Marching with a good mood lightening his step, he was stopped by a clear "Psst" coming from the alleyway he was passed in front of.
"Huh?"
He looked to the side to see a shady looking fellow dressed in a black-and-white tracksuit standing in the alley, looking right at him.
"Hey, you–yeah, you," the lanky man with yellow hair called him over.
"What do you–?"
Before he could even ask his question once fully facing the man in the alley, his reflexes fired off like sparks as he felt the air shift behind him.
Ducking down, a fist missed his head, sailing right over him as he turned to the side, looking behind him to see a large, muscle-bound man with a pale complexion and stringy, red hair.
He was clearly many years his superior, by his wrinkled, scar-covered face with a lengthy mustache.
"What's this?" He asked seriously now.
Looking back to the man in the tracksuit, he saw the shady man pull out brass knuckles, sliding them on with a smile that was up to no-good.
"Just give us that ticket and we won't have to hurt you too bad now," the lanky man with brass knuckles said.
"Yeah, cough it up!" The muscular man, not much of brains with how he spit when he walked said.
Having the way out of the alley blocked off, he stood there quietly in confusion before processing what he heard, turning to a smile as he carefully set the milk jugs down.
From his pocket, he pulled out the black slip, "You mean this?"
The eyes of both heinous men widened in surprise and avarice at the sight of the illustrious piece of paper.
"Yeah, that's it. Now be a good boy and hand it over," the brass-knuckle wearing man said.
"If you know what's good for you, you'll keep this nice n' easy!" the large man said.
Between his fingers, it felt as if he was holding the holy grail, waving it around as despite him clearly being outnumbered and closed in, the simple piece of paper he held carried with it an immeasurable advantage.
"What's in it for me?" He asked, still waving the paper around.
"Huh?" The burly man let out.
Keeping his distance, the yellow-haired man looked at him, "Are you slow or something? Do you not see the situation around you? Maybe we should've made it more clear: give us the ticker or we're going to beat it out of your hands."
He smiled, "Well, that doesn't sound like much of a deal, does it?"
"Are you stupid or just suicidal?" The brass knuckle-wearing man raised an eyebrow.
"Did you not hear what we just told ya'?!" The burly man added.
With his back to the wall, with both men at either side of him and inching closer and closer, he held the black ticket in both of his hands and gently tugged in a motion that could easily result in the exuberant paper being ripped.
"Huh?! What're ya' doin?!" The man of little tact yelled out.
"Stop that! Don't!" The other called out.
He stopped, still holding his smirk, "Oh? Seems to me like I'm the one holding the bargaining chip here."
"Grrr…" The burly man clenched his teeth.
"I'm not buying your bluff! Don't pay attention to him, Roji, let's get him!" The man with brass knuckles yelled out.
The muscle-built man nodded, cracking his knuckles, "Let's do this, Kinro!"
He stood still with a smile, shoving the ticket back into his pocket as he glanced at either side, watching the two approach him.
Muscle-brains over there is definitely more aggressive. Yellow-head is playing it more cautiously–he seems to be the one calling shots between them. Doesn't really matter–I'll handle this in a jiff, he thought.
"--Just remember, you asked for this, kid!" Roji rushed him.
The width of the muscular, tall man filled the narrow alleyway, leaving no space to sidestep around the stringy-haired thug.
But, he didn't need to.
As Roji threw a few fists his way, packing decent power behind them by the whistling of the air in their path, he weaved between them before stomping down and slamming both fists forward in a fork-like attack:
"Heavenly Daigo Style: Down To Hell."
Utilizing both fists at once in a style that mimicked the stalwart, unstoppable nature of a bull, the impact rippled the flesh it made contact with, blowing Roji back harshly as he bounced off the surrounding walls multiple times.
"Roji!" The other man called out before gritting his teeth, "Damn idiot…!"
He turned around with a smile, shaking his hands that were steaming lightly from the power emitted from such a technique.
…I guess I'm not as rusty as I thought, he smiled to himself.
Roji was out cold on the damp cement, drooling with his cheek pressed against the ground below.
He looked to the man at the back of the alley, who had nowhere to run, "Your perfect time to strike was while I was engaged with your friend back there."
"--"
"Well, shoot your shot," he smirked.
"Ngh…!" The man gritted his teeth angrily.
For him, an opportunity like this wasn't just training, but he also enjoyed it. Getting back into the full-drive of the martial arts world, such encounters made him feel alive.
"Don't get cocky just because you landed one blow. A fluke is a fluke!"
As the words left the man's lips in violent aggression, he sprung forward, raising his fists in a familiar stance to him.
Boxing, eh? He thought.
While staring down the lanky thug, he moved his head side-to-side as swift jabs came his way, backed by the strength of the harsh brass knuckles that bolstered each blow.
Nonetheless, he casually moved through the jabs coming his way before completely catching the man's left wrist from an attempted haymaker.
"--!"
"You've got some talent. You shouldn't waste it on lowly stuff like this. Earn your way up," he said.
The man reared his right fist back, "--It's not for me!"
Before the fist could even be thrown, all of the strength suddenly vanished from the man's body as if evaporating like water to the blazing heat of the sun.
Huh…? The thug thought.
From beneath the lanky, tracksuit-wearing man, his legs gave out and his body went limp; there was an insurmountable feeling of the grip that still held onto his wrist.
"Heavenly Daigo Style: Bane of Strength."
For the thug wearing the brass knuckles, he couldn't figure out what happened as sweat poured out from his body, looking up in disbelief with a silent parting of his lips.
"I redirected the flow of power in your body. Here's a tip: if you're completely focused on nothing but smashing your opponent's skull in, you'll walk right into their traps," he said, keeping the man locked in place with his redirection technique, "...Now, what was that about this ticket not being for you?"