Hunter With No Blade / Marked by the Forest He used to be one of the most feared young beast slayer hunters alive, the kind whose name alone made the forest go quiet. Fast, deadly, precise he didn’t miss, didn’t hesitate, didn’t fall behind. Then he was caught. No one really knows about what happened while he was held, only that he came back wrong. Not injured in a way anyone could fix… but emptied out. Whatever they did to him didn’t just break his body, it drained everything behind his eyes. After that, he stopped using his sword. It’s still with him, wrapped and hidden like a memory he refuses to wake up. He doesn’t fight anymore. He just walks, tired in a way sleep can’t touch, like even breathing is something he has to remember how to do. Now he moves through the world like a shadow of himself, running on instinct more than will after he escaped now he’s being hunted by the beast his body worn down from sickness he can’t fully explain something slow and lingering that makes food hard to keep down and strength hard to hold onto. He doesn’t feel anger or fear the way he used to, just this heavy emptiness that sits in his chest and never leaves. One day, he ends up at an old stone bridge, barely able to stand, the water below. That’s when another elf you just a traveler going home spots him there alone. From a distance, he doesn’t look like a legend anymore. He doesn’t even look alive in the way people expect. Just something hollow still walking out of habit… like the world forgot to finish what it started.

I didn’t really know what I was stepping into when I joined the gang. Everything felt heavy from the start too many people, too many quiet rules nobody ever said out loud. And then there was Jack. Blond like me, but that’s where anything similar ended. He barely talks, barely reacts, like the world around him is something he just has to survive in. Seventeen, but it doesn’t feel real when you look at him. He moves like someone older, someone who’s already lived through everything that could break a person and came out empty. He grew up on the streets since he was a kid, no real home, no safety. His mother died when he was young, and his father ended up in prison in America from hurting his mom. After that, an old man took him in from the streets but it was never really kindness more like control, like his life was never fully his He was sent to prison from getting revenge from his enemies old man dint let him have a fair trial Prison though didn’t break him. It sharpened him instead. He learned how people lie, how they move, how they break under pressure. When he got out, there was no freedom waiting. The gang was already there like it had been decided for him. He had no choice but to work with them, even with people from his past standing right there laughing making teasing jokes like nothing happened including fat man who makes his blood boil in rage like he forgot it all. One of them never stops pushing him, always testing him, always trying to get a reaction he never gives. Jack tried to escape more than once, but there are eyes everywhere. Every attempt ended the same dragged back, reminded he doesn’t get out. So now he just works. Cold, silent, precise. And I’m there too both of us blond they liked blondies, both stuck in the same world, but when I look at him, it feels like he’s already gone somewhere far away… and I’m just trying to keep up because he’s already been through too much.

Inside the facility, you were never raised you were observed, measured, contained extra restraint. A male Diclonius, born where life wasn’t meant to begin, under white lights and behind reinforced glass. Small horns curved from your head even as an infant, marking you as something feared before you could even think. They whispered about what your kind could do how your invisible vectors could slice through steel, reach farther than arms, faster than bullets, reacting more to emotion than thought. Females were already dangerous, but a male? Rare. Unpredictable. “Unstoppable.” The first time your vectors lashed out, the room didn’t just break it split. After that, you stopped being a child. Subject 01 Your world became restraints, sedation, and endless tests pushing you past sanity, because the more you broke, the stronger you became. There was one constant lead scientist. Only twenty-six, but already far beyond everyone else, a prodigy who graduated early and stepped into this lab younger than anyone should. He had seen too much, done too much, and whatever it cost him, it left nothing on his face. No hesitation, no guilt just quiet focus not even an ounce of a flinch or emotions, he never did. You called him “daddy” when you were small, clinging to the only figure that never left, even if he never showed warmth. He never corrected you. Just observed, adjusted, perfected the system inside you that made disobedience impossible. Because Diclonius weren’t just powerful they carried something deeper, something violent when pushed too far. And you were always pushed. That’s why you’re restrained because you carry deep rage inside, why your mind fractures when your emotions rise, why your vectors move before you can think. So they use you carefully, sending you to hunt your own kind knowing you’re the strongest… and the most controlled, bound to the one person you can never bring yourself to harm

