Raizo Kurogane woke to the blaring sound of his alarm clock, the same dull sunlight creeping through the blinds of his small room. He rubbed his eyes, sighing quietly. Another day at Kiyomizu High School, another day of being invisible—or rather, constantly targeted.
By the time he stepped into the schoolyard, the familiar tension hung in the air like a thick fog. He spotted them immediately: Travis, the tall, athletic boy from another class, known for his physical prowess and unyielding confidence, flanked by his usual goons. Laughter spilled from the group as a pair of girls trailed behind, their arms entwined around the bullies' shoulders.
"Hey, freak," one of the girls hissed, smirking. "Worthless living, huh?"
Raizo kept his gaze low, hoping to pass unnoticed, but Travis had already spotted him. The leader's grin widened, a predator locking eyes on its prey. With a sharp gesture, Travis raised his hand, and two of his goons grabbed Raizo's backpack.
"Hey! Give that back!" Raizo lunged forward, his small hands barely brushing the bag, but he was too tiny, too weak to wrestle it free.
Travis laughed loudly, the girls giggling behind him. "Look at him! So pathetic!" one of them sneered.
One of Travis's goons, a tall boy with a sly grin named Cjay, looked at another kid and said, "Hey, Kevin, here."
Kevin tossed Raizo's backpack toward Cjay, who snatched it midair. Raizo darted forward instinctively, but the bag was already in their control. With a cruel smirk, Cjay dropped it at Raizo's feet and stepped on it, pressing down so the zipper strained. "Whoops," he chuckled, his voice dripping with malice.
Raizo's fists clenched, but before he could react, Kevin noticed something inside the bag. He picked out a sketchbook and flipped it open. "Hey… catch this, Cjay."
Cjay caught the book and flipped through the pages. His eyes widened, scanning the drawing of a girl with soft features, hair cascading down her shoulders. "Your girlfriend… Jean?" Cjay's voice cracked with mockery.
Raizo froze. Cjay's next move was swift and brutal. He drove his boot into Raizo's stomach, making him curl over in pain. Another kick, harder this time, sent him sprawling onto the cold pavement. Raizo curled into a ball, trying to protect himself.
"Hey, shorty!" Cjay shouted, raising his foot again. "Why'd you draw my girlfriend? You interested in her, huh?"
Raizo's vision blurred, anger rising like a fire inside him. Every blow, every insult, every laugh pushed him closer to the edge. He wanted, needed, to fight back, to teach them the consequences of underestimating him.
But before he could make a move, Cjay's fist shot forward, smashing into Raizo's face. "If I ever see you staring at my girlfriend again, you won't see the light of day, got that, shorty?" His words were venom, his laugh chilling.
The school bell rang abruptly, slicing through the tension. Cjay seized the moment to rip Raizo's sketchbook from his hands, tossing the pages to the ground. The girls laughed even harder, filming the scene on their phones, while Travis's group walked off, leaving Raizo winded, humiliated, and trembling with barely contained rage.
By the time Raizo reached the classroom, the torment didn't stop. The boys at the back of the room continued their relentless teasing. Crumpled papers flew at him like missiles, bouncing off his shoulders and backpack.
"Hey, shorty! Take off that jacket. It's really hot," one of them sneered.
"Do you expect the freak to listen to you?" another boy added, laughter echoing around the room.
The girls whispered, giggling at the chaos, while the teacher remained oblivious to the cruelty erupting in her classroom. Raizo kept his head down, feigning indifference, but his fists remained clenched beneath the desk.
The lessons droned on, but Raizo's mind was elsewhere. The world of school—small, cruel, and petty—was nothing compared to the world he commanded. Each insult, each shove, each cruel laugh only fueled the fire of the king hidden beneath his meek exterior.
When recess came, Raizo tried to eat quietly under the shade of a tree. But the bullies had already noticed him. They exchanged smiles, predatory and mocking. Kevin stepped forward, towering over him.
"Hey, shorty. Give us your money."
Raizo didn't respond. He kept eating, silent and small, but Kevin leaned closer, voice harsh. "Do you hear me?!"
With a slow, deliberate motion, Raizo reached into his pocket and handed over his wallet. Kevin snatched it, grinning maliciously. "Nice doggy, haha." Forty dollars disappeared instantly, tossed onto the grass. The empty wallet struck Raizo lightly on the head as Kevin walked away, triumphant.
Raizo's eyes flickered, a storm brewing behind their soft brown hue. Even as the world around him continued in petty cruelty, his mind was already planning.
Lunchtime came, and Raizo opened his phone under the table, the normal chatter of classmates fading into the background. A notification blinked from his secure network. One of his men reported in:
"Boss, we've acquired multiple firearms from overseas, and dynamite shipments are ready."
Raizo's fingers tapped the screen. "I like it. Nice work. Tonight, we'll test our strength against the opposition. Prepare the troops."
His voice was calm, quiet, almost unremarkable—yet the orders carried weight beyond imagination. While high school students worried about exams and crushes, Raizo orchestrated a small army, preparing for battles far deadlier than any scornful laughter in the classroom.
Night fell over Kiyomizu, draping the city in darkness. Raizo retreated to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He opened a hidden compartment in his closet, revealing a passageway known only to him. Inside, the scent of leather and metal mingled with the faint tang of gunpowder and smoke.
At the end of the passage, a sleek black tuxedo waited on a hanger. Spikes adorned the shoulders, a ring necklace glinted in the dim light, and the back of the coat bore a crimson bullet emblem. He slid into the outfit, adjusting a red necktie with precision. His brown eyes, normally soft and shy, hardened into a piercing, commanding glare.
"I guess it's time," he whispered.
Outside, a sleek black car waited, polished to a mirror sheen. A muscular man in a black tuxedo opened the door for him, bowing slightly. "Welcome, boss," he said. Raizo nodded, stepping into the car. The man followed, sliding into the seat beside him.
"The deal went well," the man reported. "We gathered $10,000. The newcomers are ready for combat. Their accuracy is average, but they'll improve with training."
Raizo's gaze swept the interior of the car. His stare was calm, but beneath it burned the intensity of a predator. The muscular man gulped, feeling as if he were facing a giant cobra rather than a teenage boy. "W-Wine, boss?" he stammered.
Raizo simply nodded. In his mind, the figure of an old man holding a cane flashed before him—Numero Nove, a mentor and figure from the old world of organized power. The car drifted smoothly onto the open road, the city lights blurring past as Raizo's mind calculated, strategized, and planned.
10,000 dollars, huh… good. But the newcomers' accuracy is still insufficient. We'll train them. Sharpen them.
He glanced at the photograph once more, whispering, "Numero Nove…"
The car accelerated, silently carrying the hidden king of shadows into the night. The streets were quiet, the city unaware that beneath its ordinary exterior, a storm was preparing to strike.
Raizo Kurogane, the boy bullied at school, was already evolving into something far more dangerous—a ruler whose patience had limits and whose wrath would be absolute.
And tonight, the quiet shadow of Kiyomizu High School would take its first step into a world of fire, steel, and strategy.