Y/N's POV
It had already been a week since that incident in the classroom.
The field trip that was originally supposed to take place had been postponed due to some internal school issues. This news had left everyone disappointed, but no one seemed more crushed than Yotsuba. Her boundless energy and excitement about the trip had been contagious, making it even more heartbreaking to see her spirits dampened. Despite her usual cheerful nature, I could tell that the delay had affected her.
Meanwhile, in the past week, I had learned that the name of the boy who mistakenly confessed to Miku, thinking she was Ichika, was Maeda.
Maeda wasn’t a bad guy—not at all. In fact, he was actually quite sweet. Over the past few days, I had run into him a few times, and each time, he would always ask if I was making Ichika happy. At first, it had annoyed me a little, but after a while, I started to find his concern amusing. He truly cared about her, even if he had misunderstood who he was confessing to.
And then there was Miku...
She hadn’t told any of her sisters about what happened that day—the accidental kiss.
That was a huge relief. The thought of Nino finding out about it sent shivers down my spine. I could only imagine the kind of wrath she would unleash upon me. Miku keeping it a secret was probably the best outcome I could have hoped for.
Still, every time I thought back to that moment—to that fleeting, unexpected kiss—my chest tightened.
And as my mind drifted further into the memories of that day, everything from a week ago started flooding back.
• Flashback • One Week Ago
3rd Person POV
The hallway was quiet, save for the faint hum of students chatting in the distance.
Y/N and Miku had stopped walking, now standing a fair distance away from the classroom where Maeda had just confessed. A tense silence lingered between them, neither quite sure what to say next. The only thing connecting them in that moment was their intertwined fingers.
Miku still hadn't let go of his hand.
"Hey, Miku… how are we going to tell Ichika about this?" Y/N asked, his voice laced with hesitation. His grip on Miku’s hand instinctively tightened, as if seeking reassurance.
Miku, still slightly dazed from the overwhelming events of the past few minutes, took a deep breath. She looked down at their joined hands before finally meeting his gaze.
"Don't worry, Y/N. I’m sure she’ll understand…" she said softly, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.
Y/N exhaled, relieved yet still uncertain. "Yeah, I hope so…" He paused for a moment, contemplating something before continuing, "Wait… does that mean Ichika and I are supposed to dance together at the campfire during the field trip?"
The second those words left his mouth, Miku froze.
Her fingers slipped from his grasp.
Her entire body stiffened as her mind processed what he had just said.
The campfire dance. The legend of fate.
Her heart pounded in her chest as thoughts swirled in her mind.
‘If Y/N dances with Ichika at the campfire, does that mean they’ll be destined to be together? That they’re meant to marry? Does that mean I…’
Miku clenched her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms.
A lump formed in her throat. This feeling—this terrible, suffocating feeling—what was it?
Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief.
Hurt. Anger. Frustration. Sadness. Confusion. Insecurity. Jealousy.
A mixture of emotions she had never felt before surged through her like a storm.
"Umm…" She barely managed to get a word out, her voice weak and strained.
Her knees felt shaky. Her hands moved up to her face, covering her eyes as she knelt down on the cold floor. She bit her lip, trying to stop herself from crying.
‘What have I done…?’
She cursed herself over and over in her mind.
Just then, a familiar voice rang through the air.
"Hey! Look! There’s Miku and Y/N!"
Miku and Y/N turned their heads in unison.
Coming towards them were Nino, Itsuki, Yotsuba, Ichika, and Futarou.
Yotsuba was the first to spot them, her voice filled with her usual enthusiasm. She waved excitedly, jogging ahead of the others.
As the rest of them approached, Nino crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, her expression unreadable but her tone undeniably cold—especially towards Y/N.
"What are you two doing here?" she asked, suspicion evident in her voice.
Y/N gulped, unsure how to respond.
Ichika, on the other hand, placed a hand over her mouth and smiled teasingly. "Don’t tell me… were you confessing to Miku, Y/N~?"
Y/N nearly choked on his own breath.
Miku, who was still kneeling, snapped her head up in shock, her face turning an even deeper shade of red.
"Ichika!" Y/N protested, waving his hands in denial.
Meanwhile, Itsuki sighed, placing a hand on her hip. "Where have you two been this whole time? We’ve been searching for you! If it weren’t for Futarou, we would still be running around the entire school."
"What?! Is that true, Y/N? Miku?" Yotsuba asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Y/N turned his gaze towards Futarou.
Futarou simply met his eyes and gave him a knowing, somewhat apologetic look.
Y/N sighed but smiled slightly, nodding in understanding.
He raised his hand and gave Futarou a silent thumbs-up.
"Come on, let's go!" Yotsuba said, her energy as infectious as ever.
Y/N blinked, still processing the sudden shift in conversation. "O... okay, but... where?" he asked, confused by Yotsuba’s enthusiasm.
"The mall," Itsuki answered in her place, crossing her arms.
Y/N hesitated for a moment before sighing. "Oh… alright, let’s go then."
