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ArabicAnime Crossover: Eating Evil in a Daily World — Chapter 11
Chapter 11: Kyoto’s Famous Muscle Pervert
A burly man in a sweat-drenched tank top, his thick arms completely covered in twisting dragon and tiger tattoos, scowled as Hiratsuka Shizuka marched toward him. With his shaved head and thuggish demeanor, he looked like a yakuza enforcer who had taken a wrong turn into a public gym.
“What are you doing?” Shizuka demanded.
She didn’t wait for an answer. Her eyes narrowed into sharp, dangerous slits, radiating an icy hostility.
“This is my student. Before I call the police, you’d better be smart and back off. Otherwise, I don’t mind stretching my limbs a little.”
The group of hulking men blinked. The aggressive aura radiating from the beautiful woman in front of them completely derailed their train of thought. One of them scratched his bald head in genuine bewilderment.
“Lady, you’ve got it all wrong. We aren’t looking for trouble with him.”
Shizuka crossed her arms beneath her chest, letting out a cold, dismissive snort.
“Still making excuses? Then why are you thugs surrounding him?”
The muscleheads exchanged awkward glances. The tattooed leader spoke up, his tone surprisingly cautious.
“We were just asking Yozora-bro how to improve our gains.”
Shizuka froze. The sheer absurdity of the answer short-circuited her righteous anger. She blinked, her gaze shifting toward Yozora, who was sitting casually on the bench press station. Doubt practically dripped from her eyes.
“Huh? Is that true?”
Yozora let out a lazy yawn and offered a nonchalant smile.
“Pretty much.”
Shizuka clearly didn’t buy it. Her sharp eyes swept over Yozora’s physique, analyzing him in silence. Sure, his proportions were excellent, and the lean, defined lines of his arm muscles were visible under his shirt. But compared to the literal Hulks crowding around him, Yozora looked entirely unremarkable.
Shouldn’t the roles in this little fitness consultation be reversed?
Noticing Shizuka’s lingering suspicion, the tattooed giant waved his massive hand with blatant impatience.
“Look, if you don’t have any actual business here, hurry up and leave. Don’t interrupt our progress.”
The moment he turned back to Yozora, the thug’s menacing, fleshy face melted into an expression of absolute reverence. To Shizuka’s utter disbelief, the giant practically fawned over the high schooler.
“Bro, I’ve hit a plateau with my heavy lifts lately. Is my kinetic chain off? Or is my macro split messing with my recovery? It’s been a hot minute since you came around, please drop some wisdom on us.”
As the old internet proverb goes:
Moderate exercise attracts the opposite sex.
Excessive exercise attracts the same sex.
In the eyes of these iron-pumping zealots, Shizuka—despite her stunning face and incredible figure—was infinitely less valuable than Yozora, the holy grail of fitness routines.
“Hold on a second.” Shizuka stepped right past the giants, marching straight up to Yozora. “Are you some kind of celebrity in this gym?”
Yozora didn’t even look up as he casually stripped a heavy iron plate off the barbell.
“Obviously. I’m the famous Muscle Pervert.”
“Muscle what?”
“Pervert.”
A violent shade of crimson exploded across Shizuka’s cheeks. She gritted her teeth, her fists trembling at her sides.
“You… you actually have the nerve to make dirty jokes with your teacher?!”
Yozora tilted his head, his expression the absolute picture of innocent confusion. He blinked his clear, guileless eyes at her.
“Is there a problem? ‘Muscle Pervert’ just means someone who is freakishly obsessed with fitness. What did you think it meant? I’m afraid I don’t quite understand your dirty mind, Sensei.”
“I—that’s—no!”
Shizuka was completely paralyzed. She couldn’t formulate a single coherent defense without digging herself deeper into the gutter. Ultimately, she settled for shooting Yozora a venomous glare before spinning on her heel and storming off, practically steaming from the ears.
She wasn’t an idiot.
There was absolutely no way a high school boy his age didn’t know exactly what he was doing. He was deliberately baiting her!
After Shizuka slumped back onto the waiting area bench, Kirisu Mafuyu spoke without even turning her head. Her voice was flat, precise, and completely devoid of sympathy.
“As an educator, you allowed yourself to be effortlessly manipulated by a student.”
“Shut up!”
