The road was quiet.
Not the kind that meant peace — the kind that meant something was waiting to explode.
Kuroshi's crew circled up, forming a loose ring around him and Damon.
Evening light spilled between the buildings. Dust turned gold under the street lamps.
Daiki stepped forward first.
Damon raised his hand without even looking — stopping him in his tracks.
"Damon, you sure about this?"
That look in his eyes — Daiki had seen it before.
It was the look Damon had before every challenge, and he always came out on top.
"Take Natsuki and leave," Damon said quietly.
Daiki frowned. "She doesn't wanna go."
"I'll be staying," Natsuki cut in, her voice trembling but stubborn.
Daiki groaned. "Ugh. Lovers' quarrel. Fine. Just don't get yourself killed."
He dragged her away, muttering under his breath while Natsuki continued to hit him.
Damon turned back to who seemed like the leader.
The man was tall — lean but built, like someone who'd lived too many street fights and survived them all.
His purple-tinted hair shimmered under the dying sun.
"Am I supposed to know who you are?" Damon asked.
"I'm Kuroshi — the boss of the guys you killed," the man said.
"How did you know where to find me?"
"There's no magic to it, kid. Just attention — and I pay well."
Kuroshi puffed his cigar. The gang began closing in.
"Wait— I know you must really want to torture me. Why don't I make you a deal?"
"Hear that? He wants to make a deal, boys!"
A goon laughed. "Whaddya think this is, Deal or No Deal?"
Kuroshi raised a hand, ordering them to quiet down.
"Go on."
"Let's settle this," Damon said.
"If I win — we forget this. If you win — you can torture me al—"
"We don't want torture, kid," Kuroshi cut him off.
"We're here to bury you."
"Well, you're not getting that... unless you're stupid."
"Hey, who you calling stupid?" the big guy at the back snapped.
"My dad's a cop... I'm sure Kuroshi here understands."
Clang!
A bin lid crashed in the alley. A cat meowed.
"So what if your dad's a cop?" Daigo asked.
"That means if we kill him or leave marks, the feds'll be all over us, Daigo," Kuroshi said, taking another puff.
The gang froze.
If that was true, fighting him was a risk.
If the cops came sniffing around — they were done.
"You don't look like a cop's son, brat," Kuroshi muttered.
"You've got no idea."
Kuroshi sighed, then grinned, lifting his fists lazily.
"Fine. You win, you lead. You lose... you're dead."
"Yes. So you can do anything to me — as long as it doesn't implicate you in the process."
Kuroshi cracked his neck. "You've got guts, kid. You know what happens when you challenge me?"
"Yeah," Damon said calmly.
"If I win, I'm the new leader. If I lose... you can do whatever you want to me tonight... and tomorrow."
Kuroshi squinted. "And why tomorrow too?"
Damon's mouth twitched. "Because I have to be home the day after.
As I said — dad's a cop."
Kuroshi walked up to Damon. Took the cigar out his mouth and flicked it aside.
He stood tall — like a lion before its prey.
Damon's fists tightened, feet steady.
Kuroshi stood with one hand in his pocket — bored confidence.
For a moment, the two looked like statues — still, unblinking, locked in a silent promise.
And then—
Kuroshi moved first.
A flash of muscle — a kick aimed at Damon's head.
Damon slipped it. Barely.
"He's fast," Damon thought.
"He's quick," Kuroshi thought.
The crowd shouted, circling tighter.
"C'mon, boss! Teach him his place!"
Kuroshi threw another punch — heavier, faster.
Damon ducked, pivoted, caught his arm mid-swing.
One twist — boom! — Kuroshi hit the ground hard.
Silence.
"You rely too much on height," Damon said coldly, stepping forward.
"Doesn't mean anything if you can't hit me."
Kuroshi's smirk returned, blood dripping from his forehead.
"Heh. You're fast. I'll give you that."
He lunged again — a punch this time. Damon blocked with his forearm.
"Sike," Kuroshi smirked — his other hand coming low.
A sudden grab — Damon's feet left the ground.
Before he could react, his world flipped. Weightless for a heartbeat — boom!