"Yeah! Y/N agreed!" Yotsuba cheered, punching the air in excitement, her bright smile practically glowing.
Just as everyone was about to head off, something unexpected happened.
Nino suddenly grabbed Y/N’s wrist.
The action was so abrupt that everyone froze in place, their eyes widening in shock.
"N-Nino?" Miku muttered, taken aback.
Nino didn’t acknowledge their reactions. Instead, she firmly held onto Y/N’s wrist and spoke in a serious tone.
"Before that, I have something to talk to you about. Come with me," she said sternly. Then, she turned to the others with a sharp glare. "And don't you all dare eavesdrop on our conversation."
Ichika smirked but didn’t say anything, while Yotsuba pouted in disappointment. Miku just looked down, seemingly lost in thought.
Before Y/N could protest, Nino had already started dragging him to a more secluded corner of the hallway.
—
Now away from the others, Y/N stood with his back against the wall, Nino still gripping his wrist tightly.
"H-Hey, what are you doing, Nino?" he asked, puzzled by her sudden behavior.
Nino hesitated. Her grip loosened slightly, and for the first time, she looked… uncertain.
"Y/N… I… I…" she started, but her words faltered.
"You…?" Y/N repeated, waiting for her to continue.
A deep breath.
"Can you teach me martial arts!?"
Her sudden outburst caught Y/N completely off guard.
"Huh?"
"I’ve seen you fight twice now," Nino said, regaining her confidence. Her blue eyes locked onto his, filled with determination. "You weren’t just using brute strength… You knew what you were doing. You were using martial arts."
Y/N stared at her, still processing her words.
"I want you to teach me," she declared.
Y/N blinked, his face still showing clear confusion. "What… do you mean, Nino?"
At this, Nino lowered her gaze slightly, her long hair falling over her eyes.
"I… I want to protect my sisters," she admitted.
Her voice had a hint of sadness in it, a raw vulnerability that Y/N hadn’t heard from her before.
Y/N frowned slightly. ‘Her words… feel so genuine.’
"Pardon?" he asked again, wanting to be sure he heard her right.
Nino took a deep breath before clenching her fists.
"There have been too many guys who look at my sisters with disgusting, perverted eyes," she said, her voice now firm with conviction. "I want to learn martial arts so I can teach those bastards a lesson."
Y/N was silent for a moment. Then, without thinking, he raised his hand and lightly patted her head.
Nino flinched at the unexpected touch, her eyes widening.
"Now that… that sounds like the Nino I know," Y/N said with a small grin. He continued ruffling her hair playfully. "And don’t worry, I’ll definitely teach you how to defend yourself—and your sisters."
Nino’s cheeks flushed pink.
Her hands twitched at her sides as she struggled to form a response.
"N… N-Now t-take your h-hand off my head!" she stuttered, looking away as if trying to hide her embarrassment.
Y/N smirked but removed his hand.
"But I’m telling you now, Nino," his tone shifted, becoming serious. "Even if it’s just training, I won’t hold back."
A shiver ran down Nino’s spine at the sudden intensity in his voice.
For a brief moment, she started to regret asking him.
But then she looked at her hands, slowly curling them into fists. She inhaled deeply before meeting his gaze again.
"I won’t back down from any challenges," she declared, a confident smile forming on her lips. "So bring it on, you dummy."
For the first time, Y/N felt his own face heat up slightly. But it was only for a second before he quickly shook it off.
"Yeah, that’s the spirit, Nino," he said, encouraging her.
Nino’s heart skipped a beat, but she quickly pushed the feeling aside.
Nino looked up at Y/N, her face still flushed a deep shade of red, as if she had been caught in the heat of the moment.
Her heart pounded wildly in her chest.
She didn’t know why, but something inside her compelled her to move.
Rising onto her tiptoes, she tilted her head up, closing the distance between them ever so slightly.
Her mind was blank.
Her body moved on its own.
Unknowingly, she was trying to kiss him.
Y/N, on the other hand, stood frozen. His brain screamed at him to move, to react, to do something.
But his body refused to obey.
He could only stand there, his heart hammering against his ribcage, watching as Nino inched closer… and closer…
Her soft, warm breath mingled with his.
The space between them was almost nonexistent.
Two inches.
One inch.
Their lips were about to touch—
"Hey, Nino! Don't try to do anything to Y/N, okay~?"
A teasing voice cut through the tension like a knife.
Nino’s eyes widened in shock.
Y/N snapped back to reality.
The two immediately jumped apart as if jolted by electricity, their faces burning with embarrassment.
Nino’s breath was uneven as she clutched her chest, her heart pounding like a drum inside her ribcage.
Her body still felt warm from the lingering tension, and she could barely process what had just happened.
Or rather—what almost happened.
Her mind raced.
What was I about to do just now…?
She bit her lip, flustered beyond words.
Then—
"Tch."
A small, frustrated sound escaped her lips before she even realized it.
Her own reaction surprised her.
Did she just… click her tongue?
