Throne Of Supreme

Yehime Society, nestled in the heart of downtown, was an imposing establishment. Its sprawling grounds were adorned with elegant and exquisitely detailed buildings, each structure a testament to architectural finesse. The aura of refined artistry was palpable, suggesting that this wasn't merely an ordinary gallery. The sheer opulence and the air of secrecy that seemed to hang over it made Aoki suspect there was more than met the eye.

Aoki, always vigilant and curious, paused to observe the Society from a distance. Within moments, two men emerged, moving with purpose towards him. Their expressions were cold and unyielding as they positioned themselves to block his view.

"This is private property. No loitering allowed!" one of them barked.

"Leave immediately, or we will take action!" the other added, his tone equally menacing.

Aoki, assessing the situation, decided it wasn't wise to push back. He cast a lingering glance at the men before turning on his heel and walking away. Their heightened security only deepened his intrigue. Clearly, this was no ordinary art gallery. But it was broad daylight, and any further attempt to uncover the truth would have to wait. He planned to return under the cover of night when stealth was on his side.

Leaving the Yehime Society behind, Aoki didn't return to the dojo. Instead, he found a secluded spot outside the city, away from prying eyes, where he could train uninterrupted. Even in his absence, his influence permeated the dojo. A day later, students were still abuzz, discussing the remarkable technique Aoki had demonstrated—the "Storm."

Gathered in small groups, the students relived the spectacle. "I tried to replicate that move at home," one student confessed. "But I just ended up tangling my arms and legs together!"

"It's not surprising," another chimed in. "I asked one of the senior students, and he said that move requires exceptional coordination and a deep understanding of Aoki Style. It's not something just anyone can pick up."

"That move is incredible!" a third student exclaimed. "It's my dream to master it one day."

Their conversation halted abruptly as Fujita Shigeyoshi approached. His face was a mask of barely contained fury, and the air around him seemed to crackle with his seething anger.

Once he was out of earshot, the students exchanged uneasy glances. "I thought he'd be too embarrassed to show his face here again," one muttered.

"Give him a break," another replied. "It was just a training match. But did you hear about the bet he made? He wagered that the fight would be over in under 30 seconds and won a lot of money. But when he collected his winnings, he looked like he'd just eaten something sour."

"Wow!"

Fujita Shigeyoshi, simmering with rage, vented his frustration on a training dummy. Each punch landed with a force that echoed through the dojo, a physical manifestation of his humiliation and anger.

Everywhere he went, he was met with whispers and sidelong glances. The dojo, once a place of camaraderie, had become a crucible of embarrassment for him. He couldn't escape the mocking eyes and murmurs about his devastating defeat. The memory of Aomura's victory was a relentless, stinging slap to his pride. His friends stood nearby, awkward and silent, their discomfort evident. Fujita had boasted too much and lost too badly; now, every word he spoke seemed to mock his earlier confidence.

A young man with a long face, sensing an opportunity to escalate matters, spoke up. "Shigeyoshi, do you want to get back at him?"

Shigeyoshi's eyes narrowed as he responded. "And how do you suggest we do that? Jump him with a club? Gang up on him?"

It was clear that he had already considered these crude methods.

The long-faced youth smirked, leaning in as if to share a secret. "That's too straightforward. We need to do it in a way that everyone sees. Think about it—there's that old legend about demons who prey on people. We can spread a rumor that Aomura is one of those demons."

Shigeyoshi frowned, skepticism etched on his face. "But who's going to believe that?"

"Leave that to me," the young man said with a sly grin. "Remember Aomura's eyes? We can say they're the mark of a demon. And he's always wearing that hat, hiding something. We'll claim it's to conceal his true identity."

Another student, more hesitant, interjected. "I heard he wears the hat because he has a skin condition and can't be in the sun."

The long-faced youth dismissed the comment with a wave. "Who cares about the real reason? It's all about what we say. Who's going to know the truth? As long as we cast doubt, people will start to believe it. We don't need to prove he's a demon. Just spreading the rumor will give us the excuse to confront him. Then, we can decide how to handle him."

Shigeyoshi's eyes brightened with malicious glee. It was a clever plan. Not only could they take down Aomura, but they could also ruin his reputation.

The young man continued, his grin widening. "We can also use the fact that Aomura just joined the dojo. Why is he so strong? Because he's a demon! Why does he have those powerful moves? Because he's not human!"

Shigeyoshi nodded, adding his own twist to the plan. "I'll talk to my uncle. He's a manager at Fujita Steel and has connections in the police. We can get them to help us 'catch the demon'."

The long-faced youth laughed, his tone sinister. "Perfect! We'll make sure he gets a lesson he'll never forget."

One of their friends, more cautious, voiced his concern. "Isn't this going too far? I've heard that prison can be brutal. Even if you survive, you come out broken."

The long-faced youth shrugged, indifferent to the consequences. "What does it matter to us? He's a demon. The more he suffers, the better."

…

Meanwhile, Akiyama Keisuke was hurrying towards the dojo, worry etched on his face. The situation had spiraled out of control, and he needed to inform his master about the unfolding crisis.

As he approached the entrance, he noticed a girl with strikingly colored hair standing nearby. Recognizing her, he approached. "Miss Kanroji, can I help you with something?"

Kanroji Mitsuri's face lit up with hope. "Can you get Mr. Aomura for me?"

Akiyama sighed inwardly. Of course, she was looking for Aomura. "I'm afraid Junior Brother Aomura isn't here right now."

Her shoulders drooped slightly in disappointment. "Oh, really?"

Akiyama quickly added, "And there's been some trouble at the dojo. It's best if Aomura doesn't come back for now. If you see him, please let him know to stay away."

Kanroji's eyes widened with concern. "What happened?"

"It's a complicated situation," Akiyama explained, his voice low. "Rumors are spreading that Aomura is a demon. At first, I didn't believe it, but now the police are involved. They're coming to arrest him."

"Please, if you see him, tell him to stay away until we sort this out." With a quick bow, Akiyama hurried back inside, leaving Kanroji standing there, a look of deep worry on her face.

"What's really going on?" she muttered to herself, glancing back at the dojo before turning to leave.

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T/N: There is a patreon for this work, and any new work I add will be dropped there first. check it out for an early release of up to 15 chapters.

Patreon link:- patreon.com/ANelite

And also give me some power stones!!

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