"Please let go! I need to go home!"
The voice was clearly a young girl's—anxious, trembling.
"Don't be in such a rush, junior. Stay and chat with us for a while!" one man laughed, his tone sleazy.
"Yeah, don't be shy. Let's all be friends, hahaha."
"Please, let go! I said I'll scream!"
Nango and Sakuragi exchanged glances and, without a word, followed the voices down a dim side street.
A single flickering lamp lit the scene: five rough-looking men had cornered a girl in a light blue school uniform. She had short, neat hair, a fresh and lovely appearance, and was desperately trying to free her hand from one man's grip.
"Please let go!" she cried, on the verge of tears.
The thug holding her hand was someone Nango recognized instantly.
"Well, if it isn't my sickly little friend. We meet again!" Nango stepped out of the shadows, smirking. Sakuragi followed, his face unreadable.
Ad froze for a second before narrowing his eyes. "Who the hell—" Then, recognition hit him. His face twisted into a grin. "Well, if it isn't fate! I was just thinking of finding you two… and you show up on your own!"
Nango laughed. "Perfect. Saves me the trouble. How about we settle everything right here and now?"
"Settle everything?" Ad sneered. "Don't make me laugh. I've got plenty of scores to settle with Shohoku. I'll get to the rest of your team eventually. Tonight, I'll just collect some interest from you two."
Nango's smirk faded. He could sense this wouldn't be an easy scrap.
"Hey! Girl, run home!" he shouted.
The girl snapped back to her senses and tugged harder, trying to wrench her hand away.
But Ad clamped down and barked, "Don't even bother! You can't protect yourselves, let alone her. No one's leaving tonight." He gestured to the burly man beside him, wearing a denim jacket. "This here's Kito, an old friend. Fresh out, and itching for a fight. Brother Kito, they're all yours!"
Kito grinned, pulled out a metal pipe, and charged forward.
Nango tossed his bag aside, ready to use it as a shield—but before he could react, Sakuragi stepped forward.
He caught the pipe. With one hand.
And bent it.
The thug froze, eyes bulging.
Nango blinked at the twisted steel. Has Japanese manufacturing fallen this badly? My heart aches…
The other goons gawked. Who the hell is this red-haired monster?!
Sakuragi said nothing. His expression was cold, merciless—like a machine built for one purpose.
"Y-you bastard!" Kito's voice cracked. Sweat poured down his face. Still, he roared and swung with his fists.
But Sakuragi caught his punch mid-air, grabbed his belt with the other hand, and—with a grunt—hoisted him up and slammed him into the wall.
Kito crumpled to the ground, out cold.
"…Boss material," Nango muttered. Sakuragi Hanamichi, the true menace of society. Silent, ruthless, and terrifying.
He turned back to the thugs with a grin. "So… anyone else want to keep going?"
Ad's face twisted. Their trump card had just been demolished in seconds. The memory of their last defeat flashed in his mind, along with the warning he'd ignored. His bravado cracked.
"You two… you've got guts! Just wait! I'll make you pay sooner or later!" With that, he bolted, the other three trailing behind.
No hostage tactics, no clever schemes. Maybe his IQ wasn't built for that.
The alley grew quiet again, leaving only Sakuragi, Nango, the trembling girl, and the unconscious Kito.
Nango scratched his head. Haruko… you'll never know the martial arts legend Japan just lost. If this idiot ever quit basketball, the underworld would be doomed.
He stepped closer to the girl, softening his tone. "Are you alright?"
The girl finally exhaled, bowing deeply. "Y-yes… I'm fine. Thank you both."
Her voice was polite but shaky, her body stiff with fear, and her wary eyes darted between them.
"You're welcome. It's nothing," Nango reassured. "How far's your home? Want us to walk you there?"
"N-no, I can manage…" She hugged her bag, edging sideways, clearly eager to leave.
Nango pressed gently, "Don't be scared. We mean no harm. But those guys might not have gone far. If you run into them again, it could be trouble. How about this: I'm Nango Koichiro, from Shohoku High School. This guy's Sakuragi Hanamichi. We're both on the Basketball Team."
The girl blinked at the introduction, then relaxed just a little. She bowed again. "Then… I'll trouble you after all."
"Nothing to it." Nango smiled.
The girl snuck a quick glance at him, her cheeks faintly flushed—though under the dim lamp, it was barely noticeable.
Together, the three of them walked. Kito? Left snoring against the wall.
The girl's house was only a few minutes away, a tidy two-story home like Akagi's—well-off, clearly.
She bowed once more at the gate. "Thank you both so much!"
"No need to be so polite. Just be careful next time, especially at night," Nango said.
"Yes. Today I had cram school and was rushing, so I took a shortcut… it won't happen again."
"Good. Take care, then." Nango waved as he and Sakuragi turned to leave.
The girl watched them until they disappeared down the street before finally going inside.
As they walked under the streetlights, Sakuragi finally broke his silence. "Hey, Nango… aren't you gonna ask her name?"
Nango chuckled. "Why? We're not flirting. Just doing the right thing. Save your energy for class tomorrow."
"Tch, boring," Sakuragi muttered. To him, Nango was just another basketball idiot, like Rukawa.
Meanwhile, back in the house, the girl gasped. "Oh no! I forgot to tell them my name! How rude of me!"
Her grandmother patted her shoulder with a smile. "Don't worry, Kano. If it's meant to be, you'll meet again."
"…I hope so, Grandma." The girl glanced out the window, her eyes full of regret.
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