Avery sat in the private jet, scrolling through her phone as the city lights of Tokyo glimmered below. A flight attendant approached with a tray of drinks, but Avery waved her off politely.
A few hours later, the jet touched down.
As she stepped out, a group of men in suits bowed deeply.
"Yōkoso Tōkyō e," they said.
(Welcome to Tokyo.)
Another man approached — younger, nervous, wearing a slightly different suit.
"Miss Avery, welcome to Tokyo, the land of… ah… um… excuse me, I forgot my line."
Avery blinked once.
"No need for the formalities. Just take me to the hotel."
Relieved, he hurried to show her to the waiting cars.
---
✅ At the Hotel
The hotel was luxurious — marble floors, soft lighting, and a quiet elegance. Avery went straight to the sauna, letting the steam loosen her muscles. She sampled a few delicacies afterward:
- Taiyaki filled with custard
- Matcha mochi
- Crispy karaage chicken
- A small bowl of miso ramen
Afterward, she returned to her room, showered, and changed into a sleek, black, ninja‑style suit. Earlier, she had received intel:
Takahiro, the right‑hand man of Kazuo Ryūjin, was going to a bar to collect money from debtors.
Avery strapped small weapons to her waist, slung a compact bow across her back, and slipped out the window instead of using the door. She moved silently, blending into the night.
She drove herself to the location — a narrow street she knew well from past visits.
---
✅ At the Bar
She parked across the street, staying inside the car.
Moments later, she saw him.
A masked man holding a bouquet of flowers — Takahiro's signature cover.
He grabbed a debtor by the collar and dragged him behind the bar. His men followed. Avery watched from the shadows as they roughed the man up — fast, efficient, and merciless.
When the scene ended, Avery stepped out of her car and approached.
"Takahiro," she called.
He turned sharply, eyes narrowing behind the mask.
"Dare da?"
(Who are you?)
Avery replied in calm, fluent Japanese:
"Anata no saiai no akumu."
(Your worst nightmare.)
He signaled to his men with a flick of his hand.
Avery raised a brow.
"Zen'in taoshitara… hanashite kureru?"
(If I take them all down… will you give me a chance to talk?)
Takahiro's voice was cold.
"Jikan wa takai."
(My time is precious.)
Avery understood the meaning instantly.
---
✅ The Fight (Safe, Non‑Graphic, Cinematic)
The first man rushed her. Avery sidestepped, using his momentum to flip him onto the ground.
Another swung a baton — she ducked, swept his legs, and sent him crashing into a wall.
Two more came at once.
Avery moved like water — fast, controlled, silent. She disarmed one with a twist of his wrist and used the weapon's handle to knock the other off balance.
A kick.
A spin.
A strike to the ribs.
A sharp elbow to the jaw.
Each movement was precise, efficient, and clean — no wasted energy, no hesitation.
Within minutes, the last man hit the ground, groaning and unable to stand.
Avery stood alone in the alley, barely out of breath.
She looked up at Takahiro.
I straightened my posture, dusting off my sleeves.
"In Japanese," I said calmly, "Watashi wa Nihonjin da. Hanashiau ka?"
(I'm Japanese. Shall we talk?)
Takahiro murmured back,
"Ii darō."
(Sure thing.)
I didn't waste time.
"Anata no goshujin ni aitai."
(I want to meet your master.)
He scoffed, a sharp, dismissive sound.
"Ore no goshujin ni aitai? Dare da to omotte iru? Fusawashikunai mono wa dare mo aenai. Ore dake ga kare o mita koto ga aru."
(You want to meet my master? Who do you think you are? No unworthy person has ever met him. I'm the only one who has seen him.)
I smirked beneath my mask.
"Aa, ano chiisana kōrei no kitsune… Ryūjin Kazuo ka."
(Oh, that little ancient fox… Kazuo Ryūjin.)
His entire stance shifted.
He stepped toward me, controlled and dangerous.
The fight broke out instantly.
We moved fast — strikes, blocks, steps, counters.
No wasted motion.
No hesitation.
Just two trained fighters testing each other's limits.
He swept my leg with a precise kick, and I hit the ground hard.
Takahiro stood over me, voice cold.
"Omae wa fusawashikunai."
(You are unworthy.)
I exhaled slowly, letting my body relax.
"Kōsan suru."
(I yield.)
