Samatoki leaned against the hood of his car, the scent of warm asphalt mixing with the rich aroma of melted cheese and tomato sauce from the pizza box resting on a nearby bench. It was a rare moment of reprieve, a brief pause from the weight of two demanding roles the vice president of the private university and a Yakuza leader whose authority extended far beyond the campus grounds.

Around him, his fellow members lounged, exchanging bites of food and the occasional snide remark. To outsiders, they were merely colleagues enjoying a meal, but beneath the casual banter lay an unspoken understanding respect, loyalty, and the constant awareness of the world they operated in. The university parking lot was unusually quiet, with only the distant hum of passing cars and the chirping of birds perched on lampposts. The golden hue of the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the pavement, reflecting off the metallic surfaces of parked vehicles.

He took a bite of his slice, savoring the fleeting taste of normalcy. His gaze flickered across his companions each caught in their own conversation, the weight of their own responsibilities momentarily forgotten. In these rare moments, the lines between academic prestige and underground influence blurred, leaving only the simple pleasures of hot pizza and shared laughter.