Finally, someone believed in him, and he was going to do anything to justify Minato's trust and not let him down in his quest to become a Specialist. His motivation was at its peak, and it seemed that with such zeal, he could move mountains in a matter of days. However, as it turned out, reality was full of disappointments.
And the day after the incident with Sunahara, at 4 a.m...
“HNYYYYYYGH! AAAAAAAAGH!”
“Yeah, I kind of expected that,” Minato muttered lazily, sprawled on the refrigerator like a deck chair by the pool, which Tsuna was unsuccessfully trying to pull, like a harnessed horse. “You know, it's surprisingly comfortable here. I wouldn't mind lying around a little longer.”
“What did you expect? It's harder than it looks!” Tsuna exhaled, pressing his palms against his knees and panting as if he had run a couple of dozen kilometers.
Glancing at Minato, he saw his tired face with a bump on his head. Not wanting to say that it was Aya-nee who had hit him for yesterday's antics, he dismissed it as a fall from the stairs.
“I didn't expect you to move that tin can even a couple of millimeters. After all, there's a bunch of junk inside,” Minato replied without a hint of enthusiasm, as if mocking Tsuna's pathetic attempts.
“Yeah, and there's also 84 kilograms of live cargo sitting on top...”
“How did you know? Did you measure my body while I was sleeping? You're a freaky stalker.”
“Eh, never mind. You better tell me why you called me here so early, Mimi-san? You asked me to bring my gym clothes and come here, of all places.” Tsuna sighed wearily, spreading his arms and falling to his knees.
And meeting in a place like this was indeed a stupid idea. Of course. What kind of idiot would think of meeting at a junkyard filled to the brim with mountains of scrap metal, where car carcasses lay next to piles of plastic and coils of wire? Everywhere he looked, there was nothing but a sea of trash stretching as far as the eye could see.
“To make sure of something. Physically, you're still a weakling. My worst fears have come true.”
“I know that without you,” Tsuna replied lazily. “Either you've developed a sadistic streak, or you have some kind of plan.”
“More likely the latter. I wanted to see what you're capable of right now. And my preliminary assessment was confirmed. You see, in less than a year, you want to become strong enough to enter the SHA, which already sounds like nonsense. And with normal training methods, you'll never reach the required level.”
“Do you think shoveling garbage will somehow contribute to my progress?” Tsuna asked skeptically, accepting another unsuccessful attempt to move a heavy piece of rusty iron.
"Well, you won't achieve much by imitating Sisyphus, that's for sure. That's why I did it," Minato muttered, throwing a crumpled notebook with notes at Tsun.
Looking inside, the ambitious protégé saw a detailed development plan that included various exercises and training complexes with both weights and his own body weight. And even though the plan looked like a rough draft, even to the untrained eye, you could see the meaning behind every line written by hand. It was as if Minato had poured his entire rotten, cynical soul into this notebook.
“Nutrition, sleep schedule, weight progression, endurance development, strength indicators, ability enhancement, hand-to-hand combat lessons, and who knows what else... how much time did you spend on this?” he asked, looking enthusiastically at Minato, whose bags under his eyes seemed larger than usual.
“I scraped together about 8 hours during a sleepless night. Why? I'll leave the studying to you, you were already cramming. I'm naturally skinny too, so I kind of understand what approach is needed.” Minato lazily lay down on the cold piece of metal.
Hearing these words, Tsuna's eyes flashed with a bright flame. If Minato could achieve such strength while being naturally skinny, then he could too.
“So in a year, I can become as strong as you?!” Tsuna asked with genuine joy, jumping to his toes.
"Calm down. That's a common mistake. Looking at an athlete, many people think they can achieve a similar physique in a year or two, not realizing that it could have taken decades for that person to build their dream body. I've been training for almost ten years, so you can forget about it. Besides, there are many factors that will force you to take off your rose-colored glasses. Genetics, for example," Minato muttered, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, that makes sense. I didn't think of that...” Tsuna muttered quietly, quickly flipping through the notebook, and as soon as he closed it and roughly calculated his actions, another question that had been bothering him since he arrived at this dump came to mind. “Why carry trash?”
