Chapter Forty-Six: Pyrrhic Victory (An Extra Chapter for No Reason)

Aoki Shi’s vision was flooded with overlapping images; he could barely make out who was in front of him. If it weren’t for the Daruma sticker working its magic, he would have collapsed long ago.

Ishihara Kaita’s face, once twisted with excitement and ferocity, slowly warped into terror.

“Why… why aren’t you falling?” he stammered, clutching the wooden sword, unconsciously retreating step by step.

Aoki Shi’s face was smeared with blood, his features almost indistinguishable. Bent over, his arms hung limp, nearly dragging on the ground, and his body swayed as if he might topple at any moment. Yet, his legs, rooted like stubborn tree trunks, kept him upright.

It was as if he were a marionette forcibly held in place.

The scene shattered everyone’s worldview, making them doubt whether this figure before them was even human.

Who could endure such a state—seemingly unconscious—yet remain standing? Everyone could see how grievous the wound was; Aoki Shi had clearly lost consciousness!

But how was he still upright?

Why wouldn’t he fall?

As they hesitated, paralyzed by fear, Aoki Shi’s awareness slowly returned. He resembled a character from a fighting game, bent over, lifting his head, revealing a wild, almost deranged smile. “Do you realize… this strike could have killed someone?”

The smile brimmed with fury.

Perhaps these young boys didn’t understand the consequences of attacking the back of the head, but Aoki Shi knew all too well. If not for the sticker granting him triple resistance to blows, that strike could have killed him outright!

Even if he survived, concussion and severe, lasting aftereffects would be inevitable.

Precisely because he understood, Aoki Shi was furious.

Even when he fought before, he never targeted critical spots like the temples, always avoiding areas that could cause lasting harm—even when aiming for the liver, he steered clear of the most dangerous zones.

But Ishihara Kaita’s blow crossed the line entirely.

“Even in a fight… you have to know restraint!” Aoki Shi’s stomach churned; he felt the urge to vomit, knowing it was the concussion from that blow.

Yet, he fixed his gaze on Ishihara Kaita, and, aided by the sticker, staggered toward him.

“Don’t—don’t come any closer!” Ishihara Kaita’s hands trembled, barely holding onto the wooden sword, stumbling backward.

Ishihara Ryota, watching, clenched his teeth and launched a kick from behind Aoki Shi.

This guy must be at his limit! Fall already!

But, contrary to expectations, the kick sent Aoki Shi stumbling, almost pitching forward, yet he still didn’t collapse.

“Arrgh!” Aoki Shi roared, pouring every ounce of his strength into the motion, using the force of the kick behind him to crash into Ishihara Ryota.

A dull thud echoed in everyone’s ears.

With a single punch, Aoki Shi made Ishihara Kaita’s body curl up like a shrimp.

Seizing Ishihara Kaita’s long hair, Aoki Shi forced him into eye contact, baring his teeth, blood spraying from his mouth onto Ishihara Kaita’s face. “If you’re going to fight, damn it, learn to show restraint!”

For once, Aoki Shi shed the worries of adulthood, yanked his head down, and delivered an unreserved knee strike to Ishihara Kaita’s face.

The blow shattered Ishihara Kaita’s nose, blood gushing like a fountain. The knee sent him reeling, consciousness vanishing instantly; he stumbled back, collapsed to the ground, his body twitching.

Aoki Shi, furious, shouted at the fallen Ishihara Kaita, “Remember this!”

“Damn you!” Ishihara Ryota was left with nothing but terror and rage. He strode forward and punched Aoki Shi hard in the face.

The blow sent Aoki Shi tilting sideways, his body barely at a sixty-degree angle to the ground, but in the next moment, he snapped upright like a coiled spring, regained his stance, and returned the punch to Ishihara Ryota.

Ishihara Ryota had thought Aoki Shi would finally fall, so he didn’t react at all. Only when the fist struck his face did he realize what had happened.

Impossible!

Before he could even formulate the question in his mind, Ishihara Ryota staggered back two steps from the forceful punch.

“You and your brother… equally despicable, you slicked-back punk.” Aoki Shi grinned, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He swayed gently, bracing his elbow against his knee to keep steady.

Ishihara Ryota clutched his mouth, his eyes bulging from pain. He spat a mouthful of blood, only to see that one of his front teeth had flown out with it.

“Damn…” he cursed indistinctly, watching as Aoki Shi, still staggering, moved toward him again.

