Run Over Chapter 1.1

Chapter 1 Something Against You

1
Rails pounded rhythmically under a train's wheels.
A lot of people were crowded within a hundred and fifty cubic metre railway carriage.
There were five seconds left before the turn.
Five, four, three, two, one…

There was a clang of metal. The carriage tilted, and the crowd of people with it.

At this moment, when everyone was a little shaken, my right hand slipped off the handrail. I chose a man with a silver bracelet on his wrist. Aiming for the pocket of his jacket, I went up to him from behind. I stretched out my hand and with my index and middle finger, I pulled out a leather purse which was instantly put inside my pocket. Simultaneously, I falsely staggered and walked away from the man.

The man didn't notice the loss of his wallet, he listened to music in his headphones and calmly straightened his gel-packed hair.

The tracks pounded again.

I stuffed my hand in my pocket, opened the purse and checked the money with my fingers. Six banknotes of ten thousand, one of five thousand, and three of one thousand. Sixty eight thousand. Not a bad catch, for me.

There was about twenty seconds before the next turn. The railway carriage trembled.

And then, I noticed something unusual.

This senior highschool student wore the same uniform as me, with a green tie over her vest. Whether familiar or not, the girl shamefully lowered her paling face.

I realized it was due to the pervert, when I saw a middle-aged man behind the girl. His half-closed eyes ran around the carriage. He pawed the girl's legs in the overcrowded train and forgot about everything from the pleasure.

There was a long rattle of wheels on the rails, the train approached the station.

I slipped through the crowd and approached the man from behind. He didn't notice me and continued to stroke the girl's hips, but tensed up when I reached my hand out and pretended to accidentally take hold of his. Moreover, I pulled out a purse made of artificial leather from the pocket of his wide trousers.

The train slowed down gradually.

I pulled out the driver's license and bills from the wallet. I put the money into my pocket immediately, but threw a quick glance at the license.

Morita Hadzeme. Judging by the date of birth, he is forty eight years old. Someone castrate this nauseating freak.

The train stopped at the station and the doors, near which we were standing, slid sideways. The dispatcher announced the name of the station – the closest to the school, it was time to go.

When the pupils in the same uniform as me, flooded out of the carriage, I let Morita's middle-aged wrists go. His hands, wet from sweat, trembled. I walked out onto the platform, and after a moment, the girl that was with the pervert, jumped out. She looked kind of strange, but I headed for the stairs not saying a word.

Without taking out the purse and an empty bottle from my bag, I pushed them into a bag from a supermarket and threw them into a trashcan behind a turnstile. The pervert only had twelve thousand yen in his purse; what a stingy fellow.