Chapter 19: The Real Ryuji Steps In

  Scene 1: The Tension Explodes

  Kenji Fujimura was tired.

  Physically. Mentally. Spiritually.

  Every single part of him wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and never emerge.

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option.

  Because the entire school had officially lost its damn mind.

  As he trudged through the hallways, the chaos surrounding him had somehow reached apocalyptic levels.

  There were banners.

  Actual, handmade banners.

  Strung across classroom doors, plastered onto lockers, even draped over the stair railings like a medieval kingdom preparing for war.

  Some read:

  “TEAM AKARI—KENJI BELONGS TO THE QUEEN!”

  Others declared:

  “TEAM SAKURA—A LOVE WRITTEN IN BLOOD!”

  And, off to the side, in smaller, less enthusiastic lettering:

  “TEAM REINA—EVERYONE CALM DOWN AND DO YOUR HOMEWORK.”

  Kenji stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the insanity before him.

  A group of students were passing around what looked like a betting sheet.

  He leaned in, reading some of the entries.

  “Odds of Akari kicking Sakura in the face by the end of the week?”

  “Who will Kenji pick in the end? (if he survives)”

  Kenji’s eye twitched.

  “Boss,” Tetsuya’s voice rumbled from beside him, deadpan. “This is beyond stupid.”

  Kenji exhaled slowly, pressing his fingers to his temple.

  “That makes two of us.”

  He took a step forward.

  The moment he did, a roar of excited whispers followed.

  Kenji’s entire body tensed.

  Students nudged each other, whispering feverishly.

  "It’s him!"

  "He’s in the middle of it all!"

  "Did you hear? Sakura’s family sent a warning! This is straight out of a Yakuza romance drama!"

  Kenji twitched violently.

  Tetsuya, entirely unfazed, sighed. “You should probably keep moving.”

  Kenji tore through the hallway, dodging between groups of students, trying to find one single corner where he wasn’t the center of attention.

  He had no such luck.

  Because standing just ahead of him—

  Were the two worst people he could run into right now.

  Akari Hayashi. Sakura Aizawa.

  And they were glaring at each other like predators sizing up a rival.

  Kenji’s stomach dropped.

  Sakura was smiling pleasantly, her golden-brown eyes glittering with confidence.

  Akari, on the other hand—

  Looked like she was seconds away from committing a felony.

  Kenji immediately backtracked.

  Too late.

  Akari spotted him first.

  She snapped to attention like a soldier in battle.

  "KENJI!"

  Kenji froze. "…Hi?"

  Akari stormed over, grabbing him by the front of his uniform.

  Her voice was deadly calm. "Explain. Everything. Right now."

  Kenji blinked rapidly. "Everything—?"

  Before he could even attempt an excuse, Sakura stepped in.

  "Ryuji," she greeted smoothly, linking her arm around his. "Shall we go? I have plans for us."

  Kenji’s soul left his body.

  Akari’s eyes went feral. "EXCUSE ME?!"

  Sakura blinked innocently. "Oh? Did Ryuji not tell you? We’re engaged."

  Kenji let out a strangled sound.

  Akari wheeled back toward him. "SO IT’S TRUE?!"

  Kenji jerked away, shaking his hands wildly. "NO. NO, IT’S NOT TRUE—!"

  Sakura pouted, her grip tightening. "Darling, you wound me."

  Kenji felt his sanity crumbling.

  The entire hallway had gone dead silent.

  Students were watching in pure awe.

  Some of them were recording.

  Kenji wanted to cry.

  From behind him, a quiet sigh.

  "Pathetic," Reina muttered, adjusting her glasses.

  Kenji whirled.

  "YOU THINK?!"

  She didn’t even look up from her notebook. "If you’d like me to calculate your odds of survival, I can start now."

  Kenji let out a weak, broken laugh. "I’m already dead."

  Tetsuya finally spoke again, unimpressed.

  "Boss," he drawled. "Just pick a side and be done with it."

  Kenji swung toward him in horror.

  "THAT’S NOT HELPING!"

  Tetsuya shrugged. "Didn’t say I was trying to help."

  Kenji buried his face in his hands.

  He couldn’t keep doing this.

  He needed to escape.

  Before he could even attempt to walk away, Akari shoved Sakura aside.

  "You," she growled, jabbing a finger at Kenji’s chest. "And me. We’re talking. NOW."

  Kenji gulped.

  Before he could even react, she grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him down the hallway.

