Fanfic #161 Fool's World by Ideas-Guy(F/SN)

This is a fanfic of fate stay night with some elements of the Yakuza game and Jujutsu Kaisen taken in. I really like this fic because it has an interesting mc that seems like will develop as the story goes on and really interesting world building with all the elements used.

Synopsis: Mikoto Majima's first memory was getting punched in the face in a club without knowing why he was getting hit. Bereft of all of his memories, he's forced to wander Mifune city in search of his identity. There, he makes an unlikely ally and makes more than a few uncomfortable revelations before he finds himself bound for Fuyuki City for the Grail War and the answers it promises.

Rated: M

words: 43k

https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/fools-world-f-sn.969412/reader/

Here's the first chapter:

The first thing I ever felt was a fist smacking into my face, snapping my head to the side and rattling every tooth in my skull. My heart immediately started thundering in my ears, making every other sound around me sound distant and muted. The taste of copper was heavy on my tongue, to the point it was all I could taste. Every muscle in my body ached and burned, and it felt like my blood had been replaced by liquid fire.

I think it said a lot about me that my first instinct was to throw a punch back.

My hand clenched into a fist, my knuckles pale and bloodless as I turned my gaze to the guy that had punched me in the face. At first glance he looked like an absolute asshole -- dyed blonde hair, buzz cut, and too many piercings, to the point that his face might as well be a pincushion. Said face was twisted into a snarl, a roar of aggression escaping him that I silenced, lashing out even as I took the next blow to my jaw.

In return, I flattened his nose. It crunched under my knuckles, a jet of blood gushing out from his nostrils as the skin at the bridge of his nose split open. His entire head snapped back hard enough to give someone whiplash, making him falter and open himself up to a body shot, which I took. I didn't know who he was. I had no clue why we were fighting. I didn't even know if I deserved that punch to the face or not. But, pesky questions like that really didn't matter.

A fight had been started, and I had finished it. That's what mattered.

The guy hit the ground, cradling his face. "Fuck you, man! Piece of shit -- who the fuck do you think you are?!" He howled at me, blood seeping between his fingers.

That was actually a pretty good question, because I was pulling a blank on an answer. My gaze darted around, looking away from the fallen man and leaving his question unanswered. I was in a club, I saw. The thunderous beat in my ears wasn't just my heartbeat, but an actual beat. There was an upturned table nearby, with three other people were thrown about around it, moaning and groaning on the floor. A crowd of people I didn't know watched on, but they didn't move to interfere.

"Do you even fucking know who we are?" The guy spat at me, his teeth colored a pinkish-red by blood, and with that sentence alone, I knew he deserved that busted nose. Anyone who had the gall to say a sentence like that deserved one, and a good kick in the balls too.

"Nope," I said, striding over to him. He went to get up, but he came crashing down when I followed through with my earlier thought and kicked him in the balls hard enough that, judging by the high-pitched sound he made, they ended up lodged in his throat. There. That ought to teach him not to be a pretentious prick. And prevent him from having kids. A win-win. Well, he didn't win, but me and the world won.

The guy heaved, falling onto his hands and knees, the hood to his puffy jacket flipping up, which I used to yank him back up to get his attention. "Did you already tell me? I can't remember."

He looked green, "We're… the fucking… Nishikiyama family, you dumbass! You're dead for this. You get that? You. Are. Dead."

I'm sure I would be very intimidated if I knew what any of that stuff about some Nishikiyama family meant, and if it came from a guy whose balls I hadn't crushed.

"Maybe. But it won't be you that kills me," I told him, delivering a powerful punch to his temple. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, going limp in my grip, so I let him drop into a heap on the floor. I turned around, the gathered crowd flinching back as they met my gaze. From what I saw, there were a lot of girls dressed up here. Two or three for every guy, whose ages ranged from young to way too old to be trying to flirt with girls around three times younger than them. There was fear in their eyes, but…

One of them stepped forward, "Thank you," she said, a hand going to her wrist. Bruises looked to be forming on her. Huh. So, I was fighting on behalf of a cute girl? That's something I could get behind. "But, who are you?" she asked me, and all I could do was offer a helpless shrug as I headed for the door.

