"He just up and died! I swear on my life!" Cedrick pleaded.
A tall, lean man with big round glasses and a forgettable face, Cedrick was on his knees with his hands raised to the sky, arms so straight it looked as if he were trying to grab and dirty the pristine white ceiling of this hospital room.
BANG
The room trembled. Cedrick hunched lower but kept his arms up, struggling to meet the glare of the huge burly man who'd just driven his fist clean through the wall of the private hospital room.
"CEDRICK, DO NOT LIE!" the burly man—nicknamed Toad—roared, pulling his fist out of the wall as blood dripped from his knuckles and drywall crumbled from his muscular arm.
"I–I'm not!" Cedrick shouted, his voice cracking with desperation more than anger.
Toad started toward him—but a harsh cough cut through the tension, followed by the slow taps of leather soles on tile.
"Yall are technically patients, but if it was my decision I would have never let any of y'all in my hospital."
An elderly doctor that seemed more cowboy than physician, stood framed in the doorway. Clipboard in hand, he flipped through pages of test results with a scowl.
"Maybe all your yelling killed him. The boy on the floor is right—there's no sign of any cause of death. It really does look like he just 'up and died.'"
His eyes flicked to the shattered wall. "And who's paying for that? Your boss is dead."
Every sentence stabbed another hole in the hearts of the members of Counter.
The brutal, unmistakable truth: their boss—no, their best friend, brother, father; the man called The Unmoving Ocean, named Kenzo—was dead, with absolutely no one to blame. No disease, no assassin, no disaster. Just death itself. A clean cut by the reaper's scythe.
Kenzo had never been a man to look at with contempt. He was a man who demanded respect: tall, chiseled, hands heavy with rings, a full but trimmed beard that simply said, Don't mess with me.
And now he is gone.
He left behind a family—not just his subordinates, not just his friends, not just the people who looked up to him.
He left behind a son. Jin. Fifteen years old. A boy Kenzo had hidden away from the world, terrified it would hurt Jin the same way it had taken his wife.
His beloved wife, the woman who had stood by him from the start of his rise to the top.
She had believed in his rise from the very beginning. Together they'd built a reputation feared by hundreds of thousands. But that fear struck back.
When word spread that Kenzo's heir was on the way, his enemies decided they couldn't allow the legacy to solidify.
Five months into her pregnancy, they shot her — in the head — in her own home.
She had been sitting on a rocking chair in a sun-lit nursery in front of a dazzling window. Stuffed animals lined the drawers and the beautifully intricate wooden crib. A soft puzzle-patterned mat covered the floor. Small onesies with the name "Jin" stitched on the front hung ready for the baby's arrival.
She was reading a children's book aloud when it happened. Though he was still in her womb, she believed Jin could hear her soft voice.
That moment shattered Kenzo.
Once, he'd been a man of fists. As his gang grew, he no longer had to throw punches himself. But after her murder he became something else — a tide surging out of control, a lion in a glass cage full of chickens. He no longer cared who watched. Revenge consumed him.
Everyone connected to the killers — family, friends, entire organizations — were uprooted and dragged into the light as living exhibits of Kenzo's fury.
but before was the birth — or rather, the premature birth — of his son Jin…
Fifteen years prior to Kenzo's death, hours after his wife had been killed. Emergency intensive care ward.
"P-please, Sir Kenzo," a doctor gasped as he jogged alongside the furious man. "Take into account that we may be able to technically keep your wife alive so the baby can—
Kenzo's glare cut him off. "You will NOT disgrace my wife's body by turning her into a living doll. My boy will live."
The doctor scrambled through his clipboard, ready to show Kenzo data, proof of past successes.
"B-but sir, loo—
BOOM.
Kenzo's boot hit the tile like a gunshot, silencing him. Kenzo would not see his wife reanimated; if his son was meant to live, he would live.
Back to the present.*
Toad became the second person in the room to crash to his knees. The realization of his leader being dead hitting him harder than ever.
