She had spent the last three months looking for the perfect subject to enter in the contest. Triumphant photographers would be awarded with their work displayed in a gallery. She had intended to enter another piece she acquired in her trip to the Americas, but the necessity struck her to use a more domestic candidate. Something familiar but unknown, unbridled by the camera, making it all the more captivating. It was a heavy order to fill, and she still hadn't found anything that suited her. The deadline for submissions was closing in fast, and she was beginning to think she might have to withdraw.

But she'd found it. Or rather, them.

Hana saw them unexpectedly one morning when she was running late for class. Their voices carried in jovial fun, and she stopped her charge just long enough to get a glimpse of them. A group of boys gathered around a grill outside a rundown gas station, all looking their share of intimidating but none acting especially threatening.

Something about them enamored her. They were the real deal teenage delinquents. All bronze and no brains aside, she could tell by their camaraderie that other qualities existed: loyalty, passion, trust, endurance. That was what she wanted to capture through her camera. They were her muses.

So, a few days later, when she was able to skip a few classes, she went back. Sure enough, there they still stood, looking very much the way she left them. There was something a little different, though she wasn't sure what. Her camera would find it sooner or later, and she stood across the street under a shady tree, hunting through the lens.

There were five of them, all fairly predictable based on their appearances. Two twins that looked like an unnecessary blend of Yankee and Bōsōzoku marked their trade through excessive chatter and dirty humor. One guy had long braids at least five times the length of her short caramel-brown hair, and his pocketed hands matched the lazy grin covering his wild-eyed face. The one next to him was a little sleeker but nonetheless just as wild-spirited, perhaps even more so judging by the sneer in his lip. The last guy possessed a brand of handsomeness none of the others mimicked. A rope headband was tied around his head, and his gently ambitious eyes puzzled her. He was different than the rest, yet not.

But what was missing? A centerpiece; a bond; a leader. These guys wouldn't come together voluntarily. A ring leader must rally these troops, and she was certain none of them were it.

Suddenly, her camera was yanked from her hands. She snapped her head up and glared at the guy turning away with her camera. "Oie! What're you doing?"

He threw the camera down with a brand of strength she'd never personally witnessed, but he did it with a look of utter boredom. The lens popped off instantly, and various tiny bits scattered across the pavement. He stomped it just once, no less bored, and then stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked across the street.

Hana gawked at her dismembered and broken camera. All her pictures, not just from today, but from the weeks before. Those moments.

She threw her bag down beside the dilapidated pieces and stomped after him. "Oie!" He joined the group of guys gathered across the street, and her shout attracted all their attention except his. "OIE! Do you have any idea what you've just done?"

He dropped down on a crate and lit up a cigarette as one of the guys indicated their roasting hotdogs. "Do you have any idea what you were doing?" He inhaled on the nicotine and looked up at her, boredom never ceasing. "It's an invasion of privacy to take pictures of people without tellin em. I acted on my rights."

"Your right to destroy personal property?"

"My right to protect my privacy."

Hana scoffed, in the midst of them now, but her fury was so hot at this point that their full attention almost escaped her notice. "You could have asked me politely! That's an $800 camera, you asshole!" He was back to watching the hotdogs cook and exchanged conversation with one of the twins sitting next to him. "Oie!"

There was a hand on her shoulder, and the contact made her recoil instantly. It was the handsomest guy, but that fact didn't quench her anger in the slightest. He gave a half smile. "Maybe we could talk this out calmly. This doesn't need to be a scene."

"Calmly?" She rolled her eyes and threw a hand in the sitting man's direction. "Maybe you should teach him the concept of handling things calmly. Until then, action first and negations later is the only way to reach this pinhead."

"Oie," snapped the braided man. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

"If I knew, I'd sue his ass." Hana glared at her enemy, who still managed to look remarkably bored despite the growing irritation of his comrades. "Give me the money for a new camera."

He scoffed and looked at her again. "Why don't you just get it fixed?"

Was he serious? Hana gawked, moving her mouth with the devout intention of screaming profanities at him, but it took several times for her voice to finally travel past her lips. "Get it fixed? You're the one who broke it! Why should I pay for it? And with a camera like that, it costs just as much to fix it as it does to buy a new one, and thanks to you I'm short on time and patience, so give me the money for my camera before I pull all that hair right out of your head!"

