I asked Maestro to embed the voice recordings directly into the diss track as samples. The screams, the threats, the trembling voices he thought no one would ever hear again.
I edited the video myself.
Screenshots from Tetsu, chat logs, blurred faces. All the evidence I needed to end his career.
When I dropped it, the reaction wasn't big.
It was nuclear.
People who coulda sworn Yabai cooked me suddenly went quiet.
Then they started backtracking.
Then they started asking questions.
And then the avalanche came.
One by one, his victims started speaking up.
Some posted stories.
Some dropped screenshots.
Some cried on live streams.
Others stayed silent—
probably still scared of his people,
still trapped in the shadow he left behind.
But even without them, it was already over.
In the public eye, at least.
And somehow… It didn't make it better.
It didn't make it right.
No one pressed charges.
The cops stayed as quiet as they always do when Japanese women are beaten into silence.
If I'd had even a shred of doubt about taking matters into my own hands before…
Now it was crystal clear.
I had to.
Yabai went live the same day my diss dropped.
I watched from a fake account, my thumb playing over the screen, my face blank.
He looked calm. Too calm.
"Just when I thought Forsaken couldn't get lower," he said, leaning back in his chair, forcing a laugh.
"Now this bozo out here making up accusations about me."
The chat was moving fast. Too fast.
"I love women," he continued, his voice smoother now, rehearsed.
"I'd never hurt a woman. Y'all really gonna believe some edited clips and screenshots from a nobody rapper?"
He shook his head like he was tired of humanity itself.
"This is what happens when people get desperate for clout."
A pause.
"Seriously?" he snorted, forcing a cocky grin. "This goof's just jealous 'cause he's a virgin and I've fucked more hoes than he could dream of in six lifetimes."
He tried to make it sound convincing, but the edge in his voice betrayed him.
It was nothing short of pathetic.
You claim you respect women, then turn around and call them hoes two minutes later.
Yeah. Real smart.
If anything, you're more of a hoe than any girl you're trying to degrade.
"So, anyway," he added casually, like he'd already gotten bored of the topic. "Album drops tomorrow. Twelve tracks. Real street shit. Not that emo garbage."
Wow. Classic move.
Deflect, flex, pretend nothing's happening.
Like if you talk loud enough about your album, people will forget what they just heard.
Keep throwing shade, bozo.
And maybe I'll make sure that shit never drops.
"When has this loser ever dropped an album? Most of his tracks sound like he recorded them in some Russian isolation chamber. If he ain't dissed that idol, he'd still be a nobody."
I almost laughed.
Yeah.
You wish I was still a nobody.
I switched to my official account, slipping in just before he could end the live, and dropped a single comment in chat.
'Sup, predator?'
The flinch in his posture was instant. Totally worth it.
"Eyooo. Speak of the devil—it's Forsaken-by-life crawling back for more clout. What's good, bozo? Came to suck me off or just watch me bury you again, you pathetic lil bitch?" he sneered.
His voice was dripping with venom, leaning closer to the camera like he wanted to reach through it and choke me himself.
'I came to tell you to suck my dick', I texted back.
He stared at the screen for half a second, eyes narrowing, then barked straight into the camera.
"Hell nah, get me on live with this bozo right fucking now."
The chat went feral—emojis, caps, spam flying everywhere.
YABAI VS FORSAKEN LETS GOOOO
PULL UP
THIS IS ABOUT TO BE JUICY
He accepted the co-host request in seconds. My screen split, his face filling half of it—red, veins popping, trying to look tough while sweat already dripping from his forehead.
"You got some fucking nerve showing your face here, bozo," he spat, leaning so close the camera fogged up a little. "You think you can call me a predator and just sit there looking smug? Bitch, I beat your ass once, I'll do it again."
I kept my voice flat, almost bored.
"Yeah, you and your six little bitches jumped me. Real tough. How's that working out for you now that everyone's seen the footage of you beating your own girls? Or you forgot the videos exist?"
His laugh was forced, too loud.
