Rolling under the strike, she tumbles back up to her feet, the damp of the ground clinging to her hooded jumper. Her elbow smashes into the face of her attacker, blood oozing from the misshapen nose. Shadows dancing across the combatant's forms, the streetlight illuminating the surrounding area.
A young woman whimpers in the corner from the battling duo, eyes wide in fear, heart pounding in her ears, scared but thankful to the person who had interrupted the attack, but too frightened to move from the wall of the building, making herself as small as she can.
The attacker growls, glaring at the figure before him, his fingers dip into his pants withdrawing a switchblade, the quiet chink alerting the hooded stranger to the added danger this man poses.
She looks for the victim, finding her huddled against the wall, far from either of them but cornered. She knows she needs to get her out of there.
"Run! Get out of here. I can handle him."
The woman looks between the two, before scampering off, as she makes her way past her attacker, he moves to grapple her before the hooded stranger grips his arm, twisting it around his back, struggling to hold him in place as the woman escapes. The frightened woman runs to the nearest telephone frantically dialing emergency services to inform the police.
Anger at the audacity of this now clearly female defender, his eyes hold hers, the shadows of a nearby streetlight indicating just how young she is. Oh, he will not regret ending this silly child's life.
Lunging forward he misses her by an inch, before finding her fist planting itself in his gut. Grunting he makes a wide sweep, slicing through her arm, making an opening for himself as she grasps the bleeding arm.
Adrenaline of the fight numbing the pain from the cut, she can feel her blood pumping, heart thumping and a slight thrill from it, and pride from the ability to help the lady.
He slices through her hood again, effortlessly slicing her skin. Glaring, her fingers grip his clothes pulling him closer to her, as her knee drives right into his incredibly oversensitive limb, forcing him to collapse from the pain.
Tying his hand behind his back, with rope she surprisingly found in the alley way, and his shoelaces together, double knot, she leaves him as the loud, ringing sound of a siren makes it's way to the makeshift battlefield.
She feet thud against the damp, cold concrete, dashing towards her apartment, her hood protecting her from being identified and the light drizzle of rain, she holds the cuts from the incident, returning to the lonely silence of her apartment.
As she holds the cuts, attempts to slow the bleeding. She hopes the blood won't drip on the expensive floor of her home. Flicking the lights on, she quickly making her way to the bathroom, digging and rummaging around for the first aid kit.
As she drags the kit out from the cupboards, she pulls the zipper of the hoodie down, wincing as the adrenaline dies down, the throbbing pain of the wounds making themselves known, blood staining the ruined jumper and shirt.
Managing to pull the shirt off without aggravating the cuts, she knew it was a dumb idea. But she couldn't walk by without doing something. Although she's sore, even if she's bleeding. She doesn't regret a thing.
She dabs antiseptic cream over the cut along her chest, it's shallow enough to not need stitches at least, bandaging the wound up, she starts working on the other cut on her arm.
The sound of a key in the door unlocks to her home, making her freeze in her ministrations. It could only be him. Anxiously she shoves the first aid kit back in the bathroom, the bloodied clothes in the laundry hamper, runs into her room, grabs a new shirt pulling it over her head, before making her way out as he is about to leave.
"Sho-chan!"
Her cry falls on deaf ears, and eyes narrow, as she runs from the door of her bedroom vaulting over the kitchen counter, landing in front of the fridge, she rips open the freezer door, her hand makes it way into the frozen cavern, digging out the only possible thing that could make him stay a little longer.
Producing the pudding, she shouts in glee.
"Have some pudding Sho-chan!"
With complete delight, she waits for the kettle to boil, watching Sho as he waits for his pudding and tea. She hums one of his latest songs softly, completely content, the kettle whistles, informing her the water is boiled.
As she lifts the kettle, her arm aching again, she groans and hopes it doesn't start bleeding through her top. She doesn't want to worry Sho-chan.
Carrying the tray of pudding and tea through, Sho's head rests on his hand, boredom prominent on his face, his other hand drumming fingers against the board of the Kotatsu. She slides the tray down with practiced ease. She smiles at Sho's elation at the rare treat, only able to eat it in the company of Kyoko.
She's nervous, unsure what to say, worried she'll trigger an abrupt exit. Her hands find the remote, turning the television on. They greeted with the picture of Sho's number one rival, the one guy he can't stand more than anyone.
Tsuruga Ren.