"If I had a name, then I don't recall it anymore," I told her, tucking my hands into my jacket pockets and striding out of the building. The door swung closed behind me, and I took in a bracing breath of chilly air, the music still thumping through me even from outside. My knuckles stung a bit, and my face felt more warm than anything. Other than that, though, I was completely fine.

I started walking, taking in my surroundings -- a street filled with people, no cars in sight. It seemed to almost be a back alley of sorts, but the size of a normal street. That street was filled to the brim with drunk people stumbling into and out of bars, with restaurants almost masking the stench of piss and vomit with the smells and scents of cooked foods, and the entire place was filled with the general clamor of people talking over each other.

"Wonder what that was about," I muttered to myself, before I realized that there was something in my coat pockets. Pulling it out, I saw a few keys on a ring. None of them were particularly identifiable, but if I had to guess, one was a key to a house, and the other for a vehicle of some kind. But that was just a blind guess. Pressing a button on the attached clicker, I didn't hear the sound of a responding beep, so I must be out of range of whatever it went to.

Curious, my hands went to search my other pockets. I found a money clip that had some money in it, so that was nice. In my back pocket was a wallet -- flipping it open, I saw a picture of a middle-aged man, with large glasses and wearing what I'm guessing was a suit. My gaze drifted over to a reflection in the window of a nearby bar to confirm my appearance.

"I don't think this is my wallet," I decided, noting that my reflection didn't match. The man looking back at me had a short, messy mane of red hair that had been swept back, a young and handsome face, and amber-colored eyes. Another glance at the ID in the wallet confirmed that it was definitely not me. So, the question was what was I doing with this wallet in my pocket?

I had my suspicions.

But, I shrugged them off, "Might as well return it," I decided, tucking it back into my back pocket as I began to wander the streets aimlessly. I occasionally pressed down on the clicker, hoping to hear a beep from a car or something. Hopefully, the vehicle was mine. Maybe then I could find some registration papers, find out my name and where I lived. It was as good of a lead as any.

For the most part, I just drank in the city with my eyes. Maybe it was because I was the equivalent to a newborn infant, but everything was so bright. The flashing lights, the colors, the people -- I had no clue where this place was, but it seemed to be the embodiment of chaos. Loud music vibrated the street itself, and there were tons of people coming and going -- I think I saw a fight breaking out in an alleyway as I walked by. It was my first taste of life, and it was awesome. I didn't know what this place was, but I don't think I ever wanted it to end.

That thought echoed in my head as I stumbled across what seemed to be a park tucked between a few buildings at the edge of the road. It was small, little more than a swing, a jungle gym, and a bench. And it definitely wasn't the kind of place that you wanted to bring your kids. For a lot of reasons, but the best example of that was the group of guys crowding around and hustling a girl.

She was a little on the short side, probably only a few inches taller than five feet. Auburn brown hair, that was cut short so that it ended a few centimeters above her shoulders. Her eyes were a darker shade of brown, that gazed at the men that were crowding around with casual disinterest. A track suit consisting of a white jacket with a blue and white pattered banding across the shoulders and black pants covered her, though she had a handbag resting at her hip.

Bored. Her expression could best be described as bored. "This is a bad part of town, especially for a beauty like you. How about you come with us and we can escort you to the better parts? We'll be your knights in shining armor." I heard one of the guys say.

The girl looked at the one that spoke for a long moment before she let out a dramatic sigh. "Three out of ten," I heard her say as I neared, curious. "And that line was the absolute worst. You couldn't be more obvious if you tried, so I'm bumping you down another point. Two out of ten."