As the realization sank in, Nino stiffened, her hands clenching at her sides.
Slowly, she and Y/N turned toward the direction of the voice that had startled them.
But what they saw made Nino's eye twitch.
Ichika wasn't standing anywhere near them.
She was way at the back—chatting casually with the others.
She hadn't even moved from her spot.
She had simply called out to them.
From a distance.
As if she knew exactly what was going on.
Nino’s eye twitched again, her frustration bubbling to the surface.
Damn it, Ichika! Why’d you have to ruin my chance?!
She clenched her fists tighter, biting her lower lip to stop herself from shouting.
Meanwhile, Y/N let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. He still felt the heat on his face, but he quickly shook it off, trying to act normal.
"Uhh… we should probably head back," he muttered awkwardly.
Nino, still annoyed, crossed her arms.
"Whatever," she huffed, turning away quickly so Y/N wouldn’t see her expression.
Together, they walked back to the group, trying to act as if nothing had just happened.
But even as they rejoined the others, Nino’s mind was still spinning.
Just what the hell is wrong with me today…?
She stole a quick glance at Y/N from the corner of her eye.
And when their gazes accidentally met, her face burned all over again.
She immediately looked away.
And this time—
Ichika definitely noticed.
* Time Skip * —— Later that Evening.
Location : Gym
3rd POV
The atmosphere inside the private gym was quiet—almost eerily so.
Bright overhead lights illuminated the polished wooden floor, reflecting off the high ceilings. The scent of leather from the punching bags mixed with the faint aroma of sweat, giving the place a distinct air of discipline and effort.
Y/N stood in the middle of the gym, his arms crossed as he waited. This was the same place where he had been training Miku for the past two weeks, refining her Aikido and Taekwondo skills. But today—
Today was Nino’s turn.
The sound of the gym doors opening echoed across the room. Y/N turned his head toward the entrance and saw her stepping in.
Nino wore a fitted black sports top and a pair of form-fitting workout leggings, her long pink hair tied up in a high ponytail.
There was a certain confidence in the way she walked—an attitude that screamed determination, but her eyes held a flicker of nervousness.
"Took you long enough, Nino," Y/N said, his arms still crossed.
Nino scoffed, placing a hand on her hip. "Oh, shut up! I’m just five minutes late."
Y/N smirked. "Five minutes could mean the difference between life and death in a fight."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." She rolled her eyes. "So, what exactly are you teaching me?"
Y/N studied her for a moment before nodding to himself.
"I’ve been watching you, Nino," he said, his tone suddenly serious.
That made her freeze for a split second. Watching me…?
Her cheeks turned slightly pink, but she quickly shook it off. "And? What’s your expert opinion, oh great sensei?" she said with sarcasm.
Y/N ignored the teasing and continued, "I can say with confidence that Boxing suits you best."
Nino blinked. "Boxing?"
He nodded. "You don’t hesitate to confront others. You have a naturally aggressive approach, and that’s perfect for boxing. Fast footwork, quick strikes, counterpunching—it fits your personality like a glove."
For some reason, hearing that made her heart beat a little faster.
He really thought this through… for me?
The heat returned to her cheeks, but she quickly turned her head away, pretending to stretch her arms to hide it.
But Y/N wasn’t done yet.
"Before we get to that, though…"
Nino looked back at him, waiting for the next part.
"We have to make your body tougher."
She frowned. "Tougher?"
Y/N smirked, cracking his knuckles.
"And to do that, you need a good beating first."
"Wh—?"
Before she could even react, Y/N charged at her.
His movements were lightning fast—so fast that she barely had time to register what was happening.
His fist cut through the air, heading straight for her face—
But then…
Something inside Nino clicked.
Before her mind could process it, her body reacted on its own.
She pivoted on her heel, twisting her torso and snapping her leg up into a roundhouse kick—
One of Y/N’s own techniques.
Whoosh!!
Y/N’s eyes widened. He barely managed to tilt his head back in time, avoiding the kick by mere centimeters.
He landed a few steps away, staring at her with a look of pure shock.
Nino, on the other hand, was breathing heavily, her fists clenched.
She had no idea what just happened.
Y/N’s heart was racing. What the hell was that…?
He had expected her to freeze up—most untrained fighters did when faced with sudden aggression.
But she didn’t.
She didn’t panic.
She didn’t flinch.
She countered.
And not just with any random attack—she used his technique.
Perfectly.
A bead of sweat rolled down Y/N’s forehead as he narrowed his eyes.
‘Don’t tell me…’
‘Nino has the ability to copy others too?!’
“H... Hey, Y/n, you all right?” Nino asked, a hint of concern in her voice as she stepped closer. Her usual sharp tone was softened by genuine worry.
Y/n groaned slightly but managed a small smile as he stood up, brushing off the dust from his clothes. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he assured her, rolling his shoulders to shake off the impact. His gaze, however, quickly shifted to her, filled with curiosity and disbelief. “But... how did you do that, Nino?”
