The light of the lamppost flickered, maintaining a dim light that revealed the scene unfolding below. A thug, around the age of sixteen, is slowly backing away from the threat that stood before him. In front of this thug stood a boy of the same age, his presence unusually overpowering. The thug tries to lunge forward, but his body tenses, rendering him unable to move. "You… you muscle… freak!" The thug forced himself to speak, but his mind could not gather what to say. The boy chuckled, a chuckle formed from pure pity. "'Preciate the glaze, but that's not who I am." The boy walked into the buzzing light, revealing himself fully. "The name's Daiki." The thug pales and gulps hard. "A-as if I give a shit! I don't give a fucking shit!" Daiki observes the thug then laughs. "Assuming you're one to bark a lot when you're scared?" Daiki takes a step forward, malicious intent oozing. "No hard feelings, man." The thug swings a wild hook, which looked more of like a desperate attempt for a hit. Daiki slips, then before the thug could even see, followed up with a one-two, cocking his head back. "You looking at the Big Dipper mid-fight or what?" Daiki says, clearly not taking the situation seriously. The thug's haymaker miraculously connects, knocking Daiki back slightly. "Not too bad." In a flash, almost lightspeed, Daiki grabs the top of the thug's head. Without hesitation, the thug's face is pulled in toward Daiki's knee. Crack. A red mist erupts as the thug falls limp. He raises the thug's face toward his level, analyzing the thug's face. Annoyed, he throws him to the side and spits on him. Daiki starts to walk away, the crunching of rocks and the splash of blood under his feet splitting through the cold, silent night air. "All these bastards are nitwits. Weak and pathetic nitwits…" Daiki walks over the bodies on the ground, occasionally making sure they have a pulse. When the light finished flickering, the man known as Daiki was gone, leaving eight thugs all over a lonely road, red glimmering from the weak light.
