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523 – I Was Hit by Him
🕑 Added 2025-09-16 15:19:39 +0000 UTC“Absolutely—absolutely do not get involved with that guy!”
Aki Tomoya’s hysterical roar shattered the air.
Waking up from the suffocating shadow of death, he finally realized that the searing phantom pain in his body hadn’t been an illusion at all—it was real.
He clutched his stomach with his right hand. His previous injury still hadn’t healed.
“Huh?”
Tsuchiya Ryouta’s eyes went wide at Aki Tomoya’s words, confusion and irritation written all over his face as he glared back.
Both were around 175 centimeters tall, but years of sports had made Tsuchiya look half a head taller than the scrawny otaku Aki.
Not to mention, his physique was on a completely different level.
“What the hell are you spouting?” Ryouta snapped, fury flaring in his voice.
Just when his uncle and cousin were about to be convinced, this idiot barged in to ruin everything.
If you like strawberries so much, why don’t you stuff your mouth with them instead of talking nonsense?
That shout made Aki Tomoya instinctively shrink his neck and take two steps back.
In the depths of his subconscious, anyone associated with Hojou Kyousuke was bad news.
He had already learned that lesson the hard way.
A perfectly normal animation studio… yet every single person in it had been as vicious as yakuza out of the eighties, all clad in black suits.
Truly unbelievable.
Even real yakuza in this day and age weren’t that ruthless.
Just how had Hojou Kyousuke trained those men into monsters like that?
And even Eriri…
The last time, Aki Tomoya had been knocked out cold by Hojou Kyousuke’s sheathed sword.
In those fading moments of consciousness, he vaguely heard words, caught glimpses.
The girl who once said she’d be his illustrator, the one he had trusted since childhood—when she saw him go down, her first instinct wasn’t to save him.
It was to help Hojou Kyousuke clean up the body and silence him for good.
The heartbreak, the despair—when the door shut in his face that day, Aki Tomoya truly believed it was the end of his life.
First a lightning-fast strike that dropped him, then his chest crushed underfoot, and finally the door slamming shut as they discussed disposal.
That day, he experienced despair and terror greater than anything in his sixteen years.
The only thing comparable was finding out Cooking Master Boy never got a proper ending.
The memory froze his retreating steps.
No—he couldn’t back down.
He couldn’t let Michiru end up like Eriri. Absolutely not.
Michiru must never get involved with Hojou Kyousuke!
He drew in a sharp breath, forcing himself not to look at Tsuchiya Ryouta—Hojou’s loyal dog.
Sure, Ryouta looked intimidating, but he wasn’t the same as those monsters.
“Michiru, Uncle Hyoudo—listen to me. That Hojou Kyousuke… he’s an unbelievably dangerous guy!”
Aki Tomoya’s tone was deadly serious as he spoke to the Hyoudo father and daughter.
The air shifted slightly, the madness Ryouta had stirred with Hojou’s name pausing for just a moment.
“Haha, Tomo-kun, you’re still such a chuunibyou. But back in the basketball club, I was often called dangerous by other schools too. They’d send two defenders after me every time, and it still didn’t work! Hahaha~~”
Hyoudo Michiru giggled like nothing was wrong.
“Ah, so that’s the kind of ‘dangerous’ you meant. Well, sure—if other baseball clubs saw Ryouta’s training video from earlier, they’d definitely think Hojou Kyousuke was dangerous too,” said Mr.Hyoudo, chuckling along, catching on that his daughter was trying to smooth things over for Aki.
With the father-daughter tag team covering for him, Ryouta’s anger simmered down.
Sure, he was pretty sure that creep Aki hadn’t meant to praise Hojou, but at least his face looked a little less sour.
He straightened his mood, ready to keep bragging.
Just a bit more, and once Uncle and Michiru believed that with Hojou on their side Soubu High was bound for Koshien, his mission would be complete.
But just as the atmosphere was starting to settle, Aki Tomoya’s voice rang out again:
“No! That’s not it! Hojou Kyousuke is a violent maniac! Michiru, I’m not joking—your life could be in danger!”
Everyone present had heard tales of the infamous otaku of the Aki family.
Like how in elementary school he hijacked the school PA system to blast anime songs, preached to classmates like some cult leader, or picked fights with the principal over holding an anime screening at the school festival.
But those were just amusing anecdotes, funny stories over tea.
Hyoudo and his wife had even said they wished their daughter could be as well-behaved as Tomoya.
But now, experiencing his destructive aura firsthand, feeling the sheer power of his ability to derail conversations and kill the mood.
They finally understood why this timid-looking otaku had become a campus legend.
They even understood why his parents rarely came home.
