"DERYA!"
A sound similar to a shotgun blasting someone echoed in a large room. People stared in shock at the source of the loud noise. It was a young blond man, a teen of seventeen, with orange sweatpants, a black muscle shirt, white sneakers, and his fists covered in red boxing gloves. His hair was cut about short and was flat on his head like a small mop, with sideburns framing the side of his lean and rather handsome blue eyed face. He also had a light golden natural tan that made people question whether or not he was Japanese.
The boy, easily identified as a boxer by his gloves, was built like a featherweight fighter should, with not a single ounce of fat and his body covered in muscle. But some intimidation from his build would easily be ignored by the fact he was five foot and seven inches tall. But that height gave him the advantage of not having to worry much about his diet to keep his weight.
And what had amazed the people on the boxing club of your typical Japanese high school was the fact that the blond youth's opponents, a large sandbag and two other members of the club that had been trying to keep said sandbag in place, were sent flying a couple of feet in the air. The two other boxers yelped the moment they were airborne, barely having a chance to register that the blond boxer had sent them flying along the sandbag—which had been about to fly off its hinges—until they landed on the hard ground.
The blond looked surprised, "Oh… sorry?" he asked with a nervous grin.
The two other boxers groaned and got up, one of them speaking his mind with a sigh, "Well, now we see why we're not the captain of the boxing club."
Outside of the room, from a window, several pairs of eyes peeked down to see the blond walking towards a towel and a bottle of water to get rid of the sweat and get hydrated once again. The eyes belonged to girls currently standing on top of barrels, dumpsters, and everything they could find to get a good look at the blond captain of the boxing club, Haruto Namikaze. And it was vital to note their eyes were heart-shaped.
"Namikaze-senpai is so cool! Did you see how hard he punched that bag and those two? I bet he could out-punch a bear!" one of the girls said, almost squealing.
Another nodded, sighing dreamily, "He's definitely becoming a pro. A friend and I did a little research on him, and many colleges want him to be their star boxer."
"There's also a strange cool aura and a mysterious thing about him." another said with her hand on her pink cheek, "He seems like a loner but that's to be expected considering where he lives."
"He's kind of hard to approach… But look at him…" the girl who spoke all but drooled when watching Haruto wiping the sweat off his chest and arms, "Yummy…"
"Hey, Namikaze!" said blond turned to the coach, a small rotund man with a small white moustache and a bald head, always clad in a red sweat suit, who had a clipboard in his hand and a stopwatch on the other, "Time for you to start running. You won't win any fights without keeping up that stamina of yours."
"I got it, I got it. No need to shout at me." The blond replied, took off his gloves and muscle shirt—which did get his fans to feel weak on the knees—, and put on a red hoodie while approaching the main door to the gym, a grin on his face, "Time to get stronger." Once out he didn't waste any time to sprint off into the distance. A biker had to blink when seeing the blond boxer dash past him and his scooter.
After the first five minutes of sprinting the blond stopped by an alarm on his watch, dead in his tracks, and started to skip on his toes in the corner he stood still. Then the bystanders watched in amazement when the kid traded blows with an invisible enemy, shadow boxing to keep up his skills. Meanwhile, the blond youth's fans tried and failed to see where he had gone after he covered a few miles with just a sprint. But just as he was about to sprint again, he noticed a certain scene on an alley:
"I said give it here!"
It was a banchou gang, characterized by wearing their uniforms like punks, one with a pompadour and brass knuckles, another with a shaved head had a cold mask and a switch blade, and the third had his black short hair spiked up, his eyes behind a pair of sunglasses and a bamboo sword. The masked banchou was motioning for someone to give him something, this someone being a poor little boy, and the something being an injured cat covered in dirt and bruises.
The kid hugged the fur ball tighter, "No! You… You weren't playing with him!" he said, on the verge of crying. He would've tried to run but his back was against a dead end, and the three punks blocked his escape route.
The one with the bamboo sword grinned, "We didn't say our games should be fun for the damn flea bag. Now give it here unless you want to join in on its fun."
"Why don't you let me in on the fun with fairer terms?" Haruto asked as he stepped into the alley.
The punks growled when noticing the blond, "What's a Gaijin like you doing here? Beat it!" the pompadour one said, cracking his knuckles.
Haruto raised his fists, covered in bandages, and grinned, "Hey, kid." The boy with the cat looked at the blond, who grinned at him, "When this is over, call an ambulance."
The three punks cackled, "You think we'll let you two walk out that easily?"
The blond chuckled, "I meant an ambulance… for three dumb idiots."
The banchou trio didn't take those words well if the veins popping on their foreheads were any indication. As one they all charged at the boxer while the little boy watched in shock, fear for the teenager, and awe at what was happening. In one swift strike, the kid's fear had disappeared. Just as the banchou with the bamboo sword was about to smack the blond on the head, the boxer swung his right fist upwards, and delivered an upper-cut that not only clashed with the bamboo weapon, but it snapped it in half. The banchou didn't know what happened until finding the sweaty blond teen's fist inches from his face, stopping just for the sole reason of watching the banchou backpedal in fear.
The other two thugs also stepped back, "This guy's a boxer… damn it." One of them cursed.
Haruto remained where he was with his feet firmly planted on the ground, and his grin still on his face, "I'm still one guy, come at me unless you're cowardly enough to only take on a little kid."
