Chapter 1: Haruko Matsumoto (The Nobody.): Survival of the Fittest. Part 2

Part 2

In the store, the mother looked down in defeat.

There was nothing that she could do to help the situation. If she did anything, she would end up in the same situation as her husband, and that would not have helped their daughter.

There was nothing she could do at the moment.

She sat there helplessly.

"Do you see now what this city is doing to us?" The man asked in a calm voice. "Under the pretense of bettering ourselves, this city that we call home only exists for the strong. You can earn a great living if you are born with or develop a great power that is useful to the city in whatever their goal is."

The mother raised her head to look at the man kneeling in front of them.

"You know the funny thing is that no matter the level of their ability, they are automatically placed above us; it's like they are the next stage in humanity. Only the strong survive is the unofficial motto of the city, so tell me, you know by now that we do not have any powers; if we did, this would have gone a lot smoother.

With that sentence, the woman began to feel anger swell up inside her.

"We are a small gang of those that did not have the natural talents or could develop them, so we decided to form a group that would eventually outnumber those that did have powers."

The woman had a worried look on her face.

"Oh, you want to say something."

The man slowly reached his hand to her face and pulled the tape off her mouth.

The woman spoke "If that is your goal, th-then why attack? Why rob us?". The woman wanted answers.

The man sighed.

"You see, the plan that we had sounded good on paper; it happens in nature where hundreds of ants would overpower a grasshopper or a praying mantis. It was all about numbers and how they were utilized. That was where we messed up big time. Given the right situation, it is easy to outnumber and overpower someone. The problem was the prey itself; we jumped the shark on that one and went after whoever. The situation had changed, and the gap of power between us was larger than we ever imagined. It wasn't ants and grasshoppers anymore; it was dragons and ants."

The man pulled up his sleeves, and then he lifted his shirt.

The woman's eyes widen as she sees the various scars.

"Yeah, it hurt like a bitch, but despite these ugly scars, I'm one of the lucky ones. My section of our gang only focused on low-level reality warpers, but what we had in numbers they had in power, and eventually even their weakest was enough to overpower us by the dozens. There are other sections that attempt to take on the strongest bunch of reality warpers."

The man chuckled.

"Damn idiots, who the hell chose to fight against those that wipe out an entire city with a thought or a wave of their hand? Some of them lost their limbs, others succumbed to their injuries; they don't even get mentioned, but what can anyone say?

The man lowered his sleeves and began to stand up.

"The funny thing is, when this is all over and both sides part ways, we are left injured and barely alive, and we are looked at as the victims. I mean, it's one thing to get overlooked by the city, but to be humiliated like that when we are supposed to be the aggressors, that was the final straw."

The woman began to realize something.

Their plan and their whole ideology were ridiculous. Ordinary humans are taking on reality warpers. There is not a single way they can win. Unless a miracle happened and the odds were heavily in their favor, the hope of beating them was out of reach.

The woman's eyes focused on the gun in the man's hand.

It was truly the survival of the fittest. Evolution at its finest. The weak have always been prey to animals that were faster, stronger, and more agile, so they created weapons to combat them. As time went on, threats became more resilient, and weapons became more dangerous to use in combat after going through multiple upgrades in the following centuries.

The woman looked at the handgun in the man's hand; it was a weapon. It was small, but effective. The woman began realizing something else.

The idea of using a gun would be useless against reality warpers since their powers exist to challenge and, in some cases, ignore the laws of physics.

(The money.) the woman thought to herself. She had assumed that they were here for something, but during the whole ordeal, not one of the men asked for the money or any money at all. The woman focused on the weapons in the man's hands.

The woman began to think.

There was no way that normal weapons like that could challenge the strongest reality-wrappers; the only chance they had was to upgrade the weapons they were in possession of. Since New York City had a ban on illegal firearms, the men would have to smuggle in the weapons and ammo into the city, and the resources to pull that off were not cheap.

(But we do not have much money.) the woman thought. They owned a small corner store that wasn't open yet, and it only made enough for the family to live on. At the most, inside the cash register and the safe, there would be less than five thousand in total; if any of the men had asked where the money was, the woman would have told them. But none of the men had asked.