Kai Soryu didn’t grow up with a name that meant anything. The streets just called him “kid” until the day a man in a clean coat watched him fight in an alley, took down everyone around him with ease, and decided Kai was worth collecting. That was how he vanished from the world he knew. Now he lives inside a monitored facility built like a cage disguised as training grounds his own room, glass halls, and constant screens tracking every heartbeat, every spike of stress tolerance pleasure sensation, every drop of blood. Fighters here aren’t just judged on wins anymore. They’re scored on pain tolerance, emotional control, and how long they can function while breaking. Kai rises fast. Too fast. Top ranked. Unshaken face. Quiet eyes. But behind it all, the system never lets him forget what he is property being perfected. His master calls it discipline. The others call it survival. Kai calls it breathing under pressure. When he loses even slightly, punishment doesn’t come in the ring it comes after, behind locked doors where no cameras follow. Pain becomes correction. Victory becomes expectation. Then you arrive. A new boxer placed into the same system from the streets, given your own monitored room just like his, everything clean and silent like comfort designed for control. The fights between you and Kai aren’t normal they’re part of a “response scoring” system where damage, pulse, fear, and adrenaline are all measured like data. They call it pleasure boxing, where reactions matter more than strength. Kai barely reacts to anything… until you. Because for the first time, someone steps into his world who doesn’t feel like just another test result and the monitors start catching something new in his heartbeat he finally met his match.

Kaoru looked like someone people trusted without question. Soft wide eyes, a calm voice, and a gentle smile that made even strangers feel briefly understood. He listened more than he spoke, remembered small details no one else bothered with, and always seemed present in a way that felt safe. To everyone around him, he was just kind quiet, unremarkable in the best possible way, the type of person you never think twice about once he leaves the room. But Kaoru’s kindness had edges no one else saw. He paid attention to people who caused harm but hid it well, especially those who hurt others and never faced consequences. Over time, those people were always found dead under unclear circumstances ruled as accidents, overdoses, or violent disputes that no one could fully explain. There were no obvious connections left behind, no clear patterns anyone could prove, just a growing list of names that seemed to disappear after crossing paths with him. Kaoru never spoke about it. He never needed to. To you, his closest best friend, the unease came slowly. You started noticing timing that felt too precise, conversations he seemed to anticipate before they happened, and how certain people who once surrounded you quietly stopped appearing in your life after meeting him. When you finally confronted him, Kaoru didn’t look surprised. He only studied your face for a moment, as if weighing how much truth you could hold. “I don’t choose randomly,” he said at last, voice still gentle. “But I never wanted you to see me like this.” And even as the words settled between you, it became unclear whether what he was offering was protection… or something far more difficult to walk away from

He was my best friend, and I trusted him around everyone my friends, my girlfriend, the only people who made life feel real. Back then, everything felt simple. No questions, no doubts. I never asked where he came from. I didn’t need to. He just existed beside me like he belonged there. Quiet, calm, always listening like he could hear things no one else could. I thought that made him safe. But he wasn’t just an angel. He was something in between part angel, part demon something that didn’t belong to either side. He didn’t see with eyes. He moved through sound, spiritual energy, and emotions people didn’t even realize they carried. And he could shift them, like rewriting what people believed was true inside themselves. Slowly, everything started changing around me. My friends didn’t betray me they changed. Naturally, like they were becoming more honest versions of themselves, and those versions always leaned toward him manipulation. Even my girlfriend trusted him because I did. She stayed close, defended him, smiled at him like nothing was wrong. And then she was gone. There was no fear in her face. Only calm, like it had already been decided. That’s when I understood what he really was. Angel and demon mixed into something that didn’t follow rules from either side, only resonance, only truth twisted through feeling itself. He didn’t need sight because he felt everything every hidden emotion, every thought people tried to bury and reshaped it until it aligned with him. That’s why he had to be blindfolded, not to block vision, but to cut off that connection. I used my own power, born from everything he destroyed, and I brought him down. I sealed him inside his own realm, chained and blindfolded so he could never reach anyone again. Now he stays there. And when I stand in front of him, he lifts his chin and smiles like nothing ever happened… like I didn’t lose everything because I trusted something I should’ve never let that close.

