Seijirou stood still at the edge of the alley, hands buried in his pockets, his expression unreadable.
The air felt heavy, the only sound coming from Rindou's ragged breathing and the faint buzz of streetlights above.
Her blazer completely ripped apart, showing off her white bra, her body pinned down by three of the delinquents, their laughter echoing cruelly.
When Seijirou's presence was finally noticed, silence fell like a blade.
The leader's grin faltered. He took a cautious step back, his tone uncertain but defensive.
"W-What the hell are you doing here, Kageyama? Y-You might be the king of this school, but that doesn't mean you can barge into someone else's territory!"
Seijirou tilted his head slightly, the faintest trace of a smirk playing on his lips.
"Yeah," he said simply. "But so what if I do?"
His tone was calm, quiet, yet it carried enough weight to make the boys stiffen. "What are you gonna do about it?"
The leader's jaw tightened.
His pride screamed at him to answer, to not let himself be humiliated in front of his own gang, but the name Kageyama Seijirou was enough to plant hesitation in his gut.
He tried to mask it with arrogance, forcing out a rough laugh. "Well, as you're the king, I will give you this much respect. Do you want this girl? She's still a virgin, said it herself. You can have the first time. We're fine taking turns after you've done."
Rindou's eyes widened, fury flashing in them, but Seijirou only exhaled softly, his expression bored.
"Oh," he said, voice flat as glass. He took a step forward and flicked his hand lazily, as if shooing away a stray cat. "Then you can all leave. She's mine."
The leader's face twisted in anger. "What did you just say?"
"I said she's mine," Seijirou repeated, his tone colder now. "So, get lost."
For a moment, no one moved. The delinquents were too stunned to speak.
Finally the leader snapped. "You bastard. I'm just giving you face as the king of this school, how dare you talk to me like that!? Do you really think no one dares to go against you!?"
He pointed at Seijirou and barked, "Pulverise his face!"
Four of his underlings rushed forward, shouting to drown out their own fear.
They charged together, trying to overwhelm Seijirou with numbers, but do numbers really, especially this pitifully small, would do anything to change the outcome?
No.
Seijirou didn't move until they were right in front of him.
Then his leg snapped out like a whip.
The first boy caught a kick to the stomach so hard it lifted him off the ground, his body folding before he crashed backward into a trash can.
His twitched a few times before going limp.
The second swung wildly, but Seijirou leaned aside and countered with a low kick to the knee, the dull crack of impact echoing sharply.
"AH!" The boy crumpled, screaming.
Then with a swift kick to the face, Seijirou sent him flying to the side, enough for his nose to bleed as he went unconscious.
The third tried to grab him from behind, but Seijirou stepped back, twisting his body, and drove his heel into the boy's ribs.
"Grgh!?"
Seijirou raised his leg, and slammed it down on the boy's head, driving his head down to the ground.
The fourth hesitated for half a second too long, and that was enough. Seijirou pivoted, kicking him clean across the face.
The boy's body spun once before collapsing.
The four of them were unconscious before they touched the hem of Seijirou's clothes.
And Seijirou did all that without having to take jis hands out of his pockets.
Even the leader couldn't believe what was happening. Seijirou's movements were precise, clean, and casual. Each kick carried intent, as though each attack was meant to kill them.
The leader's face turned red with rage and fear.
"You bastards, get off her!" he shouted at the ones holding Rindou down. "Kill him! I want him dead!"
The remaining three hesitated, but fear of their boss outweighed common sense.
They released Rindou and rushed at Seijirou together.
Rindou quickly moved away from the leader, clutching her arm, watching through blurred vision as Seijirou faced the next wave.
He stepped forward to meet them, his right leg swinging up in a wide arc. His heel connected with the first boy's jaw, causing a painful cracking sound.
Before the second could blink, Seijirou pivoted on the same leg, sweeping the boy's feet out from under him and driving a follow-up kick into his side.
The third came from behind, grabbing Seijirou's shoulder.
Seijirou spun, bringing his knee into the boy's stomach, then used the same motion to launch another kick upward, catching him under the chin.
The boy dropped like a sack.
Without even breaking a sweat, Seijirou turned to face the leader.
The leader took a step back. His entire gang lay scattered around him, all were knocked unconscious by Seijirou without even putting any effort.
Seijirou stood silently, observing the leader, still with his hands in his pockets, his breathing steady and his gaze cold.
He yawned softly, as if the fight had been nothing more than an inconvenience.
"So," he said quietly, eyes locking on the leader. "You wanna have a go? If not then scram."