Now he grinned and almost laughed as he turned one of the hotdogs. "Ridiculous."

She made fists. "What?"

"Tamao." The handsome one nudged the rude one's shoulder.

Tamao glanced dryly at him. "What? She's the one making a scene."

"Scene? I'll show you a scene!" She took a step closer, but the handsome guy stepped between them.

He held up his hands defensively, dispelling any immediate hostility. "Uh, maybe we can reach a compromise, uhh…?"

She took her glare from Tamao and set it on the peacemaker. "Yamada Hana."

He smiled. "Hana. I'm Tatsukawa Tokio." She noticed the way he looked at her. He was cute but not cute enough to sweet talk her. "I think this is all just a big misunderstanding—"

"Then let me make it clear. I did nothing wrong by taking pictures in a public place, therefore it was not an invasion of privacy, and you are going to pay me for my camera or—"

"He'll pay you for it," Tokio interrupted abruptly.

Hana blinked, and Tamao snapped his head up in shock. "He will?"

"I will?" Tamao echoed.

"But in return," he continued, "you have to do something for us."

Hana glared and lunged forward to grab at Tokio, but Tamao jumped up out of his seat and held her back. "You stupid Yak-wannabes! Get over here; I'll give you something!"

Then there was a scuffle behind her, and she stopped to turn and look down at the man on the ground. His head was buzzed down, and he dressed in khaki slacks with a white button-down. He appeared semi-presentable except for the blanket of sweat draping his face. When he looked up at her, she got the distinct impression they met before.

"Kawaishi-san." No sooner had Tokio spoken the name that a hoard of bald guys dressed in off-gray uniforms ran around the corner. They stumbled to a panting halt.

The guys around her looked suddenly tense and suspicious, but all that Hana noticed was that the path the new arrivals took led them trampling over her already ruined camera. "Oie!" She jumped toward them now as they approached, but Tamao grabbed her arm. He didn't bother to look at her as he and his crew met the baldies halfway, blocking the fallen guy.

"Hey!" shrieked one the opponents. "You better hand him over to us!"

"What the hell do you baldies want?" one of Tamao's men replied, taking a step forward only to have Tokio block him with his arm. The outburst caused a fit of screaming from the hoard.

"Now guys, calm down," Tokio interceded. Quite obviously, he was the voice of reason in this environment of fists-a-cuffs. But they weren't having it.

"What did you say?" Hana watched this enemy man carefully. He had bushy hair pulled back from his face, but the Yankee trademark strip across his nose didn't help his already obnoxious disposition. He was somewhat good looking, definitely in a renegade sort of way, but she didn't like the way he looked at Tokio like he was vermin.

"SERIZAWAAA!" Another cry from the hoard. The guy who stomped forward most certainly was not attractive in any way. He had a gold tooth on one side, his hair was too short, his upper lip too snarly, his forehead too big, and his eyes too wide. The combination made him appear insane, and, judging by the way he strutted anxiously toward the front, this Serizawa person made him all the more crazy. "Hey, do you plan to cover for Kawaishi?"

"Suzuran and Housen have a pact of non-aggression," answered Tokio.

"We've been waiting for the day that guy gets out of prison."

"Because of what happened two years ago?" Tamao asked. Hana didn't know whether to be impressed or annoyed that he still looked bored.

"He's just a murderer." Hana's eyes dropped to the man on the ground. He didn't look like a murderer, but what did she know about murderers? Still, the accusation put a burden on him, and he stood as the ridicule continued. "He was expelled from Suzuran so you have nothing to do with this."

"You're not the one to decide that," Tamao replied curtly. "I am."

"Serizawa." It was then that Hana realized this nemesis, Serizawa, was Tamao. Serizawa Tamao. "If you've decided to step into this situation, we're gonna have to deal with you also."

"Hey, you idiots." Now another set of guys joined in the growing circle. Hana was beginning to feel overwhelmed by the increasing level of pigheaded testosterone closing in around her.

"Genji," spoke Tokio.

"Hey bastard, get out of here," the enemy leader ordered.