Their goal was to challenge the strongest, but with the weapons they had access to, the men did not have a chance. Their only chance was to even the playing field; if the gang had more money, they could afford better weapons. The woman started to realize the robbery part of their plan: to support their group, they would need the money to do so. Since the group was made of humans with no powers, from the city they would receive the bare minimum in income, which was enough to live on, so the goal was money.

CRASH!

There was a loud sound that startled everyone in the room.

The sound of broken glass filled the room.

THUD!

Something heavy fell onto the floor.

The man began to slowly walk toward the source of the sound. He stops when he sees the large man on the floor, bloodied and bruised.

"What the"

From the broken window, the man heard footsteps approaching the front door.

The sound of broken glass echoed through the small corner store.

Suddenly, there was a ding from the bell as the corner store door opened.

Everyone's eyes focused on the door as it opened.

In a situation like this, in the moment when things seemed the darkest, there was a person who stood at the door. After the incident outside, the person at the door beat down the large man on the lookout.

The person was clearly the enemy of the four men dressed in black in the corner store.

To the woman tied up on the floor, the person at the door was a single glimpse of hope.

The person took a step into the store.

Everyone's eyes were focused on the door.

To take down a large man, one would have to be large, if not larger than the said man.

The person who stepped through the door was a teen.

A high school student.

After several steps inside the store, the teen was completely in the store, and with that, disbelief filled the room from the onlookers.

In short, he did not look like someone who could have taken down the large man outside.

The teen stood there.

Scuffed up.

"Can I get a double cheeseburger with bacon, mozzarella, and American cheese and barbecue sauce and ketchup?" the teen blurted out.

Silence.

There was silence in the store.

Everyone stared in disbelief.

"Ha, you almost had me worried for a moment, kid."

The man walked toward the teen, gun in hand.

The man was a few inches taller than the teen. The teen looked up; his light blue eyes peaked through the bangs covering them. They stood there in front of each other.

The man grabbed the collar of the teen's jacket.

"So, kid, what can you do?"

"Hmmm, not much; probably this" the teen replied.

With the tip of this shoe, the teen kicked the man in the knee. The man's leg jerked as he lost his balance and fell to his hands and knees.

The teen kicked the gun out of the man's hand and over the counter.

The man looked up and was pissed.

The teen was standing over the man as he lifted his right foot behind him.

"You little bastar-"

His sentence was cut off because the teen had kicked the man in the face. The man fell back on top of a tower of cans and boxes.

The man holding his nose staggered, attempted to pull himself up, but struggled, falling right back to the ground.

Everyone in the room watched the whole ordeal unfold. The man, with his nose bleeding, looked at his crew members and brought his hand to his nose to stop the bleeding.

"Boss!" one of the men shouted out.

"What the hell are you clowns waiting for? an invitation, Get HI-" with a high kick to the face, the teen cut the man off.

The other two men began to converge towards his location, and since the men had outnumbered the teen 3 to 1, taking them all on together was out of the question since he could see that the men had weapons.

His best chance at staying alive was to take them on individually.

The teen had yawned as he placed his hand on his head and closed his eyes.

Since the men were wearing boots, the teen had heard their footsteps getting closer and closer.

The teen opened his eyes, lowered his hand to his side, and smirked.

"Alrighty then, come on."

The teen quickly adjusted his eyesight to the person running towards him—an object in the man's right hand reflected in the ceiling light. The teen could see the glare.

A knife.

If one could take down someone with their bare hands, they would not need a weapon. Since the teen could see the weapon, all he would have to do was focus not only on the weapon but also on the part holding the weapon: the arm.

The man swung his right arm with the knife, slightly cutting the teen across his left check and his hood as the teen barely dodged the attack.

Having dodged the attack, the man attempted to punch the teen with his left fist, but the teen dove under the arm and soon uppercut the man.

"Ugh."

The man staggers back. Dazed, the man thrust his right arm forward.

