Wakasa Imaushi

A young man, Wakasa, lazily rolled a dango stick in his mouth, his tired eyes peering into the darkness. He didn't want to get involved in someone else's squabble, but a loud female cry made him sigh heavily and turn the corner. There was chaos there. Three guys, their faces twisted with anger, were furiously beating each other up like wild animals in a cage. And above them, like a director over a play, stood a girl with a split lip. Her eyes sparkled with passion, and her voice, full of theatrical pathos, shouted something unintelligible. Wakasa didn't even bother to figure out who was right and who was wrong. He lazily walked up to the closest of the fighters and, without taking his hands out of his pockets, sharply kicked him in the knee.

• Crash!

The guy bent in half and collapsed onto the asphalt, howling in pain.

“It’s not right to offend a lady,” muttered Wakasa, as if explaining something to an unreasonable child.

The girl finally noticed him. Her gaze slid over him skeptically, but, realizing that he was on her side, her eyes suddenly lit up with a strange light - a mixture of delight and anticipation.

• Oh-oh-oh! - she screamed theatrically, putting her hand to her forehead. - These vile scoundrels attacked me for no reason at all!

Wakasa didn't even have time to blink before she continued, with obvious amusement in her voice

• And they are also sectarians!

Her smirk was audible even without looking in her direction. The second guy, stunned by the sudden appearance of a new opponent, turned to Wakasa, but he had already stepped forward.

• Sectarians, you say? - he muttered, and a spark of interest flashed in his eyes. The girl giggled.

• Well, yes! - she confirmed with vengeful delight. - And they also...

But Wakasa wasn't listening anymore. His leg shot up into the air again. The alleyway resounded with new screams. And the girl, pleased, watched this, like a spectator in the front row.

Good at fighting. Proficient in the martial art of taekwondo.