Chapter 8: The Lion and the Dark-Haired Youth

(What the fuck was that!?)

Left speechless by the sudden turn of events, a dumbstruck Masaru groaned in agony.

Even though his world full of dust was spinning relentlessly around him, the furious teen was still in a state where he could move.

--or at least, he would be were he not currently indented several inches deep into a concrete wall.

「What the fuck was that, Saito Junichi!?」

「Don't underestimate him, almighty Lion.」

In the face of the cursing beast, a low voice pierced the hazy atmosphere.

And the owner of said voice, a shaggy, brown-haired teacher infamous for his chalk-throwing prowess, issued a warning towards the infuriated Masaru.

「W-what was that, fucker?」

The boy with the stubble cursed, his words distorted by the pain into a high-pitched snarl.

Despite his vision returning to its normal order, Masaru’s eyes were still red, bloodshot as rage forced his skin to redden harshly.

But alas, without feeling the least bit intimidated, the shaggy instructor simply shrugged, narrowing his eyes before mouthing off the following.

「I'm saying be careful. If you don't go all out, you could die.」

The shaggy man narrowed his eyes.

「You're no longer the hunter.」

「F-fuck you!」

Masaru tore his body of the wall, the rubble and debris dirtying his already scrappy uniform.

However, when he turned to the owner of the voice, there was no longer there.

With that said, by the time this engagement reached its conclusion, the dust which once obscured the battlefield had begun to settle, clearing the vision of the large courtyard.

And with this vision, the Lion was absolutely flabbergasted by what he saw.

On one side, he saw an unconscious, greasy-haired youth, sprawled on the floor.

On the other side, he saw a midget shivering uncontrollably.

And in the middle, he saw a dark-haired youth, slinging a baseball bat on his shoulder.

「Fuck you, you bastard!」

「Hm? You got a problem?」

Upon receiving Masaru’s abrupt anger, the dark-haired boy craned his head, choosing to respond with his characteristic aloofness.

For better or for worse, Saito Junichi was a blunt individual who cared little for conventions.

In a sense, he, like the lion, was also one who strayed from the rules.

That said, if you were to ask anyone who was watching them right now, they’d easily conclude that the two were as different as water and oil.

「What the hell do you mean, “you got a problem!?” I'm going to fuckin' kill you, Saito!!」

In all honesty, as he heard this incredibly cliched line coming from the delinquent, Junichi couldn’t help but heave a deep sigh.

Nevertheless, seeing how he was the source of this mess, he could complain to noone as he rubbed his head in annoyance.

「You sure you wanna continue? It’s not going to be a duel anymore since we got not ref.」

「Who do you think's fucking responsible for that!?」

As fury swirled in his heart, Isayama Masaru raised his fists, stomping his feet fiercely as he began a full frontal assault on the 〚Last Ranker〛.

Yet, unfazed by the abrupt approach, Junichi simply took the bat which was slouched over his shoulder---

---and threw it away.

(-the hell's he doing!?)

Masaru thought as he approached Junichi, who was now pocketing his hands.

(Is he serious!?)

Putting your hands in your pockets is a sign that you are harmless.

This is because when your hands are in your pockets, you limit your movement, making people think it’s safe to be near you.

This act of appearing harmless is quite a common thing to do.

Many people do this.

But not in the middle of a brawl.

However, Junichi didn't care.

He just narrowed his eyes.

His piercing, jade green eyes.

Masaru, now face to face with Junichi, began the onslaught.

The lion threw punch after punch after punch at the dark-haired youth.

Junichi barely moved.

He didn't need to move.

Leaning slightly left, step back, duck, swerve to the right-

Using minimal movement, Junichi evaded every single punch thrown at him.

「What the fuck!」

As Junichi continued to dodge, Masaru grew more and more impatient.

For each fist he threw met nothing but empty air.

And it was this impatience in which the boy with unkempt hair was relying upon.

(An opening!)

Junichi calmly analysed Masaru's movements, taking advantage of a gleamed opportunity as he planted his heel in delinquent's abdomen.

And, whilst the impact of the strike was light, the surprise factor of the blow was more than enough for the boy’s purposes.

