A/N: I don't own Nagatoro.

Leokunn: Sorry, but as the saying goes, "All good things must come to an end." But the true, official end is not upon us yet. This is more like Attack On Titan's fourth season, which is on hiatus until 2022, if I remember correctly.

And the cat ears/tail were references to the anime. There are a few quick scenes where she'll grow the mentioned additions. One time was after Gamo and Yoshi tried to shave Senpai, and another time was during the "Art off" against the president.

BlackDragon829: Yeah, there are a lot of stories that have yet to be done in the Nagatoro section of FF. I'm sure more will come about eventually, though. And I hope you enjoy any of my works that you give a try.

Edinamabasi: Like I said, I might make this into its own story.

It's been a hot minute, ain't it? Anyway, this one will probably be a little shorter than usual. I haven't been writing at all recently, so I'm using this as a chance to get back into it.

Wham. Bamf. Thud.

The sounds of fists and feet colliding with a punching bag echoed throughout the almost empty gym. Aside from the punching bag assailant, the only other members in the gym were a guy on the bench and someone running on a treadmill. But both had earbuds in, so they weren't being bothered either way.

The teen sent another punch at the bag and sent it back in a wobbly swing. It's returning path was less than a straight line, but he didn't care. As long as it came back, he would punch, kick, knee, elbow, or slap the bag into oblivion.

Or at least whatever "oblivion" his rather spindly frame could manage.

Two beads of sweat raced down the teen's cheek before he could wipe them away and added to the wet collection in the neckline of his shirt.

More attacks made contact with the bag. His hands were starting to hurt, which was what he had been waiting for. The combination of the pain and tiredness helped take his mind away from recent events. Or, more specifically, a person who had entered his life recently and scarily abruptly.

Even as he continued his assault on the defenseless bag, some of their interactions flashed through his mind.

The time she grabbed his hands in hers at the sink and stroked them suggestively. Wham.

The time she suddenly removed her shirt and prodded him for not expecting her to have a swimsuit underneath. Pow. Thumpf.

The day he sat with her and her friends in the cafeteria and was subjected to more insults, albeit some defending from his usual bully of sorts. Whump.

The time she ended sitting on him and tried to bite his neck. Bam. Crack.

Had anyone been watching, they would have noticed the drop in style of his attacks from moderate martial arts strikes to simple street brawling blows.

"Hey kid, got something on your mind?"

The teen turned around and was face to chest with a well-built man. His brown hair was slicked down from sweat and his eyes had a piercing feel to them.

"Uh, sorta, but I'm fine. Was I disturbing you?" he asked, hoping the man would let him get back to whatever he had been doing.

"Not quite. But a few pieces of advice. First, you're getting sloppy. And second, you should really have someone hold the bag if you're going to go this hard." The man walked behind the punching bag and grabbed it. "Come on, show me what you got," he prompted.

This was definitely not what he had wanted. All he wanted was some peace and alone time to get rid of the thoughts in his head. But the man was likely set on making sure the bag was held securely, so he went back to hitting it.

"So, what forms do you know? It seems that Judo is your most prevalent, but I can also see some other styles in your strikes," the man asked.

The boy took another break. "A bit of Kung Fu and a bit of taekwondo. I haven't used the last two in a long time, though," he answered.

The man gave a thoughtful "huh" as the teen resumed hitting the bag. Minutes passed, then he had to stop due to pain in his hand and dominant striking foot.

"Thanks for holding the bag. I can get some ice for this, then I'll head home." The man, after making overly sure that Naoto would be okay, left the teen by himself.

The next day of school started just like any other; he woke up, albeit with a still aching hand, got dressed and ate breakfast, and dealt with Nagatoro joining him on the walk to the building.

"Senpai! You're just as creepy as ever! Even in this bright light, you're still so gloomy!"

Naoto just sighed and took the teasing at face value. It wasn't usually that bad on the morning walk, just later in the day.

"By the way, what's with your hand? Did you use it too much last night?" the girl asked, intentionally making her question sound more suggestive than it should have been.

The teen slightly raised his hand and observed it. In the outside lighting, the reddening and miniscule bruises from the previous night were much more visible than in his room lighting.

"Yeah, I used it a lot last night. But-but not the way you think," he replied, quick to add the last little bit.

"Ooohhh, sure you didn't! I'll bet you were 'using' it while reading that erotic manga of yours!" Nagatoro retorted before running into the building and down the hall. From there, it was just a matter of paying attention in class until he retreated to the art room. Like clockwork, his kohai slid the door open fifteen minutes after he arrived and took he spot on the couch.

