"Why wouldn't it be mine?" The man's tone grew sharper as he stared coldly at Aoyama Akira. "My dog's been missing for days. Of course it's dirty and skinny. Why do you care so much?"
"Oh? You say it's yours?" Akira suddenly smiled, looking at the man with clear intent. "Then call it. If it responds to you, I'll leave immediately."
The man's expression darkened. He glared at Akira and snapped, "Are you looking for trouble? Didn't your parents teach you not to stick your nose into other people's business? Do you really think you can control what I do?"
"Just call it," Akira replied calmly. "If it comes to you, I'm gone. Fair, right?"
As he spoke, Koro crouched on the ground between them, clearly frightened and at a loss, looking back and forth between Akira and the man with pitiful eyes.
"Fine. You asked for it," the man said angrily.
He'd done this plenty of times before. Most dogs would react when someone called them.
Turning toward the dog, he softened his voice. "Come on, Shiro. Let's go home."
"Shiro?" Akira burst out laughing.
The dog probably was white before it got filthy, but calling it Shiro was about as unimaginative as it got. For a dog like this, the name didn't fit at all.
After all, Koro was a Papillon—a small but elegant breed. No actual owner would casually give it a throwaway name like that.
Seeing Akira laugh openly, the man grew more irritated. He tried calling again, muttering a few more coaxing words, but the dog completely ignored him.
That was the last straw.
"See? It's not responding to you," Akira said, clicking his tongue. He then turned to the dog. "Koro, come here."
At first, Koro hesitated, confused.
Then it stood up and slowly walked toward Akira.
"There," Akira said, waving slightly. Koro immediately trotted over and pressed close to him.
The man's face twisted. "Are you really trying to make things hard for me? Do you think I wouldn't dare do anything to you?"
It was obvious now. The dog's name really was Koro, and it clearly didn't belong to this man. He'd probably tried to claim someone else's pet—maybe a neighbor's, maybe a stranger's.
But so what?
There were no cameras in this alley. If he grabbed the dog and ran, he'd be long gone by the time anyone called the police.
Akira could tell what he was thinking.
Still, he wasn't nervous. Instead, he looked at the man and said evenly, "Aren't you worried there might be cameras? Or that this isn't as safe as you think?"
"Hahaha," the man sneered. "You're the one who should be worried. There are no cameras here, and barely anyone passes through. I don't mind teaching you a lesson for meddling in other people's business—on behalf of your parents."
"That makes things simpler," Akira said, as if something had just clicked.
Since there were no cameras, he didn't need to worry about exposing his strength.
And honestly, he didn't even need to use much.
Against someone like this, raw physical ability alone would be enough. If he added Holy Light, he might actually cripple the guy.
"What?" The man looked confused. "Regretting it now?"
Akira chuckled, looking at him with open disdain. "You really think you're worth regretting?"
"You're asking for it!" the man roared as he lunged forward. His right forearm suddenly turned a dark bluish color.
Akira scooped Koro up instantly and leapt backward, cleanly dodging the punch. After setting the dog down safely, he said, "Stay here. I'll take you home in a minute."
Whether Koro understood or not, Akira was already moving.
Holy Light coated his right fist as he stepped in and drove a punch straight into the man's abdomen.
"You little—! You dare fight back?" The man was shocked. Not only had Akira dodged him, he'd counterattacked immediately.
He didn't dodge.
Instead, he threw his own punch straight at Akira's fist, determined to prove whose was harder.
If the kid's hand broke, so be it.
"Bang!"
"AAAH!"
A sharp scream echoed through the alley.
The man's right hand bent at an unnatural angle. A clear cracking sound followed—it was broken.
When their fists collided, Akira felt the cold nature of the man's Quirk. It was clearly some kind of freezing ability, but far more limited than Holy Light—likely only effective in one arm.
Akira, on the other hand, had wrapped his entire fist in Holy Light and used only about half his strength.
That had been enough.
This was the result of months of relentless training.
Hard work always paid off.
Now he knew exactly where his limits were—and dealing with people like this wasn't a problem at all.
The man staggered back, clutching his limp arm, his face pale. "How… how did you do that?"
He genuinely couldn't understand it.
There had been no obvious Quirk activation from Akira—just an overwhelming, unstoppable force, like smashing into a solid steel wall.
"You still don't get it?" Akira said coldly. "I'm just teaching you a lesson. People like you are despised everywhere. Change how you live—or next time, it won't just be a broken bone. It'll be your entire arm."
The man stared at Akira for a long moment.
Then he turned and ran, not daring to say another word.
Akira didn't chase him.
His goal had never been to hunt anyone down—only to test his strength and protect the dog. Both objectives were already achieved.
What worried him more was whether the man had connections. If someone started digging into this, it could get troublesome. Akira didn't want unnecessary attention.
But today, he had no choice.
Broken House had accepted the request. Koro had been missing for days, and this was the first real lead. If Akira had backed down, the man would've succeeded.
Sometimes, staying low-key didn't mean tolerating everything.
Doing what he believed was right—that was his bottom line.
And that principle wasn't something he was willing to abandon.