The bell rang, but the noise in the classroom barely rose above a whisper.
Ryuji entered with that same cold silence, eyes unreadable, steps calculated.
There was no hesitation in him—only presence. The kind that didn't come from words, but weight.
Students looked up, then away. Some whispered, others stayed quiet.
No one dared approach him anymore.
---
Unspoken Tension
Rumors had already begun to spiral.
He'd taken down a group of older delinquents off-campus—alone, they said.
Some claimed he'd broken bones without lifting a finger.
Others swore they saw blood on his knuckles.
But no one could confirm anything. Ryuji didn't talk.
And when someone tried to confront him, they never tried twice.
He sat in class like a shadow—present, but never fully part of the room.
Only his sharp eyes moved, flicking between the windows, the clock, and nothing at all.
As if waiting for something to begin... or return.
---
Aika's Growing Interest
Aika couldn't ignore him.
Not because he stood out—but because he didn't try to.
She had been raised to spot danger, to feel it like a sixth sense.
Being the daughter of Kurohane, the head of the dominant Yakuza family—meant understanding power, even when it wasn't spoken aloud.
And Ryuji... he didn't wear power like a crown.
He wore it like a second skin.
There's something about him, she thought. Something not from here.
He was a puzzle, and Aika hated unsolved puzzles.
---
After School – Confrontation
The halls had mostly emptied when it happened.
A small crowd formed near the stairwell—low voices, laughter trying to mask fear.
Three boys stood ahead of Ryuji, blocking the path.
"You've been acting like a ghost since you got here," the tallest said, voice laced with arrogance.
"No one knows who you are. But I think it's time we found out."
Ryuji didn't blink. "Move."
The lead boy scoffed. "And if I don't?"
Ryuji stepped forward—just one step—and that was all it took.
The boy's face twitched. His hand moved, but not fast enough.
Ryuji grabbed his wrist, twisted it back with surgical precision, and dropped him to his knees. No anger. No hesitation.
"Next time," Ryuji said quietly, "don't ask."
He released the boy and kept walking like nothing had happened. The others didn't follow.
No teachers saw. No one reported it.
But by the next morning, the story had already spread.
---
Aika Watches
Aika stood near the stair railing, watching the whole thing from a floor above.
She didn't flinch. Didn't gasp. Just narrowed her eyes.
That technique… that control.
It wasn't from street fights. It was trained. Precise.
She didn't know where he came from, but it wasn't anywhere ordinary.
---
That Night – Arrival
The train doors slid open with a hiss.
A tall blond teen in a dark coat stepped onto the platform, eyes scanning the crowd with quiet intensity.
A photo stuck out of his pocket—its showing a blurry photo of a school fight, faces obscured, but one figure unmistakable to him.
"Tatsugami Ryuji…" he said under his breath.
He smirked.