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453 – Hojou Kyousuke is a Reasonable Man
🕑 Added 2025-08-16 15:00:16 +0000 UTCThe siege had begun.
Enraged and humiliated, Doma finally put on the airs of a boss.
Thankfully, from the start, he hadn’t cared about saving face—he had been speaking to the punks outside from behind the door.
At least that meant he didn’t need to worry about the gate being broken down in an instant.
The enemy might outnumber them ten to one, but Doma wasn’t afraid.
He was defending, after all.
All he had to do was hold his ground until dawn, when the righteous police would come to his aid.
The ones who should be panicking were the idiots outside the gate.
Doma quickly stationed his men along the walls.
All they had to do was jab back anyone who tried to climb over.
And he was right—Kisaki was in a rush.
Very much in a rush.
Not because he feared the cops at daybreak, but because he feared failing to carry out the boss’s will.
As a man of high intellect and low morals, Kisaki knew full well how sieges like this were supposed to be fought.
He’d read enough history to know the answer: fire.
Fire attacks were always the most effective.
They had more than enough motorcycles around, and with a couple of soda bottles from a vending machine, they could whip up Molotov cocktails in no time.
But the moment they did that, they’d stop being a gang and start being terrorists.
So they had no choice but to use the stupidest method—pushing motorcycles to the wall as makeshift ladders and climbing up one by one.
But every time someone made it up, the defenders inside would club them down again.
“Strategist, making this much noise… won’t the Boss be angry?” asked Ryouma Mitsuhashi, stepping up beside Kisaki.
“It’s fine. I’ll take responsibility,” Kisaki said flatly.
“But… with these petals stained in blood, do you really think the Boss will be pleased?” Mitsuhashi pressed.
Obviously, if the Boss wanted a man-made cherry tree, it was for a girl.
Would a blood-soaked sakura tree really make him happy?
Kisaki’s stiff face finally twitched into a smile. He turned his head slightly, lips curling.
“Mitsuhashi, you still don’t understand the Boss.”
Their Boss was not the kind of man who worried about such trivial things.
“But… won’t Doma’s wish to protect that cherry tree resonate with the Boss?” Mitsuhashi asked again.
Unlike the rest of them, their Boss was the type to stop by a flower shop after school to buy a bouquet before heading home.
What if he heard Doma’s words and…
“You’re overthinking it. The Boss only cares about his flowers. Other people’s lives matter less to him than what he’s having for lunch.” Kisaki sneered.
“…I see.”
Mitsuhashi fell silent, nodding.
He had gone with the Boss to Nara, met Miss Miyamizu, and witnessed the Boss’s gentleness toward her.
To him, the Boss was the very image of a man who cherished women.
But he was dead wrong.
Hojou Kyousuke was never the type to stumble just because a pretty face walked by.
He only lost his defenses before very specific people.
With anyone else, he was entirely different.
The side of him that Yamauchi Sakura knew best.
That Miyamizu Mitsuha knew as well.
That those two trendy girls in Itomori who had been scared to tears also knew.
Hiratsuka Shizuka, who had nearly suffered at his hands, knew it too.
Eriri and Kasumigaoka had seen Kosaka Akane nearly collapse to her knees in terror before him.
That man was never a bleeding-heart good guy.
Kisaki thought this as he watched his men scramble up the wall only to be beaten back down.
From afar, Hojou Kyousuke—sitting in the car—could already see the brightly lit compound, illuminated by motorcycle headlights, and the endless cycle of bodies clambering up the wall and tumbling back down.
For a moment, his vision darkened.
He felt as though he had been thrown back into the chaos of Japan’s Bakumatsu era.
His grip on Momotarou, the little dog in his arms, tightened unconsciously.
How long had it been since mankind, armed with cannons, had seen such a passionate, primitive siege?
Idiots.
The glare of headlights from behind made the delinquents freeze, all turning to shield their eyes.
Squinting, Kisaki immediately recognized Hirata Toshitaka’s car.
He didn’t even need to think—if Hirata was here, that meant the Boss had arrived.
At once, he signaled for the men climbing the wall to stop, then jogged forward.
