Sunlight filtered into Yoh's bedroom, stirring him awake.
He blinked up at the cracked ceiling, fragments of a dream fading something about spinning police lights slicing through darkness.
With a yawn he hauled himself out of bed, scratching his messy curly hair as he shambled to the bathroom.
After a quick shower, Yoh browsed his modest wardrobe options.
He selected a crisp white tee that complemented his tan skin.
For bottoms, he grabbed fitted black jeans with some punk rock patch designs ironed on.
To complete the look, clean white sneakers.
As Yoh checked himself in the dust speckled mirror, straightening his clothes, his eyes were drawn to the spider shaped birthmark on the side of his neck.
He traced its unique pattern with his fingers, chuckling softly.
"Don't need a neck tat when I got this bad boy already," he mused.
Satisfied with his appearance, Yoh's thoughts drifted to the Basic Martial Arts Comprehension skill and the Music Production Talent he had received from the system.
Both music and martial arts would pave his way to the top one channeling his creative hunger, the other satisfying his desire to conquer.
Power came in many forms, and Yoh intended to master them all.
His mind began comparing the music scene here to that of his old world.
Back in Chicago, hip hop and rap dominated the streets and clubs.
Yoh reminisced about bumping to artists like Kanye, Kendrick, and Drake in his slick car, bass thumping.
He wondered if the music here would measure up.
As his musings wandered, Yoh's strategic mind turned to his martial arts skill.
To upgrade to level 2 comprehension, he would need to actively train and fight skilled opponents.
Yoh muttered, "Status," summoning his interface display.
Name: Yoh Edogawa
Age: 11
Affiliation: None
Delinquent Points: 0
Money: ¥20,000
Stats:
- Strength - 10
- Speed - 12
- Stamina - 8
- Agility - 15
- Intelligence - 16
- Charisma - 14
Skills:
- Observation Lv. 1
- Basic Martial Arts Comprehension Lv. 1
- Music Production Talent Lv. 1
Reputation:
- Infamous - 0%
- Feared - 0%
- Respected - 0%
- Adored - 0%
Known Techniques:
- None
Equipment:
- Wallet
The holographic display glowed brightly, bathing Yoh's face in a cool blue light as the details hovered in the air before him.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
He took in the information, strategizing his next moves.
With a wave of his hand, Yoh dismissed the display, the stats and figures dissipating into pixels.
He currently only had 20,000 yen to his name.
Hardly enough to pay for lessons from experienced martial arts masters.
He contemplated making quick cash through extortion and other illegal activities.
Yoh's mind churned with possibilities for "motivating" new income sources.
Intimidation and coercion came naturally to him.
He considered threats of force, or blackmailing with damaging secrets.
The desperate and addicted could easily be manipulated as well. He just needed the right leverage.
Loyal followers could prove useful, Yoh mused. Having proxies do his dirty work minimized risk.
With the right motivation, whether fear or greed, he could bend others to serve his will.
A few expendable underlings carried out shrewdly, his schemes could proliferate rapidly.
Energized by these schemes swirling in his mind, Yoh stepped out into the living room.
His grandpa sat hunched over morning tea, ever present bulldog snoozing at his feet.
"Morning," Yoh greeted, keeping his tone neutral.
His grandfather merely grunted in response, eyes fixed on the television.
Yoh's gaze followed his grandfather's to the screen, where a news anchor was detailing the previous day's events.
"…The peaceful Shore was transformed into a war zone yesterday evening," the reporter began.
The reporter stood tensely amidst the chaos, once tranquil Shukawa Riverbank now swarming with police activity.
Gentle trees still swayed above the water, oblivious to the damage below.
Cyclists and joggers used to meander these paths. People fished quietly on the banks.
Now, police tape and smashed railings marred the landscape.
The reporter gestured urgently behind him, his expression tense. "A shocking act of violence took place here at Shukawa Riverbank yesterday evening. What began as a confrontation between two rival youth groups quickly escalated into uncontrolled brutality."
Footage from a jittery mobile phone camera flashed on the screen, capturing moments of the violent brawl.
In the grainy visuals, indistinct faces clashed fiercely, while others lay injured or looked on in fear, hesitant to jump into the fray.
The reporter's voice cut in, "Police rushed to the location after several panicked calls flooded emergency lines. Early indications reveal that over a dozen people have sustained severe injuries, while numerous others have been left with minor wounds."
