Chapter 143: Chapter 8
The battle in the West Wing gallery was like a brutal study in contrast, despite using no Karyoku or spirit energy, they moved and attack that borders on supernatural.
Yukina herself was like a whirlwind in motion, her strikes born of the desperate, jagged rhythm of street fighting.
She wasn’t so martial arts expert or anything, all her skills ca from following Seijirou in various street fights and learning a few boxing moves from Renji and kicking styles from Shou.
She lunged, she pivoted, and she threw haymakers that would have leveled a stone wall.
Yet, for all her ferocity, she was being systematically dismantled.
Unlike her, Yamashita Takeko stayed still like a sturdy mountain, blocking her every attack.
As a man possessing a fra that was naturally gifted with imnse density, Takeko was more of a biological fortress than a human.
Every ti Yukina’s fist connected with his forearm or chest, it felt like striking a mountain of solid iron, causing her to grit her teeth in pain.
Then, with a series of short, efficient movents, Takeko parried her blows and delivered punishing counters—not to the face, but to the shoulders and hips, all calculated strikes ant to disable rather than disfigure.
And through it all, he wouldn’t stop talking.
"Your center of gravity is too high," Takeko rumbled, his voice calm even as he caught Yukina’s wrist and tossed her effortlessly across the hall. "And for the final ti, adjust your tank top. It is distracting and beneath the dignity of a warrior."
Yukina skidded across the floor, her breathing heavy and ragged.
She spat a bit of blood onto the marble and stood up, her eyes burning with frustration. "You... you’re actually coaching ? We’re in the middle of a school war! I’m here to take you down, and you’re giving
a lecture on posture and modesty!"
Takeko stood in the center of the gallery, his massive arms crossed. In Yukina’s eyes, he actually didn’t look like an enemy, but more of a weary sensei.
He remained silent for a long mont, the moonlight catching the smooth surface of his bald head. Finally, he turned his gaze toward the window, looking at the pale moon.
"...tell , why do you dress and act like that?"
Yukina frowned, "Huh? That isn’t any of your concern is it? I’m not your sister, nor your daughter."
Takeko blinked, turning towards her with a complicated look before sighing and staring at the moon once again, "...Perhaps. Forgive ."
Yukina was starting to lose interest in the fight. She crossed her arms, looking incredibly bored, "Seems like you have a problem. Why don’t you spit it out? Maybe you’d feel better and we can finally fight properly?"
Takeko took a deep breath, before turning back towards her, "...Maybe you’re right. So, would you care for a story?"
Yukina waved her hand, "Yeah, yeah, just get on with it."
"...well, the truth is, it’s not just you, but all girls like you... you remind
of a ’ghost’ I once knew, soone I failed to save, and soone whom I regretted I couldn’t help." Takeko said, his voice dropping into a somber, gravelly tone.
Yukina paused, her hands still curled into fists. "A ghost?"
"Hm. You see, I had a friend," Takeko began, the words sounding heavy with a decade of regret. "We grew up together. She was shy, the kind of girl who would hide behind her books and blush if you even spoke her na. Soone so incredibly timid she couldn’t even speak without stuttering. But I loved her, we were always together, and I had thought that it would remain that way. I was a coward. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that I love her, so we remained as friends."
He paused, as if rembering a past he still couldn’t let go and let out a dry, hollow chuckle. "In our second year of middle school, she had actually fell in love with a thug who had confessed to her and tricked her, a senior who slled of cigarettes and cheap alcohol. Perhaps he thought she was easy? But that doesn’t matter then, and they dated. I was devastated, but I stayed in the shadows, giving them my ’blessings’. I was afraid of telling her that she shouldn’t associate with people like him, that he’s bad news."
Yukina frowned, already starting to see where this story is going. After all, she isn’t a stranger to those type of ’adult literature’, but she didn’t expect that those happened in real life too.
"I thought maybe she will see for herself how bad he is, at least, that’s what I hoped." Takeko closed his eyes, "But then she changed. The girl who used to wear her uniform perfectly started dressing... like you. Exposed skin, dyed hair, skipping classes. She sought the attention of the very people who wanted to defile her."
