Lord-Campione
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Chapter no.17: Lessons in Fear: The Devil's Apprentice
🕑 Added 2024-09-05 21:45:31 +0000 UTCAs they walked down the school corridors, Kohta struggled to keep pace with Kozen’s long strides. The recent meeting with the principal had been a whirlwind, and Kohta was still reeling from the audacity of their actions.
Guess working as fast as I could to make those out of context clips was worth it,* Kohta thought.
“Where are we going?”
“To the infirmary,” Kozen replied, his attention briefly shifting to his phone before locking eyes with Kohta again.
“Why?”
“Simple, I am going to talk to our bullies to make sure they know not to do anything to us again.” Kozen’s tone was calm, but his expression was serious, almost grim. Kohta read between the lines—Kozen was planning more than just a chat. He was going to ensure the other kids wouldn’t dare escalate things further.
“Wait, why were we with the principal if you were going to do this on your own?”
“Well, I needed to make sure the principal didn’t throw us under the bus. Plus, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.”
Kohta nodded sharply, his respect for Kozen’s foresight growing even as his anxiety about their next steps mounted. “Good, now get ready to cry when I pinch you,” Kozen added abruptly.
“Huh?!”
They stopped in front of the school’s infirmary. The room was a clinical space with pale blue walls that were meant to be soothing but felt cold instead. The sharp smell of antiseptic hung in the air, mingling with the faint odor of medicine and cleaning products. Several beds were lined up against one wall, each separated by thin, white privacy curtains that did little to muffle sound. A large cabinet filled with medical supplies occupied the back of the room, and a small desk for the nurse was positioned near the entrance.
Shizuka ran towards them.
Her appearance spoke volumes of her day. Her hair frayed with strands escaping in soft wisps around her face, framed tired.
“You are in big trouble, mister,” Shizuka pointed at Kozen’s nose, her tone stern yet fatigued. “Wait till Rika hears about this.”
Who is Rika? He thought, glancing at Kozen whose reaction was startling.
“Mrs. Marikawa, no need to go that far, we are innocents,” Kozen’s voice quivered slightly, betraying his usual calm.
Kohta, who had witnessed Kozen beating up an entire class and manipulating situations with the principal with a chilling nonchalance, found it puzzling to see him so unsettled.
The mention of this Rika seemed to unravel Kozen in a way nothing else had.
Who is this legendary figure?
Is she human?
“Oh really, innocents? Do you think I haven’t seen the kind of injuries Rika’s martial arts could explain? But this,” she gestured to the medical reports.
The blonde woman detailed the injuries with clinical precision that made Kohta’s stomach turn.
“We have multiple cases of contusions, several deep lacerations, not to mention the ten suspected concussions. And that’s just the external injuries. Internally, there are broken ribs and several cases of pneumothorax—likely a result of being hit with significant force.”
Kohta cringed, sucking in a sharp breath. The descriptions were far more severe than he had imagined, and understanding the physical reality of the injuries made him view the situation—and Kozen—with new eyes.
Meanwhile, Kozen’s reaction was subdued; he looked down.
It was then that Kohta felt a sharp pinch on his arm—a signal he had almost forgotten about. Confusion crossed his face until he noticed a single tear escaping from Kozen’s eye. The memory of Kozen’s earlier words echoed in his mind: Get ready to cry when I pinch you.
So that’s what he meant, Kohta realized and mustered all his acting skills to produce crocodile tears.
Shizuka’s maternal instincts seemed to kick in despite the boys’ rather unconvincing display of tears.
“Boys, why are you crying?”
“Mrs. Marikawa, we were being relentlessly bullied by these people to the point we were attacked,” Kozen managed to choke out between sobs as he held out his phone to show her the clips they had prepared.
Shizuka gasped and covered her mouth as she watched the footage.
“And you are just blaming us for defending ourselves,” Kohta added, his voice quivering as he caught on to the act.
“I am sorry, boys, I didn’t know. These children need to be taught a lesson,” Shizuka responded.
Kozen shook his head, feigning a moral high ground, which caught both Shizuka and Kohta by surprise.
“Mrs. Marikawa, even though we were wronged, violence is never the option. So we came to apologize to those that we hurt in our self-defense.”