「Ku-!?」

Taken aback by the attack which had slipped through his guard, Masaru grunted as he planted his feet firmly into the ground.

Thankfully, due to the instincts he honed fighting others, Masaru was only knocked back a couple of metres.

That said, the fact that the school’s renowned weakling had managed to land a blow on him shook Masaru to the very core.

「What the hell, you fucker!?」

Continuing to cuss at his opponent, Masaru began to scowl as he clenched his fist in aggravation.

However, the moment his eyes shifted back towards the 〚Last Ranker〛-

「What…the hell!?」

-Masaru’s entire frame shuddered ferociously, immobilising him as he began to pour out into a cold sweat.

All of a sudden, an inexplicable pressure ruthlessly assailed the delinquent of blond hair.

As to be expected of his namesake, the 〚Lion’s〛 battle instincts which were honed in constant combat were warning him.

Warning him of danger.

Sirens went off in Masaru’s head as he stared at the being before him.

The figure of a teenager, lazily standing upright, had his dark hair covering his eyes, forming shadows on his face. In beneath those wispy shadows, a distinct gem of green light could be seen, coldly looking down upon Masaru.

He was standing in the middle of a bloody circle.

The aura emanating from the youth wasn’t of one fighting a duel. It was an aura of one fighting to the death.

The courtyard became a battlefield.

The red circle became a pool of blood.

And the sparkle of green transformed into a deep, bloodstained red.

And then-

The dark-haired boy smiled.

A smile so sinister, it looked like it came straight from hell.

「≪Ominous Wind≫」

The owner of the red-eye muttered casually.

His words like a command which unleashed the true beast lurking within him.

And then, as if moving according to the unbending will infused in said words…

A strong gale swept through the battlefield.

-!?

Blinded by the sudden breeze, Masaru’s entire body tensed as he instinctively flinched.

Of course, this was but a momentary lapse. A change that took place in a single moment.

And that moment was all it took.

Because it was in that moment that the figure of the dark-haired boy disappeared completely from the sight of everyone in the vicinity.

(Where’d that bastard go?)

Surprised by Junichi’s vanishing act, Masaru immediately grew wary, scanning the area for any sign of the boy.

However, it was already too late.

「Remember, you asked for this.」

Masaru turned his head behind him, catching a glimpse of the owner of the eerie voice.

A dark shade of iron, and a piercing red light.

A figure so ghastly that one might have mistaken it for the grim reaper himself.

And from the reaper’s lips, a single word passed indifferently into the frigid atmosphere.

Knucklehead

----in that moment, Masaru’s instincts forced his body to wildly swing out a fist in desperation.

Naturally, it was a futile swing at an invisible target.

However, Masaru felt his fist collide with something.

Now, what that something was remained a mystery to the man with the large frame.

Yet, in the end, his reckless struggle was unable to change his ultimate fate.

For within an instant, a multitude of lacerations infested 〚Lion Mane Masaru’s〛 body, causing burning blood to spurt out of the freshly made wounds.

(Wha-?)

Unable to deal with the pain that overloading his brain, Masaru’s consciousness faded completely, his limbs giving way as his frame collapsed onto the cold hard ground.

The lion’s body, sprawled out in the middle of a pool of his own blood, signified that the match was over.

And then, the bizarre silence that was evoked by the complete and total upset of the weakest student defeating a member of the ［Student Council］ was quickly broken by the murmurs and gossip of students.

「I don’t believe it!」

「〚Lion Mane Masaru〛 lost!」

「The No. 10!?」

「No way!」

「Who did it!?」

It was in this manner that the raucous commotion continued uncontrollably, the wind which had once picked up finally settling down again.

Naturally, seeing how large the audience was, order was completely absent from this chaos.

There were those who expressed utter amazement at the sight they had witnessed.

There were those who perpetuated their disbelief, unable to admit that what just occurred was the truth.

There were those who were curious about the duel itself, trying to gather information about the identity of the 〚Lion’s〛 opponent, as well as the circumstances that led to this duel.

With that said, amongst the differing opinions, there was one thing that everyone shared during that moment.

The one thing that was on everyone’s minds……

……was the fact that the dark-haired victor had vanished without a trace.