Chapter 10: Hiratsuka Shizuka
The stairwell leading to the rooftop stretched exceptionally long.
During lunch period, most students congregated in classrooms or the courtyard, making this emergency stairway to the upper floors a neglected dead zone.
The three delinquents sandwiching Kazama between them apparently already considered him meat on the chopping block. Even their shoving became perfunctory.
The leader even hummed an off-key tune, probably calculating how much they could squeeze from this easy mark.
"Hey, Chiba."
Hidden in his collar, Kerberos finally couldn't contain itself, vibrating near his collarbone in extremely low tones.
"Are you serious? These are genuine delinquents! Unlike that twin-tailed young lady who just talks—they'll actually get violent!"
"They can throw hands. I can't?"
Kazama lightly tapped his collar, signaling silence while awaiting the show.
Rounding the third-floor corner, chaotic hurried footsteps echoed from above.
A group of girls descended with giggling laughter.
Most sported dyed long hair, skirts modified five centimeters shorter than regulations, faces displaying satisfied smiles following recent malicious venting.
Their shrill laughter carried phrases like "so disgusting" and "next time throw her shoes in the incinerator."
Several steps behind them followed a shadow.
A black-haired girl. Hair disheveled like someone had yanked it hard.
Her uniform bore dust and several obvious footprints—stains particularly jarring against the pristine campus environment.
Head lowered, she stared fixedly at her shoe tips as if they were the world's only safe place.
A fresh bruise marred her left cheek against pale skin, obviously brand new.
Kazama glanced once, immediately recognizing another bullying scene, but withdrew his gaze without intending interference.
The two groups met at the narrow stairwell corner.
Those girls swept glances over Kazama being escorted by delinquents, releasing knowing snickers before sidestepping like avoiding something filthy.
Asagiri Aya halted.
She flinched, body pressing against the wall as much as possible, wanting to become invisible.
But passing Kazama, she instinctively raised her head slightly, catching sight of him surrounded.
Their eyes met.
That instant, obvious shock flickered through her gaze.
Probably recognizing kinship.
Both outcasts rejected by groups, both weaklings threatened by violence.
Asagiri's lips moved, toes turning slightly toward Kazama.
Her hands clenched her skirt, nails nearly embedding flesh.
That moment, she seemed experiencing fierce internal conflict—
Call a teacher? Pretend not to see?
The lead blonde delinquent glanced back, glaring.
"What're you staring at? Scram!"
Just one malice-saturated rebuke.
That thin figure violently trembled.
The empathy momentarily surfacing popped like a burst bubble.
She lowered her head, body shrinking tighter, scurrying down stairs like a frightened mouse hugging the wall.
Not daring even one second's delay, as if lingering meant misfortune would contaminate her.
"Tch. Bad luck. Perfect match for this Kazama guy."
The blonde spat before shoving Kazama.
"Hurry up! Stop dawdling!"
Kazama stepped forward following the push.
Regarding Asagiri's choice, he felt not even half a beat of disappointment.
This was correct. This was reality.
In this dog-eat-dog world, the weak struggled with self-preservation—where would they find spare compassion rescuing others?
Those "stepping forward heroically" plot developments only existed in children's fairy tales.
Several minutes later—
The top floor's iron door appeared ahead.
A rusted padlock hung on it. Normally students were prohibited entry, but this gang had broken that lock long ago, making this their exclusive territory.
"We're here."
Pushing open the door, harsh midday sunlight flooded down.
Kazama squinted.
The rooftop stood empty, cement ground littered with cigarette butts and empty beverage cans.
Truly an excellent spot for disposing evidence.
"Click."
The crisp sound of a latch engaging came from behind.
The fat delinquent expertly locked the iron door, even yanking twice to confirm it couldn't open from outside.
"Hehe, nobody's interrupting us now."
Three delinquents spread out, forming a semicircle that cornered Kazama against the chain-link fence.
"So, Kazama."
The lead blonde extracted a cigarette from his pocket, dangling it unlit while watching with amusement.
"Since you came up so obediently, you understand the rules, right? We're a bit short on cash lately—need to borrow thirty or fifty thousand. You transferring? Or should we help strip you down to check?"
The other two released unwholesome laughter, cracking knuckles while slowly closing in.
