What the hell have you done?

The seventeen-year-old boy wandered around Tokyo, absorbing the sights and sounds of the never-sleeping city he hadn't visited in a long time.

His old backpack was around his shoulder and he had changed into the clothes he wore when he first entered boarding school. He had been saving up all the food he could store that wouldn't spoil - that was the plan he had made as part of his mission to gain freedom and escape his suffocating life.

But Natsuo had no clue what to do next - he had no job, no place to stay, no money, and no one to turn to. He had no idea what his next steps would be.

The neighborhood Natsuo stumbled upon was far away from the city center chaos. The area was littered with broken buildings and graffiti-covered walls, creating a concrete jungle that almost seemed hostile. Only few people wandered the desolate streets, concealing their faces with masks.

The young man soon spotted one abandoned structure that stood out. It was a small, two-story house with boarded-up windows and a door with only the top hinges attached. He thought he might get shelter there while he decided what he would do next.

His legs were aching from walking all day, so he made his way to the corner and sat down. He leaned against the sturdy wall and closed his eyes, giving himself some time to think.

A grumbling sound rose from his stomach, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything since that morning after snacking on one bar of chocolate. He opened his backpack, pulling out one can of squid he had saved from his school lunch.

From the shadows, yellow eyes spied at him. A black cat jumped down with a soft thud, its ribs clearly visible through its thin coat. The feline sniffed the air and cautiously snuck up on the human, meowing softly and nuzzling its furry body against his sneakers, not seeming to be scared.

Natsuo sighed. He opened the can and gave the limited food he had with the starving animal.

"You might need this more than me," he mumbled as he pushed his bag further away, using it as a pillow to lie on and listening to how the cat feasted on the seafood.

His eyes widened in surprise when the cat curled up next to him, purring contentedly as it snuggled against his side. He ran his fingers through its fur, feeling a bit of comfort when thinking that perhaps he wasn't so alone after all.

(Elsewhere at the same time)

Jiro, dressed in black suit, spat on the ground as he took a battle stance. He kept his fists tight as he stared down at the cursing man in front of him, who was also clothed in black.

Around them, the temple grounds were eerie and quiet, guarded by a majestic and silent tower. The sky was ablaze with hues of orange and red, giving the graveyard an ethereal glow.

The day was Jiro's parents' funeral. The ceremony had ended and his grieving relatives had remained at a social gathering, but the young man had ventured outside to catch a breath of fresh air. The middle-aged couple had passed away two weeks ago in a car accident, but their only child only learned of their deaths recently.

Jiro had heard a scuffle coming from the cemetery as he walked away from the temple, so he investigated it - someone was destroying tombstones, cursing and kicking them. The senior vandal was undoubtedly annoyed by the boy's interference when he asked why he was doing it.

The young man had soon engaged in a fight with a local yakuza if his attacker's slurred words were to be believed. The man's breath reeked of alcohol as they circled one another and threw punches at each other.

Jiro was leaner than the older man, but he stood tall with a confident expression on his face. His gruff opponent was broad and muscular with a menacing scowl on his face, tattooed fists clenched tightly.

He dodged swiftly as the yakuza lunged in, and in one powerful movement, he tackled the grown man and brought him to the ground.

His heart pounded as blood and adrenaline rushed through his veins - the anger and frustration that had been building up for so long were finally released, flushing him with satisfaction and freedom.

"Fuck you, child! I'm going to bury your corpse in the wasteland!" the yakuza cursed, clearly enraged after being defeated by a much younger and smaller challenger.

Jiro heard slow steps coming behind him just as he locked his fist and was ready to punch.

A man wearing an ornamental robe, resembling a kimono, approached them, but his face was hidden behind the nearby tree's shade. The amber light of the sunset only revealed his sharp jawline and piercing eyes.

"You are quite a fighter," the stranger remarked admiringly.

Jiro let go of the man beneath him, jumped up quickly, and prepared to defend himself if the intruder acted aggressively.

"People like your spirit are always difficult to find - but when they are found, they can be fruitful in ways they never imagined," the man continued, his voice deep and husky.

(Later that night)

Toshiro Takuya smoked his cigar as he stood in the temple garden and gazed at the night sky. He blew out a puff of smoke and watched it dissipate like a halo around the moon.

His lips smirked at the thought that his deceased sibling's shares of their billion-dollar company had been transferred to him and he had achieved his goal of gaining control of the business - and all it took was just a common accident, a tragedy he was never accused of. His plan had turned out perfectly.

Everything had a price, and luckily for him, he could afford it all. He was now one of the richest people in the world, and nothing stood in his way. Not a single thing.

In his mind, he thanked his older brother for introducing him to his son. Having him around had been a pleasure - in every sense of the word. He would make his nephew obey him, forcing him to do whatever he was told. The boy would become a wonderfully submissive, willing to please his uncle at any time.

Just then, the familiar face emerged from the shadows, smudged with dirt and wearing a tattered suit. His nephew had an adamant look on his face as he stood tall and proud despite his disheveled appearance.

Toshiro walked closer to him, his expression seductive as he looked at the boy who now looked like a man.

"My sweet nephew - "

"Don't come any closer," Jiro said in a loud, clear voice.

Toshiro's smile stretched even wider as he heard his defiance - fighting and protesting only fuelled his fire. The young man should have known that.

"Now, now, my dear boy. Uncle will take good care of you now. It's time to go home, just the two of us," Toshiro replied as he puffed his cigar.

"Unfortunately, that is not possible."

Toshiro frowned at the mysterious, strange voice and saw how a tall figure followed his nephew out of the darkness. He instantly recognized the infamous man with decorative tattoos and maroon-brown eyes that stared calculatingly at him.

"Jiro, what the hell have you done?" Toshiro asked, gritting his teeth.

"He will be part of my family now," the main leader of the yakuza said as he placed a hand on the young man's shoulder.