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The first time I saw Izana was during the very first Tokyo Manji Gang fight. The six founding members had met to fight the Black Dragon in order to defend Kazutora, who had got into trouble.
I wanted to be there, deep down proud enough of what the boys were fighting for that day. As my role as a big sister could be perceived as a little too invasive, I wanted to keep my distance, to watch from afar, to make sure that nothing went wrong while witnessing the values that the Toman advocated at that time.
I sat on the embankment overlooking the unfinished building where the two gangs had met, and thoughtfully lit a cigarette.
What kind of big sister would let her brother and his friends fight against strangers, years older than them ? I was aware of the reasons why Baji and his companions were doing what they were doing, the things that had bound them together. This was enough to convince me to let them live their lives as they wished, while keeping a distant eye on their actions.
Staring into space, I was carelessly dropping the ash from my cigarette when a figure deprived my back of the sun.
« Coming to see the show ? »
« Maybe. »
The figure did not move, did not blink at my rather cold answer. His shadow, stretched by the late hour, told me that he had his hands in his pockets, and half-length hair that fluttered slightly in the wind.
He didn't seem to want to leave, so I concluded that he had also come to admire this show. Perhaps he even wanted some company to comment on it.
I took a cigarette from my pack and handed it to him, still sitting on the grass, turning slightly towards him. He appeared to me in a low angle, clouded by the sun.
With his hands in the pockets of his striped chinos, his shoulders drooping, covered by a light black jumper revealing his collarbones on which rested a silver chain, he turned his gaze from the fight without really moving his face to rest his eyes on my gesture.
His earrings, similar to hanafunda full moon cards, topped with a pearl of the same red as the sky at the bottom of the pendants, were almost the only evidence that his face had moved a few millimeters.
His gaze fell on the cigarette, through a few white strands covering his lilac eyes. He crouched down to the hand that was held out to him, caught the cigarette with his fingertips, brushing mine, and brought it to his lips, resting his elbow on his bent thighs at my side, his deep gaze turned again to the building below.
I turned away from him for a moment to reach for my lighter into my opposite pocket, and handed it to him as well. Still silent, he brought his face to my hands with the intention of letting me light his cigarette.
I rolled the tiny gear on the lighter, trying desperately to focus on the flame that flickered slightly against the wind at our backs, rather than on his eyes I felt staring at me, in an almost terrifyingly deep way.
He breathed in the smoke, and took the trouble to turn away and sit by my side, facing the fight, before blowing softly.
I was a little unsettled by him, this guy and his strange, heavy presence, sitting next to me as if we were there to watch a football match rather than kids who had come to beat each other up.
Uncomfortable, and perhaps a little annoyed at being disturbed by someone with such an imposing aura, I decided not to say anything. I didn't feel like pretending to have interesting things to say, and even if I did, I preferred to keep my comments to myself rather than to say them out loud in front of this unknown visitor and his gaze, thirsty for something indiscernible.
« Mikey the Invincible, they say. »
I forbade myself to move, letting nothing show at his words but slightly widening eyes, which he could not perceive in his field of vision.
« I wonder what he’s worth. »
I thought about what to say for a moment, wondering if he even expected me to say anything back. He seemed to be talking to himself, or no one, rather than to me.
« You seem to have heard of him before ?
- Everyone has heard of Mikey... »
His response was immediate and brutal, his eyes still focused on the fight ahead. The balance didn't seem to be tipped towards one gang or the other yet, the boys being younger but probably more feisty than the Black Dragon members.
The Black Dragon, the gang that Manjirou was to inherit, and which he was fighting tooth and nail right now. My thoughts drifted to Shinichiro. What would he think, if he saw his little brother and his own creation fighting each other today.
He was probably aware of this, by the way. But perhaps he was letting Mikey go his own way and proudly telling him about his victories rather than interfering in the battle.
« ... but I perhaps a little more than the others. »
I turned my gaze towards him. Sitting on the grass, his legs slightly apart and bent in front of him, he had rested his two forearms on his knees, stretched out towards the fight, his hands soft and relaxed, even the one carelessly holding the cigarette. His skin was surprisingly tanned, it was obvious that he had more than just Japanese origins. I secretly wondered what they were.
« What do you mean ? »
I was curious to know more, his whole person exuded mystery, but above all, he spoke of someone close to me as if he knew him better than me. I really wanted to know more. What relationship could he and Manjirou have ?
