Chapter 1
Sakuya POV
"Saku… behind you…"
Haru's voice was the last thing I heard before the world turned into shadows.
I hadn't wanted to be here. For the past week, Akane-chan had been relentless, dropping by my room every afternoon to plead with me. She wanted me to join her on one of her endless shopping sprees, a visit to our territory's most popular boutiques, like Mitsukoshi and Isetan, places where the lights were warm, the staff bowed deeply, and the air smelled faintly of polished wood and expensive perfume.
I didn't care. I preferred my four walls, the weight of a blanket, and the quiet hum of nothingness. Going outside meant people. And people meant eyes that are staring, judging, expecting me to speak, to smile, to live like they did.
But Akane had her reasons. She wanted me to look "perfect" for my graduation.
Graduation. The word itself felt hollow. I'd taken every class online, submitted assignments alone at my desk, and received my certificate in the mail without so much as a handshake from a professor. There was no stage, no applause and I liked it that way.
Still, Akane had insisted: a beautiful dress, a picture worth remembering. "A memory," she'd said, as if memories were treasures. But I knew the truth: they were glass shards you carried inside, cutting you open every time you moved.
We were in the dress section when she called to me again. "Saku-chan, you would look so cute in this!"
She held up a black strapless gown with a deep V neckline and a train that spilled like spilled ink. Something meant for ballrooms and chandeliers, not for me.
"I… don't think it's right for the occasion, Ake-chan." My voice was quiet, my eyes sliding away from hers.
She pouted and scampered toward Haru, shoving the dress at him like evidence in an argument.
Haru was our escort today, one of the kanbu's sons, a man whose loyalty to our family went deeper than blood. More of a big brother than a bodyguard. His expression was patient as Akane teased him, the two of them bickering softly.
And then they both looked at me.
Something sharp flickered across their faces, fear. A warning I didn't have time to understand before something heavy slammed into me from behind.
When I woke, my head throbbed with a deep, nauseating pulse. My wrists were bound behind me, the rough bite of rope burning into my skin. My legs were tied, ankles digging into some cold metal.
The air was damp. The only sound was the low, steady hum of a fan somewhere in the corner. The darkness pressed against me, thick and endless, making the space feel smaller than it probably was.
Panic clawed its way into my chest. Where am I? How did I get here? My thoughts scrambled toward Akane and Haru, please, let them be fine. Please let them be safe.
But the door opened before I could finish the prayer.
Light stabbed into my eyes so sharply I flinched, my head twisting away. A man's shadow filled the doorway, tall, loose-limbed.
"Oi, omae, ikiteru yo ne?" Oi, you're still alive, right?
He stepped forward, the smell of cigarettes and sweat hitting before his voice faded. His boot pressed into my thigh, slow, deliberate pressure that climbed into pain. I hissed without meaning to.
He laughed.
My brain tried to keep up with what he was saying, but the words floated in and out, snagging on the panic in my chest. My breathing was too loud in my own ears.
He grabbed my chin, forcing my head up, his thumb digging into my jaw. His eyes were dead, his grin a slice across his face. Then warm, foul spit slid down my cheek.
"Fuck… you look good with my spit running down your face," he murmured. "I wonder how good my cum will look."
A chill spread through me, curling tight in my stomach. I knew exactly where this was going.
"That's enough, Maki." Another voice, lower, harder. A second man stepped in, his eyes sweeping over me like a butcher appraising meat. "You know we don't touch the aniki's product. Especially this one."
His gaze lingered on my face. "This one's gonna fetch a high price. Don't get any marks on her face."
Maki let go of my chin, only to slam his boot into my stomach. Pain exploded through me, stealing the breath from my lungs. I doubled over, wheezing, my throat locked against the gasp I needed.
"What? You only said no marks on the face," Maki sneered.
The other man sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. "Some princess of Kudo-kai. Thought she'd have more fight in her." He stepped closer, his presence blotting out what little light I had.
I tried to scoot back, but the rope bit into my wrists. His hand closed around my arm, cold metal pressing into my skin, a needle. The sting was sharp, but the drug was worse. My head swam, heavy and sluggish, like my body wasn't mine anymore.
They dragged me across the floor, out into a hallway that smelled of rust and mildew. Rain splashed somewhere nearby.
I barely felt them throw me into the back of a truck. Something heavy and warm landed across me, a blanket, maybe. A hand pressed the back of my head down. The metal door slammed shut, and the last thing I heard was the rain, hammering against the roof, before the numbness swallowed me whole.
Yoshiryu's POV
The phone vibrated once against the desk. I answered without looking. "Kai."
"Everything's going according to plan, aniki," Kai's voice was steady but carried that subtle excitement he always got before a job. "We're set to intercept the truck before it reaches the auction site. Rumi-chan is inside, pretending to be one of the captives. She just sent word that someone in there has a head injury. I've got the doctor ready when we bring them in."
