The city was restless that night. Neon lights flickered, shadows stretched long, and somewhere beneath it all, the war for power simmered unseen.
Hiroshi sat alone in a dimly lit room, eyes locked on a wall of monitors. Each screen showed a different angle of Tōriku—crowded streets, quiet alleys, corporate towers. A symphony of chaos, all dancing to a rhythm only he could hear.
Yuki's voice crackled through the earpiece. "Kazuma's men are on the move. Two vans, blacked-out windows, heading east."
Hiroshi's eyes sharpened. "Good. Keep them in sight, but don't engage."
"Copy that."
He leaned back, mind racing. ONYX was making its first move, and he wasn't about to let them dictate the pace. No... this was his stage now.
With a flick of his wrist, he switched feeds, zeroing in on a deserted warehouse near the docks—the supposed drop point. Perfect.
---
Meanwhile, Yuki trailed the vans from a sleek motorcycle, weaving through traffic like a shadow. She kept her distance, eyes locked on her targets, every sense on high alert.
Her phone vibrated—a secure ping from Hiroshi.
"Stage 1: Begin."
She grinned beneath her helmet. Showtime.
---
At the warehouse, Kazuma stood in the shadows, flanked by a squad of ONYX operatives. Tactical gear, silenced weapons, eyes cold and focused. They were professionals—and they were ready to strike.
Kazuma checked his watch. "Five minutes," he muttered. "Let's flush them out."
Suddenly, the warehouse lights flickered—and died.
The team tensed, raising their weapons, eyes darting through the dark.
A voice echoed through the building, distorted and cold.
"Welcome to the game."
Kazuma's eyes narrowed. "Kurogane."
The voice continued, taunting, calm. "You thought you'd catch us off guard? Cute. But you're standing in my trap now."
"Spread out!" Kazuma barked. "Find him!"
But before they could move, explosions rattled the building—smoke bombs, blinding and thick, swallowed the operatives whole.
Chaos erupted. Shouts, gunfire, confusion. Shadows moved where no one expected. Every corner of the warehouse became a maze of smoke and mirrors.
In the haze, a lone figure moved like a phantom—quick, precise, unstoppable.
Hiroshi.
He disarmed one guard with a brutal twist, knocking him out cold before vanishing back into the smoke. Another came at him from behind—only to be dropped by a swift strike to the throat.
Kazuma fired into the shadows, frustrated and furious. "Show yourself!"
A low chuckle answered him—right in his earpiece.
"I'm always here," Hiroshi whispered. "Watching. Waiting."
Kazuma spun wildly, but found nothing.
Outside, Yuki hacked into ONYX's comms, feeding Hiroshi every move. "They're falling apart," she reported with satisfaction. "Your plan's working."
"Keep the pressure," Hiroshi replied, slipping deeper into the warehouse.
One by one, Kazuma's men fell. Not killed—just humiliated. Left tied up, unconscious, stripped of their weapons and dignity. A message.
Finally, Kazuma stood alone, breathing hard, gun raised, eyes darting around.
Then—silence.
And out of the smoke, Hiroshi stepped forward, face hidden behind a sleek mask, his reinforced chopsticks gleaming faintly in the dark.
Kazuma's eyes widened. "You—"
Hiroshi moved before he could finish. In two swift motions, Kazuma's gun was knocked away, and his arm twisted behind his back. Forced to his knees, he gritted his teeth in rage.
"This is your first and only warning," Hiroshi said coldly. "Step back. Or next time... you won't walk away."
He released Kazuma, vanishing into the smoke like a ghost.
Kazuma staggered to his feet, fists clenched in fury as sirens wailed in the distance. His men were down, his pride shattered.
And the Kurogane Empire?
Untouched. Unmatched.
For now.
---
Back at HQ, Hiroshi pulled off his mask, meeting Yuki's sharp gaze.
"Phase one—success," she said, grinning.
Hiroshi allowed a small smile. "And phase two?"
She tapped her phone. "Already in motion. We've got eyes everywhere."
Hiroshi's eyes gleamed with quiet determination. "Good. Let them come. We'll be ready."
And as the city lights flickered in the distance, one thing was certain:
The real game had just begun.