Crimson Fist High was not like other schools. It didn't pretend to be a place of learning. It was a fortress, a breeding ground for the city's most violent and unhinged delinquents. Its walls were scarred with the pockmarks of past battles, its windows were barred, and its iron gates were permanently stained with rust that looked disturbingly like dried blood. Where Black Fang was a den of predators, Crimson Fist was a gladiator pit. Its students didn't fight for territory or pride; they fought for the sheer, joyous love of violence.
Their king was a man named Renji "Demon Hands" Himura. He was a third-year student with the physique of a demon from ancient folklore—a hulking brute of muscle and scar tissue, with hands so calloused and large they looked like stone mallets. His reputation was built on a simple, terrifying fact: he had never lost a fight, and he had permanently crippled every opponent he had ever faced. He ruled his school not through strategy or fear, but through pure, overwhelming, sadistic force.
He was holding court in his "throne room"—the school's abandoned, graffiti-covered boxing gym. He was seated on an overturned water heater, surrounded by his top lieutenants, watching two students beat each other bloody in the ring for his amusement. He was bored. The victories had become monotonous. The blood no longer thrilled him.
It was into this scene that a nervous, well-dressed envoy from Black Fang High was escorted. It was Takeda Shingen. He had swallowed his pride and come in person, knowing that a phone call would be seen as an insult.
Renji's cold, dead eyes shifted from the bloody spectacle in the ring to Takeda. "The Student Council President of Black Fang," he grunted, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "You look soft. I bet you'd break easy. Why are you in my gym?"
Takeda, despite the palpable killing intent in the room, stood tall. He had rehearsed this. "Renji-san," he began, his voice firm. "I have come to propose an alliance."
Renji let out a short, harsh laugh. "An alliance? Black Fang is a kennel of loud, weak dogs. What could you possibly offer me?"
"A worthy hunt," Takeda replied, his eyes gleaming with a feverish light.
He then told him everything. He spoke of the transfer student, Ravi Sharma. He described the impossible defeat of Riku Sato, the one-man annihilation of the Black Fangs, and the disappearance of the assassin, Jin. He painted a picture of a silent, untouchable monster, a legend whose power was absolute. He intentionally embellished, framing Ravi as an arrogant, unbeatable king who looked down on everyone else, knowing it would stroke Renji's ego.
As he spoke, the boredom in Renji's eyes was slowly replaced by a dark, hungry gleam. The lieutenants around him shifted uncomfortably, but Renji was captivated. The idea of an "unbreakable" opponent was not a threat to him; it was a siren song.
"A boy who broke Riku with a flick?" Renji mused, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his scarred face. "And made my boy Jin run away crying? You're telling me there's a monster like that hiding in your school, and you've kept him all to yourselves?"
"He is a plague," Takeda said, pressing his advantage. "He has disrupted the natural order. We, the Student Council of Black Fang, officially invite the warriors of Crimson Fist to help us… exterminate this pest. In return, we will offer you dominion over two of our bordering districts. A gift, for your services."
Renji's grin widened. He stood up, his massive frame seeming to suck the light out of the room. He cracked his knuckles, and the sound was like rocks grinding together.
"I don't give a damn about your districts," he snarled, his voice filled with a terrifying, joyous energy. "But you've brought me the best news I've heard all year."
He turned to face his gathered followers, his voice booming through the gym. "Listen up, you bastards! Our friends at Black Fang have a king who thinks he's untouchable! They've asked us to go over there and teach him some manners!"
A savage roar erupted from the assembled students. The air crackled with bloodlust.
Renji looked back at Takeda, his eyes burning with a mad fire. "Alliance accepted," he bellowed. "Tell your school to prepare for a war. My fists have been itching for a new toy to break. We will march on your territory in three days. And I will personally rip this 'King of Silence's' tongue from his throat."
Takeda hid a triumphant smile. The deal was done. He had pointed a cannon at his problem. Now all he had to do was stand back and watch the explosion.
