Chapter 15: The Fake Ryuji is Unmasked?!

  Scene 1: The First Major Threat Appears

  The morning sun cast long shadows through the classroom windows as students trickled into the hallways, some chatting, some still half-asleep. It was the usual scene—casual, routine, predictable.

  Then he walked in.

  A man in a dark suit, crisp and well-fitted, strolled through the school gates like he owned the place. His pace was steady, unhurried. Not a single teacher stopped him. Not a single staff member questioned his presence. He wasn’t sneaking around—he was walking like he belonged, like he knew no one had the authority to tell him otherwise.

  Whispers broke out almost immediately.

  “Who is that?”

  “A government official?”

  “No way. Maybe a new sponsor for the school?”

  Kenji was standing by the lockers, lazily listening to Reina lecture him on punctuality when he caught sight of the man out of the corner of his eye. At first, he didn’t think much of it. Then the man turned, eyes scanning the hall like he was searching for something—or someone.

  Then their eyes met.

  Kenji felt his stomach drop.

  The man didn’t hesitate. He walked straight toward him, weaving through the students with a confidence that sent a chill down Kenji’s spine.

  Kenji tensed.

  This wasn’t normal.

  Reina, still mid-sentence, finally noticed that Kenji wasn’t paying attention. She followed his gaze, her brows furrowing. “What’s wrong with you?”

  The man stopped in front of them, hands in his pockets, posture casual but eyes sharp. Then, he smirked.

  “You’re not Ryuji Sakamoto.”

  Kenji’s blood ran cold.

  The noise of the hallway faded, his own pulse roaring in his ears. He didn’t move. He didn’t react. He couldn’t. His entire body went rigid, his mind racing through every possible response, every possible escape.

  Reina blinked. “What?”

  The man didn’t even glance at her. His gaze remained locked on Kenji, sharp and knowing.

  Kenji forced himself to breathe. Forced himself to keep his expression neutral. This was bad. Very bad.

  “I don’t know who you are,” the man continued, lowering his voice just enough that only Kenji could hear. “But we should talk soon.”

  Then, just as casually as he had arrived, he turned and walked away.

  Kenji stood frozen, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.

  Reina stared after the man, confused. “Who was that?”

  Kenji didn’t answer.

  Because across the hall, leaning against a row of lockers with a knowing smirk, was Takashi Hanekawa. He hadn’t said a word, but the glint in his eyes told Kenji everything he needed to know.

  Takashi had expected this.

  Takashi had been waiting for this.

  Kenji swallowed hard.

  The game was over.

  Scene 2: Takashi’s Real Role

  Kenji barely made it through the next class.

  His mind kept replaying the man’s words.

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  "You’re not Ryuji Sakamoto."

  Each time, the knot in his stomach tightened. He didn’t know who the man was, but the way he spoke, the way he knew, meant this wasn’t a bluff. Someone was onto him. Someone dangerous.

  The moment the bell rang, Kenji grabbed his bag and pushed out of the classroom, heading for the rooftop—the only place he could think of to get a second to breathe. But before he could get far, a smooth voice cut through his thoughts.

  “Running off somewhere, Fujimura?”

  Kenji stopped.

  Takashi sat near the window, looking completely at ease as he twirled a pen between his fingers.

  Kenji clenched his jaw.

  Not now. Not him.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Kenji muttered, making to leave, but Takashi smoothly stood up, stepping into his path.

  “You seem rattled.” His tone was light, conversational—like they were old friends catching up over coffee. “Something on your mind?”

  Kenji narrowed his eyes. “Cut the crap, Hanekawa. You’ve been watching me all morning. What do you know?”

  Takashi smiled faintly. “Me? I don’t know anything. I’m just a concerned classmate.”

  Kenji’s patience was thin. He took a step forward, lowering his voice. “Who was that guy?”

  Takashi tilted his head. “That’s the real question, isn’t it? Who was that guy? And why did he look at you like he already knew the answer?”

  Kenji’s fists clenched.

  Takashi was playing with him.

  He knew. Maybe not everything, but enough to push Kenji into a corner.

