chime of fanfare plays out from around the building to congratulate your amazing feat. But it's just another day for you, since you've done this about a thousand times.

The machine starts powering down, indicating your set is done, before it immediately comes back on. Shelby knows the drill, you keep playing until you declare otherwise, so she keeps restarting the machine until you say you're done. You hit the start button again and throw yourself into another set, and instantly the madness you just brought down upon your once safe haven is forgotten.

Some famous athlete is probably the one that coined the phrase "Ball is life". Baseball is a type of ball, so it stands to reason that it too is life. And it was for you, for several long years. Back in your sixth grade elementary days, your school would always have this students versus teachers sporting event. That year was baseball. You'd seen it played but never actively played. But as it grew closer and closer to your turn, you grew more and more excited. When you were up to the plate, you hit the first ball ever thrown at you and miraculously scored a home run.

Hearing the crack of the ball against the bat, watching it sail into the distance, hearing the cheers of your schoolmates and the teachers both. In that moment you knew, you wanted to play this game for the rest of your life. And so you began to. You weren't really of a mind to care about any of the players or anything like some other sports fans, you just cared about the game itself. You weren't a legendary master of all fields, you were just decent playing the field, although you were a pretty good pitcher. But on the plate is where you shined. Knocking balls outta the park whenever you stepped up. Everyone told you that you were gonna go far. And you really could've. If only...

You finish your next set out of who knows how many, and finally conclude that you're done for the day.

"Alright Shelby." you call out. The machine powers down and stays off this time.

You don't really know the time since you don't bring your phone. Not the best idea but, you have no one to call anyway, so what would be the point? All you bring with you are your house keys and your practically empty wallet with your ID and your one bank card to pay for whatever you need in the moment. You hand Shelby your card and she charges you for your games. You don't need to ask what the total is, that's irrelevant. She hands your card back, you pocket it and get ready to leave.

"Alright, see you tomorrow." you say.

She waves her hand to get your attention and keep you from leaving just yet.

"What's up?" you ask. She beckons you closer, so you do as instructed. She reaches her hand out and smooths the hair in front of your face back and out of the way so that she can look into your eyes unobstructed. She searches them deeply, hunting for something. Peering into the windows of your soul and finding only vacancy within. When she finds, or doesn't find whatever she's looking for, she releases her hold on you and lets out a silently disappointed huff. Then she looks at you again with a tinge of the same worry she had right after your scuffle. You offer her another word of farewell and take your leave, giving no thought to whatever that was.

You peer up and down the street as you walk, half expecting a surprise legion of 6th Street goons coming to jump you. But finding no such thing, you continue on in relative peace. The scent of an active grill catches your attention and breaks you from your monotony of the trip home. A small building that looks like it could've been some bigger building's storage shed, with the name Heavy's Hams. It's a good time for lunch so you walk up.

"Ay Heavy." you say to the only man in the stall. A round bellied, shaved head, heavily tattooed man.

"Anon, my man." he says as he notices you. "Comin' from the cages huh?" He asks as he looks at your bat.

"Where else would I be?" you respond. You look at the menu, as if its contents would influence your lunch decision. "Can I get-"

"The usual?" Heavy interjects. "Already on it, my man. Like you order anything different."

You pay for your food, he serves it to you. You eat at the dining area Heavy set up next to his spot, and after lunch you once again return to your walk home. You enter your home and walk in. As you're about to head straight to your room, you pause, and look over at the mural of your parents.

"I'm back." you say. Their myriad stages of glee is their silent response. "I uh, kinda got into a fight today. Some of those 6th Street jerks were hanging around in Old Man Lou's, being nuisances, so I kind of lost it and we fought. I'm alright though."

You try to imagine how your parents would react in this situation. Your dad, sorrowful that you had to engage in violence, but a bit prideful that you had the nerve to stand up for yourself and emerged victorious. Your mom would probably just fawn over you, asking you over and over if you were alright.

"But I mean, it was just 6th Street, they're pushovers anyway. If it were the Reapers or something, things would be different."

You'd be speaking to them face to face would be the difference. Reapers and even Hunters, are not the fools to mess with if you enjoy breathing.

"But. Well... I'm alright. Yeah... I'm alright, so." you lie. To the memory of your parents, and yourself. With nothing else to say, you head up the stairs to your room.

Your parents passed away two years ago. Right on the day of your highschool graduation too, so that was extremely cataclysmic. You still remember that day vividly, it haunts your nightmares to this day. Having your name called and walking across the stage to a complete lack of familiar cheers. The confusion, the disappointment. Then having a teacher approach you with some police officers after it was all over with. You were afraid you had done something wrong at some point, but when they sat you down and told you the news. Well, when you heard that, you couldn't hear much of anything afterwards.

According to the witnesses at the moment, they were on the freeway, likely on their way to you when some cars passed by flying down the highway, faster than anyone in their right minds should be driving. One of them manuevered incorrectly and hit the backside of your mother's car hard enough to make your dad, who was driving, lose total control. That was apparently it for them, right then and there, that's how bad it got. And that was it for you too, mentally and emotionally. You basically shut down completely afterwards, unmoving, uncaring. You cried until your tears ran dry and laid in bed sleeping, day in and day out. Perhaps hoping that you would sleep and not have to wake up to this empty house again. But your body persisted regardless of your spirit's desires.

And all through your mourning, your family, if you could call them that, tried futilely to get through to you. Attempting to visit, make amends, offer you whatever you needed. Your grandparents on your mother's and father's side both offered to take you in, but you refused in a way. After all, for one they were practically strangers, and for two, neither side could probably truly give you the affection you would need as long as you bore the blood of each parent.

Your mom's family didn't like your dad at all, and your dad's family despised your mom. Your mom's half thought your dad was going to turn out to be some hoodlum, either being violent with your mom, if not outright abandoning her at some point, and your dad's family was furious that he would choose a woman of her heritage and not a woman of his own. It disgusted you to hear that parts of your own family were so horribly disfigured in such a way. So when they came to you asking if you wanted them to take you in, you told them all that you were technically a legal adult and would find a way to take care of yourself. Nobody said anything to counter, and they eventually accepted your declaration. But you were sure in your mind, that they were relieved not to have to deal with you.

Of course, even though you said that, you have done absolutely no taking care of yourself, and the only reason you aren't suffering is because you parents were unnaturally cautious and strangely financially secure. They both had positions in the same company with similarly high paying careers. They made enough money to purchase their own house, the one you're in right now. They kept themselves relatively debt free. And they held unnaturally chunky life insurance policies, for the exact reason as what happened. Likely because being on their own together as they were, they wanted to be certain that the other or you, would be completely taken care of.

Which you are. After one of your dad's accounting friends came over to explain some things and assist you in keeping any large monthly expenses automatic, you still have more money than you'd ever know what to do with at your age. And all you ever use it on are ten dollar games that you're pretty certain Old Man Lou even started giving you a discount on, and a few dollars for food, on days that you do decide to eat.

You had friends that tried to keep in contact with you. But they all went to the exact same college, the one you had all planned to attend. So while they couldn't come see you, they tried to keep your spirits up. They did their best, you just couldn't find the will to reciprocate, so eventually you talked less and less until they too were just a memory. So now all you have are an empty house, too large for a solitary twenty year old young man, a baseball bat that reminds you of your broken dreams, and memories.

Oh, and on top of that, your head is probably on some unseen bounty list now for a group of lowlifes that will probably want to beat you to death. So yeah, you're not entirely living your best life at the moment.

You wake up. A brand new day where you just might have to face the consequences of your hasty actions. Without bothering to check the time, you roll over onto the ground to jumpstart your body. However you lie face down a bit longer than you mean to.

"Maybe I shouldn't leave the house today." you mumble into your carpet.

But staying home and avoiding 6th Street, if they did happen to come back, would make it seem like you're scared. And on top of that, if they don't catch you today, they seem like the type to just come back tomorrow. Not to mention Jack did say they were gonna run the place. If he did want to make it some sort of 6th Street hangout, you'd never be able to go back. Granted there is another, much nicer batting center a bit farther uptown that more people use. Apparently the wall where the pitches come out of have a kind of hologram set up to look like an actual person throwing pitches.

But no, you won't run, or hide. However they choose to retaliate, you'll just have to meet them and face it. It's not like you really have anything to lose. Except your life, but well. Is this much of a life at all? You push yourslef off the ground and trudge to the bathroom. Taking care of your daily needs and returning to your room to clothe yourself and grab your prized possession, you pause and inspect it. It might just become something more than simple sports equipment at this rate. Will it survive if you do have to crack open a skull or two with it? You hate that you have to contemplate using your DeMari for such barbarism... And it slightly concerns you that you can even contemplate such barbarism so easily. Not only contemplate, but actually proceed with it as well, as evidenced by your actions yesterday. Have you always held such a capacity for violence? You aren't sure, maybe it was just a fluke. Well, if those gangoons show themselves again, you might just find out one way or the other.

Autonomous as always, you come down the stairs, check your barren fridge, then head out the door with a quick word of farewell to the remnants of your past. Down the roads like always, the familiarity of the path you walk helps you forget the possible danger you may be marching yourself toward. However, once you're standing outside the building, the red flags flash in your mind. You check up and down the street, but don't see any of the dastardly green bandanas that would signal your new adversaries. You step up the few stairs and attempt to quickly peek through the glass doors, but they're reflective and only show the street you came from and your own hollow gaze peering forward.

"It is what it is, just fucking do it." you tell yourself and push open the doors.

The sound of a pitching machine firing a ball and the sound of that ball hitting the mesh of the cage are what greet you. Once again, you think to yourself how no one ever comes here but you. Actually, how Old Man Lou manages to keep this place running with damn near no customers is a question you haven't been able to ask. You look ahead at the person playing their own game, and while you can't get any details from this distance, you can at least tell they they aren't wearing any of that awful 6th Street green. They could be faking, but you don't think 6th Street would be the type to do anything in a roundabout way. They'd surely try to run up and knock your teeth out as soon as they saw you, so for the moment at least, you assume you're safe.

You take another look at the other lone player. Another pitch comes out and this one they manage to hit. However it dives straight into the floor. Concluding that there is no threat here, you make your way into the center and greet Shelby as you do every day. Her trademark stare of indifference is altered with a sort of subdued excitement. Like she's been waiting for you to show up for a while now and is excited that you're here. Your only understanding of that possibility is through her eyes, you're sure that if you could see the rest of her body from behind that counter, you'd catch her tail wagging in glee. Either way, she happily punches away at her computer and starts up the machine in the cage you use. You walk up and finally notice that the person here before you is stationed in the cage numbered 4. So they're right next to you, which is bound to distract you one way or another. But the third cage is yours, you won't use a different one for any reason.

Into the cage, you take a few stretches before you start up and take a few subtle glances at the person next to you. Their back is mostly toward you, so you can't get a bunch of details, but you can tell that they're a canine at a glance. Black fur, similar hair (or headfur if you prefer to call it that). Wearing a pair of overalls that seem a few sizes too big for them with a similarly oversized plaid shirt. A ball is pitched, they swing, and miss. By like a large margin too, they didn't see that pitch coming at all. Almost like they've never played baseball before, so what are--

"Oh. Hey, good morning." a pleasant greeting breaks you from your silent critique. You focus and find that this canine is looking at you, almost over their shoulder, having apparently noticed that you were there.

"Uhh. Yeah, mornin'." you return, trying to be cool. They give a little nod then return their focus to their game, with their varying levels of success.

You decide it's time to start up your own game, so you hit the button and get ready. Before it starts though, you take a quick searching glance backwards. No dangers attempting to sneak up on you. Maybe they did learn their lesson, maybe you're good. A small bit of your apprehension fades away and you bring your full focus ahead. The targets descend and you grip your bat with purpose.

"Oh." your neighbor muses, noticing the targets piling in front of the general area of the wall accoss from you.

As you hear the surprise, a small spark of something wells in you. Almost like, a need to show off in front of this person who can barely hit a ball, let alone do what you're about to. The first ball jets out and without missing a beat you belt it right into the first target with ease.

"Whoa." your neighbor remarks, and completely forgets about their own game, as a ball launches right into their strike zone uncontested. Their own game clearly forgotten, they watch you smack ball after ball into the distance, right into the targets. Every target successfully hit, the tiny target descends.

"No way." they mumble.

Yes way. The ball comes forward and you hit. It sails up and into the small target with just as much ease as the rest. The congratulatory fanfare is showered upon you for a moment, but of course you pay it no mind, already preparing mentally for your next round.

"Dude, you're kinda good at this huh?" they ask, their attention squarely on you now. You look up, finally afforded a proper look at... Him?

Not that it matters, but you're really given no clear designs on this one's gender. You can tell now that they're a border collie. Most of them have that characteristic black fur with a strip of white fur down the middle and this one is no exception. But that's the only new information you're presented. Though, once again, not like it really matters. But, there's a silly rule you picked up from one of your friends a long time ago. He used to watch a lot of anime, and for whatever reason, a lot of the characters he ended up liking would be the characters that were boys that looked and dressed like girls. So whenever he was iffy on the details he would conclude, "everyone is a boy until I have been given express information to state otherwise". Which probably wouldn't go over well in today's society, but well, who's going to villify you in your own mind? So you'll just take that rule for your own for now and mentally refer to this being in the masculine. Not like you'll know him for long anyway.

"You must come here a lot, huh?" he asks as you bring your mental tirade to an end right on time.

"Well. Yeah. 'Bout a decade, so. A lot." you reply.

"Oh man, that explains it, you practically live here." he chuckles. His voice is pretty high pitched and close to what you would describe as feminine. But like, some guys are just born with those kinds of voices, or they force them to be that high when they're a certain type of man... But whatever you won't think about it too hard.

"What about you? Never seen you here before, obviously." you ask blandly, hoping to find out if he's actually some 6th Street spy. Though of course you still doubt it, even more now. He seems a little too... Gentle, to be a part of a gang. Although you never can know for sure.

"Oh no, this is the first time I've ever been here." he answers. "Actually, first time I've ever picked up a baseball bat either."

"Yeah, I kinda figured." you say, looking at the mass of baseballs strewn across the ground.

"Yeah, baseball isn't really my scene." he says noticing your gaze crossing his lack of success.

"Then why the hell are you here?" you think to yourself, wondering if someone who had no interest would really just so randomly decide to try their hand at it.

"Man, you know, that's a good question." he says giving voice to your inner thoughts... Or not. You haven't really had to seperate your inner thoughts from your outer ramblings, so you probably just said that out loud. Good on him for not commenting on how rude your remark actually was. "I was actually just wandering around town this morning." he continues. "I... Wanted to get out of the house, I guess. And I somehow ended up down here. Took a break on the steps right outside while I tried to figure what I was gonna do with my day. Then the lady at the counter there practically dragged me inside! Gave me a bat, threw me in here and turned the machines on, all without a word! Didn't make me pay or anything." He laughs good naturedly, apparently not too put off by how suddenly he was practically kidnapped and forced to play baseball.

"Ah, is that how it happened?" you ponder, casting your gaze at Shelby who has definitely been listening, evidenced by the minor turn of the head and subtle drop of one ear. "Probably just thought you seemed bored. Or wanted to bring in a new customer for the center, since it stays pretty dead here." you explain. "Though I guess we'll never know, since Shelby can't actually speak."

"What? No way. Aww man, that's gotta be harsh." he says. "But well, I'm not very good, but I've been having fun."

You're finally reminded that the pitching machine has been idle for a while since you haven't hit the button to start the next wave. You hit the button and get ready. It sounds like the dog next to you says something, but you don't register. His words fall away as you focus ahead. The ball launches forward and you hit it. The only sounds that process in your head is the thunk of the machine and the clink of your bat colliding with the ball. Ball after ball, you hit autonomously, until you get to the last one. Just like all the others, no differences to be had. You wait for it, poised to send it into the final target like you've done so many times.

"Swing!" cuts through your focus and shocks you into action. You swing your bat, moments before you should have, and spectacularly whiff the last ball. You were reminded of those few moments early on when you would have trouble with the timing on certain pitches. So your dad would try and help you by telling you when to swing. Seems your mind still remembers those instructions and acted accordingly. You stare daggers into the guy next to you, who's standing there grinning like a goofball.

"Haha, I got ya." he says, pleased with himself.

Damn, you can't believe you actually got baited. You've never fallen fior heckling like that, so this is a first. The action escapes you before you can control yourself, a kind of huff expelled through your nose. But not one of anger or exasperation. It... Almost felt like you were trying to laugh, but the bits in your throat that form laughter don't quite work like they used to.

"Yeah. Ya got me." you reply. You're not angry, it's only a game for fun, and you aren't going for any world records or anything.

"You're a good sport, huh?" he asks. "Was kinda worried, looking at you."

"What's that mean?" you wonder.

"Well, like. You got this look on your face, like you're having a pretty shit day. So I was wondering if I should've just let you be or what. But you're still pretty friendly."

A part of you wants to confirm that his assessment was correct. You're having more than just a shit day, but you've got no real reason to drag the unaffiliated into your shit day by making their day just as bad. "Treat others as you'd like to be", is one of the parental values instilled into you. However, looking at this guy, you should probably just sidestep it. He seems pretty friendly himself, and is likely the type to ask if you want to talk about your problems, and you've got no plans to vent to a stranger. You don't even know his name.

"What? Nah, I'm alright." you respond, hoping he'll take that and leave it where it is.

"Hah, yeah of course you are." he replies, no attempt at hiding the sarcasm. "You're alright like I'm alright, I can tell."

That line catches your attention. Because you're not alright at all. So if he's comparing his state of wellness to yours, then what kind of shit is he dealing with? And yet he damn sure doesn't look like he's going through anything at all. Maybe he just hides it really well.

Whatever, you shake off the thoughts you're having. Once again, you're not about to get into it with this guy you just met and have no connections to. You'll likely never see him again, so you're not about to spill your heart to him. Not like there's anything left in there to spill.

You're just about ready to hit the start button again and play another round, when someone throws themself violently against the door of your batting cage, likely attempting to spook you. It doesn't work as they had hoped though, you slowly turn around and catch the face of the last person you'd like to have ever seen in your life.

Jack is back, with the same little entourage he had yesterday. Even the two girls who did nothing but spectate. Instantly, whatever little energy you would muster to face the day was depleted the moment you saw his stupid face.

"You thought this shit was over, bitch?" Jack snaps at you, radiating as much malice as he can. "You shoulda known we'd be back to fuck you up."

You hang your shoulders and breathe out a sigh of exhaustion. "And here's the reason for my shit day." you mutter, more to yourself than to the friendly border collie. You raise your head and look Jack dead in the eyes, unwavering. "Back already, Jackie? You must want me to put you and your boys in the ground this time, instead of just on it."

"You only did what you did last time cuz you're a pussy!" he snaps. "Now that I'm ready, you're fucked. And I don't need my boys. I want you all to myself."

You snort at his last line. "Gaaay."

"Let's see how much shit you can talk when I split you in two." he retorts.

"Gaaaaay." you repeat even louder.

"Alright I'm fuckin' done playin' with you!" he screeches, then turns his attention to your acquaintance. "And who the fuck are you? You with him?"

You look over and watch the dog next to you freeze. Everything that just happened was extremely sudden and he likely doesn't know how to react. Although his body does, because you can see his tail curling in fear.

"If you're with him, I'm gonna fuck you up too, so you better find your goddamn voice and answer quick!" Jack continues to screech at the innocent bystander. Because of course those are the only people 6th Street feels big enough to mess with. You can't let Jack mess with someone who has no business with this.

"It's a public fucking space, dumbass." you interject. "People don't have to be friends with me to use it, they just have to not be a piece of shit like you. Your beef's with me, so let's settle it."

Jack appraises you, likely trying to find truth or lies in your words. Though all he finds is the hollow vacancy in your eyes. "You. Out." he commands, hooking his thumb over his shoulder while casting a short glance to the frozen canine.

He looks to you, and strangely, you have to agree with Jack's words. "As bad as it is, you're probably better out there than in here."

Another glance between Jack and you, and he makes his way out of the cages. He tries to skirt around the group who has placed themselves between the cages and the door. But the coyote and another human slide up to him, all smiles and joviality. They throw their arms around his shoulders and immediately start patting his pockets for anything of worth. The poor kid reacts poorly to their taunts, and you look over to see even Shelby's face flash with rage. However it seems he's got literally nothing of worth, because they groan with disappointment and stop checking his pockets. They don't however, release him from their grip.

"So you gonna fight me like a man, or you gonna use your toy like a bitch again?" Jack asks.

You bring your bat up, one hand on the handle, the barrel placed in the palm of your other hand, and look at it, like it's the only tether to your fragile life.

"If you knew I had it, why didn't you just bring something of your own?" you ask as you bring your attention to Jack. He stares at you wordlessly. "So excited to get your ass beat again that you forgot? Or what? What kinda gangoons walk around town unarmed?"

You voice the question you asked yourself yesterday, as you turn and walk away from the doors of the cage. Into the middle of the field, you place your bat down gently like a priceless relic, then step forward until you're about halfway between the door and where your bat is. So at the moment you're unarmed, but if he tries to play you and ends up pulling a knife or something you can probably make the sprint to your bat and rearm yourself. Although, it's entirely possible that he'll just pull a gun and end it right here, to hell with all his talk of being a man.

He throws open the gate and steps in confidently, cracking his knuckles. No weapon drawn yet. He brings his hands up in a fighting stance, and you're surprised that he actually seems ready to fight you man to man. Not what you expected from gangsters.

"After I knock every last tooth from your fuckin' mouth, I'ma take that bat of yours and break your legs with it." Jack taunts.

You continue to stand, unmoving, uncaring, the blank void that emanates from your gaze as vacant as ever. However on the inside you''re freaking out. You've never been in a real fistfight, you gave up the only edge you might've had because of some simple provocations, and even if by some miracle you survive, there's no guarantee that his goons won't get involved afterwards. You look past Jack to his cronies and see the look of excitement on their faces. Jack however has no such look. In fact, you can recognize the look he's actually giving you. You've seen that look a hundred times whenever you would get up to bat against an opposing baseball team. This look of subdued fear and nervousness. And it hits you. Jack here has no idea what he's doing either. But unlike you, he can't hide it in his face. He's all bark. Which means all you really have to do is fake it better than him.

"Well Jackie. You gonna stand there and stare at me all day, or you gonna make a move?" you goad.

And of course because Jack is a criminally simple man, the bait is successful. He quickly steps forward into range and without missing a beat, throws his fist dead center toward your face. However you clearly anticipated this, so as his fist comes forward, you lean backward out of range of his fist, and throw your foot forward in counter, kicking him right in the knee. He hobbles and bends to quickly recover his balance and you launch forward, punching him dead center in the face in retaliation.

And in that one moment. When your fist connected with his face, you felt something, for the first time in years. The sound of the collision, the feeling that shot from your fist up your arm. It almost reminds you of the time you hit your first baseball back in sixth grade. Too bad you don't get long to pick apart these familiar feelings, because Jack throws himself to his feet and punches you in the jaw as payback. It hurts, but. Strangely, you're okay with it. Like the dull pain you get when you roll yourself out of bed and onto the floor, but stronger. The pain, reminds you that you're alive. Jack swings again, but you manage to bring your arms up and block it, before you throw your left out and jab at him. He leans back to dodge it but doesn't go back far enough so you catch him right on the edge of his chin.

You throw a fist out at about the same time he does, trading your right jab for his left hook. While he hit you square in the cheek, you hit him with more power, so he has to take a few retreating steps to keep his balance. You pursue however, and throw a few more punches at his face. He dodges, leaning his upper body left, right, and back, to avoid your punches, then throws his fist into the bottom of your chin in an uppercut. It rattles your skull, and you almost hit the ground.

One hand and a knee on the ground to keep yourself from completely going prone, but Jack sees a moment of triumph and comes to capitalise. You however, turn your body away from him, and place your other hand on the ground now. With the free leg not keeping you balanced on the floor, you kick out straight as an arrow, and put your foot into his stomach like you're attempting to drive a spear straight through his gut. He didn't expect that at all and crumbles to his knees, holding his stomach. You stand up and watch him struggle to regain his much needed oxygen. Besides your heart pounding in your ears, you hear his squad, screaming and cheering, urging him on. Like he's some hero meant to bring victory to 6th Street or something.

He pushes himself off the ground with his legs, and begins to stand. So while he stands, you drop. Back down to that low crouching position, facing him this time. And as i f you traded your profession from baseball to football, when he stands to almost his full height, you charge forward and tackle him right back to the ground. You glare down at him, stuck on his back and dazed. You breathe deep, and bring your fists up. And release.

With that release comes a tidal wave of emotions you were never prone to holding. All your rage, and pain, and disgust come flooding into your arms, and you use them to crash against Jack's faltering frame again and again. You throw fist after fist, and he guards, because all he can do in the moment is defend. But you refuse to relent, as if breaking his noggin open will bring you peace. Like he's the one who was driving that car that the police never found. Like he's the one who killed your parents. And by cracking his skull clean open right now, you can fill the empty space that once held your heart with blood, and be whole again.

You pause and stare at the viciousness you just delivered. He's still got his arms crossed in front of his face, but they're brusied to hell and his face underneath is still bloodied. The origin of the blood on your knuckles is currently unclear. You grip Jack's forearms to pry them away from their crossed position in front of him, and they fall away surprisingly easily. Like it took all his strength to lock them there, and moving them any other way just caused them to collapse. You stare into his face, one eye is already swelling completely shut, but the other stares wide at you. And there's a look in it, that can only be described as fear. Not subdued, not nervousness, pure unbridled terror.

Well if he's afraid, you had better make him so afraid that he doesn't decide to ever come back.

"Done already are you?" you ask, trying to incorporate cold malice, and uncaring boredom into your voice.

You look up to his group of underlings, each one frozen in what you expect is the same fear their boss is currently feeling. You stand and turn away, then walk slowly toward your baseball bat. You pick it up by the handle, and walk your way back to Jack, dragging the barrel along the ground so that it makes a gratingly ominous noise as you walk. Almost like the sound of an executioner's axe of old, being dragged on its way to the chopping block. You stand next to Jack, who watched your approach with building dread, and tries feebly to crawl himself away. You plant your foot heavily on his gut, and raise your bat high above your head. You tense your muscles like you're about to swing down and put and end to him for good.

"Whoa whoa wait hold on!" the rat guy screams out. "We get it, we lost, you're gonna fuckin' kill 'im!"

You look slowly in his direction. "Exactly." you reply. "You idiots won't ever grow wise if you don't learn loss. If you wanna play like gangsters, then you gotta suffer like gangsters. Or else how would you ever go against someone like say, the Reapers? You think you're safe, just cuz what, they don't live up here?"

You see the gears turning in the tiny machines that are their minds, as they look at each other and pose each other questions in order to piece together what you're saying. One of them asks, loud enough for you to hear, "Wait, is he a Reaper?" And the fear that you initially saw crossing their faces, seems to double in intensity.

That wasn't the answer you were hoping they would come to, Lord only knows what would happen if the actual Reapers caught wind of some nobody using their name like this. But hey, if that thought process keeps them from coming back here, you'll take it.

"Alright," the rat starts up again. "Alright boss, we get it, we got hasty, we shouldn't be fuckin' with you. Just let us walk, we won't come back, I swear."

"Like I can believe that." you respond. You can feel Jack struggling under you so you press down with your foot a little harder. "You're worthless gangoons. You expect me to take you at your word?"

"Alright man, alright. Whatchu want?" the rat asks apparently attempting to barter for their poor bosses life.

You pretend to think, before you say, "What's his life worth to you?"

They immediately began patting themselves down, looking for money that they might have stashed, but the majority of them come up empty. Then like they're a hive mind all the dudes turn their heads and stare daggers at the two girls accompanying them. As if they're items to be bartered. The goth girl shows her first hint of emotion with a frown of momentary disgust. The squirrel however, does not react. She's not actually even paying attention to what's going on, she's staring at you. You stare back for a moment, and wonder if she's the only one to see through your horrible facade.

"I don't want anything from you bastards." you call out, to grab their attention. "I want you to get the trash outta my fuckin' center, like I told you last time, and I want your asses gone. For good. Can you handle that?"

"Yeah, yup, mhm." they answer. You step off of Jack and meander away from his position, giving the 6th Street goons time to scrape their boss off the ground for the second time, and leave. That squirrel kept taking long glances at you as she walked away though... What's up with her? Whatever, you leave the cages, shuffle over to a bench and drop down, exhausted.

Shelby is over you in moments with her hands thrown over your shoulders.

"I'm alive." is all you manage to eke out to her.

The look in her eyes is all over the place. You can't accurately place what emotion she's currently feeling, because it looks like she's cycling through them at mach speeds. She grips your face and turns it left and right, looking at what you assume are the wounds you received. Jack didn't hit too hard you think, but he did tag you a few times. Shelby steps back and gestures with her hands for you to wait. You want to ask what she's up to but she's zipped behind the counter into a closet type place before you can say anything.

Then a seperate approaching entity makes their presence known. The border collie who was very likely not expecting to get involved with this shit today.

"Oh, you're still here? Figured you'd have made a break for it soon as you could've." you mutter through your exhaustion.

"Wh-w-what was all that? What just happened?!" he asks, like he can't quite understand anything that he just saw.

"6th Street." you reply. Since that's basically the gist.

"I could see that. I meant why were they here? And messing with you? What'd you do to them?"

"Dunno how to explain it." you shrug. "Guess I'll just say, we got into it at one point, and now they wanna mess me up. So yeah. Would probably not be the best idea to come around here often."

Shelby returns with a first aid kit, and quickly goes to work on your cheek. Jack must've hit you a bit harder than you thought because whatever she's dabbing you with stings pretty bad. However you take it fairly well. The pain once again, is a reminder that you are alive. And right now, you feel pretty fuckin' alive. The other guy watches Shelby and you in silence. Shelby then moves onto your hands, dabbing them with the same solution that stings even worse now. After she finishes up, she once again smooths your hair from your face and looks into your eyes, searching them for somehing. Again, what, you do not know. However what you do know, based on the expression she shows, is that she found something, and she doesn't seem all too thrilled with what she saw. She looks at you with an emotion you can't quite decipher, but gives you no indication into what she's thinking.

"Well." you say as you stand up. "Might be time to bounce."

"Are you-" your concerned acquaintance begins. "Are you gonna be alright? Like, dealing with 6th Street? Should we maybe like, call the police? Or maybe you should like lay low for a while or something?"

You shrug. "Surprised you care so much for someone you just met. Someone who also almost put you in the danger you're worried about. I'll be alright. If they come back, I'll just deal with them again. For good next time."

You stare into the face of a distraught Shelby, who looks less than pleased at your mention of dealing with 6th Street for good. But you slide her your bank card to move on with the process of getting your ass home.

"Hey um." catches your attention. What, umm. What's your name?"

"Hmm? Oh, uh. Anon." you answer honestly.

"Anon." he repeats. I'm Morgan. It was uh. Nice to meet you."

"Right, sure it was." you say with another huff that was almost but not quite a laugh. But as you retreive your card and get ready to leave, you take another look at the border collie named Morgan. You're once again reminded of your friend and his androgyneous anime characters. Now that you're getting a good look at him, his features are kind of... Soft. You had a few anthro friends, so you kind of have an idea on recognizing certain traits, but. His hair is just about the same length as yours. Although his bangs are adequately trimmed so as not to blind him constantly like yours do. His eyes are, a surprisingly vibrant green, how rare. He's dressed boyishly, but he's kind of got this feminine look to his face. About five feet tall, maybe a little less. The overalls he's wearing are not only too large for him, but the right leg has a big tear in it and the left shoulder strap is broken or something, so the left side hangs pointlessly. Maybe they're old, or maybe it's a style choice. Either way, you can't subtly visualize anything that could tell you one way or another what gender he really is.Maybe anime is real and he's just one of those femboys your friend love/hates. Or maybe he's one of those non numerical people that you heard about a while ago on the internet. You really aren't sure, and for some reason the lack of a clear answer is beginning to bug you. Maybe you'll just ask. Chances are you'll never meet again, so even if he gets offended, it won't end too poorly for you.

"Morgan are you a-... What are- which, ummm." you start and completely fail.

He cocks his head as you attempt to piece whatever fractured sentences you have together.

"I was, just wondering, what-- y'know what, never mind. See ya around." you give up and make your way out the door and down the street before you can embarrass yourself anymore.

A new day calls you to the waking world. So you do what you always do, and roll yourself right out of bed. However it doesn't take long at all for you to pul yourself off the ground and rise with an energy you haven't had in a while. You actually feel. Kind of... Good. Well, not good per se, but all the abyssal emptiness that you normally feel is currently absent. You feel a bit numb, but not in a bad way. Maybe this is the feeling people get when they drink too much, or take drugs to numb their emotional pain. Which means, what, violence is your new drug? You don't really like the idea of that, you wouldn't want to become addicted to getting in fights, you really just didn't want 6th Street to keep messing with you and your place of peace.

Well, now that you slapped Jack around and put a primal fear in him and his goons, you probably won't have much of a problem with them anymore. You hope. After getting ready and proceeding with your repetitive and unnecessary daily actions, you leave and make your way down to the center. Expecting things to be exactly back to normal, you're instead greeted with the sounds of action. The pitch of the machine and the collision of a baseball with the gate mesh. Who else could it have been but Morgan? Back again, for whatever reason, even though he was a prime witness to the dangers that made themselves known in this very center. Dude must be braver than he looks, which is doubtful, or so bored with his days that he's willing to risk harm for a chance at entertainment.

You walk in, prepared to give Shelby the usual curt greeting, before you notice that Morgan's decided to occupy your batting cage. Which is a horrible travesty punishable by death. Not really, but it's the one you always use, and you refuse to break tradition. You give Shelby an immediate glare and accusatory shrug, wondering how she could allow this. She responds by shrugging back and placing a hand over her forever silent mouth. Right, she technically can't tell him to stay out. And at the same time, this is still a public space, you don't own cage number 3.

But as the man who was the sole patron to this center, you have unspoken dibs. You give Morgan here the courtesy of allowing him to finish the game he's on, even though he's still as bad at it as ever. Once the last ball spits out of the machine, he actually manages to hit it decently.

"Oi." you say, grabbing his attention. He spins around quickly, like he's been waiting for you to show up, pleasantly pleased grin on his face.

"Oh hey, look who's back." he says, like he didn't expect you to be here.

"Yeah exactly." you respond, alluding to his own return. "Anyway I need you to move."

"Uhh. What?" he asks, not quite able to understand the sudden demand.

"The cage you're in. This is mine. I use this one, all the time. So you gotta move."

"What? C'mon Anon, there's a bunch. You tellin' me you use this one every single time you come here?" he comments, seemingly unwilling to move. He's grinning like the situation is funny to him.

"Yes. I do. Now move. I'm serious." you say, lowering the pitch in your voice to hopefully give him the idea that you're not playing.

Unfortunately, he continues to joke with you, looking around the cage like he's searching for something, before he says, "Well you know what. I don't see your name anywhere around here, sooo."

You tried to keep things civil, but you're in no mood to be toyed with. Who does this motherfucker even think he is, walking into your place of peace and upheaving your state of consistency? Did he not see what you did to the last asshole who came in here thinking he could fuck with you?

"Look, I don't fucking care what you see or not!" you shout with a bit more passion than even you expected. "I told you to move so move!"

That gets his jovial attitude to make itself scarce as he practically folds in on himself in fear. He exits the cage, and sidesteps around you, keeping you in his line of sight as he scurries to the opposite side of the building all the way to cage number 10. You let out a huff of exasperation and turn to Shelby to get confirmation on the use of your specific batting cage. She's staring at you with this mix of anger and disappointment. You pay her glare no mind and step into the cage, kicking a few of Morgan's misses out of the way as you do. You take a few warm up swings while you wait for the machine to power on. You wait and wait. You hang your arms to your side and let out a sigh that comes off like a growl.

"Shelby!" you yell, without looking in her direction.

It's probably not best to get loud with the person who basically runs the place while the owner is MIA. You manage to catch the startup sounds of a pitching machine farther down the way, and guess that she started up a new game for Morgan. You look down that way and sure enough, Morgan goes to swinging at baseballs on his own. A few moments later your own machine powers on, so you hit the start button and go for it.

Beyond that, nothing is different. You hit ball after ball into target after target. However, oddly, you catch yourself glancing down towards the end of the building after every ball. Morgan's got no energy for the game now, it seems. Every ball now is a miss. Whatever, it's not your problem, you gave him precise instructions, it was his fault for not following. Granted, it's not like he knows the reason behind why you prefer this particular cage. No one but you and Shelby would know. And it is a public space, so honestly you didn't even have the right to boot him from the cage he chose. He got here first and everything, it was his to use by right.

You heave another sigh as your round finishes up. However instead of throwing yourself into the next one, you uncharacteristically set your bat down against the gate of the cage and exit. You wordlessly walk out and over to the nearby soda machine. Luckily it's more modern and takes card or you'd be out of luck since you don't carry any kind of cash. You swipe your card and hit the button for the drink you want... Then suddenly, without really thinking you hit it again. The machine vends you two properly chilled Dr. Beppers. So now you have two sodas... Why though? You unconsciously glance down the way again at a faltering border collie. You think he's moments away from giving up and going home or something.

... He better like Dr. Bepper or you'll just ban him from this batting center yourself. You cautiously and as silently as you can muster, make your way over to his cage. Of course, he's an anthro, so if he's paying any sort of attention, he'll hear you coming. But as you approach he doesn't make any sort of indication that states he notices, or cares for your presence. You wordlessly place the Dr. Bepper in front of the door to his batting cage so that he'd have no choice but to notice it when he came out. Then you quickly retreat to your own cage, down a good half of your soda, then set it to the side and start your next round.

You go back to it, sending all the balls that come your way into the targets. You glance quickly down the way but don't see any balls being pitched, or any trace of Morgan in the distant cage. So maybe he did pack it up and head home. That's fine, that just means you can go back to batting in peace now. You slowly fade into that ever present autonomy, batting robotically, over and over, into an almost trance-like state. The final ball of the round comes up and the tiny target descends. And as it comes out-

"Swing!" sounds off from right behind you. And once again, in your autonomous state, your distant memories miraculosly force your body into action and you swing, moments before you meant to, spectacularly whiffing the last ball.

And for some reason, that really pisses you off this time. You whirl around and find Morgan, standing at the door of your cage, cradling the soda you bought him carefully, like it's Grandma's antique teacup, with a huge grin on his face.

"I gotchu." he says, pleased with himself. You are not pleased in the slightest.

"You fuckin' kiddin' me?!" you blow up. "The hell you think you're doin'?!"

His grin falls away quickly and his grip on his soda bottle tightens. However he manages to stand his ground, however slightly. "I-I was just messing around. You know, like last time."

"Well I ain't havin' it!" you snap back. "Cut that shit out."

"The hell, you thought it was funny last time, didn't you? You were a good sport about it."

"It's only fuckin' funny the first time. Now yer just bein' a nuisance." you shake your head as you send your focus back down the lane to the pitching machine.

"Well, what's your problem?!" Morgan raises his voice at you. "I haven't done anything to you but you're blowing up at me like I did something wrong. You can't seriously be that pissed that I was using your cage."

"What's my problem?" you repeat. "In case you didn't notice, my biggest fuckin' problem just walked in here six men deep ready to fuck me up! I got off lucky yesterday, but who knows if it's gonna stay that way!"

You're angry, but not entirely sure why, or where it's all coming from. It's boiling up and flowing out like a broken faucet and you can't put a cap on it, so it just keeps going. And Morgan doesn't deserve it, but he's the only one within range to suffer it now.

"And it ain't that you're in here usin' my cage, it's that you're in here, spoiling my focus and ruining my routine!" you continue. "I don't need all these idiots coming in here, fucking up my sanctuary, I don't need 6th Street ready to merk me whenever my godddamn back's turned, and I don't need this random goddamn mutt, askin' me what my problems are like it's any of their fuckin' business!"

You pause to let every last word sink in.,

"That's what my fuckin' problem is." you finish.

And stare into the eyes of the border collie you just murdered with your violent words. He stares back at you dumbfounded, devoid of mental processes. But you see something fill his eyes akin to injury. He looks like he's actually about to cry, and you attribute it to the softness that he already displays, before you realize. In your haste and your wrath, you said a word that's actaully quite disrespectful to canine kind.

The realization dawns on you immediately, and snuffs out the fire in your soul surprisingly quickly. It's too late to take it back, so you remain adamant. You harden your expression to mask the building guilt attempting to take hold on it.

"M-mutt?" he repeats the offending word, anger and disgust and pain flashing across his face. "You're- I- you-"

He tries. He fails. He turns right around, slowly, mechanically. And walks right out the door and down the road. You stand perfectly still, at a loss yourself. You didn't mean to do that, to go that far. But something's going wrong with you. It's like a dam's burst open, filling the empty space within, but only with the negative emotions that died out years ago. If only you hadn't started that fight with Jack. Then you probably wouldn't have awoken to this strange need for conflict. But instead of remaining numbingly empty, now your heart space is being pumped full of violence, and that's definitely not a good thing. If it continues down this path, it won't be long before fistfights and the like aren't enough and you need to do even more terrible things.

And now you took all these negative feelings you're accruing and poured them out on Morgan, even though he was just trying to be friendly. You finally remember that you aren't the only person in the building and look at Shelby, hoping you can get some kind of input from her. You find her staring burning holes directly into you. Of course she would, you made a very rude comment about a fellow canine, it would be more concerning if she weren't angry. You watch her hit some buttons on her computer, and faintly here the powering down of the pitching machine behind you. So you can only conclude that she has decided that you're done for the day. Even though it's still extremely early in your day.

You exit the cage and walk up to her to pay for the games you did play.

