I woke up to Ma banging on my door, I had a wicked hangover that stung my brain. She yelled my name which didn’t help out my problem. Before I knew it, I’d yelled out a curse in response.

Big Mistake. My door slammed open. Her eyes filled with that characteristic, ‘I’ll make you eat soap’ expression. “You do not use language like that, in my house!” The screaming was torture. “And I certainly raised you to treat guests better!” I tried to cover my ears with a pillow to cease the awful stabbing in my brain. She ripped it free and flung it against the wall. “Get dressed this minute, and march out this room to entertain your classmate this instant! Next time you tell me when someone is coming over before they just wander in! Immortals preserve me, the house is a mess—“

The meaning behind her words finally cut through. But they still didn’t make sense, what the fuck was she talking about? I didn’t have any friends in my class, didn’t even know their names, aside from Mia, the girl in front of me who let me cheat on exams for the past year.

She gave me a deadly glare, before running off to entertain whoever she was talking about. I shoved on baggy school pants and the rest of my school uniform. Tossing my Brass King’s jacket in my backpack. Like normal, I’d throw it on over my school stuff once I left the house.

Plenty of delinquents messed around in school clothes. Though some chose to wear jumpsuits or flashy clothes to impress others, I’d never had money. Even if it meant looking good, I wasn’t convinced that wrecking nice clothes in a fight was the smartest choice. So the academic wear suited me fine. If I got too much blood or tears in my clothes? Well, Ridna High footed the bill. I left my room, cautious of whoever decided to visit my place.

Bruno was sitting at the table. The big guy was stuffed in the same immortals-damned school uniform as me. Casually eating a bowl of cereal with Alex. Ma scrambled around in the background, trying to subtly tuck away things and make the kitchen not as much of a usual hap-hazard mess.

“Good cereal, Ms. Cavicchi! I skipped breakfast, but had no clue I’d get to eat so good here!” Bruno said, plopping another spoonful in his mouth.

“What the fuck are you doing!?” I asked, unable to help myself.

“Luca! I will wash your mouth out with soap if you say another word like that! I raised you better than to swear in this house, let alone with guests around!”

“Aw, it’s alright Ms. Cavicchi, we’re buds! I don’t mind a little swearing! Heck, you should hear some of the things that come out of people’s mouths when they take a punch to the—“

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

“Luca!” Ma stepped out from the kitchen, scowling and with a deadly wooden spoon waving in one hand. She wouldn't have hesitated to whack me with that spoon if we were not entertaining my ‘friend.’ But I was lucky. She was too distracted from my blatant swearing this morning to pay mind to what Bruno said. I gave him a glare, ignoring Ma and my smirking little brother.

This wasn’t fine, I did not want my life in the Brass Kings mixed up in any shape, way, or form with my home life. They were separate and needed to stay that way. I had to get him out of the house before Ma caught on to anything.

“We’re taking this outside, sorry Ma! Bruno!” I dipped from the house before Ma could hand out a punishment. The big guy followed behind. His chrome-trimmed chopper sitting right outside the front of the house. He didn’t care at all. Completely at ease.

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I stared at him, his big hands shoved away in the school uniform pockets. My school uniform. Smiling and happy as can be. Was he fucking with me? I continued to glare, but he didn’t break.

“What were ya thinking? Ya came into my house? I thought we were gonna meet later, not that I’d wake up to see ya having cereal at my table!”

“Oh— I’m so sorry, Luca!” Bruno bowed profusely. A rare traditional style of apology that never got used in the gang. People reserved it for highly formal situations. “A thousand pardons,” he added the accompanying phrase, head bowed low. I lost my words, the gesture broke me further. What the fuck was going on this morning?

“I—you—y’know what, there’s no need to bow.” I rubbed the back of my hair, it was a mess. The bright sky hurt my eyes and I wanted to find a nice corner to puke into from the hangover. I wasn’t in the mood to stay angry. And Bruno made a poor target, if he wasn’t so genuine, maybe I’d be able to keep it up. His abashed apology said it all. “What’s done is done. We go back in, you finish that cereal since we don’t got food to waste. But before we do. I got a couple of rules.”

Bruno tilted his head.

“Rule one. No talk about fighting—“

“—Why!? It’s so fun!” he protested. But he saw I wasn’t budging on that. “Fine. It’s fine. Your house, your rules.”

“—Nothing about fighting. Don’t wanna hear about who you’re looking to fight. Ya and me trading punches. Me bashing a guy’s face in last night—none of that. Ma and Alex don’t hear a single word of that talk. Leads to rule two. Nothing about the Brass Kings is mentioned in my house.” This time he gave me a judgmental look.

“You should be more honest with your family, Luca!”

“Don’t care. Ya said it. My house, my rules. And lastly, rule three. If my Ma asks ya to do something for her, ya do it. She needs ya to grab something high on a shelf? Get your ass up and reach for it.” I crossed my arms, expecting more protesting. Instead, he nodded, frowning at the suggestion that he wouldn’t have. As if we weren’t in a gang together, and he wasn’t a meathead who cared mostly about throwing fists. “Alright...” I said after hesitating. It made me nervous to introduce him into my home, but we’d already torn through that barrier. “We head back in. Eat some grub, then I take my little bro to school. After that, we do your thing.”

I finally looked at that stupid Ridna High uniform he was wearing up and down.

“Where’d ya even get that? Ya don’t go to my school, I’d know if ya did.”

“Oh! Just one of my collection! I saw you wearing one, so figured I’d toss it on to fit in. I save the uniform of each school I’ve been tossed out of!” He laughed as if we were in some grand joke together. I didn’t know what to do with that information. So I accepted it, and tucked it away.

With the rules now established, I led him back in. Of course, Ma immediately pulled me aside and yelled my ear out as loud as she dared. It was almost comical to watch her constantly glance at Bruno and have to lower her voice every few seconds. She didn’t shove soap in my mouth, but the threat laced the conversation. I apologized over twenty times before she let me go.

By that time, Alex and Bruno finished eating, so we left. Bruno trailed along with Alex and me, driving his bike at a snail’s pace on the sidewalk like a psycho. Alex seemed to get along quite well with the big guy, throwing him a thousand questions about the ‘rising stars’ of the Rising Sun. Cultivators with wealth, power, and more than their share of fame. Hit a certain level on your path, and people begin to take notice. They weren’t Immortals, but some of them just might become it.

There was something about those on the path that was almost more interesting than those with ancient powers. A relatability that Immortals didn’t quite have. They also didn’t have the overwhelming threat of power that prevented idle chatter about them. Making them public figures primed for gossip.

I for one didn’t give two fucks if Galik Mantifold took a third wife. Or if Johnny Blackstar entered closed meditation for the year after a scandal with a sect. But those topics just provoked pure interest in Bruno and Alex, and they talked about it in circles. Celebrity culture was annoying, especially when it revolved around Sect members. At least the rogue cultivators were a bit better.

No matter what, I’d never get it. Would I ever meet someone like Johnny Blackstar? Hell no. Why waste time thinking about him or his life? I tried to cut into their conversation to explain that, but they yelled at me. So, I shut up and let them have their fun. We all need that from time to time. Instead, I spent the rest of the trip trying to get my hair into a semi-respectable state.