Chapter 9: The School’s Underworld Responds!

  Scene 1: The Real Ryuji’s Warning (And Kenji’s Panic Attack)

  There are moments in life when you realize, with absolute certainty, that you are completely and utterly screwed.

  This was one of them.

  Ryuji Sakamoto, the real one, stood across from me with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable but dangerously calm. His dark eyes assessed me like a scientist studying a failed experiment, and I was said failure.

  The only sound was the distant chirping of birds, completely unaware that my life expectancy was plummeting by the second.

  Ryuji tilted his head slightly. “You don’t look like much.”

  I swallowed hard. “I promise you, I am even less than that.”

  A dangerous smirk flickered across his face before vanishing. “Funny.”

  It wasn’t.

  He exhaled, tapping a finger against his bicep. “You got my name. You got my reputation. Now tell me why I shouldn’t bury you for it.”

  My entire nervous system shut down.

  Oh, this guy did not mess around.

  "Look," I blurted, my voice cracking like a prepubescent middle-schooler. "It’s not like I stole your life on purpose! People just assumed, and I… panicked."

  Ryuji raised an eyebrow. "And then you took over the whole school?"

  "THAT WAS AN ACCIDENT!"

  A slow silence stretched between us.

  I could feel my dignity bleeding out.

  Ryuji sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like a man who had just realized his entire existence had turned into a joke. “Look, I don’t have time to waste. You’re gonna help me clean this mess up.”

  I blinked. "…Wait, what?"

  He leaned forward, his presence suddenly heavier, like a guy who was used to getting his way.

  “You’re already in deep. If I just show up now, people will think I’m the fake. So, for now, we fix this together.”

  I stared.

  “Are you saying… you want me to keep pretending to be you?”

  “Until I say otherwise.”

  I processed that for a moment.

  Then another moment.

  And finally, my brain came up with the only logical conclusion:

  "I am going to die in so many different ways."

  Ryuji’s smirk returned, slightly amused. “Got a problem with that?”

  Did I?

  Yes. Many. All of them.

  But my survival instincts had a loud override button, and at the moment, that button was flashing neon red.

  So instead of saying, “Yes, I have a million problems with this,” I took a deep breath and muttered:

  “…Nope. No problem at all.”

  Lies.

  Scene 2: The Delinquents Plot Against Kenji

  There was only one rule in the chaotic, unspoken power structure of Fujihama High’s delinquent scene:

  If you lose, you shut up and accept it.

  That was how things were supposed to work.

  But right now, behind the school gym, that rule was being violently ignored.

  Hikaru Ishida slammed his fist against the desk, his face twisted in pure frustration. The other delinquents around him tensed, knowing that when Ishida got like this, it was best not to speak unless you wanted to be part of the furniture.

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  "I refuse," he snarled, his voice barely above a growl. "I refuse to accept that guy as our leader!"

  His right-hand man, Goro Saeki, nodded furiously, clearly still fuming.

  "Yeah! He didn’t even fight properly—he just lucked his way through!"

  A murmur of uncertainty rippled through the gathered delinquents.

  “He did take down Takeda, though…” one of them muttered.

  “Yeah, without even touching him,” another added.

  Ishida’s jaw clenched. “That was dumb luck! And if we let this continue, we’re all going to be under some random nobody who didn’t even earn his place.”

  There was a low silence, before Goro pounded his fist against the desk.

  “We challenge him!” he declared. “A proper fight! No flukes, no tricks!”

  The others perked up at the idea.

  “And if he loses?” someone asked.

  A slow, dangerous grin spread across Ishida’s face.

  “Then he’s out.”

  He leaned forward, his knuckles pressing against the desk.

  “And we take over.”

  The delinquents nodded in agreement, their eyes flashing with determination.

  They weren’t just going to let some random nobody hold the top spot.

  No.

  They were going to drag him down.

  Scene 3: Kenji Hears the Worst News Possible

  There are bad mornings, and then there are "your entire world is crumbling before lunch" mornings.

  Guess which one I was having.

  I let out a deep, contented sigh as I sat on the school rooftop, enjoying the rare moment of peace. The sky was clear, the sun was warm, and—most importantly—nobody was trying to punch me.

