A large crowd gathered around his dead body. His lower spine was pancaked by four tons of metal. Not to mention his lifeless eyes that almost blended in with the pool of blood around him. There was just no doubting it. This guy was as dead as a doornail.

He was a teenage boy who sacrificed his life to save a stray cat. Luckily, he made it just in the nick of time. Had he still been alive, I’m sure he would’ve loved to hear such good news. A moment of silence for our lost hero.

…….

Alright, now that we got that out the way, I guess I should be telling you about how utterly shocked the crowd was when that same dead boy slapped away the hands of the paramedics. In their bewilderment, they didn’t even realize that his flattened torso was suddenly filled in.

The crowd crept back, fearing that his nickname of “demon” might not be for show. One man in particular had to balls to shout it out to him. Of course, he found himself soiling his pants after Akuma snot him a single glare. You know, the usual.

Though I have to say, this was the first time anyone has ever actually pissed their pants. My guess is that the blood streaming down his face added to Akuma’s usual blood lusted expression.

“Ugh. My head’s fricking killing me.”

After clicking his tongue, Akuma got up, and while resting his hands in his pockets he walked away from the bloodied scene.

Naturally any pedestrian in his way made themselves scarce.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“My day has just been so damn dandy. First, we have these people who swear I’ll murder em’ just cause’ I happened to look their way. A vending machine trying to steal my money. No wait, that was your fault!”

The angel floating next to him cackled as if he were an evil witch. He seemed unfazed by the fact that Akuma just died, like he knew he would’ve been revived somehow.

“Agh! And then I almost died saving a damn cat, who’ll probably die next week anyways with how careless these people are. Actually, I did die! I distinctly remember something about coming back to life. But why is it so hazy? It literally just happened! Or maybe it didn’t? Maybe the whole thing never even happened? Whatever. I don’t even care anymore.”

Another exhausted sigh escaped Akuma. A lot of those seem to be coming out of him these days.

Turning his gaze at the floating angel, he muttered, “I wonder… Are you really just some hallucination?”

In the middle of his ponder, the sound of bustling footsteps, clanking of metal and even feint giggles assaulted his ears. It was a collection of sounds he knew all too well. There was a part of him that wanted nothing to do with the nonsense he could smell approaching. The other part of him, however, felt ecstatic to find victims to relieve his stress.

Akuma turned his attention, spotting about a hundred or so students behind him. Some had weapons of various kinds, from spiked clubs to crowbars. There were a few gutsy souls who chose to use their bare fist but honestly, against the enemy before them I could only call them stupid.

Their leader was a man named “Bomi” -a nickname that stemmed from the brand of cigarettes he always smoked. He was a high school dropout with tattoos all over his body as well as a lit cigar poking from his lips.

Bomi took the cigarette from his lips, effortlessly flicking it into a nearby trash bin.

“My boys here have told me some unfortunate news. Someone's going around and walking on our turf like they own the damn place. Apparently, it’s the Lazy Demon-”

Before he could even finish that sentence, his face had already been smashed in, his body flying in between his gang.

After an awkward silence, the rest of the group all charged Akuma, throwing any kind of honor or dignity out the door.

I hesitate to even refer to such a moment as a "fight". Maybe "brawl" would work better, or perhaps "massacre"? Label it what you wish, all the same it was a devastating scene. Any spectator would feel the need to question if it was even fair. One hundred men taken down effortlessly by one teenage boy.

Pressing the last delinquent’s head into the ground with the bottom of his shoe, Akuma turned his gaze to the clouds, a habit he often did when deep in thought.

“…Maybe I’ll go to school.”