Chapter Six: Sorry to Disturb!
A chill wind swept across the rooftop. Tsukasa Aoki stood at the very edge, one foot propped on the railing as he gazed down at the bustling school below. His eyes were cold and sharp, his aura that of a solitary wolf, radiating a lazy indifference that nonetheless resembled a tiger sizing up its prey.
“Tsukasa Aoki!” A shout from behind drew his attention; he turned, his body slightly angled, eyes filled with disdain and contempt for the newcomer.
Tora Maeda strode out from the rooftop entrance with his lackeys following in single file. Apart from Maeda’s flaming red hair, the group boasted an array of hairstyles—pompadours, spikes, yellow, green, even rainbow colors. In Aoki’s eyes, they looked so absurd that he wouldn’t be surprised if they started dancing with cement blocks at the village entrance.
Staring at the boy before him, who was clearly smaller and slimmer than himself, Maeda felt an inexplicable pressure emanating from those scornful eyes—and that pressure only seemed to grow.
“If you apologize now and agree to follow me from now on, I’ll overlook your mistake,” Maeda said, forcing a menacing grin. Behind him, his gang snickered as they pulled out cigarettes, flicking them around. One delinquent with an outlandish pompadour swaggered to Maeda’s side, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he sneered, “Boss, why bother talking? Settle it with your fists first—then talk.”
But even as he spoke, the delinquent’s gaze hardened when he really took stock of Aoki: This guy… looks vicious.
Hands in his pockets, Aoki stepped away from the edge and approached Maeda. “I agree with that,” he said.
“It’s always easiest to talk things out after the fight,” Aoki’s eyes narrowed a fraction, and then, in a flash, he lunged forward, almost leaping as he drove a savage kick into Maeda’s chest.
So fast! Maeda barely registered the movement before a foot slammed into his chest. He had no time to react—he was flung backward by the force, and if not for his lackeys serving as a human cushion, he might have been launched clear off the roof. Even so, he and the two boys who instinctively caught him toppled to the ground in a heap.
“Get him!” The rest of the gang didn’t stop to think, charging at Aoki in a frenzy.
Too slow! Too weak!
The thought flickered through Aoki’s mind, almost involuntarily. To him, the supposedly fierce attacks of these delinquents were as childish as a kindergarten scuffle. He sidestepped with barely a motion; the pompadour’s flying kick missed its mark, and Aoki returned the favor with a punch to the airborne boy’s face, sending him crashing to the ground like a downed airplane.
Heavy punches? Their forceful blows aimed at his face met only empty air; Aoki ducked low, seized one by the shoulder, and drove his knee with precise force into the boy’s liver, dropping him to his knees, clutching his stomach and nearly retching.
A pincer attack? Two boys lunged from left and right. Aoki simply stepped back, their clumsy punches missing by inches. In a blur, he lashed out—a whip-like kick, followed by two rapid-fire punches delivered as swiftly as an arrow loosed from a bow. Both boys collapsed, utterly unable to continue.
“So weak, all of you.” Only seven seconds had passed. Just seven seconds, and as Maeda staggered to his feet, his four henchmen were already sprawled on the ground, groaning and unable to stand.
Maeda and the remaining boy were stunned, rooted in place, too scared to move.
“Hey now…” Aoki tilted his head. “Are you really supposed to be delinquents?”
“Damn it!” Maeda roared in fury, charging at Aoki.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Heavy blows echoed across the rooftop.
Maeda’s last lackey stood frozen nearby, too cowed even to join the fray.
The gap was simply too great.
Maeda was like a toy in Aoki’s hands.
He couldn’t even lay a finger on him.
Throw a punch? It would be dodged, and he’d receive a heavier blow in return.
Kick? Aoki would grab his leg and fling him aside.
Maeda’s shouts were a mixture of anger and disbelief, but Aoki’s response was always the same—calm, unhurried punches and kicks.
One punch, two punches, three punches.
Once, twice, three times.
By the fourth time Maeda tried to claw his way up, face smeared with blood and voice reduced to a slurred growl, Aoki bent down and seized him by the collar. His tone was less icy than before.
“That’s enough. One or two more punches, and you’ll be hospital-bound.”
Maeda struggled, but realized in despair that Aoki was vastly stronger. Through blood-blurred vision, Aoki’s shaved head loomed above him like a demon lord issuing a final ultimatum from hell.
“I… I give up…” Maeda let his hands fall, surrendering as he slumped to the ground.
Aoki released his grip and stood, casting a look of contempt at the remaining lackeys cowering around him. “So you call yourselves delinquents? Your comrade gets beaten, and none of you even dare to throw a punch?”
No one answered.
Aoki narrowed his eyes. “You’re all… an utter disgrace!”
As the boys stared in shock and confusion, Aoki charged at them.
“Hey, wait! I didn’t even do anything!”
“Damn it, all together now!”
“We can’t win! It’s impossible!”
Aoki paid no heed to the cries around him. He simply punched and kicked until no one on the rooftop was left standing. He grabbed the last boy by the collar, hauling him upright, and fixed them all with a cold stare.
“If your fist only swings at the weak, don’t blame me for doing the same.”
Crack!
One final punch sent the boy’s teeth flying from his mouth. Aoki let him go and wiped his bloodied hands on the boy’s clothes.
“Tsukasa, I’ve come to help—” Kokomi Saotome burst through the rooftop door with three or four burly teachers, only to freeze mid-sentence. The scene before her: Aoki calmly wiping his hands on the shirt of a bloodied, prone boy, surrounded by a mass of groaning, battered bodies strewn across the rooftop.
Maeda was among them.
This can’t be real.
Kokomi stared at Aoki, his face speckled with someone’s blood, utterly dumbfounded.
Cowering behind Kokomi, Kazuo Matsushita, on the instant Aoki looked his way, blurted out at lightning speed, “Sorry, sorry! Didn’t mean to disturb you!”