Cornered by blatant intimidation, Ryunosuke spat the words through gritted teeth, his voice barely a whisper.
"Senior Disciple..."
The effect on Ibuki was instantaneous; she looked as if she'd just been plugged into a high-speed charger. Springing from her chair, she strode over with an insufferable air of arrogance and tilted Ryunosuke's chin up, clearly intent on milking the moment for all it was worth.
"That was a bit too quiet. I didn't catch that. Say it again."
Ryunosuke: "😐"
"Don't push your luck, Ibuki. I'm warning you—"
She waved him off with a look of pure indifference. "No 'Senior,' no service. I'm staying right here."
Embracing her role as the ultimate provocateur, Ibuki hopped onto a desk, crossing her arms and legs defiantly. A prominent vein throbbed in Ryunosuke's temple before he finally squeezed the words out once more.
"Se... Senior Disciple..."
"Excellent! Come along then, Junior!" Ibuki hopped down, chirping happily as she grabbed Ryunosuke's hand and practically dragged him out of the room.
She had finally done it—she'd actually made the man suffer a loss. Ryunosuke had spent so long systematically dismantling her class's plans that this taste of petty vengeance was intoxicating. She was so swept up in her triumph that she didn't even realize she was still holding his hand.
Ryunosuke glanced down at their intertwined fingers but decided to keep his mouth shut. He maintained a stoic "nothing to see here" expression and kept walking.
They soon arrived at the Taekwondo hall. Hiratsuka, looking sharp in her white dobok, was seated cross-legged on the mats, clearly having waited a while. She rose, cracking her knuckles with predatory enthusiasm.
"Alright, let's get down to the brass tacks and start the beatdown!"
"Huh?" Ryunosuke blinked, the sudden shift in energy leaving him a step behind.
Beside him, Ibuki reached down and unbuckled two heavy ankle weights. They hit the floor with a bone-jarring thud, making it clear they were anything but light.
"Whoa, are you insane?" Ryunosuke recoiled, eyes wide. "When did you start wearing those?"
"Wait, have you been wearing them this whole time? Even on the way here?"
Facing her "junior's" interrogation, Ibuki began her warm-up, rotating her hips and testing her now-weightless legs.
"I always wear them. Except for when I'm sleeping, they stay on. Ever since I started training under Hiratsuka-sensei, I haven't relaxed for a single second."
She turned to Ryunosuke with a sharp, pointed smile. "By the way... each one is 5 kg."
"That means I'm walking around with an extra 10 kg every day. I'm not losing to you again."
The intensity in her gaze was unmistakable. She was clearly thinking about the last time Ryunosuke had pinned her down. She was still nursing that grudge, swearing to settle the score sooner or later.
Ryunosuke desperately wanted to point out, (You should be focusing on dropping Hiratsuka-sensei, not me. We're on the same team here.)
But looking at Ibuki, it was obvious she was already in the zone—and with Hiratsuka looming nearby, the math was looking grim. Ryunosuke could handle one monster, but two? Forget it. Especially this "buffed" version of Ibuki; he felt his confidence waver slightly.
Even so, he reached for the Stardust Dragon card hanging from his neck, instantly slipping into Chuunibyou Mode.
Hiratsuka and Ibuki both noted the gesture. They'd been dying to ask: what was the deal with that card? Why did his entire aura shift the second he touched it?
Having transitioned into "Sanji," Ryunosuke produced a fake cigarette rolled from a leaf out of thin air, lit it, and took a long drag.
A vein popped on Hiratsuka's forehead. "Hehe... smoking in front of your teacher? You've certainly got guts, kid!"
Ryunosuke opened his mouth to explain it was a prop, but it was too late. Hiratsuka's fist was already flying. Reflexively, he threw up a leg to parry, sighing in resignation.
"Could you at least let me finish my sentence, Sensei?"
"Haha! I'm not listening!" Hiratsuka laughed, her delight obvious. She was clearly doing this on purpose. Ryunosuke had no choice but to engage.
It was less of a lesson and more of a high-speed skirmish. Neither gave an inch, their movements blurring into afterimages. The air hissed with the sound of their strikes connecting, the shockwaves from their exchanges blowing Ibuki's hair back as she watched from the sidelines.
Ibuki was itching to jump in. She couldn't stand being a spectator! Where's the fun in just watching?
But as soon as she moved to interfere, the two combatants simultaneously broke off and called a halt. They were both significantly stronger than her; if she dove into that blender, they weren't sure they could pull their punches in time to keep her out of the infirmary.
Ibuki huffed, frustrated. She genuinely wanted to test her mettle, but she knew the truth: both Hiratsuka and Ryunosuke were peaks she had yet to climb.
At that moment, the door slid open. Ayanokouji, his palm still wrapped in thick bandages, stepped inside with his usual deadpan expression. He'd come to check on Ryunosuke. As his "best friend" (and primary asset), he couldn't just leave him to his own devices.
Besides, he was tired of being a full-time babysitter. Since Ryunosuke was serious about getting stronger, Ayanokouji could offer the right guidance. After all, his techniques were pure White Room—the absolute pinnacle of martial science.
Ayanokouji used his good hand to take a bite of an apple as he entered. Seeing the newcomer, Hiratsuka rushed over and threw an arm around his shoulders.
"Hahaha! You finally showed up, kid!" She glanced at his bandaged hand, her tone turning slightly regretful. "Shame about the injury. Otherwise, I would've gone all out against you."
Ayanokouji replied flatly, "Have a heart, Sensei. I'm a patient..."
"Haha, just a joke! Don't take it to heart." Hiratsuka slapping him on the back.
Inwardly, she knew the truth: she was no match for this boy. Remembering how easily he'd stopped her "Iron Fist" and Ryunosuke's kick, she knew she was outclassed. Even if she doubled her explosive power from 1,100 kg, it likely wouldn't be enough.
Hiratsuka wasn't one to mope over a loss; she just missed the thrill of the exchange. Meanwhile, Ayanokouji and Ryunosuke began to chat.
They looked like the picture of brotherly solidarity, despite the fact that both were harboring identical, devious thoughts. Truthfully, they never would have been caught off-guard by the White Room assassins if they hadn't both lowered their guards for the same reason.
Ryunosuke thought they were there for Ayanokouji.
Ayanokouji thought they were there for Ryunosuke.
Because of that mutual assumption, they'd both been careless. They were "toxic friends" through and through; if one was in trouble, the other's first instinct was to laugh. And that was exactly how they'd ended up in this mess.
The two sat down on the tatami together, letting out a synchronized, heavy sigh.
"Hah... we really dropped the ball this time. (x2)"
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