Villain: Your Heroines Were Delicious - Chapter 142 - 7

Chapter 142: Chapter 7

Seijirou and the others arrived at the West Wing of Saint Shinomiya, which was a stark contrast to the luxurious marble lobby on the ground floor.

Here, the architecture was more modern—high-ceilinged galleries lined with trophies and glass-encased displays of the school’s “dominance.”

The air felt pressurized, as if they were in a tactical web woven by the defenders that Seijirou could feel tugging at his senses.

“Please proceed as plan,” Haruka’s voice crackled through the phone, cold and analytical. “I don’t know why Mira has left Sosuke’s side earlier than predicted and coordinated a pincer with Takeko, who have also swapped quadrants with Ryu, but it doesn’t matter. They are trying to herd you into a kill-zone. Don’t play their game. Break the ceiling above you and ascend to the third floor. It is the only clear path to the auditorium.”

Seijirou looked up at the reinforced plaster and concrete and immediately prepared to break it, but before he could flex his own Ki, Renji stepped forward, his eyes blazing with a competitive fire.

“Let me, Boss. I need to blow off some steam before we hit the big leagues.”

Renji’s fist began to pulse with a radiant, golden spiritual energy.

Then, with a guttural shout, he launched a punch upward.

The air itself seemed to scream as the golden energy impacted the ceiling, causing a spider-webbing like cracks on the concrete before the entire section disintegrated into a rain of dust and gravel.

“Go! Move!” Renji shouted.

Seijirou glanced at Yukina and Emi. “Are you two going to be alright?”

The two girls stood back-to-back, perfectly synchronized as they smiled at him and nodded.

“We’ve got this,” Yukina said, her voice dropping into a low, predatory tone. “Go finish off those bastards and make them pay, Seijirou.”

Seijirou leapt through the hole, followed by Shou, Sakai, and Suzune.

But as they landed on the third floor, Haruka’s sounded, “Seijirou-sama, you and the others proceed. Renji-san, an opponent you most desire is moving to intercept the breach. Stop him here.”

Renji blinked in confusion, his golden aura flickering in the dark corridor. “Opponent I most desire? Is it Ayano? I’ve been dying to finish what we started. Oh, and that bastard Godai too, been wanting to smack his face for that fight last month.”

Sadly, Haruka didn’t answer him.

“Renji, we’re going.” Seijirou stared at him, “No matter what, don’t lose like last time. You’re going to embarrass me.”

Renji laughed, “Hahaha, don’t worry boss, I made a promise when I made a contract with my spirit that I will never lose a battle, if I’m fighting for you.”

That was not a lie. Renji had actually offered his pride and soul for that contract, and the spirit only required him to never lose in a fight that he deemed matter more than his life.

For Renji, battles where he can stand beside and help Seijirou matters more than his life.

That was why, he must never lose.

Seijirou nodded at him, and immediately turned around and ran towards the direction of the auditorium that Haruka pointed at.

“Take care, you bastard. I’ll kill you if you lose.” Said Sakai as before he followed after Seijirou.

“I’ll spread all your dark history in school if you lose.” Said Shou.

“That’s not necessary!” Renji screamed, his face turning red in shame.

“I’ll help set you up on a date if you won,” Suzune grinned, giving him a peace sign, “I know a few girls from third years who are into younger delinquent boys.”

“Swear on it!” Renji grinned.

Suzune simply smirked, said nothing, and turned to follow after Seijirou.

Shou gave him a nod and followed them as well.

Renji stared at their retreating back and took a deep breath. He cracked his knuckles and waited for that so-called opponent Haruka had said.

*

*

*

Below, in the West Wing gallery, the dust from the ceiling had barely settled when the shadows from the hall began to move.

Emi and Yukina stood back to back, ready for any attack.

Then….Twang!

A dozen streaks of white light hissed through the darkness, aimed with surgical precision at the vital points of the two girls.

Without a word of warning, Emi moved.

Her silver bow materialized in her hand, glowing with a soft, lunar radiance, and then, with a blur of motion, she drew and released.

Twelve silver arrows of light met the twelve incoming shafts in mid-air, resulting in a series of miniature explosions that illuminated the hall in staccato flashes.

“Whoa! So that’s your power!” Yukina muttered in amazement.

“Show yourself,” Emi frowned, drawing her bow as an arrow made of light materialized on the string.

From the darkness emerged Shiho Mira.

