Chapter 59 Confrontation (2)

Two of the remaining thugs rushed Kengo from both sides, their footsteps heavy and aggressive on the cold pavement. Kengo's eyes flicked between them, quickly analyzing their movements, instinct kicking in. He wasn't about to let them close in on him without a fight.

In one swift motion, Kengo lashed out with his foot, sending an abandoned crate skidding across the alley floor. The thug on the right tripped over it, his momentum betraying him as he crashed shoulder-first into the rough brick wall. His head smacked against the surface with a sickening thud, and he slid down, clutching his temple, groaning.

The second thug tried to take advantage of the moment, swinging a wild punch aimed at Kengo's ribs. Kengo twisted just in time, dodging the blow by mere inches. With a brutal efficiency, he countered, driving his elbow sharply into the thug's side. The boy let out a strangled gasp, folding over in pain.

Without waiting, Kengo grabbed his collar and slammed his knee into his stomach, making the guy retch violently, collapsing to the ground, clutching his abdomen.

"Kengo!" Take called out, panic lacing his voice as he stumbled to his feet. His eyes widened when he saw another thug charging at Kengo's blind spot. Without thinking, Take lunged forward, crashing his body into the thug's legs. The attacker tripped over Take's tackle, his knees slamming hard into the ground, skin scraping against the jagged alley surface.

Kengo seized the opportunity, grabbing the thug by the back of the head and smashing his face into the side of a rusty dumpster. The thug dropped to the ground in a heap, unconscious. His face smeared with red.

There was only one left now—a wiry, desperate-looking boy. His eyes darted between Kengo and his fallen comrades, his confidence faltering. Sweat trickled down his face as he hesitated, but desperation pushed him forward. With a wild shout, he lunged at Kengo from behind, wrapping his thin arms around Kengo's neck in a sloppy chokehold, squeezing with everything he had.

Kengo gritted his teeth as his air was cut off, the sudden pressure making his vision blur at the edges. The wiry boy tightened his grip, his bony fingers digging painfully into Kengo's throat. For a moment, the world closed in, but Kengo's instincts flared to life. He staggered, reaching blindly for anything nearby, his fingers scraping against the rough alley floor.

His hand closed around the broken umbrella. Without a second thought, Kengo rammed it backward, the jagged metal tip jabbing into the boy's ribs with a brutal force. The boy shrieked, his grip loosening just enough for Kengo to break free.

Kengo spun around, rage boiling in his chest. He smashed the umbrella's handle into the boy's gut with a vicious swing, doubling him over. Before the boy could recover, Kengo grabbed him by the collar and threw him hard against the dumpster. The clang of his body hitting the metal rang out like a death knell. The boy crumpled to the ground, groaning in agony, clutching his side where the umbrella had struck.

Kengo stood over him, chest heaving. The sounds of the city faded into the background, leaving only the faint, raspy breaths of his defeated opponents echoing in the cold night air.

Shuta, who had been standing on the sidelines, suddenly realized he was the last man standing. His tough-guy act evaporated, leaving only fear behind. He took an uncertain step backward, his face pale, eyes wide with disbelief. Kengo turned to him slowly, the ferocity still in his eyes.

"You were gonna show me your way, right?" Kengo's voice was cold, dripping with menace. He took a slow step forward, dragging the battered umbrella along the ground with a harsh metallic scrape. "Well?"

Shuta's bravado crumbled completely. His legs trembled, his body betraying him as a dark, wet stain spread down his pants. "S-stay back!" he stammered, his voice cracking. He tripped over the edge of the alley, fumbling for balance, before finally turning and bolting into the night.

Kengo watched him run, the grin on his face devoid of humor. Shuta's remaining lackeys, those who were still conscious, scrambled to their feet and chased after him, eager to get away.

The alley fell into a tense silence. The stench of sweat hung in the air, mixing with the damp scent of garbage. Take, still sprawled on the ground, let out a long, shaky breath. "Holy shit, Kengo! That fighting...." he rasped, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Kengo, chest still heaving, wiped the sweat from his brow and tossed the broken umbrella aside. His jaw clenched as the reality of what just happened hit him, the adrenaline starting to fade. "Yeah you grow up around guys like that," he muttered, his voice low and gritty, "You learn fast. Or you don't grow up at all."

Take struggled to his feet, wobbling slightly as he reached out for Kengo's arm. "But... you said you were done with this," he said, his voice tinged with confusion. "You promised you wouldn't use violence again."

Kengo gave a hollow laugh, shaking his head as he looked down at Take. "That wasn't a fight, Take," he said quietly. "That was self-defense."

Take blinked, caught off guard by Kengo's words. "I'm just saying we could've avoided it... maybe talked them down or something," he mumbled, his tone unsure now.

Kengo's expression hardened, and he took a step closer, his voice steady and cold. "You're naïve if you think talking would've worked. Those guys wouldn't have stopped. You think they'd let us just walk away after that"

Take swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Kengo's words settle in. He had never seen this side of Kengo before.

Kengo, sensing the tension, sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I don't like it either, but sometimes you don't have a choice." He glanced down at Take's bruises and cuts. "Besides, I had to make sure your precious pitcher didn't get hurt before the big game."

Take looked down at him in surprise, as if just now realizing the state Kengo was in. He laughed awkwardly, patting Kengo's arms and legs as if checking for injuries. "Crap, you're right. What if you're injured?!"

Kengo chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm fine, you big baby."

---

As they neared Take's house, the tension between them eased completely. The house came into view, and he gave Kengo a quick nod as they prepared to part ways.

"Thanks again..." Take said, his tone more sincere this time. "You didn't have to do that back there."

Kengo shrugged, flashing a grin."See you at practice tomorrow, man."

"Yeah, see you."

As Take walked up the path to his house, Kengo lingered for a moment, watching him go. The streets were quiet now, the distant hum of traffic the only sound in the air. Kengo sighed, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. He started walking again, his thoughts already drifting to the upcoming game.

Baseball had given him a reason to fight for something. And in a way, it was the only thing keeping him from slipping back into the life he had worked so hard to leave behind. The streets were still there, always waiting, always ready to pull him back in. But for now, he had something else—something worth fighting for.

With a determined set to his jaw, Kengo quickened his pace, his mind focused on the game ahead. Seimei was going to be tough, but Kengo had faced worse.