A crowd had gathered, cheering and chanting the same name: One Punchman.
Kruel gritted his teeth as he stared at the boy who had hit both him and Mike. Grayt Shaw—second strongest in the school and a known gang member, though Kruel wasn't sure which gang he belonged to. A few students followed Grayt, some clearly part of his crew.
"You kids are lucky it's the first day," Grayt sneered as he walked away, smirking with pride.
Mike groaned as he held his face, blood trickling from his nose. Kruel tried to help him up—but slipped and fell again. It wasn't unusual.
"I'm fine, bro," Mike said, gritting his teeth as he stood. He then helped Kruel up. "Seriously. I've had worse."
Kruel looked around. Some students still lingered in the hall, but most walked past like nothing had happened. That's because nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Violence was routine here at Wincher Lisa High. This was why gangs rarely struggled to find new recruits.
But something felt off.
For the first time in a long while, Kruel felt something. A strange... presence. It felt close—too close. His eyes swept the hallway and landed on a girl. She smiled at him—not just any smile, but the kind you give when you've finally found what you've been searching for.
Next to her stood a boy with piercing black eyes, staring directly at Kruel. Intense. Cold.
Must be new creeps, Kruel thought. I haven't seen them around before. Probably just transferred. That stare's intimidating... but I'm not looking away.
Kruel returned the stare, sharp and unwavering, until the black-eyed boy blinked and looked away. Mike had already left for the nurse's office to fix his nose. Kruel knew that if a fight broke out now, he'd be on his own.
He considered heading into a classroom—somewhere safer, with adult supervision—but something told him to stay. That strange feeling… he'd felt it before. But when? Where?
He looked back toward where the two mysterious students had stood.
They were gone.
He rushed forward—slipped again, and crashed to the floor. Books flew. Laughter exploded. A few students cursed at him and threw their bags in his direction.
*Later that day...
"You two!" a loud voice boomed. "Get over here!"
It was PE class on the school field. Kruel and Mike were late—thanks to Mike's nosebleed and their ongoing discussion about the two new students.
"I don't think they just disappeared," Mike muttered as they jogged toward the group.
"I know, but—" Kruel began, before tripping again. He hit the ground hard, fists pounding the grass in frustration.
"You clumsy boy!" their PE teacher, Mr. Bart, yelled.
"He slipped, Mr. Bart," Mike said, helping Kruel up again.
"He's always slipping!" a boy from the class jeered.
"I wonder how he's still alive," a girl added coldly.
"You shut your mouth!" Mike snapped back.
"Ooohh! What, because I'm a girl?" the girl shouted. "Why didn't you yell at him?" She pointed at the first boy.
"He ain't got the guts!" the boy replied with a crooked smile. "Besides, you girls say some freaky stuff sometimes."
And just like that, the field turned into a war zone—verbal warfare between the boys and girls. It looked like it might get physical.
Kruel and Mike stood beside Mr. Bart, who oddly didn't step in. Stranger still, he was smiling.
"You're not gonna say anything?" Mike asked.
Mr. Bart's face suddenly changed. His smile dropped.
"I can't," he said quietly. He turned away and walked off. "I'm so tired of this school... Life is hard."
Mike blinked in confusion. "What's up with him?"
Kruel could only shrug