Chapter 44: Finding a Ticket

“Hey, kid, you dare mess with me?” Matsutani stood coldly before Kurohane Yuu, staring him down face to face.

“Uh, what’s the matter? How did I mess with you?” Kurohane widened his eyes, looking innocent at Inoue Izumi. He hadn’t done anything; how did it turn into messing with him?

“Bang!”

Matsutani suddenly thrust out his fist, striking Kurohane Yuu, who was leaning against the doorframe.

Crash!

The glass panel on the door, meant for lighting, shattered instantly under the fierce blow.

“Hiss—”

Kurohane gasped sharply.

The classroom fell into an eerie silence; every student’s gaze was fixed unblinkingly on the doorway.

Kurohane’s hands shot out swiftly, grabbing Matsutani’s school uniform and yanking hard.

Tear!

A section of Matsutani’s uniform ripped off in Kurohane’s grip.

“What are you doing!”

Uno Taku raised his stool and charged forward.

Miyamoto Tsuneyasu pulled a fruit knife from his desk and hurried toward Kurohane.

“Stop right there. If you don’t want his hand to be crippled,” Kurohane said, pulling Matsutani’s bleeding left hand toward him with some force, turning him so his back faced Kurohane and his face looked into the classroom, as if holding him hostage.

“Uno, stop!” Miyamoto grabbed Uno’s arm. Their leader was in Kurohane’s grasp now; they couldn’t act rashly. If Matsutani got hurt, neither of them could bear the consequences.

Clang—

“Kurohane Yuu, try moving a single hair on our leader’s head!” Uno slammed the iron chair down, the metallic screech echoing sharply, a declaration of his strength.

“Kurohane Yuu, what exactly do you want? If you hurt him, don’t expect to walk out of this school alive today,” Miyamoto said in a low voice, pulling out his phone with his left hand.

“A little pain, huh? But with so many witnesses, you probably won’t cry out, right?” Kurohane ignored their threats, leaning close to Matsutani’s ear, teasing softly.

“I won’t let you off!” Matsutani struggled, but his hand felt shackled, unable to move. The glass cut on his hand was bleeding; struggling only worsened the flow.

“Why don’t you let me off when you’re like this?” Kurohane smiled, unfazed by Matsutani’s threats, and retorted.

“You… ah…” Matsutani thought Kurohane’s smile was mocking him. Determined to keep his pride, he was ready to endure heavy bleeding to teach Kurohane a lesson. Suddenly, a shard of glass embedded in his hand was pulled out. The sharp pain of the hard object disappearing left a gaping wound, excruciating enough to make Matsutani scream loudly, completely unprepared.

---

“Watch your image! You’re supposed to be the leader of Class Five. How can you not endure a bit of pain?” Kurohane frowned as Matsutani’s agonizing screams rattled his ears.

“You… I… ah…” Matsutani tried to speak, but a second wave of pain surged as another glass shard was removed, causing blood to gush forth like a spring. His right hand was now soaked in his own blood, pooling on the floor in a crimson puddle.

“Quiet!” Kurohane stuffed a torn strip of Matsutani’s shirt into his mouth.

“You!” Uno wanted to protest but was stunned by the sight of Matsutani’s blood-soaked hand. Though seasoned in street life, both Uno and Miyamoto had never seen such ruthless coldness. Kurohane treated Matsutani’s injured hand like an object, not a part of a person.

“Hey, Miyamoto, what’s going on?” came a worried voice from Miyamoto’s phone. But Miyamoto himself was frozen by Kurohane’s actions. He didn’t know what Kurohane intended—only that Matsutani was bleeding heavily.

Both Uno and Miyamoto, experienced in rougher circles, were stunned by the blood-soaked scene. The other classmates, sheltered and pampered in privileged backgrounds, were even more frightened; one girl was brought to tears, covering her mouth to stifle any sound, fearful of becoming a target.

The teacher, who should have intervened, stood frozen at the podium, trembling slightly, thoughts racing about how to protect himself. Who was this Kurohane? Was he crazy to dare touch Matsutani? He hoped this wouldn’t implicate him.

Ding, ding, ding.

As Kurohane pulled out shard after shard, Matsutani’s bleeding worsened, the blood thickening like plasma. His face turned deadly pale, his body trembling—likely from shock and excruciating pain.

“Let go.”

Kurohane pressed several acupuncture points on Matsutani’s hand. Gradually, the bleeding slowed. When Kurohane pressed a particular spot, the wound finally stopped bleeding. He reached for the cloth stuffed in Matsutani’s mouth, but Matsutani bit down hard, refusing to release it.

“Ugh.”

Kurohane pinched Matsutani’s nose; soon, Matsutani opened his mouth wide, and Kurohane quickly unfolded the cloth and began wrapping the wound tightly.

“All done. Take him to the hospital for treatment immediately.”

With the completion of the bandaging and Matsutani’s weak groan, Kurohane pushed his now limp body into Uno’s arms.

“Okay, okay.” Uno was momentarily stunned by the sincerity in Kurohane’s gaze but didn’t argue. He swiftly lifted Matsutani and dashed out.

“This won’t end here. Just wait,” Miyamoto snarled fiercely before following Uno out. Their priority was saving their leader; as long as Kurohane remained at school, they could deal with him anytime.

“Sorry, teacher, shall we continue class?” Kurohane respectfully addressed the trembling teacher leaning on the desk. Despite the teacher’s failure to uphold his duties, Kurohane maintained his respect.

“Uh… you…” The teacher, seeing Kurohane’s respectful demeanor, wanted to reprimand him but thought better of it. Kurohane was a madman who dared touch Matsutani, already condemned by Miyamoto’s ‘death sentence.’ Provoking him now would be foolish, so the teacher swallowed his words.

Ding ding ding.

---

The bell rang for the end of class.

“Class dismissed. Everyone, you may leave,” the teacher said, gathering his materials and hurrying out.

“Who’s going to clean this up?” Kurohane gestured at the shards of glass and congealing blood on the floor, addressing the shocked students still standing.

No one responded.

Had this happened yesterday, Kurohane might have cleaned it himself. But after what just transpired, it was clear his future at this school would never be peaceful. Living an ordinary, dull life was impossible. So why bother being polite to those who supported Matsutani?

“I said, who’s going to clean this up?” Kurohane raised his voice, shooting a cold glare at several nearby boys.

“I’ll do it, I’ll do it.” The boys shivered under his icy stare and quickly stepped forward, fetching brooms and mops from behind the door.

Kurohane didn’t look at them again. He took some wet wipes from a girl’s desk, wiped the blood off his hands, and headed back to his seat.

“What’s this?” As he reached to sit, he noticed a ticket lying quietly at the corner of his desk.

“A concert ticket? Matsutani’s?”

Kurohane bent down to pick it up. Glancing at Matsutani’s desk, he saw two identical tickets there. Rising, he walked over.

“Watanabe Reimu?”

Just as he was about to return the ticket, he noticed the event details: Mint Group Theater Performance, VIP seating—and the photo of the group member, prominently featuring Watanabe Reimu.

“Consider this your medical fee,” Kurohane muttered, pocketing the two remaining tickets from Matsutani’s desk.

He had never been to a concert before, nor had much interest. Growing up isolated on a remote island, idol worship wasn’t something he had access to. But since Watanabe Reimu was involved, he definitely wanted to see it. He was curious how Reimu sang and danced, and whether she commanded the stage in her performance attire.

Holding the tickets, Kurohane felt a flicker of anticipation.

As for Miyamoto Tsuneyasu’s threats? Kurohane seemed not to have heard them at all.