"I. You know, I didn't mean to-" you start but she cuts you off with a hand held up. She wags her finger in the "no" gesture, then points to herself. Then she clasps her hands flat together in an apologetic fashion, then points out the door, while making a line in the direction that you assume Morgan went. So she's basically telling you not to apologize to her, but to Morgan.

"Well. Yeah, but. Kinda doubt I'll ever see him again now." you say, doubting he'd ever come back after what you just said.

A look of confusion crosses Shelby's face for a moment, though you aren't sure why. She opens her mouth like she wants to say something, but of course she can't. She closes her mouth and gives her lips a quick lick, looking to the ceiling as she seems to ponder something. But she brings her attention to you and after returning your bank card, shoos you with the "go away" gesture.

You take the hint and leave. As you do you look down the road to see if you can see Morgan from here, but of course he's long gone. So it's highly unlikely that you'll see him again now. But well, it's not like you aren't used to being alone. Pushing practically everyone away has become habitual by now. With nothing else to do, your only choice left is to return home and waste your hours away doing nothing.

You rise the next day surprisingly alert, after a day of absently playing video games. You hadn't done that in a long time so you felt super rusty. Luckily you were only playing single player games, no need to embarrass yourself or infuriate any random strangers again. You roll over out of bed, even though you didn't feel like you need to. But it's a habit at this point that you can't break. You look at your clock and find that it's about 8:30. You're up early, the center doesn't open till 10. But well, no reason to stick around here, might as well get ready anyway. So you do so, and get ready to walk out. As you make your customary move of checking your empty fridge, it occurs to you that you are actually hungry. So you resolve to stop somewhere for breakfast, even though most places around you are the fast food restaurants that you aren't too pleased with. Maybe you can find something appetizing close to the center that way you don't have to go too far out of your way.

Out the door and down the street, nothing you see is particularly calling to you, or it's all filling up in the early morning and you aren't too keen on waiting. You think you'll just tough it out a bit longer and get something from Heavy's on your return trip. Speaking of, you're coming up on Heavy's place now. You pass on the right side of the block on your way to the center, but come up on his side of the block on your way home. You've never spared his spot a passing glance in the mornings, but you notice that he's actually already open and set up, steam pouring from his little hut-like building. You cross the street(illegally, but who fucking cares) and walk up to Heavy.

"Heavy, you're open already?" you ask, stating the obvious. He turns and looks at you, surprised to see you here so early.

"Damn Anon. Out and about already, huh? Yeah I do breakfast too. Not that you'd know, you don't look at anything else on the menu." he chuckles to himself.

You shrug. "I like what I like." You do however look at the menu and find that yes, he does have a selection of breakfast style burgers. Interesting how a small change in your day can reveal completely different information that pertains to latter parts of it.

"Hey youngster, you alright?" Heavy asks, causing you to focus back on him.

"Hm? Yeah why?" you respond.

"Just. You don't look too good. Granted you had that same blank look on your face ever since back then, but now. I dunno, there's something else about it, can't quite tell. So, just wanna make sure you're good."

"Ohh. Well, yeah. I'm alright, just. Been going through some stuff recently, not at all pleasant. So I'm just trying to deal with it." you explain honestly but not too deeply.

"Damn, youngster. Like you don't have enough to deal with." Heavy shakes his head. "Life can't cut you any breaks, huh?"

"Honestly." you sigh. Granted, you're the one who brought these last few problems on yourself.

"Well. Stay strong Anon." Heavy says, to raise your spirits. "I can't do much for you, but I can at least fill your belly when you need it. Speaking of. How 'bout a breakfast burg? It's on me this morning."

"What? I mean, I'll take it man, but I'll pay for it. No need to-" you try to explain but he throws his hand up to cut you off.

"Let me, I insist. 'A simple act of kindness can create an endless ripple.' Pop always told me that quote, so I strive to live by it. 'Sides, I can hear your gut crying from here."

Back to the grill he goes with a laugh, to leave you with that earlier nugget of wisdom. You sit down and wait till whatever he's cooking up is done, When it is you retrieve it from him, sit back down and dig in. And it is fantastic. It's damn near the best thing you've ever eaten for breakfast. It could just be because you were hungry and the filling of your belly leads you to believe that this is a heavenly creation. Or it could be that it was nourishment granted to you from the kindness of another. You've gone so long avoiding everyone's kindhearted gestures for whatever insane reason, that you'd forgotten that being nice is actually pretty nice. Which only further reinforces the idea that you need to remove whatever seeds of wrath that are beginning to sow themselves in your heart. You toss your trash in the nearby bin and walk back up to Heavy.

"That was just what I needed Heavy, thank you... Thanks a lot."

"No problem, youngster." he nods and gives you a big friendly smile. "Look at that, you're looking a bit better already."

You don't know what he means, but you can only assume that something in your face has changed. You bid farewell and continue down the road to the batting center. You get there a couple of minutes after opeining time and walk in, expecting not much of anything. Your expectations are confirmed, as the only person there is Shelby, in her usual place, with her usual look. She notices your approach and you greet her with a quick "Good morning" before you look over to the third batting cage. You instantly remember all the bullshit you said yesterday. You look back at Shelby for a moment, before you turn around and seat yourself at a nearby waiting bench. Shelby looks a little surprised, but seems to kind of understand your actions. So you hunker down and begin to wait. And wait... And wait some more.

All the waitng is obviously pointless as there is no arrival of a friendly border collie that you clearly made unfriendly towards yourself. After how rude you were to someone you barely know, it's no surprise that they have no interest in returning. So you'll likely have to live with the shame of your actions from now on. Even though you had a conversation with yourself about treating people nicely, the day you met him.

You heave a sigh and stand, pondereirng what you should do in the moment. However your choice is made for you, as you catch Shelby mashing at her computer and the revving of the pitching machine makes its way to your ears. You shrug, might as well. You head to your batting cage and hit the start button. You swing and swing away. However, while you still make contact with every ball, your aim at the targets is slightly askew. You'll barely manage to catch the edges of them. At one point towards the end you straight miss a target, which means you don't get the tiny target at the end. But oh well, you aren't going for any world records or anything. If you were you probably would've acheived it long ago anyway.

You play a few games, but it's clearly that your game is off. You can't quite focus, nor do you achieve your state of autonomy. So you figure it's time to call it quits. You head up to the counter to pay and give Shelby a word of parting, before you take yourself home. Once you get home, you find yourself idling. You don't have too many hobbies outside of going to the batting center nowadays. And you don't work or take any classes, since you'll apparently be able to survive off of your parents' policy for a few good decades. You don't plan to wait that long to do something with your life, but your initial plans, going to college off of the baseball scholarship you were meant to receive, obviously are no longer in the cards. You give your bat a quick polish and try to idle the rest of your time by finding some interesting videos on Yewtube before you end the day.

Up and out you go on a another day. Earlier than normal again, just in case Morgan actually shows up for whatever reason. You head down the street and stop at Heavy's Hams for another breakfast burger. You pay for it this time and eat. And while it's still pretty damn good, it definitely tasted better yesterday. The reason being still unknown to you. You continue on and are in front of Old Man Lou's right as Shelby is unlocking the door for opening time. You greet her, walk in and sit at the bench you were at yesterday. Now comes the waiting again. And again you wait in vain. So after a while of pointless waiting, you play a few games. Once again, your head's not quite all in the game, so your skill is a bit dwarfed. But you power through and play about as many games as you would on any other normal day. Morgan still doesn't show up, so you conclude your day, and head back home.

The process repeats once again, albeit without the uncharacteristically early rising. Your hope for reconciliation is fading, so the energy you've been receiving to rise early is diminishing as well. You head to the center without stopping for breakfast this time., and show up some time after it's already open. You hear some chatter in the distance and hope sparks in you, only for you to find out that it's some middle school aged kids playing at the old school arcade cabinets off in the far corner. Old Man Lou's is one of the only places that still has classic cabinets that also only take quarters, so some people who like that kind of stuff do occassionally come in and make use of them. They don't look affiliated, so you have no need to pay them any mind.

So, it's probably time to safely conclude that you fucked up, and won't be able to make amends for it. After greeting Shelby, you walk into your batting cage, no need to wait like you were. Shelby sets up your game and you hit the start button. However your skill level today is amateur. You make contact with the balls but they go every which way, timing lost to you. They sail into the sky, or dive right into the ground. A lot of them dart off in ways that would be considered foul.

You convinced yourself long ago that you no longer had a heart, considering all the ways you blew off and neglected the people that cared for you. Apparently that's not entirely true considering the one time you deal with someone you don't even know well, is the time that seems to screw you up.

"Goddammit." you mutter to yourself as you attempt to hit ball after ball. You catch the sound of the front doors parting and closing, and not much other sound, so those kids from earlier are probably taking off already. However, you glance out of the corner of your eye, and manage through the gate mesh, to catch the sight of one still at the cabinets.

"So then who-" you think before your thoughts are spoiled by the pitching of the last ball of the round. You were half distracted so you couldn't follow its trajectory properly. You still swing attempting to at least make contact. The unimpeded arc of your bat and the sound of a ball making contact with the gate confirm that you missed. The first time you've ever missed a ball naturally, not counting Morgan's pranks. You sigh heavily and facepalm in silent despair.

"Damn. You suck now, what happened?" are the words that attack you from behind.

A familiar voice, you whirl around and stare into the face of that familiar border collie.

"Morgan?" you ask, as if you don't quite believe he's in front of you.

"Who else would it be? You don't seem to hang out here with any other friends."

That last word surprises you. He can't possibly consider you friends after a day of casual conversation, followed by you damn near biting his head off.

"I just. Didn't expect you to come back." you explain. "I'm surprised you did."

"Yeah, figured I'd give you some time to cool down." he responds.

"What? Why?" you ask as you open the cage and make your way out to speak to him face to face.

"Well you got in a fight the day before, so I'm just guessing that even though it was over and done you were still feeling a bit. Confrontational." he says, bringing his hands up and throwing two short jabs at the air. "So I thought I'd let you cool down before I came back."

"No no, I mean like, why give me time at all? We aren't exactly, y'know, close friends, and I was pretty dickish." you tell him. "Don't really see why you'd wanna bother after that."

"Well." he starts, looking around the almost empty batting center. "Not to be rude, but you look like you can use a friend. Luckily for you, I've been told that I'm quite the friendly individual."

You snort, because again, the muscles in your throat that create laughs are deeply withered.

"Friendly cuz you're a dog?" you think to yourself. You wonder if canines of most species still have that unnatural friendliness baked into their genes.

"Well what's that gotta do with anything?" Morgan asks, once again reading your mind. Or not.

"Shit, I mean- nothing, never mind." you blurt out hoping not to offend him any more than you already have. Speaking of though. "Morgan. I'm sorry. About all the stuff I said the other day. I didn't mean any of it, I was just-"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." he interjects.

"What? You know, the things I said, when-"

"I literally have no idea what it is you're talking about." he says again, emphasing his sentence.

You take the hint then. He's telling you to forget about it, because he already has, or something.

"Alright, well. Alright." you say in acknowledgement. "Well. As you can see, I don't have much of a head for baseball today, so." You pause and think for a moment, wondering if there's anything you can offer to smooth over your grievance without directly stating that it's to do so. And then you remember the words of your local burger smith, and a simple idea comes to you.

"Are you hungry, by any chance? It's a bit early for it, but I'm thinking of getting lunch."

His eyes widen astronomically at the mention of food. "Absolutely. But I uh. I don't have any money, so I wouldn't. Y'know."

You think back to the day 6th Street rolled in here and tried to shake him down when they latched onto him like leeches. They expressed their disappointment at finding nothing of worth on him... Now that you look at him again. Are those the same overalls he wore the day you met him? The shirt, might be different, but these ones have the same tear in the right leg and the same broken strap for the shoulder that you noticed last time. Hmmm. You're once again reminded of the offhand comment he made about you being alright in the same way that he's alright.

"Don't worry dude, it's my treat." you tell him. "I offered the idea of lunch, so it's on me to pay for this one."

"Haha, if I didn't know better, I'd almost think you're trying to take me on a date." he laughs.

You stare at him with all the blankness you can muster. "Don't make it weird, dude."

"Yup, my bad." he immediately apologizes.

You stare at him a bit, into his green eyes that momentarily avoid casting in your direction, and conclude that he was definitely joking and there was nothing more to that comment other than to be funny.

"Anyway," you say. "You good with burgers?"

"I'm good with anything." he answers.

"Cool." You sling your bat over your shoulder and make your way over to Shelby. "Taking off early Shelby. I'll pay for my game. I might be back though."

She's strangely happy. She takes your card, huge smile on her face.

"Why're you so smiley?" you ask.

She shrugs, still grinning, and hands you back your card. You take it and shrug to yourself as you walk to the door, Morgan already waiting for you.

"Alright, let's go." you say, and head out the door, new friend at your side.

Too bad, you don't have much to say, now that what you wanted to say has been said, and what was previously said has been forgiven. You walk in silence for a while, lacking a topic. Morgan doesn't sem to mind though, walking in tandem as silent as you. However, in a few moments you'll have an acceptable reason to be silent, as you arrive at Heavy's Hams.

"You ever been here?" you ask.

"Nope. Is it good?" he asks.

"Goddamn right." you reply, as you step up to the counter. "Ay Heavy."

"My boy Anon, here for lunch a bit earlier than normal huh?" Heavy says as he turns from his grill to face you. And sees Morgan standing right next to you.

He pauses, looks between the two of you for a while. Then takes a nearby napkin and wipes his eyes, like the grill smoke was blinding him and causing him to see hallucinations.

"Anon you're hangin' out with a friend?!" he howls. "You're making friends again!"

He holds his hand up to his face like he's about to break down and cry.

"Heavy, I will leave and never come back." you threaten.

"Alright alright, I'm sorry." he says. It's just, a good sight to see. You finding people to spend your time with. I remember you and your friends comin' by on your off days way back when. So maybe I'll get to see somethin' like that again soon."

"Yeah, I doubt it. Anyway." You look to Morgan." Go ahead, whatever looks good. Like I said, it's on me."

"Well don't say 'whatever', I might end up putting you in debt." he says with a small laugh.

"You won't, trust me. Just get whatever you want and don't think twice about it."

"Alright then." he says. "Then I want that."

You look to what he's pointing at. The Heavy Hammer. It's like two thick ass patties with avocado and barbecue sauce and stuff. The meal comes with a fat side of onion rings and a ridiculously huge cup with this fancy ass lemonade that Heavy mixes up himself. You look down at Morgan, attempting to inspect the stomach region of this not entirely large canine.

"Uhh, you sure about that, dude? It's a pretty massive burger."

"'Whatever I want', you said." he repeats. "Or you goin' back on me now?"

"Nope." You raise your empty hand in surrender. "If that's what you want. Heavy, lemme get the Hammer and the... Y'know what. Two Hammers."

Heavy stares at you in utter disbelief.

"... Change every once in a while is good." you say in response to his wide eyed stare.

Nevertheless, he rings it up. "You can grab a seat while I pay." you tell Morgan.

He nods and walks over to one of the several open tables. As you grab your card and place it into Heavy's card reader, you look up and notice him bouncing his eyebrows rythmically while giving you this funky grin.

"... What?" you ask, a little disturbed.

"Nice friend you made." he whispers, almost conspiratorially. "Real cute."

You glance at Morgan who's found a seat and is looking in your direction, and then stare back at Heavy, who's gone back to performing his eyebrow dance.You give him this deeply squinted "What the fuck" look, but leave it at that. You're just going to ignore whatever the hell Heavy is insinuating. Just because you haven't had a girlfriend, doesn't mean you're out here batting for the other team. You make your way over to where Morgan's seated. Unfortunately, the moment where you could comfortably be silent is not now. So you sit awkwardly, wondering how necessary it is to think of a conversation topic. Luckily, Morgan is much better at this whole "making new friends" thing than you are at the moment.

"So what got you into baseball?" he asks. "You said you've been going to that old center for a really long time, right?"

"Happened to play it once back in sixth grade." you explain. "Got hooked and wanted to play it every single day for the rest of my life."

"Oh yeah? So what, you want to go pro or something?"

You gaze at the sky wistfully. "I did."

"You did?" he parrots. "So then what happened?"

And you ponder to yourself if you want to tell this story. Morgan's alright, but you've known him for a collective three days. Should you really bare your tragic story to someone you pretty much just met? Maybe you should just keep it vague, no reason to get too deep into it at the moment.

"Let's just say, I lost my reason for wanting to do so."

"Hmmm." he hums. And looks at you, searching. Almost in the same way as Shelby, just without the whole parting the curtains that is your hair to gaze through your soul windows. "I don't know, I get the feeling you lost, a lot more than just that."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "What's that mean, now?"

"I dunno. But, it's like. Looking at your face, I can kind of tell that something is really wrong. Like you're surprsingly well put together on the outside, but like, on the inside is a different story."

"Pfft. If this," you wave a hand in front of you as if presenting yourself. "Is well put together, then I'd hate to see what falling apart looks like."

"Right." He shrugs. "Well I mean, that's just what I see. I'm not a psychologist or anything."

"Well. You're not wrong. My life's not entirely in its best stages at all." You watch him nod along, likely giving you free reign to continue speaking. "But well. It's a pretty serious mood killer, so. I dunno if you'd be comfortable hearing it."

"Only if you're willing to share." he says quickly. "Wouldn't wanna pry too deep or anything. I probably can't do much to help. But people say talking through your problems helps out somehow."

You think it over again. Do you want to share this story with Morgan? Again, he seems alright. Sharing might not make the possibility of your friendship any worse. Besides, sharing your story might get him to share his. That comparison he made between himself and you still sits uneasily with you. It didn't seem like a simply offhand remark.

"Two Hammers!" Heavy calls from behind you, so you're given no more time to question yourself. You jump up and retrieve the two platters he placed on his counter. You slide Morgan's plate to him and he stares voraciously at the mass of meat that is his burger , like he's trying to consume the entire thing with his eyes instead.

"Having regrets?" you ask, watching him stare.

"Nope." he says.

And that's the last word you get out of him for a while as he almost literally attacks his burger. You stare with a bit of fearful awe as he takes chunks out of his meal. Like, compared to him, you're practically nibbling at this thing like a rabbit. Sauce and avocado are smearing onto the sides of his face but he doesn't give a fuck. He pauses on the burger to inhale a stack of his onion rings and wash it all down, then resumes his ravenous consumption. He finishes his burg and onion rings by the time you're barely halfway through your own. And halfway feels like your stopping point. This thing was even bigger than the picture presented it. You're practically full and you haven't even touched your onion rings. You set the rest of your burger on its plate and wipe your mouth with some napkins. Your male pride shames you for losing to this smaller individual, but at the same time, if you try and force it, you'll waste your money and Heavy's handicraft. All over the floor too, most likely.

As you sit and wonder if Heavy has to-go boxes or something you could put this in, you catch Morgan looking at you, and taking not quite so subtle glances at your plate. He eventually notices you returning his gaze.

"What, you done?" he asks, trying to play things cool.

"Dude, this thing was huge. I don't even know how you finished it." you throw your arms up in defeat. "So yeah, I'm done with it. I'd hate to waste it though."

You turn around to look toward Heavy's shop and see a couple of people in line to order. Yeah, maybe you can get a to-go box. But you don't really want to carry it around until you go home. If you're going to decide to go back to the batting center, it might not even be the best idea. You right yourself in your seat, to find Morgan slyly pulling your plate toward himself.

"You can't be serious." you sputter.

He pauses his subtle theivery immediately. "Oh! Sorry, it sounded like you didn't want it, and you said you didn't want to waste it. B-but I should've asked, my bad, I'm just-"

"No no no." you cut him off. "I mean, you can't be serious in wanting to eat the other half of that burger."

"... Why not?" he asks innocently. "I mean, if it's because you bit into it, it's fine, I'll just-"

"That's a lotta fuckin' food dude, where are you putting it all?"

He stares at you and the plate he's stolen, and some sort of realization seems to dawn on him. He gets this look of embarrassment on his face. Though you aren't quite sure why. He awkwardly adjusts some of his ill fitting clothes. And then you get a dawning of realization as well. Maybe he isn't eating enough. Maybe that's why his clothes don't fit like they should. Maybe he's wearing the same pair of overalls he wore a few days ago, because he doesn't have money to buy more. Which means maybe he doesn't have the money to buy food whenever he wants either. Maybe you're thinking about it too hard, you shouldn't make assumptions about people.

"Well." you say. "I guess that just means you liked Heavy's food so much that you want more. So go for it, that's all you."

"You sure?" he asks. "I mean I don-"

"But I still want those onion rings, so hand 'em over." you say, cutting him off and reaching over to grab the stack of onion rings. You turn your attention down the street, and eat the onion rings, effectively putting an end to the conversation and his apprehensions.

You put down as many rings as you can, but you eventually hand those off to Morgan too and he gladly accepts. After you're finished eating, you toss the trash and return the platters, giving Heavy a fond thanks and farewell. You walk to the corner of the end of the block and idle for a bit.

"Thanks. For lunch, Anon." Morgan says.

"No prob. It's on you next time though." you say with a gentle nudge to his arm.

"Oh uhh. Yeah. Sure." he says. You can kind of tell by his tone of voice that he wouldn't be able to hold up that promise if it were made.

"Anyway." you say. "I'm probably gonna go back to the center for a while longer. What about you?"

"Well I've got nothing better to do, so maybe I'll just go with you." Morgan responds. "Maybe you can teach me how to hit properly so that yoiu don't look at me like I'm an affront to your sacred game."

That huff in the style of a broken laugh exits your throat. "Sure if I feel like it."

So you both return to the batting center. However instead of playing himself, Morgan prefers to watch you play. Luckily for you, your skill returns in full force, now that the turmoil within has been quelled to a degree. Everything is as it should be. Although Morgan watching you so intently does throw you off a bit. You offer to give him some pointers on hitting but he turns you down for the moment, insisting that he wants to gain some insight by watching. It's easier to learn by doing you think, but whatever floats his boat. Although after a good while, you conclude that it's about time to go home. So you pay once again for the games you played and say your goodbyes to Shelby, and now Morgan.

"See you tomorrow?" he asks.

"Well. Sure. You know where I'll be."

And with that you take your leave and head home for the evening.

And so, you spend a week hanging out with Morgan at the batting center. Although your hangouts mostly consist of you hitting baseballs for a while as he silently watches you do so. Then once you take a break, you'll attempt to engage in conversation. The problem there being, you don't have a single thing to talk about. You have no other hobbies really and you're largely disconnected from the world, so you have no relevant news to talk about. Morgan is strangely the same way to a point, with nothing to speak about in the way of new televeision shows or movies, or worthwhile pieces of media in general. So many of his stories when he decides to talk about something are about his days in school and his friends, or events that happened to his friends, and the like. He had an interesting amount of female friends, judging by his stories, but you let that fact pass by you.

He graduated high school just a few months ago, but all his friends took off for college or immediately started working and the like. Though while he still sees the ones who are working, they're usually far too busy to hang out, and he's got no way to keep in contact with the others, as he lacks a phone, so he's in the same boat as you. Which makes sense as to why he was so accepting of your faults and willing to be friends. A pair of lonely hearts, you were.

In fairness, you recounted your own high school days, which were vastly more exciting, according to him. Although you omitted your own high school graduation and the heart wrenching tragedy that came with it. The subject of your hollow being never resurfaced, and you've got no real reason to bring it up, so you don't feel the need to talk about it.

Beyond chatting about nothing in particular, you took him back to Heavy's for lunch a couple of times. He got a more suitable meal for a person of his stature, and actually took the time to savor them instead of demolishing them like the first time. Afterwards though he'd say that he's got the next one.

"Good," you told him. "Cuz you're accruing a debt."

He almost panicked when you told him that with your blank face that feigns complete sincerity. Before you added "One day, and that day may never come, I'll call upon you to perform a service for me." in perfect mimicry of The Godfodder.

Once he figured you were joking, he found that surprisingly funny. Which is good, you have no reason to worry about money, unlike him apparently.

You didn't neglect to notice that he was once again wearing those same overalls, and while they don't seem particualrly dirty, they are indeed the exact same pair. A couple of thoughts as to why that could be ran through your head, the first one being, he's actually homeless. Which probably wouldn't be too farfetched in this city. So you secretly gave him a sniff to see if he smelled a few days old, but he actually smelled pretty good. A little fruity, but you won't judge what people choose to use to keep clean. You remember the story of your mom using your dad's body wash and shampoo so much that he just ended up buying extra just for her.

Anyway, you've got no reason to ask, and he's got no reason to tell. Same with your situation. So if it remains that way, then that's just how it'll stay. So today, a brand new day, you're in your batting cage like always. With Morgan in the cage next to yours. It's finally been decided that you would show him how to hit properly. So you're currently starting with the basics.

"Relax your grip a bit." you explain. "Don't gotta hold it like you're trying to strangle it.."

"What if it slips out of my hands when I swing?" he asks.

"You'd pretty much have to want that to happen, I think. You'll naturally grip it right during your swing anyway."

He follows your instructions and adjusts his grip.

"Now align your feet." you continue.

"Align?" he questions. "Like with my shoulders or?"

"No, like imagine you've got your toes against a line." you explain, drawing a straight line across the ground with the tip of your bat. "Standing square or open is up to preference, but keeping aligned is a must."

He once again does as you direct. You nod in satisfaction, taking a quick look up and down to see what else needs work.

"Oh. Raise your arms a bit higher." you say, and watch him alter. "Nope, not that high... Well, not that low either... Right about there. That should be good."

"You know." he says. Isn't it at moments like this where you're supposed to come over here and show me how I'm supposed to be standing and stuff?"

"What? I don't see why. You're following instructions properly."

He turns to face you. "Yeah, but. You're supposed to be, over here guiding me on how to stand and stuff. Showing me how to stand and hold the bat. Like in movies, you know."

His tone of voice seems to be suggesting something. But you really have no idea what he's talking about.

"... What kinda baseball movies have you been watching?" you ask with genuine confusion.

"Not baseball movies exactly, just- y'know what, never mind." he gives up, and goes back to fixing his stance.

You stand there, unsure of what that was about. But recover and move on.

"Alright, well. Best thing to do now is to just start up and see how well you can do." you say.

"Huh?" he mumbles. "Shouldn't I like, try practice swings or something?"

"Nah, best way to learn is by doing. Just jump right into it." you tell him as you round the open corner to his cage and get ready to hit the start button for his machine.

However before you do you catch sight of the worst possibility you could've seen. Dark clothes, ugly green bandanas. Some heinously familiar faces striding up to the front of the batting center. They open the doors and the rest file in and stand across from each other in some sort of rank and file procession. Even Jack, who's face doesn't look like it's been healing very well, steps off to the side as well. The last one to come in, damn near puts a lump in your throat just by the sight of him alone. Unnaturally large, covered in pitch black fur. This big ass black bear stomps his way in, scowling as he looks around the center with disinterest. Then his gaze lands on you, and his scowl shifts to a menacing grin.

"That the guy?" he asks, giving a slight side eye to Jack. Jack gives a single nod, his gaze downcast.

You cast quick looks at your surroundings. Morgan's face is painted with worry as he looks between the new arrival and you. Shelby has a confrontational hardness to her face. You take a deep breath to calm yourself. You can already feel which direction this is about to head, so you had best prepare yourself immediately. You grip your bat painfully tight as that huge black bear walks slowly up to you.

"Don't mean to interrupt." he says as he leans up against the cage door, looking between you and Morgan. Morgan practically shrinks under his oppressive gaze. "But I'm told we got a problem, so I gotta come fix it."

The bass in his voice feels like it's shaking your bones. His size is so unnatural, you almost feel like he's not real. Like, from what you know black bears are supposed to be the smallest of bear species, but this bastard is like a polar bear with tar black fur.

"And, what problem would that be?" you ask, still projecting the emotionless inflection of your voice.

"You apparently." he answers. "You messin' up my boys, makin' 'em scared. They came in tremblin' as they told me about you. Sayin' it looks like they crossed some lone Reaper haunting some piece of trash baseball spot." He looks at you. Deeply, appraisngly. For a very long, uncomfortable moment. "But you don't really give off Reaper vibes to me. So I think you're bluffing. It was a good bluff, you got my boys to fold. But I ain't so easy."

You stare at this gargantuan mass. Then carefully step away from Morgan's batting cage and over to your own. So that you can get a clear look the rest of the idiots still standing near the door.

"So let me get this straight. I messed you punks up. I beat Jackie one on one into the dirt. The rest of you losers had to beg me not to mash his head into paste. And you repay my mercy by running to your daddy like little girls. No wonder you're the least repected gangoons in the city."

"You won't be talking all that good shit when Tiny stomps a hole in your chest!" the rat, who had to beg you not to slaughter Jack screeches.

The black bear, who cannot possibly be Tiny, glances back at him calmly, and the rat is silenced immediately and falls back into line. This guy. This giant slab of meat, is called Tiny. That's not funny, not a t all.

"There's no fucking way they call you 'Tiny'." you say out loud, stunned beyond all comprehension.

He brings his attention over to you, and shrugs indifferently. So that's really his nickname. Alright, well, you've already made enemies of them, and you've antagonized them about as much as possible, so you're definitely on their permanent shit list. So there's absolutely no reason not to piss them off even further. If you're gonna die here, you might as well go out having a laugh at their expense.

"Oh you know what. I get it." you say, nodding in understanding. "It's not referring to your build or anything, that would be ridiculous. I'm guessing some lady you spent some time with wasn't all that satisfied with what you had going on below, so she told all her friends, and the name just stuck with you. That's gotta be it." You look around and find the two girls who are always a part of this mob. "Am I right or wrong?" you direct your question to them.

The goth chick says nothing and rolls her eyes. The squirrel holds a hand over her mouth and attempts to stifle a laugh. Tiny however, does not seem to find that funny in the slightest, as he steps in front of you and practically rips the cage door open to step in with you. You take a few quick steps back and bring your bat up, ready to swing.

"Ah. So it's gonna be like that, huh?" Tiny asks, amused. He looks back to his group and gives them some sort of signal. They spread about the center, mainly blocking the doors. The coyote guy skirts around the edge toward Shelby's counter, and while she was staring daggers at Tiny's advance toward you, she didn't notice this scrawny shitter sneaking up on her and practically swiping her phone from right out of her hands.

"Keek. Don't need no uniforms gettin' called before the Boss is done with that bastard." he laughs.

Shelby looks ready to jump clear over the counter and tackle him down for her phone, but another guy and even the goth chick stand shoulder to shoulder with the coyote, effectively cowing Shelby's advance. Once Tiny looks convinced that he can proceed with minimal worry, he looks over at Morgan.

"You gonna back him up?" he asks Morgan while nodding his head in your direction. "Shit, he's gonna need it. But it'd be a real bad idea."

"Morgan. Out." you say quickly and decisively. He looks over at you, ready to protest, but you know for a fact that even if he wanted to his entire being would deny him the chance. "Once again, as bad as it is, you'd be far better out there than here. They won't mess with you. Because if they even think about doing so, I'll just have to finish what I started the other week." You burn your gaze into Jack's eyes as you finish that last sentence, so that he gets the message. He seems to, and owing to the fear you carved into him, he gives the rest of his gang a quick accusatory glance. They catch the look and seem to alter their stances a bit, to show that they won't do anything. Although, Tiny catches the amount of control you seem to demonstrate over his own gang, and, while he's smiling, it seems forced and a bit spiteful. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out. A knife. Black handle, a strange ring on the back of the handle, the blade itself deeply curved. It doesn't look normal, it must be foreign. He loops his giant first digit through the ring and holds the handle of the knife itself in the style of like, horror movie slashers. Though he stands straight, no stance, no defensive posture. Like you're not worth actually trying for, or he can't be bothered with getting into a combat stance for you.

Okay, so now you're definitely panicking. You can feel your heart pounding, you can tell your breath is quickening, and you're almost sure that the first emotion to fill your eyes in years is currently fear. As evidenced by the wicked grin of satisfaction currently creeping along Tiny's vicious maw.

"Technically, you pulled a weapon first. So I'm only answering in kind." he says with a nonchalant shrug.

You tighten the grip on your bat even harder. After an eternity of boring holes into you with a gaze filled with the promise of violence, Tiny begins to lumber maliciously toward you.

With the size of this bear, the knife he's walking at you with might as well be the toothpick he uses after lunch, but it's practically a machete from where you're standing. You back up instinctually. You want to remain as far away from him and that thing as you can manage. You continue to backpedal straight back until you remember that there will eventually be a wall where the pitching machines are set. You glance over your shoulder for a mere moment to see how far away from the wall you are. And that mere moment is enough for this huge goliath to take advantage of. He springs forward faster than a creature of his size should and swings his arm out. You react instantly to the approach of a fast moving object and swing your bat out, attempting to make contact. You collide with his outstretching arm, stopping his advance. He pulls back and looks at his arm. Then rubs it gently, like he was just bit by a mosquito and it just kind of itches. Then he looks at you and puts that malicious grin back on his face.

You continue to backpedal down the width of the center's field now, preparing yourself to make a swing if he gets within range. He walks slowly, but suddenly throws his leg forward and lunges several steps forward into your range. He brings his arm up, but you go low and swing with as much power as you can at his ungaurded and outstretched leg. It's like hitting an oak tree with a stick. You pull back to escape the range of his knife, only to take a massive left hook to the face that throws you back several feet onto your ass. You pick yourself up instantly as you throw yourself back to avoid any advantage he may press.

Lucky for you, he didn't try to end you while you were on the ground for that split second. He continues to advance slowly, methodically. Like he's one of those unkillable monsters in horror games that chase you down the hallways. And kill you in one hit when they catch you. And it's only a matter of time until he catches you. So if he's going to keep advancing so slowly, you're going to make him fight for every inch. Maybe you can take a few teeth out before he guts you. You rear your bat back, and stand ready to knock his head clear into the stands. He smirks and continues to walk up to you.You pull back, and swing. Downward. Arcing your baseball swing into a kind of golf swing. You come full force upward and right into the bottom of his chin. His head is thrown skyward and he stops his advance. He brings his head down and holds his jaw with a look of genuine pain on his face. He spits a glob of blood at his feet, then turns his gaze up at you. So now you are staring into the eyes of a very, angry black bear.

He swings his knife at you now as he closes in on you. You swing your bat at him whenever he whiffs a knife strike. You're getting more reckless wih your spacing. You've changed from backpedalling to pretty much strafing around him in circles. Staying just far enough out of the reach of his blade, but close enough to tag him with your bat. You tag him right in the kneecap with enough force for him to almost trip. However he comes forward on his unstable footing and swings his knife at you. It comes close enough to your face that you can practically taste the metal, but it doesn't make contact, luckily. You throw yourself back considerably, that close call reminding you to keep your goddamn distance. Tiny turns to you, with a bit of a wobble in his stance. So it must be working.

Instead of focusing on his upper half and the futility that would bring, you figured you would work at his lower legs. Holding up all that bulk on busted legs would be difficult, and if he can't approach you, he likely can't stab you. He swings his arm out, and you swing straight down, hammering his knuckles with your bat. That seemed to get a good reaction as he lets out a groan of pain, pulls his arm back, and takes a step backward. You follow up with the momentum you've gained and hit him as hard as you can right at the bend of his knee. All your work is paying off as he bends and takes a knee on the ground. You pull back and ready yourself to crack his dense skull open with a game winning Grand Slam style hit. You fire forward with all the strength you can muster. And make contact...

But not the kind of contact you were hoping for.

His head is perfectly intact. His eyes smoldering with hate. And clasped in his outstretched left hand. Is the barrel of your baseball bat. This behemoth caught your bat, stopped its momentum with his bare fucking bear hand. You slowly feel that fear welling up in you again. He pushes himself off his knee and stands to his full height right in front of you.

Oh yeah. Here comes the "kill you in one hit" move. You pull backward on your bat to wrench it from his grasp in vain. He counters your pull with a pull of his own, and you slide a few inches forward. Then he applies a steady force and slowly reels you in like a fish on a hook that's lost all its fight. He raises his knife as he does so, the killing blow imminent. So there's only one thing you can do. The only item in your life that holds any clear meaning to you. You release it, abandoning it to the monstrosity before you, and fall backward out of the reach of his knife.

He looks at his brand new prize, turns it around in his hand, and slings it over his shoulder, declaring new ownership. Now defenseless, there really isn't much you can do. This is what it means to lose everything. Your place of peace disrupted the moment these shitlords brought themselves in here, your only item of worth in the hands of a behemoth who will do God knows what with it.

Whatever. It's fine. Maybe this just means it's time to let go. Lord knows you haven't really had the strength to move on, to find a reason to keep going. Every day has been automatic and repetitive. You've felt like nothing more than a husk for a while now. Maybe it's time to free yourself from that husk.

You stand up, take a deep lingering breath, exhale slowly, and raise your head. Tiny walks up to you. You look behind you to your left, towards Shelby. Silent as always, her eyes reveal the wealth of emotions she seems to be feeling. Behind you on your right is Morgan, right up against the cage door, staring wide eyed and terrified. You bring your gaze back to Tiny, mere steps away from you, ready to bring it to an end.

... Fuck that noise. Like you told yourself before. If you're gonna go. You won't go without a fight! You about face instantly and sprint towards the cage doors. Ahead of you, the 6th Street goons notice your rush and break toward the doors to halt your escape. Behind you, you can hear the hammering steps of that big ass black bear barreling toward you. You run right up to the gate that Morgan was staring at you through. He reflexively steps back as he witnesses your charge. You really hope this old ass cage door can support your weight.

You don't slow down. You step within a few feet of the gate, and push off the ground and onto the gate door. You take two short steps to keep your forward momentum going and pivot, pushing yourself off the gate door and directly into the opposite direction of where you were originally going. And right in the path of your newly forward motion is a giant mound of flesh that was rushing himself forward to chase you, and can't slow himself down. You throw your legs straight out and dropkick him with both legs directly in his ugly damn face, his forward motion colliding with yours and doubling the amount of force you hit him with. It works out to your advantage as he gets thrown backward a decent way, while you hit the ground right where your kick connected with his face.

The distinct clatter near you rings in your ears, and instantly, hope is restored. You shoot up and look to your side. Tiny was likely so surprised by your final gambit that he dropped your bat. You pick it up and run at him, all caution lost. He hit the ground flat, but is barely picking himself up by the time you reach him. You practically tackle him back to the ground, and hovering over him, exuding all the menace and hate that he showed you, you bring your bat straight up and right down against his skull. Bears are thick headed, so you probably can't kill him with this. But you're damn sure gonna try! You bring your bat up and down again and again and again, hammering his skull relentlessly. Those seeds of wrath have grown into a flower garden of rage, the intoxicating aroma has seduced you completely. You don't stop bashing his skull in until the fight leaves his body and he goes limp. You rise and stare down at him, wondering if he's actually dead. But for the sake of appearances, you're going to pretend you don't care.

You turn around, and walk toward the cage doors again. You try to keep yourself in this agitated state, just in case the rest of these goons get ready to try something. You exit the cage, and watch as everybody who was previously ready to bar your escape, take massive steps back. You stare at them, attempting to emulate a deep demonic need for violence and bloodshed.

"Who's fucking next?" you growl as you pass your gaze over each remaining gangster.

No one replies. No one moves. No one even breathes too quickly, for fear of acquiring your ire. And then you hear a gasp. You shoot your glare over, and find that it's Morgan staring at you. Or, more like, staring at a part of you. His eyes are cast lower than you'd expect, so you attempt to follow his gaze. And see something you weren't expecting, or hoping to see, lodged in your side.

It seems your final gambit was double edged. Probably when you began to bludgeon Tiny to near death at the end there. Whether purposefully, accidentally, or what have you, he managed to jab you in the side with his knife. It's still there, sticking out of you ominously. You didn't even feel it, but now that your attention is on it, it's beginning to hurt. This could be bad, you aren't sure what you should do. You think if anything pierces you like this, you're supposed to leave it in... But in order to attempt to remain the demon you've forged yourself into, you do something stupid. You grip the edge of this weird curvy knife. And wrench it free from your flesh. You hold it up, admiring it for a moment like Tiny did with your bat, before throwing it straight down onto the ground.

"I said. Who. The fuck. Is next?" you repeat.

The entire 6th Street gang collectively nopes, raising their hands straight to the sky in the truest form of surrender.

"No? Nobody? Jackie?" you question. He shakes his head fervently. "You." you say, pointing the end of your bat at the coyote. He freeezes and stares like Death itself has called him.

"Phone." you say as you point your bat toward Shelby. He places it gently on her desk and lifts his head straight up in some sort of ancient display of submission.

"Now. I'm only going to say this shit one last time." you speak slowly. "Get, the fucking trash, out of my center. And don't. Ever. Come back."

The mass of them carefully sidestep around you, arms still raised sky high, as they go to retrieve their true boss. It takes all of them to even move his fat ass, but they manage to get him out and began lugging him away. The goth girl comes up to you, crouched low, reaching out to grab Tiny's weird dagger. You throw your foot over the top of it and deny her.

"No." you say simply as you stare down at her.

She nods and retreats instantly. However, at the same time as she retreats, the squirrel girl comes up to you. Saying nothing, she stares into your eyes for a long time. You wish they'd all fucking get lost by now because your wound is really starting to hurt and you're certain it's seriously leaking. However you refuse to show weakness and stand strong in the face of all of 6th Street's goons. She goes from staring at you, to running her eyes up and down, appraising you in your entirety. Then back up to your eyes, she smiles and gives you this half lidded, flirtatious look and walks away, following the rest of her group out the door.

You stand unmoving until you're positive that they're gone and none of them will come back to see what a fucking huge liar you are. Then you relax your body, your bat clatters to the ground, you fall to your hands and knees. The first person to reach you is Morgan.

