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Remember Me. Yata, Med Student! Fushimi, somewhat slow burn, Gunrunning! Saruhiko Fushimi is a medical student who hates everyone.

They meet one summer night when a rival gang declares war on HOMRA and it lands Yata in the hospital with a gunshot wound.

Misaki Yata is a gangster with a good heart.

Fushimi is a total asshole. Yata couldn’t possibly fall for him.

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The rolling bay doors were open on either end of the warehouse. There was a rare breeze for it to be a humid night in July, and it tickled through the locks of hair not covered by his beanie.

It was a great night for a stoop party at Rikio’s place. He was probably cooking already which made him want to finish this deal on the double.

Not a serial number in sight. Just like you wanted, Nagare. Izumo was on the other side of Mikoto but Yata didn’t have to look to know he was flipping his lighter between his fingers.

Handicapped though he may be, Nagare was sharp. He would notice the flick of Yata’s eyes.

He would know something was wrong. Yata kept his worry quiet as he listened to the telltale sign that something was rubbing Izumo the wrong way.

Nagare inclined his head and the tall man to his left took his cue and picked up the briefcase. Yata’s jaw tightened. The man holding the case was Yukari, a lunatic in lip gloss.

He inspected the weapons and nodded to his boss. In the dim lighting, his eyelashes through shadows down his face, rather giving the impression of tear tracks.

Yata almost snorted at the thought. You have an impressive team. Yata rolled his eyes. Just because he had a special techy wheelchair and knew how to hack a computer didn’t mean they were on a fast track for some I-Robot kind of shit.

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He held his tongue, though. Nagare was always spouting nonsense and it was a waste of his breath as well as HOMRA’s time to start a conflict.

Going by the sound of his Zippo knocking against his fingers, Izumo was tiring of the chitchat, too. He put a cigarette between his lips and felt for a light.

His black outfit and jovial smile put Yata uncomfortably in the mind of a priest. Iwafune’s face was lined and his mousy brown hair was going gray at the roots but he wasn’t to be underestimated.

None of them were. Mikoto patted his pockets to no avail and grumbled a wordless request to Izumo. He turned his head for his strategist to give him a light.

Izumo did, but Yata would bet if he could see past the tinted shades that Izumo’s eyes never left the men across from them.

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The cigarette crackled quietly as the paper began to burn away. The strategist didn’t have any room to talk. Yata didn’t have the nerve to give the boss lip but it was always funny to hear Izumo and Tatara give him a hard time.

No goodbyes were said between the two gangs as they began to part ways.

Mikoto stared him down long and hard. Mocha lace insert high leg cupped body powder Did we get anything worthwhile off our visit to Yashiro?

Yukari turned away first and Nagare followed with a buzz of his wheelchair. Yata was glad. He would rather not put his backs to them, anyway.

He was also relieved to see Iwafune lower his spread hands and make to follow his team. It was time to go home. The sound of the lighter hitting the cement floor echoed through the warehouse.

Izumo must have seen Iwafune’s hand go under his robes because he was already in motion when the gleam of silver caught Yata’s eye. His and Yata’s next movements were not perfectly synchronized but they were united by the same purpose and that was to protect Mikoto.

Izumo grabbed Iwafune’s wrist and pushed the gun to the side, bringing his hand up to force him to release it. He redirected the barrel only for to Iwafune wrench his arm away before he could be disarmed.

07.03.2020 – That was what bothered him. He wondered what happened to Nagare and Yukari. Yorum yazabilmek iin Giri yapmalsnz.

This only put Izumo off track for an instant. He didn’t have an opening to draw his own weapon but he knocked Iwafune off balance with a quick strike to the ribs and swept him while his weight was mostly on one foot.

Yata’s hand hesitated on the pistol in the back of his waistband. He could disarm Iwafune while Izumo had him in a tight hold on the ground but no free hand to take the weapon himself, but that would mean leaving Mikoto.

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He spared a moment to look at their leader. Mikoto spit his cigarette onto the ground.

His next movements were not hurried. He slid his hands under his fur trimmed jacket and sighed. When he took his hands out there was a MAC in one hand and its magazine in the other, and he connected them in a fluid movement.

Yata guessed he should have known better to worry about the boss. He reached under the jacket he had tied around his waist to conceal his own Beretta 92 and brought it to bear.

The embossed HOMRA symbol on the grip danced in the increasingly bright space as lights from the warehouse district began to pour in through the Iwafune had reversed his and Izumo’s positions.

In Yata’s moment of distraction the strategist had knocked Iwafune’s revolver away but the man was proficient fighting hand to hand.

He had strength that held up against Izumo’s speed. Yata’s grip was firm, but there was sweat beading up on his forehead that he couldn’t hope to blame on the humidity; he had spent hours at the range, blown out windows, shot out tires, but he had never had to shoot a person before.

Don’t think of him as a person, think of him as the enemy. It’s him or Izumo. He might maneuver his way back to the revolver before Izumo can draw his own gun, and Mikoto is after the other two.

Don’t let Iwafune get the upper hand. You’re a good shot, and this is close range.

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Shoot him. Mikoto ran for one end of the warehouse.

He must have found Nagare and Yukari. He yelled something over his shoulder that Yata didn’t hear over his own racing heart and the sound of the two men struggling before him.

He cocked the Beretta. End this so you and Izumo can back up the boss.

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Yukari is even more dangerous than Iwafune. Izumo’s voice woke him up. He jolted and his hands steadied on the gun. His next inhalation was steady again.

His ears were ringing, and rather than the warehouse he found himself in the shooting range. He was watching Izumo fire his long gun with the silver barrel.

The protective goggles weren’t all that different in color from Izumo’s tinted sunglasses. Yata had found that funny for some reason. Then he noticed the differences between their weapons.

He recognized almost anything similar or different to his gun; he was kind of obsessed after finally getting his own.

Izumo had actually helped him choose it. In this case what caught his eye was that the strategist’s gun didn’t seem to kick as much. Yata had looked down at his Beretta that chambered nine millimeter.

It has a simple assembly and I can change its parts easily to suit my needs. You know how I like planning over power. It sounded too heavy to be his gun.

He felt around for what fell and found the cement floor closer than he expected.

He went through the same preparations as last time and Yata kept a reassuring hand in place as Fushimi readied the needle. Yata’s face flamed. Mocha lace insert high leg cupped body powder From modern and edgy trends inspired by the runway to classic styles of sophistication and elegance, we have everything you need for playing out all your bedroom fantasies. Izumo must have seen Iwafune’s hand go under his robes because he was already in motion when the gleam of silver caught Yata’s eye.

He was what fell.