  Kenji forced himself to keep his breathing steady. “You’ve been poking around a lot since you got here.”

  Takashi leaned against a desk, looking completely unbothered. “Observation is a valuable skill.”

  “More like manipulation.”

  Takashi smirked. “Ah. That reminds me…”

  He turned his gaze slightly, just as Reina walked back into the room, taking her seat near them.

  Kenji felt his stomach drop.

  “Oh, Reina,” Takashi said smoothly, “I was just telling Fujimura that something about him seems… off.”

  Kenji stiffened.

  Reina gave Takashi an unimpressed glance as she organized her books. “You’re still on that?”

  Takashi exhaled a soft chuckle. “Just a little curiosity. You can’t tell me you’ve never noticed. Something about him—his fighting style, the way he speaks—it doesn’t exactly match what you’d expect from a ‘reformed delinquent.’”

  Reina frowned. “You’re being paranoid.”

  “Am I?” Takashi mused. “Or are you avoiding the truth?”

  Kenji didn’t miss the way Reina hesitated. It was slight, barely noticeable, but it was there.

  And that was all Takashi needed.

  “You trust him, don’t you?” Takashi asked, eyes sharp now, watching every flicker of emotion in her face. “Then why do I see hesitation in your eyes?”

  Reina didn’t answer.

  Kenji felt something cold settle in his chest.

  Takashi smiled. “I suppose time will tell.”

  With that, he turned and strolled out of the room, his work done.

  Reina still hadn’t looked at Kenji.

  For the first time, she looked… uncertain.

  Kenji felt the weight of the moment.

  Takashi had just planted a seed.

  And now, Kenji had to wonder—how long before it grew?

  Scene 2.5: Reina’s Doubt Turns to Distance

  The hallway felt different.

  Colder.

  Kenji leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, watching as Reina packed her things across the room.

  Normally, she’d already be in front of him, lecturing him about his latest offense, dragging him off for another "lesson."

  But today?

  She hadn’t spoken to him once.

  Not since Takashi’s little performance earlier.

  Kenji gritted his teeth. That bastard. He had planted a seed, and now, Reina was watering it all on her own.

  Kenji hated it.

  For a moment, he considered just walking over, saying something, anything.

  Then Reina turned slightly, and their eyes met.

  She hesitated—just for a second.

  Then she looked away.

  And walked right past him.

  Kenji didn’t move.

  Didn’t say a word.

  Just watched as the only person who had believed in him… kept walking.

  Scene 3: The Real Ryuji Makes His Move

  Kenji sat in his apartment that night, staring at his phone.

  The screen was dark, but his thoughts wouldn’t stop racing.

  The man from this morning.

  Takashi’s mind games.

  Reina’s hesitation.

  Everything was unraveling faster than he could control.

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers laced together as he exhaled slowly. He had to think. He had to figure out how to—

  His phone vibrated.

  Kenji grabbed it immediately, eyes narrowing at the notification.

  Unknown Number: "Enjoying my life, faker?"

  A slow, cold dread curled in his stomach.

  He didn’t need to guess who sent it.

  His thumb hovered over the keyboard. What the hell was he supposed to say? He locked his jaw, his pulse pounding in his ears, and typed back a single word.

  "What do you want?"

  Seconds passed. Then—

  Unknown Number: "What’s mine."

  Kenji exhaled sharply through his nose, gripping the phone tightly.

  This wasn’t just some warning.

  The real Ryuji wasn’t just watching anymore.

  He was coming for him.

  ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

  Elsewhere, in the city…

  A dimly lit lounge. Cigarette smoke curled in the air, the faint hum of jazz music playing in the background.

  A man leaned back in a leather chair, exhaling slowly as he scrolled through his phone. The screen illuminated his sharp features—half-hidden beneath shadows, but unmistakably confident.

  Ryuji Sakamoto.

  He took a long drag from his cigarette, then tapped out a new message.

  This one wasn’t for Kenji.

  "Are you sure that’s really your son?"

  The message sent.

  On the other side of the city, Ryuji’s father—one of the most powerful men in Japan’s criminal underworld—read the message and frowned.