The wind blew gently, a stark contrast to the scene unfolding below.
Across the cracked concrete, Blue High students and their street recruits were laced out on the ground, groaning, clutching ribs, trying to sit up and failing. The air smelled like dust, sweat, and hot asphalt. One of them dragged himself forward on his hands, his sneakers scraping uselessly. A thin streak of blood cut across his face, his leg twisted at a wrong angle beneath him, his breathing shallow and uneven.
That auburn-haired guy was Barney White — 9th in Blue Academy's Class 1A. Known as a cocky, obnoxious brawler who loved having numbers behind him. Right now, he looked beaten and terrified.
Behind him, a silhouette stood looking down. As it stepped closer, the light caught it. Sato.
His expression was calm. The gentle wind moved his black hair as he walked toward Barney and crouched, cornering him against the wall. Barney pressed his back to the concrete, eyes darting for an exit that wasn't there. This one guy had dismantled the entire crew that was under him.
"H-hey, we can talk this out right... what do you want, money? I'll give it to you so please just let me go."
His shaky voice and crooked smile betrayed his fear. Sato just looked at him, calm, and shook his head gently.
"I don't need money."
"Then what do you want from me."
Barney asked, shaking harder now.
"You know I've heard of you. The infamous bully. You've done some terrible things and caused suffering for others, so it's time for you to repent."
Sato rose to his feet.
"What are you—"
Before he could finish, Sato brought his foot down hard on his leg. A sharp, sickening crack rang out.
"ARGHHH... MY LEG! YOU BROKE MY LEG!"
Barney cried out, his hands hovering over it, afraid to touch it from the pain.
"Now you'll be incapable of fighting."
Sato said calmly, turning and walking away, satisfied he had left trash who abused his strength unable to fight again. As he walked, sirens wailed in the distance. The afternoon sun caught the back of his neck, lighting up the rose tattoo there and sharpening the clean, handsome lines of his face.
As he walked, his thoughts drifted. Then he sneezed.
_Am I catching a cold?_ he thought, rubbing his nose with his sleeve, and kept moving back in the direction of Silver High, not letting it bother him any further. The afternoon air was still heavy with dust and sweat.
---
Meanwhile, back at the battle, Emily and Sebastian were clashing — shinai and button stick.
As they clashed, two things were pretty clear. The first was that Sebastian was faster, his strikes snapping out with a sharp _thwip_, always aimed for vital points — throat, temple, ribs. The second was that Emily was more technical. Her style wasn't about speed, it was about redirection and parrying, letting his stick slide off her shinai with a hollow clack before she turned it back on him.
For a while she was being pushed back, boots scraping against the concrete, but now the tide had shifted. Now it was she who was pushing the pale-skinned boy. She hadn't landed a decisive hit yet, but it was obvious she was on the winning side. The rhythm of their exchange had changed. Sebastian's breathing was getting shallow, the faint sheen of sweat on his pale forehead catching the light. That minor change in his expression — jaw tight, eyes narrower — showed he was being pressured.
He clicked his tongue and jumped backwards to get away from the pressure, trying to steal air, but Emily wasn't going to give him any room to breathe. She closed the distance instantly, shinai cutting the air, and started pushing him back step by step.
_Damn it, this girl is troublesome. At this rate I'm gonna lose._
Sebastian thought while stuck on the defensive, his button stick vibrating in his hands from each blocked hit.
Emily smirked while pressing her shinai against his button.
"Are you okay? You seem to be slower than before."
She said, leaning her weight into it.
"Damn you."
He hissed, but it didn't change much because he already knew he was about to lose. So he decided to play dirty. He leaned in and spat right into her eyes, the saliva blurring her vision, temporarily blinding her. Then he drove a hard front kick into her stomach to push her back. The kick knocked the wind out of her — a dull thud against flesh.
Emily stumbled, one hand wiping furiously at her eyes, the other clutching her stomach as she tried to endure the burning pain. But as she did that, Sebastian cracked her right in the face with the button stick. _Thwack._ A clean, sickening sound. She spat out blood, the metallic taste sharp on her tongue.
He didn't stop there. He kept pushing her while she was still recovering. She managed to avoid most vital hits, twisting her shoulders and head at the last second, but she still got clipped here and there — shoulder, side, forearm — each hit leaving a stinging welt. Now she was breathing heavy, chest heaving, and at this point she had dropped her shinai. It clattered to the ground.
She decided gaining distance and then acting was a good idea, but before she knew it, there were arms already holding her from behind. Rough hands locking her elbows.
"Let me go."
She said, trying to break free, her voice strained, but she no longer had enough strength to do so. Her legs felt like lead.
Sebastian seeing this smiled, a cold look in his pale eyes, and dropped his button stick. It hit the floor with a clatter. Then he cracked his knuckles — _pop pop_ — and started pinching Emily over and over again in the stomach, twisting the skin hard. Small, cruel hits meant to humiliate.
Meanwhile, the Silver High fighters looked at the scene in fear and shame, frozen by their own cowardice. Their fists were clenched but their feet wouldn't move.
But as this was happening, Emily simply smiled, blood on her lip.
"Is that all you've got, pale face?"
She said, licking her lip, tasting blood and spit. It undoubtedly pissed him off and he kept hitting her, slapping and pinching, but she endured without screaming, her eyes burning but fixed on him.
He then decided to aim for her face, pulling his fist back high. She smirked, and at the last second tilted her head down, guiding his swing. His fist slammed into his own teammate holding her — a sickening crunch as his nose broke. The teammate doubled back in pain, hands over his face, blood pouring through his fingers.
Emily took that split-second of surprise to drive her head forward — a headbutt tackle right into Sebastian's stomach. The air rushed out of him in a choked gasp, incapacitating him for a minute. Then she started punching him. It hurt — her knuckles weren't used to punching, the skin scraping, the impact jarring up her wrists — but she continued without showing weakness, each hit fueled by spite.
That inspired the Silver High fighters again. Two of them picked up the button and shinai separately from the dust.
"HEY CAPTAIN!"
One of them started.
"CATCH!"
The other finished as they threw the two weapons, both spinning through the air.
Emily smiled when she saw the weapons flying toward her, the wood flashing in the light, and she caught them — one in each hand — and executed a fast yet skillful combo to finish off Sebastian, hitting his neck, liver, and temple simultaneously in three precise cracks.
After he dropped, limp to the ground, she took a moment to catch her breath, blood dripping from her lip onto the concrete.
"What are you all still waiting for... FIGHT ON!"
She said with her shinai lifted in the air, her voice hoarse but loud. The sound sparked something, causing the Silver High students to let out a battle cry and surge forward again.
Bob looked at this from a few feet away and laughed loud, almost carefree, the sound booming over the scuffle while he lifted two guys by their heads, one in each hand, like they weighed nothing.
"Now that's a true fighter right there."
He said, grinning.