“To keep your muscles in shape, of course, what else? Construction workers carry heavy loads and can be in good shape even though many of them don't go to the gym. On top of that, it's a practical use of your muscles.”
Nodding quietly and pondering the idea Minato was trying to convey to him, Tsuna scratched his head and said the first thing that came to mind.
“Honestly?”
“We need money.”
“Shit, I knew it!” Tsuna exclaimed, kicking an empty can that accidentally knocked over a pile of trash and nearly buried him alive.
“What did you expect? SHA is a private academy, the most prestigious in the world. If you want to study there, you simply have to have money. Of course, you can get in on recommendation and study for free, but let's be honest. That's not going to happen for us, we're not prodigies, and we're not rich kids from private schools.”
Crawling out from under the pile of trash, Tsuna glanced around at the dump surrounding them, and no matter how hard he racked his brains, he had no idea how to make money hauling trash.
“Are we going to recycle all this?”
“No, I called a friend, and he said that if we clean this place up before the deadline, we'll get paid.”
“I don't like where this is going, Mimi-san. Did you go to a loan shark?” Tsuna asked suspiciously.
“Not exactly. I called an old friend from the Yakuza.”
For a whole minute, a deathly silence hung over the entire dump, even the distant singing of birds and the noise of cars were inaudible. At the mere mention of the word Yakuza, Tsuna felt the blood freeze in his veins. It was as if a bucket of ice had been poured down his neck.
“Yakuza?! You made a deal with the mafia?! Were you dropped on your head as a child?!” Tsunya yelled, reaching frequencies that could rival even experienced opera singers.
“So what? The boss is an old acquaintance of mine, so it's a favor for a favor,” Minato grumbled irritably, covering his ears until they started to bleed. "This dump used to be a park, but after many battles that destroyed half the neighborhood, the park was largely destroyed and turned into a dump. And since it's yakuza territory, I agreed that if we cleaned up the park, they would reward us with hard cash. It's all fair."
Tsuna simply had no words to describe the kaleidoscope of emotions inside him. He wanted to yell at Minato, hide far away, or worse.
But running away wouldn't help, so he tried to calm himself down and assess the unfortunate situation rationally.
“Why the hell don't they clean it up themselves? Are their hands tied by clan feuds?” Tsuna asked jokingly, but when he saw Minato's impartial nod, he slumped even more. “I can already predict your answer, but I'll ask anyway. Even though it goes against my principles to cooperate with the yakuza, all means are good in war. What will happen to us if we don't make it in time?” Tsuna asked, already knowing the answer.
“We'll go explore the bottom of Yodo River with our feet cemented in place,” Minato replied calmly, as if unaware of the seriousness of the situation.
“Okay, we're fucked,” Tsuna muttered, curling up like a baby.
But Minato grabbed him by the collar and gave him a couple of healthy slaps, which quickly brought the dejected Tsuna to his senses.
“Idiot, that's why I made this damn plan. So we could make it in time.” Minato let go of Tsun, allowing him to fall to the ground with a thud. Minato himself stood in a fighting stance and spread his legs wide. “Everything will work out, stop being such a pessimist. Just gather your willpower, clench your ass tighter, and finally believe in yourself. Like I believed in you.”
Swinging from a turn, Minato kicked the refrigerator filled with scrap metal with his foot, and under the force of the blow, the iron deformed like a tightly stretched sheet of paper that would only need a gentle touch to tear. First flattening half of the refrigerator to the thickness of a pancake, Minato applied a little more effort and knocked off the top of the tin, like an executioner beheading a prisoner.
With a loud rumble, the victim of this show of force fell next to Tsuna, a few inches from his hands. For some strange reason, seeing Minato's strength again, hope returned briefly.
“Come on, soon you'll be able to do it too,” Minato muttered in his monotonous voice.
And so began 10 months of personal hell. Tsuna understood perfectly well that he was significantly behind all the other potential candidates for the SHA. But that only motivated him to make every effort to achieve his dream. Every day was like torture, with three lessons for the body for every one lesson for the mind. Physical exercises, developing abilities, and, of course, learning hand-to-hand combat.
Even though his muscles were never in good shape and he had been skinny since childhood, that was no excuse to slack off. The Spartan training methods that Minato had organized based on his own years of experience, pushing them to exhaustion, were bearing fruit.
