The Dragon’s Spark

“So, you want to be Miyabi’s bodyguard, eh?”

It had been six months since that first encounter. Every week, his family would send Ryuji over with a gift package – a box of the bakery’s specialties, along with protection money for being on Tenjou turf.

Ryuji didn’t mind the details. He merely enjoyed spending time with Miyabi, whom he now referred to as ‘Ojou’. She was a sheltered princess with little understanding of the outside world. Yet, feats of magic would spontaneously come from fingers tapping on the piano keys. He caught her ballroom dancing with mirages and frolicking through the garden like a stray kitten.

It was the most precious thing that he had ever seen, pure innocence that enjoyed life, regardless of being caged from the outside world. It made Ryuji wonder if he could accept the circumstances that he was given – poor family, hard labor, and low on smarts – and make something as bright as the girl before him.

He felt almost ashamed by how little he chose to do. That was why he put his all in the gift package for the weekly ritual. If a half-baked attempt at cream puffs could make someone so bright even happier, he could only imagine what would happen if he aimed for perfection.

Soon enough, the servants became comfortable letting Ryuji remain around Miyabi, seeing his earnest attempts as a positive on the girl. And as they shared time together, doing otherwise mundane things, Ryuji suddenly developed an urge.

I want to protect this girl.

Ryuji had overheard. The Tenjou Clan had many enemies. It wouldn’t be past them to target the daughter of its leader. For that reason, she rarely walked outside the boundaries of her home. Home tutored and sheltered from any underground business, Miyabi knew only where her two feet could take her.

And the sky.

“Someday, I would like to play my music so people can hear it far and wide.”

It was a simple request, born from a harmless desire. But Ryuji knew that someone needed to be there to protect her.

Being undeniably headstrong, Ryuji marched right up to her father and requested to join the yakuza to protect her. Of course, he had no idea what he was getting himself into. Regardless, he came back, time and time again with that request.

“What makes a brat like you think that he has the balls to do anything?”

The man’s words sent a chill down Ryuji’s spine, and before he could reply, one of the attendants grabbed him by the collar and brandished a knife. The tip hovered on the edge of Ryuji’s nose, drawing the slightest trickle of blood.

Ryuji’s eyes immediately shifted to the face of his attacker, before bringing his arms up to tear himself away from the hold and weapon. His gaze fought to follow his opponent’s as he readied himself for another attack. A swift kick lunged for his head, but a quick dodge to the side limited the impact to a graze on the shoulder. As he pulled back for a counter, a metallic glint blinded him. The blade stopped right up against his neck before he could blink, his body slow to react.

“You’ve got nice eyes, kid. And some natural senses.” His attacker pulled the knife back and stepped away. “But you’re too green. This side’s too tough for you as is. Come back when your pair has some heft to ‘em.”

Ryuji was a baker’s boy, pure and simple. He barely had any fight in him, aside from a naturally strong build and hand-eye coordination. There was no place in the yakuza for boy scouts.

If that was the case, he simply needed a way to mold himself into the proper shape. As he was told, he had the proper dough to start with. It was just a matter of beating himself into form, until his temperament was appropriate for the underworld.

Within the next month, Ryuji found himself hanging around a group called the ‘Yabai Devils’, brandish dark red scarves. Color gangs were the most accessible to a high schooler such as himself. Fights between rival street gangs broke out often, giving Ryuji plenty of opportunities to absorb the fighting styles of those around him. Ryuji could handle a bit of grit taking punches. He found that he could dish it out even better.

He spent his evenings on the prowl, getting into every scuffle possible to protect their ‘playground turfs’. These exchanges rarely went beyond knocking others to the ground. And in Ryuji’s case, he refused to let his knees touch the floor.

He sucked in the pain, letting his fist roar in response. If he could endure it all while channeling his will into a single punch, there was hardly a foe that stayed standing afterwards.

Soon enough, Shirokawa joined him, and later on, Ozaki. The three of them became the spearhead for the Yabai Devils, cleaning up the rival gangs.

Ryuji had avoided seeing Miyabi since then. He wouldn’t allow himself to until he was able to protect her. He had given up making sweets as well. The last thing that he needed was for someone to think of him as some kind of ‘teddy bear gangster’. His entire focus became improving his fighting prowess.

Sixteen years later, he was now known as the Yama Ryu, an indomitable yakuza that had crushed the Tenjou Clan’s greatest rival.

Ryuji’s pace slowed as he hid himself deep in the white fog. Obviously, if he had achieved what he set out to do, he wouldn’t have dashed away from the Honjou family home.

Static buzzed around the fog enveloping him.

“Stop, I don’t want to remember.”

It grew louder and louder. The distant echo of sirens came into earshot. Ryuji opened his eyes to see a city intersection that should have been busy, but now, it was blocked off by police and service vehicles. Commands over megaphones requested for distance from the crowd. A stretcher rolled by with emergency personnel racing to an ambulance.

Ryuji’s heart stopped when he saw a small hand dangling from the side. He bit down on his lips so hard that blood trickled down his chin. He ignored it, focusing instead on the metal railing gripped by his hands that made an awful creak like it was about to snap. He was ready to uproot it himself and fling it into the mess of cars that were on fire.

“A targeted hit? How frightening…”

“It’s the yakuza again, ain’t it? Bastards keep tearing up the city.”

