The school bell rang. The sound echoed down the hallway, but I couldn't bring myself to care. It felt distant, hollow, like the world was happening without me. The usual buzz of kids chattering and teachers calling for attention all seemed like background noise as my mind replayed Lena's situation—her parents. Their expectations. Their cruelty.
Tch, some bitch parents. They don't deserve such a nice daughter like her. They had no right to treat her the way they did. It should've been something I cared about, but the truth was, I couldn't even bring myself to feel sorry for her. My emotions, when it came to things like this, had a way of going cold.
I slung my bag over my shoulder, the straps digging into my skin, and walked out of the classroom without even thinking twice. I wasn't in the mood for their stupid lessons. Nothing here mattered. Everything I learned in school felt like a joke. It was a game, and I wasn't interested in playing anymore.
The streets outside felt different today. There was a strange quiet to them, almost eerie, like something was lurking just beneath the surface. My feet moved on their own, leading me down unfamiliar paths. It wasn't like I had a destination in mind. Maybe I just needed to escape the walls of that school. Maybe I was searching for something to distract me from the storm in my head.
I wandered through the slums, the familiar smells of rotting food and exhaust fumes filling my nose. The air was thick, heavy, and it made my stomach churn. My boots clacked against the cracked pavement, the only sound in a neighborhood that was otherwise silent. I didn't belong here, but it was familiar. Comfortable, in a way.
That's when I saw them. Two men standing over a kid. The kid was sprawled on the ground, barely moving. He was battered, covered in blood, his body crumpled like a broken doll. One of the men, a tall figure with a scruffy beard, was holding a hammer-like weapon, the kind you'd find on a construction site, and was repeatedly bringing it down on the kid. Each blow sent a sickening thud through the air
I didn't recognize the kid, but it didn't matter. The sight made something inside me snap. This wasn't right. No one should be treated like this, especially not a kid. Without thinking, I started toward them, my hand instinctively reaching for the sword at my side. It wasn't much—just a random piece of junk I bought off a street vendor a few days ago. But it was all I had, and in that moment, it felt like it was enough.
"Hey!" I shouted, my voice rough as I pulled the blade from its sheath. "Leave him alone!"
The two men turned. For a second, I thought they might run. But then they saw me, and their faces twisted into expressions of amusement rather than fear.
"What's this kid think he's doing?" one of them sneered. His voice had an edge to it, like he was almost laughing at me. "The mafia's business isn't your concern."
Mafia. The word hit me and I froze for a moment. I'd heard whispers of the mafia before, always in hushed tones. People in the slums talking about them as if they were some distant, unnameable threat. But to hear it from their lips, to be standing face to face with them, was something else entirely. These weren't just thugs.
I narrowed my eyes, gripping the sword tighter, though my knuckles felt like they might crack under the strain. These weren't the kind of people you just walked away from. The weight of the word "mafia" pressed down on my chest, and for a moment, I felt smaller than I had in a long time. But I wasn't backing down.
The man holding the hammer, a hulking figure with a rough face and a scar running across his cheek, stepped forward. "You got a problem, kid?" He grinned, and it wasn't the grin of someone who thought I was an inconvenience. It was the grin of someone who saw me as nothing more than a toy to be played with. "You think you can stop us?"
I wasn't sure what I thought I could do, but in that moment, I couldn't back down. My grip on the sword tightened. My heart pounded in my chest.
"Mind your own business, kid," the other one said, his voice now colder, more threatening. He was smaller than the hammer guy, but there was something about his eyes—sharper, colder. "The mafia doesn't take kindly to outsiders poking their noses in where they don't belong."
They were dangerous, I knew that much. I could feel it in the air—the tension, the weight of it all. But I still didn't move. I couldn't. Not when someone was getting hurt.
The hammer guy raised his weapon again, the head gleaming in the dim light. He swung it with a brutal arc, but I was too slow. His strike hit me across the shoulder, sending me crashing to the ground, the sword falling from my hand with a loud clatter. I barely had time to register the pain before he kicked me in the ribs, his heavy boot grinding against my side. I gasped for air, but it was all stolen from me in that moment.
They didn't even break a sweat.
"You wanna try something, huh?" the hammer guy sneered. He kicked me again, this time in the stomach, and I felt something crack. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move. The world was spinning, and I couldn't focus. "We could kill you right here, right now. You wouldn't even know what hit you." His voice was low, guttural, like a threat wrapped in a promise. "But… we'll be nice today. We'll let you go. Just remember this face."
He pointed a finger at me, and his grin widened. I could see the malice in his eyes. The other man chuckled, a low, dark sound, as they turned to walk away.
