Shingo's Promise
"Chiba Mamoru?" The voice came from behind him. It was that of a younger boy. Much younger. He turned and saw a boy who appeared to be around ten or possibly eleven with light brunette hair. He stood, fists clenched, shoulders back, blue eyes seeming to burn with emotion. He was wearing a green sweater over his school uniform and appeared to still be in elementary school.
"That's me," he answered, though he was confused as to who the boy was and why he was looking for him. This was completely unusual. Except for one boy, Asanuma, most of the people who tried to get his attention were female. "Is there something I can help you with?" He picked up his coffee cup and attempted to study the boy over the rim as he took a sip.
The arcade was bustling, the crowd mostly consisting of middle-school students. Motoki, still behind the counter, had edged closer to see what was going on. It looked as though he might know the boy as he gave him a quick questioning look. The boy simply shook his head at the blonde and turned back to Mamoru.
"I don't know who you think you are mister," the boy started, and Mamoru was shocked at the anger in the kids' tone. "I don't know what you think gives you the right to pick on my sister, but I want you to stop."
Mamoru was confused. The only person he ever really picked on was his little Odango Atama, and she never seemed bothered by it. Not really. Okay, there had been a couple times where he'd gone too far, but… His thoughts trailed off as the boy poked him in the chest, very much like Usagi would do. So perhaps it was about his Odango.
"Are you listening to me? You've made my sister cry for the last time. Next time, I point you out to my father!" Motoki gasped, and Mamoru turned his head to look at the other teen, wondering why this was such a big deal. He looked back at the boy when he was poked in the chest yet again. "I want you to apologize to her!" He frowned, and the look was reminiscent of the many glares he had received from Usagi.
"Sure kid." He said, not really sure if he should take the boy seriously.
Without warning the boy punched him, hard, in the gut with a surprising amount of force. "I mean it. You apologize to her, or I set my dad on you." Without another word the boy turned and left the Game Center. He'd never seen the kid before, that he knew, but there was no doubt in his mind who he was.
"You are so dead," Motoki whispered, his voice fearful and awed. "Didn't I tell you to stop picking on her? That was Shingo, and if you thing he's bad, wait until her father pulls out his gun!"