Chapter 1: Collision Course

Scene 1: The Accident That Started Everything

I wasn’t supposed to be here. That’s the first thought I had when I realized I was lying flat on my back, staring at the blinding sky, while the distant sound of tires screeching echoed in my ears.

That, and the fact that I really, really hated mornings.

Somewhere to my left, a crowd was forming, voices mixing into a jumble of panic, but my brain was still rebooting, trying to process what the hell just happened.

Oh, right. I got hit by a car.

But—wait—why wasn’t I in pain?

I groaned, blinking rapidly, and shifted slightly. Everything seemed… fine? My limbs were intact. My ribs didn’t feel broken. No major blood loss. I could still breathe, though a bit shakily. Which meant—

Someone groaned beside me.

I turned my head and nearly had a heart attack.

A few feet away, sprawled face-down on the pavement, was a guy who looked just like me.

Same messy black hair. Same height. Same general high schooler build. But there was a distinct difference: his school uniform wasn’t a wrinkled mess like mine, and—oh yeah—he was completely unconscious.

I sat up way too fast. “What the—”

The moment I moved, strong hands grabbed my shoulders.

“Young Master! Are you hurt?!”

I flinched, my brain going into emergency shutdown mode as I found myself surrounded by four very large, very serious-looking men in black suits.

One of them knelt beside me, inspecting me like I was some kind of precious artifact that had just been dropped from space. The others were already moving, blocking off the area like trained professionals. I glanced around, half-expecting to see actual bodyguards.

Wait. They were bodyguards.

What the hell was going on?!

My first instinct was to bolt, but then I caught a glimpse of the other me still lying there, completely out cold. The realization hit me like—well, like a speeding car.

The guy who got hit wasn’t me.

Which meant—

“Oh, hell,” I muttered.

“Young Master?” One of the suited men gave me a puzzled glance.

I froze. Young… Master?

A sinking feeling settled in my gut. They thought I was him.

I glanced at the unconscious guy again, mentally connecting the dots. Rich kid. Bodyguards. Clearly important.

I was not important.

And yet, they were treating me like I was their boss.

I took a shaky breath. “Uh…”

The one closest to me frowned. “You hit your head, didn’t you? You’re disoriented.”

I could just tell them the truth. Correct the misunderstanding. Explain that I was just some random transfer student who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Yeah. I could do that.

…Or I could live long enough to get to my first class.

Because if these guys were who I thought they were—people who worked for the real unconscious guy—then there was a high chance they were dangerous. And if they suddenly realized I wasn’t their Young Master, who knew what they’d do?

I forced a nervous chuckle. “Uh. Right. Disoriented. Totally.”

The bodyguards exchanged looks.

Before I could think of another bad excuse, the wail of sirens filled the air.

The paramedics arrived in record time, rushing past us straight to the unconscious guy. The real Young Master.

I held my breath as they checked him over. He was alive—a little banged up, but alive.

“Looks like mild trauma. We’re taking him in.” One of the paramedics waved at the waiting ambulance.

The bodyguards nodded in understanding, but none of them followed.

Instead, they stayed with me.

I swallowed hard. Oh no.

One of them glanced at the paramedics loading their Young Master onto the stretcher, then turned back to me. “We will handle this quietly.”

Quietly?

Another one sighed. “It would be best if we didn’t inform your father about this, Young Master. He would not be pleased.”

I nearly choked. FATHER?!

Oh. Oh, no.

I barely processed the moment when the real Young Master was driven off, his phone slipping from his pocket and skidding across the pavement.

My eyes darted to it.

My biggest mistake of the day? I picked it up.

Because the moment my fingers wrapped around that phone, there was no going back.

Scene 2: A Case of Mistaken Identity

I was in way too deep, and it hadn’t even been ten minutes.

The moment I stepped onto campus, I felt it—the weight of a hundred eyes staring directly at me. The whispers started before I even made it through the front gates.

“Is that… him?”

“Ryuji Sakamoto? He finally showed up?”

“I thought he’d be taller. Still, he looks terrifying.”

Terrifying?! I was actively trying not to pass out from stress!

The four very large men in black suits flanking me didn’t help. I hadn’t asked for an honor guard, but they were sticking to me like glue, making it very, very difficult to escape. Not that I had an escape plan. Or a clue. Or even a basic understanding of what was happening.

I needed to fix this. Before it spiraled further. Before—

“Welcome back, Sakamoto-kun.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

I snapped my head up. A middle-aged man with glasses and a nervous sweat mustache was standing at the entrance, clutching a clipboard like his life depended on it. He bowed hastily, eyes darting between me and the bodyguards.

