“You can’t hold up to the demands of those bloodhounds when they come,” Kenzo said, speaking the reality aloud.

  “It’s not like I’ve got a choice. Someone has to take the beating and cough out the coins,” I said reluctantly. I couldn't shake the foreboding feeling, even knowing exactly what would happen in two hours.

  We didn't doze off. We should have been sleeping after a long day, but it felt like the day wasn't over yet.

  Suddenly, heavy, thunder-like knocks hammered against the door. A couple more like that, and the door would fall right off its hinges.

  “Oi… Ahmad! Get out here!”

  A husky male voice barked from the other side of the door. I couldn’t afford to let these bastards break it down, so I scrambled up and yanked it open.

  Standing there were two men, barely a head taller than me, dressed in black suits with the upper buttons undone to expose their chests. Black and silver necklaces dangled against skin heavy with ink. One of them, Kuroda, had primal snake tattoos and piercings riddling his face. The other, Jiro, was covered in Japanese characters and gun tattoos. They dressed like every other scumbag who thought the world wasn't big enough to hold their balls.

  “Oi… where’s your fuckin' pops?” Kuroda asked in a condescending, irritated tone, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  “Your bitch-ass pa knows better than to make us come up to this damn shithole,” Jiro added. He surged forward, forcing me to take a step back as he invaded the apartment. Kuroda followed.

  “Kuroda, look at this swine-hole… (spits).” Jiro looked around in disgust and spat on our floor.

  “C’mon Jiro, have a little respect for your host… they do have standards,” Kuroda mocked. He attempted to lean against a wall but recoiled instantly, dusting off his suit with a face full of regret.

  Whenever it rains, our walls soak up moisture until the wood-pulp and rot turn into a weird, mud-like stain. The gangster’s fancy suit was now ruined by the filth of our home.

  “Don’t tell me your bitch-ass father bailed again and left you to scrap for coins?” Jiro grinned.

  Kuroda walked toward me slowly. “Then let’s get on with it.”

  He launched a front kick into my stomach that sent me flying back against the wall. Before I could catch my breath, Kuroda pulled a baton from his jacket. Jiro headed for my mother, who had rushed out of the room at the noise. Kenzo tried to intercept him, but Jiro tossed him aside like a rag. He grabbed my mother by her hair, dragging her across the room before slamming her into the wall. She hit the floor like a dead thing would.

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  Then the baton started falling. Kuroda beat me mercilessly, the metal rod cracking against my skin. I curled into a millipede, protecting my vitals. After several seconds of being bashed, Kuroda pried my arms away and gripped my neck, lifting me off the ground with one hand.

  My whole body trembled. I was beaten blue-black. But the worst pain was in my eyes. I had to watch Jiro holding my mother and sister by their hair like animals, while his boot was planted firmly on Kenzo’s chest. The more Kenzo struggled, the more force Jiro applied, until my brother was groaning through tears of sheer agony.

  “This beating is on your ass-for-a-father,” Kuroda hissed into my face. “It’s the tip of the iceberg of what we’ll do if you don’t try your best. Now… where’s the money?”

  I couldn’t speak. I feebly glanced at my right pocket.

  “What are you moving your useless eyes for?” Kuroda gripped my neck tighter. “Say what you fuckin' want to say!”

  “(Breathing hard)… Rig… Right… Pock… et,” I managed to murmur.

  Kuroda fished out the 11,740 yen. Jiro began to laugh menacingly, shaking my mother and sister by their hair. “Fucker thinks we’re joking… fucker thinks we’re joking!”

  “You currently owe us 274,400,000 fuckin' yen,” Kuroda said rhetorically, “and you give us this... this shit?”

  He dropped me. I hit the ground like a cripple. Kuroda walked over to my sister and put his hand on her shoulder. My heart stopped, but Jiro redirected him.

  “Deal with this asshole,” Jiro gestured to Kenzo under his boot. “He tried to touch me with his filthy hands earlier.”

  Kuroda flipped Kenzo onto his belly. My brother’s eyes were wide with a terror so pure it looked like his soul was already crushed. Kuroda stretched Kenzo’s right arm forward and raised the baton high.

  CRACK.

  The sound of the bone snapping below the elbow was sickening. Kenzo screamed in soul-twisting pain. Kuroda didn't give him a second to breathe. He moved to the left arm and brought the baton down again.

  Kenzo wailed and trembled. When the bastards were satisfied with the noise, Jiro threw my mother and sister onto the damp floor. They walked to the door, but Jiro turned back one last time.

  “Meet us under Uzika Bridge every two weeks to pay a decent portion of the debt. If you’re late, you’re fucked. If you don’t show—your whore-mother gets roughed up next.”

  They left the door standing open. I staggered to my feet and dragged myself toward it. As they reached the stairs, I heard them talking.

  “That bastard Ahmad ran again. Boss isn't gonna be thrilled,” Kuroda complained.

  “Nothing to worry about as long as the family is here. His son can fill the spot,” Jiro replied.

  “The brat is E-Grade. He can’t replace Ahmad. How the fuck do we use him?”

  “He’s worth shit, but he isn't human at least. We’ll deal with the father when he soberly crawls back… damn, my hand is shaking from the beating.”

  The door clicked shut. I returned to my brother’s side. My mother was squeezing him too tight, her grief making her blind to his struggle for air.

  “Mom, please… let him breathe.” I pulled her away and yelled toward the corner. “Eiji! Help me move him!”

  Eiji shook himself out of his morbid trance and helped me pull Kenzo to a corner. we propped him against the wall and gave him the rest of Fuyuko’s herbs. We used rags and sticks to splint his broken arms, tying them off and cleaning the blood with the last of the water.

  Eventually, the herbs did their work. Kenzo fell into a deep, patchy sleep. I sent the others to the inner room. I sat there, watching Kenzo breathe—surprisingly peaceful given the trauma.

  I leaned against the frail wall. We were lucky. Lucky to have a neighbor like Fuyuko. Lucky they didn't rape my mother or the twins or Kenzo... I didn't think about it for long; there was no point. I just sat in the silence, watching my brother sleep.

  I felt a strange sense of thankfulness that the extreme worst hadn't happened. With that thought lingering in the back of my mind, I unknowingly but finally lost my consciousness.