On Top of the Food Chain

The orange sunlight bathed the room in a warm glow, casting long shadows across the tatami floor. Junpei sat quietly on the floor, swirling a glass of liquor in his hand. The liquid caught the light, reflecting it in a way that was almost mesmerizing, but his mind was far from peaceful. His eyes, though calm on the surface, held a certain darkness—a quiet storm brewing beneath.

Junpei hadn’t known Kazuki for very long, but the boy had wormed his way into his heart. He was supposed to be Junpei’s only disciple, a responsibility he hadn’t taken lightly. The idea that Kazuki could just vanish like that, without a trace, gnawed at him. It wasn’t just a disappearance—Kazuki had been kidnapped. The rage was there, simmering beneath his calm exterior, but Junpei kept it tightly controlled.

Beside him, Rika lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, lost in her own tangled thoughts. The shadows above shifted and morphed with the passing time, a slow dance that seemed to mirror her jumbled emotions.

"Dad, can I drink that?" Rika’s voice broke the silence, pulling Junpei from his reverie. He looked at her, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Have your first drink when you’re very happy, not when you’re desperate and sorry," he replied softly.

Rika didn’t respond, her gaze drifting back to the ceiling as she let his words sink in. The room was quiet again, save for the faint creaking of the house as it settled in the evening light.

Then, suddenly, the peace was shattered by the sound of the door sliding open with a force that made Rika jump. Her trance was broken as she quickly sat up, her heart pounding in her chest.

"We found him," Endo announced while panting, his voice carrying an urgency that couldn’t be ignored.

Eiji and Endo stood in the doorway, their figures cloaked in long, dark robes that concealed their bodies. The shadows from their hoods obscured their faces, but the intensity in their posture spoke volumes. 

“Your guess was right. He is indeed at the fighting ring.” Eiji said, panting heavily.

Hearing this, the darkness in Junpei’s eyes got even more intense. A crooked smirk appeared on his handsome face. A predatory aura surrounded him. 

“Is he alright?” Rika asked, her voice carrying a sense of worry.

“Alright? He’s more than alright!” Endo said he felt excited as he remembered how Kazuki had demolished that lady with a sledgehammer.

“We saw him fight a human girl using a sledgehammer, and by the end of the fight, Kazuki was standing on top of her with her sledgehammer in his hands, and her blood dripping from it. He had completely desecrated that beauty’s face.” Eiji said.

Rika was surprised to hear this. While Junpei felt ecstatic. 

***

Kazuki screamed until his voice gave out. He stood in the center of the fighting ring, bathed in the harsh, unforgiving light of the spotlight. The crowd's roar was a distant hum in his ears, drowned out by the pounding of his own heart. 

Sweat trickled down his face, glistening under the light, while the echo of his victory still resonated through the arena. The scent of sweat, blood, and adrenaline hung heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid smoke from the nearby spectators.

As Kazuki exited the stage, the thumping music pulsed through the room, and countless eyes trailed after him. To most, he was "Bank Robber," the masked fighter who had just crushed his opponent with brutal efficiency. Their gazes were filled with a mixture of fear, respect, and morbid curiosity.

But there were four sets of eyes that looked at him differently.

Two of them belonged to Endo and Eiji, who had pushed their way through the thronging crowd to catch a glimpse of Kazuki. Endoi’s eyes were wide with admiration and something like pride, while Eiji’s were sharp and calculating, as if assessing every move Kazuki had made in the ring. Both of them had seen beyond the mask, beyond the brutal exterior, and recognized the struggling soul within.

The other two sets of eyes, however, were more elusive, hidden in the shadows of the dimly lit arena. They didn’t belong to casual onlookers or even the regulars who frequented the fights. No, these eyes held a different kind of interest—cold, calculating, and laced with intent.

***

Emi leaned casually against the balcony railing, her clothing as provocative as ever. She wore a tight, low-cut crop top that barely covered her chest, the top clung to her figure, revealing every curve, while her short leather skirt hugged her hips, ending high on her thighs. Her long legs were encased in thigh-high boots, laced up the front, with sharp heels that added to her height. 

Her outfit left little to the imagination, designed to draw attention and turn heads wherever she went. Her figure was lean and toned, with a seductive allure that matched her confident demeanor. Her pink hair made her look even more desirable.

Standing beside her was the Manager, a man whose presence was as imposing as it was mysterious. He wore a black mask adorned with intricate golden designs that caught the light and shimmered subtly with every movement. His posture was straight, his gaze focused intently on the fighting rings below, where chaos and brutality reigned.

"I have acquired the spikes, but what are we supposed to do now?" Emi asked, her voice carrying a hint of boredom as she observed the violence below. Her eyes flicked over the fighters with mild interest, but it was clear that she was more concerned with the next step of their plan.

The Manager didn’t immediately respond, his attention locked on one of the rings. In the midst of the carnage, a man wearing a black ski mask was relentlessly beating a woman with a sledgehammer. Each swing was animalistically brutal, lacking any precision, yet they were delivered with cold, mechanical efficiency. The woman had been winning moments before, but now she lay broken on the ground, her blood splattering across the stage.

But it wasn’t the violence that captivated the Manager. His sharp eyes were fixated on the man's clothing—a tracksuit, plain in design, yet adorned with a spider logo on the chest. It was a detail most would overlook, but to the Manager, it was a sign, a connection to someone he knew all too well.

A sly smile curled beneath the mask as he recognized the significance. "The spikes," he commanded, his voice low and calm. "Put them around the building."

Emi’s gaze shifted to the man in the ring. Her lips curved into a smile of her own, a mix of curiosity and desire. She didn’t know who this fighter was, but there was something about him—his strength, his brutality, and his physique—that drew her in. He had the kind of body she craved, a body she wanted to get closer to. She ‘desired’ him.

“Don’t approach him, until I tell you to.” The Manager said abrputing all the fantasies Emi had created in her head.

Emi just nodded and nonchalantly walked away.

The Manager, still watching the scene unfold, felt a surge of satisfaction. ‘Fate is on my side, sir Orochi,’ he thought, as he grabbed his robe and clenched it tightly, his smile widening behind the mask.