"Good work," I said, my tone flat but approving. I hung up and looked at the man kneeling in front of me. His wrists were zip-tied, his eyes darting between the floor and my face like he couldn't decide whether to beg or brace for death.
"Your intel was right," I said quietly, almost conversationally, stepping close enough to smell the fear on him. "Which means, out of respect, I'll make this quick… Consider it an honor, ne?" Before he could open his mouth, my knife slid between his ribs, straight to the heart. He jerked once, breath catching, before going still. I twisted the blade on the way out, not out of cruelty, but to make sure it was done. Blood pooled, warm against the cold concrete.
I took my handkerchief, cleaned the blade, and then my fingers. The first drag of my cigarette burned slow and sharp in my lungs, smoke curling upward to mingle with the metallic scent of death.
People liked to say I was born into this life. They were wrong. You don't inherit power, you take it, piece by bloody piece. Survival is not noble. It's knowing when to cut away the rot before it poisons everything.
Footsteps echoed on the hallway "Yoshiryu-sama," i jerked my face toward the voice.
Eiga stepped into view, his yukata as alway immaculate, voice calm as a winter pond. "How's the situation going on?"
"It's done." My answer was clipped, final. I brushed past him without breaking stride. Even in this world, where respect was currency, there were some men I would never bow to. The warehouse door shut behind me with a dull metallic clang as I stepped into the rain.
The rain met me like an old friend cold, relentless, and honest in a way people never were. It slicked the blood from my hands, running down my wrists in thin crimson threads that swirled into the gutter and disappeared. Some men believed water washed sins away. I knew better. Rain didn't cleanse; it carried the stain somewhere else, until someone else had to wear it.
The city lights blurred in the wet night, halos bending through the downpour like they were watching me, whispering the same truth I'd always known my demon wasn't born in me, it was fed, and nights like this were a feast. The screams still echoed in my skull, the wet thud of the knife, the way the body had folded… all of it steadying me more than silence ever could.
By the time I stepped into the shower at home, the water felt no different from the rain just hotter, steam curling around me, carrying with it the faint scent of gunpowder and iron. I let it run over my skin, watching the red swirl at my feet and vanish down the drain, knowing the demon didn't go with it. It never did.
Fresh from the shower with a glass of whiskey in hand, my phone buzzed again. "Aniki," Kai's voice this time was taut, tinged with irritation. "There's a problem. We didn't intercept the truck. Their boss isn't showing until the auction tomorrow. We'll have to take it then."
"I'm coming." I said coldly.
"Four hours?" he questioned.
"Four hours."
The private jet cut through the night. Kai was waiting at the airstrip, his hair damp from the mist, his usual grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yoku hayai na… You're fast, aniki."
"Spare me the flattery. Tell me."
We drove straight to the base, the city's neon bleeding across the windshield as Kai laid out the plan. "We take the auction from inside and outside. Rumi-chan will move the hostages out first. Then we strike. Clean and quick. We're on someone else's turf, aniki. The Kudo-kai Oyabun won't appreciate fireworks in his backyard."
"Discreet, then," I said, my tone leaving no room for error.
We waited for Rumi's signal. The first gunshot from inside was like a starter pistol then, the street exploded into shouts, muzzle flashes lighting the night as my men surged forward. I leaned against the hood of the black sedan, cigarette between my lips, watching the building like a man watching a storm he'd summoned. The sound of gunfire wasn't chaos to me. It was the sound of order being restored.
Rumi stepped out minutes later, a streak of blood across her cheek, her kimono painted with someone else's life. In her right hand, a severed head dangled by the hair.
"Yoku yatta, imōto," I said with a slow clap, smoke curling past my lips. She smiled at me sharp, dangerous, beautiful in a way that would terrify anyone who didn't share our blood.
She tossed the head at my feet. "That's the kuso yatsu who tried to impersonate you. Humiliating our family, aniki." I rolled it with the tip of my shoe until I could see the face. The fear frozen there made me smile.
Kai walked up, shaking his head. "Kami-sama help me, I'm the only normal one in this family." His grin was playful, but I knew better. There was something in him, too it was quieter, hidden behind that easy smile.
"Hostages?" he asked.
"Sixty-two," Rumi replied instantly.
"Sixty," Kai corrected.
"Baka, I'm sixty-one and the other was a girl who came in at the last minute. The one with the head injury."
We froze.
"There's no one left in the building now," Kai said.