In rain, scorching heat, and freezing cold. Not a single day of training was missed, supervised by Minato himself, with the character of a mean coach from old American movies.
And so, several months passed, and July 23 arrived.
Part 2Finally, after several months of grueling training, summer vacation arrived, bringing with it more time to pursue their dreams. After their last classes, the students scattered in different directions.
Some preferred to stay in the library and study hard despite the end of classes, while others headed to karaoke or arcades to hang out with friends.
With the arrival of vacation, the students seemed to have been given a second wind, which could not be said for Minato and Tsuna, who trudged wearily down the street filled with hundreds of students. The heat was scorching, and the high humidity did nothing to ease their plight, because no one had canceled their special classes.
“The exams are finally over, thank the gods,” Tsuna sighed wearily.
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh, right, those pills you gave me, Mimi-san! To improve the functioning of the central nervous system under high stress. They really work! I'm like a new coin now, I don't even feel pain, nausea, or migraines when it comes to enhancing my abilities,” Tsuna said excitedly, as if the heat and fatigue had no effect on him.
“Uh-huh.”
“Although, after training in hand-to-hand combat with you, I look like a victim of domestic violence anyway.”
“Maybe.” Minato replied coldly.
Only now did Tsuna fully notice his companion's exhausted and weary face. Even the bags under his eyes were larger than normal, it seemed. Even a simple walk through the shopping district seemed like a trial that would not end soon.
“You look terrible, Mimi-san. At least worse than usual. Is it the training that's affecting you so much? Maybe you should take a break?”
“Huh? No, it's just that I haven't been able to get rid of a problem for a month now, which is why I'm sleeping worse than usual. That is, less than two hours.”
"What kind of problem could that be? Music under the windows? Bad neighbors?“
”If only. I can't get rid of this parasite. It's worse than a bull's chain."
Tsuna wanted to ask what kind of parasite it was that could upset even Minato, a man with a stone face in any situation, but for his own safety, he decided to keep quiet.
“Let's go to the post office, I want to pick up a package,” Minato muttered.
“Did your CDs finally arrive?”
“Yeah, again. Last time, the parasite got in the way.”
Interest and curiosity would lead to no good, but he couldn't bear it anymore and wanted to interrogate him, when suddenly, near the vending machines, Tsuna and Minato noticed a group of high school students gathered around something or someone. The situation evoked a disgusting feeling.
“Déjà vu,” Minato muttered.
“Huh? What do you mean? Have you seen this situation in a dream before?”
“No. I was a participant.” Pricking up his ears, Minato heard a girl's voice, which was as soft as silk, but to his ears, it was no better than the sound of a fork scraping against a plate or chalk against a blackboard.
Apparently, Tsuna also heard the voice, and the picture formed in his mind. In broad daylight, a crowd of concerned high school students were harassing a girl, and no one was doing anything about it. If everyone else was standing by, then it was time to stand up for the lady in distress.
But Minato stopped him by pulling his shoulder.
“Better not. You'll thank me later.”
“Huh? But she definitely needs help. And I want to intervene. What's wrong with helping her?” Tsuna asked, a little indignant.
“Because then you won't be able to get rid of the parasite either. For the sake of both of us, let's go,” Minato hissed, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. And even though he tried to speak quietly, his hissing reached the ears of the girl who was hidden behind the boys' backs.
“Well, today is my day!” the girl murmured, and in an instant, the boys surrounding her fell unconscious.
“Shit, not again,” Minato muttered, closing his eyes and not forgetting to give Tsuna a vicious look. Now, more than ever before, he wanted his problems to disappear if he didn't look at them. He wouldn't mind living his whole life in the hellish heat he couldn't stand, as long as he was far away from here.
And no, it wasn't because he was a hopeless romantic for whom this girl was the apple of his eye, but because she had been interfering with his life like a parasite for a couple of months now.
“Can we skip that today, Arnie?”
The sly grin quickly turned into a grimace of irritation, and her cheeks flushed, just like Tsuna's did at the mere sight of her. Only the reason was completely different.
