02 - The Hospital

 ♥ ♢ ♥

I finally shook myself out of my stupor, a wry smile playing on my lips as I packed my bag. Predictable? Maybe. But how in the world did she know? It wasn't just the words; it was the delivery. Cold, precise, like a veteran sizing up a rookie.

"This is so... weird," I muttered to myself as I slung my bag over my shoulder and started the walk home. My mind was a whirlwind, replaying every tiny interaction I'd ever had with Ayako Katsumi. The quiet greetings, the shared space in class, the way she never seemed to notice the chaos that clung to me like a second skin. All this time, I thought she was ignoring me. But she’d been watching. Analyzing.

"How is that even possible?" I thought aloud, kicking a loose pebble down the street. "Is she some kind of secret martial arts master? Did she train in a hidden dojo on a mountain?" The scenarios my brain cooked up were getting more ridiculous by the second, but the core question remained. How could the perfect, untouchable student council president read my fighting style like an open book?

Lost in my own world, I turned down a familiar shortcut, a narrow service road squeezed between old apartment buildings. That’s when I heard it. The low, menacing tone of a shakedown, accompanied by a girl's frightened sobs.

My curiosity about Ayako evaporated, replaced by a familiar, weary anger. Peeking around the corner, I saw a scene straight out of a B-movie. A group of about ten grown men, all looking like they crawled out of a seedy pachinko parlor, were cornering two teenagers. A boy and a girl, both looking to be my age. The boy stood protectively in front of the girl, who was crying, her shoulders trembling.

"I'm telling you, we don't have it," the young man said, his voice shaky but defiant. "We're just students."

One of the gangsters, a burly man with a dragon tattoo snaking up his neck, grabbed the boy's collar. "Don't lie to us, kid. We know your old man owes our boss. A down payment will do just fine."

I’d seen enough. I stepped out from behind the corner. "Hey," I called out, my voice flat. "What are you doing?"

All ten of them turned to look at me, their expressions ranging from annoyance to amusement. The leader with the tattoo smirked, shoving the student aside. "Well, well. What do we have here? A hero? You have a death wish, kid?"

I dropped my bag on the pavement with a thud. "Yes," I replied, a cold fire igniting in my chest. "But you'll die first."

Before he could process the words, I lunged forward and kicked him square in the face. He staggered back, spitting a curse and a tooth. The others, shocked for a second, roared and began to surround me.

The fight was a blur of motion. I moved, dodged, and struck. One went down from an elbow to the jaw, another from a knee to the gut. For a moment, it felt manageable. My adrenaline was pumping, my focus absolute. But these weren't high school bullies; they were adults, stronger and heavier. One by one, they absorbed my hits and kept coming.

I was holding my own until two of them broke off from the pack, heading for the terrified girl. "Let's have some fun with her while we wait," one of them chuckled menacingly.

That was it. The distraction. My head snapped towards them, my focus broken for a fatal second. In that instant, a heavy fist connected with the side of my head, and the world tilted. I fell hard onto the grimy asphalt.

Pain exploded across my body as boots began to rain down on my back and ribs. I curled up, trying to protect my head, my arms shielding me as best they could. Through the haze of pain, I saw the young man I’d tried to save charge at my attackers, yelling for them to stop. He was swatted away like a fly, receiving a vicious punch that sent him sprawling.

My vision started to swim, dark spots dancing at the edges. So this is it, I thought dimly. Got in over my head this time. Just as my consciousness began to slip away, the squeal of tires cut through the air. A sleek black car skidded to a halt just feet from the brawl.

The car doors flew open, and three figures dressed in black suits jumped out, brandishing steel pipes and baseball bats. They moved with a brutal, terrifying efficiency, wordlessly engaging the gangsters.

My head was spinning, and I could barely keep my eyes open. Through my blurry vision, I saw another figure step out from the passenger side of the car. It was a woman, tall and commanding. I couldn't make out her face, only the silhouette of her long hair swaying as she directed her men with a calm authority. Then, the world went completely black.

♥ ♢ BLACK-OUT ♢♥

Hours later, a dull, throbbing ache pulled me back to the surface. I blinked, my eyes struggling to focus on the sterile white ceiling above me. The smell of antiseptic filled my nostrils.

"Where... am I?" I rasped, my throat raw.

"You're in the hospital," a soft voice answered. "Please, try to rest."

I slowly turned my head. Sitting by my bed were the two students from the alley. The boy had a nasty bruise on his cheek, and the girl's eyes were red and puffy, but they were safe. As she saw me looking at her, fresh tears welled up in her eyes. She reached out and took my hand, her grip surprisingly firm.

"Thank you," she sobbed, her voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you so much. You saved us. You saved our lives."

"No problem," I managed to say, wincing as a sharp pain shot through my ribs. "I just... can't stand bullies."

My gaze drifted past them to the third person standing silently in the corner of the room, partially hidden by the shadows. The long, black hair was unmistakable. My eyes widened.

It was Ayako Katsumi.

She stepped forward into the light, her face a mask of calm composure, though her dark eyes held an intensity that rooted me to the spot.

"Are you okay, Minatawa-kun?" she asked, her voice the same low, controlled tone from the classroom. She then tilted her head slightly, a gesture so subtle I might have missed it if I weren't staring right at her. "Why do you keep risking your life like this? You've been doing it for years."

The air left my lungs. The pain from my injuries, the relief of the two students, all of it vanished, replaced by a single, deafening shock that echoed in the quiet hospital room.

"Since... years?" I whispered, my mind reeling. How? How could she possibly know that? "How did you...?"

I looked at her, truly looked at her, searching for an answer. The perfect student. The school goddess. The girl who analyzed my fighting style. The woman who commanded men with steel pipes.

"It is my nature," I finally responded, the words coming out automatically. "I can't stand seeing people get hurt."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed her features before she schooled them back into her usual placid expression. Ayako Katsumi was no goddess. She was something far more dangerous. And I had just fallen right into the center of her world.