"It trains my eyes!"

"Anyway, Towa, what are you up to out here?" asks Kotarō, leaning down to peer at Towa's face.

"Thinking dirty thoughts, I bet."

He straightens back up. "That'd be like him."

"It would?"

"I think it's the two of you who're always thinking dirty thoughts."

"Guilty as charged."

Towa shrugs. "I'm just having a smoke."

"So you're bored? Come with us to the Deathmatch Area, then."

"That's too far. Pass."

"I knew he was going to say something like that."

"You don't have anything better to do, right? Just humour your," he quirks one of the corners of his lips, "former blood brothers and come with us."

"Blood brothers? I never performed any sake rituals with you lot."

"Ah, speaking of rituals, you never showed to your old man's funeral."

"Like hell I would."

Kotarō smirks, as if he'd expected that response.

"There was a midnight vigil last night, and the funeral was earlier today."

"Cool."

"You really don't care at all, huh?"

"No."

Towa's certain the questions are at least partly Sakaki or someone else from the Takasato Group trying to confirm that he has no interest in inheriting his father's business. Anyone who's known him for five minutes should know the answer to that question, though, so he's not sure why they'd bother to ask. Maybe it wasn't Sakaki, after all.

"Eh, whatever. Let's go to the Deathmatch Area, c'mon!"

"You used to like punching people, didn't you? You might like it if you give it a try!"

"No."

"Quit your bitching and let's go already. C'mon, up you get," he says, grabbing Towa's arm and hauling him up to his feet and starting to drag Towa away, keeping a firm hold on him to prevent him from bolting away.

Not that he would. It'd be a lot more effort to resist, if he's being bodily dragged like this. Might as well go with it.