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Yamato had been up since the night prior, for once not because he was out racing or clubbing, but because the boss had ordered him to stake out a venue. It seemed that the boss, who most of the gang members simply called 'Uncle,' had taken a special interest in someone that frequented the venue, but it seemed that this time he'd have to report that it was a failure. Nobody had shown up the entire night and while Yamato was not one to complain about a job, he felt a little bummed out that his efforts had been fruitless. Not to speak of how tired he was. So he just drove home and gave his boss a call during the ride, which, of course, went directly to voicemail. It earned little more than a sigh from Yamato. 

[i]“Sorry for the late call, Uncle,”[/i] he opened, putting on his most respectful voice as he spoke to the very man that could control life and death for him and others. [i]“The man you were looking for didn't show up. I guess he had better things to do. Ah, I sat there from about 10 PM to 5 AM. Uhh, I'm on the way home now to sleep, so I'll hope you wake up soon and hear this. Thank you,”[/i] he concluded, before pressing the button on his phone to hang up and tossing his cellphone into the seat next to him. It was about 5.30 AM now, so he had a little time left before he was expected to be up again. Tsk, if he had seen that guy all of this would've been worth it, but... now it just felt like wasted time. Time he could've spent racing, and chatting up those bitches at the park while he flexed in his car. Instead he'd spent his entire night watching some dumb ass house that nobody seemed to even be using. 

Without wasting too much time on it anymore, he pulled into the driveway of his house and got out of his car, making sure to lock it behind him before heading in. He didn't spend any time wandering around the house and instead went straight to bed, crashing down face first into his pillow and almost immediately falling asleep. 

His dreams were strange and somewhat uncomfortable, involving his boss, parents, some of the people he hung out with, and then slowly morphed into something entirely different, the sensation of bumping up and down and swinging left and right almost seeming real as he dreamed about racing his car. He looked to his left and saw the kid in the other car - a kid he knew by name, but whose name did not come to him in this dream. It was that same kid who had threatened him after the race, saying that his father would make sure nobody would ever hear of Yamato again. Perhaps it was irony, or some sort of twisted turn of fate that he dreamed of this right as he woke up, his phone buzzing in his pockets. 

With a groan he reached into his pocket, dragging the phone out like it was a brick, weighing a hundred pounds. Still half asleep he unlocked it and glanced at the text, which was cryptic at best. There was a list with every line but his name scratched out, which was not really that interesting on it's own. As he read the lines, his eyes gradually became wider, and when he reached the final line it seemed almost like his head eyes were going to bust out of his face. He stared at the message momentarily, looking at the list again. If these were all names, there'd be more people on the list. But why? Why would they alert him? 

Now this wasn't uncommon or anything - everyone in the circuit that they were in knew what [i]erasers[/i] were, or at least, they knew that you didn't want to meet one while they were working. But normally you wouldn't be alerted, at least not until they were already there, and then it was too late. So why now? Why him? Why these other people? 

Then the second realization set in - if he was being erased, that means he had nobody to turn to. Everyone that was affiliated with him was either bought off, cleaned up, or agreed to this. There was no group of gangsters that could protect him, there was no uncle that would deal with this for him, hell, even his parents couldn't help him now even if they had wanted to. It seemed he was on his own for now - well, unless those people on the list could be trusted. But you don't get erased for no reason. Hell, Yamato wouldn't trust himself either, so why would he trust these other people? 

But then he realized he had to get up and move. Theorizing about it made no sense, there was no reason to ask how or why, the order had been placed on him and it wouldn't be removed. It wasn't really a matter of how, when, where, or anything like that. It was just a matter of when - and he intended to make it as late as possible. 

So he lunged upwards and ran to his closet, grabbing a military green backpack and a sports dufflebag, throwing them both onto the bed. He then began grabbing things he needed - his pistol, a glock 22, two magazines for it, atleast three packs of cigarettes and two lighters, and then a bunch of clothes. But then he started grabbing anything he could - if it wasn't nailed down he'd try and put it in a bag. And then near the end, when he was almost done, he changed his mind and figured he'd rather have the gun on him. He dug through again and fished it out, slowly starting to enter a panic induced frenzy. He put the glock into his waistline and slung the backpack over his shoulder, then did the same with the dufflebag. 

Then he rushed to his car, opening the back of the car and throwing the bags into it and then slamming it shut. At least with a fast ride like his, he'd get there in no time. Shit, wait, they erased his files and details too, didn't they? He quickly took his phone and tried a few services, like his e-mail, WeChat and other apps, anything, but nothing fucking worked except for that one text that somehow got through. On the upside, that meant that his car files would probably get erased too. Speeding with no tickets - not like that mattered anymore anyway since he didn't plan on paying them even if they did arrive somehow. 

Out of reflex he turned on the music player, that started playing off of a [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQIPF2wwM34&ytbChannel=YENTOWN]CD[/url] he'd put in. The bass was pretty fucking high, but that's the way Yamato always had it. Without second thoughts he entered the coordinates into the GPS that hung from his window. It seemed to be leading him almost entirely to the north of Japan - what the fuck. He zoomed in on the destination and noticed that it was in Ōma, a town in the north, in some sort of harbour. Well, if anything, it'd provide an escape out of Japan. 

He pushed the shifting stick into reverse and stepped on the gas, backing out of his driveway, before stopping. He momentarily glanced at his house again - that he technically probably didn't even own anymore. That paperwork was probably already gone, or it'd be gone once they started 'erasing' him. If anything these guys worked fast. But he couldn't help but wonder why they hadn't cleaned him up at the same time as they locked up his accounts. He shook his head looking at the house, then turned his eyes onto the road and shifted the stick into position again. He hit both the brake and gas, revving up the engine a little bit, the loud engine producing enough noise to annoy the entire neighborhood, before he let go of the brake and shot away, speeding up immediately. His control over the steering wheel was pretty tight and, despite his adrenaline surging so hard he could hear it in his ears, he managed to drive without making any mistakes. 

Of course, he still had a long way to go north, and he was quite sure he'd mess up sooner or later.