The night over Yokohama Port was a symphony of silence and noise. The light drizzle that had been falling since the afternoon had stopped, leaving behind a thick, humid air, and asphalt that glistened like reptile skin under the orange glow of the sodium lamps. From a distance, one could hear the melancholic whistle of a ship and the constant hum of machines that never slept. But in Industrial Sector 7, where Warehouse Number 7 stood like a rusted steel tomb, the silence was more dominant, a silence filled with a tense anticipation.
The Ghost and the Spiderweb
For Akame, this silence was her canvas. She moved along the shadows of a row of shipping containers, her posture low, every step soundless. Before her lay the first obstacle: a four-meter-high chain-link fence topped with barbed wire, surrounding the entire warehouse complex. Beyond it, a wide gravel yard stretched out, a killing field for anyone who tried to cross without being seen.
She didn't try to cut the fence; that would leave a trace. Instead, she waited, observing. She saw the rhythm of the rotating security cameras, counting the seconds in her mind. She saw a blind spot, a 2.7-second area of shadow between the sweeps of two cameras.
"There are pressure sensors along the base of the fence, Akame. Two meters in front of you," Hawks' voice came through her earpiece, a digital whisper amidst the quiet. "You have to clear it."
When the perfect moment arrived, Akame exploded into motion. She took three silent steps, jumped onto a trash bin, and from there, launched into the air. Her light, trained body arched gracefully over the barbed wire at the top of the fence, before landing perfectly on the other side, just outside the range of the pressure sensors. Her landing was so light it barely disturbed the gravel beneath her feet.
Now for the hard part: crossing the open yard. She didn't run. She crept, moving from the shadow of one stack of crates to another, her movements slow and methodical like a hunting snake. Every time the sound of a distant crane groaned, she used that moment to move a few more meters.
In the middle of the yard, she met her first guard. A bored-looking member of 'The Port Hounds', leaning against a wall while smoking a cigarette. Akame waited until the guard threw away his cigarette butt and turned around. That's when she moved. She emerged from the shadow behind the man. Before the guard could even notice the change in air temperature behind him, Akame's hands had pressed two nerve points at the base of his neck. The man's eyes rolled back, and he fell unconscious. Akame caught his body before it hit the ground and carefully dragged him out of sight. Quick, clean, no blood.
She finally reached the cold, rusty wall of the warehouse. She found a small maintenance hatch near the ground, exactly where Hawks' data had shown. The lock was old and rusted. Using a slim set of lock-picking tools, her nimble fingers worked in silence. With a nearly inaudible click, the lock opened. She slipped into the darkness of the warehouse. The first phase of her infiltration was a success.
The Eye in the Sky
Far above Akame, at the top of one of the giant, inactive container cranes, Tatsumi had found his nest. From a height of almost a hundred meters, he had an unparalleled view of the entire port district. Below him, the lights twinkled like an artificial constellation, and Warehouse Number 7 looked like a small dark box in the middle of it. The wet sea wind battered his armor, but inside Incursio, he felt calm.
He was the center of his team's information network. His helmet's visor displayed layered data. Thermal vision showed the heat signatures of the patrolling guards. Electromagnetic vision showed the range of each camera. And enhanced hearing allowed him to catch faint conversations from below.
He wasn't just watching Akame. He was watching the entire chessboard. He saw a suspicious van parked at the end of the street, its engine running—most likely a Humarise support team. He saw the glint of binoculars from another rooftop—most likely a Yozakura spotter.
"Hawks, I see a four-man patrol of 'Port Hounds' approaching Akame's position from the west. They're moving faster than our estimated schedule," Tatsumi reported, his voice calm and focused.
"Understood," Hawks replied. "Akame, did you hear that?"
"I heard," Akame replied from inside the warehouse. "I've already found a hiding spot. Proceed."
Tatsumi continued to observe, feeling an immense weight of responsibility. Akame's and Leone's lives depended on the thoroughness of his observation. This was a different kind of battle for him. Not about strength or speed, but about focus, patience, and absolute trust in his comrades. His analytical soul was in its element, while his hero's heart pounded every time one of the heat signatures on his screen moved too close to Akame's position.
The Lioness Among the Sheep
In a shabby 24-hour coffee shop across the street from the warehouse complex, Leone sat in a booth, sipping her cold black coffee. She wore the dirty uniform of a port mechanic, her cap pulled low over her face. She looked like any other worker on a break, not drawing any attention at all.
But behind her casual exterior, all her senses were working at full capacity. Her ears caught every conversation around her. She heard two truck drivers complaining about the "new arrogant guards" around Warehouse 7. She heard a drunk dockworker boasting about how he was paid to "see nothing" for an hour tonight. Every piece of information, no matter how small, she processed and stored.
She had made her preparations. A few hours ago, when she went to the restroom, she had silently attached a small device to the coffee shop's main fuse box. It wasn't a bomb, but a circuit-frying device designed by Hawks. When activated remotely, it would cause a major short circuit, knocking out the power on the entire block and creating a thick plume of smoke from the panel. A perfect diversion, one that would look like a simple electrical accident.
She held a hot cup of coffee in her hands, feeling its warmth. In her pocket, a small, cold detonator awaited her signal. She was a patient predator, a lioness hiding among a flock of sheep, waiting for the right moment to pounce.
Arrival of the Vultures
At 22:50, ten minutes before the scheduled meeting, they began to arrive.
Tatsumi was the first to see them. "Hawks, I have movement. Three armored black sedans approaching from the main highway. No license plates. Moving in formation. Most likely the Humarise delegation."
A few moments later, he saw another movement. "And there's an unmarked speedboat approaching from the canal on the east side. Only one passenger escorted by two men. Must be Gensei."
Inside the dark and dusty warehouse, Akame, who was now hiding among the steel rafters in the ceiling, saw the giant sliding door of the warehouse begin to open with a heavy groan.
The three black sedans entered smoothly and stopped in the middle of the room. The doors opened, and several cold-looking men in tactical suits got out, scanning every corner with their weapons raised. Behind them, a pale-looking woman in a lab coat—one of the remaining Humarise leaders—stepped out.
On the other side, the speedboat docked at a private pier inside the warehouse. Two guards in Yozakura uniforms jumped out, before finally helping an old man disembark. Gensei. He wore an expensive silk kimono under a long coat, his white hair slicked back neatly. He may have looked like an old grandfather, but the way he moved, the way his sharp, unforgiving eyes scanned his surroundings, radiated an aura of danger far greater than his armed bodyguards.
Finally, an old, rusty van entered from another door. A skinny man with a lizard-like appearance, "Gecko," the tech supplier, got out carrying a metal briefcase.
The three factions of the conspiracy had now gathered.
Akame carefully activated the long-range audio bug she had planted on one of the steel beams. She could hear their conversation clearly. Everything was going according to plan.
But as Gensei stepped into the center of the room to greet the others, he suddenly stopped. He didn't look up. He just stood still, his head tilted slightly, as if he were listening to something no one else could hear.
He slowly raised his head, his hawk-like eyes seeming to stare straight at Akame's hiding spot in the dark ceiling.
A thin, cold smile played on his lips.
"It seems," he said, his quiet yet dangerous voice echoing throughout the warehouse. "There is a rat in this house." He turned to his bodyguard. "Find it."
Akame's heart felt like it stopped. Somehow, the master assassin had sensed her. Their hunt had just been reversed.