With both hands, the teen grabbed the man's right arm and kneed him in the stomach. With his right arm, the teen elbowed the man on the side of his head. By sliding his forward foot across the floor and knocking the man off balance, the teen grabbed a handful of the man's hair and slammed the man's face onto the ground.

The man was unconscious as blood was pouring from the man's forehead as it hit the ground. The teen looked up and saw the other man coming.

Since the teen was kneeling on the ground, the approaching man decided to raise his left leg to kick the teen.

The teen caught the man's leg under his right arm, and with all his might, he punched the man's thigh.

The man stumbled as he walked back, grabbing his thigh. The teen began to methodically approach the man but quickly turned at the sound of heavy footsteps running towards him.

Turning his body left, the teen saw a man run and leap into the air.

With both of his feet, the man drop-kicked the teen in the chest.

The teen was knocked back a couple of feet off his feet as he flew back, spine first into the ground.

Grabbing his chest, the teen slightly raised his back off the floor to see the man quickly walk towards him.

As the man approached, he raised his left leg over the teen's body.

With a quick motion, the man brought his foot down on the teen's face but hit the ground as the teen slightly rolled onto his right to dodge the stomp.

Falling over to his back, the teen elbowed the man in the back of his knee with his right elbow, causing him to jerk his knee and fall to the ground forward on both knees.

Not wasting any time, the man attempted to grab the teen, but his hand was grabbed by the teen.

The teen raised his right leg over the man's arm to pin the arm underneath him onto the floor. On the floor, the teen used his left leg to kick the man in the side of his head.

The teen grabbed the man's jacket with his right hand, and with his right foot, he kicked the man in the shoulder, causing the man to roll over to the floor and onto his back.

Using the momentum of the rolling body of the man, the teen lifted his body off the ground to a position sitting on top of the man's midsection.

Using his left hand to pin the hands of the man to the ground, with his right hand, he started to punch the man in the face repeatedly.

With each hit, it caused more blood to pour from the man's mouth.

As the teen was punching away, the man whose thigh he punched suddenly came up behind him and placed him in a standing full-nelson hold, pulling the teen off the man.

The teen started kicking his feet, trying to free himself.

Slowly, the man on the ground began to stand up.

The teen began to claw at the man's face before the man pulled his face back out of his reach.

Shaking his head, the man began walking towards the teen. As he got closer, the man attempted to throw a haymaker with his left hand but was kicked in the groin by the teen.

With the man falling to his knees, the teen brought his right foot up to kick the man's chin, causing him to fall back.

Seeing this, the man who was holding the teen in the hold began to lift the teen off his feet.

Grunting, the teen raised his foot back to hit the man in the groin, causing him to lean forward. The teen began to attack the man's eyes with his thumbs.

With both feet on the floor and still being held by the man, the teen grabbed the back of the man's head, holding it close to his. He then jumped as high as he was allowed to and kicked his feet out in front of him as hard as he could.

Using the momentum of his legs falling downward and his body falling, the teen was able to flip the man over himself and free himself from the man's grasp.

The man's body rolled near the other male on the floor as the teen started to breathe deeply.

Putting his weight on his knuckles, the teen began to push himself off the ground to stand up.

As he did, the other two males slowly came to their feet.

One of the men spat out some blood as he stared at the teen.

It was quiet between the trio.

And then-

The man rushed forward, grabbing the teen with a football tackle.

The teen was being pushed back; the man was not that large but very muscular, so he had overpowered the teen. The muscular man was pushing the teen toward a wall, and the teen knew that because of his size, if the man had his back against the wall, the whole fight would be over.

The teen had grabbed the man's arm and let himself fall back. Since he could not overpower the man, he would use the man's size and strength against him.

Wrapping his right arm around the lowered head of the man, the teen placed the man in a front-face lock.

The teen kicked the man's knee, causing the man to fall forward.

As the teen fell back, still with his arm wrapped around the man's neck, he used the falling man's momentum to slam the man's head into the ground with a DDT wrestling move.

The teen let go of the man's neck and rolled over to his side. As the teen got up, he was immediately hit on the side of the arm with a baseball bat.

The teen fell against the wall, holding his arm.

