(Author's Note: This story takes place sometime before Unwound Future, when Layton still doesn't know why Don Paolo hates him.)
"A'right, Layton, let's gerroff the kid gloves."
Professor Layton looked around. "Who said that?"
It was night, and the London street appeared deserted. The lampposts' illumination was small, the shadows loomed long and wide. There were sounds of traffic, but they were faint. Layton had thought he'd been alone.
"Hello?" he called again. A figure stumbled out of the shadow covering an alley. Even before it stepped fully into the light, Layton could tell who it was by the prominent mounds of hair sticking out from the head, like a devil's horns.
"Don Paolo?" Layton said uncertainly. Stepping into the center of a beam of lamppost-light, the figure revealed itself to indeed be Don Paolo, Layton's self-proclaimed arch-enemy.
"Yeah, me." Paolo stepped closer to Layton. Looking just a tad uncertain on his feet, the man had probably been drinking. Layton caught a whiff of ale on his breath.
"What do you want?" Layton asked, stepping backwards. Paolo laughed grimly. "I wanna finish things, Layton." His words were slightly slurred. "You're going home from that fancy University of yours, aren't ya?"
Layton looked Paolo in the eye. "It is none of your business where I am coming from or going."
"Yeah, I know, I know, you're coming from the University, the special place for smarty-trousers," Paolo jeered. "Yeah, smarty-trousers like you who go around with noses in the air, like 'Ooh, look at me, I'm Professor Layton, I'm the world's best puzzle-solver, watch me solve one, ooh look I've found a hint coin!'" Paolo waddled around in a gross parody of Layton's dignified walk.
Layton sniffed. "Is there something you need from me, Don Paolo?"
Paolo stepped straight up to Layton, their faces mere inches apart. "What I need is to finally get you in a fight, Layton. You may act all uppity with your cleverness, solve all the puzzles, crack all the mysteries, always think ahead, but what happens when you have to put up your dukes? Eh? Why don't we find out?"
Layton shook his head. "I don't want to fight you, Paolo…"
"You don't have a choice!" Paolo barked. "I'm through wi' it all, Layton. Come on, you and me, it's fist time, let's see what you're made of."
"For the last time, I do not- ufgh!" Layton was cut off as Paolo's fist connected with his chin. He stumbled back, a few stars briefly dancing in his vision.
Paolo cackled. "Ha ha! C'mon, Layton, c'mon! Defend yourself! Heh, I've been waiting for this."
Layton shook his head. His chin felt as if part of it had been torn off, but feeling it revealed that it was all there and that was just an illusion from the pain. He tried to say something, to tell Paolo to come to his senses, but his jaw hurt too much.
Paolo came at Layton, about to strike him again. Without thinking, Layton struck first, landing a blow on Paolo's cheek and sending them both sprawling backwards.
Paolo rubbed his face and leered. "I knew it! I knew it! Even you will fight when ya have to!" He lunged again. Layton dodged him, colliding with a wall in the process.
Layton and Paolo uneasily danced around each other, each trying to anticipate the other's next move. Layton's heart was pounding, and it was as if he could feel his blood rushing through his body. He hadn't physically fought since he was nine years old, at most. He'd always used his brain, always tried to-
Paolo's fist connected with his face again. There was blood this time. Layton kicked, and Paolo fell back, holding his stomach.
Dodging another lunge from Paolo, Layton didn't know how long he could keep this up. He was in good shape, but quite out of practice when it came to fighting. Don Paolo's clear experience gave him the advantage, even while evidently tipsy.
Layton aimed a punch at Paolo. Paolo ducked. Layton shuddered. This violence, this savagery… it felt wrong.
Don Paolo had fallen back a little, and Layton saw a drop of sweat go down his forehead. No, that wasn't sweat, that had dripped onto Paolo from above him… Layton glanced up a little. He had an idea.
He glanced around hurriedly. He rarely ever needed them, but when he did, they were usually… ahh. There was one.
Layton side-stepped Paolo's lunge for him, leaped over to an old discarded crate, and grabbed something.
Holding it up, and feeling no small sense of irony, he said "Oh, look. It appears as if I've found a hint coin."
Despite his best efforts to prevent it, a small smile played on his lips as he stood up, the tiny gold token in his hand.
Paolo, recovering himself after his failed lunge, sneered. "Oh, well, goody goody for you. I suppose you'll solve me now, will ya?"
"On the contrary. As a whole, you are proving extremely difficult to solve, and I do not-" he dodged another drunken attack "-believe I can do so tonight. However…"
Layton, with every ounce of skill left over from his younger days of cricket, launched the coin into the air. It clashed into something metallic above Don Paolo's head, and water suddenly poured down on him. He slipped and fell, tried to get up, and slipped and fell again as he was bombarded by a waterfall from above. Layton had jumped back, and was able to keep on his feet.
"Whart!? How!?" came Paolo's gurgling cries.
"I noticed that, during our battle, we worked our way onto an alley under an abandoned building, which had fallen into sever decay. There were many exposed water pipes above us. As they looked in very poor condition, I saw a hint coin, took it, maneuvered you under the pipes, and used the coin to burst them overtop of you. I also notice that your boots do not seem the best for slippery surfaces."
Layton stepped back. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm being expected at home, and I would like to keep my hat dry." He turned away. "I said I didn't want to fight you, Don Paolo. You should have listened."
Paolo continued to try and get away from the torrent as Layton walked away into the night. "Gah! Just you wait, Layton! Someday, I WILL have my revenge on you!"
Layton continued away, turning onto a better-lit, crowded street. Someday, he hoped to solve the puzzle of Don Paolo… but right now, he needed to get home so Flora wouldn't worry, and he was glad that he hadn't had to fight. Gentlemen, after all, didn't do that sort of thing.
The End.
(Thank you for reading, ladies and gentlemen. Reviews will be warmly appreciated.)