“Don’t say that so loud! What if they target you next?”

The crowd started to dissipate like the flames in the wind. The noises blew away along with it. Ryuji was left with a moment of silence before a large hand clamped down onto his shoulder. A head moved up to his ear with a contained growl.

“You know, the boss’s precious daughter was trying her hardest to make a role for herself in this here world. And whaddaya know? She was doing it for some pansy ass that wouldn’t even stand by her side. There are some things that are too late when you hear about them. But getting justice ain’t one of those. Shindou’s the name. I have a place for you if you’re looking.”

A hand brought forward a pin, carved with the Tenjou crest. It dangled before his eyes like a chance to move forward from his guilt. He looked up to an unfamiliar bald man, hunger in his eyes. Ryuji knew he was being taken advantage of, but he didn’t care.

The bitterness that he felt was undeniable. He had nowhere else to channel it into, so he instantly accepted that offering, no matter which branch of Tenjou it came from. The gangs were mere remnants in his eyes as the crowds around him turned into a sea of Tenjou and Azumito emblems.

Call it with whatever pretty words one could. Ryuji simply wanted revenge.

Shadows all wearing Azumito pins dove toward him. Ryuji’s fists blew them away like bags of flour exploding back into the white. He fought and fought, teeth clenched and eyes jittery, a madman searching for the next piece to make him feel whole again. It was said that beauty often hid a bit of madness, and for those who watched him make short work of his opponents, it gave off an awe-inspiring presence such as that.

“Ryuji!”

His fist homed in on that voice, braking abruptly at pink eyes and pink hair. The sheer unnatural colors of his next opponent caused him to freeze and reassess. Despite the ferocious haymaker coming at her, Grace remained undaunted. Instead, a look of genuine worry blanketed her expression.

“What are you doing here? I could’ve killed you,” Ryuji sighed.

“You’re in dreams. This is my domain. That also means that you can’t lie here, Mister. Nurse Grace sees everything and offers help, nonetheless.”

“Heh, I don’t need your sympathy. I took care of the issues. There’s no changing a bad past. We just have to make do with whatever comes after.”

“Strong words to live by.” Grace smiled. “But it looks like you’re still missing the point. A little fun to go along with it makes a big difference!”

Grace grabbed the fist that was pointed right at her and pulled it along as she danced past him. At first, it was like a child trying to pull along an adult. She puffed up as she pulled harder and harder, in an effort to make Ryuji budge. It was almost laughable until a pair of wings materialized from her back and expanded in size.

Suddenly, Ryuji found his feet being peeled from the ground. He took a few, awkward, tiptoeing steps before there was no more solid ground. Grace turned back, and her smile turned into a full, toothy grin.

“Life is tough, but there are times when getting away from all of it is healthy, necessary even, to regain the spark that defines you.”

Ryuji looked down to see the scenes of Ojou’s house and his battlegrounds grow smaller and smaller below him. Looking back up, he watched as Grace leapt from cloud to cloud, gaining more height before diving forward with wings fully extended. Being dragged along, Ryuji could only stare at his surroundings, the wind crashing against him.

He had to admit, even in a dream, there was a sense of liberation that came with diving through an endless expanse with nothing else around. It was a calm similar to what he felt after a fight.

“I just have to have a little fun, is that right?”

Ryuji separated his hand from Grace, free falling without her magic. He was not someone that needed help in achieving something. Tumbling, twisting, flailing in the air – Ryuji kept trying to correct himself despite having no wings.

The ground rapidly approached, but Ryuji was known for some battles won by the skin of his teeth. He turned at the right moment and punched the ground, creating a crater where it hit. As if he had landed with some kind of heroic entrance, he stood up like nothing had happened.

“How’s that for a bit of shits and giggles, Miss Dream Fairy?”

Ryuji brandished his Yama Ryu aura, and in that instant, various scenes popped up all around him.

Celebrations with his hard-earned Yamaoka family, bar crawling with Shirokawa until the sun came up, trouncing Ozaki at video games and leaving his smug otaku ass in the dirt – Ryuji couldn’t let years and years go by without something to lift his spirits. He couldn’t be bothered forever. That was why he chose to move forward as the Yama Ryu, a force that would deny anything that dared to hurt the ones he knew.

“I don’t need anyone to tell me how to live. Especially not some fantasy character in my dreams. I’ll wake up and be on my way soon enough.”

“I guess that make things easy for me then. You’re a dependable person, aren’t-”

The scenery around Ryuji suddenly started to shake, rapidly growing in intensity. It set off all sorts of alarms for him, his danger sense kicking up to high gear. Even while asleep, he had learned to detect when things went awry.

Even Grace had a look of genuine confusion at the situation. Something was wrong. Ryuji had to wake up right away.

“Hey, Missy. Can you do that thing you did last time? The thing that woke me up instantly? I have a bad feeling.”

“Ah, sure thing!”

Ryuji clenched his jaw as he readied himself for it. Fortunately, the dream fairy didn’t morph into a muscular hybrid from some bizarre adventure anime. She simply waltzed behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso. With uncharacteristic strength in those thin arms, Grace heaved him into a backward arc, slamming his head into the ground with a German suplex that made him jealous at how many stars he saw.

He had to remind himself again that he wasn’t into that sort of thing. He wasn’t Ozaki, after all.