Kazama leaned against the rusted chain-link fence, metal grid pressing into his spine.
"Hey! Chiba!" Kerberos inside his collar nearly scratched through his skin in panic.
"Run! Even using magic—run now while you can! These guys aren't joking around!"
Kazama ignored the doll's noise.
Run? Then I came here for nothing.
His right hand slipped into his pocket, fingertips touching Windy card.
At zero distance, even barehanded release would suffice to tear these carbon-based lifeforms into shreds.
"Hey, talking to you! Gone mute?"
Seeing no reaction, the blonde's smile faltered.
Cursing, he stepped forward, reaching to grab Kazama's collar.
"Smack."
That halfway-extended hand got batted aside.
Not some fierce resistance.
Kazama simply swatted away the dirty hand like shooing a fly.
Air suddenly silenced for one second.
The blonde froze, apparently not processing what happened. His two cronies also halted, exchanging confused looks.
From this perpetually cowering doormat, resistance actually occurred?
"Money? I don't have that to give you."
The blonde's smile stiffened before twisting ferociously.
"Huh? Screwing with me? You were so cooperative in the classroom. What—get up here and now you're backing out?"
He advanced one step.
"I think you're itching for it. Wanna taste what fists feel like?"
They lunged with snarls, fists whistling.
Kazama stood motionless without dodging intention.
"Windy."
Just 0.1 seconds.
This compressed airflow would slice through that trash's throat like a blade.
One second before green wind pressure could explode—
"BANG!!!"
A massive crash erupted without warning from behind.
The entire heavy iron door acted like it'd been struck by a battering ram.
Along with the doorframe, it released a pitiful wail.
The locking padlock couldn't even last half a second—directly flying off, bouncing twice on cement ground.
The rust-covered iron door slammed violently against the wall, shaking loose plaster everywhere.
All movements froze this instant.
Whether those thugs with raised fists or Kazama preparing magic release—
Every gaze concentrated at the entrance.
Dust settling revealed a black-haired woman in a white lab coat over professional attire with a teacher's badge around her neck.
Hiratsuka Shizuka.
The legendary strongest combat-capable female teacher at Sakigawa Middle School currently scowling with bulging forehead veins, unlit cigarette in hand already crushed to powder.
She still maintained that stylish side-kick posture, high heel embedded deep in the twisted door panel.
Hiratsuka slowly lowered her leg, straightening windblown bangs while scanning everyone on the rooftop.
"Hey. You little brats..."
"Which punk just said whose brains they'd beat out?"
Those three previously domineering delinquents instantly cowered like dogs whose tails got stepped on.
"H-Hiratsuka-sensei?!"
The blonde's voice trembled.
At this school, you could disregard the disciplinary director, but absolutely never provoke Hiratsuka Shizuka.
This woman called the "Martial Arts Language Teacher" genuinely could physically dismantle and reassemble your bones.
"What? Cat got your tongues?"
Hiratsuka strode forward decisively.
She shoved aside the blocking fatty, walking straight to Kazama and examining him thoroughly.
Confirming this frail student only had slightly disheveled clothes without missing limbs, she relaxed slightly before turning around, that murderous aura locking onto the three scumbags again.
"Broad daylight, dragging classmates to places like this for 'friendly exchanges'?"
She cracked her knuckles, joints producing crisp pops while displaying a smile brilliant enough to chill spines.
"Seems your energy levels are quite vigorous. Perfect—I haven't exercised in ages. Want me joining your little session for some 'cordial' extracurricular tutoring?"
"No no no! Unnecessary, sensei!"
"We were just chatting! Really just chatting!"
"Since we're finished we'll head back now!"
Three thugs shook heads like rattles.
Hiratsuka's gaze sharpened.
"Immediately! Right now! Get back to your classrooms! Each write me a ten-thousand-character reflection essay! If I catch you bullying classmates again, you'll taste whether my concrete-pulverizing fist is sweet or salty!"
"YES!!!"
Three thugs scrambled toward the exit like pardoned prisoners, not daring glance at the floor-strewn door panel.
Only when passing Kazama did the blonde turn back, mouthing viciously: "Lucky this time. This isn't over!"
Kazama watched their panicked retreat, eyes flashing with regret.
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