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(Marcus POV)
Classes here at Fujimi Academy are painfully boring—nothing new, nothing exciting. But…
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNGGGGG!
"Holy shit, what the hell is this? A nuclear alarm? Oh… it's just the lunch break bell. Whatever, it's showtime." I thought.
I had a mission. The Anti-NTR Plan was now in motion, and my first objective was to find Hiroki, the unlucky protagonist of the hentai universe I suspected was tangled into this world. It didn't take long to spot him.
His so-called 'girlfriend' was clinging to the arm of some muscular, dark-skinned bastard with a smug grin plastered on his face. They were near the baseball field, and just watching that scene pissed me off.
"Alright… time to teach this fool a lesson."
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(Baseball Field - Confrontation Begins)
"So the little shit thinks he can fight me to protect his 'girlfriend'?" the tall, muscular guy sneered as he stepped on Hiroki's back, forcing him onto the ground. "You're just a weak little pussy! You don't see it, do you? She's already mine! Look at her—it's obvious she wants a Big Black Coc—"
"Oi, little shit, who do you think you are?" I interrupted, stepping onto the field with a smirk.
The bastard turned to me, clearly irritated. "And who the hell are you supposed to be?"
"Someone who doesn't waste time fucking used goods," I replied, glancing at the girl beside him. Her eyes widened, the life draining from them as she processed my words. Good. I hate explaining things to people.
His face contorted in rage. "You're some kind of superhero trying to save the day?"
"Nah. Just a guy who enjoys beating the crap out of idiots like you."
That was the final straw. He was fuming—just as I had planned. If I provoked him enough to make him start the fight, I could claim self-defense.
A crowd had started to gather, students from both second and third years watching curiously. The bastard rushed at me like an idiot, fists raised in blind rage.
Perfect.
I dodged easily, stepping aside and extending my foot slightly. He tripped and fell face-first onto the dirt.
"Tsk tsk, you don't even know how to balance yourself? Pathetic."
Before he could recover, I moved in, pinning him to the ground with a Jiu-Jitsu arm-lock. His struggles were useless. The real beating began.
The crowd was eating it up, whispering and cheering as I completely humiliated him. By the time Kyoko arrived, he was barely a conscious mess.
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"Di Balla-kun, what's the meaning of this?!" Kyoko scolded, pulling me away by the ear.
Before I could answer, the bastard scrambled to his feet and ran for his life. I casually grabbed a baseball in the grass and threw it, nailing him in the back of the head from five yards away.
"Relax, Kyoko-chan. We were just practicing martial arts. And look—he wanted to play catch after! But, oh no, he has a headache now… what a shame," I said with a fake sad voice and expression.
Kyoko sighed, clearly knowing I wouldn't admit what really happened. She turned to question some of the other students. Meanwhile, I crouched next to Hiroki, who was still kneeling on the ground, looking lost.
"Hey, little guy, you okay?"
"Yeah… I think so," he muttered, his voice laced with sadness.
I patted his shoulder. "Look, I know it's tough. Someone you thought loved you betraying you like this—it sucks. But from today, you're my friend. I'll help you move past this."
He looked up, confused. "How—?"
"You're gonna train with me. You'll be the best version of yourself—body, mind, and fists. I'll turn you into a real man. Just trust me."
I smirked. "Trust the dad that the enemies will fall."
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After class, Hiroki's sister—who was also my classmate—approached me.
"Di Balla-san, I wanted to thank you for helping my little brother," she said, bowing. "He's a good boy, but he never learned to defend himself. That bastard beats him all the time. So… thank you."
I took a good look at her. Damn.
She had orange-blonde hair with a few black streaks, green eyes, tanned skin, huge breasts, wide hips, and killer legs. Her uniform was worn unorthodoxly—shirt unbuttoned just enough to show cleavage, and a skirt slightly shorter than regulation.
"It was nothing. He's my friend now, so I'll take care of it. I'm going to turn him into a real man—not the weakling he thinks is normal."
She frowned at my bluntness but didn't argue.
"Sorry, I didn't catch your name, uh…?"
"Oh! It's Kanoko Mori," she said, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Well, you already know mine, but call me Marcos."
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Me and her were walking together to the parking lot and talking when a asked her "Hey, do you want a ride home? Your brother went to the hospital, and it's getting late. Kokujin might want revenge on me… and on Hiroki."
Her expression went from neutral to worried a little. "Alright… I'll accept."
The perfect gyaru stereotype agreed. Excellent.
After dropping her off at her house, I made a quick call to Izana-san.
"Yo, I need you to put some protection on three people—Kanoko Mori, her mother, and a friend of her brother Hiroki Mori, she is from the Judo club from my school, name Ayumu Yami."
"Understood. Anyone we should be worried about?"
"Yeah, a tall afro-japanese idiot guy might want revenge. Keep an eye on him."
"Got it, kid. Stay sharp."
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When I got home, I immediately started modifying my Suburban's trunk to house hidden weapons, including my newest acquisition—a Heckler & Koch MP5SD 9mm with silencer. You can never be too careful.
After finishing that, I took a hot shower and began planning Hiroki's training regimen. He was going to be my right-hand man when the apocalypse hit, while Kohta would serve as my eyes and ears. Everything had to be carefully prepared.
I wasn't just surviving this world—I was thriving in it.
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