The Attack
It came when the sky turned slate gray—just after school, in the back alley behind the campus gym.
Ryuji had been walking alone, backpack slung over one shoulder, when the world shifted.
The air changed. Footsteps—three of them—light, fast, trained.
He didn't turn around.
"I was wondering when you'd stop hiding," he muttered.
The first man came in swinging with a lead pipe—no warning, no hesitation.
But Ryuji moved like a ghost. One step to the side, and his elbow shattered the attacker's jaw with a single strike.
The second was faster, drawing a short tanto blade from his sleeve.
Ryuji caught his wrist mid-swing, twisting it until the bone cracked, then drove the man's face into the wall.
The third tried to run.
Big mistake.
Ryuji was on him in seconds, dragging him back by the collar, slamming him into the pavement.
He knelt beside him.
"Tell your boss," Ryuji said coldly, "I don't play defense."
Blood pooled around them. The three would live—but none would forget.
Before he walked away, Ryuji looked up toward the rooftop—where he knew someone was watching.
The Quiet Moment
Aika found him later near the back of the library. School was still buzzing with rumors of a fight, but no one dared speak his name.
He had cleaned up—fresh shirt, fresh face—but she could see the tension in his shoulders. The faint tremor in his knuckles.
"They were just pawns."
"Pawns sent by my family," she said softly. "Because of me."
Ryuji looked at her. His eyes were tired—not weak, just… worn. Older than nineteen. Older than anyone she'd ever met.
"This isn't your fault," he said.
"Then why do I feel like it is?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he turned slightly, just enough for her to see the edge of the dragon's jaw inked along his back beneath the shirt. It moved slightly with each breath, as if watching her.
Her voice trembled.
"You said you made a promise. Is this what it's about? All of it?"
Ryuji's eyes didn't leave hers.
"Yes."
"Then why does it hurt you so much?"
He hesitated.
"Because it's the kind of promise you make when you've lost everything," he said quietly.
"And you're willing to burn the world just to keep it."
---
Closing Scene: A Name is Spoken
Somewhere in Tokyo, the previous same man in the dark opened an old photo album. Inside were surveillance photos from years ago. A young boy, covered in blood. A funeral. A dragon tattoo only halfway done.
The man closed the album and lit a cigarette.
He picked up the phone.
"Proceed with the next plan."