The guy that spoke sputtered, while the others started to crack up at his expense. Though, they quickly fell silent when she continued. "You're a one. For the nose ring alone. I don't even know how you can eat with all those lip piercings. And you're a… three. You look like the kind of guy that stole his sister's panties at least once." she said, speaking in the same utterly bored tone that she began with, even as their shock turned into anger.

"You ungrateful little bitch-" the panty thief started, raising a fist. Though he never got to throw it. With a casual stride, I closed the distance between us before he could take a swing. I kicked out with my foot, catching him in between the legs. He lifted off the ground by what had to have been a solid foot, and based on the wail he let out, he joined the ranks of the lucky cosmonauts whose balls I had launched into orbit. He landed in a heap, clutching his groin as he dry heaved on the ground. The other two whipped around to look at me-

"It's you!" One of the two shouted, sounding almost shocked to see me.

"It's me?" I questioned, cocking my head as I shoved my hands in my pockets. I cast a look at the guy rolling in the dirt as he cupped his groin, then the guy who probably shouldn't stand too near to a microwave, with all the metal in his face, that was not so subtly trying to circle around the woman. All of them seemed to recognize me. That, I wasn't sure I liked. It said ill things about the company I kept, that creeps like these knew who I was. Likewise, the woman also eyed me with suspicion.

"Yeah, it's you." Now he sounded distinctly unhappy to see me. "Who do you think you are, stepping on our turf like this?"

That was the second time I've been asked that question, and I had to admit, I was getting rather curious about the answer myself. I strode forward, unconcerned as I invaded his personal space. "I dunno. How about you tell me?" I said, meeting his gaze. That seemed to piss off all three of them, and none of them answered my question.

"You pissant brat," the leader of the former trio said, stepping away from the woman, who watched the developing situation with interest. "Your type is the absolute worst. You come barging in, swinging around your cock like it's the biggest there is, and you're too stupid to even realized how dumb you are." he snarled, striding up to me. A hand dipped into one of his pockets, taking out a flip knife that he flicked open.

"I'm going to give you a chance to take a hint -- fuck off," he said, stopping to get in my face. I had to admit, that was the kind of restraint that I didn't think a guy like him had. He looked to be in his mid-twenties to late thirties, wearing a black and purple floral shirt underneath a black blazer.

Maybe it was the lack of context to everything he was saying, but I found that odd. To be blunt, the guy looked like an asshole. A real smarmy piece of shit. He looked like had absolutely no clue what restraint was, much less how to exercise it. My bet was that there was something holding him in check. Maybe a fear of swallowing his teeth?

"Would if I could, but I'm looking for someone. Have you seen a… Shouta Sousuke?" I asked, my hand dipping to my back pocket, making him tense. I pretended not to notice and fished out the wallet. "I found his wallet. I was hoping to return it-"

I didn't get a chance to finish my sentence before that fragile sense of self-restraint broke. He slashed out with the knife -- that was something I expected, and it told me what I needed to know about him… and me.

He started to lunge with his knife, but as soon as he moved, I had already beaten him to the punch.

I didn't know much. My entire life was one great big blank. But, I was getting some pieces, a glimpse at who I was every day of my life up until about fifteen minutes ago. One of those glimpses was my body -- just like riding a bike, my body subconsciously recalled how to perform some actions, and given that I was able to walk, talk, and read, my amnesia didn't stretch all the way down to my subconscious. Retroactive amnesia. And even the fact I knew what to call it was a clue.

The point being, I think I got into a lot of fights, because it felt like putting on an old hat when I kicked the guy in the balls hard enough that he caught air. Something that was becoming a special move of mine. My hands lashed out, boxing him around his ears, destroying his sense of balance, before I brought my head back and slammed it against his. A headbutt hurt more than I thought it would, but it hurt the guy that wasn't prepared for it more. He dropped to the ground, torn between holding his balls and his head, and just like that he was out of the fight.

