A World Without Justice.

Flashback...

The city burned, a canvas of angry orange and choking black. A small figure, a girl no older than seven, darted through the smoke-filled alleys, tears streaking down her soot-stained face. Wounds, shallow but numerous, marred her arms, testament to the desperate struggle for survival.

She squeezed into a narrow gap between buildings, the rough brick scraping her skin. Her breath hitched in her throat, a frantic, silent prayer.

"Where did she go?!" a guttural voice echoed through the ruins.

"Lost her," a second, equally harsh voice replied.

"Damn it! Find her! She can't have gone far!" The command was a snarl, and the heavy footsteps of the two men pounded down the street.

The girl's small body trembled, fear a cold knot in her stomach. Peeking out, she waited, her heart hammering against her ribs. When the sounds faded, she bolted, her small feet pounding the cracked pavement.

Up the stairs, three at a time, she flew, bursting through the apartment door.

"Mom! Dad!" Her voice, hoarse and desperate, echoed through the empty rooms.

She searched frantically, a growing dread tightening its grip. The bathroom door, slightly ajar, caught her attention. With a trembling hand, she pushed it open.

The scene that greeted her was a nightmare painted in crimson. Her parents, their eyes vacant, lay still in the blood-filled bathtub.

A silent scream tore through her, a wave of grief so intense it threatened to drown her. She collapsed, her small arms wrapping around their cold, lifeless forms.

"Mom... Dad..." Her sobs, raw and broken, filled the empty apartment.

Present...

Yaku Hanama, a girl with eyes that held the weight of untold nights and hair as black as the abyss, stepped out of a small, weathered wooden shelter. The city, a sprawling tapestry of flickering lights, stretched out before her.

"This is a world where crime is king," she murmured, her voice flat, devoid of emotion. "Justice is a ghost, a forgotten myth. People take what they want, kill who they please, with no consequence. If you don't have power, connections, you're nothing."

She sank down onto the grassy hill, her gaze fixed on the distant city. "A living hell."

"Yaku, dinner's ready!" Her grandmother's warm voice broke through her reverie.

"Coming," she replied, pushing herself to her feet.

When will this hell finally end? she thought, stepping back into the shelter.

Across the city, chaos reigned.

"HA HA HA! Empty the registers! Leave nothing!" A man's booming voice echoed through the convenience store.

Gunshots shattered the night, the sharp cracks mingling with the screams of terrified customers. Bullets ricocheted off the shelves, tearing through the flimsy displays.

A man with a cruel grin pointed his gun at the trembling cashier. "Hand over the money, if you want to live."

The girl's hands shook as she piled the bills onto the counter. The gang snatched the cash, their laughter echoing as they vanished into the night.

The Next Morning...

Yaku, dressed in her school uniform, emerged from her room.

"Going to school today?" her grandmother asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"Yeah. I should get going," Yaku replied.

"Be careful, Yaku. It's dangerous out there. Stay safe." Worry etched lines around her grandmother's eyes.

"I will, Grandma. Thanks." Yaku offered a small, reassuring smile and stepped out into the morning light.

The city, viewed from the elevated streets, seemed strangely peaceful. This district, at least, was considered safe, patrolled by the police, closed to outsiders.

Inside the Classroom...

The classroom hummed with the usual morning chatter.

"Hanama-san! Good morning! You look sleepy. Did you sleep well?" Hanako, a girl with a bright, cheerful smile, greeted her.

"Hanako. Yeah, slept fine. It's quiet where I live," Yaku replied calmly.

"That's good." Hanako's smile widened.

Jana Hanako, her first friend in this place. Kind and approachable, she often sought Yaku's help with her studies.

"Jan-chan! Yaku-chan! Morning!" A boisterous voice cut through the air.

Hajou Kamuro, a boy with an infectious grin, approached them.

"Don't call me Jan-chan, Hajou!" Hanako huffed, her cheeks flushing.

"Morning, Kamuro-san," Yaku said, her voice soft.

Hajou Kamuro, a loyal friend, prone to misinterpreting situations.

Before they could continue, the teacher entered.

"Everyone, take your seats."

As the class settled, the teacher made an announcement.

"We have a new transfer student. He was the top student at his previous school. Please welcome him."

The door slid open, and a boy stepped in. Short, black-blue hair, striking ocean-blue eyes, and an unnerving calmness. Something about him felt... off.

Something's not right, Yaku thought, a prickle of unease crawling up her spine.

The Transfer Student Introduces Himself

"Mikami Haruno. Pleasure to meet you all," he said, bowing politely.

