Warnings: Depictions of violence and foul language.

Sakurai, despite becoming a highly ranked member of the notorious
Too gang and fairly quickly at that, is not what one would call a tough guy.
For someone with tattoos and a penchant for torn jeans and a leather jacket, he’s
rather timid, a constant apology on his lips for anyone who will accept it (or
not). But that doesn’t mean he can’t
fight, he just needs the proper motivation.

And he’s about to run into a whole lot of it.  

The day started out simple, Imayoshi issuing orders to make rounds of Too’s territory, collecting intel on rival gang activities and generally
making sure things are copacetic. Aomine walks lazily down the street, hands
shoved in his pockets and a cigarette dangling from his lips. Beside him,
Sakurai casts furtive looks back and forth, keeping an eye out for trouble.

“Tch, what a shit job,” Aomine grumbles, tossing away his
addict stick, “I don’t see why Imayoshi has me doing this! Isn’t this type of crap for the underlings?”

“We…we have a presence…to maintain,” Sakurai mumbles, eyes
not quite meeting those of the blue hair.

Aomine huffs. “Yeah, some presence. How the hell did you even
make it into the inner circle, Sakurai?”

Sakurai opens his mouth, no doubt to apologize, when a
scream makes both of them stop in their tracks, heads whipping towards the
location of the outburst.

“Let me go!”

That voice, Sakurai knows it better than anything in this
world. He’s off like a shot, Aomine’s shouts of protest falling on deaf ears.
Sakurai doesn’t care if he follows or not, he’s going to you. He rounds a
corner into a dark alley, blood boiling when he sees street rat shit from he doesn’t
care where cornering you.

“Come on baby, you know you want it, why else would you be
down here?” says a tall male with slicked back hair, his
hands on either side of your head preventing your escape.

“Ple…please,” your voice quakes, “I…I don’t want any
trouble.”

“Well, doll,” coos another, his eyes blocked by shaggy
bangs, “that’s too bad, because trouble’s what we’re known for.”

“HEY!”

A shout draws all your attention, your eyes widening further
when you realize just who it is who’s done so. To your recollection, you’ve
never heard Sakurai shout, at least, not in anger. And you’ve never seen him
this enraged, not even while on the court.

“What do ya want, mouse?” spats your captor.

“Back the fuck off of my girl,” comes Sakurai’s reply, his tone
ice cold.

“Oooooo, so scary,” taunts a third member, an orange hair,
putting his hands up in mock defense.

“Shut that fucker up, Hara, “ the slick hair orders, returning
his attention to you as he continues, “Now, where were we?”

Hara blows a bubble before spitting out his gum
while cracking his knuckles. He takes one step forward but Sakurai is already
moving, focused on getting to you. He dodges his opponent’s grab, skirting around and
whipping his legs out from under him. Hara falls on his ass and receives a
vicious kick to the face, knocking him out prompting Yamazaki to pull his
knife.

Sakurai doesn’t even pause, grappling the taller male to the
ground hard enough to send the weapon clattering away under a nearby dumpster.
A swift punch breaks his nose, blood gushing from the orifice making tears
flood his eyes. Sakurai jumps up, hell bent on killing the bastard who’s
dared to touch you.  

The commotion behind him makes Seto turn around
just in time to have his throat clenched tightly by Sakurai’s hand. With power
you didn’t know he had, your boyfriend slams him against the wall, head hitting
the brick with a sickening thud. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a flash
and cry out, “Ryo, no!” His eyes meet yours, fierce and determined. You place a
hand on his shoulder, gaze imploring as you whisper, “I’m fine, let’s…let’s
just go, ok?”

He pauses, but then nods, the flick of his wrist signaling
the retreat of his butterfly knife. Looking up into Seto’s eyes, he growls out,
“Next time I catch you even looking
at her, I’ll gouge your fucking eyes out.”

He releases his captive in favor of taking your hand and
leading you out of the darkening dead end. Aomine chuckles, “Shit, never knew you had it in you, Sakurai.”

“That’s what people get for touching what’s mine,” he
mumbles, drawing you closer and planting a kiss to your temple. “No coming out
here by yourself anymore, ok?”

You can only nod, thankful to be back in the safety of his
arms.