CHAPTER 49: A VAN FULL OF TROUBLE
WHOOSH!
Marco lunged, throwing a heavy punch. It was purely instinctive—a reaction to the lethal aura radiating from the pink-haired girl.
But in the next microsecond—
Hina Hongo dropped into a deep crouch, letting Marco's fist whistle over her head. Using her palm to pivot off the pavement, she whipped her leg around in a savage, counter-clockwise spinning heel kick aimed at Marco's skull.
THUD!
Marco managed to raise his forearm in a reinforced block. His posture didn't break, but the sheer force of the impact caused his entire massive frame to slide several inches across the concrete.
"Hnngh...!"
A sharp, bone-deep sting shot through Marco's arm. The fabric of his sleeve was shredded, and a massive purple welt began to form immediately. It didn't feel like a human kick; it felt like being struck by a high-tension steel cable.
"Oh? You blocked that?"
Hina bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, her star-shaped pupils shimmering with interest. "You look quite flustered. Are you scared of me? Am I really that terrifying?"
"Ah... uuuuh..."
Marco's fist uncurled. He looked at Hina as she stalked closer, feeling completely out of his depth.
Fight? Am I going to get killed?!
The Big Brothers had taught him: If you're about to be finished, strike first!
ZIP!
Marco unleashed a desperate, vertical front-kick.
Hina slipped to the side with feline grace. She stepped into Marco's flank, chambering her right fist. The five-pointed stars in her eyes were practically glowing with predatory excitement.
"Hmm. Not just 'Fast,' but 'Durable' too. It's been a while since I've played with such a sturdy toy..."
"AHH—?!"
The surge of killing intent snapped Marco into a corner. He ground his teeth, tightened his fist, and focused every ounce of his biological potential.
Their next exchange was going to be a "Kill Shot."
BOOM!
Two fists—one massive and scarred, the other small and delicate—were launched with enough explosive power to warp the air. The friction of the movement created a distinct, whistling crack of displaced atmosphere.
But before they could collide—
SHING!
Ren Shiroki lunged between them. He crossed his arms in an X-guard, splaying his palms open to catch both strikes simultaneously.
BAM! BAM!
One large, one small—two strikes with completely different textures but identical, bone-shattering power were caught in Ren's hands. His fingers clamped down, locking both fighters in place.
"Hoo... huff..."
Ren stood in a deep knee-bend, feeling the residual shockwaves vibrating through his arms. It felt like a thousand electric ants were crawling through his biceps. The numbness was total.
Hina retracted her fist, raising an eyebrow in genuine surprise. "You caught it? Both of them? You're even more impressive than I thought!"
Marco snapped out of his trance. He quickly pulled his hand back, looking mortified. He began frantically massaging Ren's forearm. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Marco got scared and forgot the rules!"
Ren patted Marco's head with his free, trembling hand. "It's okay, big guy. I'm fine."
Ren looked at Hina. He could feel the quality of her strike lingering in his palm.
Marco was a success of illegal science—a modern Frankenstein's monster whose physical stats were beyond human. But Hina? Her power came from something else. Her tendons were impossibly dense, like high-tension springs. When she struck, it wasn't just muscle; it was a mechanical explosion.
He understood now how she had crushed the skull of a professional assassin with a single punch.
As the tension simmered down, the three women from the van finally caught up.
"OI! HEY!"
Ichika Iori strolled into the alley, looking less like a cop and more like a high-ranking delinquent. "The Keisatsu are here~! Anyone caught brawling goes to the slammer!"
The trio had planned to bring the tazers from the van to help, but seeing the carnage in the alley, they realized they were a few minutes too late. Ichika sighed and pulled out her radio to call for a cleanup crew, then turned to the bodies.
"Whoa. They got wrecked," Nozomi noted, leaning over to inspect the three IDEAL operatives. "They aren't even breathing. Even if the paramedics bring them back, they'll be eating through straws for the rest of their lives."
"Good riddance. Scum like this only causes headaches for my paperwork," Ichika said. She snapped photos of the three men and ran them through the police database on her phone.
"Aha. Here we go. The system flagged them immediately."
She pointed to the man Ren had dismantled. "This one is Gilbert Isaac. International fugitive. Former US Marine, turned bloodthirsty mercenary-for-hire. A professional cleaner."