"Lies. All fucking lies. You edited that shit, you desperate little virgin. I love women—unlike you, crying about mommy and hiding behind a screen. I fucked more women in a week than you've seen in your life."
I tilted my head, letting the silence drag just long enough to make him sweat.
"Funny how you keep bringing up virgins when you're the one who needs six dudes to jump someone up. Tell me—who's the next girl you're gonna beat up and threaten to kill? Or you out of victims already?"
The chat exploded again—half calling him out, half spamming clown emojis.
"You're a fucking liar! Show the proof right now or shut the fuck up! You wanna talk tough? Let's do it 1v1. Just you and me, right here, right now. I'll bury you like I should've the first time."
I already showed the proof. You think girls lie for fun?
I swear, if denial had a face, it'd be this guy.
I smiled—slow, cold, right into the lens.
"Deal. But we're filming it. Every second. Live on both accounts. That way when you show up with your six little friends again, everyone sees it. No excuses, no running like rats."
His face twisted—anger, panic, ego all fighting for control.
"You think I'm scared of a camera? Bring it, bitch. Tomorrow. Same park where I folded you last time. Come alone, or don't come at all."
I leaned back, still smiling.
"Aight, got it. See you there, predator."
I ended my side of the live. The chat was pure chaos—screenshots already circulating, clips being clipped, people tagging everyone they knew.
Let him flex.
Let him talk.
Tomorrow the world would see who really shows up alone.
(one day later)
I asked the manager for a few free days so I could focus on crushing Yabai.
"You've barely worked a month and you're already asking for vacation?" he said, smirking like he'd caught me red-handed.
Yeah. Like you weren't gonna make me pay for it anyway.
"I'll skip school for two days so I can recover," I shot back, knowing damn well it would come to this.
He studied me for a second, then chuckled, leaning back against the counter. "Not bad at negotiating, kid. I like that."
So I got my breathing room… for now.
That day, I still went to school like usual, sat through classes, answered questions, acted normal.
But around lunch break, I excused myself and didn't look back. No one asked questions. They never do.
By the time I got home, my mind was already racing.
If Yabai tried something again, I couldn't afford to be caught off guard.
So I opened the drawer and picked up a few things.
A knife. A rosette. A bat.
Everything I could carry that might keep me breathing in case that stupid gorilla pulled up with his pack again.
Tetsu and Maestro rolled up soon after— not to babysit me. But to smooth things over if shit got loud.
I turned on the Insta live, as promised.
It's show time.
The wind cut across the park like a blade, carrying the smell of wet grass and distant rain.
I spotted Yabai standing alone in the middle of the open field, hands in his pockets, trying to look unbothered. His hoodie was up, face half-shadowed, but I could see the twitch in his jaw.
"Ain't no way," I said into the camera, voice low and mocking. "Pussy boy actually showed up alone, after all."
I laughed, pretending to buy the act.
But I wasn't blind.
From the corners of my eyes I clocked them: three shadows barely concealed behind the trees, another two crouched near the benches, one more half-hidden by the public toilet block.
Same six-man energy, just not as in your face this time.
Good thing I didn't come alone either.
Yabai cracked his knuckles, stepping forward.
"Shut the fuck up, you lil bitch," he snarled, and threw a right hook aimed straight at my jaw.
I slipped it — ducked low, felt the wind off his fist graze my hair — and drove my foot hard into his stomach.
The impact folded him like cheap paper.
Air exploded out of him as he let out a choked grunt. He stumbled back two steps, clutching his gut, eyes wide with shock.
The chat lit up instantly.
HOLY SHIT
HE ACTUALLY HIT HIM
YABAI DOWN LMAOOOOO
CAMERA MAN KEEP IT STEADY
I kept the phone raised, steady grip, letting the live see everything.
Yabai wheezed, straightened up, face red with rage.
"You think that's funny?" he spat, voice shaking. "You think you're tough now?"
He lunged again — faster this time, swinging a left hook toward my temple.
I leaned back just enough, let the punch whistle past, then snapped a quick counter: elbow straight to his floating rib.
Bone met bone with a dull crack.