A wakashu ran up, breathing hard. "Bunker inside, Yoshiryu-sama. Locked. It won't open. But the hostage confirmed that they saw someone was being dragged down there"
We moved together down a corridor littered with shell casings, the air thick with the iron scent of blood and gunpowder. The bunker door loomed ahead thick, reinforced, unyielding. One glance at Kai-kun was enough. "Baku da… blow it." He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with that half-smirk of his. "Kudo Oyabun will hang me from this door, aniki," he muttered, but his hands were already signaling the charge.
The blast rattled the floor beneath us, smoke rolling out in a choking wave. Just as it began to thin, a voice erupted from within. "Kuso! Kuso, Kuso, Kuso! Fucking bastards, you're all gonna die! I'll kill every last one of you!" Then the figure emerged, eyes wild, clutching something in one arm, the barrel of a gun pressed to it. He kept ranting, but I barely heard him. My gaze was locked on the thing he held. It looked like a doll—except dolls don't tremble, and dolls don't cry.
"Aniki, what should we do?" Kai's voice was taut, waiting for my call. I didn't answer with words. My gun was out, raised, and in one clean motion, I pulled the trigger. The bullet punched through his skull before the echo had time to fade. He dropped like a marionette with its strings cut.
"Sharp as always," Rumi-chan remarked, stepping forward, her eyes fixed on the small figure. She was halfway to reaching it when my hand shot out, catching her wrist. "Mine," I said.
I stepped past her, lifting the girl into my arms. She was light...too light. Fragile in a way that made my grip tighten instinctively. She fit there perfectly, curling in as if the world outside my hold didn't exist. She winced at the pressure, but instead of pulling away, she burrowed deeper.
"Let's go," I ordered, heading straight for the exit. Kai's car was waiting. I put her in the passenger seat and drove without a word.
Halfway to the penthouse, my phone rang. Kai's voice came over the line, sharp and frustrated. "Aniki, what the hell are you thinking? You can't just pick someone up like a stray cat, claim she's yours, and drive off!"
"I just did," I replied. "Send a doctor to the penthouse. And inform Kudo Oyabun about the situation."
"…Hai, aniki," he said after a pause, the hesitation clear in his tone.
I glanced at her as I drove. She was unconscious, swallowed by the leather seat, her head leaning toward the window. Her breathing was steady, and for reasons I didn't care to examine, a thin thread of relief pulled through me. She was real. She was here. And from the moment I'd seen her in that bunker, my demons had gone silent, replaced by a single, unshakable thought.
Mine.
Not a chance. Not impulse. Something older, deeper, darker. I didn't know why. I didn't need to. She belonged to me now and I wasn't letting her go.
Sakuya's POV
Maki's grip was iron on my arm as he dragged me down a dim, concrete hallway, his voice a stream of venom against my ear. "Slut. That's all you are. And sluts should be treated like the filth they are." The words bit almost as sharply as the nails digging into my skin. The air grew colder the deeper we went, until we stopped at a heavy metal door. He shoved me inside a bunker, maybe and my body hit the floor hard enough to rattle my teeth.
Before I could move, his boot met my ribs. Once. Twice. Again. Pain bloomed white-hot, stealing my breath. He laughed between curses, spitting words about what men like him did to women like me. When his hands tore at my clothes, my mind left my body, floating somewhere far away because that was easier than being here.
Then, from somewhere in the distance, an alarm began to blare. The sound cut through his rage like a blade, and suddenly his attention snapped away from me. His head jerked toward the door. His curses changed, now muttered under his breath as his hands fumbled for a gun.
"I'll take you with me," he snarled, yanking me upright. "If I'm dying, you're dying too."
Death. The word sank into me like ice water. For a moment, I welcomed it. Finally, an end. But somewhere in the deepest part of me, a faint, stubborn ember whispered that I didn't want to die, not here, not like this. Still, beggars can't be choosers.
I closed my eyes.
Then, BOOM. The sound swallowed everything. My ears rang, my head swam. The floor seemed to vanish and return beneath me all at once. I was being dragged again, but this time the grip was steadier, firmer, someone shaking me as if willing me back to life.
Jii-sama? Haru?
Were they finally here? No. They couldn't see me like this. Not with torn clothes and bruises screaming across my skin.
Tears...hot, unrelenting...blurred my vision until I couldn't make out the face above me. Then something sharp sliced the air past my head. My support vanished, and I crumpled to the ground with a dull thud.
Through the haze, a single word cut through. Low. Possessive. Final.
"Mine."
Arms...strong, unyielding...scooped me up, the warmth of a broad chest swallowing the cold from my bones. I could feel the steady thud of a heart beneath my ear, the grip around me tightening as if I might disappear. My head lolled against him, the scent of smoke and steel clinging to the fabric of his suit.
It was absurd, but at that moment… I felt safe. Safe enough to let my eyes close. Safe enough to let sleep take me. And if this safety was only temporary, if beyond it lay something darker..well… maybe I didn't care.