Reborn as an Yandere : Yandere X Yandere-Chapter 278: Fable And Predictor

The hitman stepped forward, holding the crowbar tight in his hand. His eyes were wild, and his grin made it clear—he was enjoying this.

But Wayne didn’t back down. He dashed forward, fists raised, moving fast on his feet. He ducked under the first swing of the crowbar, then spun to the side, throwing a quick punch at the hitman’s ribs. The blow landed clean, making the man grunt.

Daniel followed right behind. His fingers were still in pain, but he clutched the operation scissors in his good hand. He lunged low, slashing the man’s leg.

"Agh!" the hitman growled as the blade tore through the fabric and dug into his calf. Blood started dripping down.

Wayne didn’t stop. He threw a solid jab toward the man’s stomach, then ducked and aimed a sweeping kick at his shin. The hitman stumbled slightly, but still managed to swing the crowbar.

Clang!

The metal bar missed Wayne’s head by inches but slammed into the wall behind them, leaving a dent.

Daniel saw an opening and aimed another slash. This time he managed to stab the scissors deep into the hitman’s leg, right above the ankle.

"Arghh!!" the man roared. His leg shook, and he lost his balance for a second. He ripped the scissors out and threw them aside.

"You little punks... You’re gonna regret that."

But Wayne and Daniel weren’t done yet.

Wayne jumped forward and kicked the man’s injured leg with full force. The hitman screamed and dropped to one knee.

Daniel ran to his side and kneed him in the face. Blood splashed out from the man’s nose.

"Not bad..." the hitman muttered, wiping his face.

Suddenly, he swung the crowbar upward with a wild scream and hit Daniel in the ribs.

Crack!

Daniel gasped and flew back, crashing into a desk and knocking it over.

"Daniel!" Wayne shouted, but before he could react, the crowbar came swinging toward him.

He ducked and punched the man’s stomach again, but this time it wasn’t enough.

The hitman grabbed Wayne by the collar and slammed his forehead against Wayne’s.

Thud!

Wayne’s vision blurred. He stumbled back, blood dripping from his nose.

"I’ve had enough," the hitman said, now limping but still deadly. He swung the crowbar again.

Wayne tried to dodge, but this time the metal bar slammed into his shoulder.

"Guhh—!"

He dropped to his knees, clutching his arm.

The hitman kicked him hard in the chest, sending him sliding across the floor.

Daniel got up with shaky legs, holding his ribs. He charged once more, fists clenched.

"You’re still standing?" the hitman said with a smirk. "Fine. Come here."

Daniel threw a punch, then another, then tried a high kick. The hitman blocked most of them and returned with a brutal swing of the crowbar.

It hit Daniel square in the back.

"AAHH—!" he screamed and fell forward.

The hitman stepped on Daniel’s back and pressed down hard. "You two actually hurt me. That’s new."

"It would’ve only taken me a few seconds if I had a gun," the man muttered, frowning. "But if word gets out that I needed minutes to deal with just two kids, my reputation’s ruined!" He scratched the back of his head, puzzled and clearly annoyed.

Letting out a long sigh, he grumbled, "Maybe I’ve let my body get too relaxed in this stupid mental hospital..." His voice trailed off, but then something sparked in his eyes—an idea.

Without wasting another second, he grabbed Wayne by one leg with his right hand and Daniel by one leg with his left. The sound of their bodies dragging across the cold floor echoed through the hall as he walked away.

Wayne and Daniel were barely conscious, their bodies limp, bruised, and weak. They couldn’t move or resist, only feel the dull pain radiating through them.

"Hah! You two... You might make great hitmen someday," the man chuckled to himself. "That’s better than just killing you, right?"

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After what felt like forever, Wayne’s eyes slowly opened. His vision was blurry at first, and his head throbbed like it had been cracked open. As his sight cleared, he realized he was lying on a large master bed in a quiet, spacious room.

Bandages were wrapped around his chest and shoulder. Even his face had a few, and the pain from his injuries was dull but constant. Next to him, Daniel was sleeping soundly, snoring softly. His mouth was slightly open, and he had a bandage wrapped over his ribs.

Wayne blinked a few times, his throat dry. "Am I... alive?" he muttered weakly.

But the moment he looked ahead, all the calm disappeared.

