I didn't stay a second longer in that classroom. The moment things got too much, I stood up and walked out, leaving Oshi to deal with those guys himself.
The hallways were as grim as ever—broken windows letting in streaks of gray light, graffiti sprawled across every wall, laughter echoing from unseen corners. Every step I took away from that room felt heavier, the air thick with that same suffocating delinquent energy.
I walked down the staircase and headed to the nearest convenience store. The bell above the door chimed softly as I entered, and I grabbed two yakisoba breads from the counter.
I lodged one between my teeth and stuffed the other into my pocket before making my way back to class.
When I slid open the back door, the scene that greeted me froze me mid-step.
A tall, handsome guy with slick gray hair was holding Oshi by the hair, forcing him to kiss his shoes. The laughter that filled the room was sharp, ugly. His goons were snickering, clearly entertained, while the rest of the class pretended to watch like it was just another show.
I let out a slow, tired sigh. Pathetic. Preying on someone weaker just to feel powerful.
As I stepped into the classroom, my eyes caught on someone unexpected. Sitting by the door was a girl.
She had long, snow-white hair that spilled down her shoulders and deep red eyes that gleamed unnaturally bright. Her pupils were dilated, her smile unnervingly wide. Something about her aura felt… suffocating. Twisted. Like she was about to break into laughter or tears at any second.
A truly bizarre person.
I tried to ignore it and kept walking toward my seat, past her, past the goons. Then someone's shoulder brushed mine, and my yakisoba bread slipped from my mouth, landing softly on the floor.
"Oh, shoot, my bad," I said, crouching to pick it up.
Before I could reach it, a shoe stomped down hard, crushing it. The wrapper crinkled, the bread flattened under the weight.
I looked up.
That same gray-haired guy was staring down at me, smirking.
I stood, my eyes narrowing. "Apologize—and buy me a new one," I said firmly.
One of the things I hated most in this world was wasting food. When I was younger, I had to learn how to cook because my mother wouldn't. Some days, I starved because there was nothing to eat. Meanwhile, she'd be out drinking with whatever guy she was seeing that week.
The guy sneered. "Nah. Out of my face." He shoved me.
I didn't let it get to me. My voice stayed calm. "Apologize. And buy me a new one."
He chuckled mockingly. "You bumped into me first. You should be the one apologizing."
I met his eyes, unflinching. "You think you're tough? All you do is prey on people weaker than you."
His grin faded. He stepped closer until we were nearly face to face. "You want to be next?"
"I want to see you try," I said quietly.
He barked a laugh, looked back at his goons, then suddenly swung.
The punch connected squarely with my face, knocking me back a step. A thin line of blood trickled from my nose.
I wiped it away with the back of my hand and smiled. A wide, reckless grin.
"Let's see if you can stand on your words.," I said.
The tension in the room spiked. A crowd of students gathered instantly, their voices buzzing with excitement.
"Someone's fighting Kio!" someone shouted.
Kio—so that was his name.
He squared his shoulders, preparing another punch. I studied his stance, his body movement. Right-handed, no guard. Amateur.
He lunged with his right fist—just like I expected.
I slipped to his right, letting the punch whiff past me, then countered with a left hook straight to his jaw. The impact jolted up my arm. He stumbled back, dazed.
I didn't stop.
A barrage of fast, precise punches followed—each one pushing him back farther until his legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor.
For a second, the room was silent. Then, cheers erupted.
Students clapped, laughed, shouted. Some even patted my shoulder.
Even Oshi cracked a small smile as he stared down at Kio's defeated body.
But when my gaze drifted back to that strange girl, something felt… off.
Her bizarre expression was gone. Now, she looked disappointed—as if the fight hadn't satisfied her. But then, as her eyes met mine, her cheeks flushed red, and that same wide, twisted smile stretched across her face again.
She looked at me like I was the most interesting thing in the world.