The rain came down in sheets, a relentless roar that drowned out the groans of the men sprawled across the wet asphalt. Their bodies twitched and bled, broken by a boy standing in the center of the carnage. He wore a black shirt and black pants, a white belt cinched tight around his waist, the only flash of color against the storm's gray fury. His eyes were what stopped you—black as pitch with a stark white pupil slicing through the middle, inhuman, empty. He felt nothing, not the rain soaking him to the bone, not the ache in his fists, not the lives he'd just crushed. For a month, he'd torn through Japan, beating down gangs, claiming turf, all to impress a father who didn't even know his name. His mother's voice echoed in his skull: "He only notices strength. Prove yourself." That's all he had strength, and the hunger to make it mean something.
His senses flared, sharp and wild, and he jerked his head to the side just as a dagger sliced through the air, missing his throat by a breath. The blade clattered against the pavement, swallowed by the rain. He turned, slow and deliberate, water streaming down his face, and locked onto the figure stepping out of the storm's haze. A boy his age, tall and broad, strode forward like he owned the night. A black hooded jacket clung to him, heavy with rain, shadows pooling around his frame. A dark shirt hugged his chest, soaked tight, and black cargo pants tucked into heavy boots splashed through puddles. Green eyes cut through the downpour, cold and unreadable, a predator's stare paired with a wide, mocking grin that promised trouble.
"Wow," the green-eyed boy said, voice dripping with sarcasm, loud enough to carry over the rain. "The prodigious son of Shingen, huh? Yamazaki's future leader—I can tell just by looking at you. You're strong, huh?"
The black-eyed boy straightened, water dripping from his chin, his strange eyes narrowing. "Who are you?"
The grin widened, all teeth and menace. "Your death."
The fight exploded without warning. The black-eyed boy moved first, instinct and training kicking in, Aikido flowing through his stance, smooth and precise. A fist came at his face; he deflected it with a twist of his wrist, redirecting the green-eyed boy's momentum. But the hit still grazed his jaw, a dull sting he ignored. He countered fast, stepping in close, aiming a sharp elbow at the green-eyed boy's ribs. It landed, but the guy barely flinched—just laughed, low and rough, like it tickled.
"You can't kill me," the black-eyed boy said, voice flat, dodging a wild swing and grabbing the arm to flip his opponent over his shoulder. The green-eyed boy hit the ground hard, asphalt cracking under him, but he rolled with it, springing back up like the fall was nothing.
"Funny," he spat, wiping rain and blood from his lip. Then he charged, faster than the black-eyed boy expected, and drove a boot into his chest. The impact was a thunderclap, sending the black-eyed boy staggering back, air rushing out of his lungs. Distance opened between them, and the green-eyed boy snatched a jagged piece of metal off the ground—a rusted pipe, slick with rain. He twirled it once, grinning wider. "Doesn't matter if you're a god or a monster. If you bleed, you can die."
The black-eyed boy steadied himself, chest heaving, and rushed in again. He ducked under a swing of the pipe, the metal whistling past his ear, and slammed a palm strike into the green-eyed boy's gut. It was solid, meant to double him over, but the guy just grunted and swung the pipe backhand, catching the black-eyed boy across the shoulder. Pain flared, hot and sharp, but he twisted away, using the momentum to land a spinning kick to the green-eyed boy's thigh. It should've buckled him. It didn't. The green-eyed boy laughed again, louder, and swung the pipe down like a hammer.
The black-eyed boy rolled, barely avoiding the blow, the metal smashing into the pavement where his head had been. Sparks flew, concrete splintering. He came up fast, grabbing the green-eyed boy's wrist and twisting hard, trying to wrench the pipe free. But the grip was iron—then a knee crashed into his stomach, folding him in half. He gasped, rain flooding his mouth, and the green-eyed boy yanked free, smashing the pipe across his back. The black-eyed boy hit the ground face-first, blood mixing with the puddles, his vision swimming.
