In that instant, Ikeda Shigeru recalled what the barber had told him:
"Turning over a new leaf isn't easy. Your past—your karma—it won't simply vanish because you've changed your mind. It will follow you like a shadow."
Right after that thought, he noticed the Manager watching him with a complicated look.
Just then, the door of the convenience store swung open.
In strode Ōnishi—the Nankatsu High "boss," a hulking figure nearly one meter ninety tall. Just looking at him made you think that maybe those government nutrition programs to increase average height really did work.
Like a mountain, Ōnishi carried a metal baseball bat, bloodstains still clinging to it.
A crowd of guys in Nankatsu High uniforms surged in behind him.
"Yo, isn't this A-Mo? The ace little tyrant of Meisei High—what's he doing behind a convenience store counter?" Ōnishi jeered, clearly already knowing why Ikeda was working here. He was just pretending not to.
Suddenly, he gave his bloodstained metal baseball bat a light tap against his own head and grinned. "Ah! I get it now! You're robbing the place, aren't you? That's gotta be it! Hey, clerk! Hand over all the money! Don't you know who this is? This is the little tyrant that everyone in Kitakatsushi Ward talks about!"
Ikeda shouted back, voice sharp with anger, "Ōnishi! Quit spouting crap!"
"Oh? You trying to tell me you're working a part-time job here?" Ōnishi turned back toward his gang with an exaggerated grin. "You hear that, boys? A-Mo from Meisei says he's working part-time! You buying that?"
"Not a chance!" one punk cackled, his battered tokkōfuku and ridiculous pompadour making him look all the more absurd. "A part-time job? That money's nothing—you could get more just extorting a few rich kids! Hell, with A-Mo's reputation, those kids would probably throw money at him just to brag about hanging around!"
"Yeah, who the hell would actually work?"
"You'd have to be brain-dead to do something that lame!"
Ikeda's face was pale, jaw clenched, mind racing—how could he handle this the right way, as a good person?
But… wasn't it okay for a good person to fight back if needed?
Master—well, not quite Master yet—didn't Kiryu Kazuma fight for justice with strength? Just like a real-life Kamen Rider.
If it were Master, he'd already have drawn his wooden sword, beaten these punks down, and tossed them out, no doubt about it!
Resolved, Ikeda started scanning for anything he could use as a weapon—
But at that moment, Nakagawa-san burst out of the employee room, shouting, "I've already called the police! The patrol officers will be here any second!"
The Manager glanced at Nakagawa-san and sighed. "I already hit the emergency alarm the moment they came in. The patrol officers should arrive soon."
Being a large chain store—especially here in Tokyo—the shop was equipped with what was still considered cutting-edge: CCTV and a one-touch emergency alarm.
Nakagawa-san had explained it all to Ikeda on his first day.
Of course, he'd completely forgotten.
Now, relief washed over him.
Right… a good person can call the police too.
Been a delinquent so long I forgot something that basic...
Among delinquents, the police had an almost universally bad reputation. It was easy to forget their true role was protecting regular people.
Just then, one of the lookouts rushed in. "Cops are here!"
Ōnishi clicked his tongue, casually grabbed a pack of tissues from the shelf, tore it open, wiped the bloodstains from his metal baseball bat, and tossed the bloodied tissues onto the injured Asano lying on the floor.
Moments later, two patrol officers arrived on bicycles, headlights slicing through the gloom.
One glance at the scene and the second officer immediately raised his police radio, calling for backup.
The first officer dismounted, keeping a safe distance. One hand reached for his baton, the other hovered near his sidearm.
"Nobody move! Police! Drop your weapons!" the officer shouted, voice cutting through the slightly ajar door.
Ōnishi locked eyes with Ikeda, the same bright grin still on his face.
But this time, he said nothing—his smile spoke volumes.
Then, with a smooth motion, he raised his metal baseball bat above his head, mimicking a surrendering soldier.
"We're not resisting! We're coming out!" he called.
With that, Ōnishi led the Nankatsu High crew out of the store.
Once they were gone, Miura hurried over to Ikeda, looking apologetic. "We just wanted to see how your part-time job was going… but we ran into Ōnishi's gang on the way. Couldn't avoid it."
Irie scowled. "That bastard Ōnishi must've been tipped off. He came looking for you!"
Ikeda ignored his two old friends and bowed deeply to the Manager. "I'm so sorry. I caused you trouble!"
The Manager looked conflicted, lips pressed tightly, and said nothing.
Just then, one of the patrol officers entered, one hand gripping his baton, the other near his sidearm.
"You lot—out! Anyone involved in the fight is coming down to the station for questioning!" he barked at the lingering delinquents.
Miura glanced at Ikeda, then helped the injured Asano limp toward the door.
Irie shot Ikeda a long, meaningful look before following.
Then the officer glared at Ikeda. "You too! Out!"
For a split second, Ikeda almost lost it—he nearly shouted back. But the Manager stepped in smoothly.
"He's one of our employees. He knows both groups, yes, but he didn't take part in the fight. The CCTV recorded everything. That should prove it."
The officer glanced at the footage and gave a curt nod. "Understood. Thank you for cooperating. We may send someone later to collect the footage—please make sure it's preserved."
"Of course." The Manager bowed. "Thank you for your hard work."
The officer said nothing, but shot Ikeda a final distrustful glance before leaving.
Ikeda bowed again, deeply. "I'm sorry. And thank you for helping me just now."
The Manager sighed and pulled out his cigarette pack—but spotting the No Smoking sign on the wall, he stopped.
Instead, he turned to Nakagawa-san. "Nakagawa, watch the register for a bit. And clean up the bloodstains."
"Yes, sir," Nakagawa-san replied.
The Manager then headed for the staff room.
Ikeda hesitated. He could tell the Manager clearly had something to say.
He glanced at Nakagawa-san, who gave him a small hand gesture—go on.
So Ikeda followed.
As he passed his locker—a locker he'd only used for a day—he suddenly felt an unexpected pang of reluctance.
That pang reminded him of what might be coming.
But… maybe the Manager—
Heart full of uncertainty and hope, Ikeda pushed open the rear staff door.
Out in the alley, the Manager was squatting next to the trash bins, classic Asian style, a cigarette glowing faintly in the dim alley light.
"You know," the Manager began quietly, "when you first applied… I had a feeling this might happen."
(End of Chapter)