Disclaimer: contains violence, potentially offensive language, and sexual references
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Chapter 4
An uneventfully tumultuous week
After expecting the rude awakening from his nap, 5:00 pm local time came at last.
After spending a few minutes popping joints and readying his hands, he retrieved his items from the locker.
He used a bit of spit shine to wipe the obvious smudges on his helmet, then heard the clacking of heels behind him.
"U-um…. Lars, its me. Momo?"
He turned around and saw that his pseudo-client was waiting for him to start driving her home.
"Anything I need to know if those jocks get a little physical?" He asked.
"Hmmmm…. There's usually about 5 or 6 of them. The most I've seen is 10, but they're always drinking and smoking on the sidewalk." She responded.
"And your address?" He pressed.
"5 streets East, a left at the intersection, and right across a Starbucks." She answered.
"Alright. Wear the jacket just in case, and hang on."
He put the keys in his bike; purring to life as student watched in jealously.
Momo put the large-fitting jacket before hoping on and hanging on.
10 minutes later, they got caught in the early evening rush. Cars beeped and trucks honked as people screamed creative profanities in rapid Japanese.
Those verbal motivators were proving to be somewhat effective, as Larlo shot back in an even more colorful slurry of rapid-fire Spanish curses and insults.
Such as, but not limited to; Come mierda pinche puto, no tienes cojones Cabrón.
(Native translation: Eat shit, you fucking bitch; You got no balls, Dumbass/Asshole/Bastard)
5 minutes later, came to pass the second to last street before he came into view of the intersection to his passenger's home.
What he did come into view of was a small group of 3 university aged males; all dressed in the same discount leather jackets and sporting the same greasy slicked back hair.
He guessed that this was the rag-tag bunch that was harassing Momo, as he could smell the 1000 yen store alcohol and cigarettes from about 25 meters.
He felt her hands grip tighter as they looked up and began to shamble towards them, clearly under the impairment of intoxication.
He sped up to try not to waste his precious time, as he had more pressing matters than some half-assed 2 bit thugs; the next chapter of Solo Leveling was coming out at 7, and he wanted to be in the isolated comfort of his house so he could laugh along to Sung Jin-Woo beating the living shit out of the Monarchs.
He chuckled a bit as he thought back to one of his favorite moments of the Manhwa; when he flipped off the Monarch. Or was it some high rank Hunter?
His thought process was interrupted as the trio intercepted his route and began to poorly form slurred words, hitting them both the stench of saké, whiskey, and soju.
"H-hey *hic* biya-ya-yatch, zere'za taxxxxxxxxx you gotta pay to crozzzz dis ro-*hic*-oad. Iz guna be a 10 thou' yen. Eaj." The largest of the 3 drunkenly spat.
The goons of the colloquially dubbed "Dead 1" (standing at 5'5) began to stand behind his bike, motioning them for a shake down of about 100 USD.
"Hey Bossss. This un'sa nassss lil pretty lady. It ud fe a damn shame if-if-*hic* she'z gettin' home all 'lone." Goon 1/Dead 2 barked.
Dead 1 stood a few feet away from the macho boy, assuming he would cough up the cash.
Dead 3 took another drag of his cigarette before tossing it aside to inspect the bike.
Larlo took off his helmet, then stepped off his bike; intending to play along for Momo's safety. He'd never forgive himself or allow himself to forget this if another woman was hurt under his watch.
"Hey kid (pulls out switchblade) pay the toll if youse know what's good for ya, ya prick." Dead 1 threatened. "Or I'll send you and youse friend back to ya's fucking fams in pieces."
Larlo looked back at Momo, still untouched, then back to the other 2. He mustered the best calm and threatening voice he could do.
"I'm doing a favor for an innocent girl that's having trouble with godamn pricks like you bitches. Back the hell off, and I'll forget about this."
Dead 1 chuckled a bit, taking a long drag of his cigarette before putting it between his right index and middle fingers.