"Get up," the green-eyed boy taunted, circling him like a wolf. "Thought you were untouchable, huh? Ultra Instinct or whatever you call that fancy dodging shit. How's it feel to eat dirt?"
The black-eyed boy pushed up, spitting blood, his white pupils glowing eerie in the dark. He lunged, fists blurring—Aikido blending with raw desperation. He caught the green-eyed boy's arm mid-swing, redirected the pipe's arc, and drove a knee into his side. Bone crunched, but the green-eyed boy just roared and headbutted him. Their skulls cracked together, a wet thud in the rain, and the black-eyed boy stumbled back, blood pouring from his nose. The green-eyed boy didn't let up—dropped the pipe and tackled him, fists raining down like pistons.
A punch smashed into the black-eyed boy's cheek, splitting skin. Another caught his jaw, teeth rattling. He blocked what he could, arms burning, but the green-eyed boy was relentless, a storm of muscle and fury. A fist sank into his gut, lifting him off the ground, and he crashed back down, rolling through a puddle. Blood streaked his face, his shirt torn, but he forced himself up, swaying, fists clenched.
"Still kicking?" the green-eyed boy mocked, wiping rain from his eyes. "How's it feel, huh? How's it feel to get smashed by a monkey like me?" He charged again, no warning, and swung a haymaker. The black-eyed boy dodged by instinct, the fist grazing his ear, and countered with a chop to the throat. The green-eyed boy choked, staggering, but grabbed the black-eyed boy's arm and twisted, hurling him into a stack of crates. Wood shattered, splinters flying, and the black-eyed boy hit the ground hard, a groan slipping out.
The green-eyed boy pounced, straddling him, fists hammering down. One cracked the black-eyed boy's cheekbone, blood spraying. Another split his lip, teeth stained red. He tried to buck the green-eyed boy off, but a knee pinned his chest, crushing his breath. "Look at you," the green-eyed boy sneered, grabbing his collar and slamming his head back into the pavement. "All that grace, all that skill—where's it now? Ultra Instinct my ass. You're just a punching bag."
The black-eyed boy's hands shot up, catching a fist mid-strike, twisting it hard. The green-eyed boy grunted, surprised, and the black-eyed boy surged, flipping them over. Now he was on top, driving an elbow into the green-eyed boy's face. Blood exploded from his nose, but he laughed through it, grabbing the black-eyed boy's throat and squeezing. They rolled, grappling in the mud and rain, fists and knees flying. The black-eyed boy landed a solid punch to the jaw, snapping the green-eyed boy's head back, but a brutal uppercut caught him under the chin, stars bursting in his vision.
They broke apart, scrambling to their feet, both bloodied and battered. The black-eyed boy's left arm hung limp, shoulder screaming, but he charged anyway, ducking a wild swing and tackling the green-eyed boy into a wall. Brick cracked under the impact, and he drove a knee into the green-eyed boy's ribs, once, twicen crunch, crunch. The green-eyed boy roared, shoving him off and swinging a fist that smashed the black-eyed boy's temple. He dropped to a knee, world tilting, blood pooling under him.
"Pathetic," the green-eyed boy spat, kicking him in the chest. The black-eyed boy flew back, skidding across the wet ground, ribs cracking. He coughed, blood flecking his lips, and pushed up again, swaying like a drunk. The green-eyed boy stalked closer, picking up the rusted pipe again. "How's it feel, huh? All that training, all that 'prodigy' bullshit, and you're choking on your own blood. Defeated by a monkey. A nobody."
The black-eyed boy lunged, desperate, aiming a kick at the green-eyed boy's knee. It landed, buckling him for a split second, but the pipe came down fast, cracking across his skull. He crumpled, vision blackening, rain pounding his face. The green-eyed boy loomed over him, raising the pipe high. "Time's up, prince." He swung, aiming for the kill, but the black-eyed boy rolled at the last second, the metal slamming into the ground beside his head, spraying mud.
