Arc 6: The Truth Unfolds

  Chapter 26: The Face-Off

  Scene 1 – "There Are TWO of Them?!"

  The hallway felt like a courtroom.

  One where no one understood the rules, the judge had fainted twice already, and the jury was the entire school armed with smartphones and gossip.

  I stood face-to-face with Ryuji.

  Same height.

  Same build.

  Same face.

  Different everything else.

  He looked calm.

  Relaxed.

  Like he wasn’t being stared at by two dozen students trying to solve a real-life anime plot twist.

  I, on the other hand, was sweating like I’d just run from a flaming hovercycle (which was sadly not even close to the truth).

  Whispers exploded around us:

  “There’s TWO of them?!”

  “Then who have we been worshipping this whole time?!”

  “Does this mean the fake one isn’t scary?!”

  A second-year pointed at me.

  “Wait, are we gonna have to pick sides?”

  Another shouted, “This is so much better than morning announcements!”

  Ryuji tilted his head.

  Then—casually, like this was his show—he walked right past me and sat down at my desk.

  Feet kicked up.

  Arms folded.

  Absolute menace energy.

  “I hear you’ve been busy, Faker,” he said, smirking.

  “I… uh…”

  I glanced at the crowd.

  Akari was somewhere near the front, arms folded, face pale.

  Reina stood beside her, lips pressed in that flat line she used when she was either about to cry or start a coup.

  Sakura, meanwhile, looked like she was already calculating the engagement refund policy.

  “Faker?” I repeated, trying not to collapse.

  Ryuji tapped the desk. “I mean, I gotta admit… you kept it going longer than I expected.”

  “You expected this?”

  He shrugged. “Let’s just say… I’m not surprised.”

  Students behind him were still whispering—some already inching toward the edges of the hallway, like this was a political rally and they didn’t want to be seen on the wrong side.

  But not all of them.

  A few stayed near me.

  Kazuo from Class 3-C nodded in my direction and muttered, “Kenji’s still the one who beat up the Takeda twins.”

  “He’s the one who united the cafeteria tables,” another whispered.

  “He gave us midweek curry days!” someone else cried.

  Victory points… weirdly acquired.

  But then others—especially the older kids—moved closer to Ryuji, murmuring about "real blood" and "Yakuza pedigree."

  The school was dividing.

  In real time.

  And in the middle of it?

  I was losing ground.

  Akari stormed forward, red-faced.

  “Wait—WAIT. You’re telling me you’re not Ryuji?! YOU LET ME FLIRT WITH A RANDOM CIVILIAN?!”

  “I—technically—I mean—” I stammered.

  “YOU LET ME TOUCH YOUR ARM.”

  “You touched my arm like fifteen times!” I protested.

  She gasped. “OH MY GOD. I LIKED A COMMONER.”

  Reina blinked. “Wait. So you’re not actually dangerous?”

  I shrugged. “I mean, define dangerous—”

  “You’re the kind of dangerous that accidentally signs up for baking club when trying to join kendo.”

  “I liked that club!”

  Ryuji yawned dramatically. “This is cute.”

  I turned to him. “What are you even doing here?”

  He didn’t answer directly.

  Instead, he leaned back in my chair and said, “You’ve been pretending for a while. Thought I’d come see what you were pretending to be.”

  And then—real casual, like it meant nothing—he added:

  “Little brothers are always so dramatic.”

  I froze.

  Reina froze.

  Everyone froze.

  Because that phrase?

  “Little brother”?

  That wasn’t just shade.

  That was a clue.

  And I suddenly wasn’t sure if he meant it as a joke…

  …or a reveal.

  Ready for Scene 2?

  4o

  You said:

  Ready for Scene 2

  ChatGPT said:

  Let’s go—Scene 2 is where things start to really blur. Kenji’s reeling from that “little brother” bomb, Ryuji’s playing it cool, and the school is eating up every second of it. This is where uncertainty becomes dangerous.

  Scene 2 – “Little Brother?”

  “Little brother?” I echoed, voice cracking like I was a middle school soprano in a horror movie.

  Ryuji didn’t flinch.

  Didn’t correct himself.

  Didn’t explain.

