As Ms. Sakai’s words faded, several chefs burst from the izakaya’s kitchen, ladles and frying pans raised.
Tension crackled between the two sides—but Ms. Sakai’s group was clearly outnumbered and outmatched.
“Damn,” muttered the towel-draped young man, face grim, cradling a stainless steel basin. “Most staff went to the neighboring prefecture for supplies today.”
“Drop it? You think this ends here?” The lead delinquent in a black studded jacket smirked, pulling a dagger from his jacket. His lackeys followed, snapping out switchblades and batons.
Customers who’d been watching scrambled to leave—no one wanted to get caught in the crossfire. Ms. Sakai frowned slightly at those fleeing without paying.
“But these two young ladies apologized sincerely and offered compensation,” she said calmly. “You’ve scared off my guests. I’ll waive the fee. Let’s end this.”
The delinquents froze, then burst into mocking laughter.
“Hey, Ms. Sakai—this can’t just vanish! My brother’s injustice must be answered! What’ll the red-light district think? Or… how ‘bout you do me a favor? Be my girlfriend. Then I *might* forgive those rude high school girls.”
Staff glared. The towel-draped worker roared, “You bastard!”
No one saw who threw the first punch. Chaos erupted. Tables, bowls, chopsticks crashed and clattered. Uniformed staff grappled with black-jacketed thugs.
Seizing the confusion, Ms. Sakai pulled Shizuku and Mari toward the back room.
“Ms. Sakai… why help us?” Shizuku asked urgently.
A strained smile touched the proprietress’s lips. “Anyone in my shop is my guest. How could I let harm come to them?”
*(Truth was, she thought: You’re linked to that white-haired guest—and he matters deeply to Mr. Kenji. Besides… you two were never their real target.)*
The shop was a wreck. Outnumbered and stiff in brawling, staff rolled on the floor amid shattered furniture. Only one defender remained: the towering chef standing firm before the three women.
“Carry these beauties back for *entertainment*!” the delinquents jeered.
Hearing the vulgar taunts, Shizuku snapped, “I’ve called the police!”
Their laughter swelled. The boss sneered, “Cops? Bought off. They’ll take an hour. And in sixty minutes… we’ll have *fun*. Every inch.” He winked at his crew. “Right?”
Shizuku lowered her head. Ms. Sakai pulled them back—but there was nowhere left.
The chef snorted steam from his nostrils. “As long as I stand,” he boomed in heavily accented Japanese, “not a single hair on Ms. Sakai or our guests will be touched!”
Ms. Sakai added quickly, “This chef? Former top-tier delinquent. Surname: Hansen.”
“Hansen?” Mari blinked.
“In English, it means ‘his’,” Ms. Sakai said.
“So…?” Shizuku pressed.
“His father was a stationed US soldier who vanished after his fun! Hansen’s half Black heritage!”
“Ohhh~!”
No wonder he looked so formidable. “Hansen’s an absolute beast in a fight!”
On cue, Hansen roared, swinging pan and ladle like toys. He looked like a chest-pounding gorilla; the delinquents, scrawny monkeys huddled below. *Maybe we can win!* Hope flickered in every fallen staff member’s eyes. *Go, Hansen!*
The boss’s stern gaze shifted to disdain. *Snap.*
A wiry figure shot out like lightning.
“What!?” Ms. Sakai gasped.
“Think I came unprepared for a giant?” the boss smirked.
Hansen screamed—a sound that made every man on the street clamp his legs shut. Blood bloomed across his crotch. The scrawny attacker crouched on a table, licking his dagger.
“Meet my secret weapon! Vital Point Destroyer—Dagger Kouji!”
“Well done, Kouji-kun!” The boss patted his head.
*THUD.* Hansen collapsed. Hope shattered with him.
“HANSEN!” a staff member wailed. “You bastard! What did you do?!”
*Squelch.* The boss ground his heel on the boy’s head. “Obvious, isn’t it? Just… man-machine separation.” He grinned. “Now nothing stops me, Ms. Sakai. Not you. Not your shop.”
His lackeys closed in, hands like storm clouds. Shizuku and Mari clung together, eyes shut tight—
*THWIP!* A metal chopstick pierced a twitching hand reaching for Mari’s cheek.
“Agh!” All eyes shot to the staircase.
A youth in work clothes stood there, reeking of sake, wearing a red oni mask with a blue-faced, fanged visage.
“More backup?” Delinquents swarmed him—*one guy, no real weapon. How could we lose?*
They lost. Instantly. Bodies flew back like repelling magnets.
“Impossible!” The boss wiped sweat, voice cracking. “Kouji! Go for his vitals!”
“YES!” Kouji lunged—then *whoosh*—kicked straight through the shoji door onto the street.
Ms. Sakai, Shizuku, and Mari stared, breathless, as the masked youth descended the stairs. Their gazes burned like crowds watching an oiran’s grand entrance.
“So cool!” Mari whispered, hand over her mouth.
Shizuku’s expression twisted. *Familiar… but I’ve never met him.*
Ms. Sakai’s shock deepened. *He visits with Mr. Kenji… but I never knew he fought like this.*
“No wonder he’s with Mr. Kenji…”
“You! Who the hell are you?!” the boss shrieked, pounding the table from behind his crew.
Mai kept her voice low and clipped to hide her tone. The mask turned. One word, ice-cold:
“Leave.”
“Wha—?!” *He won’t even name himself?!* Humiliation burned. “ATTACK! HE’S ALONE! KILL HIM!”
“Ooooh!”
“This guy’s insane!”
*No choice now.* The boss’s hand closed around cold metal—a real pistol bought from a Russian. *Even bribed cops won’t save me after this.*
“Die!”
*Click.* Safety off. Crisp. Final.
“Faster than a bullet? Within seven steps? Just a human… don’t push your luck!”
*BANG! BANG! BANG!*
Three shots ripped through the red-light district. Streets erupted in panic.