“Oh, you mean that kick?” Nino tilted her head slightly, placing a hand on her hip with a smirk. “I practiced it, like, thirty times in secret,” she admitted, her tone casual as if it wasn’t a big deal.
Y/n’s eyes widened in pure shock. What?! Thirty times? He was no stranger to training, but the sheer improvement she had shown in such a short time was mind-boggling. The speed, precision, and force behind her kick were beyond what he had expected. That’s an insane amount of growth in such a short period!
His gaze flickered to her legs. The way she had executed that kick—it was almost too fast to follow. Was it sheer determination? Natural talent? Either way, he couldn’t ignore the fact that Nino had just displayed something remarkable.
“Damn... That’s some serious dedication,” Y/n muttered, still in awe.
Nino puffed out her chest slightly, proud but trying to act nonchalant. “Of course! If I’m gonna do something, I do it properly,” she said, flipping her hair back confidently. “Besides, I wasn’t about to let myself lose.”
Y/n let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”
Nino smirked. “Oh? You finally understand? Good. Keep that in mind.”
For a moment, Y/n simply stared at her. This girl
' she was something else. ' He thought .
“So, how was it? Was my kick good?” Nino asked, placing her hands on her hips as she waited for Y/n’s response. However, instead of answering, he remained silent, his gaze distant, lost in thought.
Nino’s brow twitched in irritation. “Hey! Are you even listening to me?” she huffed, but Y/n didn’t react.
That means Nino doesn’t have a Copy ability like— Y/n mused, his chin resting in his palm. She can’t instantly replicate techniques, but she can learn at an incredibly fast rate. That’s still an impressive ability…
As he continued his internal analysis, Nino’s irritation grew. Is he seriously ignoring me?! Her fingers clenched into fists.
Fine, if you won’t answer, I’ll make you pay attention.
Without hesitation, she shifted her stance, lifting her right leg and preparing for another strike. This time, she went for a roundhouse kick—the one technique she had practiced relentlessly. She twisted her body, building momentum, her foot cutting through the air with speed and force.
But before her kick could connect with Y/n’s face .....
A firm grip caught her ankle mid-air.
“Huh?!” Nino gasped, her body freezing in shock.
Y/n’s right hand held her leg effortlessly, his grip like iron. His once-distant eyes were now sharp, focused entirely on her.
“You shouldn’t be so reckless,” he said, his voice calm yet unwavering.
Before Nino could react, Y/n shifted his weight and, with a single swift motion, swung her leg outward—sending her flying backward.
“Ack—!” Nino yelped as she lost balance, her body twisting mid-air before she crashed onto the ground with a thud.
She groaned, sitting up and rubbing her lower back. “Owww… That hurt, you jerk!” she snapped, glaring at him.
Y/n exhaled, crossing his arms. “That’s what you get for attacking someone without warning,” he said. “Besides, I already analyzed your movements. I wasn’t gonna let you land that twice.”
Nino gritted her teeth, both annoyed and impressed. She had given it her all, but Y/n had countered her like it was nothing.
He’s stronger than I thought...
Still, she wasn’t about to back down so easily.
• Flashback End •
Y/n POV
I still can’t believe it’s been a whole week since then.
Discovering Nino’s talent was nothing short of shocking. Unlike Miku, who possessed the “Copy” ability allowing her to instantly replicate techniques after seeing them once, but Nino didn’t have that gift. Instead, she had something even more extraordinary: Weapon Mastery.
It wasn’t just any skill—it was one of the rarest abilities, feared even by expert fighters. The ability to turn anything she touched into a weapon, no matter how small or insignificant, was a terrifying advantage in combat. A simple pen, a spoon, even a piece of cloth—if it was in her hands, it became a deadly tool.
To put it into perspective, if we took 1,000 highly talented people worldwide, about five of them might possess the “Copy” ability. But even among that elite group, the chances of finding someone with “Weapon Mastery” were almost nonexistent. It was that rare.
And yet, despite how impressive her ability was, what truly shocked me wasn’t her talent—but the speed of her growth.
At first, I thought Miku’s ability to learn and improve faster than anyone else was unparalleled. But Nino… she surpassed even that.
Her physical condition had improved dramatically in just a week. Her speed had increased significantly, her reflexes were sharper, and her strength, stamina, and agility had all skyrocketed. It was as if she was evolving right before my eyes, breaking past her limits day by day.
Now, she was on equal footing with Miku—the same Miku whom I had been training for two weeks. The difference? I had only trained Nino for one.
With Miku, I focused on Aikido and Taekwondo. With Nino, I decided to teach her Aikido and Boxing. Given her aggressive nature and sharp instincts, Boxing suited her perfectly, complementing her natural fighting style , despite her not being particularly suited for hand-to-hand combat. But her adaptability was unreal. No matter the technique, she absorbed it like a sponge, learning at a pace I hadn’t thought possible.
And the result? She had become an entirely different person on the battlefield.
