The air in the Gakuen Girl Academy girls' dormitory hung thick and still, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from an open window down the hall. SougoHotaru adjusted his top button,Kugure Boys Academy badge hanging on the left pocket, the silk damp against his neck in the evening smell. The sound of door locked clicked.Footsteps echoed softly behind him—three pairs of heels clicking in unison on polished wood. He turned slowly.
Reina stepped forward first, her bob cut swaying as she hooked a finger through his tie.
"Can't forget me, huh?"
Her voice was low, teasing, but her knuckles whitened where she gripped the fabric.
"Or did you come for us?"
Behind her, Ayaka fidgeted with her glasses, a blush creeping up her neck as she whispered,
"No one comes here… it's just us."
Miko slid onto a nearby desk, navy suit jacket already unbuttoned to reveal the swell of her breasts. She spread her legs just enough to catch his gaze.
"Show us what you can do, Sougo-senpai…"
Sougo's calm command sliced through the tension.
"Line up."
His fingers traced Reina's waist first, then Ayaka's trembling hip, finally Miko's exposed thigh. He kissed each slowly—
Reina's lips parting in a gasp, Ayaka whimpering into his mouth, Miko biting his lower lip playfully.
Clothes fell away: Reina's suit jacket pooling at her feet, Ayaka's blouse slipping from her shoulders, Miko's skirt shoved up her hips.
Sougo's hands roamed, pinning wrists and pulling hair as he murmured,
"Open wider,"
against Ayaka's ear while she trembled.
On the bed, Reina arched her back, Sougo driving into her from behind and slip his 17inch length and 2½inch wide dick into Reina's already wet pussy.
"Harder," she moaned, fingers clawing the sheets as he gripped her hips. "Make me lose control—" Her words dissolved into a cry when he yanked her hair.
Against the wall, Miko gasped as Sougo lifted her, her legs wrapping his waist. "Fuck, I can't believe you're still hard," she panted, nails raking his shoulders as he thrust deep.
Ayaka lay splayed on the desk, skirt bunched at her waist, Sougo's mouth on her nipple while he filled her. "Don't stop," she begged, tears streaking her cheeks. "Fill me… please…"
Later, on the floor, they moved in a slick tangle—
Ayaka riding him reverse cowgirl,
Miko grinding above him,
Reina pinned beneath him in missionary.
Sougo's thrusts grew urgent, sweat dripping down his chest as each woman shattered around him, Ayaka's soft whimpers blending with Reina's choked sobs and Miko's sharp cries.
"Inside," Reina pleaded, thighs shaking. "You're going to make me pregnant—"
Sougo groaned, spilling into her as Miko clenched around him again, her climax wringing him dry until he pulsed into Ayaka one last time, painting her thighs white.
The room fell silent except for ragged breaths and the sticky drip of fluids on wood.
Sougo sat against the bedframe, Reina slumped across his lap, Ayaka curled against his shoulder, Miko sprawled at his feet—all trembling, cum glistening on their skin and leaking from swollen folds.
He kissed Reina's forehead, fingers gently combing Ayaka's damp hair.
"I can't believe you broke me like that…" Reina murmured, her voice raw.
Ayaka hid her face against his neck, whispering, "I've never done anything like this… but I want more."
Miko traced a scratch on his chest, grinning weakly. "Next time, I'll tie you down."
Sougo chuckled, pulling Miko closer.
"Next time," he promised, thumb brushing Reina's tear-streaked cheek, "you'll all beg for it again."
They melted into him—spent, sticky, and utterly still—as the jasmine-scented breeze cut through the thick air.
The desk lamp in the girls' dorm room at Gakuen Girl Academy flickered weakly, its yellow bulb trembling beneath a dusty ceiling fan.
The air was thick — sweat, perfume, cigarette smoke that refused to fade.
Sougo Haruto sat at the edge of the bed, half-naked, elbows resting on his knees.
His breathing was heavy — not from exhaustion, but from that strange silence that always came after everything was over.
On the tangled sheets, three girls lay scattered;
one turned her back, another buried her face in a pillow, and the last stared at him, half-awake, her eyes hazy and soft.
They looked peaceful, as if the outside world no longer existed.
Sougo watched them quietly — not with lust, but with a strange wonder, at how calm others could be when he himself never knew peace.
He reached for the cigarette on the desk, thumbed the metal lighter — click.
The small flame lit his face; sharp jaw, tired eyes still burning with life.
He inhaled deeply, let the smoke swirl out of his lips, dancing into the air before vanishing against the ceiling.
"It's the same every time," he muttered. "Winning, losing, smiling, fucking… all of it feels empty."