"The other two... well, their faces are a bit 'concave' right now, but they're likely his regular crew. They just crossed the border forty-eight hours ago."
Ren rubbed his chin. "Wait. If a professional hitman is 'very famous,' can he really be considered a good hitman?"
"Who cares?! They're idiots who tried to pull a job in my district. That makes them trash!"
Ichika waved her phone dismissively. "The station will take care of the bodies. If any of them survive the night, my 'specialists' will squeeze them until they spill everything about IDEAL."
"As for the files on that syndicate... the brass is keeping it tight, but I'll 'leak' the dossier to you guys later."
With the cleanup handled, the group turned their attention to Hina Hongo.
Her "Might" was proven. Now it was a matter of her "Will." Before Ren could even open his mouth to make a pitch, Hina stepped forward.
"So, what did you want to talk about?" she asked, her tone light and casual. "I'm happy to help out! You all seem like a fun crowd."
The group was stunned by her lack of hesitation. Hina just grinned.
"You two Big Brothers... and the three Big Sisters... plus Arisa-chan. You're all so 'Fast' and 'Unpredictable.' Staying with you won't be a bore, right?"
Ren thought about the crowd, the van, and the half-dead assassins in the dirt.
"Maybe we should take this back to my place?"
The Shiroki Property.
At that moment, the yard was empty.
Two Yakuza punks were creeping around the perimeter, carrying heavy buckets of industrial paint. They were former members of the Zanshi-gumi—currently unemployed and very, very salty.
"Is this the place, Aniki?"
"This is it. That Shiroki punk is the reason Boss Inoue is ruined and we're out on the street! We're making him pay!"
"But... he beat 'Nioh' Komada. How are we supposed to fight a guy like that?"
"Idiot! It's like the punks who mess with Baki Hanma's house! We don't fight him face-to-face. We wait until he's out, then we splash paint all over his door and write 'LOSER' on his walls! It'll break his spirit!"
"Genius! And I heard he has a little sister. She'll probably cry when she sees the mess! Hahaha!"
The two thugs were cackling as they pried the lids off the paint buckets.
Just then, the white surveillance van pulled up to the curb.
The punks froze. They watched as Arisa Sakurai hopped out of the sliding door.
The thugs' eyes lit up. "Oi, Aniki! There she is! Should we dump the paint on her?!"
"Quiet, you moron! We'll get a lawsuit! Just ruin her school uniform! Make her cry!"
They started to march toward her, buckets raised.
Then—Marco stepped out of the van, towering over Arisa. He was still pouting about the fight and looked like a very angry god of war. He glared at the punks.
Then—Ren Shiroki, Nozomi Tenma, Ichika Iori, Hana Mitani, and Hina Hongo all stepped out of the van, lining up behind Arisa and staring at the intruders with varying degrees of amusement and threat.
"..."
The two punks stood paralyzed. Their arms began to tremble. With a sickening splat, the red paint spilled out of the buckets, drenching both of them from head to toe.
"You..."
Marco stepped forward, his fist tightening. "Are you Bad People?!"
"No! No way!" the thugs shouted, backpedaling as fast as they could. "We... we're just performance artists! It's for a street festival!"
They turned and sprinted away without looking back.
Hina Hongo watched them go, her eyes sparkling. "See? I knew this place would be interesting!"
She thought back to the pitch they had given her in the van. Nozomi's "Underground League" sounded lucrative, and Ren's "Combat Hub" sounded... ambitious.
"Let's check out the 'Hub' first, Shiroki-san!"
Hina grabbed Arisa's arm and skipped into the yard. Arisa led her to the center of the property, stopping in front of the dilapidated dojo.
Hina stared at the ruin. Her expression went flat.
She remembered Ren's "Passionate Pitch" from the van—how he had described it as a legendary center for warriors, a cathedral of combat.
"..."
Hina walked up to the building and gave the main support pillar a light tap with her fist.
Creeeak... RUMBLE... CRASH!
The pillar snapped, and a third of the roof collapsed into a pile of splinters and dust.
Hina looked at the wreckage, then turned back to Ren with a deadpan expression.
"Excuse me... is this a junkyard?"
Ren: "..."
Ouch. That pricked my pride a little.