The Princess is Baddass

Osaka’s underbelly didn’t change. Bridges rusted, boys bled, and the strong still ruled the weak.

Under a graffitied overpass near the canal, three young thugs circled a teenager on the ground. His hands were up, trembling. A boot crushed his textbook into the wet concrete.

“You think flashin’ Arakawa colors makes you invincible, huh?”

The leader of the punks sneered. “You ain’t nothing but a dog barkin’ with your master’s name.”

The boy didn’t respond. His nose was bleeding, and he looked ready to vomit.

Then came the sound.

Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. Heavy boots against gravel.

“You dumb kids really don’t learn.”

All three punks flinched at the voice. A shadow loomed.

Ryuji Arakawa stepped out from the misty edge of the underpass, cigarette barely clinging to his lip.

Black overcoat. Shirt unbuttoned at the top, exposing a faint spiderweb of scars across his chest.

No school uniform now — this man was yakuza, down to the bones.

He glanced at the boy on the ground, then to the punks.

“I should break your legs for touchin’ my people,” he said calmly. “But I’m tryin’ not to get blood on my coat today.”

One of the punks tried to talk big. “The hell do you think you are?! This is Tatsumaki turf!”

Ryuji blew smoke from his nose.

“So you know who I am, and you still opened your mouths.”

He moved.

A right hook crushed the leader’s cheek, sending teeth skidding across concrete.

The second tried to swing — Ryuji caught his wrist, dislocated it, and shoved him into the wall.

The last one pissed himself and ran before a boot could reach him.

Silence. Then a soft grunt as Ryuji crouched beside the battered boy.

“You okay?”

“…Y-yeah…”

Ryuji sighed and pulled out a cigarette, then hesitated. Instead, he handed it to the boy.

“Don’t light that. Just keep it. Might make you look tougher next time.”

He stood and adjusted his coat.

“Next time you’re out alone, stay away from bridges. And Tatsumaki rats.”

“Thank you so much, Oyabun!”

“So why did they beat you up here, boy?”

“I saw one of my classmates getting mauled by those guys. I wanted to take revenge. I thought I could take them.”

“They almost killed you too, you know.”

“Yeah … I know.”

“I once was like you—naïve and reckless. I was a pain in the ass for my grandfather back then. But sometimes, kid, it takes scars and a good beating to teach you something. Just make sure you learn it before it’s too late.”

He gave the boy one last look.

“Don’t end up like me.”

Ryuji turned, the cigarette smoke trailing after him.

“I’ll be seeing you, kid. Hope you stay alive.”

In the night beneath the bustling city’s neon haze — where the scent of piss clung to concrete and the hum of passing cars faded into shadows — a group of thugs gathered under the bridge.

“Oya oya... seems like a lizard wandered outta his swamp,” sneered a man with a jagged scar across his lip. He flicked a cigarette to the ground and stepped forward. “What brings the leader of Arakawa all the way out here, huh?”

Ryuu stood at the edge of the passage, eyes unreadable under the flicker of streetlight. “Some of your boys put one of mine in the hospital,” he said coldly.

The scarred man scoffed. “That punk stepped into our turf first. We just put him in his place. You’re the one trespassing now.”

“That ‘punk’ is on his deathbed. So no, I’m not letting this slide.”

The man chuckled. “Oi oi, Ryuu-kun… you really want to start a war—”

He didn’t finish.

Ryuu’s fist silenced him with the sickening thud of bone cracking against cheek. The man flew sideways, crashing into a stack of rusted cans. Out cold.

Silence fell.

Then chaos erupted.

“You bastard! Don’t you dare underestimate the Tatsumaki!”

The rest of the thugs lunged toward him, pipes and knives in hand. Ryuu didn’t flinch. As his men moved to back him up, he raised one hand calmly.

“Kenta. Call an ambulance.”

“Y-Yes sir!”

And then the storm broke loose.

Ryuu moved like a beast unchained. His elbow shattered the jaw of the first attacker mid-swing. He caught a steel pipe with his bare hand, twisting it from the thug’s grip and driving the butt of it into the man’s gut so hard he folded like paper.

Another came from behind — Ryuu spun, kicked out the man’s knee, and brought down a hammering fist onto the back of his neck.

A knife flashed. He sidestepped, grabbed the wielder’s wrist, snapped it with a wet crack, then drove his forehead into the man’s nose, breaking it instantly.

It wasn’t a fight.

It was a dismantling.

Within less than a minute, the entire group lay groaning on the concrete, moaning or unconscious, their weapons scattered uselessly around them.

As the sound of approaching sirens neared, Ryuu exhaled and flicked the blood from his knuckles.

By the time the ambulance arrived, Ryuu and his men were gone — nothing left but bodies, bruises, and the echo of violence under the bridge.

As the night deepened, Ryuji and his men strolled through the neon-lit streets, laughter echoing down the alleys.

“Sasuga da, Oyabun! You cleared them out like a storm!” said Kenta, grinning ear to ear.

“They don’t call him the Dragon for no reason,” added Hakabe, chuckling.

“Boss, why don’t we go out for barbecue and a beer tonight? My treat!” Keisuke chimed in.

Ryuji waved a hand. “That’s enough flattery. You guys go ahead. There’s something I need to check on first.”

“Alright, boss!” they replied, jogging off, leaving Ryuji walking alone under the flickering streetlights.

He took a few steps and paused, staring across the street at a small convenience store. A woman stepped out, someone from his past. She smiled as another man approached her. They left together in a car. Ryuji watched them drive away in silence, expression unreadable, then turned and walked on.

The city quieted as he entered a less crowded street. A ball suddenly rolled across his path. Ryuji bent down and picked it up.

“Ojii-san! That’s my ball!” shouted a child from the sidewalk.

As the boy ran into the road, Ryuji’s instincts kicked in. He dashed forward, throwing the boy out of harm’s way just as a truck’s headlights flared into his eyes—

A blinding white.

“YOU BRAINLESS MONKEY! DO YOU WANT TO START A WAR?! YOU PICKED A FIGHT WITH THE OTHER GANG AGAIN?! YOU USELESS GRANDSON!”

...Ryuji blinked.

“Huh? Why do I hear Gramps’ voice all of a sudden...?”

Then another voice.

“I’m sorry, Ryuu. I just don’t belong in your world. The two of us are too different to be together.”

“Why say that now…?”

His thoughts grew foggy.

So this is what death feels like…

Even a dragon can fall from a single blow...

A flash.

Blinding light.

Sunlight streamed through elegant curtains.

“My lady, it’s nearly afternoon. The Queen has been waiting for you, Are you feeling better now? ” said a voice gently.

Under the silk blankets, a delicate figure stirred.

“...Let me sleep a little more, Kenta. It’s been a long night,” the voice muttered groggily.

The maid blinked. “My lady… who is Kenta?”

“...Huh?”

The girl flung off her blanket, sitting up with messy hair and a confused expression.

“Who the hell are you?” she asked, voice dry.

The maid raised an eyebrow. “My lady, this isn’t the time for jokes. You need to get ready. The event is starting.”

“Huh? What event? Where even am I?”

Still half-asleep, the girl looked around the lavish room, dazed.

(I must’ve been really drunk last night... I’m hallucinating.)

Then she looked down.

(What’s with these... lumps?)

She grabbed her chest.

“Eh? What the heck is this?!”

Bolting to the mirror, she stared at the reflection.

A beautiful young woman stared back.

Her jaw dropped.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!”