The screen transitioned to an image of police officers rounding up young men, handcuffing them and reading them their rights.
A cafe owner shook his head, realizing he'd recognized some of the arrested teens who regularly gathered there after school.
The faint siren’s wail could still be heard in the background.
“An estimated 15 individuals have been taken into custody,” the reporter went on. “Authorities are also investigating a report of an alleged kidnapping that took place during the brawl. The identity of the victim remains undisclosed at this moment.”
The camera panned across the damage shards of broken bottles glittering sharply in the sunlight, aluminum bats dented and scarred from the melee, gaping holes smashed clean through metal guardrails.
At a somber press briefing, the police chief wore a hardened expression. "Make no mistake," he said gravely, "we will dismantle these violent groups plaguing our community. Such senseless brutality cannot be tolerated here."
Switching scenes, an elderly lady, tears streaming down her face, clung to her agitated poodle. "I've brought him here for our walks daily," she choked out. "But now, it doesn't feel safe anymore."
A jogger described hearing chilling screams echo from the riverbank and running faster.
At the hospital, a surgeon wearily removed his mask after hours stabilizing battered teens in the ER.
Nurses checked on the handcuffed guard outside a suspect's room.
Back at the scene, blood still stained the churned up dirt.
Gauze and casts littered the area, remnants of trauma. The serene riverbank would never be the same.
After the news ended, Yoh fixed himself a quick breakfast just some toast and eggs.
His grandpa remained glued to the TV, slurping his tea loudly.
Yoh ate in pensive silence, contemplating how to turn his budding schemes into reality.
Opportunities awaited those with the cunning to exploit them.
After wolfing down the last bites of his breakfast, Yoh stepped out into the morning sunlight.
The front door creaked shut behind him as he lit a cigarette, keen eyes surveying the sleepy neighborhood.
Mostly quiet on this weekday morning, just a few neighbors headed to work or walking their dogs.
Yoh wandered the streets, casually smoking while scanning for easy targets.
Coming around a corner, he spotted a lanky teen engrossed in his phone, expensive headphones on.
Yoh's eyes narrowed, sensing opportunity.
He strode towards the distracted boy with purpose.
In one swift motion, Yoh ripped the headphones off and grabbed the teen by the collar.
"Hand over the phone and cash, nobody gets hurt," Yoh commanded in a low voice.
Yoh's demand made the boy freeze, eyes darting around the empty street in panic.
After a tense pause, he reluctantly retrieved his smartphone and wallet with trembling hands, not wanting to find out what would happen if he refused.
Yoh released his grip, pocketing the valuables with a sly grin. Adrenaline coursed through him.
"What's the passcode for the phone?" Yoh demanded, his voice low and menacing.
The boy's eyes darted around nervously, weighing his options. "0-7-2-5..." he finally stammered out, defeated.
Yoh typed it in, pulse quickening as the phone unlocked. This was almost too easy.
He scrolled through the shiny new Galaxy, then examined the Beats headphones still around the boy's neck. High end stuff. Touching them felt intoxicating.
Yoh's gaze traveled down to take in the kid's designer sneakers and socks. They looked barely worn.
"Lose the shoes and socks too," Yoh commanded. He had to see how far this could go.
The boy hesitated, shaking visibly. The deafening silence seemed to smother them. Finally he shakily bent down to comply, not meeting Yoh's eyes.
A notification suddenly pinged: "Delinquent points earned: +25."
He slowly put on the headphones, savoring their premium noise canceling effect.
With satisfaction, he tossed the now useless phone's SIM card into a filthy gutter. The boy flinched at the metallic ping.
"Pleasure doing business with you," Yoh said smoothly before turning to leave. "Might want to rethink those flashy clothes next time, kid."
Yoh strode away casually, leaving his shaken victim behind. Hands in pockets, Yoh surveyed the streets plotting his next move.
Yoh recalled the notification from the system, granting points for his cunning exploitation.
The powers guiding this world smiled upon appropriate ruthlessness it seemed.
Validation mattered little he required no one's permission to seize what should rightfully be his.
But measurable progress pleased him. Delinquency points were merely game mechanics. The true prize was control.
Let the sheep look upon him with scorn. Their opinions were worthless. In time, fear would replace contempt in their eyes.
For now, he moved unnoticed through their flock, selectively culling the weak.