  Kenji flailed helplessly. "HEY—HOLD ON—"

  Sakura, utterly unfazed, tilted her head and smiled. "I’ll see you later, darling."

  Kenji, internally: I AM GOING TO DIE.

  And somewhere in the distance…

  Someone was watching all of it.

  Scene 2: Tetsuya’s Warning

  Kenji leaned against the rusted chain-link fence at the back of the school.

  His brain was still running on low battery mode, trying to process what had just happened the night before.

  The real Ryuji.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The real Ryuji.

  Every time he thought about it, his stomach twisted.

  Not just because he had spent the past few months pretending to be him, but because—

  Ryuji knew.

  And worse?

  He didn’t seem angry.

  Kenji didn’t know if that made things better or worse.

  A shadow shifted beside him.

  Tetsuya Arakawa stood with his arms crossed, posture calm but unreadable.

  Kenji could feel his sharp gaze lingering on him, waiting.

  For what? Kenji had no clue.

  Finally, Tetsuya broke the silence.

  "Boss."

  Kenji groaned. "Don’t call me that."

  Tetsuya ignored him.

  "If you’ve got any unfinished business," he said, voice as steady as ever, "now’s the time to handle it."

  Kenji squinted at him. "What?"

  Tetsuya’s eyes didn’t leave the school grounds.

  "You might not get another chance."

  Kenji’s spine stiffened.

  There was something… off about the way he said it.

  Like he wasn’t just making a casual observation.

  Like he knew something Kenji didn’t.

  Kenji forced out a laugh. "Geez, way to be dramatic. What, you think I’m about to die or something?"

  Tetsuya didn’t laugh.

  Kenji frowned.

  He shifted against the fence, suddenly uncomfortable.

  Tetsuya wasn’t the type to speak unless he had a reason.

  His usual approach to life could be summed up as ‘wait and see’— never reacting too fast, never speaking without a purpose.

  So if he was saying something like this now…

  Kenji felt a slow, creeping unease curl in his gut.

  "You know something," he muttered.

  Tetsuya was silent for a moment.

  Then, finally, he exhaled.

  "I know that something’s coming," he admitted.

  Kenji felt a prickle of cold at the back of his neck.

  Tetsuya turned slightly, his gaze shifting toward the school entrance.

  Kenji followed his line of sight.

  Takashi Hanekawa stood just a few feet away.

  He wasn’t doing anything.

  Just standing there.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  A smirk barely visible on his lips.

  Kenji felt his stomach drop.

  He had spent so much time dealing with Sakura, Akari, Reina—**the chaos of school life—**that he hadn’t been paying attention.

  But something was different now.

  The air around him felt heavier.

  The stares lasted a second longer.

  The whispers didn’t disappear as fast.

  It was like…

  Like the school itself was shifting.

  Like everyone knew something he didn’t.

  And for the first time in a long while—

  Kenji felt like he was the only one not in control.

  Tetsuya adjusted his glasses.

  "When it happens," he said quietly, "I don’t know if I’ll be able to help you."

  Kenji’s chest tightened.

  He looked at Tetsuya—his only real ally in this entire mess—and realized something.

  Tetsuya wasn’t warning him about what was coming.

  He was warning him that when it did, he might not be on Kenji’s side.

  Kenji felt his mouth go dry.

  This wasn’t just school drama anymore.

  This was a storm.

  And it was already closing in.

  Scene 3: The Real Ryuji’s Arrival

  Kenji dragged himself home.

  After surviving another school-wide battle of egos, misplaced love, and student-led conspiracy theories, all he wanted was to collapse into bed and pretend today had never happened.

  His uniform was half undone, his tie loosened. His schoolbag hung limply from his shoulder. His brain had long since given up trying to process information.

  At this point, he was running on pure survival instincts.

  The sun was starting to set, casting long shadows across the narrow streets. Most students had gone home. The neighborhood was eerily quiet.

  Kenji’s phone buzzed.

  He barely registered it, pulling it from his pocket as he trudged down the familiar back street leading to his apartment.

  A single text message lit up his screen.

  Unknown Number:

  See you soon.

  Kenji stopped walking.

  His stomach tightened.

  A slow, creeping chill spread down his spine.

  Kenji’s eyes darted around the empty street. The narrow alleyway beside the convenience store. The vending machine humming softly in the distance. The dim glow of a streetlight flickering overhead.

  Nothing.

  No one.

