Keyaki Mall was a massive commercial complex built within the school grounds.
It was so enormous that it hardly looked like a facility attached to a high school.
Cafés.
Karaoke.
A movie theater.
An electronics store.
Supermarkets.
Convenience stores.
Nearly everything a student could possibly want could be found there.
“This place is incredible!”
“They really have everything!”
“Come on! Let’s buy some snacks first!”
“We’ve got 100,000 points—we’ll never spend them all!”
Students rushed through the mall with flushed faces and excited voices.
It was only natural.
That very morning, every freshman had received 100,000 points—the equivalent of ¥100,000.
For an ordinary high school student, it was an unbelievable amount of money.
Leaving the excited crowd behind, Kaoru Hanayama quietly entered the convenience store on the first floor.
He picked up one of the shopping baskets stacked near the entrance.
It was an ordinary plastic basket reinforced with a metal frame.
Yet…
Inside Hanayama’s enormous hand, it looked like a toy.
The shelves were stocked with everything from instant noodles and boxed lunches to toiletries and household goods.
The prices matched those outside the school.
A bottle of tea cost around 150 points.
An onigiri was roughly 300 points.
One point truly was equal to one yen.
(I should buy my daily necessities first.)
Hanayama slowly wandered through the aisles.
Shampoo.
Toothpaste.
Razors.
Soap.
Then…
His footsteps stopped.
In front of him was a small display shelf.
Free Items
Limit: Three Per Person Each Month
Hanayama narrowed his eyes.
The shelf contained plain, unbranded necessities.
Simple toothbrushes.
Small bars of soap.
Packages of dried somen noodles.
Nothing luxurious.
Nothing attractive.
There weren’t even price tags.
They truly were…
Free.
“…”
Most students would probably glance at the shelf, shrug, and move on.
Or happily toss the free items into their basket.
Hanayama wasn’t most students.
Inside his mind…
Every clue he’d gathered since arriving at the school suddenly connected together.
As the leader of the Hanayama-gumi, he had lived his entire life by one fundamental rule.
Nothing is ever truly free.
It simply meant the price hadn’t been revealed yet.
His homeroom teacher had already said it.
“This school is meritocratic.”
“Your value determines your treatment.”
Then there was the monthly payment.
100,000 points.
Deposited into the accounts of students who hadn’t accomplished anything yet.
To Hanayama…
One hundred thousand yen was insignificant.
He routinely handed out larger sums to lower-ranking members of the Hanayama-gumi.
But…
That was the underworld.
Here…
He was merely a high school student.
An ordinary first-year student shouldn’t be worth ¥100,000 every month.
Hanayama instinctively viewed the situation from the perspective of a yakuza boss.
(If I suddenly paid an unproven subordinate far above his worth…)
(Why would I do it?)
The answer came immediately.
Because he expected results.
Money was never charity.
Money was investment.
In return, the subordinate would be expected to accomplish something.
Take over enemy territory.
Collect impossible debts.
Risk his life.
Failure always carried consequences.
That was how the underworld worked.
Strength.
Money.
Territory.
Everything revolved around results.
But this wasn’t the yakuza.
This was a school.
There would be no gang wars.
No extortion.
No turf disputes.
So…
What did this school truly expect from its students?
Money?
Impossible.
Violence?
Even less likely.
Only one answer remained.
(Academic performance.)
(Grades.)
A bead of sweat slowly rolled down Hanayama’s scarred face.
The reason he had become one of the most feared men in Japan was simple.
His overwhelming physique.
His indomitable spirit.
His willingness to face death without hesitation.
None of those qualities mattered in a classroom.
There…
Victory belonged to those who could solve equations.
Memorize textbooks.
Score well on examinations.
Hanayama knew exactly how poor his academic record had been in junior high.
What if the school expected results in exchange?
And what if…
He failed?
In the yakuza world…
Failure could cost a finger.
Or a life.
This school obviously wouldn’t go that far.
But perhaps…
It would simply stop paying him.
Then…
When his points ran out…
The only food left would be the free somen noodles sitting quietly on that shelf.
For the first time in years…
Hanayama imagined a future that genuinely frightened him.
Every night…
His gigantic body squeezed into a tiny dormitory desk.
A mathematics textbook open before him.
Completely incomprehensible formulas covering every page.
A bowl of plain somen noodles beside him.
No meat.
No side dishes.
No cigarettes.
No bourbon.
Just endless studying.
(Could it be…)
(That I’ll have to study desperately… just to survive?)
Without realizing it…
His right hand slowly tightened.
The first thing to give way…
Was the shopping basket.
Crack…
The thick plastic caved in beneath his fingers as though it were brittle glass.
Crunch…
Crunch…
The reinforced metal frame twisted violently.
The steel rods bent inward with a screech, crushed as though squeezed inside a hydraulic press.
Hanayama blinked.
He looked down.
The basket had become an unrecognizable lump of mangled plastic and twisted steel.
“…”
Realizing what he had done, he quietly picked up the broken pieces along with the groceries that had fallen onto the floor.
Without saying a word, he walked to the checkout counter.
“I’ll take the shampoo.”
“The toothpaste.”
“…And I’ll pay for the basket.”
“Sorry.”
The trembling cashier silently accepted his student terminal.
After paying…
Hanayama picked up his purchases.
He didn’t look at the free-item shelf again.
Slowly, he left the convenience store.
(Studying…)
Walking beneath the afternoon sunlight shining through the glass roof of Keyaki Mall, Hanayama covered his scarred face with one enormous hand.
For the legendary boss of the Hanayama-gumi…
This marked the beginning of a battle far more terrifying…
Than any gang war he had ever fought.