"Oh my God!" he cries, several octaves higher than his voice should probably reach. He puts a hand on your back and one on your shoulder. "He's bleeding! L-like a lot!"

Shelby launches over the counter with surprising dexterity and reaches you with maddening speed. She inspects you and finds your wound. She goes into action, first moving Morgan around. She's situating behind you, but then you feel hands on your shoulders that reel you back until you're lying on your back, with a slight elevation. You find your head in Morgan's lap with him sitting on his knees or something.

"Well this is weird." you say idly and to no one in particular.

Shelby's already gone, back to the counter for a split second, then into that back closet of hers. You bring your attention to Morgan, who is staring down at you, chest heaving as he breathes heavily.

"I'll be alright dude, no need to panic." you attempt to assure him.

"You fought a giant bear and were stabbed!" he screams.

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure I mashed his brain into mush, so all in all I think I got off better here."

He stutters a bit as he tries to find proper words, eventually coming out with "How on Earth are you so calm about this right now!?"

"Well," you bounce your shoulders slightly, attempting a shrug. "Panicking isn't gonna unstab me."

In that moment Shelby returns, tapping Morgan's shoulder and holding out her phone. She gestures quickly, but it's outside of your view. However Morgan makes a few motions and you see him holding onto Shelby's phone.

"Hello? O-oh umm, my friend umm,. My friend, was s-stabbed, he's bleeding k-kind of a lot. Oh, um no, they're gone... P-pulled it out, yes. Oh. I-I don't. It's uh, called Old Man Lou's Batting Center, that's all I know. O-okay, yes. Yes, thank you."

Shelby returns one more time having found her first aid kit.

"They uh, said about eight minutes." Morgan relays to Shelby. Shelby nods, and pulls some supplies from the kit. "Eight minutes, okay?" he repeats, directed at you this time.

You shrug again. "Yup. I can wait."

Shelby begins pressing down on your wound with force, trying to slow or stop the bleeding. You don't think there's much you can do here, so you lie and wait. Morgan has set the phone down, you're unsure if the emergency line is still there or not, though you think they're supposed to stick around until someone shows up. You take slow breaths, mainly to keep yourself calm, and look straight up, to avoid the inquisitive need to glance toward your wound.

However your straight up, is directly into Morgan's face,as he stares down at you, with extreme amounts of fear and worry. He looks like he's seconds away from crying. You watch him watching you. A part of you feels like it's a bit awkward to be staring at each other so intensely. But at the same time, another part of you can't seem to turn away. You stare into his green eyes, shimmering with the dew of his tears threatening to fall. They're surprisingly vibrant and strangely alluring. You can kind of guess why he had so many female friends, dudes eyes are wildly captivating. And you're a bit concerned that you just had that thought with complete sincerity. You continue to look though, and notice strangely that his eyelashes are also surprisingly long. And, you could just be hallucinating from the losing of your blood, but you think that fruity smell you caught on him is more noticeable at the moment.

All this conflicting information is beginning to drive you nuts. Is he a boy? Is he not? Is he batting for the other team? What is he? She? They?! What the fuck is up with his goddamn same pair of overalls?!

"Morgan what are you?" you blurt out uncontrollably but with pure sincerity.

"W-what?" he stumbles, surprised by the question. "I'm- I'm a Border Collie. You know we're like... I think we're originally from like the British Isles but then like-"

"No no no." you cut him off, although he was getting into some interesting information. "I mean like." You lift your right hand and point to yourself. "Me. You can tell what I am. And Shelby." you repeat the gesture in Shelby's direction. "You can tell what Shelby is. And then there's you. You are... What?"

Shelby and Morgan share a look of confusion and concern. So it's obvious that you aren't phrasing this right. How do you ask without being completely rude. There was a way to do it, right?

"Is he getting delirious?" Morgan whispers. "That's bad, right?"

"I'm not delirious, I'm just trying to figure out-"

"It's okay Anon, relax." Morgan pats your head gently to placate you. "Whatever you're trying to say, you can say later."

Fine, be that way. But you'll get your answers. You refuse to die until that truth is revealed. Luckily an experienced team of professionals arrive to make sure that you can eventually seek your truth. They take over for Shelby, who they applauded for her timely action. However while the bleeding is slowed and it doesn't look like you got hit anywhere major, they're taking you to the hospital. Which gives you an "oh shit" moment, because you don't remember what you've got in terms of medical insurance. Well, it'll probably be okay.

They transport you outside and lift you onto a gurney, to toss you into the back of the ambulance. Morgan follows you up to the van. You think some of the others are attempting to ask Shelby some questions? Good luck with getting answers though.

"Oh hold on." you say to the medics as they get ready to lift you in. "My bat."

Although they give you a look that says you can't bring it with you, you continue your train of thought before they speak.

"Morgan. can you. Hold onto it for me?" you ask him. "It's uh... It's very precious to me, so can you take care of it, 'til I get back?"

"Y-yeah." he nods. "yeah I can do that."

You nod in return. The medics load you up and take off to whatever hospital they're apparently going to be taking you to.

It's been one long ass week. You didn't figure they'd have kept you all week for something as minor as being slightly stabbed, but here you are, finally released and making your way home. It's gonna be a long walk because you're pretty far uptown. Besides being sewn back together or whatever joke your nurse made to lighten the mood, they kept you for a bunch of reasons you didn't pay attention to. It wasn't a particularly enjoyable stay, but it could've been worse. You could've had an annoying roommate or something.

Anyway, after being released and getting your bill, which was surprisingly only a couple hundred instead of the thousands you expected, likely due to having some form of medical insurance. Which you aren't entirely sure how you still have, but you'll just pretend it was thanks to that accountant friend of your dad who helped you with all that financial shit. Now it's time to head home. Or it would be, but you're immediately making your way to Old Man Lou's. Of course, everyone told you to avoid strenuous activity and yada yada, so you probably won't be taking any swings for a while. Or maybe you will anyway, who knows. However besides that, you want to check on the other two people involved in that whole altercation.

You finally arrive after a particularly tiring walk that takes who knows how long. You push open the doors and walk in casually. You and Shelby exchange looks at the same time.

"What's up?" you call out to her. That's when a certain someone hears your voice and his attention snaps to you.

"Oh my God Anon!" he shouts as he jumps up from the bench and runs over to you.

Strangely, and a bit awkwardly, he envelops his free arm around you in a hug, his other hand clutching your prized baseball bat. You pause, not only because this action is massively foreign to you, but also because you find it strange that he would A: display such affection when you've known each other for a collective two weeks, and B: embrace you so affectionately when you're both dudes. Unless he was of that persuasion, but that just reminds you of your questions brought by semi delirium last week.

"Morgan. I will allow this just this once, because it's possible that I almost died, and I get that you were worried about me. But you only get one of these." you tell him.

"Right. Um sorry, I just, um. Yeah." he mutters as he releases you. He remembers the bat in his hand and holds it up to you. "Here you go. Held on to it for you."

"Appreciate it." you say as you take it and inspect it. It's surprisingly clean and unblemished. Not even a single dent, praise DeMari's superior craftsmanship.

"It had, y'know, a bit of blood on it so I wiped it down." he informs you. "Though I hope that isn't gonna mess it up or anything."

"It'll be fine. Thanks." you say.

Shelby comes up to you and puts her hands on your shoulders. She looks at you silenty. Before reeling you in for a hug herself. Now while still uncomfortable, this does at least seem more expected. You've known Shelby since she was hired back in your sophomore year of high school, so you've got more familiarity.

"I'm alright, I'm alright." you mumble as Shelby holds you close. Once she's satisfied, she releases you. "I mean I lived, didn't I? Wasn't even that bad."

"Wasn't that bad?" Morgan repeats.

"Yeah. I mean. Could've been a lot worse." you say casually. You look down and see the deep concern crossing Morgan's face. "Was a bit rood o' him ta put that knoife in me chest though, wannit bruv?" you continue with a British accent, to quote a meme video you once caught on Yewtube, and also in reference to that fact Morgan told you, about his ancestry originating in Britain.

"Is... Was that- Are you making jokes?" he asks, deeply confused.

"Uh. Yeah. Don't blame me if they're not very good though, I haven't done it in a few years."

He looks at you. Almost sternly, it's strange. He seems to be thinking about something, but eventually the thought passes him by.

"Anyway." he says. "I'm kind of surprised you're here already."

"What, you expect me to be afraid to come back here?" you ask, finding a bit of amusement.

"No, just. I'm surprised like, your parents or whoever would just be okay with you running the streets again so soon. Especially coming back to the place where you were just attacked. You have to be living with them right? Since you don't seem to be working or taking classes? Or am I wrong?"

Ah. Well there's that topic, finally resurfaced. You look at Shelby, she looks at you, but her expression doesn't accurately allude to you what she's feeling. So it seems upo to you on how you broach this topic. You pause for a brief moment, and decide in that single tick of time, that it will be fine to tell him.

"Well uh. It would be, kind of difficult for them to be upset, and tell me not to do anything." you begin gently.

"Oh? Why?" he questions. "Oh are they like those 'You're an adult, you can do whatever you want' kind of parents? I still think they should be concerned."

"Oh nah. They just, can't tell me anything because they passed away some time ago."

He freezes. He stares at you, eyes wide. "O-oh. My God, I-I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't- that was-"

"It's alright, it's alright." you cut in to dampen his panic. You look at Shelby, sadness in her eyes to display the emotions you don't.

You walk over to the bench and have a seat. You gesture to the seat next to you. "Have a seat, Morgan." you say over your shoulder. "It's time to ruin your day."

Morgan does as you ask and sits on your right. Shelby sits on your left, likely to just be emotional support or something. and you go through recounting the short but grievous experience that came to you a little over two years ago. The crushing news, the deep despair, dealing with two families that wanted nothing to do with the other, and by extension you. You recount to Morgan as much as you can. Why cage number 3 is so important to you, why you wanted to become a pro player, and why you no longer do. He sits unmoving and listens intently, almost enraptured until the end.

"So yeah. I haven't exactly been in the best state because of all of that, y'know." you say to finish up.

"That's. That's just. I-I don't even know what to say." he rambles, unable to find proper words.

"It's fine, no need to say anything, I've heard it all. It was a little over two years ago, so I've gotten enough condolences to fill a crater." you sigh.

Shelby puts her hand on your shoulder. You give her a glance and a nod. Then you look over to Morgan. Into his eyes that are looking into yours. And once again you're reminded of the confliciting information you've been receiving. Because, even if he's a guy, there's something about his eyes that just seem far too feminine.

"Alright!" you shout in spite of yourself, startling both canines next to you. "Time to completely fuck up the dismal mood I just set. Morgan. I have a question for you. And it might be completely rude to ask in this way, but I can't just sit here and pretend to know what the hell the answer is, it's driving me nuts."

"Ummm. W- okay. Shoot." he says, confused.

You stand up, take a step forward and about face. You look at him and plant the tip of your bat into the floor like a knight of old might rest with their sword.

"Morgan... Are you a guy or a girl?" you come right out and say.

Morgan stares at you like you just punched him(?) in the gut.

"... W-what?" he(?) asks, unable to process your question.

"You. Gender. What?" you rephrase with even less refinement than previously.

Out of the corner of your eye you catch Shelby smack herself in the forehead with enough force to give herself a concussion, but you pay her no mind

Morgan looks down at themself, apparently wondering what you do or don't see that could make you question their existence. They look back up to you.

"I'm a girl." he- er uh, she, says blankly.

"Oh." you say, similarly blankly. "I'm sorry, I apologize deeply for my ignorance."

Damn if your buddy Hal could see this. His univesal problem ended up in reverse.

"It doesn't really sound like you're apologizing!" he-well, she, exclaims.

"Oh well, that's just how my voice is. I've been devoid of emotion for just about two years, I dunno how to fix it." you explain, as if that will make anything better.

You stare at Morgan as he-uh she, stares at you. Now that you have new information, you can kind of see it. That feminine boyishness is slowly being replaced with a more boyish femininity. There's a word for those kind of girls, isn't there?

"So what, you thought I was a guy?" Morgan asks suddenly. You nod silently. "Oh my God."

"It wasn't very easy to tell." you say attempting to absolve yourself.

"You mean you can't just look at me and tell?!"

You shake your head in silence.

"What about my voice? You didn't hear me and think 'yep, that's a girl'?" she asks.

"In all fairness, there are guys with very high pitched voices." you explain your reasoning. "There are also guys who I guess, purposefully raise the pitch of their voice. I assume. Usually the kind of guys who. Y'know prefer guys. Which I won't lie, I also, kind of, thought you were." The volume of your voice slowly peters out as you foolishly voice the last of that sentence.

Once again that gut punched expression crosses Morgan's face.

"That's it. I'm gonna go throw myself into traffic." she says as she jumps up and turns to the door.

Shelby jumps up afterward and grabs onto her, holding her by the shoulders. They share a look, and then a gentle embrace, the kind of unspoken camaraderie that only females can have, maybe. After Shelby fixes Morgan's mood, they both turn to you, and for some reason, you feel more outnumbered than the day you fought all of those 6th Street goons.

"Maybe it's a human thing." Morgan says as she turns back to Shelby. "Y'know there are a lot of things wrong with them. Like their weak eyesight, their weak hearing, their weak sense of smell."

"Don't call me weak, I fought a bear and won." you say.

"You hit him with a bat." Morgan counters.

"He had a knife!"

"Oh now you're upset about being stabbed!"

You huff in that false laugh.

"Alright. I get it. In the end I was wrong. I'm not very observant. And for a while I didn't really care. But. In my defense, you didn't really make it easy for me. I mean look how you're dressed."

She looks at her clothes. And you can clearly tell that she understands what you mean, but pretends not to. So you continue.

"I mean, not only are they super boyish, but they're also like not your size. And most guys out here in San Vanargrand like our clothes baggy." You pull at the pure white long-sleeved T-shirt provided to you by the hospital, that you asked for in a size above your actual size, to prove your point.

She tugs at her own clothes that have even more extra room than yours. "This. It's um, all that fits, in my house."

"You telling me that you don't have your own clothes or something? You getting your brother's hand-me-downs or what?" you question.

"Well. Not quite, but um. It's kind of, not a pleasant story."

You sit back down on the bench. "Well if you're willing to tell me about it. I mean I shared my story, so no matter what it is, I can't judge you. I have no right."

She sits back down on the bench next to you, taking a moment to find out where she wants to start with her story.

And as you listen to her story, you are filled with deep shame. Shame that you thought that your loss was the most catastrophic thing in the world. Because what you're currently hearing makes your tragedy seem more like someone just ended up stealing your bike.

She explained to you how at some point in the beginning of her middle school days, her parents just began to shut down.

"I came home to them having some kind of heated argument. I don't know about what, I didn't catch it. They stopped when I came in. But ever since that day, for some reason, they just. Stopped."

Stopped everything. Talking, listening, loving. Caring. They basically pretended the other did not exist. For a while they still gave attention to Morgan, but eventually that slowed to a stop too. First suddenly stopping with giving her rides to school, so she would be late as she had to walk. Then, no more morning meals, eventually followed with no meals in general. Stopped talking to her, stopped listening to her. Didn't give her any help when she asked. And wouldn't explain a thing about what was going wrong.

"And then around high school, when my older clothes stopped fitting, I took some of my dad's." she explained. "My mom's were weirdly dated and uncomfortable so there was no way I could wear her stuff to school. So my dad's was the better option."

Her saving garace was her friends, who kind of figured something was wrong when she started wearing her dad's clothes, and kind of noticed that she wasn't eating anything for lunch even though they could hear her stomach roaring. So they stuck together and helped her out as best they could with whatever they could spare. But now that school's over, she has to try and make due on her own.

"There was one year, when I was like thirteen or maybe fourteen, when they started leaving the house." she adds to her story. "Like one or the other would leave, and wouldn't come back for days. And sometimes I wouldn't even notice they were gone. But one time, they both left, on the same day. And didn't come back for an entire month. And school was out for that month, so I stayed in my room, terrified, crying, apologizing, because I didn't know what else to do. But they eventually came back. And nothing changed. But for some reason, thinking they left and weren't ever gonna come back was somehow a thousand times worse than them being there and being unresponsive."

You sit, stunned into pure silence. No words come forth, not even mentally. You cannot even fathom the possibility of someone's parents just, pretending they don't exist, with no explanation, rhyme or reason. How has Morgan lived like this, for longer than you've lived with your grief?

"How have you not starved?" is the only stupid question your monkey brain can come up with.

"Strangely, peanut butter and jelly." is Morgan's simple answer. "There's always bread and PB&J, so whenever I get really hungry I'll just have that." She looks at you, and you can clearly see the disgust that crosses her face before she adds "And I'm sick of it. I used to love it when I was a kid though, but now."

Hmmm. Now you're the one who has no words to offer about her plight. You look over to Shelby to find that she has walked back over to her counter, back facing you, with the subtle heaving motions that suggest that she's crying. Understandable, as this tale is even more tragic than yours.

You sit now in silence, as you attempt to sift through the madness that was imparted to you. Like, isn't this neglect? That's a kind of child abuse, right? Couldn't she have talked to somebody and gotten out of there?

"Well Morgan." you start. Why didn't you like, try and talk to somebody about what was going on? Like teachers or something? They usually find a way to help deal with problems at home."

She looks at you, but turns away, shrugging and shaking her head. You see her slightly fold in on herself at the same time. So there's some sort of, she was afraid aspect to it all. You return to sitting in silence, until another question comes to you.

"So why don't you run away? Would have to be better than this, right?"

"I have no idea where I'd go. I've thought about it, but, I guess I'm just too scared. I don't want to live on the street. Y'know, I've heard the horror stories about girls that run away and what they have to do, or what happens to them. So, compared to that, I'd rather stay where I am."

"Well. Yeah but, aren't you eighteen? They aren't gonna boot you from the nest like some other parents do when their kids hit the age?" you ask.

"To want to make me leave, I think that means they'd have to acknowledge that I exist again, and they don't seem too keen on doing that."

"Hmmm. And rooming with your friends isn't an option?"

"Most of them went to college. Either out of state or living on campus or whatever, so no. The few that are still local and working, don't really have space for me." she explains.

Yeah, of course she's gone through all her options, you aren't bringing up anything new. You sigh, feeling a bit defeated. Wait, why do you feel defeated? Morgan's probably felt like this for a long time. Actually now that you think of it.

"Morgan how do you do what you've done?" you ask.

"What do you mean?"

"How do you show up randomly, and attempt to make friends with a complete dick like me? How do you find joy in your life when it should be so bleak? Where do your smiles come from? That's what I mean."

"Oh. Y'know that's a good question." she says, honestly giving your query some thought. "I guess I just try not to let what I'm going through influence how I spend my days or how I treat others. Or something? It's like that quote, 'To live is to suffer'."

"Excuse me? 'To live is to what'?" you parrot, surpised at the amount of edge that just spilled from this joy filled pooch's mouth.

"It's 'To live is to suffer. To survive is to find some meaning in the suffering'. If life is gonna be shitty anyway, I'm going to stake my survival on lessening the suffering. For myself and others. Or whatever. In the end, I just don't wanna be a bitch. No one deserves that just because my life is hard."

"... You're weird. Absolutely bonkers." you fire inane insults at Morgan. "Your life is harsh. The eyes in your head that shine like emeralds should be as dark and hollow as mine, if not more so. I don't understand how you manage."

She looks at you wordlessly. Until something sparks in her face. "E-emeralds, huh?"

"... Don't focus on that." you mumble as you stand up.

Well, after all that. Only one thing is clear to you now. You are both too damn young to have to suffer in the way you are.

"Well it's a good thing we're friends now ain't it?" you mutter.

"What do you mean?" she asks.

"We've both got some pretty shitty situations. On top of that, I'm alone, and you're lonely. We make a great pair in despair."

And suddenly it clicks, the gears are turning, electricity is building. You just got a great, or possibly terrible idea.

"Oh my God I'm a genius. Or insane. Either could work in this moment."

"What're you saying?" Morgan wonders.

"It could be your lucky day." you say. "I mean, if you choose to accept it."

She says nothing, but listens intently.

"Well. I am currently alone in my house. As I've told you. And my house just so happens to have a free room. It was a guest room, but obviously, I don't entertain guests. So. If you'd like to, maybe escape the confines of the home you currently reside in where nobody acknowledges you, you are welcome. To. Y'know move in with me."

As you reached the end of your sentence you became acutely aware of what you were offering. You just asked a girl to move in with you. A girl that you thought was a boy, but that's not the point. Usually that proposition is reserved for people that are dating right? No no, it's fine. People of opposite genders room together all the time. You think. You watch and wait as Morgan contemplates what you just suggested.

"Are you serious?" she asks.

"I don't know if you noticed. But I'm bad at jokes. So I wouldn't suggest it if I weren't serious."

Her eyes move back and forth erratically as she seems to process the information she's been given.

"Well." you comment." It was an open suggestion. Give it some thought, no rush, no pressure. It's up to you if you want to make that-"

"Okay." she says.

You raise an eyebrow. "Okay you'll think about it?"

"Okay, I'll move in." she corrects.

"Oh." you mumble.

"What, you didn't actually expect me to accept? Were you just trying to be courteous?"

"Huh, nah I just didn't expect you to agree so quickly. Expected you to think about it."

"I've been thinking about it for ages." she explains. "There's no reason for me to stay where I am. If I have the chance to leave, then of course I'd take it. And if you're willing to give me a place, then I accept gladly."

"Oh. Uh. Well, cool." you say, lacking finesse.

You turn your gaze away, feeling embarrassesd for some reason, and find Shelby, an odd sort of joyful look on her face. She's beaming at you as her tail goes wild. You choose to ignore that information and bring your attention back to Morgan.

"I mean, unless you've got some ulterior motives for asking me?" she adds.

"Oh I do, I thought you'd never realize." you retort.

"Oh my God you can't be serious."

"My motives are healing." you explain. "I need someone to help me finally work through the grief I still feel, and you need a place to live that isn't devoid of human, or uh, anthro interaction. You know what I mean. Seems beneficial for both parties."

"Oh so you're just trying to use me to fix your broken heart"? she asks. Although she's got a funky smirk on her face, so she doesn't seem honestly perturbed.

"I wouldn't say using you. More like I'm cashing in the favors owed to me via our lunch dates."

"... Wow, he asks me to move in with him and immediately begins talking about the favors I owe him." she says, covering her intimate areas wiuth her arms.

"Look look, you know damn well that's not what I meant. I was-"

However she cuts you off with a laugh. "Yeah you really haven't dealt with jokes in a long time if you can't tell when someone else is making one either."

You grumble, as you were indeed bamboozled.

"Also. You called our lunch outings 'dates', but when I said that the first time, you told me not to make it weird." she adds.

"Well things are different now." you say as you scratch your neck.

"Oh, now that I'm a girl it's okay." she says with a raised eyebrow. You simply nod in response.

"Well uh. Anyway. I can't bat today, cuz I'm wounded, so I don't really have any other plans. So if you wanna go see your new place now, we can go. Unless you gotta go stop at home and grab some things."

"I've pretty much got nothing but the clothes on my back." she says.

You sigh. That's hella depressing.

"Right. Well, let's go then."

You head to the door. "Uhh, we're leaving, we'll catch you later Shelby." you call to her.

But before you leave she knocks on her counter to call your attention. Then beckons to you before you leave. As you walk up to her counter, she retreats into that closet behind her desk. Then comes back out. She quickly spins something in circles around her finger and then slams it onto her counter. It's the knife that Tiny stabbed you with.

"Why do you still have this?" you ask her. She answers by sliding it towards you. "Really?" You pick it up, and see the deep smear of red still on the blade. "It's still got my blood on it!" you yell. Shelby nods happily.

"It's like your good luck charm. You know, some people who get shot and have the bullets removed turn them into necklaces." Morgan comments.

"How would a bullet be a good luck charm?" you ask, deeply confused.

"Because the thing designed to kill you, didn't kill you." she answers.

You look between Morgan and Shelby with the deepest "what the fuck" look you can manage, before turning and walking to the door. You pocket the knife before you get out the door though. Morgan catches up to you and you walk together on your way home.

Part of the way through your walk home, you notice that your wound is growing more painful, and the pain is putting a damper on your endurance. It's almost like you just had doctors and nurses telling you not to exert yourself for a reason. Morgan also notices the difficulty you seem to be having.

"You okay?" she asks.

"Yea-" you begin, but find no reason to lie. She knows exactly what happened. "Nah. Hurts a bit." you come clean, rubbing your side.

"You gonna be able to make it?"

"Yeah, just need a short break. I can rest for real once we make it there." you say. Luckily you come up on your favorite place for lunch.

"Oh hey. You hungry?" you ask Morgan.

She stares at you, and you stare back, waiting for an answer. Before you realize, that was a stupid question, of course she is.

"Let's get lunch." and you walk up to Heavy's counter.

"Ay Heavy." you say.

"My boy Anon. Been a while since you came through youngster." Heavy says as he turns to greet you. "Afternoon young miss." he says, greeting Morgan as well.

"Young miss. Oh so humans can tell I'm a girl?" Morgan says, bringing up your shame again.

"I mean... Yeah?" Heavy says. "I mean, you're dressed kinda boyishly, but you got a cute li'l face and pretty eyes. Not to be an old creep. So I just figured, ya know."

"So it's likely just you that's messed up." Morgan says to you.

"I get it Morgan, I'm a dummy." you say with a sigh.

Heavy looks very confused.

"Don't worry about it." you assure him. "Anyway. I've been missing cuz I was in the hospital, but I'm okay now."

"Whaaat? What happened?" he asks.

"Got stabbed." you answer.

"You what?!" he explodes.

You lift your shirt and show where your knife wound is.

"Oh damn. Well. Just wait till you get shot, then you'll have had the worst of it for sure."

"I don't wanna get shot." you drone. "Have you gotten shot?"

He pulls at his shirt collar and exposes this patch of skin near his shoulder where it looks like a bullet passed right through. It looks like it healed ages ago, but the shape is still distinct.

"... You didn't happen to keep the bullet and put it on a necklace did you?" you ask.

"You kiddin' me, of course I did. That's a good luck charm."

Morgan gives you this huge, cocky grin.

Anyway, after that discussion you order some food. You aren't entirely hungry, but you still want to put something in your stomach. After lunch, and a short while to rest, you continue on your walk home, and finally arrive after what felt like hours to you.

"Alright here we go." you say as you unlock the door and step to the side to allow her in. She steps in and you follow behind. She looks around, admiring what's around in the living room. "Living room. Obviously. Kitchen is to the left here. Obviously. Your room will be straight down the hall there, on the right. The door directly ahead is the bathroom, and that door on the left is just a closet. Up the stairs to the left is my room. You can find me there if you need anything or whatever. Ummm. I can give you some spare clothes of mine to change into for later. Like, once you shower, and if you choose to wash the machines are in the kitchen on the right in that weird closet looking space."

You watch her attempting to mentally log all the information you're firing at her.

"Sorry I'm kinda blitzing through this, but I'm a bit more exhasuted than I figured."

She nods in understanding.

"So I'm gonna take a quick nap if that's cool. Don't mean to leave you on your own so soon after bringing you here. Uhh. T.V., I don't think we have cable, and I'm not too sure about Netflicks, if that's still an option or not. But there's video games. A PeEs 4 and a Smitch, so."

"Ooh, do you have Smash Bruhs?" she pipes up excitedly.

"The fuck, of course we have Smash Bruhs, who doesn't?" you scoff. You look down at Morgan, who looks up at you emptily and you remember.

You clear your throat. "Right. Well. You gonna be good here? Need any pointers before I dip?"

"Nah, I can handle it, go get some rest." she says.

You nod and begin to walk up the stairs.

"Anon." she calls out before you reach the top.

You take a few steps back down and turn towards her.

"Thank you." she says, full of sincerity.

You nod again and continue up to your room, you set your baseball bat in its space and your brand new "good luck charm" on your nightstand. Afterwards, you gingerly lie down in your bed, and proceed to pass the hell out.

You open your eyes to pitch blackness. How long have you been asleep? You check the time and it's about 9 p.m. You force yourself up and head down the stairs to check on Morgan. It's late, so she might've turned in already. Is what you think, but nope, she's still on the couch playing video games. You walk back to your room to grab some sweats and a T-shirt for her to use. You also go to the bathroom closet to grab a towel... You end up grabbing multiple, just in case she needs a few more to completely dry her fur, or whatever. You bring everything back downstairs and sit them on the arm of the couch.

She is deeply engrossed in her game and barely registers your approach or departure. But that's fine. Let her enjoy herself, she definitely deserves it. You leave her to her game and return upstairs to have your own shower and head back to your room.

You keep yourself occupied with Yewtube for a while, just in case Morgan has any needs to address, but by the time 11 o clock rolls around, you figure she's alright. You head down the stairs one last time to check, and the living room is empty and silent with your offerings claimed. So you conclude that she's turned in and everything was okay. Content with that, you go back to your room to turn in yourself. You slept a lot during the day, it's probably gonna be tough to get back to sleep.

Is what you thought, but you awaken the next morning after falling asleep fairly quickly. Although you're up earlier than normal, it's only about 7:30. Ah well, you get up... Without rolling onto the floor this morning. When you notice, you just attribute it to subconsciously avoiding doing it, so that you don't aggravate your wound. You head to the bathroom for the daily necessities. And remember that Morgan likely doesn't have a toothbrush. There should be a spare one in an unopened pack in the bathroom down there. But is she going to need some kind of special toothbrush?

Actually. Won't she need, like, a bunch of things if she's going to stay here? Hmm. Coming here with absolutely nothing, while bold, was likely also very hasty. You're going to have to take her shopping or something so she can grab whatever she needs. With that in mind, you get ready and head downstairs.

You find Morgan on the couch, watching some cartoon you aren't familiar with, so you can only guess that whatever streaming software or device you have is still functional.

"Morning." you say.

"Oh. Morning." she responds, turning to face you.

"I uh, think there was a brand new toothbrush in that bathroom, if you need it."

"Oh, yeah I saw it." she confirms. "I figured it would be okay to use it."

"Cool." you nod.

After that exchange, you find yourself moving on autopilot toward the kitchen. Opening the fridge like you always do and finding it empty. You're playing host to a guest now. Which means this won't do. So you'll have to add grocery shopping to your list of things to do. Out of the kitchen and back to the living room, you realize. If you're going shopping, that means you would have difficulty carrying everything. Especially with your wound and the "don't exert yourself" rule that you were told. So that means to get the simplest results, you're going to have to drive. And while that's not impossible, you do have your license, and it should be another two years before it gets close to expiring, the fact that you have to get in a car and actually drive it is what concerns you.

You've had a bit of nervousness about driving ever since your parents' accident. And while you don't expect what happened to them to happen to you, you still don't like it. Not only that, but your dad's car has sat unmoving in the garage for years. You'd hate for it to break down on the road. But what if it doesn't even start up? You walk over to the front door to grab his key, and as you do your foot nudges something below you. You find Morgan's shoes, sat next to the front door. Maybe that's how they did things in her household. You take a closer look at them, and notice just how worn and old they must be.

These poor things are practically falling apart. There are holes in the soles. The fronts are beginning to seperate and split like the boots in those old cartoons. You look back at Morgan intently watching what's on T.V., and look at the clothes she has once again donned.

So now you add another thing to the list of things to do. You grip your dad's car key with purpose. If you have to enter his vehicle to see these tasks done, then you will. You look over to their mass of photos. They will surely protect and guide you as you travel the roads, so that you can reach your destinations safely.

"Uhh. You goin' somewhere?" Morgan asks, noticing you standing at the door.

"No, we are." you reply quickly. "Get ready, we're leaving."

"Are we going to the batting center?"

"Of course not." you shake your head. But that's when you notice that you've got your baseball bat over your shoulder like you always do. "Oh. Force of habit. Anyway, get ready, I'll be right back."

You turn around and go back up the stairs, and deposit your bat in its place. Already feels weird, getting ready to leave without it. Back down the stairs, Morgan is at the door, looking at the pictures of your folks.

"Ready?" you ask as you approach.

"Yep." she responds.

You open up the door and let her walk out first so you can lock up behind you. You hit the garage door opener linked onto your dad's set of keys. Up goes the door and reveals his Camero. It's got a bit of dust on it, but not too bad.

"Ooh nice." Morgan says.

"Learn to drive and it's all yours." you say.

"Whoa seriously?"

"I am sure my dad will not mind. Long as you don't crash it." you shrug as you walk up and unlock the door.

You sit in the driver's seat. Morgan climbs in the passenger. In goes the key and you start it up. It takes a little bit but it starts up fine and everything, so that's good. You give it a moment to let it run and make sure that a thousand different warning lights aren't about to come on. After waiting a bit, you conclude that it should be fine. You check the gas tank, and while it may need a fill up soon, it's fine for today. Surprisingly well maintained for a vehicle that hasn't run in two years.

You take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself. Then another. And another.

"You okay?" Morgan asks, noticing your deep breathing.

"Yep." you say. "Me and cars don't vibe right now, that's all."

She catches your meaning after a moment of thought. "Then should you drive? Where do we even need to go?"

"Several places. Too many and too far to walk."

"The city bus?" she offers?

"Absolutely not." you refuse. "I can do this. I have good reasons to do it, so I can do it."

You shift gears and slowly pull out of your driveway. Once you're out, you hit the garage button and wait until it's closed. Then you turn the wheel and drive down the road. You take it slow down your neighborhood streets, until you fel like you're growing accustomed to the movements you felt long ago. How hard to hit the gas to reach the speed you want. How gently to hit the brake to stop without jerking the car. How far you need to turn the wheel for the car to turn and such. And if you really need to, you can take a bunch of the side streets with stop signs and the like if you don't feel comfortable driving down the proper streets.

However, just like you told Morgan when you were trying to teach her how to swing a bat, you prefer to jump right in. Probably not the best move when it could involve your life and the life of another. But you're careful, more careful than most. You passed your written and physical driving tests with perfect scores, and now that you're behind the wheel again, everything you were taught comes flooding back.

You pull onto the main road, drive for a while, and suddenly it feels like you've been driving ever since you got your license.

"How long's it been since you drove?" Morgan asks, probably also noticing how quickly you adapted.

"Mm. About two and a half years?" you say, not entirely sure on the exact time.

"You sure? I find that a bit hard to believe."

You shrug in response.

"And you were worried about getting behind the wheel again, you're doing fiiine." she assures you.

"It ain't me I'm worried about, it's other people, honestly." you correct.

So you make doubly sure to check your mirrors as you drive. After a while though, you pull up to your first stop. Good thing you've still got a proper idea of where everything you used to frequent still is. You park in front of the Pancake House.

"Breakfast first. Errands later." you say as you leave the car.

Morgan follows and you hit the button to lock the car, holding the door open for her to enter. Up to the receptionist, you asked for a table for two, and luckily it's not a very long wait. You're seated and given menus. Your waitress comes to take your order, and while you just order a stack of nomal pancakes (because you're boring), you almost go into a wheezing fit as your body tries to rejuvenate the laugh muscles in your throat, when Morgan orders those fruit pancakes with the ridiculous name without an ounce of embarrassment. Then she stares at you like she doesn't understand why you're about to pass out.

Anyway, after breakfast is concluded and paid for, you're back out the door and in the car. Down the main road again and after a bit of a drive you pull up to the CBS Pharmacy.

"Alright, here next." you say.

"Huh?" Morgan blurts out.

"I'm sure you're gonna need things from here." you say. "... Like proper body wash, cuz of your fur and stuff." you add quickly to avoid any misunderstandings or assumptions. "Or whatever else you'll need. At the same time, I might as well restock on some things I'm running low on."

You hop out and enter the store with Morgan in tow.

"Alright. We split up, grab what we need, meet back here when we're done."

Morgan simply nods. So with that confirmed you break to grab your supplies. Of course, you don't really need much. So you just grab a few simple things. More sticks of deoderant, more tubes of toothpaste, so on and so forth. Once you're done, you set everything on the counter and the cashier rings you up. You pay, grab your bags and slide to the side so that you're out of the way. You wait until you see Morgan approaching with a hand basket full of various items. You immediately cast your attention the opposite way and pretend to be very engrossed in whatever you're looking towards at the edge of the store.

Morgan walks up to the cashier and has her items checked and bagged. You keep your focus on what you now notice is a line of alcohol. Now that you think about it, you'll be old enough to legally drink not long from now. Now that you think about that, you remember that there's quite a few bottles of alcohol back at the house. Your parents enjoyed a drink every once in a while. When they passed, you deeply considered attempting to drown your sorrows in their bottles. But you were raised too responsibly, so every time you went for it, your conscience rebuked you heavily. But well. Maybe soon, you'll give it another try.

You're brought back to reality as you hear the cashier tell Morgan her total. You break from your spot to the side, slide you card in the machine, and enter the pin without a word. After you see the small accepted notification, you return right to where you were standing.

"Wooow." the cashier comments. "Where'd you find him, I need me a man like that."

Morgan gives an awkward laugh and responds with "Yeah he's got his uses, doesn't he?"

You roll your eyes so hard your head moves with them.

"You should have paid attention, buddy." the cashier says to you. "You never know, she might have to send you to the store on your own one day and-"

"Absolutely not." you interject, bringing your hand down like you're physically trying to cut her words off.

You grab your bags and mosey on right out the door. You pop the trunk and toss your bags in. Eventually Morgan catches up and does the same. You look over at her. She seems to sense your gaze and looks at you, although she averts her eyes as soon as you make eye contact. You both hop back in the car. You take a moment to mentally recount how best to reach your next destination from here. The fastest way would of course be the freeway, but you want to avoid that for personal reasons. After a while you remember a street that you can take that should bring you almost all the way to your next stop, just with a few turns to make.

Off you go. Since you've got a bit farther to go this time, you don't feel like riding in silence, so you crank the radio up a bit and turn the knob to find a good station.

"What's your favorite kind of music?" Morgan asks.

"Dunno." you reply. "Listen to a little of everything, so I can't say I have a specific favorite."

"Everything? Even country?"

"Yep. Johnny Gash and Willie Nelsun."

"Oh wow. I can't believe that." she says, actually stunned.

"Country's not bad. Some of it's pretty good." you shrug.

"Alright, then how about, what's your favorite song?" she asks. "Of all time." she adds to be a bit more, or well, less specific.

You try to give it some serious thought. Picking one song to be your favorite of all time. That's a bit of a difficult choice isn't it? Out of all the music you've listened to, how could you pick just a single-

"Beat It." you say.

"Beat It?" she repeats. You nod in confirmation. "By Micah Jackson?" You once again nod in the affirmative.

She goes silent, the only sound now being what's coming from the radio... Then she starts laughing.

"That's pretty ironic don't you think?" she says, trying to get her giggle fit under control.

"What makes you say that?" you honestly ask.

"That song's kind of about gangs fighting gangs, right?"

"I'd say so, yeah."

"So. Didn't you just fight a gang?"

You think about that. And ultimately realize that she's kind of right.

"... That's pure coincidence, don't focus on that."

She laughs again and starts singing the hook to Beat It. And she sounds pretty good. Or maybe it's just because it's your favorite song.

"Alright alright." you cry out. "Then what about you? What kind of music you like, what's your favorite song?"

"Apparently I like House music. According to my friends, I prefer this subgenre called Deep House. As for my favorite song, can't say I have one yet."

"Deep House, huh?" you muse. "Never even heard of it."

"I'm sure you've heard it, you probably just didn't know that's what it's called. It's all over the place now. I'll show you some if I can remember some of the artists I listened to."

"Great." you say.

You finally pull up to your next destination. The Outland Centra Mall. It's nothing fancy. There's a better mall to shop at a city over called the Victorious Garden, but that would require taking the freeway, and that's not happening. It's fine though, OC has exactly what you need. Mainly a Mazy's and a JT Pennies, as well as a few other smaller brand internal stores if necessary.

"A mall?" Morgan asks, surprised.

"It is indeed the mall." you reply.

"Hold on hold on, don't tell me you're about to buy-"

"I will not allow you to spend your days reusing the same exact outfit day after day, while you are a guest in my home. I'm not taking 'no' for an answer, so you might as well come on." you explain as you get out of the car.

She follows of course, but continues to try and find ways to protest.

"Isn't this getting kind of expensive? I don't wanna be a leech on your funds or anything you know."

You stop walking. And turn to face her. "Morgan. My parents departed this world under a significantly padded savings account which been relinquished to me, and a blanket of financial protection called a life insurance policy. They have bequeathed to me a monthly stipend so large, that if I took every dollar I earned with it so far, after only two years, I could probably fill your room to the ceiling with it all."

You watch her brain try to make sense of what you're saying.

"By the time the payments finally come to an end, I'll be about my parents age when they had me. And by then I'll likely have gotten my shit together, and be making my own source of income. Alright? So do not worry about anything financially. I'm not saying we're gonna go in there and buy the entire mall, but at the same time I'm not gonna let you continue to wear your dad's too big overalls with the busted shoulder strap. Ya get me?"

She takes in your words, and nods, a bit meekly. So at the very least she's going to let you treat her to a new outfit. Or ten.

"Besides," you continue. "You let your friends in highschool treat you when you were down, right? So let me do the same now. Lemme get some good karma in my life. This is how The Gates are opened to me... This is how I'll get to see my folks again when the time comes."

And with that you continue on toward the mall.

You start with Mazy's. You don't shop here, but it's got a wide selection, and variety is important in the moment. Give Morgan the chance to wear whatever she wants instead of what she's had no choice but to wear. You walk toward the general area of the women's portion of the store. Which is generally the entire damn store in places like this. There you find a conveniently placed chair up against a wall, so you have a seat. As you get comfortable you look up to find Morgan watching you.

"Well. Go on then." you tell her. "Store is yours to peruse. Get whatever you like, don't worry too much about price tags, if you like it just pick it up."