I could barely get up. My limbs felt like they were made of lead, my body screaming in protest. But I forced myself to sit up, my hand trembling as I reached for my sword. It was useless. The blade was bent, the metal cracked.
The two of them disappeared down the alley, leaving me there, bruised, bleeding, and gasping for breath. The kid was still lying there, barely moving. He was barely alive. And I did nothing.
I wasn't strong enough.
I picked myself up, the pain in my ribs searing through me, but I ignored it. I had to leave. I had to get out of here. But as I stumbled away, the word "mafia" echoed in my mind, gnawing at the back of my skull.
The next days class was like a blur. It felt like I was still stuck in that moment—those bruises, the blood, the sound of the hammer slamming down. I could barely focus in class. My mind kept drifting back to the mafia. The way those men talked about it, the way they'd looked at me like I was nothing. I had to know more.
Before I could finish my train of thought, I bumped into someone. The force of the collision sent them sprawling to the floor. "Damn, bro, you're a walking brick wall," the guy muttered as he struggled to push himself up from the ground. I glanced down at him, irritated.
The kid was about my age, around 15 wearing a neat school uniform His messy, spiky red hair stood out like a flag, and his eyes were sharp, like he was always on alert, sizing up the world around him. He glared at me from the floor, clearly pissed off.
"Watch where you're going next time," he snapped, not getting up yet. "Maybe you won't crash into me."
I didn't have time to entertain his complaint. I was already too far into my own head, and frankly, I was more concerned with getting away from this random kid. Without saying a word, I turned and kept walking, leaving him there on the ground, stunned. It wasn't like I cared about making friends or apologizing. It was his fault for being in my way.
As I walked down the hall toward the gym, I spotted Lena talking with her friends. Her laughter, the bright, carefree smile on her face, was at odds with the tension in her body. It was like her body was screaming something that her face wasn't saying. Her shoulders were stiff, her arms crossed, and her eyes darted around like she was trying to keep up the facade, even though she was clearly somewhere else in her mind.
I stopped in my tracks, watching her for a moment. I'm not sure how it worked, but I was good at reading people You could say it was one of the few things I actually understood. And right now, Lena wasn't fine. The way she shifted from foot to foot, the tightness in her posture… something had happened.
Them dickhead parents probably punished her or something. The thought made my stomach twist. I could practically hear their cruel words in my head, their relentless demands. I really wish I could just kill them, just end it all for her, free her from the prison they built. But that wasn't my problem. I wasn't about to just stick my nose in her life like that.
I turned away and walked into the gym, focusing on the now. I wasn't here to fix other people's problems. I had enough of my own to deal with.
The gym was buzzing with the usual chatter as we began our warm-up exercises. The first part of gym class always made me feel like a machine—a body just going through the motions. We had to run four laps around the gym before we could sit down. The standard 800 meters. I couldn't care less about the rules.
Running had always been easy for me. I didn't need to train for it. Something in my body just worked that way. I had always been unnaturally fast. No one understood it. I didn't even know why it was like this. I just ran.
My time was always about 1:60 for 800 meters. My legs burned, but not in the way they should. I never felt the kind of exhaustion normal people did. I guess that's what happened when your body was… different. I'd learned to ignore the weirdness of it, but there was no ignoring the nagging feeling that something was off about me ever since my father left.
"Hey, you think you're so cool 'cause you can run fast, huh?" The voice came from behind me—one of the usual bullies. They always seemed to find a way to get under my skin, no matter how hard I tried to stay indifferent. "I can still smell that slums air all over you."
I didn't even slow down. It wasn't worth my time. These guys, the ones who always felt the need to put me down just because I was different, were a dime a dozen. They never changed, no matter where you went. I didn't care if they were faster or slower. They were still beneath me in every other way.
I turned, my gaze cold as I threw my words back at them. "What do you want from me? Are you just mad because you're so slow compared to me? Do you see your inferiority and decide to kick me down so I can be on your level?"
Their faces shifted from smug to confused, like I'd slapped them in the face with the truth. They didn't know how to respond, probably because they didn't expect someone like me—someone from the slums—to speak like that.
"Fuck you, we're out."
They mumbled under their breath and walked away, heads down, clearly unable to process what had just happened. I smirked. It felt good for once to put them in their place. The rest of gym class went by like normal. Nothing too exciting. Just more laps, more droning teachers, more fake smiles from people who probably thought they were better than everyone else.
Finally, it was time for after-school clubs. I dragged my feet toward the clubrooms, already dreading the hour I was about to waste. Lena had practically forced me to join a club. Said I needed to "get out more," which was a nice way of saying she was sick of me staying in my room all the time.