He bowed deeply as he opened the car door, stepping back respectfully.
The other senior members of the Rampaging Angels hurried over too, instinctively lining up into two neat rows.
A sandal-clad foot stepped down onto the pavement, and then Kyousuke unfolded his tall frame from the vehicle.
He wore baggy blue T-shirt and loose white shorts, casual to the extreme.
Yet the bulging muscles of his arms and chest left no doubt about the terrifying power hidden in that body.
In contrast, the fluffy little dog in his arms looked absurdly tiny.
The Rampaging Angels bowed in unison.
Kyousuke stretched his shoulders, eyes sweeping casually over the scene.
Good. Everyone who should be here was here.
Even those who shouldn’t be, were here. As expected of his men.
“Onizuka? Damma? Weren’t you two supposed to be back in Kanagawa?” He lightly kicked Onizuka, whose once-white uniform was now filthy, proof that he’d been clubbed off the wall multiple times already.
“Heh, how could we miss out on something this fun?” Onizuka laughed, dodging the kick.
“And you, Gorou? Back on your feet already? Or did you come here to vent your frustrations?” Kyousuke turned to Gorou, who should have still been recuperating at home.
“Heh, that was nothing. I’m long recovered!” Gorou bellowed, scratching his spiky head.
Kyousuke’s gaze shifted to the compound ahead.
The high walls did nothing to hide the flourishing mountain cherry tree inside.
Its dazzling white-pink blossoms gleamed under the motorcycle lights, breathtakingly beautiful.
“Explain the situation.” His eyes flicked to Kisaki.
“Yes, Boss.”
Kisaki’s face was calm—far calmer than the situation warranted.
He gave a sharp, concise report, not even skipping over Doma’s little story.
Kyousuke listened in silence.
Then, still holding Momotarou, he started down the path between his men.
Seeing his Boss’s back, a trace of fear flickered across Kisaki’s face.
“Next time, inform me earlier,” came Kyousuke’s flat voice.
Relieved, Kisaki let out the breath he’d been holding.
A handsome man in shorts and flip-flops, cradling a puppy, striding among a crowd of hardened delinquents—everything about the scene was absurd.
Yet those same thugs who moments ago had been screaming for blood now bowed their heads in reverence as he passed.
And once he’d walked by, they raised their eyes again, gazes filled with unwavering respect.
Kyousuke stopped at the massive gate bearing the nameplate “Mountain Sakura.” He tilted his head back, taking in the towering doors.
‘So different from my own place,’ he thought.
Much sturdier, too.
‘Maybe I should replace the iron gate at home with something like this.’
A completely unrelated thought drifted through his mind.
At the same time, inside the gates, the men of the Mountain Sakura gang were peeking through the cracks.
They had seen how the thugs outside treated Kyousuke with respect, and naturally assumed—this must be the boss.
Doma and his men looked as if they’d just been hauled out of a river.
Just knocking people off the walls with their sticks had exhausted them.
What was worse, those lunatics outside clung to the walls even with blood dripping from their heads, refusing to let go.
It made holding them back even harder.
The Mountain Sakura leader decided to try negotiating again.
Sure, the tall guy with the dog seemed a little… off.
But compared to those crazed punks, he looked far more reasonable.
Regaining his breath, he spoke with as much senior authority as he could muster.
“Hey there, young man. You’re their boss, right?”
Kyousuke lowered his gaze.
Even with a gate that tall, it didn’t seem secure to him.
A single ladder could breach it.
His own place had far better security—automatic alarms that would wake him if anything happened.
Numbers wouldn’t matter against that.
“Yes, that’s me. And you must be the Mountain Sakura boss?” he replied with a smile, his voice as calm and clear as moonlight.
Through the crack in the gate, Doma caught a glimpse of that gentle smile.
Relief washed over him.
Finally, someone reasonable!
“It’s not worth starting such a conflict over a cherry tree, is it?” Doma coaxed.
“True,” Kyousuke nodded. “What a waste, spoiling such a beautiful night with something like this.”
“Then how about this—you all leave now, and I’ll pretend this never happened,” Doma offered.
