I pride myself on being an optimist, so I feel that I shouldn't complain, but my family and I live in the- less than fortunate part of town.
Rabid Rottweilers, gang wars, thugs; every walk home is like a video game, except I only have one life.
Usually the walk home takes an hour, but fortunately over the years I've discovered a secret shortcut that lets me get home in 30. It's just.a..little...dangerou-
In front of me are 5 women; they are all tough looking, with various scars and tattoos. Some of them even have guns holstered loosely in their sagging pants.
At this point, that extra thirty minutes it would have cost to go the long way seems like a small price to pay.
Now that they have seen me, I can't exactly turn back. So continuing forward, I know I have to act confident, otherwise they will see me as easy prey.
So, speed walking past them, I avert my gaze in hopes that they will let me pass without any notice.
But it seems I'm not that fortunate, as I hear the women making beeping noises and various catcalls. "Damn, boy, reverse that dump truck back here."
My means of escape is suddenly cut off, as the five gruff looking woman surround me.
"Where do you think you're going, pretty boy?"
"I- I was just trying to get home." I whimper, still too afraid to look them in the eyes.
"Hey, what's the rush, we're just trying to have a little fun."
"Yea- your fault for walking around with that loose shirt and tight pants. Practically asking for it."
"Hey! Get off me!" I beg.
One of them grabs my wrists as I can feel my back hit a brick wall.
Suddenly there's- there's music?
Dramatic phonk music begins to blast out from a cheap speaker.
"The fuck is that noise?" One of the woman question.
"Sounds like music."
From above, a figure drops down, landing between myself and the thugs. They wear a large black trench coat with a collar that goes well over their head.
There are an unnecessary amount of buckles and belts that wrap around the outfit, clicking and clanking with every motion. The flaps of the coat flutter as the figure strikes a superhero-like pose.
But based on the cracking noise, it sounds like that heroic jump took quite the toll on her joints.
Despite this, they pick themselves up slowly, with a slow maniacal laugh.
She has arctic white hair with flaps on either side, and a singular large hair that pops out. She scans the area with those heterochromia eyes; one is dark black, while the other is a crimson red.
Her expression is composed of a smug grin, as though her ideals were absolute.
"You dare harass this defenseless prince?" The mysterious figure states as her voice almost cracks. "I am Lady Seraphina Isolde du Cœur Obscur, the dark evil demon queen!"
"Uh- what?"
"Who the fuck is this brat? Are you his girlfriend?"
"The darkness of the moon shines about the shadows, yet I- the reincarnation of the archduke devil Lady Seraphina Isolde du Cœur Obscur! My darkness will consume-"
"The fuck are you on about?" One of the woman interrupt.
"Get the fuck out of the way, cuck queen. We're trying to have a good time with your boyfriend." Without warning, one of the larger women punches the girl in the nose.
The impact causes her to stumble backwards. The otaku girl's eyes begin to water as her button nose bleeds a thin trail of blood.
To her credit, she doesn't back down; clenching her teeth, she wipes the tears from her eyes and steps forward once more.
This time, she scrambles for something in her pocket; yanking out a piece of newspaper she crumbles it up?
Uh, what's her plan?
From the other pocket, she grabs a lighter. For a few moments, she struggles to set the paper ablaze, yet eventually it begins to burn.
"Demonic fireball, spell number 554, it combines the souls from the depths of hell to creat- ow!" The crumbled up newspaper is fully lit as the fire pricks her hand.
The pain causes her to drop the flaming piece of paper onto the wet concrete.
"Ah! My fireball!"
As the girl reaches down for burning newspaper, the leader of the gruff girls stomps her down to the ground.
"You think you're some kind of white knight? Pathetic."
"He- hey- stop!" I attempt to command, yet it comes out like a helpless yelp.
"Stay the fuck out of this, man!" The raggedy woman commands.
Now, the thugs have all joined in, as they stomp on the girls' back.
"How do you like that!"
"Take this!"
"Fucking dumbass!"
The girl's eyes water as tears stream down her cheeks; but once more she doesn't back down. Instead, she attempts to push herself up to stand.
"The main character never loses! Demon powers! Activate!"
Holding out her hand, the thugs step back in a moment of hesitation.
Does she actually have some kind of power?!
...
Ehhh... Nothing happened.
Rengaging, the female thugs drive a brutal kick into her arm. "Dumbass!"
"You ain't some stupid main character, you's a bitch!"
"Stop!" I command! "I already called the police! Don't take another step!" I state, holding out my phone.
The group of gruff girls click their tongues before marching away one of the alleys.
"Ar- are you alright?" I question, reaching out my hand.
I hear sniffling from the ground, yet she picks herself up. "I- tha- that was- nothing!" She attempts to mask her whimpering with a placebo confidence.