His back slammed against the concrete.
"I underestimated this guy—fuck…" Damon thought.
Kuroshi loomed over him. Damon twisted, blood on his temple.
He rose slower this time. Muscles twitching.
They launched again — fists, knees, dodges.
A blur of motion and grit.
Damon dropped low — swoop kick!
Then — jab. punch. Both aimed at Kuroshi's head.
Kuroshi fell. Damon stood over him, fist raised — ready but silent.
No one spoke. The air itself felt paused.
Damon exhaled slowly, straightening his jacket.
"Guess that makes me boss."
"You liar…" Kuroshi spat. "There was no bounty."
Damon tilted his head, calm as ever.
"Tell that to your crew. Let's see who they believe."
A pause. Then — laughter.
Kuroshi pushed himself up, smirking again.
The gang murmured.
"How dare you touch Mr. Kuroshi like that!" one yelled.
Damon's gaze was sharp, unbothered.
"I'm your new boss. From now on — if you want to get paid — you'll follow my orders. Any objections?"
Silence.
Even the wind stopped.
"I don't know why you people do things the way you do," Damon said.
"But from now on — there'll be changes."
Kuroshi dusted off his jacket.
"Changes, huh? I guess I'm the assistant now."
Damon didn't respond, but in his mind — I need an assistant.
A half-drunk raised his hand. "Wait—if he's boss, does that mean I don't gotta—?"
"You'll all be punished," Damon cut in. "For last month's thefts."
"Thefts?!" the drunk yelled.
"We haven't had a gig in seven months! We've been livin' off old ladies!"
Everyone turned.
Kuroshi sighed. "That's Rukito. Smartest when he's sober."
Damon blinked. "He's drunk."
"Exactly," Kuroshi replied.
"You attacked grannies?" Damon muttered.
"Alright. First punishment — cleaning the city for three hours every night.
My assistant," he nodded at Kuroshi, "will make sure it's done."
The gang groaned.
Daigo snapped, "Boss, you're not gonna let the new kid talk to you like that, are ya?"
Others chimed in — "Since when does a high-school kid run us?"
"Yeah! What's next — he's gonna tell us bedtime stories?"
Kuroshi's eyes sharpened. "You know better than to question the code, Daigo."
He turned to his men.
"Remember when I promised to protect you all? I meant that — even if we were drunk."
Rukito hiccuped. "That doesn't explain why you didn't tell us about the bounty."
Kuroshi grinned. "I planned to."
Damon stepped forward.
"Then I'll take over that promise. I'm your leader now."
Daigo laughed. "You may know how to fight, kid — but running the streets? That's a whole different game."
"Yeah!" another said. "You don't even know our connections!"
Rukito sighed. "You all just dragged Daigo into another mess."
Damon smirked.
"Daigo. You're a big guy — use your 'big brain.' Compile every operation in the past ten months — and your top five contacts."
Daigo blinked. "Huh?"
Kuroshi chuckled, lighting a cigar.
"He means: write everything down, get the files, and tell him about Takeshi and Drexel."
Daigo muttered, "Does the boy want me to talk about them or their gangs? 'Cause I got opinions—"
Damon blinked. They were talking about him like he wasn't even there. Again.
A voice cut through the air.
"You do know I'm standing right here, right?
And my name's… just call me Cipher." said Damon.
"Who names their child Cipher"
"It's an alias Daigo" said Kuroshi.
Later.
Damon brushed off his jacket.
"I don't want to keep my friends worried," he said. "I'll leave the rest to you."
He turned.
"Kuroshi — walk with me."
Kuroshi lit a cigarette. Damon's boot swung — kick! — the cigarette flew, sparking off the wall.
"Show-off," Kuroshi muttered.
"What's your real name?" Damon asked.
"How'd you know that wasn't my real name?"
"When Daigo called you 'Kuroshi,' he hesitated — like he had to remember the lie first."
Kuroshi grinned. "You're observant."
As Damon disappeared into the night, Kuroshi called out —
"How'd you know about the gang codes?"
Damon's faint smile lingered in the dark.
"Visit the library sometime."