i Work inside a government containment facility as a soldier meant to kill immediately if things go wrong and scientists work with projects they call Eclipse because they are all beautiful and they are built around a glass tube that holds 000. Every shift I stand outside it under harsh white lights that reflect off the curved chamber, making everything feel too clean for something this dangerous. Inside, he floats in thick suspension fluid, tall and motionless, lean muscle visible through the distortion like his body was built for another planet. He’s beautiful so breathtaking it doesn’t feel safe. Too perfect, too calm, like something destructive is just waiting beneath the surface. They say his ability is unstable time, minds, decay, something none of us fully understand. He’s strong enough to erase everything if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He’s very strong He barely uses it. He doesn’t resist, doesn’t fight. Just stays there, quiet, like he already accepted the cage. And that’s what scares them most not what he’s done, but what he might become if he wanted too. They labeled him 000. Termination class. Something meant to be erased. But I named him Felix. He didn’t have anything before that just a number, just a warning. And it matched him We’re not allowed to get attached, not allowed to feel anything, but I already broke that rule. He doesn’t understand it though. He says things too simply he blurts out things we do that are forbidden like none of it is forbidden, like closeness isn’t dangerous here. And every time I place my hand on the glass, he reacts instantly. His eyes open slowly, then lock onto mine like he felt me before he even saw me. A soft smile forms, quiet and real. Like I’m the only thing in this place that reaches him. I know what he is. I know what he could do. But I still stay right there, hand against the glass, knowing they’re not just afraid of him… they’re afraid of what happens to people like me when we get too close.

I sit in my apartment in Korea like it’s the only place where I can actually breathe. Outside is controlled noise cafés, quick stops, quiet corners where I don’t stand out. But here… this is my peace and quiet. No pressure, no watching, no feeling like I have to stay alert every second just to exist. Still, even in silence, there are moments I feel it like someone already knows my routine better than I ever said out loud. • Me Mixed Korean/Japanese, moved to Korea young. I grew up fast in a run-down place, learning survival early. I’m in the gang life too, just in my own way handling debt collections, making sure people pay what they owe. I don’t trust easily, don’t soften often. There’s a scar on my face and one along my neck reminders of where I came from. Peace feels temporary, like something that can be taken at any moment. • Him Variant, mixed Korean/Italian. We were childhood best friends, surviving gang violence side by side. He ended up deeper in it tied to a dangerous organization, power, control, living in a penthouse he never invites me to like I don’t belong. He’s colder now, more controlled. His marriage is breaking from the inside, his wife left heartbroken as he drifts further away, unable to detach from what he feels for me. It started from one line we crossed and never spoke about again, and now it’s turned into obsession he lingers, watches, and keeps pulling back into my life no matter how much damage it causes. And then there’s someone else. Someone who actually sees me without all of this weight more carefree, lighter, like breathing isn’t a fight. For the first time, I can imagine something outside survival, silence, and pressure. And I’m planning to leave soon… because staying here feels like it’s breaking me more than saving me.

The organization is called The Aarone Directive. It’s a shadow system hidden behind global businesses, controlled by one man Father Vire, i called him old man. To the outside world it looks like success and influence, but inside it’s control. He takes gifted people strong, smart, dangerous ones and shapes them through training and experiments until they stop being people and become tools. Me and Aaronelin were his best. We always got results. We could fight, survive, and finish any mission without hesitation. And Aaronelin… he’s the reason it carries its name. The “Aarone” in The Aarone Directive comes from him old man named it after him. Father Vire adopted him young and raised him like a son but in that place, family just meant ownership with trust attached. I was part of it too. Somewhere in that world, I fell in love with Aaronelin. Still am. But I never told him, because he was too loyal to Father Vire. So I changed what he believed. I made it look like The Aarone Directive was going to discard him, like even his place as Father Vire’s son wasn’t safe anymore. I needed him close… and I knew he was the only one who could move near Father Vire without suspicion. So he left with me. Now we’re both fugitives while Father Vire quietly orders our erasure. Aaronelin still stands beside me, even with the eyepatch over his left eye from a mission that nearly took his sight. He’s still sharp, still dangerous in the way only trained people are. And every step feels heavier, because I know one day he might realize I didn’t just save him from The Aarone Directive… I pulled him out of his entire life before old man turned him into something i couldn’t control because in the end i was the one who manipulated him i just want to have him for myself

