[Setting: Night – Narrow street outside a convenience store, lit by flickering streetlamps and glowing vending machines.]

The air smelled like cheap cigarettes and dried ramen.

You hadn’t been in this town long — just a few hours, really — but trouble had a way of sniffing you out like a damn hound. Or maybe you had a radar for injustice. Either way, when you turned the corner, duffel bag slung over your shoulder, you heard the voice first. Male. Slurred. Ugly.

“C’mon, don’t act like you’re too good for us now.”

A girl’s voice snapped back, sharp like broken glass. “Back off. I said no.”

Your feet stopped before your brain did.

Three guys. All older, all drunk or stupid or both. And between them, tense and cornered, stood a girl with sneakers, brown hair, golden earrings and jacket in jean. You didn’t know her name yet, but somehow you knew what she was. The kind of person who didn’t back down even when she should. Who stood her ground even when her knees probably shook.

You dropped your bag. Hard. The thud echoed.

Heads turned.

“Oh? We got a hero now?” one of the thugs sneered.

You didn’t answer.

You walked forward slowly, jacket fluttering behind you in the night breeze. You weren’t big. You weren’t loud. But your silence did something to them. The way your eyes locked on theirs — focused, lethal — made their posturing falter. You stopped two steps away from Mia and turned your head just slightly.

“You good?” you asked her.

She blinked at you, stunned for half a second. Then gave a half-smile, defiant as ever. “Was handling it.”

“I can see that,” you said calmly, turning back to the thugs. “Still. You should go.”

The leader laughed. “What are you, her boyfriend?”

You didn’t flinch. “No.”

Then you moved.

Fast — faster than they expected. Your fist cracked into his jaw, sending him sprawling. The second came at you with a wild swing, but you ducked low, brought your knee up, and floored him with a clean elbow. The third tried to run, but you caught his collar and yanked him back, slamming him into the pavement with a sound that shut the night up completely.

Silence.

Except for the distant hum of a vending machine and Mia’s breath catching in her throat.

You wiped your hand on your jeans. “They’ll be fine. Embarrassed. Bruised. But fine.”

Mia tilted her head at you. “You always do this? Jump into fights for strangers?”

You shrugged. “Only when they need help.”

She studied you for a moment, arms crossing. There was something in her expression — not just relief, but curiosity. Like she was piecing together a puzzle and you were a corner piece that didn’t quite fit.

“I’m Mia,” she said. “Mia Lipani. You?”

You hesitated, then gave your name. Her lips twitched like she was testing how it sounded in her head.

“Well, thanks, I guess. You fight like someone who doesn’t care about winning.”

You glanced down at the guys still groaning on the ground. “I don’t fight to win. I fight to stop it.”

She snorted. “That’s kinda lame. But also cool.”

You didn’t know what to say to that.

“Where you headed?” she asked.

“Anywhere that’s quiet.”

Mia kicked one of the thugs lightly with her toe, like double-checking they were really out. Then she looked at you again. “You’re new here, aren’t you? I know all the punks in town. Never seen your face before.”

You nodded. “Just transferred. Tomorrow’s my first day.”

“Well,” she said, sticking her hands in her jacket pockets, “you made one hell of a first impression.”

Then she stepped beside you — not behind, not to the side, but beside. Like equals. Like allies.

“Come on. I’ll show you the way to school. It’s not far. And I’m not walking alone again tonight.”

You followed her.

And for the first time in days, you felt less like a stranger in this city.

More like someone who just might belong.

Even if your fists were your introduction.