Humiliation

Saisei's rage erupted like a volcano, his scream tearing through the night air as he confronted Yasushi and his entourage. "Get him! Don't kill him because I'm doing it!"

The figures lurking in the shadows hesitated for a heartbeat before surging forward, weapons glinting ominously. Crowbars, pipes, sticks, and switchblades — an eclectic, almost absurd arsenal. Yasushi stood unmoved, a statue amidst the chaos, his eyes serene. This wasn't new territory for him. He had faced worse, much worse. Guns, knives, fists — it was all the same to him.

Yasushi moved with the grace of a seasoned warrior, each dodge and sidestep executed with mechanical precision. To him, these attackers were mere novices, their inexperience as obvious as the weapons they brandished. Their movements were clumsy, telegraphed. They had never tasted real combat, not the way he had.

With fluid motions, Yasushi retaliated. He tripped one attacker, his body a blur, sending the assailant sprawling. Another received a well-placed punch to the back, staggering forward in surprise. Those who dared to return for a second round found their wrists or arms targeted, the weapons dislodged with expert strikes. Yasushi's fist followed, meeting their faces with unerring accuracy, rendering them unconscious in an instant.

"What the hell is this?! Hit him! Why can't any of you hit him?! This isn't a movie or anime!! What's wrong with you?! It's just one guy!!" Saisei's voice was an eruption of fury, echoing through the chaos as he desperately wiped at the blood and vomit on his clothes. His rage was a palpable force, an undercurrent that threatened to drown everything around it.

Yasushi couldn't suppress a quiet, inward laugh. Saisei's anger, mounting with every second, was almost amusing. But Yasushi was on a clock. He felt the effects of the drug coursing through his veins, making every muscle in his body sharp and responsive. He couldn't afford to waste time.

He scanned the scene, noting the sheer number of assailants still surrounding him. His eyes narrowed, and he quickened his pace. With a single, fluid step, he was upon a group of ten. His movements were a blur of speed and precision, his fists connecting with an almost supernatural accuracy. Each punch landed with devastating force, and the attackers crumpled around him like puppets with their strings cut.

He turned, barely pausing to catch his breath, and dashed towards another cluster. The scene played out like something from an anime, but it was starkly real. His fists were relentless, each blow a testament to his training and the heightened abilities granted by the drug. The second group fell just as quickly, their attempts at defense futile.

Through it all, Saisei's voice was a constant, angry roar in the background, a cacophony that Yasushi tuned out. His focus was unbroken, every movement calculated and efficient. The air around him was thick with the metallic scent of blood, the ground littered with the fallen.

Eventually, the dust settled, and only Yasushi and Saisei remained. Eight minutes hung in the air, suspended like a question waiting for an answer. Yasushi's breath was steady, unchanged from the beginning, and a grin played on his lips, a silent mockery of the carnage that had unfolded.

"And now, you're the only one left. What's your next move, vomit-boy?" Yasushi's voice was calm, almost casual, yet dripping with condescension. The grin never wavered.

Saisei stood still, absorbing the reality before him. His gaze traveled over the fallen bodies of his followers, disbelief etched into his features. Then, a scoff broke the silence. "They were weak and useless, but they served their purpose. Now I'll beat you while you're tired—"

His words were cut short by the sudden, brutal impact of Yasushi's fist. The force sent Saisei flying, his body an ungainly projectile crashing into a stack of boxes. The scene seemed to pause for a heartbeat, the air thick with tension.

Yasushi walked toward him, each step deliberate, his smile widening. "For someone your size, you're incredibly slow. I heard you were supposedly fast, but you can't even react to little old me."

Saisei struggled to rise, his movements sluggish, as if underwater. Yasushi's shadow loomed over him, a stark contrast to the bright grin that never left his face. The moonlight cast long, eerie shadows, painting a surreal picture of the confrontation.

"Don't make fun of me…!" Saisei's voice was a raw, desperate plea as he forced himself upright, his body a flicker in the dim light.

In an instant, Saisei vanished, reappearing before Yasushi with his fist inches from Yasushi's face. Most would have been stunned, frozen by the suddenness of the attack. But Yasushi remained unmoved, his eyes calm. With a single, fluid motion, he sidestepped, feeling the gust of wind from Saisei's missed punch brush past him.

Yasushi's counterattack was immediate and precise. His fist collided with Saisei's nose, the impact resonating with a sickening crunch. Saisei staggered backward, his face a mask of pain. Yet he ignored the injury, launching himself at Yasushi once more. This time, Yasushi's response was swift and brutal. His foot shot out, connecting squarely between Saisei's legs.