The declaration of war was not subtle. It arrived the next day in the form of five Crimson Fist students who swaggered onto Black Fang's campus during lunch hour. They marched to the center of the courtyard, and one of them unfurled a large, blood-red banner. On it, written in stark black calligraphy, were the words:
THREE DAYS.
They then proceeded to pick a fight with the first group of Black Fang students they saw, beating them down with swift, brutal efficiency before retreating, leaving the banner and their bruised victims as their calling card.
The fragile silence at Black Fang shattered. Panic erupted. Crimson Fist was not a rival; they were a death sentence. Their reputation for crippling violence was legendary. The entire student body was thrown into a state of fear and chaos.
The Student Council used the opportunity to seize control of the narrative. Takeda held a school-wide assembly, standing on a podium in the courtyard.
"Students of Black Fang!" he shouted, his voice amplified by a megaphone. "This is the consequence of weakness! This is what happens when our order is shattered by a single, selfish individual! Ravi Sharma's arrogance has brought the dogs of war to our door!"
He pointed a finger towards the back of the crowd, where Ravi stood, watching the proceedings with his usual detached air. "This is his fault! He broke our king, he dismantled our defenses, and now he stands by and does nothing while our enemies prepare to burn us to the ground! He is not a king! He is a curse!"
The crowd was a sea of terrified, angry faces. Takeda's words were working. They needed a target for their fear, and Ravi was the perfect scapegoat. Murmurs of "He's right," and "What are we going to do?" spread like wildfire.
In the midst of the chaos, two figures stood apart.
Reina Kurozawa watched from the side, her face a mask of cold fury. She saw Takeda's plan for what it was: a cowardly, suicidal gambit. He was trying to use a forest fire to kill a wolf, not caring that everyone else would be consumed in the blaze.
And then there was Ravi. He stood perfectly still, letting the waves of fear, anger, and accusation wash over him without effect. He listened to Takeda's speech, his silver eyes unblinking. He looked at the terrified faces of the students. He felt the rising tide of hostility directed at him.
Any other person would have been enraged, defensive, or fearful. Ravi simply looked… tired. Profoundly, soul-crushingly tired.
This was the cycle. It always came to this. The noise. The chaos. The pointing fingers. The world, it seemed, would not allow him his silence. It would poke and prod and scream until it forced him to act.
He turned to leave, having heard enough. As he did, his eyes met Reina's across the courtyard. She saw the deep, ancient weariness in his gaze, and a flicker of something else: resignation. It was the look of a man who knew a storm was coming, had tried to avoid it, and had finally accepted that he would have to walk through it.
Later that day, as the school was buzzing with frantic preparations and panicked rumors, Kenji and the rest of the Silent Guard found Ravi on the rooftop. They stood before him, a silent, disciplined phalanx.
Kenji, for the first time, broke protocol and spoke. "King," he said, his voice low and respectful. "Crimson Fist is coming. They are bringing over a hundred of their strongest fighters. Renji Himura will lead them. What are your orders?"
Ravi was sitting at the edge of the roof, his legs dangling over the side, looking down at the school below. The wind ruffled his black hair.
He was silent for a long time. The Guard waited, not daring to breathe. They were ready. If he told them to fight, they would fight to the death. If he told them to stand down, they would. They had placed their faith, their very lives, in the hands of this silent boy.
Finally, Ravi spoke, his voice quiet but carrying an unmistakable weight of finality.
"The war is with me," he said, not looking at them. "Not with this school."
He stood up and turned to face them. His silver eyes were calm, but there was a new, cold light within them. The reluctant god had been pushed too far.
"Your orders are the same," he said. "Shut up. Watch."
He walked past them, heading for the rooftop door.
"Where are you going, King?" Kenji asked, his voice filled with a desperate urgency.
Ravi paused at the door, his hand on the handle. He didn't turn around.
"They want a king to hunt," he said, his voice as cold as the void between stars. "I'm going to give them one."
He opened the door and disappeared inside, leaving his followers on the rooftop, their hearts filled with a terrifying premonition. The King of Silence was finally going to make a sound. And they suspected it would be loud enough to shake the entire city.