  He just stared at me with that half-smile, like he’d dropped a grenade and was waiting to see which piece hit first.

  Reina blinked rapidly, her head snapping between us. “Wait… is that real? Are you brothers?!”

  Akari, still emotionally devastated, waved her hand like she was brushing away a bee. “No. No way. That’s just something mob people say to make things sound dramatic. Like ‘blood for blood’ and ‘say goodbye to your kneecaps.’”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Sakura squinted. “It… does explain a lot. Like the bone structure. And the weird mutual eye twitching.”

  “I don’t twitch,” I snapped.

  “You’re literally twitching right now.”

  “THAT’S STRESS.”

  But no one was listening to me anymore.

  All eyes were on Ryuji.

  Because he’d just said the one thing that cracked the whole story wide open… and now refused to clarify anything.

  “You’re not denying it,” I said.

  He shrugged. “What’s there to deny?”

  “That you’re my twin brother?! That I somehow have a long-lost evil reflection who just walked into school and stole my seat like this is some high-budget psychological thriller?!”

  Another shrug.

  Then, real chill: “Maybe I’m your twin. Maybe you’re mine.”

  That shut me up.

  Because I didn’t have a comeback for that.

  I barely had brain cells left to process it.

  Reina ran both hands down her face. “This is a level of drama I was not emotionally prepared for today.”

  “Same,” Akari mumbled, kicking the wall.

  Tetsuya, who had been silent this whole time, stepped forward.

  “You’re not kidding, are you,” he said to Ryuji.

  “Nope.”

  “You really are his brother.”

  “Maybe.”

  Tetsuya narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like ‘maybe.’”

  “No one does,” I muttered.

  More students were gathering now, trickling in like ants to a lunchbox brawl. Word had spread—the Sakamoto Saga was live and messy.

  And somewhere behind the crowd, I caught a glimpse of Genzo Sakamoto.

  Standing by the upper railing.

  Watching.

  Expression unreadable.

  Judging.

  Weighing.

  And suddenly I understood what was really happening.

  This wasn’t just a face-off.

  This was a test.

  A performance.

  And Genzo wasn’t picking a winner based on blood.

  He was waiting to see which one of us could rule.

  Ryuji leaned toward me slightly, lowering his voice just enough to keep it between us.

  “You’re doing better than I expected, you know.”

  “Better?”

  He smirked. “You built all this by accident. Imagine what you could do on purpose.”

  I blinked.

  Was that… a compliment?

  Or a threat?

  Maybe both.

  Scene 3 – Kingdoms in the Cafeteria

  By lunch, the school was a battlefield.

  Not the kind with fists and smoke bombs (yet), but the quieter kind.

  Political.

  Strategic.

  Unspoken.

  The cafeteria had split like a divorce proceeding.

  One side had paper signs that read “#TeamKenji.” The other? “#SakamotoReturns.” And the middle tables? Neutral zone—aka “We’re just here for the yakisoba.”

  As I walked in, heads turned.

  People whispered.

  A few even nodded like I was a foreign dignitary entering hostile territory.

  I grabbed a tray and tried to act casual. Calm. Normal.

  It wasn’t working.

  Especially when I caught sight of Ryuji.

  Sitting calmly at a corner table like he’d always been there.

  Surrounded by third-years and ex-delinquents who had never sat together until today.

  One of them poured him tea.

  Another offered him the last pork cutlet.

  And me?

  I was still trying to open my carton of milk without it exploding.

  “Hey, Boss!” someone called from the left.

  I turned to see Kazuo waving me over. “We saved you a spot!”

  I blinked.

  Then spotted the table behind him—five students sitting proudly under a “Kenji 4 Life” banner written on what looked like… gym towels.

  It was lopsided.

  Poorly taped.

  Ridiculous.

  And it nearly made me cry.

  I sat down.

  Kazuo passed me a piece of tamagoyaki. “You doing okay?”

  I tried to smile. “Define ‘okay.’”

  He shrugged. “You’re not dead. That counts.”

  Across the room, Ryuji raised a glass of juice in a mock toast.

  Our eyes met.

  And again, I couldn’t tell if he was being polite… or warning me.

  Akari and Sakura arrived a few minutes later—still arguing.

