Ring Ring
Ri— Toot
"Mmh... huh—ah crap, it's today."
Daiki blinked at the cracked screen of his old phone. The digital clock glared: 7:48 AM.
Below it, a notification:
[HQ Briefing – 9AM sharp]
[Location: Warehouse]
[No hangovers, no excuses. Looking at you, Shun.]
He grinned and rolled over, stretching like a sunbathing cat. His hoodie sleeve got caught over his face, but he shoved it off with a lazy laugh.
Tea. Eggs. Straight from the pan with chopsticks. Burned his mouth. Cursed. Kept chewing.
Today mattered.
He swung his legs off the bed and almost stepped on a half-full cup of cold ramen. "Whoa—hey now, no casualties," he muttered, nudging it aside.
Cracking the blinds, he squinted into the morning glare of Shinjuku. The sun hit him right between the eyes.
"Rude," he mumbled, but smiled anyway. The city was already alive—vendors shouting, scooters buzzing, engines kicking over. Just another day. Except... not quite.
He tugged his hoodie on, sleeves a little too long, and padded into the kitchen. The fridge opened with a soft click.
Full.
Still felt weird.
Leftovers. Eggs. Juice. Even tea. He stared for a second, then chuckled.
"…Can't believe he actually did it."
Eggs cracked into a pan. Sizzle. Steam. Real breakfast smell. Not gas station scraps. Not scavenged bread.
"Guy shows up, wrecks a devil-contractor like it's nothing, and next thing we know, he's buying groceries for twenty people."
Daiki leaned on the counter, brow furrowed. Nirvikar's face flashed in his mind—silent, unreadable, handing over cash to buy food with no speech, no fanfare. Just doing it.
"Fed us like we mattered," he said softly, almost to himself.
He turned off the heat, plated the eggs, grabbed a rice ball, and settled by the window.
The streets below were still rough, still marked by what came before—the chaos, the gang, the fear. But quieter now. Safer.
He checked the time again.
8:13 AM.
"Alright, alright," he said, stuffing the rest of the rice ball into his mouth. "Time to pretend I know what I'm doing."
Bag slung over one shoulder, hoodie adjusted, he stepped outside. The sun caught him full in the face.
A week ago, none of this made sense.
Now?
Now it felt real.
---
Shinjuku was warming up fast. Long shadows still cut across the pavement, but the light had started to creep in, glazing everything in soft gold. Daiki moved through the crowd—past salarymen, around a delivery cart, weaving his way to *their* block.
The warehouse stood like it always had—concrete, old, green shutters partway up. Once junk storage. Now? HQ.
A "Do Not Park – Active Loading Zone" sign still hung on the side, but someone had tagged it with a crude fire symbol sprayed over the sign—jagged, uneven, streaked in red, orange, and blue. Not clean, not pretty. Just raw. Like someone didn't draw it so much as carve it into the wall. A mark, not a logo. The kind you leave behind when you're ready to burn.
Someone gave a damn.
Daiki shoved the rolling door up.
Inside, life.
Sparring on the mats. Laughter from the corner. Someone cursing at the coffee machine again. A corkboard full of pinned maps and thread and ideas. It looked like a mess. But it breathed.
"Look who actually showed up early," came a voice from the right.
Daiki sighed. "Shun."
The lanky teen strolled over, toothpick in mouth, beanie slipping off bleach-damaged hair.
"You look like somebody's little brother cosplaying a delinquent," Shun said, flicking his hoodie string.
"And you look like a glitchy NPC in a beat-em-up," Daiki shot back. "Patch that sarcasm bug yet?"
Fist bump. Easy rhythm.
"Coffee's busted," Shun grumbled.
"Lemme guess. Kaz poured soda into the tank again?"
"Nah. Rika kicked it. Worked after that."
Daiki snorted, then dropped his voice. "She's not staying, right?"
"Nope. Dropped something for the Boss. Didn't say a word to anyone."
They both glanced across the warehouse.
Nirvikar sat near the loading bay. One leg crossed, eyes closed. A quiet radio hummed beside him. Same old jacket. Same unreadable calm.
But something was different. Not warmer—just... there. Like he wasn't watching from afar anymore.
Daiki exhaled through his nose. "Hey, Shun."
"Yeah?"
"You think this is real? Us? This crew?"
Shun scratched his cheek. "Dunno, man. But we're here. We're doing it."
Others were trickling in—some bandaged, some hauling gear. But no one looked lost. Everyone moved like they belonged.
Daiki took a breath. "He told us the name five days ago, right?"
Shun nodded. "Firelight."
Daiki smiled faintly. "Didn't sound hopeful when he said it."
