WOLVES WITHOUT TEETH, miyuki kazuya

four

chapter four

❛want me to love you in moderation? well, don't you know, i wish i could❜

━━━━━━

More work from Delphi puts you back on track.

Both heavy and light tasks. Heavy ones that make you restless and give you nightmares. But ligher ones that alleviate some of that stress.

A missing dog who you return to a couple. A neighborhood concerned that the communal garden is being trampled by others but it's really just a mischievous colony of cats.

It's not always so high-stakes, which is nice. You don't mind rescuing cats from trees or helping older ladies with their groceries. You prefer it. You never want to be one of those heroes who bemoans a 'slow night.' Because a slow night means no crime. No crime means no one's life is going to be potentially ruined. Of course you want that.

But even if it's not high-stakes, it doesn't make it less important.

You're thinking about as you swing through Edogawa, where you and Kazuya used to attend junior high, where his old junior league was also located.

Nostalgia is what leads you round the old baseball fields he used to play. Filled with memories of the first catcher Kazuya ever saw as a real threat, of those times he could never beat Narumiya, either, talented even as children, but also the memories where he was pushed around by the older boys who didn't like his mouth and his small stature made it all the more easier to beat on him.

You stood up to them once — bluffed about one of the teachers being on their way, used your status as a girl to keep them off. You hardly scared them, you know that, but it mitigated the damage they could've done to Kazuya and that was all that mattered to you.

He was... furious about it afterwards. Not because he was angry you'd spoken on his behalf or that you'd protected him, but rather that — "They could've hurt you!"

But even that wouldn't stop you, though.

Something similar plays out in front of you, perched on a branch in a large maple tree. Except the smaller boy being shoved around by his incensed teammates doesn't seem to have anyone else to come to defense. He reminds you eerily of Kazuya, though his hair is darker, his skin paler.

Your eyes narrow as he hits the ground hard, sending up plumes of dirt, staining his white uniform. You can't hear them from here but you can't think of anything that would warrant that kind of violence.

But that's the thing about violence. If you let it, it could turn into an endless cycle. One generation hurting another over and over again.

Though it angers you as you drop into the scene, you prioritize patience foremost. If you do this right, you could put an end to it. For now.

The other boys — three of them — stumble back, eyes widening in wonder.

"Woah! It's — you're Spider-Woman!"

"Hi." You turn, kneeling and extending a hand to the boy on the ground. "Are you okay?"

He stares at your hand, uncertain, one arm curled over his stomach. These ones are smart, then. The boys who bullied Kazuya were never quite as strategic as preferring body hits over ones to his face, ones that would raise questions.

You still temper your anger despite that.

One of the other boys surges forward. "I'm — I'm a huge fan —"