The next day found me wandering the city again, the previous night's encounter a pleasant, amusing memory. The little Taimanin's mix of pride and fragility was a rare vintage.
I had a feeling she wouldn't let such a profound humiliation go unanswered. The thought was intriguing.
I decided to find a nice vantage point to appreciate the sprawling concrete jungle, and the Sky Tower's observation deck seemed like the perfect spot.
Up here, the city was a toy set, the cars and people distant and insignificant. The air was thin and clean. I leaned against the railing, enjoying the view, and waited.
I didn't have to wait long when I heard the familiar click-clack sound of heels on concrete.
Driven by that burning need for revenge, she must have been hunting for me since dawn, using her Taimanin tracking skills to scour the city. And they had led her here.
I didn't turn. I felt her presence, a shift in the air, a familiar spike of indignant energy. She came to a stop just a foot behind me, so close I could probably smell the faint scent of her laundry detergent if I cared to.
"Enjoying the view?"
Her voice was different. It wasn't the energetic, high-pitched shout from the alley. It was a low, cold whisper, devoid of its usual energy, laced with pure ice.
"You seem to like high places," she continued. "Makes it easier to look down on people, doesn't it?"
I turned slowly, a lazy smirk already on my lips. "You again, Miss Yuki… something? What do you want this time?"
I let my eyes trail down her body, a deliberate reminder of our last encounter. "Or does that ass need some spanking again?"
The taunt hit her like a physical blow. I saw a flash of shame, a cold spike lancing through her gut.
For a split second, her face flushed, and she could almost feel the phantom sting on her bare skin. But she was prepared this time. The rage was a cold, hard stone in her stomach now, not a wild fire.
A slow, chilling smile curled her lips. It was an unnatural expression on her face, and it didn't reach her pink eyes, which were flat and cold as glass.
"It's Yukikaze Mizuki," she corrected me, her voice a soft, venomous purr. "And no. My ass is fine. But I'm worried about you, Mister."
She took a deliberate step to my side, her gaze not on me, but out at the sprawling city below. She gestured vaguely at the other tourists milling around the observation deck, some of whom were glancing in our direction.
"You know," she said conversationally, her voice just loud enough for me to hear clearly, "All I have to do is scream. Just one scream."
"Tell them a man fitting your description assaulted me in an alley yesterday. Ripped my clothes. Put his hands all over me."
She finally turned her icy gaze to meet mine. "There are cameras everywhere up here. Security would be on you in seconds. With my credentials, who do you think they'll believe? The Taimanin warrior, or the fat pervert with a fresh cut on his chest?"
Her eyes flicked down to the thin red line still visible on my skin from her Wind Blade. It was a clever move, I had to admit. Using the system, using her authority. It was a classic tactic for the weak.
"Think about how that will look," she finished, her voice dripping with triumphant venom. "The punishment for assaulting a Taimanin is severe. Much worse than a simple spanking."
I just shrugged and sighed, unimpressed. "Well, if teaching a brat how to behave properly is considered an assault, then… you have no idea what a real assault means, Miss Mizuki."
I let my eyes crawl over her body again, from the tips of her heeled boots to the top of her stupidly cute twintails, re-establishing my dominance.
Her chilling smile widened, becoming something genuinely cruel. She took another step, closing the distance between us until she was right in my personal space.
She leaned in, her voice dropping to an intimate, conspiratorial whisper that no one else could hear.
"You're right," she murmured, the words a cold caress. "I have no idea. But they do." She gestured with her eyes to the other people on the deck.
"And the story I'll tell won't be about teaching a brat a lesson. It'll be about how you dragged me into that alley. How you pinned me against the wall, tore my uniform, and tried to force yourself inside me."
Her pink eyes, cold and merciless, locked onto mine. "I'll scream rape, you fat pig. I'll describe your sweaty, disgusting hands all over my body. I'll even cry, I'm very good at crying."
The threat was so pedestrian, so utterly mortal, that I couldn't help but smirk. She was trying to trap a god in a spiderweb of mortal laws and mortal perceptions. It was adorable.
"First, you provoked me," I said, my voice calm, "and after being taught a lesson, now you try to blame me for a crime I didn't commit? Very nice!"
I let the smirk widen into a grin.
She thought she had me cornered. She thought her little story, her credentials, would be enough.
She had no idea what kind of game she was playing.
"I will make it come true then," I decided, my patience finally wearing thin.
Her smug, confident expression was the last thing I saw before my hand clamped around her neck. It wasn't a gentle grab; it was a grip of pure iron.
I lifted her tiny frame off the ground with terrifying ease, her heeled boots dangling uselessly in the air.
A choked gasp escaped her throat. Her hands flew up, clawing desperately at my thick wrist. Her smug threats and her cold confidence, evaporated in an instant, replaced by primal, wide-eyed terror.
The little Taimanin warrior was gone, and in her place was just a scared little girl.
"Wait!!"
But there was no waiting. With a grunt, I pivoted on my heel and jumped.
The solid floor of the observation deck vanished. One second, we were surrounded by glass and tourists; the next, there was nothing but air.