Chapter 88: Chapter 9
Saint Shinomiya Highschool stood as the architectural and academic pinnacle of the 24th District.
Its Gothic Revival facade and manicured lawns projected an image of strict excellence and intellectual prestige, attracting the smartest and most talented students from every affluent corner of the district.
However, beneath this gilded veneer, a corrupt reality persisted.
Unbeknownst to the general public, the school was thoroughly controlled by the ruthless Bully Society.
The Principal himself was little more than a pliable figurehead, effectively a lapdog to Matsuda Sosuke, the tyrannical District Leader of the 24th District Bully Society Branch.
Within the student body, excluding Sosuke, there existed a hierarchy of power: eight exceptionally talented and influential students known as the Eight Limbs.
Each of them commanded a significant degree of influence, skill, or raw strength, all ultimately reporting to Sosuke.
And at this very mont, in the secluded, spacious club room of the Karate Club of Saint Shinomiya Highschool, a figure of dangerous elegance was deep in thought.
Kirishima Ayano, the captain of the club and one of the fearso Eight Limbs, was lying diagonally across a worn leather couch.
He was a strikingly handso young man with unnaturally vibrant red hair and matching red eyes, impeccable even in the slightly rumpled Saint Shinomiya uniform.
A thin, expensive cigarette smoldered between his fingers, smoke curling toward the high ceiling.
Ayano was the real deal: a forr national champion in elite Karate competitions, and also very academically gifted, being the number one in his class.
Not to ntion he also ca from an affluent family.
Yet, right now, he was utterly consud by boredom.
He was a master of his martial art, obsessed only with finding worthy opponents.
He wanted to fight, but his club mbers were too weak, serving only as punching bags.
The other mbers of the Eight Limbs—each specialized in their own domain of power—were either too strategically cautious or too lazy to accept his frequent, aggressive challenges.
There was simply nothing for him to do, and for him, the peace was suffocating.
Just then, the club room door was violently flung open, and one of his key subordinates stumbled in, panting and visibly distressed.
Ayano sighed, extinguishing the cigarette on the sole of his shoe as he sat up slowly, leaning forward with casual intimidation.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice smooth and lethargic. "You look like you just sprinted a marathon, Morishita."
"Captain!" the subordinate gasped, struggling to catch his breath. "An urgent news! Soone... soone has opened up an arcade and bar business in Risa Street! Right in the heart of our territory! And they did it without asking for our permission!"
Ayano waved a dismissive hand, settling back against the couch cushions. "I told you, I’m not interested in dealing with the tireso business of adults or petty territory squabbles over cash flow. We’re teenagers, we shouldn’t interfere with those people since there are also other adults who will handle it."
"But Captain!" the subordinate insisted. "It was opened by the gang led by Kageyama Seijirou of Shunji!"
Ayano’s lethargy instantly vanished. The red in his eyes seed to intensify, burning with sudden interest.
"Oh?"
He rembered the na. If he recalled correctly, it was this sa Kageyama Seijirou—a nobody from a neighboring, inferior school—who had recently and inexplicably managed to beat up Gaido Haruto, another formidable mber of the Eight Limbs.
Although Haruto was shafully the weakest and most unimpressive mber of the Eight Limbs, he was still an Eight Limb after all.
Being able to beat him without the use of Karyoku takes real skills.
Thinking of this, awide, feral grin stretched across Ayano’s handso face. "Finally, sothing interesting!"
He sprang to his feet, discarding his lazy posture. His body snapped into a tight, coiled spring of muscle and focus and the boredom was replaced by anticipation.
"So arrogant punk who hasn’t even mastered the basics of Karyoku dares to ss around in my territory and challenge the order of the Eight Limbs?"
Ayano laughed, cracking his knuckles with a sound like dry bone. "Take
there imdiately! I will personally teach them a lesson in hierarchy, respect, and the proper use of force!"
"Right away, Captain! It would be an honor!" the subordinate cried, imdiately energized by his leader’s enthusiasm, and turned to lead the way to Risa Street.
*
*
*
In the heart of their new base—the multi-story entertainnt building on Risa Street—Seijirou’s core friends were having a late lunch.
The space, currently undergoing final setup before its grand public opening, slled faintly of sawdust and fresh paint mixed with the aroma of convenience store bento boxes.
Renji’s iconic pompadour had long since given way to practical necessity. His long hair was now tied neatly back with a rubber band, ensuring it didn’t interfere with his al.
"Think Boss will skip classes and join us here right now?" Renji asked, taking a large bite of rice.