Shizuka’s face was still burning. She had originally planned to drag him out of the gym immediately. But now, a stubborn seed of curiosity had taken root in her mind, completely overriding her irritation.
It made zero sense.
How could a perfectly average-looking first-year high schooler command such absolute respect from a pack of hardcore bodybuilders?
She didn’t have to wait long for her answer.
Yozora chatted with his disciples for a few more minutes, casually knocked out a few sets on the bench press, and then grabbed his bag to leave the gym.
The moment he was out of sight, Shizuka shot up from her seat.
Mafuyu didn’t even bother asking what her colleague was doing. Her expression remained an unreadable mask of ice.
“If you intend to investigate, do it quickly. I have been sitting here staring into space with you for half an hour, and the air conditioning is going to give me a cold.”
Shizuka offered a sheepish, apologetic smile.
“My bad. I’ll treat you to dinner later to make up for it.”
With that promise secured, she crept over to the free-weight area like a cat burglar.
Her objective was simple. She just wanted to check the math. Roughly how much weight had Yozora actually been benching during those casual sets?
She stood over the bench, her eyes scanning the massive iron plates loaded onto the bar. She counted them once. Then she counted them again.
Her brain stalled.
“Two… two hundred kilograms?!”
The sheer absurdity of the number hit her like a physical blow.
Good grief.
A first-year high school student casually repping out two hundred kilograms on the bench press.
Was he even biologically human?
No wonder those tattooed mountains of meat treated him like a guru. It all made terrifying sense now.
But as the initial shock faded, a deep, heavy crease formed between Shizuka’s brows.
If this were any normal student, it would just be an impressive quirk. But this was Yozora. A boy who already had a middle school record for extreme violence. A boy who had managed to cultivate a notoriously bad reputation on his very first day at Sobu High.
If a teenager with that kind of explosive temperament possessed this level of monstrous physical strength… the safety implications were a nightmare.
Teenagers were impulsive. They fought. They lashed out.
If he ever got into a real conflict with another student and failed to pull his punches, he could literally kill someone.
Standing there in the gym, Shizuka made a silent vow.
She had to fix him. She had to find a way to correct Yozora’s twisted personality, or at the absolute minimum, force him to keep his head down and behave while he was on school grounds.
A few hours later. 1:00 AM.
The suffocating darkness of a narrow Kyoto alleyway.
“Hand over the cash!”
A middle-aged man with a twisted, wildly asymmetrical face pressed the edge of a hunting knife against a young woman’s throat.
Beneath his skull, a sickening, wet voice whispered without pause.
‘Kill her. Kill her. Kill her…’
“Shut up!” the man hissed, slamming his free hand against the side of his head. His eyes were completely bloodshot, the veins bulging against his temples as if trying to burst through the skin.
Trapped against the brick wall, the young woman was paralyzed by primal terror. Her breath hitched in her throat, her trembling fingers losing their grip on her purse. It hit the concrete with a dull thud, coins spilling out into the grime.
“Did you do that on purpose?!” the man shrieked, his paranoia flaring.
“No, I swear, I didn’t—”
The woman’s desperate, tearful explanation fell on deaf ears.
The man couldn’t hear her. The demonic whispering inside his brain had drowned out the entire world.
The sharp steel of the blade dug a fraction of an inch into her pale skin. A bead of bright crimson blood welled up, trailing down her neck. The sight of that vivid red reflected in the man’s dilated pupils, acting like a catalyst.
The voice in his head erupted into a deafening roar.
‘KILL HER!’
The last thread of the man’s sanity snapped. He raised the knife, his muscles coiling to plunge the blade straight into her jugular.
“Man, what a trash-tier robbery.”
The voice drifted out of the shadows behind him—lazy, mocking, and utterly devoid of tension.
“What even is that thing in your hand? A fruit knife?”
Footsteps echoed against the pavement as a figure stepped into the dim glow of the streetlamp.
“Seriously, if you’re not going to strive for excellence, how do you ever expect to climb the ladder in today’s highly competitive mugging industry?”
[Inorin’s Note: In the raw text, Yozora calls himself a “Muscle Freak” (likely a play on Kinniku Hentai / Muscle Pervert). To preserve the comedic tsukkomi dynamic where Shizuka accuses him of making a dirty joke, the term has been localized to “Muscle Pervert” so Yozora’s feigned innocence about the word’s double meaning lands naturally in English.]