He gasped, doubled over again.
I stepped in close, voice low enough that only he — and the mic — could catch it.
"You jumped me with six.
Now it's one on one.
Still losing, huh?"
The chat errupted.
HE COOKING HIM
YABAI GET UP
FORSKEN IS HIM FR
Yabai roared, shoved himself upright, and charged like a bull — no technique, just fury.
I sidestepped, grabbed the back of his hoodie, yanked him off-balance, and drove my knee into his jaw.
He dropped to one knee, coughing, blood dropping on the grass.
I bent down to his level, phone still rolling, speaking straight into the camera but loud enough for him to hear.
"Look at him, chat.
Big man Yabai.
Needed six to beat one kid.
Now he can't even stand against me alone."
His goons started moving — shadows peeling off trees, closing in.
I stood up slowly.
"Tetsu. Maestro."
They stepped into frame from behind me — Tetsu with his usual calm menace, Maestro silent, arms crossed, sunglasses reflecting the dying light.
The goons froze mid-step.
Yabai coughed again, looked up at me with pure hate.
"You… you think this ends here?"
I tilted my head.
"Nah.
This is just the warm-up."
I ended the live.
The park went quiet except for Yabai's ragged breathing and the distant hum of traffic.
Tetsu cracked his knuckles once.
Maestro didn't move.
Yabai's crew backed off — slowly, eyes darting between us.
I looked down at him one last time.
"Next time you bring a gang," I said quietly, "make sure they're ready to die for you."
Then I turned and walked away.
Tetsu and Maestro fell in step behind me.
The live was still trending.
And Yabai was on his knees.
Time to execute the final step in my plan.
I was just pretending to walk away.
"You're still not done?" Tetsu asked, smirking as he fell into step beside me.
"Nah," I muttered, eyes still locked on Yabai's retreating back. "There's something I gotta do."
So I trailed them — quiet, low, staying just out of sight behind the row of parked cars and the low hedge that lined the park's edge.
Yabai and his crew were laughing now, voices carrying on the wind like they thought they'd already won.
They didn't see me coming.
The blonde one — the same guy who'd held me down during the first jump — was lagging a few steps behind, lighting a cigarette.
I didn't hesitate.
I stepped out from cover, bat already gripped tight in both hands, and swung low and hard.
The crack of aluminum against skull echoed like a gunshot.
Blonde dropped face-first onto the asphalt, cigarette skittering away, body limp before he even hit the ground.
The rest of the goons spun around, eyes wide.
I pulled the knife from my waistband with my off-hand — bat still raised in the other.
One of them froze mid-step.
"This kid is crazy enough to wield a bat and a knife at the same time…"
"Run!"
They scattered like roaches.
I didn't chase.
I crouched over the blonde, rolled him onto his back with the toe of my shoe.
He groaned, eyes fluttering open, blood already pooling under his head.
Tetsu and Maestro stepped up on either side of me — silent, calm, like this was just another Tuesday.
Blonde blinked up at us, confusion turning to fear as he registered three shadows against the dim park lights.
"W-what the fuck—"
I pressed the knife lightly against his throat — not cutting, just resting the edge so he felt the steel.
"You got two choices," I said, voice low and even. "You can either die here or you can wake up tomorrow with 100,000 yen in your pocket and a job."
His breathing hitched.
I leaned in closer, pointing my knife at him, just enough to get my point across.
His eyes were trembling with fear.
"I want Yabai gone. Forever. You do it clean, you get paid, and nobody ever knows it was you. You say no, or you talk… well."
I tapped the bat against the ground once.
"You already know how this ends."
Tetsu crossed his arms, silent.
Maestro just watched — expressionless, waiting.
I lifted the knife slightly.
"So. What's it gonna be?"
"I-I'll do it," he rasped, voice shaking so hard the words barely came out.
"Good," I said coldly, pulling out 50k yen and throwing it on the ground before him.
He crawled on all fours and took the money before getting up.
"I'll give you the rest after you finish the job," I said with finalty.
Yabai will die soon.
I let myself smirk.