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465 – You’re a Freaking Genius!
🕑 Added 2025-08-22 15:00:18 +0000 UTCThe buzzing of his phone snapped Hanabana out of his daydream.
Embarrassingly enough, he’d just been fantasizing about proposing to his goddess.
The engagement gift?
None other than the wallet Hojou had emptied of cash and tossed to the ground.
He even imagined preserving the dust clinging to it—perfectly intact.
The picture came with extra details too: his drained wallet lying in dirty water, covered in grime and black muck, while Hojou’s broad back blocked out the light as he walked out of the alley.
‘Damn it! Who ruined my beautiful dream?!’
Oh… yeah it was Senior Himeno.
Well, that’s fine then.
Getting a private message from her was a blessing in itself.
As Hanabana read her repeated apologies and requests on his phone, he could almost taste the high-class dishes he’d eaten back at offline gatherings.
The premium beef from Sawairi was divine—the marbling like marble itself, the juices rich and savory, each bite tasting like pure happiness.
No, wait. He’d eaten fine beef before, like on his parents’ wedding anniversary, but somehow it wasn’t nearly as good as it had been at those gatherings.
Why? Was it because it was all-you-can-eat back then? Or because it was free?
No, neither!
It was because Himeno-senpai had treated them.
She had smiled kindly, telling him (and everyone else) to eat as much as they liked.
How could he, after receiving such kindness, refuse to give her something as simple as an address!?
Besides—if Himeno-senpai really came over, maybe she’d visit his home too… maybe even bring Hojou along.
And under both their witness, he and his goddess could hold their wedding ceremony.
Living next door to the Yamazakura gang was the best thing that had ever happened!
Thank heavens the Rampaging Angels decided to attack them!
With that thought, Hanabana gritted his teeth, stuck his phone out the window, and—click!
This time he remembered the flash problem, but chose to snap it boldly anyway.
This picture would be his way of repaying Himeno-senpai for all the kindness she’d shown him.
———————————————————————
In Hiratsuka Shizuka’s imagination, when she arrived, she expected to see fists flying in a heated, blood-pumping brawl.
And sure, the atmosphere was fiery… but not from fighting.
The Yamazakura base had turned into a full-blown factory assembly line.
Three or four step ladders circled the great sakura tree.
Some were plucking petals, others spraying treatments, arranging, boxing, transporting.
Everyone wore white towels around their necks, gloves on their hands, and the bright smiles of hardworking laborers on their faces.
Orderly and efficient, the delinquents looked like they were releasing all the energy they’d bottled up by sleeping through class.
Their execution and teamwork would make any corporation drool with envy.
“That brat Hojou…” Hiratsuka muttered. “I told them he should’ve been team captain for the sports festival. With leadership like this, of course he’d make the perfect right-hand man to support me, the youngest and most promising teacher!”
Damn it! With talent like this, why the hell are you picking petals?!
Go get a real job swinging bricks for a paycheck! That’s why people call your generation hopeless!
Inside, Doma was peeking nervously through the crack in the sliding door, his anger bubbling.
Lately, he realized he was getting too used to watching things through cracks.
But doors were wonderful things—limited view, sure, but they gave him such a sense of security.
As long as no monster could leap over or smash the door down in one go, he felt perfectly safe.
At least, until a boot smashed into his face.
‘BANG!’
The thin paper door burst open—not from the kick itself, but because Doma went flying, sprawled out on the ground.
“Uncle Abe, don’t be so violent,” Hiratsuka muttered as she followed behind.
Unlike her, who was watching with curiosity, the man she’d brought from the Higashikawa clan—Uncle Abe didn’t look pleased at all.
Of course he wouldn’t.
No reinforcements had come, and yet here was a supposedly proud yakuza group, reduced to running an assembly line while a pack of high school kids ran wild.
For an old-school yakuza like him, it was humiliating.
On a normal day, he would’ve stormed in, kicked down their ladders, and pummeled those brats until they remembered to respect their elders.