He scoffed, and smirked as his eyes broke away from the fight and turned to me. His earrings, pulled straight down by gravity, brushed his jaw as he looked at me, his smile half-hidden by his extended arm.
« You ask a lot of questions, huh ? »
- Excuse me ?!
- You'd like to know why I'm interested in Mikey, don’t you ? »
I was a little offended that he was outing me like that, even though he was totally right, I was hoping he would answer without question. I admit it was a bit naive of me. Maybe I should say a little myself if I wanted my answers.
I looked down at the battle below, and felt that his gaze did not turn away from me, waiting for my answer.
« I can see why you care about him. Everyone here is interested in him. If you're in a gang, you must know who he is, but more importantly you must be curious to see him finally fighting officially under the banner of his own gang. What I'd like to know is why you think you've heard more about him than the average Tokyo delinquent. »
His eyes lit up for a moment and his smile widened. I pretended to stare at the building below, but couldn't help but watch his reaction.
« Whoa ! I think I like you. You look tough.
- You don’t answer the question. »
This time, I turned to him completely.
« I don't feel like answering you, he said without giving me a glance. It wouldn't do me any good.
Too bad for you.
Too bad for me ? But who exactly do you think you are ?!
Surprisingly, despite his annoyance, he frightened me a little less than when he arrived. It was as if I had offended a child to whom I had not given enough attention, as if he was dying for me to beg him to tell me more.
I wanted to know more, obviously. An obscure celebrity who goes to the fight of my little brother and his gang, very interested in their leader, that raises questions. But from there to beg for my answers desperately, no thanks, I might as well play it more cleverly.
« I am nobody, and yet I am enough to know that I have never seen you in my life, and that you seem quite sure of yourself about Ma-
My phone started ringing, preventing me from completing my sentence.
The name that appeared on the screen while Mikey was struggling below us prompted me to respond, ignoring the angry stranger beside me.
« Shinichiro ? Is everything okay ? »
Immediately, his gaze changed. I caught a glimpse of him, while listening to Shinichiro on the other side of the line. This guy knew the Sanos, I was convinced. What he wanted from them, however, I didn't know. Suspicious, I tried to answer without giving too much away, even though it was probably already too late.
« Don't worry, you'll probably hear about all of today's adventures before nightfall. »
Shinichiro, a little worried about his little brother, wanted to reassure himself without coming to the scene in person. I tried to cut the conversation short, promising him that I would go to the shop as soon as the fight was over.
No sooner had I hung up the phone than a new look came over me. A much calmer, much more concentrated look. How many such profound expressions could cross this boy's mind in just a few minutes ?!
« Who are you » I asked first, catching him off guard. I dared to look at him deeply, analyzing every detail of his face. My pupils moved from one anchor point to another at full speed. His eyes, his eyelashes, a fluttering lock, a reflection of the sun on a trembling earring, an almost invisible scar, a mole.
I could almost hear the chatter of thoughts running through him as our eyes met. I didn't understand the meaning, but I knew he was thinking, analyzing the situation in the deepest possible way, choosing his words carefully.
« For some, I am a king. To others, an enemy. A leader, a friend, I think. I was a son once, and I am a brother. To you, I am nobody... »
He stood up, obviously ready to conclude this conversation. His analysis of the situation seemed to be over, and his gaze had softened a little. It was clouded by a hint of sadness, perhaps even melancholy or regret.
He simply added :
« …for now. »
I remained silent.
He put his hands back in his pockets, turned his back to me, now ignoring the fight taking place under our feet, which had interested him so much a few moments before. It was as if he had found another source of information, another path to the goal he had set himself in coming here.
He took three steps, and turned his head slightly, his gaze plunging to the floor where I sat. He was staring at a point that did not seem to be here, intangible, anchored far away in his mind.
« Thank you for the cigarette. »
The sun, which was still coming down through the buildings, cut his figure in a delicate and yet coarse way. The backlighting he was facing brought out the whiteness of his hair, the gold of his skin, the blood red of his earrings and that strange colour that dressed his pupils. A mixture of powerful contrasts that formed, at that very moment when the sun and his thoughts mingled, a deep sadness, yet tinged, it seemed to me, with a touch of sweetness.
Before disappearing over the embankment and into the city, he added:
« See you soon, I think. »