"You may find a seat," the teacher instructed.

As Haruno scanned the room, Yaku watched him, her gaze sharp.

I've lived here my whole life, never seen him before. Does he really live here?

Haruno's gaze met hers, his eyes unwavering.

"Do you need something from me?" he asked, his voice calm and direct.

"No," Yaku replied, forcing a small smile.

He turned away, taking a seat near the back.

"He's strange," Hanako whispered, leaning in. "Do you think he's really from here? I've never seen him before."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Yaku murmured. "But maybe he just doesn't go out much."

"Maybe," Hanako said, turning back to the lesson.

"Hey, what are you two whispering about? Pay attention, Jan-chan, Yaku-chan," Kamuro chided.

They nodded, turning their attention to the front.

Break Time – 10:00 AM

As the lesson ended, Kamuro turned to them.

"What were you two talking about? You almost got caught."

"Nothing important," Yaku replied, her voice neutral.

"Anyway, I'm glad we live here," Kamuro said, a sigh of relief escaping him. "Anywhere else, we'd probably be dead."

"You said it, Jan-chan!" Hanako agreed.

Yaku's mind flashed back to the blood-soaked bathroom, a dark shadow falling over her expression.

Suddenly, the classroom door slammed open. Four delinquents swaggered in, their presence radiating menace.

"Tch. This place is always so damn lively," one of them muttered, kicking over a desk.

Fear gripped the classroom. The leader of the group grabbed a timid boy by the collar.

"Money," he demanded, his voice low and threatening.

"H-huh...?" the boy stammered.

"Where's my money? You were supposed to pay today."

"I... I don't have it..."

"This isn't good," Hanako whispered urgently.

"Should we do something?" Kamuro asked, his face tense.

"Yeah," Yaku said, rising to her feet.

But before she could move, Haruno stood up, his movements slow and deliberate.

"Do you mind stopping?" he said, his voice eerily calm. "You're ruining my snack time."

"Who the hell are you?" the leader sneered.

The delinquents surrounded Haruno, their eyes filled with malice.

"Listen, kid. This is our business."

"I understand," Haruno said, his voice still calm. "But do it somewhere else. You're trespassing."

"And what if I don't?" the leader challenged.

"That's enough!" Hanako stepped forward.

"This is our classroom," Kamuro added. "You have no right to be here."

The leader scoffed, then his gaze flickered to Yaku, Kamuro, and Hanako.

A chill ran down his spine.

"A-alright," he muttered, stepping back. "Meet me after school."

The delinquents stormed out.

Hanako, Kamuro, and Yaku rushed to the trembling boy.

"Are you okay?" Hanako asked.

"Don't worry about them," Kamuro reassured him.

Yaku's eyes drifted back to Haruno, who had returned to his seat, eating his snack as if nothing had happened.

He stood up for someone, without hesitation. He's different.

Later That Night – The Abandoned Playground

The school bell's echo faded into the evening stillness. Hanako and Kamuro, their figures silhouetted against the fading light, waved goodbye.

"So, Hanama. Hajou and I are going this way. See you tomorrow!" Hanako called out, her voice cheerful.

"See you tomorrow, Yaku-chan!" Kamuro added, his hand raised in a friendly wave.

"See you," I replied, my voice barely a whisper, and watched them disappear down the street. Then, I turned, the familiar route home stretching before me.

As I passed the abandoned playground, a rusted relic of childhood memories, a faint sound, a muffled struggle, caught my ear. Curiosity, a dangerous companion, tugged me closer. I approached the dilapidated fence, the metal cold against my fingertips, and peered through a gap in the weathered wood.

The scene that unfolded before me stole the breath from my lungs.

Haruno stood amidst the shadows, an aura of chilling calm radiating from him. The three delinquents, who had swaggered into our classroom earlier, lay scattered on the cracked asphalt, their bodies twisted in unnatural angles. Dark, viscous pools of blood spread beneath them, reflecting the dim moonlight.

In Haruno's grasp, the leader of the gang dangled, his feet kicking uselessly in the air. His face, contorted in a mask of terror, was rapidly turning a shade of purple that matched the bruises blooming on his neck. Haruno's hand, a vise of iron, was wrapped around his throat, the grip unrelenting.

The leader's struggles grew weaker, his eyes bulging, pleading for a mercy that would never come.

Then, with a sickening, decisive motion—

CRACK.

