O Gemini disse
Rin Kuga maintained his iron grip on the thug's wrist, his knuckles white with localized pressure. He cast a quick, clinical glance over his shoulder at Sakura Yamauchi. Seeing she was unharmed—save for the dust on her uniform—his expression settled into a cold, dismissive mask.
He released the leader's arm with a sharp shove, sending the man sprawling onto the cracked asphalt.
"Crawl away," Rin commanded. His voice wasn't raised, yet it carried the absolute weight of an imperial decree. "Before I decide your presence is a stain on my city."
The thug leader scrambled backward, clutching his throbbing wrist. The pain was searing, as if the very atoms of his arm had been compressed by a titan. But instead of fleeing, the humiliation boiled over into a reckless, desperate rage. He looked back at his two cronies, who were still paralyzed by the sudden shift in atmosphere.
"Well?! What are you idiots standing there for?!" he shrieked, his voice cracking. "Get him!"
The two subordinates exchanged a panicked glance, then bolstered their courage with a primal, guttural roar.
"Stay still, you arrogant brat!" one bellowed.
They lunged simultaneously, fists swinging in wide, unrefined arcs. They moved with the frantic desperation of cornered animals, their boots heavy against the pavement as they closed the distance to Rin.
"Watch out!" Sakura's voice cut through the air, sharp with terror. To her, these were three dangerous men hardened by the streets; a lone high schooler, no matter how intense, was in grave peril.
But Rin Kuga didn't even blink. He didn't see enemies; he saw obstacles.
As the first fist whistled toward his temple, Rin pivoted. It was a micro-adjustment, a masterpiece of kinetic efficiency. He didn't just dodge; he repositioned the entire battlefield in his mind. Then, his hands moved—blurring like the hands of a clock spinning out of control.
CRACK. CRACK.
Two simultaneous strikes. Rin's fists buried themselves into the thugs' jaws with the precision of a master clockmaker and the force of a falling star. The impact sent a dull shockwave through the air, the sound of bone meeting tempered muscle echoing off the nearby storefronts.
Both men collapsed instantly, their bodies hitting the ground like dead weights, unconscious before they even felt the pain.
The leader, still nursing his shattered pride on the ground, watched his backup get dismantled in less than a second. The realization hit him like a physical blow: the boy standing before him wasn't human. He was a predator of a completely different caliber. Ignoring the agony in his wrist, the leader scrambled to his feet and bolted down the alleyway, abandoning his comrades without a single backward glance.
Rin retracted his fists and slowly exhaled. He brushed his palms together, a gesture of casual disdain, as if wiping away the filth of a low-tier existence.
"In what era does this country still produce such bottom-tier refuse?" he muttered to himself, his voice dripping with regal boredom.
Suddenly, a weight crashed into his back.
Sakura had lunged forward, leaping up to wrap her arms around his neck in a desperate, jubilant hug. Her laughter was bright, a stark contrast to the violence that had just transpired.
"Haha! I knew it! Rin-kun, you're incredible! You sent all three of them packing just like that!"
In Sakura's eyes, the image of Rin Kuga was shifting rapidly. He was strange, yes—cold, arrogant, and detached—but he was also the man who had stood between her and these gangsters. Every girl harbors a quiet dream of a "Prince Charming," someone to pull them from the precipice of despair.
In the span of a few hours, Rin hadn't just saved her life; he had conquered her sanctuary. She didn't just see a classmate anymore; she saw her sovereign protector.
Rin felt the warmth of her body against his back, a sensation that threatened to pierce his armor of detachment. He grunted, reaching up to peel her arms away and set her firmly back on her feet.
"Stop clinging to me," he said, though the edge in his voice had softened into a weary sigh. "I am not your plaything."
He told himself his interest in her was purely clinical—a desire to correct a tragic anomaly in the timeline he now claimed as his own. He was the King; it was his right to decide who lived.
But Sakura was undeterred. She beamed at him, reaching out to hook her arm through his with practiced ease. She pointed toward the distant neon lights of the shopping district, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous, newfound affection.
"Come on! Let's go, my Prince Charming! Our date isn't over yet!"