  Yet, the uneasy feeling in his gut wouldn’t leave.

  He exhaled, shaking his head. "Probably just some prank."

  He shoved his phone back into his pocket.

  And kept walking.

  One step.

  Two.

  Three—

  A shadow moved.

  Kenji froze.

  From the dark alleyway to his left, a figure stepped forward, slow and unhurried.

  The first thing Kenji noticed was the confidence. The **way he moved—**like he owned the very air around him.

  The second thing Kenji noticed?

  The smirk.

  Relaxed. Casual. Amused.

  Like he was enjoying this.

  And then—

  The eyes.

  Sharp. Cold. Calculating.

  Kenji’s chest tightened.

  The stranger stopped a few feet away, hands casually tucked into his pockets.

  The streetlight flickered overhead, illuminating his face.

  Kenji’s breath caught in his throat.

  It was like staring into a mirror.

  No.

  Not quite.

  Kenji had been mistaken for this guy a thousand times. Had been forced to carry his name, his reputation, his chaos.

  But standing before him now—

  Was the real Ryuji Sakamoto.

  And he was smiling.

  Kenji’s mind short-circuited.

  “…You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath.

  Ryuji tilted his head slightly, studying him.

  Then—he chuckled.

  Chuckled.

  Like all of this was some kind of joke.

  Kenji’s pulse pounded in his ears.

  "Well," Ryuji finally said, voice smooth, lazy, dangerous.

  "You’ve had quite the fun ride, haven’t you, faker?"

  Kenji’s blood ran cold.

  Scene 4: Ryuji’s Warning

  Kenji felt the weight of the world pressing down on him.

  He stood frozen in the dimly lit alley, every nerve in his body on edge.

  A slow clap echoed off the brick walls.

  Ryuji Sakamoto.

  The real one.

  He stepped forward from the shadows, his smirk lazy, confident—dangerous.

  For the first time, Kenji understood.

  This guy was different.

  He wasn’t just some delinquent king or Yakuza heir—

  He was a predator.

  And Kenji was prey.

  "Well, well," Ryuji drawled, tilting his head. "You’ve had your fun, faker."

  Kenji’s throat went dry.

  There it was.

  No pretenses.

  No misunderstanding.

  Ryuji knew.

  Kenji tried to force himself to move, to say something, but it was like his body had forgotten how to function.

  His instincts screamed at him to run.

  But where?

  There was nowhere to go.

  Ryuji’s footsteps echoed as he approached, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable beneath that casual smirk.

  Kenji hated that smirk.

  Like he wasn’t even mad.

  Like this was just some game.

  Kenji swallowed hard.

  "Look, man," he started, forcing his voice to sound steady. "I don’t know what you think is going on—"

  Ryuji laughed.

  It wasn’t loud.

  It wasn’t mocking.

  It was worse.

  Low, amused—like he had already won.

  Like Kenji was the punchline to a joke he hadn’t figured out yet.

  Ryuji stepped closer.

  Kenji instinctively moved back—

  But hit the wall.

  Shit.

  Ryuji smirked. "I was wondering how long you’d last."

  Kenji clenched his jaw. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

  Ryuji clicked his tongue. "Still keeping up the act?" He tilted his head, golden eyes gleaming under the dim alley lights. "That’s cute."

  Kenji’s hands curled into fists. "I’m not acting."

  Ryuji arched a brow.

  Then, before Kenji could react—

  He moved.

  A flash of movement—too fast—too smooth—too practiced.

  Ryuji slammed his hand against the wall beside Kenji’s head.

  Not touching him.

  But close enough that Kenji felt the air shift.

  A clear message.

  I could’ve hit you.

  I didn’t.

  But I could have.

  Kenji’s breath hitched.

  His mind raced.

  Everything about Ryuji screamed danger.

  Not the kind of reckless aggression Kenji was used to dealing with.

  No.

  This was something else.

  Something controlled.

  Kenji forced himself to meet Ryuji’s gaze.

  A mistake.

  Those golden eyes weren’t just looking at him—they were dissecting him.

  Kenji gritted his teeth. "What do you want?"

  Ryuji chuckled. "Want? I don’t want anything."

  He leaned in slightly.

  "But you?"

  His smirk widened.

  "You took something that wasn’t yours."

  Kenji’s chest tightened. "I didn’t—"

  Ryuji’s eyes flashed.

  Kenji shut up.

  The air between them felt thick.