The sound of snapping bones, sharp and brutal, echoed through the silent playground. A spray of crimson misted the air, staining Haruno's pristine uniform. The leader's body went limp, his eyes staring blankly at the indifferent sky.

A heavy silence descended, broken only by the soft rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

Haruno slowly turned his head.

His eyes, cold and predatory, locked onto mine. A chill, sharper than any winter wind, pierced through me.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence. I turned, my heels digging into the cracked pavement, and walked away, my pace quickening with each step.

My hands clenched into tight fists, the nails digging into my palms. My thoughts raced, replaying the scene over and over, the image of Haruno's cold, merciless eyes burned into my mind.

Then, without warning, a strange sensation washed over me.

My lips curled into a slow, eerie grin.

For some reason…

I found it… amusing.

Flashback...

The small, cramped room was our sanctuary, a fragile bubble against the storm raging outside. My mother and I huddled together, our bodies a canvas of bruises, a testament to the violence we endured. I clung to her, my small hands gripping her worn clothes, refusing to let go.

"Yaku... r-run... away... Mother and Father... will be okay..." Her voice, weak and trembling, was a desperate plea, a lie whispered with love.

"No... I don't want to..." I sobbed, shaking my head, my tears blurring my vision. "I will stay with you, Mother..."

The harsh, guttural voices of men echoed outside, their words cutting through the thin walls like shards of glass.

"Don't let the girl escape," one of them ordered, his voice laced with cruel amusement.

"R-run... Yaku!" My mother's voice was urgent now, a desperate command, but my feet were rooted to the spot, paralyzed by fear.

Tears streamed down my face as the men outside began to kick the main door, the wood splintering under their brutal assault.

"I heard something in there," one of them muttered, his voice thick with anticipation.

The door cracked, then splintered, collapsing inwards.

"There she is! Capture her!"

My eyes locked onto theirs, my body frozen, a rabbit caught in the headlights. But my mother's desperate push, a surge of adrenaline-fueled strength, jolted me back into motion.

I turned and ran, my small legs pumping, my vision blurred by tears, the sounds of their pursuit echoing behind me.

One of the men pulled out a gun, the cold steel glinting in the dim light. He aimed at my legs, a cruel intention etched on his face.

"Stop!"

Before he could pull the trigger, my mother threw herself at him, a shield of flesh and bone against the impending violence.

"You little bitch!" he spat, his voice filled with rage, smashing the butt of his gun into her back. My mother collapsed to the ground, her body hitting the floor with a sickening thud.

I stopped, my heart a lead weight in my chest, and turned back. My mother lay motionless, a broken doll abandoned in the chaos. But even then, a faint smile flickered across her lips.

"You need to live, Yaku."

Those were the last words I heard from her before I disappeared into the night, a shadow swallowed by the darkness.

Present...

The classroom hummed with the familiar drone of school life, a world of trivial concerns and fleeting friendships. I sat in my seat, my eyes half-lidded, my mind adrift in a sea of memories. My gaze, unfocused, drifted to the right side of the room, where Haruno sat, an island of quiet intensity amidst the bustling chaos.

The image of last night, the brutal efficiency, the cold, calculating eyes, played on repeat in my mind.

"Hanama-san! Good morning!"

Hanako's cheerful voice, a bright spark in the dimness of my thoughts, snapped me back to the present. She stood beside my desk, her smile as warm as the morning sun.

"Good morning, Hanako-san," I replied, my voice flat, but then something caught my eye. "Did you change your hairstyle?"

"Bingo!" she grinned, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. "I got bored yesterday, so I decided to try something new. Well, how do I look?"

"It suits you. You look... innocent with that style."

"Eh? What's that supposed to mean?" She pouted, shaking me lightly, her playful annoyance a welcome distraction.

Before I could answer, the classroom door creaked open, drawing the attention of the entire room. Haruno entered, his movements fluid and silent, his presence commanding. He walked straight towards me, his gaze unwavering, his eyes locking onto mine.

Then, he spoke, his voice low and direct.

"Meet me at the rooftop after school."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked to his desk, settling into his seat as if nothing had happened.

I expected this. After what I had witnessed last night, there was no way he would simply let it slide.

Hanako, still beside me, furrowed her brows in confusion.

"Did something happen between you and Haruno, Hanama-san?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Nothing happened," I replied, my tone steady, betraying nothing.

She hummed in doubt, her expression clearly unconvinced.

"Maybe he wants to confess to you, Yaku-chan," a teasing voice echoed from behind us.

Hanako and I turned sharply to see Kamuro standing there, his usual carefree grin plastered on his face.