Yukina’s expression softened. This man... No wonder he was like this, experiencing those things, especially at middle school, must be incredibly traumatizing.
"The rumors beca horrific," Takeko continued, his eyes darkening. "They said she was giving ’relief’ to boys in the back of the gym for pocket money. I tried to pull her back once. I went to that thug and told him to let her go. He and his friends beat
until I couldn’t walk. By the ti I could stand again, she was gone. She never finished middle school. And three years ago, I found her. She was working the red-light district in the neighboring ward, clutching a child whose father she couldn’t even na."
Takeko turned back to Yukina, his gaze piercing. "That is why I care about how you dress and your behaviour. Because every ti I see a girl who dresses for the male gaze, who acts as if her body is her only currency, I see her. And I tell myself that if I can correct just one of you, maybe I can make up for the ti I failed to reach out my hand."
The gallery fell into a profound silence.
Yukina stared at the giant, realizing that beneath the "prude" exterior was a man bleeding from an old, unhealed wound.
Then, she let out a soft, lodic laugh, not a mocking one, but one that tells that she understands his feelings.
"You really are a good person, aren’t you, big guy?" she said, her voice genuine. She stood up straight, letting her arms hang loosely at her sides. "I’m Watanabe Yukina. And you?"
"Yamashita Takeko," he replied, blinking in confusion at her sudden change in tone. "3rd Year. Judo Captain."
"Well then, Yamashita-senpai," Yukina said, her voice gaining a new, resonant power.
Suddenly, a burst of bright orange spiritual energy erupted from her body, swirling around her like a localized sun.
"There is no need for you to worry about . My clothes? My behavior? This isn’t a sign of ’degeneration’ or a cry for help. I chose this. This is my pride, the armor that gives
strength."
She looked him in the eye, her smile radiant. "Back in middle school, I was just like your friend. I was terrified of my own body because n wouldn’t stop looking. One of them even tried to... well, he tried to take what wasn’t his. But then I t Seijirou, that guy felt like he was completely unreliable then, but he helped . He didn’t tell
to hide, nor did he tell
to be ashad. He taught
to take pride in my strength and my beauty. He made
feel that my body wasn’t a target for others, but a temple I defended."
She spread her arms, and the air in the gallery scread.
In a flash of gold and silver light, two massive, ornate iron gauntlets manifested over her hands and forearms.
From her back, a pair of ethereal, shimring white wings erupted, casting a holy glow across the dark hall.
"This is who I am, Senpai," Yukina said, her wings gently beating the air. "I’m not a victim waiting to happen. I have a man I love who cherishes , and I have friends who would knock
back into my senses if I ever lost my way. This battle? It’s sothing he entrusted to . So please... don’t hold back."
Takeko stared at her. For a mont, he didn’t see a delinquent, he saw an angel, regal and majestic.
He saw the version of his childhood friend that could have existed if soone had been brave enough to be her light.
If he had reached out his hand then, if he had told her directly not to accept that confession, or if he had directly confessed his feelings...would she glow as dazzling as this?
A sense of profound peace washed over him, followed by a surging, competitive fire.
"I see," Takeko nodded, his voice echoing with respect. "I was wrong to judge your heart by your skin."
Takeko took a deep breath, and his spirit energy exploded.
A terrifying, dark purple spirit energy billowed around him, taking the shape of a colossal, six-ard Cyclops with a single burning red eye.
His muscles groaned as they expanded, his school uniform tearing at the seams, a third eye split open on his forehead, glowing with a baleful light, and four spectral arms sprouted from his sides, mimicking his every movent.
The ground beneath him cracked.
This is the manifestation of his Karyoku, the Six Ard Cyclops!
"Watanabe Yukina," Takeko roared, the sound vibrating the very foundations of the West Wing. "I apologize for not taking you seriously earlier, so this ti, let us properly battle!"
Yukina’s wings snapped back, her gauntlets sparking with golden electricity.
"With pleasure, Senpai!"
She launched herself forward, a streak of white and gold light clashing against the purple shadow of the giant.
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