"Argh?!" Saisei's groan was a strangled sound as he crumpled to the ground, his breath coming in shallow, pained gasps. It felt as if his insides had been shattered by the force of Yasushi's kick.

"T-that's…cheating…!" Saisei managed to choke out, his eyes blazing with anger and disbelief. He glared up at Yasushi, the pain in his expression mingling with a desperate fury.

Yasushi stood over him, a faint smile tugging at his lips, the dim light casting long shadows across his face.

"There are no rules in a fight," Yasushi said, his voice as calm and detached as ever. Without a moment's hesitation, he drew his foot back and slammed it into Saisei's face. The impact was brutal, sending teeth flying. Yasushi didn't stop.

His foot came down again and again, a relentless rhythm of violence. Saisei raised his arms in a feeble attempt to shield himself, but Yasushi's kicks broke through, the force slowly fracturing one of Saisei's arms. His screams filled the air, a raw, primal sound.

Eventually, the sounds of resistance ceased. Yasushi paused, looking down at the battered figure. Saisei lay motionless, his groans silenced, his body limp. He seemed to have passed out. Yasushi stepped back, just as the effects of the drug Yinhaie had given him began to fade. A sharp, throbbing pain shot through his injured arm, making him grimace. But the discomfort was a distant echo, barely registering in his mind.

The doors to the abandoned building burst open, and members of Jingliu's security team poured in. They moved with practiced efficiency, rounding up the unconscious gang members and dragging them away. Yasushi watched them, his face expressionless, the chaos of the fight already receding into memory.

"Are you okay? Please take this; it will dull the pain," Yinhaie said softly, placing a small pill at Yasushi's lips. He accepted it without a word, swallowing the bitter relief it promised.

"I'm fine, just tired. I want to sleep now," Yasushi replied, his gaze drifting upwards to the cracked ceiling. "They weren't that bad. Good at harassing and scaring people, that's all." He sighed, a long exhale of pent-up tension. "Where's Jingliu?" His eyes scanned the room, searching for her familiar figure.

Yinhaie sighed, her attention shifting to the earpiece in her hand as she began issuing quiet instructions. Once done, she turned back to Yasushi. "She's waiting in the car outside. She was worried, watching the entire confrontation through the camera we set up."

Yasushi nodded silently, a brief acknowledgment, and turned on his heel. "I'll leave the cleanup to you then," he said, his voice a fading echo as he walked out of the building. The night air hit him, cool and refreshing. He spotted Yinhaie's car and made his way over.

Inside, Jingliu's eyes were fixed on him, a mix of relief and concern in her gaze. Yasushi nodded to her, a silent greeting, before sinking into the seat beside her. He let out a weary sigh, the exhaustion of the night finally catching up to him.

"You won," she muttered softly, her eyes locked onto his.

"Yeah. He was fast, I'll admit that, but not faster than a bullet," Yasushi replied, a trace of amusement in his voice.

Jingliu raised an eyebrow, a skeptical glint in her eye. "You can dodge bullets?"

"No," Yasushi said, shaking his head. "But I know how fast they are. I've been shot, and I did barely avoid one once." He chuckled, a dry, almost nostalgic sound. "So, unless you're faster than that, I won't call you 'fast.'"

Jingliu let out an exasperated sigh, sinking back into her seat. "I swear… sometimes the way you see things is just too much." She paused, her gaze shifting to the seat in front of her, a shadow of worry crossing her face. "But… do you think this is the last of it?"

"I don't know," Yasushi began, his voice thoughtful. "We found out they wanted to join a gang from the neighboring city. It wasn't part of the Yakuza, but its own little organization. We're not sure how they'll react when they find out that the group they approached was taken out. Honestly, I think we need to prepare more."

Jingliu listened, her eyes reflecting the weight of his words.

"But... I think it'll be fine since they'll mostly target me," Yasushi continued, his tone trying to sound reassuring. "I doubt Daiki will do anything; he's far from us now, undergoing rehabilitation. And with Saisei out of commission... well, we'll see in the coming days."

Jingliu nodded silently, absorbing the implications of his words. They decided to let the heavy, depressing conversation rest. She scooted closer to him, wrapping her arm around his and leaning her head on his shoulder. They both sat quietly, the night enveloping them as they waited for Yinhaie to drive them home.