Stealing Spree

As tensions climbed, An-rin’s glare felt like a laser beam, capable of scorching the clown-faced gyaru, who wore an infuriating smirk as if she were the reigning queen of the bustling shopping district.

Lost in her deluded superiority, the gyaru seemed to believe that her two hulking thugs granted her the power to demand adoration from anyone she chose to torment. Yet, those who had witnessed the incident unfold exchanged disappointed glances, their expressions reflecting the collective disapproval of her misguided arrogance.

It made one wonder why less conventionally attractive girls like this over-the-top gyaru often adopt such airs of superiority, especially when bolstered by the presence of muscle-bound companions. Is it perhaps a mask for their insecurities?

Yep. It must be like that. They couldn’t stand those who were more attractive than they were.

Chii stood firm beside An-rin, her usual playful pout replaced by a steely look that said she wasn’t about to let her friend fight alone.

Kushii, quieter but no less fierce. She’s actually more intimidating than the other two because of her height and appearance, which hovered closer to a goth aesthetic than a simple gyaru. Her fingers twitched like she was ready to throw hands if it came to that.

The two thug-wannabes behind the rival gyaru group leered, their eyes raking over the girls with a hunger that was insufferable. The crepe stall employee looked ready to bolt and the crowd around us started thinning as people sensed trouble brewing.

I took a slow breath, sizing up the situation. Those knuckle-cracking idiots thought they were intimidating, but I’d seen scarier stray dogs.

The gyaru leader, with her caked-on makeup and cheap attitude, was clearly banking on her backup to make her feel untouchable.

What a stupid mistake to pick on us. Am I not intimidating enough?

Ah. Right. I was the expert when it came to being inconspicuous. Or at least, that’s what I thought but I instantly saw that the girl kept on looking at me.

Was she charmed? Possibly. Not that I was bragging but she probably picked on An-rin because she’s envious that I was with these girls.

Haa… This was the negative aspect of being attractive, no? Even if you don’t mean to, trouble would still come knocking.

Anyway, this shouldn’t turn into a catfight. I’d have to move fast. Take out the thugs before they can do more than posture. No need to touch the girls; a quick show of force would send them scurrying like roaches.

“Oi, what’s this? Do you think you own the shopping district?” I said as I stepped forward, putting the girls behind me.

Chii and the other two reflexively reached for my clothes, clutching whichever they managed to grab.

I looked down at the clown-faced gyaru, intimidating her with my gaze.

She opened her mouth and attempted to speak but I cut her off before she could stutter.

“There’s a line, you know? Why not wait like any other customer?” I slung the empty prop bag higher on my shoulder, keeping my stance loose but ready.

The clown-faced gyaru froze, her over-painted lips parting like she was about to spit some venom, but my words hit her senseless.

She blinked a few times, her eyes alternating between me and the thugs behind her, as if she were waiting for them to swoop in and save her ego.

The two goons, who were probably just delinquents fresh out of high school, shifted, their smirks widening as if they finally got the permission to beat someone up. But upon catching my gaze – calm, steady, and a little fierce – they froze for a moment, clearly intimidated.

I wasn’t flexing or posturing; I didn’t need to. The weight of my presence was enough to make them second-guess their tough-guy act.

But obviously, that’s not enough to deter them. When they realized they had been intimidated, that only further fueled their need to show who’s the boss.

Upon seeing the two stepping up to face off against me, the clown-faced gyaru smirked, and so did the other two with her.

“Kii,” Chii whispered from behind me, her fingers still clutching my sleeve, her voice a mix of worry and trust.

She knew I could handle this in an instant if I wanted to, but I was holding back for their sake. After all, if I just knock people out, won’t it also reflect on them? Rather than being a victim, some may see them as the one in the wrong instead just because I easily resort to violence.

Meanwhile, An-rin was vibrating with anticipation, her glare still locked on the gyaru like she was one second from lunging. Kushii’s quiet intensity lingered at my side, her dark eyes scanning the rival group like a hawk sizing up prey.

Mhm. I guess I’ll give them points for that. They’re not the type to just back down, after all. I mean, they’re used to hanging out with delinquents like Fukuda.

The gyaru leader finally found her voice, though it came out shakier than she probably wanted to. “Tch, what’s your deal, huh? You think you’re some hotshot just ’cause you’re with these… these sluts?”

She gestured at the girls, her voice dripping with venom, but she somehow stuttered at the end that the insult landed like a wet firecracker.

Nobody flinched. If anything, An-rin’s grin twitched, like she was about to laugh at the sheer audacity.

“Sluts?” I tilted my head before shaking it to show my disappointment. “You know, you shouldn’t throw words like that. Has no one taught you manners? Besides, for it to come from someone who looks like they mugged a makeup counter, it was quite laughable. Do you kiss your mom with that mouth, or just your backup dancers?”

At that, the gyaru visibly reddened as she swiftly replied, “W-why would I kiss them?!”

Now that was a classic deflection. Poor guys.

I glanced at the two thugs, noticing the frowns etched on their faces. They were likely already reconsidering whether it was still worth the trouble to step in and defend her pride.

The crowd around us was thinning even more, but a few curious onlookers lingered, phones half-raised like they were debating whether to record the drama.

The crepe stall employee, a tired-looking guy in his twenties, muttered something under his breath and started wiping down the counter, probably praying we’d take this circus elsewhere.

An-rin snorted, stepping up beside me, her confidence dialed to eleven. “Yo, Onoda-han’s right. You’re out here actin’ like you own the place, but all I see is a clown show. Step off before you embarrass yourself more.”

The gyaru’s face blazed a deeper shade of crimson beneath her thick layer of foundation. Her eyes narrowed into slits as her anger flared.

“You little—!” She took an aggressive step forward, only to be restrained by one of her friends who clutched her arm tightly, whispering something urgently into her ear.

The thugs, however, showed no sign of subtlety. The larger of the two, sporting a buzzcut and a gaudy chain necklace that seemed to belong in a discount store, cracked his knuckles audibly.

A ridiculous gesture that went unmatched for its sheer cliché. He took a menacing step closer, deliberately puffing out his chest in a display of his ‘manliness’.

Yep. They still wouldn’t back down after that.

“Watch your mouth, pretty boy,” He growled, trying to intimidate me again, “Or we’ll mess up that face of yours. All you have is that and your noodle arms. Think carefully about who you’re dealing with.”

I didn’t budge, just raised an eyebrow. Pretty boy? Even my girls never called me like that. Can I take offense at that?

Ah. It’s too troublesome. Let’s just deal with this quickly.

“Mess up my face? Dude, you couldn’t mess up a sandwich. Why not swing at me and see if I’m thinking carefully?” I smirked and put on a bored expression, provoking them further.

My knuckles were already itching, ready to move if he swung. I’d drop him before he could blink.

“This little!” The buzzcut dude took a step forward and raised his fist, his face twisted with a mix of boldness and frustration. The other thug with a crooked nose and a leather jacket two sizes too big for him, moved to flank him, probably thinking they could overwhelm me with numbers.

Yeah… They’re not that different from the guys I used to deal with. Amateur move. They were all posturing, no real strategy and just banking on intimidation to win the day.

I adopted a relaxed stance, one hand still casually adjusting the prop bag on my shoulder before taking a step forward, just enough to be in the buzzcut’s range. Before his fist could descend, I delivered a sharp jab to his jaw, the impact sending him stumbling backward. As he reeled, my foot swept out to trip the other thug, who was caught off guard and toppled to the ground with a surprised grunt.

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