The bell rang, signaling the end of the day. Students shuffled in their seats, chatting and packing up their things. Jin sat at his desk, staring at the cracks in the surface of his notebook. The noise of laughter and casual conversation around him felt distant, like a fading echo.
He clenched his fists under the desk, his knuckles still raw from this morning's encounter with Riku. His body ached from the punches he had taken, but the pain was nothing compared to the seething rage boiling within him.
He had endured it long enough. The humiliation. The beatings. The endless cycle of being the victim. Today would be different. Today, they would feel what it was like to be powerless.
The legs of his chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood up. The noise cut through the room like a blade, silencing the chatter. All eyes turned to him.
"Oi, Jin," one of the boys near the back muttered, smirking. “You finally going to cry for help?"
The class laughed, but the sound didn't faze
Jin. His focus was razor-sharp, his gaze locked on one person: Riku Aoki. Riku leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen in his fingers. His smug grin widened when he noticed Jin's stare. Haruki and the rest of his group sat nearby, huddled together and playing games on their phones, barely paying attention.
"What's this?" Riku asked, standing up and sauntering over to Jin. “You've got something to say, punching bag?”
The others laughed, their voices blending into a chorus of mockery.
"Just leave him," one of them called out. “Not worth your time, Riku."
Jin's lips moved, his voice a whisper, too soft for anyone to hear.
Riku leaned closer, cupping a hand to his ear. “What was that? Speak up, loser."

Jin's eyes flashed with something feral. Without warning, his foot shot up, connecting with Riku's jaw in a devastating kick. The sound of impact echoed through the room as Riku's head snapped back violently, his body stumbling.
The class erupted into chaos, gasps and shouts filling the air.
Jin didn't stop. Using the momentum of his kick, he grabbed Riku by the collar and yanked him forward, slamming his head into the desk with a sickening crack. Blood splattered across the surface, the bright red stark against the dull wood.
The room fell silent.
Haruki shot up from his seat, rage contorting his face. “You little-!" he snarled, charging at Jin like a bull.
Jin's lips curled into a grim smile. “Thank you,” he said coldly, his voice steady despite the chaos. "For creating this chance.” As Haruki closed the distance, Jin reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy padlock. Haruki's fist came in for a jab, but Jin sidestepped, swinging the padlock in a brutal arc. The padlock smashed into the side of Haruki's head with a dull thud. Haruki stumbled, his vision blurring. "Motherfu-" he slurred, blood trickling down his temple. Before Haruki could recover, Jin drove his fist into his face, then again, and again. Blood sprayed with each strike, spattering across Jin's uniform and face. The world around him blurred, the noise of the classroom fading into the background. There was only Haruki-his face a swollen, bloodied mess-and Jin's fists, relentless and unyielding. Kenta, another member of Haruki's group, lunged forward, aiming a kick at Jin's side. Jin turned, swinging the padlock again. It connected with Kenta's knee, a sickening crunch reverberating through the room.

Kenta screamed, collapsing to the floor clutching his leg. Jin didn't stop. He followed up with a kick to Kenta's ribs, sending him
sprawling.
The classroom was in chaos now, students shouting and scrambling to get out of the way. Some stood frozen, watching in horror as Jin moved like a man possessed.
Bloodlust consumed him.
The last member of Haruki's group, a wiry boy named Daiki, stood frozen in place. His eyes darted between Jin and the fallen bodies of his friends. Haruki was unconscious, his face unrecognizable. Kenta lay groaning, clutching his shattered knee. Riku was barely moving, a pool of blood forming under his head.
Daiki took a step back, his hands trembling. "Y-you're crazy,” he stammered.
Jin turned to him slowly, blood dripping from his knuckles and face. His gaze was empty, devoid of anything human.
Daiki shook his head, panic overtaking him. “I'm not getting involved in this,” he muttered, bolting for the door.
The hallway outside had filled with students, drawn by the commotion. They peered through the windows, their faces pale as they took in the
scene.
Jin stood in the center of the room, his chest heaving, his fists clenched. Blood dripped from his hands, pooling on the floor beneath him. His uniform was soaked, his face splattered with crimson.
The silence was deafening.
Then came the sound of hurried footsteps. The door burst open, and the principal stormed in, his face a mixture of shock and fury.
"Jin!" he bellowed. "What is the meaning of this?!"
Jin didn't answer. He stood motionless, staring at his bloodied hands. The power he had felt earlier still pulsed through him, intoxicating and terrifying. This was Victory and it tasted like blood