  Every instinct in Kenji’s body screamed at him to **do something—anything—**but he was locked in place.

  This was bad.

  Ryuji took a step back, stretching like this was all some kind of minor inconvenience.

  Kenji exhaled—too soon.

  Ryuji’s voice dropped.

  "You know what the funny thing is?"

  Kenji stiffened.

  Ryuji smiled, sharp as a knife.

  "I’m not even here to kill you."

  Silence.

  Kenji felt his blood turn to ice.

  Not even.

  As in—

  Not yet.

  Kenji’s breath came shallow. "You—"

  Ryuji turned away. "Relax, faker. I’m just here to watch."

  Kenji swallowed hard. "Watch what?"

  Ryuji didn’t answer.

  He just smirked over his shoulder.

  "Let’s see how long you last."

  Then—he was gone.

  Kenji stood there, heart hammering.

  The alley felt colder.

  The shadows deeper.

  The silence too loud.

  He slowly let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  His knees felt weak.

  His mind was screaming at him to move, but all he could do was stare at the space where Ryuji had just been.

  Like a ghost.

  Like a warning.

  Kenji had been playing a dangerous game.

  And now?

  He wasn’t the one holding the cards anymore.

  Scene 5: Genzo Sakamoto’s Shadow

  ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

  Tokyo’s underworld never slept.

  Not in the way normal people thought.

  It wasn’t just neon lights and backroom deals. It wasn’t just whispered threats in dark alleys.

  Power moved differently here.

  Power was silent.

  Power was watching.

  And tonight—

  Power had turned its attention to Kenji Fujimura.

  ––––––

  A single low click echoed through the dimly lit study as Genzo Sakamoto set his whiskey glass on the polished mahogany desk. The ice inside shifted, clinking softly against the glass.

  He was an imposing man, even seated—broad-shouldered, draped in an immaculate black suit. His hair, streaked with silver, was slicked back, revealing a sharp widow’s peak.

  His hands, despite the passage of time, remained steady.

  Deliberate.

  Dangerous.

  The kind of hands that had built empires.

  And crushed those who got in the way.

  The only sound in the room was the quiet hum of the city outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  And the rustling of a single report on his desk.

  The pages were crisp. Freshly printed.

  The words on them?

  A problem.

  A photo sat on top of the file.

  A grainy school surveillance image—Kenji Fujimura.

  A boy who shouldn’t matter.

  A boy who should be no one.

  And yet—

  Genzo’s sharp eyes traced the text on the report.

  "Sudden rise in status. Resemblance to Ryuji. Unusual alliances. Multiple encounters with rival factions."

  At the bottom, in bold:

  "Are you sure this is your son?"

  A flicker of something passed through Genzo’s gaze.

  Mild amusement.

  Mild curiosity.

  Mild annoyance.

  Then, slowly, he reached for the file, flipping through the contents.

  More photos.

  Kenji at school.

  Kenji at the arcade with Reina.

  Kenji walking alongside Aizawa’s daughter—too close.

  Kenji at the center of a brawl.

  Kenji, Kenji, Kenji.

  Genzo’s fingers paused on the edge of the paper.

  For the first time in a long time, he was looking at someone in his city that he hadn’t personally put there.

  That was rare.

  And unacceptable.

  The quiet presence standing in the shadows of the room finally spoke.

  "The boy is a fraud."

  The voice was smooth, respectful—but held a cold edge.

  Genzo didn’t react immediately. Instead, he reached for his glass again, swirling the remaining amber liquid with a slow, measured motion.

  His informant waited.

  The dim glow from the desk lamp cast deep shadows over Genzo’s face as he finally murmured, "And you know this for certain?"

  A faint rustle of fabric as the informant shifted slightly.

  "Your son does not act like this."

  Genzo hummed in agreement, setting the glass back down with a deliberate motion. "No. He does not."

  Ryuji had always been careful.

  Too careful.

  This?

  This was sloppy.

  Reckless.

  Messy.

  Genzo turned another page. More evidence. More reports.

  A brief silence stretched between them.

  Then, without looking up, Genzo said simply—

  "Find out everything about him."

  The informant inclined his head.

  "Understood."

  With that, the figure disappeared back into the shadows, the heavy doors of the study closing softly behind them.

  Genzo exhaled slowly, running a hand along the edge of the report.

  Kenji Fujimura.

  A boy who shouldn’t matter.

  And yet—

  Genzo poured himself another drink.

  He hated surprises.