The man swung the bat horizontally, and the teen spun around to dodge the hit of the bat. Since the bat was a weapon that was an extension of oneself, the teen had to keep his distance to avoid being hit.

The man tried to close the gap between them and began to swing wildly, trying to hit the teen.

The teen dodges the hits by spinning around, ducking, and rolling around the area the man had cornered the teen into.

"Whoa, that was close!"

The teen knew that he could not keep this up forever, as he would tire himself out.

The teen needs to get the man into a small area where he cannot swing the bat around so wildly.

The sound of broken glass filled the room as the man began to hit various objects to get to the teen.

As the man swung the bat to the teen's midsection, the teen raised his left arm to catch the bat. The bat had hit the teen in the waist as he caught it, and it took everything for the teen not to roll over in pain from the hit.

Grunting, the teen was now holding on to the bat in between his arm and waist. The teen punched the man in the nose, hoping that the punch would cause the man to lose his hold of the bat.

The teenager kept punching his face.

The teen tightened his hold on the bat and swung the man around into a corner.

The man had hit the teen in the ribs with the butt of the bat. The teen had kneeled over, and the man had kneed him in the face to get the teen back up to his feet, where he could hit the teen in the head with the bat.

The man had swung the bat in a horizontal direction; the teen ducked under the swing and spun around the man. The teen had performed a backward leg sweep to trip the man. On the floor, the man had swung the bat, catching the teen on the side of his knee.

As the teen fell, the man was back to his feet, trying to kick the teen's head off.

The teen had rolled out of the way to create some distance between them.

Fighting him head-on was out of the question; he had to think of something else.

The teen started to run.

He was not surrendering, but finding a closed environment to fight in. Inside the store, the teen ran towards a small corner. It was not big, but one would not be able to swing a bat freely. A glass bottle was thrown at the teen, and he barely managed to dodge it.

The man came running towards the teen.

The teen breathed as he began to get himself ready for this close-quarter combat session.

As soon as the man was in range, the teen grabbed the man's shirt collar and threw him into a corner of the pipe.

The teen had hit the man with punches and jabs. The man had pushed the teen away with his foot, causing the teen to fall back onto the floor. The man had swung the bat downward to hit the teen.

"CLANG"

The bat had hit something; it was not the teen.

The way the man had swung the bat caused it to get stuck in between the row of pipes attached to the wall nearby.

The teen had smirked.

The man was trying to free the bat from the ceiling.

"Wha-" The man was silenced by the teen's fist striking his face.

The man had fallen to the floor and did not move.

The sound of the teen panting filled the room. The teen began to walk out of the room, holding his arm and panting.

"STOP!"

Someone had yelled out, followed by the sound of a female screaming.

The teen turned his head.

Standing there was the leader with the gun, and in his arm was the woman he had taken hostage, as he was holding a gun to her head.

"Don't move!" the man had yelled to the teen as he stepped out of the small room.

"Your power"

"What?"

"Your ability; explain it now. What is it?"

The teen's eyes narrowed.

"What in the blue hell makes you think I have an ability?"

The man started to get really annoyed.

"You took down my men with little effort; you must have one. With the way you fight in hand-to-hand combat, is it precognition or mind reading?"

The teen places his hand on this side of his head.

"Precognition and mind reading are two interesting abilities by themselves, but they will not do much in a life-or-death situation. Precognition is the ability to foresee future events, and telepathic perception is the ability to perceive another person's thoughts."

"What are you going on about?"

The teen snapped his fingers.

"Case in point, if you knew about an event that would happen depending on the vision itself, you only had two choices: to change it or to accept it. If one wants to change their 'fate, it would not be that easy because you do not know how to prepare for that said event. The same can be said for a person with telepathic perception abilities. Sure, reading one's mind is great and all; in a fight, it would allow you to dodge an attack, but if you don't know how to dodge or can't dodge fast enough, then it's pointless. More than just moving out of the way, you would have to train your body and mind for something like that."

"What are you saying?"

"You asked if I had an ability like that; one would assume that I would, but I have to say I don't have either. Well, let me rephrase that: I don't have any ability of the sort."

