To the outside world, Takashiro Academy was sacred ground.
Newspapers praised it. Politicians funded it. Parents whispered its name like salvation.
But inside the walls, the students called it something else.
Procedure Zero.
Not a class. Not a rule. A system.
An unspoken law that crowned the strong and crushed the weak.
The iron gates loomed against the morning sky, black steel cutting shadows across the street.
Kairo Sumeragi stepped through them for the first time.
His uniform was neat, but secondhand. His shoes polished—not by wealth, but by discipline.
His eyes scanned the tide of students, and the divide was immediate.
Legacies — heirs of old money and old names. They moved like royalty, arrogance flowing in every gesture.
Middles — rich, but desperate to prove themselves. Loud. Restless. Pretenders.
Scholars — the poor but brilliant. Tolerated only because their grades polished the academy's reputation.
Kairo's jaw tightened.
So this is the world you chose, Reiji…
He wasn't here for prestige.
Not for friends.
He was here for the brother who once walked these halls—
and never walked out alive.
"Oi! You're the transfer, right?"
Kairo turned.
A round-faced boy waddled toward him, tie crooked, smile too big to be fake.
"I'm Daisuke Hayama. Second year." He panted, then grinned wide. "Respect. Not everyone survives their first week here."
"Kairo. Sumeragi."
Something flickered in Daisuke's eyes at the name, but he didn't press.
"Well, I can show you around. You'll need someone to explain—"
"Hayama."
The single word froze the air.
A group approached.
At their center walked a tall boy, streaks of crimson through his dark hair, blazer hanging loose, grin sharp.
Renji Akabane.
Whispers snapped through the crowd.
He wasn't Legacy. He didn't need to be.
Here, his name carried its own gravity.
Renji stopped in front of them. His gaze pinned Daisuke.
"What did I say about wagging your tail without my permission?"
Daisuke stiffened. "R-Renji, I was just—"
Renji's hand clamped his shoulder, squeezing until Daisuke winced. His grin slid toward Kairo.
"And you. The new Scholar." He smirked. "Brave of you, playing with my dog."
Kairo's voice was low, steady.
"Dog?"
Renji tapped his chest. "Stray Dogs. Remember the name."
Laughter rippled around them.
A Scholar daring to stand against him? That was spectacle.
"Let go of him," Kairo said.
The courtyard stilled.
A Scholar giving Renji orders? Suicide.
Renji blinked, then burst out laughing. "You've got teeth." He shoved Daisuke aside, grin feral. "Let's see if you've got bite."
He lunged.
Kairo pivoted, twisting Renji's wrist in a reflexive move. Surprise flashed in Renji's eyes as his balance broke. Gasps erupted around them.
Kairo released, stepping back into a ready stance. Calm. Controlled.
Renji's grin sharpened. "Not bad… for a corpse-in-waiting."
He surged forward again—
"Enough."
The voice wasn't loud, but it cut through everything.
A girl stepped between them. Black hair tied neat. Glasses catching the light. Her presence carried weight sharper than steel.
Hana Fujimoto.
Her gaze flicked between Renji and Kairo. "The bell rang. If you want to act like dogs, do it after class. Don't waste our time."
Renji clicked his tongue, irritation twisting back into a grin. He leaned close to Kairo, voice low.
"You're lucky, Scholar. Luck runs out fast."
He brushed past Hana. The circle broke.
Daisuke tugged nervously at his blazer. "Th-that was close. Renji doesn't forget faces."
Hana adjusted her glasses, sparing Kairo a glance. For the faintest second, her lips curved.
"…He didn't flinch."
Then, louder: "Try not to die on your first day. That would be… inconvenient."
She walked away.
The classroom buzzed.
Renji sprawled in the back like it was his throne. Hana sat by the window, already reading.
Daisuke waved frantically. "Here—sit—before—"
"You're lucky," Renji's voice cut through. "We're classmates. That means I'll see you every day, Scholar. When I'm bored, maybe I'll make you heel."
The class laughed. Some nervously. Most with amusement.
Kairo ignored him, opening his notebook calmly. He wants me to react. Not today.
The sliding door slammed open.
A tall man strode in, suit wrinkled, cigarette dangling unlit. His sharp eyes swept the room.
"Sit."
The room obeyed instantly. Even Renji leaned back.
"I'm Homura Kisaragi, your homeroom teacher. Don't bother remembering my name if you won't last till finals."
He scrawled across the board in bold strokes:
SURVIVAL.
"Takashiro isn't a school. It's a battlefield. Some rise. Most break. The rest…" His eyes paused on Kairo. "…disappear."
He pocketed the chalk. "Class dismissed."
Shock rippled the room. Then chatter erupted as Homura walked out, smoke trailing.
Daisuke leaned close, whispering fast.
"Okay. You really want to know how this place works? Listen."
Kairo nodded.
"Three tiers. Legacies at the top—born power. Middles next—loud, clinging. Scholars at the bottom. Brains without money. Useful, not respected."
"And Procedure Zero?" Kairo asked.
"The unwritten law. Enforced by the Student Council—five members, all Legacy. On paper, they run festivals. In reality, they decide who survives. At the top is Riku, the President. Calm. Polite. Dangerous."
Kairo tapped his notebook. "And the King?"
Daisuke's voice dropped. "Above the Council, there's Daigo. The King of Takashiro. When he speaks, even Riku listens."
"And Renji?"
"Leader of the Stray Dogs. One of five crews. Two Legacy, three poor. Without him…" Daisuke's voice cracked. "…I'd be eaten alive."
"You chose a leash," Kairo said flatly.
Daisuke looked down. "…It's the only way I've lasted."
Kairo said nothing. His silence pressed heavier than denial.
By sunset, the campus thinned.
Kairo wandered to a derelict building crouched in shadow. Across its wall sprawled graffiti in jagged black paint:
CROW NEVER DIES.
A massive crow spread its wings above the words, feathers slashed like scars.
Kairo studied it, the faintest smile tugging his lips.
"A warning… or a promise."
Outside the gates, neon signs flickered to life.
A sleek black car pulled up. Its door opened.
A girl stepped out. Long, silken hair catching the glow of dusk. Uniform flawless. Every step carried grace untouched by fear.
Whispers rippled:
"Amane…"
"Of course. No one else rides like that."
"She's different."
Kairo froze. Her eyes brushed his for half a breath—distant, untouchable.
"She's Amane Yukishiro," someone whispered. "Vice President of the Student Council."
The car pulled away. Amane disappeared into the academy's gates.
Kairo stood watching, curiosity tangled with awe.
"…Another piece on the board."
So this is Takashiro.
This is Procedure Zero.
And I just stepped into its jaws.