It only took a smile - Chapter 8- Broken

*Ding* *Dong*

“Coming,” Mayuri called out as she walked toward the door. When it slid open, a familiar figure stood waiting.

“Ah… the lunchbox,” Kenji muttered, awkwardly lifting the small container in his hand.

Mayuri’s expression flattened. “You traveled three stations down just to return a disposable box?”

Kenji lowered his gaze. His face didn’t show embarrassment—more like unease. “I… I just didn’t know who else I could talk to. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

He knew. No matter how their paths had drawn closer these past few days because of their daughter, it didn’t erase the fact—Mayuri still hated him.

He was ready to simply hand over the box and walk away. But then her voice stopped him.

“Come in… I was going to call you anyway.”

The faintest smile tugged at the corner of Kenji’s lips. He stepped inside, exchanged his shoes, and asked quietly, “Did you want to ask something?”

He already had a guess. And her next words confirmed it.

“Is… Naoto-kun really the right person for this?” Her voice wavered as she took a breath. “I know he trained under Shiba-san… but those people are dangerous. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Those brats come from powerful families.” She looked straight at him. “What if we’ve made things harder for Chihiro?”

Kenji answered firmly, “‘Haruro-kun’ knows exactly who he’ll be facing.” He stressed the name, reminding her of the new identity he had taken on for the task. “He’s prepared, Mayuri. I trust him. He hasn’t failed once—and I’m talking about missions that touch on national security.”

Mayuri let out a long sigh. “I know… You told me about him. But still… I wonder if he can really hide his intentions—and his identity.”

…

…Well, no.

**SWISH**

Takuya’s eyes widened. Before he could move, the shoe slammed straight into his face.

“Ah!” Chihiro gasped, frozen in panic.

The classroom went silent. Not a single breath moved.

Unbelievable. Someone had actually struck the infamous Flaming Tiger of Class 2-A?!

Takuya—the bully everyone feared. A trained martial artist. A boy with a powerful family at his back. He always dominated, always attacked first.

Never once had anyone dared to hit him.

And now, for the first time, someone did.

The craziest part? That attack wasn’t even meant for the new kid. It was meant for Chihiro. Yet the transfer student had stepped in—and struck back without hesitation.

Even Satomi’s expression darkened, already knowing how this would end.

Patter

The sound of a chair skidding echoed as Takuya shoved it aside, the wooden legs clattering against the floor. The entire class shuddered.

Veins bulged along his arms and forehead as he glared at the black-haired bastard who had no idea how deep a mess he had just stepped into.

On the side, Chihiro’s chest tightened. She opened her mouth, but no words came. Panic gripped her as the situation spiraled out of control.

Meanwhile, Haruto calmly sat back down, chopsticks in hand, chewing his lunch as though none of this concerned him.

With a snarl, Takuya pushed off his desk and stormed forward—only to find his way blocked. Satomi stood in front of him, her red hair catching the light as she spread her arms.

“Takuya,” she said firmly, “Dad already got a complaint recently—”

“You!” Takuya roared, jabbing a finger so close to her eye that she flinched. His teeth clenched as he spat out, “Move.”

Satomi clicked her tongue, crossing her arms. There was no point in reasoning with him when he was like this. “Don’t cry later if Dad hears about it.”

But nothing—no warning, no threat, not even God—could stop Takuya now. His fury drove him forward, step by step, toward Chihiro’s desk.

Toward the boy who still sat there, unbothered, eating his food as though the storm wasn’t already upon him.

Chihiro was left speechless, her lips parting and closing as if she might say something—yet no sound came. Takuya loomed over her desk, though his eyes weren’t on her at all.

Fixated on the boy still plucking chicken from his lunch, Takuya’s hand shot forward. He seized the box and, without a moment’s pause, hurled it straight out the window.

*Thud—clatter*

Haruto simply hummed, slipping the piece of meat on his chopsticks into his mouth.

“There were still five left…” he said calmly, chewing as though nothing had happened.

A vein pulsed at Takuya’s temple. His rage boiled over until it twisted into laughter—raw, ugly, and loud. “You think I give a damn about your chicken pieces, huh? Do I look like I fucking care, dickhead?”

That was when Haruto finally stood. The very air in the classroom shifted.

Desks creaked. Breaths caught.

Phones slid quietly out of pockets and bags as several students raised them to record what everyone thought was inevitable.

A fight.

And in their eyes, there was only one possible outcome—

The transfer student, beaten black and blue.

Haruto swallowed the last bite and spoke casually, “Alright… five broken bones it is.”

That single line snapped the last thread of Takuya’s patience. His composure was shattered.

He knew the trick to close-range fights. Don’t waste time swinging wide. A straight jab to the chest—that’s enough to throw someone off balance. Then follow with a brutal elbow strike. Quick. Efficient. Devastating.

Even through his fury, Takuya’s instincts kicked in. His left arm shot forward like a piston, aiming squarely for Haruto’s chest.

But then—”Ah!”

Haruto tilted his body just enough to slip past the blow. In the same instant, his hand clamped onto Takuya’s wrist.

With a sharp twist and a step inward, Haruto dragged the arm across his body. His other hand snapped down onto the joint.

CRACK!

The elbow bent out of place, a sickening sound filling the air.

For a moment, no one moved. No one breathed.

And then,

“AHHHGGHHHHHH!” A loud cry echoed throughout the class…and this cry didn’t belong to Chihiro this time.

*******

A/N:- Thanks for reading.