Thug King

The Otokawa party ended, but its ripples were just beginning to spread. By the next morning, the story of Kenji Tanaka's appearance had become the most fevered piece of gossip among the city's elite.

They didn't talk about his legendary strength; they talked about his legendary strangeness. They whispered about how he had neutered the smug Nomura heir without spilling a drop of champagne. They marveled at how he had dismantled every verbal trap and social jab with his bizarre, literal logic. Most of all, they talked about the final exchange on the balcony. The story of him turning down an implied offer of immense wealth and power to ask for gardening tips became an instant legend.

In the world of the rich, where everyone was constantly posturing and scheming for more, his complete lack of ambition was the ultimate power move. It made him an enigma, an untouchable, and therefore, someone everyone desperately wanted to be associated with.

The most affected was Otokawa Hina herself.

On Monday at school, a black, foreign luxury sedan that was worth more than most teachers' houses pulled up outside Seiryu High. The student body stared as a chauffeur opened the door, and Otokawa Hina, the Princess of the City, stepped out. She was wearing the uniform of her own elite private academy, St. Isabelle's.

She walked through the gates of Seiryu as if she owned the place—which, technically, her father's corporation probably did. She ignored the stares and whispers, her gaze fixed, searching. She found her target near the entrance: Kenji, flanked by his usual court.

"Tanaka-sama," she called out, her voice clear and carrying.

Kenji, Rina, Akari, and Maruyama all turned.

Rina's eyes narrowed into slits. "What is she doing here?"

Akari's face became a mask of cold analysis. "This is an unexpected move."

Maruyama just looked confused.

Hina stopped before the group and gave Kenji a graceful, perfect curtsy. "Good morning. I apologize for intruding on your school."

"It is no intrusion," Kenji replied. "Did you require assistance?"

"Yes," Hina said, her cheeks faintly pink. She held up a beautifully wrapped box. "My father was so taken with your... unique perspective... that he wished for me to deliver this gift. As a token of his esteem."

Kenji accepted the box. Inside was not jewelry or money. It was a collection of rare, imported gardening tools and a bag of premium, scientifically formulated hydrangea fertilizer.

Rina looked like she was about to explode. "Gardening tools?! He's a warrior, not a farmer!"

"A warrior must have a place of peace to return to," Hina replied sweetly, her smile never wavering as she delivered the subtle jab at Rina's chaotic nature. "My father believes in nurturing potential, whether it is in a boardroom or a garden."

"Why you little—"

"Thank your father for me," Kenji interrupted, examining a small, sharp trowel with genuine interest. "This is high-quality carbon steel. Very efficient."

Hina's smile brightened. "He also instructed me to offer you my assistance. My family has... resources. Information. If you ever need to know anything about the inner workings of this city—the corporations, the politicians, the real powers—I would be honored to provide it. Think of me as... your liaison to the world beyond the streets."

It was a declaration. She was offering to be his minister of intelligence, his connection to the gilded world of the elite. She was inserting herself into his court.

The unspoken rivalry between the three women solidified into a tense triangle. Akari, the Regent of the school. Rina, the Sword of the streets. And now Hina, the Spymaster of the elite. Each controlled a different domain, and all of them were vying for the attention and favor of the oblivious king at the center.

This new development did not go unnoticed by the city's true underworld.

In the Inagawa-kai office, Mr. Tanaka looked at the report on his desk. "Otokawa Genji himself has made a move. He's trying to court the boy."

"What do we do, sir?" his lieutenant asked. "If Otokawa brings him into his fold, he'll be untouchable."

Mr. Tanaka tapped his fingers on the desk. Otokawa was an old, cunning fox. But he was a legitimate businessman. The Yakuza played by different rules. They couldn't offer gardening tools. They had to make an offer—or a threat—that spoke their own language.

"The old legend of the Dragon God," Mr. Tanaka mused. "It said he was an enforcer for our former clan head, the one who united the city thirty years ago. He was the fist that crushed all our rivals. Then, one day, he just... vanished. If this boy uses the same art, he might be the key to understanding what happened."

He made a decision. It was time to stop watching.

"There is an old dojo in the abandoned district by the docks," Mr. Tanaka said. "It was run by a man named Master Uesugi. He was one of the few who fought against our clan's rise to power and survived. A true master of old-style jujutsu. He owes me a favor."

"What are you planning, sir?"

"We will not attack the boy. That would be suicide. We will not try to bribe him. That would be an insult. We will test him. We will give him a puzzle he cannot solve with brute force alone." A cold, cunning smile touched Mr. Tanaka's lips. "We are going to kidnap the quiet girl."

"The girl?"

"The one he first protected. The one he accepts food from. Amano Yui," Mr. Tanaka clarified, looking at a photo from the boy's file. "His... 'island of peace', as our informant poetically put it. We won't harm her. We will have Master Uesugi hold her in his dojo. And we will send a message to Tanaka Kenji."

His smile widened. "The message will be simple: 'We have something of yours. If you are as great as the legends say, come and retrieve it. Alone.'"

It was a perfect plan. It wasn't a direct attack, so it wouldn't provoke an all-out war. It would force Kenji to act, to come to their chosen ground. And it would pit him against a true, old-world martial arts master, a man whose skills were not meant for tournaments, but for life-and-death combat.

"Let's see if the young dragon can defeat an old tiger in his own den," Mr. Tanaka said, picking up his phone to make the call. "Let the real test begin."

Later that day, Kenji was walking home, Maruyama shadowing him as always. He was pondering the complexities of his new social circle. He had a schedule managed by Akari, intelligence briefings from Rina, and gardening supplies from Hina. His life was becoming alarmingly well-organized.

His thoughts turned to Yui. He hadn't seen her all day. She had likely been intimidated by the powerful women now surrounding him. He felt a pang of something he couldn't quite identify—a sense of loss. Her quiet presence had been a grounding force.

As he reached his apartment, he saw a single envelope taped to his door. It was plain, cheap paper. No stamp, no address.

He opened it. The note inside was written in rough, jagged characters.

We have the girl. The quiet one.

Come to the old dojo by the sea wall. Dock 7.

Come alone.

If you are not here by midnight, she will learn the meaning of pain.

Kenji's hand, which had been relaxed, slowly clenched into a fist, the paper crinkling within it.

The air around him dropped ten degrees.

Maruyama, standing behind him, felt it. The placid, calm aura of his Senpai vanished, replaced by a pressure so immense, so cold, so murderously silent that it made the courtyard incident feel like a pleasant summer breeze.

This was not the annoyance of a disrupted routine. This was not the disappointment of a flawed battle.

This was the cold, absolute, and unforgiving fury of a god whose sanctuary had been desecrated.

The beasts of the city had made a fatal mistake. They had not just threatened his territory, or his followers.

They had touched his peace.