Aida Kensuke didn't understand what he was seeing. He simply stared, dumbfounded, at the scene unfolding before him.
At that moment, several men stepped out of one of the black cars. They wore sunglasses and had an air of cold, hardened detachment.
The sudden intrusion of so many vehicles into the school grounds—crashing through the gate no less—had already caused quite the stir.
Naturally, this included the attention of the school principal and the security staff.
"Excuse me, but you can't just barge in like this. Don't you know this is a school? Who exactly are you people?!"
The principal of First Municipal Junior High was a bald man in his fifties. Confronting so many strangers, he didn't back down, speaking with righteous anger.
This was Tokyo-3, after all—one of the most secure cities in the world. The principal had no reason to fear a bunch of thugs. After all, this city was protected by Evangelions.
"Hmph. Tell me—where is Class 2-A?"
A group of tall, black-clad men stepped forward, glaring coldly at the principal as one of them asked in a low, menacing voice.
"Huh? I'm the principal of this school. What business do you have with Class 2-A?" the man demanded, standing firm. "If you're parents, I'll have to ask you to leave. If you're here with bad intentions—don't blame me for calling the police."
Smack!
A loud, crisp sound echoed through the courtyard.
Without a word, one of the burly men stepped forward and struck the principal hard across the face.
The force of the blow sent the man crashing to the ground, a bright red handprint blooming across his cheek.
"Old bastard—looks like you're asking for it. You won't drink the wine offered, so now you'll taste the punishment."
The thug sneered as he muttered the old saying with a twisted grin.
"You—you can't just come in here and assault people!"
Hearing the commotion, several security guards came running, shouting furiously at the intruders.
But just then, a truly terrifying sight began to unfold before their eyes: all the remaining cars opened up, and one by one, more black-clad men poured out—dozens, then scores—until a stream of bodies surged through the gates and flooded into the school.
The sheer scale of it was horrifying.
The guards' legs started trembling. Their teeth chattered. No one had any idea what this army of men was here for, but the dread in the air was unmistakable.
Then a man, clearly the leader, stepped forward and addressed them calmly.
"We're with the Black Dragon Gang. We've come to handle a matter at this school. Anyone not involved—leave now."
"B-Black Dragon Gang…?"
"Wait, aren't they the biggest underground organization in Tokyo-3?!"
The guards were petrified.
None of them knew what to do. No one dared speak. They just stood there, frozen, their courage having long since crumbled.
"Now then, where is Class 2-A?"
The leader stepped forward, flashing a cold smile and showing a row of pearly white teeth. He looked directly at one of the trembling guards.
"T-That way…"
One of the younger guards raised a shaky finger, pointing in the direction of the classroom building, his face pale as ash.
"Thank you. God will bless you."
The man grinned with a twisted sense of irony, then took the half-burned cigarette from his mouth and shoved it into the young guard's mouth before turning and striding confidently toward the school.
---
Meanwhile, outside the school gates, a sleek black Cadillac was parked.
Its tinted window slowly rolled down, revealing a few familiar faces.
One of them was a strikingly handsome man, his face clouded with shadow and tension. Seated beside him was another man whose entire head was wrapped in bandages, his eyes occasionally flashing with cold gleams of hatred.
"Master Hattori, the show is about to begin. This time, we'll make sure that brat Kitazawa Ryota calls to Heaven and gets no answer, calls to Earth and finds no shelter."
Inside the car were Kishimoto Ishiki and Hattori Narumi.
Originally, Kishimoto had planned to handle everything cleanly on his own—eliminate Kitazawa Ryota in one stroke. But Narumi had insisted on coming along. He had to witness Kitazawa's downfall with his own eyes.
"Haha! Excellent! Though… are these Black Dragon guys really reliable? They'd better not mess this up. That bastard Ryota has to die today!"
Narumi's face twisted with fury and distrust. He clenched his bandaged fists and trembled with hatred.
"Don't worry. Just watch." Kishimoto smiled, clearly confident in his arrangements.
The Black Dragon Gang was the most powerful underground organization in Tokyo-3. Their boss, Yamamoto Takakazu, followed military orders without question. What few people knew was that the Black Dragon Gang had been formed by certain factions within the military as a way to launder untraceable funds.
Now, under Kishimoto's command, Yamamoto had mobilized nearly all of the gang's manpower to First Municipal Junior High—eager to use this opportunity to curry favor with the military.
And with Speaker Hattori Kojiro's backing, the police had been mobilized to seal off all roads and silence the media. For someone of Hattori's stature, such moves were child's play.
Now, everything was left to the Black Dragon Gang.
Whatever happened—they would take the fall. Neither the military nor Hattori would be implicated.
At this moment, the school had become a lawless jungle, poised on the brink of a bloodbath.
Leading the gang's operation was none other than their number three—the group's most feared enforcer:
Takei Munoi (OC), the "Asura of War."
The man who'd just spoken to the young guard? That was him.
Over the years, countless people had died by his hand. He had killed so many that he'd earned the nickname "Warlord Asura"—a title whispered in fear by the underworld.
If that young guard had known who stood before him, he might've collapsed from sheer terror—perhaps even soiling himself on the spot.
Now, Takei Munoi led his gang members up the stairs into the classroom building.
By now, the students and faculty inside had noticed something was very, very wrong. The sudden arrival of so many outsiders had thrown the entire school into panic.
"What do you think you're doing?! This is a school! You can't just do whatever you want here!"
One brave but naïve young male teacher rushed forward to block Takei's path. But he was quickly dragged aside by the gangsters.
They didn't hurt him. They weren't here to start a massacre.
They were here for one person—Kitazawa Ryota.
The teacher looked completely dazed as he was pulled away. His eyes scanned the line of gang members behind Takei, and the blood drained from his face.
There were at least two hundred of them.
What the hell were they here for?
A war?
He stood there, dumbstruck.
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