“Tomo…” Michiru forced a smile, her brain scrambling to find a way to patch things up for her childhood friend.
“I can’t ignore that. You dare to slander Hojou behind his back? Aki, you’ve got guts,” Ryouta growled, brimming with fury.
Part of it was anger at his operation being sabotaged, but most of it was pure rage at hearing his precious ticket-to-Koshien slandered.
If this had been on a baseball field, the benches would’ve cleared by now, and ten guys would’ve piled onto Aki until he was paste.
What Ryouta didn’t realize was—he was right.
For Aki Tomoya to say this much really did take guts.
If not for his childhood friend sitting here, he’d never dare speak these words.
Not even if Hojou himself wasn’t around.
Tomoya ignored the loyal dog.
His expression turned grave as he locked eyes with the Hyoudo father and daughter.
“Do you remember when I was hospitalized last time?”
With that, he yanked up his shirt.
Even after all this time, the injuries remained shocking.
“W-what?! They still haven’t healed?” Michiru gasped, heart aching at the sight.
Ryouta’s eyebrow arched high.
Finally, it all made sense.
He had always wondered how someone like Tomoya had survived this long without getting crushed.
“All of this—every single wound was Hojou Kyousuke’s doing!” Tomoya declared, teeth clenched.
“What!?”
The entire Hyoudo family erupted in shock.
“Hey, hey—keep that up and I’m calling the cops,” Ryouta snapped.
Hojou’s name could not be tied to brawls.
If the school suspended him and he couldn’t compete, they were doomed.
“Hojou Kyousuke?”
Even Mr.Hyoudo’s expression turned grave.
The author of The Devotion of Suspect X, a man of such brilliance—how could he be this kind of person? Impossible.
Sure, he could believe the man might visit brothels, but besides Yukio Mishima—who committed seppuku, got decapitated three times, and still failed to die—most famous authors were pathetic fools who couldn’t even manage suicide.
“That can’t be, Tomo. Didn’t your parents say you were beaten by a bunch of lunatics? That’s what they told us when we visited you in the hospital,” Michiru said softly, her voice full of pain.
As she spoke, she reached out to tug his shirt back down, covering the awful scars.
Too tragic.
She couldn’t bear to look any longer.
Her father wasn’t surprised by her tenderness.
Aki Tomoya wasn’t just a cousin to Michiru.
They’d been born in the same hospital on the same day, their bassinets side by side in the nursery.
Ever since, Tomoya had followed her around like a shadow.
She’d found it annoying when they were little, but somehow, somewhere along the line, their bond had only grown stronger.
But she found it strange.
If Aki really had been beaten up that badly by Hojou Kyousuke, there’s no way she wouldn’t have known.
It would’ve been all over the news.
“Yeah, I remember the police already handled the people who assaulted you, right?” he asked.
If it had been only his nephew, maybe he wouldn’t have cared so much—but he had almost just sent his daughter to cheer for Hojou Kyousuke.
“That’s right. You can’t just make wild accusations like this. We live in a society ruled by law—claims need evidence!” Tsuchiya Ryouta added.
Hearing those words, Aki Tomoya bit down even harder, teeth grinding, as his memories dragged him back into that darkest moment.
After being slashed and stomped into the ground by Hojou Kyousuke, he was dragged out by a sinister man in gold-rimmed glasses, hauled by the legs like a dead dog.
Then came the inhuman torment at the hands of a whole pack of ruthless thugs.
“…Those guys, they copied the injuries Hojou Kyousuke gave me, and beat me up all over again!”
His voice came out hoarse, tinged with despair and grief.
Back then, while being tortured, he had sworn to report everything to the police and make them pay.
But before he could even make the call, those men had carried him to the police box themselves.
There, they acted like model citizens—calm, polite, like volunteers at a nursing home.
They confessed in detail how they had beaten him, and the hospital’s injury report matched their testimony perfectly.
When the officers asked why they attacked him, their only answer was, “We just didn’t like the look of him.”
Damn it! Damn it all!
He had kept insisting the real culprit wasn’t those lunatics, but the patrol officers and doctors just patted his shoulder, reassuring him it was all over and he didn’t need to be afraid.
They thought he’d been beaten so badly he’d lost his mind—that his brain had created false memories to shield him from trauma.
“Pfft—hahahahahahaha!”
Tsuchiya Ryouta burst into laughter, ignoring his cousin’s glare.
It had to be Kisaki Tetta behind it.
That guy was as slimy as he looked.
Now that he knew the truth, Ryouta’s heart felt lighter.
His precious ticket to Koshien was innocent after all—a noble and upright person.
“This…”
Mr.Hyoudo was at a loss for words.
From his nephew’s story, he caught a whiff of something strangely familiar.