"Hey! Cut it out! Why the hell are you calling me Arnie?! I have a name, just like everyone else. Amamiya Makoto, why can't your thick skull understand that?!“
”Well, if you didn't act like Conan the Barbarian, with the temperament of a spoiled brat and the disposition of a thirteen-year-old bully, maybe I would call you by your name. But as it is...“ Minato spread his arms helplessly, nearly losing his nose in the process, but luckily dodging the sharp thread that Amamiya's finger had turned into. ”That's what I'm talking about."
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Tsuna, who had finally calmed his nerves, watched from the sidelines as the verbal exchange escalated, threatening to turn into a fistfight at any moment. It was quite possible that one careless word could ignite the flames of rage inside this hot-tempered girl.
“Um, what's going on? I feel like a third wheel.”
Noticing Tsuna's quiet plea, Amamiya managed to pull herself together, because for some reason, only Minato could get her so worked up in a matter of seconds without even trying.
“Ahem, sorry for the farce. As I said, my name is Amamiya Makoto, I am...”
“A spoiled rich girl who has nothing better to do than chase after every passerby in search of a strong opponent, like the hero of an old manga,” Minato interrupted.
“Shut up!” Amamiya yelled, trying again to turn Minato into a first-class chop, but to no avail.
“Hmm, Amamiya, fourth on the list of contenders?!”
“Oh, you know your stuff. I thought only executives at various elite schools would be interested in such things,” said Makoto, as if savoring the fact of her popularity.
“Not at all, I've studied this list inside and out. After all, it lists the people who have the potential to become the greatest specialists! I've studied almost everyone except for two or three...” Tsuna rambled on, pulling out a book with notes on the candidates and showing it off, which contained a terrifying amount of information, even about Amamiya. “Wait, if you're fourth and have that kind of potential, then it means you recognize Mimi-san's strength if you're chasing after him like that! Damn, I'm jealous.”
“Don't mind him, he's always like that. You'll get used to it.” Minato said calmly after Makoto looked at him apprehensively.
“Although, here's a little spoiler for you, Tsuna. We'll be wearing uniforms like this at SHA.”
“What? Are we going to wear skirts too?” Tsuna tilted his head.
“Are you retarded?”
Amamiya could continue to watch the conversation between her two not particularly gifted friends, but her quickly regained fighting spirit was bursting to get out.
“Okay, screw your friend, today I'm definitely going to get my revenge and make you cry bloody tears.”
“No way.” Minato replied coldly, looking away like a hurt child.
“Huh? Why is that?”
"Because I'm not in the mood. No candy, no fight. And I don't have a fetish for beating up girls. If I do, I'll let you know," Minato said gloomily. But even the phrases he didn't plan to use to provoke her had a bad effect on the patience of this girl with an explosive temper.
Even from the look in her eyes, Minato could tell that words wouldn't solve the problem. That meant he'd have to solve the problem the old-fashioned way.
Throwing Tsuna his backpack, Minato stretched, loosening his stiff muscles and ignoring the strange looks from passersby at this conflict between idiots.
“Since this is your fault, you're going to the post office. Don't lose the discs, Tsuna.”
“What are you going to do?” Tsun asked, guessing what the answer would be.
“I'm going for a run.”
With these words, Minato jumped up and ran off into the distance, like a drag racing car. And the comparison was very apt, because he could easily run 100 meters in 9 seconds. But at Amamiya's school, the comprehensive development of students is the key to success.
“Stop running away, you bastard!”
Amamiya chased after him, dodging passersby. Even if she couldn't run as fast as Minato physically, she could at least keep him in sight. At least, she wanted to believe that.
“I wonder if I sent a recording of their conversation to Tarantino, could he make something cool out of it?” Tsuna wondered, although there was little point. There was no one to ask, and he had no desire to chase after two lunatics. So, he slowly walked to the post office, scratching his head.
But Minato wouldn't have turned down a slow walk. Not only was it hot as an oven and stuffy as a sauna, but he also had to run away from a manic girl who didn't know when to stop.
And even though he had already run five kilometers, Amamiya had no intention of stopping, and the routes they had to take through parks, alleys, and abandoned buildings were confusing.
The most annoying thing was that despite all his efforts, Minato couldn't get away from the girl who wouldn't leave him alone.
Even tactics to wear her down, like in boxing, didn't help; on the contrary, they only provoked her.
