Saturday's peace bled into Monday's tension. The halls of Westwood High buzzed with gossip like static in the air—whispers about Kazunai Yazumèi. Not just that he was walking the halls with Amy Tachibana, the flame-slinging ace of Class B, but that the shadows around him were growing darker. People spoke in hushed tones about brawls with White Tiger Mob members, about strange figures following students at night, and most chilling of all—rumors that Seamus Yazumèi's name had resurfaced in the underworld, like a ghost clawing back from the grave.
Kaz walked with his hands in his pockets, hoodie drawn up, gaze flicking across every corner like a predator. Amy, ever the contrast, strode beside him with that same casual confidence she always carried—shoulders back, eyes ahead. "You know," she muttered with a smirk, "you're not exactly blending in."
"I don't need to," Kaz said, his voice low. "I just need them to keep their mouths shut."
"Who? The mob? The gossipers? Or the family?"
He didn't answer.
That's when the hallway went still. Too still. A hush spread like ink in water, and then a figure stepped into their path. She wore the Westwood uniform sharp as a blade—jacket buttoned, skirt pressed, long black braid draped over her shoulder. Her silver eyes gleamed beneath the lights. Calm. Cold. Calculated.
"Toma Yazumèi," Kaz muttered.
His cousin smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"Good morning, Kazunai," she said. "And Amy Tachibana, I presume? Your reputation precedes you."
Amy tilted her head, wary. "And you are?"
"Family," Kaz answered, stepping between them. "She's Sean's daughter."
Toma offered a slight bow. "Charmed. I just wanted to make sure my dear cousin wasn't dragging our name through the dirt again."
Kaz's jaw clenched. "You and your brothers are real concerned about the family name all of a sudden."
"Oh, we've always been concerned. Especially now that whispers of your little run in's are making the rounds. You wouldn't want to disappoint him."
"Tell your father," Kaz said, voice like flint, "that Seamus's legacy doesn't need his approval." Toma's smile faded just a touch. "You're awfully bold for someone with so many enemies. The White Tiger Mob isn't exactly a forgiving crowd, and… well, let's just say we have eyes in places you don't."
She leaned in slightly. "Westwood might not be safe for you anymore, cousin. Keep walking like you're untouchable, and eventually, you'll trip."
She turned without waiting for a reply, disappearing into the crowd like a shadow at noon.
Amy watched her go. "She's got ice in her blood."
"She's worse than Riko," Kaz muttered. "At least he punches you in the face instead of smiling while he stabs you in the back."
Later That Day – Combat Gym
The tension bled into the gym, too.
Live sparring matches had been scheduled. Normally, it was students from the same class. But today, someone had "requested" a match: Kaz versus Riko Yazumèi—Sean's eldest child, a third-year transfer from a private combat academy in Kyushu. He stood barefoot on the mat, arms crossed, his obsidian skin already shifting across his arms like living armor.
Kaz stepped onto the mat, shrugging off his jacket. His black flames simmered to life at his shoulders like twin devils breathing down his neck.
"Begin!" the instructor shouted.
Kaz moved first, feet barely touching the floor as he launched forward, flames twisting around his fists. Riko didn't flinch. One obsidian-coated hand shot out and caught Kaz's punch. The second smashed into Kaz's ribs like a sledgehammer. The impact cracked the air and sent him flying across the mat, crashing into the far wall.
Gasps filled the gym. Amy stood up halfway in her seat.
Kaz coughed, blood hitting the floor. "Okay… that hurt."
Riko walked forward, calm as ever. "This is what Uncle Seamus calls his prodigy? Pathetic."
Kaz rose, flames gathering tighter, hotter, denser. He dashed back in, ducking under a swipe, and slammed a black flame-coated uppercut into Riko's jaw.
The obsidian cracked. Riko staggered a half-step.
But he laughed.
Then kneed Kaz in the gut, grabbed him, and crushed him into a bear hug. His voice was a whisper, meant only for Kaz.
"Uncle praises you. Says you've got his spirit. But you're nothing. No more than your pathetic mother was."
That did it.
Something inside Kaz snapped.
The flames turned from black to void. Silent. Consuming. One of his eyes flared with a glowing ember, his body pulsing as if awakening a second heartbeat.
A wing of dark flame erupted from his back, spreading wide like a crow made of fire and hate. He screamed—no, roared—and broke free, twisting mid-air, slamming both fists into Riko's chest. This time, Riko flew back, cracking through two reinforced mats.
Kaz didn't stop. He flew at him like a meteor, fire trailing behind him, and the next exchange was a flurry of brutal, punishing blows. Every punch chipped more of Riko's armor. Every strike was personal. Furious.
Riko lashed out once more with a sweeping kick—Kaz blocked with his wing, the flames absorbing the blow like a cloak. He spun and drove his fist into Riko's stomach, doubling him over. Kaz grabbed him by the collar, lifted him—and slammed him into the floor hard enough to crater it.
Silence.
Even the instructor stared.
Riko groaned, unconscious or close to it.
Kaz stood there, panting, wing flickering behind him like smoke.
Then—
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Toma stood by the gym doors, slow-clapping.
"That was impressive," she said. "Almost makes me believe you've got what it takes."
Kaz turned, flames slowly dying. "Stay out of my way, Toma."
"Can't do that." Her eyes gleamed like silver moons. "You're walking toward a fire, Kazunai. And whether you burn or rise… depends on which Side of the family survives the heat."
Westwood High Rooftop – That Evening
Kaz sat on the rooftop's edge, shirt half burnt, bandages wrapped around his ribs. His hoodie hung on the railing beside him, still smoking slightly. Amy joined him, plopping down without a word. She handed him a can of cold tea.
"You good?"
"Define good."
She looked over the city, watching the neon flicker. "They're coming for you, huh?"
"They've been coming," Kaz said. "They're just getting bolder now." Amy glanced at him. "And the White Tigers?"
"They're picking off our lower guys. Pressuring dealers. I don't know how they knew who to target."
Her hand brushed his. "So… what are you gonna do?" Kaz stared into the distance. Below, the city roared with unseen war—shadows moving in alleys, enemies watching from windows, and something darker rising behind the veil of peace. "I'm going to stop running," he said. "I'll face all of it. My family. The Tigers. Even Toma." His fist clenched, a spark of black fire dancing across his knuckles.
"They want to test what kind of monster I am? Then let's see if they can handle the answer."