The leader trembled, his face twisted with a mixture of rage and terror. His pride told him to fight, but his instincts screamed at him to run.
For a second, he considered picking up a metal pipe nearby, but when Seijirou's eyes flicked toward it, he froze.
The leader staggered to his feet, his eyes burning with rage and humiliation.
Then, his voice cracked as he shouted, "you think you can walk away after this, bastard? You're not gonna have a peaceful day anymore!"
He pointed a trembling finger at Seijirou, his lips curling into a twisted grin. "You don't know who you just messed with. I'm part of the Bully Society, and we don't forgive. Ever."
Seijirou tilted his head slightly, expression blank.
"Bully Society?" he asked, his tone flat, as if he were hearing about a new brand of chewing gum.
The leader mistook his disinterest for fear, his grin widening. "That's right, dumbass! The Bully Society manages every high school gang in the entire Shinra Region! Every turf, every fight, every deal—we control all of it!"
He pounded a fist against his chest. "You might be strong, Kageyama, but compared to the whole Bully Society, you're nothing! And me? I'm related to the District Leader of all high school gangs in the 24th District! You should be scared! Get on your knees and beg, and maybe I'll—"
Before he could finish, Seijirou's right leg moved in a blur. The kick connected squarely with the leader's jaw, the crack echoing like a gunshot.
The boy flew backward several meters before crashing into the wall with a dull thud, then slumped to the ground, motionless.
Seijirou lowered his leg slowly, his face twisting slightly in irritation.
"Noisy," he muttered.
Rindou stared, her breath caught, heart pounding against her ribs.
As expected, this man was really outrageous. His strength and skills was beyond doubt and Rindou couldn't help but think that even if she practiced for a decade more, she probably won't even be able to defeat Seijirou.
Without saying another word, Seijirou walked over to her. His gaze moved down briefly to her torn blazer and the trembling in her hands.
Then he sighed quietly, slipped off his own black school blazer, and draped it over her shoulders.
"Cover yourself up," he said, tone calm and even.
Rindou looked up at him, startled.
"Ah… thank you," she stammered, clutching the blazer against her chest. His scent lingered faintly on the fabric, the musky smell of a man. "I'll… return it tomorrow."
He didn't respond.
Rindou's gaze lingered on him. His ash-blonde hair fell carelessly across his forehead, framing his sharp hazel eyes.
His expression was cool, detached, but beneath it, there was something heavy—something that felt alive, like restrained fire.
She could understand, in that moment, why girls in school whispered his name with flushed cheeks despite his reputation.
Why, despite all the rumors, many would still say that they can fix him.
Seijirou turned his head slightly and caught her staring. His eyes narrowed.
Rindou immediately straightened her back and looked away, pretending to examine the unconscious delinquents scattered around the area.
Her face felt hot. That was embarrassing! She forced herself to focus to not think about that.
Only then did she remember. The photos.
Her expression hardened. She knelt beside the fallen leader, pulling his phone out of his jacket.
She pressed his thumb to the screen, unlocking it, and began scrolling.
Her face darkened as she saw the images—photos of her changing clothes, training, walking alone in the hallways.
There were even photos of other women who were completely naked, and with some white liquid on their bodies and selfies of the leader and his lackeys with the women.
Her stomach turned. Without hesitation, she deleted every single one of her photos. Then she pocketed the phone. This will be used as evidence to have these people be imprisoned, or at least, thrown into juvenile detention center.
She stood, moved to the next boy, and repeated the process. Then the next. She made sure no traces of her photos remained on any of their phones.
She did not take all their phones, only one was enough.
Throughout all of it, Seijirou stood a few meters away, watching quietly, hands in his pockets again.
His gaze was unreadable, but there was a faint glimmer of acknowledgment in his eyes. When she finished, he turned around and began walking off, the sound of his footsteps faint against the gravel.
Rindou blinked, then called out, "Wait—!"
He didn't stop.
Rindou groaned under her breath, grabbed her shinai, and hurried after him.
Her legs still trembled slightly, but she forced herself to keep pace beside him. They walked in silence for a while, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the empty back path.
Seijirou didn't glance at her once. His stride was unhurried but steady, his posture relaxed, as if nothing had happened at all.
Rindou glanced up at him, her expression conflicted.
She wanted to speak—to thank him properly, or at least say something—but the words refused to come out.
All she could manage was a soft, quiet exhale as they walked side by side, the space between them filled with unspoken tension and the faint rustle of the wind.