The knife had been sent skidding across the ground, making the only one still standing eye it for a second. That second sealed his fate, just not by me. The woman reached into her handbag, pulling out hammer of all things, and the moment the thug lunged for the knife, she used his own momentum to smash the hammer against the side of his head. He hit the ground hard, bleeding kinda bad. I think he was unconscious. Probably.

"Cool," I summarized my thoughts, blinking in surprise at the fight that was over just as fast as it began. The woman stashed her hammer away in her handbag, giving the guy she hit a quick kick to the ribs to prove that he was still alive. If barely. She looked to me, her brown eyes roaming me as she tilted her while pinching her chin.

"You… will do, I guess," she decided, and I could only imagine for what. "You definitely look like a yakuza thug, but you seem like the type that's pretending that they're half decent because they have a moral code." she voiced, making me tilt my head in response to that. Then she smiled, seemingly satisfied.

Turning her attention to the guy I had first kicked, she grabbed him by the lapel of his coat. "Where are we? Are we in Tokyo?! Which district? How close are we to Roppongi?!" she demanded, quickly losing her cool almost as soon as the word Tokyo left her lips. A groan was her answer, so she started shaking him back and forth, growing in intensity until there was a very real possibility that he would get whiplash.

"Mifune City! We're in Mifune City!" he blurted when the shaking became too much. There was panic in his dark brown eyes as he eyed the girl, then me, as if he couldn't tell who he was more afraid of.

The woman frowned, "How far away is that from Tokyo?" She demanded, an edge in her tone that promised violence if she didn't like the answer.

Which made the guy look to me as if I was going to save him. I shrugged, uncaring of his plight. It would be better if he just answered the question. Not sure why he was hesitating.

"I don't know? It's like, really far? We're on Kyushu island! Look, we just thought you were cute -- we didn't mean any harm!" he protested, earning a deep frown from the woman. Given how she had wiped the floor with them, it probably wasn't that last bit that worried her so much. She looked to me, to verify the information. I shrugged.

"Kyushu? How did I end up in Kyushu? If you were going to kidnap me, then you could have at least taken me to a major city!" she shouted, a hand going back to her purse to bring out the hammer. The guy made a strangled sound as he held up his hands in surrender.

"We didn't kidnap anyone! We saw you in the park! You were already here when we got here!" He protested, looking at me again to save him. I was every bit as uncaring as I was the first time.

Then the girl looked to me, as if I could verify the information. "He seems too scared to lie to you," I pointed out, much to the guy's relief. I hadn't done it to help him. That was just my take on the situation. "But, I've decided that helping people out is my thing, so if you need help figuring out what happened, then offers on the table."

She took a moment to think about it before she nodded, "Alright, I can get behind something like that." she decided, and I was glad to hear it. I spared one last look at the two men on the ground and the guy that looked like he was thankful to still be alive. "I've decided, you get to escort me through the city," she informed me.

Did she? The girl dropped the guy, stepped on the other, then grabbed me by the sleeve and tugged me towards the exit to the park. "I want sushi," she informed me. "Oh, and I'm Nobara Kurasaki." she tacked on.

"Nice to meet you. You're pretty handy with that hammer of yours," I remarked, earning a very self-satisfied smile from the girl named Nobara.

"It's something you pick up on the job. You're a local, right?" she asked me. "What's the best place for sushi?" she continued, without giving me any time to answer.

"Aren't you more concerned about the whole 'kidnap' thing?" I asked her as we walked on the sidewalk, pushing past groups of people. I wasn't sure if Nobara had even heard me. Much like me, her head was on a swivel, looking at absolutely everything she could all at once. Trying to take it all in at the same time.

But when she spotted a sushi place, she quickly pulled me towards it. Only then did she answer. "I think I have an idea of what's going on, so I'm not too worried. The high school I was going to is kind of crazy. This is absolutely the kind of stunt they would pull." She pushed open the doors to the sushi place, revealing a number of tables, but the main attraction was a conveyor belt that had various dishes on it that traveled around the restaurant. When I looked away, I saw that Nobara was giving me a strange look.