"Are you sure you wanna go here?" she asks. "If I have to I really wouldn't mind, like a thrift store, maybe DeeDee's?"

You stare at her unblinking, unspeaking, unmoving. After a moment of this staring contest that she's been losing, you say "Thought girls were supposed to be excited to get nice clothes." then fold your arms and lower your head, like you're about ready to take a nap.

"Fine fine I get it. I'll get new clothes, whatever I want. You said it, don't regret it." she says, looking around and getting ready to leave.

"Oh, by the way." you pipe up before she goes. "Do not, ask me how anything looks. Because I will lie to you and tell you it looks great, even if it's awful."

"Well aren't you just the best kind of friend?" she grumbles as she walks away.

"Not shopping for me, you're shopping for you. Should buy stuff based on what you like, not on what others like." you say, mostly to yourself, before you remember that it's entirely possible that she could've heard you. Oh well, not like you were saying anything rude.

And so you wait. And wait. And wait some more. Should have brought your phone. You're so used to leaving the house without it that you didn't think that this would be a good time to have it. You practically are about to take a nap, until Morgan finally makes it back to you, arms laden with clothes.

"Alright, I found some stuff that I like."

"Great." you say, adding a yawn and standing. "So now we can- Hold on. Let me see what you have."

"I thought you said you didn't care how it looks?"

"No I said 'don't ask me how it looks', I still wanna know what you got." you correct as you peek through her choices.

A bunch of shirts of various color and design, that's fine. But as you reach the bottom of the stack, you find the offensive items that drew your attention. You yank one out of her pile of clothing and inspect it. A pair of denim overalls. You stare at her. "Really?"

"What?" she asks, not understanding your lack of amusement.

"I gave you free reign to get whatever you want. You can completely change your style from what you've had. And you choose the exact same shit that you've had to deal with for the last few years? Figured you'd want to move on from this."

"Oh." she mutters, finally understanding. "Yeah, I get that, but. Turns out that they're comfy and I like them. It's fine if it's something I actually like, right?"

You shrug and return the item to the stack in her arms. "If that's your choice, I'll respect it."

"Besides." she adds. "I grabbed a few pairs that turn into shorts, and a few pair that turn into skirts. To hopefully avoid future confusion."

"Alright alright." you wave her words away. "If you're good then I'm good." You take one moe look at her stack of clothes. "Uhh. Actually. Aren't you gonna need... You know, other things?"

She tilts her head in confusion. Shit, why should you have to be the one to remind her of this.

"You know. The things that typically go, under your clothes." You pause and wait, and hope that she's catching on. But she isn't. "They support your assets?" you continue. When she still doesn't catch on you decide to be a bit more direct. "I mean, unless you're the type to go commando, but. Sounds uncomfortable."

Finally, realization dawns on her. "Oooh. Yeah, uh you're right. But, well. Selection's not the best here. I'll just have to go to that other store."

Now it's your turn to tilt your head in confusion. However it doesn't take long to realize what she's talking about.

"If you're going in there you're going alone." you say as you grab the top half of her clothes stack and walk away.

She catches up, laughing to herself. "What you sure? Don't wanna go in so I can ask what you think of that?"

You stop on a dime. Without looking in her direction you say "I will send you back to where you came from if you don't cut it out." Unfortunately, your still blank face doesn't accurately portray that you were attempting to joke. "Right, still bad at jokes my bad." you add quickly and in apology, before continuing toward the cashiers.

Shouldn't have brought up her painful living situation, it obviously brought the mood down. You try to think of something to change the subject and lighten the mood.

"And I'm surprised that you can even have the gall to make jokes like that. We've known each other for less than a month, but you're joking about me seeing you in your skivvies."

"Pfft, 'skivvies'? Who talks like that?" You get a laugh out of her though, so that's good. "It's just a joke man, we're friends. You telling me you never made jokes with your friends or something?"

"Of course, but only the guys, really."

"Did you have any female friends?"

"I did." you say, thinking back to your highschool days. "But she and our friend Hal were dating. And you don't make jokes about your buddy's girl, even if you're friends. The other one was. Kind of sensitive and quick to burst into tears."

You finally get up to the cashier and throw Morgan's clothes on the belt. You walk up to the card reader and withdraw your card, ready to pay as soon as you can and continue on. Once everything is scanned and bagged you pay for it like the living ATM that you currently are. Morgan's already grabbing the bags.

"Hand me some of those." you say.

"Nope I got this." she refuses. "You're doing enough. Besides, aren't you supposed to take it easy after you get hurt?"

"Pfft, they're bags of clothes, not dumbbells. And my dad would be cross with me if he caught me not carrying a woman's bags."

"Well no offense to your dad, but he should know that it's a new age, and some ladies don't need guys to do everything for them." she counters as she walks out with all her bags.

"... Guess she's got a point, Dad." you whisper into the ether as you follow.

You had one more stop before you were done here, but now that's turned into two stops. As you pass by the Victorian Secrets and immediately plant yourself onto a nearby bench. You retrieve your bank card and hand it off without a word. She leaves you to watch her bags as she goes to shop alone. Another waiting game and she returns with some heavily obscured bags, for the sake of privacy. You turn away with severe disinterest, and stand, ready to continue. She continues to carry her bags while you head to the last stop. Bans, for some new shoes.

Three brand new pairs of shoes later (that you're carrying because as much as she'd like to protest, her hands are geting full), you're finally done with the clothes part of your tasks for the day. You end your trip to the mall with a stop at the food court for lunch. After that, you head back to the car, tossing all the bags in the trunk. Once in, the car is started.

"Alright." you sigh, feeling oddly exhausted. "Almost done. Finally."

"Almost?" Morgan repeats. "What else is next?"

"Gotta fill my fridge with more than just air." you explain. When you notice her confusion you add "Unless you wanna get lunch at Heavy's every day or something. Might not be the best choice for your arteries though."

"Don't you eat there all the time?" she asks, thinking of all the times so far that you have been to Heavy's.

"I only eat there when I actually have the desire to feed myself. So honestly no, not often."

You can tell she wants to pick apart that sentence, but she decides not to.

You pull off, back the way you came. There's a grocery store a few minutes from your house so you head there. Once you're there and inside you inform Morgan of the plan.

"Same deal as before, grab whatever you like, or whatever you prefer. Just know that I myself, am not much of a cook. Or like, one at all. So take that into account as you grab things.

She nods simply and takes off. While she's grabbing her own groceries, you think about earnestly grabbing some of the things you used to enjoy. You're here, you might as well right? But will that work out for you in a good way? Will it bring you positive nostalgia over the things you used to love? Or will it bring back bitter memories as you realize that those days are gone for good? You don't know. So you won't worry about the answer until it comes to you.

You head down the aisles, grabbing whatever you see that piques your interest, and by the time you're done, you realize that you procure items like a child given large amounts of money. A bunch of snacks and junk food. Microwave burritos, pizza rolls, chicken tenders. Oh well, who in this world will shame your choices? You will, when you're fourty and rounder than a tire.

Morgan comes back with her own basket full of items, and it turns out she's not much better. Her choices are just as bad and junk filled as yours. However, for a while, she deserves to enjoy whatever she wants. One final bank card swipe for the day, and you're done. You wonder how much money you've spent. You might have to check. And try to find the number for your dad's friend so he can advise you on managing these kinds of expenses. Not that you need to be frugal at the moment, but at the same time, there's no need to constantly be so extravagant.

Bags are loaded into the car and you go home. You spent a good portion of your day out and about, you're ready for a break. Once you're home and the car is safely parked and turned off, you give silent thanks to the Lord, and your folks, for seeing you about the city and returned home safely.

Now comes the final task. You lug all the bags in from the car, starting with the groceries.. You help bring Morgan's clothes in, but set them near the living room couch for her to sort and do with as she will. Then there's the stuff from the pharmacy. You clearly and purposefully brought your stuff to the left of the car, but of course it must have slid around during the drive because your stuff and hers are bunched together. The things you bought wouldn't be embarrassing for either party if they were seen, maybe you should just leave it all for Morgan to inspect. But then again she doesn't know that you didn't buy anything crazy, she might feel the same about looking through your bags as you do about hers. It's fine, you only had two bags, it has to be these ones on the left. But, if you're wrong and see something you shouldn't, you'll just rinse you reyes real quick with a spot of bleach, problem solved. You check the bags you hope are yours... And thank the Lord they are. You grab them and turn around, and almost spit your heart out as Morgan is standing right behind you.

"You okay?" she asks, scrunching her face in worry.

"Yep. Uhh, moved too fast, messed with my wound, you know." you lie and hope that it sounds believable.

"See, told you you're supposed to be taking it easy." she wags her finger at you in reproach.

"Yup." is all you say.

With the last of the bags brought in, you begin sorting the groceries into their proper place. Everything you bought fits in somewhere, because your fridge was empty to begin with. With that done and everything else properly put away, you walk over to the couch and crash into it, fatigue enveloping you. Morgan drops down next to you.

"So what now?" she asks. You shrug in response. "Wanna play games?"

"Sure." you agree. "But I'm not really the best at them. They were more my folks' thing, not mine."

"Really? That's surprising."

"Yep." you nod, turning on the T.V. "We played as a family occasionally, but y'know I was out playing baseball more often than not. They loved this stuff though."

You hand her the first controller so she can choose the game. Of course she boots up Smash Bruhs.

"Can't believe your first choice in games is the one to beat me up." you comment. "This is how you repay me?"

"Yes." is all she says, as she sets up the match and picks Wulf.

You've got the season pass with the dlc characters. So you pick Kazooya, because Old Man Lou's still has a Tekkin cabinet, and Kazooya and Kingu were your picks. Some days, your friends would go with you to the center on days you didn't have practice, and play the games while you hit balls. Then you'd take a break and play with them. You've been thinking about your old friends quite a bit recently. Maybe you should try and contact them, just to see how they're doing. Or maybe not, they've surely moved on, don't need you randomly contacting them.

Anyway the game starts. You block Morgan's immediate opening attack and counter with the automatic ten hit combo that this character has and send her slightly off stage. As soon as she jumps, you blast her with the eye laser and send her even farther off stage. You wait for the reccovery, and as soon as you see it you run up to the edge of the stage and hit her with the down smash, spiking her into the abyss below. So you've taken a stock without receiving even a single point of damage. You hop back and forth as you wait for Morgan to descend from the invincible platform. Though you're surprised when she pauses and hits the command to end the game. She stares daggers, sharper than the one that punctured your side, directly into you.

"Don't ever pick that character again." she demands with complete sincerity.

Understandable, Kazooya is off limits. Or maybe the DLC characters in general are just strong. You only ever played against bots, so you were unaware. You switch to King Krool instead, then look to Morgan to confirm that your choice is acceptable.. She seems satisfied with that and the match begins anew.

Morgan's better at this than you. When you're not using an OP character, she can actually fight back and messes you up pretty well. You play for a while, but besides a few close calls, you don't come out with any wins. She seems pretty pleased. Your expression is unchanged.

"Alright. I'm about ready to call it." you say, standing up and putting away your controller.

"Tired of losing huh?" she asks, giving you a grin full of smug.

"Just tired in general." you respond, not letting your shame of defeat surface. "So I'm gonna turn in. Have a good night."

"You too." she says, letting you walk away, before she adds "Thanks again, Anon. For everything. I appreciate it, really."

"No problem, dude." you respond, mentally berating yourself for calling her 'dude'. However, she never reacted to it negatively before, and isn't doing so now, so it must not be a big deal. "It's, um. What was it? 'A small act of kindness can create endless ripples', or something."

You recount the quote that Heavy told you, assuming this must be something along the lines of what he meant.

"This has been far more than small acts of kindness though." she says.

"Well then maybe large acts of kindness will create endless tidal waves." you shrug. "Anyway, good night."

"Good night." she waves you off, and up the stairs you go to bring an end to this long ass day.

And thus, with the necessary prep work done, you began your days of roommating with Morgan. However, since you don't have many interests save for one, and you can't even engage in it anyway, it was up to Morgan to deliver on ideas whenever entertainment was necessary. Though her usual choice was to play video games. She's surprisingly into games. So most of your days while you wait to recover are filled with playing video games, or watching whatever shows she puts on T.V. It's stuff that you aren't too used to. Even before your layers of grief, you weren't one to sit around in the house for long, unless you had to. Even now, being unable to go to the batting cages has been making you a little stir crazy. So in order to relieve some of the building energy you've been accumulating, you decided to go on walks around the neighborhood.

Morgan insisted on going with you, even though you tried to insist instead that it was unnecessary. You didn't feel the need to interrupt her day to day with such simple things. But she would say something about being there to help you get back if you began to struggle. You didn't plan to go far enough for that to be a problem, but whatever, if she wanted to insist so deeply, you didn't have a reason to deny her.

Besides, taking simple walks around the neighborhood helped her familiarize herself with the area, and also gave you more time to get to know each other. An interesting fact you learned is that she seems to enjoy dealing with plants. She enjoyed the science projects in school that had to do with growing plants. Which to you, could either mean an interest in botany, or just an interest in gardening itself.

"Well, there's a bunch of space in the backyard. Could get some stuff to start a garden if you wanted." you offered. "Though Fall is close. So I guess that's research you'll have to do on what you can grow in the coming months."

So at some point you end up picking up garden supplies. By which you mean you orderd garden supplies, because your dad's Camero doesn't have space, and you aren't supposed to be lifting. Pots, planters, and everything else she'll need to start a garden. However everything else is up to her. And she involves herself in it with excitement, doing all kinds of research before she even started. But as the days go by, and you watch her tend to the early stages of her garden, you conclude that this was a good choice. Another small act of kindness to go toward your endless ripples.

However... All the kindness you've been doing for another person, doesn't really seem to be helping you like you hoped. You were kind of hoping that bettering her situation and seeing how much better things were for her would somehow vicariously make you feel better. But of course it wasn't that easy. Not only that but you did feel a little self conscious about your thoughts, thinking that you were indeed just using her to try and feel better. But you tried to convince yourself that the kindnesses you were doing were worth a bit of the selfishness you were receiving.

And so, about a month has gone by. You were told before you were discharged from the hospital to make a follow up visit in a month so that they could check on the status of your healing and remove your stitches. It's about time for you to get going so that you can be on time. You're going to have to drive, but you can take the streets, even though it's going to take a bit longer. As you come down the stairs, you don't see Morgan. So she must be in the back, messing around in her garden. You won't be gone for too long, no need to interrupt her, you think. But at the same time, it's probably some kind of courtesy to let her know that you have to leave for a while.

You head to the kitchen to go through the door to the side of your house. You walk to the backyard and, yep there she is.

"Ay." you call out to get her attention as you continue to approach, just so that you don't sneak up on her. She was so engrossed before that you spooked her and she almost knocked over several of her pots.

"Oh hey." she says as you stand next to her. "Check it out, I'm getting sprouts."

And sure enough, there are bits of green poking out from the soil. Morgan looks particularly accomplished as she looks at her plants.

"Really are all kinds, huh?" you think marvelling at how interested Morgan is with her plants. You never would've took her for one who likes gardening, had she never told you. But you guess that's just how most hobbies tend to be for people who don't make them their entire personality.

"All kinds of what?" she asks, revealing that you were once again speaking your thoughts out loud.

"Nothing nevermind." you wave the question away. "Anyway, I gotta go get my stitches pulled out, so I'm gonna be gone for a bit. Just wanted to let you know."

"Oh." She stands up and dusts herself off. "I'll go with you then."

"What. No need, I won't be gone long, and I don't wanna interrupt whatever you've got going on." you explain.

"It's fine, I was done here anyway, and I don't have anything else to get up to." she insists.

You go back and forth for a bit, telling her that it's fine, but she really insists on going, so in the end you give up. It's not like you have a huge reason to refuse her, so if she wants to insist so heavily, then that's her choice. You jump in the car and take off. You aren't actually going to the hospital you were admitted to, just a medical center that they're a part of. But it's still in the same area of town so you still have a ways to go. Morgan doesn't have much to say during the trip, she seems to just be silently enjoying the ride. You kind of wonder why she was so set on coming, but you don't think about it too deeply.

You get where you're going a few minutes early, and sign in. After a fifteen minute wait, you're called back. Morgan follows, which seems to be allowed. You're brought to a room and sat upon that bench bed for patients. Morgan sits in a nearby guest chair. After another short wait, the medical professional comes in.

"Afternoon, I'm Dr. Carter, I'll be taking a look at your laceration and removing your stitches." He notices Morgan in the corner, and gives her a gentle smile.

"She insisted on coming." you tell him, hoping it's okay that she's here even though she isn't family or anything. "Think she was worried about me."

"Oh yeah, definitely." the doctor nods. "I'd be worried too if I were your, friend." He broaches that last word carefully, taking the safer option. "I mean, according to my information, you were stabbed, and although the wound wasn't particularly grievous, it's still nice to have people who care. I pitch a fit if my daughter even gets a paper cut."

He laughs, Morgan laughs, you huff, proper laughter still denied to you.

"Anyway, let's have a look." he says, preparing his supplies.

You lift your shirt to display your wound area. He inspects, and making some mental confirmations he decides that it's good to remove your stitches.

"There'll be some slight pinching." he informs you and you nod, ready.

He snips and yeah, it pinches, but it's not that bad compared to being stabbed. Once he's done, he checks and double checks to make sure he didn't miss anything. Once he's sure, he sticks some strange kind of sticky bandage over your wound area, explaining what they are and that they'll fall off in time and blah blah.

"But with that you're pretty much done." he confirms. "Any questions?"

"Am I good to move around again? Like physically?" you ask.

"Well I'd say you're pretty much healed up, so there shouldn't be any complications at this point. But of course if you feel any discomfort doing whatever you're doing, then stop immediately. If it persists, then come back, we may have to take a look."

"Okay great." you nod, feeling weirdly free. You're ready to get back to the center, you've been idle for too long.

"Well if that's all then have a good day." Dr. Carter says, before leaving.

You hop up and turn to Morgan, who does the same. No need to schedule any other follow ups at the moment, so out you go. Straight home, no other stops need to be made. As much as you want to grab your bat and make a mad dash to Old Man Lou's, you'll wait until tomorrow. Get a fresh start as soon as it opens and play until it closes.

"Any other plans for the day?" Morgan asks as you walk into your home.

"Not particularly, no." you answer.

"Great. Then have a seat." she says pointing to the couch.

You do as she asks. She comes around the couch and drops into it holding your mom's tablet. It was your mom's, but your mom would let you borrow it if you needed to do internet research for school or whatever, since you didn't have a computer of your own or anything. It's what Morgan used to do the research for her garden. She turns on the television, and hits the commands to cast the tablet screen to your T.V.

"What's going on?" you ask.

"Gonna show you that music I liked. Finally finished a playlist of all the songs I like best." she answers.

Alright you're game for that. You lean back into your couch and kick your feet up onto the cofee table to get comfortable. She starts up her playlist. And you're pretty sure the song count is over one hundred... You're not going to have to listen to all of it are you?

It starts up, and the beginning is kind of slow. Before it builds up and gets kind of exciting. It seems to be some type of dance music, albeit not as energetic. Dance music that you know is kind of erratic and stuff. This is a bit more tame. It seems more suited to giving you a kind of mental focus rather than getting you to stand up and move.

So after a few songs, you conclude that you like it. And are mentally glad that it's nothing like this crazy ass electronic music that your mongoose friend Deeno tried to get you into. It was called phunk, or fonk, or some weird name that really seemed like false advertising.

"It's the future of music, homie." he told you. But if that's the future you will gladly stay a caveman.

"So what do you think?" Morgan asks, bringing you back to reality.

"It's not bad." you say casually, not admitting to liking it or disliking it.

"Right, 'not bad' he says. I'll just take that to mean you like it."

Well she's not wrong.

So with no other real plans for the day, you spend your time on the couch listening to Morgan's playlist of music.

You wake up.

And immediately you're aware that you aren't in your own bed. You look around, and while the light of day is fading, it's still bright enough to tell that you're in the living room. So you fell asleep, likely while listening to Morgan's playlist. You also find Morgan asleep. Head nestled comfortably upon your lap. How she managed to descend to that position without waking up is beyond you. Maybe she's just a heavy sleeper. But you have to wake her up, because this. This is just a little bit awkward.

"Oi, Morgan, wake up." you say, bouncing your legs that are half asleep, in an effort to jostle her awake.

It takes a bit, but she does eventually rise. Rise like the dead though.

"Go back to your bed if you're gonna sleep." you tell her.

"... Don't wanna." she mumbles.

"Uh. Excuse me?" you mutter, caught off guard.

"I'm awake now, don't wanna go back to sleep." is her slightly incoherent answer.

So that's what she meant. For a minute you thought it was because she was comfortable in her position. You wait for her to fully sit upright so you can move away. But she remains where she is, half elevated away from you as if she froze. Then she suddenly descends back into your lap.

"Oi, c'mon." you say again, bouncing your legs to disrupt her rest. "Just said you weren't going back to sleep."

Her retaliation is to grumble heavily, almost as if she were growling in her sleep. You bounce your legs again, but it practically has the opposite effect, seeming to rock her to sleep. You don't want to stay here, napping in this position was uncomfortable enough. You're already a bit sore, if you spend a night this way, you can forget about going to the center in the morning.

However, you look at Morgan's sleeping form. The slow rise and fall of her torso, the gentle sounds of her breathing.

Peaceful one, ain't she?

You lift your hand with menace. You attempted peace, now it's time for problems. You bring your hand down, ready to pinch her ear and wake her up that way... However, your hand changes its formation and acts without any express orders from your brain, planting itself gently against the top of Morgan's head. Your hand continues its surprise rebellion, running itself carefully along Morgan's head in a calming, soothing manner.

You can't bring yourself under control. The action continues even as you think "Would this be considered rude?" However, a gentle but rythmic thump coming from beside you denies that thought. Morgan's tail is rising and falling, colliding with the couch back as it descends. It repeats, over and over. So in her dreamlike state, she must be able to feel what you're doing and is subconsciously responding. So you subconsciously continue. You continue until you find yourself drifting off. Well, here it goes. Let's hope you don't wake up too stiff tomorrow.

You wake up, laying properly across the couch. How you got this way, you don't know, and at the moment, you don't care because the alluring scent of breakfast is filling the room. You get up, no aches thankfully, and walk into the kitchen. Looks like Morgan's found the waffle maker so she's making waffles with a side of turkey bacon. Huh. Been a while since you've had a proper home cooked breakfast. You still aren't much for breakfast, but when you do decide to have some, it's usally cereal or toast.

"Mornin'." you say in greeting.

You seem to startle Morgan with that as she jumps slightly. She turns around. "Good morning." she says, a bit awkwardly.

She probably woke up and noticed that awkward sleeping position you were both engaged in and is now embarrassed about it. Even though it was technically her fault.

"Makin' breakfast huh, that's rare." you comment.

"Yeah well. I figured your first choice of the day would be to go to your batting center since the doctor gave you the okay. So I thought some breakfast would help you feel properly energized before you went."

"For me huh? Well, thanks." you say as you turn around to go to your bathroom. You go take a moment to clean up before you return to the kitchen and find a plate at the table all set up and waiting for you. Your waffles have these little cherries scattered over them with a dollop of whipped cream in the center. Been a while since you've had a waffle like this.

"Didn't know other people liked their waffles this way." you comment idly as you take a bite.

"Yeah. My mom preferred them like this, so I guess I do too." she explains.

"Yup, so did mine." you say, mouth half full.

The rest of breakfast goes by in silence. Once you're both done, you take care of the dishes. Food was made for you, so it's the least you can do. With that out of the way, you return to the bathroom for a shower and a change of clothes. You grab your bat, and cast a passing glance over your "good luck charm". You're supposed to carry good luck charms with you for them to work, right? But you're not taking that. If anything, you've got your real good luck charm, in your hand already.

Back down the stairs, Morgan's not here yet. She had the same idea as you, but it's obviously taking her a bit longer to get ready. So you stand by the door and wait. As you do, you look over all the pictures of your parents. You don't really seem to feel much better yet. But at the same time, you can definitely tell that things are changing. You definitely don''t go through each day as autonomously as you used to. A little change is good, surely that's the first step. Hopefully your parents aprrove of the choices and changes you're making.

Eventually Morgan finally shows up. "You ready?" you ask to confirm.

"Yep," she nods. "You gonna drive down there, now that you're more comfortable with it?"

"Nah. Don't wanna rely on it if I don't have to, y'know. Hope that's alright."

"I'm fine with whatever you choose." she replies.

So you're walking to the batting center, just like you used to... Well not quite. Now you're walking with a friend, as opposed to alone. Having a conversation, as opposed to brooding in silence. No longer dragging yourself there, like you feel that you used to. You catch sight of Heavy's Hams as you walk, and see a few people in line to order food. Maybe you'll go there for lunch, you haven't come this way in about a month, so you could definitely go for one of those burgers.

You continue on and your attention is called as you notice Morgan perk up suddenly and turn her head head sharply left. You follow her focus and notice what she did. Grouped up behind the building of an old run down convenience store, you catch the characteristic ugly disgusting green bandanas of 6th Street. You're about to ignore them, but as you prepare to turn away and keep moving, you see one of them has someone pinned, their knee driving into their back, as they look toward the group, surrounding someone else. And now that your focus is squarely on them, you can begin to hear the sounds of someone getting their ass beat. So, what you gather is, 6th Street are acting like the cowards they are and jumping someone because that's all they can do.

It's none of your business. You just want to go hit baseballs at the batting center. That's what you want to do, so. Why is it that you're walking up to 6th Street with the intent to break all of their bones? You lower your bat and let it drag against the ground in that menacing stone against metal sound, just like when you began to approach Jack. One of them catches the noise, and notices you, carefully alerting his companions. You don't recognize him. Actually, you don't recognize a lot of these ones. The circle that was bullying whoever opens up, and now that you're close enough you can see. The one on the ground, and the one held in a headlock as he got his gut mashed like a punching bag, they're wearing these dark red jackets. Embroidered on the back is a symbol of those Japanese demons. So these two are a part of another gang called the Akai Oni Clan. Which really, seem to be less of a gang, and more of a community, according to what you've heard.

Though they aren't supposed to be around here also from what you know. They stick to a small area on the edge of the city. So you unwittingly walked into some gang squabble? But if anything the Oni kids were minding their own business and 6th Street is the problem, like always. So you don't regret.

The 6th Street goons face you, the one still pinning the Oni member, that from this close you can tell is a human girl, some sort of asian descent, to the ground, The other still headlocking their victim, who seems to be a Shiba Inu, or something similar. A quick count shows about eight 6th Street members, so a few more than your first time. However, you don't have the drop on them like then, so it may be a bit more difficult.

"Oh fuck." rings out behind the group, and you finally notice that you do in fact recognize one of these idiots. The coyote that you dealt with on several occasions. He scans the environment quickly, clearly noting that this is not the batting center you frequent. "The fuck are you doing here?"

"That's my question dummy. Haven't we done this enough?" you say.

"Look, we ain't anywhere near that center. We left that damn place alone. So we ain't got nothin' to do with you."

"Wrong." you say. "Any place that lies between my walk to the center, is under my domain. So you really picked a bad place for your bullshit. Now I have to break your ribs like sticks."

"Who the hell is this scrub?" the guy driving his knee into the girl's back asks.

"This is the dude who messed up Jack. And Tiny." the coyote answers.

"Bullshit." the guy says. "He don't look like much, I bet we can take him."

"Didn't you just hear me, dumbass?" the coyote says, keeping eye contact with you. "He messed up the Boss."

"Dawg, there's eight of us."

"Yeah, and that ain't gonna be enough."

You nod to the kneeling guy, corroborating the coyote's statement. You take a look at their victims. The Inu is pretty messed up, and the girl looks like she's about to pass out from difficulty breathing.

"Tell ya what." you say. "I wanna save my energy for the cages. You leave your punching bag and knee pillow here and take off, I'll forget I saw you. Or you can try me, but like he said. There ain't enough of you."

You glare at the guy on the ground, before you pass your gaze over the rest of the gangoons. They look to the coyote, who is probably the new leader of this group, for guidance.

"Tsk. Let's bounce." he calls to his group, already walking away.

The others grumble and groan, but follow his order, releasing the Inu and the girl and leaving. As soon as they're gone, you breathe a sigh of relief. You really weren't in the mood for a fight. and the space between this building and its fence wouldn't have left you a lot of room to manuever. Luckily 6th Street don't seem to have tactical intelligence.

"Ya'll good?" you ask, walking up to the girl to offer her a hand up. She looks at it and you, before mentally debating, then choosing to take it.

"It could've been a lot worse, thank you for your help." she says. She's even got an accent.

You repeat the gesture with the Inu, helping him to his feet, after he collapsed on his ass from the beating he got.

"Told you coming out here wasn't worth it." he says to her, similar accent in his voice.

"It was worth it." she responds. "For me. Not so much for you."

"What's Akai Oni's people doing over here?' you wonder. "You guys aren't really gangsters from what I know, seems weird that you'd be out here messing with 6th Street."

The Akai Oni Clan are damn near a bunch of community service members. Painting over the graffiti in their neighborhoods with murals, cleaning up trash, feeding and gearing the homeless. It's weirdly humane, especially for San Vanargrand where people don't really seem to care about any of that.

"We weren't messing with them, Okita has a friend over here who broke a leg. So she wanted to visit and brough her a gift basket." the Inu answers.

"It wasn't my intent for us to be attacked by those idiots. They just seem to be willing to start fights with anyone, no matter who it is." the girl who is apparently Okita, says.

"Yeah well, glad I could help you outta that. Just be more careful if you're gonna come back around. Walk with a bigger group or something." you inform them as you turn to leave.

"Wait, one moment." the Inu requests. "Could you give us your name?"

"Anon." you say.

"Anon, huh?" Okita wonders to herself.

"Yeah it's weird I know." you comment.

"I meant no offense." she responds quickly. "I'm Okita. This is my brother Keiji. We both thank you for helping us." she says, as they both give you a short but respectful bow.

"Brother, huh?" you mutter. "Brother in arms?"

"Oh, no. Literally," Keiji responds. "We're blood siblings."

That gets your attention. You didn't expect to hear that. But now that you think on it, you do kind of remember hearing that although rare, children can be either human or anthro when born to human and anthro parents. Though you never met anybody with that familial bond before now. But it's rare to conceive, so to have two children so close in age to each other. Either means they were born back to back, or were twins? How impossibly rare would that be? What kind of lottery did their folks win?

"Yes, us being siblings is quite the rare occurence." Okita says, clearly noting the questions burning in your mind.

"Yeah well. Can't lie and say I'm not interested." you remark.

But not interested enough to waste any more time. Baseball is more important. You look out to the street and see Morgan still standing out there, watching you all.

"Well, anyway I gotta get going." you inform them both. "Glad you're alright... Mostly. Stay safe." and head over to reconvene with Morgan.

"Thanks again for your help." they say simultaneously.

"Oh my God dude." Morgan says as you approach. "That was amazing. You ran those gangsters off with just a few words. They must be terrified of you for you to do that. Which I guess makes sense, you did beat their big boss."

"Yep." you say idly. "Just hope he doesn't come back looking for revenge, or his knife."

"So who were those two they were messing with?" she asks.

"Looks like they're part of the Akai Oni Clan." you say.

"Another gang? Was it a good idea to get involved then?"

"You don't know the Akai Onis?" you ask. She shakes her head. Which is understandable. They keep to themselves and their community. The only reason you know about them is because your sika deer friend Naomi, who was dating your friend Hal at the time, told you about them. She lived on that part of the city, so they were a constant presence in her neighborhood.

You tell Morgan the stories that Naomi told you about what they do. Besides keeping the streets clean, there were a lot of handymen or tech experts. So people would ask for their help, if something like a pipe in their house sprung a leak, or if their computer wasn't working properly. They also did things like, running errands for the elderly, picking up groceries and whatnot, giving rides to the people who didn't have transportation, and even babysitting for the single moms. And receiving proper payment for all the tasks and jobs they would do. So yeah, they might have a gang sounding name, and wear gang like clothes with a gang like symbol. But they are no such thing, which is unbelievably strange.

With that detour out of the way, you finally make it to Old Man Lou's. You walk in. There are a few middle school aged kids at the arcade cabinets, but beyond that, the place is as empty as usual. You walk over to Shelby's counter as she beams with delight at your approach.

"Hey, how ya been?" you ask.

She shrugs and waves her hand in the "so-so" gesture.

"Hi Shelby." Morgan says as she takes a step around from behind you.

Shelby's eyes almost pop out of her head as she notices Morgan. She runs from behind her counter and seems to inspect Morgan heavily. Checking her face, her new style of outfit. She even scrutinizes her hair and bits of her fur. She gives Morgan this big toothy grin, and Morgan gives a smile back, albeit with a bit of embarrassment. You don't know what that's about, and you're not going to ask. After their shared moment is over, Shelby turns to you, with this smug, almost accusatory grin.

"I don't know what you have to say to me, and I don't wanna hear it." you say. "What I do want though, is for you to set my game up so I can play."

You walk toward your batting cage without another word. You stretch and take a few practice swings while the machine starts up. You hit the start button once you feel sufficiently warmed up. The first ball launches toward you and you make contact. The sound of the bat colliding with the ball. The reverberation from the impact. They feel, good. Good like they did when you used to play. Once you started coming back after the accident, those small things that you enjoyed just seemed matter of fact. They didn't excite you like they did. But this time, you felt a tinge of excitement. Even though nothing has changed drastically in your life, you think.

Maybe the short break just brought back those old feelings. You continue to bat. Your form is just a slight bit off during the first several pitches. But once you get into it you're batting just about how you used to. You finish your first set. You didn't hit all the targets, but you didn't miss a single ball. You hit the start button again immediately, ready to do it again. And this time, you're leagues better. You hit every ball, and make contact with every target. The tiny target reveals itself. The ball is pitched and you hit it right into the center of the tiny target. The congratulatory fanfare plays, and oddly you feel kind of good about it when you hear it. Been a while.

"Damn no way." you hear behind you.

"Dude's pretty good." comes another voice.

"College player or something?" you faintly hear from one more voice before the sounds of the front doors closing silences the voices.

So it was those middle school kids leaving. They just happened to catch you knocking ball after ball out of the park before they left. It's nice to be recognized for your talent. You look back, and see Morgan sitting at the nearby bench, watching you play. She smiles as your gazes meet, displaying for you the emotion you want to show. You huff in that laughless laugh and hit the start button once again, bringing your focus back ahead.

You play and you play until you feel a slight discomfort in your side. The doctor said you were healed, but overdoing it may cause some complications, so you decide to take a break. You go to the vending machine and buy two Dr. Beppers, before returning to the bench and sitting next to Morgan. you hand her a bottle.

"Thanks." she says, taking it. "Looks like you enjoyed yourself."

You silently sip at your drink, thinking of how impossible that is. "Do I really?"

"Yeah." she nods. "Not like in the face, you're still blank staring at just about everything. But I've been figuring you out. so I can kinda tell what you're feeling."

"Oh yeah?"

"Like, that thing you do," she starts, before mimicking your empty laugh. "That's how you laugh. You sniffle when you don't agree with something. You scratch the left side of your neck when you're disappointed, like when you lose at video games. And you rub the back of it when you feel particularly awkward or embarrassed."

"So you've been studying me?" you ask.

"Wouldn't say that. Just trying to understand you. You don't show or tell what you're feeling so I had to try and figure it out."

"Well then. Since you've got me all figured out, what am I feeling right now?" you stare into her eyes and ask.

She stares back, actually analyzing you for a moment. "You feel... Like you wanna hit more baseballs."

"Goddamn right." you say, standing up and walking back into your cage.

Morgan goes into a laughing fit, as you start up another round. Well. You don't yet feel the joy of living like you're hoping to. But at the very least, you can accurately tell that you are having fun. With more than just hitting baseballs.

You played until you got tired. It's a fulfilling kind of tired, like the days after practice. You leave the cage and give Morgan a simple nod to conclude that you're finished. Then you walk up to Shelby to pay for your games. You tell her that you'll see her tomorrow, but before you leave she beckons to you. You step a little closer, and like she's done before, she looks searchingly into your eyes. You finally get the sense of how awkward this intense, close range staring match is. You rub the back of your neck as you wait for Shelby to finish her odd soul searching. Once she's done, she releases you, and gives you this small, but warm smile.

"You ever gonna explain to me what you're always doing that for?" you ask.

She shakes her head, and gestures you toward the door in farewell. You roll your eyes and depart, Morgan following you out. You head down the road towards home.

"Wanna stop at Heavy's for some food?" you ask Morgan. "Been a while, I'm kinda craving a burger."

"Sounds good to me." she responds.

So on the way you pause at Heavy's Hams, and actually have to wait in line as people are here with the same plans. Luckily the wait isn't too long. But when you get to the front, you notice that the person manning the register is not Heavy.

"Welcome, what can we get for you?" this beaver dude standing at the counter asks you.

"Who the hell are you?" you ask bluntly. Morgan bops you in the arm as punishment for your sudden rudeness.

"Um? Arnold?" the beaver seems to question. "Mr. Heavy gave me a job."

You lean around the beaver and look to Heavy manning the grill. "Ay Heavy." you call.

"My boy Anon!" Heavy shouts, turning to face you. "Thought you forgot about me youngster, haven't seen you in ages." He looks between you and Morgan for a bit. "Still ain't run your friend here off, huh? That's good. Thick as thieves, you two, huh?"

You and Morgan share a look. She looks at Heavy and shrugs innocently. You shrug with disinterest. He takes a moment to tend to the grill, before he brings his attention back to you.

"Now that I look at the both of you. You're lookin' better. The both of you are."

"Whadda ya mean?" you ask.

"The young miss here's got a nice, healthy sheen to her goin' on. And from what I can tell, outta those dingy old man clothes. And you, while you still got that poker face, you got a better look to your eyes."

You once again look to Morgan. She looks at you and nods, seeming to recognize that Heavy's speaking the truth. At the same time you momentarily inspect her fur. Mostly black with a strip of white in the center, you try to bring your memory back to the days when you first met Morgan. You conclude that maybe he's right? Anyway.

"Well if you say so." you reply.

"I do say so, that's why I said it." he responds, before he goes back to the grill.

"So what's with this guy?" you say in reference to Arnold. Morgan bops you again for your blatant rudeness. "You''ve been doing this on your own for ages, why the sudden need for help?"

"Cuz I'm getting old!" he shouts, before following up with a hearty laugh. "Nah. His old man and me used to run together. Said his boy needed to find some work to pay for some trip he's trying to take, so I offered to let him work for a bit with me."

"More of those small kindnesses, huh?" you remark.

"You know it." he responds.

Now with that bit out of the way, you finally order your food, to stop holding up the line that's been growing behind you. There's still a few tables and benches free so you have a seat and wait for your order to be called. You chat with Morgan until your food's ready, then you eat. Once you're full on the best burgers in San Vanargrand, you head home. There's still some time in the day, so you offer to let Morgan whoop on you in some Smash Bruhs. She agrees readily. However, that was bait. Because you've secretly been practicing while she's been preoccupied with other things.

You play and stomp her with two stocks left. She's shocked, and chalks up your win to luck. So you run it back, and while she tries harder, she still loses. So you play again and again. Eventually, you bring it to a close match and throw, giving her the win. And she cheers like she just won the lottery. Even though, she's been beating you into paste whenever you play, you win a few times and suddenly her win is the most monumentous achievemnet.

"Alright Morgan. Gonna turn in." you say, getting up to leave.

"What. You can't just quit while you're ahead." she responds.

"I think that's what you're supposed to do."

"Fine. But don't think I didn't notice how good you got in such a short time. We'll deal with this later."

"Whatever do you mean?" you ask innocently.

"I murdered you in this game just a week ago. Then suddenly you're beating me this easily? That's not a coincidence." She leans back in the couch, crosses her legs and poses her hands like a movie villain. "Now for the sake of my honor, I'm going to have to destroy you."

You huff in another empty laugh. "Good night, Morgan."

Before you turn to leave, you notice the change in Morgan's face. She stares at you, eyes widening in some sort of surprise, or astonishment. She stays that way for some time though, before you get worried and speak.

"Morgan, you okay?" you call out to her.

"You're smiling." she manages to get out.

You relax your face and find out that, yes your cheeks were tensed and your lips upturned in what is commonly referred to as a smile, larger than what you would have expected from someone who has no heart.

"Wow. Guess I was. Didn't even notice."

She breathes a sigh of relief. "That's good. Really good."

"Is it really?" you ask.

"It means I'm not the only one getting something out of this. I thought I was the only one getting anything out of our deal."

"Oh." is all you say.You don't really have anything else at the moment.

"But I'm glad to know that you're getting better. Even if it's slowly."

You part on those last words and return to your room. So having someone to spend time with again is finally working. Maybe it's always been working and just like moments ago, you just didn't notice. This is good, this is progress. It may not completely extinguish your grief. Wounds heal, but scars remain and all that. But maybe this friendship is the salve that will help them heal faster, and lessen any discomfort that comes after the healing process.

You wake up, ready for another day of exactly the same thing as yesterday. You get up and do what you do to ready yourself in the mornings. Though you've noticed you no longer throw yourself onto the ground right after waking. You come downstairs to the scent of breakfast.

"Again huh?" you ask as you round the corner and find Morgan in the kitchen. "Twice in a row. You keep doing this and I'll come to expect it in the mornings."

"Good." is her reply, as she gives a resolute nod.

You eat. More of the same like yesterday, but you have no reason to complain, food is food. Once you're done, Morgan takes off to water her plants and then returns after she's done. And once again you take yourselves down to Old Man Lou's. You walk in, and are immediately surprised and concerned with the sight you see.