Her orange hair was cropped short, and she held her wooden bow with the relaxed confidence of a master.

Her eyes were sharp, scanning Emi with a clinical interest.

“You must be Shiho Mira,” Emi said, her voice a flat, emotionless drone. “Your aim is… adequate.”

“Hm?” Yukina turned, feeling another presence approaching.

From the opposite end of the hall, the ground groaned under a heavy weight as Yamashita Takeko, the towering, bald Judo captain, stepped into the light.

His muscles were like carved granite, and his mere presence seemed to displace the air in the room.

“Oh. Now this is more like it.” Yukina grinned, punching her palm.

At this moment, Mira, who was staring at Emi earlier, suddenly turned her head as her gaze drifted toward the window, her pupils dilating as she focused on a distant skyscraper overlooking the school.

Instantly, Emi’s heart skipped a beat. That place is where Haruka is hiding!

Without hesitation, she let go of the strings, as her arrows flew and split into dozens streaks of light.

But Mira didn’t engage. Instead, with a sudden burst of speed, she sprinted toward the window and leapt through the glass, her silhouette a dark streak against the moon.

The arrows completely missed their target!

“You’re not going anywhere near her!” Emi hissed.

She didn’t hesitate, diving out of the shattered window after the archer, leaving Yukina alone with the Judo giant.

Yukina blinked, watching the glass shards fall like snow.

“Well… I guess it’s just us, big guy.” She reached up, slowly peeling off her leather jacket and tossing it onto a nearby trophy case.

She stood in her white tank top, the fabric clinging to her as she cracked her knuckles, her brown sandals clicking on the floor.

“Alright, let’s get down to—”

She stopped, her eyes blinked in confusion.

In front of her, Takeko hadn’t made a move, nor did he go into combat stance. Instead, the bald man was staring at Yukina with an expression of profound, soul-deep disapproval.

“Excuse me?” Yukina raised an eyebrow. “Are you deaf? I said let’s go.”

Takeko let out a heavy, disappointed sigh as he pointed a thick finger at the trophy case. “Please pick up your jacket immediately. It is highly inappropriate to engage in physical combat while dressing so… indecently.”

Yukina’s cheek twitched, as the burning fire of her battle spirit flickered in confusion. “Indecently? It’s a tank top! It’s for athletics! Everyone wears them!”

“Your midriff is exposed, and your cleavage is… prominent. Also, please remove the piercings on your belly button.” Takeko said, his voice sounding like a stern grandmother’s lecture. “This is an educational institution. There are standards of decorum and modesty to be maintained, even during a violent insurrection. I cannot, in good conscience, strike a woman who is so loosely attired. Put on your jacket and button it to the chin. Then, we shall commence.”

Yukina stood frozen for three seconds, her brain trying to process the sheer absurdity of the situation.

She was one of the most feared delinquents in the 24th District, a woman who had fought through waterfalls and mastered the arts of the street, and she was being modesty-shamed by a Judo captain in the middle of a war.

“You… you giant, bald prude!” Yukina erupted, her spirit energy flaring in a violent, jagged orange. “I’m here to kick your teeth in, not pass a dress code inspection! My ’midriff’ and piercings is the last thing you should be worried about!”

Takeko crossed his massive arms, his face as immovable as a mountain. “Modesty is the foundation of a disciplined spirit. If you cannot respect yourself enough to cover your skin, you have already lost the battle of wills. I will wait. Put it on.”

“THAT DOES IT!” Yukina roared, her sandals skidding across the floor as she launched herself forward.

She didn’t bother with a formal opening like she normally would, but immediately threw a high-tension roundhouse kick aimed squarely at Takeko’s head.

“I’m going to beat you so hard you’ll forget what a jacket even looks like!”

Takeko didn’t move his feet.

He simply raised one massive hand, the palm open.

Wham! Yukina’s foot slammed into Takeko’s hand with the force of a car crash, but the Judo captain didn’t even flinch.

“Improper form,” Takeko noted calmly. “And your shirt shifted. Truly disgraceful.”

“SHUT UP!” Yukina screamed, spinning for a second strike.

The battle of the West Wing began, and completely not as a clash of fighting styles nor clash of hatred, but as a clash of worldviews.

Yukina, the free-spirited street fighter, against Takeko, the unmovable pillar of conservative discipline.

Truly a battle worthy of being called the battle of the century.