“Uh… glad to have you attending, sir,” he stammered. “If you’ll follow me to homeroom, I’ll—”

Oh, crap.

This was it. My chance. If I corrected him now, maybe, just maybe, I could get out of this alive.

I took a deep breath. Steeled myself.

Opened my mouth to explain—

And then one of the bodyguards put a firm hand on my shoulder.

“The Young Master does not have time for small talk,” he said coolly.

I nearly yelped.

The teacher visibly paled and scrambled aside, motioning frantically toward the doors. “O-Of course! Right this way, sir!”

And just like that, my last chance to fix this walked right out the door.

I didn’t correct him.

I couldn’t.

Because if I said I wasn’t Ryuji, then what?

Would the bodyguards let me go? Would they drag me somewhere I didn’t want to go? Would they ask a lot of questions I didn’t have answers to?

No. It was too risky.

So, against every single survival instinct in my body, I kept my mouth shut and walked into class.

The atmosphere inside was somehow even worse.

The moment I stepped in, the entire room went silent.

Twenty pairs of eyes locked onto me, some in awe, some in fear, all of them completely paralyzed. It was like walking into a crime scene—except I was the crime.

My feet dragged toward the only empty seat, and the closer I got, the more intense the whispers became.

“I heard he single-handedly wiped out a rival gang.”

“No, no, that’s a myth. He just looked at them and they backed down.”

“Someone told me he took out a guy with just a chopstick once.”

“Wait—why is he even here? He doesn’t need school, does he?”

WHAT?! Where were they getting this information?!

I barely made it to my desk without fainting. I could feel the sheer force of their collective anxiety suffocating me.

The only person who wasn’t staring at me like I was a demon was a girl sitting at the front of the class.

Long black hair. Sharp eyes. Glasses perched neatly on her nose. Her uniform was perfect, crisp, and professional. Unlike everyone else, she wasn’t whispering or panicking.

She was watching. Studying. Calculating.

And writing something down in a notebook.

That was worse.

I had exactly one second to breathe before the teacher slammed a hand on his desk.

“Alright, alright! Let’s not make a big deal about this!” He laughed nervously, wiping his forehead. “Now, since Sakamoto-kun has returned, let’s continue as usual—”

Return?! Oh, no. Oh, NO.

I wasn’t just a transfer student. They thought I had been here before. Which meant there was a whole history of expectations I knew NOTHING about.

And then the guy next to me nudged my elbow.

I nearly jumped out of my chair.

“Yo,” the guy muttered. Tall, built like a brick wall, with a lazy smirk plastered across his face. He leaned back, looking way too relaxed compared to the rest of the class. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

I stared at him, mentally scrambling. WHO was he? A friend? A rival? A future murderer?

He snorted. “Tetsuya Nakamura. You probably don’t remember me.”

I nodded slowly. “Y-Yeah. Sure. Of course.”

I had no idea who he was.

“Anyway,” he continued, voice low, “I heard what happened this morning.”

I tensed.

“Somebody tried to hit you with a car?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that, so I just went with the safest option: “Uh. Yeah.”

Tetsuya grinned.

“Amazing.”

What.

“You must have dodged at the last second, huh?” He cracked his knuckles, sounding impressed. “The rumors about you really are true.”

Rumors.

There were rumors about me. That I had no idea about. That I definitely did not deserve.

I barely stopped myself from slamming my head on the desk. This was a nightmare.

And the girl at the front of the class was still writing in that damn notebook.

A vibration against my leg nearly made me jump out of my skin.

I carefully pulled the real Ryuji’s phone from my pocket and glanced at the screen.

One new text message.

Unknown Number: “We’ll see if you’re worthy soon.”

…

I needed to drop out. Immediately.

Scene 3: The Birth of a Legend (Against His Will)

I’ve never been more aware of my own breathing in my entire life.

Every single person in this classroom—every single one—was either staring at me, whispering about me, or actively trying to avoid eye contact like I was a tiger that had somehow wandered into a kindergarten.

Which was insane because I had done literally nothing.

I just sat there. Silently.

Which, apparently, was terrifying.

“He’s just sitting there, menacingly.”

“I heard he doesn’t need to say anything. His presence alone makes people break down.”

“They say one time, he just sighed, and five guys ran for their lives.”

I dropped my head against the desk, resisting the overwhelming urge to groan.

