After wiping the floor with Ikumi and Aoi, Souta and Ren walked down the quiet corridor side-by-side.
Suddenly, Ren stopped dead in his tracks.
He was standing directly outside the classroom where he had locked Yeamori earlier.
Souta, who had kept walking, noticed the silence.
He paused, glancing back over his shoulder to see Ren completely frozen in front of the door.
Walking back, Souta placed a heavy hand on Ren’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong?”
Ren’s face paled slightly.
A rare look of genuine dread crossed his features.
“I… I locked Yeamori inside.”
Souta’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he quickly brought a hand over his mouth, trying to muffle his amusement.
Ren caught the subtle crinkle in his eyes.
“Wait a minute… are you laughing?”
Souta immediately turned his back to him, already walking away down the hall with a lazy wave of his hand.
“You’re on your own with that wrath. Good luck.”
Ren watched Souta abandon him, then slowly turned his gaze back to the wooden door.
He took a deep, heavy breath, exhaled slowly, and turned the handle.
Click.
The room was completely silent.
Yeamori was sitting quietly on the edge of a desk.
Her head was bowed, her hair falling forward to completely obscure her face.
Ren blinked, caught off guard.
‘Why is she so quiet…?’
He approached her cautiously.
When he reached the desk, he dropped down to one knee, trying to peer up through her hair to see her expression.
“Yeamori…?”
Snap.
Before his brain could even process the movement, Yeamori’s hand shot out.
Her fingers clamped onto his ear—and violently twisted.
“You absolute idiot!”
“Agh! Ow—ow—ow! That hurts!” Ren winced, his usual stoic demeanor completely shattering.
Yeamori’s voice trembled with poorly suppressed anger.
“Do you have any idea how heavily injured you could have gotten?!”
“…Yeah.”
She didn’t let go, glaring down at him.
“And if you ended up unconscious in a hospital bed, who do you think would have to take care of you, huh?!”
Despite the stinging pain radiating from his ear, a tiny, genuine smile tugged at the corners of Ren’s mouth.
“Ah!~ You would.”
That was the wrong answer.
Yeamori’s face flushed red.
She twisted his ear even harder, making it feel like it was going to swell to twice its size.
His voice softened immediately.
“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
Looking into his eyes, the fierce anger in Yeamori’s gaze slowly began to melt into a fragile calmness.
With a soft sigh, she finally released his aching ear.
“Don’t… don’t ever lock me away again.”
“Okay.”
Yeamori slid off the edge of the desk, her feet gently touching the floor.
Ren stood up from his knees to meet her level.
He looked at her, his earlier smile returning.
It was a soft, reassuring look—as if silently telling her, ‘It’s safe now.’
Without saying another word, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.
He rested his face against her shoulder, his expression entirely at peace.
The chaotic, violent energy of the fight from just moments ago was completely gone.
Caught by surprise, Yeamori stiffened for a second before slowly relaxing into his embrace.
A tiny, affectionate smile graced her lips as she leaned into him, thinking to herself,
‘Seriously… what is wrong with him every single time?’
Ren was walking up the stairs to his apartment building when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Pulling it out, he saw a notification pop up.
A message from Souta.
Souta.
I’ll send you a location tomorrow.
Make sure you show up, okay Ren?
Ren quickly typed out a reply.
Ren: Understood.
Awaiting your command.
He unlocked the door to his flat, walking quietly down the hallway.
He dropped his bag in his bedroom, washed up in the bathroom, and ate his dinner in absolute silence.
A little while later, he collapsed onto his bed.
Staring up at the blank ceiling, his eyelids began to grow heavy.
‘With how exhausted I am today…’ he thought, closing his eyes.
‘…I’m going to sleep like a rock.’
Next Day, Afternoon — District Zero
Hio, Masaki, and Souta were already waiting at the rendezvous point when Ren approached from behind.
“Sorry I’m late, guys,” Ren said, his tone perfectly calm.
Hio turned, his eyes sizing Ren up.
“So, you must be Masaki’s younger brother?”
Hio extended a hand with a polite smile.
“I’m Hio Kazanami. Nice to meet you.”
Ren took his hand, returning the smile.
“Likewise.”
Standing nearby, Masaki felt a faint flicker of pride seeing his brother, though he expertly hid it behind his usual stern expression.
He looked at Ren, his voice dropping into a serious, commanding tone.
“Ren. Keep your guard up here—double what you usually do. Ninety-five percent of the people in this district are either heavy drug consumers, bounty hunters, or corrupt businessmen.”
Hio nodded, keeping his voice low as he addressed the group.
“Our objective today is purely observation. We need to see exactly how this new drug operates in the field.”
Souta and Ren answered in perfect unison.
“Understood.”
The deafening roar of the crowd echoed violently against the cold iron walls.
Masaki and Souta entered smoothly through a secondary vehicle gate in their car—their expressions completely calm, treating it like just another routine drive.
Meanwhile, Ren and Hio navigated through a narrow, suffocating alleyway, eventually emerging onto the upper observation stands of the underground arena.
The air was foul.
A heavy, intoxicating cocktail of gunpowder, stale sweat, and cheap alcohol.
It was the raw, unfiltered scent of the underworld.
There wasn’t a single ordinary citizen in the crowd.
Billion-dollar corporate executives, ruthless Yakuza heads, and shadowy smugglers were packed together in one massive, chaotic room.
In a dimly lit corner, a smuggler casually placed a cleanly folded white packet onto a silver tray.
A waiter wordlessly picked it up, slipping away to deliver it to a VIP box above.
On the other side of the stands, a heavily built man took a deep drag from a blunt.
His bloodshot eyes were wide with madness, watching the bloodsport below as if it were a holy festival.
Right at the front, a bald bookie frantically swiped at a tablet, updating the betting rates with every punch thrown in the ring.
“Next hit! Two-to-one odds!” his voice screamed over the blaring speakers.
In the dead center of the arena, two fighters circled each other like caged beasts.
Blood and sweat dripped heavily onto the concrete floor.
With every brutal impact, the crowd roared as one massive entity—
“OOOOH!”
“KILL HIM!”
“FINISH IT!”
Every cheer, every bloodthirsty scream vibrated through the air.
It was an entirely different world, completely severed from Tokyo’s laws and daylight.
Masaki calmly adjusted the collar of his jacket, glancing sideways at Souta.
“See that? This is their real market… building profit on top of blood.”
Ren stared down from the stands, his eyes wide as he took in the overwhelming sights and sounds.
The smoke, the deafening noise, the pure, unfiltered greed suffocating the room.
Beside him, Hio spoke, his voice barely a soft murmur over the roaring crowd.
“Welcome to District Zero… The place where anything is possible.”
—Chapter 11 End—