Netori: I Shall Steal All Of My Enemies' Women For Revenge!

"Ahh~ you guys finally made it."

The voice jolted Haruto from his thoughts. His gaze, which had been fixed on the ground, lifted to meet the speaker.

Standing there was a man with jet-black hair and dark, piercing eyes—one of which bore a scar that left it clouded, a grayish hue that hinted at blindness.

Haruto recognized him instantly.

Ren Ito.

Ren was as tall as Haruto, with an arrogant smirk that seemed to judge everyone around him.

Two other figures flanked him, likely Red Claws members, mirroring his sneering confidence.

Ren's gaze shifted briefly to Arataki. "I see Arataki's here," he drawled.

"How's your sister doing?"

His tone was like a mock as his two friends laughed along with him just like a hyena. Condescending, disturbing, wicked.

"You fucking asshole!"

A flicker of anger flared in Arataki's eyes. His jaw clenched, fists twitching as he moved to step forward.

But Enji's firm hand stopped him, fingers digging into Arataki's shoulder in silent restraint.

Ren gave a mocking shrug. "Tch. That's boring."

Haruto clenched his fists, watching Ren with narrowed eyes. He didn't know much about the man personally, but he was well aware of his reputation.

Ren had a twisted hobby—he collected 'porn' as if it were some prize. Haruto's gaze shifted to Arataki, his friend's barely contained fury making more sense.

He could only imagine what kind of filth Ren might have, and one thought chilled him: 'He probably has a video of Erika.'

***

A memory hit him, raw and painful, stealing his breath for a moment.

He saw Haruka, his little sister, standing on the edge of the school rooftop, the wind tugging at her tear-streaked face.

She had looked ready to jump, her entire body radiating a heartbreaking desperation.

He remembered rushing forward, faster than he'd ever moved, grabbing her hand before she could take that last, tragic step.

Pulling her into his arms, he held her tight, feeling her tremble against him.

"What are you doing? Are you crazy?!" His voice had cracked, panic and anger thick in his throat.

It was impossible to reconcile this broken girl with the sister he knew—his sunshine, always bright and cheerful.

"Everyone will see it!" she had sobbed, clutching his collar with trembling hands, her voice breaking as she screamed, "WHAT SHOULD I DO, BROTHER?! I WANT TO DIE!"

At the time, Haruto hadn't understood. He'd just held her, silently promising to keep her safe, vowing to get her out of that hell, away from anyone who could hurt her.

Forget school, forget everything else. He'd been ready to abandon the city, to do whatever it took to protect her.

But in the end, it hadn't been enough. She was gone before he could make that promise real.

***

'Ah… So that's what Haruka meant… It's you!'

Haruto's hands clenched, knuckles turning white as his glare zeroed in on Ren.

He felt a dangerous heat rise inside him, his blood boiling with the urge to pounce on the man and smash his knuckle buster against that mocking face, to end it all right here.

His vision blurred with anger, rational thought slipping further away.

But then, he caught himself. He forced in a deep breath, remembering Jin's words and fighting to calm down.

Dying was easy, he reminded himself; he'd been there, felt the pain, and nothing else.

But for Ren, for Daiki, and everyone else in their gang, punishment needed to be more than just a swift death.

If God wouldn't punish them, Haruto would make sure he did.

'This monster… After I'm done with Kota, you're next!' he vowed silently.

Just then, a familiar voice echoed from behind. "I wonder if those eyes can still glare after this fight."

Haruto turned, locking eyes with Daiki, who sauntered forward with a smug look. Daiki's expression shifted when he noticed Nakamura and Kikuchi among the group.

His eyes widened briefly before narrowing with amusement. "Oh? I didn't realize the whole crew would be here. What's wrong? Afraid I might kill him?"

His laughter rang out coldly. "Don't worry. I'm not a psycho that enjoys killing." He leaned closer, eyes flickering with dark satisfaction.

"Especially not quick ones."

Kikuchi's unamused voice cut through the air. "Daiki, I didn't realize you liked to hear yourself talk so much."

He took out a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with a practiced flick and inhaling deeply.

Blowing out a slow stream of smoke, he added with a bored tone, "We're not here for your theatrics. Just lead the way."

Ren and his two lackeys bristled, their glares sharpening as they moved toward Kikuchi, fists twitching. But Daiki raised a hand, stopping them in their tracks.

With a mocking laugh, Daiki smirked. "Senior Kikuchi, as blunt as ever. I was just trying to lighten the mood, but I guess jokes are wasted on you."

With a dismissive turn, he gestured forward. "Fine then. Follow me."

The five of them followed Daiki and his lackeys across the field, their footsteps echoing in the eerie silence of the underground arena.

Ahead lay another darkened entryway that led down into the pit—the infamous underground ring where this brutal showdown would unfold.

Only Daiki and Haruto were allowed to step inside.

No referee, no rules, just a concrete enclosure stained with the remnants of past fights—darkened splatters of dried blood and ominous claw marks etched into the walls.

Haruto slipped the knuckle buster from his pocket, feeling its cool weight in his palm as he stepped into the ring.

His gaze lifted briefly toward his gang standing just outside, their expressions unreadable yet steady, watching him in silence.

He felt a flicker of gratitude for their presence; knowing they had his back grounded him.

This fight was unlike anything he'd experienced, and he needed every ounce of focus.

A low, biting voice pulled him from his thoughts. "What are you looking at? Isn't it rude to be eyeing others instead of the one who's about to put you in the ground?"

Daiki's tone was cold, laced with a resentment that Haruto hadn't anticipated, a chill so different from his usual sneering demeanor.

"You looking down on me?" Daiki continued, his gaze dark and unyielding.

Haruto raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the sudden shift in Daiki's mood.

"No," he replied evenly, though inside his heart was thundering, his anger simmering just below the surface.

"Why would I?"

Daiki's expression hardened, and he fell into a fighting stance. "Good. Keep your eyes on me, or you won't make it out of here."

"Wait," Haruto said, voice steady as he raised a hand. "Before we start, I've got a question. Why do you want to fight me?"

For a moment, Daiki's eyes widened, then he broke into laughter, his usual arrogance flashing back as he sneered.

"It's those eyes of yours. I want to break them, crush that pathetic look in them. I hate it," he said, the smile on his twisted face.

As Haruto clenched his fists, the memory returned, a haunting echo of the past. 'He'd said the same thing back then, too.'