Thug King

The Rolls-Royce Phantom glided through a set of immense, ornate wrought-iron gates, the name "OTOKAWA" elegantly scripted within the metalwork. It purred silently up a long, winding driveway flanked by perfectly manicured cypress trees and gardens that looked like they belonged in a palace. The driveway circled a massive fountain before coming to a stop in front of a sprawling, modern mansion that was less a home and more a monument to wealth and power.

Inside the car, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Akari, stunning in a simple yet elegant silver evening gown, sat poised and alert, her mind running through a hundred potential social disasters. Rina, forced into a fiery red dress that was both beautiful and screamed defiance, fidgeted, looking as uncomfortable as a caged tiger. Maruyama, squeezed into the front passenger seat in a black suit that looked like it was carved from granite, stared out the window, his eyes scanning for threats among the valets and security personnel.

And then there was Kenji. He sat perfectly still, looking out the window not with awe, but with a detached, analytical curiosity.

"The perimeter is extensive," he observed internally. "Security is visible but also concealed. I have spotted at least six men with earpieces who are not part of the valet staff. The building has multiple reinforced entry points. The defensive posture is significant. This family has many enemies."

He was analyzing the estate not as a party venue, but as a fortress.

The chauffeur opened the door. As Kenji stepped out, a wave of classical music and polite, cultured chatter washed over them. The world of high society.

"Alright," Akari whispered, her voice a low, urgent command as they walked towards the grand entrance. "Remember the plan. We enter together. Maruyama-san, you are our security detail; stay on the periphery. Rina-san, you are my guest; try not to challenge anyone to a duel. Tanaka-kun, stay close to me, speak only when spoken to, and for the love of all that is holy, do not critique their choice of architecture."

"Understood," Kenji replied.

"Hmph," was Rina's only response.

They were greeted at the door by a smiling, impeccably dressed man who was clearly Otokawa Hina's father, Otokawa Genji. He was a man in his late fifties with sharp, intelligent eyes and an aura of immense, quiet power that came not from physical strength, but from the knowledge that he could buy and sell entire city blocks with a single phone call.

"Ah, Ishikawa-san," he said, his smile warm as he greeted Akari. "Always a pleasure. Your father is well?"

"He is, Otokawa-sama. Thank you for asking," Akari replied with a perfect, respectful bow.

Otokawa's gaze then shifted to the figures with her. He looked at Rina with faint amusement, at Maruyama with curiosity, and finally, his eyes landed on Kenji.

The air shifted. Otokawa's polite smile didn't change, but his eyes sharpened, becoming piercingly analytical. He was a shark that had just spotted something new and interesting in his waters.

"And you," he said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey, "must be Tanaka Kenji-kun. It is an honor to finally meet you. I have heard… remarkable things."

"Otokawa-sama," Kenji said, giving a polite, perfect nod, just as Akari had instructed. "Thank you for the invitation. Your home is structurally sound."

Akari froze, her heart stopping for a full second. Rina choked back a laugh. Structurally sound? It was the most Kenji-like compliment imaginable—bizarre, technical, and utterly devoid of social grace, yet delivered with such sincerity that it couldn't be taken as an insult.

Otokawa blinked, taken aback for a moment. Then, a genuine, hearty laugh boomed from his chest. "Ha! Structurally sound! I've had architects and designers praise my home, but that is a first! I like you, young man. You are direct."

At that moment, a young woman approached. She was the picture of refined beauty, with long, dark hair styled in an elegant updo and a simple pearl-white dress that shimmered under the light. This was Otokawa Hina, the birthday girl, the "Princess of the City."

"Father," she said, her voice like soft bells. Her eyes fell on Kenji, and a delicate blush rose to her cheeks. "Tanaka-sama. I am so glad you could make it."

"Hina-san," Kenji replied with a nod. "Happy birthday. May your year be efficient and productive."

Hina's smile faltered for a second, confused by the strange well-wishes, but she recovered gracefully. "Th-thank you. Please, enjoy the party."

As they moved into the main hall—a cavernous space with a glass ceiling showing the night sky—the whispers started. The arrival of the "Thug King of Seiryu" at the most exclusive party of the year was an event of seismic proportions.

"Is that him? He doesn't look like much."

"Look who he's with! The Ice Queen of Seiryu and the Crimson Oni of Suzaku! And isn't that 'The Bear' Maruyama?"

"What is a street thug doing here? Otokawa-sama must have a reason for inviting him."

Kenji ignored the whispers, his attention focused on navigating the crowded room without bumping into anyone, a task that required significant spatial awareness.

A young man in a smug-looking tuxedo, clearly the heir to some corporation, deliberately stepped in front of Rina, a glass of champagne in his hand. "Well, well. If it isn't Sato Rina. I didn't realize they were letting ruffians in this year."

Rina's eyes flashed with fire. "Get out of my way, you pampered peacock, before I rearrange that smug face of yours."

"Temper, temper," the young man sneered, and "accidentally" tilted his glass, about to spill champagne on her dress.

Before a single drop could fall, a hand shot out and clamped around the young man's wrist. It was Kenji. His grip was light, but the young man froze, his face paling as he felt an unyielding, metallic strength in the touch.

"It is impolite," Kenji said, his voice quiet but carrying an unnerving weight, "to waste good food. Or to threaten my companions."

He gently but firmly moved the young man's hand away, his eyes holding a flat, cold emptiness that promised a world of pain. The young man, who fought his battles in boardrooms, had never felt such primal killing intent. He stammered an apology and fled, nearly tripping over his own feet.

The entire exchange was over in seconds, noticed only by a few nearby guests. But those who saw it felt a chill. The quiet boy in the navy suit had just effortlessly neutered one of the most arrogant heirs in the city without raising his voice or spilling a drop.

Akari, who had seen the whole thing, let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. He was learning. He was adapting his methods to the environment. He hadn't broken the wrist. He had simply applied the exact amount of pressure needed to resolve the conflict.

The party continued. Kenji was a strange, silent vortex. People tried to approach him, to test him with veiled insults or condescending questions. Each time, he would respond with a bizarrely literal and logical answer that would completely derail their social attack, leaving them confused and unsettled.

He was an immovable object in a world of subtle forces.

Finally, Otokawa Genji approached him again, this time leading him to a quiet balcony overlooking the gardens.

"Tanaka-kun," the old man said, his eyes twinkling. "You are quite the anomaly. You have the most powerful high school fighters as your entourage, and you handle my arrogant young guests with an unnerving calm. Tell me, what is it that you want? Money? Power? A position in my organization?"

It was the question everyone wanted to know. The offer.

Kenji looked out at the perfectly manicured garden. He thought of the chaos of the past week, the weight of everyone's expectations, the complexities of this new world.

"I want," Kenji said, his voice holding a hint of genuine, unadulterated longing, "to know what kind of fertilizer you use on these hydrangeas. The soil on my mountain was much rockier, and I was never able to achieve such vibrant blue blossoms."

Otokawa Genji, one of the most powerful men in Japan, stared at the boy who had turned his entire world upside down. He had offered him the world.

And the boy had asked for gardening tips.

Otokawa was speechless. Then he threw his head back and laughed, a louder, more genuine laugh than anyone had heard from him in years. This boy wasn't a dragon among men. He was something far stranger, and far more interesting.