Chapter 53: Chapter 12:(Fixed)

The moment Seijirou moved, the tension in the air snapped like a wire pulled too tight.

His shoes screeched against the tiled floor, the faint echo of his movement swallowed by the emptiness of the hallway.

Nou Badi’s grin widened, his metal bat raised high like a guillotine ready to fall.

The first swing came fast—faster than most could react, sending a horizontal arc meant to crush bones.

Seijirou ducked low, dodging it as precisely as possible.

The bat sliced through the air above him, missing by inches, the gust brushing against his hair.

He pivoted off his heel, snapping a low kick toward Nou’s shin—Muay Thai style. It connected, sending a solid impact, a quick thud of muscle meeting muscle, but Nou barely flinched.

"Not bad!" Nou laughed, swinging again.

Seijirou tilted back, the bat barely grazing the buttons of his shirt.

He retaliated instantly—left jab, right hook, knee strike.

He keeps sending fast and clean strikes. Each move flowed into the next, like a pattern drilled into his muscle memory.

Nou blocked the hook with the shaft of his bat, metal clanging against flesh and bone. Pain shot up Seijirou’s knuckles, but he didn’t stop.

He weaved under another swing and went for a spinning elbow, the kind only seen in street fights or full-contact tournaments.

It landed, cracked against Nou’s jaw, forcing him back a few steps.

For a moment, Seijirou thought he’d gained the upper hand.

Then his ribs screamed.

The old wound from his fight Ryuhei and Haruto flared, a dull, burning ache spreading across his side.

His breath hitched, breakung his rhythm.

Nou noticed this.

"You’re hurt," Nou sneered, spitting blood from his split lip. "Guess this’ll be easier than I thought!"

He charged, and the metal bat came down like thunder.

Seijirou sidestepped, but his movement wasn’t as sharp as before.

The bat slammed into the locker beside him, denting the steel inward with a deafening bang.

Shards of metal scraped his arm, drawing blood, but Seijirou grit his teeth and countered with a sharp front kick to Nou’s midsection, followed by a right cross straight to the face.

Nou staggered, but swung the bat again, desperate and wild.

Clang!

This time it hit.

The bat connected with Seijirou’s forearm as he tried to block, numbing the entire limb.

The pain crawled up to his shoulder like electricity. He hissed, stepping back, clutching his arm.

Nou laughed, shoulders heaving. "What’s wrong, King? Losing your crown?"

Seijirou’s glare sharpened. His breathing steadied, his injured body trembling under the pressure.

The pain was just noise, he’d fought through worse.

He spread his feet apart, right hand open, left hand raised slightly, a shift into a different stance.

This is not boxing, not Muay Thai, but something sharper, more surgical—Jeet Kune Do.

He exploded forward again.

Nou swung, but Seijirou’s hand shot out, redirecting the bat mid-swing with a trapping motion.

His body rotated, his elbow snapping upward like a piston, striking Nou’s chin, and before the man could react, Seijirou followed with a sidekick straight into his gut.

The blow knocked Nou backward into the lockers, causing the metal to rang like a gong.

But Seijirou’s body faltered the instant after, his vision swayed, one knee almost buckling.

The injuries from Ryuhei’s Karyoku-infused blows weren’t fully healed.

Every movement tore at half-closed wounds beneath his uniform.

’Fuck.’

Nou wiped his mouth, grinning despite the pain. "Heh. That all you got?"

He rushed in again, his bat raised. But this time, Seijirou didn’t dodge, but stepped in. His hand shot out, catching the bat’s shaft mid-swing.

The shock ran through his arm, but he twisted his grip, using Nou’s own momentum to pull him forward.

Then, with a brutal downward motion, he drove his knee into Nou’s stomach.

Nou coughed blood, but retaliated with a headbutt that cracked against Seijirou’s temple.

Both men stumbled apart, breathing ragged.

The hallway reeked of sweat and iron.

Seijirou’s vision blurred for a moment.

He shook it off, switching again, low stance, close-quarters, reminiscent of Krav Maga.

He waited, letting Nou attack first. The next swing came faster than before, but Seijirou moved inside the arc, shoulder bumping into Nou’s chest.

He jammed an elbow upward into the armpit, grabbed the wrist holding the bat, and twisted hard.

Snap.

The bat clattered to the floor, rolling away.

Nou cursed, clutching his wrist, but Seijirou didn’t give him time as he drove forward,. sending a low kick to the knee, palm strike to the face, and a hook to the liver.

Nou grunted, his body folding inward, but managed to grab Seijirou’s collar and slam him into the lockers.

The impact tore through Seijirou’s back.

His breath left him in a single painful exhale as Nou threw a heavy punch, and Seijirou barely raised his arm in time to block.

The force still rattled him, his body crying out in protest.

"You’re slowing down!" Nou barked, pushing forward, fist after fist hammering into Seijirou’s defense.