“Why the hell do I have to suffer because of her? Only someone with no personal life would engage in such nonsense.”
Minato thought, scratching his head at another intersection, looking around apprehensively. But everywhere there were families on vacation, students, and most importantly, couples. Every damn meter of his marathon, he saw couples in love, leisurely spending their free time.
“This is some kind of psychological weapon. An attempt to mentally suppress me,” Minato thought with a sigh. Unlike half of his friends, he had never even held a girl's hand in his life. This sight made him think that when he was born, fate had rolled a bunch of ones on the dice. “No comedy, no romance. Only decay and parasites.”
Even though he thought this way, he could only blame himself and his lack of social skills and bad temper. Especially with the females.
But he was pulled out of his melancholy by a thread that almost cut his head open like a ripe fruit. The momentary weakness that Minato allowed himself had now turned against him.
“Aren’t you forgetting something? Hell no... you... you're not just going to run away...” Amamiya muttered breathlessly. From a subjective point of view, Minato could assume that a couple more kilometers and she would spit out her lungs.
Meanwhile, the race continued for another half hour or so, until Minato completely lost sight of her. Only the quiet sound of the river and the howling wind broke the silence.
“Maybe I can hide here?” Minato thought to himself, glancing at the old bridge above his head, under which he could wait out the chase.
Come to think of it, why the hell was she so fixated on Minato? He was just an ordinary person, an ordinary student. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He clearly remembered that evening a month and a half ago. Nothing foreshadowed trouble, and he left the post office as if nothing had happened, carrying a backpack containing CDs of his favorite bands with autographs, which he was proud of. After all, it's not that easy to get something signed by someone who is no longer alive.
But it wasn't just the CDs; next to them lay a whole collection of stories autographed by his favorite writer, Harlan Ellison, who, incidentally, had also been dead for many years. Filled with joy that he was unable to show, he slowly walked home, enjoying the cool evening air under the moonlight, when suddenly he saw a crowd of drunken hooligans.
This is a common occurrence in any city in any country. But among the crowd stood a girl about his age with curly hair, who was quite indifferent to what was happening. Minato, noticing a dozen or so friends in the doorway and seeing the inaction of those around him, who were simply waiting for the Specialist, decided to intervene, as he was in a good mood.
But what a surprise it was when he quickly beat up the bullies in the alley and tricked the rest into chasing after a mysterious, non-existent attacker. When he tried to lead the girl away with his bloody hand, he only annoyed her, which quickly attracted the tipsy crowd back. One word led to another, and Minato was ready to fight. But he accidentally said things that provoked the girl, who knocked everyone around her unconscious with her threads.
Minato survived thanks to his ability, which cannot be said about his discs and book. He was furious, while the girl was puzzled that someone could deflect her attack as if it were a light slap. Upon another attempt, the girl realized that the black lightning bolts were useless. That's how this relationship began.
“No, no. Tears don't fall.”
“Instead of crying... you'd better get ready for a fight...”
Looking over his shoulder, Minato saw Makoto slowly following him. Like a bloodhound that couldn't be shaken off. Only now did Minato notice a thin thread attached to his shirt on his shoulder.
“I see, so this is how people feel when they step into shit.”
“Well, Samaritan. Ready to get a first-class beating?” asked the girl, cracking her knuckles.
“No way. Give me my money back.”
“What?! What money?”
“The money I spent on five autographed CDs. Plus a signed collection of Ellison's best stories. Do you have any idea how hard I worked to buy all this? And then, out of nowhere, you destroy it all.”
“I'll beat you up good, then I'll think about giving you your money back.”
And so it went, day after day. Every time it seemed like he could finally relax, trouble would come out of nowhere. Not a day went by when he could sleep peacefully without first running and fighting, from which he always returned victorious.
“Said the one who always loses,” Minato muttered, dodging the deadly attack with a simple tilt of his head.
“You do know that madness is repeating the same action over and over again in the hope of change, without changing anything? How will daily chases and defeats bring you satisfaction?”
“It's simple. Even though I'm fourth on some list, it's just a formality. After all, there are anomalies like you that aren't listed there, and you can still wipe the floor with me without any effort. And I'm not happy about that. That's all.”