He chuckled, exhaling a nasty grey cloud of smoke into his face. His cronies laughed after a little while, humored by some no-name high school scrub that probably aint even fucked a lady proper.
"Lis-isten kid. *hic* Come back and be mako lebra afta ya grow a pair and shoot a real fat load into a lady. Then ya'l know what iz like to be a real man. Not some prissy rich suburbs pussy like you that don't even know the difference 'tween a blowjob and a bottle o'shampoo."
Dead 1 aimed the end of his cigarette to the hair of the grey headed freakshow, showing who's got the biggest balls in all of Japan.
Larlo quickly raised his left hand and caught his wrist, stopping the cigarette from burning his now restored silver hair.
He blew the smoke out of his face before squeezing the captured hand. His total concentration began to dilate his perception, ready for these goons' biggest beating.
He could feel the crackling of joints in his hand. He peeked at his right to see that the thug was winding up a stab. He could see his face look uneasy, and he had no signs of being a fighter.
No cauliflower ears, no calluses, no scars, and most importantly; the lack of the gaze of desire, drive, and calculation.
'Perfect.'
He shot his knee forward and felt it collide with the intended target; a palm sized sack in the pelvic region.
Dead 1 urked in pain and surprise, clearly not used to receiving pain. He folded over before another bolt of lightning shot up his legs, and then another, and another.
"I'VE (knees the thug) ALWAYS (strikes again) WANTED (and again) TO (continuing) MAKE (hits once more) THIS (one last time) REFERENCE (I swear this is the last)!" Larlo reacted as he felt the cracking of the pelvis with each blow.
The aforementioned "Dead 1" was on the floor, grabbing what little remained of his triforce of pleasure, crying and groaning in pain.
Dead 2 (still by the bike) stared in utter shock and disgust at what happened to his boss, when he started to cough a wad of phlegm.
His smoking habit had started to affect him somewhat, but he didn't care; he just wanted to look cool and rebellious.
After his brief coughing fit ended, he pulled a switchblade of his own, assuring himself that the grey headed bastard only got lucky. Clearly a kid 10 years younger than him couldn't throw a punch proper.
He ran at the kid, who was using his foot to poke at the down man, ready to lodge his switchblade right in his side to prove a point as to why you don't mess with your seniors.
'Right in the arm!' He thought triumphantly.
In actuality, he didn't realize that he had dropped his knife a meter before coming into contact. The intoxicating mix of cheap cigarettes and cheaper booze had warped his perception.
He had only imagined the squelching of steel penetrating flesh before his senses came back to him in the form of a pinpoint accurate elbow to the right orbit.
He fell down onto his side in pain, before hitting his head on the pavement and knocking himself out.
Dead 3 extinguished his cigarette and puffed in Momo's face, pulling his switchblade out and holding it to her neck with his right.
Larlo looked at the hostage taking with an unfazed face, squatting to Dead 1 to grab something Dead 3 couldn't see.
Shakily and intoxicatedly, Dead 3 screamed, "D-Don-nt ya geny clozer, prick. I s-*hic*-wear I'll do it. Ima kill y-y-ou and take 'er fo' m'self."
The knife in his unsteady hand shook, drawing blood from the neck of his spur-of-the-moment hostage.
Larlo took a few steps further before stopping to prevent situational escalation.
"I swear I'll do it you fucker!" He screamed again.
Momo stood still and stayed calm, trying not to slit her own throat or have the college student flinch and tear her carotid artery.
'She's unusually calm about this. God, please don't tell me that she's used to this shit.'
"One last chance for you. Let. The girl. Go." He generously offered.
Dead 3's hand shook even more, drawing more blood from the small girl in his grasp.
"BACK OFF YOU SHI-"
His words were cut off as his left shoulder registered a warm sticky sensation before a new sharp pain slithered up his neck.
Momo could barely see Larlo brandishing the knife he retrieved just moments prior.
Her eyes, known for being inhumanly sharp, could barely register that he had thrown the knife shinobi style.
