The Seiryu High Student Council room was a sanctuary of order in a sea of chaos. It was located on the top floor, its large windows offering a panoramic, almost condescending view of the school grounds below. The air here was different—it smelled of expensive paper, lemon-scented wood polish, and the faint, crisp aroma of brewed Earl Grey tea.
This was the domain of Akari Ishikawa.
And on her throne of pristine, polished oak, the Queen was displeased.
Akari Ishikawa was the living embodiment of perfection. Her black hair was a flawless, glossy sheet that fell to her mid-back. Her uniform was impeccably tailored, not a single crease out of place. Her features were sharp and intelligent, her eyes a cool, discerning grey that seemed to see through falsehoods and assess weaknesses with a single glance. She was not merely the Student Council President; she was the architect of the fragile peace that kept Seiryu from completely devouring itself.
Her peace was a complex system of checks and balances. She allowed the school's "King" and his thugs to rule the underbelly, provided their violence stayed contained and didn't spill over into public view or damage school property excessively. She negotiated with the sports club captains, granting them budget increases in exchange for them acting as a deterrent against larger-scale gang activity. It was a dirty, pragmatic system, but it worked.
Until today.
"He did what?" Akari's voice was low, but it had the chilling edge of a razor blade.
Across from her desk stood the vice-president, a nervous boy named Kenjiro, holding a tablet displaying the forum post. The video of the incident in 2-B was paused on the image of Kenji Tanaka standing over the three unconscious bodies.
"He broke Takeda's wrist—a compound fracture, according to the nurse's initial report. Kenta has two cracked ribs from the force of the blow to his solar plexus. Sho has a severe concussion," Kenjiro reported, sweating under her cold gaze. "All from a single transfer student. His name is Kenji Tanaka."
Akari leaned forward, her elbows resting on the desk, her fingers steepled before her lips. Her grey eyes narrowed as she studied the face on the screen. It was an unremarkable face. Plain. Average. The kind of face you would forget a second after seeing it.
"Tanaka Kenji," she murmured, the name tasting like grit in her mouth. "I reviewed his transfer file this morning. Academically average. No disciplinary records from his previous school. No club affiliations. His guardian is listed as his grandfather, with a remote address in the mountains of Gunma Prefecture. He is, on paper, a ghost."
"A ghost who just crippled three of the most notorious thugs in the second year," Kenjiro added, his voice trembling slightly.
Akari swiped a finger across the tablet, playing the video. She didn't watch it like the other students, with morbid fascination. She watched it like a predator studying a rival.
She saw the effortless evasion. The economic, precise movements. The complete lack of wasted energy. This wasn't a brawl. It was an extermination. Her mind, sharp and analytical, broke it down.
"He doesn't fight with anger," she assessed internally. "There's no adrenaline-fueled rage. It's all calculation. He targeted weak points with maximum efficiency. The wrist joint, the solar plexus, the temple. He didn't just beat them; he dismantled them. This level of skill... it's not something a high schooler learns in a dojo after school."
Her frown deepened. This was a disruption of the highest order. Takeda was a pawn, a blunt instrument, but he was a known quantity. He maintained a certain savage order in the second-year classrooms. With him gone, a power vacuum would form. The other jackals would start fighting for his territory. The chaos would spread.
And this... this Kenji Tanaka was the cause. An unknown variable. An unquantifiable threat.
"The Boxing Club has already heard," Kenjiro continued, his voice barely a whisper. "Captain 'Iron Fist' Honda is furious. He considered Takeda's crew part of his unofficial feeder group. He's saying this new kid spat in his face by not showing him 'respect' first."
"Honda is an idiot with fists of stone and a brain of gravel," Akari said dismissively. "He'll send one of his underlings to 'test' this Tanaka. It will be a public spectacle."
"And what about... him?" Kenjiro asked, his eyes wide. "'The Executioner' Yamata?"
Akari's expression turned frigid. Yamata Kazuya, the undisputed "King" of Seiryu High. A third-year student whose cruelty was as legendary as his strength. He was the apex predator she had a fragile, unspoken truce with. Yamata didn't tolerate rivals. He didn't tolerate new power players appearing on his board without his permission.
"Yamata will not act immediately," Akari predicted, her mind already five steps ahead. "He is arrogant. He will see this Tanaka as a new toy. He will let the lesser dogs—Honda, the Judo Captain—wear him down first. He will want to see everything this 'ghost' is capable of before he steps in to crush him personally."
She stood up and walked to the large window, her arms crossed as she stared down at the students milling about below. They were ants, and she was the observer in the sky. But today, a new, strange ant had appeared, one that could topple the entire anthill.
"This Kenji Tanaka," she said, more to herself than to Kenjiro. "He is either a fool with a death wish or... something else entirely."
The way he had sat down after the fight, the way he had asked about the history lesson—it wasn't the behavior of a power-hungry delinquent. It was the behavior of someone who didn't even register his own actions as significant. Someone so far beyond the school's pecking order that he couldn't even perceive it.
That possibility was far more dangerous than any simple thirst for power.
"Kenjiro," she commanded, her voice sharp and decisive.
"Y-yes, President!"
"Get me everything you can on him. I don't care about the official file. I want to know where he eats lunch, what route he takes home, who he talks to. I want to know what his favorite brand of milk is, if I have to. Monitor the forums. I want a report on every whisper that includes his name."
"Understood!"
"And," she added, turning from the window, a dangerous glint in her cool grey eyes, "find out who the girl is. The one he defended."
"Amano Yui, from class 2-B," Kenjiro answered immediately. "Known for being quiet. No affiliations. A classic target."
"Amano Yui," Akari repeated. "A trigger. A potential weakness. Good. Dismissed."
As the vice-president scrambled out of the room, Akari remained at the window. Her perfectly manicured finger tapped rhythmically against the glass.
This Kenji Tanaka was a threat to her order. A barbarian who had just kicked down the door of her carefully constructed castle. She couldn't allow it. He had to be controlled, neutralized, or expelled.
But a small, unwelcome part of her mind—the part that appreciated efficiency and overwhelming power—couldn't help but be intrigued. She had watched the video three times. The sheer, effortless dominance was… compelling.
A savage. A ghost. A monster.
And now, he was her problem to solve. The queen on her throne had a new, rogue knight on her chessboard, and she would have to decide whether to capture him or break him.