"Wha…"

The man could not process the teen's answer.

"But the fighting ability you possess"

"Just training and really, really good reflexes."

The teen winced as he wiped his cheek, covered in blood, with his right thumb.

"Well, mostly really, really good reflexes." the teen said as he stared at his blood-covered thumb.

"I don't understand. You talked about ability in a life-or-death situation. You mean to tell me that you took the time to learn to fight? What good would your fighting skill against reality warpers be?"

"I never thought about outright fighting reality warpers."

"Then join us."

Blank.

"Huh?"

"Hear me out; according to the city, someone of your nonexistent level of power is not even worth mentioning, so your only logical choice is to join someone who is the same as you. Gangs start out when society treats them like crap, and then they try to justify their existence. Surely you must have felt the injustice this city dished out to us; would it not feel great to dish out this same feeling to those less than you?"

The teen stared at the man.

"Sorry, hell no, not interested. I am the same as you guys; I have no power to show there are no lies about that, except that I don't go around waving a gun at people in a poor attempt to justify my existence. You're weaker than the people you push around. Not sorry. I might be weak compared to the overpowered reality warpers, but I still have my pride as a nobody."

The man was surprised by the teen's answer.

"So that is your answer?"

"Yeah."

The man raised his arm to point the gun at the teen.

"Well then, kid, let's see where your training and reflexes get you now."

The gun was now set on the teen.

Despite how good his hand-to-hand combat was, there was no way he could outrun a bullet, especially in a confined space.

"Do not blame me for your death, kid; blame yourself for your own weakness. I will give you credit where it is due; despite your weakness and total recklessness, you tried your best to save this family, but it seems that fate is smiling down upon me."

The man squeezed his arm around the woman's neck, causing her to wince in pain.

As the man said that the individual that the teen slammed into the wall began to come to his feet. On the other side of the room, the man in the small room began to walk out with the bat in hand.

"Let's end this, shall we?"

In a second, the woman had bitten the man's hand.

The man had let you yell, and with that, the situation in the room had changed.

The teen rushed forward.

"You little bitc-"

The man was silenced by the teen punching him in the face.

The man fell back onto the wall. The teen had run up to the man, and with his foot, he kicked the gun out of his hands again.

"Damn you"

As the gun landed on the floor, the teen stomped his foot on the gun, sliding it across

The man grabbed the teen and spun him around into the wine cellar.

The man rushed in.

As the man entered, he tried to punch the teen; his arm was grabbed, and the man was spun around until he hit a wall.

The sound of wine bottles crashing on the floor filled the entire room.

The man swung his right arm, and the teen blocked with his left arm. The teen punched the man in the gut, then elbowed him in the face.

"Raaaaagh!" Holding his nose, the man yelled and dashed towards the teen.

The teen dodged and let the man fall over.

He walked down the wine cellar towards the kneeling man. The man attempted to punch the teen with his right hand, but the teen ducked and spun around a full 360 degrees to kick the man in the gut. As the man knelt over, the teen slammed his right elbow into the man's face, causing the man to stumble back.

Soon after, the man with the bat came rushing into the room, ready to swing.

While running, the man swung the bat left, and the teen dodged the hit by ducking. With his left elbow, the teen hit the man in the back of his head, causing him to slump over the glass.

Suddenly, the teen was caught in a reverse bear-hugging grapple.

"Da-Damnit" the teen said, trying to free himself.

The teen was picked up off the ground.

Struggling, the teen placed his foot on the glass wall of the cellar and pushed himself back, causing the man to crash into rows of wine bottles. Pressed up against the wall, the teen slammed the back of his head into the man's nose.

"Ugh, stay still, you little bastard," the man said as he tightened his grip on the teen.

"I'm not little; I'm a good 5'10-11' on a good day!" the teen shouted.

Still off his feet, the teen bends his leg to attack the man's groin. The man had released his grip on the teen a little, enough for him to slip through his arms.

Still facing the opposite direction of the man, the teen grabbed the back of the man's head, jumped into the air, and kicked the other man, pressed against the glass wall, in the face.

