Chapter 18 — Eighteen Punch
Jumpei Yoshino's fist slammed hard into Nishimura's face.
—Hit! That's the feeling of a solid hit!
"Puh!" Nishimura's head jerked sharply to the side from Yoshino's punch, his body frozen in place. In that instant, it felt as if all the sounds in the world vanished. Absolute silence fell, even his cronies froze, stunned.
For a moment, Jumpei Yoshino widened his eyes slightly, his pupils shrinking with surprise.
After being bullied by this group for so long, he never imagined he'd actually have the chance to land a punch on his tormentor.
A few seconds later, Nishimura kept his head tilted at an angle. His eyes shifted sharply, glaring at Yoshino with pure malice.
"…!" The euphoria that had boiled inside Yoshino's heart instantly cooled. He immediately retracted his fist, preparing to defend himself. But at that moment, Nishimiya suddenly raised his leg and kicked toward him.
Thud! Yoshino was sent flying backward by the kick, his back slamming hard into the tables and chairs of the clubroom, instantly toppling the neatly arranged furniture.
A sharp pain shot through his thigh from the impact. Yoshino sat dazed among the overturned furniture, his eyes wide.
In that instant, memories of being bullied, of getting punched and kicked, surged up like ghostly flames from the depths of his briefly brave heart.
—Why? Why is it that even though I'm going bald, I still can't beat these assholes?
Why do I still have to get hit?
"Puhaha!"
Laughter suddenly broke the silence from the doorway. Itō had recovered from his earlier shock and was shamelessly pointing at Nishimura, laughing: "Hahaha! For a moment there, I really thought Yoshino would knock you down. But you—at least act like it, Nishimura."
"…Don't underestimate me, Itō. That weak, feeble punch of his—how could it ever take me down?"
Nishimura touched the cheek Yoshino had hit, his face dark with malice as he mumbled.
—He's lying. What's with this Yoshino kid? That punch actually hurts. Has he been working out these past few weeks?
Nishimura swallowed the blood from his lip, grit his teeth, and hissed. Being underestimated by Itō only fueled his anger—and the perfect target for that anger was the dazed Yoshino, slumped amidst the overturned furniture.
"You've got some nerve, kid," he said, stepping out from the shadows toward Yoshino, his face as dark and twisted as some grotesque monster. "You don't even care about the hand I broke, huh? You wouldn't complain even if I snapped your bones, right?"
But halfway through, Nishimura suddenly stopped.
Amidst the collapsed tables and chairs, Yoshino was propping himself up on a chair, struggling to stand.
Afraid? In pain? Wanting to run? Of course. But…
—No. I can't give up here. If I lose here, I'll never get there.
I won't be able to reach the other side, where Saitama is…
After seeing a real hero, I can't go back to living like before.
"Give our clubroom back," Jumpei Yoshino said, staring steadily at Nishimura. His voice trembled slightly, but his words were firm.
"You little—!" Nishimura roared, lunging forward with a punch aimed at Yoshino.
"Give it back!" Yoshino shouted in a volume he had never used before, as if to suppress his own fear, throwing his punch at Nishimura in return.
Bam!
Yoshino's fist landed on Nishimura again—but at the same time, Nishimura's punch struck Yoshino's forehead. He was thrown back, slamming hard into the wall. Hair that had covered the right side of his face became messy, exposing the scars that marked his forehead.
"Pah!" Nishimura spat to the ground, about to say something, but then frowned and instinctively pressed his hand to his chest.
For some reason, Yoshino's second punch had felt even harder than the first.
But seeing the scars on Yoshino's forehead, Nishimura paused—and suddenly grinned viciously.
"Yoshino, your scars are showing."
The moment Nishimura spoke, Yoshino's body trembled.
"One… two… three… four… ten in total, three of them are burns, hmm…" Nishimura sneered, "ugly, huh? That's why you hide them with your hair, so no one can see?"
"…Then how about I shave off that girly long hair of yours today? Let everyone see the real you, Yoshino."
Yoshino's eyes widened as he stared at the floor.
Don't remember… don't remember… Quickly recall… that moment when Saitama saved me…
Amid the astonished eyes of Nishimura and the others, Yoshino braced himself against the wall and wobbled to his feet.
