Osaka, Japan – Year 2xxx
Shūen Mōro's fist skates across that slim distance separating themselves from one another; it's a carving motion, one forming a crescent arc originating by an unsolvable angle to the defenceless chin of its recipient.
Thud. Downed with immediate effect.
It echoes throughout the alley, aloft on the stale winter air: product of a dense crowd of silent students encircling what was once a pair of fighters but is now an individual who speaks in a tone dim enough to further darken nights on this night: "I-I said, leave me alone? Didn't I? I didn't want to fight; I didn't want to hurt anybody! What the, what, w—" Words can't resolve Shūen's black rage welling up like tears, substituting themselves with a primal roar that tremors the air. "…What the hell did I do to you people!? What did I do to deserve this treatment!? Huh!? Say something before I fuckin' murder all of you! Come on," There isn't enough oxygen to continue the tirade for much longer.
"Am I not a human being? I'm asking, 'cause you're all looking at me like I'm a piece of trash." Shūen's voice withers into no more than a whimper.
Not one person moves nor makes a sound, nothing does. Aside from the breeze. There are only blank faces – on the faces willing to still face him – wherever he gazes upon with those 'Eclipses in iris,' cloudy eyes so absent of light such they bear no reflection, plus narrow to the point of verging on lines parallel to eyebrows at the same altitude – knots in-between.
The silence stretches long.
No reason, I thought as much. I can't win even when I do. They won't accept me. He turns around to the limp body bedded in snow by his feet – barely conscious, barely breathing. Itsuki Mikado, nothing more than a heap. Not to be confused for a human being. "Oi, it's over already. I got the shit—" Itsuki rephrases. "You beat the shit out of me, we get it. No one else more than I do. So, what now? Prince of Hakuzetsu."
"Still calling me that? I beat the King and I'm still the Prince, what a joke." Shūen laughs dryly. "Why'd you force my hand King?"
Itsuki rises as if a newborn gazelle, legs violently quaking. Well-built, tall, in blood all over. The exact opposite of who stands in front of himself: thin, in ill-fitting – pristine – uniform, yet exuding an oppressive aura.
"…Didn't want to wear the crown anymore," He says, smiling, shoulders rising as if a great burden is gone from them. "The target's on your back now. Surprised? What did you think happens when someone beats the King? They're replaced dumbass—" He's cut off. Thwip. It's an unbearably weighty kick that emerges from a stance-less form, manifesting on Itsuki's bare flank as debilitating damage vacating the wind from his lungs.
No sooner than he doubles over to the ground does Shūen move to lop off his head with another one.
Boom.It sounds like a gunshot.
"I'll be the one to protect Hakuzetsu then." He growls, embittered.
Quiet cheers cascade through the then silent crowd, multiplying into an intense multi-layer of raucous applause. Those are the words they were waiting for.
It felt good to be cheered for, it's as if my entire life was leading up to this moment because all I've known is violence since the beginning. My father would fight with me when I was a kid, he usually won.
When I got older, he no longer had the upper hand. I killed him with my bare hands.
And it made me happy. I proved that I was worth something to him, he couldn't laugh at me anymore. Now nobody is laughing at me. They're all cheering for me.
He spreads his arms and basks in the cheers, floating on the euphoria of cruelty around himself.
Days later…
"There's a new face on The Streets, they're calling him 'Hakuzetsu Prince. Sick bastard by the sounds of the rumours." Takayanagi says, leaning against the glass of a storefront in the mall. "What do you think?"
"First the Thug Hunter, now this. They're rumours. I'm not gonna give them oxygen." Izawa takes a short pull from his cigarette. "Anyways. Up for Karaoke?"
"Don't change the subject… I'm just saying, it'd be cool to see you two fight."
"Yeah, whatever. Maybe it'll happen someday. I'm not interested in newcomers. I'll pay attention to them once they beat someone that isn't a small timer."
"Really living up to 'The Charisma of the Streets' name. Aren't you?" He bounces off the wall and sets off walking. "I'll take a rain check on the Karaoke."
"Yeah."