The Depths of Power
The golden morning sun filtered through the towering glass windows of Arima Holding Corp, casting long shadows across the polished floors. Perched on the highest level of the skyscraper, the top floor office was more a throne room than a workspace—lined with oil paintings, ancient swords, and a vast wall of monitors displaying stocks, assets, and global data streams.
At the center of it all sat Isshin Arima, the enigmatic and commanding head of the Arima zaibatsu. Clad in a traditional black kimono under a western-style cloak, the old man exuded an aura of controlled menace. At seventy-eight, his body had grown thin, but his eyes remained sharp, cold, and calculating.
He tapped his finger on the armrest slowly, eyes fixed on the Tokyo skyline. Then, without turning, he said, "Sebas."
A soft creak of the door was followed by footsteps that barely made a sound.
"Yes, Arima-sama," said Sebas, his loyal butler, advisor, and fixer. The man was tall, silver-haired, and always impeccably dressed, his demeanor as calm as a still pond, but everyone in the corporation knew—when Sebas moved, things changed.
"I need you to acquire something," Isshin said, his voice a low, deliberate murmur. "There's a growing market I wish to dominate... the shadows of society."
Sebas raised a brow, but said nothing.
"Find me a loan company in Tokyo. One of those online types. Get me their network, their client lists, their leverage."
"Yes, sir."
"Also, purchase a few apartment complexes, the kind filled with the desperate and the forgotten," Isshin added, folding his hands. "I want proximity. Control. Influence."
Sebas bowed. "Consider it done."
Within hours, Sebas had begun his investigation. The Tokyo underworld was a murky place, but he knew the currents well. Through encrypted databases and backroom contacts, one name surfaced again and again: Shigeki Katsurai.
Shigeki owned "Katsurai Finance", a digital loan platform with a large, desperate clientele. But behind its slick website was a network of illegal activities—human trafficking, blackmail, and extortion. Women who defaulted on loans were forced into servitude; families were torn apart with silent threats. Police couldn't touch him—he operated through layers of proxies, and most victims were too afraid to speak.
Sebas returned to the office that evening, the city glittering behind him like a constellation of lies.
"I have found your target," Sebas said, handing over a folder. "Shigeki Katsurai. Ruthless. Connected. But not untouchable."
Isshin smiled slowly, a glint of satisfaction in his old eyes. He opened the file, flipping through photos and reports.
"Perfect. Just the kind of filth I need."
He closed the file and looked out the window once more, as if gazing into the abyss of humanity.
"I want Katsurai crushed. Use our full weight—lawyers, hackers, bribes, threats. Anything. Strip him of his assets, his control, his protection. And when he is broken... take everything."
"Understood."
"Once it's ours, cover it with layers. Make it a nominee company. Ghost directors, shell firms, fake addresses. I don't want the authorities sniffing around. This company must exist in the twilight, serving only me."
Sebas nodded with precision.
Isshin leaned back, his fingers interlocking. "With that loan company, I'll have a stream of debtors—men and women clinging to their last yen. Easy to manipulate. And when they fall, I'll be there... harvesting."
"Harvesting, sir?" Sebas asked, though he already knew.
Isshin's smile twisted, cruel and satisfied.
"Yes. Negative energy, Sebas. Despair, fear, desperation—they're delicious. They fuel everything I need. With enough... I may never die."
He laughed then—a dark, rasping laugh that echoed through the steel walls. It was the laugh of a man who had outlived kings, rivals, and time itself. A laugh born not from joy, but from dominance.
Sebas, expressionless, gave a slight bow. "I shall begin immediately."
With that, he turned and exited the office, his footsteps disappearing into the long hallway. Behind him, Isshin Arima stared into the rising night, a god among men, playing with lives like pieces on a board.
And beneath the gleaming tower, far below the reach of justice, the city awaited his next move.