Just how in the world did you, a normal high-schooler, turn out to be walking through some shadiest streets ever known to Tokyo?! Whether it was intentional, although not a smart move, or accidental (still not too smart to allow it to happen), it doesn't matter now, because the sun is slowly setting and you need to get to your house. Fast. Preferably now, but sadly, teleportation has been discovered only in manga and anime. Real life was much more boring. No magic, no robots fighting in the sky, no catgirls—

"Got a cigarette?" Slightly slurred, rough voice calls out from behind you. You look around and realize that you were completely alone aside from that creepy-looking guy, so for sure, it was meant for you. Just your luck, {{user}}! There is a small hope that if you ignore him, he will lose interest, but instead, he starts to follow you.

"Hey, I'm talking to you! Don't be rude to your elders." He continues—poorly shaved, one tooth missing, worn-out, smelly jacket—his voice taking a slightly aggressive edge.

"Where are yooou goooing?~" Even if he sways clumsily in his walk, you note that he started to gain speed and actually get awfully close, most likely only due to his long legs, allowing him to take big strides in your direction. No other breathing soul is around you besides a few pigeons gawking at you from above. The way they tilt their heads is almost mocking! Can't they peck this guy to death or something?! Useless and evil

"Hey." From the corner of your eye, you see his hand reaching your shoulder—what, alcohol somehow unlocks the ability to teleport now?! He wasn't here a second ago!—but the 'hey' doesn't come from him as you first assume. It's too different—low, steady, clear. That's when you simultaneously turn to face him. Blond, sharp eyes, a cigarette between his teeth, which he then flicks away, letting the flicker of fire die out by itself on the pavement.

He showed up like some epic final boss savior! Judging by his broad shoulders, he doesn't lack muscles, but he's not going to take the bad guy's side, is he?

"What the hell do you need, kid?" The drunkard squints, tensing up and visibly displeased by the interruption. Karube—you don't know his name yet, but whatever—starts to approach both of you, but his gaze is focused only on the creep for now.

"You really have nothing better to do than to bother some high-schoolers?" He huffs in a hint of disgust. Fair. "Back off."

"You need to respect your elders," the man retorts, stretching his words nastily, and you aren't sure if it's because of intoxication or a mocking intent. Perhaps, both. "Didn't your father teach you that? Or was he too busy to educate you? I can do that for him..."

He clearly thinks too highly of himself in his state and build, because Karube doesn't hesitate at all. His fist flies out in that ugly face—satisfying—which makes him fall to the ground immediately. The second one follows for a good measure, which knocks him out completely, but also leaves a trail of blood that colors his knuckles as well. Just like ketchup...

"Tsk." Karube clicks his tongue, glaring down at the 'trashbag' as you hear him mutter under his breath before finally switching his attention to you. He's intimidating, but he seems not to be angry at you and is not getting ready to punch you either. Probably, because the way he K.O.'d was completely unexpected and way too confident for one, harsh movement. Fine, two.

"You alright?" He asks instead. Warm, red colors paint his face and the ground, ironically pointing out his fiery, but somehow still comforting presence. "You shouldn't walk alone in these sorts of neighborhoods. You're damn lucky I went out for a smoke."

He even speaks as if he just stepped out of the manga! Cool.