"You don't have to act tough; it's alright to show your emotions. I cry all the time."
"Wha- no way- girls never cry! Bec- because I'm strong!"
It would a little more convincing if her lips weren't trembling.
"My goodness, you girls always try to act so tough."
With a lighthearted chuckle, I begin to wrap a bandage around her bruised arm.
"Well... thank you-" she states with a defeated expression as tears continue to stream down her reddened cheeks.
"No worries, I apprecia- Your hair!?"
"You like it? Dyed it white to show the darkness of my soul!" She says smugly as she puffs out her chest.
"IT'S ON FUCKING FIRE!"
"Eh? It does feel a little hot back ther- AHHH! It really is!"
Lunging down to the ground, she begins rolling back and forth. "Stop drop and roll!"
Finally, after a few moments of rolling around on the wet pavement, the fire eating away at her long white hair has fizzled to nothing.
Picking herself up, she smugly shrugs. "A little bit of fire is nothing- I am the queen of darkne-"
"Uh- no, your real name is Killa Monoshka"
"GASP! How do you know the devil queen's true name?!
"Because it says it on the ID you dropped."
"How did you steal my ID without my knowledge... I see, you are of the assassin class. Not bad, but you don't mess with the demon queen and get away with it! Tsunami Strike!" Reaching into her pocket, she fumbles around. "Huh? Where- my tsunami striker?"
Pointing down at her shirt, I sigh. "If you're looking for that water ballon, I think it popped when you fell."
Paying no mind to the large and inconvenient splotch of water dripping from her clothes, she chuckles. "Hm! Hm! Fool, that is my hydro explosion; THIS is my tsunami strike!"
Grabbing her water bottle, she sprays me in the face.
My eyes widen as my shirt begins to cling to my chest. The water soaks into the shirt as it drips.
"What the hell you perv! Now my clothes look see-through!"
"Hehe." She giggles with a goofy looking expression as she looks at me with perverse eyes.
Crossing my arms, I attempt to cover myself up. "Stop looking, weirdo!"
"Just take it off. That's what I do."
"Unlike you girls, we can't just take our tops off anywhere."
"Hmm? Is that so?" she questions, still staring at me with those perverse eyes.
"Yes! Now would you stop looking and offer me your jacket or something?!"
"But you look just like my husbando-"
"Huzz what now?"
Yanking out her phone, the wallpaper is an array of this one handsome dude in a... revealing outfit.
"Uh- oh, wow, very cool." This girl is a total loser.
"As a reward for me saving you, will you join my harem?" She questions so confidently...
"I appreciate your help, but... 300%, N.O.?" She's a total otaku.
Once more, with that ignorantly confident grin, she crosses her arms. "I see- you're a tsundere.
"Wha- what does that even mean?"
"You're secretly obsessed with me, but you're too shy to admit it."
"wha- that's just stupi-"
Placing her hand on my face, she shushes me. "Tut tut tut, no need to say anything. I understand; in fact it turns me on."
Ew!? What the fuck is wrong with this girl!?
She continues. "You fail to express your true feelings, so you lash ou-"
Grabbing her hand I pull her hand off my face. "Listen- I appreciate you saving me today, but- I hardly know you. Just because you saved me, doesnt mean I'm going to fall head over heels for you."
The girl's eyes widen as though she heard hell froze over. "But- but that's how it works in the anime-"
"Well-" That's because those kinds of anime are written by loser women who have never talked to a male. "Reality can be a bit harsh."
She takes a deep breath before slowly turning away. "I- I und- understand." Despite her understanding, I can hear the whimpering and trembling of her lip.
With an exasperated sigh, I reach out. "Killa..."
Her eyes widen as she whips around. "YES?!"
"My name is Lerofey, and... you're in class 477, right?"
"Yes! How did you know? Are you a secret stalker? I knew it, you're obsessed with me! Once more- I offer you an invitation to join my harem."
"No, and no, I only know you because we're in the same class, you sit at the very front."
"Oh- yea, I knew you looked familiar, you're that guy that sits next to Chipo. Chipo... Chipo, what I wouldn't do to him. I mean those-"
My eyes flatten as I let out my final sigh of exhaustion. "You know, asking a guy to join your creepy loser harem, then comparing him to his friend in a negative light, aint the way to a guys heart." I gave her the benefit of the doubt more times than one should.
"Eh? But- but I thought you were obsessed with me? I'm the main character!"
That explains it, one of those girls that spends her whole life online thinking she's some cringey main character from an anime.
Well, time to respectfully leave, any longer and I might catch the stupid. Putting on a close-eyed smile, I bow. "Thank you, Killa, for saving me. If you'll excuse me I hav- other things to do."
"Oh- right- of course!"
I would never date someone like her; I want a tall girl with lots of money, who reads literature in coffee shops.