Chapter 89: The Scheme Behind the Scenes
"Thank you so much! We're already outside the Yakuza-controlled area. We can take the train home from here!" The two high school girls bowed deeply to Tony once again in gratitude.
They even bowed so deeply that their collars slipped slightly, revealing a bit of cleavage.
Of course, Tony didn't care in the slightest. He was into mature women—children weren't even on his radar. After offering their thanks, the girls finally got out of the car. As they left, they even waved cheerfully back at Tony.
"Tony, you really shouldn't take these kinds of risks again! You said it yourself—Stark Industries is under pressure here in Tokyo, and yet you still went out of your way to help those two girls."
Happy felt Tony had taken an unnecessary risk. This wasn't America—let alone New York. The Stark name didn't carry the same weight here.
"It was just a small act of kindness for two girls. No big deal. Let's keep going."
Tony shook his head and signaled the driver to continue the journey. But no one noticed that a small, silver, button-sized device had stuck itself to the hem of Tony's pants.
"Aiko, are you sure this is okay? The man who helped us just now was the Tony Stark, wasn't he?"
Yes, the two girls really were just regular high schoolers, and those delinquents harassing them were real. But both girls had been given the task of secretly planting that metal button on Tony.
Since their story was genuine, even experienced eyes like Tony's and Happy's couldn't spot a flaw in their performance.
"I know he's the world-famous Tony Stark, but we just planted a button. We didn't hurt him. Even if something happens, how does that involve us?"
Aiko clearly didn't care about her friend's worries.
"But that weird woman gave us 200,000 yen… (about 1,000 RMB)…"
"So what? We even showed him some cleavage while thanking him!"
"Aiko... you were just wearing a low-cut shirt… don't make it sound so dirty…"
Tony Stark had no idea that his good deed had made him a target of a larger scheme.
Meanwhile, Uchiha Akira had also arrived in Japan—drawn here after Tony mentioned the Yashida Group.
When it came to the Yashida Group, Akira most vividly remembered that ungrateful scoundrel Yashida Ichirō, the silver samurai suit, and Ichirō's charming granddaughter, Mariko Yashida.
Mariko wasn't the most stunning or glamorous woman—but she perfectly embodied the Japanese ideal of a gentle, traditional yamato nadeshiko.
That was the impression Akira had of her in his past life.
"The Yashida Group is our target this time. This is Japan—many customs and cultural elements are very similar to the shinobi world. I'll use a transformation jutsu to alter my appearance. First, we'll investigate the Yashida head—Yashida Ichirō."
"Izumi, go find out more about Ichirō's condition. He's likely bedridden by now."
"Jean, you investigate the Yashida Group's yakuza connections, especially Yashida Shingen, Ichirō's son. Just keep a low profile and monitor him."
As for the two operatives' safety, there was no concern— even if Ichirō were piloting his mech suit himself, they'd have no trouble escaping unharmed.
The real threat was from the Yashida Group's underground Yakuza network. Normal people facing off against trained shinobi—or the Phoenix—would be cut down like grass. Jean nodded and slipped away into the crowd.
"For now, that's the plan. I've got some personal matters to attend to."
Akira didn't explain further. Uchiha Izumi didn't understand what personal business he could possibly have on his first-ever trip to Japan—but as clan leader, his orders were absolute and unquestioned.
Neither Izumi nor Jean raised any objections.
In Tokyo's Chiyoda district, at a shrine in Kudankita—an ancient one with a long history—many names of soldiers and criminals were enshrined there. It was a well-known location in Japan.
From a distance, Akira observed the place. The shrine had stood for over a century. Its aura was not grand, but one could sense its weighty, sinister past.
It was, in Akira's eyes, a place steeped in sin and filth.
He never expected that this shrine existed even in the Marvel world.
It was already late, and the shrine was nearly deserted—just a few remaining shrine monks.
Of course, monks in Japan were quite different from traditional Buddhist monks elsewhere. In Japan, being a monk was more of a profession—they could marry, eat meat and fish, and live normal lives. Many worked at the shrine by day and returned home at night.
"Mariko, this is where your grandfather's comrades are laid to rest. Why do you refuse to pay your respects?"
Yashida Shingen was furious. His usually obedient daughter had dared to openly defy him.
"Father, that's just a part of Japan's past. Besides, Grandfather survived the atomic bombing. But in the end, history proved we—Japan—were the real wrongdoers. Those enshrined here aren't heroes. They're executioners."
SLAP!
Shingen struck Mariko hard across the face.
"Silence! Do you even know what you're saying? You're insulting the Yashida name!"
Shingen couldn't believe his normally obedient daughter had just said something so blasphemous.
His father, Yashida Ichirō, was a Japanese officer who had survived WWII and later founded the Yashida Group—an empire with heavy yakuza influence.
Yet his own granddaughter, Mariko, had rejected that legacy at her core.
"I'm sorry, Father!" Seeing his wrath intensify, Mariko had no choice but to apologize—even though she didn't believe she was wrong.
Poor Mariko was nothing more than a puppet in her father's eyes. Whatever her personal hopes or dreams were, none of it mattered. Shingen only cared about one thing: inheriting Ichirō's power and fortune.
"Stay here and reflect."
Shingen looked at his phone and saw the message: "Family head critically ill." Without another word to his daughter, he left.
Mariko remained kneeling quietly beneath the shrine's eaves. Even after her father left, she made no move to stand up.
Watching from the roof above, Uchiha Akira suddenly felt sympathy for the delicate woman.
In his previous life, Akira had been an ordinary man—he had never experienced this kind of family dynamic. Clearly, Mariko had no voice in her own home. Though her life appeared elegant, she was little more than a puppet—her life dictated and manipulated by others.
"Kami... must we be born only to suffer oppression and pain?"
The sky above the shrine was studded with stars, but under the bright lights of Tokyo, they looked pale and distant.
"No, life has always been hard. Even the gods ignore the cries of mortals. If you want to break free of your cage… you have to give yourself wings."
Akira's voice echoed through the silent shrine.
"Who's there?!"
Startled, Mariko looked around.
Only now did she realize that her bodyguard, Yukio, wasn't nearby—and that she was now alone in the deserted shrine.
Fear finally overtook her calm. The quiet shrine now felt like a giant tomb, cold and oppressive. Mariko trembled and shrank into herself like a frightened little girl.
"Can't see well? Look up."
Following the voice, she looked toward the roof. Under the moonlight, a long-haired man stood, his hair dancing in the breeze.
"Who are you?"