Red jackets with demon faces on the back. Some people in black with red versions of those samurai half masks that only cover the mouth. The Akai Oni Clan squatting in your batting center. There looks to be about ten of them in total. Some of them are at the arcade. but most of them are pretty much just loitering around. They aren't supposed to be dangerous, but you still find yourself tensing your grip around your bat, ready for confrontation.

"Oh, here he is! I was right!" the Shiba Inu from yesterday shouts, noticing you enter.

"Like hell you were!" his sister screams. "I was the one who figured out it was this center."

"Yes, but I agreed with you, so technically, I was still right."

"What the hell is going on? Why're you nerds here?" you spit out before you can reel it in. Why do you get so confrontational whenever gangs are involved? This is not how one lives a long life.

"Apologies, I brought them here." someone says as they approach.

A tall, well built asian guy, maybe close to a decade older than you, walks up. Dark hair, dark eyes, fierce gaze.

"And you are?" you ask.

"You may call me Shinzo." he responds politely. You are Anon, correct?"

You nod, as you glance toward the Inu Keiji, and his sister Okita. Giving out your name to what must be their boss. Maybe you shouldn't have gotten involved after all.

"No need to look so defensive." he says, clearly noting your apprehension. "I was told of how you lent aid to my comrades. So in my role as danchou, I felt I should come to thank you personally on their behalf."

"And you needed a small army to come do that?" you question, still not wholly ready to let your guard down.

"Yes. I was informed that it is more dangerous than expected in this area, and that we should 'walk with a bigger group', as it were."

Oh yeah. You did tell them that.

"And you knew I was gonna be here, how?" you continue your questioning.

"Not difficult to figure out!" Keiji pipes up. "Your baseball bat, and the comments made by those thugs yesterday, gave us the obvious clue that you were heading to a batting center. And after a quick search, the closest center from where we met you was this one."

Okita glares at him for apparently stealing her thunder, explaining her simple deductions, and passing them off as his own.

"Quite so." Shinzo adds with a nod. "So Anon. From us, the Akai Oni Clan. We thank you for helping our comrades." He finishes with a respectful bow. All the other members bow the same.

They hold their bow for a moment. It's kind of embarrassing for you to be honest. You look between Shelby, looking very confused at the moment, and Morgan, who is grinning like a madwoman. You rub your neck, as you wait for this strange show of reverence to end. Which it eventually does.

"It was no problem." you say, once Shinzo is once again making eye contact. "I just really, don't like 6th Street. And I'm told that you guys are pretty chill as far as groups go, so I'm sure it would've been bad karma to just leave them like that."

"Well, we thank you nonetheless. If there's anything we can do to repay you, feel free to tell me. If we can do it, we will see it done."

"No need to repay me." you wave him away. "Small kindnesses, you know. You guys do 'em all the time, I was just repaying a bit of that."

"That may be so, but I still feel it would be best if you would allow us to repay you. We honor our debts, as some would say."

It's probably going to continue in this back and forth for a while if you keep trying to refuse him, so you try to think of something quick and simple. You look around the center, and across the group of ten Oni members.

"Alright, dude, I got something you can do." you tell him.

He stands stiff as a board, accenting his already impressive height even further, as he waits for your request.

"You, and your friends. You gotta hit the cages." you say, pointing to the batting cages with your baseball bat. "This is my favorite place, and it's usually kind of dead. I highly doubt that me alone is keeping it afloat, so give my favorite center your business for a while. That'll help me immensely."

To be honest, how Old Man Lou's hasn't closed from lack of activity is an enigma, but as long as it was here, you would keep coming, so you haven't thought too hard about it.

"That. Can be done." Shinzo says with a nod in confirmation. "Omaira! Yaky?." Shinzo shouts to get his comrades' attention. Then calmly presents them with his order.

"Ryokai!" they shout in unison, in what you believe is Japanese, if your hangouts with Hal are relaying properly in your mind.

Shinzo steps aside and walks over to Shelby's counter as his group follow to grab rental bats.. You figure you'll jump in your cage, before someone else does and you have to cuss them out like you did with Morgan long ago. Into the number 3 cage you go. You turn and wait as Shinzo talks with Shelby.

"How much will a single round for ten people cost me?" you manage to catch him asking her.

She does a quick calculation on her phone and shows him.

"Well. I mean, I know many consider us to be a gang, but we're actually quite friendly. The silent treatment isn't completely necessary." he jokes.

Right of course he doesn't know. Shelby smiles, and does something you haven't seen her do in years. She uses sign language to inform Shinzo that she's unable to speak. She doesn't use it often, because most normal people don't know sign language, so she uses her easily understandable gestures instead. You expect Shinzo to be confused. But you're surprised when he actually signs back. Shelby looks surprised as well, and signs something back to him one more time.

"I am a man of many talents." he says with too much pride. "Now, back to the price." he retrieves his wallet, and slides her some money. "First game's on me! If you choose to continue after that, it's on you!"

They all shout in assent. Each one comes up to receive a rental bat and head to a cage. Shinzo walks by and notices you already in your cage.

"Number 3 is mine." you tell him. "I've got personal attachment to it for certain reasons, so one of your friends will just have to take turns."

"I guess I will be the one waiting then." he nods.

You turn around, and instantly, the sounds of the machine pitching balls, people making contact, or a ball making contact with the gate, sounds out all around you. Some cages have the targets up ahead of them. Some make contact, others don't. This place hasn't been this lively in a while. You feel like, a few months ago, all the noise would have bothered you, disrupting what you felt is your place of peace. But now, you're kind of glad that it's so lively. No, not "kind of". You are glad. You can tell, because you can feel yourself smiling. Now that you're aware you can once again do so, you bring them forth at will. Now all you have to do is relearn how to laugh and get rid of your infinite blank stare and you'll be well on your way.

You look back and find Morgan, in her usual place on the bench. She smiles when she notices you're smiling. You hit the start button and bring your attention to the pitching machine. Even the cacophany of amusement sounding around you isn't enough to distract you from hitting pitch after pitch right into the descending targets. Over and over again like you've always done, except this time, the participants near you remark on your impressive display of skill. Their comments morph into cheers to spur your success onward, and when the final tiny target descends, and you smash that final ball into it, the congratulatory fanfare plays, coupled with the wild cheers the Onis heap onto you. It's been a long time since you've been praised so heavily. Once again, it's a bit embarrassing.

You take a short moment to look around the center and gauge how everyone else is doing. The person next to you finishes his set and looks pretty pleased with how he did. Behind him, Shinzo raps on the cage door with his bat, motioning for them to switch, so they do. Shinzo comes in, takes a few practice swings, southpaw stanced, and looks over at you. He grins and, for some reason you feel an issue of challenge in that grin. You reach back and hit the start button at about the same time as him. Targets descend in front of his batting area as well. The first pitch comes out, and you both make contact, knocking each ball dead center into your respective targets.

And in that moment, you understand why you were so ready for conflict when you saw this guy. You both hit pitch after pitch into your targets. A few people have even abandoned focusing on their own games and are watching Shinzo and you battle in your unspoken duel. His people chant his name, and the camaraderie is overwhelming. However through the chant, you can hear Morgan cheering for you as well. They've got the numbers, but you've got the passion. Shinzo keeps pace and score with you and you're impressed by it. You wonder if he used to play a lot, like you did, or if this is some kind of natural talent. He did say he had many of them. The final pitch is incoming. You swing and like always, hit the tiny target. As soon as you make contact you look over to see Shinzo hit the ball, but he sends it too high, the ball sailing a few feet over the tiny target. His allies voice their disappointment, but Shinzo still looks content with how he did. He looks at you, and gives you another short but honorable bow. You nod in acknowledgement. But deep down, you have the feeling, like he definitely could've hit that target, and for some reason chose not to. Not like you would've been mad if he did or anything. You probably would have more respect for him if he hit it, but you won't choose to question his motives.

He and his crew play a few more games for a while, before they all begin to get tapped out, of either money or energy. Having concluded that they've had enough, they begin to convene at the doors, so you take a break from your own games to see them off.

"Taking off?" you ask.

"Indeed. It's time we departed." Shinzo answers.

"Alright, well. Consider that debt repaid." you nod. "Though you're welcome to come back if you want. It's open to the public after all."

"Well then, we might just do that sometime." he nods. "Then, until we meet again Anon." He bows and turns to leave.

The rest of his group bid you farewell with varying degrees of familiarity, like you're a friendly acquantance, a lifelong friend, or a family member. Keiji is surprisngly friendly, coming up to offer you a fistbump, which you return, before he makes his way out the door. Okita gives you this surprisingly cutesy two handed wave, before she moves to catch up with her brother. Then like always, Old Man Lou's is devoid of life once again.

"Surprisingly fun day." you comment idly.

"I half expected another fight, honestly." Morgan remarks.

"So did I."

You stretch your arms. You feel pretty good with today's events. You're good to call it here.

"That's good enough for today."

"Ooh, tapping out a bit early, huh?" Morgan asks.

You shrug in response and walk up to Shelby, who's looking out the doors toward where the remnants of the Onis are departing to.

"Shelby I'm done for the day." you say as you grab your wallet and slide her your bank card.

She brings her attention back to you and smiles as she takes it and charges you for your games.

"Most work you've ever had to do in years, huh?" you tease.

She responds by sticking her tongue out and flicking your card back at you.

You leave and head home. You're glad the stories Naomi told about the Akai Onis all seem to be true. They're good people. Crazy that there's actually a mass of good hearted people in San Vanargrand. If only the rest of the gangs acted like them, this would be a very different city.

It's another new day, where you're already on your way to engage in the same thing you do every day. Morgan accompanying you of her own volition because she has nothing else to do besides watch you hit baseballs... And on that note, you remember that you were in the middle of teaching her how to hit properly before that whole business with 6th Street popped up and put you out of commission. Now that it's over with, there's nothing stopping you from resuming the lessons.

You walk into the batting center and-

"The hell, you goons are back already?" you comment in automatic hostility before you can reign it in.

Morgan bops you in the arm.

"Alright, you're gonna stop doing that." you say to her.

"Stop being so impolite and I will." she says back.

Shinzo, already back and with his group, laughs heartily. "You two get along quite well, despite how different your personalities are, don't you?"

You can only shrug.

"Are we really that different though?" Morgan poses the question.

"Only you know." Shinzo answers. "Anyway, yes, we have returned. Much earlier than expected, at that. A few of our number were eager to see if they could manage to outshine the Star of San Vanargrand."

"Who's that?" you ask innocently.

"Who indeed?" he grins and returns your innocence with innocence of his own. "However I will admit honestly that my reason for coming was twofold." And you catch him, for almost less than a millisecond, send his gaze in the direction of Shelby's counter.

"Oh yeah?" you say. "So then what did you want, if not to play?"

"Keiji and Okita relayed more interesting information to me, following our return home. As we all commented on the impressive display of skill you showed, Keiji happened to say something that caught my attention. What was it again, Keiji?"

Keiji steps forward. "I said, 'Maybe it was something within that skill that allowed him to best the leader of 6th Street'."

"That's it." Shinzo snaps his fingers with realization. "So after pressing him for information, and confirming with his always truthful sister, I learned that the thugs who roughed them up said that you were someone who beat what seemed to be a captain and the leader of the 6th Street gang. And I'm quite aware of the physical status of their leader. He is no small ursid, contrary to his moniker." You both nod knowingly at the same time, before Shinzo adds, "Maybe the name came from a part of him he's not too proud of that just happened to unfortunately stick."

You smile at the mention of the joke you similarly made the day Tiny came in here.

"Well. Yeah. I did fight Tiny. And Jack I guess." you answer honestly. "Though while the fight with Jack was surprisingly fair, the fight with Tiny was anything but. He pulled a knife on me, so I beat his skull into pieces with my baseball bat."

"Oh ho, I see, I see." Shinzo says, nodding. "Anon. I'd like to fight you, if you are willing."

You pause, and send all the energy in your body into your brain, to process what this man just asked you. All the energy you consumed to activate your brain formulates only a single word in response.

"... Why?"

"Multiple reasons." he explains. "Firstly, I wish to witness firsthand the strength that felled such a colossus. Secondly, I wish to alleviate the tension you still seem to feel around us."

"What. What tension? I know you guys are cool." you say.

"And yet your stance speaks differently. The hardened grip around your bat, the slight bend to your back and knees, one foot poised slightly in front of the other. To anyone, it would seem like a casual stance, but in truth you are ready to strike if necessary."

You won't question, it, he's probably right. He seems like the type to easily gauge people with just a glance.

"Even though we've come to you in peace before," he continues. "Your opening comment to us, was one laced with provocation. Whether purposeful or not, it was meant to bait us. From all this, I can only surmise that you think of us as beasts in the hunter's garb, or you simply seek conflict, and see we of gang like origin as the quickest way to receive it. Perhaps you used these same tactics to make enemies of 6th Street, to sate yourself on bloodshed."

"Alright man, you're getting a little too poetic for me." you say, as he begins to lose you.

"Yeah he does that a lot." Okita chimes in from nearby.

"Forgive me, it's a habit. But I'll move on, just allow me a bit more of my colorful commentary." he says. "I can look at you and see perfectly well that you are not at peace. You're missing something in your life, and you sup on a familiar fruit to try and fill the hole." He looks back toward the batting cages, before looking at you again. "But you tasted another fruit and found it intoxicating. Now you desire it and will plant its seeds wherever you can."

You stare at him, completely lost. "Can I get a Gewgle Translate button or something, please?" you call out to his group.

"You are the sad, so you play game to feel less sad. But you got in fight, and noticed that it made you feel the not sad, so you want more fight because it helps you momentarily forget the sad feel." Keiji translates in broken English, just like a Gewgle translation probably would.

"Thanks." you say to Keiji, before you bring your attention back to Shinzo. "So, lemme get this straight. You wanna fight me because you're curious how I whooped Tiny. But you also wanna spar with me to get me to trust you, but also help me work out some aggression that I apparently have?"

"An accurate assessment." he says. "But there is one last reason. I want to see if everything I've said, is true or false."

"You mean you don't even know?" you facepalm.

"My grandfather used to say 'once you cross swords with a man, you know his heart'. I believe a duel of sorts will help me to understand you and your reasons to fight. At the same time, it will hopefully get you to understand that we, the Akai Oni Clan, mean you no harm. It would bring me joy if you were to trust us properly."

"I thought you just wanted to repay me for helping out your crewmates." you say, a bit skeptically. "But now you want my trust?" What's the catch here?"

"None." he says, and you can't catch any hints of untruth in his voice. However you do catch another millisecond glance at Shelby. "However, it's as I said. You aren't at peace. The reasons for such, I know not. But my dear grandfather would haunt my dreams were I to leave you be and not try to offer assistance. That's just how I, and the rest of us Onis are."

The rest of them nod in unison. You look to Morgan, who's been completely silent the whole time, seemingly hanging on every word Shinzo's had to say. She looks up at you as she notices your gaze.

"All I'm really getting out of this is that they're impressed by you and want to be your friends. And you could use more of those, don't you think?"

"Oh yeah?" you ask with a raised eyebrow. "What if I start spending all my time with them instead and stop hanging out with you?"

"It would be almost impossible for you to stop hanging out with me, we live together."

And suddenly, everyone in the room perks up as she says that.

"Nanya? Maji de? Uso da." you hear a series of minor comments in Japanese whispered among the Onis.

"Oh." Shinzo says. "I was convinced your heart was a garden maze of thorns. I'm surprised, yet delighted to hear there's one who navigates it without worry."

"Hold on wait." you start.

"Yeah, we aren't-" Morgan cuts in as well.

"It's okay, no need to explain!" Keiji shouts

"Yeah, if anything, we understand completely." Okita follows up.

Well. That's a misunderstanding that won't be cleared any time soon.

"Alright alright whatever." you say more to yourself than anyone else. "Alright Shinzo, I'm game. If you wanna fight, we can. But I'm gonna be honest. I'm not much of a fighter. I really only got lucky with Tiny. I didn't get away unscathed." You rub your healing side. "And I really only won because of my bat. I'm not very confident without it in my hands."

"Ah, more of a weapon fighter then?" he nods to himself as he ponders something. "Very well. I suppose we shall 'cross swords' in more of a literal sense then." He turns and walks toward Shelby's counter.

He whispers something to Shelby. Concern crosses her face instantly. He says something else and she signs at him for a bit. Then in a voice you can hear he says "I'd like your trust as well.", and that seems to be enough for her to agree. She hands him one of the center's rental bats. He inspects it and swings it twice, almost like it's an actual sword. He seems pleased with it, but instead of holding it forwards properly, he turns it around and holds it by the handle in a sort of reverse grip.

"Wait wait wait." Morgan speaks up. "I can understand Anon hitting Tiny with his bat. He was a giant bear. But you two are humans, if you start hitting each other with those things won't you guys get seriously hurt?"

Shinzo looks up, like he's seriously thinking over Morgan's words. He lifts the bat and looks at it. "If I'm being honest. I could probably break most of Anon's ribs with just my fist. If I got completely serious, I could probably even stop his heart."

The sharpness of his stare along with the coldness of his words, really make you think of an actual demon. Morgan might be thinking the same as fear and worry permeate her entire being. However, Shinzo tries to lighten the mood with a hearty laugh, that his allies share in. "However you have nothing to worry about. There is no malice here, and as such we will not bring each other any true harm. Maybe just some slight bruising at the worst." He turns to Shelby. "Would we be allowed to partake of the center's pitching space?"

She nods, even though it's clear on her face that she isn't all in on the idea of you fighting, and fighting each other with dangerous weapons. After receiving permission, Shinzo enters the cage space and walks toward the center of the pitching area. You follow after him.

"Anon." Shinzo says as you approach and stand opposite him. He looks at you with complete seriousness. "I've been in many fights before, armed and unarmed. I am older and more experienced than you, so I will of course hold back. But I want you to face me as if I truly am a threat. As if I would claim your life were you to lose. As if I would burn your dear paradise to ash... As if I would spirit your beloved away and deny you her heart forevermore."

You want to comment on that last bit, but you feel like it's already bait he's using to throw you off guard.

"Alright dude. But if I do end up hitting you so hard I break something, you literally asked for it." you say.

"Are you ready?" he asks.

You give him a nod.

"De wa, koi." he says, beckoning you forward with his empty hand.

Shinzo stands unmoving, so it looks like he's content to stay on the defensive. So you're going to have to make the first move. You choose to do so quickly, you run up to him and swing your bat with full force, aiming for his left arm. With his own bat down and slightly behind him, and the unguarded stance he's taking, you expect a clean hit. That's not at all what happens, before you eyes can even catch his movements, he brings his bat up and blocks yours. His defense doesn't even yield an inch as your bats collide, so it was like slamming into a metal pole rooted in concrete. The fact that you're used to nine inch spherical objects moving at close to ninety miles per hour, and couldn't catch him moving his arms from his right side to his left, feels like a cause for alarm. You pull back and take a step away to gain a bit of distance. He doesn't pursue, opting to return to that idle stance of his. So blind random strikes won't work. Maybe you can fake him out. You step in again and raise your bat in the same position, ready to swing into his arm again.

However, right before you swing you twist your angle of approach and arc downward, trying to catch him on the top of the shoulder. He sees it coming again and blocks horizontally, completely stopping you yet again. Instead of retreating this time, you pull back and swing again, to be guarded once more. You angle your bat again, and in the fashion you used to break that one 6th Street gangoon's nose, you try and jab Shinzo in the chest with the barrel of your bat. He turns his body and avoids the jab, but you try and swing your bat into him from this angle. He once again blocks, but you bring your bat back one more time, and now aim low, trying to crack him in one of his legs. Your swing goes and keeps going as he jumps clear over your strike, then with one foot on the ground and one held up like a crane, he straight kicks you dead center in the chest.

You backpedal a few steps, but it wasn't too bad. Definitely just to test you. But you can feel like this test is going to end in failure. It's clear that he's got training as well as experience, and if he truly wanted to, he could've beaten you within an inch of your life in the few moments you've been "fighting". So it really is a good thing that you've got no quarrel with them as opposed to the jokers you've dealt with.

Of course, being faced with a difficult obstacle doesn't mean you're going to give up now. You'll just keep going until it ends, one way or another. You've got no tricks, no tactics, and no ideas. So you're just going to brute force it until something happens. You throw violent swing after violent swing, hoping to land a hit somewhere. He blocks everything with poise or dodges everything with grace. With one swing, he seems to deflect it, sending you stumbling passed him. At that moment he arcs around and tags you in the side with the bat. The hit itself wasn't particularly strong, more taunting test strikes. However, he made contact right in the space you were stabbed, and that hurts more than anything. It folds you deeper than you expected, and you have to plant your bat into the ground and lean into it for support. You're supposed to be healed, you didn't expect so much pain. Maybe some stuff farther in is still in progress.

You turn to find Shinzo looking at you with a bit of worry, but once you stand to your full height and square up again, he returns to his determined gaze.

You try again, but now you're slightly more defensive of your left side, which leaves you open to several strikes of retaliation on your right. You still don't give up, continuing to swing, anyone would think it's just wild flailing. However you noticed one thing. Between the deafening PING that echoes through the center, you would watch Shinzo keep his guard up for a moment before you would swing again. And you saw that his bat is caving. He's been blocking your swings with his bat in the exact same spot each time, and it's been making a huge dent. Of course, the superior craftsmanship of your DeMari 300 is tearing this old, cheap rental bat to shreds. A bit more and it'll completely fold, and you can finally get a hit in. And when you do you'll make it count.

You swing, once, twice, three more times, and the dent you've been placing in his bat collapses it, weakening it to near uselessness. Seeing your chance, you reel back and swing for the fences, ready to take him out of the game, wherever you may hit. However, he blocks once again. Dangerously close to the handle, where you could've broken several of his fingers. He closes the gap between you and steps in close. And unlike his testing strikes, he brings his empty hand up and punches you in the jaw with decent force. He then reaches down, grabs your bat, and with a twist of his arm and body, disarms you.

You've been in this situation before, unarmed and facing a severely stronger opponent. However, you doubt you'll be able to bait him into the technique you used on Tiny, since he seems to have a lot more sense. With your bat in his hands now, he returns to his idle stance, awaiting your move. Now would be the time to accept your loss. But you remember the moment in your fight against Tiny. You were ready for that loss too. Although it was a more severe kind of loss. But you pulled a win out of your ass in the end.

You lean down and plant your hands on your knees, feigning exhaustion. Staring down at the ground, your bangs cover the top of your peripheral vision, so you can't see any actions he's making. But you don't need to. If he dodges this or counters, then yeah you're done. But if he doesn't, he's in for it.

You lean forward slightly, then like you're making a mad dash for the bases, you sprint towards him. It catches him off guard, judging by the wide eyed look he gives you. He moves, just a second too late to avoid you, and you lean in low and tackle into him, wrapping your arms around his legs and lifting him off the ground, before slamming his back into it. He was surprisingly light for a guy so built. You throw yourself over him, and begin a hail of rapid punches, searching for any openings. He abandons the bats to block effeectively, and block effectively he does.You can't make contact with his face, chest, or anything beyond his arms. But you keep swinging. You swing until your side aches, and you swing some more.

"Alright, I yield!" Shinzo shouts from beneath you, stopping your onslaught.

You crawl off him and plant your ass on the ground, tired and a bit sore in the places he bopped you with his bat. He stands, unburdened by pain or exertion. He comes up to you, and offers you his hand. You take it and he helps you stand. Once you're up, he takes a step back and gives you a respectful bow. You dip your head in as much of a bow as you'll likely ever attempt.

"So. You know my heart now?" you ask, still a bit gassed.

"I think I do yes. I hope that you now know mine as well." he responds.

"I know that you could've kicked my ass whenever you wanted. So at the very least, I know you don't wanna mess me up. Not that I guess you have any reason to."

He nods. He goes to retrieve your bat and the rental, and hands you yours. He inspects its ruined state. "I'll reimburse you for this." he calls out to Shelby.

As you exit the cages, the Oni members come up to you, shaking your hand and patting you on the back.

"Victory against Shinzo." Keiji says, astonished. "I thought it was impossible."

"He surrendered. Doesn't even count." you say.

"No no no. A win is a win, just accept it."

Well, you won't argue. After that, you sit on the bench as some of the Onis go off to actually use the cages for their intended purpose. Others head over to the arcade cabinets. While they have their fun, Shinzo once again comes up to you.

"Also, I'd like to quickly apologize. It looked like I hit you far harder than I intended during the middle of our bout. It was not my intention."

"Oh nah man, it wasn''t that." you explain. "You bopped me in my stab wound. Like I said, I didn't come out of that fight with Tiny unscathed." you lift your shirt and show him the scar from your wound.

"I see. Then I apologize for striking your wound."

"It's cool, you didn't know, and it's not like I mentioned it." you assure him. "So now that that's all done, what're you gonna do next?"

"I suppose when everyone is satisfied, we'll return home." he answers.

"We should all go to Heavy's for lunch, Anon." Morgan jumps in. "You know he said he wanted to see you in a big group of your friends."

"We aint-" you start. "Well. Alright fine. I ain't treating though." You look to Shinzo. "You guys like burgers?"

"Of course. Who in San Vanargrand doesn't?" Shinzo responds.

So Shinzo informs his group that they're going to lunch. You tell Shelby where you're going and offer to bring her something back. She thinks for a moment, before she pulls out the building key and twists it in the air, gesturing that she'll lock up. Which seems to mean she'll come with you. So now you've got a big ass group heading down the street to Heavy's Hams. You get there and stand at the counter, that beaver kid's still there.

"Ay Heavy." you say like always.

"My boy Anon." he responds like always. However when he turns to face you, he's struck by the sight. You flanked on all sides by people and several anthros.

"Brought my friends to come have lunch, like you said I should." you say. He looks around your group in surprise, and then rests his gaze on you. You give him as earnest a smile as you can manage, and his eyes almost pop out of his head. He rushes to grab a towel and dabs his eyes, and for a second you almost think he's crying.

Of course, he seems to be glad, and he acknowledges that fact, very loudly. He even offers some kind of party discount for the large group, and even though you and Shinzo try to refuse politely, he isn't having any of it. So you all order and pay and go to find your seats. You sit with Morgan at the round table you use frequently. Shinzo and Shelby join you at your table. You conversate, but a lot of Shelby's contributions consist of her using sign language and Shinzo translating. But you're okay with this. You can tell that Shelby seems glad to have a proper conversation, as proper as it can be anyway.

All around you are the sounds of conversation and laughter. A lot of it is spoken in another language, but it's not like you're trying to eavesdrop anyway. You're fine listening to the sounds of life. Morgan nudges you to get your attention.

"Isn't it nice to have friends again?" she asks.

"... Yep." you say. "I blame you for this."

"Blame me, why?"

"You're my first friend in a while." you explain. "You opened the door to let all these goobers in."

"What about Shelby? She's your friend." Morgan counters.

"Shelby's damn near my big sister with the way she tries to dote on me." Shelby adds her agreement with a nod. " So this is wholly and undeniably all your fault." You look her in her emerald green eyes. "So thanks. I really do appreciate you being here to help me."

You smile again, like you've gotten used to doing and expect a smile in return, but Morgan's face flashes with a kind of surprise that you weren't expecting.

"O-oh. Yeah, no problem. I just uh... Yeah, glad I could help."

She turns away from you after that, and you're a bit confused. You look to Shinzo and Shelby for guidance. Shelby is smiling, Shinzo is turned away, speaking to his comrades in Japanese.

Eventually everyone's orders begin arriving and after lunch is had, everyone seems satisfied. Once everyone's done, Shinzo says it's time to go home, and organizes his group for the trip back.

"Be safe." you tell him and his crew as they set to leave.

"You as well. Until later." he says with a small bow.

Once again, his party bid you farewell with varying degrees of familiarity and take off down the road towards their side of the city. Shelby has to get going back to the center as well, so she takes off. You had enough excitement for the day, so you're gonna go home and crash. You start on your way home with Morgan.

"Glad that fight wasn't too involved." she comments.

"Yeah me too." you agree. "Shinzo's something else, definitely not like 6th Street. Or me, the idiots who don't know what we're doing."

"Could've fooled me with the way you beat up that blonde guy and Tiny."

"I was literally flailing for my life." you shrug. "... Maybe I shoould get Shinzo to teach me some things."

She looks at you in worry.

"Just for like, self defense. I'm not gonna start anything with it, I swear... Probably."

"You better not." she almost whispers.

Since then, things have been pretty chill. Close to another month has passed with no wild events. Fall has begun, and Morgan's plants bloomed right before the turn of the season. If they'll survive in Fall though, you have no idea. But well, if she needs new seeds or whatever, you're willing to get them. You spent some time listening to her explain the new things she's learned and even helped her out a few times. Gardening's not for you, but it makes her happy. So for the sake of her happiness, you'll play in the dirt a bit.

You'd go to the center like always, and most times it would be empty. But sometimes your brand new buddies would be there, loitering around. The group wouldn't walk ten men deep after a while of no problems. Apparently, they even ran into a group of 6th Street, but they just turned around and walked away, so their thoughts were that 6th Street must know you're buddies with the Akai Oni Clan, somehow. But well, that's not your problem. Anyway, the smaller group that now chooses to visit consists of Keiji, Okita, and this grey wolf with an eyepatch called Izo. He's pretty friendly though, so no problems there. He took a shard of glass to the eye and lost sight in it, but he still seems to get around pretty well and everything.

Shinzo would sometimes join the group, but more often than not he seemed to show up to talk with Shelby. And you would leave them to it. You didn't ask Shinzo to teach you any self defense skills, because even though you told Morgan you wouldn't, you knew that was a lie. If given the option, you would probably push someone to the brink just so you could mess them up. You've grown fond of fighting, just like Shinzo said. But you won't become reliant on it, you already swore.

Beyond that, not much has changed. Or so you say, but Morgan has, just a little. She's been, a bit closer. In terms of proximity. She'll sit closer to you while you're on the couch playing games or whatever, so close you're practically touching. When you spend time in your room, she'll visit and hang out in there too. Which is something she hadn't normally done. Her excuses would be along the lines of showing you some more of her music, even though you had already said you liked it, or just generally saying she's bored.

Which makes you think. For the longest time, all you've done is go to the batting center. Day in and day out. You've been doing what you want to do all the time. So maybe you should do what she wants to do sometime. What would she even like to do? Go see a movie? Amusement park? You'd have to take the freeway to get to any amusement parks. But. Maybe you can manage it. Maybe you could just take short trips on it to clear your doubts. You're already on your way to the center, but you're not too far in. You could turn around, go get the car and go somewhere if you needed to.

"Hey Morgan." you say. "You wanna go do something?"

"What's that mean, I thought we were about to do something?" she asks.

"I mean besides the center. We always go there. And by that I mean, I practically drag you there. And yeah I taught you to swing and you play a few times, but like. That's something I prefer to do, and you're just along for the ride. So I was just wondering if there was something you wanted to do instead."

"What, nah." she waves your concerns away. "I'm fine with this. I go with you because I want to, and I have more fun watching you play than I do playing for myself. So it's cool."

"Well. Alright." you shrug, but accept her words. "But if you ever wanna do something different, let me know."

"Will do." she says with a nod.

You walk up to the corner and hit the crosswalk button. You wait at the light, and see a pair of people across the way, waiting at the opposite corner. But. Are you crazy or is that guy staring super hard at you?

"Anon?!" he shouts. "That you?!"

Oh, so he knows you. Actually, wait. Now that you look closely, you know him too.

"Dwayne?" you ask. "Dwayne Moore?"

"Yeah dawg, how are you?! Ho-hold on, hold on!" He mashes the crosswalk button like that'll help it change faster.

"Friend of yours?" Morgan asks.

"Well yeah." you say. "He was a few years ahead of me in highschool, and was on the football team, but we sat next to each other in Spanish class. So we bonded over our respective sports. And insulting each other in Spanish." You smile as the memories of those days come back to you.

Finally the light changes and he books it over to you, none of the speed from his football days lost to him yet. "How you been, homie?" He reaches his hand out and you shake it.

"I'm. Y'know, I been alright." you say.

"Yeah?" he asks, with a tone that says he doesn't quite believe you. "I'm askin' cuz. Y'know I. Well, pretty much a lot of us foo's on the sports teams heard about that shit you went through. Think it started on your team, spread to the basketball team, spread to us. So, be real with me dawg. You good?"

"Yeah man, I-" you pause and give a quick side eye to Morgan before returning to Dwayne. "I'm good. Really. I've been doing better, recently."

"Recently, huh? Well damn, but aight. Long as you're gettin' better. That shit's real harsh man."

That's when you, and Dwayne apparently, notice the friend he was walking with standing next to him.

"Oh damn babe, sorry." Dwayne says, as he pulls her in by the waist. "Anon, this my girl, Takiyah."

You look at the long, lithe figure of the cheetah standing next to Dwayne. "Hi, nice to meet you." she says with a voice that sounds like she should be singing in some kind of dope ass Jazz bar.

"Damn dude, how'd you catch such a dime when you couldn't even catch for shit on your team?" you taunt.

"Damn, vicious dawg!" He holds a hand over his chest in false injury. "But you know what I always said, 'the ladies always want more of Moore'."

You and Takiyah both roll your eyes. "He's lucky he's cute." she says and you huff in that false laugh.

"Right. Well, this is my friend Morgan." you say, trying to finally include Morgan in the conversation.

"Hi hi." she says with a pleasant smile.

"Ooh, okay. Aight Anon, I see you dawg." Dwayne says in a strange way.

"See what?" you ask honestly.

"C'mon man, you ain't gotta play with me. Shit I'm livin' the dream too." he punctuates his sentence with a smooch on Takiyah's cheek.

"Oh-kay. Anyway. What you doin' out here, bruh?"

"Oh, I'm havin' a party tonight so I wanted to grab some last minute things." he says. "You should come through homie, you're invited. So is she."

"I dunno, man. I'm not really the party type." you say. "I mean look at me, I'll just bring the mood down."

"Fuck all that." Dwayne states. "I want you to come through, so come through man. Loosen up, drown your woes in fun for a night. Come have a good time."

"Uhh. Alright, I'll think about it at lea-"

"Anon." Morgan cuts in. "Let's go to that party."

"What, seriously?" you question, a bit surprised.

"Yes. You just asked me if there was something I wanted to do, I want to go to your friend's party. So take me."

You look between the eager Dwayne and the insistent Morgan. You glance to Takiyah but she can do nothing for you in this moment.

"... Alright fine, we'll go." you finally agree.

"Yeah buddy!" Dwayne shouts to the sky. " I 'preciate you, shawty!" He raises his fist for Morgan and she bumps it. "So now I gotta ask. You twenty one yet, homie?"

"Nope." you say instantly.

"Agh, damn... Ah well, I'll get you a bottle anyway. Whatchu drink? Henney, 'Roq?"

"... Dr. Bepper." you respond flatly.

"C'mon man." he says, insisting.

You stare at him as seriously as you can.

"Aight, aight. I gotchu. But when you hit twenty one, you gon' let me treat you. The best twenty first you can have is the one you can't remember."

He gives you the address to his place, and tellls you about when the party is going to start. After that, he continues on his way.

"So I guess we're going to a party later." you say to Morgan.

"It'll be fun." she replies.

"Let's hope so. Been a while since I've been dragged to one." you sigh.

You pull up to Dwayne's house, a bit after he told you when the party was starting. There's cars already lining the street, so you're going to have to park the car a bit farther away and leg it to his place. Which is fine, not like you're opposed to walking. You come up to the door, knock and ring the doorbell, hoping one or the other cuts through the music you can already hear. Luckily, Dwayne quickly opens the door.

"Yo dawg, you actually made it!" he yells, as he pulls you into one of those handshake into back patting hugs that people do.

"Yup, we're here, like we said we'd be." you say.

"Good shit, dawg. Well come on in. Kick back, enjoy yourself. We're gonna be turnin' up in a minute once people got their energy up. Though uh, for you, might wanna keep it to the main room here. We got shit goin' on in the backyard too, but uh, you don't drink, so I also doubt you partake." He brings his finger and thumb together and toward his lips in the telltale signal.

"You'd be correct." you nod.

"Figured. Oh hold on. Be right back."

He walks away, so you decide to find a proper spot that you'll be spending the entire rest of the night. A cursory glance reveals that there are no open seats, but next to a T.V. stand that's been cleared of all decorative items, is a prime patch of wall fit for an unsociable husk like you to stand. You walk over and lean up against it, folding your arms.

"Well this is where I'll be from now on." you tell Morgan.

"What? We came all the way here and you're gonna wallflower?" she asks, disappointed.

"Yes. I said I wasn't the party type. I wasn't lying."

"Well did you used to go to parties before?" she asks.

"Well. Yeah, with my friends. But even then I didn't do much.. I was a different person then though, so."

"You're the same person. You haven't changed, you just gotta remember how to do the things you used to."

You shrug. At that moment, Dwayne comes back with two cans of Dr. Bepper. He hands one to you and one to Morgan.

"There ya go, homie. All for you. They're in the pull out drawer in the fridge so that no one else notices. So you drink them medicine tastin' ass sodas and you get buck wild."

"Don't you dare disrespect Dr. Bepper again." you threaten.

"Oh noooo." he says sarcastically, and then walks away.

You crack open your can of Dr. Bepper. Morgan does so at about the same time. You look at her and tap your can against hers lightly in cheers before you take a drink.

"Pfft, 'tastes like medicine', he says." you gripe. "Wonder what it's like to be so wrong."

You drink the sodas provided for you and chat with Morgan as more and more people begin to show up. You wonder what kind of stuff is going on in the backyard but remembering that it's even less your scene than parties in general are, your curiosity doesn't last.

"I'm uh, gonna go find a bathroom." Morgan informs you as she looks around and heads down the hall.

So you're alone with your thoughts. Not that you currently have any thoughts. You close your eyes, hang your head and wait. Wait for Morgan to come back, and wait for something party like to happen. But as you wait. You feel strangely uncomfortable You lift your head and look around, trying to locate the source of your uncomfortability. It's almost like someone's burning holes in you with their gaze. You glance around quickly until you locate the perpetrator. Some squirrel girl staring at you with big brown eyes, wide as dinner plates. You stare back, wondering what her deal is, until her expression changes to this half lidded, flirty smile. And for some reason that causes you to recognize her. It's that goddamn squirrel who's a part of 6th Street.

She wades through the growing sea of bodies and comes right up to you. "Heeey. You're the guy from that batting center. Umm. Anon, right?"

"How the hell-" you start but cut yourself off. "Whatever. What do you want?"

"I just wanted to talk to you." she says. "Saw you over here, looking all alone. Thought maybe I could fix that."

"Riiight. Not alone, but. Aren't you with 6th Street? Almost didn't recognize you without that ugly green bandana y'all wear."

"Oh. Well yeah." she comes clean. "I mean I was. But not anymore. I'm not one for sitting around on the losing team. I'd rather be on the winning team. Like yours, I'll join your team if you let me." She slides up suspiciously close and puts her hand against your upper arm.

You'd slide away, but you placed yourself up against a wall and a T.V. stand, so there's nowhere to run. "Right. There is no team so, you're outta luck."

"We can be a team of two." she says. "It's not like you'll need much backup with how tough you are. And you're real tough, aren't you? I'm into it."

You look down the hall. Where's Morgan to help you escape the awkward socialization?

"C'mon Anon, no need to be so on guard with me." she stands in front of you and reaches up to your arms, gently pulling at them to get you to unfold them. You allow it, only to place your hands right into your pockets. "Listen. You open up for me and, you know, I'll open up for you."

Though you don't quite understand the meaning of her words, there was something odd in the way she delivered them. You look down at her and she gives you this seductive wink. ... Oh. You finally notice. She's flirting with you... She's flirting with you? She is indeed flirting with you. What, why?

"What's your game, lady?" you ask.

"Demi." she tells you what must be her name. "And I'm not playing any games. You're my type, I'm interested in you, and I want to get to know you. Intimately. We can sneak off, go find a comfy spot and get to know each other for a while. Or we could just ditch the party and go get a room somewhere if you'd prefer a long while."

You feel like this is a trap. You scan the room and try to recognize faces that you've seen sporting ugly green bandanas. Maybe she's here with them and this is a ruse to jump you without your bat. But no, how would they know that you're here? And Dwayne's pretty much checking everyone who comes in, no way he's friends with 6th Street goons. Which begs the question of how she's here. Maybe she came with non gangster friends.

So if this isn't a trap, and is legit, then that's completely different. She is, from what you can tell, attractive, confident, and likely experienced so it probably wouldn't be the worst time. You wonder when the last time you've got some female attention was. There was that redheaded cheerleader for the opposing team during that away game a few years ago. But beyond that, for the obvious reasons you haven't had much other attention.

"Thinking about it, huh?" Demi says, bringing you back to the present. "I promise reality will be so much better than anything you can imagine."

She sure is bold, you'll give her that.

"Alright lady." you say.

"Demi." she reminds you.

"Right, Demi. I'ma say this simply, and in a way you can understand. Go find some other nuts to stuff your cheeks with, I'm not interested."

"Ouch. So harsh." she holds her hands over her chest in mock heartbreak. "I kind of understand, you're a bit of a sourpuss and have been ever since that unfortunate accident."

Now how the fuck does she know about that??

"But, this is exactly the kind of thing you need to get over that for a while. A bit of stress relief. A cute young thing to help work the sadness right on out of you."

You stare right at her, for a good long while. Her brown eyes, do not shine in the slightest. It's like staring into muddy sinkholes. Compared to this you'd much rather prefer the eyes of a certain someone that shine like gemstones. She returns your gaze with more of that flirtatious smile. You reach to your right and grab the can of Dr. Bepper that you were only half done with, then you hand it to her.

She takes it with a laugh." Uhh, what's this about?"

"You're thirsty. I figured that would help."