"Fine," I muttered, but I never really cared about her reasons. She acted like she was my mom, but I had more important things to think about than her nagging.
I pushed open the door to the Karate Club room. The smell of sweat and chalk filled the air. The floor was covered in mats, and a bunch of kids were already in their official school karate uniforms. They all looked at me like I was a piece of trash. The way they stared—it was obvious. They saw me as nothing more than scum, someone who didn't belong.
I ignored the looks, pretending I didn't care. But one girl stood up, a tall figure with long blonde hair and eyes full of disdain.
"What do you want, and why are you here?" she spat, her tone harsh.
I blinked, "Umm, because this is my club, don't tell me I walked into the special education classroom," I shot back, a sarcastic laugh slipping out of me.
"Calm down, everyone," the teacher said, stepping in to defuse the situation. "He's part of our club now. Let's treat everyone fairly."
I gave a short nod, not bothering to respond. I made my way to the farthest corner of the room and sat down, hoping the whole thing would blow over quickly. I wasn't here for this nonsense. I just needed to talk to Lena. That's all.
The teacher began blabbering on about technique and discipline, but I tuned him out, my mind wandering. I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to find out more about the mafia, about the people who hurt that kid. But that would have to wait.
Then I heard a voice. Soft but confident. "I challenge you to a duel."
I blinked, looking up. Standing in front of me was a girl, probably a year or two younger than me, with a petite frame and shoulder-length blue hair. Her eyes were the same color as her hair a piercing blue and her expression was serious, like she wasn't kidding. The weird thing was, even though she looked cute, there was something about her that screamed danger. It was in the way she stood, the way she looked at me.
I wasn't in the mood for this. "Look, little girl, I don't want to beat on small children. Go play ninja with someone else."
The room went quiet. I could feel the eyes on me. Most of the class seemed to be holding their breath, like they were waiting for something to happen. But I wasn't intimidated. I had no time for this.
"What's with all the commotion? Why did everyone get so quiet?" I asked, my voice even as I watched her. Her head was lowered, but the malice radiating from her was palpable. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was about to be in serious trouble.
Before I could even blink, she moved. Her leg shot out so fast that I could barely see it. It slammed into the wall beside me with a deafening crack, the impact rattling the floor. My heart skipped a beat. This girl was fast.
"Wow," I muttered, leaning back slightly. "Looks like the loli's actually strong."
Another kick. This time, I was ready. I ducked just in time, feeling the air whoosh by as her leg barely missed me. The speed was insane.
Then, out of nowhere, I was kicked in the stomach. Hard. The wind was knocked out of me, and I staggered back a few steps, the force of the blow familiar. It felt like when I got hit by that hammer.
"He definitely isn't gonna last," someone muttered from the sidelines, almost gloating. "Nobody's ever been able to take a hit from our queen."
I stood there, my head bowed as if I was about to collapse. But inside, something clicked. "Aha, I got you all," I said, a grin spreading across my face.
They were all expecting me to fall
"A kick like that could never make me pass out." The words were out of my mouth before I even realized it, a smirk playing on my lips. The girl's eyes widened in shock. She hadn't expected me to take her kick, to withstand the impact without even flinching.
The room fell silent, everyone watching with bated breath, expecting me to crumble.
The girl—this so-called "queen" of the class stared at me as if I'd just defied the laws of nature. "H-How? What? That's impossible! You can't do that! Fall right now!" Her voice was a mixture of disbelief and fury, the malice in her eyes darkening.
I straightened up, not even breathing heavily. "If I listened to the commands people gave me, I would've been dead a long time ago," I said, my voice low and cold.
The words hit harder than I intended, but it didn't matter. They were true, and part of me felt some twisted satisfaction in delivering the truth to these kids who had no clue what real struggle was.
Before the girl could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension. "Oh Jay, it's you?" Lena's voice was full of surprise, and I turned to find her standing in the doorway, wearing her karate uniform.
I didn't care about her looks well, not like that but I had to admit, there was something about the way the uniform fit her that made her look… different. The fabric clung to her figure in a way that made me notice her for the first time in a different light. Not that I cared. I wasn't the kind of guy who got caught up in that.
"Why are you challenging the queen?" she asked, crossing her arms, her face a mixture of confusion and amusement.
I rolled my eyes, shrugging. "Nah, it's the other way around. I just came here to ask you for twenty bucks."
I saw the girls around her exchange looks, their eyes narrowing. A couple of them sneered.
"Wow, he's asking a girl for money?" one of them whispered to another, loud enough for me to hear. "What a loser. I guess it makes sense, though. He's from the slums."