He ran a hand through his damp hair.
In the small mirror on the wall, he saw a man he barely recognized —
a twenty-one-year-old with a body forged from hundreds of street fights, but eyes hollowed by fatigue.
Since he was a kid, the world taught him only two lessons — hit first, or be hit.
And every time he won, he lost another reason to keep fighting.
Sougo exhaled his last drag, pressing the butt into a half-empty glass.
Outside, a faint bell echoed — it was nearly five a.m.
He knew the sun would rise soon, and with it, another chapter of his life would close.
He stood, pulled on the school uniform of Kugure academy hanging by the window.
The collar was still stained with old blood — he left it there; a mark of pride.
He glanced back at the three sleeping girls, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Thanks… for one last loud and warm night."
He stepped onto the veranda.
The dawn air bit into his skin — cold, clean, almost cruel.
From there, the city spread beneath him like a fading ocean of neon.
Down there were the streets he ruled, the alleys he grew up in,
and the name that once made people whisper in fear —
Sougo Haruto, the Street King.
That title, once a crown, now felt like a curse.
Another cigarette lit up between his fingers.
In the distance, an engine growled — his men were waiting.
He pulled on his leather jacket, patted his shoulder once,
as if reminding himself: This is your last night out there.
Before leaving, he traced a line of words on the fogged glass with his fingertip:
"Life is short, but the night is always long."
He chuckled softly, leaving the room without looking back.
Dawn in Shimizu was never gentle.
Here, morning light crawled in slow, afraid to touch streets drenched with blood and sweat.
Cigarette smoke, sewer steam, dying neon — all mixed into a gray haze.
Somewhere far off, the roar of an engine tore through the quiet.
Sougo descended the dorm stairs in silence.
Outside the gate, his old Yamaha DragStar 400 waited like a loyal dog.
He knew that sound better than his own heartbeat.
One twist of the key, one deep breath — the world roared back to life.
"If this is my last day, then let me hear the world scream."
The throttle snapped. The engine howled — wild, raw, alive.
Cold wind bit his skin as he sped through the empty streets.
On both sides, the city still half-asleep: ramen stalls closed, signs flickering,
posters of school delinquents peeling on the walls.
Sougo lit another cigarette with his left hand,
the smoke trailing behind him like a memory already fading.
His phone buzzed — the name flashing on screen: Ryuya "Dogma" Hanase, his right-hand man.
"Boss, everyone's gathered. Four schools, three gangs, two city crews — over a hundred heads."
"Hmm."
"If we wait a bit more, the Higashida gang might show up too."
"No need. Even if they come, I'll go first."
Silence on the line, then Ryuya's hesitant voice.
"Boss… are you sure about this? We can still pull back. Let the reputation drop — at least we live."
Sougo smiled — that quiet, dangerous smile that only came when his mind was made up.
"Ryuya, you know why I fight?"
"Because you're insane?"
"Maybe. But more than that."
He inhaled deeply, eyes locked on the road.
"When I fight… the world shuts up.
No lies, no politics — just two fists and the will to stand.
That's the only time I feel free."
The gray sky slowly turned amber.
The sun crept between old buildings as the wind whipped his hair back.
He flipped his helmet visor halfway, letting the cold air slap his face.
The road to Kugure Boy Academy's field stretched ahead like veins of steel — long, empty, full of ghosts.
Every intersection carried a memory:
here he knocked out Rokkaku High's leader;
there he took five pipes to the ribs and still stood.
Every scar, every fracture — all of it built one name: Sougo Haruto, Street King of Shimizu.
"They brought weapons this time, boss," Ryuya said.
"Let them. I've fought men who don't know the difference between pride and fear."
"You're just one man."
"That's still one too many."
The engine screamed in high gear, his shadow stretching across the asphalt.
Police sirens wailed somewhere distant — but everyone knew, tonight Shimizu didn't belong to the cops.
Tonight belonged to a man who knew he'd die… and still laughed.
When he reached the bridge to Kugure High, he stopped.
From there, he saw the field — a sea of heads, school flags, pickup trucks parked like barricades.
Cigarette smoke and morning fog merged into the sight of a miniature battlefield.
He lit his last cigarette with the ember of the previous one.
"Guess a lot of people missed seeing me fall."
A thin smile crossed his face.
"Let's make it worth their time."
The engine died. Silence.
Then the crowd parted, hundreds of eyes fixed on him —
some with awe, some with hate, all with respect.
Sougo stepped off his bike,
peeled off his leather jacket, rolled up his sleeves.
The crow-wing tattoo on his left arm glimmered under the pale dawn.