All the flirtatiousness slowly drains from her face. "Wow, really dude? For someone so into baseball, I'm surprised you're letting this happen."

"What's baseball got to do with anything in this situation?" you ask honestly.

"I was willing to let you up to third base. Even a home run was a likely scenario. But you're not only about to strike out, you're not even going to swing your bat? That's a shame."

The use of baseball analogies to refer to sex feels like a personal insult to you. But fine, you'll play along.

"I'd rather strike out for the rest of my life, than hit a home run in your field."

That's not entirely true, you were seriously contemplating it for a second. You could have let her down gently in some way, but you've still got that deep seeded need for hostility when it comes to gangs. She may not be 6th Street anymore apparently, but she was and that's good enough for you.

She looks visibly hurt, like you actually attacked her. However, she regains her composure, like you didn't just insult her as viciously as you could. "Don't know too many guys that play hard to get, but that's okay. You'll come around eventually, I'm sure. You change your mind, come find me." Then she walks deeper into the party.

"Man, she's really trying huh?" you talk to yourself. "For what, I'm nothing special."

"You severely underestimate yourself." you hear next to you.

You look and there's Morgan. How long's she been there?

"Oh hey. You catch any of that?" you say.

"I did actually." she says. "Was right here since somewhere around 'get to know you for a while'."

That was damn near the whole conversation.

"But I didn't want to interrupt." she adds.

"No, God please, you should have interrupted. I didn't wanna deal with that." you tell her.

"Well, why not. She's, kind of sexy. I think. And clearly into you."

"Not my type." you say, reaching over for your Dr. Bepper before you remember that you handed it to Demi.

"Oh. S-so then what is your type?" she asks.

"Dunno. Can't remember." you say, dodging the question since of course you have a type. Her being an anthro doesn't count her out or anything, though. There's a bunch of people heading down that road on this side of the country, especially in this melting pot of a state. The limitless diversity helps break those barriers far easier than other places. "Guess that means I need a new type. One that isn't, that."

Suddenly, the music gets louder and changes to some stuff you'd probably hear in a club or something. So you guess that's the signal that means Dwayne's party is in full swing. The thought is also confirmed by the party's host as he moonwalks into the main room, spins in place a few times, and poses like the star of a show. Then begins millie rocking to the beat of the music. The room cheers for him, and a few of his buddies jump in and mimic the dance move with him. That gets more and more people in the mood to dance, and in a moment his house practically is a nightclub. It's going to get uncomfortably hot with all this body heat soon, maybe you should take that trip outside anyway.

Morgan however, is ready to groove. She's bouncing and swaying to the music, while watching you. You continue to lean into your place on the wall, attempting to become a statue carved from flesh.

"Not gonna dance?" she asks, needing to raise her voice over the music for you to hear.

You simply shake your head in response. You're even less of a dancer than you are a partyer. In fact, you've only ever consciously chosen to dance one time.

"C'mon, loosen up." she suggests, poking you in the stomach. "Like your friend said, have fun for one night, enjoy yourself."

You shrug this time, fully intent on remaining exactly where you are, exactly how you are.

"Fine." she says, resigning to your defiance. "But I'm gonna dance."

You gesture towards the floor where the rest of the dancers have chosen to convene.

"Nope." she shakes her head. "Gonna dance right here."

And dance she does. She puts a passion into her dancing that you weren't expecting. Energetic but graceful, you find yourself entirely focused on her movements. This doggo's just full of surprises, ain't she? Even as she dances though, she'll slide a bit closer to you and nudge you a bit, or bump you with her hip or something, before taking a step back and continuing to dance like nothing happened. Trying to infect you with her good cheer, or coerce you into dancing yourself. You try to ignore it, but she does it more frequently, the more you try to pretend nothing's happening.

Alright fine. If it'll get her to stop her assault, you 'll do it. Only for a bit though. But the question now is, what exactly are you supposed to do? You're, y'know, slightly out of practice and heavily lacking in experience. You're about to severely embarrass yourself, your only saving grace is that there are very few people here who know you, and even less who interact with you on a consistent basis.

As you're wondering how you should start, something comes to mind. A memory of your father graces you with the path forward. You're going to have to borrow his technique, meticulously crafted and honed to perfection over the years. The two-step.

Hands in your pockets, and with all the excitement of a dead man, you slide yourself off the wall and stand straight. You take a moment to find the beat of the song that's currently playing. Once you think you've got it down, you begin. You take your left foot, and step to your immediate left, then follow up with your right foot. Once firmly planted, you step to your right with your right foot, then follow with your left. Morgan stares at you with surprise and excitement as you move blandly. She seems to put even more energy into her dancing, like you finally choosing to move has given her more spirit.

You continue to step repetitively, but eventually these basic movements seem stale to you. You didn't plan to, and you don't even seem in control of yourself anymore, as the music plays, you add some bounce to your step., then some dips with your shoulders, and finally some flair with your arms. And suddenly out of nowhere, it's like you've been coming to parties and dancing at them for years. Morgan's grinning practically wide enough to split her cheeks as she continues to move and groove. You'll be sure to remind her that this is her fault as well. But for now, she and Dwayne are right. You'll fill your empty husk with fun and enjoy yourself for the night.

You're having fun. About as much as you can have. For all your stamina and endurance, dancing is still surprisingly tiring. But you've committed, so you won't just give up now. Besides that, you aren't too in tune with all the music that's being played, since you haven't been actively listening to much over the years. So when some songs come on that you don't recognize, you'll attempt to follow Morgan's lead and mimic her timing a bit.

Although, with her proximity to yours, you actively realize that you're dancing together. Should you do something about that? Would that be pushing boundaries? You wouldn't want her to think that you're making a move on her just because the mood is cool. Besides, what could you even do? How do people dance together with all this hip hop and club music? You escape your thoughts and tear your gaze away from Morgan long enough to hunt for Dwayne. Is he dancing with his girlfriend? Yes he is. They're facing each other, she's got her arms linked around his neck, he's got a single hand on her waist. That of course, is a little too intimate to engage in with someone who's just a friend.

Forget it, it's not that big a deal. You don't know what you're thinking. You nyx the line of thinking you've been contemplating. But once again your traitorous hand acts without your permission. It lifts up and presents itself in front of Morgan, as if requesting that she take it. She notices it, before looking at you.You have nothing to say but maybe you can make a quick excuse or something. You highly doubt anyone in this age dances hand in hand anyway. However before you can open your mouth to say anything, she takes your hand in hers, flipping it around and interlocking her fingers with yours. You're hit with surprise instantly, since you didn't expect this development. She smiles at you, almost in the same way as that squirrel, though not quite as obviously flirty.

Now hand in hand, you dance, but instead of simply matching her pace, you both seem to match each other. She's even closer than she was now, and now you're embarrassed. You avert your eyes for just a moment, to see Dwayne looking in your direction, pumping his free fist in circles and nodding vigorously. So you avoid that interaction as well, and catch Morgan lifting your hand higher. What's she want you to do, spin her? You lift your hand up high enough for her to spin and she does, but only halfway. She faces away from you, your arm resting pretty much over her shoulder. Then she takes a step back and plants herself right up against you. And you stayed in your spot near the wall the entire time, so now you're stuck between a hard space and a soft body. Her energetic movements calm down just enough for you to accurately notice the precise movements she's making while pressed against you. So it's become one of those dances. You expect steam to start pouring out of your ears any second now, but you will yourself to stay calm... In more ways than one.

What would the squirrel girl think of this development if she saw it? Would she be jealous? You look around but don't spot her, which might be for the best. As for your dancing, try as you might to keep going, your focus is faltering. If you focus on the music, your embarrassment rises. If you focus on keeping calm, you lose your rythym. And on top of that you're actually running low on energy. So you craft the perfect escape plan. You retract your hand from Morgan's and hunch yourself forward. When she looks back to check on you, you close your eyes and rub your left side, pretending that your wound is beginning to hurt. When you open your eyes to the look of worry on her face, you bring your hands up wordlessly in the "time-out" gesture. She nods, and looks around, probably searching for a place to sit and rest, but there are none here. Maybe in the back. You also look around and see down the hall the doors of what you assume are rooms. Not likely, but maybe there are chairs in there. Though can you use them? You look to your right and once again lock eyes with Dwayne.

You wonder momentarily if he's just been watching you, but that could make a bit of odd sense, considering he was worried about you. You look down the hall towards the doors and back to him with exaggerated looks, hoping he can understand. He apparently understands, judging by his ear to ear Chezure Cat grin. He motions you straight back, gesturing to the very last door, so he must mean you can have a seat back there. You break away from the wall and head down the hall, casting a glance over your shoulder at Morgan. She notices and follows you. You check the door and it's unlocked. You open it gingerly, half expecting someone to be in there, but it's empty. You look around as you walk in. It's a basic room, bed, drawers, but no real decorations save for a few flags from the University of Redsland, which is a city over. You remember Dwayne telling you he was going to go take some basic classes at the Vanargrand Community College when you were back in school. So this must be a roommates room or something. However, there's no desks or chair, so if you want to sit, it's either the floor or the bed.

The bed it is, you drop yourself down close to the corner of it to give Morgan some respectable space. You were hoping for a bit more quiet, but the party music reaches even back here. You figure you'll deal with it, but Morgan closes the door behind her to mute some of the sound, then seats herself on the bed, almost right next to you. So much for respectable space.

You take a deep breath and let it out to recover a bit from your exhaustion. Nothing much to say, so nothing is said. At least, that's what you thought.

"You're a surprisingly good dancer for someone who says he's not a partyer." Morgan quips.

"Yeah, well. I went to my prom at least. So I've danced once before." you explain.

"O-oh. Your prom huh? So what, you had a date that made you dance?"

"Nope, my date was worse off than me. I ended up making her dance. It was Edie, my koala friend I've told you about. The timid, sensitive one?"

"Oh yeah yeah." she nods as she remembers what you've told her. "So you, liked her? That why you asked her?"

"Pfft no." you scoff. "Hal and Naomi were dating. Deeno got his own date too. I could've got one, but Edie wasn't getting asked and wasn't going to ask anyone. Granted we all kind of peer pressured her into going to prom anyway, but. I didn't want her to be the only one of us without a date, so I asked her. Dragged her onto the dance floor, even though I had no idea what I was doing either."

"Well how kind of you, to take your friend who couldn't get a date." she says.

"Kindness huh. I feel like it was more half guilt, half pity. But yeah. So I've danced before. It was exhausting then, and it was exhausting now."

"But was it fun?" she asks.

"It was... Entertaining, I'll say that."

"Entertaining, like baseball, or like your fights?"

"Weird comparison." you say, confused. "Why ask that?"

"Because I remember Shinzo saying fights were how you chose to entertain yourself now. So I figured that if we could find a different form of entertainment to replace it, you wouldn't want to fight anymore."

That's a surprisingly sound reason for her questioning.

"And you think dancing is gonna be that replacement? You that concerned about me getting into fights?"

"Uh, a little yeah." she answers. "Or have you forgotten that your last real fight almost ended very badly?"

"Oh no, I'm still very aware." You rub your side for clarity.

"If you really have to fight. Why not boxing?" she suggests.

You think about the idea. "Nah. Too structured, too controlled. Fights should be more chaotic, more street."

"Street fights huh?" she says, pondering the comment. "Now that I think about that, my friend's brother had a friend that told them about this fight club kind of thing he joined while he was out of town. I could maybe track her down and get some information, if she still works at that grocery store. Apparently you can just show up and brawl if you want."

That does sound interesting. It's apparently exciting enough and safe enough to warrant hearsay from others. So a fight that won't possibly end with a knife in your ribs could be a way to curb your aggression.

"A fight club huh?" you muse. "Could be cool, but I dunno."

"Alright then, how about this?" she says with a tone bordering aggravation from shutting down all her suggestions. "You want adrenaline, you want to live on the edge? You can go train dodging. That sound like fun?"

Train dodging? Is that real? Something that people actually do? Actually, you can sort of see the appeal, as bleak as it is. Dodge properly and you'll feel on top of the world. However mess it up, and you won't have to worry about what you feel anymore.

"Does sound pretty fun actually." you say in jest, adding a taunting grin to your comment.

"Do not actually attempt to dodge a train." Morgan says with the utmost gravity. "If you do, even if you survive, I will kill you myself."

"Haha, so I'm screwed either way." you laugh. "Shame, I was looking forward to trying it."

You look over to Morgan and find her staring at you in shock.

"What, what's wrong?" you ask. "I was just joking about the train thing, I'm not really-"

"You just laughed." she informs you. "Like an actual laugh."

It dawns on you that she's correct. You almost missed it despite the fact that you've been waiting for it to happen.

"Damn. Guess you're right. Didn't even notice. Look at you, making me a proper human being again. More to thank you for, huh?" You give her a smile that you hope reaches your eyes.

You don't receive the return reaction you would have expected though. In fact, you seem to have broken her, as she looks frantically around the room, as if searching for something. She turns back to you and repetitively opens and closes her mouth like there's something she's getting ready to say, but the words won't form. She pauses and takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

"Anon, can I tell you something?" she asks.

"Sure you can. Feel like we're good enough friends to be honest with each other."

"Well I don't wanna just be your friend anymore." she says with a look of pure honesty.

You can't believe Morgan just stabbed you more fatally than Tiny ever could. You feel like you're about to pass out, before she suddenly speaks a line that will change your whole relationship.

"I think I'm in love with you."

... Well. You still feel like you're about to pass out, but for a different reason now. Your ears are ringing like a highschool fire alarm, and apparently a nest of butterflies just had their cocoons hatch in your stomach.

"I... I'm sorry, what?" you ask, like what you heard was nowhere near close to what she actually said.

"I think I'm in love with you." she repeats. You definitely heard clearly.

"... Oh." is all you can manage to say. Thinking, forming proper coherent thoughts is very difficult at the moment. You never expected this development, is she serious? There are a dozen questions you might want to ask, but you can't think of the right way to ask them. Two words unconsciously leak out of your mouth, uncontrolled.

"That's unfortunate."

However, you realize that the only way to take that comment is the wrong way. You look at Morgan and the look of disappointment she has.

"Why is that?" she poses carefully, probably hoping that wasn't a comment of rejection.

"I am definitely the wrong person to fall in love with." you say honestly. "I have no heart, I definitely wouldn't be able to return your affection."

You look at her as all of her worry and apprehension, gives way to relief. "Is that what you think?" she says, like your reason was the silliest thing she's ever heard. "Let me tell you why that's wrong."

You give her your full attention, eager to hear how's she's going to tell you that you're wrong about yourself.

"Firstly, me. You wouldn't have helped me with everything that you've done if you were heartless. New home, new clothes, new hobby to occupy myself with. What heartless person shows someone so much kindness?"

You nod in acceptance, but remain silent to allow her to continue.

"Second, you have feelings. You feel glad, or angry, you think things are fun, or silly. You've been smiling, you just laughed. It's all there, not gone, just lost."

Well, that's true too. You've got more heart than you let on.

"So yeah, you're not heartless. Your heart's just been a bit empty for a while. All you needed was somebody to help you fill it back up." she concludes.

"Huh. Well. I guess you're right." you finally say.

"Of course I'm right." she declares proudly. "There hasn't been a time where I've been wrong, yet."

You sit next to her in silence, the dulled thumps of the music buzzing through the walls of this room.

So." you begin suddenly. "The love thing. How'd that happen?"

"What, I need reasons to love somebody?" she shrugs.

"Just curious I guess. I don't really have the best personality at the moment, y'know."

Also, while you don't want to believe it's the case, the fact that you have been nice to her and given her a lot more than she's had for a while, could easily be something that causes her to mistake affection for gratitude. Or something, you aren't a psychologist.

"Alright, well let's start with the fact that you're attractive." That simple comment makes you feel surprisingly good. "I remember seeing you that day we met and going 'oh man, he's kinda hot', and together with that somber expression and your complete focus on your baseball stuff." She nods fondly at the memories. "Then you got into that fight and showed me that you were kind of a badass, and by the end of that day I was done for."

"Hhhhah." you chuckle dryly, finally reclaiming the feeling of laughter. "Never would have guessed it started then."

"Yeah, that's why after our little grievance, when we got friendly again, I tried to throw a few flirty lines out, hoping you'd catch on. You know, unaware that you thought I was a boy."

"I once again apologize." you dip your head.

"Yeah yeah. Anyway, besides that I guess the next biggest event was that day you smiled for the first time. I saw it, and it just captivated me. I thought right then that I loved seeing you smile, and that I wanted to see more of it. And that I wanted to be the reason for it. And now I just made you laugh, and I feel like I'm gonna burst open."

Those are such small things, you can hardly believe that they're the reason she loves you. Something so minute as a smile and a laugh? But, you remember the story your dad told you about how he and your mom met. According to him, while he was with some friends, she walked by their table. They made eye contact, and she gave him a look with a smile so dazzling it felt like he got tackled by a hippo. He went to talk to her instantly. So maybe it is the little things.

"Well. I uh. Never would have guessed." you say with difficulty. "Why tell me now? Not earlier, when you felt it, or later with better timing? Friend's house party doesn't really seem like the prime place to bare your heart."

"Got nervous." she says. "Felt like if I waited any longer, eventually you'd be back to your old self. And when that happened then maybe I'd lose my chance."

You don't quite understand, you tilt your head in confusion.

"That squirrel girl made me realize that even if you do look constantly down in the dumps, other girls also find you attractive. And you turned her down today, but what if another one came along that you were more into? And you weren't at such a low point anymore? So you flirt back and suddenly it's 'Hey Morgan, this is my new girlfriend. I gotta thank you again for helping me get my life back together, I appreciate you, friend.'"

"Ah." is all you say. To be completely honest, that could have been entirely possible. If you heal emotionally, you'll be emotionally available. If you're available, you'd be willing to share yourself with another able body. And being what you considered a friend, Morgan would not have likely been the choice to make. You witnessed first hand how badly breaking out of the friend zone went with Deeno one time. Once you're in, you're trapped in. Usually. You figured you and Morgan were in the friend zone with content. Apparently not, for her.

You don't really have much else to say. Neither does she at the moment. You sit together in silence, while you try to make sense of your thoughts. She's told you how she feels, so it's up to you to respond properly, whether it be in acceptance or refusal. But do you have to make a choice now? Can you get like, a short break, or is this one of those "timed choice events" where if you don't choose it goes with the worse option? Is Dwayne's house gonna explode from a gas leak if you don't say anything?

"So what now?" you finally blurt out.

"What do you mean?" Morgan asks.

"Like, you told me how you felt. Should we. Like, date? I don't want to immediately agree and hype you up just to disappoint you with my lack of romantic ability. But I don't wanna refuse and hurt you, driving you away, and stuff?"

"Well how do you feel?" she asks. "Which way do you think you're leaning?"

"I don't know. Can't say I feel the exact same way as you do. But maybe I can? No idea how this is supposed to work."

Morgan stops to think, eventually getting an idea. "Alright. We give it a short trial run. If you like it, we move forward. If you don't we axe this conversation and don't bring it up again. At least until you're ready."

"Alright. So what are we doing?" you ask.

Morgan doesn't answer, instead sliding even closer to you. She places her hand over yours and leans in. Oh. You know exactly what's about to happen. You breathe in subtly and mimic the action.

Your lips unite, gently. And not much else. This isn't your first kiss, you had your first in middle school, and while not dating anyone, there have been a few girls that you've given a European greeting to. So you aren't inexperienced, just severely out of practice. Morgan however, seems to be severely inexperienced, so this is definitely her first. Eyes closed tightly, stiff as a board, you peek at her body language and conclude that this is brand new to her. And it's kind of lame. You wouldn't want her first kiss to be bland. You lean deeper into it and pretend to simulate some intimate bravado. You kiss her with as much passion as you can counterfeit. You can't reliably remember if attempting to use your tongue would be considered too intimate for a first kiss so you won't do that. But after a moment that feels like it lands between 30 seconds and an hour, you break away.

You open your eyes, unsure of the expression you're currently making. Morgan does the same, taking abit more time to come to lucidity. A dreamlike expression planted on her, she opens her eyes fully and looks into yours. From this distance, as you make eye contact, all the times you've likened her eyes to emeralds, seems almost insignificant. They are emeralds right now, pure and unblemished, as if a divine being personally placed glimmering gemstones into her eye sockets.

Those butterflies that hatched in your gut earlier are currently having a riot. You think you understand what happened with your dad meeting your mom, and how Morgan can feel so strongly from such simple gestures.

"H-how. uh. How do you feel?" she manages to compose herself enough to ask.

"That's. A good question. I feel like, I'd be fine with us. Together." you say. "Honestly, how much different will it be? We spend every day together anyway."

She laughs. "Exactly. We've practically been a couple this entire time, haven't we?"

You're sufficiently rested, you'd be okay to go back to the main room and dance some more if Morgan wants to. You also wouldn't say no to seeing what Dwayne's got in the way of food, if there's anything left. You turn to Morgan to get her input but stop. You find yourself looking at her more closely than you have before. Like you're trying to deeply scrutinize every detail on her face. The conclusion to your inspection is that she's pretty damn cute.

"What is it?" she says, finally noticing your intense staring.

"You're really cute." you say, not actually meaning to be so frank. "No idea how I ever thought you were a boy." you add in as a joke to sidestep the embarrassment of being so forthright.

"Ha, so now you see what I've been wondering ever since you told me." she laughs.

You shrug and lie backwards on the bed, feet still touching the floor. "I believe what I see. Couldn't see it, so I couldn't believe it."

"Oh, so now you can see it?" You nod quickly in answer to her question. "You sure? ... Don't need to see other parts of me to prove I am what I say?"

... Hold on what.

"I mean," she continues, sliding even closer to you. "I'm not quite as sexy as another girl you just met. And I don't have as much shape as another dog you know. Well, I don't have much, period. But I swear it's all there."

You open your mouth to interject. To inform her that you were joking, or ask if she's joking, because you can't understand what's happening now and this line of thinking is very close to converting into a serious situation, and this is kind of soon isn't it, and she isn't really going to-

Your thoughts are interrupted by a very clearly female presence placing herself directly over you, straght up with her legs on either side of you.

"And. If you have to see it to believe it, then I'll just show you."

That was a very confident line for someone who probably just had her first kiss not five minutes ago. But it's not like you're any better, since this is brand new territory for you as well,

"Wwwwaaait wait wait wait." you call out. "This, you don't have to. I mean, what is this about even?"

"Well. Th- y'know, third base might be a little much. But we just passed first, right? So second base should be okay too? It should be."

Sounds like she isn't too sure, but she's moving ahead anyway. She removes the straps of her overalls from her shoulders, then reaches her hands down to grip at the hem of her shirt. In truth, this is good enough, you can see well enough the outline of her feminine figure. But obviously that was just some sort of pretense to do this. It's likely more along the lines of, she doesn't want to lose to Demi, who was willing to go a lot farther. But Morgan's already won, she got farther than that squirrel did.

Too bad she doesn't seem to care about that, she grips the edge of her shirt and lifts it slowly, whether to be teasing, or becuase she's nervous you can't tell. In fact, unmoving, unthinking, you're surprisingly focused on the imminent big reveal. Her shirt comes up high enough that you can see her bra peeking from underneath. Her fingers adjust to loop under that as well. Just another few moments and-

The door bursts open. Morgan's shirt shoots down as you both whip around to find, some absolutely sloshed guy standing in the doorway.

"Ooohh. Shorry, ahm shorry." He slurs, apologizing profusely. "Jes, needa place to, laaaay, myself fer a bit. Jes a bit. Shorry." then he wakks to the side of the bed where there's ample space, and collapses on the floor face first.

Well, that's completely ruined the mood, hasn't it. You poke Morgan in the gut with your finger, then lean your head in the "let's get outta here" gesture. She removes herself from over you and you stand. You adjust your shirt and stick your hands in your pockets to camoflauge your "excitement". You wait for Morgan to fix her clothing, then walk out the room together. You find Dwayne quickly and give him the courtesy of a farewell. He walks you to the door and thanks you for showing up.

"Stay up, alright homie." he tells you. You nod and walk to your car. You take the short ride home in relative silence, and arrive back at your abode, ready to end the day.

"Alright I'm heading to bed." I'll see you in the morning." you say, adding in a yawn.

"O-oh yeah?" she says with a tone, either made of awkwardness, or disappointment? Things were kind of getting a bit, spicy, right at the end there. Was she hoping to pick up where you left off?

Nah, the moment's passed, doesn't fel right to try and force it. "Yeah, I'm getting pretty tired."

"Okay. Good night then." she nods in understanding.

You walk up the stairs to your room and sit on the bed... You now technically have a girlfriend. Someone who has romantic interest in you, the heartle- no, empty hearted husk, that is Anon. These are more steps in the right direction, right? ... You're living with your girlfriend at twenty years old, what would your parents think?

A new morning, you greet it a bit groggily. You wore yourself out last night at that party. That party where many things happened. That party where your friend and roommate became your girlfriend. You're still having a bit of trouble coming to terms with that, but it'll work out. You head to the bathroom for your daily needs, then return to your room to get dressed. Today feels like a batting center kind of day. So, like every day really. You grab your bat and head downstairs, and find Morgan seated on the couch, seemingly waiting for your arrival.

"Morning." you call.

She turns and her face almost lights up when she sees you. Like really, her fur seems almost shiny today and her gemstone eyes are gleaming, is that a trick of the light?

"Good morning." she replies in a syrupy voice sweet enough to give you a toothache. "We going to the center today?"

"That's my plan. Unless you've got something different you want to do."

"Nope." she says, standing up. "Well. Maybe there's something, but it can wait until later."

"Oh yeah, what is it?" you ask.

She says nothing, responding with an innocent shrug. Well okay, you won't let it bother you. You two get ready and walk into town. However, the walk is the same as always. Side by side, keeping pace. You're supposed to be dating now, but it doesn't really feel like it. Maybe there's something you can do. You take your left hand from out of your pocket and reach casually toward Morgan's, taking it in your grasp. She looks at you in surprise. You shrug nonchalantly, and receive a smile in return before she tightens her grip around your hand in kind. So that was a success, good job.

"You ever notice how good you are at things you end up doing?" Morgan asks suddenly. "Like, you said you hit a home run the first ever time you played baseball. You're a pretty good fighter despite not doing it all that often. You're a good dancer... You're a good kisser."

Now you honestly think about that. You feel like there's some truth to what she's saying, but for the sake of modesty you choose not to believe you're some kind of blessed prodigy.

"That's all just beginner's luck, I'm sure." you shrug.

"Sure sure. Jack of all Trades."

"Hell no, don't call me that." you shudder, remembering the name of your first adversary.

"Then you're the other one. The one they use for those people who are really good at baseball? An Ace."

"Ha, that's usually reserved for like, the star pitcher on the team... But sure, I like that better."

You make it up to Old Man Lou's. Shelby's there of course, but you notice that Keiji and Okita are there as well.

"Morning every-" you start before you hear Shelby slam her counter and stare at you, eyes wide.

She stomps over and stands right in front of you and Morgan. Then throws her head exaggeratedly down, staring at something important. You are extremely concerned. Keiji and Okita peek around Shelby to see what the problem is and notice the angle her head is at.

You follow their gazes and realize. You walked in here, hand still linked with Morgan's.

"... We're dating now." you tell Shelby casually, like you're just giving her the time.

"Now?" Keiji muses. "I thought you already were." Okita agrees to her brother's thoughts with a nod.

"No, we were just-" you start before you and Morgan are pulled strongly forward into a hug. Shelby holds you both close and tight.

She lets go and looks at you, with actual tears in her eyes. She moves your hair and once again inspects your eyes. The tears slide down and are absorbed in her fur and you actually feel worried for her. You don't understand what's going on. You look to Morgan, and find that she doesn't look worried. She's smiling warmly, seemingly understanding of Shelby's current emotional state. She steps back and takes Morgan's free hand, shaking it profusely in some sort of overwhelming gratitude. She says nothing, no signs, no gestures. She gives one last look to you both, then retreats to her counter, grabbing a stack of tissues.

"Maybe I should get Shinzo to teach me sign language." you ponder to yourself. "That way I'd be able to properly understand whatever the hell is going on in Shelby's brain."

"Just know that she's happy for us." Morgan explains. "More specifically, she's happy for you."

You leave things at that, and turn your attention to the Akai Onis right ahead. "So what're you two up to? Here to hang out?"

"Actually, we were wondering if we could have your assistance with a small matter?" Okita asks.

"Long as I can help. Just don't ask me to paint any murals or whatever you guys do."

"No no. Okita wants to visit her friend that lives in the area." Keiji takes over the conversation. "But we locked eyes with a few 6th Street members. We turned around and they followed for a time. We didn't want a repeat of last time, so we came in here and they backed off, likely this place is now off limits to them."

"So we were hoping that you would walk with us on our trip." Okita follows up. "If they see you and know who you are they'd be less likely to confront us. That is our hope."

You roll your eyes and sigh heavily. "It's always 6th Street, isn't it? But they haven't done anything before, what's their deal now?"

"We don't have Izo with us today is what." Keiji shrugs.

Understandable, Izo is pretty brawny and quite intimidating. Especially with that eyepatch.

You look to Morgan, and can already see the worry on her face with the mention of possibly confronting 6th Street. But it's either go with them and increase their chances of staying safe, or leave them to their fate and risk them getting stomped into the dirt by ten guys again.

"Can't do this another day when Izo's free?" you ask.

Okita shakes her head. "The Oni have a large project that we need to take care of soon, so we we'll be confined to our area for a while."

You nod. "Alright, let's get it done then."

Okita gives you that respectful bow. "Thank you. I promise to repay you for your assistance."

"Yeah yeah." you say. "Lead the way."

You gave Shelby a quick farewell and went off with Okita and Keiji. Her friend isn't too far away, but it's better to be safe than sorry. You keep your head on a swivel, watching for any traces of fuckery. Keiji's ears twitch slightly, probably picking up sounds like a high powered hearing device.

"This the same friend who broke her leg?" you ask Okita.

"Correct." she answers. "She's been doing quite well."

"Must be pretty close, to come visit her all the way out here on a rival side of town."

"Oh absolutely." Keiji answers for his sister. "They are very close, aren't you Okita?"

"It is not at all like that, I've told you before." The blush creeping into her cheeks makes that statement hard to believe. "We are just very good friends."

"Right of course." Keiji nods, then turns around and walks backwards, looking at you with a disappointed shake of his head. "If different species can be together comfortably, and same genders of the same species is perfectly fine, the only next logical step is different species, same genders. There is no reason for fear, sister."

"There is every reason to fear." Okita responds with a melancholy tone. "F-for those who seek to live that life. Not me of course."

You and Keiji share a shake of the head. But his joyful grin collapses, and his ears twitch in alarm. You catch him and Morgan both turn sharply in the same direction to your left, and your instinct screams that trouble's coming. On the opposite side of the road, you watch an unfamiliar 6th Street peon step out of an alley with something large nestled in his hands. He rears back and by his body language, you can tell he's about to throw something. You pull Morgan by the hand and reel her in behind you. Keiji steps in and cradles his sister, using his body to defend her.You take a step off the curb and into the street, and reel back in your batter's stance.

Luckily, you can see from here the chalky gray of what seems to be a rock. Good thing it wasn't anything more dangerous like a molotov or something. A rock you can deal with. He releases it and it sails through the air, and to a skilled batter like you, it may as well not be moving. You hit the rock as soon as it's within position and send it careening at twice the speed back into that 6th Street punk's gut. He folds over and hits the ground. That's when the rest of them reveal themselves. Only about six and no other spectacular weapons, except for one who seems to have found a particularly rusty piece of pipe. You also recognize him, the one who said the group could take you when they were ganging up on Keiji and Okita. You don't see that coyote though, so this must not be his plan.

"Y'all don't wanna do this!" you shout across the street to them. "You know what your coyote buddy said, it ain't gonna end well for you!"

"Fuck Paco!" your newest adversary shouts back. "We don't need no weak shit in 6th Street. He can act like a pussy if he wanna, but I'ma lay yo ass out and prove I should have my own soldiers!"

"So they want me then." you mumble under your breath. "You guys should bail then." you say to your friends. "Morgan go with them, lemme deal with this."

"Kotowaru." Keiji says, standing defiantly at your side.

"What he said." Okita stands right behind her brother. "It won't do to leave you behind as we escape. What kind of friends would do that?"

You look over your shoulder and see the fear gripping Morgan, clouding her emerald eyes.

"Stay back. Run if you need to." you instruct her. She nods.

You take a deep breath and let it out. "Let's hope this is the last fucking time I have to deal with these pissants."

Another rock comes sailing through the sky, a little faster, but not by much. Instead of blasting it back at the thrower, you step in and catch it with your left, drop it to the ground, then stare at the kid who threw it who looks like he just started highschool. Well if he wants to play with the big boys, then he's hopefully prepared to play rough. You look over at Keiji and Okita, the looks of resolution on their face. You lead the charge and step into the street. The one leading his group steps up to meet you. His gang behind him, yours behind you. And as if you both had the same thought, you bring your bat up and swing against his pipe. The deafening collision of metal against metal signals the start.

They rush in and with the lack of numbers you have to stand your ground. But if you all work properly it can end up a two against one, which feel like decent odds. You dodge a punch and block a pipe. You kick the boss away with your leg, but take a punch from another enemy. You go to swing your bat and counterattack but have to stop your swing and block another pipe strike. Still blocking, you swing your leg out and try to trip up the guy who just punched you. He stumbles but stays up, to catch a punch to the back of the head from Okita. He stumbles forward and loses his balance. You lift your knee and collide it with his nose as he falls forward and put him down. Another block, and you watch Okita come stumbling into your field of view, along with that young kid who looks like he shoulder tackled her. You tackle him back and he doesn't keep his balance, falling onto his ass.

You keep going out of range of the next pipe swing as he almost domes his own ally. You jab your bat into the back of one guy focusing on Keiji and launch him forward. Keiji squats and lifts the guy off the ground in an impressive show of strength before basically powerbombing him into the goddamn ground. That guy goes limp, his back practically shattered. You look back at the boss and see him swinging his pipe wildly at Okita, who dodges his strikes with a majestic grace. It reminds you of the grace of those dancers that you normally see in samurai movies. It distracts you long enough for you to take a kick dead center in the back. You're launched forward a few steps but don't fall. You turn on a dime and swing your bat out to catch your assailant. However he expected your swing and stopped your bat near your hands and the handle. Then tries to wrench your own bat from your hands. Of course that's not happening, but then that kid who was on the ground tackles into your gut and starts punching you in the side. The side that you were stabbed in, he lands these feeble punches right in the space of your wound. However. It doesn't actually hurt at all anymore, so you allow him to feebly strike you while you focus on the guy ahead trying to take your bat.

You lean your head back and throw it forward, headbutting him right in the nose. It leaks immediately, broken. He hits the ground and cradles it. Wait. Isn't this the guy whose nose you broke last time? You're still geting punched by this kid, so you lift your bat up, and bring it down on th back of his thigh, giving him the meanest charley he'll ever have. He lets you go and hobbles back, you give him a swift push with your foot onto the ground. He lies there cradling his leg, so you look at who's left. Okita's still got the boss distracted and you can tell he's pissed that he can't hit her. You turn and watch Keiji hold a guy's arm as he turns his back toward him. He leans at the waist and flips the guy over his body and onto the ground. Then you hear a loud sound of contact and a squeal of pain from Okita. You whip around to see her clutch her arm and backpedal, before tripping over herself and hitting the ground. How that happened, you don't know. He brings his pipe up to hammer down on her, but you dive forward. You drop your bat and tackle this guy in the back. He loses grip on his pipe and hits the ground. You scramble over him and begin your tried and true ground and pound method. You throw punches as he tries to block. He's the last one, once he's done it's over.

Or so you think, but this kid. This fucking kid. He must be real eager to prove himself, because he kicks you in the stomach, giving the boss enough time to reverse your positions. So now he's hovering over you, ready to punch you out. Which he does so gladly. You block high since he's aiming at your face, but the kid comes up and starts throwing kicks into your chest. He kicks harder than he punches, he might end up breaking a rib. You can't huddle far enough to block both areas effectively. Luckily Okita comes to your defense, launching off the kids shoulders with her hands and wrapping her legs around his lower torso. She descends back to the ground and holds him in some kind of submission. The boss catches that, but doesn't let it stop him. With that moment of reprieve, you can see that Keiji also has the last opponent in some sort of headlock submission. So you have to deal with this on your own for now. He keeps swinging, and although the assault is lessensed without the kid, you can't find a chance to counterattack or free yourself. But through your guard, you see something approach. It leans in closer, and in the next moment the guy throwing a hail of punches at you is now screeching in pain.

You bring down your guard to see Morgan, jaws clamped down on the fleshy area between the neck and the shoulder of this 6th Street leader wannabe. He pushes on her forehead in vain to get her off. You take this chance to lift your fist and punch him right in the throat. He chokes and you hit him next with an uppercut. Morgan releases him as he falls backward. You force yourself up. Keiji's put his enemy to sleep it seems aand the kid Okita's got trapped is squealing and tapping vigorously against her shin and thigh in submission. Tears are rolling down his face from the apparent pain, but Okita refuses to let him go. She looks down at him, strangely calmly, like an older sister putting her baby brother to sleep. She even pats his head soothingly as she crushes him like a boa constrictor. It's a very disturbing sight to see.

You look at Morgan, spitting on the ground. The guy she bit doesn't seem to be bleeding so she must've bit him through the shirt and just got a mouth full of shirt cotton. You walk up to her and she looks up at you as you approach.

"Are you okay?" she asks in a hurry. "I didn't want you to-"

You silence her with a kiss. It's sudden, unexpected and filled with a passion that you don't have to fake. You keep it short though and pull back.

"My hero." you say. Before you realize where you are and what you did. "Oh uh. Sorry. Adrenaline." you offer in apology.

"Nnnno problem." she responds.

You get Okita to release her poor victim and some of the previously defeated come to. Hopefully this ass beating was an eye opener for the kid and he'll take his ass back to school or something. You calmly, politely, and in an absolutely non threatening way, tell them to get their punk asses gone. However, you keep the boss, who isn't unconscious yet. You pin him beneath your knee, prepared to interrogate him.

"Your dumb bitch fuckin' bit me! I better not catch rabies!" he shouts in rage. You respond to that rudest of remarks with a quick jab to the forehead with the barrel of your bat. "Isn't Jackie supposed to be keeping you shitheads in control? Where is he? And on that note, where's Tiny too?"

"Don't fuckin' know no Jackie. Tiny though, ain't been the same for a minute. Came back one day too chill. No fire, no hate. Like a big ass fuckin' teddy bear. From what I'm told it happened after you domed him a couple dozen times."

So Jack is MIA and you broke Tiny's brain. Great. So that must mean there's some kind of lack of authority? Or maybe someone else took over. Well it's not like you care.

"I don't give a fuck about you and your gang. But you leave me and my friends out of your petty squabbles. I ain't no damn stepping stone for you to use just so you can sit on your throne of shit." You get ready to stand and let him go.

"Yeah fuck you too." he says, strangely defiant even though he just got his ass kicked. He reaches up to hold his hand over his bitten shoulder. "You need to keep a muzzle on yer fuckin' mutt over there."

You get ready to bonk him over the skull a fair bit harder this time. But you're taken aback when a boot comes flying from the side into the side of his head. Then another one the opposite side. You jump up and vacate the area quickly as this dumbass gets stomped out violently by Keiji and his sister.

After the Oni twins have worked out their anger, you leave that dumbass unconscious in the street and continue on to Okita's friend's house. Morgan walks very close to you, Okita cradles her bruised arm, Keiji walks with a victorious kind of jubilation. Likely happy to have gotten his revenge on 6th Street in a way. You arrive at your destination. Okita excuses herself to visit her friend. So you guys hang out on the street while you wait. After a while she comes back out, looking pleased. You make your way back to your side of the city near the batting center. Keiji said he could hear sirens in the distance so you all took more of a detour around to avoid the way you came from. Once you're back near the center, Keiji and Okita decide to take their leave after thanking you once again.

"Didn't go quite as we planned, but it worked out." Keiji said.

"'Wanna make God laugh you make a plan'." you said in reference to a quote you heard.

You told Okita to get her arm looked at just in case it's more than just a bruise, to which she agreed. Then they take their leave. They shouldn't run into any more trouble today. Hopefully. Honestly, you're a bit wiped from what happened today, so you don't have it in you to play at the cages anymore. You let Morgan know as much and she agrees. So you make your way back home. It's still early so you drop down on the couch, not ready to retire to your room just yet. Morgan sits with you leaning herself into your side.

"Didn't expect you to jump in and save me back there."

"Yeah well. Keiji and Okita looked a little busy. And you know, I was worried." As she is right to be, every interaction with 6th Street ends badly.

"I half expected you to take a chunk out of his neck." you give her a teasing grin.

"I probably would've if I could. I don't think I have the strength though."

The thought of Morgan with her mouth smeared in blood, a look of blind rage in her eyes, crosses your mind. "Well let's hope you don't have to try any more." you say as you nestle farther into the couch. And like that, you spend the rest of the day with Morgan.

Another day, you rise with purpose. Gone are the days of throwing yourself onto the ground and dragging yourself to the bathroom in your autonomous day to day. You stretch and tense your muscles. You're a bit sore from your scuffle yesterday, but not sore enough to skip going to the center.

You do what you normally do, grab your bat and head downstairs. You find Morgan on the couch, waiting patiently for your arrival. However something's a bit different. She turns to you as soon as you're down the stairs, and there's no morning joy in her face like normal.

"Morning." she says, uncharacteristically downcast. "Are we... Going to the center?"

You aren't sure why she seems so down. But if you had to guess, it might have something to do with you getting in another fight yesterday. She's probably afraid that it'll happen again, as unlikely as it would be. You can handle yourself, but one of these days 6th Street will get smart, and come with more than rocks, pipes, and only six people to deal with you.

