Ikenami Shizuka tilted her head curiously. "Hayashi-kun, do you study taekwondo or judo?"
"Neither," Hayashi Shuichi shook his head. "I've trained in sanshou and combat techniques since I was little."
Shizuka lightly frowned, clearly unfamiliar. "Your physique is excellent. Never thought of taking up kendo?"
"One or two ways to beat people up is enough," Hayashi Shuichi laughed. "I focus on practical stuff. Kendo…"
"Kendo is practical too!" Shizuka retorted indignantly. Midori beside her nodded vigorously.
Hayashi Shuichi was about to explain when a sharp woman's scream rang out nearby, followed by frantic shouts: "Robbery! Someone's stealing a purse!"
Everyone turned. Two punks with colorful dyed hair sped toward them on a beat-up bicycle, clutching a stolen handbag.
Pedestrians scattered in panic.
It happened too fast—most of the Osaka team froze.
As the bike passed, Hayashi Shuichi instinctively lashed out with a kick.
The bicycle toppled with a crash, riders sliding another six or seven meters before stopping.
"You little shit, you're dead!"
The punks scrambled up, filthy and furious. The yellow-haired one yanked a dagger from his waist; the other rolled up his sleeves and glared.
Seeing weapons, the kendo team instantly unzipped their bags, drew shinai over a meter long, and fell into defensive stances.
The punks stared at their tiny 20-cm blades versus the long bamboo swords—ferocity vanished, replaced by panic.
They exchanged a glance and wisely bolted, abandoning the bike.
"Leave the bag!"
Morizono Gankyou, already in a foul mood, exploded. Eyes blazing, he charged with his shinai.
Hayashi Shuichi and Ikenami Shizuka followed; the rest trailed slower.
The weekend streets were packed; Midori and the others quickly lost sight in the crowd.
Only the front three kept pace.
Near the shopping district, the punks split up.
Gankyou and Shizuka split too; Hayashi Shuichi stuck with Shizuka.
The yellow-haired punk darted into narrow alleys filled with junk and damp air.
Realizing a straight chase wouldn't work, Hayashi Shuichi scanned the layout, told Shizuka to keep following, then used his knowledge of the area to cut through side paths and intercept ahead.
After he left, yellow-hair noticed only a pretty girl behind him and stopped running.
He scattered stolen pachinko balls across the ground.
Focused on pursuit, Shizuka stepped right on them—foot slipping, she crashed hard.
Before she could rise, yellow-hair snatched her shinai.
"Tch, think kendo makes you hot shit?" He slung the shinai over his shoulder, grinning sleazily. "Was just gonna pawn the bag for pachinko money—didn't expect such a cute chick."
"Give it back!"
Shizuka tried to stand and fight, but her left ankle buckled with searing pain—she gasped.
"Want your shinai?" He leered wider. "Show me something nice first." He swung the shinai low, aiming to flip her skirt.
Shizuka fought back fiercely.
Untrained, he just swung wildly like a club.
Without her weapon and with a twisted ankle, Shizuka quickly lost ground, retreating until cornered.
"Heh heh, minding other people's business gets you this," he gloated, raising the shinai. "Be good and let me have some fun—you'll suffer less."
"Dream on!"
"Harding your mouth, huh?" He sneered and brought the shinai down hard.
Shizuka tried to dodge, but the bad ankle slowed her—she squeezed her eyes shut.
At the critical moment, Hayashi Shuichi burst in from the side and kicked the punk away.
"You okay?"
"Just a twisted ankle," Shizuka exhaled, forcing calm.
"Damn pretty boys—I hate you most!"
Yellow-hair scrambled up, gripped the shinai two-handed, and swung at Hayashi Shuichi.
Hayashi Shuichi sidestepped, then snapped a kick into the wrist.
Clatter—the shinai fell.
Hayashi Shuichi picked it up and returned it to Shizuka.
"You're dead!"
Furious, the punk drew his dagger and lunged.
"Careful!"
Shizuka cried out, starting forward to help.
Hayashi Shuichi stepped in, seized the dagger wrist, then kicked the punk's shin.
"Agh!"