"No… no please, bos—Kenzo, please. Your son needs you. You sheltered him too much, how are we to—"
"Please stop."
A quiet, distant voice drifted from the doorway as it slid open.
Jin walked in.
He looked too young even for fifteen. Pale skin so light it felt like you could see through it. With lush, curlyish blond hair streaked with white, falling to his shoulders.
Toad stumbled to his feet, fully aware how important Jin's presence outside the mansion was.
"Jin… your father would not have let you out of the house." Toad paused, giving the boy time to realize his own actions. As he was starting again— Jin interrupted.
"I'm free now," Jin said evenly.
The words froze the room. The pressure dropped. Before anyone could speak, he continued.
"Fifteen years I was a prisoner in my own home."
"Jin, no, you wer—" Toad tried to interject but was silenced.
"Yes I was. My father feared the world—the world I never experienced."
"Cut short as soon as my premature birth, living in a windowless room, two men always outside the door ready to jump at any notice. I heard all about it. Adventures of the outside world through media, through word—every story is another puzzle piece in my brain. The experiences of the people in the mansion I overheard."
"Fun outings to bars, relationships and dating, money problems, old terrible bosses, fun games meant to be played with others, drunken fights between rival gangs, drugs, alcohol, sex, guns, weapons. I wanted it all."
"And now I can have it"
"Stop, please…" Toad tried again. "Your father had to shelter you. Your mother was killed. He was scared the same thing would happen to you." The words Kenzo had told his closest people but always wanted to tell his son himself spilled out.
"Kenzo loved you so much. He did what was best for you. All those people after his family—after you—they wanted to break his mind. They didn't want Kenzo dead, they wanted him tortured."
Jin's previously neutral expression began to crack. Emotions he had prepared to hide bubbled up as Toad spoke.
He knew why he had been sheltered. His inhuman hearing had allowed him to listen to nearly every conversation in the mansion. Kenzo's enemies always ready to strike if the moment appeared.
and Jin heard his father always spoke highly of his learning capabilities, the new skills he mastered. Praising even the smallest things like Jin growing a few centimeters, or every time he lost a tooth.
Jin didn't hate his father. This act was showboating. He didn't want to look weak in front of people he respected. And Jin knew what was next: he would become the next leader of Counter.
He looked down at his clenched fists, nails threatening to pierce his thin skin but too weak to do so.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I don't want to look weak. I'm scared. Those fifteen years in that house didn't train me for this. All the schooling, all the media I consumed, the talks with Father, with teachers, even the monthly doctor visits—nothing prepared me for this moment."
Toad straightened, trying his best to act like a good adult. Everyone in the room knew Jin would be the next leader. They also knew his almost childish outburst was about that burden.
He walked forward, arms open, and wrapped Jin in a giant bear hug.
"You'll become a great leader. We'll all be here to support you. We all will. Though your father did talk you up quite a lot—it may be hard to reach expectations". Toad said with a hearty laugh trying to lighten the room in this very hard time.
Jin's eyes welled. Looking around the crowded hospital room. The thought of all these people actually supporting him began to steady his heart.
He allowed himself a small smile, ready for the next adventure of his life: the young leader of a top gang, with more freedom than he had ever known.
"Okay… I will do it. I will become the next head and lead you all with as much love and respect as my father did."
The room lit up with smiles. Some people even cried. Jin drew a long, fresh breath, and closed his eyes in relief.
He opened his mouth to speak again.
"My first plan of act—"
Silence. No wheels of medical carts in the halls. No voices of doctors or patients. Nothing.
He opened his eyes into a blinding wash of gold and silver.
As his vision adjusted, he saw it.
A throne room without end: marble walls, floating chandeliers and armor statues swaying with a happy hum.. At its heart, a gigantic golden throne atop a red carpet that seemed to pulse with a heartbeat.
On the throne sat a man so perfectly sculpted it hurt to look at him. The man looked at Jin with great enthusiasm and started to speak.
"You already have a plan? That's great!" Click