  “He’s my emotionally unstable identity crisis!”

  “Not until I see the birth certificate!”

  They sat beside me without asking.

  Akari shoved a rice ball into my hand like it was a peace treaty. “Eat. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I have,” I muttered. “And he’s better at eating lunch than me.”

  Sakura leaned in. “You know what your problem is?”

  “Please narrow it down.”

  “You’re still trying to survive this. You need to start playing offense.”

  I blinked. “I don’t want to attack my brother.”

  “You don’t have to,” she said. “But if you don’t push back, you’re going to disappear.”

  Akari nodded, surprisingly serious. “She’s right.”

  “Why are you agreeing with her?!”

  “Because I’m right,” Sakura said smugly.

  Reina showed up halfway through lunch, balancing a tray and a stack of student files like she was auditioning for the role of “most emotionally exhausted school rep.”

  She didn’t sit.

  Just stood beside me.

  “I need to know something,” she said quietly.

  I looked up. “What?”

  “Do you want to keep fighting for this?”

  Everyone went quiet.

  Sakura. Akari. Even the boys at my table.

  I looked across the room at Ryuji again.

  Still calm. Still collected.

  Still waiting.

  Did I want this?

  This seat. This chaos. This ridiculous title I never asked for?

  I looked around.

  At the faces who followed me.

  The ones who doubted me.

  And the ones still deciding.

  “…Yeah,” I said. “I do.”

  Reina nodded once.

  Then finally, finally sat down beside me.

  For the first time that day, I felt like I had a chance.

  Scene 4 – The Quiet Before the Hit

  The rest of the day moved like a dream.

  Not the good kind.

  The kind where everything feels one second away from collapse and no one will tell you why.

  Classrooms were weird.

  Teachers kept glancing between me and Ryuji like they weren’t sure who to discipline anymore.

  At one point during math, Ms. Tanaka asked “Sakamoto-san” to solve an equation—and both of us stood up at the same time.

  She nearly quit on the spot.

  After school, I didn’t head to the gate like normal.

  I took the back path—past the baseball field, around the tech building, toward the stairwell no one really used unless they wanted to smoke, cry, or hide from responsibility.

  Tetsuya found me there, leaning against the wall, arms folded.

  “You’re being followed,” he said casually.

  “By who?”

  “Hard to say. Not students. Definitely not friendly.”

  I blinked. “Define ‘not friendly.’”

  “Let’s just say they’re wearing suits in 28°C weather and have the subtlety of a freight train.”

  I groaned. “Great. Love that for me.”

  He pulled out his phone and tapped it once, showing me a blurry photo.

  Two men, outside the school gates.

  Sunglasses. Earpieces. Not cops. Not paparazzi.

  Worse.

  “Which gang?” I asked.

  Tetsuya shrugged. “Could be Kurokawa. Could be Aizawa. Could be someone testing the waters. Ryuji showing up? That’s a big ripple.”

  I stared at the photo.

  “Think they’re here for him?”

  “Not just him,” Tetsuya said. “They don’t know which Sakamoto to fear yet. So they’re watching both.”

  The weight of it hit me like a cold punch to the ribs.

  This wasn’t just a school turf war anymore.

  This was real.

  I sank onto the stairs.

  “Maybe I should just… bow out.”

  Tetsuya didn’t speak for a moment.

  Then he sat beside me.

  “You didn’t ask for any of this. But you built something. These people? They followed you for a reason. Not because of your name. Because of you.”

  I stayed quiet.

  He nudged me with his elbow. “Also, if you leave, Reina will kill you. And I don’t want to be a witness again.”

  I snorted. “Again?”

  “Long story.”

  We sat there a while longer, the sun casting long shadows across the wall.

  Somewhere in the distance, a bird chirped.

  Normal.

  Too normal.

  Which meant something bad was coming.

  And deep down?

  We both knew it.

  Scene 5 – All Eyes on the Throne

  That night, I didn’t go home right away.

  I wandered.

  Through the narrow streets behind the school, past the ramen place where I once bribed three delinquents with extra chashu, past the laundromat where Reina once yelled at me for “folding like a coward” in gym class.

  Everything felt normal.