"What the hell is going on here?" Genji asked. There was some similarity between him and Tamao, particularly in their distinct look of boredom. But his was somewhat different. Tamao's look was cold and entirely unreadable. This guy looked like he could be easily goaded into action, an observation that didn't sit well at the moment.

"This has nothing to do with you," Tamao replied. For the first time, he seemed a little concerned by the intrusion. Only a little, and only for a moment.

Genji glanced at him briefly and clearly held back a smirk. "Stop acting cool, you hobo."

Hana had to bit her lip not to laugh. She hadn't paid too much attention to Tamao's appearance because of her greater interest in getting her money. But now that she looked at him, he was a bit shabby around the edges: long unkempt hair, a scruffy beard reaching up into his hairline as well as over his lips, his lack of shoes; a bummy old shirt.

Nevertheless, there was something equally appealing. His eyes were perfectly shaped and matched to his naturally arched eyebrows. His nose was just the right length, though it leaned just a little to the right—no doubt from various fights. He carried himself well for his height, despite his ruggedness, and his jaw line angled his face in the just the right way to make his neck stretch nicely between head and chest. Then his lips—

Hana blinked and shifted a little closer. Yes, they were perfect, too. Not pouty, but sensually protruding with a reddish-pink tint and nice curve. For a hobo, he was ridiculously perfect.

"You shouldn't be calling the head of Suzuran a hobo," the bushy-haired enemy interrupted her thoughts.

Genji looked at him and threw down his cigarette. Then in seconds, he landed a punch across the man's face then a kick to the gut, and, as the enemy went down, a blonde enemy stepped in to take revenge, but Genji blocked and punched his face too. Hana jumped back instinctively, especially when the fleet of adversaries tried to advance, but Tokio restrained Genji the same time the enemy leader blocked his own troops. The hysterics ended just as quickly as they erupted, and that was when she saw it.

Tamao looked panicked. Not frightened but shocked and concerned about whatever passed through his mind. She couldn't blame him; her own thoughts were a little chaotic at the moment.

The ugly leader turned slowly, a malicious grin across his unattractive face. Subconsciously, she took the final step forward and clutched Tamao's hand, somewhat hiding part of her body behind his sturdy one. He didn't push her away; his mind was focused on the guys in front of them.

"Are you also from Suzuran?"

"Takiya Genji," Genji replied, pushing himself free of Tokio.

"He's the head of Suzuran," one of Genji's goons added. He was not especially attractive either, particularly standing by Tokio and Genji. To be frank, he reminded her of Kuwabara from Yu-Yu-Hakusho. "Don't you forget it!"

The ugly enemy's face dropped a moment then tweaked back into malcontent. "Serizawa! This guy just broke the non-aggression pact. So that means Housen and Suzuran are going to war once again, doesn't it?"

"This concerns me and not some war," answered Tamao firmly.

"But since the head of Suzuran started it, we can't just let this go."

Genji slung off Tokio again and proceeded forward. "Fine by me."

"Stop it, Genji!" Tokio and another of Genji's group restrained him instantly. Hana got the impression this sort of impulsiveness wasn't out of character.

"Kawaishi Noburu!" the ugly enemy shouted over the tension. "We'll let you off just for today." Then he turned and walked away. "Let's go."

"Hey baldies!" summoned one of Tamao's twins. "Say hi to your mothers for me!"

Tamao turned away from the retreating enemies and met Hana's blank stare. He glanced at her hand around his then back at her. She dropped it immediately and stepped away. His focus altered instantly to the man behind her. "Long time no see. When did you get out?"

"Don't worry," Kawaishi replied. He didn't make eye contact with them as he walked in the opposite direction of the adversaries.

His departure was a sudden release from this other world, and Hana remembered her camera. She ran across the street and collapsed in front of the mangled pieces. It was ruined. Even if there had been any chance of fixing it before, there was no possible way now. It had been trampled into at least eight different bigger pieces with fragments scattered across the pavement. She retrieved her bag solemnly and carefully placed the parts inside. Her vision was obliterated.

And those bastards didn't even notice.

Hana zipped her bag shut, jumped up, and stomped after Housen. "Freaking jerk-offs," she mumbled darkly under her breath. "This isn't over yet."