The banchou with the switchblade tried to stab the blond, who side-stepped the strike. Then the banchou grinned and swung his leg around for a sweeping kick, "Let's see you fight with a broken knee!" he shouted… and then saw Haruto stomping forward, just in time for his leg to connect with the banchou's knee, stopping the blow and making the thug roll back with his hands holding his sore leg while Haruto didn't look shaken at all. He inwardly grinned, for it'd take more than a kick to take him down.
The last banchou finally attacked and threw very wild punches at the blond who weaved and bobbed around the strikes with his grin, "Stay still, you bastard!" the banchou shouted, and tried to kick the boxer, only for the blond to spin around on his toes and let the thug's foot sink into a trash bag, which judging by the squishy sound it made was filled with something nasty. The banchou then shivered when he retrieved his foot only to find it covered in a strange brown mess.
The kid watched the banchou try to punch, kick, and even head-butt the boxer, but the thug only managed to hit air. And the more the banchou tried to hit the boxer, the faster the blond seemed to become… No, the kid saw it. The banchou was losing his breath while the blond pugilist simply showed off his footwork by avoiding all of the thug's strikes. And in one split second, the blond disappeared from sight when the banchou's fist hit the air once again. The thug then noticed a shadow by his side, and finally noticed that his brass knuckles were missing.
Haruto sighed and rolled his shoulders, "I'm not one for fighting in stupid street brawls, but if you keep going at it…" he raised his left hand, which had the missing brass knuckles so he could let the fall and hit the ground, "I will actually throw a real punch." He said with his eyes set on the trio with a dangerous glare.
The men tried to run away… but the boxer dashed right in front of them, "W-What're you?! Some monster?!" the pompadour one asked.
Haruto chuckled, "Maybe I am, who knows?" he then pointed at the kid and the cat, "What I do know is that you three owe that kid and the cat an apology, and a heartfelt one."
The masked banchou growled, "You must be kidding me!"
To prove he wasn't kidding, Haruto walked to the nearest wall, and punched it. The kid, the thugs, and even the cat stared with their mouths gaping and their eyes wide in horror when the boxer's fist punched right through it in the same manner a needle would pass through thin cloth. The pugilist then pulled back his hand from the hole, blew off the dust on his knuckles, and grinned at the boxers.
"So, that apology?" he asked, cracking his knuckles for emphasis. "Just know… if the kid and the cat don't forgive you, neither will I."
"We…" the trio started, before turning to the kid with tearful eyes, "We're very sorry! Please forgive these fools!"
The kid stepped back, and then, with a smile, said, "It's ok… but you have to make it up to the cat…" he said, and the feline let out a meow, as if approving of this.
Haruto stepped to the kid, crouched to be at his level, and patted the cat's head, "Well, the little one seems hungry…" he then turned to the trio with a thoughtful look on his face, "I'd say… you three can start by feeding it, getting it a warm place to stay at, and making sure it's properly taken care of…" he then turned with a smile so sweet that it had to be fake, "Or else my new friend will tell me, and I will find you."
After seeing the three thugs enter a pet shop, get everything the cat needed, and help the kid carry the cat to his home with the boy having promised to tell the boxer through said pugilist's cell phone what happened, the blond moved forward with a smile. He looked at his clock, sighing for he had lost some time, but considering how good he was doing he thought of it as a casual sacrifice. He'd just have to run twice as long and faster later that day.
He returned to his school's gym where the coach gave him a glance noticing he hadn't sweated as much as he wanted him to, but let it slide knowing the blond youth's stamina, "You better not be slacking, boy. Those fists of yours may hit like cannonballs, but if you don't have the energy, speed and strength to use them then you can throw the towel."
The blond waved at the man, "No worries, I didn't get too sidetracked this time. I was just helping a little kid with his cat."
The coach sighed, "Listen, I know you like to be a good guy, but if you want to be a pro then get ready to get beaten to the canvas the moment you try to be kind in the ring."
"I know, but I'm still doing good." The blond replied, "I do need a bit more muscle and to better my footwork."
The coach nodded, "Then start shadow boxing already, and then get ready to deal with the others in the ring. And after that…" Here the man pointed at the door to the gym, "Get those girls out of here!"
Haruto blinked, turned, and sure enough a large group of girls were at the door watching how he had taken his hoodie to put back on his still sweaty muscle shirt. Understandably, he hurriedly put on the shirt, "I make no promises, coach. They're really persistent."
The coach scoffed, "Boy, I may not be the best guy to say this, but you need a girl. Sure, they will take time off your schedule, but right now I'd like to see this gym's doors clear of girls. Break some hearts, will ya?"
Haruto chuckled, "You're a really mean old man, don't you think?" he then looked up, "I just want to enjoy my life, and being a pro-boxer is both fun and pays." Then shrugged, "I just don't want to be mean, ok?"
The coach chuckled with a smirk, "You don't get to my age after some years of boxing without letting people know you can be mean. Now start working on your feet!"
The blond nodded, did as told, and tried his best to ignore the girls staring at him and whispering about the handsome boxing club captain. In his mind, he was trying to prepare himself for when they started to follow him to the school gates, and then and there he may get back to his home all alone or with company for a small part of the trip. It wasn't that he disliked the attention; in fact he'd enjoy it to the full… if the girls could let him breathe for a bit.
However, for some reason he knew he'd hate himself if he were cold or mean to them. It was like from birth something or… someone had made him hate the idea of being cruel and cold to those who wanted to do others good.
Can't be weirder than the dreams about the giant fox and that horned devil woman… he thought to himself with his fists trading blows with the air to shake those thoughts off his head.
Either way, he'd have to go through them, so he thought it'd be best if he wasn't a jerk to get some space, even if the girls were rather clingy.