It flew blade first as it cut through the wind, before landing in the thug's left shoulder.
He collapsed in agony as a thin stream of bright blood dripped from his fingertips.
He dropped the knife he held, tossed away the one in his shoulder, turned around, and began to run.
Momo, finally released, ran to hug her savior, before being politely asked to take a few steps to the side.
Larlo took a few more steps forward and picked up the knife gifted by the gracious road-chan, cousin of truck-kun.
As quickly as he knelt down to retrieve the knife of Dead 2, he threw it in the direction of Dead 3, who had managed to run 15 meters before howling in pain, declaring to the entire world "that prick stabbed my ass."
Larlo gave a simple nose puff before nearly being tackled by Momo.
He pat her head, assuring her that those thugs won't shake her, or anyone else, down for cash after what he's done.
After taking a step back and wiping the tears and stemming the blood on her neck, she thanked him and said that she could walk the rest of the way.
He refused, as per their faux contract said that he would deliver her home, not leave her in the middle of the streets.
She took up the offer, gave him his jacket back, and 3 minutes later, they arrived in front of her house, which was just about the same as his, not that he divulged that particular fact.
They exchanged numbers, just in case she ran into trouble again. She walked towards the door, but stopped at the doorway, turning around.
"So… see you at school tomorrow?" She asked.
"God willing." He warmly responded. "See ya tomorrow."
He took his helmet off to take a breath of fresh air before putting it back on and speeding off.
[30 minutes later; 5:55 pm]
After taking the most direct route he drew with a mental map, he made it home. A few driving laws had been slightly broken by his calculative steering, but he stayed out of sight from police and tried to avoid traffic.
He grabbed a medium package on the doorstep, parked his bike in the garage, ran inside, locked the door, threw a bag of popcorn in the microwave, used the restroom, filled a bowl (with clean hands) with the popcorn, sat down on the living room couch, turned the XBOX and TV on, and finally opened his phone to watch the last few seconds of the countdown disappear.
8 minutes later, he finished the newest chapter of Solo Leveling, loving how Sung didn't take anybody's crap while efficiently and brutally kicking ass.
He strolled in, kicked the asses of more Monarchs, shanked random asshole monsters, and killed a stupid Hunter.
He switched over to WitchCultTranslations and read the Re:Zero Web Novel, laughing and cringing at Subaru's stupidity, antics, and deaths.
Picking up from where he left, Arc 2 beginning, he read 4 chapters before putting his phone on the couch and logging onto Ark Survival Evolved to play on his solo Island save with a Lv. 87 character.
After slaughter leveling a T-Rex he tamed 2 weeks ago, he raised it from level 2 to 50, at the low low cost of dozens of Parasaur and Igy babies, random fish, and an Alpha Megalodon he tranqued in the previous session.
He finished his popcorn before it got unpalatably cold, threw it in the dishes, then made enough milanesa for dinner and tomorrow's lunch.
'I can't bother anyone like this. This, this is perfectly fine.'
He ate in silence, save for the Majorkill 40k video that was playing.
He put the dishes in the sink, went to the bathroom to take a shower, then the laundry room to remove the blood and dirt off his clothes.
In the kitchen, he packed the necessary material for the week then laid his uniform and backpack on the counter.
He looked at the box he left on the couch and remembered what it contained.
'Custom 17, 9, 300, and maybe an ID.'
He ignored that a kitten and an unusually fat bat had been observing him ever since he had defended Momo.
It was mysterious to see a strange mix of animals follow one person, but he either didn't mind the attention of animals.
He plopped on his bed, fluffed his pillow, and slept like the dead, satisfied that he had managed to do at least one good thing that day.
…..
[3 am; unknown space]
"Rias, are you absolutely positive? This…. human… are you positively correct in your investigation that he's the same from that?" Souna asked through the steam.
The waterproofed papers handed to her by her long-time best friend had left her in total disbelief.
This mere child caused that large of a catastrophe, yet appeared and left out of nowhere.
