School rumors.
Lately, I've been at the center of them more often than I'd like.
It was bad enough when the guys started greeting me with "King" after the school trip. The girls looked stunned. Suzuki froze like her system just crashed. Yamashita blushed furiously, eyes darting everywhere except at me.
Now I was reaping the rewards of my rebound — my stage name getting dragged through classroom gossip like it paid rent there.
At this point, it was routine.
"Yo, did you guys hear Forsaken's track with Kurogane?!" Kenta blurted the second the bell rang, half-standing out of his chair like he was announcing breaking news.
Mori didn't even look up from his phone.
"Kurogane carried. Forsaken just… existed on it."
Of course. My number one hater, right on cue. The school trip didn't reset anything — it was just a temporary ceasefire.
Yamada adjusted his glasses, speaking just loud enough to be heard.
"I didn't think he'd collab with someone local…"
"Well, yeah," Mori replied, finally glancing up. "Matsumoto's rap scene is tiny. You think they're flying in Drake? Of course they're gonna link up. It's mutual exposure. The most basic strategy."
Annoyingly, he wasn't wrong.
Kenta leaned forward, elbows on his desk.
"But he didn't collab with Yabai though."
Mori snorted.
"Yeah, no kidding. Yabai jumped him on the street. You think they're gonna hug it out and drop a 'brothers forever' track after that?"
Kenta laughed way too loud at that. Yamada smiled awkwardly.
I stayed quiet, staring at the board like I wasn't the subject of the conversation.
High school critics. Free commentary, no subscription needed.
I let out a yawn, the exhaustion clinging to me in a way I couldn't shake.
I'd been too social lately.
Today, I just wanted silence.
Somewhere between the sudden attention and the constant noise, I found myself missing the days when I was the class ghost.
No Yamashita dragging me to the rooftop for lunch.
No Suzuki nagging me between periods.
No Kenta loudly trying to turn us into best friends.
No random texts from Inazuki popping up just to fill the quiet.
Yeah… talking to people was nice.
But it was exhausting.
The day blurred by with my head on the desk. I slept through most of it — not because I couldn't stay awake, but because I didn't feel like participating.
In math, a piece of chalk smacked my shoulder.
"Shiba! If you're not going to pay attention, you can just go home."
The class sighed in unison like it was routine. Just another Tuesday.
Well, almost everyone.
Inazuki was biting her lip, trying — and failing — to suppress a laugh.
I stretched in my seat.
"You know what, Sensei? I think that's a great idea."
I stood up, grabbed my bag, and walked out, ignoring the teacher's protests.
I received a text from Inazuki almost immediately after.
"Mornin' sleepyhead 😜 Where u dashin' off 2 so early?"
To reply or not to reply. Well, there goes nothing.
"Somewhere my social anxiety doesn't trigger so randomly. 🙃"
Her reply came quick.
"LMAO dramatic much?? 😭 who scared u this time?"
Me:
Existence.
Inazuki:
Stoppp 💀 ur so extra in the morning 🙄
U skipping the whole day or just pulling a mysterious main character exit?
Me:
Main character? 😅
I was thinking of hitting the arcade for the next couple classes.
Inazuki:
LMAO wait fr?? 😭
Bro just rage-quit school for the arcade 💀
Bring me back a plushie or I'm snitching, Forsaken. 🎮✨
Me:
If I win any. 🙃
I spent an hour at the arcade. And I did win a plushie.
Don't compete with someone who spent more time at the arcade than at school...
I took out my phone and opened my DM with Inazuki.
Me:
So... you want that plushie? I honestly have nothing to do with it 😅
Inazuki:
WAIT you actually won one?? 😳
LOL okay now I definitely want it. What even is it?? 👀
Inazuki:
Also wow, look at you. Skipping class and winning prizes…
living your best delinquent life huh 🙄✨
Me:
May I remind you that you wanted to be friends with this delinquent? 🙃
Inazuki:
Yeah?? And I still do lol 🙄 My bad for befriending the school delinquent who skips class to grind arcade machines 😆😉
I was tempted to say you only befriended me cause you know I'm Forsaken, but you'd just say you're gonna become more famous than me.
Me:
Would this elite gyaru princess just shut up and accept a gift from this good for nothing delinuqent? 🙃
I typed that with a smirk.
Talking to Inazuki felt... Normal.
Probably the most normal thing in my life.
Inazuki:
Ughhh fineee 😒😤 Don't act like you're actually giving it to me out of the kindness of your heart 😏
But… okay, I'll take it 🙌✨
And so I was kind of forced to make my way back to school.
I slipped through the hallway, hood up, keeping my head down. Locker rows stretched ahead like a minefield, but I had one target: Inazuki's.
The plushie was tucked under my arm, harmless but heavier than I expected.
I crouched slightly, pretending to tie my shoe, and slid it into the gap between her locker door and the frame.
Then a soft laugh made me freeze. I looked up, and there she was—Inazuki, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, like she'd been expecting me all along.
"…You're ridiculous," she said.
"Excuse me?" I muttered, shrugging.
"You could've just given it to me normally," she said, rolling her eyes.
I leaned back against the lockers, hands in pockets. "Where's the fun in that?"
She stared at me a second, then snatched the plushie out. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"Yeah, but you'll thank me later," I said, smirking under the hood.
Her lips twitched like she wanted to argue, but the bell rang, dragging her away.
She glanced back at me, eyebrow raised.
"You're not coming back to classes, Shiba-kun?"
"Nah, not in the mood," I replied. "See you around, Inazuki."
She waved me, brief and small.
I watched her go, hoodie back over my head, already heading out the school gate.
Hours slipped by without me noticing. Soon enough, it was time to clock in.