"Nope. Sounded like a warning."
"Still," Daiki said, "it stuck with me. Like… not about hope. Just about burning harder than what's trying to kill you."
"Be the first to burn. Be the last to fall," Shun echoed.
And for a second, the two stood in the noise and motion of the warehouse—quiet, steady, present.
And just like that, the memory came back—unfolding in their minds.
The sound of the warehouse shifted. The hum of voices faded into distant echoes. A radio crackled softly in the background. Daiki leaned against a support beam, gaze unfocused, as if staring past the walls.
His voice was quieter now, almost to himself.
"…The night he said it," Daiki murmured. "When the dust hadn't even settled yet."
Shun didn't respond—just stayed still beside him.
The light in the warehouse dimmed a little as clouds passed over the sun. Or maybe it was just in Daiki's head
- Flashback -
Two days after the celebration. Night.
The warehouse still smelled like sweat, old wood, and fresh paint.
Most of them sat on crates, hunched or leaning, waiting for someone to say something. Nirvikar stood near the center—not on a platform, not raised above anyone—just there. Arms crossed, silent for a moment too long.
Shun muttered to Daiki, "You think he's building suspense or just forgot what he was gonna say?"
"Bro, he doesn't forget. He probably rehearsed this three times while staring at a wall."
"Creepy."
"Kinda hot."
Shun turned. "What?"
Daiki shrugged. "I'm just saying. If he smiled once, I'd fall in love. You wouldn't?"
"…I hate you."
A few chuckles sparked near them, but the mood stayed low. People were watching—uncertain, waiting—but not sure why they were waiting.
Then Nirvikar finally spoke. His voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.
"You all fought beside me last week."
He looked around the room. Slow, steady. Not commanding. Just… certain.
"You didn't fold. You didn't run."
Pause.
"I don't care why you did it. Doesn't matter if it was survival, revenge, boredom, pride. You stood. That's what I saw."
Shun leaned in again. "Damn. He really did rehearse this."
"Shut up," Daiki muttered, still watching.
"I won't repeat myself," Nirvikar said. Voice flat. Cold. Steady. "You're not thugs, not rats. Not nobodies anymore. Not unless you want to stay there."
He scanned the group—calm, unblinking.
"You were useless when I found you. Most of you would've died in the streets. Some of you came to me asking for protection, choking on your own blood."
Another pause. No flinching.
"Now you're here. Breathing. That means something."
From his pocket, he pulled out a folded slip of paper. Held it up like it mattered.
"I've been thinking about a name."
The air shifted—slight, but real. A few raised eyebrows. The room leaned in.
He unfolded it. Let the silence breathe. Eyes on the paper a second longer than necessary.
"Firelight."
Quiet—not confusion. Just people taking it in.
He let it hang before adding, "It's not about hope. It's not about being some guiding light in the dark. I'm not interested in poetic bullshit."
A few people cracked small grins at that.
"It's about burning. About being the only thing glowing when everything else turns to ash. It means we're the ones who burn brighter. First to strike. Last to fall—even when the days go dark."
His tone didn't waver.
"It's a warning. A promise. You cross this line, you feel the heat. That's what it means."
Some nodded. A few shared glances. The weight was starting to settle.
"If you stay, you follow orders. We expand. No drugs. No trafficking. Keep the blood controlled. We're not saints—but we're not rats either."
He stepped back. Just one pace.
"Decide your life."
No one moved.
No one left.
There was no cheer. No clapping. Just silence thick enough to feel. Something had changed.
Nirvikar folded the paper again. Slid it back into his coat.
"Don't waste the name. Earn it."
Then he walked off. Simple as that.
The silence didn't last long.
It cracked. Shifted. Gave way to murmurs, low voices, new energy.
Daiki leaned back on his crate, arms behind his head. "And just like that, we've got a name and a brooding main character. I give it three days before we get a theme song."
Shun grinned. "Bet. But you're singing it."
He leaned over again. "Honestly, I thought we'd be the Stray Dogs or something."
Daiki smirked. "That name sucks. Firelight's better. Has that… grit. You don't glow without pain, you know?"
"You sound like you read quotes off bathroom walls."
"Eat me."
Daiki glanced at him again. "Okay, real talk—dope name, yeah?"
Shun exhaled through his nose. "Yeah. I feel it now. Makes the blood run a bit warmer."
Daiki grinned. "And we're not even drunk."
Shun didn't say anything after that. Neither did Daiki, for a while.
They just sat there, watching the others drift toward talk, toward action, toward something.
And even if none of them said it out loud, they all felt the same thing creeping in—
Not pride.
Not safety.
Just that dangerous little heat in the chest.