He paused, studying me for a moment — then lifted his hand and called out to the shadows.
More men stepped forward, silent and disciplined.
"Carry her," he ordered.
And just like that, the world tilted as they lifted me off the ground.
I woke up in a dimly lit room, seated at a low table.
Another chair sat across from me — empty.
Strangely, I wasn't tied. That alone put me on edge.
The door slid open.
Takahashi stepped in, composed as ever.
"Anata wa yoku tatakatta," he said.
(You proved to be a worthy opponent.)
"Shōri wa atarimae," I replied.
(Of course I did.)
He nodded once.
"Omae no shigoto… odorokimashita."
(Your work… it amazed me.)
I frowned, unsure what he meant.
But he didn't explain. He simply bowed and left.
A moment later, another man entered.
A suit.
A calm presence.
A pressure in the air that made the room feel smaller.
Ryūjin Kazuo.
He sat across from me, and I stared at him with a fire I had been carrying for years.
I wanted to end him right there — but I couldn't.
I was surrounded, and he knew it.
Two of his men stepped forward and placed my weapons on the table between us.
Ryūjin spoke, his voice smooth and controlled:
"Yahari… X ka. Omoshiroi yo. Subete no genba ni nokoshita hitotsu no shirushi… ano X."
(So it really is you… X. Interesting. At every scene, you left one mark… that X.)
I scoffed.
"Took you long enough."
He continued in Japanese:
"Sate… kimi wa—"
(Well… as you may know—)
I cut him off in English.
"Stop with the act. Let's use our mother tongue."
His men tensed instantly, hands on their triggers.
Ryūjin lifted a hand, and they froze.
He switched to English, his tone unreadable.
"What brings you here."
I leaned back, steady.
"Well… I'm dying. My lungs are failing. And before I go, I wanted to meet you. You've been my role model for years. I know it sounds insane, but this means a lot."
He studied me — eyes sharp, calculating, dissecting every word.
"I don't buy it."
"I knew you wouldn't," I said. "That's why I'm here to tell you something else."
I leaned forward.
"Your nephew Darius and Andrey… they were killed."
Ryūjin didn't blink.
"I'm not surprised," he said calmly. "They had it coming. Tell me something I don't know yet."
I slipped a small pistol from my pocket and leveled it at Ryūjin.
He didn't flinch.
He didn't even blink.
Instead, he chuckled — low, amused, almost pitying.
"You really think you could kill me, Avery? You think I don't know who you are or why you came? You can't outsmart me. This is my kingdom. You can't run from me."
I tilted my head, unfazed.
"Oh? You think you still have a kingdom? All your allies left you because you drained them dry. You're a king without a crown… a king without a throne."
His jaw tightened.
"You're just trying to make me lose face. But I won't."
I smiled.
"Oh, you already have."
Right then, his phone rang.
He answered sharply.
A pause.
A shift in his expression — subtle, but there.
He hung up.
"The Kurobara Syndicate is loyal to me," he said firmly. "Takahashi can't betray me. My men can't betray me."
I leaned back in my chair.
"You're right. Takahashi can't betray you."
His eyes narrowed.
"That's why," I continued, "when your men were carrying me earlier, I slipped a small dissolving capsule into his pocket. Nothing lethal — just enough to make him… unavailable for a while."
Ryūjin's gaze sharpened.
"And your men?" I added with a shrug. "What can they do? I'm basically the female version of John Wick. No one stops me."
The room went still.
Ryūjin studied me — not angry, not afraid… but intrigued.
For the first time, he realized he wasn't the only predator in the room.
Ryūjin leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed.
"What makes you think so?"
I scoffed softly.
"You mean… what makes me know so."
I walked toward the door.
"Look."
Two of his guards moved to block me.
I dropped low, swept one off balance, and redirected the other into the wall with a clean, controlled motion.
No hesitation.
No wasted effort.
The remaining guards froze — not out of fear, but because they already knew what I knew.
I turned back to Ryūjin.
"You've been invaded. My people already neutralized your outer security. I wanted this to be messy… but I decided to keep it quick."
Ryūjin rose from his seat, surprisingly fast for a man of his age and reputation.
He lunged — a precise, practiced move.
He almost caught me.
Almost.
I pivoted, reached behind me, and drew a compact arrow from its holster.
In one smooth motion, I fired.