But Seijirou wasn’t blocking anymore. He was calculating, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

At the exact moment Nou threw his right fist again, Seijirou shifted his weight, catching the arm and pivoting behind him.

He locked it in an armbar position and twisted, forcing Nou to the ground, causing him to screamed, trying to resist, but Seijirou’s knee pressed into his back.

"Stay down," Seijirou said through clenched teeth, sweat dripping down his chin.

"Go to hell!"

Nou surged with raw strength, breaking the hold and rolling away before lunging for the bat, snatching it from the floor.

But before he could lift it again, Seijirou was already there—his foot crashing against Nou’s wrist, sending the weapon spinning down the hallway.

Then came a roundhouse kick to the jaw. Nou’s head whipped sideways, his teeth flying.

He collapsed but refused to stay down, pushing himself up on shaking arms.

Seijirou could barely stand himself, one arm limp and breathing heavy. His vision pulsed, but he stepped forward anyway.

"This is the part," he muttered, "where you fall."

He drew on everything left, his body a map of pain, but his focus absolute. He felt the world narrowed to a single target, and threw a straight punch, a left hook, a low kick.

Nou tried to guard, but Seijirou broke through, each hit driving him closer to the lockers.

The final blow was a spinning back kick that landed square on Nou’s chest.

Crash.

Nou’s back slammed against the metal, denting it inward before he slid to the floor, gasping.

His bat lay meters away, his hands trembling, his eyes unfocused.

Seijirou staggered forward, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed his fist once more into Nou’s gut.

The man coughed blood and went limp.

The hallway was silent again, and only Seijirou’s ragged breathing remained.

He stood over Nou’s unconscious form, chest rising and falling, blood trickling from his temple.

Slowly, he exhaled and released his grip, letting the body slump to the floor.

"...Hired muscle," he muttered, voice low. "Should’ve asked for a raise."

Seijirou dragged the unconscious Nou Badi across the dusty corridor floor, leaving faint streaks of blood and shoe marks behind.

With a grunt, he hoisted the man up and threw him over the top of a locker, the metal groaning under the sudden weight before he slammed the door shut with finality.

Dusting off his hands, he exhaled sharply, his expression filled with mild irritation rather than triumph.

He reached down for his school bag, slinging it over his shoulder, and checked the time on his phone. 6:42 p.m.

He sighed. That fight took far longer than it should have. Dealing with a hired thug should’ve been quick, but his muscles still burned from the earlier clash with the Karyoku users.

Every swing and block tonight felt heavier and slower. Obviously, his body wasn’t in top shape.

"Should’ve rested one more day," he muttered.

He opened his phone again and saw new messages.

Suzune had texted him first — "Got bored waiting for you. Touka and I are going shopping, see you later~" followed by a shopping bag emoji.

Then Shou messaged right after: "Goin home early. Mom wants me to grab groceries."

Seijirou’s shoulders sagged. "Guess it’s just me, huh?"

He pocketed his phone and stepped outside the school building.

The sky was painted in a dull orange, the sun sinking behind the buildings like a dying ember.

The campus was nearly silent, just the faint rustle of wind brushing against the trees and the distant echo of a closing gate.

Everyone else had already left.

He began walking home, humming quietly to himself.

The cool evening breeze brushed against his face, carrying the faint scent of cherry blossoms from the schoolyard.

For a brief moment, the exhaustion of the day began to fade.

Then, his phone buzzed again, this time, an incoming call. The name flashing on the screen made him stop cold.

Aiko.

Suzune’s Mother.

He blinked, confused. Suzune’s mom? Why would she call him?

He answered. "Ah, Aiko?"

"Seijirou," came the calm, mature voice from the other side, though it quickly grew tense. "Is Suzune with you right now?"

He frowned. "No. She texted earlier that she went shopping with her friend, Touka."

There was a short pause, then the sound of an annoyed sigh. "Shopping? That girl— I told her clearly we’d go home together tonight. Unbelievable, she made me wait in front of the school and didn’t say anything to me. When she gets home, she’s getting an earful."

The call ended abruptly.

Seijirou stood still, phone still in hand, his reflection caught in the dim glass of the school gate.

His expression slowly darkened. Suzune... going out even though her mom told her not to?

That wasn’t like her. Suzune always listened especially to her mother.

His pulse quickened.

Then, his mind raced back, the strange looks Suzune got in the cafeteria today, the moment he bumped into Basuta in the hallway, the sudden ambush after school...

The puzzle pieces snapped together in his head like a lock turning.

His breath hitched.

"Fuck."

He turned on his heel and sprinted back toward the school.

His bag swung wildly at his side, and his footsteps thundered against the pavement.

The sun had already disappeared, and the shadows swallowed the campus whole.

Something was wrong.

And he hoped he wasn’t already too late.