As the teen landed back on his feet, he elbowed the man behind him repeatedly in the gut and in the chin.

The man with the metal bat swung low to hit the teen's leg, and the teen raised his left leg to dodge the swing. As he did, the teen kicked the man in the side of his face.

The teen yanked the man up by his collar and spun him around so that he was lined up with the man pressed against the glass wall.

The teen placed his foot on the man's stomach and, with all his weight, tried to push the two men through the glass wall—to no avail.

Instead, the teen was pushed back into the wall behind him, bumping into the wine bottle hanging on the rack, causing the bottles to fall, crashing onto him and the floor.

Leaning up against the wall, the teen ran towards the two men. Halfway into the run, the teen leaped forward into the air and rammed his knee into the man's face.

The glass wall behind the two men shattered at the force of the attack, and both men fell to the floor.

The teen stood there as he tried to catch his breath.

"Look Out!"

The voice came from the woman.

Something tackled him.

There was a loud thud as he was slammed into the ground. The leader grabbed the teen's jacket collar and punched him in the jaw.

"Enough of this."

With that statement, the leader began to strangle the teen. The wine cellar became filled with gasping sounds as the teen struggled to breathe. He was clawing and scratching at the man's hands.

Struggling on the floor, the teen began sliding his hand across the floor and cutting his hand due to the broken shards of glass on the floor.

Without the teen looking, he grabbed a long-broken shard of glass, and without a second thought, the teen stabbed the man in the shoulder. There was a slight twitch in the man's upper body as he removed his hand from the teen's throat. The teen started taking deep breaths. As the man tried to pull the glass shard out of his shoulder, the teen grabbed the man's jacket collar and head butted him in the nose.

"GAHHHHH!!!" the man said as he backed up, his nose bleeding.

With his foot, the teen pushes the glass deep into the shoulder, and with his other foot, the teen pushes the man by kicking him in the chest. Both men had rolled away to the opposite side of the room.

Both men were panting.

The teen wiped the blood from his lips. The man pulled the glass shard from his shoulder; his entire left arm was covered in blood. Slowly, the man began to make a fist with his injured arm, wincing in pain.

They both look at each other.

Then it happened:

Both men had run toward each other. With his right arm, the man swung his arm to punch the teen. The teen ducked under to spin around and elbowed the man in the face.

He backed up and stumbled as the teen walked forward.

Calmly.

Both the man and the teen stood there.

The man attempted to kick the teen with his right leg, which the teen blocked with his left leg. As their legs met, the teen dragged his leg down along with the man's leg. The teen kicked the man in the chest, causing him to stumble back.

Without using his hand, the teen then flips forward, with the heel of his foot crashing into the man's face.

There was a "thud" as the man fell to the floor.

The teen looked at the man lying out on the floor.

The teenager looked at the man lying on the ground and walked away towards the exit of the wine cellar.

Only the sound of crunching glass beneath his shoes could be heard.

"Five against one," the teen said to himself.

The teen hobbled across the unconscious bodies on the floor.

"It's been a while since I had to fight like that. I think I've gotten a little rusty."

The teen started stretching his hand upward above his head.

This battle was his, and this victory was his; no one could deny that. He walked out of the hole in the broken glass wall, and the sound of glass crunching under his foot filled the room.

Despite still being in the store, it felt like a wave of fresh air hit the teen as he walked out of the cellar. The teen looked around the store.

The store was a mess, like a hurricane.

Broken glass and spilled cans and bottles everywhere.

The teen grabbed a water bottle and poured its contents on his cut hand to wash away the blood.

As the teen walked over to the family, he wrapped a loose rag around his bloodied hand and rolled the father on his back.

"If you do not mind me asking what happened to him?"

"He was hit in the head with the gun.

The teen parted the man's hair aside.

The teen looked at the woman.

"I'll take a look at him; you should probably deal with the little one."

The mother left to untie her daughter.

The teen turned to the father.

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm good, I think."

The father was up against the wall.

"Just a little beat up."

"You sure"

The teen looked at the father.

"No headaches, no nausea, no blurry vision; you are not hearing any ringing in your ears.