"Give our clubroom back," he said.
"Tch." The smile disappeared from Nishimura's face. "Did your head get scrambled when you hit the wall? All you can say is that line."
He swung a chair down toward Yoshino—but at the same time, Yoshino threw a punch in retaliation.
Over and over again, he was knocked down by Nishimura. Over and over, he got back up.
"Give our clubroom back."
Remember Saitama's feeling…
"Give our clubroom back."
Remember Saitama's feeling…
"Give our clubroom back."
Remember Saitama's feeling…
…
"Bastard!" Nishimura roared.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the others standing leisurely at the doorway, watching. But even though Nishimura acted domineering on the surface, a trace of fear had already crept into his heart.
Unlike before, this time, no matter how many times he knocked Yoshino down, he would get back up.
And every punch Nishimura landed on Yoshino, Yoshino returned with one of his own. The thin boy was bloodied and battered, but the force behind his punches only seemed to grow…
He was insane!
Nishimura's eyes turned red. After knocking Yoshino down yet again, he gasped and looked around, bending over to grab a fallen chair.
"Oh no!"
Honda and Sayama, watching from the doorway, froze. They were used to bullying Yoshino, but had never considered actually killing or crippling him. After all, if that happened, someone would investigate, no matter how patient Yoshino was.
"Hey, Nishimura…"
As Honda and Sayama stepped forward, their collars were suddenly grabbed.
Their throats were choked by the hands; both froze.
Between the gap formed by their shoulders, Itō's smiling face slowly appeared.
"What's going on?" he asked. "What are you two up to?"
Honda and Sayama froze in place.
"Th-This… if this keeps up, Nishimura's going to kill Yoshino…" Sayama muttered. "It's going to be murder…"
"…So what?"
Itō's smile looked innocent: "Anyway, it's Nishimura doing the hitting, not us. Later we just say we didn't see anything. Problem solved."
"Isn't this the perfect opportunity? We get the best seat to watch the whole show without violating my dad's warning…" Itō licked his lips. "After all, I didn't throw any punches."
"…He's a demon." In that instant, Honda and Sayama—accustomed to bullying others—felt that thought rise in their hearts, but fear left them frozen.
Meanwhile, Nishimura raised the chair high, aiming to crush Yoshino.
"Die!" he shouted, swinging the chair down with all his might.
Muscle training alone won't help, Yoshino thought. I still can't win…
…Is this the end?
Instinctively, he raised his arms to shield his head.
At that moment, Nishimura's fierce eyes, the shadow of the falling chair, Itō's smile in the doorway, the dust floating in the sunlight… everything seemed to slow down—or perhaps Yoshino's mind suddenly sped up.
A strange sensation coursed through his body.
Jumpei Yoshino had no idea that, although he wasn't born into a lineage capable of transmitting cursed techniques, it wasn't impossible for ordinary human genes to suddenly mutate, producing descendants with latent cursed energy. And he was one of them.
In this battle to reclaim the clubroom, the negative emotions—pain, anger, frustration—triggered by memories of being bullied were repeatedly released and suppressed through recalling Saitama's figure. Through this cycle of releasing and suppressing emotions, Yoshino unconsciously learned to control a fragment of cursed energy on his own.
Although he didn't gain invincible strength like Saitama through muscle training, and his hair loss was merely due to his mother being scammed into buying fake shampoo, the training over the past half-month had undoubtedly strengthened Yoshino's body. And the stronger his body became, the easier it was to coordinate cursed energy with his attacks—a reason many sorcerers emphasize physical training.
The instant the chair touched Yoshino's arm, it shattered, struck by the cursed energy he unconsciously wielded. Nishimura, who raised the chair to strike him, was blown far back by the impact, staggering and falling to the ground.
"W-What…?"
Nishimiya stared at his palm, cut by the chair fragments, trembling. Yoshino had the same stunned expression, staring at his hands.
He wasn't hurt.
Why did the chair break, but he wasn't injured at all?
—It's true! The whole 'bald and stronger' thing… it's real!
"…What's going on with this kid…" Itō's face changed. "What just happened?"
No one answered. Yoshino slowly lifted his head and stared directly at Itō.
"Give our clubroom back," he said.