Thug King

The news that Kenji had accepted the Otokawa family's invitation sent his self-appointed court into a frenzy. It was one thing for him to dominate the world of fists and fear; that was his natural habitat. A high-society party, however, was a completely different kind of battlefield, with its own unspoken rules, treacherous alliances, and subtle attacks.

An emergency meeting was held immediately after school in the now-designated "Tanaka-senpai Quiet Study Area" (formerly the rooftop garden).

"This is a disaster," Akari stated, pacing back and forth, her usual composure frayed at the edges. "The Otokawa party is the single most important social event of the year for the city's elite. Every major corporate heir, every political scion will be there. It's a nest of vipers who fight with words, rumors, and stock prices, not fists."

"So what?" Rina scoffed, though she looked unusually concerned. "Sensei can just beat them all up if they get annoying."

"You can't use a katana to solve a hostile takeover, Sato-san," Akari shot back, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This is your fault. Your 'vanguard' activities and the biker gang incident have made his reputation too loud. It's attracted the wrong kind of attention."

"My fault?!" Rina jumped to her feet. "He's a dragon! Dragons are supposed to be noticed! You're just mad because your little world of rules is being invaded by someone who doesn't give a damn about them!"

"Senpai does not need to worry," Maruyama rumbled, attempting to be a voice of reason. "I will accompany him as his shield. If any viper tries to bite, I will crush it."

"And what will you do when Otokawa's father subtly insults Sensei's lineage in front of a dozen CEOs, Maruyama-kun?" Akari asked cuttingly. "Will you throw him through a window?"

Maruyama considered this for a moment. "...If Senpai commands it."

Akari sighed, feeling a migraine coming on. "This is what I'm talking about. We are all completely out of our depth here. And he..." she gestured to Kenji, who was sitting calmly on a bench, observing a butterfly that had landed on a flower. He seemed more interested in its wing patterns than their crisis meeting.

"The primary problem," Akari declared, getting back into her element as a strategist, "is his appearance. He cannot go to the Otokawa estate in a school uniform or his usual clothes."

Rina and Maruyama looked at Kenji. His clothes were clean but worn. Functional. They held no concept of brand or style.

"He needs a suit," Akari concluded. "A proper, tailored suit. One that says 'I belong here,' even if he doesn't."

"A suit?" Rina looked thoughtful. "Alright. I'll handle it. My family... has connections." While she cultivated the image of a street delinquent, her family was actually new-money wealthy, having made their fortune in construction, a fact she rarely admitted.

"And you think your taste is suitable for this event?" Akari asked with a condescending sniff. "You'd probably put him in a red pinstripe zoot suit."

"It's better than the boring grey funeral director's suit you'd pick out!" Rina retorted.

"I will... carry the bags," Maruyama offered, wanting to contribute.

"No," Kenji said, speaking for the first time. The three of them fell silent and turned to him. The butterfly had flown away. "This is inefficient. A dispute over clothing is a waste of time and energy."

He stood up. "Akari-san is correct. A specific uniform is required for this social environment. Therefore, we will acquire one." He looked at the three of them. "You will all assist. A multi-pronged approach will be the most efficient way to gather the necessary equipment."

The Thug King had just given his first official command to his court. And it was about going shopping.

The following Saturday was a surreal experience for the employees of the city's most exclusive, high-end department store.

The quartet arrived. A quiet, average-looking boy was flanked by a beautiful, icy girl who looked like she owned the place, a fiery redhead who looked like she wanted to burn it down, and a giant who looked like he could bench-press the entire building.

"Operation: Formal Attire Acquisition is a go," Akari announced, her phone already displaying a multi-point checklist. "Phase one: Suit selection. Rina-san, you will handle initial selections based on modern style trends. I will handle final approval based on classic elegance and appropriateness. Maruyama-kun, you are on security and anti-paparazzi duty. There are reporters who follow the Otokawa family."

Maruyama nodded grimly, putting on a pair of sunglasses and scanning the area for threats.

The procession into the suit department was a sight to behold. Rina would grab expensive, flashy suits. "This one! An Armani in charcoal with a subtle silk thread. It says 'I have power and I'm not afraid to show it'!"

Akari would immediately veto it. "Absolutely not. He is not a Yakuza boss. We need something understated. A classic Brioni. Navy blue. It conveys quiet confidence and old money, even if he has neither."

They argued over fabrics, cuts, and lapel widths while a terrified store clerk sweated profusely, unsure who to listen to.

Kenji, meanwhile, stood patiently as they draped various jackets over him. He analyzed the materials. "This wool is of a high thread count. It provides adequate insulation for a climate-controlled environment but is not suitable for strenuous activity. The range of motion in the shoulders is restricted."

"It's a suit, Sensei, not combat gear!" Rina exclaimed.

Finally, they agreed on a perfectly tailored, dark navy suit. When Kenji put it on, the transformation was stunning. The suit didn't just fit him; it gave him a completely different silhouette. His lean, wiry strength was given a new, dangerous definition. His quiet demeanor no longer looked plain; it looked mysterious. Combined with his intense, calm eyes, he looked less like a high school student and more like a young, elite assassin or a secret agent.

Rina's cheeks flushed. Akari felt her breath catch for a fraction of a second before she regained her composure. Maruyama just nodded. "Senpai looks... formidable."

Phase two was "Etiquette Training." They sat in the store's fancy café, where Akari drilled him.

"This is a dessert fork. This is a salad fork. You do not speak to a superior unless spoken to. You refer to Otokawa-sama by his title. You compliment the hostess, his daughter, on the beauty of her home, but not on her person, as that would be too forward."

Kenji listened with the same focus he would give to learning a new martial arts kata. "Understood. The small fork is for sweetened food. The medium fork is for vegetables. Defer to the alpha male of the household. Offer a non-personal compliment to the designated female. The social rules are arbitrary but contain a clear internal logic."

Rina tried to help in her own way. "And if some rich prick tries to spill a drink on you to make you look bad, just break his wrist. Quietly."

"No breaking of wrists!" Akari snapped.

The final phase was "Transportation."

"I will drive Sensei," Rina declared. "My new Ducati can get there in ten minutes."

"You will not take him to a black-tie event on a motorcycle!" Akari argued. "The Ishikawa family chauffeur will drive us in the Rolls-Royce."

"How boring!"

"It's called class, Sato-san. You should try it sometime."

As they argued, Kenji stood, now fully equipped in his new armor. He looked in the mirror. He saw a stranger looking back. A stranger being forced to play a role in a complex game he didn't understand.

"Grandfather," he thought. "Is this what it means to understand the human heart? To wear a costume and follow a script?"

He felt a profound sense of unease. He was more comfortable facing down a hundred thugs than he was facing a single dessert fork. This was, by far, the most dangerous mission he had ever undertaken.