But now? Even scolding Doma, he had to keep his voice down—not because of noise complaints, but because he didn’t want to lose face in front of teenagers.
After all, when they’d walked in, those kids had respectfully said:
“I don’t care if you’re Higashikawa side or Nishikawa side. If you get in our way, we’ll turn you into Kawakawa side.”
High school punks were hopeless.
If you’re going to threaten someone, just threaten them!
Why tack on some silly pun like “Kawakawa side”? It was annoyingly cute.
Still, given their numbers, Uncle Abe decided not to stoop to their level.
The only reason he’d even gotten through the door was thanks to the young lady’s status as a teacher.
Actually… maybe it made sense.
Her students were her mirror image—even their trash talk was polite.
When Doma crawled toward him in tears, trying to hug his leg, Uncle Abe promptly kicked him away.
“This is all your fault! Who the hell plants a sakura tree in his yard?! Just so you can sit under it crying after a beating? You really have too much free time, don’t you!?”
Hiratsuka Shizuka glanced back at the Rampaging Angels, still buzzing around with manic energy, and couldn’t shake the absurdity of it all.
She’d thought maybe someone Hojou knew had been bullied by the yakuza, hence the big citywide hunt.
But no… it turned out to be just for sakura petals.
She’d seen plenty of people regret not going to see cherry blossoms before they fell, but never someone as insane about it as Hojou.
She stooped down to set the sliding door upright again. It had a hole, but at least it blocked some view.
Although she had his contact info, Hiratsuka and Doma had never actually met before, so Uncle Abe introduced them, then sat down quietly to the side.
“Miss! Please, you have to save us, Miss!”
The moment Doma realized she was the Higashikawa clan’s young lady, he scrambled on his knees toward her.
The few Yamazakura members still able to move followed suit, bowing their heads to the floor, crying and wailing with astonishing intensity.
Hiratsuka felt her head throb.
She hadn’t come to stick up for Doma—if anything, she was more worried about her beloved students getting hurt.
The Yamazakura group didn’t even look like they’d lost much.
Sure, they had more cuts on their faces and a few broken arms or legs, but otherwise?
Perfectly fine.
If they’d lost a few lives, then of course the Higashikawa clan would step in no matter what. But now…
Wait. Did he just say save them?
Her brow furrowed.
Something about this wasn’t simple.
And as a teacher—well, everyone knew that teachers who taught lessons with their fists weren’t ordinary. And with these yakuza? They were all just dropouts anyway.
Her bloodline had the natural authority to suppress them.
The crying men immediately cut off their tears.
Their control was so precise that Uncle Abe thought it was a damn shame they weren’t actors.
Under Hiratsuka Shizuka’s questioning, Doma finally spilled everything.
“I swear to God, I have no thoughts of revenge! How could I possibly go after monsters who can beat us half to death with one leg?!”
“Yes, Miss, I really don’t want to die! I don’t want to die without anyone even left to visit my grave!” The same man who just hours ago had boldly declared himself a loner unafraid of yakuza now sat there with snot and tears running down his face.
He’d already made up his mind—first thing tomorrow, he’d contact his family and tell them: if he didn’t check in within a day, they should immediately call the police.
“My daughter’s so cute—she can’t live without me!”
“I don’t want to die in a gas explosion!”
The whole Yamazakura gang was sobbing, banging their heads against the floor, wailing as if the world were ending.
Hiratsuka Shizuka’s eyes glazed over.
‘These are supposed to be sly, ruthless yakuza?’
‘They look more like kids who just got flamed online and are now crying to their moms for comfort.’
Looking at this group, clearly scared out of their wits, she couldn’t help but feel her trip had been pointless.
She’d come here worried the Yamazakura gang might try to retaliate against Kyousuke.
Sure, her student was strong, but if they came at him from the shadows, there was no way he could fend off every attack.
But now? Apparently, being able to fight solved everything.
Not only could he beat enemies into submission, he could turn them into obedient lackeys.
Uncle Abe, sitting cross-legged off to the side, simply turned his whole body 180 degrees to face the wall.
