Elsewhere in the city, along sidewalks and faded storefronts, Renji walked with purposeful strides.

He had his backpack slung loose over one shoulder, and his other hand buried in his pocket as he walked down the pavement.

But he wasn't alone.

Another pair of footsteps appeared beside him. Then another joined from the left, lighter but cocky. And another from behind, shuffling with anticipation. And another, syncing up like a pack forming.

"Hehe!"

A rough voice chuckled as a meaty hand clamped down on Renji's shoulder, squeezing with familiar bravado.

Bunji.

He leaned in close, his leather jacket creaking. His strong breath of cheap cigarettes and morning coffee was difficult to ignore as he spoke, "Glad you're finally joining us in the special activities, Renny boy."

Renji didn't say anything.

"Come on! Don't be like that. There's gotta be a way to make money, right? Us school dropouts and rejects of society, we gotta do shit like this just to get by. Scratch a living out of the cracks."

He patted Renji's back harder, almost shoving him forward in rhythm with the group. "Aren't you in a situation like ours, ey? I heard about your old man bailing with the stepmom, leaving you high and dry."

Renji still stayed quiet.

"It's gotta suck, but that proves you're not very different from us. You have no family safety net just like the rest of us." He squeezed his shoulder. "So cheer up, kid. It's a cruel world out there. And you're one of us now."

'One of you my ass,' Renji said inwardly. He would rather work in a ditch than become a delinquent and criminal.

Though that sounded hypocritical considering what he was just about to do.

He kept his expression simple, eyes forward on the empty street ahead, as boots scuffed behind him.

Rather than pulling away from Bunji's grip, he only shrugged slightly. "Yeah, whatever. I just hope nothing goes wrong. You promised we wouldn't get caught, right?"

Bunji laughed heartily, slapping Renji's back again as the group turned a corner into a side alley lined with shuttered shops and overflowing dumpsters.

"Stop being a scaredy cat, Renny boy. Nobody is getting caught? What do you think we are? Amateurs? We've been pulling these gigs for months. Right, boys?"

His goons, four of them, all rough around the edges with ripped jeans and hoodies despite the mild weather, grunted in agreement.

One flashed Renji a gold-toothed smirk. Another cracked his knuckles.

"See? Trust the pros. In and out, fat stacks, no sweat."

They walked on, the pack of delinquents swallowing Renji like he was the odd one out in a wolf pack.

Bunji led with swaggering steps, his bike parked blocks away to avoid noise; the others flanked, eyes darting for witnesses, hands twitching near pockets where masks and tools waited.

Renji trailed in the middle, wearing just casual clothes because he refused to dress like them.

They didn't bug him too much about it.

He was "in" now, or so they thought.

The streets grew quieter.

Now, the residential blocks had given away to a strip of small businesses.

They soon found their target.

It was a modest convenience store tucked between a pharmacy and an empty lot. The "Open" sign meant someone was inside.

Renji could see them through the glass arranging shelves.

Bunji halted the group, crouching low and signaling with a fist.

"Alright, Renji. This is it. Watch and learn, kiddo. We hit fast! We grab the register and shelves. You, you hang back and block the exit. We'll be out in a couple minutes. Easy yen."

They pulled fake pistols from his waistband and surged across the street like a shadow wave.

Renji followed behind them, pulled out his phone and typed 110 but didn't dial.

No one saw. They continued toward the stall, boots pounding on pavement.

Then with a violent jingle of the bell, the door bursted open.

"Hey! Give me all your money! All of it! Empty the register!"

The owner, a middle-aged woman in a faded apron, froze mid-stock with a box of instant noodles in her hands, her eyes widening in pure terror as the delinquents stormed in.

"Ah! Please! take what you want, just don't hurt me!" she shrieked, dropping the box as packets of ramen scattered across the floor.

Her hands shot up in surrender, pure fear in her eyes.

Renji watched from behind. Whether he had followed or not, this was going to happen. But he couldn't still help but feel guilty for the poor woman.

"Shut up and let's do our thing!"

Bunji led the charge, vaulting the counter in one leap, his massive frame looming over her as he yanked open the register with a metallic CHA-CHING!

Bills flew into a black duffel one goon held open.

"Don't kill me, please," the owner begged.

"Shut up and stay down, lady! Empty the safe too. Now!" he barked, shoving her toward the back with a rough hand on her shoulder.

She whimpered, knees buckling, crawling on the linoleum as tears streamed down her face, fumbling with shaking fingers at the under-counter safe, "P-please… my husband's sick… this is all we have…"

The goons fanned out and began to steal products from the shop.

They ripped cigarette cartons from behind the counter, stuffing them into bags with greedy crams; another stole energy drinks and snacks from shelves, one smashed the lottery ticket display, rolls tumbling like confetti.

The fourth guy was standing guard at the door as he had been ordered.

"Hurry up! Clock's ticking!" he hissed, peering out the window for any passersby.

Renji watched all of it silently. And when he was certain that everyone was busy, he slipped behind a tall snack stall by the door.

He wanted to dial the emergency line but he noticed a younger girl, the salesperson, hiding under a table.

She must have hid there quickly when they barged in.

Renji placed a finger to his lip, telling her to be quiet.

He then handed her the phone, and on it was the text message. 'Call the cops, say armed robbery is in progress.'

She looked up at him and nodded frantically through tears. Then she made the call.

Bunji zipped the duffel triumphantly. "Pack it up, guys. Let's get outta here."

He paused for a second, like he had felt something odd. Then he suddenly whipped his head to the spot Renji was supposed to be in.

And Renji was there, watching.

Bunji narrowed his eyes.

"Hope you're seeing how it's done Renny boy!" ,

What answered his question were loud blaring sirens.

They wailed in the distance, but grew louder in mere seconds.

Suddenly, they saw a police cruiser skid to a halt outside the store, tires screeching, lights flashing red and blue through the windows.

"What the hell! How did they know?!"

The delinquents' eyes widened in collective panic, masks doing nothing to hide the shock.

"How did they get here so fast?!" Another goon yelped, dropping a bag of chips in a burst.

Renji's face was filled with fear. "Bunji! You told me we wouldn't get caught!"

Bunji looked at him, then at the police car.

"Fuck it! I'm out of here!"

He barreled toward the back exit, abandoning the duffel and running as fast as he could as the others scrambled after him, tripping over scattered goods, cursing loudly.

Renji glanced outside.

He saw two officers bursting from the car, guns drawn.

One was a lean man in uniform, and the other was—yes!—Miyako Endo

She sprinted after the fleeing pack, "Police! Stop!" while the male officer charged towards him.

"Freeze! You're under arrest!"

Renji grimaced at the sight of the wrong cop.

'Fuck,' he thought, raising his hands.

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