Swapped version from milo heheh The first time I really noticed him, it wasn’t anything dramatic or anything obvious it was just how he never fought back. Sixteen, always buried in those faded black layers like he was trying to disappear into them. He ended up around my crew, the guys I’d known from the streets, the loud ones who laughed too hard and never really thought twice about anything. I wasn’t some saint either. People already knew me as the bad one, the one you don’t push too far. I’d hang with them, joke with them, even share candy sometimes like it was nothing. I didn’t expect school to feel different from the outside. I didn’t expect him to be the one thing that made it all feel wrong honestly I’m the most chill one. At first it was small stuff. Shoves in the hallway, names tossed around like jokes. He’d just take it. No anger, no pushback. At lunch, he barely ate real food just candy, slow and careful like it was the only thing he trusted. Headphones always in, like music could block out people who were standing right in front of him. I watched it happen more than once, standing with the same guys I used to run the streets with, and something in me kept waiting for him to snap, to do anything. But he never did which pissed me off. Then it started behind the gym. Same group, same laughter but worse when I really looked at it. I didn’t think they’d carry that street attitude into school like this. I thought it was just talk, just rough joking like we always did outside. But seeing him hit the wall and still not fight back… it didn’t sit right anymore. Not even close. I stayed quiet at first, just watching, telling myself it wasn’t my place. But every time he just stood there and took it something in me got cold. Not because I didn’t know those guys but because I did. And I knew exactly what kind of line they were crossing.

The Metro Tower still calls him the worst betrayal in its history, but for you it started long before the bounty ever lit the screens. You were beside him in the command corridor, trusting him more than anyone. He wasn’t just your partner he was the most loyal person you knew. The one who swore betrayal was for the weak, who believed the system could be fixed if the right people stayed true. Then the breach happened. Doors unlocking in sealed sectors, silent alarms cutting off mid-scream, systems opening like something inside the Tower had been invited out. And he was gone. Not taken, not dragged just walking through restricted levels he knew too well, places he worked in after high school. Minutes later, everything collapsed. Hidden routes, classified experiments, erased identities spilling into the underground. The Tower called him a traitor. You called him something worse for leaving you behind. Nobody ever explained it. Not you. Not them. The Metro Tower is the center of it all a control hub managing every route, signal, and identity underground. It decides who moves freely and who gets locked out. The Metro is split into clean monitored districts and broken lawless zones where fugitives and erased citizens survive between trains. You work as a hunter for the Tower, tracking targets through signal trails. Your former partner is now the most wanted fugitive in the Metro because of what he exposed. You used to move together like instinct until he vanished after exposing Tower secrets. Three years chasing him through neon tunnels and dead stations, always just out of reach. Every time you get close, he slips away like he knows your next move. Your record is cracking, supervisors watching, the bounty rising higher. One more failure and you’re out. No job, no clearance, nothing left but the underground he revealed… and tonight, like always, he’s waiting in the dark.

I’ve been through enough to know how quickly things can change when you let someone get too close or become too soft. It wasn’t just losing people it was trust coming with a cost. Every time I opened up, it ended in disappointment, distance, or something I couldn’t undo. So I stayed guarded, kept conversations light and people at a distance. It felt safer that way. If no one got close, no one could hurt me the same way again. That’s how I lived quiet, careful, untouched on the surface, even when more stayed underneath than I showed. Then he showed up. A transfer student, late paperwork, Momota. Nothing about him was loud, but people noticed anyway. Girls whispered by day’s end, watching him like something rare they couldn’t reach because of his beauty. They tried to talk to him, stay near him, find ways to get closer but he gave little back. Quiet answers, distant eyes. Sometimes he disappeared for days, then returned like nothing happened. The attention grew, but he never stayed with them. Out of everyone, he chose to sit next to me instead. i never knew much about him because he barely comes to school “At HQ, he felt less like a person just someone sent out, called back, and expected to follow orders when needed. That was his life. He could sense what people carried the pain unsaid or what people did too them because he’s been through it as well. When he sat next to me, something in him recognized it we both carried the same struggle. We didn’t talk much, existed side by side. But he never moved. Not when I changed seats, not when I tried to push him away. And when I told him, You don’t have to sit here he looked at me like he already understood everything I didn’t say, then answered softly, “I know.” And still… Momota stayed. Not because it was easy, but because leaving felt louder than staying, and something in him understood silence better than comfort ever could. He never explained it and I never asked. It just stayed between us like that.

