Chapter 1
Class F Rooftop Building, Leaf Senior High School
Tsk!
Auzra never thought he would be in this kind of situation, he was just dragged here by this bastard when he was going for his next class. Of course,he was not a pushover so he retaliated..
It has been a few minutes, since we fought,,well.... It can't be called fighting since I am the only one getting beaten up ,
F"ck ,this guy is tough nut to crack.. Imagine,he has been the dodging from the very start as this guy's punch are very heavy. It's like getting punched only once would spell death immediately.
Auzra with a serious look on his countenance,knew he couldn't beat this guy up close..He had a thought of running but.. damn,he couldn't do it..Aside from this bastard blocking the way, he swore to himself a long time ago that he would never back away from any fight.
'Sorry to all the Philipsophers,saying that is a tactical retreat, but thy one is not a philosopher '
Auzra squared his stance, breathing heavily, his emerald eyes never leaving his opponent.
The red-haired thug chuckled lowly, the sound thick with mockery. "You done dancing, twig boy?" he taunted, cracking his knuckles like gunshots in the stale air.
Auzra didn't waste his breath answering. He moved — fast — a blur of motion as he ducked under a clumsy hook, sliding low across the concrete. His body twisted with a natural agility, honed from years of surviving in tight spaces.
He popped up behind the thug and threw a quick punch into his ribs.
Thud.
It landed solidly, but Auzra might as well have punched a tree. The thug barely shifted, only glancing down at the boy with a sneer.
Dammit... my hits are worthless, Auzra cursed inwardly, chest tightening.
I want to fight like those gang brawlers — to throw real punches, to stand my ground — but my body... this frail body just can't.
The thug moved fast for his size.
Auzra barely ducked a spinning backhand, the wind from it grazing his ear. His balance faltered.
Too slow—
The thug's knee rocketed up into his stomach.
CRACK!
The impact stole the air from Auzra's lungs, lifting him off his feet and sending him sprawling across the rooftop. He slammed against the cold side of a water tank, ribs screaming with pain.
Coughing, he forced himself up, one hand clutching his bruised side. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but his eyes — his spirit — refused to dim.
I'm fast. I know I'm fast. But what's the use if I can't even hurt him?
All the speed in the world means nothing if every punch is like hitting a wall.
The thug sauntered toward him, loose and lazy, like a cat playing with a dying mouse.
"You done pretending you're tough?" he sneered.
Auzra staggered to his feet, legs trembling beneath him. His stance was shaky, one eye half-closed from the swelling, but he stood. He stood.
He thought of all those times he watched gang fighters brawl in grimy alleyways — fists clashing, blood spraying, grins splitting broken faces. They fought with everything they had, reckless and proud, never backing down.
That's the kind of fight I want, Auzra thought fiercely. Not a sniper hidden behind scopes. Not a ghost moving in the shadows. I want to fight with my own hands... to prove I exist.
The thug roared and lunged again. His fist swung like a wrecking ball — but Auzra swayed, barely dodging.
Left. Right. He ducked low, gathering the last dregs of his strength.
With a desperate burst, he leapt — his small frame coiling like a spring — and slammed his heel into the thug's jaw.
WHACK!
The thug stumbled back, shocked.
Auzra's heart surged with hope. I got him!
He moved to follow up —
—but his body betrayed him. His muscles locked, knees buckled.
Pain seared up his sides. His vision blurred.
Move, damn it... MOVE!
The thug recovered with a vicious snarl.
A brutal uppercut arced upward — too fast to dodge.
BAM!
Auzra's world spun. He felt himself lift off the ground, weightless for a terrible second, before crashing hard onto the rooftop.
Groaning, he curled onto his side, tasting copper in his mouth.
The clouds overhead seemed to press down, heavy and suffocating.
Still... somewhere deep inside him, something stirred.
Even if I'm weak, he thought, even if I lose… I won't crawl.
He forced his battered body up. Wobbling. Bleeding. Broken. But still breathing. Still fighting.
The thug stared at him, incredulous.
"You're seriously getting back up?"
Auzra wiped the blood from his mouth, his arm trembling like a leaf, and raised his fists once more. His body screamed in protest, but his spirit burned hotter than ever.
"Yeah," he rasped, a ghost of a grin curling his split lip. "Still not done."
He doesn't even know who or why they are fighting nor what's the motive behind this. But since the trouble is in his way, only cowards would back down.
The thug's eyes narrowed.
Rain began to fall in cold, heavy drops, painting the rooftop silver.
The world blurred at the edges, but Auzra's focus never wavered.
No matter what... I'll stand until I can't anymore.
And then, maybe... I'll finally be the fighter I've always wanted to be.
Rain fell harder now, hammering the rooftop like a thousand tiny drums. Auzra's soaked bangs clung to his forehead, blood mixing with water as it dripped from his chin. His breath came in shallow gasps, each one scraping his raw throat.
The red-haired thug wiped a trail of blood from his split lip, grinning with wild excitement.
"No more games, twig."
Auzra shifted his stance, legs barely steady. Every nerve screamed at him to stay down, to survive — but something deeper inside him refused. His fists raised again, shaky but defiant.
The thug came first — a brutal, sweeping right hook.
Auzra weaved under it, sliding low across the slick rooftop, pivoting sharply on one foot.
He countered with a sharp elbow aimed at the ribs —
Crack!
—solid hit.
Without pausing, he spun on his heel, delivering a spinning back-kick that smacked the thug's temple.
WHUMP!
The thug staggered, grunting in frustration.
Fast. Gotta keep moving. Auzra's mind was a roaring tide of instinct and survival.
He surged forward, launching a flurry of jabs — left, right, left — targeting the thug's chest and throat, trying to disrupt his rhythm.
The thug grunted, stepping back.
But Auzra's blows, sharp as they were, lacked weight. Like raindrops against a mountain.
The thug's eyes darkened.
He roared, a sound like a beast unleashed, and slammed his forearm into Auzra's shoulder, knocking him sideways.
Before Auzra could recover, the thug grabbed the front of his jacket, yanking him forward —
BAM!
—a brutal knee to the stomach.
Auzra doubled over, choking on bile.
The thug didn't let go.
He pulled Auzra close, their faces inches apart, rain pouring between them.
"You..." the thug growled, voice low and seething, "shouldn't have messed with my sister."
Huh? What... what sister... he thought numbly. Confusion permeated in his pained gaze.
But before he could form another thought—
THUD!
The thug's fist sank deep into Auzra's gut.
It was a punch meant to break him.
All the air rushed from Auzra's lungs in one violent gasp, his small frame lifting off the ground before crumpling in the thug's grip.
The world around him dissolved.
The rain turned to static.
The colors smeared into grey and black.
He could still hear — the rhythmic pounding of his own heartbeat, the distant growl of thunder — but it all felt so far away.
His fingers twitched once, weakly grasping at the thug's jacket — and then slipped away.
His knees buckled.
I... couldn't even fight back...
I couldn't even understand...
And then—
Darkness swallowed him whole.