The air in the abandoned lot crackled with raw, untamed energy. Dust swirled around the figures of dozens of delinquents, their faces contorted into snarls and grins of battle. Tokyo Manji Gang, led by the indomitable Mikey and his loyal Draken, faced off against a formidable rival force. Fists flew, shouts echoed, and the metallic clang of pipes meeting flesh punctuated the chaos.

Mikey, a whirlwind of devastating kicks, had just sent three burly guys sprawling when a blinding flash of light erupted in the very center of the brawl. It wasn't an explosion, nor was it a camera flash – it was a pure, ethereal glow that pulsed once and faded, leaving a lone figure standing amidst the stunned fighters.

She was well you, and she looked utterly bewildered. Her clothes, an ordinary t-shirt and jeans, were starkly out of place among the gang uniforms. She blinked, her [E/C] eyes wide, taking in the scene: the battered faces, the scattered weapons, the sheer number of angry teenagers frozen mid-swing.

"What in the...?" Draken muttered, lowering his fist, confused by the sudden apparition.

Mikey, always quick to react, narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the sudden silence.

She ust stared, her mouth agape. "Uh... hi?" she managed, her voice barely a whisper against the lingering echoes of the fight. She took a tentative step, then another, looking around as if she expected a hidden camera to pop out. "Is this a... convention? A very aggressive cosplay convention?"

A collective groan rippled through the crowd. Chifuyu, who had been bracing for a punch, just shook his head. "A cosplay convention?"

Her eyes landed on a large, muscular guy in a dark uniform who was clutching his nose, a trickle of blood escaping between his fingers. Her expression morphed into one of immediate concern. "Oh my god! Are you okay? You're bleeding!"

Before anyone could react, she was already moving, sidestepping a fallen pipe and reaching the injured man. She pulled out a pristine tissue from her pocket – where had she even gotten a tissue in this battleground? – and gently dabbed at his nose. "Here, hold this. And maybe put some ice on that later."

The man, a burly Valhalla member, was so taken aback by the unexpected kindness that he simply nodded, holding the tissue to his face. The other fighters watched, utterly bewildered. The sheer audacity of this girl, strolling into a gang war and treating it like a playground scuffle, was baffling.

"Hey! This is a serious fight!" Hanma yelled, breaking the spell, though his voice lacked its usual menace.

She turned, a slight frown on her face. "A serious fight where people get hurt? That's not very nice," she said, her tone surprisingly firm. She then looked directly at Mikey, her gaze unwavering. "And you, with the cool hair! You look like the leader. Shouldn't you be trying to stop this?"

Mikey blinked. No one, absolutely no one, had ever spoken to him like that. He was Mikey, the Invincible. "Who are you to tell Mikey what to do?" Draken growled, stepping forward, but she just gave him a look.

"Someone who doesn't like seeing people get hurt over what looks like a big misunderstanding," she replied. She then gestured vaguely at the entire scene. "Seriously, you guys are probably friends underneath all this yelling. You should just talk it out!"

The idea of these hardened delinquents "talking it out" was so absurd that a few Toman members actually snorted with suppressed laughter. The tension, which had been thick enough to cut with a knife moments before, had completely evaporated. The ferocity of the brawl had been replaced by sheer, unadulterated confusion.

Mikey stared at her for a long moment, a strange look on his face. He glanced at Draken, then at the still-bleeding Valhalla member, then back at her, who was now trying to smooth down a ruffled uniform sleeve on a surprisingly compliant member of his own gang.