The punk dropped to his knees screaming.
Hayashi Shuichi disarmed him cleanly and twisted both arms behind his back.
So cool!
Shizuka's eyes shone with admiration.
Using the punk's own shirt as rope, Hayashi Shuichi bound his wrists.
He planned to drag him to the nearest koban, but Shizuka limped badly with every step.
"Your ankle…"
"It's nothing serious," she insisted through gritted teeth.
"If you keep walking on it, it'll swell," Hayashi Shuichi warned. "How will you compete tomorrow?"
Mention of the tournament made her expression falter.
"…Get on," Hayashi Shuichi crouched. "I'll suffer the loss and piggyback you."
"…How is this suffering a loss? You're clearly taking advantage," Shizuka muttered, cheeks flaming.
No choice—she shyly climbed on, arms lightly around his neck, heart racing.
Hayashi Shuichi held her under the thighs, gentlemanly and secure.
Relieved he wasn't groping, her opinion of him rose further.
The bound punk saw his chance and tried to crawl away.
Shizuka instantly cracked the shinai across his thigh.
Unable to balance with hands tied, he face-planted hard—losing two front teeth and filling his mouth with blood.
"Serves you right!" Shizuka spat.
"I ain't walking!"
He flopped down like a toddler.
"Sure about that?" Hayashi Shuichi asked darkly.
"Hah, you're handing me to the cops anyway—why should I walk?" He grinned smugly. "Either put the chick down or—"
Shizuka's shinai rained down like hail.
Remembering he nearly cost her tomorrow's tournament, she hit with full force wherever there was meat—making him howl for mercy.
She still held back enough to avoid real injury.
"…Stop! I'll get up!"
Two more whacks for good measure—she stopped, breathing hard.
"Now you cooperate?" Hayashi Shuichi chuckled at the sobbing punk. "You really need a beating to listen."
Thus: Hayashi Shuichi piggybacked Shizuka, Shizuka kept the punk in line with her shinai, and they reached the shopping-street koban.
Officers Kitano and Yoshioka were old acquaintances.
"Hayashi-san, what's all this…?"
"Officers, these two robbed and assaulted me!" the punk whined first, playing victim. "Look how they beat me—blood everywhere, bruises all over!"
"You bled because you fell on your own face!"
Shizuka raised her shinai for more.
"Hey, no violence in the koban!" Yoshioka quickly blocked her.
"Hit me again, I dare you!" the punk taunted.
Shizuka ground her teeth, knuckles white on the shinai.
"No point getting mad at trash like him."
Hayashi Shuichi set her on a chair and explained to the officers: "Bike purse-snatching on the main street, then injured my friend. Take him to the interrogation room—entertain him a bit."
"Got it, Hayashi-san!"
Yoshioka and Kitano dragged the still-cursing punk away.
Moments later, screams and pleas echoed from the room.
"You're close with the local police?" Shizuka raised a brow. "They actually listen to you?"
"I sort of work with the Metropolitan Police," Hayashi Shuichi said vaguely, then glanced outside. "Only one koban nearby—wonder why Morizono-san hasn't shown up with the other guy?"
"Ever since his love life crashed, Morizono-senpai hasn't been himself," Shizuka said worriedly. "Plus losing today… I hope he doesn't kill the other punk in anger."
Fair point—Gankyou was off today. Hayashi Shuichi fetched the officers, explained, and they rushed out to find him.
Yoshioka handed over a small bottle of red liquid. "For the lady's ankle—safflower oil from Chinatown. Works wonders."
"Thanks."
Hayashi Shuichi passed it to Shizuka. "Rub some on, massage it in—your ankle will be much better by tomorrow."
Half-believing, she took the bottle and started to remove her shoe—then winced loudly.
"What's wrong?"
"When he stole my shinai earlier, he got a few hits in," she admitted, brow creased.
"See?" Hayashi Shuichi smirked. "Sanshou and grappling are more practical. Lose your weapon in kendo and you're just a punching bag."
"I twisted my ankle!" Shizuka glared defiantly. "Otherwise I'd have taken it right back!"
(End of chapter)
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