Such a simple, brutal way of solving problems—it reminded him of the “advanced strategy” he himself had pulled just last week.
After buying afternoon tea, he had strolled casually into the building of a rival company, coffee in hand.
Outside their meeting room, he snapped a few selfies, their CEO even laughing and joining in for a couple of shots.
And in those photos? Through the open blinds behind them, the entire contents of the meeting room’s whiteboard were perfectly visible.
Back at his own office, blinds drawn, his team had spent hours analyzing the “selfies.”
‘Did I photograph your company? No, no—I was just taking selfies!’
Thinking about it now, rather than seeing Hojou Kyousuke as a thug, Mr.Hyoudo found him… reliable.
After all, he had survived so long in this chaotic world.
The one truth Hyoudo understood was this: good people couldn’t survive in an unjust society.
Talent without the resolve to match it would only end in being exploited and discarded.
Perhaps it was a kind of mutual recognition between “heroes.” Even as he caught sight of tears welling in his daughter’s eyes, Hyoudo carefully spoke:
“Maybe this is all a misunderstanding?”
“Dad! Tomo’s been beaten half to death, and you still believe what Ryouta says?
How could a violent psycho like that be a genius greater than me?
Don’t tell me you still want me to cheer for someone like him!”
Hyoudo Michiru shouted in disbelief.
In that moment, she even considered marching straight to Hojou herself, dragging Tomo along to demand justice.
“That’s right, Uncle Hyoudo! Anyone who gets close to him will suffer. I can’t let Michiru go through the same tragedy I did!” Aki Tomoya declared solemnly.
…Hm?
Those words made Hyoudo’s brow twitch.
True—he had put his faith in Hojou Kyousuke’s talent, believing the boy could offer his daughter a bigger stage.
But what if his achievements in kendo, his academic results, even his creative works—what if they were all gained through violence and coercion?
He didn’t necessarily mind that kind of thing.
But it was completely different from what he’d envisioned.
With that thought, he looked at his earnest nephew and asked carefully:
“Tomoya, are you saying Hojou Kyousuke is nothing but an overrated fraud?”
If that were the case, he’d have to call Tsuchiya-san later and warn him, maybe knock some sense into Ryouta.
“That’s right, it must be like that!” Michiru jumped in, eyes fixed on her cousin.
She had already made up her mind—she’d persuade Ryouta, and together they’d confront Hojou Kyousuke to get justice for Ron.
After all, they were family!
“Impossible—you’re talking nonsense!”
A shout of astonishment cut through the room.
Mr.Hyoudo’s eyes widened.
The voice hadn’t come from Ryouta, Hojou’s diehard fan, but from Aki Tomoya himself—his teeth chattering from the memories, his body still trembling.
“Do you have any idea how much of a genius Hojou-sensei is? How dare you say that about him!”
Aki Tomoya stared at his uncle in disbelief, utterly dumbfounded that he could say something so idiotic.
“That’s One Punch Man! That’s Attack on Titan! That’s Sword Art Online! Even if you’re joking, these aren’t things you can just throw around like that! Other than Hojou-sensei, who else could create works of that magnitude?!”
His voice was even louder than when he had raged about Hojou Kyousuke’s crimes earlier.
“Huh?” ×5
Five equally confused voices rang out.
Mr. Hyoudo tilted his head upward, peering at his “beloved nephew” as if he couldn’t believe his ears.
Meanwhile, Tsuchiya Ryouta wondered if this guy’s brain had been scrambled by Kisaki Tetta the last time they fought.
“Hahahahaha! This is priceless. How did I never notice you were this entertaining before, Aki?” Hyoudo Tsunemi burst into loud, hearty laughter.
“Tomoya, what on earth are you talking about?”
Michiru’s rosy lips parted into a perfect ‘O,’ her wide violet eyes brimming with confusion.
“Hojou-sensei isn’t some overrated hack. He’s a hundred times—no, a thousand times more of a genius than you, Michiru! Just like Ryouta said, compared to him, you’re just plain ordinary!”
Aki Tomoya’s voice rang out passionately.
“Tomoya…” Michiru blinked three times, lips parted slightly, as if to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.
Across from him, Ryouta found something oddly familiar about that feverish look in Tomoya’s eyes.
‘Oh, right—when we talked about Hojou earlier, I looked exactly the same.’
“All three of those series are the kind only true geniuses could create! Even if you wanted to plagiarize them.
Where would you find so many undiscovered masterpieces? And that update speed—unreal, like a printing press!
Sure, his pace is a little slower now, but that’s only because he’s preparing to launch his own animation studio.
When that happens, you’ll see a whole new level of genius! Not every manga artist can produce anime—but Hojou-sensei can. He’s a god!”
