The Lot Summit: Sunday, 4:00 PM
The empty lot was quiet, save for the whisper of the cool, late-afternoon wind. Date stood, his muscles still humming with residual tournament adrenaline. The nine crew members sat on crates, sharing a few bags of chips, the atmosphere heavy with purpose.
Date: (Kicks a pebble, his voice urgent) "Okay, listen up. We're done with the lot. It made us champions, yeah, but it's a target. Rewan's crew is still out there, and that gang recruiter, Jin, he hasn't forgotten us. We need a sanctuary. A real training center." (He holds up his phone, showing the grainy photo of the run-down garage.) "I found it: five blocks away, solid concrete. Owner wants five grand. We need three grand more for gear—a ring, heavy bags, mats."
Hana: (Interrupting, twisting her hands nervously, her Flyweight gold catching the light) "Woah, hold on! $8,000 total? Date, my parents barely let me keep the $600 prize money! That's..."
Kenji: (Calculating immediately, pushing up his glasses) "Wait, let me crunch that. Our prize money is $3,100, right? The golds get $600, the bronzes $200, quarterfinalists $100. So, we're $4,900 short. That's like... impossible."
Toshiro: (Bouncing excitedly on his crate, ignoring the numbers) "Impossible? No way! We beat national-ranked seniors! We can beat $4,900! What's the garage like? Does it have a toilet?"
Date: (Chuckles, shaking his head) "Toshiro, focus! It's rough—cracked windows, peeling paint—but the roof is solid. We fix it up ourselves, save cash. The gear is the killer: a decent used ring is $2,000 alone."
Aiko: (Crosses her arms, her championship confidence radiating) "Okay, so the punches stop, and the hustle starts. $4,900, we can't punch our way out of that. We need a goldmine. My uncle runs a takoyaki stall at festivals—he says they're cash machines. We set up a booth."
Sora: (Nodding, bronze medal packed away) "That's smart. People saw us on TV—we've got hype. We should monetize the 'Lot Legends' name. What about self-defense classes? My little brother's friends are begging me to teach them moves."
Yumi: (Softly, but with a newfound firmness) "I love the class idea. We could charge ten bucks a kid. We could run it right here in the lot every Saturday until we buy the garage. But we need to look professional... and safe. Flyers, maybe a simple website?"
Emi: (Already sketching a logo on a napkin) "I've got the flyers covered! My sister has a printer, and I can draw the logo—Hana's kick and Aiko's uppercut, bold text: 'Learn from Lot Legends!' But the website... none of us are coders. Sora, you know that computer club kid, Hiro?"
Sora: "Yeah, Hiro's cool. I'll trade him ghost jabs for coding hours. But let's stick to the immediate cash. Aiko's festival idea is the biggest payout."
Kenji: (Jumping in, eyes gleaming with numbers) "I know this! The Autumn Matsuri is in two weeks! Huge crowds, 10,000 people. My cousin made two grand selling yakitori there. But we need about $500 startup for ingredients and the permit."
Aiko: "My uncle's in, but he takes a 20% cut for the permit and supplies. I'll fry the takoyaki like a pro. Kenji, you and Date handle the sales, no fogging up your glasses!"
Date: (Snapping his fingers) "Perfect! Festival is our first hit. Toshiro, can you handle the grill? No burning the skewers, man."
Toshiro: (Puffing out his chest) "I won three fights, Date! I'll grill a million skewers! But what about the weekdays? We can't just wait for the festival."
Yumi: (Interjecting, her practicality kicking in) "Weekends are better. Car washes! My neighbor's scout troop made eight hundred bucks in one day near the shopping district. My dad has a hardware store—he might donate the soap and hoses."
Riku: (Rubbing his neck, his mind on the gear) "Car washes, good. I can ask my dad to talk to his boss at the auto shop. They have tons of old equipment they might donate—mats, maybe a heavy bag or two. That saves us real cash on the gear budget."
Emi: "And Riku, my sister can print patches cheap—'Lot Legends' logos—we sell them at the festival and classes for five bucks! That's easy money."
Date: (Starts pacing, flashing his hands as he calculates) "Okay, let's tally the maximum possible. Festival: $2,000. Car Washes (two weekends): $1,600. Classes (eight weeks): $1,600. Patches: $800. Total is $6,000 potential—that covers the shortfall and leaves us $1,100 for gear, maybe more with Riku's donations!"
Hana: (Standing up, eyes shining with determination) "It's a ton of work, but I love it. We need to move fast. Date, you need to go back to the owner! Tell him we'll give him the $3,100 prize money cash right now as a deposit if he drops the price to $4,500. Negotiate!"
Date: (A fierce grin spreading across his face, his vertical Dempsey roll itching to move) "Done. I'll negotiate for $4,500 tomorrow. That means we only need $4,400 more. Now, roles! We're not lone wolves."
Aiko: (Punching a fist into her palm) "I'll lead classes with Hana—show the uppercut and the elbow. I'll coordinate the festival booth with Kenji. Toshiro, you better have those skewers lined up."
Yumi: "I'll stick with Hana for the car washes. We'll be the speed scrubbers."
Emi: "Flyers are first. Sora, safety in numbers, right? We're a team."
Sora: "Absolutely. Emi and me are on PR and safety watch."
Kenji: (Adjusting his glasses, the Featherweight champion now the CFO) "Date and I handle the cash box. We need a schedule. No slacking. The garage owner has another buyer sniffing—we have maybe two weeks to make this real."
Toshiro: (Clenching his fists, his body still twitching from his quarterfinal energy) "What if Rewan's crew shows up at the car wash? They saw us on TV—we're a target now."
Date: (His eyes turning cold) "Let them come. We fought bigger seniors and won. We work in pairs. We don't start fights, but we end them." (He looks at them all, his gaze sweeping over the gold and bronze medalists). "We're not just building a gym. We're building our future, and it starts right now. Let's go."
The nine teenagers broke the circle, a whirlwind of immediate action: Aiko texting her uncle, Emi sketching the flyer logo, Riku pulling out his phone to call his dad. The fear of external threats was still present, but the urgent, shared purpose of building their sanctuary had replaced it with an electrifying fire.