The rooftop of their middle school was quiet, the soft hum of distant traffic blending with the gentle rustling of leaves.
Momo sat on a bench she had created, her legs crossed neatly, and a thick book about molecular structures balanced on her lap.
She hummed softly as she read. It had been a turbulent year for her and Yami, but in the end, she thought they did well enough.
Their first year of middle school had ended; this was their last day before winter vacation.
Yami stood near the railing, leaning against it with his arms crossed, staring at the city beyond the school grounds.
His sharp golden eyes stared at the horizon, but his mind wasn't focused on the view.
Today marked the end of their first year of middle school, and while Momo was content to enjoy the quiet moment, Yami's thoughts were far darker.
It had been a long, exhausting year.
A year since the night, Angela had surrendered entirely to her desires. A year since Yami had decided to destroy his father.
Yami didn't hate Akio because he was a bad father, a cheater, or a criminal. No, his hatred ran far deeper than that. Akio was a vile man—true scum of the earth.
He treated Angela like garbage, showing off his affairs and abusing his power without a shred of guilt.
Yami knew Akio's type. Men like him believed they were untouchable and that society's rules didn't apply to them. But Yami wasn't about to let his father get away with it.
At first, his plan was simple: expose Akio's crimes to the public, get him arrested, and let justice take its course.
But the more Yami dug into his father's business dealings, the more complicated things became.
Akio wasn't just a cheating husband. He was part of a vast crime ring—a network of corrupt businessmen, politicians, and law enforcement officials who covered for each other.
They trafficked illegal goods, laundered money, and ruined lives without a second thought.
Exposing Akio would have brought the whole house of cards tumbling down. But it would also have destroyed the Iwatani name.
And Yami couldn't let that happen.
He spent months planning, using his intelligence and resources carefully. He hacked into Akio's private files, gathering evidence of his father's crimes. He created fake identities to communicate with lawyers, bankers, and corporate spies without raising suspicion.
Step by step, Yami built a web of lies and misdirection. He used a fake identity—an overseas investor with a spotless reputation—to buy out key shareholders in Akio's company. He set up offshore accounts to funnel money discreetly.
By the fiscal year's end, Yami had acquired a majority stake in Iwatani Industries without anyone realizing it.
But Yami wasn't just interested in taking over the company. He wanted Akio to pay.
One rainy night, Yami sat staring at his laptop screen in his dark bedroom. The names of Akio's victims flashed before him—families ruined by his schemes, small businesses crushed under fraudulent contracts, and women exploited by his money and power.
"These people deserve justice," Yami murmured. "Real justice."
He reached out to them, one by one, using encrypted messages and burner phones. He shared the evidence he'd gathered—proof of Akio's crimes—and offered them a deal.
"I'll help you reclaim what you've lost," Yami promised them. "But I need your help too."
Most of them were hesitant at first. They didn't trust strangers, especially not someone claiming to be a mysterious stranger.
But Yami was patient. He let his actions speak louder than his words. He helped them rebuild their businesses, paid off their debts, and provided them with the resources they needed to start over after what the men Akio shared shoulders with.
Slowly, they came to trust him, and when the time was right, Yami gave them the opportunity they'd been waiting for.
Akio's death wasn't quick. It wasn't painless.
One evening, as he left a luxury hotel with a woman barely above Yami's age, a group of masked men surrounded him in the parking lot.
They dragged him into an alleyway, far from the security cameras, and took their revenge.
Yami watched from a safe distance, his expression cold and detached. He didn't flinch when he heard Akio's screams echo through the dark, piss-scent alley. He didn't turn away when the men delivered the final blow.
By the time they were done, Akio's body was barely recognizable. Bruised, broken, and bleeding, he was left to rot in the alley.
The news reported it as a tragic accident—a wealthy businessman was attacked by unknown assailants in a random act of violence. No one suspected foul play beyond that.
Soon after that, one by one, large businesses and corporations fell like sandcastles; their CEOs had to flee abroad or would be quickly arrested; not even their power saved them from the public eye, and their hands were tied.
Even in all of their power, their only fate in Japan was prison for life.
Angela "mourned" her husband's death, of course. She cried at the funeral, dressed in black, her hands trembling as she held Yami's arm for support.
But when they got home, Yami and Angela fucked like lovers, celebrating the death of Akio.
His father wasn't a victim. He was a monster who got what he deserved.
After Akio's death, Yami wasted no time solidifying his control over Iwatani Industries.
He continued to operate under his fake identity, communicating with the board of directors through video calls and emails from a secure direction.
"I'll be managing the company from abroad," he told them. "My name is Hiroshi Tanaka. I look forward to working with all of you."
No one questioned it. The investors were pleased with the company's new direction—and the fact Akio was gone—and the employees were relieved to see positive changes in their working conditions.
Yami restructured the company from the ground up, cutting ties with corrupt officials and shady deals.
He was also relieved when the families he had helped returned to Yami's industries, and they now offered a helping hand.
Under his leadership, Iwatani Industries did far more than what Akio had ever done in his miserable, corrupt life; who wondered?
Unaware of Yami's involvement, Angela expressed her gratitude to the mysterious Hiroshi Tanaka. She believed he was a kind-hearted man who had stepped in to save her late husband's company from ruin.
Yami didn't correct her.
"Hey," Momo's voice pulled Yami from his thoughts. You've been staring into space for a while now. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah," Yami said, facing her with a small smile. "Just thinking about how far we've come."
Momo closed her book, her dark eyes locking onto his. "You've changed a lot this year, you know. You're more… focused."
"Focused, huh?" Yami chuckled. "I guess that's one way to put it."
"You've always been driven," Momo said, standing up and joining him by the railing. "But now, it feels like you have a purpose. Like you're working toward something bigger."
Yami's smile faded slightly. "Maybe I am."
Momo tilted her head, studying him. "Whatever it is, I hope it's something good."
"It is," Yami said softly. "Trust me."
They stood in silence for a moment, the wind brushing past them, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of the city.
Momo leaned against Yami's shoulder, resting her head on his shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper and soft as the winter breeze.
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End of First Arc.
01 Set Up
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So, how were the initial chapters?