How. Was. This. Happening.

From the front of the classroom, Reina Kisaragi adjusted her glasses.

Unlike the others, she wasn’t gossiping or panicking.

She was analyzing.

This wasn’t the first time she’d seen Ryuji Sakamoto in class. His father sent him here last semester, demanding he get a ‘normal education.’ But Reina had noticed the way he carried himself back then—he had walked with controlled arrogance, throwing smirks like weapons, completely comfortable being the center of attention.

But today?

Something was… different.

The usual air of dominance was gone.

Instead, the so-called “Young Master” looked like he’d just been hit by a truck.

Or, more accurately, like he’d just seen a truck hit someone else.

She frowned slightly, jotting down a note in her Reformation Notebook.

Observation: Sakamoto seems… off.

I sat up quickly, feeling the weight of someone watching me.

Reina.

I nearly flinched.

That girl was way too sharp. I could feel it—she was already picking me apart with her eyes.

I gave her an awkward nod.

She just narrowed her eyes slightly and went back to writing.

I had no idea what was in that notebook, but I was 90% sure it was a kill list.

Before I could stress over that any further, Tetsuya leaned in from the side, still smirking.

“So, Boss. What’s the move?”

I blinked. “What?”

“The move.” He gestured vaguely. “You’ve been sitting there, letting everyone stew in fear. That’s smart. But what now? You gonna lay low, or make a statement?”

I stared at him. Lay low? Make a statement?

What did that even mean?!

Tetsuya took my silence as some kind of calculated power move and nodded in approval.

“Right. Keep them waiting. Make them nervous.”

I opened my mouth to tell him I had no idea what I was doing—

—and that’s when the classroom door slammed open.

A junior from another class barged in, panting like he’d just run a marathon.

“SAKAMOTO!” he shouted.

I nearly fell out of my chair.

The entire class went dead silent.

Tetsuya sighed and muttered, “They never learn.”

The kid froze under the sheer weight of everyone’s stares, but somehow forced himself to keep talking.

“You think you can just waltz back in here like you own the place?!”

I would very much like NOT to own the place, thanks.

The kid clenched his fists. “You humiliated my brother last year! He’s still traumatized! You’re gonna pay for that!”

I felt actual vertigo.

I HAD NEVER MET HIS BROTHER.

I HAD NEVER EVEN BEEN HERE LAST YEAR.

Tetsuya sighed. “Dumb move, kid.”

I turned to him in horror. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Issuing a challenge this early in the morning? That’s just bad strategy.”

THE REAL BAD STRATEGY WAS ME BEING HERE.

Reina quietly tapped her pen against her desk, watching closely.

She had expected this.

Ryuji Sakamoto had many, many enemies. His reputation was infamous.

It wasn’t just about money—people feared him.

And fear always created resentment.

But something was off.

Normally, Sakamoto would’ve shut down a challenge like this immediately. He had an undeniable presence, the kind that made people back down before a fight even started.

But today?

He was just… staring.

Reina adjusted her glasses.

Interesting.

The kid cracked his knuckles. “Well?! Got nothing to say, Sakamoto? Or are you scared?”

I swallowed hard. If I backed down, I’d blow my cover.

But if I fought him, I’d die.

…Was dying really worse than whatever the hell this was?

Before I could figure that out, the kid lunged.

And that’s when the worst possible thing happened.

He tripped.

Over absolutely nothing.

His foot hit thin air, his body lurched forward—

—and he face-planted directly at my feet.

Hard.

The classroom lost its damn mind.

“Oh my god.”

“HE DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH HIM.”

“He took him down with just his aura!”

“That’s insane.”

“I KNEW the rumors were true.”

My soul left my body.

Tetsuya whistled. “Cold, boss. Cold.”

Reina stopped writing and just stared at me.

The kid groaned on the floor, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “What… the hell…?”

I jumped up, panicking. “OH GOD, ARE YOU OKAY?!”

I reached out a hand to help him.

HUGE MISTAKE.

He flinched like I was about to execute him on the spot.

“I-I take it back!” he yelped, scrambling back toward the door. “I WAS NEVER HERE!”

And then he crawled away at record speed.

Silence.

Then:

The entire class erupted into hushed, terrified whispers.

“What a monster.”

“He took down a guy without even moving.”

“I heard he’s so dangerous, he doesn’t even need to fight anymore.”

“The legends were true.”

Kenji Fujimura had officially become a legend.

Against his will.

I dropped my head onto the desk.

I was so, so doomed.