2 week ago, Miku had been attacked by a group of 10 guys, and at the time, it was an overwhelming situation. But now… if the same thing were to happen to Nino?
She could take them all on by herself. Easily.
Her raw potential was terrifying. And if she kept growing at this rate… even I wasn’t sure what her limits would be.
And right now I stood in the center of the gym, stretching my arms as I waited for Miku and Nino to arrive.
There was something I needed from them in return for training.
This would be their third session together, and so far, Miku had won both times. Nino hated losing—it was written all over her face every time she fell short. She was growing at an insane pace, but Miku still had the edge.
Just as I was lost in thought, the sound of the gym doors creaking open snapped me back to reality.
I turned, expecting to see both Miku and Nino to walk in.
Instead, my eyes narrowed.
A group of nearly fifty men stepped inside, their faces obscured by masks.
Each one looked to be well over eighteen, their frames solid and built for violence. But what caught my attention most was the way they were equipped—knives, batons, and other weapons glinting under the gym’s fluorescent lights. These weren’t just street thugs looking for a fight. They had come prepared.
One of them pulled out a phone, glanced at the screen, then leaned over and whispered something to the man beside him.
The second man straightened, his voice cutting through the heavy silence.
"That’s him. Kill him. Don’t let him escape!"
Without hesitation, the group surged forward.
I smirked. A challenge, huh?
My fingers cracked as I clenched my fists.
"Bring it on."
* Scene Shift *
In a dimly lit room, the air was thick with tension.
Two boys knelt on the cold concrete floor, their heads bowed so low that their foreheads nearly touched the ground. Their bodies trembled, sweat dripping down their faces. Neither dared to lift their gaze.
They were the same boys Y/n had beaten down for bullying that foreign kid a few weeks ago.
Seated in front of them was a lone figure, his presence dominating the space despite his relaxed posture.
The man leaned back in a worn-out chair, one leg crossed over the other, his fingers lazily tapping against the armrest. The upper half of his face was swallowed by the darkness, while the lower half was concealed behind a sleek black mask.
His outfit was an odd contrast to the chilling aura he exuded—a pastel pink t-shirt, sagging baggy jeans, and thick aluminum chains that clinked softly whenever he shifted.
Standing like an immovable wall behind him was a towering man, his frame built like a fortress. He was bald, with a vicious scar running diagonally across his right eye, his gaze cold and unfeeling.
Jakey—the Mysterious Man’s personal enforcer.
The masked man finally broke the silence, his voice deep and composed, yet laced with something that sent a chill down the spine.
"Are you sure the information you've given me is accurate?" He flipped through a file before tossing it aside, the papers scattering across the floor.
The two boys flinched.
"Y... Yes, sir! We're absolutely sure!" they stammered in unison, their voices quivering.
The masked man exhaled slowly, then turned his head slightly toward Jakey.
"Jakey, how many men have you sent?"
Jakey straightened, his posture rigid. "At least one hundred fifty , sir." His voice held unwavering confidence.
For the first time, the masked man’s fingers stopped tapping against the armrest. The silence that followed was suffocating.
"One hundred fifty ?" His voice was calm—but something about it was wrong. Off.
Jakey stiffened, a bead of sweat forming at his temple.
The masked man leaned forward slightly. "You do realize if too many of our men are out there, it increases the risk of the police getting involved?"
A shiver ran down Jakey’s spine. His fingers twitched slightly as he swallowed hard.
"I understand, sir," Jakey replied, his usual composure cracking. "But there’s a reason I sent that many."
The masked man didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back once more, his fingers resuming their slow, rhythmic tapping against the armrest.
Jakey could feel his heart pounding.
This man—his silence was more terrifying than his words.
The air in the dimly lit room grew heavier with every passing second. A single flickering bulb cast eerie shadows along the cracked concrete walls. The two kneeling boys dared not even breathe too loudly as they awaited the masked man's response.
Jakey, standing beside them, felt his pulse hammering against his ribs.
Then—
"And what would that reason be?"
The masked man’s voice was calm, but it carried an undertone so chilling that Jakey felt an invisible hand tightening around his throat. His already trembling legs threatened to give out beneath him.
He swallowed hard before speaking, his voice unsteady.
"S-Sir… Three weeks ago, I sent ten of our men to eliminate the target and any witnesses who saw him humiliating Emerden." Jakey hesitated, the words catching in his throat. "But… the boy and the girl—"
He clenched his fists.
"They took them all out… easily."
The masked man’s fingers stopped their slow tapping against the armrest. Silence.
Jakey's voice trembled as he spoke, his breath uneven, his entire body tense. He dared not meet the gaze of the mysterious figure standing before him, an overwhelming presence that made the very air feel heavy.
The dimly lit room was suffocatingly silent, save for the faint crackling of a single candle. Shadows danced across the figure’s face, obscuring their features in an eerie haze.
"And since you've already read the file on him," Jakey continued, his throat dry, "you would see that there are five girls and one boy at his side. So… I sent 150 men. Fifty to handle the boy who dared to humiliate Emerden, fifty for the five girls, and the last fifty for that other boy."