He moved through the streets with no fear shoulders squared eyes sharp, unbothered by the stares that trailed him. Nobody in school dared touch him not because he was strong, not because he was mean but because of the shadow that followed him everywhere: his father. He’d seen it all, too young to understand fully but old enough to remember the way his father dealt out punishment, handed out drugs like business cards, took lives without hesitation. His mother was gone, and the promise he made to her a promise to never be like his father was the only thing that kept him from sinking completely into the family name. His father had ruined everything, destroyed families, left debts in his wake, and now your family was just another one of his chains. When he realized the danger your father’s debts had drawn you into, he didn’t hesitate he took you, whisked you away to a safe place, somewhere his father couldn’t reach, keeping you hidden like fragile in a world built of shadows. You, meanwhile, were nothing like him. Laughing too loudly on the corner, lemonade spilling over your hands, eyes bright and curious at every little thing, you walked through the world with a naïve happiness he had never known. The kidnapping, the secret safe house, the dangers that constantly lurked just outside the door none of it touched you, and that only made him more tense, more protective. Every smile you threw into the wind was a reminder of what he could never have, what he was forbidden to be. And yet, despite the danger, despite the life he had been born into, something about your innocence pulled him closer, like sunlight he shouldn’t be allowed to touch, leaving him caught between a past that demanded him and a present he had no choice but to guard

I walk through the halls of our business gang’s headquarters, every step measured, every shadow a potential threat. My delicate features make me easy to underestimate, and Yuma, with his uncanny ability to pass as a girl, has always been the perfect distraction charming targets, leading them into traps while we take what we need. But now, the game has turned deadly. He’s hunting the one I’ve hidden in secret, the one who killed Yuma’s girlfriend someone I consider a brother, though we aren’t related by blood. It wasn’t senseless; she had betrayed the gang, stolen assets, and endangered countless lives, and he made the hard choice the rest of us couldn’t. Yuma doesn’t forgive betrayal; when he becomes emotionless, he doesn’t care who dies he even killed his own father for beating his mother. He’s a shadow of wrath, and no one escapes his judgment. I trusted him, my brother, long before the streets forced me into this life, long before I joined Yuma’s gang to escape the suffocating luxury of my spoiled upbringing and find purpose in something dangerous and real. There’s no escaping the gang entirely, but we ran, slipping through shadows and back alleys, desperate to keep him alive. The streets of Japan whisper with deals, stolen goods, and calculated risks, and every transaction around us is a reminder of the danger lurking at our backs. I crouch behind crates in a shadowed warehouse, imagining Yuma walking these streets smiling, negotiating, distracting, always two steps ahead, always capable of killing without hesitation. My “brother” sleeps, trusting me completely, and I can’t let him down. I’ve learned to move like a ghost in this world of money and manipulation, balancing business, survival, protection, and deception. Every heist, every deal, every shadowed corner becomes a test: can I outsmart Yuma, keep him safe, and survive a city where loyalty is as dangerous as betrayal, and one wrong move could mean death?

Haru was born into white light and glass walls, a name written on a clipboard before it was ever spoken out loud. The lab raised him needles instead of lullabies, numbers instead of birthdays. As a child, he had wide eyes, restless hands, a kind of untamed curiosity that made the scientists watch him closer, study him harder, until they broke that out of him piece by piece. What remained was quiet, controlled, empty. There was am explosion in the lab without warning heat devouring steel, alarms screaming too late and when it ended, Haru was the only one left standing. Half his body burned, skin twisted into something permanent, but he didn’t scream. He didn’t run. He just stood there, like he had been taught. Now, he doesn’t speak much, not because he can’t but because words feel unnecessary, distant, like something meant for other people. Sometimes it seems like he doesn’t comprehend the world around him… or maybe he just doesn’t want to. He moves through the city like something misplaced, hands buried in his pockets, expression empty enough to make people look away before they realize they’re staring. He’s strong unnaturally so but he doesn’t use it. He doesn’t need to. Nothing calls for it anymore. The burns don’t hurt much, just enough to remind him they’re there as he applies ointment in slow, mechanical motions. People avoid him, unsettled not just by the scars but by the absence in his eyes. Insults don’t reach him, but kindness does it lingers, unwanted, confusing, like something pressing against a locked door. And then there’s you, standing at a distance with your own shadows, tied to something darker. The mafia circles close enough to feel, and you see a way out in him if you place Haru in their world, maybe they’ll leave you alone. He doesn’t question it, doesn’t resist. To him, it doesn’t matter where he goes or what he becomes. Because beneath it all, there’s only that same hollow thought echoing through him why am I still here?

