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### The Next Day
Kenji Yamazaki woke up at 4 a.m., still groggy with sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he made his way to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face to wake up. Without wasting a moment, he headed straight to his private gym.
Four hours passed.
Drenched in sweat and steam rising from his body, Kenji emerged from his intense workout. He took a quick shower, then changed into his crisp new school uniform. His well-toned muscles were now hidden beneath the formal attire. He picked up a pair of dark-tinted sunglasses and put them on, concealing his sharp, intimidating eyes.
His gaze then shifted to the black box his father had given him the day before.
Opening it, he found a **gold-plated Glock 18** and a **razor-sharp blade**. But it wasn't the gun that surprised him—it was the blade.
He knew this blade.
This weapon had a legendary history. One that would be revealed… in due time.
He closed the box and sat down at the dining table. A servant approached and placed his breakfast before him. After eating, he made his way to the garage, where he started up his motorcycle. Just before he left, another servant handed him his school bag.
Kenji revved the engine and sped off toward school.
He parked in a small lot a few blocks away—students weren't allowed to park inside the school grounds. He locked his bike, slung his bag over one shoulder, and began walking toward the building.
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### Class 2-1
The classroom buzzed with quiet chatter until the teacher entered. The students fell silent. The teacher scanned the room and noticed a student sleeping in the back row, head down.
He was about to reprimand him—until he saw something.
A tattoo, barely visible under the student's collar, marked the boy's neck.
The teacher hesitated.
He stayed silent and began the lesson.
After a few hours, the bell rang for break.
The boy in the back—Kenji—slowly lifted his head and locked eyes with a group of five boys watching him with a mix of envy and hostility.
A red-haired boy stepped forward. "So, you're the transfer student," he sneered. "You think you can just ignore us? This is our territory."
Kenji stood, towering over the group. He smiled coolly behind his dark shades.
"My name is Kenji Yamazaki."
The group flinched for a moment at his imposing presence—but quickly masked it with grins.
The red-haired boy introduced himself. "I'm Akkun. These are Takuya, Makoto, Yamagishi, and Takemichi. We run this school."
Kenji nodded slightly. "Noted."
He excused himself and left the classroom.
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Kenji walked straight to the third-year hallway. Students were chatting, leaning against desks, laughing loudly. The mood shifted instantly when they saw him walk in.
All eyes turned to him. The air tensed.
Kenji grinned.
"Is that how you greet your juniors? You seniors need a lesson in manners."
Though many of them looked tough, none of them scared him. He had fought far worse.
A third-year boy, nearly Kenji's height, stepped forward and sneered, "Did you get lost, kid?"
Kenji didn't respond.
Instead, he delivered a brutal punch to the student's gut. The boy flew several meters back, crashing into the wall with a thud.
The others roared in anger and charged at him.
Kenji cracked his knuckles.
"Good. Come at me. I don't have all day."
Screams echoed through the hallway.
A few minutes later, the classroom was wrecked. Students were scattered across the floor, groaning and unconscious.
Kenji stood among the chaos, completely calm.
"All of you—stand."
Like puppets yanked by invisible strings, every fallen student scrambled to their feet.
Kenji's voice was cold.
"From today onward, you work under me. You understand?"
They nodded so fast it looked like their necks might snap.
Without another word, Kenji turned and walked away.
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### After School
As he was leaving the school, Kenji noticed the same five boys trailing behind him.
He stopped and turned.
"What's the matter?"
Akkun stepped forward and asked, "Wanna hang out with us? You're new here… and part of our gang now. Let us show you around."
Kenji actually smiled.
It was rare for him to consider spending time with friends. But he had other priorities tonight—plans involving the Yakuza name.
"Sorry," he said, "I've got something important to handle. Maybe another time."
He disappeared into the crowd, leaving the boys a little disappointed—but still excited for the future.
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### That Night
Kenji stood at the gates of his estate.
Before him stood nearly 300–400 men—new recruits, fighters, former punks, and loyal subordinates. None of them truly knew what to expect.
Kenji raised a hand. In it gleamed a blade.
"Listen up!" he shouted. "From now on, you are under the banner of the **Yakuza**. As your head, I demand loyalty. No backing down from a fight. And if I catch any of you running…"
He paused, letting the blade gleam under the moonlight.
"…I will personally drive this knife into your back."
The crowd stood silent, a wave of fear—and respect—rolling through them.
Kenji Yamazaki had arrived.
**To be continued...**
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