Chapter 11: What's It Like to Become an Idol Out of the Blue?

What's it like to become an idol out of the blue?

Cyrus was diligently attending class when a group of younger students appeared at the door, both boys and girls, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the rumored Sword Saint.

“Is it the guy with glasses? He looks kind of ordinary. Maybe he'd be handsome without them.”

“No, Miho, you’ve got it wrong. The Sword Saint is the one behind him. Look at his sunny smile. He’s totally my type.”

The chatter quickly caught the teacher's attention.

“Please wait a moment, everyone. I’ll see what’s going on.”

As the teacher left the room, Yuko Tachikawa leaned over and whispered with a chuckle, “Cyrus, you’ve become the hottest topic on our school’s forum. They’re calling you the Sword Saint. According to the kendo club, your swordsmanship surpasses the masters on TV. It’s a shame I haven’t seen it myself.”

Shinichi, sitting in front of Cyrus, hadn’t checked the school forum last night and was unaware of the buzz.

“They’re just joking around. I’m hardly worthy of being called a Sword Saint.”

Meanwhile, Migi was secretly fiddling with Shinichi’s phone under the desk. It quickly logged onto the school forum, which was filled with discussions about Cyrus, including recent murder cases.

Migi soon found a video from yesterday afternoon, showing Cyrus single-handedly taking on five opponents. The shaky camera made the footage blurry, but Migi was impressed.

“Shinichi, he’s very strong. If a parasite took over his body, it would be extremely dangerous,” Migi whispered into Shinichi’s ear from under his collar.

“Really? Is he that good?”

“Yes, his reflexes are far superior to the average person. If possible, I’d like you to learn swordsmanship from him.”

“No way. I have zero interest in that,” Shinichi replied, shaking his head.

Yuko Tachikawa noticed Shinichi’s odd behavior and asked, “Are you talking to yourself?”

“No, I was just…reciting the lesson.”

Seeing Shinichi's stammering response, Yuko raised an eyebrow but decided not to press further.

By this time, the teacher had managed to disperse the students outside.

Time flew by, and before they knew it, it was the last period of the day—PE class.

“Sorry, I’m not interested in dating right now,” Cyrus politely declined another girl. Ever since the video went viral, more and more girls had been sending him love letters and asking for selfies and autographs.

“Seems like having too many admirers can be a hassle, right, Cyrus?” Yuko teased as she linked arms with Satomi Murano, glancing at Shinichi playing basketball.

“It can be a bit troublesome,” Cyrus shrugged.

He then turned his gaze to Shinichi, who was making a big splash on the court with Migi’s help. Every shot Shinichi made was impressively accurate, almost as if he couldn’t miss.

“But someone else seems to be stealing my spotlight now,” Cyrus said with a smile.

Hearing this, Yuko shouted to Shinichi on the court, “Satomi says if you make another basket, she’ll forgive you for what happened last time.”

“Hahaha, now you’ve really put the pressure on him,” Cyrus laughed, noticing Satomi’s shy reaction.

“Anyway, I’m going to head to the kendo club now. Enjoy the rest of the game,” Cyrus said, excusing himself.

After speaking, Cyrus left the gymnasium.

On his way out, a familiar figure blocked his path—Yoshiro Asou, holding a baseball bat, with a group of his lackeys behind him.

“I was planning to teach you a lesson at the school gate, but you hid away. Where’s that arrogance you showed yesterday?”

Yoshiro tapped the steel bat on the ground, producing a sharp clinking sound.

“Be obedient and come with us.”

Without saying much, Cyrus followed them out of the school.

In a secluded alley, a dozen gangsters were smoking. Seeing Yoshiro and his group arrive, they quickly surrounded Cyrus.

“Word is, you’ve become quite famous at West High?” The lead thug, with dyed blond hair and a cigarette in his mouth, sneered at Cyrus.

“Sigh.”

Cyrus shook his head and said calmly, “Your methods of revenge are so cliché, and you sure like to talk nonsense.”

“Bastard, you’re dead meat, and you’re still acting all high and mighty.” Yoshiro couldn’t hold back his anger any longer and swung the bat at Cyrus’s head.

The other thugs, seeing Cyrus's audacity, spat out their cigarettes and grabbed their iron rods, ready to attack.

Boom! In an instant, Cyrus turned his head and caught the baseball bat with his steel-bladed fingers. The hollow bat’s surface dented, with his fingers leaving deep imprints.

Yoshiro didn’t even have time to react before Cyrus snatched the bat from his hands.

“You lowlifes are just wasting my precious time.” Cyrus kicked one of them to the ground, then raised the steel bat and brought it down. The sound of breaking bones echoed, and the thug’s arm bent unnaturally.

The gangsters and Yoshiro’s group were petrified.

But not Cyrus. The bat in his hands whistled through the air, followed by cries of pain from the gangsters. If they were well-trained, Cyrus might have had a tougher time, but they were just thugs—only good at mob attacks and bullying the weak. Against someone like Cyrus, they stood no chance.

After about five or six minutes, Cyrus had dislocated an arm from each of them. It was indeed exhausting work.

“Alright, stop playing dead. I didn’t even touch you.”

Cyrus nudged Yoshiro’s stomach with his foot.

“Really passed out?” Seeing no reaction, Cyrus squatted down and checked Yoshiro’s eyes, realizing he had fainted from fear rather than pretending.

“You know the drill. Head to the hospital; you might still save your arms. But if I hear you reported this, losing an arm will be the least of your worries.” Cyrus wiped the blood splatters off his face and glared at the lead thug. “I’m sure none of you want to find out what it’s like to be encased in cement and sunk into Yokohama Bay, right?”

The gangsters on the ground nodded frantically, too scared to speak.

As for the senior students, Cyrus didn’t touch them. Their terrified expressions showed that Cyrus had left a deep impression on them.

“As for this guy…” Cyrus rubbed his chin, looking at the unconscious Yoshiro.

“I’ll leave him to you. I don’t want to see him at school again.” Cyrus smiled, shoving the bloodied, deformed bat into the lead thug’s hands.

“If he calls the cops, you know what to say.”

The blond thug swallowed hard, enduring the pain to nod. “It’s a personal grudge between us. It has nothing to do with you.”

“You’re a smart guy.”

With Yoshiro’s screams echoing behind him, Cyrus casually walked out of the alley.