The man let go of her and stepped toward me, which was exactly what I wanted, to get him away from her first.
He swung. A wide, sloppy haymaker that telegraphed itself from a mile away. Yesterday, I might have barely dodged it. Today, I saw it coming like he'd sent me a calendar invite.
I stepped inside the arc, just like Zero taught me.
Use momentum against them. Don't fight force with force.
I caught his forearm with my left hand, redirected his weight forward, and drove my right fist into his solar plexus.
The sound he made was deeply satisfying, something between a wheeze and a deflating balloon probably. He doubled over, and I shoved him sideways into the wall.
His buddy rushed me from the side. He was less sloppy and definitely more angry. He grabbed my collar and pulled back his fist.
I didn't have Zero's speed, but I had something I didn't have yesterday, better reflexes and a body that actually responded when my brain told it to move.
I headbutted him, a sharp forward snap that connected with his nose. He stumbled back, hands flying to his face, blood already leaking through his fingers.
"You crazy bastard!" he sputtered.
"Probably," I admitted. My forehead stung like hell, but the adrenaline made it easy to ignore. "Now get lost before I really lose my temper. And trust me, I'm way crankier than I look today."
I knew these type of men very well. They only pretended to be strong, but when faced with true strength, they would became a bigger coward than Courage the Cowardly Dog.
Just as I expected, Gut-man recovered enough to grab his bleeding friend and pull him away. They stumbled out of the alley throwing curses over their shoulders that I didn't bother acknowledging.
Cowards always got brave at a safe distance. Copy harder, sick freaks.
I turned back to Professor Sakamoto. She was staring at me, folders still clutched to her chest, eyes wide behind her glasses.
"Are you okay, Professor?"
She blinked in surprise, then her brows furrowed. "Wait. I know you. You're... Lukas, right? You were in my macro class last year."
"The one and only. Though I'm surprised you remember me. I sat in the back row and barely passed." I gave a mock bow.
"You got a B+. That's not barely passing." She let out a breath and brushed her hair out of her face. Her hands were shaking slightly. She noticed it too and shoved them into her blazer pockets. "God, that was... thank you. Seriously. I was about two seconds away from stabbing one of them with my pen."
"Honestly, I believe you would have."
I bent down and picked up a folder that had fallen during the scuffle.
Advanced Macroeconomic Theory — Spring Semester.
"Here, I don't want to have anything with these books anymore."
She took it and hugged it against the rest of her stack. "Since when do you know how to fight? I remember you being the quiet kid who doodled in his notebook during lectures."
"I was writing novels, not doodling," I corrected her. "And the fighting thing is, uh... recent development."
"Recent as in today? Because that headbutt looked like something you came up with on the spot and just prayed it would work."
I opened my mouth, then closed it, deciding to play along.
"...That's exactly what happened."
She laughed.
It was a real, genuine laugh that cracked through the tension, and I realized I'd never heard her laugh before.
In class she was always composed, a little intimidating, the kind of professor who could silence a room just by lowering her glasses.
But right now, standing in a dirty alley with her folders clutched to her chest and her bun falling apart, she just looked like a woman who was relieved and a little shaken and trying not to show it.
"You're bleeding," she said, pointing at my forehead.
I touched it. Sure enough, a small cut from the headbutt.
"Worth it."
She shook her head, but she was still smiling.
"Walk me to the station? I don't usually ask, but those two might still be lurking around and I'd rather not test my pen-stabbing theory today."
I chuckled, easily seeing through her false pretense.
"Sure. I'm heading that way anyway."
We walked together.
She was quieter than I expected, which made sense. Being assaulted by strangers in an alley wasn't exactly a fun afternoon activity. I didn't push conversation, just matched her pace and kept an eye on the streets.
After a minute, she spoke up.
"You said you were writing novels during my lectures?"
"In my defense, your lectures were excellent. I just happened to also be on a deadline."
"So you were ignoring me while complimenting me. That takes talent, young man."
She glanced at me sideways.
"I'm curious though, did you at least publish anything?"
"A few web novels. Nothing you'd find in a bookstore, though. It's just the stuff people read on their phones at 2 AM when they should be sleeping."
"I'm familiar with the concept."
She paused, then added a little quieter.
"I may have read a few of those myself. Don't tell my colleagues."
'Professor Sakamoto reads web novels. The world is full of surprises.'
I blinked.
'Maybe she even reads mine.'
"Tell me about yours. I'll read it," she said.
I smiled and gave her the details.
We reached the station. She adjusted her glasses and faced me properly, composure mostly restored, though her eyes were warmer than I'd ever seen them in class.
"Thank you, Lukas. I mean it. That was really brave, even if your technique was terrible."
She bowed slightly.
"Everyone keeps saying that. I'm starting to think I need a fighting coach."
"You need something."
She fished around in her blazer pocket and pulled out a business card. Who even carried business cards anymore? Professors, apparently.
"If you ever need anything, or want to talk about your career path. You were one of my better students despite the doodling."
"Novel writing," I corrected again, taking the card.
"Sure."
She smiled, warm and a little teasing, and headed down the station stairs.
I stood there watching her go, business card in one hand, shopping bags in the other, a cut on my forehead and an ache in my knuckles.
'Sugar mommy in the apocalypse, gorgeous professor on Earth. The universe is finally compensating me for all those years of eating instant noodles alone.'
Not that anything would come of it. Probably.
'...Right?'
Shaking my head, I went back home.
It was time for the bank heist.