"Hate to confirm it, but yes. He's the same one. Call him what you will; half-and-half, grey, broke, whatever. He's the one that cast the pure Holy Beam on that church." Rias said.
"Where in the realms could he have learned magic that potent, and survive the Holy Sickness aftereffects? We ran multiple background checks and found out that he has no non-human blood and no known contracts with any High Ranking Deities or Beings. The Christian God has always been hands off, Heaven hasn't involved themselves in Earth's affairs since Moses, and the other realms, including the Underworld, are still the same." Souna remarked.
"Whatever he is and wherever he came from doesn't matter, because he knows that we're onto him. He seems to be mostly well mannered; a little foul mouthed and blunt, but honest as humans get according to his record. His known routine is waking up at 5 or 6, eating, attending class, going home, and gaming before he falls asleep. He recently got into a fight to protect one of your Peerage, and he seems to know his stuff. Our check says that his father was a US Marine Raider for 5 years before going into the American Delta Force, so its not out of the question that he knows Krav Maga." Rias continued, wiping the sweat and hair off her breasts.
"3 on 1, and impressive knife throwing skills. It's a shame that he's Christian… he would make a fine addition to a Peerage with his martial and magic skill. But it's hard to believe that someone so young has mastery of Holy magic that could rival the Archs, but his Demon magic remains an unknown." Souna added.
"Souna, have you by any chance forgotten who else can use both elements?" Rias hinted.
"She is a different story. And Saji says that he had been mouthing off to her earlier, saying something about reprimanding and something called Berserk." Souna shot back.
"By the way, have you finished the paperwork for his conversion yet? You said that he would be a 3-Pawn, correct?" Rias asked.
"You know our agreement; we don't stick into each other's businesses and peerage without sharing equal information." Souna blandly reminded.
…..
"Human or not, I intend to host a private meet and greet with the rest of the ORC. Whether he chooses to join or not depends on him. Though his certain beliefs might prove bothersome. And on top of that, he has 2 Amped Bibles on him." Rias said.
"2? Where could've he gotten them, let alone 2!" Souna asked surprised.
"Realms know. But this has been a very enlightening meeting. Thanks for letting me come back into your Sauna Space. Now, I need to get out before my boobs get too sauna burnt." Rias excused herself.
She stepped out of the hot tub in the center before materializing single articles of clothing at a time.
She walked out the isolated-space, entering a lavish room as the door closed behind her.
She conjured a communication circle; connecting it to her lovely assistant Akeno.
"Hello President. Did you enjoy your stay at Ms. Shi-"
"I'm sorry Akeno, but I need you to cancel or rearrange meetings for this and next week. I need to go to The Underworld for a while, but make sure that you schedule Larlo's meeting the best you can." She demanded.
"Understood, come back soon." Akeno said before ending the communication.
Rias sighed, wondering how in hell-fire they'll explain that a high priority person of interest had suddenly appeared in her territory.
'It's gonna be such a pain explaining this to the Family Elders if the legends are true.'
She opened the door of the room she was currently in, only to be met by an emotionless stone taking the form of a person.
Silvery hair and eyes paired with a maid uniform commonplace in The Underworld.
"Lady Gremory, we've been expecting you." She blandly welcomed.
"Good afternoon to you too, Greyfia. I've come to report my findings to brother." She explained as Greyfia moved from the doorway.
"Lord Lucifer had just sent me to retrieve you. Thankfully, that won't be necessary." She coldly said.
Rias bowed and thanked Greyfia before taking a right down the luxurious hall of the manor she had transported herself into; heading to the office of her elder (and only) brother, Sirzechs Gremory Lucifer.
She opened the door, met with the familiar mountains of tomes, texts, contracts, and paperwork that dotted the room of the current Lucifer (title of Lord of The Underworld), who was behind his desk, slaving away at the pen and parchment before him.
"Brother, I have news…"
[6 am; Earth]
Larlo woke up screaming in a mix of fear and pain with palms bloody where his nails dug in; drowning in a cold sweat that hadn't soaked into his bed.