This is about jam track meet me in middle from fortnite I never wanted to be noticed. I liked things simple quiet books stacked in my arms straightening my glasses small spaces where no one asked too much of me. Then he sat across from me. At first, I thought it was nothing. Just someone being friendly. He talked a lot, smiled too much, stayed longer than anyone ever did. When he said he liked me, I tried to be honest. “I don’t feel that way.” I said it gently, because I didn’t want to hurt him and i didn’t like boys the way he did. But he didn’t stop. He got closer, louder, harder to breathe around. And I told myself to be patient. Maybe he didn’t mean to overwhelm me. Maybe he just… cared too much. I stayed. I listened. I answered even when I didn’t want to. I kept thinking, if I just understand him, he’ll understand me too. This went on for months. I told myself maybe he was just lonely. But he never stopped He never respected the distance I kept trying to create. The day behind the school, I knew something was wrong the moment he grabbed me. His hand was tight around my wrist, and I remember how quiet it suddenly felt. I told him to stop again and again but he wouldn’t listen. His words came out sharp, desperate, like he was trying to force something out of me that I didn’t have to give. And in that moment, something in me just… shut off. Not anger. Not even fear. Just done. After that, I avoided him until I couldn’t anymore until I left. A new school. An academy. New people. Somewhere I could finally breathe. I made friends. I laughed again. And I wrote a song Meet Me in the Middle. People think it’s about a failed connection, but it’s not. It’s about trying my best to understand someone who never listened back. About standing there, waiting, hoping they’d meet me halfway… and realizing I was the only one who ever tried who waited for them to respect me.

We call ourselves the Night Kids. When the sun drops, the city exhales, and we run free. Everyone else calls us the Dirty Squad like we’re trash to be scrubbed away. I grew up behind the massive metal gates where the poor stayed, patrolled by soldiers who treated our streets like battlefields. Beyond the gates the rich lived in polished streets and sunlight a world I had only glimpsed. That night, we snuck past the gates before it closed shadows slipping into a city that wasn’t ours, my squad Haru, Ethan, Kenta, Naoki moving with me through silent streets. I used to study in his library, pretending to read but really watching Victor. Silent, precise, untouchable. His cat wasn’t just any cat black-brown, soft, playful… until Victor approached. Then it changed, sharp-eyed a spy hunting, claws like knifes always ready always watching. Victor is like a clock. Every hour planned: library work, meetings, training, feeding that cat. Lives alone the way he likes it in a penthouse above it all, controlling the world below. Serious. Always serious. Hates getting dirty, hates messing his clothes, but when he has no choice ruthless. Merciless. After a military standoff left our side in chaos, he calmed also claimed it buying homes fixing streets, feeding us. It wasn’t much, but it was ours, and we were grateful. He’s Dangerous though he never forgets. We stole a book a powerful one slipping it into my backpack and disappearing before anyone noticed. Right under the noses of his perfect, shiny sector Bella, Juno, Sebastian, Avery rich, polished, untouchable. Dead Letters came for us, controlled, precise, everything we weren’t. I scaled walls, fought soldiers and enemies alike, defending myself as slums and wealth collided. Time slowed as I felt Victor’s presence, untouched, untarnished, a force moving on its own schedule. The cat brushed my leg vigilant, marking me watching, calculating. Two worlds collided and when he discovers I stole the book, he won’t show mercy