  But nothing was normal.

  Because somewhere in the city, people were whispering the same thing:

  “There are two Sakamotos now.”

  I could feel it.

  Like static in the air.

  Like every shadow knew my name—and was waiting to see which version of me would make it through the week.

  Eventually, I ended up outside Genzo’s compound.

  I wasn’t trying to go in.

  I just wanted to see it.

  The place where everything started.

  The gate lights flicked on as I approached.

  Motion sensors.

  Security.

  Power.

  A small part of me—okay, a large part—wanted to throw a rock through the window and run away.

  But I didn’t.

  I just stood there.

  That’s when I heard it.

  Footsteps behind me.

  I turned—and saw Ryuji.

  Of course.

  He was leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, looking like he owned the whole street.

  “Nice night,” he said.

  “You following me now?”

  “Just making sure you’re not planning to jump the fence.”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  He gave a small smirk. “For you? Yeah.”

  We stood in silence for a while.

  The lights hummed overhead.

  Finally, I asked, “Why now?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Why what?”

  “Why come back? Why here? Why me?”

  He didn’t answer at first.

  Then, almost casually, he said:

  “Genzo’s not going to pick based on blood. He wants a show. He wants to see who deserves the name.”

  “And you think it’s you.”

  He looked at me.

  Really looked.

  “I think you’ve got guts, little brother. But guts only get you so far.”

  I flinched. “So you meant that.”

  He didn’t smile.

  Didn’t joke.

  Just nodded once.

  And with that—he turned and walked off, hands in his pockets, leaving me in the glow of the security lights, one heartbeat away from imploding.

  The gate behind me buzzed.

  Then clicked.

  Just a little.

  Almost like it recognized me.

  Almost like it was… inviting me in.

  But I didn’t move.

  Because I wasn’t sure yet if I belonged inside.

  Or if I ever had.

  Scene 6 – The Man Who Watches Kings Fall

  The next morning, the sky was too blue.

  One of those crystal-clear days where everything should feel fresh and new.

  But to me?

  It felt like glass.

  Like if I breathed wrong, the whole thing would shatter.

  I walked into school slower than usual.

  Not because I was late.

  Because I didn’t know what kind of world I was walking into.

  Was I Kenji the accidental kingpin?

  Or Kenji the fraud?

  Or just… the other Sakamoto?

  Class 2-B was already buzzing when I arrived.

  Reina sat near the window, scribbling something in a notebook with furious intensity.

  Akari and Sakura were mid-argument again—but it was quieter now, like their usual theatrics were muffled under the weight of what was really happening.

  Ryuji was already in his seat.

  Not mine.

  His.

  He looked up when I walked in.

  We didn’t say anything.

  Didn’t need to.

  Not anymore.

  The classroom door slid open again.

  And Genzo Sakamoto walked in.

  Wearing a tailored black suit.

  No guards. No entourage.

  Just presence.

  The entire class froze.

  One kid dropped his pencil and apologized to it.

  Genzo stepped forward, hands behind his back, eyes sweeping the room like a general inspecting his troops.

  No one spoke.

  No one dared.

  He stopped between our desks—mine and Ryuji’s.

  Looked at me.

  Then looked at Ryuji.

  And then?

  He smiled.

  A slow, dangerous smile.

  Like a man who just lit the fuse and is very curious to see which building burns first.

  “You’ve both done well,” he said. “But this isn’t about who shows up. It’s about who stands when the storm hits.”

  “What storm?” someone whispered.

  Genzo ignored them.

  He turned toward the class and said, “The school may belong to the students. But the legacy? That belongs to me. And I intend to see which of my sons deserves it.”

  Gasps.

  Mutters.

  Half the class looked at me.

  The other half looked at Ryuji.

  And I… looked at Genzo.

  Trying to find some sliver of fatherly recognition.

  There was none.

  Just cold calculation.

  Like he was building a throne, not a family.

  Genzo walked out without another word.

  Ryuji leaned back in his seat, arms folded, smirking like he’d already won.

  And me?

  I stared out the window.

  Not because I didn’t care anymore.

  But because I was already thinking:

  If I want to survive this… I need more than guts.

  I need to learn how to fight like a king.