He couldn't remember his dream, but guessed at the nightmare he had forgotten, as only 2 things would do this.
'Damnit.'
He cleaned himself up, ate a bowl of cereal, walked to school, gave Koneko the promised bags of Tootsies, did his work, read his Bible, got followed by those pesky club members, go home, eat, and fall asleep.
Rinse and repeat 4 additional times, take advantage of the Sunday off, then repeat 6 more times.
Every day of the week spent at school had followed an expected pattern: people would ask him what happened about the fight. He'd hear dramatic verbal reenactments and correct them; he and others made a game of watching The Trio get beaten within an inch of their lives.
Some even started to bet snacks and money on how many times they would get wacked. Then after everyone had their fun, he'd attend class, go home, eat, work out, and fall asleep.
It was on Friday that the cycle was broken afterschool, when students of all grades gathered in the front and crowded around him, preventing him from getting out.
'A ring? Looks like about 15 feet. Damnit… only after a few days….'
After a futile attempt of trying to escape, he turned around and saw who he knew was his opponent.
Another Kuoh student: upperclassman by looks; bleach blonde hair; a temporary neck tattoo with the kanji 襲 (not sure if it'll show on ), read as attack or heap.
'Untouched ears, a bit of bruising, a callous, and that determination. Idiot…'
He fished around his backpack, found his supply case, quickly unzipped it, then grabbed scissors and 3 sharpened pencils.
The student preened to the crowd; showing off how badass they are, talking big about being the one to topple the new fighting underdog, and taking bets.
Larlo retracted his hand from his backpack and quickly threw one of his pencils, hitting and sticking in the opposition in the back of the left shoulder.
"Last warning. Back. The hell. Off." He mercifully offered.
The student screamed in pain, removing the projectile, turned around and retorted, "WHAT THE HELL MAN? THIS WAS 'POST'A BE A FAI-"
Whatever the student was going to say was sharply cut off by Larlo closing the distance and striking the kid in the left kidney. The student stiffened in shock, wondering how they'll win this fight.
"No such thing as a fair fight." Larlo interrupted.
He kicked the student behind the knee, dropping him halfway before having an elbow strike him in the abdomen.
His hair darkened as he ignored the recoiling and nausea. He took a few steps back as the student stood up and retrieved something from a student.
The student brandished scissors, tips pointed up.
He held his remaining pencils between his fingers, ready to throw as both of them circled the flesh ring. The student looked in confusion as the hair of the schmuck he was fighting had changed color before his eyes.
No matter, as he was a self-proclaimed "student fighting pro." If he beat the kid that was rumored to win a 3-on-1 in supposedly 2 minutes, he'd climb the fighting hierarchy and maybe reach The White Dragon.
The kid focused his eyes on the stomach of "The Chameleon," and aimed his weapon at his torso; a simple misdirection tactic that didn't fool his opponent.
Larlo threw again, which the student dodged before discovering a pencil sticking out of his arm, just an inch down the center of his wrist. The sudden shock to the pressure point forced his hand open, causing him to drop his weapon.
The thin streams from his shoulder and arm met at the pinkie, letting small dark scarlet beads tapped the concrete.
'This is gonna be such a pain with the principal or whatever.' Larlo thought to himself as he saw the concrete stain red under the afternoon sun.
"WHAT THE FUCK MAN?! THE HELL'S WRONG WI'CHA?!" The student griped as he held his arm in pain
"Your own damn fault." Larlo said as the student quickly dove for the scissors.
He backed away as the kid swung at his arms, but the student kept swinging, trying desperately to slow down the bastard that just struck him with pencils.
Larlo backed up and got punched back into the ring. He cursed himself as someone took his scissors, leaving him barehanded, making him more dangerous in CQC.
The crowd of students shrank the fighting "ring" to 10 feet, hinting that they should finish faster.
The opponent took notice and rushed for Larlo, using his right to hold the scissors low.
