The next day, Sakura High buzzed with a different kind of tension.
Paulo walked through the gates with the ring hidden beneath his sleeve. Mizaki noticed immediately.
"What's that?" she asked, fingers brushing his hand.
"Later," he said.
Marina and Shizuka exchanged glances. They knew something had shifted.
Class was a blur.
At lunch, they claimed the rooftop again.
Paulo told them everything.
The ring.
The deal.
The training.
His mother.
Mizaki listened without interrupting.
When he finished, she said, "So you're in charge now?"
"Not yet," Paulo said. "But I will be."
Marina cracked her knuckles. "Good. We have got your back."
Shizuka was already on her phone. "Pier 17. I will have layouts by tonight."
Mizaki leaned in, voice low. "And your mom?"
Paulo hesitated. "She's… complicated."
Mizaki's eyes narrowed. "She hurts you; I hurt her."
He almost smiled. "Noted."
***
Midnight. Pier 17.
The warehouse was a cavern of rust and shadow. Moonlight was slanted through broken windows, painting the concrete floor in silver stripes.
Takeshi was there. Sara too. And six others, Satoshi enforcers, all wearing the ring.
They formed a circle.
Sara stepped forward. "First lesson: family is not blood. It is choice."
She tossed Paulo a bokken, wooden sword.
He caught it.
Takeshi grinned. "Try not to lose the other eye."
They trained until his muscles screamed.
Until the bokken was splintered and his hands bled.
Until Sara's voice was hoarse from shouting corrections.
At 3 am, they sat on crates, passing a bottle of sake.
Sara told stories.
About Kenji's laugh.
About the night Paulo was born.
About the deal that broke them.
Takeshi told war stories.
About the dock wars.
About the night he earned his scar.
Paulo listened.
When they dropped him home at dawn, Sara hugged him.
He let her.
***
Days blurred into weeks. School by day. Training by night.
Mizaki joined the sessions. So did Marina and Shizuka.
They earned rings of their own, not Satoshi rings, but symbols.
A cherry blossom pendant for Mizaki.
A silver cuff for Marina.
A black wristband for Shizuka.
The school adjusted. Rumours became legend. Paulo Satoshi, the one-eyed heir.
The girl with pink hair who would kill for him.
The blue-haired sniper. The silent shadow.
Miya transferred out.
No one knew where.
Alexis disappeared.
Rin and Shin were ghosts.
The Satoshi clan watched from the shadows. Waiting.
But Paulo was ready.
***
One night, after a particularly brutal session, Sara found him on the pier, staring at the water.
"You're angry," she said.
"I'm tired," Paulo replied.
"Of what?"
"Of being a pawn. Of being a prince. Of being anything but me."
Sara sat beside him. "You are not a pawn. You are the board."
He looked at her. "Then teach me how to win."
She smiled. "I already am."
***
Spring returned.
Cherry blossoms bloomed again, fragile, and fierce.
Paulo stood on Tokyo Bridge at sunset, Mizaki's hand in his. The ring glinted.
Below, the river flowed on, black and endless.
But this time, he was not afraid of falling.
He was ready to jump.
And when he did, he would land on his feet.
With his mother at his back.
His queen at his side.