Shou, who was sprawled on a beanbag chair nearby, turned over, rubbing his eyes. "Probably not. Boss is pretty serious about academics, believe it or not. He won’t skip class this frequently unless it’s essential. Besides, classes are about to end, so he and the girls will surely head straight here for the afternoon eting with Touka."
Sakai was munching thoughtfully on his own lunch, a frown creasing his brow. He swallowed quickly. "We should just make sure everything is ready, especially the security caras and the server room. We don’t want Boss to scold us when he visits later."
They were all acutely aware of the importance of making this base profitable and legitimate.
"I still can’t believe Boss would let Touka basically control the whole operation for this establishnt," Renji mused, slightly incredulous, gesturing around the arcade floor.
Sakai shrugged. "There’s nothing surprising about it. From the financial reports she drew up and the way she handled the contractors, she’s very smart when it cos to business. She sees things we miss."
Renji laughed, impressed. "True. I’m surprised, too. She’s usually so quiet that you barely know she exists."
"Ain’t that the truth?" Sakai chuckled.
Just then, a distinct, rumbling snoring sound echoed softly in the spacious, open room.
They both turned toward Shou, who had already drifted back to sleep, sawing logs loudly.
Sakai frowned in worry. "Shou is more tired than usual these days, isn’t he? He looks completely drained."
Renji shrugged again, a slightly darker look entering his eyes. "He’s been pulling all-nighters. He’s actually always researching and finding information about Karyoku."
Karyoku. Sakai muttered the word, a chill running down his spine. He imdiately thought back to the terrifying encounter with Gaido Haruto—the sheer, oppressive power that Haruto had radiated with that Karyoku of his.
The mory still gave him fleeting nightmares.
It wasn’t just Haruto, either. According to Suzune, the recent, massive Basuta incident also involved that strange preacher receiving Karyoku powers from so kind of deity or dark source.
And after learning all of this, Shou, Renji, and Sakai felt a deep, existential sense of crisis.
As they were now, relying only on their conventional strength and street smarts, if they encountered another person who knew Karyoku, they would be utterly useless, unable to help Seijirou in a real fight.
Shou had taken the threat to heart, tirelessly searching the darkest corners of the internet and underground contacts for any reliable information about the supernatural power system... but nothing substantive had erged.
Without any credible information, they couldn’t even start trying to co into contact with that level of power.
They were stuck on the ground while the world around them was starting to fly.
"...we need to tell him not to push himself too hard." Sakai sighed, staring at his friend.
"I already did, but he won’t stop, you know that." Renji smiled softly, "We’ve all been saved by the boss one way or another, and surely for us, specially Shou, nothing could make him happier more than being of help to our saviour."
Sakai simply nodded. After all, they all wanted to repay Seijirou for what he had done to them.
Just then...
"KAGEYAMA SEIJIROU! SHOW YOURSELF!"
A loud, aggressive voice thundered through the front entrance, resonating through the concrete and steel of the building.
The force of the shout was enough that even Shou, who was in a deep, snoring sleep, shot wide awake, his eyes snapping open.
The three of them instantly went rigid.
Their playful mood evaporated, replaced by focused seriousness as they stood up in unison, silently moving toward the glass entrance doors.
Standing frad in the doorway, exuding raw physical nace, was a young man around their age with fiery red hair, arms crossed arrogantly over his chest.
Behind him stood a smaller, twitchy subordinate, acting as his backup.
Shou, the information encyclopedia of Seijirou’s group, imdiately began to scan his vast internal database.
After a tense mont, he recalled the details.
"That man is Kirishima Ayano," Shou inford Sakai and Renji in a low, rapid whisper. "A student from Saint Shinomiya. Captain of Karate Club and he was also the forr national champion in elite Karate competitions."
Shou rembered seeing his face once in the sports news archives.
Ayano grinned, radiating condescending confidence. "Ah, good. Since you already know who I am, there is no need for introductions, is there? Now, tell . Which one of you little thugs is Kageyama Seijirou?"
Renji, ever the loyal lieutenant, took a defiant step forward, blocking Ayano’s view into the base. "What business do you have with our boss?"
Ayano tilted his head, his red eyes narrowed in disdain. "Boss? So he’s not one of you frontline fighters. No matter. Tell him I ca here to beat the crap out of him—for daring to open a business in my territory without so much as licking my shoes for permission."
Sakai let out a hard, cynical laugh.
"If you want to get to him, you’ll have to go through us first, Saint Shinomiya," he challenged, his fists tightening.
Shou and Renji tensed, their stances ready for a street fight, despite knowing the caliber of opponent they faced.
Ayano grinned wider, a cruel, pleased expression as he cracked his knuckles, the sound like dry thunder.
"Is that so? Then that can be arranged."
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