'Fuck, didn't wanna do this, but…'
When the student got Larlo in the Kill Zone (anywhere just out of arm's reach), he extended his arm, hoping to put down the NPC-esque kid.
Larlo used his left arm to parry the knife hand to the right, and used his right hand to throat punch the kid as hard as he can.
The kid dropped the scissors and fell backwards, grabbing his throat and trying not to suffocate on his saliva and vomit as his throat nearly collapsed.
Larlo put his right foot on the downed boy's chest and leaned slightly to apply pressure, "I'm gonna count to 3, and you'd best give up."
He brought up his first 3 fingers on his right hand and began to slowly retract them to signify the countdown.
When he finally reached 3 with his thumb, the kid spared one hand and slapped the concrete twice, finally admitting defeat.
Larlo removed his foot and the kid took a big breath of air as the crowd dispersed; a mix of applause and disappointment as people collected their bets.
When the applause died down, he gave the still-writhing student a kick to the lower ribs for a mix of (mostly) fun and to send a message.
After doing some stretches and massages for his joints and bruises, a dye-green haired student handed him a bill fold containing 100,000 ¥ (roughly 1,000 USD) before running off to reach his friends.
He pocketed the money in his front right pocket, as he didn't trust the rear pockets for any shred of security.
As it turned out, Issei and his posse had been spectating the fight, still in awe of the skill displayed.
"THAT WAS SO BADASS!" Issei congratulated as his friends were presumably spreading the footage on social media.
"DAMN SON, where'dya learn t'fight like that?!" Matsuda asked.
Motohama was shadow mimicking the techniques Larlo used.
"I'm a self-taught and internet-educated fighter. Those moves right there were baby techniques of Krav Maga, a martial art developed by the Israeli Military to maim and need be, kill. When I fight, I try go full force to achieve a quick win." Larlo answered.
Motohama cleaned his glasses and asked, "So how much did you just get, if you don't mind my asking. I saw that you got jumped and trapped. We tried to help, but were blocked by all the fish."
Larlo flashed the bill fold, "100k yen."
The Trio couldn't believe how much money this one fight made, and how casually he said it.
"And to think that it was a low-stakes…" Issei curiously realized.
"See y'all later, I'm going home." He excused himself.
[9:47 pm]
His 100,000 ¥ share drained to 980,701 after a somewhat expensive well-spent night of sodas and food in celebration of the fight he was rudely forced into.
Larlo headed home with a satisfied smirk on his face; hair slowly turning back to normal as he walked down the street and to his house.
He went to his downstairs bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face before bed.
It was only after he had turned on the faucet to wash his face for a shave that he saw his hands wet with a familiar sticky scarlet fluid that smelled of iron. He tried to blink it away, but his heart raced as he tried to wipe it off, only for the faucet to start rusting and spewing the same metallic scented fluid.
His body came into chills as he stood disoriented, wanting nothing more than this to be some aftereffect of food poisoning or something in the water. He felt a wave of queasiness slap him in the stomach, causing him to vomit profusely into the sink.
It was only after he relieved himself of that night's ramune and ramen that his vision returned to normal.
Blink, blood. Blink Blink, a smattering of organs. Blink, gone.
No bloody stream from the faucet and clean arms free of gore.
He filled a nearby cup with the faucet water and gargled till he couldn't taste the bile in his mouth. He swished a swig of mouthwash to replace the taste of vomit and tap water before heading to bed, fully aware of the nightmares that would visit him.
'I'm already hungry.'
….
[5 pm; Saturday]
After a long day spent trying to hide his shaky hands, Larlo was finally free of school for the time being. He was an upstanding student: arrived early, paid attention in class, helpful to the struggling, and achieved top marks in all if his work.
The ORC and StuCo members still followed him around in school, but they learned quickly that maybe it was for the best to not provoke him after hearing eyewitnesses accounts of the recent fight.
