"Gyarus are such a pain," Fei-yu muttered to himself as he walked. They were like annoying flies he couldn't quite swat yet.
He was deep in thought, approaching the faculty office, when he collided with something soft and warm.
"Ah!"
The cry was startled, but the voice was incredibly gentle and melodious. Given Fei-yu's physique, he didn't budge, but the person he hit began to tumble backward—the classic anime trope of a "lucky" collision.
Miwa Shirakawa had just finished grading a stack of papers. She stood up and stretched, her arms reaching high. The movement caused her massive, watermelon-sized breasts to bounce and jiggle, the heavy mounds swaying enticingly.
She let out a soft sigh of relief and gathered her things. She suddenly felt a strong urge to use the restroom, so she grabbed some tissues and hurried toward the door. She wasn't looking, and neither was the student entering.
As she began to fall, she squeezed her eyes shut, expecting the hard floor. But two seconds later, there was no pain. Instead, she felt a large, warm hand wrap firmly around her waist.
She opened her eyes to see a familiar face. "Fei-yu... kun?"
"Ms. Shirakawa," he replied.
The position was incredibly suggestive. He was holding her close, and her massive, soft breasts were crushed against his chest. He could feel the incredible heat and give of her flesh, and for a moment, he seriously considered reaching up with his free hand to squeeze those giant milk-filled mounds.
"You bastard! Get your hands off Ms. Shirakawa right now!" a furious voice roared from nearby.
Fei-yu frowned. The tone was commanding and arrogant, and it pissed him off. He didn't like being told what to do, especially by some random brat. Instead of letting go, he tightened his grip, pulling Miwa closer so that her nipples were pressed hard against his shirt.
The boy who screamed was Morishita. His long bangs hid his eyes, but they were wide with rage. How dare he! How dare he touch my precious Miwa!
Morishita had been obsessed with the busty teacher since his first day. To him, she was a goddess, a "white moonlight." She was the only one who was kind to him despite his dark, antisocial personality. He saw this as his chance—a "hero saving the beauty" moment straight out of a manga.
He charged at Fei-yu, throwing a punch. "Eat my Rising Dragon Fist, you pervert!"
Fei-yu watched the pathetic, slow-motion punch with utter disdain. Compared to Coach Azuma, this kid was nothing. He had a lot of pent-up frustration from being yelled at by Himuro and mocked by the gyarus. A punching bag was exactly what he needed.
He reached out his free hand and effortlessly caught Morishita's fist. Morishita froze. The strength in Fei-yu's grip was terrifying. He tried to pull away, but he was trapped.
Fei-yu gave a slight shove, using barely any effort, but it was enough to send the uncoordinated nerd tumbling to the floor in a heap.