"You aren't a Jujutsu Sorcerer, right?" she asked me directly.

"I have no clue what that is," I responded honestly.

That was apparently the correct answer, because Nobara seemed pleased as she led us to a table near the conveyor belt. She was practically bouncing in her seat, vibrating with excitement. It was a rather big change from the girl that mercilessly beat a man with a hammer. She grabbed a plate, then a set of chopsticks. "My first meal in a big city," she said, whispering the words like a prayer.

Without further ado, she broke the chopsticks apart and used them to lift the sushi to her mouth. It must have tasted good, because she moaned, closing her eyes as she swayed gently back and forth, completely uncaring of the looks she got from the other customers. I eyed the conveyor belt and grabbed a dish of my own as it passed us by.

"So, what's this about a wallet?" Nobara asked suddenly as I grabbed a pair of chopsticks. I held them in my hand, going with what felt natural. Opening and closing then a few times, I managed to pick up a sliver of a spiral that was wrapped with seaweed. It tasted… good. Much better than the taste of blood, at any rate, the only other thing I had to compare it to.

"I was looking for the owner of a wallet I found in my pocket," I answered, quickly scooping up more of the dish.

Nobara blinked. "A wallet you found in your pocket…? That isn't yours? So… you… stole it?" she questioned, jumping to conclusions and trying to see the logic behind the decision. And that was fair. I'm guessing from an outside perspective, this made absolutely no sense.

"Maybe," I agreed, not sure myself. For all I knew, the owner of the wallet had given it to me. So far, I was getting some conflicting signals from myself. I gained awareness in the middle of a fight that I had started to protect some girl. Yet, my pockets were filled with money that wasn't mine. Or maybe it was mine. Maybe it was a reward for services rendered. I didn't know. Which is why I wanted to find the owner of the wallet and get an answer -- did I steal it? Did he just drop it and I happened to find it? Or did I take it because he was a piece of crap that deserved it?

I had no clue. And after a rather short lifetime of not knowing things, I could honestly say I didn't like being left in the dark. Not knowing things bothered me.

Nobara paused, searching for a response, "You aren't trying to do the whole white knight thing to impress me right?"

"Why do I need to impress you?" I returned the question, and she made a face in response. Then she smirked.

"That's better. I can't stand guys that fawn over girls. It's creepy," she gave her me verdict without actually ever giving a reason. I would have pressed the issue, but I spotted more of that dish going by and grabbed it since mine was now empty. "But go too far in the other direction and you're just a jerk, you know that?"

"I didn't know that," I said, taking another bite of sushi. "But I think we should go to the police about you being kidnapped," I pointed out. "What do you last remember?"

Nobara's brow furrowed, as she idly grabbed another two plates. For herself. "I was on a bullet train. I must have fallen asleep at some point, and that's when the guys at Jujutsu High grabbed me. So, all of this might be some kind of dumb initiation test like find the high school, or something."

"If they were going to do that, then why bring you to a different city?" I questioned, poking a hole in the theory. To that, Nobara's lips thinned ever so slightly. Enough to tell me that she wasn't as confident in her bet that it had been her high school that kidnapped her as she appeared.

And when she deflected, I knew for certain. "Why not just give the wallet to a policeman? It's practically their job to deal with stuff like lost wallets." She said, jabbing her chopsticks in my direction.

It was an obvious change in subject, but I didn't comment on it. "It is?" I questioned, earning a dull look from Nobara that told me she wasn't thinking kind thoughts about my intelligence. I knew of the police, but I didn't think I could bother them with every little thing. That was really convenient.