Like maybe, for the first time in their lives, they weren't just surviving.
They were burning.
- Flashback End -
Present day.
The meeting that morning was about reclaiming what the Hounds left behind.
They weren't a big-name gang, but they had territory—lots of it. Their racket was protection, and they ran it well enough to own bars, a legal casino, and even an underground fighting arena that somehow passed inspection.
Firelight split into two teams.
Recon would walk the streets. Find what was unclaimed and plant the name.
Acquisition would go after the businesses. Flip what the Hounds used to run. No guns. Just pressure, presence, and better deals.
Daiki led the Recon team through the old turf. Streets still smelled like piss and cheap bleach. Half the shops were shuttered. The rest looked like they were just waiting to get hit again.
But Firelight wasn't here to scare people.
They were here to replace the fear.
Daiki gave the same pitch at every stop:
"We're not raising your rates. We're cutting them—twenty percent less than what the Hounds charged. You'll get protection, fast response, and no bullshit. But you're under us now."
Some folks looked unsure. Some looked desperate enough to say yes before he finished.
But all of them understood one thing—Firelight was real.
And they weren't bluffing.
When one bar owner pushed back—"And if I say no?"—Daiki just shrugged.
"Then don't be surprised if someone finds you in pieces next month. 'Cause we won't be the ones coming."
That sealed it.
By nightfall, twenty-something properties had flipped.
A few Hounds still lurked in the cracks. Some came crawling. Some got stomped out.
The word spread fast.
"That new group? It's called Firelight."
"They took out the Hounds in one night. Didn't even break a sweat."
"The leader—he's the real deal. Devil-killer. Only one contract and he walks through hell like it's his living room."
"No, nah, I heard he's got multiple."
"Nah, I heard he doesn't even make pacts—just eats devils. Like, vessels them or molds 'em or something."
"Bullshit. If he's that strong, why not go legit? Join Public Safety or something."
"Who needs a badge when the streets already flinch at your name?"
"'Heard he killed a mid-rank just barehanded. No weapons. Just tore it apart."
"I heard he talked a devil into offing itself."
"No, I heard he was a devil once. Human now, or pretending."
"Man, y'all believe anything. He's just some psycho with power. Probably gets off crushing nobodies like us."
"Nah. You seen the way his crew moves? He's building something. Clean. No drugs, no trafficking. That ain't psycho work."
"Sounds more like a cult leader."
"I heard he burned a guy alive just for touching one of his own."
"Ain't no way. He's a saint, I'm telling you."
"Who the f*ck is a saint in this world?"
"Doesn't matter. The name's out there now. Firelight. And people are listening."
Some talked like he was a monster—cold and untouchable.
Some called him a ghost—here one second, gone the next.
Others whispered like they were talking about a god—distant, terrifying, and maybe the only thing left worth believing in.
---
That night, Daiki sat up on the warehouse roof.
Below, the crew was scattered—some sparring, some drinking, some joking around like they hadn't bled just days ago. The warehouse flickered with barrel flames and stolen bulbs. It wasn't paradise.
But it felt like something.
The metal groaned behind him.
Daiki didn't need to turn to know who it was.
"We're really doing this," he said, eyes still on the streets.
Nirvikar didn't answer.
Daiki didn't mind the silence.
"Last week… I thought we were all gonna die. Honestly. Thought that was it."
He exhaled, slow.
"But it doesn't feel wasted now. Even the ones we lost."
Still no reply. Just the wind and fire below.
Daiki glanced back.
"You ever smile, Boss?"
Nirvikar's face didn't move. Stone.
"…I do," he said finally. "Just not at things that end."
Daiki let out a low laugh—dry, warm, tired.
"Then maybe we should build something that doesn't."
For a long second, there was just silence between them.
Then Daiki spoke again, a little softer.
"You know, I never said thanks. Not really. Not since the Flea Devil."
"I was just another street orphan. I had a job, yeah, but it was scraps. Surviving, not living."
"I don't know what you've been through. Still don't. But you changed something for all of us."
He looked back again.
"So lean on us sometimes. Even if it's just a little."
Nirvikar paused.
Then gave a small nod.
That was enough.
Daiki didn't need him to break character or spill some grand speech. Just that nod.
Just enough to know he heard him.
He wasn't trying to fix Nirvikar.
He just wanted him to stop carrying everything alone.
If Firelight was going to mean something, it had to start there.
===========
AN:
I think I did a great job at fleshing out Daiki, the hard part is keeping that consistent. Now I don't know how to properly make the background characters feel alive other than noise yet but It's a start.
Leave your suggestions and Criticisms here, Even opinions matter. Have a nice day.
Word Count: 2501