"You…"
Hachikawa Tadashi immediately tried to launch another attack—but what happened next became something he would never forget for the rest of his life.
Bang! Bang!
Dull blasts rang out as the quinque coiled around Hachikawa's right arm continued firing beam after beam. But Hojo Yoru didn't dodge like before.
He walked straight into the barrage, raising his right hand as if it were nothing—and casually caught every single shot.
The executives watching from behind the glass froze.
Catching a quinque's beam cannon… barehanded?
What kind of steel body was this?
Upper First Class Investigator Fukada stared at the scene, his emotions impossible to put into words.
From the very beginning, this "combat assessment" had been completely under Hojo Yoru's control.
The Ghoul Countermeasure Bureau wanted to verify his fighting capability—but wasn't he using the same opportunity to personally measure the true value of investigators and quinques?
Every provocation Hojo had thrown out since arriving—including that opening line to Hachikawa—had only been to enrage the Bureau's leadership and the investigator facing him, forcing his opponent to fight at full power.
And those early evasions?
They'd been for observing the quinque's actual destructive output.
Hachikawa and the executives hadn't realized one crucial fact.
Hojo Yoru's physical performance was monstrous, yes—but it couldn't be treated as equivalent to a ghoul with the same specs. Quinques were designed to pierce RC-cell defenses, purpose-built weapons for a very specific target.
But Hojo wasn't a ghoul.
He had no RC-cell resistance at all—only raw "defense stats." Against him, a quinque wasn't fundamentally different from an ordinary weapon. In fact, because quinques were so optimized for RC-cell penetration, their killing power against a non-RC target could be worse than conventional firearms.
"How is that possible…?"
As Hojo advanced step by step, disbelief flooded Hachikawa's eyes. Gritting his teeth, he rushed forward instead.
"You bastard—!"
BAM!!
Hachikawa swung his right arm with everything he had.
Hojo caught it steadily with one hand.
Hachikawa tried to yank his arm back—
It didn't move an inch.
He was a normal human. In physical strength, he simply could not contend with Hojo.
"Next…" Hojo said.
One hand clamped around Hachikawa's arm. Hojo's other hand slowly clenched into a fist—then shot forward at a speed so fast it was nearly invisible, air cracking with the violence of it, aimed straight at Hachikawa's face.
"It's over…"
That was the only thought left in Hachikawa's mind.
His skull would burst like a watermelon.
So this was his end?
What irony—surviving countless battles against ghouls, only to die at the hands of a devil hunter who was also human.
But at the last instant, Hojo's fist stopped—perfectly—right beside the raised collar covering the lower half of Hachikawa's face.
Even so, the wind shear scraped his cheek like a blade, leaving a stinging pain.
"Associate Special Class Hachikawa."
Hojo released his arm and spoke with an easy, friendly smile.
"This is just a spar. We share the same goal—eliminating ghouls. We can't afford to waste precious human fighting power in a place like this."
Hachikawa—and the executives behind the glass—felt only one thing:
Shame.
This was the breadth of Tokyo's strongest devil hunter.
The earlier exchange had been obvious: Hachikawa hadn't aimed for vital spots, but he'd still attacked at full force, not truly considering the risk of gravely injuring Hojo.
And Hojo, in contrast, had stopped himself in time.
It wasn't only the gap in strength—it was the clearest proof that Hojo could keep his emotions perfectly controlled, stay cool-headed in combat, and choose exactly how far to go.
"I lost, Mr. Hojo," Hachikawa said, utterly convinced.
Hojo simply patted his shoulder and smiled.
"If your quinque were a melee type, you might've given me some trouble. But a ranged type not being able to hurt me isn't your mistake—it's the weapon's limitation."
Behind the bulletproof glass, the executives and researchers all wore complicated expressions.
His observational ability was this sharp, too?
Just as Hojo said: ranged quinques had many advantages—long-distance pressure, low skill barrier, reduced risk of close-quarters engagement for the user.
But they had one fatal flaw:
No matter how strong or weak the user was, the weapon's power did not scale.
This fight had never been in doubt.
Hachikawa's quinque couldn't inflict a lethal wound on Hojo—and without the quinque, even an Associate Special Class investigator with professional training…
to Hojo, he was no different from any ordinary person.
The stat gap was simply too vast.
…
The following afternoon, outside Hojo Yoru's apartment.
"Sorry to intrude."
Yuuki Asuna slipped off her neat little loafers at the entryway, as naturally familiar as if this were her own home. She stepped into a pair of cotton slippers and went inside.
Hojo glanced at her and smiled.
"What's with that outfit? You coming over for a date?"
Asuna's look today really was different from usual. The past few days, she'd either been in uniform or in athletic clothes for mobility.
But today, she wore a cute one-piece dress, paired with thin black tights. A chibi animal hairpin held back her flaxen hair, and a simple white purse hung at her side.
It wasn't flashy or overly elaborate, but on her curvy figure and pretty face, it gave her a clean, innocent "girl-next-door" vibe.
"W-Why do you care?! I went home with my mom yesterday, so I came from my old place today. Is it not okay that I'm wearing this?"
Her cheeks flushed as she reached for her classic tsundere excuse—only to stammer halfway through, because she almost never lied.
The real reason?
Asuna just wanted to dress up a little and let Hojo see her in casual clothes.
Of course, it didn't mean anything! She was just… giving him a little bonus. Repaying her lifesaving debt, that's all!
To hide her panic, she hurriedly changed the subject.
"Why are you asking so much? You have my sportswear here, don't you? I'll just change before we head out."
Hojo replied with a straight face.
"Oh, you mean the set you left here? Last night I missed cute Asuna so much that I… made a mistake with your sportswear. You can't wear it anymore."
"Huh?!"
Asuna might be innocent, but even she could hear the blatant innuendo in his tone. Her face instantly turned red. After a long pause, she finally whispered in a voice as tiny as a mosquito:
"Th-Then… what do we do? D-Did you wash it…?"
Even Hojo Yoru—who lived and breathed nonsense—went wide-eyed.
She actually believed he was that "repressed"?
And that wasn't even the main problem.
The main problem was—
After believing he'd done something like that, she wasn't angry at all.
She was getting shy.
"Girl," Hojo thought, stunned.
You look like the one who's repressed.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 120)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 100)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League (Chapter 100)
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter89)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter86)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter63)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter75)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 53
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 57
From Junkman to Wasteland 35
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 26
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