The hallways of Lincoln High were a jungle, and Rewan was the apex predator.
At fifteen years old, standing 5'10" and weighing 86 kilos, he was a hulking figure — not muscle-bound, but thick and heavy,
his shadow enough to make smaller kids scatter. His reputation was simple: nobody crossed Rewan and walked away smiling.
Today, his prey was Toshiro — a scrawny freshman barely five feet tall, clutching his books like a shield.
He'd made the mistake of bumping into Rewan while hurrying to class.
The books scattered across the floor, and the hallway froze.
Rewan slammed Toshiro against a locker, his fist cocked back. "You think you can just walk into me, shrimp?"
"I— I didn't mean to—" Toshiro stammered, eyes wide, voice trembling.
Rewan sneered. "Didn't mean to? You're gonna mean it now."
The crowd began to form, phones coming out like vultures waiting for blood.
And that's when a voice cut through the noise.
"Back off, Rewan."
The sea of students parted as Daisuke "Date" Tanaka stepped forward.
At fifteen, 5'5" and 62 kilos, Date wasn't big, but there was something in his stance — calm, sharp, and dangerous.
He looked like someone who'd seen real fights, not playground scuffles.
Rewan turned, his grin widening. "Well, look who it is — the little workout freak. What are you gonna do, flex me to death?"
Date's eyes stayed locked on him. "I said, back off."
Toshiro swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. "D-Date… just leave it. He'll—"
Date raised a hand slightly. "Go. I've got this."
Toshiro didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed his books and slipped through the crowd.
Rewan chuckled, cracking his knuckles. "You just made a big mistake, hero."
"Maybe," Date said evenly. "But I'm not letting you hit him."
Rewan snorted. "You think you can take me? You weigh as much as my backpack."
"Then put me down," Date said, his voice low. "If you can."
The tension thickened. The hallway went silent except for the hum of fluorescent lights.
Then, with a snarl, Rewan swung — a wild, heavy haymaker. It whooshed through the air like a hammer.
Date rolled left, the punch missing by inches. Before Rewan could blink, Date flashed forward —
his "ghost jab" snapping into Rewan's chin with a crack so fast most people didn't even see it.
Rewan's head jerked back, spit flying, his eyes wide in shock.
"The hell was that?!" he barked, stumbling back.
"Round one," Date said, calm as ever.
Rewan roared, charging like a bull, both hands out to grab him.
Date pivoted, slipping free as Rewan's bulk slammed into the lockers with a metallic crash.
The crowd gasped, phones shaking as they tried to film it all.
Rewan spun around, red-faced, panting. "You're dead!" He swung again — wild, angry, sloppy.
Date's body moved like water. He ducked, rolled, and countered with a low Muay Thai kick that cracked against Rewan's thigh.
The sound was sickening. Rewan staggered, grimacing. "You little—"
"Still standing?" Date taunted, a hint of a smirk on his face.
Rewan bellowed and threw a kick of his own, clumsy but strong.
Date slipped under it and fired a lightning-fast liver blow. His fist buried deep into Rewan's soft midsection.
The big kid's face twisted in pain, air wheezing out of him.
Rewan stumbled back, clutching his side. "What… what the hell was that?!"
"Lesson one," Date said, his tone cool. "Never leave your body open."
The crowd erupted — cheers, gasps, laughter.
But Rewan wasn't done. Rage overtook pain. He lunged again, trying to tackle Date head-on.
Date side-stepped, flash-stepping past him, and Rewan slammed shoulder-first into the lockers again.
The metal dented with a loud bang.
"Stop hitting the walls," Date said dryly. "They didn't do anything."
Rewan's breath came in ragged bursts, sweat glistening on his forehead.
His punches grew slower, sloppier. Date watched carefully, reading every move.
Rewan threw one last desperate hook — slow enough for Date to see it coming a mile away.
He slipped it, pivoted, and drove a cross straight into Rewan's jaw. The sound was thunderous.
Rewan's knees buckled, his eyes dazed.
"You're done," Date said quietly.
Rewan roared, trying one last grab for Date's neck.
But Date rolled low, came up behind him, and unleashed a spinning roundhouse kick to the temple.
It connected clean. Rewan's massive body hit the tile floor with a heavy thud. Silence fell — then chaos.
"Holy crap!" "He dropped him!" "Date just floored Rewan!"
The hallway erupted. Cheers, screams, phones flashing.
Toshiro stood near the edge of the crowd, his hands shaking. He caught Date's eye.
"Thank you," he mouthed, voice small but sincere.
Date gave a slight nod, breathing hard. His knuckles were red, his lip bleeding, but his expression stayed calm.
For him, this wasn't victory — it was justice.
Three years ago, he'd been Toshiro — scared, cornered, helpless.
That boy was gone now. Replaced by someone who refused to let others live in fear.
Teachers burst in, shouting, pushing through the mob, but by then, Date had already disappeared down the hallway — silent as a ghost.
Outside, the air was cool and still. He flexed his bruised hand, feeling the ache set in.
"Guess that's another morning workout," he muttered, a tired smile tugging at his lips.
He wasn't fighting for fame or attention.
He was fighting for every kid who ever felt powerless — and for the promise he made at twelve years old in front of a cracked mirror:
never again.