I didn't flinch at their whispers. Let them talk. The insults meant nothing to me. But Lena, ever the saint, didn't seem bothered.
"Sure, I'll give you money anytime you want," she said, pulling out her wallet without hesitation. "You probably need it more than me anyway." She handed me forty dollars.
I blinked at the extra cash. "What's with the extra?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
She grinned sheepishly. "I didn't mean to, but just keep it. I'm sure you could use it more than I can."
I stared at her for a second. She was a weird one, wasn't she? Too kind for her own good. But I wasn't in the mood to analyze her right now. I had what I came for.
"Thanks," I muttered, slipping the bills into my pocket. I nodded and turned to leave. "Alr bye."
With that, I made my way out of the gym and quickly walked down the halls toward the exit. Once outside, I broke into a jog, heading for the slums. I had what I needed now—the money, the determination—and I wasn't about to waste it.
POV: Lena
As I watched Jay leave, my mind was still caught on the exchange. He didn't even thank me. The whole thing felt… strange. I didn't understand him.
One of the girls in the group clicked her tongue, her voice dripping with disdain. "Why are you so nice to that weirdo? We see you hanging around him all the time, and you just gave him money. He didn't even thank you. What's the deal?"
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I don't really know. It's just that… I can see the pain in his eyes. Without someone like me around, he probably wouldn't even come to school. I want to keep him on the right track, you know?"
They looked at me with understanding, but there was still something in their expressions that made me uneasy.
"You're way too nice for your own good," one of the girls said, shaking her head. "You know, if you keep doing this, he might start developing a crush on you."
I blinked, caught off guard. "A crush?"
"Yeah, I mean, you're always helping him, and you're the only one who doesn't treat him like crap." Another girl chimed in with a sly grin. "You might just be his hero."
I laughed nervously, brushing it off. "I don't know about that. He's… not the kind of person to get attached easily."
POV: Jay
As I ran through the streets toward the slums, my mind raced. I needed to make this money work. Forty dollars might not be much, but in the slums, it was more than enough to get information out of someone—if I could find the right person.
The slums were exactly what you'd expect—filthy, rundown buildings, alleyways filled with garbage, and people who looked like they hadn't seen a decent meal in weeks. But in places like this, you learned to keep your head down and your mouth shut. Trust was a rare commodity. People here didn't give out information freely.
I approached a couple of men huddled on the street corner, their faces hidden behind thick beards and layers of dirt. They glanced at me, sizing me up. The moment I opened my mouth to ask, they flinched, eyes darting to the side.
"Hey, do you know anything about a mafia operating around here?" I asked, keeping my voice low, my tone casual.
The two men looked at each other, then looked away. One of them spat on the ground, clearly uncomfortable. "Mafia? What are you talking about, kid? Ain't no mafia around here," the older man mumbled, as if trying to brush me off.
I narrowed my eyes. I didn't have time for this. I grabbed the first man by the collar and pulled him close, my voice low and threatening. "I'm not asking for a rumor. I'm asking for the truth. I know you know something. I've seen you talking to them."
The man trembled slightly, fear evident in his eyes. "I don't know anything, kid. Just leave us alone, alright?" He shook his head and pushed me away weakly, stepping back into the shadows of the alley.
I scowled but didn't push further. These people were too scared to help me, and I didn't have time to waste on them. I had to find someone with a little more courage or insanity.
I kept walking deeper into the slums, my footsteps echoing in the empty streets. Finally, I spotted a man hunched over a table outside a rundown tavern. His clothes were ragged, his face lined with age and too many hard nights. He was scribbling something in a tattered notebook, seemingly oblivious to the world around him.
I hesitated for a moment, then approached him. This man looked like the type who had seen everything and had nothing left to lose.
I leaned in and whispered, "I'll give you forty bucks if you tell me everything you know about the mafia around here."
His eyes flickered up at me, and for a moment, he studied my face. Then, a wicked grin spread across his features. "Forty bucks, huh?" he said, his voice gravelly. "You're desperate, kid. Alright, I'll tell you, I know a thing or two about those guys…"
I tossed him the money, and he snatched it eagerly. "Talk," I demanded, my voice hard.
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They call themselves the Black Fangs. You won't find 'em in the open, kid. They're in the shadows, in the places people don't go. But if you're looking for trouble, you'll find it… and them."
"One more thing before you go they also like to recruit in the slums to help strengthen their family so if you unlock some super powers make sure to keep it quiet"
He leaned back, a sinister laugh escaping him. "Just don't come crying to me when you get yourself killed."
I felt a chill run down my spine. The Black Fangs. This was the lead I needed. And now, I was in deeper than ever.