First encounter

The first thing Adachi Yoshio noticed was her smile. Her long, wavy, neon-pink hair framed blue-greenish eyes flecked with yellow. But it was her nervous, twisted smile that caught his attention—her lips curled into an awkward, manic wave that distorted her face.

He had come to this district, as usual, knowing situations like this were all too common. Girls were constantly being harassed here, making his "job" of stepping in far easier over the past few years.

He was hanging out on the roof of the nearby building, casually looking around, chewing on a sausage. Then he saw it: the classic, too familiar, overly confident:

“Hey, pretty girl, you look different. Wanna meet a cool guy?”

The girl’s reaction was predictable—a cautious glance, polite but terrified. She attempted to move away, but the guy, irritated by her lack of enthusiasm, stepped closer, leaning down and grinning. His arm reached up to pin her against the wall.

"Hey, hey, pretty girl. You haven’t even replied yet. We just met, after all. Tell me your name, pink hair," he said, brushing a hand through her hair.

Yoshio, still observing from the roof, sighed in annoyance. His patience was wearing thin. TThe girl looked down, disturbed, knowing there was no one around her she could call out to for help. Yoshio rolled his eyes—this always played out the same way. He thought briefly about waiting, hoping the girl might stand up for herself. His irritation deepened; few of the girls he had rescued ever did. He respected them deeply. But this girl? She was paralyzed, a silent witness to her own fear.

The bully, displeased by her silence, growled, "Hey, look at me. You’re disrespecting your elder here."

Yoshio tossed the remainder of his sausage to a curious cat nearby, who caught it mid-air. He brushed imaginary crumbs from his black linen pants and jinbei before leaping down from the roof.

The bully, growing more aggressive, grabbed the girl’s chin. Her eyes, wide with terror, stared up at him through her round glasses. Before he could register her terrified expression, he was yanked backward, his body slamming into the opposite wall.

“What the fu—?!”

Yoshio stood over him, "Take a breather, lowlife. Let the girl leave. She’s not interested."

The bully, stunned and fuming, glared up at Yoshio, his hair now disheveled from the impact. 

"Who the hell are you, who do you think you are, stupid monk", he started to look for something in his pockets.

Yoshio didn't even spare the girl a glance, his focus entirely on the bully. "Who cares what I am? Just leave her alone."

The bully, clearly rattled but unwilling to back down, began fumbling through his pockets. “I’m gonna kill you, you piece of shit.”

With a flash of movement, the bully pulled out a knife and lunged. Yoshio, muttering under his breath, swiftly pushed the girl aside and disappeared from view. The bully, disoriented, almost crashed into the wall but caught himself just in time.

"Up here," Yoshio’s mocking voice called out from above.

The bully looked up, confused. "Wha—?"

Yoshio grinned. "You think you’re tough? Why does this girl look so scared, then? Is that what you like? That she’s terrified, unable to resist, while you push yourself on her? Disgusting."

Fuming, the bully stomped his feet. Yoshio observed him with cold disdain. The bully, calculating his next move, suddenly turned toward the girl, who was now sitting on the ground, covering her ears in fear.

Yoshio appeared in front of her before the bully could reach her. The bully, grinning wickedly, anticipated this and threw his knife at Yoshio’s leg. Yoshio, unable to dodge without risking the girl getting hurt, took the blade directly in his thigh.

Yoshio let out a small, irritated noise. "So, what now? I have your knife."

The bully sneered. "Tell me, monk, is this how you play hero? Do the girls thank you properly afterward?"

Yoshio’s voice remained icy. "You assume everyone is as filthy as you are. That’s your problem. You think everyone shares your disgusting fantasies. What a pathetic world you live in."

The bully grinned again. “People like you don’t exist. Nobody is pure. Not even you, monk.”

Suddenly, the bully staggered backward, as if struck. Yoshio’s shakujō, a metal staff he carried, had appeared in his hand and landed lightly on the bully’s head. Despite the seemingly gentle touch, the bully struggled to stay on his feet.

