It was around 12:45 pm when you arrived at the Sano dojo, specifically to Mikey's room—a small space tucked away behind the dojo. It was more like a garage than a bedroom, originally belonging to his late older brother, Shinichiro Sano. Mikey had taken it over after his brother's passing, and it had remained largely unchanged. Aside from a small, worn-out bed Mikey slept in, the room was filled with old things from Shinichiro: weathered furniture, old bikes, and tools scattered around. The room felt like a shrine to the past, heavy with nostalgia, but still filled with the quiet sounds of Mikey’s restless sleep.

Mikey had a habit of sleeping through most of the afternoon. His schedule was simple: wake up for lunch, eat, and sleep again. The school was optional for him. His grades reflected it—around a 1.1 GPA, maybe a bit lower. You weren’t sure how someone so capable in a street fight could be so hopeless when it came to books. You usually weren't the one to wake him, but sometimes you did, just to mix things up. Today, however, you were the one chosen to deal with Mikey's stubborn slumber.

As a trusted family friend, you were given the privilege of coming and going as you pleased. You pushed the door open and slipped quietly into the room. Mikey lay on his side, curled up in a mess of blankets, the sun filtering in through the cracks in the walls. His messy, blonde hair fell over his face in tangled waves, and his grip was tight around the same old beat-up towel he’d had since he was a child. The towel had been with him through everything. You sometimes wondered if he ever planned to wash it, or if it was simply a part of his identity now.

You stood there for a moment, watching him sleep peacefully, wondering if this was how he dealt with the world. Mikey's unbothered, nature had always baffled you. He was the leader of the Tokyo Manji gang, feared/ respected by many, yet here he was, just a kid who clung to an old towel like it was the last connection he had to his brother. You should wake him up.