He staggered up, blood streaming, and tackled the green-eyed boy again, fists pounding his face—left, right, left. Skin split, blood flew, but the green-eyed boy caught his wrist, twisted it until it popped, and threw him off. The black-eyed boy hit the pavement hard, gasping, clutching his broken wrist. The green-eyed boy stood, wiping blood from his mouth, and kicked him in the gut, flipping him onto his back.
"Stay down," he growled, planting a boot on the black-eyed boy's chest, pressing down until ribs creaked. "How's it feel, huh? Your daddy's not here to save you. No one is." He raised the pipe again, rain glinting off the metal, and brought it down hard. The black-eyed boy threw up his good arm, taking the hit—bone snapped, a sickening crack lost in the storm. He screamed, rolling away, clutching the ruined limb.
The green-eyed boy laughed, tossing the pipe aside and grabbing the black-eyed boy by the hair, yanking his head back. "Ultra Instinct? More like ultra trash. Look at you—crawling, bleeding, begging to live." He slammed a fist into the black-eyed boy's face, breaking his nose, then another, splitting his brow. Blood poured, blinding him, but he swung weakly, catching the green-eyed boy's chin. It barely fazed him.
The green-eyed boy stepped back, letting him fall, and circled like a vulture. "You're done, prodigy. How's it feel to lose everything to a stray dog?" He kicked the black-eyed boy's side, ribs shattering, and watched him writhe, choking on blood and rain. The black-eyed boy clawed at the ground, trying to rise, but his body gave out—legs limp, arms useless, breath ragged.
He grabbed the black-eyed boy's head with both hands, slamming it into the pavement once, twice, three times. The world faded, rain and pain blending into darkness, the green-eyed boy's mocking laugh the last sound echoing in his skull as he teetered on the edge of death, dominated, broken, and alone.
The rain pounded harder, a relentless curtain of water that turned the world into a blur of gray and red. The black-eyed boy lay crumpled on the wet asphalt, his body a wreck—ribs cracked, wrist shattered, blood streaming from his split brow and broken nose. His strange eyes, black with stark white pupils, flickered weakly as he clung to the edge of consciousness.
The green-eyed boy loomed over him, victorious, his boot pressing down on the black-eyed boy's chest, grinding into the fractured bones. Blood smeared his knuckles, his soaked shirt clinging to his muscled frame, green eyes glinting with a wild, mocking glee. The rain washed the blood from his face in thin rivulets, but it didn't dim that feral grin.
Then, a flash a glint of steel sliced through the storm. A katana arced down toward the green-eyed boy's head, swift and deadly. He reacted on instinct, bare hand shooting up to catch the blade mid-strike. The edge bit deep into his palm, blood gushing out, hot and thick, spilling over his fingers and splashing onto the black-eyed boy's face below. He grunted, teeth gritted, but didn't flinch. The rain mixed with the crimson, streaking down his arm as he held the weapon firm.
An old man stepped into view, gripping the katana's hilt. His coat was heavy with water, glasses fogged by the downpour, but his posture was steady, unyielding. He stared at the green-eyed boy, eyes narrowing behind the lenses. "Black bones?" he said, voice low and rough, like gravel underfoot. He yanked the blade, testing the boy's grip, but the green-eyed boy tightened his hold, blood dripping faster. With a snarl, he kicked out, aiming for the old man's gut. The old man caught the leg effortlessly, twisting it aside and tossing it away like it was nothing.
The green-eyed boy stumbled back, releasing the katana, and grabbed the half-conscious black-eyed boy by the collar, dragging him upright. He hauled him a few steps, creating distance from the old man, his boots splashing through puddles. The black-eyed boy groaned, head lolling, blood and rain soaking his black shirt, but he stayed limp in the green-eyed boy's grip.
The old man adjusted his glasses, pushing them up his nose as water streamed down his face. He tilted his head, studying the green-eyed boy with a cold curiosity. "Those green eyes… you're the Nohara brat that went mad, aren't you?" His voice carried a bitter edge, like he'd just pieced together a puzzle he didn't like. "No wonder afterall... That demon's blood flows through you. I should've known one of you survived that fire."