He decided to take the scenic route home by taking a detour to the Kuoh Central Park area to see the sunset from a bridge above the roads. He came across a fellow Ku-Ac student on that bridge as he watched the sun dip into an ocean of orange; a student that he didn't recall seeing.
She was wearing the Ku-Ac girl's uniform, but noticed that she had "AY" embroidered onto her jacket while a green skirt hung slightly above her knees.
She was slightly shorter than him, about 5'4 (164 cm), but sported above average assets.
"A-are you Lars Deloniy?" She timidly asked.
"Who's asking?" He cautiously asked.
'Kuso. Do those poor excuses of the elements want a rematch already?'
"Well… I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime next week. You look so lonely in class, but you're still so nice when you talk to people. I wanted to know if we could spend a day out next Sunday? As friends of course." She explained with a smile.
He found truth in her words, but still felt that something was off about the whole thing. He didn't "smell" anything wrong, but something was itching the back of his head, telling him that he's missing a large piece of the proverbial puzzle.
"And what might your name be?" He asked.
"Yūma, Yūma Amano." She cheerily answered.
"Nice to meet you, Yūma. Guess I'll see you at school sometime?" He smirked.
"Guess I'll see you then, Larz. Let's meet back here next Sunday, ok?" She bowed and he said his byes as they went their separate ways.
[7:18 pm]
After setting down his backpack on the kitchen table, he immediately took a shower and changed into a white-t and yellow shorts.
He got onto his XBOX and saw that his best friend back home, Tim (Hyper-G6m9r), was playing Apex. He made a party, they talked, they played, lost, won, out-cussed randoms, and had a fun time before they both had to go to sleep.
He didn't exactly "need" sleep, as he could be perfectly functional even after a week of no sleep. But it did become distracting when his eyes were dry, so he headed to bed.
[Monday, 12:20 pm; Kuoh Gym male changing room]
As the boys of the class were changing, they usually proceeded with the expected antics: towel whips, measuring contests, bumper bags, story sharing, and more. But with the presence of the New Kid, or The Chameleon in some circles, came a new story to share.
They all undressed into their gym clothes; grey-t and black knee length shorts; but the few boys present stopped to gawk at the absolute unit that was Larlo Deloniy.
Scars of various ages and types covered his body: strange circular scars, stabs, and chemical burns to name a few They drowned in their collective goosebumps to prevent themselves from imagining the pain and healing he went through.
The person closest to Larlo's bench space was Kiba, who had made past attempts to spark up a conversation with him in the past week, only to be turned away by a convenient and plausible excuse.
Now that there was nothing to prevent a conversation, Kiba opened his mouth to ask how he spent his free time, but something on Larlo's left pectoral caught his eye and tongue.
A 5-pointed star with an intricately designed circle encircling it, colored with the deepest of black ink.
It certainly wasn't The Star of David, as that had a certain stigma from an age of soot and suffering; and it was well known that Larlo was neither Jewish nor Catholic, but a devout Christian.
It wasn't a gang brand, because the only organized crime in a boring town like Kuoh would be some small-time yakuza.
What could it be? The question that swilled and stirred in Kiba's head dozens of times over had put him in a deep-thinking trance; diverting all computing power to this single question.
His head suddenly felt heavy and light; an almost hostile phantom pulling. His primal instincts were telling him to turn around and forget.
There was plenty of time left for the boys to change, because it was expected for the girls to spend an eternity in some's paradise. And to top that, the PE teacher was taking the 5-minute walk to the Nurse's office to self-medicate the flu she had recently come down with.
Kiba knew it would most likely be a personal question as to why Larlo had a pair of tattoos - a black star and a twin white – on his pecs, but he followed through despite his tingling spidey-senses warning him otherwise.
Larlo stopped putting his shirt on, leaving his well-toned muscle and scarred skin exposed to the public.
"Thank God I only fell down a really long flight of stairs."
Kiba pursed his lips, unsure of how to respond to his story as he was bombarded by a sudden headache.