That's how it was. Her motivation was like that of a character in a B-movie. And apparently, that was more than enough for her.
“Why the hell am I an anomaly? So what if the electricity is a slightly different color? Electrokinesis will remain electrokinesis, no matter how you twist it.”
“Who are you trying to fool? Me? Or yourself?” Amamiya asked with a slight mockery in her voice. "If it had been ordinary lightning, I would have felt an electric shock that day and that would have been it. But after contact with you, the thread began to unravel, as if sparks were devouring it," said the girl, recalling their first unplanned meeting and her feelings after her first contact with Minato's lightning.
For a moment, there was a grave silence, only the quiet clicks of metal could be heard above them.
But everything changed when a piece of one of the many beams fell on Minato, who dodged it at the last moment.
“Calm down, you troublemaker. Did you lose the last drops of your common sense after the ability development program? Do you have some screws loose?”
Minato tried to appeal to Amamiya's reason, but he understood perfectly well that the desire to win and prove her strength was like an obsession for her.
“My common sense is fine. If anyone here is crazy, it's you!”
At that moment, Minato felt his whole body freeze, as if he had been caught in a spider's web. And indeed, that was the case, for his limbs were entangled in thin threads that dug painfully into his skin and prevented him from moving normally.
“So that's what that clicking sound was. I should have guessed,” Minato thought to himself. But even in such a stalemate, his expression did not change. It was as if his facial muscles refused to react to what was happening.
“That's why you're abnormal. Even when you're fighting and trapped, you don't care. You don't even care about your own life,” Amamiya said arrogantly, cutting the falling beams into several pieces with threads that cut through steel like melting butter.
Using momentum, the threads wrapped around the falling iron bars and redirected their flight path toward Minato, flying like a stone shot from a slingshot. It was almost impossible to dodge, as he was caught in the net like a fly in a spider's web. And the right timing allowed Amamiya to redirect the beams at him with almost no loss of speed. A hopeless situation, no matter how you look at it.
But the key word is “practically.” And in situations like this, the end justifies the means. And the goal of survival was paramount.
Where his arm was not properly secured, Minato knocked his arm out of its shoulder joint, which allowed him to slip out of the bonds a little, and then he was able to break the remaining threads, despite a few small cuts. In a fraction of a second, he broke free from the clutches of death and jumped as far away as possible so as not to accidentally turn into a pile of minced meat. “I'm telling you, calm down. Don't push me to sin, and don't make me do something we'll both regret.”
Minato said calmly, trying to reason with the young berserker and setting his shoulder with a loud crunch.
It was not a pleasant sight. This was probably the first time in her memory that a person did not scream in pain from having their joint set, but continued to talk as if nothing had happened. It was mesmerizing in its own way, and a little nauseating.
Just as Minato was thinking about continuing his marathon in a futile attempt to escape from the raging monster named Arnie, he noticed how close she had gotten during his maneuver.
She was only five meters away from him. Close enough to take a couple of steps and get right up close and punch him in his insolent face with all her might.
But instead, her hands unfurled into dozens of threads at her wrists, which surrounded Minato and could trap him in an iron cage, from which only a lump of flesh could escape.
“I understand that my ability is insignificant compared to others on the list, so there's no way around it without tricks,” Amamiya said with a smirk.
In that desperate moment, Minato could see how far she was willing to go for victory. It was foolish, even childish. But in its own way, it was amazing. Or maybe he was just trying to distract himself from his impending fate, his inevitable death, if he didn't do something.
Now when he was already pinned down and almost turned into a chopped-up piece of meat, he couldn't help but grit his teeth in irritation and anger. He had taken this too lightly. Therefore, the responsibility for everything that happens next will also lie with him.
Several black sparks burst from his bangs, followed by a full-fledged lightning discharge, which was actually just a small burst of electricity that devoured the threads enveloping him.
Amamiya quickly returned her hands to their original form, afraid that she would lose them if she remained in contact with the sparks for more than a second. She could only look smugly at Minato, who still had the same blank expression on his face.
"You see. These are no ordinary lightning bolts. There's no point in bluffing. Although, if I continue to fight you, who knows? Maybe I'll make it to the top of the list," the girl said haughtily.
