August 2nd, 2025
Near a convenient store - 9:03 PM
The moment Daigo stepped into the fray, Ian's eyes sharpened like daggers. His breath came heavy, hot in the cool Tokyo air, and sweat dripped from his chin.
People stood still at the edges of the sidewalk, their daily routines interrupted by a fight that escalated into something primal.
Daigo, never the type to fight fair, barked to his two remaining friends, "Take this bitch down!"
The first friend lunged forward with a wild swing. Ian shifted, ducked, and retaliated with a right hook straight to the jaw. Crack! The sound echoed down the street, followed by a shocked gasp from the crowd. The guy stumbled back, collapsing onto the concrete, twitching.
The second one, enraged, swung his leg in a wide arc to kick Ian's ribs, but Ian blocked it with his arm, gritting his teeth through the pain. In a fluid motion, he swept the man's other leg and slammed him onto the sidewalk. The crowd roared.
Daigo growled and charged. He grabbed Ian's head, slamming it against a brick wall behind the ATM. Ian saw stars. His knees buckled. Daigo tightened his grip like a vise.
"Now! Hit him!" Daigo screamed.
His goons obeyed, fists flying toward Ian's stomach.
Ian groaned in pain. He felt an immense pain in stomack. Punch by punch.
But Ian, fueled by something deeper than adrenaline, lifted both legs and kicked them back with enough force to shove them away.
A burning fury ignited within him.
Flashback.
Daigo, senior year. Ian had dropped his books, and Daigo kicked them down the hallway, laughing, "Pick 'em up, faggot!"
Back to present.
Ian twisted free from Daigo's grip, elbowed him in the ribs, and turned to face the three of them. He panted, drenched in sweat, bruises forming.
A woman from the crowd screamed, "Stop it! Please!"
Phones were out. Some cheered. Some called for police.
Daigo spat blood. "You're fucking dead!"
He and his friend came at Ian again. Ian ducked low and uppercut the first one, then delivered a brutal jab to Daigo's ribs. Daigo staggered. Ian followed with rapid, punishing punches. His knuckles throbbed.
Flashback.
Ian was minding his own business eating his lunch. Then Daigo poured some vinegar on his hair. Daigo's laughter still ringing in his ears. "Cry some more, bitch."
Back to present.
Ian screamed and tackled Daigo, slamming him into the ground. Ian climbed on top, hammering punch after punch into Daigo's face.
"This is for humiliating me!" Punch.
"For making me feel pity for myself!" Punch.
"For ruining my fucking college life!" Punch. Punch. Punch.
Daigo's face was turning into a mess of blood, snot, and swelling. Ian's hands were covered in crimson. His breathing was wild. His eyes feral. Animalistic.
The crowd wasn't cheering anymore.
Someone cried out, "Call the police!"
Another screamed, "He's going to kill him!"
Flashback.
Ian cornered in the campus cafeteria. Food dumped on his head. People laughing. Daigo shoving him. "You ain't shit, Ian-boy. You'll never be anything."
Back to present.
Ian's fists didn't stop. Even as Daigo fell limp. Even as his body barely moved. Ian muttered through clenched teeth, more animal than man.
"Years... YEARS of this. You thought I'd stay weak forever, huh? HUH?!"
Sirens wailed.
The distant, rising sound of an emergency vehicle. Red and blue lights reflected off the glass of the convenience store. Tires screeched.
Two officers burst through the crowd.
"Stop! Step away from him! Now!"
But Ian didn't hear them. Not yet.
A hand grabbed his shoulder.
Another grabbed his wrist. And that moment - something clicked. Like a snap in his head.
He looked down at Daigo's bloodied, unconscious face. The horror of it all slammed into him. His fists stopped. His breathing slowed.
His eyes widened.
What... have I done?
The officers dragged him back. One restrained him, twisting his arms behind his back, slapping the cuffs on.
"You're under arrest for aggravated assault."
Ian didn't resist. He just stared. At Daigo. At the blood. At the crowd. At the phones recording.
Someone whispered, "It seems the guy was bullied by them."
Another said, "Damn... he finally snapped."
As he was led to the police car, Ian glanced up at the sky.
For once, there was no cloud in sight. But it never felt darker.
Inside the car, he sat silently. Staring at his bruised, blood-stained hands. Hands that shook not from fear, but from release.
Tears welled in his eyes. And for the first time in a long time... he didn't feel weak.
Just... tired.
Utterly tired.