...15/09/2009 Tuesday; Sunset...
Inside the station, Minato pushed through the rushing crowd, dodging backpacks and bags that brushed against his shoulders. Each step quickened his heartbeat, pounding in sync with the surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins.
The corridors felt endless, every passing second stretching into minutes. Then, a sound—muffled yet filled with irritation—echoed from a more isolated hallway.
He pressed his back against the wall and listened carefully.
"What did you just say?! You'd better shut up, bitch!" — a man's voice cut through the air, laced with threat.
Minato peeked around the corner and saw them: three men.
One short, wearing a yellow beanie; another dressed like a biker, leather jacket and all; and the third, in worn, dirty clothes, rubbing his cheek as if he'd been slapped, clutching a rusty pipe in one hand.
Against the wall, Yukari gripped her wallet tightly, eyes wide and alert — filled with both anger and caution.
"Come on, hand over the wallet. Be a good girl and you won't lose more than your money." The man with the pipe gestured menacingly, growing impatient.
Yukari narrowed her eyes, fists clenching, realizing she was cornered.
Her gaze darted around the hallway, searching desperately for any escape route.
Then, a firm voice cut through the air, sharp with irritation.
"Don't even think about it."
The three thieves froze and turned. Minato was walking toward them — eyes narrowed, shoulders squared, exuding a seriousness that made the air itself seem heavier.
Yukari blinked, startled to see him there, her heart skipping a beat.
"Minato?" she murmured, hardly believing it.
The biker frowned, pointing at Minato.
"Huh? And who the hell are you, kid?"
Minato closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and tightened the straps of his bags.
"I'm no one you need to know."
The short man scratched his chin and glanced at Yukari, a mocking grin spreading across his face.
"Is he your boyfriend or something? Looks like it."
Minato looked him straight in the eye, voice steady and unflinching.
"I am. Let her go, or I'll call the police."
Yukari's face instantly burned red, as if hit by a wave of heat. Her heart was racing so fast she could barely think straight.
WHAAAAAAAAAT?! — her mind screamed, flustered and mortified.
The man with the pipe cracked his neck, a threatening grin forming on his lips.
"Is that so? Guess you're asking for a beating, huh?"
Minato narrowed his eyes, letting the weight of his and Yukari's bags drop to the floor with a heavy thud.
The man wielding the pipe let out a raspy, almost animalistic laugh.
He raised the metal bar high above his head, aiming straight for Minato's skull.
The strike came down with force, slicing through the air — but Minato was no longer there. He had already slipped to the side with a swift, firm step. The metal slammed into the floor with a metallic clang.
The attacker's eyes widened, shocked by the boy's agility. He didn't have time to recover.
Minato clenched his fist tightly, a low grunt escaping his throat. He threw a solid right cross, landing squarely on the man's face.
The sharp crack of impact echoed through the corridor, followed by the distinct snap of a nose breaking. The man stumbled back with a pained roar, blood spilling hot and fast down to the corner of his mouth.
Minato didn't leave room for a counterattack. Seizing the opening, he grabbed the iron bar and pulled hard.
"You little shit, you're gonna pay for that!" the man snarled, struggling to keep his grip on the weapon.
Minato's gaze hardened. He twisted his body, using the momentum of the fight, and drove a brutal kick into the man's gut.
The air burst from the attacker's lungs in a guttural groan. He staggered backward, body folding in pain, and the bar slipped from his fingers.
He lifted his head, desperate to fight back — but all he saw was a blur rushing toward him.
Minato, now wielding the pipe firmly, his eyes burning with anger.
He raised the makeshift weapon high above his head. The sound of strain escaped his throat — low, heavy, charged.
The strike came down with all his weight.
The impact thundered through the corridor. The iron connected with the man's jaw in a brutal blow, knocking teeth out in a white, bloody arc.
The attacker's body spun, lost all balance, and crashed to the floor — limp, dazed, broken.
The man in the leather jacket charged like an enraged bull, fist drawn back to smash Minato.
The boy didn't flinch. His gaze sharpened, filled with irritation, as he raised the pipe to defend himself.
But instead of blocking blindly, his eyes tracked the motion of the strike — analyzing every movement with surgical precision.
The moment the punch came close, Minato swung the pipe in a clean arc. The iron smashed into the man's fist midair.
The man screamed, stumbling back as the attack froze in place.
Minato didn't hesitate. He stepped forward like a shadow, spinning the pipe in his hands before unleashing a flurry of quick strikes.
The first blow slammed into the man's shoulder, forcing his body to hunch. The second sliced through the air, connecting with the back of his leg.
The biker groaned in agony, body trembling before collapsing — knees hitting the ground, breath ragged. When he looked up, it was already too late.
"Shit…" he whispered, terrified.
The pipe spun in Minato's hands with perfect precision. Then he brought it down in one final strike, driving it into the man's chest.
The impact cracked through the corridor like thunder, shaking the thief's whole body before he fell flat, dazed, onto the cold floor.
The man with the beanie stood frozen, eyes wide in shock. His two companions were already down — beaten in seconds.
Minato glanced briefly at the pipe in his hand. The metal, once sturdy, was now completely bent, fractured by the force of the last hit.
He tossed it aside without a second thought. The iron clattered against the wall with a screeching echo that lingered through the quiet corridor.
Minato stepped forward, his gaze locked on the last man standing. His voice came out steady, low, and edged with anger:
"Get out… or you'll end up like them."
The man let out a muffled cry, his whole body trembling in fear.
In a desperate motion, he grabbed his fallen companions by the collars.
"Get up, idiots! We're getting the hell outta here!" he shouted, voice shaking, dragging them as he stumbled away.
He ran past Minato without daring to look back.
Minato watched in silence as they disappeared down the hall. The hurried footsteps echoed until they faded completely.
He exhaled slowly, his body relaxing. He rubbed his sore knuckles, feeling the warmth of blood pulsing under his skin. Then, he took a few steps toward where he had dropped the bags and knelt to pick them up.
TO BE CONTINUED...