Aki Tomoya didn’t even glance at the Hyoudo family as he spoke; he was completely fired up.
He even pulled out his phone, scrolling through his endless collection of Hojou Kyousuke trivia to show Michiru and her father.
“Here’s last year’s Manga Awards. This is this year’s rankings. And this…”
“Ugh, you normies will never understand what Hojou-sensei represents.”
He gave his dramatic conclusion, knowing full well his cousin Michiru despised otaku culture and had been trying to “rehabilitate” him.
He had no hope they’d understand Hojou’s greatness.
“In short—Hojou-sensei is the Babel Tower of otaku culture!”
“Tomoya… are you okay?” Michiru asked worriedly.
Sure, he always got weird whenever he talked about otaku stuff, but this was on another level.
“Me? I’m great—better than ever! I could re-read Hojou-sensei’s entire library right now without breaking a sweat!” Aki thumped his chest with both hands.
“Dad, hurry and change—we need to get Tomoya to a hospital!” Michiru cried out, panicked.
“O-Oh… right.”
Mr. Hyoudo, rattled by his nephew’s manic state, started to rise from his seat.
“Wait, my brain is fine! Everything I said is the truth! Sure, Hojou Kyousuke is a violent maniac, but his talent and genius are undeniable—”
Seeing his “conversion target” trying to flee, Aki Tomoya grabbed his uncle’s shoulder to keep him seated.
“I’ve got three complete sets of Hojou-sensei’s works at home. I’ll give you one—the missionary set! Just read for five minutes, Uncle, and you’ll understand how extraordinary his genius is!”
Ryouta was practically wheezing with laughter by now, all his earlier irritation toward Aki completely gone.
‘Damn… should I call him a masochist or what?’
No, that’s not right.
He was grinding his teeth in rage earlier when we mentioned Hojou beating him up.
But the moment it turns to otaku stuff, he transforms into a zealot.
So it’s “Hojou Kyousuke beats him a thousand times, yet Aki Tomoya still loves him like his first crush”?
If Kisaki Tetta saw this scene, he’d probably eliminate this dangerous lunatic on the spot.
“…”
Mr. Hyoudo stared at the hand on his shoulder, feeling like something was lodged in his throat, unable to get a word out.
“Fine, fine, I get it. Maybe he’s talented in the nerd department. But in sports? No way. Otherwise, why would he need so many people to gang up on you, Tomoya?” Michiru quickly tried to pacify her childhood friend.
“Yeah, and those kendo matches—he must’ve used dirty tricks, right?” Mr. Hyoudo added, playing along.
If anyone knew about dirty tricks, it was him.
Tripping opponents before a match, feeding them expired food—that kind of thing.
“Oh, that? I’ve never followed kendo, but Hojou Kyousuke really is strong,” Tomoya said without hesitation.
“What? If you’ve never followed it, how do you know?” Ryouta finally managed to rein in his laughter.
The moment he asked, everyone saw Tomoya’s body tremble, his eyes flashing with pure despair.
“…Because I’ve been hit by him.”
“That strength and speed—no normal human could have it. He stomped on a desk and charged straight at me, and the desk shattered beneath his foot.
Three meters vanished in an instant. All I heard was the air tearing apart and saw a blur of black before he struck me across the forehead.”
“Oh, with the sheath. Otherwise, I’d be 0.5 + 0.5 Aki Tomoya right now.”
“It was beautiful—absolutely beautiful. Only a master animator could capture that in a scene… though Hojou-sensei could probably do it himself.”
“He’s a swordmaster! I swear he could unleash sword aura!”
As Tomoya described the scene, everyone could almost see it for themselves—Hojou Kyousuke delivering a blade strike so breathtaking it left even the victim awestruck.
What kind of kendo skill could leave someone hospitalized for so long, yet still marveling over it? Mr. Hyoudo found himself genuinely impressed.
Ryouta’s face was frozen in shock too—he never imagined Tomoya’s beatings had been that blissful.
“Tomoya… did he break your brain?” Michiru asked, her voice trembling with tears.
“Oh, I did get a concussion. Then later I got whacked again by some guy named Eikichi Onizuka,” Tomoya admitted honestly.
“You’ve been through a lot, Aki.”
Mr. Hyoudo nodded gravely.
At this point, he was convinced: whether it was manga, novels, academics, or even swordsmanship, Hojou Kyousuke must truly be a once-in-a-generation prodigy.
After all, if even someone beaten senseless like Aki Tomoya still praised him so fervently, there had to be truth to it.
Wait, hold on. What exactly was Tomoya doing here?
Was he trying to warn Michiru away from Hojou Kyousuke, or was he secretly teaming up with Ryouta for some kind of comedy routine?
