The morning bell chimed through Elite Heights Academy's marble corridors as Ren Tanaka shuffled through the grand entrance, his uniform perfectly disheveled. He rubbed sleep from his eyes, barely noticing the hushed whispers that followed him down the hall.
"Tanaka-san is late again..."
"Doesn't he know who his family is?"
"Maybe the rumors are true - he really is just a charity case."
Ren yawned, adjusting his crooked tie. He could hear them, of course. He always could. But today, like every day, he couldn't bring himself to care.
First Period: Economics
"Tanaka!" Professor Hayashi's voice cut through the classroom. "Since you're so fond of napping through my lectures, perhaps you can enlighten us about the recent hostile takeover of Nakajima Steel?"
Ren lifted his head from the desk, blinking slowly. Around him, the heirs to Japan's most powerful conglomerates held their breath. The Nakajima incident had been brutal - the CEO had committed suicide after losing his life's work.
"It was inefficient," Ren murmured, tracing a finger along his notebook's margin. "Nakajima-san valued tradition over innovation. His company was dead long before the takeover."
A stunned silence fell.
Hayashi's face darkened. "And what would you have done differently?"
Ren's gaze drifted to the window, where sunlight filtered through cherry blossom branches. "I wouldn't have fought for a sinking ship. I'd have built a better one."
The class erupted in laughter. Weak. Naive. Delusional.
Ren simply returned to his nap, missing the way Hana Shiraishi, the quiet girl in the front row, suddenly looked at him with new eyes.
Lunchtime Observations
The academy's courtyard bloomed with social hierarchies as precise as they were unspoken. Ren sat alone beneath an oak tree, nibbling melon bread as he watched:
The Kurosawa Group heirs holding court at the central fountainTech prodigy Akira Fujimoto surrounded by his usual swarm of admirersHana sitting apart from everyone, sketching in her notebook
His gaze lingered on Hana. There was something... off about her. The way she held her pencil too precisely. The unnatural stillness when others approached. The faint scars along her knuckles—
"Planning to stare all day, Tanaka?"
Ren blinked. Hana now stood before him, her shadow falling across his face. Up close, he could see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes.
"Your sketch," he said instead. "The perspective on the west wing is off by three degrees."
Hana's pencil stilled. No one else would have noticed.
A beat passed. Then another.
"You're interesting, Tanaka," she finally said, voice barely above a whisper. "Don't die before I figure you out."
The Incident
It began during the Founder's Day ceremony.
One moment, Headmaster Sato was droning on about tradition. The next, the auditorium doors exploded inward.
Men in black tactical gear poured through the smoke, rifles sweeping the screaming crowd. Ren's body moved before his mind caught up, pulling Hana down beside him as chaos erupted.
"Everyone stay calm!" Headmaster Sato pleaded before a rifle butt silenced him.
A masked man stepped onto the stage. "Apologies for the interruption. We're here for one thing only—" His visored gaze swept the cowering students. "—the Tanaka heir."
Ren's blood turned to ice.
Hana's hand found his. "Ren..."
Around them, whispers spread like wildfire. "Tanaka? As in Tanaka Zaibatsu?" "But there's no Tanaka heir here!" "Unless..."
The gunman raised his weapon. "We'll start executing students every thirty seconds until—"
"That won't be necessary."
The crowd parted as Ren stood, his voice calm despite the pounding in his chest. Up on stage, the leader tilted his head.
"And you are?"
Ren adjusted his glasses, the lenses flashing white. "Disappointed."
A gasp rippled through the auditorium. Even the gunmen hesitated.
"You could have just called," Ren continued, stepping into the aisle. "But since you went through all this trouble..." He stopped at the foot of the stage, looking up at the masked man. "Tell Masamoto-san his daughter's piano recital is at 3 PM tomorrow. I'd hate for her to miss it because her father was... indisposed."
The lead gunman's weapon wavered. "How do you—"
"Also," Ren interrupted, "your men are pointing guns at the heirs of seven major zaibatsus. Including two Kurosawas." He smiled faintly. "I'd say you have about ninety seconds before the JSDF storms this building."
Silence.
Then—a choked command. "Fall back."
Aftermath
The police found the auditorium empty except for shaken students and staff. The attackers had vanished like smoke.
In the chaos, no one noticed Ren slipping away—except Hana, who cornered him in an empty hallway.
"Who are you really?" she demanded, her small frame blocking his path.
Ren studied her - the way her breathing remained steady despite the adrenaline, the military precision of her stance. "You first."
Hana's eyes narrowed. Then she reached into her blazer and produced a badge. "Shiraishi Hana, National Police Agency Security Bureau."
Ren exhaled. Of course.
"And you," Hana continued, stepping closer, "are Ren Tanaka, only son and heir of Tanaka Hiroshi, head of the Tanaka Zaibatsu." She paused. "Though given tonight's performance, I suspect your family's business extends beyond... conventional enterprises."
Ren looked past her, out the window where cherry blossoms drifted through the evening air. "I just want to graduate, Hana. Maybe open a bookstore someday."
"Then why didn't you let them take you?"
For the first time all day, Ren's mask slipped. His eyes darkened, his posture shifting into something predatory. "Because they threatened my classmates." His voice dropped to a whisper. "They threatened you."
Hana's breath caught.
Just as quickly, the moment passed. Ren adjusted his glasses, the lazy student returning. "Besides, grandfather would be mad if I missed Sunday dinner again."
Later That Night
In a dimly lit office high above Tokyo, an elderly man watched security footage of the school incident.
"Well?" asked his aide.
Tanaka Hiroshi smiled. "The Dragon finally woke up." He turned to the shadows. "Prepare the succession documents. And send word to the Masamoto family."
His aide swallowed. "What message shall we deliver?"
The old man's smile vanished. "None. Let our silence speak for itself."