The brute didn't hesitate. The moment Kenta's words left his mouth, the man lunged forward with a roar, boots scraping hard against the alley floor as he closed the distance in a burst of raw aggression. His fist came up fast, swinging wide with all the force he could put behind it.
Kenta saw it coming before it even started. He shifted slightly to the side. The punch tore through empty air. The brute stumbled forward half a step, thrown off by the miss, but he didn't stop. He turned sharply, swinging again, this time tighter, aiming straight for Kenta's head.
Kenta leaned back just enough for it to pass. Another punch followed. Then another. Heavy, wild, and powerful, but sloppy all the same.
Kenta's movements stayed small. He didn't waste energy and didn't overcommit. A tilt of his head. A shift of his shoulders. A slight turn of his torso.
Each strike missed by inches. The brute grew more frustrated with every failed attempt.
"Stand still!" he snapped, throwing another punch that Kenta slipped past with ease.
Kenta stepped aside again, letting the man's momentum carry him forward before lightly hooking his foot behind the brute's ankle. A simple motion but perfectly timed.
The man's balance broke instantly. His weight shifted too far forward, and before he could recover, he went down hard like a sack of potatoes. His body hit the alley floor with a heavy thud, the breath knocked from his lungs in a sharp grunt.
Kenta looked down at him and grinned. It wasn't wide but was just enough to enrage. The man saw it, and it made something in him snap.
"Bastard!" he growled, forcing himself back up, anger overriding whatever caution he might have had.
He charged again, this time throwing punches even faster, trying to overwhelm Kenta through sheer volume. Kenta didn't retreat. His hands came up. Not to strike but to meet.
The first punch came in. Kenta's palm shifted, knocking it off course. The second followed immediately. His other hand brushed it aside. A third. A fourth. Each one deflected.
The rhythm broke completely. The brute's attacks lost whatever structure they had left, turning into a flurry of frustrated swings that never found their mark.
Kenta let it go on for a few seconds. Then he sighed.
"Alright," he said. "I'm done playing around."
The next punch came. Kenta stepped in. His palm drove forward. It struck the man square in the gut. The impact landed with a dull, heavy sound. The brute's body folded instantly, his breath leaving him in a violent gasp as his knees buckled beneath him.
He collapsed onto the alley floor, clutching his stomach, eyes wide as he struggled to breathe as Kenta lowered his hand.
"That should do it," he muttered.
He didn't wait to see if the man would get back up, already knowing he was down for the count. Instead, he turned towards the red-haired woman who was still on the ground, pushing herself up slowly, though her movements were shaky. Kenta stepped over and extended a hand.
"Here."
She hesitated for just a moment. Then, carefully, she took it. Her grip was light and uncertain, but she let him pull her to her feet. Once she was upright, she steadied herself, brushing some dirt from her clothes before looking up at him properly for the first time.
Kenta paused. Not in a dramatic way but just for a brief moment. She was striking. Her red hair framed her face naturally, a few strands out of place from the scuffle. Her features were sharp, her expression still carrying a mix of fear and relief as she caught her breath.
"Thanks," she said, her voice quiet but sincere.
Her eyes flicked past him briefly, landing on the two unconscious men on the ground.
"You're... really tough," she added, a hint of disbelief still in her tone.
Kenta blinked once. Then gave a small nod.
"Yeah," he said. "I know."
He slipped his hands into his pockets again, shoulders relaxing.
"That's just the kind of guy I am."
She stared at him for a second, like she wasn't sure whether to take that seriously. Then her expression shifted again, something more concerned settling in.
"You shouldn't stick around," she said, making Kenta tilt his head slightly.
"Those guys," she continued, gesturing faintly toward the alley entrance, "they're with the Haven Syndicate."
That name again. Her gaze dropped briefly as she continued.
"One of them got away," she added. "That means someone's going to come looking for you sooner or later and with more guys."
She looked back at him, more firmly this time.
"You should leave before that happens."
Kenta didn't seem particularly bothered.
"I'll be fine," he said.
The answer came easily and completely unconcerned. She frowned slightly.
"That's not very wise," she said.
There was no judgment in it. Just honesty. But after a second, she let out a small breath and nodded.
"Still," she added, "it's your choice."
She straightened a bit, brushing her hair back behind her ear.
"My name's Marie," she said.
Kenta glanced at her.
"I work at an inn," she continued. "The Jade Boar. It's on the other side of town."
She hesitated just slightly before continuing.
"If you ever need a place to stay… you can find me there. I'll put in a good word with the owner."
Kenta nodded once.
"That's kind of you," he said.
Then, after a brief pause, he gave her his name.
"Kenta."
He didn't elaborate. Marie gave a small nod in return. Then her expression shifted again, urgency creeping back in.
"I should go," she said. "I'm already late for my shift."
She stepped back, glancing once more toward the alley entrance before looking back at him.
"I wish I could do more," she added quickly.
Kenta waved a hand lightly.
"You've done enough."
That seemed to settle her, at least a little. She gave him one last nod. Then turned and hurried off, disappearing into the flow of the street beyond the alley. Kenta watched her go.
"Nice," he muttered to himself.
He rubbed his chin lightly.
"She seemed like a good person and was rather good-looking too."
He let out a small breath, then turned his attention back to the alley. The two men still lay there. One sprawled near the wall, the other curled slightly where he'd fallen, and both were unconscious. Kenta stared at them for a moment.
"Yeah," he said. "I'm not gonna kill you."
His tone was casual. Matter-of-fact.
"You're just petty thieves."
He paused. Then his gaze narrowed slightly.
"But," he added, "a few more bruises won't hurt."
He stepped forward. Then brought his foot down. Once. Twice. A third time. Each stomp landed with controlled force, enough to make them groan faintly even in their unconscious state. Kenta stepped back, brushing off his foot lightly.
"That's for the trouble," he said.
He crouched down next.
"And this—"
His hands moved quickly, slipping into their pockets, pulling out whatever coins they had on them. One pouch. Then another. A few loose coins tucked into belts. He gathered it all, weighing it briefly in his palm before slipping it into his own pocket.
"—is for me."
He stood back up, adjusting his sleeves slightly. Kenta glanced down at them one last time.
"As thieves," he said calmly, "this is your karma."
With that, he turned to walk out of the alley, leaving the two passed-out wannabe tough guy thieves to take a nice dirt nap.