It didn't take long to catch up to the entourage of white-clad baldies. They were much less menacing from behind, which might explain why she had the courage to pull her bag back and swing it full-force against the back of one of their heads. Her victim fell flat on his face but quickly jumped up and glared furiously at her. "You bitch!"

"I'm not through with you guys yet," she hissed.

Three men readied to jump her but were stopped by a hand on of their shoulders. It was the ugly one. "Oie, what's goin on back here?"

"You assholes talk pretty tough, but if that's all you're good for, you've met your match here."

He raised a confused eyebrow then slowly grinned. "You're that girl with Serizawa."

Hana tried not to let the comment make her any angrier than she already was but couldn't hold back the irritated set of her jaw. "Apologize."

He scoffed. "For what?"

She held up her bag then slammed it down on the ground. "You bald freaks trampled by camera. Apologize."

"What's in your head, huh? Do you have any idea who we are?"

"Apologize."

His smirk diminished. "You'd better get out of here while you still can, little girl."

"Apologize!"

"Would you shut up already?"

"Apologize!"

"You piece'a—"

"Oie." Hana and the ugly guy were inches apart, fists clutched and faces glaring, but they both diverted curiously at the new voice. It was another guy in white, and Hana knew immediately he was their true leader. He carried himself a certain way. His shoulder-length black hair was parted down the center and sat flatly on his head, but if one focused solely on his face, he was handsome: a nicely shaped face, a confident air, a well-trimmed goatee, and eyes that stared straight through a person's flesh.

He walked up and kept his eyes on the ugly guy. "Matoba." The ugly guy averted his gaze then stepped back, and the newcomer looked at her. "What's this about?"

Hana snatched her bag up from the ground and thrust it at him. "Your goons destroyed my camera. I want an apology."

He took the bag from her and checked the contents. "I guess so." He tossed the bag back to her. "Gomen. My guys were a little preoccupied—"

"Not you," she interrupted. Her eyes snapped to Matoba. "Him. And the rest of the yin monks."

He didn't respond at first, but Hana returned her glare to him. Finally, he smirked. "Matoba, apologize."

Matoba gawked. "What?" The leader's head turned swiftly to the opposition, and Matoba pressed his lips angrily together. He motioned his hand behind him, and, as he bowed, the group of guys behind him did the same. "Gomen."

Hana wasn't appeased. She still didn't have her camera, and a nagging necessity to kick Matoba's gold tooth out of his mouth tugged at her muscles. But it would have to do. She shouldered her bag and bowed her head just slightly. Her eyes never left the displeased mob. "Good."

The leader gave Matoba another look, and the group turned to leave. "You're with Serizawa?"

Hana snapped her head up. "Iie! He's just as big an asshole as your army here!"

The answer made him smile. "Good." He followed behind his men but stopped after only a few steps. "What's your name?"

She didn't like the way he looked at her. That gaze of his could penetrate steel. "Y-Yamada Hana."

"Hana." He threw his chin up amusingly and continued onward. "I'm Narumi Taiga. Stay out of the road next time if you don't want to get hurt."

It wasn't a threat. It was a certainty.

That night, a desk lamp glimmered begrudgingly into the late hours of moonlight as Hana squinted at the piece of broken camera in her hand. The rest of the butchered pieces lay askew atop the cluttered desk, but a small place had been cleared to closely scrutinize the chunk at hand. Slowly, she pulled a flat, rectangular, blue piece of plastic from the fray. "At last."

With a sweep of her arm, she brushed the remaining black chunks off her desk and into the garbage can waiting on the floor. She didn't bother checking if it all made it as she checked both sides of the plastic between her fingers then slipped it into a tiny slot on the side of her laptop.

"Isn't it late for web browsing, Hana-chan?" Hana did not need to look up to know it was her best friend, Hamasaki Jun. They were in the same first year of university but had known each other since grade school. He couldn't sneak up on her even if Hell had frozen over. "Wah! Is that your camera?" He crouched down in front of the trash bin and gawked. "Whoa! What happened?"

Hana kept from snarling but couldn't keep her lip from curling. "An asshole."