"We can go somewhere else today if you want." you offer. "Like I said, if you wanna do anything, let me know."

"Maybe we can just stay here?" she asks. "Not really in the mood to go too far."

You nod in acceptance. A quick trip back upstairs to replace your bat, then back down and onto the couch you go. She slides next to you and turns on the T.V., but hands you the remote.

"Pft, you know I have no idea what's good." you scoff.

"Just choose whatever seems good to you."

You search for something appealing. All these shows and nothing good related to baseball. Tired of hunting for something, you hit the try me option and let other users most watched recommendations choose for you. Some cartoon about some third-rate loser trying to survive in his shithole city comes on and oddly enough it entices you so you let it play. It's surprisingly adult with its comedy, but you suppose a lot more animated stuff has become that way apparently, judging by the rest of the recommendations.

As you're watching the show with Morgan, a thought comes to you.

"You water your plants today? ... Or yesterday?"

She shoots up on the couch as she remembers. "Oh my God you're right, I didn't." She hops off the couch and scurries off to the backyard to go take care of that. You're surprised she forgot, she's usually on top of that. Though understandably there were some exciting moments this week that would cause one's attention to be diverted. You figure it shouldn't take long so you'll wait for her to finish before continuing the movie. But about fifteen minutes go by, so you get up yourself to go ask if she's done with the movie. You head to the backyard and peek around the corner of the house toward her garden area. It's surprisingly nice, everything seems to be growing well. Well, mostly. You can't tell from here but something doesn't seem to have grown properly, judging by her disappointed body language.

You'll leave her be for a while. In fact, maybe you can cheer her up. You walk into the house and check the freezer. Morgan likes strawberry flavored ice cream, but you're all out. So maybe you'll take off to the store really quick and get a tub. Sounds like a good idea. She's always eager to go where you go but, in and out ten minutes tops, she won't even notice you're gone. Well. She might hear the car pull off if she pays any attention but that's fine.

You hop in your dad's car and take off down the street and head to the closest convenience store. You park and walk in, heading straight toward the freezer section. You scan the contents behind the glass quickly, looking for the strawberry flavor. However as you search, you catch the blurry form of someone behind you through the poor reflection of the glass. They must want to get in here where you are. Not immediately finding what you're looking for, you don't want to hog the space, so you step to the right to allow them access. However, it seems their attention wasn't on the freezer, but on you.

"Anon?" you hear.

You turn to face this person, and come across a familiar face you never thought you'd see again. Small, barely up to your waist. Light brown fur, big blue eyes, framed by round glasses.

"... Edie?" you ask, not quite believing what you're seeing.

"Oh wow, it is you." she smiles wide and steps forward to throw her arms up and around you in a hug. You reciprocate, one armed. Once she's done she steps back and takes a good look up at you. "You look good, really. Like you're doing so much better."

You shrug and smile. "Yeah I guess so. Only took a little over two years."

She gasps and holds her hands over her mouth when you smile. But she regains herself and smiles back at you. "No one could fault you for taking your time with that. We all know it was very difficult. But I'm glad to see you're out of that funk. We never stopped worrying about you. But when you began keeping in touch less and less, we figured we got on your nerves with our constant bugging." You can't even deny that statement. You did get a bit irritated with them. With everyone, you kind of just wanted to be left alone... Until you were alone, but by the time you figured that you didn't really want to be alone, you felt wrong about trying to reconnect when you were the one to push them away.

"How's Hal and Naomi?" you ask, partly to move passed that comment of them bugging you. "They still together?"

"They sure are.' Edie nods. "In fact they're getting quite obnoxious with their constant flirting and fauning. We can't have a proper conversation without them making romantic comments to each other."

You nod in understanding. They were pretty bad in school, to hear they're even worse in college. You're a bit glad you aren't there.

"And Deeno? He still trying to do the music thing?"

Her face immediately contorts in a cringe at the mention of Deeno's music. "Yyyyes. He is."

You hold your hand up to stop her." Say no more, I can already tell how it's going by your face." She laughs and you add a laugh to hers. She once again gets that look of surprise, but replaces it after only a moment.

"So what're you doing down in the 'Grand?" you ask. "On break or something?"

"Oh no. I have a family emergency."

You recoil in shock, mainly from how calmly she stated that her family's got trouble. "You serious, what's going on?"

"My family, is in desperate need of a vacation. So we're getting together and going on a crusie for a week."

You let out a heavy breath of relief. She laughs at your apparent state of worry. "Can't believe you just did that to me, Edie. I was spooked, not like you to make those kind of jokes. Or like, any jokes, really."

"College is doing wonders for my personality." she says with a puff of her chest and pride dripping in her voice. "It would've done wonders for you too, had you gone, I''m sure."

You nod sorrowfully. You had a chance, but depression hit you like a truck and rooted you to your bed like a vegetable. "It's not too late though. You could always start now. Any start is better than none, right?"

Well. That's true. Now that you're getting better emotionally, it might be time to think about what you want to do. But if you do, you'll have to include Morgan. But would she want to go to college? Maybe she can find some work, you can rent a place out there together. Get your dad's friend to find you a realtor to help you put the house up for rent. But do you want to leave? Maybe cutting ties with the den of your grief will also be a way to help. Lots to think about. But one thing is certain.

You need to get the fuck outta San Vanargrand.

You come back to reality and remember that you're in the middle of a store taking up space. And some feline lady is doing that whole "pretending to look at other stuff on the shelves while they wait for you to get the hell out of the way" thing.

"Let's step out of the way, Edie." you say, moving toward the front. She seems to have paid for whatever she was here for and by divine intervention noticed you in the aisle mirror above as she was leaving. So you walk out and sit on the bus stop chair nearby. You continue to chat and hang out for a while, catching up and reminiscing. She tells you about what she's been up to in school, what your old friends have been doing, and so on.

"Hold on, I've got a great idea." she says, pulling out her phone. "Hal is going to flip." She keys in Hal on her contacts and hits the call button.

"Sup Edie." he says when he picks up.

"You'll never guess who I'm siitting next to right now."

"Uhhhh. You're right, I never will so I won't. Who?"

She holds the phone up to you, so you take it as your cue to say something. "C'mon man, at least try and humor us for a bit."

"... Who?" he says in peak confusion.

"Damn, dumbass." you sigh. "Can't believe you forgot me. It's only been two years, maybe I should clock you with my baseball bat, get those gears turning again."

"... ANON?!" he exclaims. You also hear a similar exclamation of your name in the background from a much higher pitched voice. Then you hear scrambling for the phone.

"Anon is that really you?!" Naomi screeches into the phone.

"I mean. Last I checked I wasn't anybody else."

"How you been you bastard?!" Hal shouts.

"How did you find Anon, Edie?!" Naomi cries.

They talk over each other and attempt to ask questions, so you try and settle them down. "I'll explain everything just chill, you psychos."

So you take the time to chat with Hal and Naomi, using Edie's phone. They try and conference in Deeno, but it goes to voicemail, so you leave him a short, "what's up loser" message and go back to talking. It feels good to reconnect with your old friends. You remember thinking that they wouldn't want to hear from you. How completely wrong you were.

"We're gonna have to hang out sometime when everyone's free." you say. "Plus, I've got someone I want you all to meet. The one who helped me get to where I am now."

"Ooh, I hear the fondness in that voice." Naomi coos. "Tell us about her, who is she?"

"Damn, outed me already huh? I guess I can- Actually what time is it?" Edie shows you the time and you realize you've been gone for two whole hours and some change. Good thing you didn't buy that ice cream. "Damn. Actually should be getting back, didn't plan to be out this long."

"What, you gotta go?" Hal whines. "Well keep in touch, fool. Now that you're good, we got all kinds of stuff to fill you in on. Deeno's gonna lose his mind!"

"Have you heard his music? He's already lost his mind." Edie jokes.

"You guys still have the same phone numbers from highschool?" you ask. And they confirm that they all do, aside from Deeno, who's has changed like three different times. "I'll hit you guys up then."

"You goddamn better! Been waiting too damn long to hear back from you." Hal huffs.

You say your goodbyes and stand up.

"Need a ride somewhere Edie? I borrowed the car."

"Oh no no, I'm okay. Remember I'm only a short walk from here." she says.

"Alright if you're sure." She gives you another hug in farewell, and you reciprocate. Then you go your seperate ways. You remember to buy that tub of ice cream, and a few packs of cookies just because. Then you head home.

You walk in the door and the sight you see almost shatters every good vibe you've been accumulating over the months. Morgan's seated in the corner of the couch, balled in on herself. Kind of like how you'd find a kid huddled in a corner if they were scared out of their wits. Once you're properly in the house and close the door behind you, her head snaps to you, and instantly you can tell she's been crying. She practically jumps over the couch and tackles you into a hug, squeezing you tight enough to make breathing difficult.

"W-what, what's going on, what's wrong?" you ask in a rush, half expecting something terrible like some birds swooped in and ate her entire garden.

"Y-you- I- w-where-" she struggles heavily with her words. Eventually she stops trying and presses herself closer, tears falling from her eyes, flooding your shirt. You don't know what's going on at all, so you drop your bag and wrap your arms around her You hold her tightly, unmoving, uncompromising, until you think she's at a point where she can maybe explain what happened.

"Morgan what happened? Are you gonna be okay, what's wrong?"

"You left." she mumbles into your shirt, just coherent enough for you to understand.

"Well. Yeah." you assent. "Didn't mean to be gone for hours. Went to the store and met an old friend. Didn't wanna interrupt you, didn't think it was a big deal."

"Y-yeah. It shouldn't be." she agrees. "It shouldn't be but... I didn't." she puts a pause on her thoughts, and you wait. You don't want to interject, so you hold your tongue patiently while she tries to find the words she's looking for.

"... I didn't know if you were gonna come back."

... What.

That's ridiculous, why on earth wouldn't you come-

...

Oh.

You understand now. At least you think you do. You remember the story she told you when you got out of the hospital. About her parents and their neglect. And when they started leaving the house and disappearing for days. They both left her alone for an entire month when she was no more than fourteen years old. You're no psychologist, but you can only assume that that specific event has laid some deep seeded issues with abandonment in her mind.

"But why would you think I wouldn't come back? I wouldn't do something like that."

"I dunno, I don't." she cries. "Thought you, maybe went to the center after all and didn't want to take me. Thought maybe you ran into more of 6th Street. And they were gonna. And you weren't gonna." She reveals her fears, and they are quite grounded and entirely possible. This just gives you more resolve to figure out how to put Vanargrand behind you. "Thought you were getting tired of me since I'm always near you, thought maybe you were gonna leave me behind and go off on your own from now own." she continues with her list of fears. "Just. D-don't. Don't leave me alone, p-please."

"Ssshh shh shh" you hum in a consoling tone. "It's alright, alright. I'm not going anywhere. If I planned to go anywhere far away, I'd definitely take you. I won't leave you alone."

"Promise?" she sniffles.

Your parents' photo mural calls your attention, and as you glance, you almost feel like their joyful visages have morphed into stern stares of reproach. As if to say, "don't you dare make that poor girl cry again."

"As my mother and father above bear witness, I promise Morgan, I will never leave you alone again." She for the first time looks up, and into your eyes, understanding the gravity of the promise you just swore. "If you wanna get a pair of handcuffs and link our wrists together for the rest of time, you're welcome to." you add in as a joke.

She gives a tiny chuckle through her sniffling. "That would probably make showers kind of difficult."

It would make more than showers difficult, but you play along. "Naaah, I'll get your back, you get mine, and we'll be golden."

That gets a real laugh out of her. You gingerly step with her over to the couch. You set her down, she holds onto your arm and hand, waiting for you to sit as well. However, when you don't she grips you tighter. "I got ice cream." you explain. "Dropped it on the ground. Lemme go put it in the freezer, it'll take five seconds." However she keeps her grip on your arm." Unless you want it now, but there's no spoons. She stands up, still holding onto you. So you guess that means it's off to the kitchen together. You grab the bag and go off to the kitchen. Getting the idea that she could use something sweet, you pop the top, grab a scooper, a bowl, and a spoon. You manage to get two scoops into the bowl and drop the spoon in it. All with your left hand, because your right is trapped in a death grip. Back to the couch again, you sit, she curls up next to you, arm still looped between yours. However she frees her hands up enough to take the bowl and shovel ice cream into her mouth. You take the remote and continue the show you were watching.

However, you regret it. After a while, the nonsensical show turned into random acts of gang related violence, and it's hitting a little too close to home. You were ready to change it, but Morgan dissuaded you, saying she was enjoying the story. "It's just a cartoon anyway. Not the biggest deal." So you continued, and it ended on a surprisingly good note. It was funny and exciting, a pretty good movie.

However, you choose to avoid anything with violence next and search the comedy tag for anything lighthearted. Once you find something you play it, and everything subsequently recommended by the similar tag. After a few hours, Morgan becomes unresponsive. You check on her and find that she's asleep. You don't want to wake her, lest she have another fit. You stand gently, and pull her up into your arms in a bridal carry. You gently trot down the hall to her room. You place her on her bed and cover her with a spare blanket that lays at the foot of it.

You watch her sleep peacefully for a moment. You mentally berate yourself for your lack of awareness. You should have thought that Morgan had some kind of personal baggage she was carrying. Who could possibly live through almost a decade of neglect and come out perfectly fine? You just forgot about it because she's so externally cheery that it's hard to realize that she's had any troubles to deal with. You resolve to be better. You aren't the only one who needs healing in this house. You take yourself upstairs, carefully to avoid disturbing her sleep. You shower and get ready for bed. As you lay yourself down, your eyes are drawn to your good luck charm, still unmoved from its space. You close your eyes and remember the grave promise you made.

Let's just hope you can keep it.

You come to in the morning after a surprisingly blissful sleep. Though oddly, you feel cramped in your own bed. You open your eyes, attmpting to see through the deep darkness that encompasses your room. There's something pressed heavily against you. And it's breathing softly. Is this...

You reach your arm back and tug at the curtain to your window that blackens your room. As it parts and lets in a divine ray of sunlight, you notice that your suspicion was correct. Morgan's in your bed, cuddled suspiciously close into you. Head nestled in the crook of your shoulder, arms wrapped around your arm, you think her leg's thrown across your gut.

...

What the hell are you supposed to do about this?

You assume she woke up in the middle of the night at some point, and needing the physical comfort of her emotional support human, came to your room to sleep in your bed. Which you guess is fine, it's not the biggest deal. You figure it's about time to get up though, so you move to wake her. But stop. Now that you think about it, she's usually up and awake long before you, huh? Leaving her to sleep seems like a rare moment. So you'll allow it, lounging in bed for a while longer won't kill you.

You angle yourself a bit and watch her sleeping face. So peaceful, so comfortable. Your treachorous hand twitches with the need to pat the head of this sleeping dog. Unfortunately, it's trapped beneath the very being it seeks to console. However, your left hand rises with the intent to do the right's bidding. You reach up and gently stroke the top of Morgan's head. Her ears twitch for a moment,and you can once again hear that subdued thump that sounds off beneath you, twofold this time as her tail slaps into your thick blanket and then your mattress. You continue to watch her sleep and pat her head until your arm grows tired. You put it down for a rest, but that lack of comfort that she grew accustomed to is what stirs her from her sleep. She opens her eyes slowly and meets your gaze.

"Mornin'." you say gently.

"Morning." she returns groggily. "Time is it?"

You peer over her and look at your alarm clock. "Little after ten." She grumbles a bit and sinks herself deeper into your side.

"What're we doing today?" she mumbles.

"Ah. Well you see. We're doing whatever you want to do."

"What I want?" she asks, coming closer to clarity.

"Yup. It's your turn to drag me around today. Wherever you wanna go, just tell me where and we'll do it. Though I'm also fine with sitting in the house. I'll stay put this time."

"Alright. Well, if you insist, then I've got some things I'd like to do." she says, agreeing to your plan for the day.

"I just have one request for lunch." you add in. "You ever have sushi?" She shakes her head. "Great, we're getting that for lunch."

"Kay." she says. Then returns to her sleeping position. So it doesn't look like your day's about to start any time soon. But that's fine, this is a day for her, she can spend it however she likes. You return your curtain to its earlier position and refill your room with darkness.

By the time she's properly awake and ready to go it already is time for lunch. She must get up early becuase it takes time to deal with her fur, drying it and brushing it after a shower took the most time. But now you're up and out the door, driving to your first stop. You actually brought your phone today, because you're going to need it for directions. You also remembered to text your old friends, because you said you would.

You pull up and park at a place called Miyabi's. You walk up, holding the door open for Morgan. "Irasshaimase!" comes the chorus of greeting from the chefs and waitresses as the bell on the door signals your entry.

"Table for two?" asks the receptionist sitting at a desk near the door. You nod in affirmation and she stands to lead you to a small table fit for exactly two people. Once you're seated, she sends a waitress over to you with menus. You've heard tea is the traditional thing to drink while having sushi. But tea is boring, so you and Morgan order sodas. Waitress departs and gives you time to look over the nenu.

"I have no idea what I'm looking at." Morgan reveals. Which is understandable, since neither do you. But you remember exactly what you got when you came here for the first time. The beginner roll you got to start with. As well as the rolls your mom and dad got that you pilfered pieces of when you learned that it was good.

"I'll order for us if you're fine with that. And if it turns out that you like it, you're free to have some of mine."

She seems fine with that. So once the waitress returns with your drinks, you order. After that, you wait and chat.

"You come here often?" she asks.

"... Uhhh, I don't think you have to flirt with me, we're already dating." you joke. She tilts her head in confusion, and for a moment you're absolutely stunned by how adorable it looks. Once she realizes what she said, and how it comes off like those corny opening lines at a bar, she laughs.

"You know what I meant." she says.

"I do." you nod." "No, I don't come here often. I've only actually been here once. With my folks." you start, before getting one of those thousand yard stares into the past. The memory isn't entirely heavy or significant, but remembering in general still brings that hard to escape melancholy. "They brought me here after I clutched a baseball game. We were losing, six to nine, practically no time left. Enemy pitcher went berserk or something, struck two of us out back to back. Bases were loaded, but even if we could take it base by base, we wouldn't have made it."

You remember that particular game well. The despair of imminent loss filling the hearts of your team. But Coach looked at you, gave you a nod, and sent you out.

"But it was my turn." you continue. "Though even I was a bit downcast. Figured dude was gonna stall me out or something, hit me with the ball so I had to walk. Which probably would've been the right call. But he pitched properly. A strike, a strike, a foul. And I was panicking."

You pause, because as simple as it is, the fondness of the moment you recall almost threatens to bring a tear to your eye. Which is strange because you thought you were all out of those.

"But right before the next pitch, when I'm feeling like it's over, I hear my parents call out to me. 'Anon! You can do it, son!'. And that was enough. That fox pitched, and I smacked the fuck outta that ball, so hard it damn near disappeared into the horizon. Hit my first grand slam, won the game. And uh, that was that. Parents took me here right after. Said they liked to come here whenever they achieved something monumental... So. Yeah."

You bring your story to a slightly lackluster end, considering the emotional energy the main story entailed. But Morgan sits there seemingly enraptured by your story. Her gemstone eyes glittering as she looks on at you, gaze so intense it feels like fire's engulfing you. You turn away, hoping to cool the burning in your face. Down the way, you catch the T.V. on, turned to the local news channel. Doesn't look like anything important.

"I wish my parents were more like that." Morgan says. "They were always kind of subdued. I think I sang a song with my class in like, first grade, and all the other parents jumped out of their seats and cheered. But mine just kind of stood and clapped politely, like it was a piano recital or something. I would get awards or good grades and they would just go 'good job, well done' and leave it at that. But they cared. They would hug me, tell me they loved me, we would talk about everything all the time, and go do things that were fun."

Damn. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to tell a story about the unconditonal love you received from parents who cared about you right until the end, whern the girl across from you lost all that somewhere in the middle of her life.

"I still wonder where things went wrong... I wonder if they even notice I'm gone."

"Wanna ride by there?" you ask foolishly. "Pop your head in, see how they're reacting? Walk back to your old room, see if they comment?"

She shakes her head. "I feel like. If I walked in, and they didn't react, I'd feel so much worse than if they did."

You can kind of understand that. You scratch the top of your head, and slide the edges of your bangs to the side.

"Moving on to something different though." Morgan says, characteristic cheer and joy returning to her voice. "When are you gonna get a haircut?"

"... What."

"It's time to get this mess taken care of." she leans forward, slapping your bangs left and right. "Can barely see your eyes like this."

You shrug. "What's so important about that?"

She shrugs back. "Like looking at your eyes."

... Well that makes two of you.

"Especially now that you don't look like you have nothing to live for."

Huh. Do you really? Been a while since you've really glacned at yourself in the mirror, has your empty void-like gaze finally given way to some semblace of life and fullness? You reach your hand up and tug at a particularly long lock of hair. Mabe it is time.

As you look at your hair though, your gaze shifts focus to the television as you see a photo of a familiar face on it. You stare off in shock. You can't hear the T.V. so you have to rely on the captions below it, hard to read and delayed as they are.

"-- twenty two year old Tayquon Harris, who was found on the corner of Eighth and Maple with multiple bruises along his face and body. Though the brusises seemed to be several days old, and it was revealed that the cause of death came from several obvious gunshot wounds to the torso."

"Oh fuck." your voice spills out of you. Morgan notices your look and turns around to see what you're looking at.

"--found alongside him was fifteen year old Antonio Salazar, who also received a gunshot wound to the chest, and is currently in critical condition."

"Aren't those, a few of the 6th Street guys you just had a run in with?" she asks.

"Yeah." is all you say.

"-- judging by their manner of dress, authorities conclude that they were involved in gang related activities, and were subsequently attacked by what must be a rival gang."

Rival gang? It couldn't have been the Akai Onis right? Yeah they've been having some trouble with 6th Street, but the Onis are technically on rival turf. And they aren't violent, not enough to kill someone anyway... Or are they? You don't really know, maybe all the niceties are just a front for their true dark dealings. Maybe you should stop associating with them so heavily.

"-- comes weeks after the largely violent altercation between the San Vanrgrand gangs known as the Southpoint Reapers, and the Blaine Park Hunters, in which more than--"

You've seen enough, you turn away. That asshole you fought just a few days ago is dead. Like actually dead. And that young dude who was with him is probably cashing in too if he's not lucky. Which means one thing.

The actual violence has made it into your side of the city. Gone are the days of rocks and pipes. Now they're all gonna be slinging bullets and knives. Morgan turns around. You watch each other silently, worry plastered on both of your faces.

But finally your food comes, so you attempt to block out the madness by filling your bellies. First thing you notice is that Morgan has trouble with the chopsticks, of course. Even though you try and show her the right way to do it, you being the master of trying things once and getting them down, but she can't seem to get it. The waitress comes by and discreetly slides over a helper bit to stick on Morgan's chopsticks.With the bit secure, it's significantly easier for her to manuever.

You slide her the most basic of basic sushi rolls on the west coast, the Cally Roll. She tries it and after a bit of mulling over the taste, she looks impressed. So sushi gets a pass. You eat, sharing your rolls with Morgan and preventing her from almost commiting sudoku when she tries to eat a big old chunk of wasabi.

Bellies filled and the madness of the news you just witnessed promptly forgotten, you ask for the check and pay for it. Now it's back to your car.

"Alright, now that that's done, what's next?" you ask.

"Wanna do some things I haven't done in a while." she answers.

You nod." Alright, just tell me where to go."

First place she has you go to is the Regalia Theater for a movie. She chooses one of those superhero movies. You haven't really kept up with all of these, so let's hope you can still follow the story and there's no references or information where you had to have watched the last three movies to understand or something. Luckily there's nothing like that in this one, and you enjoy watching. Movie ends on a good note.

Next she has you go to Stardust Roller Rink. Her friends used to take her roller skating pretty frequently it seems. You however, have never been roller skating in your life, so this will be a new and likely painful experience. You slip on your skates, and already feel like this is the worst idea. Morgan slides on her skates, and takes an experimental lap around the ring. Graceful, quick, she's got this down. You struggle even to remain upright. Morgan helps you though, seeing your difficulty. She holds your hands and coaches you. You stumble, you trip, you feel embarrassed. But you don't quit. It takes what feels like hours, but you eventually find enough stability to skate without falling.

Seeing that you've got it, Morgan abandons you to show off. She laps you several times and each time she's in a different motion. Wheelies, skating backwards, she's pretty good at this. And you're alrady tired, you wheel yourself slowly off the rink and stop at a bench, letting her continue to have fun while you rest. But she'll roll over and pull you back in, so there's this back and forth of you skating until you get tired, then resting, then being dragged back in. All while she continues as if fatigue is a foreign concept.

Once she's satisfied and the day winds down your last stop is for frozen yogurt. Even though you have ice cream at home, but she insists that they're entirely different things and this is what she wants today. And today she gets what she wants, you get her frozen yogurt, a big ol' cup that she stacks full with all kinds of toppings that you don't think would be very appetizing together, but whatever.

Then with that done, she seems content with her day. Which means it's back to the house.

"Have fun? Do everything you wanted?" you ask.

She nods. "Yep. It was a good day." You nod back in agreement. "So. If you could do whatever you wanted, what would you do?"

You give it some thought. You pretty much already do whatever you want. But whatever you want. The biggest thing you'd like to do is get out of Vanargrand. But that's not what comes out of your mouth. What comes out is what you really want at this moment.

"I want to play baseball." you say. She looks at you with a look that says "is that it?". "I want to play a proper game. With nine players each, on a field, with gloves and bats, an umpire. The whole thing. I want to do the thing I used to love. The thing my parents gave me all their support for... Wanna rediscover my love for the sport."

You catch out of the corner of your eye, Morgan looking at you, with an impressed kind of look. Like your want was more substantial and heartfelt than she was expecting. You nod to yourself. You want to play an actual game of baseball again.

Once you're back home, the sun's gone down and the moon's coming out. That skating really took it out of you, so you feel ready to turn in. You tell Morgan as such, and head upstairs. You shower and don your pajamas, then roll into your bed. After a while though there's a knock at your door. Probably here for another night of making sure you don't disappear while she's sleeping.

"Come in." you say, and she does. Also in her pajamas, so you're probably right. "What's up?"

"Didn't thank you." she says. "So thanks."

"Well you're welcome. Much prefer you with a smile on your face."

In response to that she gives you exactly what you like, and it makes you feel like the entire day was worth it.

"But uh. If you're cool with it, there's just, one more thing I want to do." she says.

You look at your clock, and it's getting kind of late. What's she wanna do, try and whoop you in a round of Smash Bruhs?

"Alright, whatchu got?" you ask, leaning up on your elbows. She wordlessly comes forward. She crawls herself into your bed. Up to you. Right in front of your face. She unites her lips with yours.

... Wait a second.

This isn't Smash Bruhs.

Now it's Morgan's turn to lean into you and kiss you with passion. She's apparently seeking comfort and solace in your lips tonight. Which, you're okay with. It's still her day to do as she pleases. You ease back into bed, bringing your arms up and around her back, and can feel the swayingof her waist as her tail shoots back and forth happily. You let her peck at your lips like a bird, and return the gesture when she pulls slightly away. You spend some time in this embrace, the passion of it turning the heart you just found into kindling. You feel the fire spread throughout your body, from your face, to your stomach, and leaves you wanting more. The union of your lips is the fuel to this fire that burns away the bleakness and that so called garden of thorns that Shinzo spoke about.

Morgan pulls away, and your need for more compels you to chase her lips. However you stop. Don't get too feisty. You watch her pant as she recovers her ability to breathe, unfocused eyes attempting to find focus. They find their focus on yours, but they aren't entirely how you know them to be. Morgan leans in and does something odd. She licks you right across your nose.

Odd. Very odd. Must be an anthro thing. As intelligent and humanoid as they are, they still have a few of those animalistic traits. But who's to say that humans are different? Claiming territory, constant struggles with other "packs", humans might as well be furlesss animals sometimes.

You wait for Morgan to catch her breath and for her eyes to return to normal. "Satisfied with your day now?" you ask.

"Yeeaaaah." she draws out the word in a breath of content. "Well. For now at least." You momentarily wonder what "For now" means. Will those "Second base, third base" things come up again?

... You kind of hope so, but you strive to keep those thoughts well under control. You're both still probably at sensitive stages in your life, with everything you're both dealing with. Don't wanna let your tiny head do your thinking and damage the only romantic relationship you've had, as well as the relationship that pulled you out of the muck you were drowning in, in the first place.

"Hey. You mind if I sleep in here again?" Morgan asks. "I know I didn't ask last night but-"

"Say no more. You're welcome in here whenever you'd like."

You pull back your cover and crawl under, holding it up to allow her in as well. She nestles into your side.

Good night." you say.

"Good night." she repeats.

And like that, together, you drift off to sleep.

You spent the next day at home, chatting with the friends you once had, who were eager to rekindle the friendship you shared. Deeno, true to their words, lost his mind for a good while. When they gave you his number and you actually spoke to him over the phone, you think he passed out for a few minutes. Even though you left him a message a few days ago. But whatever. You told them about Morgan, but didn't get too in depth about everything she's been through. No need to tell all her business. You even introduced each other over the phone, and you really want to meet up so you can see them in person. Hopefully soon.

Besides that, you stuck to hanging out at the house, trying to find places that were hosting public baseball games that you could join. Maybe a sports center or something. You found a few local parks with baseball diamonds, but you'd still need almost twenty people to fill out all the spaces you need for a proper game. Luckily you know a certain clan who would surely be glad to play baseball with you. If they are the friends they say they are.

Unfortunately, Okita told you that they were going to be busy for a while with some sort of Oni Clan project. And you had no idea when they would be done. You also don't have anyone's phone numbers or a way to contact them. You could always try going to their neighborhood. You probably wouldn't get in too much trouble going over there, like they would when they come over here. But. That thought reminds you. Of the 6th Street guy and the kid who got shot. And you're once again left wondering who did that? If it really was the Onis or not? But why would they? They really don't seem like the type.

Actually. With that line of thinking, you remember the news saying something about the Hunters and the Reapers. Could that mean that it was one of them? Some Hunters or Reapers ended up this way and shot those two? Does that mean they're trying to expand their territory? Or just push any other gangs out of town? But 6th Street isn't even really a gang, just a squad of dumbass troublemakers. And how is 6th Street going to respond to all that? You have no idea.

But you do know, that if things get any worse, you're gonna throw Morgan in the car, say your goodbyes to Shelby and Heavy, and drive your ass up the few hours to Northbridge where your friends are going to school. Sleep in a hotel or something until you can get living arrangements situated, whatever. Anywhere has gotta be better than here at this point.

It's morning again and you're awake, but you're still in bed. Morgan took to your bed again but was up at her normal time. Right now you're looking at your phone, rereading the texts and looking at the photos your friends have sent of the Northbridge campus. It's only a few hours away. You can take your time on the freeway, break when needed, as long as you stay alert you'd be okay. You could go up there, take a tour, get some enrollment information. Kickstart your escape from the spiraling chaos.

Morgan comes back into your room, dressed and ready for the day.

"Still lounging in bed? How unlike you."

You shrug. "Not much to do."

"Well that's not true. We're going to the center today."

You look up in surprise. "Well that's new. What brought this on?"

"You want to play a game of baseball don't you?" she shrugs, reminding you of the conversation you had with her the other day. "To do that, you're going to need players. So I figured, if you teach me how to play properly, then at the very least you'll have one more person to choose from when you make teams."

Huh. You didn't expect Morgan to want to play. You remember her saying she preferred to watch. But it makes you happy to hear she's willing to participate to fulfill your short range dream.

"Plus, if you're going to take Shinzo's group, those guys are pretty good. So If I'm gonna play in a game with the Star of San Vanargrand, I have to at least be decent."

There's that name again, you think you've heard it at least once before.

"... Seriously, who is that?" you ask honestly.

Morgan looks at you like you're being sarcastic or joking, but when she sees the seriously questioning look on your face, she laughs.

"It's you, dummy."

... Oh.

"That's ridiculous, who came up with that? It's way too grand for me."

"Just accept the praise you've been getting." Morgan waves your denials away like a fly. "Just hurry up and get ready." And heads downstairs to let you prepare.

You plant your feet on the ground, and put your phone on your nightstand. As you do, your eyes glance over at your good luck charm. Tiny's knife, that you finally learned is a karambit after searching up "weird curved knife". For some odd reason. As you stare at it. It almost seems to beckon to you. A ray of the sun from your window shines through the crack in the curtains you've parted and reflects off the blade The metal unmarred by the blood you've still yet to clean off glints alluringly. A painful, almost clawing sensation in your gut travels up your arm. You feel like. Deep within. You should have this with you. For some reason. You reach out to grasp the handle.

"Are you getting ready or not?!" a call from downstairs beckons you back to reality.

"Getting up now!" you call back and stand to hit the bathroom.

Yeah right. Like you'd need that thing. If 6th Street decides to show up again, you'll have the only method of defense you'll ever need with you, in your hands. Besides. You feel like carrying that thing would allow you to easily cross a line that you don't ever want to cross.

Probably should have brought your car. Halfway through your walk you see heavy clouds begin to roll in. Didn't expect it to rain or anything. You nudge Morgan and look up to the clouds.

"Your garden gonna be okay if it rains? Plants aren't gonna drown are they?"

"It should be alright. I'll just have to check afterwards."

Maybe you should make more of an effort to understand Morgan's garden. She's about to learn the ropes of baseball for you, maybe you should do the same for her interest.

You should also stop at Heavy's for some food. If you do decide to leave, it'll be a long time before you ever come back, if you ever do. You turn the corner and come up to Old Man Lou's. You notice that there are cars parked alongside the curb right in front of the building. Odd because people don't normally park on this street because of how narrow the road is. So the people who did it either don't know or don't care. You look at the cars, and Old Man Lou's. And for a moment it's like two compassionate spirits have grabbed hold of your shoulders to prevent you from proceeding. Maybe this isn't the best day to play, it looks like it's going to rain anyway. Maybe you should-

"Haven't seen Shelby in a few days, wonder how she's doing?" Morgan says, interrupting your thoughts. She keeps walking but is held back from advancing while you're rooted to the ground. "Everything okay?"

No. You don't feel right, but you can't place why.

"I'm okay." you lie. "Just the weather starting to bring me down I guess. Couldn't play ball in the rain, so I guess it still kinda makes me disappointed."

You push forward, up the steps. You open the doors.

...

And you wish you never got out of bed this morning. You wish you had listened to those phantoms of good sense holding you back. You wish. You wish 6th Street was in here, instead of the absolute worse possibility it could have ever been.

Several men and one woman. Clothes, black as midnight. Skull symbols. You know these people without ever having seem them before. One man, about a head and some taller than you, faced away, black leather jacket, with a large patch in the shape of the Grim Reaper. You throw your gaze at Shelby's counter, and see the instant terror consuming her entirety as she locks eyes with you. She opens her mouth, and though no words would come even if she wanted them to, she mouths a single word that you understand clearly.

"Run."

However, it's far too late. It would have been better had you never come. The group turns to you, the man notices their gaze, and looks over his shoulder. He spots you and grins, almost dopey in its nature, but his grin betrays the look in his eyes. Frigid and vacant, as if Death itself has made him blind to the suffering of the living.

"Must be the guy, Reave." One of them says. "No one else been comin' to this shithole."

The main guy turns around and brings his full attention to you. "Man o' the hour!" he shouts far too loudly. "Fuck man, we heard you show up here every damn day, but we been here for the last few and you ain't, and Lassie over there wasn't givin' up anything. Shit, me and the boys were just thinkin' about all the ways we could try and make that bitch bark if you weren't gonna show again."

... What. Huh. You? Why?

What the hell do the Reapers want with you?

Morgan's fear has peaked as well, she's hidden herself behind you and buried her face in your back. You can feel the cold grip of terror shaking her body, and honestly you would be doing the same. But you're so paralyzed you can't even cower. The Reapers. Actual gangsters. The ones who take life as quickly and easily as snapping a finger.

The main guy, with a similar muscular build as Shinzo, looks over your shoulder. "Tsk. This is the company you keep huh?"

"Aww fuck, really?" some scrawny flat faced guy who looks like he's missing teeth speaks up. "We got another goddamn Grendel?! We're fucked."

At the mention of the name, some very large, very round, faux hawked guy stands up and comes over to you. He waddles around you in a circle, lingering his gaze on Morgan, before standing in front of you and giving you a nod of what seems like approval.

"Not bad." he says in a voice that makes him sound like a drowning frog. "Know a couple baddies down south side. Roll wih me, kin, I'll set you up." Then he retreats to the nearby bench and drops in it, almost threatening to snap it under his gargantuan weight.

"Man Reave." the scrawny toothless guy speaks again. "Really gonna let another animal fucker in the crew? You let too many of 'em in here we're gonna start catching fleas and shit."

"Don't be rude Bleak." Reave says, with that creepy grin still on his face. "A man is allowed to make his own choices... Even when they're wrong."

"You say so, Boss."

So already you're appalled at the blatant specism you were just forced to witness. You aren't sure if your disgust can beat out your fear, but you definitely want out of here.

"So what the fuck do you guys want?" you... try to say, in your characteristic hostile disdain of gangs. But you know damn well better than to provoke these guys, so instead the actual words that escape your mouth are "Can I ask what you're all doing here? And why it seems like you're looking for me?"

"We're here to bring you on." their boss says, and halts the processes of your mind. "Heard quite a few things about you, even downtown. Word travels 'round here. Heard you laid out quite a bit of 6th Street, even their lard ass furbag boss got fucked up. And I figured we could use a soldier like that with the Reapers. Strong, fearless."

You have one thought. Who the fuck is out here telling all of your business?

"See I don't know if you heard." he continues. "But the Reapers just put down the Hunters. For good." The rest of his squad cheer and whoop in celebration, before he settles them down. "So now we gotta move on. Was thinking about hitting the Onis next, but heard about you and the beatings you been giving 6th. So figured I'd switch up, grab you, and lay out these worthless punks first."

Hell. No. Absolutely not. You want no part of this.

"Well. As, flattered as I am that you see... Potential, in me. I'm not much of a gangster. I've really only been defending myself and my friends, not actively seeking conflict. And I'm not... Like you. I couldn't do what you do. So with all due respect, I have to decline your invitation."

Please, please for the love of God, let that be enough to end peasibly.

"Hmmmm," Reave hums. "Don't wanna link up with us. So you must be with the Onis like we heard, then."

... What.

"Also heard you've been spending time with the Onis. So if you ain't with us, you against us, and-"

"No no no!" you interject, and pray he doesn't kill you for the audacity. "I'm not with them either. Granted I've spent time with like two of them, but that's just us being friendly, I'm not a part of the Akai Onis. I'm not a part of any gangs. I don't want anything to do with any of that."

Reave nods in what you hope is understanding." Alright, alright. I can get that... But. The fact remains that if you aren't with us, you're against us. And if you had dealings with the Onis, who knows if you ain't gonna jump on their side when shit comes to blows. So this can only go one of two ways."

And his entire squad stands in unison, as if he gave some unseen command.

"You're with us." He moves and what you hoped was just him placing his hand on his hip or something was him withdrawing an instrument of Death.

"Or you're against us."

And suddenly, you're staring directly into a small black void. The blackness funneling into that round pipe-like protrusion mimics the empty blackness that exhudes from its wielder's eyes. You've been looking into the barrel of his revolver, silver and engraved. It clicks slowly back and it reminds you of the ticking of a clock. The pulling of that trigger will sound the midnight chime. Through the numbness consuming your body, you feel Morgan's arms wrap around you and hold you tight. You faintly hear her sobbing into your back.

"Yo. Come grab the pooch." he says. And some of his goons come to do as he says.They wrench Morgan's grip from around you with ease. And though she screams and sobs she doesn't put up much of a fight. Neither do you, as you let them pull her away. Rooted to the ground in terror, staring into a silver laced abyss.

"What's it gonna be, Anon?"

He even knows your name. Of course he does. You wouldn't be surprised if he knew where you live, where you went to school, what damn hospital you were born in. What can you do? You're coming up empty. You don't even really have time to think. What could you possibly-

"What do you want me to do?" you ask.

He draws the revolver back, so he can take a proper look in your eyes. "Should I take that to mean you're in?"

"If it's either join or take a bullet, I'd rather live."

"Smart motherfucker." the one called Bleak says. "Not too smart though." he adds, side eyeing Morgan.

"Well. There's the matter of initiation, but considering what I'd heard about you, I'm sure you'll pass. But first, meet my Liutenants proper. We got Bleak, Sawblade, Grendel, and Widow. You'll be under one of them once you're in. Though I guess you and Grendel sound like the same kind of nasty freaks, so you might wana stick with kin."

Grendel taps his chest gently in some odd display of camaraderie. You look at the other two to avoid that grimy sludgeball. Sawblade looks like an ethnic mix, with the long smooth hair and eyes of a native-american, and the dark skin and strong features of an african-american. He also looks like he took a bear's claws right across his entire face.

Widow looks hispanic and looks like she put on a full body suit of tattoos. They completely cover her body. You really don't want to get to know any more about these people.

"So what they call you, tail chaser?" Bleak asks.

You guess he means you, and while you really don't wanna answer to that, you probably also don't wanna make them mad.

"Anon."

"Oh yeah, you ain't in a gang. Right." he smacks his forehead. "Gotta come up with somethin'."

"Slugger." Grendel offers. Y'know, cuz the bat."

"Weeak." Bleak moans.

"Ace." Sawblade goes next. "Fools good at baseball are called Aces, yeah?"

"Ace ain't very Reaper like." Widow shrugs. "The Ace of Spades though, that's a card that represents death. Maybe 'Spade'?"