And it was hard to blame her for her arrogance, because this was the second time she had forced Minato to use the black lightning he hated so much.
He looked at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists as if to check if they were still there. For a moment, he saw his hands covered in blood, surrounded by white walls, but when he blinked, they were gone. It was like a non-existent twenty-fifth frame, but the sensations were too real.
Again. Once again, he was forced to consciously use the ability he cursed.
There was a noise in his ears, like the hissing of a malfunctioning TV, his head was splitting from the inside, and his eyes were covered with a red veil. The sensations were disgusting, and he felt as if he would vomit from revulsion at any moment.
“Hysterics like yours are only characteristic of spoiled brats. They are forgivable only until elementary school,” he hissed, clenching his teeth. “You wanted me to be serious, didn't you?”
At that moment, Makoto felt a chill run down her spine, and her body froze as if she had been caught in a spider's web. Uncovered anger and rage bubbling like a volcano were hidden beneath a monotonous voice that tore through her eardrums. The dead look in his eyes changed to a snarl, and his dull eyes filled with blood.
She tried to move, but couldn't, as if tightly stretched ropes were restraining her movements. And at that moment, Minato lunged toward her.
In just one long stride, he was standing right next to her. He kicked the ground out from under her feet, but before she could fall, he grabbed her hair roughly and threw her to the ground with a thud.
He had already raised his fist above her head to show her the seriousness of his intentions but stopped when he saw her cover her face like a child. At that moment, something clicked inside him, and his clarity of mind returned. More precisely, it hadn't gone anywhere, it was just that Minato was like a vessel, behind a screen of indifference, which was gradually filling with negative emotions. And anger, as the strongest emotion, was often the first to burst out.
But looking at the frightened Makoto, he no longer wanted to demonstrate his seriousness or prove anything to anyone. And beating frightened girls was not on his list of hobbies.
“Hmm yeah, I definitely don’t have that fetish,” Minato thought to himself fleetingly, before he took one of the remaining threads and made a small cut near the carotid artery, just to make it look like a serious injury.
"Aaaagh! Shit!“ He stumbled backward, clutching his neck tightly. His unnaturally loud cries made Makoto open her eyes and look in his direction. There, Minato was writhing as if every part of his body was in the throes of death. ”No, I can't let it end like this. Cough! Cough! I haven't achieved my goal yet... my dream... But...“ Then he fell to the ground and curled up like a child in its mother's womb, deliberately wheezing. ”...my strength is leaving... me..." he whispered before making one last sound and closing his eyes.
Meanwhile, Makoto watched this clown show in silent helplessness. It was the most overacted performance she had ever seen. Even in movies from the 1930s, everything looked much more natural.
Her hands clenched into fists trembling with rage, and her face contorted into a vicious grimace.
“You... You... You bastard!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, trying to turn Minato into a sieve. But even in his condition, he managed to roll onto his side and dodge.
“Well, there you go. And I was hoping it would work,” Minato sighed in disappointment. From his perspective, it all seemed quite plausible.
He was already ready to go for another run, but then he saw Makoto fall exhausted onto the grass, sighing heavily.
“Come on, is that it, Arnie?”
“Shut up, and don't call me that! This round is yours, but next time you're in for it,” she said, looking away like a hurt little girl who had been scolded and sent to stand in the corner.
“You have a surprising amount of energy, considering you just marched across the city,” Minato remarked neutrally, already preparing to dodge the threads.
“And you almost never have any. It's like you've been on tranquilizers your whole life.”
“Let's not be so rude... it's only been two years,” Minato muttered, receiving a questioning look from Makoto, which he ignored. “Forget it.”
“You really are an anomaly,” Makoto whispered before closing her eyes and falling asleep almost instantly. Her ragged breathing gave way to measured inhalations and exhalations that were almost synchronized with the surrounding sounds.
Minato could finally breathe a sigh of relief. He had finally gotten rid of the parasite for the time being. That meant he could go home. After walking a hundred meters, he heard a rustling nearby and turned to see a group of hooligans who looked suspiciously similar to the gentlemen he had seen when he first met Makoto. Perhaps they had inadvertently wandered into their territory, and the sounds of their battle had attracted unwanted attention.
