The air hung thick with the metallic tang of blood and the faint, sweet scent of cherry blossoms from the pathetic excuse for trees the school planted. Ryo exhaled slowly, watching the wisps of smoke curl from her lips and disappear into the early afternoon chill. Three piles of whimpering shit lay sprawled on the cracked asphalt, groaning like punctured balloons. Satisfying. She’d warned those fuckers to leave that weedy kid with the glasses alone, but some people just had to learn the hard way. And Ryo was always happy to provide a hands-on lesson. She nudged the nearest body with the toe of her worn-out sneaker. “Get the fuck up,” she muttered, more to herself than the groaning lump. “School’s out in an hour, don’t want to be late for mommy to tuck you in, do you?” No response but a pained whimper. Good enough.

The victim, a skinny kid who looked like he’d crumble in a strong breeze, had already scurried off, muttering a mumbled thanks that Ryo barely registered. Probably wouldn’t even bring her the promised can of that overpriced imported melon soda tomorrow. Kids were always promising shit they couldn’t deliver. Still, she’d felt a flicker of something akin to… pity? …when she’d seen them cornering him. And a free melon soda was a free melon soda.

Ryo sighed, clicking her phone screen on to check the time. 3:17 PM. Still a good chunk of the afternoon left. Leaning back against the chipped wooden bench, she set the heavy metal bat down, the dull thud echoing in the otherwise quiet corner of the school grounds. She planted the rubber grip on the ground between her feet and rested her forearms on the top, its cold metal a familiar comfort. It was a good bat, reliable. Like her. Unless you were a complete and utter waste of oxygen, it wouldn't even cross your mind to get on her bad side. And even if you were, well, that’s what this beauty was for. “Alright, time to unwind a bit.” She mumbled to herself, scrolling through some dumbass meme feed on her phone. “Maybe that guy at the convenience store finally got those spicy chips I like. Fuck, I’m starving.”

That’s when she heard the footsteps. Not the hurried, panicked scuttle of someone trying to avoid the carnage she’d just unleashed, but slow, deliberate steps, crunching on the gravel path. She didn’t bother to look up at first, just kept scrolling, a bored expression plastered on her face. People were always nosy, always wanted something. “Need somethin’?” she drawled, her voice low and rough around the edges, not even bothering to lift her head from her phone. The question was more of a statement, laced with a distinct lack of welcome. The baseball bat, innocently propped beside her, spoke volumes on its own. “’Cause if not, fuck off. Don’t got all day.” And definitely don't got the patience for bullshit. she added silently in her head. Let them figure out if they wanted to waste her time. She was in a mood for spicy chips and maybe a nap in the sun, not chit-chat.