Chapter 25: Join My Totally-Not-a-Gang Gang
(Where I Recruit with Punches and Philosophy)
Kisara didn't get impressed easily. Sure, guys liked to puff their chests and throw a few punches, but when it came to actual martial arts? Real, disciplined, trained technique? Most of them flopped harder than a goldfish on a trampoline.
But this guy—this Naruto-pretending-to-be-Issei guy?
He had moves.
One moment, her three musketeers—Ikki the Flash Fist, Ukita the Human Bulldozer, and Koga the Capoeira Prince (or at least the Capoeira Sidekick)—were forming a deadly triangle formation. The next, they were reduced to a pile of groaning limbs and bruised pride.
Kisara watched it all with her arms crossed, expression neutral… but her eyes? Definitely curious.
This wasn't a regular schoolyard brawl. Naruto fought like he was dancing with chaos and somehow leading the choreography. His style was—what's the technical term?—a mashup of everything. He had the footwork of a boxer, the throws of a judoka, and the unpredictability of someone who'd probably fought a tiger on a tightrope just for fun.
She tilted her head as he casually stretched after flooring Koga for the third and final time.
"Self-taught?" she muttered under her breath. "Or a master's Frankenstein monster of every martial art ever created?"
The idea should've been ridiculous.
It wasn't.
Then, he looked at her.
That look. Not the sleazy kind. Not the smug "Oh, you're next, little lady" garbage. It was the kind of look you gave a rival before a match—curious, challenging, and above all, respectful.
That got her attention.
Kisara was used to being underestimated. A girl in a mostly guy-dominated underground scene? Please. Most of her fights started with someone saying "Are you lost, sweetheart?" and ended with someone swallowing their molars.
But this guy?
He didn't see her as weak.
He saw her as worthy.
Which made it all the more satisfying when she cracked her knuckles, stepped forward, and said, "Now that you've beaten up my boys, I can't just let you walk away without breaking something."
Naruto—still wearing that smug, battle-high grin—chuckled like she'd just offered him dessert after dinner. "I don't mind," he said. "But that's only if you can hit me."
He bounced on his feet now, eyes alive with excitement. "I hope you're faster than those guys. I'm really hoping for those legendary kicks of yours."
Kisara smirked.
"Oh, don't worry," she said, stepping into stance. "You'll be tasting one in three seconds or less."
"Bold claim."
"Back it up?"
Naruto gave her the universal fighter's nod. The "let's dance" signal.
Shogo, off to the side, bit into a new stick of gum with glee. "Oh, this is gonna be good," he mumbled through bubbles.
Kenichi whispered, "Should we… stop this?"
Kisara's foot blurred through the air so fast the wind snapped Kenichi's collar.
He wisely shut up.
Naruto dodged by millimeters, eyes wide with anticipation. "Okay… okay… This is more like it."
And just like that, the alley became an arena.
Two warriors. One alley. No rules.
Just mutual respect, flying kicks, and the distinct possibility of a dislocated jaw.
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The alley wasn't made for epic showdowns. It was narrow, littered with trash cans, old posters peeling off the walls, and one very confused stray cat who immediately dipped as soon as the first kick shattered the sound barrier.
Kisara struck first.
Her roundhouse kick sliced through the air, and Naruto ducked under it by a hair's breadth, the hem of his shirt fluttering from the pressure.
"Fast," he muttered with a grin, "but not fast enough."
"Then stop smiling and try dodging this!" she snapped.
She twisted mid-air, using her momentum to deliver a hook kick that came at Naruto from the opposite angle. He leaned back with a fluid spine bend—Matrix-style—and planted one hand on the ground, flipping back to safety.
"Okay, okay," he said, landing on his feet. "I felt the wind on that one. Points for drama."
They circled each other, breath misting slightly in the cool night air. Kisara's eyes narrowed, studying him.
"Mixed style," she said. "You copy moves like a parrot or just addicted to fighting?"
Naruto smirked. "Why not both?"
She lunged.
He stepped in.
Their fists collided in a cross-counter—her straight punch to his elbow deflect and palm strike—both twisting off to avoid the follow-up. Kisara sent a low spinning sweep. Naruto hopped it, aiming a Muay Thai knee down from above. She leaned sideways and spun her heel up for a spinning back kick, barely missing his ribs.
CLANG! Her foot hit the side of a dumpster instead, denting the metal.
Naruto whistled. "You sure that thing wasn't aimed at my head?"
"I missed on purpose," she lied.
"Uh-huh."
Then they both moved—fast.
