Imagine getting into the world's most prestigious academy based solely on stopping a mediocre attempt at a heist?
let's take a gander at the life of y/n kuromori, a teenage serial killer bent on finding the people responsible for his only families d...
These were the thoughts running through one disgruntled teens head as he waited in line at a star-fuck me thats expensive-bucks. Losing patience, he looked ahead of him. Directly in front of him were two....unique figures. One was a tall, burly man wearing a business suit while the one next to him was a slightly shorter blonde girl about his age wearing a pink sweater, blue wide-legged jeans and black knee-high riding boots, like she was a model.
Probably an escort....
Y/n's eyes flickered down to her backside.
Damn, that ass was popping though. He usually kicked himself for staring like this, but even the chad inside him had to admit defeat every once and a while.
And her sense of style caught even the eyes of a fashion-blind jackass' like himself. To be fair though, he wasn't to bad looking either.
He had a gaunt face with a solid stone, clean shaven jaw. He usually rocked a beard, but for some strange reason, it had crimson-red hues, no matter how much dye he put in it. It really did not pair well with his messy crop of h/c hair. Such a look was deemed alien here in Japan. People wouldn't stop taking pictures of him.
Speaking of which, he used an old head wrap his mother gave him to stick the front of his spiked hair up on top of his head, while the back lay slicked and flat. Made him look like some white haired perv from an old anime.
As for clothes, he was wearing a black t-shirt he was given by his father.
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A family favourite.
In his arms was a folded ball of yellow and black leather. It was almost summer break, and was WAY to hot outside, especially for leather.
He was also sporting INTACT black jeans: in his experience, wearing ripped jeans was a gateway to some random pissheads running up to you and sticking their dick inside one of the holes. His heavy black boots were next, heavy thanks to the inner steel cap at the base and tip of the boot.
Fingerless gloves adorned his hands, padded with thin rubber knuckle protectors. Beneath the thin layer of rubber, the knuckle pads were lined with hardened steel.
Attached to his left ear was an earring; a thin blue hoop that hugged his lobule snuggly. When piercing his ear as a child, his mother told him it had symbolic meaning.
As he slowly died of boredom, the doors to the coffee house burst open. Rushing into the store were four thugs wearing black tracksuits and black balaclavas. Each had a handheld and were waving them around like balloon swords.
While the crowd residing within the shop began screaming, a woman and her child made a run for the door. Seeing this, one of the thugs sprinted toward her and clocked her upside the head with his pistol. The girl in front of y/n let out a stiffled gasp of horror.