"Yeah, it is. All you would have to do is just hand it off to one and they'll take care of it. Were you really going to search the entire city to find the guy you 'might have' stolen a wallet from?" she asked me, appearing doubtful, but that slowly bled away to bewilderment when I nodded.

It was one of the only leads I had about my identity.

"Seriously?" she questioned me, earning another nod. "Huh," she muttered as she seemed to look at me in a new light. "Well, let me see it. It should have his address on it, so we can just drop it off in the mail or something," Nobara said, and that was a really good idea, I thought to myself as I passed her the wallet. She flipped it open, taking a moment to look at the cash it had inside, before looking at the ID.

A long sigh escaped her, "It's a fake ID," she deduced with a glance before she slid it back to me. "It's 2018, not 2012. What a thirty-year-old man needs with an outdated fake ID is beyond me."

So, that idea was dead in the water. Which left me with… a money clip, a set of keys, his wallet and…

"Nobara," I said, catching her attention.

"A little early to be calling my first name-" she started, only to stop when I showed her a credit card I had found in the wallet. It was renewed this year, and it expires in a few years from now. There was also a receipt tucked into one of the folds. An old one. It was also dated 2012.

Nobara didn't really give a reaction to that for a long minute. She tore through the wallet, looking for an inconsistency, but when she found none, she sat in her seat in shocked silence.

"I see," Nobara said, picking up her chopsticks and grabbing another plate. I eyed her warily, waiting for a more intense reaction.

"You good?" I asked her, watching her continue to eat.

"Either I time traveled, or this is some kind of illusion world. If it's the latter, then it's a top-notch illusion -- all the sensations feel right, the sushi tastes accurate… so, the illusion has hijacked the information process of my brain. So I can't escape regardless of what I do," she spoke calmly, as if it were happening to someone else. "Well, I have some options, but they're drastic enough that they can kill me. Best not try them until my hand is forced. And if it's the former, then there's really nothing I can do."

I mulled that over for a moment, "You're a little too quick to accept your fate," I decided.

"I don't have to take that from you. You're probably not even real," Nobara pointed out dismissively. "I just understand that if I'm in this illusion, then there's a reason for it. With the quality of it, I can only wait until the reason is revealed."

So, I might be an illusion in her imaginary world? Was my existence blank because I never had a backstory to begin with? Did I somehow gain self-awareness against all odds?

I took in a deep breath… "Nah. This is all real," I said, to myself just as much as her. I had no interest in inflicting an existential crisis on myself.

"If you say so, Mr. Illusion," Nobara replied as she polished off her final plate. "At least this place has good sushi. Thanks for the meal," she said, offering a small bow. I got up from my seat, a hand going to the money clip, and dropped a few bills on the counter. Based on how her eyes widened, I had overpaid quite a bit. "How about a shopping trip?" she abruptly asked me with greed in her eyes.

I shrugged, not really minding how Nobara grabbed onto my arm. Though, I suspected it was more to keep me from running off than any sense of attachment. "Sure, but I need to find a police officer first to deliver the wallet," I decided. Since this world was real, and not a figment of Nobara's imagination, that meant the wallet was actually missing. Damn it, that existential crisis was really starting to set in. Cogito, ergo sum!

"Sounds fine to me!" Nobara exclaimed, and I could practically see her deciding to live it up with the idea that there would be no repercussions for her actions in the 'real world.' Hopefully, she would figure it out before she got hurt. I didn't try to convince her otherwise, because she already seemed convinced that I only existed to serve her whims in this realistic, but poorly thought-out illusionary world she found herself in. Where the illusion was so real it might as well be reality, but the guy who made it was too stupid to trick her into thinking it was real for more than ten minutes.

I took out my keys and began clicking on the clicker again, hoping against the odds to hear a beep of some kind. The crowd of people made things difficult, but as I waded through them, I didn't see anyone that fit the bill of a public defender.

However, after another thirty minutes, I did see a police officer. He stood at the street corner, looking incredibly bored as he wrote out a parking ticket. He was wearing a navy blue uniform and a reflective vest that simply read Police.