“Do something!” Ishihara Ryota looked around—the seven or eight other delinquents lingered nearby, but none dared step forward. His angry shout only revealed the terror on their faces.

“Useless!” he cursed, fear swelling as Aoki Shi drew nearer.

“Aoki Shi!” Ishihara Ryota bellowed, swinging his right fist.

Aoki Shi said nothing, tucked his chin, and swung his right fist as well.

Both fists landed on their opponent’s face almost simultaneously.

Ishihara Ryota felt Aoki Shi’s punch connect; his head spun in the next instant.

An untrained person, no matter how tough, hit square on the chin by someone of Aoki Shi’s caliber, could easily be knocked dizzy or even unconscious. Fortunately, Ishihara Ryota was sturdy and used to fighting—he only stumbled a few steps, shook his head, and his vision cleared again.

Aoki Shi? His head merely bobbed, his body barely swayed, and even the upward curl at the corner of his mouth remained unchanged.

“Die!” Ishihara Ryota swung again.

Aoki Shi simply tilted his head, letting the punch brush past his nose, and in the same breath, his right fist struck Ishihara Ryota’s face once more.

After taking two consecutive blows, Ishihara Ryota finally couldn’t hold up. He lost control, swaying like a drunk, then sat heavily on the ground, one hand propping himself up, the other covering his mouth and nose.

Aoki Shi lifted his head in a daze, surveying the surroundings—almost no one remained.

The few delinquents had already fled, unnoticed.

“Is it over…?” Aoki Shi laughed bitterly, glancing at the littered, groaning bodies around him, then at Ishihara Ryota, still sitting stunned on the ground. His voice trembled: “Hey, slicked-back.”

Ishihara Ryota was still dazed, only tilting his head slightly.

“Call an ambulance for your brother. And… remember, I won.” Aoki Shi smiled, the wound at his mouth making him inhale sharply. He leaned against the back wall of the gymnasium, stepping away, one foot after another.

When Ishihara Ryota finally came to, he sat straighter against the wall, wiped the blood from his mouth, felt the empty gap where his tooth had been, and chuckled bitterly. “That bald guy…”

“So strong…” Ishihara Ryota turned to look. His brother still lay on the ground, curled up and holding his face, blood pouring out. Suppressing the pain and the fog in his head, Ishihara Ryota crawled over to Ishihara Kaita, worriedly shouting, “Hey… hey! Kaita, hang in there!”

He found blood still streaming through the fingers covering Ishihara Kaita’s face, patted him anxiously, but only got a moan in response—no words. Panicked, Ishihara Ryota pulled out his phone. “Hello? I need an ambulance…”

Meanwhile, Aoki Shi, supporting himself against the wall, didn’t know how far he’d walked. At last, a familiar voice reached his ears.

[Daruma sticker’s effect has ended. Recovery phase begins. All injuries will heal in twelve hours.]

The voice swept away his anger and adrenaline. Aoki Shi suddenly felt pain everywhere, as if someone were stirring his brain with a wooden stick; darkness clouded his vision, and as he relaxed, all strength left him.

He collapsed to the ground.

“Aoki-kun? I’ll take you to the hospital!” It sounded like Saeko Busujima’s voice beside him.

Aoki Shi’s consciousness blurred. “Don’t go to the hospital… anywhere is fine, just let me lie down… I’m fine… trust me… don’t go to the hospital… promise me…”

Saeko’s voice seemed both near and far. “…I promise you.”

“I guess I didn’t betray your trust… haha…” Half awake, half dreaming, Aoki Shi finished his last words in a joking tone and lost consciousness, slipping into a coma.

Saeko Busujima cradled Aoki Shi’s head in her arms, her brows furrowed, eyes gradually filling with anger. She took a deep breath, gently laid him flat on the ground, then, gripping her wooden sword, strode toward the back of the gymnasium.

Turning the corner, she was stunned by what she saw: behind the gym, the delinquent boys lay sprawled about—some clutching their faces, some holding their stomachs, rolling and wailing in agony, blood staining the ground, the scene a living hell.

When Saeko Busujima spotted Ishihara Ryota squatting and calling an ambulance, and Ishihara Kaita lying in a pool of blood, her anger melted into astonishment. Silently, she turned away, the excitement fading from her eyes, replaced by her usual cold calm. She returned to Aoki Shi’s side, wrapped an arm around his waist as if it were effortless, and slowly carried him out of the school.