James heard the shouting and at first thought nothing of it. After all, it was a high school hallway and shouting and snide comments were nothing out of the ordinary. But as he slid his backpack over his shoulders and lazily made his way in that direction, the shouting began to go down a course he realized he recognized.
Mao's apology was being shouted in mock-girly voices down the hall, and he knew that in front of the boys who blocked him from James' view was a pint-size Asian who was, for some reason, taking the shit they were throwing at him.
Despite himself, the speed of James' steps picked up as he got closer, eyes narrowing as one of the guys finally worked up the balls to actually hit him. Mao's books scattered across the floor, and James could feel his hands tightening around the straps of his bag. This wasn't his battle. They weren't friends anymore. Mao had done some seriously fucked up shit, and he should just leave.
And he might have been bitter enough to do it, if the kick Mao delivered had been enough to scare them off, but it hadn't been. Mao was against the locker, and the three boys were coming at him.
"God damn it," he groaned, tossing his bag off his shoulder to the side of the hallway as he closed the distance between them all the while berating himself for not heading the other direction.
"Hey, ass face." James' voice was so calm it didn't raise alarm, and the boy with his hands on Mao's collar looked over, mouth open to tell him off. As he turned, James' fist moved, and assface received a fist straight to his nose. A satisfying crack resonated through the hall, followed by a roar of rage that earned everyone's attention. Well two and half versus two was better odds than three on one right?