High & Low ~The story of SWORD~

Act 17: April's Fool

The Amamiya Brothers were still searching for their eldest sibling. Masaki and Hiroto had scoured the bomb-blasted ruins of the Rude Boys' territory, yet there was still no sign of Takeru.

Now, on the solemn day marking the anniversary of their parents' death, they clung to a faint hope that he might appear. It was April 1st—a date they never forgot. Each year, they visited the cemetery to pay their respects. The only difference this year was the heavy absence of their brother.

They parked their motorcycle at the southwest edge of the cemetery. The air was still, the sky overcast with the kind of gloom that made even spring feel like winter. With quiet steps, they made their way across the rows of gravestones.

Masaki clutched a bouquet of white flowers. Hiroto walked beside him, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket, his face unreadable. The silence between them was thick with grief, a bitter aura trailing in their wake.

When they reached their parents' graves, both brothers knelt before the headstones. Masaki gently placed the bouquet against the stone, while Hiroto uncorked a small bottle of sake and respectfully poured it over the carved cross.

"Gomen... this year, it's only us," Masaki said, his voice low and mournful.

Hiroto didn't speak. He simply bowed his head, his grief as silent and heavy as the sky above them.

It was then that Masaki noticed movement out of the corner of his eye—a young woman approaching. Lowering his sunglasses slightly, he eyed her curiously. She looked uncertain but determined.

He stood, while Hiroto remained kneeling, eyes still fixed on the gravestone.

"Is this the Amamiya family grave?" the girl asked, her voice polite but tinged with caution. She had seen the surname on the stone, but she needed to be sure.

"Yes, it is," Masaki replied, studying her closely.

Hiroto spoke next, his tone colder. "Who are you?"

Masaki removed his sunglasses completely, slipping into his usual flirtatious air. "And what business might a lovely young lady have with our parents?"

"Parents?" Aika echoed, startled. That meant... these two were Takeru's brothers. But before she could gather her thoughts, a group of men dressed in white suddenly appeared.

Masaki and Hiroto turned sharply, instinctively alert.

"Busy day," Masaki muttered.

"Mm," Hiroto agreed coolly.

"Our parents would be thrilled," Masaki added sarcastically as they turned to face the intruders.

"Apologies for the interruption," one of the men said with mock politeness.

Masaki raised an eyebrow. "You came all this way just to apologize?"

"Hand over the girl!" another barked.

Hiroto glanced at Aika. "Friends of yours?"

But the men grew more aggressive. "Give her to us."

Masaki and Hiroto exchanged a look. Trouble. Masaki stepped in front of Aika protectively. "Go. Now," he whispered.

Without waiting for her reply, the brothers moved several paces away from the grave. They didn't want to fight in front of their parents.

The scuffle was brief. A few swift strikes and the men in white were sprawled across the ground—groaning, defeated. Masaki turned to Aika with a grin.

"Pretty cool, right?"

But Aika remained unimpressed. Her eyes were fixed on the line of black cars pulling up along the road.