Kohta’s jaw hit the floor with a crack.
“Haha, Rika really changed her ways,” Shizuka remarked.
“What do you mean?” Kozen asked, genuinely curious about this new piece of information regarding the most important woman in his life.
“Well, when Rika was your age, she would always say, ‘Violence isn’t the answer; it’s a question, and the answer is yes.’ I’m glad you are much gentler,” the blonde nurse beamed.
“Of course,” Kozen replied, his voice dripping with feigned innocence and virtue. Kohta simply gave Kozen a look.
“That’s great, let me get my phone to record so that I can show Rika how great her son is.”
At Shizuka’s words, Kozen’s reaction was immediate. The color drained from his face for a moment before a deep blush painted his cheeks. The mention of recording him as Rika’s son caught him completely off guard. His usual calm and controlled demeanor faltered as he tried to process her words, the awkwardness of the situation making him visibly squirm.
Kozen’s hand instinctively went to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a forced smile, an attempt to mask his anxiety, but it did little to hide his true feelings.
“Mrs. Marikawa, I—uh, really, there’s no need for that.”
“What?” Shizuka looked puzzled, her hand already halfway to her pocket in search of her phone.
Ah. Kozen’s mind blanked momentarily, the usually quick-thinking teen struggling to find his footing in the conversation. Just as the silence stretched uncomfortably long, Kohta stepped in with a save.
“The principal wanted to talk to you about the students’ condition, and he needed you immediately.”
“Oh, then I’ll go meet with the principal,” Shizuka said, nodding in understanding.
“Good luck apologizing, and don’t worry, boys, you two are the definition of saints.”
She proudly patted them both on the shoulders.
As soon as Shizuka exited the room, Kohta and Kozen exchanged a look.
They both gave each other a thumbs up.
“Let’s go apologize,” he said, his tone laced with irony.
“Wait, are we really apologizing?!”
“Fuck no,” Kozen replied flatly as he pulled out his phone.
“So, who’s this Rika?”
“The devil,” Kozen responded, a slight shiver passing through him as he said it.
“Really?!”
“No, she’s the woman the devil fears,” Kozen corrected, and both chuckled at the exchange. But then, shifting to a more serious tone, Kozen added, “Jokes aside, she’s my guardian and my martial arts master.”
“She must be awesome,” Kohta remarked, a note of respect in his voice.
“She is,” Kozen affirmed with a nod. They reached the infirmary, and as Kozen pushed the curtains aside, the patients inside looked up. Their expressions shifted from apprehension to outright terror at the sight of him—many of them had been traumatized by Kozen, and their fear was palpable.
None dared to speak or make any move to escape. Kozen smirked, his presence dominating the small, medical space.
“I wanted to show y’all a very simple thing,” he said as he played an audio file. The voice of the principal, secretly recorded by Kozen, filled the room.
As the realization dawned on the injured students that they were not likely to see any justice—their own principal siding against them—anger and despair washed over their faces.
“You think it’s unfair, huh? Guess what, the world is UNFAIR, and you have to decide your battles more smartly,” Kozen lectured, his tone hard as steel.
He scanned the room, noting the defeated looks on most of the students’ faces. However, a few expressions stood out, not showing defeat but something else that Kozen couldn’t quite appreciate.
He didn’t like that.
He walked over to the closest one, a boy who couldn’t even meet his gaze. Kozen leaned in, giving a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he gently grabbed the boy’s fingers.
Kozen’s words, “Let me tell you this, why you should abandon that anger. Live and let live as they say,” flowed with a deceptive calmness. His smile, meant to disarm, did little to mask the underlying threat. As he spoke, his grip on the boy’s hand tightened imperceptibly. Then, with a sudden, sharp movement, he jerked his hand.
The sound that followed—a loud, sickening crack—echoed through the infirmary, reverberating off the sterile walls. It was followed almost immediately by a piercing scream from the boy.
The other students in the room recoiled, their faces etched with horror and disbelief. Kozen had just broken the boy’s fingers, deliberately and cruelly, as a brutal example.
He stood straight, addressing the stunned audience, his voice steady, almost casual. “Keep that fire in your eyes for revenge and see if I don’t break you.”