He clenched his fists at his sides, trying to steady himself. He had done everything right. He had prepared well. With those numbers, there was no way they could fail.
And yet…
The silence that followed was suffocating.
The mysterious figure didn't react. No nod of approval. No words of acknowledgment. Just the unbearable stillness.
Jakey gulped. The sweat on his forehead grew cold.
Then, finally, the figure moved.
A low, chilling chuckle echoed through the room, sending a shiver down Jakey’s spine.
"One hundred and fifty men," the figure murmured, as if savoring the number.
Jakey felt his heart pound against his ribs.
Jakey forced himself to continue. "When I interrogated the survivors, they told me… they couldn’t even see his movements. He was too fast. It was like fighting a ghost. That’s why—" He gulped. "That’s why I sent 150 men, sir."
For a moment, nothing but the low hum of the flickering bulb filled the room.
Then, the masked man exhaled softly.
"Well, good then, Jakey," he murmured.
Jakey flinched as a firm hand suddenly clamped onto his shoulder. A creeping, paralyzing fear spread through his veins.
"I hope this works out just fine," the masked man continued, his voice almost pleasant—"Otherwise… something unfortunate might happen to you."
Jakey’s breath hitched.
The kneeling boys watched in horror as the masked man tightened his grip before finally releasing him, stepping away as if Jakey was no longer worth his attention.
Jakey forced himself to stand tall, but his hands were slick with sweat.
If 150 men weren’t enough… then what the hell had they picked a fight with?
* Scene Shift *
Location: The Gym
3rd POV
The air inside the gym was thick with the stench of blood and sweat.
Bodies littered the floor—fifty of them. Motionless. Twisted. Piled atop one another like discarded puppets whose strings had been violently severed.
At the very top of the mound sat Y/n.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers loosely interlocked. His expression was unreadable. His breath steady. Not a single wound marked his body.
Yet his hands…
His hands were drenched in crimson.
Not his own.
The blood of fifty men coated his knuckles, dripping onto the already-soaked wooden floor. Red streaks painted his forearms, the evidence of the carnage he had just unleashed.
The once-pristine gym was now a battlefield. The floor had been transformed into a grotesque canvas, smeared with blood in erratic patterns. Shattered weapons—knives snapped in half, metal batons bent at impossible angles—lay discarded among the bodies.
Y/n let out a slow, measured exhale.
He tilted his head slightly, surveying the unconscious—or perhaps lifeless—bodies sprawled beneath him.
"Tch…" He scoffed, his voice echoing through the now-deadly silent gym.
"Looks like you all weren’t that tough, huh?"
A smirk played on his lips, but his eyes were cold—calculating.
His knuckles cracked as he flexed his fingers, blood still dripping from his hands onto the floor below. The rhythmic sound of liquid meeting wood was the only thing breaking the silence.
He stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. His shadow stretched over the fallen men, his presence looming like a specter of death.
Not a single one of them had been able to land a hit.
Not a single one of them had stood a chance.
And now…
They were nothing more than a bloodstained memory.
* Scene Shift *
The Nakano sisters walked down the dimly lit street, their bags filled with groceries. The night air was cool, and their chatter filled the otherwise quiet road.
But then—
A sudden rustling. The sound of heavy footsteps.
All five girls stopped in their tracks as dozens of men emerged from the shadows, blocking their path. Their faces were mostly hidden by masks, but their menacing presence was undeniable.
The man in front, the apparent leader, tilted his head slightly before speaking.
"They're the targets, right?" he asked, his voice cold and emotionless.
Another masked man, flipping through a stack of papers, nodded.
"Yes, sir. Looking at the photo Sir Jakey gave us, I'm certain these are the targets."
As soon as he confirmed it, a chorus of metallic clicks echoed through the air.
Knives. Batons. Chains.
Weapons meant for harm.
The sisters stiffened as the realization set in.
"W-What is all this!?" Itsuki stammered, fear creeping into her voice as she took a step back.
Yotsuba, though trying to stay composed, looked just as shaken. "Are they… targeting us?"
Ichika’s face paled. This wasn’t some random mugging. There was intent behind this ambush.
But among them, Miku and Nino seemed strangely unfazed.
Miku turned to Nino, her voice as monotone as ever. "Nino, you brought your weapon, right?"
Nino didn’t even glance at her. "No, I didn’t."
Then, with a small smirk, she reached into her bag and pulled out a plastic knife—the kind they had bought earlier for groceries.
"But this will do, right?" she added nonchalantly.
Miku nodded approvingly. "As long as you use it perfectly, everything is fine."
The other three sisters were speechless.
"Are… are they serious right now?" Ichika thought, sweat dripping down her temple.
While Itsuki and Yotsuba were still processing Miku and Nino’s calmness, the men began advancing.
* Scene Shift *
Futarou walked down the street, phone in hand, speaking to his little sister, Raiha. The tutoring session had gone well, and he was feeling relaxed—until a chilling voice called out from behind.
