Chapter 13: First Kill
Returning perspective to that dark alley's depths—
Asagiri Aya was slammed violently against the moss-covered wall.
Her school uniform skirt had been torn at one corner. Those three thugs surrounded her like hyenas closing on prey, blocking every escape route.
"Help... mmph!"
One thug's hand crushed her throat while the other roughly covered her mouth.
"Scream? Go ahead and scream?"
The two accomplices released nauseating laughter, eyes scanning her damaged uniform with predatory hunger.
Despair rose like black tide overwhelming her head.
Asagiri's body trembled violently, tears covering her entire face.
She tried struggling, but that insignificant strength proved laughable before three adolescent males in their aggressive prime.
Was this... truly the end?
Asagiri squeezed her eyes shut, tears sliding down her cheeks.
In this forgotten corner of the world, besides some possibly nonexistent deity, who could save her?
Whoosh!
At the instant that filthy hand nearly touched her skin, a completely unprovoked gale erupted from nothing.
This wind arrived bizarrely—not flowing scattered like natural wind, but carrying clear purpose.
Like an invisible giant hand pressing over Asagiri's face.
"Mmph?!"
Intense wind pressure forcibly compressed her eyelids shut.
That wind force carried stinging pain, making Asagiri completely unable to open her eyes, only sensing this gale howling past her ears in darkness.
Was this punishment?
Asagiri thought despairingly.
Even the right to see the world one final time had been stripped away, only waiting in darkness for hell's arrival.
"What the hell?! This crazy weather!"
The thug cursed, his movements not stopping.
This wind apparently targeted only Asagiri. For those three assailants, it registered merely as somewhat strong draft.
"Whatever! Business first! This little thing I've been wanting to—"
"Tap."
However, before the thugs could commence—
Footsteps echoed from the alley entrance.
Three thugs instinctively halted, alertly turning toward the entrance backlit by streetlamps.
Dim yellow lighting illuminated only a small area at the alley mouth.
At that light-shadow boundary, a figure in Sakigawa High's black uniform slowly walked inside.
Kazama Chiba walked slowly, right hand casually tossing and catching the Rat Talisman—movements practiced like toying with a worthless coin.
"Yo."
The thug squinted, recognizing the newcomer's face. His tense shoulders instantly relaxed, lips stretching ear-to-ear.
"Thought it was someone important. Just this morning's scared turtle hiding in his shell."
The thug released Asagiri, turning around. Frustration at interrupted fun mixed with excitement at encountering a delivered punching bag, making his face appear particularly twisted.
"What? That female teacher's not here, so you dare playing hero? Didn't get beaten enough earlier, came back begging us to hospitalize you?"
The other two circled closer, cracking knuckles.
Kazama quietly observed these three creatures steadily closing distance.
"Still haven't learned your lesson?"
The thug advanced two steps, knuckles popping audibly.
"Perfect. I'm not done playing yet. Since you delivered yourself, I'll oblige you—"
The thug roared, charging forward first.
He swung his fist—a completely untrained but powerful straight punch aimed directly at Kazama's face.
This punch held no restraint. Landing solidly meant broken nose minimum.
Kazama stood motionless, not even blinking.
When that dirt-and-tobacco-stained fist closed within ten centimeters of his nose—
"Windy."
He whispered mentally.
Air froze for one instant.
Then—
"Schwip."
No dull thud of fist hitting face. No sound of breaking bones. Only a gentle breeze brushing past like a lover's caress.
The lead thug's movements froze.
That vicious grin still hung on his lips, though confusion flickered through his eyes.
Because he felt his right arm suddenly become very light—light as if it had vanished.
Plop.
Death silence descended on the alley.
The remaining two thugs' eyes bulged, pupils violently contracting as if witnessing the world's most horrifying scene.
At that man's feet, a severed arm lay quietly in the puddle.
The cut surface was mirror-smooth, fingers still twitching from neural reflexes.
This scene proved too surreal. The other two thugs preparing to charge froze completely in place.
Two seconds passed.
Blood finally reacted, gushing frantically from that clean stump.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!"