"Ain't that what them animal chicks do when they don' want no mo' babies?" Sawblade asks.

"Don't fuckin' ask me, ask Grendel, he would know."

"Alright alright." Reave raises his voice. "He ain't even in yet, we can figure that out later." For now, he's gotta do his initiation."

"Aight cool. I'll take him." Grendel says coming forward.

"Nope. I'ma ride with him." Reave says.

"You Boss? No need to waste your time on the Ride."

"Wanna see him do it myself. Wamna see the truth behind the stories."

Reave looks at you. And for the first time since he's been talking, his grin falls away.

"Now Anon. We're gonna take a ride. And not only are you gonna pass your initiation, you're gonna prove that you ain't too friendly with the Onis. Two birds, one stone. But. You can't go through with it, or I get any reason to believe you're closer with 'em than you say." He looks over his shoulder at Morgan. "You won't like what happens to your pet over there."

"Wait wait wait hold on man, she's not a part of this don't-"

"Chill chill." he puts his hand on your shoulder. "Ain't gonna kill her. Got a thing against poppin' innocent women, as much as I like to pretend I don't. Even offin' furries don't sit quite right with me... But torture's a different story. So nah. Won't kill her. I'ma let Grendel have her. And shit, by the time he's done, you won't even want her back."

You glare at Grendel, to find him staring almost hungrily at the top of Morgan's head. She's trying very hard to cease to exist, while stuck within Sawblade and Bleak's grasp on her shoulders.

"Shit aint that right?!" Bleak yells out with a laugh. "Tell 'im the story of those two rabbit twins you got hold of! Fuck man, that was nasty!"

Grendel simply laughs, like it's a story that's a bit embarrassing but was a joy to experience.

"Anyway Anon." Reave pulls you by the shoulder. "Let's take the Ride."

You're dragged away by Reave, and seeing your departure, Morgan tries to follow, futiley.

"You ain't goin' Fido." Bleak says. "Yo, tell your pooch to heel, or we'll have to smack some proper trainin' into her."

You look to Reave, and understanding your intention, he releases your shoulder. You walk up to Morgan.

"I have to go." she whispers. "Y-you said you wouldn't leave me. B-but, he's taking you, and I don't- and I can't."

"Morgan." you say calmly. You take your baseball bat that you've held so tightly in your grip that you've lost feeling in your hand, and hold it out to her with both hands, like the world's most prized possession. "Can you take care of this for me? Until I get back."

She shakes her head. She doesn't reach for it, but you take her hands and place them around your bat.

"Anon please. Don't- don't leave. Don't leave me alone please." You step back slowly and back towards Reave. The last words you hear from her before you're out the door. "You promised."

You did promise. And how deeply you hope you can keep that promise. But like Reave said. This can only end one of two ways. So by the end of the day, you'll be seeing someone who means everything to you. The one who loves you waiting for you in this world. Or the ones who love you waiting for you in the next.

Sitting in the passenger seat of Reave's car as he drives surprisingly calmly down the streets, you're throwing your mental into overdrive, trying to think of a way out of this. However fear is flooding your mind, making thinking very difficult.

"So Anon." Reave speaks. "We're gonna have to get you a proper lay once you're on. Cuz I know you and Grendel think that shit's the bomb or whatever, but skin on skin is what it's really about. Also, Grendel pulls up to the crib smelling like wet fur and I got half a mind to throw him out in traffic sometimes. Probably would've if he weren't so damn big."

"I-I'm not. I don't... Me and Morgan haven't even done... Anything." you babble quietly, unsure why it even matters.

"Oh shit, so it ain't too late. Good. I'ma put you on some proper human snatch, you won't even think about them furbags anymore."

What time period did these guys stroll through, where they still have the audacity to think and speak like this? You really want him to stop with those remarks, so you try to change the subject. However the subject you bring up isn't much better.

"Did you guys... Did you guys end up shooting two 6th Street members a few days ago?"

He thinks to himself for a minute. Then his creepy grin grows even wider. "Yeah. Yeah I did. We came looking for you. Patrolled the neighborhood a bit wondering if you were around or something. Them idiots rolled up talking about 'wrong hood, wrong hood', but weren't doing anything about it, so I pulled my piece. And then that small dude jumped in front of the other dude and took a bullet for him."

He pauses, and tries to choke back laughs, actual laughter. He's laughing as he talks about the murder he just committed.

"And the funny thing is. Kid tried to body block for him right? But he's so scrawny and small, bullet passes right through him and still hits his boss! I almost bursted out laughin' right then. But he hits the ground, big man gets pissed tries to swing at me, so i plug him with a few more and he drops too. Rest of his cowards split after the first shot. Didn't even bother with the kid, figured he was gonna bleed out soon enough."

You feel sick. You're appalled. You'd take your chances bailing form this car right now if it wouldn't end you up with broken bones and full of bullets. But more than that your failure would end Morgan up with a date with Grendel. That thought actually almost makes you sick, you have to physically hold down the bile that threatens to spill from you.

You're so on edge that when a small drop of something hits the car, you visibly flinch. However the same drop repeats a few more times, and suddenly there's a light drizzle.

"Raining." Reave sighs. "Well. Might help us out with visibility. Onis wear that red though, so we'll still spot 'em easy."

And before you know it, you're on the side of town where the Akai Oni Clan reside. Reave parks the car and gestures for you to get out. You do as you're told and step onto the sidewalk, being pelted with slowly increasing drops of rain.

"Leaving the car? I uh, th-thought this was a ride. Like, you know, a...?" you mumble.

"Nah, Ride for us just means we ride to our destinataion. Reapers like to do things a bit more personally." Reave explains. "So here's what we do. Walk the block, stay cool. Easy. Once we spot some marks hang back, let 'em come towards us. I'm told they walk 'round here in two's, so it'll be easy. Once they get close enough, blast one. If the other one pulls anything on you, drop him too. I'd blast 'em both just to be safe, but. You could use someone to tell the story. Got it?"

No. You don't get it. You don't want to get it. But you still nod.

"Then let's move."

And you're stuck with Reave as he stalks the street, he holds a tight grip on your shoulder as he scans the streets. The rain is coming down harder and now it's closer to a downpour. As he begins to turn a corner he pulls back and yanks you with him.

"Easy marks, coming this way." he leans in and says to make his voice heard over the rain. "Moving quick to get out of the rain. Listen for their steps, when they get close hit the corner and squeeze. Won't even need to aim at this distance." He withdraws his revolver, pulls the hammer back and drops it right into your hands. It's heavy. The means of ending a life, in your hands. That weight is catastrophic. You throw your back into the wall. Thunder crashes in the sky and deafens you. Or maybe that's just your heart slamming in your chest. Reave leans up against the wall too, unbelievably calm, like this is an every day routine for him. You listen close. Waiting for the sounds of the footsteps to draw in.

Closer. Closer. Even closer.

Now.

You whip yourself around the corner, take a single step forward, and raise your tool of violence. Your "marks" slow to a stop, slightly hindered by the wet floor. You look into their eyes as they gaze at you in shock and horror. And you recognize them. Some of the guys who came with Shinzo the day you met. Who played baseball in the center with you. Who clapped you on the back as they departed. A human and a raccoon whose names you're too addled to remember.

Your finger tenses around the trigger. You squeeze. And angle the barrel of the gun away from them so that the bullet you unleash fires and pierces the side of the brick laid building you hid behind.

"Run!" you shout, and their fear and confusion dims just enough to heed your instruction. They u-turn and book it down the road. So now they should be safe.

You're not.

Reave is none too happy that you botched your initiation. Before you can step out of range and intimidate him with his own relinquished weapon, he lunges forward with unnatural speed and accuracy, punching you square in the jaw. You're knocked backward toward the road and stumble off the curb. As you fall backward, you lose your grip on the gun and fling it off to the other end of the street. You manage to see the raccoon looking back as he continues to run, and notices you on the floor and your soon to be slayer looming over you. You bring your attention back to Reave as he stares down the road at the escaping Oni Clan members. Then looks down at you.

"So you know you failed, right?"

He steps forward ready to off you. You lash out with your leg and kick him in the dick. He groans and folds. You turn over and search the street quickly for his gun. If you get it maybe you can get intimidate him into stopping. But since he's a Reaper probably not. So if it comes to it, you'll do what you have to. You see a glint of silver against the concrete and scramble for it. However Reave grabs hold of your ankle and reels you in. You flip over and kick at him with your free leg but he doesn't seem to care much. He pulls you closer until he can grab you by your shirt collar. He lifts you off the ground and into the air with just that. You send knees into his midsection to no avail. With surprisng strength , he twists and throws you into the wall of the brick building. As soon as your back collides with it he throws a punch right into your gut that leaves you gasping for breath. You slide limply down the wall, but he grabs you by your hair and reels you back up.

You fight through your pain and breathlessness and swing with a wild uppercut. He stares into the sky and you bring your arm back to punch him right in the throat. But in a split second he brings his head down and headbutts you right in the forehead with the force of a sledgehammer. Then knocks you in the cheek with a hook. You try to catch yourself but slip on the rain slickened ground. Then a deafening boom resounds and you flinch in fear automatically. However it was only the sound of actual thunder. But your flinch at the cacophonous sound reminds Reave of his instrument. He looks to the street for it but looks back to you. He shakes his head slightly and tenses his hand into a fist several times before approaching.

You push yourself to your feet, and wonder in the moment if you could outrun him. Running might be the worst option, he'd just go for his gun and shoot you in the back. As long as you're fighting, he seems intent to fight you back. At least until he's done playing and goes for his gun anyway. Maybe you can turn the tables, somehow.

You rush forward and tackle him in an attempt to take him to the ground. He doesn't even budge, aside from sliding backward a bit due to the slippery ground. He answers your tackle with a slam onto your back. You lift your foot and slam onto his foot like you're trying to break his toes with your heel. As he bends in you throw another uppercut into his chin then lift your leg and kick him straight in the gut. He slides back on the slick ground, but remains upright. He rubs his gut a bit and rises to his full imposing height.

"Real dumb Anon! Now I'ma have to kill you, and for what?! Them? Soulda shot 'em, it was either them or you."

"Fuck you Reave, I ain't like you!" you yell, the angriest you've possibly ever been. "I'm not a killer and I'm not gonna take anyone's life for no goddamn reason!"

"There's always a reason. If not for your own life, shoulda did it for your little bitch. But whatever, sure she'll be good with Grendel."

He runs up and throws a big punch toward you. You see it coming and dodge it. However he follow up with a knee that catches you in the gut. You fight through it and punch him in the gut in return. However you can't put as much power behind it as you want. He hits you in the nose with a jab, you bring your arms up to defend as he jabs you again. Then he kicks you in the side of your shin and as you stumble he brings his fist out and hooks you in the jaw, sending you to the ground.

You scramble to stand up, but he kicks you back down and plants his knee heavily on your chest. You writhe and try to escape, while being denied the ability to properly breathe. He leans in and throws punches to your face, which you try to block. He throws his weight up suddenly and it comes crashing back down on your stomach, forcing whatever oxygen you had tried to gather right back out. Lacking air, losing the ability to defend against his punches, you're in a bad position here. But then he stands up, and drags you to your feet by your shirt.

He doesn't seem finished messing you up, he drags you over to that building wall, as you try in vain to pull out of his grasp or halt his advance. You throw punches at his side weakly and try to pull his arms away without success. He twists and slams you into the wall and with a quick readjustment, wraps his hands around your throat. Threatening to squeeze the life from you, he tightens his grip around your throat. You struggle to pry his hands away, but he tightens his grip even more.

That dopey grin of his is now wicked, malicious. He stares into your eyes as your struggle begins to fade, and for a moment, his eyes light up, like the void within them is consuming every ounce of restored light you had finally obtained. Then, because he's not done causing you untold pain, he reels his leg back and slams it into your gut. Again and again. When you go limp, he releases a hand from your throat, and punches you in the side of the head, sending you sprawling onto the cold, wet ground.

You flail weakly. Your ears are ringing, your vision is blurring. There's no feeling in most of your body anymore. You can barely see Reave, walking away from you and you already know where he's headed. You try desperately to flip on your belly and crawl away. You aren't going to make it anywhere, but a few more precious seconds of life are all that matter to you.

And you realize. That now your life is precious.

These few years your life has been forged of emptiness. You had no passion, no drive, no will to exist. Maybe your confrontational nature with these gangs stemmed from an internal desire to let it end. It certainly seemed that way when you fought Tiny and he disarmed you. You just wanted to see your parents again. Stop living with the grief, and the loneliness. But now. You want to live, so desperately. You want to play baseball, see your old friends, have a proper conversation with Shelby, eat more of Heavy's burgers. See Morgan. Talk to Morgan. Help in Morgan's garden. Play games with Morgan. See Morgan's smile. Look into Morgan's gleaming emerald eyes.

...

You love Morgan. You don't want to leave her alone.

A violent kick to your side twists you onto your back.

Click.

And once again you're staring into that silver piece of Death.

The fear and terror you're feeling now. This must be how Jack felt when you stood over him with your bat raised, ready to end him.

Except unlike that time, it's really about to end.

"Shame it has to be this way." Reave comments casually. "You could've gotten on good with us."

"P-lease. M-Morgan. Don't-" you try to speak, as your body opposes this simple task.

"Oh. Yeah, well. Don't worry. I'm sure Grendel will take real good care of her."

Fuck. This is the worst kind of end, isn't it.

You force your eyes closed. As your final act of defiance, you won't give him the satisfaction of letting him see the light leave them.

But then, a howl. Guttural and full of rage. No, not one, there's two. Your eyes shoot open just in time to see a mass of almost golden brown fur shoot over you and clock Reave full in the face, followed by a flash of dark grey on your right. Unfortunately, the surprise and sudden atack cause Reave to squeeze the trigger of his gun, and fire at you.

...

You freeze. And wait. You still have your thoughts, so your head must be intact. You wait for a sensation of pain to bloom anywhere on your body, but it never comes. You turn your head to see a quarter sized hole in the concrete, inches from your face. Relief floods you instantly. Before dread returns just as quickly. You crane your head to see who saved you. And actually there's two of them. You recognize them immediately. Keiji, and Izo. They've taken on your fight and are currently fighting Reave.

You force your body to cooperate, and drag yourself to the building wall so you can sit yourself upright. Another death knell from the tool of doom, you look over but find everyone still fighting, you think there's a struggle between Izo and Reave for the gun, while Keiji tries to pull Reave.

You have to help, you have to do something. But you can barely move, let alone fight. You feel lightheaded and every limb of yours is cased in cement. But something happens. A clatter, and it comes skidding harmlessly right at the edge of your foot.

Reave's gun.

You look up just in time to see him twist and punch Keiji in the jaw with so much force that Keiji spins around almost cartoonishly and falls into the street. That incites you to act. You push every ounce of willpower you can through your body and force yourself to reach and grab the gun. You stand, woefully slowly. Reave's got his back against the wall with Izo in a headlock, seemingly choking him. Izo rakes Reave's arms with his drawn claws, but Reave gives little care. With how close they are it might be a difficult shot for you. And if you get any closer Reave may notice and use Izo as a meat shield.

But it'll be okay. You're apparently good at anything you attempt, you should be fine. You check the gun. Reave pulls this piece back before he fires, so you copy the action until you hear the click. Then you bring it up, as difficult as it is with your faded strength. But once it's up, you aim into Reave's side. Keiji's still down and Izo's still fighting.

It's okay. You can do this. You aren't like him, this isn't murder it's self defense. Right? You place your finger over the trigger. You steady your aim.

A hand comes over your shoulder, gently. And for a moment you almost think it's one of Reave's buddies who followed you out here.

"Don't bloody your hands, my friend." their voice says gently. "Allow me instead." as another hand comes up and slowly takes the gun from you. As they cross into your field of vision, you see Shinzo, staring at Reave with a slew of emotions. Anger, sadness, pity, regret. He steps forward, raises the gun swiftly and pulls the trigger.

He seems to hit his mark as Reave's eyes bulge and his grip on Izo falters. Izo wrenches himself away from Reave jsut in time for another click and death heralding blast to slam into Reave. He falls to the ground, spent but still alive. Shinzo steps well into sight and stands over the sputtering Reave.

"K-Karasu." you barely perceive over the falling rain.

"Shinzo." he corrects. "I told you, Winslow. That if we ever met again I would have to kill you." Shinzo angles his head to the sky, but with his back to you, you can't see the emotions crossing him. "I did not expect it to be so soon. Nevertheless, I will honor my promise."

Another click and Shinzo offers Reave his parting words. "Saraba, aibo." You turn away as the final shot finishes the deed and slump to the ground against the wall. Izo goes to help Keiji up while Shinzo comes to you. You never thought you'd be so glad to see this man.

"Shinzo, you- how, I-" you stumble.

He takes a knee in front of you, and puts a hand on your shoulder. "Yoshi and Maru told me you were here. Said you fired upon them, but deliberately missed. Then Maru noticed that you were immediately attacked by what looked like a Reaper. I knew immediately that it had to be their Initiation, so I sent Izo and Keiji to intercept as they could reach you the quickest in this weather. I followed as well. Something told me I had to." He looks to Reave's lifeless body, for a moment then back to you. "I am glad you are still with us. You held out quite well. But, why are you with a Reaper? Taking their Initiation? You didn't, decide to-"

"No no! It's not like that." you cut in, buit your sudden outburst makes everything hurt.

You calm down and explain everything to Shinzo. Keiji and Izo come over and listen as well. Once you're finished telling him about the Reapers and why you were here, he looks, strange.

"They're still likely holed up in Lou's. With Morgan and Shelby. Don't know what to do, should we call the police?"

"The police in this city?" Keiji scoffs. "Yeah, they'll get there. Eventually. They don't take any gang related stuff seriously until someone dies."

"Indeed. I also fear for your freedom were the police to be involved." Shinzo adds. "With your lawless opposition to 6th Street, and your involvement with us and now the Reapers. The police like to look for any excuse."

"Doubly so if you're ethnic or foreign." Keiji nods. "Actually Anon, what are you? I can't quite-"

"Not important." Shinzo silences Keiji. "What is important is getting to the center and dealing with the Reapers. Their liutenants, all in one place. How foolish. But. Yes. There are no more Hunters. Soon there will be no Reapers. If we can get 6th Street to stand down peacefully, this city will be very different indeed."

Shinzo gazes to the sky as if his master plan is out there, above the heavy storm clouds. He's tryting to clean up the entire city, and not just keep his side of the ciy in good standing?

"Anon. I will need your help. Will you assist me? To save your woman and friend?"

No need to ask. "Just tell me what to do."

He nods. "Then I will explain. But first. Izo." he looks to Izo and his fierce determined gaze, becomes grave and resolute. "The Hitokiri Squad. Put them in vehicles and bring them to me."

Izo nods once and runs off.

Shinzo takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Tonight we slay Death."

You pull up to the batting center slowly, in Reave's car. Shinzo's the one driving and as he parks he looks to you.

"As planned." he says with a nod.

You nod back. "But what if anything goes wrong?"

"It won't, just believe. Remember how to act and all will be well." He hands you Reave's gun.

You nod again and step out of the car. Down the road a few vehicles have come to a stop and several groups are funneling in, getting into position. You hang your head slightly, with an energy to your body that says you did what you had to, even though you feel awful about it. You step into the center.

"Fucking finally!" Bleak screams. "Was so damn tired of waiting. So I guess you did it huh? Where's Reave?"

"In the car." you nod your head weakly toward the doors. "Says we're leaving quick. Just sent me in to let you know and take care of a couple things."

"A 'couple things' huh?" Sawblade asks. In response you look right at Morgan who's cowering and clutching your baseball bat. Even as she looks at you and should be relieved, the fear never leaves her for a moment.

"Ah, I getcha." he says moving away from Morgan and dusting his hands. "Cuttin' ol' ties, lookin' to the future!"

"What? Damn!" Bleak says with a laugh. "Aww, sorry puppy, sounds like your owner's gotta put ya down! Haha!"

"Damn, a real shame." Grendel says as he walks to the door as well.

Now Morgan's fear is twice as bad, she's shaking like it's negative sixty degrees and the tears are pouring from her eyes again. She clings to your bat even harder.

"Should we deal with the mute one then?" Widow asks as she comes up.

"He didn't say, but I might as well do that too." you shrug. "What's one more dead dog, huh?"

She nods and taps you playfully on the shoulder, before she notices your face. "Damn hermano, what happened to your face? You got fucked up, what your prey bite back or something?"

The Reapers stop right at the door as they here Widow's comments.

"They walk in twos." you explain. "I shot one, but the other one got brave, swung at me. So I had to fight him for a bit. In the end I handled it. Like Reave wanted."

"Fuuuuck." Bleak drones, impressed. "Guess I was wrong about you dude, you're a real one, straight up."

The others agree and satisfied, they all walk out the doors. When they're gone you look at Shelby. Through the tears she's been shedding, you think she's okay. Though the emotions crossing her face are hard to decipher. You step up to her quickly. She flinches at your approach, afraid of what she thinks you've become. In response, you lift the hair from in front of your face and open your eyes wide. She looks confused for a moment, but finally understands the gesture and looks searchingly into your eyes. She finds what she's looking for and all her emotions break away to joy. She smiles and almost begins crying again. With Shelby sated you trot calmly but quickly up to Morgan, who shrinks farther and farther into herself as you do.

"Morgan. Morgan it's me. Look at me." She doesn't. You put Reave's gun down, far away from you, and wrap her in a lovng embrace. You lay a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Sorry. I left you alone, even though I promised I wouldn't. I didn't want to. I'm sorry. But I'm back and I'll never do it ever again."

She looks up at you. Her hands abandon your bat and throw themselves around your neck tightly. She pulls you in and refuses to let go. You hold her close to keep her calm. Because any moment now.

...

"Shit! Oh FUCK!" you hear muted by the doors to the center.

Before you hear multiple pops, muted, and muted again by the suppressors affixed to the Hitokiri Squad's weapons.

You wait. After a few minutes, the doors open and in walks Shinzo, calm and collected.

"It's done." he says to you. You nod in response.

Turns out the Onis did have a dark side. But it's more a darkness that tries to brighten the light.

Shelby looks conflicted for a moment, but in the end, her relief wins out. She comes up to Shinzo and hugs him tightly. He reciprocated the gesture, albeit more respectfully. Then she runs over to you and Morgan and repeats the gesture. You both hug her as well. Once you're all hugged out, you stand and help Morgan up. Shelby follows and Shinzo approaches. You hand over Reave's gun, hoping you'll never have to hold it, or anything like it ever again. Shelby signs something erratically, that you're going to pretend is "what the fuck are you doing here?".

"Quite the story." He looks to you. "We have time before they'll be done. Should we explain?"

"Well. Yeah, but. Let's keep it concise. It's been a long day."

So you and Shinzo explain the main elements of what happened to Shelby and Morgan. Eventually, one of the Hitokiri boys informs Shinzo that everything is fine now. Once that's done, you walk out. Coupled with the rain and the Onis efficiency, you'd never have guessed there was an execution right outside these steps. He offers you rides home, and more than willing to get out of the rain and off this block, you accept. Shelby closes up and takes herself home for the day, but not before signing conspiratorially to Shinzo. He nods and whispers something to her then gets in a car. The ride home is dead silent, save for you giving directions. Morgan's been clinging to your arm ever since you hugged her. The wetness from the rain, the feeling of her wet fur, the chill, and the soreness from your life or death fight. It's getting a little uncomfortable but you tough it out. Eventually he pulls up to your house.

"Get in a shower quickly. Perhaps to bed as well. You deserve a rest."

"Thanks Shinzo. You want to ask him about that whole "Karasu" thing Reave said before the end, but this isn't the time. "You get home safe."

"Haha, I won't be going home tonight." You're instantly worried about the meaning of that sentence. Is he going to go fight the rest of the Reapers? But he looks back and sees the trepidation on your face and answers, "In the same way that your presence is needed now, mine is also needed."

You look to Morgan, and remembering that mostly private conversation between him and Shelby, you kind of gauge his meaninig. You nod in understanding.

"Have a good night."

"You as well." he responds.

Off into your house, you drop your bat to the ground, too tired to continue holding it.

"Off to the shower Morgan." you say, trying to pry your arm gently from her grasp. She holds tighter and shakes her head. "You'll get sick if you don't you know. Especially you, your fur is soaked."

She mumbles something, the only word you catch is "alone".

"Couldn't catch that." you lean closer to her. "What'd you say?"

"I'll go, but not alone." she repeats.

...

......

.........

Oh.

What?

"Morgan I... We can't- c'mon be reasonable."

"Then we'll lay on the ground right here in our wet clothes and be sick come morning." she counters.

What's the right choice here? You both need a shower, no doubt. And this fear of abandonment thing is at its all time peak. So fine. Just be respectful, keep your gaze high. It'll be fine.

"Alright fine. Let's go." you agree. You walk toward her bathroom, stopping for some towels at the hall closet. You start the water and let it warm up. Once it's at a respectable temperature, you look to Morgan. "Alright. Let's go, outta your clothes."

She still refuses to budge. Like the moment she lets you go, you'd book it out of the room and leave her.

"Can't go in with your clothes on you know." you prod. "Look I'll go in first, that way there's nowhere else for me to go, okay?"

Her grip loosens finally. You take a step forward, pull off your shirt and drop it to the ground. Next go the shoes, the socks, and then the pants. You pause before the final article, as your attention is brought to the sounds of disrobing behind you. You'd switch the water to cold if that wouldn't defeat the entire purpose of taking this shower. Whatever, just do it and keep calm. Your boxers fall and quickly you step into the shower. The warm water is bliss on your aching frozen form. But the bliss is halted when a form sneaks in behind you. Two hands and a forehead press themselves against you. You stand still, paralyzed. Unsure what to do or how to act. You take the shower head which can be used like a handheld nozzle, and angle it so that it runs along the both of you properly. You switch arms when one gets too tired to continue and after a while, you figure that's enough.

You turn off the shower. "I'm stepping out now." you tell Morgan. She takes a step back to give you space. You take your towel and wrap it around yourself, then step toward the door to give Morgan space. Sh wraps herself in towels as well, but you figure you can help her drying process by using the handheld dryer to speed it up. Once she's properly dry, she goes into her room to change. You follow and stand facing the door while she does so. Once she's ready, you head up to your room to change. With your back facing her, you can only hope that she's facing the door.

Once you're done and inform her so, she's back on your arm in seconds. You crawl into your bed. You whisper your good nights and try to drift off to sleep. It takes a long time, but finally Morgan seems to drift off before you. You're still wide awake though. Coming so close to death was a terror, and it's a miracle you got away without any injuries. It's kind of ironic that a fake gang boss actually did more damage to you than a real gang boss. But as you bless your own luck, you remember that 6th Street kid who's actually closing in on death. You wonder if he's gonna make it. 6th Street are idiots, but they don't deserve to die that way.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Morgan crying. No, not quite crying. She's actually whining. The signs of fear embracing her as she shivers and whines in her sleep. Should you wake her? Maybe you should try that thing.

You bring your hand up and pet her head like you've done before. Her whining and shaking slows to a stop. But her tail doesn't showcase her joy like it does. But as long as she's calm, that should be enough for tonight.

It's been another long month. The Reapers are no more. Even Death may die. It seems the police received several sudden and anonymous tips about their base, their routes, what kind of illegal things they get up to, and of course all the murders, more than enough information to set up raids and bust all of them. And with no leadership to advise them, the peons were caught unaware and unprepared. It was almost as if that information came from someone who was a part of their gang or something, and knew exactly where everything was. But no one seems to know anything about that. So you have nothing to worry about now. Which is good because you were once again going stir crazy, staying put in your house while you hoped and pleaded that everything was over. It is and now you're free.

Though the month wasn't all easy. Morgan stayed glued to you for a while. She also had a few nightmares every other night. But so did you. Nightmares about waking up in a hospital bed, a million different tubes and pipes jutting out of you, trying to keep you alive. Nightmares about not waking up at all. Nightmares about standing over yourself, one dark, rainy evening, with a silver engraved revolver in your hand. You pull the trigger, kill your old self and don the black leathers of a Reaper.

But those are just nightmares, and you got over them. Morgan's gotten back to normal as well, almost like nothing bad ever happened. She sure can bounce back surprisingly easy. You once again think that you prefer her with a smile.

So now you're currently at Old Man Lou's batting center. Shinzo and the Oni twins are here, along with Izo. But you're not in your favorite cage number 3. On the contrary, Morgan is, hitting ball after ball. Into target after target. With your baseball bat. She's almost there. Just a few more. You remain silent, as does the rest of the group. Another hit into a target. Then one more.

The tiny target reveals itself.

You hold your breath.

The ball is pitched.

Morgan hits it.

And it slams right into the center of the target.

The fanfare plays triumphantly and you join it as you cheer excitedly. Shinzo and Okita cheer as well. Shelby claps joyously. Keiji and Izo throw their heads back and howl in cheer. You throw the cage door open and scoop Morgan into your arms.

"I can't believe you did it first try!" you shout.

"All we did was practice in the yard for a month, I'd be more upset if I couldn't."

You give her a kiss as you set her down.

"That was really good, I'm proud." you say with a big grin. "Now prove it wasn't beginner's luck and do it again."

"What seriously?" she huffs. "I don't even get to enjoy this?"

"Nope. It's what my dad made me do, so now you gotta follow in my path and suffer like I did."

You walk away and stand next to Shelby's counter. Shelby is not in her counter, she's in front of it with her arm around the waist of a certain Oni Clan leader. Guess they ended up pretty close too.

As you watch Morgan start another round, you look to Shelby, who looks at you grinning, and grins as well. But then a profound thought comes to you.

"You know Shelby... If you never dragged Morgan in here that day, it's entirely possible that I would've never gotten better... If I hadn't gotten better, it's also entirely possible that I'd either be dead or worse. One of the Reapers. So in a way. It's all thanks to you. So thank you, sincerely." She smiles wide and pats the top of your head.

"I wonder if you knew Morgan would somehow be the key to helping me out? Did you think I needed a friend, or were you trying to set me up with a girlfriend? What were you thinking?"

No idea what you're talking about, she signs, slowly so that you can comprehend clearly. You did some sign language studying online while you were hiding at home for a month.

"Course you don't." you shrug.

Morgan's close to repeating her feat once again. You stand to approach and get a better look, but the sound of the door to the right of you draws your attention.

They can't be serious. This is the literal definition of insanity.

"You 6th Street gangoons can't possibly be for real." you say, aggravation and listlessness filling your voice. The mention of that name causes Morgan to lose her streak. She completley misses a ball that was pitched.

Shinzo, Keiji, Okita, and Izo jump up and stand at your sides. But a few familiar faces come up. Mainly, that rat and that coyote that hung with Jack. That guy whose nose you've broken twice. Even that goth chick is here, along with a few others.

"No no no man, we're cool this time I swear." the coyote says with his hands up in surrender. "Just wanted to say a few things, if you're willing to listen."

You sigh in exasperation. "Fine, I'm listening. Speak quickly."

"Yeah, yeah cool. Uh. Well. I know we ain't been cool with you and yours and all that. So we wanted to apologize. You know how it is. You're tough or you're soft, no in betweens. But like, we ain't mean to y'know, keep comin' at you like that. You know people like to have the last laugh and stuff and. Well. We're sorry man."

You nod simply. "Okay."

"And uh well, like. Word around was like, you and your boys are the ones that clapped the Reapers so-"

"Hold hold hold the hell on!" you cut in. "Who did what?! How did you even here about that? And why do you think it was me?"

He shrugs. "I heard it from a guy who heard it from a guy, and so on, you know." Though his shifty gaze reveals that's an obvious lie, the source is much closer than that. "And like well. What, was it not?"

"... Not, technically, no it wasn't."

"Oh. Well. Anyway uh. We know we ain't always get along and stuff, but like. 6th Street's got no leadership right now. And none of us are tough enough to take hold. And we remembered you, and well. Crazy as it's gonna sound we were kinda thinkin' you could lead?"

...

They stare at you surprisingly hopefully.

"You must be out of your god damn minds."

"Wait wait look man, like I know what it sounds like. But we ain't got much else. We ain't even gotta be a gang you know. We can do whatever, it's just. Like, we need a place where we can come together and get shit done, we just, y'know need someone to tell us where to go and what kinda shit to get done. Feel me?"

"What makes you think I'd want to lead 6th Street?" you ask as honestly as you can. "Go get Jack or Tiny. I want nothing to do with it."

"Uhhh." the rat steps up now. "They both bounced after you messed them up. Once you dropped Tiny, Jack left, and then Tiny was like 'damn dude, I ain't as hard as I thought I was. I can't do this shit no more' and gave up too. So we got no real leadership here and now we're all just wandering around aimlessly."

You shake your head. There's no way you want to get involved with this. "Shinzo. Do something. Make 'em Onis, have 'em fix people's houses or draw murals and stuff."

"Haha, they aren't here for direction from me. They want direction from you." he says. "So perhaps you should take them and make them do exactly what you just said."

"I'm trying to say I don't want-"

"You've crossed swords with these men several times, have you not?"

You shrug. "Yeah I guess so."

"So then you should know their hearts quite well. Do they truly seem like villains unworthy of you?"

"No, they're not evil, just stupid."

"Ow." one of the goons says under his breath.

"So maybe you should take it upon yourself to teach them. Make them smart. Remove the 'gang' from the gang, and turn them into something more. It is the nature of the weak to want to follow the strong. They simply followed the wrong strength. If they follow you, you could help them make better choices, and in doing so, improvements to the city."

"... Is that what you're trying to do?" you ask.

"Yes. It is." he answers honestly. "With the violent groups gone, I can focus on spreading southward and making improvements. But this city is large, and it would take quite some time to have everything I would like realized... However, if there were perhaps another group who could assist the Onis. Lead by someone I could trust wholeheartedly, San Vanargrand could become a very different city.

You remember you literally had that exact same thought.

You fold your arms and dip your head in thought. "But seriously... Me, of all people. I wouldn't know the first thing about leading. I've got no experience, or leadership qualities. I wasn't a team captain, just a really good batter. This just. It's not a..."

"Danchou!" both Keiji and Okita shout in unison. They stand in front of him with attention and respect.

"Speak freely." he says.

"We humbly request permission to depart from the Akai Oni Clan!" they say together, adding a bow.

Shinzo takes their words calmly. "Your reasons?"

"We just heard there was an up and coming group nearby coming into their own." Keiji says.

"Not only that, but they seem to have similar ideals and interests as we, the Akai Oni Clan." Okita follows.

"However their new leader doesn't sound the most confident in his leadership skills, and so must need advisors of sorts to help guide him on the proper path."

"We believe that if that leader were to accept us, we could be those advisors, therefore supplying him with everything he would need to be a proper leader."

"Please allow us to depart, for the benefit of San Vanargrand!" they finish together, with another bow.

"Also, if we were nesting on this side of the city, that would give Okita more chances to see her good friend." Keiji adds hastily in jest, ruining the serious atmosphere. Okita responds to his comment with a swift punch to the arm.

Shinzo closes his eyes, like he's seriously mulling it over. "Very well. Go with my blessings. And give my regards to that new group leader. Tell him that the Akai Oni Clan wishes to extend their hand in friendship. In the hopes that together, we can build San Vanargrand into something better."

They nod, they bow, then step over to you.

"Guys look." you say, burning with embarrassment. "That was real fancy and adorable but like. It's 6th Street! I'm not gonna just take over for-"

"Don't you ever watch movies, Anon?" a voice you've scarecly heard speaks. Izo looks at you with his one good eye. "Or is baseball all you truly know? Yesterday's enemies are tomorrow's friends. A man scorned and upset by a governement or any powerful force, makes his moves to take over, and change that government from within. They are very popular genres in cinema."

"Yeah yeah, what he's saying." the 6th Street rat says. The rest of them nod in agreement.

"So whadda ya say?" the coyote asks. "Let us join your gan- uhh." He pauses, before he looks around for an idea. "Let us join your team. How's that, Bo- errrr uhhh... Captain?"

Damn. This is a lot of pressure. You weren't expecting this. You don't know what to do. Is this the right choice? It feels odd, actually considering this. But. You hear all the time about people who live in a shitty place who wished they could do something to fix it. Cleaning up their hometown, fixing its problems. Would you be able to do that with these goobers? You don't feel like there's enough of you. But maybe it would be best to start small.

...

You're seriously considering this aren't you?

"But. I was. Planning to..."

Your sentence falls off. You were planning to leave, because you were tired of the gangs and the violence and 6th Street. But there's no more of that. And if you work towards it, there won't ever be.

"Uhhh. Let me confer with my better half. One sec." You about face and find Morgan standing right there inches away. "Uuuh. What do you think about all that? It's as much your decision as mine, considering all we've been through together. You say 'no', I'll send them on their way right now."

She looks at you, emerald eyes wide. "Well. I think." she leans to her left and looks passed you to the group of 6th Street members. "You just found a baseball team, didn't you?"

...

Huh.

Maybe she's right.

These guys probably aren't all bad. Peer pressure, following the wrong guy. Maybe that young kid was the same way. Speaking of.

You turn back around. "What happened with that younger kid who took a bullet?"

"Oh, Squeemy?" the coyote says. "He's alright, pulled through. Kinda doubt we'll see him again, but, y'know. Least he's alive."

Good. That's good. Kid was too young to go out like that. Though, shit, most of you are. None of these guys look past their twenties.

"Alright dummies. Here's my first order. Take off those fucking green bandanas, and throw them in the trash. Tell everyone else who isn't here to do the same. I don't wanna see another green bandana for the rest of my life."

They comply quickly. However, that's all you've got, so you dismiss them to carry out the rest of your order. It might have been a good idea to get their names or exchange some contact information with one of them. But you're sure you can find them easily. Where they stay is very likely where they got their dumbass gang name from.

As you watch them depart, you see the coyote look to his left and give a thumbs up, before continuing with the group to the right. Then in walks another face you thought you'd never have to see again.

"Well well, look who's still alive and kicking, with a bunch of brand new friends." says Demi, the squirrel. "You look really good for someone who had a run in with the Reapers of all people. And their liutenants no less. You really are a lot tougher than I thought." She steps forward, closer to you.

"Oh Lord, whadda you want, lady?"

"Demi, c'mon it's not that hard. But it's fine. I'll have you saying my name soon enough."

"Ooh." Keiji hums, intrigued. Okita bops him upside the head.

"But. To answer your question," she continues. "Last time we talked, you said we couldn't hang out because you had no team. Well it seems like you've got a team now. You're welcome. So again. Can I join?"

"... Did you. Tell them to try and convince me to...? And how'd you know about the Reapers and..."

There's something strange about this squirrel. She's privvy to a whole lot of information that most people should not rightly have. Attempting to think like a leader, you surmise that it would be best to have her on your side, on your team. She could be useful.

"Alright. Demi. I'm sure I can find a use for you somewhere." you acquiesce.

"Oh I assure you I'm very useful. Like a personal secretary. Filing, paperwork... Hot coffee, whatever you need. And I mean, whatever."

"Alright lady, reel it in!" Morgan says finally stepping from behind you. "This one's already got a secretary. It's me. So drink your hot coffee alone, or whatever."

"And you are...?" Demi starts, before she seems to recognize Morgan. "That collie from those few times? ... You were a girl? I had no idea."

That sets Morgan off. She looks more astonished than when you brought that whole fiasco up. Morgan raises your bat and gets into a batter's stance as she steps slowly toward Demi.

"Wait wait wait!" you shout as you wrap your arms around Morgan. You throw your hand on top of her head and pet gently to calm her down. It works slowly, and soon her tail is wagging back and forth, hitting you in the legs as it goes. "For now Demi. You're dismissed. We'll be in contact."

She nods and waves as she turns to leave.

You also excuse yourself for the day, since you have a lot to think about. This is not what you were planning. Not at all. But well, "the best laid plans" or however that quote goes. You're walking home, hand in hand with Morgan when she nudges you.

"You're smiling pretty wide." she informs you.

"Yeah, I bet I am." you acknowledge. "And it's all because of you."

You stop walking. She turns to face you.

"I told you I was heartless. Because that's what I really felt. No feeling, no emotion, just constant emptiness. But you showed up and made me feel everything I should have been. Worry, and anger, sadness and happiness. Joy. And love." You set your bat down on the ground and take her by her shoulders.

"I love you Morgan, I really do. I want to thank you for everything you've done for me."

She moves to speak but you deny her the chance and steal a kiss. You let its warmth fill your heart. Then you break away.

"You were exactly what you said I needed. Someone to help me fill my heart back up."

"Mhm, yep. You're welcome." she says dreamily. "Thank you too. I'm honestly so glad I met you."

You pick up your bat and reunite your hands as you continue down the road.

"You know, if you think about it, it's really all because of Shelby that we met." Morgan realizes.

"Correct, I thought as much myself."

"Maybe we should get her like, a thank-you gift."

You nod in agreement.

Morgan keeps talking as you look up to the sky. With everything that's happened. All the choices you've made, all the fights you've been in, the near death experiences. And now you're thinking about taking over what once was a "gang" to try and change your city for the better. The last question you have to ask yourself is. What would your parents think? You don't know, that's a question that you won't receive an answer to for hopefully a very long time. But at the very least, you hope, that they're still proud of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Notes:

I have awoken from my long slumber to bring you content. A little more serious was my attempt with this one. Hopefully it still satisfies in the same way as my last one. In the interest of being less memey I abandoned the meme format for the obvious serious kind of tone I was hoping for.

Which leads me to ask. What do you, my dear readers prefer? Greentext? The normal format? Are you fine with both? Moments like these are where your comments truly matter, so do not hesitate to tell me your thoughts. Of course, what you liked or didn't like as well. Your comments make me stronger, your enjoyment grants me the energy to create.

With that I take my leave. I'll see you on the horizon, my fellow degenerates.