He couldn’t even stand to look at these disgraceful men anymore.
“Don’t be so nervous. Kisaki’s just a kid—he was only joking with you,” Hiratsuka said casually, eager to wrap things up and leave.
“No! That was no joke!” Doma trembled as he shouted. “Those eyes… only a man who’s killed before could have eyes like that!”
When Kisaki Tetta had bowed slightly as he left, the cold gleam from his shadowed eyes had seared itself into Doma’s memory.
‘…Killed someone?’
Hiratsuka blinked.
Doma had repeated Kisaki’s words to her earlier, but to her they’d only sounded like a mild threat.
Sure, Kisaki had frighteningly detailed intel, but that could just mean he had relatives who happened to know people in Doma’s family.
She’d seen it often—students with oddly specific connections.
Sometimes even a random chat about some African tribe would reveal that a student’s cram school buddy had an uncle who was an expert on the subject.
“Don’t overthink it. I’m their teacher—I know them. They’re all good kids,” she said firmly.
As their teacher, there was no way she’d let someone slander her students as murderers.
“Good kids?! Good kids sneak-attack a yakuza headquarters in the middle of the night and beat us all to a pulp?!”
Doma raised his bruised face, baring the gaps where two teeth used to be.
“Wait—your teeth got knocked out?” Hiratsuka asked, curious despite herself.
She’d heard of it happening plenty, but seeing it firsthand was a first.
“No… no, it was just time for me to lose them naturally.”
“I see.”
“Like hell! One kick—just one!—and my teeth were gone! And not from leather shoes or sneakers, but from a pair of flip-flops! Size 42 flip-flops, and he kicked my teeth out like it was nothing!” Doma roared.
“Was it a front kick or a side kick? If it was a roundhouse, how many degrees did he rotate?” Hiratsuka asked, suddenly excited.
Wow… she hadn’t expected that punk Hojou to be that skilled at hand-to-hand combat.
She thought he’d at least be using Hokushin Ittō-ryū swordsmanship.
A swordmaster cutting his way through a yakuza gang—that was straight out of a storybook!
But Doma didn’t answer.
Instead, he reached into his pocket and lined up seven or eight teeth on the ground in front of her, looking up with tearful eyes.
“You even saved your baby teeth, huh? Sentimental of you…” Hiratsuka muttered, her voice trailing off, eyes darting away.
Wasn’t Hojou’s nickname “the Handless Demon”?
When did he become a “tooth hunter”? What was he running, a dental clinic?
“Uh… how about I help you get some compensation? He probably wouldn’t miss a bit of cash.”
She was a kindhearted literature teacher after all. But even she couldn’t keep claiming her students were “good kids.” After all, no “good kid” kicks someone’s teeth out with size 42 flip-flops. Even knocking out baby teeth was too much.
“Forget the teeth,” Doma said. “All I ask, Miss, is that you plead with him on our behalf—for my daughter’s sake.”
“That’s… a bit exaggerated, don’t you think?” Hiratsuka still couldn’t believe Kisaki Tetta could be that ruthless. Doma, sure—but Kisaki?
Wait a second…
She finally realized something was off.
By her reasoning, the ones crying and begging for help against yakuza retaliation should’ve been Hojou and Kisaki.
So why was it the yakuza themselves crying for mercy instead?
Who were the real villains here?
No matter how she looked at it, the Yamazakura group seemed like the victims!
Hmm…
After thinking it over, Hiratsuka decided—even if her adorable students were sneaking out in the dead of night to raid a yakuza base, that didn’t make them bad.
After all, beating up bad guys wasn’t a crime.
That was justice!
“Violence against evil,” check.
“Peace for the good,” check.
For proof of the latter, Hanabana was more than enough—just look how happy he was whenever Hojou showed up, like he’d found his long-lost dad.
The only thing missing was him shouting, “Hojou’s here! All is safe in Katsushika Ward now!”
Her guilt faded. Her eyes grew firm.
“Miss, look!” Doma suddenly scrambled toward the broken door Uncle Abe had kicked open and pointed outside. “Those two over there—they’re the real killers!”
