Apologies are not enough

"Do you know how to use a gun?"

Natsuo was struck with a chill when the pair of pale brown eyes watched him intently as if analyzing his every move. The brunet swallowed as he reached out and grasped the cold, black pistol the yakuza had given him.

He shook his head, not having the faintest idea of how to use a firearm. Jiro started going over the basics - the grip, the stance, loading, aiming, and firing.

The blue eyes noticed the carved kanji that spelled the owner's name on the handle.

"Every new member receives a gun from our oyabun. It is a symbol of loyalty and trust, marking you as part of the family now," the yakuza explained stoically.

"How will you defend yourself?" Natsuo asked while holding the dangerous weapon tightly in his hands.

"With my fists and wits, of course," the man answered with a wide grin. He awkwardly put on his leather jacket, hiding the intricate and colorful tattoos on his bruised arms.

Natsuo gave him a nervous glance, knowing that there was no way he had fully recovered from the beating he had endured just a few days ago.

"I will drive us there and we can talk on the way," Jiro stated, seemingly struggling to hide that his body was aching with every movement.

The other man wrinkled his brow in concern and quickly tucked the gun into his trousers' waistband, ensuring it was well-hidden beneath his oversized sweater.

(Later that night)

"Make sure the doors are locked and call this number if I don't show up," Jiro instructed, handing his roommate a slip of paper with contact information written on it.

Natsuo glanced at it questioningly, but refused to take it.

"Well, what am I supposed to do here?"

Jiro's lips curled into a slight smile as he examined the area ahead. The surrounding neighborhood was filled with old graffiti-covered buildings and rusted cars parked on the side of the road, a world away from the busy and modern city they had just left.

"You will be safe here," he explained, subtly disguising the fact that his frail companion was no match for the fierce yakuza gangs and their fighting skills.

"You are planning to face those people unarmed? Are you for real?" Natsuo scowled as he peered in disbelief at the darkness around them, doubting the other man's words.

Everything seemed like a scene straight out of a thriller story - dark alleys, broken windows, and the threat of danger lurking around every corner. It was indeed the most convenient location for criminals, since the area was not well-lit and there were plenty of hiding spots. The lack of security and the absence of police made it the perfect place to conduct their shady business unnoticed.

"Let me come with you or take the gun."

Jiro pondered for a while and sat in silence, clearly weighing his options.

"Why would you bring me along if you planned to leave me here by myself?" Natsuo frowned and snorted in a sharper tone. He suddenly had a feeling that the yakuza had some ulterior motive for bringing him along, something he didn't want to reveal.

"Is there something you are not telling me?"

The white-haired one broke into a small smile, showing a bit of amusement and understanding in his face.

"Hmm, I'm just having second thoughts. Alright then, but you need to stay hidden and use the gun only if things get out of hand."

His voice suddenly became low and serious - it was obvious that the man was determined to face whatever trouble the night had in store.

The brunet kicked his sneakers off, and the sudden thump caused Jiro to glance over at him in surprise.

"It's cold outside. What are you doing?"

"I am more quiet this way. Being cold doesn't bother me," the former thief sighed, remembering his days in the streets, when remaining silent and blending into the shadows was the only way to survive.

"Okay, maybe you are tougher than you look. Try to follow me without being obvious. Be careful," the yakuza warned before stepping out of the car.

(A while later)

The blue eyes watched his roommate's frame navigate the snowy street ahead of him, his hands tucked in the pockets and his head held high almost defiantly.

Natsuo crept through the shadows, following his comrade's back, but keeping a safe distance between them. He was on guard, his senses on high as he sneaked along the icy sidewalks, eyes and ears open to any sign of danger.

The streets were empty, with no sign of others or movement. The ex-thief cautiously tracked the white-haired man to an old factory in a secluded corner of the district.

It was a large, rundown building with windows boarded up and walls damaged by vandalism. The entrance was blocked by a rusted metal gate chained shut, but the door creaked open when his acquaintance gently tugged on it. He paused for a second and peered behind him, before stepping into the abandoned industrial site.

Once inside, the man surveyed the neglected warehouse with its broken machinery and peeling paint. Natsuo quietly sneaked outside and glanced through the destroyed windows, keeping an eye on his housemate as he moved through the dilapidated structure.

They both quickly realized that he was not alone in there - footprints were visible in the dust, faint light shone from the far end of the hall, and noise wafted from behind a closed door.

A knot of anxiety formed in Natsuo's stomach as Jiro knocked on the door and backed away.

Then, a group of men's silhouettes became visible as they walked out, their eyes locked on the white-haired man who stood confidently across from them. The yakuza rivals' faces were hidden in the darkness, but their body language was unmistakable - they were hostile.

Jiro stood his ground, but the gang menacingly advanced toward him. Natsuo drew his gun, ready to intervene if his associate was in any kind of trouble.

"Thank you for meeting me. I came here to take responsibility for violating our clan agreement. Please accept my sincerest apology," Jiro said as he bowed his head and waited for their response.

"Apologies are not enough. We demand compensation for your offenses," a gruff tone laughed. His voice echoed throughout the old factory, bouncing off the crumbling walls.

Natsuo managed to catch a glimpse and saw that the enemies had circled Jiro, crowding him and blocking any chance of escape. He held his breath as the gang closed in on his beaten roommate, seemingly ready to fight.

"What kind of payment can I offer you? Money? I have that, just let me know how much," the multimillionaire said with a raised eyebrow.

"I am not asking for money. This is much more valuable than that."

Natsuo's blue eyes were focused on the talking figure in a fedora, listening to his every word and watching his every move as he leaned toward his former classmate, barely a step apart.

"If you want information about my oyassan, I won't give it to you. One more punch from you, and he will declare war you can't win," the white-haired one grunted.

Natsuo's heart skipped a beat as he heard a faint noise from the corner - and then saw someone pointing a submachine gun at him. It was a man, dressed in black and wearing a mask, but his dark eyes were fully visible and peering into his target's soul as if he were a predator ready to pounce on its prey.

The brunet froze and remained still, his eyes wide with fear as he watched the person slowly walk toward him.

"Put down your weapon, kid," the stranger ordered, his voice harsh and commanding, leaving no room for negotiation.