"I’ll say this once. I see you again, bothering any girl, I’ll kill you. And if I catch you pulling a stunt like this again, I’ll make sure you never harm anyone else." Yoshio’s expression was deadly serious. The bully, now barely conscious, slumped into a corner.

Yoshio cursed under his breath, finally noticing the blade still in his leg. He was about to leave when he remembered the girl sitting, staring at the ground.

He knelt beside her, wincing as the pain in his leg flared. "Hey, lady, it’s over. You can go now."

The girl slowly lowered her arms, her gaze drifting to the knife in Yoshio’s leg. "Your leg…" she murmured. "You’re hurt. I can’t just let you leave like that."

Yoshio blinked in surprise. "It’s nothing. It’ll heal."

Her reaction was immediate and loud. "What?! Are you stupid? It’s a knife wound! It won’t just heal! Come with me—I’ll treat it. Or we could go to the hospital. Or maybe both!" She was speaking so quickly, Yoshio barely had time to react.

Before he knew it, she had grabbed his wrist and started leading him out of the alley, still babbling about treatments and hospitals. Yoshio, overwhelmed, followed her in a daze.

As they walked, her monologue continued unabated. "…I mean, it’s just a muscle wound, right? I can figure it out. I’ll just google it!"

 "Wait, what are you doing? Why are you—?"

She waved her free hand dismissively. "It’s fine! You saved me, so I don’t think you’ll attack me or anything. And I hope you’re not my stalker. I mean, if you were, you’d already know where I live, right?" She laughed, the sound slightly manic. She pulled him, and as if in a trance he followed her. Yoshio's head was exploding at the amount of information he had been receiving so far, almost dazed, he just decided to follow her, thinking that she should just have opened her mouth back then in the alley, and the bully would have run off from her, probably terrified himself.

They continued walking, she was still mumbling something to herself, while Yoshio took this time to relax his body, and observe. Sometimes it was easier to follow the path of life. Usually, he would just protect the girl, beat up the guy, and leave. The girls usually, too distraught to stay with other men would run off when the fight started anyway. Only ever several girls asked him to take them home, which he did, but he never really communicated with them properly. This one, she was definitely insane. First that extreme face, total silence, terror, then out of a sudden lots of text, she even grabbed him. He looked at her back. She seemed peculiar somehow, she was not from Japan, as both her accent, and her face were somewhat different. 

The nails looked as if she did them herself, black with some grey stars drawn on them, not perfect. Clothes seem to be whatever those people with heavy make-up wear in Shibuya. Seems like she is trying to be fashionable. He noticed some tattoos under her sleeves, and one visible on her neck. She had a nose and brow piercings and multiple earrings. 

She seemed to be young, however not in school anymore, maybe middle to late 20-s. Some heavy eyeliner and blush. Blush was way too blushy. She looks as if she is constantly embraced, doesn't she see it? Maybe she likes it that way, why would I care? He turned his head to look forward. She also had this alluring weird aura around her... 

He heard the girl talking again. They stopped, she was not holding his wrist anymore, looking for something in her purse, talking.

"Hell, I think I lost my phone, what the hell? Oh, why does it always happen? And the stupid keys, do I have to take everything out of this damn purse to find the keys?"

He looked at her, confused.

"Hey, lady, you phone…"

"What, did you see it?" She had so much hope in her eyes, his heart skipped a bit for some reason.

"Well, it is in your left hand", he said coldly.

She raised her eyebrows in astonishment looking at her phone, "Hell, you are right, sorry, ha-ha, I am so forgetful all the time, actually.."

"Don't worry, it has been a stressful day…"

"No, you do not understand, it is like always, I am always losing everything you know, always dropping things, breaking stuff…" She looked, apologetic as if remembering something she looked up again.

"Wait, I am so sorry, I was referring to you impolitely, can you please say your name, my name is Masaki Sora, and I am a PhD student at University XXX. I study psychology. I am 28." As she was saying it she bowed down several times, politely. "And you…?"