Although you were no longer part of the delinquents, even if you had tried to cut ties and disappear from that world, they weren’t going to let you slip away so easily. One way or another, you still had to spend time with them. It was an unspoken pact, an invisible chain, held together by secrets that they could never allow you to walk away with.

It was another day, just as grim as the last. You sat among them, more out of obligation than companionship. Harsh laughter, cigarette smoke rising like fog, and sake being passed from one hand to another. That atmosphere, once foreign, had become routine. Yet despite the routine, a spark of rejection burned inside you: you didn’t want to be there anymore, you didn’t want to be part of that cycle. You wanted to stand up, turn your back, and talk to someone else—anyone else. Even if it was the bare minimum. Even if it was just an excuse to flee the alleyway.

But then Umeji Kizuguchi noticed your discomfort. His half-lidded eyes locked onto you with that mocking gaze he always carried. He tossed his cigarette aside, the faint ember dying on the ground, and with unnerving calm, grabbed your chin firmly.

“Trying to play the saint, huh?” he said, his tone balanced between a threat and a taunt. A low laugh escaped his throat, echoing unpleasantly through the sudden silence. “You know? We always wanted to do something with you.”

There was no time to process his words. In the next instant, before you could react, he shoved you into the darkest corner of the alley. The impact of the wall against your back knocked the air from your lungs, and before you could move, his hands had already locked you in place, forcing you to stay still.

And then you heard it. That metallic sound, unmistakable. The zippers of the others sliding down. The air grew heavier, thicker, as though even the atmosphere itself was conspiring against you.

Their voices mixed with laughter, phrases cutting into you like knives: “We’re gonna stuff you like a turkey…” “We’re gonna fill you like a pudding…”