Unfortunately, she was also accompanied by Gamo-chan, who had her fair share of Nagatoro-like tendencies.

"Hey Paisen! Aren't you going to offer any food to your guests?"

As if planned, Nagatoro jumped right in. "Yeah, a creepy Senpai like you should be doing everything he can to make sure two girls like us keep hanging around!"

His simple retort of, "Bring your own food," had somehow led to yet another spiel of unnecessary remarks and forced physical contact in a very unwanted way. By the time the two finally left, he had already promised himself another stop at the gym before the night was through.

Hours later, school ended for the day and Naoto went home, once again dealing with Nagatoro's antics. The first thing he did at home was finish his homework, then grabbed a light snack before heading out. The walk to the gym was quiet, and he took in every moment of silence from the teasing he had been receiving recently.

Following a quick stop in the changing room, the boy found the punching bags and let loose. There were a lot of people this time around, but there was a punching bag not in use, so he quickly took his spot in front of the contraption and gave a few quick test jabs. The frequency and strength behind the blows ramped up quickly until he was having a hard time getting a solid hit on the constantly wobbling bag.

"Hey kid, need a hand?" a familiar voice asked from behind. The man from yesterday walked around the student and took the same position as the previous session without letting Naoto answer.

Just like the last time, Hachioji went back to hitting the supported bag and only stopped when he fully drained himself for the night.

"So, want to talk about it?" he asked out of the blue.

"T-Talk about what?" Hachioji gasped out, very not wanting to talk about it.

"Look kid, I've been coming here for a long time. After a while, you learn who's here to get stronger, who's here because they're bored, and who's here to blow off steam. You're obviously in the last category, but I won't force you to-"

"I haven't been having a good time at school recently."

The two were silent for what felt like half a minute.

"Sooo, troubles with class? Issues with a friend? Something else entirely?"

"Well...there's...they...this person just keeps finding what I like and teasing me for it. I know it sounds like nothing, but it's deeper than just friendly prodding. She always finds a way to make it personal. And she's just so persistent. She even finds a way to make washing hands seem lewd," the teen explained.

The man, who had listened to the entire thing interestedly, gave an "I'm thinking" look as he contemplated everything he had heard.

"Have you tried telling a teacher? Or parent or principal?" he offered.

"I tried that in middle school and it didn't work. They always called me a 'tattletale' and just put more effort into making life miserable. I really don't know how to deal with her."

The man leaned forward and put a friendly hand on the boy's shoulder. "I know how you feel. Getting bullied is never nice. Still, you're in high school, or I assume from your appearance. Once you get that far, the 'tattletale' thing is less effective. And high schoolers are easier to punish because they have more interests than little kids. Just give it a shot."

"I-I guess it can't hurt to try," the boy muttered. The man stood up and offered a hand, which Naoto took and was effortlessly lifted into a standing position. "See you tomorrow?"

"Maybe," Naoto replied with a rub to his tired hand. "Depends on how tomorrow goes."

"Well, good luck. I'm here every night at this time, so you know where to find me," he offered before leaving for the changing room.

It was during lunch when Naoto finally resolved himself to take the man's advice. Instead of going to the art room, he went to the principal's office and sat down. It felt odd being there to complain. It was like back when he was a kid telling on the mean bullies at the playground. But he made sure not to chicken out, and less than ten minutes later, he had given the principal a rough report of the recent events, careful to skip over most, but not all, of the occurrences more likely to get her expelled rather than punished with detention or suspension.

Later in the day, he heard the announcement requesting that Hayase Nagatoro stopped by the principal's office before the next class. He didn't run into her or her friends for the rest of the day, so he was more than willing to count this as a temporary success.

He even went to the gym to thank the man for the advice and maybe try some strength training. He would certainly need it if Nagatoro decided to get more revenge for getting called out.

It wasn't five seconds after he stepped out of the changing room that he spotted the man who had recently taken up assisting him with his outbursts against the punching bags. But when he jogged over, the man also jogged in his direction, and his face looked like he had something he needed to get off his chest.

"Kid, I'm really sorry," he said before even coming to a stop. Naoto froze in his tracks.

"Huh?"

"I'm really sorry for everything my daughter's put you through," he repeated, notably ashamed from something. All at once, the pieces clicked.

"Wait, you're...?"

"Yeah, I'm Hayase's father."

A/N: Okay, just to let you all know, this isn't canon. The only Nagatoros we've actually seen are Hayase and Sis-toro (If you've read the manga). This is probably one of those that won't get a second part down the road, but might get a little addition later on. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed.

Leave a comment if you please, and I'll see you when I decide to update this next time!