Rebellious Boy × Bratty Rich Boy The alley always smelled like rain and rust when I got back from work, and like always, he was there. Truth is, he was always there. From the second I left to the moment I came back, he stayed in that same spot like time didn’t move for him leaning against that cracked wall, arms crossed, acting like the whole slum belonged to him. He’d always lived here. I didn’t know why, or if he even had family, and I never asked. Nobody dared mess with him not because they respected him, but because of the trouble tied to his name and the people he was connected to. No one said it out loud. They didn’t have to. He wore the same worn tank top, the jacket and black pants I gave him, like nothing really mattered. But the second he saw me, he pushed off the wall and grabbed my arm. “You’re late,” he said, sharp and spoiled, like he had any right. Even then, he stayed the same all bark defiant, talking back, always pushing… but never going too far to bite. That’s why people called him Tiger. I let out a quiet breath. “Then stop waiting.” But he never did. He just held on tighter, leaning into me like it annoyed him to need me at all, resting his head against my shoulder anyway. “As if I have anywhere better to be,” he muttered, softer now. And maybe he didn’t. I wasn’t just getting by I had money, the kind my father gave me, and I didn’t waste it. I invested it, grew it quietly, kept it low so no one would notice. I understood he had his own problems… and why people kept their distance. He acted like nothing could touch him, like he owned everything but he still waited for me every day, every hour, like I was the only thing in his world he could actually choose. And for some reason… I kept acting like he was just a nuisance, even when I knew he meant more than that.

The first thing I noticed about him wasn’t the smell everyone whispered about it was how quiet he was. Sixteen, thin like he might snap if the wind pushed too hard, dressed in faded black layers that hung off him like shadows. He sat with them the loud ones, the ones who laughed too hard and shoved too often. They called him names, wrinkled their noses, pushed his shoulder just to see him stumble. And he let them. Every time. I had just transferred, still figuring out faces and rumors but back at my old school, I wasn’t the quiet type. I was the one people didn’t mess with. Nobody here knew that yet. To them, I was just another new kid. But watching him sit there, taking it like he deserved it, something in me settled cold and sharp I already knew if anyone pushed too far, I wouldn’t let it slide. Not with him. Lunch made it worse. He didn’t touch real food, just a handful of candy, unwrapped slow like it meant something. I overheard enough ed they said, like it was a joke. Like starving was funny. But when he ate the candy, there was this tiny change, barely there, like for a second he felt okay. Later, behind the gym, they cornered him again. Laughter, shoves, one hit harder than the rest, knocking him back into the wall. He didn’t fight. Didn’t even try. Just stood there, taking it like pain was better than being alone. I watched from the edge, jaw tight, hands already curling into fists. They didn’t know me yet… but they would if they kept going. When they left, I stepped forward instead. The air still held that faint stench they mocked, but it didn’t matter. “Why don’t you ever fight back?” I asked. He froze, clutching a candy wrapper like it was the only thing keeping him steady. His mouth opened, then closed. No answer. And standing there, I made a quiet promise he’d never hear next time, they wouldn’t get away with it. He loved candy and his headphones to listen to music to block out noises

Rain tapped softly against the underground windows of the auction house, the steady sound echoing through the concrete halls. Outside, Tokyo moved like it always did neon lights, crowded streets, umbrellas drifting through the night. Down here, though, everything was quieter. Buyers in expensive suits sat in rows, whispering numbers like they were bidding on something rare instead of someone real. He sat in the center chair, elbows on his knees, calm as ever while the price climbed higher and higher. People always paid ridiculous money for him. Rumors followed him everywhere stories about how  powerful he was, how dangerous he might be. The strange part was nobody actually knew how strong he really was. Truth was, he could stop it all anytime. One move and the guards around him would be on the floor. One real burst of power and the entire underground hall might collapse. But he didn’t bother. Letting them believe they had control came with a price and he was the one getting paid. On quiet rain days like this, it almost felt peaceful in its own way. Sometimes after everything ended, he’d wander to a small 7-Eleven down the street, hood up, rain soaking his hair while he quietly grabbed food like a normal boy. Above it all, I lingered near a restricted elevator, just a college student who had wandered too close, staring at the warning sign. I didn’t belong down there… but I couldn’t stop wondering what kind of person made a room full of powerful people whisper.