There he was. The same middle-aged man who had beaten them nearly to death—sitting on a chair in front of them, legs crossed and a cigarette between his fingers. Smoke curled up toward the ceiling as he looked at Wayne calmly.

Wayne’s heart skipped a beat. Instinct took over.

He immediately sat up, his eyes searching the room for anything he could use as a weapon—a lamp, a vase, anything. His muscles screamed in pain, but he didn’t care. He had to protect himself.

But before he could move an inch further, the man casually pulled out a gun and aimed it directly at Wayne’s head.

"Don’t try anything stupid," he said in a low, firm voice. "You’d already be dead if I wanted you to be."

Wayne froze.

His heartbeat slowed down, but not because he was calm—because fear was pressing hard on his chest. After a second, he lowered his hands and sat back down on the bed, breathing heavily but keeping his eyes on the man.

"...Who are you? And what were you doing back there?" Wayne asked, his voice cold but shaky.

The man chuckled, taking another puff of his cigarette. "I should be the one asking you that. After years of hiding and keeping quiet, It was finally my time to come out of the shadows... and then you two showed up and almost ruined everything."

He blew out a cloud of smoke and shrugged. "Luckily, I’ve got enough money to clean up the mess. If I didn’t, well..." He didn’t finish the sentence, only sighed deeply.

After a short pause, he continued, "My name’s Leonard Lane. Some call me a high-class hitman. But after assassinating the president of Turkey? Heh, let’s just say I’m now one of the top five hitmen in the world."

Wayne blinked, trying to process what he just heard. His face slowly twisted into a tired grin.

"Pfft... Top five? You couldn’t even handle two kids without getting wrecked. Are all hitmen that pathetic?" he mocked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

A small tick appeared on Leonard’s forehead. He clearly didn’t like being insulted—but he held back his anger and smiled thinly.

"If I had a gun back then, you’d be six feet under, kid. But... fine. A loss is still a loss. That’s on me. I got too soft. Should’ve kept my body in shape," he said, almost like he was scolding himself.

Then, Leonard leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Wayne’s.

"I did a little digging into your background. You’re... interesting," he said. "It looks like you’ve got this dangerous habit. If you don’t kill someone every now and then, you lose control. Go crazy and cause a massacre."

Wayne’s eyes widened, and his breath caught in his throat. His fingers twitched. He hadn’t expected anyone to figure that out so easily.

"Urge... to kill?" he whispered.

Leonard gave a slow nod. "That’s what it looks like to me. But I’ve got a solution—something that can help with your little problem."

Before Wayne could ask what he meant, Leonard leaned back in his chair, smirking.

"Be a hitman," he said simply. "It’s the perfect job for someone like you."

"Okay!" Wayne nodded without even thinking twice.

Even Leonard looked confused for a moment. "What? Shouldn’t you at least think about this for a few minutes or something?"

Wayne rolled his eyes and leaned back a bit. "What’s the point? I don’t feel guilty about killing anyone anymore. And most importantly, if I say no, you’ll either hand me over to the police or just kill me here, right?"

Leonard stared at him for a second, then laughed a little. "You’re smart, that’s for sure. I guess I really did the right thing by sparing your lives."

Wayne crossed his arms. "Hmm... but there’s one thing I’d like to know. What benefit do you get by making us hitmen?"

Leonard didn’t answer right away. He just chuckled lightly and leaned back in his chair. "You’ll know once your injury heals up. But let me make one thing very clear—once someone enters the underworld, there’s no turning back."

Wayne frowned even more. He opened his mouth to ask something else, but before he could speak, Daniel suddenly sat up with a wide, cheerful grin.

"Woohoo! A real hitman journey! Just watch me become the world’s greatest hitman!" Daniel shouted like he had no wounds at all.

Wayne looked at him, unimpressed. "When did you wake up?"

Daniel made a peace sign with his fingers and smiled brightly. "From the start!"

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A few weeks later, when both Daniel and Wayne had recovered enough, Leonard finally took them to a strange place. It was time to take their first real step into the world of hitmen.

Becoming a hitman wasn’t something just anyone could do. There were many secret procedures, harsh training, and dangerous missions. And all of it was illegal, hidden from the normal world.

Leonard led them to an old, rusty building that stood in a dirty, broken part of the city. The area looked like a slum, with barely anyone walking around. Most people wouldn’t even glance at this place.

But the moment they stepped inside, everything changed.