Walking up to him, I presented the wallet I had found in my coat pocket, "I found this, but I couldn't find the owner," I told him, catching his attention. He paused, looking at me, then at the wallet, then at me again, then at Nobara who was still attached to my arm, then back at me.

He honestly seemed at an absolute loss for words for some reason. Then he found his words.

"You are under arrest," he told me, earning a slow blink from me.

"Oh… why?" I asked while Nobara sputtered. The cop reached for a taser holstered on his belt, but paused when I just raised my hands in surrender. He settled on grabbing his handcuffs instead. "Did I do something wrong?"

The cop found that funny, "You could say that, yeah. I got a call to keep a lookout for someone of your description -- over six feet, red hair, amber eyes. Seen assaulting several people -- Yakuza types -- so, I was just going to wash my hands of it. Yakuza types are always fighting around here. But I can't exactly turn a blind eye when you come right up to me." He said, gesturing for me to lower my hands. "I have to be seen doing my job. But, guys like you… bet you won't be in the tank more than five minutes before you get bailed out."

Huh.

Nobara tilted her head, "Wait, he still has to take me on a shopping trip. And he was returning a wallet, doesn't that account for anything?"

"No good deed goes unpunished," the cop answered with a thoroughly uncaring shrug of his shoulders as he cuffed me. "That too tight?"

"It's fine," I said, "Do you need me to turn around?"

"Nah, no need for that. Unless you plan on escaping?" He asked, but based on his tone, he found that incredibly unlikely. Or, rather, that there wasn't a point. However, the friendly air he had quickly vanished when Nobara reached out and grabbed his wrist, giving it a threatening squeeze. Slowly, he looked over at Nobara, his eyes narrowing into a glare to meet her own.

She let out a breath, betraying her annoyance. She didn't really think this was all an illusion, right? "Look, could you just let him go? He was protecting me! A young girl that was surrounded by so many scary-looking men!" She said, throwing on the fakest look of innocence I had ever seen. It wasn't a high bar to clear, but I doubted anything else would top it for a long time.

The cop looked at her for a moment as if he was putting the pieces together. "I'm going to need you to come down to the station too," he decided, and the painfully fake innocent look melted to one of absolute indignation.

"What for? I didn't do anything wrong!" she exclaimed, making the cop raise an eyebrow.

"You hit a man in the head with a hammer," he pointed out to Nobara's affronted look.

"He had it coming, so let us go!"

He did not do that.

…

"You could have gotten away," I pointed out, laying down on a bench in the 'tank' at the police station. Nobara paced the cell that we were in -- unyielding walls, with iron bars that served as a front gate with a door for entry and exit.

Nobara scoffed, "I could break out now if I wanted!" she shouted, making sure whoever was listening heard her. "This is total crap! Why'd you let yourself get arrested like that?" she demanded, still pissed off about it an hour later.

"I'm curious to see who'll come," I answered, looking up at the ceiling as I used my hands as a pillow. Wasn't like I expected to get arrested, but I couldn't stop myself when he mentioned that someone would get me. Or, rather, that he didn't expect me to be in jail for long. He had been exaggerating a bit -- we had been here a lot longer than just five minutes, but I was holding out hope that someone would come soon. It felt right.

Nobara let out an explosive sigh, "So, you're trying to see who cares enough to bail you out?" She tried, her brow furrowing when I shook my head.

"No, I want to see who comes," I clarified, though Nobara just looked more confused.

"What does that even mean? You're some hotshot, aren't you?" She asked, letting out a frustrated breath when I shrugged.

"I have no clue," I admitted. Doing things this way meant that the answer to the mystery of my identity would come to me. Who was I?

"What does that even mean, you have no clue?" Nobara pressed, turning her frustration in my direction.