He stopped mid-step, his expression immediately turning serious. Slowly, he turned around.
Fifty men.
Armed.
Their cold, predatory gazes locked onto him like wolves surrounding prey.
Futarou sighed, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
"Raiha, my friends are here to greet me, so I’ll call you later."
He ended the call before she could respond.
As soon as he pocketed his phone—
They charged.
A swarm of bodies lunged at him, weapons gleaming under the streetlights.
Futarou ran a hand through his hair, inhaling deeply.
"Thank God I learned something from Y/n to defend myself."
His muscles tensed.
Then, he moved.
* Scene Shift *
The moment the fifty men charged, the tension in the air snapped like a drawn bowstring.
Miku shifted her stance, her feet spreading apart as she raised her arms, her hands open and relaxed. Her posture was firm, steady—every part of her body ready to react. The way she stood, her weight evenly distributed, showed she wasn’t just some amateur throwing random punches.
Meanwhile, Nino stood beside her, gripping her plastic knife with practiced ease. She didn’t need to look at Miku to communicate.
"Hey, Miku, I'll handle twenty-five of them. You take the other twenty-five, okay?" she said casually, her eyes locked on the incoming enemies.
"Yeah, sure. Just do it your way," Miku replied, her voice calm as ever.
The moment the first wave of enemies reached them—
Miku moved.
With a sharp exhale, she dodged the first attacker’s swing, sidestepping with practiced footwork. Her right leg shot up, striking the man’s chin with a powerful roundhouse kick. His head snapped back, and he collapsed instantly.
Before his body even hit the ground, Miku had already spun—her left leg whipping through the air in a spinning hook kick that slammed into another man’s temple. The force sent him crashing into two of his allies, knocking them down like bowling pins.
A baton-wielding thug lunged at her from behind.
Without turning around, Miku twisted her body and jumped—her foot snapped out mid-air in a spinning back kick, catching the thug square in the stomach. He flew backward, skidding across the pavement.
Her movements were smooth, precise. Every kick had purpose—every attack calculated.
The men hesitated, realizing they weren’t fighting an ordinary girl.
Miku Nakano knew Taekwondo.
But by the time they understood, it was too late.
Miku darted forward, her heel smashing into an attacker’s kneecap. A sickening crack echoed before he crumbled, groaning in pain. Another swung a knife at her, but Miku leaned back, dodging effortlessly before snapping her leg up in a vertical kick that struck his jaw.
Another down.
Meanwhile, Nino wasn’t standing still.
She gripped her plastic knife tightly, her fingers wrapped around the handle with expert precision. It was just a simple utensil—but in her hands, it was a deadly weapon.
A thug lunged at her with a metal pipe. Nino twisted her body, stepping just out of range before slashing her plastic knife across his arm.
"AAAH!" The man screamed as a deep cut appeared on his forearm. The pain made him drop his weapon.
Another man tried to grab her from behind.
Nino reacted instantly, ducking under his arms and slicing a clean cut along his cheek. Blood trickled from the wound, making the thug recoil in pain.
The others hesitated.
"Tch. Weaklings," Nino muttered.
Another rushed her—big, burly, carrying a machete.
A mistake.
Nino sidestepped just before he swung, twisting the knife in her grip before dragging it across his wrist. His grip weakened, and with a single kick to his stomach, he went tumbling backward.
More men surrounded her.
Nino smirked. “Idiots.”
She dashed forward—fast—her plastic knife slashing across hands, cheeks, arms, legs. She never went for fatal blows. No, she made sure to cut them where it hurt—disabling them without killing.
One by one, the thugs collapsed, groaning in pain, unable to hold their weapons anymore.
In less than five minutes, the fifty men were either unconscious, writhing on the ground, or too injured to move.
Miku dusted off her skirt, exhaling slowly.
Nino twirled her plastic knife in her hand before tossing it in the air and catching it effortlessly.
The remaining thugs who could still stand looked at the two girls in terror.
"W-What the hell are these monsters…?" one of them whispered.
Miku tilted her head, her usual blank expression still in place.
"You guys sure talked big for being this weak," Nino scoffed.
And with that, the last few men turned and ran, leaving behind their fallen comrades.
The battle was over.
The fifty men who had ambushed them now lay sprawled across the pavement—some unconscious, some groaning in pain, and others too scared to move. The few who could still stand had already turned tail and fled, leaving their fallen comrades behind.
Miku straightened her posture, exhaling slowly as she adjusted her hair. Her heartbeat, which had been steady throughout the fight, remained calm. This wasn’t her first time handling a situation like this.
Nino, on the other hand, twirled her plastic knife between her fingers before flicking it up and catching it effortlessly. Despite its flimsy nature, she had wielded it like a seasoned fighter, cutting through her enemies with precision.
Then—
A sudden warmth engulfed both of them.
They were hugged.
Miku and Nino stiffened, their bodies going rigid as they felt arms wrap around them from all sides.