The bar reeked of spilled whiskey, lemon and cigarette smoke, like usual. I was behind the counter, shaking a cocktail shaker for a few regulars, when Tetsu slid up, grinning like he'd just won a small war.
"Yo, Forsaken! Heard you hooked up with Kurogane, huh? Finally ditching that American bullshit for some real Japanese rap?," he said, elbows resting on the counter.
I scratched the back of my neck, tasting the faint bitterness of vermouth. "Well… American vibes aren't gonna make me big here. Gotta play the game their way."
The manager, a sharp-eyed guy with a face like he chews glass for breakfast, stepped closer. His tone was clipped, almost surgical.
"Kid, I hope your so-called 'rise' doesn't interfere with work. This bar doesn't run itself."
Before I could reply, Maestro leaned against the counter, sunglasses catching the neon glow. Even in the dim light, his grin was all teeth.
"Relax, boss," he said. "The kid's got raw talent. Wasting him on cocktails is like letting a lion run errands. He's bigger than this joint."
Tetsu chuckled, flicking a cigarette ash into the tray. "Yeah. Kid's got potential. Better for us if he's climbing than stuck behind this counter, right?"
The manager's eyes narrowed, but he shrugged, the motion tight and controlled.
"Until that 'climb' comes through, he still shows up. And he still works. That's the deal."
I exhaled.
Around us, the bar hummed with quiet chatter and the soft clink of glasses—my little stage before the bigger one.
And slowly but surely, my path forward was carving itself out. Not in some grand, dramatic way... just a quiet shift.
That was how I ended up with an invitation to hang out with Kurogane and his crew.
I told him I'd be free on the weekend.
Sunday evening, I pushed open the sliding door of the izakaya he ran. Warm air rolled out to meet me — thick with the smell of grilled meat, soy sauce, and cheap tobacco.
The rappers I'd seen at the cypher were already there.
Sora and Rei were sprawled across a worn leather couch like the place belonged to them, limbs loose, half-empty beer bottles on the table in front of them. They barely looked up when I walked in.
Behind the counter, Kurogane flicked a lighter.
The sharp click cut through the noise before the tip of his cigarette flared orange in the dim light. He leaned back against the shelves of liquor, exhaling a slow stream of smoke as a crooked smirk spread across his face.
"Yo," he said. "Forsaken showed up."
"Yo, whassup, Kurogane?" I greeted, clasping his hand.
His grip was firm, quick — the kind of handshake that felt more like a test than a greeting.
"Just chilling with the boys," he said, jerking his chin toward the couch. "Go ahead, take a seat."
I dropped into the worn leather beside Sora and Rei. The cushions sank low under my weight, the room humming with the faint buzz of neon lights and the distant clatter of dishes from the kitchen. Kurogane slid into the seat next to me, still holding his cigarette between two fingers.
I smirked and reached into my pocket.
"Thought I wouldn't come empty-handed."
I pulled out a neatly pre-rolled joint and held it up between my fingers, lighting it up and taking a drag.
For a second, there was silence.
Then Kurogane let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as a grin crept across his face.
"Damn," he said. "You came prepared."
Sora leaned forward on the couch, eyes lighting up.
"Yeah," he said with a satisfied nod. "I already like this guy."
Rei, who just took a sip from his drink, coughed suddenly, nearly choking as he waved a hand in front of his face.
"Jesus—," he rasped between coughs. "You just… bring that shit out like it's nothing?"
"Y'all want some?" I asked, holding the joint up between my fingers.
Kurogane didn't even hesitate. He leaned forward, plucked it from my hand, and brought it to his lips.
"Don't mind if I do."
The lighter clicked again. The tip flared, and he took a slow pull before leaning back, exhaling a lazy stream of smoke that curled toward the ceiling.
"Not bad," he said, passing it along.
Sora grabbed it next, already grinning.
"My kind of Sunday," he said, taking a puff and sinking deeper into the couch cushions.
When the joint reached Rei, he raised both hands like it was a loaded gun.
"Nah, man," he said quickly. "We're not in the U.S. This is Japan, shit's illegal here, yo."
For a moment, the room went quiet.
Then Kurogane barked out a laugh.
"Illegal?" he repeated.
Sora wheezed beside him, nearly dropping the joint.
"Bro," he said, shaking his head. "You're a rapper."
Rei scowled at both of them, clearly regretting opening his mouth.
"Man, shut up," he muttered, snatching the joint out of Sora's hand like he had something to prove.
He took a drag.
Two seconds later, he bent forward, coughing violently into his fist as the other two burst out laughing.
The laughter faded, smoke hanging lazy in the air.
Kurogane glanced at me, a small grin tugging at his mouth.
"So," he said, tapping ash into the tray. "I talked with Sora and Rei."
Sora gave a casual thumbs-up from the couch.
"Guy's cool," he said. "Got good vibes."
Rei rubbed his throat, still recovering from the coughing fit.
"…You tried to kill me," he muttered hoarsely. "But yeah. You're alright."
Kurogane chuckled and looked back at me.
"We figured we'd invite you to join our group. Matsumoto Boys."
He shrugged.
"MTB for short."
Then he jerked his chin toward me.
"So," he said. "You in?"
I weighed it for a brief second.
A rap collective meant legitimacy in the scene. More reach. More chances to get noticed. And it meant I wouldn't be grinding everything out solo anymore.
The pros outweighed the cons.
"Sure," I said with a shrug. "I'm in."
Sora grinned immediately.
"Hell yeah," he said, pointing at me. "Knew it."
Rei gave a small nod, still rubbing his throat.
"Just… next time warn me before you bring chemical weapons," he muttered.
Kurogane chuckled, clapping me once on the shoulder.
"Welcome to MTB, Forsaken."
I leaned back into the couch, relaxed. This was promising.