The snow crunched under Haruto's boots as he made his way through the narrow alley toward Jun's house. White flakes drifted down from the gray sky above, coating everything in a pristine blanket that muffled the sounds of the city. He pulled his black jacket tighter against the cold, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. This shortcut would save him at least ten minutes, and Jun was probably already waiting with that stupid grin of his, ready to tease him about being late again.
But as Haruto rounded the corner deeper into the alley, something made him stop dead in his tracks. His dark eyes narrowed as he took in the scene ahead - a group of men had cornered someone against the brick wall at the far end. Even from this distance, he could see the flash of red and gold fabric. A kimono. And the person wearing it was clearly struggling.
"Come on, don't make this harder than it needs to be," one of the thugs was saying, his voice carrying through the cold air. There were at least four of them that Haruto could see, maybe more. Big guys too, the kind who probably spent their time hanging around pachinko parlors and picking fights with anyone who looked at them wrong.
The woman - because now Haruto could see it was definitely a woman - let out a muffled cry as one of the men grabbed at the sleeve of her kimono. Her long black hair spilled over her shoulders as she tried to pull away, but another thug had his hand clamped over her mouth. The silk fabric of her kimono was already torn at the shoulder, and Haruto could see the fear in her wide eyes even from where he stood.
"Beautiful thing like you shouldn't be walking alone in a place like this," another one of them sneered, his fingers working at the obi around her waist.
Haruto felt that familiar tingle in his fingertips, the one that always came when his powers wanted to surface. Three swords of moonlight, each one capable of cutting through steel like paper. He could end this in seconds. Just summon them and cut these bastards down before they even knew what hit them.
But something held him back. Using his abilities always came with risks. Questions. Attention he didn't need. And there were people who'd been looking for someone with his particular talents. The kind of people who didn't ask nicely when they wanted something.
The woman's struggles were getting weaker. One of the thugs had managed to loosen her obi completely now, and the kimono was starting to slip from her shoulders. Her muffled sobs cut through the air like knives.
Haruto sighed.
He stepped forward, his footsteps silent on the snow-covered ground.
The man turned around with an annoyed grunt, probably expecting to tell off some lost tourist or drunk salaryman. Instead, he found himself face to face with Haruto's cold, dark stare. Before he could even open his mouth, Haruto's fist connected with his jaw with a sickening crack. The thug dropped like a stone, blood already pooling in the snow beneath his head.
"What the hell-" another one started to say, but Haruto was already moving. His elbow caught the second man in the throat, cutting off his words in a wet gurgle. The guy clutched at his neck, gasping for air as he stumbled backward into the brick wall.
The third thug was quicker, managing to get his hands up in some semblance of a fighting stance. But Haruto had been doing this a lot longer. He ducked under the wild swing, drove his knee into the man's solar plexus, then grabbed his head and brought it down to meet his rising knee. The satisfying crunch of cartilage told him the guy's nose was definitely not going to look the same ever again.
The fourth man had finally figured out what was happening and was reaching for something in his jacket. Probably a knife, maybe a gun. Haruto didn't give him the chance to find out. He closed the distance between them in two quick steps, caught the man's wrist as his hand emerged from his jacket, and twisted until he heard the distinct pop of dislocated joints. The scream that followed echoed off the alley walls.
For a moment, Haruto thought that was it. The woman had stumbled away from the wall, clutching her torn kimono closed with shaking hands. Her dark eyes met his, wide with a mixture of fear and gratitude. She was even more beautiful up close, with delicate features and skin like porcelain. But there was something else in her expression too - recognition, maybe? Like she'd seen him somewhere before.
"Behind you!" she suddenly cried out.
Haruto spun around just in time to see six more thugs emerging from the shadows at the mouth of the alley. They must have been waiting as backup, or maybe they'd heard the commotion. Either way, ten against one wasn't great odds, even for him. Especially not when half of them were already pulling out weapons - pipes, chains, at least two knives that he could see.
"You picked the wrong day to play hero, kid," the apparent leader snarled. He was bigger than the rest, with scars crisscrossing his face and arms like a roadmap of violence. "Should've minded your own business."
Haruto said nothing, then let that familiar tingle spread through his hands, up his arms, until his whole body hummed with barely contained power.
The air around him began to shimmer, like heat rising from summer pavement. The snowflakes stopped falling in a perfect circle around where he stood, held suspended in the air by invisible forces. Three points of light appeared above his head, small at first but growing brighter by the second.
"What the hell is that?" one of the thugs whispered, his voice suddenly much less confident.
The points of light elongated, stretched, began to take shape. Three swords made of pure energy, each one glowing with an intensity that turned the snowy alley bright as day. They floated there for a moment, humming with power, before drifting down to hover at Haruto's sides.
The leader took a step back, his scarred face pale in the ethereal light. "What are you?"
Haruto finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper but somehow carrying clearly through the cold air. "Someone you should have avoided."
He gestured with his right hand, and the first blade shot forward like a lightning bolt. It passed through the leader's chest before he could even blink, the smell of ozone and burnt flesh filling the air. The man looked down at the hole where his heart used to be, a look of complete bewilderment on his face, before toppling backward into the snow.
The other thugs scattered, shouting in panic, but there was nowhere to run in the narrow alley. The second blade caught two of them as they tried to climb over a dumpster, passing through both their spines in a single, elegant arc. They dropped without a sound.
The remaining men pressed themselves against the walls, as if the brick could somehow protect them from what was coming.
One by one, the light blade found its mark. Through a throat here, a heart there, sometimes just a quick slash that left them alive but wishing they weren't. By the time Haruto reached the end of the alley, the snow was no longer white.
He turned back to look at the woman, who was still pressed against the wall where the attack had started. The three blades dissolved back into points of light, then faded completely, leaving only the ordinary darkness of the snow-filled alley.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice back to its normal quiet tone.