BLACK THRONE

The atmosphere thickened with tension, a suffocating silence that wrapped the doorway like an invisible wall. Shiro, the enigmatic and cold newcomer, stood motionless, blocking the exit. His eyes were calm but sharp—cutting, unreadable. He said nothing, and yet his presence alone demanded attention.

"What's happening?" Yumi whispered inwardly, her heart racing. Oh my god. Oh my god. He's right in front of me. The new kid. The cool one. And he looks even more handsome this close... so cool, so mysterious... Her thoughts swirled into a tornado of admiration and flustered fantasy, painting an almost comedic contrast to the tension that hung in the air.

But the moment shattered abruptly.

"Hey, new scum!" Isamu's voice rang out, a little too loud, cracking through the silence like a whip.

Shiro's eyes flicked toward him with unblinking calm. "New... scum?" he repeated, his tone devoid of emotion.

"I don't know," Isamu shrugged, completely in character. "But if you're just going to stand in the way like a statue, then move already. Some of us have things to do."

"Hey! Shut it, don't act rude," Yumi hissed from behind, trying to salvage the situation.

"Why shouldn't I?" Isamu retorted, frustration growing. "He's just standing there, blocking the way like he owns the place."

"I see that," Yumi replied, her voice calm but strained. "But let's not make it worse. Maybe he has something to say."

Isamu turned, his tone now accusatory. "You said I was acting weird today? Look at yourself. You're the one acting strange. Calm? Polite? That's not the Yumi I know."

"Huh?! Me?!" Yumi's composure cracked.

"Yes! You're usually fiery in situations like this, and now you're suddenly all zen. Who are you trying to impress?"

In her heart, Yumi wanted to maintain her composure in front of the cool and stoic Shiro—but Isamu's jab hit the nerve. With flushed cheeks and fiery eyes, she punched him on the forehead. "I am NOT acting weird, you jerk!"

A sigh escaped Shiro's lips, followed by a dry chuckle. "Hmph... I see. Just annoying little kids." His voice turned razor-sharp. "How can there be so many children in a place like this? Pathetic. The idea of learning beside you makes me sick."

Yumi's eyes widened at his brutal words. Her cool-girl act faltered, but she stayed silent, hoping to preserve whatever image she thought would impress Shiro. Isamu, however, had no such facade.

He stepped forward, shortening the gap between them. "You're not a scum," he said quietly.

Another dry chuckle. "Hmph."

"No. You're an asshole. A guy who doesn't see the worth of the people around him. You're blind to how much potential, kindness, and strength these students carry."

Shiro blinked—genuinely surprised by the sudden intensity in Isamu's voice. There was fire there. Real conviction. It annoyed him, but he masked his irritation well.

"I'll say what I want," Isamu continued, voice now cold. "And you can try whatever you like to stop me, but I won't back down from people like you."

Tension thickened like fog. Yumi, caught between admiration and dread, tried to ease the mood.

"Well well... Isamu, I'm really impressed. Someone actually stood up to you."

Shiro's eyes moved to her. "Why? Is he supposed to be some kind of threat here?"

Yumi shook her head. "No, you've misunderstood. Isamu's actually... the lowest-ranked student in our class. No one bothers to challenge him."

Her words, meant to explain, came out as a harsh jab to Isamu's pride. He turned his head slightly, casting a glance over his shoulder at her, saying nothing.

Shiro smirked. "Figures. A child like him could never be a pro. I should've known."

The jab cut deep. Deeper than Isamu realized. Words lodged themselves in his chest like splinters, and for once, he didn't answer back. Not out of fear, but because something inside had fractured.

"Yumi," he said quietly.

"Yes?" she replied hesitantly.

"If you're done talking to him, let's go. I've got work to do."

Yumi nodded. "Sure... let's go."

But before Isamu could step out, Shiro shifted, blocking the door again.

"What now?" Isamu muttered, still not facing him.

"What do I want?" Shiro asked. "I want to embarrass you. That's what I want."

Still, Isamu stayed silent.

"I heard about the upcoming tournament for the 'Supreme Soul' title," Shiro continued. "So here's my advice—stay out of my way. Or..."

Yumi tried to intervene, but Shiro raised a hand, silencing her.

"Or I'll humiliate you in front of the entire nation. I'll tear you apart so brutally that no one will ever forget your name... for all the wrong reasons."

Finally, Isamu turned to meet his eyes. Their gazes locked. Not a single word was exchanged, but something had shifted.

Shiro's next words came like venom. "You're not someone I see as a student here. You're an obstacle. And obstacles are meant to be removed."

Isamu's fists clenched. The silence between them became a challenge—unspoken, undeniable.

Yumi looked between the two—one, a silent fire; the other, a chilling storm.

She grabbed Isamu's arm. "Let's go. You don't need to waste your breath here."

This time, Isamu didn't resist. As he stepped out, he gave one last glance over his shoulder. A promise. A threat. A vow.

Yumi followed, her mind a blur of conflict, curiosity, and concern.

Shiro remained in the hallway, watching their forms retreat. His smirk didn't fade. It deepened.

The storm had just begun.