"Miss Chinatsu, with all due respect, we don't understand this sudden pivot into politics. While government support is useful, is it really worth investing this much of our energy and capital?"
In the grand conference room of the Moriki Group headquarters, an executive's question hung in the air, echoing the thoughts of many others present.
"He's right," another chimed in immediately. "We're placing far too much emphasis on domestic affairs. At our current scale, the Moriki Group could continue expanding overseas with or without government backing."
"That's foolish. Our roots are here," a third argued. "Befriending the government is necessary, but the intensity of our recent efforts seems… excessive."
"I don't agree…"
"What do you know?!"
"Nonsense…"
Ryukawa Chinatsu sat silently at the head of the table, her expression unreadable as she watched her boardroom devolve into a noisy marketplace.
BANG!
She slammed her palm flat on the polished mahogany.
The loud crack silenced the room instantly.
Every executive turned, and when they met Chinatsu's ice-cold eyes, a shiver of fear ran down their spines.
They had momentarily forgotten that the young woman before them was the undisputed helmsman of this corporate empire.
They were advisors, but the final decision was always, unequivocally, hers.
"If there is nothing else of substance to discuss, this meeting is over," she said, her voice dangerously calm.
"You are free to remain here and continue your bickering, but I do not want to hear my decisions questioned again."
Without another word, Chinatsu rose and swept out of the room, her bodyguards falling into formation around her, leaving a room full of stunned, silent executives in her wake.
A moment later, settled in the plush back seat of her car, Chinatsu rubbed her aching temples.
The constant dealings with slimy politicians and the internal friction within her own company had left her deeply exhausted.
She leaned back, closing her eyes and trying to organize the chaos in her mind.
The imported sedan pulled smoothly away from the headquarters, merging into the deep Tokyo night.
Rain began to fall, turning the streetlights outside the window into a blurry, hypnotic smear of color.
This brief moment of peace, however, was not to last.
As the car turned onto a remote, poorly lit street…
CRASH!!!
A deafening bang erupted as the car slammed into what felt like an invisible, solid wall.
The vehicle shook violently, its tires bursting on impact.
The immense inertia sent the car spinning sideways out of control, where it smashed into a concrete retaining wall with a final, sickening crunch of metal.
"What's happening?! What was that?!" the captain of the bodyguards shouted, dazed from the collision.
He kicked open his twisted door and immediately turned to check on Chinatsu.
The crash alerted the second car.
Several bodyguards piled out, guns drawn, and rushed towards Chinatsu's vehicle.
But it was already too late.
Swish!
A blurry figure erupted from the shadows with supernatural speed, a phantom impossible for the naked eye to track.
There was a flash of cold, gray light.
The lead bodyguard froze mid-stride.
A thin red line appeared on his neck, and a heartbeat later, blood gushed out like a fountain.
His eyes were wide with disbelief as he collapsed to the wet pavement.
"AMBUSH! PROTECT CHINATSU-SAMA!" the bodyguard captain roared.
The remaining guards reacted instantly, pulling out their pistols and unleashing a frantic volley of shots at the blurry figure in the shadows.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Bullets tore through the rainy night, but every single one missed.
The figure twisted and flickered, moving in a way that defied all laws of physics, easily evading the hail of lead.
The next second, the gray form materialized behind another guard. Its fingers, sharp as scalpels, made a single, swift motion.
Another man fell, clutching his throat as his lifeblood stained the ground.
The surviving guards fired in a panic, their bullets like raindrops in a storm.
But the figure simply strolled through the barrage, the few bullets that did hit its body only causing it to pause for a fraction of a second before continuing its unhurried, lethal advance.
Despair washed over them.
Inside the wrecked car, Chinatsu's face was pale, but she bit her lower lip hard, refusing to scream.
Through the shattered window, she saw him standing in a pool of his own making.
Gray skin.
Golden, slit-pupiled eyes that glowed in the dark.
And a cruel, upturned smile revealing sharp fangs. It was the Upper Moon Six—Kamaro.
"What boring resistance," his voice floated into the car, lazy and mocking, as he casually wiped a splatter of blood from his cheek.
The bodyguard captain, his gun empty, let out a furious roar.
He hurled the useless pistol at Kamaro and charged, hoping to tackle him.
Kamaro didn't even bother to dodge
. He simply raised a hand.
Shlk!
His arm shot forward like the sharpest spear, punching straight through the captain's chest.
The man's desperate charge came to an abrupt halt, the light in his eyes dimming rapidly.
Kamaro gently withdrew his arm, letting the captain's body fall limply to the ground.
He shook the blood from his hand and began walking toward the twisted car.
The driver was unconscious, slumped over the wheel.
Chinatsu was alone.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she forced herself to remain calm, her fingers inching toward the small pocket pistol hidden in her sleeve.
Kamaro seemed to sense her intent.
Through the broken window, his smile widened.
He raised a finger and wagged it gently.
Buzz!
An invisible force slammed down, pinning Chinatsu to her seat.
It felt as if shadows were reaching out from behind her, locking her body in an iron grip.
Kamaro reached out, his sharp claws tearing through the car's metal door as if it were paper.
He ripped the mangled door from its hinges and tossed it aside.
Leaning in, he gave the immobilized Chinatsu an intimate, malicious smile.
"Good evening, Miss Ryukawa Chinatsu. My apologies for such a rude invitation… but I believe we need to change venues and have a proper chat."
Chinatsu's pupils contracted in terror, but she was unable to move, unable to speak.
Kamaro seemed to savor her fear.
He chuckled, reaching in and brushing her cheek with his cold, dead fingers, making her flinch.
"Don't worry," he purred. "I'll be gentle… until you've used up all your worth."
Without another word, he pulled her from the car.
He glanced around at the carnage—the dead bodyguards, the scrapped vehicles—and his eyes finally settled on a single, young guard cowering by a wheel, trembling uncontrollably, miraculously unharmed.
The boy was frozen in abject terror, a dark stain spreading across the front of his trousers.
A cruel, satisfied smile touched Kamaro's lips.
After deliberately leaving his witness, his message, he and Chinatsu were swallowed by the boundless, waiting shadows.
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