Highschool Of The Dead: Dead Man’s Tale.

Japan is a monocultural society.

He reminded himself as Kozen settled back into his chair as Koichi sensei left and their punishment was over. 

This thought was to explain some of the challenges he and Kohta were facing. Perhaps their failure to conform to certain social norms made them easy targets for bullying by their less tolerant peers. Though this reasoning felt hollow and unsatisfying, it was the only explanation he could muster for their blatant targeting on the first fucking day.

The idea gnawed at him, feeling both trivial and significant at once. 

Maybe there’s another reason, maybe something more. 

As the bell heralded the start of the next class, Ms. Kyoko made her entrance. With a flair that seemed more suited to a stage than a classroom, she commanded immediate attention. Her glasses accentuated the keen sharpness in her light brown eyes, which scanned the room like a hawk surveying its territory. Her reddish-brown hair was a cascade of controlled chaos, tied loosely at the nape of her neck with tendrils framing her face.

The most striking aspect of her appearance, however, was her figure. She was undeniably voluptuous, her attire doing little to hide the generous curves that drew murmurs from the back rows of the classroom. Kozen, caught off-guard by her presence, quickly averted his eyes, feeling a mix of embarrassment and typical teenage reaction to such a figure.

Didn’t know a milf was teaching this class, Kozen thought to himself, a wry chuckle barely suppressed within him. He couldn’t decide if this was his inner teenager reacting or just a spontaneous response to the unexpected.

“Alright, my dears, let’s settle down and dive into the wonderful world of mathematics, shall we?” 

Just as Kozen was adjusting to the shift in atmosphere, chaos erupted once again. The same girl who had accused them earlier began her performance anew, tears streaming down her face as she pointed towards Kozen and Kohta. “Ms. Kyoko! Those two, they’re—they’re bullying me again!” 

“Young men, is this true? Are we not scholars in this sanctuary of learning? Must we descend into barbarism?” 

With the entire class against them, the duo had no choice but go to the back and receive another round of punishment.

“K-K-Kozen,” Kohta stuttered, his voice strained as he glanced nervously at his friend.

Kozen could feel the anger boiling inside him, the veins on his neck and face standing out prominently. He clenched his fists tightly, feeling the pulse throb in his temples. 

“Patience,” he growled back at Kohta, his voice low and fierce. 

Initially, he had been hesitant about going through with his plan. However, the repeated provocations had stripped away any hesitance, fueling his resolve to act decisively.

He didn’t care about the reasons behind their tormentors’ behavior—whether they were rooted in ignorance, jealousy, or some deep-seated prejudice. 

Everything felt irrelevant to him now. Kozen was determined not to let this slide, not to let their actions go unchecked.

Lunchtime had barely started when Kozen decided to set his plan into motion. He approached the girl who had been causing him and Kohta so much trouble. He placed his hand on the desk to stop her from rising, she looked up at him with a mixture of surprise and irritation.

“Hey, get out of my way or else!” she practically screamed, drawing the attention of the entire class. Heads turned, and a hush fell over the room, punctuated only by the murmur of curious or concerned whispers.

Kozen offered a contrived smile. 

“Look, we got off on the wrong foot. Why don’t we let bygones be bygones?” he suggested, extending his other hand in what appeared to be a gesture of peace, though his body still blocked her path.

“No!” 

Kozen’s smile didn’t waver as he responded to her rejection. His hand moved from hovering over the desk to gently pinching her nose. “Aw, come on. I know a cute little girl like you can forgive little old me,” he said, his tone dripping with mock sweetness, laced with an undercurrent of venom. As he increased the pressure of his pinch, the girl began to pull back, her pain visible.

The surprise was evident on everyone’s faces; they shifted uncomfortably in their seats, their eyes darting between Kozen and the girl, unsure of how to react. It was clear they hadn’t expected him to escalate the situation physically, especially not towards a girl.

Kozen, however, stood firm and unyielding. His belief was simple and stark: gender did not grant immunity from repercussions. 

If you mess with the bull, you get the horns

As he tightened his grip slightly, the girl began to struggle more visibly, her hands reaching up to try and pry his fingers off her nose. Her actions were desperate, almost clawing at his hand, but Kozen remained unmoved, his expression fixed. The girl’s eyes started to water, tears beginning to stream down her face as she realized the futility of her efforts.

Kozen felt no remorse. 

As the girl’s cries grew louder and her attempts to free herself became more frantic.

The girl’s boyfriend picked up a chair with the intention of using it against Kozen. But the black teen maneuvered the girl who had accused him in front of himself as a shield. The chair, aimed at Kozen, crashed down onto the girl instead.

The impact of the chair against her body was brutal and sudden. The girl let out a sharp, pained cry as the force knocked her forward into Kozen’s arms. The classroom erupted into chaos. 

Students screamed and recoiled in horror, their expressions a mix of shock, fear, and disbelief. 

The severity of the situation seemed to dawn on them all at once.

The boy who had swung the chair stood frozen, his eyes wide with the immediate realization of what he had inadvertently done. His face drained of color, shock overtaking his initial aggression. But before he could recover or react further, Kozen escalated the violence to a chilling degree.

In a swift, fluid motion that was almost too quick to follow, Kozen grabbed the girl’s head and used it as a battering ram against the boy’s face. The sound of the collision was sickening, a grotesque echo that filled the room. 

“How dare you … hit …a girl?!” Kozen bellowed, his voice filled with sarcasm, as he continued to wield the girl’s body like a weapon, her limp form swinging with each of his movements.

The scene descended into outright pandemonium. Students screamed and scrambled for the exits, only to find themselves trapped as Kohta had locked the door, recording the unfolding horror from outside the window. The fear and confusion were palpable, with cries of distress mingling with shouts for help.

Kozen dragged the unconscious girl by the face, his voice eerily calm as he taunted the class. 

“Awe, come on, I want to extend my hand of apology,” he said, his words dripping with sarcasm and menace. The students, now realizing the depth of their predicament, voiced their regrets for their passive complicity, for being the silent majority that had allowed the situation to escalate.

Some of the girls continued to cry, while a few of the boys tried to muster what bravado they could, their voices thin and unconvincing against the backdrop of Kozen’s dominating presence. Kozen glanced at his watch, a predatory grin spreading across his face. 

“One minute till a teacher comes running in, so survive.”

He leaped towards the nearest student, the classroom became a tableau of fear and desperation. One minute, in this context, felt like an eternity, each second stretching out as Kozen moved among them, instilling a profound and terrifying sense of dread. The line between defense and assault blurred as Kozen took his retaliation to extreme lengths, reshaping the entire dynamic of the classroom into one governed by fear and submission to him.

Author Note: More chapters on [email protected]/LordCampione.