  "Maybe today won’t be terrible," I thought, unwrapping my sandwich. "Maybe I can actually—"

  A shadow loomed over my lunch.

  With a loud thud, a school newspaper was slapped onto the table in front of me.

  I blinked.

  Then looked up.

  Tetsuya Nakamura, my ever-loyal yet ever-troublesome second-in-command, stood there with his arms crossed, looking entirely too serious for someone who had just ruined my peaceful lunch.

  "Boss," he said gravely, "we have a problem."

  I groaned. “It’s a school newspaper. What could possibly—”

  Then I saw the headline.

  CHALLENGE TO THE KING! KENJI VS. THE UNDERGROUND FACTIONS—TONIGHT!

  …

  …

  I carefully set down my sandwich.

  Then, in one fluid motion, I buried my face in my hands.

  "I hate this school."

  Tetsuya nodded in understanding, but also, weirdly, with pride.

  Reina Kisaragi, who had apparently been lurking nearby, let out a long, dramatic sigh before taking a seat across from me.

  "This," she said, gesturing vaguely at the newspaper like it personally offended her, "is exactly why you should have joined the student council sooner."

  I lifted my head just enough to glare at her. “How exactly would sitting through meetings about school festival budgets have prevented this?”

  "Simple," she said smoothly. "You’d have been too busy filing paperwork to accidentally become the leader of the school’s criminal underworld."

  I let out a long, exhausted groan. “I did not become the leader of anything!”

  "You sure about that?"

  I turned to see Akari Tachibana, leaning casually against the railing, watching the situation unfold like a drama enthusiast getting front-row seats to the season finale.

  She grinned. “Because from where I’m standing, this looks a lot like a turf war.”

  I pointed at her accusingly. “You’re enjoying this!”

  She smirked. “Obviously.”

  I sank further into my seat, feeling the faint whispers of an oncoming headache.

  Tetsuya sat down beside me, still flipping through the paper. “So, what’s your strategy, Boss?”

  “Strategy?” I repeated.

  Akari perked up. “Yeah, are you going for a direct show of power or another one-hit legendary move?"

  I stared at them.

  They were expecting me to have a plan.

  I had no plan.

  No strategy.

  Nothing.

  I was just a guy who wanted a normal life and somehow ended up in a gang war.

  Slowly, I buried my face in my arms.

  "I HAVE NO STRATEGY!"

  Scene 4: Ryuji’s First Move (And Kenji’s Unexpected Backup)

  While I was having a crisis over my imminent execution, somewhere far away from my suffering, Ryuji Sakamoto was sipping tea in luxury.

  Unlike me, who was barely holding on to my sanity, the real Ryuji was sitting comfortably in a high-end Yakuza lounge, looking entirely too calm and composed for someone whose identity had been hijacked.

  The room was sleek, the kind of place where high-ranking criminals drank whiskey while discussing business deals in hushed tones. The soft glow of golden chandeliers reflected off polished marble, and the air was thick with quiet authority.

  A suited bodyguard stepped forward and bowed deeply.

  “Sir,” he said. “It has been confirmed. Kenji Fujimura is being challenged by the underground factions of Fujihama High.”

  Ryuji barely reacted.

  Instead, he took another slow sip of his tea, as if this was nothing more than an interesting footnote in his day.

  After a moment, he set the cup down with a soft clink.

  “So,” he murmured, tapping his fingers against the table, “they’re already making their move.”

  The bodyguard hesitated. “Do you want us to intervene?”

  There was a long pause.

  Then, slowly, a smirk curled on Ryuji’s lips.

  “No.”

  The bodyguard blinked. “Sir?”

  Ryuji leaned back in his seat, eyes gleaming with undisguised amusement.

  “Let’s see how he handles it,” he said lazily. Then, after a beat, he added, “But… make sure he doesn’t actually lose.”

  The bodyguard bowed immediately. “Understood.”

  Ryuji picked up his cup again, this time watching the ripples in the tea as if seeing the game pieces slowly fall into place.

  This was no longer just about reclaiming his identity.

  This was a test.

  And he was very, very curious to see how Kenji would survive this next disaster.