Delayed agony finally penetrated his brain.
That scream nearly tore vocal cords.
The thug clutched his empty shoulder, legs collapsing as he crumpled to the ground, entire body convulsing like a fish thrown on shore.
"MY ARM! MY ARRRRM!!!"
This visceral blood impact completely shattered the other two's psychological defenses.
"Too noisy."
Kazama frowned slightly.
He didn't watch that writhing waste, instead lifting his gaze toward the remaining two already terrified accomplices.
"Ever seen Resident Evil?"
Those two thugs had long since lost their courage, legs trembling like sieves, lacking even strength to flee.
Hearing this bizarre question, they could only gape, throats producing meaningless guttural sounds.
Kazama continued his recommendation.
"There's a famous scene called the 'Laser Corridor.' The Red Queen AI, to stop intruders, released a high-energy laser grid in an enclosed hallway."
"Those lasers were incredibly sharp and fast. Instantly sliced that assault team leader into countless meat chunks. Grid-patterned. Those cuts were perfectly clean—not a single drop of blood splattered."
Kazama tilted his head, continuing. "And I've always been curious—what does that kind of death feel like? Is it instantaneous and painless, or can you watch your body scatter across the ground before consciousness fades?"
"Wh-what are you saying..."
One thug finally broke down, dropping to his knees with a thud, face covered in tears and snot.
"Please... spare us... we were wrong... we're really sorry..."
"What am I saying?"
Kazama raised an eyebrow.
"Don't misunderstand. I'm not discussing plot details with you."
"I'm simply telling you what happens next."
Words barely finished—
That thug previously rolling on the ground screaming suddenly went silent.
He felt something warm flowing down his face.
Liquid seeping from a thin crack splitting his forehead's center. Viscous, warm, carrying rust smell.
Before he could identify what it was—
That head split like chopped building blocks, cleanly separating along the centerline into two halves.
Red and white brain matter slid down the opening.
Countless wind blades wove instantaneously into a death grid, enveloping these three scumbags.
Shhhhhhhhh—
Several seconds later, wind stopped.
The alley fell completely silent.
Only nauseating blood stench permeated the air, thick enough to suffocate.
Those three previously standing, vitality-filled thugs had transformed into various-sized meat chunks scattered across the ground.
Not one intact corpse remained—like LEGO bricks violently disassembled by a tantrum-throwing child.
Kazama stood outside the blood pool.
Surrounding walls and ground everywhere displayed spray-pattern red graffiti.
He observed that ground full of fragments, face somewhat pale.
His stomach suddenly spasmed violently.
Acid surged up his esophagus—the human body's instinctive rejection of intraspecies carnage.
"Huff... huff..."
After all, this was the first time.
Even possessing two lifetimes of memories, when personally manufacturing such hellish scenery, human instinct still felt discomfort.
Kazama gasped heavily, forcibly suppressing that nauseous sensation.
Having chosen this path, these weak physiological reactions represented obstacles requiring conquest.
Kazama straightened, extracting a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his mouth corner.
He turned, observing the alley interior where Asagiri remained crouched in that same position.
That gale still pressed her eyes firmly shut, leaving her completely ignorant of everything just occurred.
She'd only heard those strange screams, heard darkness-obscured people saying incomprehensible things, plus those final meat-cutting sounds.
Kazama watched her without speaking, without releasing the magic.
Simply withdrawing his gaze, turning toward the alley entrance. His footsteps gradually faded until his figure completely vanished into the street.
Only then did that wind oppressing Asagiri's eyeballs finally show signs of dispersing.
"Hah... hah..."
Asagiri gasped heavily, entire body soaked in cold sweat. She tentatively opened her eyes. The world before her remained somewhat blurred.
"Um... you guys..."
She assumed this was those three thugs' cruel prank, that more brutal torture awaited.
But when vision finally focused—
She saw the scene clearly.
No thugs.
Only ground covered in red.
And those things scattered on the red carpet, long since unrecognizable as human.
Death silence persisted three seconds.
Then—
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"
A soul-tearing scream erupted from her throat, echoing through this dark alley.
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