"We were so worried about you two!" Itsuki’s voice cracked with emotion, her grip on them tight, as if she feared letting go. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
"You two were so cool, Miku and Nino!" Yotsuba practically squealed, bouncing on her heels as she hugged them with an overwhelming enthusiasm.
"You two never cease to amaze us, huh?" Ichika murmured, wiping away the moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes. Her usual teasing demeanor was absent—replaced with genuine relief.
Miku and Nino blinked.
Shocked.
Confused.
Not because they didn’t understand their sisters' concern, but because… when was the last time they were hugged like this?
Nino’s fingers twitched. It felt… unfamiliar, yet not unwelcome.
Miku’s expression, usually unreadable, softened—just a little.
After a moment, Itsuki finally pulled away, her eyes still red as she stared at them.
"But… how did you two do that? And, Nino, you only had a plastic knife! How were you cutting them down like it was a real weapon?"
Miku and Nino exchanged a brief glance.
Then—
"Uhh… umm… we just went to defense class."
Both of them replied in unison.
Silence.
Their sisters blinked at them.
Then—
"Defense class?" Ichika repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"Since when did a 'defense class' teach people how to knock out trained thugs with Taekwondo…?" Yotsuba muttered.
"And since when did a plastic knife become so deadly…?" Itsuki added, eyes narrowing.
The suspicious stares bore into them.
Miku and Nino remained silent, sweating internally.
Finally, Miku looked away, her usual blank expression returning.
"…Self-defense is important."
Nino crossed her arms, nodding in agreement.
"Yeah, what she said."
Their sisters weren’t convinced.
But for now, they let it slide.
* Scene shift *
Futarou stood his ground, fifty armed men closing in on him like a pack of wolves circling their prey. The streetlights flickered, casting long shadows over the pavement. The cold night air buzzed with tension, but Futarou remained unfazed.
He exhaled slowly, lowering his stance, his fists tightening. His movements were measured—Kyokushin Karate, a martial art that emphasized full-contact fighting and endurance. He had never been in a real fight before, but now that he was here…
He was enjoying it.
The first thug lunged at him with a baton, aiming straight for his ribs.
Futarou didn’t dodge.
He endured.
The baton slammed into his side with a dull thud, but Futarou barely flinched. He clenched his jaw, absorbing the pain before retaliating—his fist shot forward like a cannon, smashing into the thug’s stomach.
"Guh—!" The man’s breath left him in an instant as he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Another attacked from behind, swinging a chain at Fuutarou’s head.
Without turning, Futarou sidestepped just enough for the chain to graze past his ear. Then, in one swift motion, he pivoted on his heel, delivering a spinning back kick straight to the attacker’s liver. The force lifted the man off his feet before he collapsed, groaning in pain.
But Futarou didn’t stop there.
A third thug came running, aiming a knife at his chest.
Futarou’s eyes gleamed.
Instead of dodging, he stepped forward, closing the distance before the blade could reach him. His left arm blocked the attacker’s wrist, stopping the knife mid-air.
Then—
A devastating right hook to the jaw.
The thug's body twisted unnaturally before he collapsed like a ragdoll.
More came at him.
Punches. Kicks. Blunt weapons.
Futarou took it all.
He gritted his teeth, welcoming the impact of every strike against his body. Pain was nothing. He had spent years enduring exhaustion, overwork, and stress. Compared to all that, these hits were nothing.
And with every hit he received—
He hit back ten times harder.
A thug swung at him wildly. Futarou ducked and drove his knee into the man’s solar plexus. The attacker’s eyes rolled back as he collapsed.
Two more rushed in, but Futarou launched himself forward—his footwork swift, precise. He threw a powerful low kick at the first thug’s thigh, disabling his leg instantly before delivering a shattering elbow strike to his temple.
The second thug tried to stab him, but Futarou caught his wrist and twisted it brutally, making the knife drop.
Then, he delivered a full-force roundhouse kick to the side of his head, knocking him unconscious.
Minutes passed.
The once-confident thugs now hesitated, their hands trembling as they looked at the monster in front of them.
Futarou—
He was smiling.
His fists were bruised, his breath slightly heavier, but his stance was unwavering.
The remaining men exchanged nervous glances before charging all at once.
"Hah…" Futarou exhaled, lowering his stance.
"Fine. Come at me."
And then—
He disappeared into motion.
He weaved through their attacks with precision, his fists and legs moving like a storm. Every strike he delivered was backed by sheer force—full-contact, no holding back.
A brutal axe kick struck down one.
A spinning back fist sent another flying.
A devastating body shot made one collapse, foaming at the mouth.
One by one, they fell.
And by the time ten minutes had passed—
Not a single thug was left standing.
Futarou stood amidst a battlefield of broken bodies, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths. He rolled his shoulders, cracking his knuckles.
"Tch. That was fun," he muttered, a small grin still lingering on his face.
To be Continued........
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A/n : I'm gonna take some break , so there won't be any new Chapter's for a while .