Naruto charged with a Baji Quan shoulder strike, forcing her back. She vaulted off the wall, used it to spin, and countered with a flying side kick straight toward his chest.
BOOM!
He crossed his arms and skidded back, boots digging grooves into the dirty concrete.
"Oof—okay. You've definitely broken boards with that."
Kisara landed and shook her leg loose. "I break ribs with that."
"Oh, so we're flirting now?" he teased.
She snorted. "Only if you stay standing."
They took the fight upward.
Kisara leapt to the emergency stairs, Naruto following right behind her like a shadow. They sprinted up the zigzagging metal structure, trading elbow strikes and kicks on the go. Naruto tried to grab her from behind into a judo hip throw, but Kisara jumped mid-grapple and kicked off the railing, flipping over him and landing three steps higher.
She spun around, fire in her eyes. "You like heights?"
"I prefer rooftops. Better view."
She charged him from above, leaping off the stair platform with a double kick aimed at his chest and head. Naruto caught the first with his forearm, ducked the second, and responded with a low inside leg kick, knocking her foot out from under her.
But she rolled with it, using the momentum to twist and try for a heel hook takedown on his ankle.
"Tricky girl," Naruto grunted, hopping back, and using the rail to flip over her.
They landed in the alley again, both crouched, panting, bruised.
Kisara wiped blood from her lip. "You're not bad… for a weirdo."
Naruto popped his neck with a grin. "You hit like a truck… for a girl."
She stood. "Sexist and smug? That's it. I'm breaking something."
"Oh, you've already cracked my pride."
They lunged again.
Naruto aimed for a Muay Thai clinch, trying to trap her arms. Kisara slipped it and countered with a triple kick combo—mid, high, low. He blocked two but took the third to his thigh with a wince.
"Cheap shot," he hissed.
"Smart shot."
He ducked and drove in close with a shoulder tackle, smashing her into the alley wall. She gasped but answered with a headbutt that rattled his skull.
They staggered apart, bruised, scratched, panting.
Then—laughter.
"You're nuts," Kisara said, breathless, a grin breaking through.
"You're violent," Naruto replied, equally amused.
They both straightened up. The tension simmered, but now something else bubbled beneath it—respect.
"You still wanna keep going?" she asked, brushing her hair from her face.
Naruto rolled his shoulder. "I mean, I haven't seen your real finisher yet. Still holding out hope for a spinning dragon kick or something."
Kisara raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I'm saving it for a real opponent."
"Ouch."
From the sidelines, Shogo bit his gum so hard it popped like a firecracker. "This is better than pay-per-view," he muttered.
Kenichi, pale and horrified, whispered, "This is illegal, right?"
The alley was quiet now, both fighters still standing, both grinning.
And somehow, both thinking the same thing:
I want to fight this person again.
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The night air was thick with tension—and maybe a little blood.
Kisara wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, glaring at Naruto with a grin that said, "I'm not done."
Naruto rotated his shoulder, wincing slightly. "That headbutt of yours… you hiding steel plates in there?"
"Just a thick skull," she shot back. "Want another taste?"
He chuckled. "You read my mind."
Round two. Fight.
They clashed again, a flurry of strikes that would've made a choreographer cry from joy—or stress. Kisara launched a sidekick, her foot cutting through the air like a blade. Naruto parried with a downward elbow, then spun into a backfist, grazing her cheek.
She answered with a cartwheel kick, using the wall to give it an extra angle. Naruto slid low, avoiding the arc, then used a leg sweep that made her stumble—but not fall.
"You're slippery," she muttered, regaining balance.
"I moisturize," he quipped.
She lunged, aiming to end it. Her fastest combo yet—a high feint into a low roundhouse, then vertical axe kick from above—was brutal. It was also beautifully executed.
But Naruto's instincts had gone beyond textbook moves.
He ducked the high feint, stepped into the roundhouse (which clipped him but didn't stop him), and just before the axe kick landed, he used her momentum—grabbed her leg mid-fall and spun her into a judo throw, slamming her to the ground with a sharp thud.
"Guh!" Kisara grunted, air leaving her lungs.
But she wasn't done.
She twisted on the ground and aimed a heel strike at his face. Naruto narrowly avoided it, jumped back, and gave her the room to stand.
Kisara rose slowly this time. Her chest heaved, one leg trembling from fatigue. Sweat glistened across her forehead, and her lip had a cut that matched the bruise forming on Naruto's cheek.
"We keep going," she growled, "I'm going to actually kill you."
Naruto, breathing heavier now, shook out his arms. "Fair warning… I might enjoy it."
With a yell, she charged.
