The scent of cherry blossoms was being systematically replaced by the smell of cheap tobacco and something chemically sweet.
"Blue Lotus," Hiroki said, his voice dropping an octave as they walked through the campus plaza. He didn't look at the group of upperclassmen leaning against the brick wall near the fountain, but he didn't have to. Everyone knew who they were.
Takahashi, a third-year with bleached hair and a scar running through his left eyebrow, was leaning back, casually exhaling a cloud of blue-tinted vapor. His crew—three guys in expensive streetwear—stood in a loose perimeter, their eyes scanning the passing students like wolves watching a herd of sheep.
"It's not just a drug," Hiroki whispered, staring at his tablet screen as they walked. "I've been tracking the hospital admissions. It's a neuro-stimulant. It gives you a twelve-hour high where you feel like a god, but the crash? It causes severe dopamine depletion. Three freshmen attempted suicide last week. The administration is buried in 'donations' from the parents of the dealers, so they're looking the other way."
Kenji adjusted the strap of his gym bag, his knuckles whitening. He watched a girl—a quiet girl from his ethics class—walk up to Takahashi, hand over a wad of yen, and receive a small, blue-tinted vial in return. She looked like she hadn't slept in days.
"Why hasn't anyone called the police?" Naomi asked, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and disgust.
"Because Takahashi's father is a high-ranking lawyer for the Kenji Twins' holding company," Akira said, her eyes fixed on Takahashi. "The police won't touch him unless he kills someone on camera, and even then, the footage would probably 'disappear.'"
Suddenly, Takahashi's gaze snapped to theirs. He grinned, a slow, shark-like expression, and blew a plume of blue smoke in their direction.
"You guys lost?" Takahashi called out. "Or are you looking to buy some focus for your midterms? First one's half-price for Law students."
Kenji stepped forward, but Akira's hand shot out, grabbing his arm. "Don't," she hissed. "He's baiting you. Look at the shadows near the bushes."
Kenji looked. Two more men were sitting on a nearby bench, their jackets bulging with the unmistakable shape of concealed weapons. This wasn't just a campus deal; it was a fortified operation.
"I'm just looking at a coward," Kenji said, his voice loud enough to carry across the plaza.
The plaza went silent. The passing students slowed down, sensing the shift in the air. Takahashi's grin didn't falter, but his eyes turned ice-cold. He stepped away from the wall, his crew closing in behind him.
"What did you say, Tanaka?"
"You heard me," Kenji said, stepping out of Akira's grip. "You sell poison to people who trust you. That's not being a businessman. That's being a parasite."
Takahashi walked right up to Kenji, stopping inches from his face. He smelled like ozone and expensive cologne. "You've got a big mouth for a guy who spends all his time in a kendo hall hitting wooden sticks. Real life doesn't have referees, Kenji. Be careful where you walk tonight."
Takahashi leaned in closer, his voice a lethal whisper. "I heard your friend Hiroki has been asking too many questions online. It would be a shame if his hands stopped working."
Takahashi patted Kenji's cheek—a deliberate, insulting gesture—and walked away, his crew laughing as they followed.
"Kenji, we have to go," Hiroki said, his face pale. "He's not joking. He'll hurt us."
Kenji didn't move. He watched Takahashi's back, his mind already shifting. He wasn't thinking as a student anymore. He was calculating entry points, blind spots in the campus security cameras, and the weight of the carbon-fiber blade in his bag.
He looked at the small blue vial the girl had bought. It was a poison. And if the law wouldn't stop the source, the Ronin would.