The morning sun shone gently over the vast school grounds as students poured in through the gate — chatting, laughing, and rushing to meet friends.
Among them stood a boy, around 5.8 feet tall, quietly admiring the building before him.
Boy: "This is… bigger than I thought."
His voice was calm, carrying neither excitement nor nervousness — just quiet curiosity.
With both hands tucked casually into his pockets and his bag hanging from both shoulders, he stepped inside the gate, walking silently through the courtyard.
Boy (thinking): "I'll probably get lost on the first day…"
His sharp eyes scanned the surroundings — groups forming, laughter echoing, the typical chaos of a new semester.
Everything looked normal… until his gaze landed on a group of big boys standing in the corner. Six of them, circling around another student.
The poor boy in the middle trembled, his hair messy, fear clear in his eyes.
Boy (thinking): "Wow… what a typical bullying scene."
He sighed inwardly. Should he care? No.
Who would want to get into a fight on the first day of school?
Attracting unnecessary attention wasn't on his list.
Boy (thinking): "Let's just ignore them."
He turned to enter the building — but before he could take another step, a loud voice cut through the air.
"Hey, you there! Stop!"
The boy froze. Slowly, he turned his head toward the source of the shout.
It was one of the bullies — the very people he wanted to avoid.
Boy (thinking): "...Are they calling me? Or someone else? I don't even know them."
The air grew still for a moment. His calm expression didn't change — but something sharp flickered behind his eyes.
Still, he stopped walking. After a moment's hesitation, he sighed and turned back toward them.
The boy smiled lightly. "Did you call for me, senior brothers?"
The bullies exchanged glances. One of them smirked.
"You look new here," Bully 1 said with a dominating tone.
The boy nodded, pausing a moment before replying cheerfully, "Yes, I'm a new admission, brother. Can you please give me directions to the cafeteria?"
The group snorted in annoyance, clearly not used to being spoken to so casually — or so brightly.
Bully 2 sneered. "You look quite happy to get admission here. But given the situation, you shouldn't be."
Bully 3 raised his hand to stop him. "Hey, dude, cut the chit-chat. Let me talk to him." He stepped forward, his tone deceptively calm. "Listen, kid, we're your seniors. Can you help us out a little?"
The boy nodded innocently. "Yes, why not? I'll be happy to. Just give me the direction in return."
Bully 3 grinned, showing his teeth. "Very well then. Can you lend us some money? We're short on cigarettes."
The boy blinked. "Oh, I can't give money for smoking."
In an instant, the bullies' faces changed. Even the one pretending to be polite turned cold.
Bully 3's tone hardened. "Don't be like this, kid. You should listen to your seniors."
Bully 2 couldn't hold back any longer. His expression twisted in fury as he roared, "Hey, you little shit! Just do what you're told, or your first day — and that bright smile — will be ruined!"
The boy tilted his head slightly, still smiling. "But you've already ruined my day."
That was the final spark.
Bully 2's rage exploded. He swung a heavy punch straight toward the boy's face. The impact echoed through the courtyard as the boy was thrown back a few steps, stumbling into the wall. Gasps rippled through the watching students.
"Is that a fight? On the first day of the semester?" whispers erupted all around.
Blood trickled from the boy's nose. For a few seconds, he stayed still. Then, slowly, a faint smirk crept across his face.
Bully 2 scoffed. "Smiling? Did you loosen your screws after one punch?"
He lunged again, throwing another powerful hit — but this time, it never landed.
The boy tilted his head slightly, dodging effortlessly without even moving his feet. His body turned fluidly, and in the same motion, his elbow slammed into Bully 2's head.
Thud!
The senior collapsed instantly. One strike. Out cold.
The crowd froze, stunned silent. No one expected it.
The remaining five bullies snapped out of their shock, faces hardening as they charged together. The boy's body moved like flowing water — weaving, striking, deflecting — every movement sharp and deliberate.
He wasn't fighting wildly; he was calculating. Every hit landed with precision, every dodge felt effortless.
And then, amid the chaos, he felt it — two gazes piercing through the noise.
From the second-floor corridor, two boys were rushing down the stairs, eyes locked on him. He couldn't see their faces clearly yet, but something about their presence felt familiar… eerily familiar.
Who are they? he wondered, still moving fluidly through the fight. Why does it feel like I've seen them before…
Bully 1: "You bastard! Get him!"
They all charged together — footsteps pounding like drums across the courtyard. The crowd of students instinctively backed away, forming a loose ring around the scene.
The boy stood there calmly, one hand in his pocket, his bleeding nose now wiped clean with the back of his hand. His eyes looked dull… but too focused, like a predator assessing prey.
The first punch came from his right — a wild swing. He sidestepped, catching the bully's wrist, twisting it just enough to make him lose balance, then drove his knee into the bully's stomach. The air rushed out of him with a painful "Ugh!" as he fell to the ground clutching his gut.
Another one came from behind, trying to grab him by the neck. The boy leaned forward, his body dropping low, then spun his heel backward, kicking the attacker's shin hard enough to make him scream and fall to one knee.
The third rushed from the left with a loud shout — "Die, punk!" — aiming a straight punch at his face. The boy tilted his upper body slightly, letting the fist pass by his cheek, grabbed the attacker's wrist mid-air, and flipped him over his shoulder. The body hit the ground with a loud thud, dust rising.
Gasps erupted from the students watching. Someone whispered,
> "Who… who is that guy? He's moving like he's trained or something."
Bully 4 tried to tackle him from behind, wrapping both arms around his torso, but the boy relaxed his body for a split second, then jerked his elbow backward into the bully's ribs — once, twice — until the grip loosened. Turning around, he headbutted him right in the forehead, making him stumble backward and collapse on his back.
Only one remained — the biggest of them, tall and muscular. His veins bulged with anger as he cracked his knuckles.
Bully 5: "You think you're tough, huh? I'll break your jaw!"
He rushed forward with a flurry of punches — fast, sloppy, full of emotion. The boy dodged the first two, blocked the third with his forearm, and then countered. His right hand came up fast — not a heavy punch, but sharp and precise. A jab right under the chin.
The bully froze for a moment, his eyes rolling slightly, before falling on his knees.
Silence.
The boy exhaled slowly, lowering his guard. All six bullies lay scattered on the ground, groaning in pain. The crowd, speechless, watched as he stood alone in the middle — calm, unshaken.
A few students whispered again,
> "Who is he?"
"A new transfer, they said…"
"No way, he took them all out."
The boy brushed the dust off his uniform, picked up his bag, and said quietly,
> "I told you… I just wanted directions to the cafeteria."
He began walking away — but stopped for a second. His eyes instinctively moved upward. Those two figures he saw earlier on the stairs were now gone. But that same feeling lingered — a strange sense of recognition, as if fate had just started something.
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