The bell had long since rung, and the teachers didn’t bother checking the rooftop anymore—not after what happened to Mr. Tanaka last term. Everyone at Kurozawa High knew better than to mess with the guys from Class 3-D. They weren’t just troublemakers. They were legends—brutal, bonded, and barely passing.

Today, the usual five lounged against the fencing, their backs to the school they barely tolerated.

Akeno leaned against the railing, cigarette between his fingers and a healing bruise under his eye, courtesy of a rival gang two blocks down. He didn’t say much, but when he did speak, people shut up.

Beside him, Ryuu straddled an overturned chair, chewing gum loud and obnoxious. His dyed silver hair stuck out like a sore thumb, and he wore his uniform like a joke. The only thing sharper than his mouth was the switchblade he never hid.

Kenji, the muscle, cracked his knuckles from time to time, more interested in the distant city skyline than anything else. He didn’t talk. He grunted. His fists did the rest.

Shou lounged across the concrete like he owned it, music blasting from his phone. He was the one who knew where to score cigarettes, the latest rumors, or the principal’s password. His lazy eyes hid a very quick brain.

Then there was Haruto—your childhood friend, or enemy, depending on the day. The self-proclaimed leader with a half-buttoned shirt and a permanent smirk.