Thug King

The roar of the engines was a declaration of war. It ripped through the peaceful night, a saw-toothed sound that set dogs barking and lights flicking on in neighboring apartments. On the street below, more than thirty motorcycles formed a loose, menacing blockade around Kenji's building. Their riders, clad in black leather jackets with the snarling wolf emblem, dismounted, their faces set in cruel, arrogant sneers.

Their leader, a man with a prominent scar across his chin and a steel pipe resting on his shoulder, spat on the ground. "This is the place?"

"Yeah, this is it, Kaito," another biker confirmed, looking at a message on his phone. "Some high school kid named Tanaka lives here. Word on the street is he took down Yamata and the whole Seiryu leadership today. The place is a power vacuum."

Kaito, the leader of the Kurokami Wolf Pack, grinned, revealing a row of stained teeth. "A high school kid. How cute. We were planning on movin' in on Seiryu's territory for months. This little punk just saved us the trouble of dealing with Yamata. We'll break him, make an example of him, and his school will be ours by sunrise."

They were not high school delinquents fighting for reputation. They were hardened criminals fighting for territory, money, and power. They saw Seiryu High as a new recruiting ground and a source of income.

Inside his apartment, Kenji observed them from his window.

"Organized pack behavior," he noted. "Approximately thirty-five individuals. Armed with blunt instruments. Their formation is designed for intimidation and to block escape routes. The leader is the one with the superior posture and the loudest voice. Their objective is likely to assert dominance over this territory."

He felt a familiar annoyance. His quiet evening had been interrupted. His plans to review his English vocabulary were now on hold. This was highly inefficient.

He checked on the sleeping form on his futon. After Yui had left, he'd had another, unexpected visitor: Maruyama. His giant shadow, upon hearing the approaching engines, had run all the way from his own home, arriving sweaty and out of breath just moments ago. He had insisted on standing guard inside the apartment. Kenji, seeing no logical flaw in having his 'shield' inside the perimeter instead of outside, had allowed it. Now, Maruyama was dozing lightly in a seated position against the wall, his promise to stay awake foiled by the day's exhausting events. Kenji decided not to wake him yet.

He considered his options. He could wait for them to leave. Unlikely. He could call the police. That would involve complex social interaction and explanations he did not wish to provide. Or, he could apply the most direct solution.

"Rule #12: When vermin infest your nest, you do not wait for them to leave. You exterminate them swiftly and without hesitation, so they do not return."

He slipped on his shoes and walked towards his front door.

The Wolf Pack was growing impatient.

"Let's go!" Kaito barked. "Five of you, with me. We'll kick his door in and drag him out into the street. The rest of you, make sure no one interferes."

Just as Kaito and his men were about to enter the building, the main entrance door opened with a soft click.

Kenji Tanaka stepped out into the bright, harsh glare of their headlights. He stood there, in his simple t-shirt and pants, looking utterly unremarkable. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the light.

The bikers stared, then burst into laughter.

"This is him?!" one of them jeered. "This is the guy who took down Yamata? He looks like he'd lose a fight to a strong breeze!"

Kaito smirked, stepping forward. "Hey, kid. Tanaka Kenji, right? We're the Kurokami Wolf Pack. You've probably heard of us." He tapped the steel pipe against his shoulder. "Your school, your territory... it all belongs to us now. We'll give you a choice. Kneel, swear loyalty to us, and become our dog, and we'll let you live. Resist... and we'll break every bone in your body and leave you in a dumpster."

Kenji looked at Kaito, his expression one of mild curiosity. "Your organization's name is the 'Black Hair Wolf Pack'. It is a redundant name. Most wolves have black hair."

The entire gang went silent. Kaito's smirk froze on his face. They had expected fear, defiance, or pleading. They had not expected a calm, pedantic critique of their gang's name.

"What... What did you just say, you little shit?" Kaito growled, his face turning red.

"I am merely pointing out a linguistic inefficiency," Kenji replied calmly. "It suggests a lack of creativity in your leadership."

The sheer, unadulterated audacity of the insult, delivered with the tone of a bored professor, was so stunning that no one knew how to react.

Kaito's face contorted in a mask of pure rage. "That's it! You're dead! I'm going to—"

He was cut off by a new sound. A different kind of engine. Not the low, guttural roar of a chopper, but the high-pitched, furious scream of a sport bike.

A single, crimson-red motorcycle shot around the corner at an impossible speed, its headlights like the eyes of a demon. It drifted into a perfect, screeching halt, its rear tire smoking, blocking the end of the street.

The rider, clad in form-fitting black leather, swung a leg over and took off her helmet. Fiery red hair cascaded down her back.

Rina Sato was here. And she was not alone.

Behind her, turning the corner, came the rest of her army. Not on bikes, but on foot. A wave of fifty of Suzaku's toughest delinquents, armed and ready for war.

"Kaito," Rina snarled, her amber eyes burning with murderous intent. "I heard the sound of stray dogs barking in my territory. I should have known it was you."

Kaito's face went from red to pale. "Sato Rina! What the hell are you doing here? This isn't your turf!"

"Wrong," Rina said, pointing a thumb at Kenji, who was watching the exchange with detached interest. "He is my turf. And anyone who messes with him, messes with all of Suzaku!"

A new front had just opened in the war for the Kingless Kingdom. The conflict was no longer contained within Seiryu. It had spilled out, drawing in the major powers of the prefecture.

The Kurokami Wolf Pack, confident in their numbers against one boy, now found themselves facing a full-fledged high school war gang. Their expressions shifted from arrogance to grim determination.

"So be it," Kaito spat. "We'll crush you all! Wolves!"

"Suzaku!" Rina roared. "Charge! Leave no one standing! Protect your future King!"

The two gangs crashed into each other with the sound of splintering wood and crunching metal. The quiet residential street became a warzone.

Kenji watched the chaos unfold. Rina was a whirlwind of destruction, her movements fluid and deadly. But she was outnumbered, and the bikers were older and more ruthless.

He sighed. He had hoped to handle this quietly. That was no longer an option.

As a biker charged at him, swinging a chain, Kenji moved. He stepped inside the swing, his hand shooting out and grabbing the man's throat. He lifted the biker off his feet with one hand, the man's legs kicking uselessly in the air.

He held the man up, his gaze sweeping over the entire, chaotic battlefield. His voice, amplified by an unseen force of will, cut through the din of battle.

"Silence."

The single word, imbued with the same absolute authority he had displayed in the courtyard, slammed into every combatant. The fighting stuttered to a halt. Every eye, biker and student alike, turned to him.

He held the struggling biker in his hand like a trophy, his expression one of cold, profound disappointment.

"Your inefficiency," he announced to the silent battlefield, "is disturbing."