I looked at her, "It means that I don't know." I told her, and she looked like she was about to start tearing out her hair if she got any more annoyed. So, I continued, "I don't know who I am."

Nobara opened her mouth to snap at me, only to catch herself short. She recoiled, blinking as she processed that response. "You… as in, you actually don't know who you are? Not like 'I'm discovering myself for the first time' kind of not knowing who you are?"

I sat up, leaning on my knees as I looked at an increasingly dumbfounded Nobara, "Everything is a big blank for me. Can't remember anything about myself. My earliest memory was a couple of minutes before I met you," I told her.

"How did I miss amnesia?" She questioned, pinching the bridge of her nose. She sounded frustrated with herself. "I thought you were just dodging my questions because you thought girls liked mysterious guys."

There was a beat of silence before I broke it. "Wanna change the deal?" I asked her, making Nobara look over at me. "I'll help you deal with whoever kidnapped you if you help me get my memories," I offered with a lopsided smile, "Deal?"

Nobara stared at me for a long moment before she hesitantly returned the smile. She took in a breath and let it out, "Alright. Deal." She said, and it was at that exact moment that the bars on the far wall suddenly banged as a person threw themselves against them. Nobara leaped to her feet, looking shocked and reaching for a hammer that wasn't there, but I calmly turned to look at the person who was resting their chin on one of the horizontal bars as he looked at both of us.

He was a middle-aged man. His hair was buzz cut short on the sides, leaving behind a long fringe that was parted near the middle. Over one eye he wore a black eye patch, leaving a lone brown eye to narrow at the sight of me. He was dressed in a snakeskin leather jacket, skintight black leather pants, and black dress shoes that were tipped with metal plates .

In all, he was a pretty wild-looking guy. Especially with his hands splayed out wide, his snakeskin jacket rising enough that it revealed a red and black tattoo that covered parts of his chest, since he didn't bother wearing a shirt under it. I hadn't been expecting anything in particular, but he still managed to surprise me. He was not who I imagined would show up to bail me out of jail.

"What are ya', stupid or somthin'?" he asked, sounding bored. "Ya' were supposed to pick some fights, not get yer self arrested, ya' idiot."

Huh. So, I was told to start that fight at the club? "Things just turned out that way. Are you here to bail us out?" I asked, standing up.

"Heh, suppose' I am. C'mon, yer a free man, Lil Majima," he said, holding out a hand to the police officer behind him, and the police officer handed over a set of keys for him to undo the lock.

"Lil Majima?" I questioned -- there was no way that was my name, right? If I was Lil Majima, then who was big Majima? Or just regular Majima?

The guy slid the key into the door and opened it with a flick of his wrist, "Don't like it? I could go back to callin' you Mikoto-chan?" He teased, and it sounded like it was something that he did often. However, I barely noticed. I had a name.

Mikoto Majima. Or Majima Mikoto. Not sure on the order yet, but it was better than just a blank.

"Who are you?" Nobara blurted as we stepped out the jail cell, eying him much like one would a coiled snake. Something that he seemed to delight in.

He gave a smile that could only be described as equally as wild as his appearance, "You really hangin' around this guy and you don't even know me? I'm the Mad Dog of Shimano, girly -- Goro Majima!" He introduced himself as if he expected applause. Nobara looked incredibly weirded out, looking to me for an explanation.

I wish I could give one.

Majima threw his arms over our shoulders, leading us away from the jail cell. "Eh, don't worry about it. Let's get that stink of jail off ya' two. Shimano doesn't care for it. Then the real fireworks begin! Can't wait to kick the shit out of that punk Nishikiyama!" He said, practically skipping the entire way.

And with that, the last piece of the puzzle slid into place. The thugs recognizing me, the cop calling the fights between between us 'Yakuza' types, those fights I was apparently ordered to start, and now this guy bailing me and Nobara out? The pieces fitted together, leaving only one obvious answer.

I was Mikoto Majima… and I was a member of the Yakuza.