Shimizu Akira was just about to head to the cafeteria when his phone rang.
The caller ID showed Satō-senpai from the boxing club.
"Shimizu! Where are you right now?" The moment the call connected, Satō's booming voice blasted through the speaker.
"Satō-senpai?" Shimizu raised an eyebrow. "Is there training today? Need me to show up?"
"Nah, not training! This is personal." Satō paused. "My girlfriend's junior is getting bullied. Just come sit with us for a bit—no need to fight, just show some presence."
"Got it. On my way."
Satō had helped him plenty—no reason to refuse.
"We're at the first-floor cafeteria, by the window!"
The Cafeteria Showdown
Pushing open the cafeteria doors, Shimizu's gaze locked onto the long table by the window—where Satō sat, his boxer's build impossible to miss. His broad shoulders and thick back made him stand out even from a distance.
Across from Satō was a high-ponytailed girl (his girlfriend, presumably), but they weren't alone.
Three other third-year boxing club members flanked the table—all towering, their uniforms straining over defined muscles. Untouched meal trays confirmed this wasn't a casual lunch. Their silent presence alone had cleared the surrounding tables.
"Shimizu! Over here!" Satō's shout echoed across the quiet cafeteria.
"Coming." Shimizu took the empty seat beside them.
"You keeping up with training?" Satō clapped his shoulder. "Putting in the hours?"
"About an hour and a half daily."
"Hah! Not bad." A senior smirked. "Your footwork's solid—I can tell."
The conversation flowed—new gloves, inter-school matches, boxing trivia. Satō's girlfriend chimed in occasionally, smiling.
Then—
"Shimizu-kun, got a girlfriend?" She tilted her head. "If not, want me to introduce you to someone?"
"Uh… not at the moment."
"Perfect!" Satō slammed the table. "She knows tons of girls! How about a first-year? You've got three years left—someone your age's ideal!"
"Oh! There's that cute kouhai I mentioned!" She winked at Shimizu. "The one who asked for help with the bullying."
"Right, right! That girl's great—pretty, sweet, perfect for you!" Satō nodded vigorously.
"Senpai… let's focus on the bullying first?" Shimizu deflected, amused.
(Since when did this turn into a matchmaking session?)
Still, her description—"cute, sweet"—narrowed it down. Not many first-years fit that.
"Later, then. They're here." Satō's voice dropped as he glared toward the entrance.
Shimizu followed his gaze—
A group swaggered in, led by a buzz-cut boy exaggerating his shoulder rolls.
(…Huh?)
His breath hitched.
Ishizaki Daichi—first-year Class C, one of Ryūen Kakeru's lackeys.
(Why them?)
"That's them." Satō stood, the other boxers rising like a wall of muscle. "The ones harassing our kouhai."
Shimizu followed as they blocked Ishizaki's path.
Ishizaki, mid-taunt toward a Class B kid, froze as shadows engulfed him.
His usual bravado crumbled at the sight of third-years built like refrigerators. The leader—nearly 190 cm, shoulders like a brick wall—loomed over him.
(…Fuck. These guys could fold me in half.)
"E-Excuse me, senpai…?" Ishizaki's voice cracked.
"You're Ishizaki Daichi, right?" Satō's tone was frosty. "First-year Class C? Heard you've been pestering our kouhai."
Ishizaki's group shrank like scolded dogs.
"L-Listen, senpai, I think there's a misunderstanding—"
"Shut it." Satō's glare silenced him. "Thanks to Yamada Albert—he trains hard at the club—I'll let you off this once."
Ishizaki's face whitened.
(Albert's one of our top fighters… and this guy talks about him like he's warm-up weight?!)
Satō leaned in, voice dangerously calm.
"But if I hear you've so much as looked at her again…" A fist clenched. "We're graduating soon. Class points? Rules? Don't care."
Ishizaki's nape prickled with sweat.
(They'll break the rules to break us.)
"S-Senpai, just… who's the girl?" he stammered.
Satō's girlfriend answered, icy.
"Ichihōse Honami—Class B. You've been targeting her friends to sabotage their climb to Class A."
"That's low, even for you rats."