The green-eyed boy slicked his wet hair back with his free hand, blood smearing across his forehead, and let out a sharp laugh. "This wasn't the deal, old man," he said, voice rough but steady, his grip tightening on the black-eyed boy's collar.
The old man snorted, shifting the katana to rest on his shoulder, the blade gleaming faintly in the rain. "Saving your brother? Cute. But now that I've found another one, you can die together. Two little pests snuffed out in one go...saves me the trouble later." He waved a hand, and the shadows around them stirred. Men emerged from the storm, a dozen at least, dressed in yakuza-style clothes—dark suits, some torn, others stained. Chains dangled from their fists, bats rested on shoulders, knives and daggers glinted in the dim light. A few smoked, cigarettes glowing faintly as the rain intensified, hammering the ground into a muddy mess.
The black-eyed boy stirred, forcing himself to his knees, his broken hand hanging useless at his side. His strange eyes scanned the circle of men, not with fear or anger, but a detached curiosity. "You're betraying the family?" he asked, voice hoarse, barely audible over the rain. He didn't get it...tradition, strength, love, anger....what did it all mean? He'd never felt those things, not really. Just the need to prove himself, to make his father see him. But this? This was new, a twist he couldn't unravel.
"Why?" the black-eyed boy pressed, tilting his head.
The green-eyed boy laughed again, louder this time, dropping him to the ground and stepping forward. He slicked his hair back once more, water and blood flying off his fingers. He cracked his knuckles, green eyes flicking over the men closing in, sizing them up chains, bats, knives, stances, everything.
The old man's lips curled into a thin smile, his katana lowering slightly. "Why, you ask? Shingen's gone mad. His spirit's been crushed ever since that Korean bastard Gapryong broke him. The Yamazaki syndicate's been sliding into the gutter under his watch.....weak, fractured, a shadow of what it was. As a vassal, I've served the family for decades, spilled blood for it. It's my right, my duty....to bring back order, to cut out the rot."
The black-eyed boy tilted his head, rain dripping from his chin. "Shintaro won't let it slide," he said, his voice flat, almost like he was testing the words, trying to understand the stakes.
The old man chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Shintaro? He'll bend, or he'll bleed. The others who're rebelling....they're with him now, pressing him to take a stand against Shingen's rule. Either he joins us, or we bury him too. The syndicate's bigger than one man, boy. You'd know that if you weren't so damn arrogant like your father."
The green-eyed boy's grin widened as he listened, his head tilting slightly. His eyes darted around, tracking the men...how they shifted their weight, the way one gripped his chain too tight, the flicker of a dagger catching the light. He was analyzing, calculating, every move, every possibility.
The old man's smile vanished, his grip tightening on the katana. "Enough talk. Kill the brats," he ordered, unsheathing the other katana fully. The steel sang as it cleared the scabbard, rain sliding off its edge. The men surged forward, a wave of muscle and metal, trained criminals closing the circle. Chains rattled, bats swung idly, knives flashed. The rain turned the ground to sludge, their boots sinking as they advanced.
The black-eyed boy pushed to his feet, swaying, his broken hand dangling. He raised his good fist, ready to fight despite the pain screaming through his body. Betrayal he rolled the word around in his head, trying to feel it, how it feels...
"Ohhh… UI?"
The old man's voice was laced with amusement, almost as if he were watching a child take its first steps. But this was no child's play. The boy beside him had changed.
His green eyes had turned completely black, a deep void that seemed to devour light, with only dark blue pupils burning in the center. His grin had widened, stretching unnaturally, a predator's smile. His breathing was slow, controlled—too controlled for someone who should have been overwhelmed by battle. But that was what made Reverse Eyes terrifying.
He wasn't fighting to survive.He wasn't dodging, strategizing, or thinking.He was hunting.
Every movement was stripped of wasted effort, reduced to its purest, most primal function....to kill. There was no hesitation, no doubt, no emotion.
The old man laughed, his gnarled hands resting on the hilt of his unsheathed sword, watching the carnage unfold before him. "Now this... this is rare."