A rival shouted, "Sougo Haruto! This is your downfall!"
Sougo tilted his head slightly, smirked.
"You're right," he said calmly. "But I never fought to rise."
"Then what for?"
"To feel alive..to laugh above you all"
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then a small rock hit the ground — the unspoken signal.
Sougo dropped his cigarette.
When the glowing tip met wet earth, he stepped forward.
"Let's live… like this is the last day."
The quiet shattered.
The dawn sky erupted with screams, roars, chaos.
A hundred boys rushed forward, the field trembling under their feet.
Sougo didn't move at first.
He stood still, head slightly bowed, eyes sharp — watching his men charge ahead.
When the first enemy reached him, Sougo's right fist snapped upward — quick, clean.
One punch. One down.
No words. No drama.
Only the sound of bone breaking and breath stopping.
The next wave hit like a storm —
pipes, bats, helmets, books, anything desperate boys could grab.
Sougo parried one, kicked two, elbowed three.
His body moved like a machine built for this.
Block. Counter. Sidestep. Strike.
Five down before he even noticed his knee bleeding.
A small grin touched his lips.
"Same old routine," he muttered. "Like morning drills."
"Boss! Behind you!" Ryuya shouted.
Sougo turned just in time — a bat smashed his shoulder.
He didn't flinch.
He spun, grabbed the bat, slammed it into the attacker's gut,
sending the boy flying backward three steps.
Sweat and blood mixed.
Smoke thickened like fog.
Rain began to fall — soft, cold — but no one cared.
The fight lasted nearly ten minutes.
When the last gang, Higashida High, joined in, they didn't yell.
They moved in silence — fear mixed with duty.
Sougo limped slightly now, but his eyes still burned.
"One versus a hundred," he said quietly. "Sounds like a movie title."
He laughed, dry and short.
They surrounded him, tightening the circle.
Sougo pulled the metal chain from his belt, wrapping it around his right hand.
He lifted his chin, locking eyes with the nearest kid — barely seventeen.
"It's okay to be scared," he said softly. "Just don't run."
The boy screamed and charged.
Sougo met him with a knee to the ribs.
A crack followed — not victory, just borrowed time.
The attacks came from every direction.
A punch to his cheek, a kick to his thigh, a pipe slammed into his back.
He fell to one knee, still managed to grab a rock and throw —
it hit another boy square on the forehead.
"Aim's still good," he whispered.
But the numbers were too many.
His left shoulder hung loose, blood dripping down his shirt,
turning white into faded red.
He bowed his head slightly, inhaling — the air heavy, wet, perfect.
"Finally… the world's quiet again."
In that silence, a punch from behind sent him forward.
He fell to his knees.
Vision blurred, but his gaze remained fixed on the sky.
The rain grew harder, every drop striking like applause from unseen gods.
Ryuya broke through the crowd, shouting, "Boss!"
But Sougo raised a hand — stop.
He knew this was the end.
"Don't come. I don't want witnesses… when I lose."
He sank slowly to the ground.
Rain mixed with blood, turning the dirt beneath him black.
Around him, the noise faded to nothing.
Inside his head — only his own voice, whispering like a prayer.
"If there's a life after this…
let me be reborn.
Not as a king…
but as someone who can finally rest when he loses."
A final, peaceful smile curved his lips.
Then — darkness.
Silence.
Then — light.
A blinding white washed everything away — no field, no blood, no rain.
Only the sound of breathing.
Soft sheets under his skin.
He opened his eyes slightly.
First thing he saw — a spotless white ceiling.
Then his own body: not the hard muscle and tattooed skin,
but soft, pale flesh. Round arms. A soft belly.
Sougo froze.
He lifted his hand, pinched his cheek.
Soft. Squishy.
He tried to sit up, but the body was heavy — unfamiliar.
"What… the hell?"
He turned toward the mirror beside the bed.
A round face stared back — long hair hiding the eyes, soft cheeks, the look of a nerdy schoolboy.
On the wall hung a crisp academy uniform, the name tag stitched neatly on the chest:
—KIRYUU KIZAKI.
His mouth hung open for a long moment before a rough, throaty laugh escaped.
"Hah… so this is my new world?"
He stood, unsteady on his feet, but the smirk never left his lips.
From outside the room came the faint noise of chatter — the Kizaki family, perhaps.
He took a deep breath, met his new reflection in the mirror, and spoke quietly:
"Alright then. Kiryuu Kizaki — new world, new body…
but I'm still Sougo Haruto."
He clenched his fist, the veins beneath the soft flesh tightening.
"And I still know how to fight."
End of Chapter 1