On one hand, he could just walk away. She was strong enough to cut off any part of the bodies of those around her, even if she was in a deep sleep. But on the other hand...
“Tsk. I hate myself at times like this.”
With great difficulty, Makoto opened her eyelids to find herself in the same place. On the grass, under the moonlight, not far from the broken bridge where she had tried to prove her superiority and strength, but had lost.
"Ah, yes. Crap, how long have I been here?“ she wondered, accidentally saying it out loud.
”About forty-two minutes, I guess.“
”Huh?"
Turning toward the voice, Makoto found Minato lying nearby with his hands behind his head, majestically enjoying the cool night air of the hot summer.
“Wh-wh-what?! Have you been here the whole time?!”
“Seems like it.”
“If you've been up to something, I swear I'll...”
“I'm actually a model gentleman. So keep your accusations to yourself. Or address them to those perverts over there,” he said, yawning.
And then Makoto's gaze fell on a dozen or so familiar-looking hooligans scattered around like rag dolls of a mischievous child. They all had various injuries. A dislocated arm, a knocked-out tooth, some were lying upside down in trash cans, like stuck cave explorers. And he was lying there, speaking lazily as if it were natural.
Of course, the picture of what was happening instantly formed in her mind, but pride and shame from defeat would not allow her to thank Minato directly. But no one forbade indirect ways.
“You're bleeding. Your fist is broken, and you have a couple of deep cuts on your arm,” Makoto muttered without even looking.
“Oh, yes. I got a little carried away and hit it at the wrong angle. It'll be fine, my wounds heal like a dog's.” But before he could even finish his thought, she took his hand and began to stitch the deepest cuts with surgical precision. “Hey, what are you doing...”
“Shut up. I'll be done soon,” she replied, not letting him finish.
In a normal situation, Minato would have jumped back two meters, or even ten. Maybe she wants to damage his nervous system to gain an advantage in the next battle? Or cut his veins?
But at that moment, there was no sense of threat, only a slight awkwardness emanating from the girl whose behavior was impossible to predict. Here she was, fighting him to the death, trying to cut him to pieces, and now she was stitching up his wounds. So, where was the real Amamiya Makoto? He didn't know.
But he had a feeling that she couldn't show what she was feeling. Just like him, only in a different way. But still waters run deep, so he decided not to bring up the subject. He just calmly examined the small ampoule with purple liquid that shimmered with many colors in the moonlight.
“What is it?” Makoto asked.
“No idea. They injected themselves with this junk, and it was like they were replaced.”
“A drug? Typical for people of their kind.”
“Yes, but after that, their abilities increased. Several times over.”
Makoto's eyebrows danced in surprise at this news.
“Maybe you've been hit on the head? That can't be true. It sounds like one of those rumors,” Makoto remarked skeptically.
“For example?” Minato asked coldly.
“Well, if you eat someone's raw brains after an ability development program, there's a chance you can significantly enhance your ability. Or, for example, the most recent one. They plan to make duplicates of people at the top of the list of candidates for military purposes. Rumor has it that their abilities can be combined to create the ultimate combat unit.”
“The first one sounds like a description of a cheap snuff video made by freaks on a whim.” Minato quickly dismissed such speculation.
Even if the dark side of society, which most people either didn't know about or preferred to keep quiet about, really existed, such things were exaggerated fantasy on the level of comic books. At least, that's what he wanted to believe.
“That's what I'm talking about. Maybe the experts aren't aware of this stuff yet?”
"Or they're not publicizing the problem so as not to cause panic. Although even an idiot would understand that something is wrong. The crime rate has skyrocketed in recent months. An acquaintance of mine was forcibly injected with this crap, and it took a lot to calm him down.“ Minato reasoned coldly, pulling his hand away when Makoto finished stitching up his wounds. ”Appreciate it."
“Forget it. Don't forget about your fist, bandage it and put something cold on it,” Makoto muttered, looking away. Without another word, she got up and left, as if putting an end to their conversation.
Scratching his head, Minato exhaled deeply. Today had been much more eventful than he would have liked.
“Not even chasing until dawn like usual? Surprising,” he thought to himself, slowly walking toward home. “No need to wonder. Not my day. Again.”