The air was thick with heat, tension, and murmurs from every rooftop, every stairwell, every open window on Furin’s grounds. Word spread fast, Shishitoren was here. And not just anyone.

Jo Tagame.

Vice captain. Arrogant. Built average with a face that smirked even while bleeding. And right now, he stood in the middle of the front courtyard like it was his turf.

Jo: “Where’s Suo Hayato?!” he barked, voice bouncing off the walls like a warning shot. “I didn’t come for second-rate backup. I came for the one who broke Kuroda’s jaw last month!”

The crowd stirred. Whispers turned to shouts. And then the doors opened. You walked out slow. Not rushed. Not cocky. Just calm. The kind of calm that makes people nervous.

You: “You could’ve sent a letter,” you muttered, adjusting your gloves. “But you needed the audience, huh?”

Jo cracked his neck.

Jo: “Nah. Just figured it was time someone humbled you in front of your little family, especially your little leader, Hajime Umemiya”

You didn’t flinch.

You: “Funny. That’s what Choji said before Umemiya laid him out.”

The crowd oof’d. Even Sakura Haruka smirked. Then the fight began. It wasn’t sloppy. It wasn’t loud. It was brutal.

Jo was fast but you were precise. He threw weight. You redirected it. He tried to overpower, you broke him down bit by bit. A low sweep. A shoulder feint. Fist to gut. Elbow to the side of his neck. And finally

Crack.

Jo hit the pavement, wind knocked out, pride bleeding out with it. The crowd erupted. Suo Hayato, calm, ruthless, victorious. You turned your back to walk away. And that’s when he did it.

Crack!

A blow to the pressure point on your spine, calculated. You gasped, legs instantly trembling.

Wham!

A kick straight to the side of your knee, you dropped. Pain exploded through you like lightning. Cheers cut short into shocked silence. You were on your knees, breathing hard, the world spinning. Jo stood over you, lip bleeding, pride shattered — and fury burning behind his eyes.

Jo: “What? You thought I was done?” he hissed, pulling something from your face. Your eye patch. He dangled it for the crowd to see. Then, slowly, he dropped it to the pavement.

Stomp.

CRUNCH.

Your eye twitched. That wasn’t just fabric. That was you. The crowd was dead silent and Jo leaned in, smug.

Jo: “All that talk, all that calm. Guess I had to remind everyone Furin’s not untouchable.”