But Naruto didn't meet her halfway. He waited. Focused. Calm.
As Kisara leapt with another flying kick, Naruto stepped aside—not to dodge, but to control. He caught her leg with both arms, spun on his heel, and delivered a brutal Muay Thai elbow to her ribs.
Crack.
She cried out in pain, and before she could react, Naruto slipped behind her and wrapped her in a grappling lock. Not to choke—just to stop the movement.
"Tap out," he whispered into her ear.
"Never," she hissed back, trying to twist.
"Stubborn," he said, tightening the hold.
"Let—go—!"
Then Naruto gently swept her legs and laid her on the ground like he was setting down a wild tiger. He crouched next to her and gave a tired grin.
"That's game."
Kisara glared up at him, half in pain, half in… awe?
"You... win," she admitted through gritted teeth.
From the side, Shogo whistled. "Well. That was terrifyingly romantic."
Kenichi blinked. "Did he just… gently defeat her? Is that a thing?"
Kisara groaned. "Shut up, both of you."
Naruto stood and extended a hand to her.
She looked at it for a moment. Then took it.
He helped her up, her hand still in his. "You're strong," he said sincerely. "That was the most fun I've had in a fight in a long time."
She raised an eyebrow. "You say that to all the girls you suplex into the concrete?"
He grinned. "Only the special ones."
She rolled her eyes but didn't let go. "Next time I'm breaking your nose."
He laughed. "I'll wear a helmet."
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Let me just say, if someone had told me earlier today that I'd be fighting a lightning-fast Taekwondo queen in a narrow alley, with fire escapes rattling above and the scent of old ramen wafting from a nearby dumpster, I'd have asked if this was some kind of weird side-quest.
But here I was.
Standing in the aftermath of a full-blown mini-battle royale, bruised but grinning like an idiot, while Kisara—Queen of Kicks and Arcades—looked at me with suspicion and just a little bit of intrigue. Her gang, AKA the Three Not-So-Musketeers, stood nearby nursing their sore muscles and wounded pride.
"So…" I stretched, cracking my neck like the main character in a martial arts flick. "Wanna join my gang?"
Kisara blinked at me. "You just beat up half my team and now you're trying to recruit me?"
"Technically," I said, "I beat up all of your team. You included." I gave her a lopsided grin. "That counts as a proper job interview in delinquent culture, right?"
She didn't laugh. Not at first. She just narrowed her eyes and tilted her head slightly. "What's your real goal, Issei? You're not just collecting fighters for fun, are you? What happens when you've got all the gangs under you? Arcade tournaments every weekend? Giant turf war dodgeball matches?"
Okay, that did sound kinda awesome.
But I shook my head. "No, it's more than that." I let the smile drop for a second. "You know how it is, right? Most of the guys running around with these gangs… they're not bad people. They're just… lost. Angry. Waiting for something or someone to give them a reason to be better."
Kisara crossed her arms, listening but not yet buying it.
"I want to be that reason," I said. "I want to gather these guys, guide them, train them—not just to be better fighters but better people. Some of them are only one punch away from ending up in real crime. Real gangs. And I don't want to sit back and watch that happen when I can do something about it."
Kisara's brows rose just slightly. Her gang muttered behind her. Ukita blinked. "Wait… that's… really mature."
"Yeah," Ikki whispered. "He doesn't look smart enough to come up with that."
"I heard that," I called over my shoulder, then turned back to Kisara.
"And hey," I added with a smirk, "I also want to practice leadership. I'm not just punching people for the cardio, y'know?"
That earned a snort. She was trying not to laugh.
"But," I said, stepping closer, "there's another reason. One I'm not ready to say yet. Not unless you join me and show me your spirit first."
She stared at me for a beat. I half-expected her to laugh in my face and roundhouse me back to Monday.
Instead, she sighed and brushed her hair back. "You're weird, Issei."
"Thank you."
"But… you're the kind of weird I could maybe work with."
Did I just get a yes?
She held out her fist. "Don't expect me to bow or call you boss or any of that junk. But if you're serious, I'll walk with you a bit. See where this crazy road goes."
I bumped my fist to hers. "Deal. We'll make this gang cooler than a Ramen Festival in winter."
Koga muttered, "That sounds… kinda lame."
"It's a work in progress," I shot back.
And just like that, the girl with the fastest kicks in town and the arcade gang joined the cause.
Step one: unite the gangs.
Step two: train them up.
Step three: prevent a generation of delinquents from becoming actual villains.
Step four: ...profit? No, wait. That's not right.
Anyway. I had a crew now. And the real mission was just beginning.