It was like the building had its own secret world. Inside, there was a huge, lively bar filled with loud music and flashing lights. Dancer ladies moved on the stage with bright smiles, entertaining the crowd. Around them were people who looked like criminals—some laughing loudly, others drinking, some flirting with the dancers.

There were even men in business suits sitting at tables and talking seriously, like a secret meeting was going on.

Wayne didn’t waste a second looking around. He just followed Leonard quietly. Daniel, on the other hand, kept turning his head to watch the dancers, Wayne had to grab his arm and drag him along.

They went up to the third floor using elevator. Unlike the dirty outside, the inside here was clean and shiny. The hallway had white walls and clean red carpets. Waiters walked quickly in and out of rooms, carrying drinks and documents.

Finally, they reached a certain room. Leonard opened the door and stepped inside with the two boys behind him.

Inside, there was a middle-aged woman with black hair tied in a bun and glasses resting on her nose. She wore a gray suit and sat behind a large desk filled with papers and a laptop.

She looked at Leonard and then at the two teenagers beside him. Her eyes moved to the clock on the wall, and then she gave a small nod.

"Right on time," she said in a calm voice, as if she had been waiting for them.

Leonard stepped closer to the woman while Wayne and Daniel stood behind him. They all stopped in front of her desk.

"I’ve already finished the paperwork," the lady said, adjusting her glasses. "The only thing left is for you two to choose your titles."

"Title?" Wayne repeated, confused.

The lady nodded and looked at them calmly. "You wouldn’t want just anyone knowing your real names, would you? Titles help keep your identity hidden. They also help when accepting contracts. Once your title becomes famous, its value rises. It carries weight."

She then pointed at Leonard and said, "He is Mr. Oni."

"Oni? Pftt...," Daniel couldn’t help but laugh, but when he saw everyone’s serious expressions, he quickly stopped and coughed awkwardly.

Without wasting time, Wayne stepped forward. "Fable. I’ll take Fable."

Daniel looked at him for a second, and his eyes lit up. "Then I’m Predictor!" he said with a proud smile.

He had watched a cartoon where the character ’Fable’ had a powerful rival named ’Predictor’. Since Wayne chose Fable, he wanted to be like that rival. He thought it sounded cool.

The lady, however, didn’t know anything about cartoons. She only understood the literal meaning of the word ’Predictor’. She raised an eyebrow.

"Ahem... Fable is fine. But Predictor? What are you going to predict—people’s future?" she said with a small frown. "It doesn’t suit you. Think again."

But Daniel didn’t reply. He only looked into her eyes without blinking, showing he wasn’t changing his decision.

The woman sighed. "Alright then. Both of you, raise your index finger."

Wayne and Daniel looked at each other, then did as she said. She picked up a sharp needle and poked both of their fingers, letting a small drop of blood come out.

Then, she placed each drop on two round metal badges and handed them to Leonard.

"What’s that?" Daniel asked, curious.

"Mr. Oni is your recommender," the lady explained. "Every recommender gets one of these blood badges. In the future, he can use it to give you a mission that you cannot refuse."

Daniel’s eyes widened. "Can’t refuse? Why not?"

"Because refusing would break our rules," she said calmly. "And if you break the rules, every hitman out there will be ready to hunt you down."

Wayne felt a chill run through his body.

She continued, "Also, 10% of whatever you earn in the first five years of you as hitman, Will go to Mr. Oni. But remember this—if you ever plan something against us or break the rules, the recommender will be in danger too. So you’re tied to each other."

Wayne now understood why Leonard chose them. They had no family, no home, and no way out. They were the perfect people to drag into the underworld.

"What do we have to do to officially become hitmen?" Wayne asked with a serious face.

The woman paused for a moment to find the right words.

"There are two challenges," she said. "Well, only one challenge to pass. The second one is more like a test to decide your grade."

"Also, you’ll get basic training in hand-to-hand combat and how to kill someone without using a gun. If you do well, you’ll be sent out for real training for a few years. How well you do will depend upon you because after that, you’ll be full hitmen and once you’re out —it’s either kill or be killed."

"Only one challenge?" he thought. "That sounds easy."

"When will that challenge start?" he asked again after a few seconds.

Leonard smiled and looked at both of them. "Where else?" he said with a sly grin. "Prison of teenagers—high school."