Hiratsuka leaned over to see.
Outside, a guy with spiky blond “airplane hair” and another with sleek “Rukawa-style” black hair were leaning against the wall by the gate, chatting casually.
“Enough already, Doma! You’re disgracing yakuza everywhere!” Uncle Abe finally snapped.
This wasn’t fear anymore—this was straight-up paranoia. Killers?
Why not say they were ninjas while he was at it!
“How could killers just stand out in the open like that?” Hiratsuka sighed, staring at him in disbelief.
She resolved that tomorrow, she’d not only have to counsel Hojou, but also give Kisaki a good lecture.
Jokes shouldn’t go so far—he’d scared these yakuza into acting like toddlers clinging to their moms.
“You don’t get it!” Doma braced his hands on his knees and shouted defiantly.
“From the very start, those two were standing there. Everyone else was busy working, but not them. They just loitered with nothing to do. You’re yakuza—you know what people like that are, don’t you?!”
His voice was deadly serious.
“Those two are from a special ops unit! Think about it—no chores, no missing pinkies, no criminal records, and they even have driver’s licenses. People like that are clearly part of an elite squad trained just for this kind of thing!”
Doma glared at Uncle Abe as if demanding he admit it.
Their Sakurazaka group might not have such a division, but the Toukawa syndicate definitely did.
Uncle Abe’s eyes flickered.
He licked his finger, poked a hole in the paper door, and discreetly observed the two men Doma mentioned.
Sure enough, there was something off.
At first glance, they looked like they were just slacking off and chatting.
But their eyes… always scanning the surroundings, sharp and alert.
“But if they’re really assassins, why would they just stand there in plain sight? That’s way too sloppy,” Hiratsuka Shizuka muttered, unimpressed.
“Miss, let me ask you something,” Doma said, voice grim. “Do you give your full, undivided attention when you’re eating broccoli at dinner?”
“Of course. Not taking food seriously is an insult to the meal.” Hiratsuka answered without hesitation.
“...”
Doma was silent for a long second before continuing, his voice heavy.
“To them, we’re nothing but meat on a cutting board. That’s not poor disguise—it’s pure contempt.”
His tone dripped with despair.
In his mind’s eye, those two leaning against the wall weren’t chatting.
They were smirking—smiles of scorn and superiority, directed right at him.
Hiratsuka Shizuka, hearing the weight in his words, grew a shade more serious.
She poked her own hole in the paper door to take a look outside.
Meanwhile, Doma crawled closer to the door crack, peeking through with trembling focus.
———————————————————————
“Can’t believe you actually came up with such a genius way to slack off. You’re a damn legend, Eikichi.”
Danma Ryuji slapped his best friend on the shoulder, his praise overflowing.
“Born this way. What can I say?” Eikichi Onizuka grinned, smug and satisfied.
The two of them had originally gone to help collect flower petals, but Onizuka, being the idiot he was, handled everything way too roughly.
Every petal he touched had its cell walls crushed beyond use.
Ryuji had mocked him for it at first—until Onizuka got booted from the task.
Then, realizing he could also escape work, Ryuji quickly turned into an idiot too.
“But why are we still hanging around here?” Onizuka asked, frowning.
Everyone else was working hard, while he and Ryuji were standing idle.
It made him feel like everyone’s eyes were secretly on them—even though, no matter how he looked around, he couldn’t spot any actual glares.
“You dumbass. If we head back to Kanagawa now, all we’ll get is ramen for breakfast. But if we wait it out a little longer, we’ll be going out for a proper feast with everyone else!”
Ryuji smirked with the wisdom of a seasoned strategist, even as he kept sneaking glances around, paranoid their boss might suddenly double back and catch them slacking.
“Holy crap, Ryuji, you really are a genius!” Onizuka exclaimed in awe.
“Thanks. You’re a genius too, my friend.” Ryuji smirked wickedly.
And then the two of them lowered their heads again, resuming their exaggerated act of “looking busy” while their eyes darted about nervously.