“Boss! How can you let them go like this? They’ve insulted your honor, trampled on the dignity of Mountain Sakura!” Nakamura roared in disbelief.
The outburst froze everyone in place.
Doma himself turned to glare daggers at him, and so did the rest of his men.
The leader had been worried about the gang’s tight finances, while the others were just dead tired.
They knew they couldn’t last much longer, and once they collapsed, punishment was inevitable.
They’d been hoping for peace—until Nakamura ruined it.
You bastard. Tomorrow you’re cleaning toilets! Doma cursed inwardly, face darkening.
“This brother of yours is right,” Kyousuke said with the same mild smile. “If I walked away now, wouldn’t that betray the efforts of my comrades?”
Doma’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping low.
“Have you really thought this through? You’re still young. If the police come, your future will be ruined. Even if not for yourself, think about your men!”
“You’re right. I agree,” Kyousuke said earnestly.
A hopeful smile spread across Doma’s face.
“So then—”
“So, please hand me the cherry tree,” Kyousuke finished, grinning brightly.
‘Damn brat!’
At that moment, Kisaki’s men came forward.
Having dragged things out this long without results, even he felt embarrassed.
“Boss, the battering ram is ready,” Kisaki said, his gaze dark as he stared at the massive metal gate.
Kyousuke turned to see Gorou and the others carrying Eikichi Onizuka horizontally.
Onizuka himself gave him a thumbs-up, flashing a toothy grin.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Relax, Boss! Half the reason we’re called the Demon Bomb Duo is thanks to my invincible iron head! I can bend steel pipes with it—this gate is nothing!” Onizuka declared proudly.
And he wasn’t lying.
Years of wandering around had seen him and Damma in countless brawls.
Enemies in front got his headbutt.
Enemies behind? He tanked them with his skull.
Kyousuke sighed.
These idiots really had come just to mess around.
“You morons, stand back,” he waved helplessly.
Hearing this, Doma’s face lit up inside the gate.
He thought the reasonable young man had finally decided to retreat.
He was already picturing himself reporting to headquarters tomorrow, getting his reputation restored.
“Good, good! That’s how it should be.”
“Students should spend their nights sleeping, so they have energy for studying during the day. Grow up to be useful citizens!” Doma started lecturing, unable to resist once the crisis seemed over.
What pleased him even more was that the two clowns outside, who had been goofing around moments ago, were now silent.
Yes, that’s more like it. Normal kids are so easy to talk down!
Smug with himself, he suddenly realized—the tall, handsome figure at the gate had vanished.
Outside, Kisaki and the others stared.
Kyousuke glanced once at the towering iron gate, then shifted Momotarou to his left arm.
Bending his knees, his massive frame sank low.
Kisaki’s mouth fell open as he realized what his Boss intended.
His men stood frozen, eyes wide, waiting for a miracle.
The foam soles of Kyousuke’s sandals compressed under the strain.
And then—whoosh! His body shot upward.
One hand gripped the gate’s frame for leverage, and in an instant, he was standing atop the three-meter-high iron gate.
The motion was smooth, effortless, natural.
Momotarou barely had time to register the change.
The scenery flipped around him, and he twisted his tiny head in confusion.
Kyousuke stood at the summit, black hair and loose blue shirt fluttering in the night breeze.
He looked utterly at ease, as if he was always meant to stand above everyone else, bathed in silver moonlight before all others.
Both the Rampaging Angels and the Mountain Sakura men gaped, mouths hanging open.
Their eyes followed the figure that seemed more like a celestial being than a delinquent.
“Y-you… what are you doing up there?” Doma stammered.
“Sorry, Boss Doma. I don’t like talking to people through a gate.”
Kyousuke stepped forward, gazing down at him with the same calm, gentle smile, his voice ringing clear as ever.
“Besides… staring at me through that crack must’ve been tiring, right?”
Looking up at that warm smile, Doma realized he had been wrong.
Completely wrong.
To command beasts, one had to be an even greater beast.
This man was a monster.
Not even a catapult would make more sense than leaping straight onto the gate!
What kind of twisted brain and inhuman body could pull off something like this?!
Even though his eyes had seen it with absolute clarity, Doma still couldn’t believe it.