The father looked at the teen.

"Just a headache right now."

"Oh, this was something I read about in one of my aunt's medical books."

"Don't try to move too much, alright; you may or may not have a concussion.

The teen stood up.

"Tha-thank you"

"Huh."

"Thank you for stopping the men and saving us."

"No problem"

The father looked at the teen.

NEO New York City had one goal: to understand the larger universe, and to do that, they would need someone who stood at the top, the strongest. Someone who understands the vast universe and can manipulate said universe. It was a mad scramble to the top of the throne; one could call it a dog-eat-dog world where everyone looks out for themselves.

"I'm not one for bullies. I did not train to hone my martial arts skills to beat down bullies; that would make me no different from them. I do not want to hurt anyone, and I guess I cannot turn my back on people in need. Sometimes those two cross paths with each other, but since you guys are safe, someone will be able to smile when this is all over. I guess this is what you would say, 'The end justifies the means' huh?"

"Your hurt."

"It's alright, this isn't so bad."

The teen looked at the clock. It was almost seven.

The teen looked at the mother.

Suddenly there was a long groan, followed by the sound of crunching glass near the entrance of the store door.

The teen turned his attention to the noise, only to see the large man picking himself up and using the shelf beside him.

Blood was pouring from his mouth and nose.

The teen stood up.

"Well, look at this; you're a tough one, aren't you?" the teen said.

Crouching over, the large man stared at the teen.

Slowly, his face became redder in anger.

He started to breathe heavily.

The large man took one step.

His vision was beginning to become blurry.

Another step closer.

Despite his blurry vision, only one thing was on his mind.

One more step.

Slowly, everything started to become clear.

He glanced at the teen with intense anger in his eyes and his face.

The large man clenched his fist.

"Yo...u." the large man said to a pained gasp.

One step with his right foot.

Another with his left foot.

More and more, he began to pick up speed.

The teen lifted his arms in a boxing stance.

As he began to focus, something in the corner caught his light blue eyes.

It was shaped like a black single sling bag; it appeared very similar to the one he owned, but this couldn't be his.

His eyes widen.

The large, heavy bag had a red zipper strap along the sides as it flew across the air.

-But-

The teen examined the bag closely.

-It could not-

On the strap was a large item.

-Be his bag that was flying right now.

The item was a faint gray-colored upside-down pentagram. On the pentagram was a crude image of a skull with an X behind it.

The Deputy Soul Reaper Combat Pass from the manga BLEACH.

The teen lowered his arms in disbelief.

The item.

It was a simple item that made his bag stand out to him, but it could not be his bag.

"What!!!" The teen shouted out.

This was his bag.

As the large man got closer, the flying bag hit the back of his head, causing him to fall face first to the floor with a loud thud, knocking him out.

It took a few seconds for the silence to kick in.

In that silence, a look of worry slowly crept onto his face.

He quickly made his way, stepping past the unconscious bodies on the floor over to his bag.

There was silence as the teen stared at his bag on the floor, which was now surrounded by broken glass and spilled cans of food.

With a sigh, the teen spoke.

"Did you really have to throw my bag?" The teen asked as he looked at the broken window. "What would you have done if my school textbooks got damaged?"

"Well, then, I guess that wouldn't be a problem for you." A female voice stared to speak out. "It's not like you use them anyway."

A young female teen revealed herself outside by walking in front of the broken window, looking in the store.

The young female had long black hair that reached her waist. She was dressed in her school uniform, which consisted of a black vest over a white-sleeve button-down shirt. She was also wearing a black skirt that rested above her knees, black thigh-high socks, and black dress shoes.

Her purple eyes glanced at the teen before drifting away to the rest of the store.

Everything was a mess.

Shelves were knocked over.

"Hey now, is that any way for the sophomore student president to talk?" the teen grinned.

Emi Takahara.

"Don't try to change the subject; what you did was reckless running off like that; just look at you and this place."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." The teen started to say, before reaching down to grab the handle strap of his bag and picking it up from the floor, "But it's not like I could just leave them."

The teen said as he looked back at the family.