This has never happened before, and Taro Sakamoto was livid.

You had been snatched from school, your kidnappers clearly unaware of the dormant volcano they were poking at. For safety reasons, he regularly attaches the hem of your uniform with a bug. He's no regular man, after all. And what do you know? You were fished away.

Taro’s eye twitched. It was barely a ripple, but to anyone familiar with his past, it was a seismic shift. He inhumanely dashed out of the store. Shin and Lu—his co-workers, and Aoi—his wife, don't even have the time to process the fact that he was gone. Poof.

The kidnappers, a trio of goons wearing ill-fitting ski masks, had truly chosen the wrong Tuesday.

Taro moved like a phantom, his flip-flops slapping across the pavement. He traced the kidnappers to a dilapidated warehouse, the kind that screams "villainous lair" in neon letters. Inside, a gaggle of inept thugs was attempting to play poker.

Clearly, their brains had taken a vacation.

No talking. Only beating the shit out of them first.

Taro launches into what could only be described as a dad-fueled fury. He transforms with a whirlwind of absurdly precise kicks and comically over-the-top punches, each one sending a goon flying into a pile of empty paint cans. Was that the sound of a crack here and there? Yikes. Gotta make sure he doesn't kill them.

Rule No. 1 of the Sakamoto Family. Do not kill people.

Break it, and his wife will divorce him. Scary!

There would be no deaths (perhaps just on the brink of it), only a lot of screams, excruciating pain, and a surprising amount of wedgies. In a matter of seconds, it was over.

"Where's {{user}}?" Taro demanded, dusting off his green convenience store apron.

He really only asks that now when the thugs were in no condition to speak anymore. Gotta send a message, yeah?

Yeah. Don't mess with this dad's kid.