12 Social Death

Wednesday

Early in the morning, Kyosuke Hojo’s internal clock woke him naturally. After washing up, he slung his bamboo sword over his shoulder and took the elevator down.

Today, he boarded the exact subway train he needed. Moving at his own leisurely pace, Kyosuke strolled from the station to school, stopping at a convenience store along the way to grab milk and bread, eating as he walked.

“Commander!”

Kyosuke halted. The greeting came loudly from Takehiro Myoji, who was still stationed at the gate in charge of discipline, along with another person whose name he didn’t know.

It wasn’t just Kyosuke who stopped—this was the time when students were entering the school, and everyone by the gate paused to look at him.

“Commander!” More than ten voices shouted in unison.

Togoshi was the headquarters of the Reckless Angels gang: 900 students in middle school, 1,200 in high school. On average, one in every twenty students was a member. If this kept up, wherever Kyosuke went in school, he would be swarmed by people greeting him.

He imagined the scene: stepping into the restroom, a line of burly men, pants halfway down their thighs, standing at the urinals, all shouting greetings at him.

God, spare me—that would be a social nightmare.

Kyosuke didn’t know how Masaki faced this, but he decided to stay in the classroom as much as possible until tonight.

“It’s you, Hirotake. Is your hand okay now?” Kyosuke felt a bit speechless but still cared enough to ask about Takehiro Myoji’s condition. That guy had charged at him yesterday, not weak but only good for one strike.

“Yes, it’s completely fine now.” Takehiro raised his bamboo sword and swung it a few times.

“That’s good. See you tonight.” Kyosuke said, stepping through the school gate toward the main building.

“Take care, Commander!”

...

Along the way, besides the greetings, Kyosuke overheard some whispering about something called the “Handless Demon.”

What kind of nonsense was that? Masaki had mentioned it last night too.

Finally reaching the classroom, Kyosuke hadn’t even taken a breath when a loud shout erupted again.

“Commander!”

It was Tetta Kisaki, that bastard, standing at the back of the classroom on the empty space, hands behind his back, feet apart, bowing at a perfect ninety degrees.

Kyosuke strode up in two steps, caught Kisaki’s head under his left armpit, and clenched his right hand into a fist, spinning it fiercely on his head.

“I think you’re doing this on purpose!”

“Ah, ah, Commander, I was wrong!”

“You need a lesson today!” Kyosuke scolded him like a father reprimanding a child.

“Please have mercy.”

They tussled for a while until Kyosuke noticed everyone in class was watching, then he let Kisaki go.

Back at his seat, Kyosuke felt a spark of joy. His elementary school classmates had been too childish, and his few friends were mostly girls—he hadn’t had this kind of playful camaraderie in a long time.

“Kisaki, do you know what that ‘Handless Demon’ thing is about?” Kyosuke looked at his top follower, knowing Kisaki was the most informed.

“Huh? Commander, you don’t know?” Kisaki looked surprised.

“Stop stalling and explain it properly.”

Seeing Kisaki’s expression, Kyosuke had a bad feeling.

“Well, it’s your nickname! ‘Handless Demon.’ Sounds fierce, right? It’s intimidating.” Kisaki said proudly.

Kyosuke sprayed milk out of his mouth—luckily, he turned aside just in time and didn’t drench Kisaki’s face.

What the hell? My nickname? Handless Demon? And it sounds fierce?

Look at Masaki Kyosuke’s nickname: ‘Togoshi Hero.’ Maybe Kisaki had misunderstood what ‘fierce’ really meant.

“What’s the story behind this?”

Kyosuke quickly asked. In the martial world, a name mattered most. They say there’s no wrong nickname, only poorly chosen names. If he went around with this one, he’d be laughed to pieces.

“It’s because when you fight, you always target people’s hands. Both Reckless Angels and the Beauty and Loyalty faction agree on this nickname. They say no pair of hands can remain intact before the Handless Demon! So that’s how it came about.”

Exhausting. Just destroy it all—let it end here.

Kyosuke turned his face away expressionlessly, unwilling to listen to Kisaki brag about how cool and fierce the nickname was.

If Sakura or that unreliable mother found out, they’d laugh at him until they doubled over.

Kyosuke could already picture the two of them slapping each other on the shoulder, laughing until they couldn’t stand straight.

During recess, a few freshmen came over wanting to join the Reckless Angels, but Kisaki sent them off, not disturbing Kyosuke’s rest. However, Kyosuke realized something serious: apparently, the whole school knew he had become the second-generation leader.

Classmates barely dared speak to him, making him realize he probably wouldn’t make any friends in middle school either. Transfer! No, he definitely wouldn’t stay at Togoshi High School for high school.

He was fed up with the monk school—not to mention cute girls like Sakura and Glass, he hardly heard any female voices aside from teachers.

Lunch was bought by Kisaki for him, of course, Kyosuke paid.

Ah, being a boss really suited him.

Sitting under a newly built canopy on the rooftop, Kyosuke enjoyed his bento, feeling content.

It was well known that the rooftop in Japan was a popular dating spot, but at a monastery-like place like Togoshi, it became a hangout for delinquents.

When Kyosuke first came up, it was a chaotic mess. He was about to turn and leave, but Kisaki talked to some delinquents who had just greeted him, and soon more came running up, carrying cleaning tools.

Within five minutes, the rooftop was transformed. They even set up a simple canopy and prepared a lounge chair for his afternoon nap.

Kisaki even wanted to set up a home theater and game consoles, but Kyosuke quickly stopped him—this was too extravagant.

Once again, Kyosuke felt the wisdom of becoming the second-generation Reckless Angel leader and began his nap in the gentle breeze.

The afternoon was spent buried in study, with no unusual incidents.

After school, Kyosuke went to the Kendo club for training.

Just as he stepped through the clubroom door, he immediately stepped back out.

Sure enough, inside was another loud chorus of “Commander!” Shouting so loudly in a confined space nearly deafened him.

After waiting for the noise to die down, Kyosuke finally entered.

Michitaka Kambara, the vice-captain of the Kendo club, came over.