"You scared me, Hajou!" Hanako huffed, placing a hand over her chest, her heart still racing.

Kamuro smirked. "Why would Haruno-san want to talk to you? Did you two get close or something?"

"Or maybe… you're having a secret rendezvous?" Hanako added playfully, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

I rolled my eyes, a flicker of annoyance crossing my face. "Are you kidding me?"

Still, my gaze drifted back to Haruno, his figure a silent enigma in the bustling classroom. I watched him for a moment, a strange curiosity stirring within me. Then, a small, almost imperceptible grin formed on my lips.

After Class – The Rooftop

The rooftop was a windswept plateau, a world apart from the bustling school below. A gentle, yet chilling wind carried the distant hum of traffic, a constant reminder of the sprawling city beyond the school walls. From this height, the city was a tapestry of tall, lifeless buildings, their silhouettes stark against the fading evening sky. The streets teemed with people, each a solitary figure in the vast urban landscape, some engaged in animated conversations, others lost in the labyrinth of their own thoughts, oblivious to the world around them.

But beyond the mundane rhythm of everyday life, beyond the ordinary existence of the city's inhabitants, a darker world existed—a world where individuals like me and Haruno lurked in the shadows, their presence a silent, ominous undercurrent.

Haruno stood across from me, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, his posture relaxed, yet radiating an undercurrent of tension. His eyes, dark and inscrutable, locked onto mine, their gaze unwavering, searching.

"You saw it, didn't you?" His voice was calm, almost conversational, but a sharp edge lurked beneath the surface, a subtle threat veiled in a casual question.

"Saw what?" I asked, feigning ignorance, my own voice steady, betraying nothing.

"Don't play dumb," he said, his tone sharpening, the veneer of calmness cracking. "I know you saw it. But tell me... don't you think it's dangerous to witness someone's dark side?"

I tilted my head slightly, my eyes studying him, searching for any flicker of emotion. "I just happened to pass by."

Haruno let out a quiet chuckle, a sound devoid of amusement. "Well, I don't care. They deserved it. Wouldn't you agree?"

For a moment, I didn't respond, my silence a question in itself. I simply observed him, analyzing his every word, his every movement.

"But," he continued, stepping closer, his presence filling the space between us, "if you tell a single soul about what you witnessed..."

He stopped directly in front of me, his eyes boring into mine, his hand rising slowly.

Then, with a single, deliberate finger, he pressed against my chest, right over my heart, the touch light, yet laden with unspoken menace.

"You'll never see this world again."

The cold weight of his words pressed against me, a chilling promise of violence. But beneath the surface of fear, something else stirred within me—a strange, unsettling thrill.

The way he stood there, his posture radiating a quiet menace, the way he threatened me without a hint of hesitation, without a flicker of remorse—it sent a strange, exhilarating shiver down my spine.

A familiar urge, a dark impulse, bubbled beneath my skin, but I suppressed it, pushing it back into the depths of my being.

I slapped his hand away, the sound sharp and decisive in the quiet air.

"What a crude action," I said, my voice steady, my expression unreadable. "If I were the type to talk, I would have already told someone. But don't you realize?" I leaned in slightly, my eyes locking onto his. "I'm not someone who talks much."

Haruno studied me for a moment, his gaze searching, analyzing. Then, a smirk played on his lips, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

"Hmph. We're good then."

He turned and walked away, his figure disappearing through the rooftop door, leaving me alone with the wind and the city lights.

I remained there for a while, watching the students below as they streamed out of the school gates, their figures growing smaller as they dispersed into the city.

Slowly, I raised a hand to my chest, pressing the spot where he had touched, the lingering warmth a strange, unsettling sensation.

A grin, slow and predatory, spread across my lips.

The thrill he gave me was... different.

That conversation had confirmed one thing.

Mikami Haruno was a threat.

And I was going to enjoy dealing with him.

Meanwhile – Outside the City...

Beyond the school walls, beyond the city's artificial lights, something else stirred in the darker corners of the city, a shadow moving in the shadows.

A dimly lit alleyway, slick with grime and shadowed by towering buildings. A man lay motionless, his body twisted in an unnatural angle, blood pooling around him, a dark stain against the grimy concrete. The sound of distant sirens echoed through the streets, a faint, mournful wail.

Somewhere, in a high-rise building, a shadowed figure stood at a window, gazing down at the restless city, its lights a glittering tapestry against the night.

The city had its rules, its laws, its fragile veneer of order.

But people like us...

We had our own.