Everyone picked up on the cryptic answer, and came to the collective answer that they don't wanna know.
To lighten up the doom and gloom vibe he knew he caused, Larlo spent the last few minutes sharing happier stories from the endless archive that was himself.
….
"…And then she asked me out to a "not date" when I was staring into the sunset. Apparently, she's a student here at Ku-Ac; Yūma Amano."
Issei let himself fall into somewhat deep thought; trying to put a name to assets.
He snapped, then mentioned that she was a new student that transferred from some Prep-Academy in Kyoto, presumably because her family had a good business opportunity.
"And if you get there, remember to leave a sock on the door handle." Issei jokingly mentioned.
A knock came from the door before a voice got through, "PE got cancelled. Coach has bronchitis and got sent home."
Cheers erupted from the Boy's Locker Room; ecstatic that they don't have to aimlessly run or exercise for a whole period as the girls hung back to paint their nails and gossip.
"But that doesn't mean you can start circle-jerking each other." The same girl shot back.
"Speak for yourself, Vibratoria!" A male student deflected.
Everyone changed back into their regular school uniforms and walked out, heading to the bleachers to enjoy a well-deserved break from the ceaseless sexism.
Larlo sat on the bottom row and began reading his Bible as Issei and his friend snuck off outside.
…
The time came for lunch, and once again, he brought out his lunch box and dug into whatever he made out of whatever was in the fridge.
"Milanesa, bread-stick, white rice, and some refried beans. Yum.'
After finishing his meal and packing his box, he saw that his phone was at low battery, so he stood up and went to the wall.
He pulled out his plug, cord, and Bluetooth earbuds; hoping that they had enough battery to pick up on whatever Monogatari episode he last left off.
[40%]
'Should be good enough.' He thought to himself as he plugged in his phone.
…
[Saturday, 6:10 pm; 1 block East of Ku-Ac]
"… And that's how I found out his favorites were Res-Boin and Fu-Ecchi." Motohama giddily said as he walked along the others, adjusting his glasses.
The 4 of them started laughing heartily as they walked down the sidewalk.
"At least he has good taste. What is that line that H-Ani uses? 'The kind that God approves of' or something like that?" Larlo said.
"Hey! At least I'm not Seiwo; she got caught watching Fallen RPG and reading 228922" Issei snapped.
Matsuda faked a retch at the sound of the works that put the nonconventional adult industry to shame, especially the cursed latter.
"You're the one that likes Kaho, and Love Ru, and lets not forget, Trin7 HxB." Issei jokingly mocked his almost bald friend for.
"That whole Lolicon thing is just a joke we made, but it stuck through the years." Motohama explained to their potential new Brother-of-Culture.
"Ok. Boin is the nice, wholesome, need to feel happy stuff that you send to a depressed friend," Larlo started, "228922 is the shit you send with a 5-Min mail into a chat to make people shut the hell up."
"A-freakin'-men," Issei sighed, "and to think that the 3 of us came to this stinking crazy school to get a shot at feelin' some up and starting our very own harems!"
"Ooooooppaaaiii!" Matsuda and Motohama said hypnotically in unison as a choir.
The Trio shared a chuckle at the notion that perhaps, it would be this year that they met the one... or many.
"It's been nice talking with you guys, but I gotta run. It's 6:15 and I don't wanna miss the release of The Gamer anime." Larlo excused himself, beginning to jog down the sidewalk.
"Alright man, see ya' later…. And if you got any recommendations, just shoot and we'll probably check 'em out. Or, maybe we can go somewhere and hang for our day off." Issei said he led the Trio around to walk home.
"SEE Y'ALL LATER!" Larlo screamed from down the block.
Addendum:
Like the fight? I hope you did. Fair warning, the fights have a strong possibility of becoming increasingly excessive in the future.
Comment on what you wanna see in later chapters, leave some much needed criticism (I want to hear how y'all're taking the story), be sure to point out grammatical errors, etc
Thank you for reading, and have a good rest of your day/night