The arrow struck exactly where I intended — pinning the sleeve of his suit to the wooden pillar behind him, stopping him mid‑advance without touching him.
A warning.
A message.
A line drawn.
Ryūjin looked down at the arrow, then back at me — not afraid, but finally aware that the balance of power had shifted.
He then challenged me, taunting, "Is that all you've got?" I calmly replied, "No, I'm just getting started." Determination burning in my eyes, I grabbed another arrow, taking careful aim at his groin and releasing it with precision. A pained scream escaped his lips as I then reached for a gun, firing a shot that rang out, striking his left ear. The agony etched on his face only fueled my resolve as I followed up with another shot, this time at his right ear. The menacing glint in his eye didn't intimidate me; I took aim and fired at his leg, then his other leg, systematically disabling him. With each shot, the once formidable foe grew weaker, until I finally directed a bullet at his chest, bringing him to his knees in a pool of blood and agony.
Closing the distance, I uttered my name in a low, chilling tone, "Avery Lane." As he writhed in pain, I approached him with a gleaming knife, slashing across his throat with a final, definitive stroke. The scene was a tableau of vengeance, a symphony of retribution carried out with unfaltering resolve. And as his life ebbed away, I stood there, the face he would carry to hell, a harbinger of doom and justice.
Kade remarked, "That's quite the wild imagination you've got there, with your plan for shooting, slicing, and arrowing the dick. You're a total menace!"
Avery chimed in, "Well, it looks like the old man managed to cheat death, but then he ended up dying of a heart attack a few months ago. Luckily, you got the news before I could board the plane."
Axel added with a chuckle, "Seems like death was afraid of the victim's life and decided to take matters into his own hands."
Kade laughed and suggested, "Since everything's been taken care of, why not celebrate with a dinner?"
Later that day, Axel waited at the rooftop for Avery. When she finally arrived, she was dressed in baggy clothes. Axel quirked an eyebrow and asked, "Why the disguise?"
Avery responded nonchalantly, "Why not?"
They settled in with a few glasses of wine before their meal. As Avery stood at the edge of the rooftop, she turned to Axel and poured out her heart, confessing her deep feelings for him and her desire for a more meaningful connection.
Axel was taken aback and tried to reassure her, but Avery felt trapped by her past actions and decided to end it all. With her final words, she poisoned herself and leaped off the building.
As Axel watched her fall, he sat down on the balcony, lit a cigar, and contemplated the path his life had taken. The smoke curled around him, shadowing his thoughts and the weight of his past actions.
Axel rocked gently in his chair, cigar smoke curling lazily into the night air. The rooftop was quiet — too quiet — until soft footsteps approached.
A woman stepped into the light.
She was stunning: long dark hair cascading over her shoulders, sharp eyes lined with gold, lips painted a deep crimson. Her beauty wasn't delicate — it was dangerous, the kind that made people forget to breathe. She wore a fitted black dress that moved like liquid shadow.
Axel didn't even look surprised.
"Well," he said, exhaling smoke, "I was expecting you. Ever since the day Avery was buried alive and you called."
The woman smiled, slow and confident.
"I'm here, my love."
Axel rose and kissed her.
Mica — elegant, lethal, and impossibly composed.
"I was gone for months," she said, brushing ash off his shoulder. "And you already handled everything. Impressive."
Axel smirked.
"Well, am I not? I crafted the perfect plan. No flaws."
Mica laughed softly.
"It's funny… how you used your adoptive sister to get the flash drive. And how you eliminated our enemies — Darius and Andrey. My dear brothers."
She touched his cheek.
"Making me the legitimate heir to the Yamaguchi‑Guchi empire. With my uncle Ryūjin Kazuo already on his deathbed, there wasn't much left to do."
Axel shrugged, pleased with himself.
"You're welcome."
"And Avery…" Mica continued, her tone almost admiring. "She handled the threats — the lady, Mr. Clifford… all the people involved in your parents' deaths. She did everything perfectly."
Axel's smile sharpened.
"What can I say? A pawn is always dispensable."
Mica raised a brow.
"You really went far this time."
Axel leaned back, cigar between his fingers.
"I had to. If I did it myself, it would ruin our reputation. But using her? That was clean. Efficient. And she never suspected a thing."
Mica circled behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders.
"And now?"
Axel smirked.
"Now our empire grows. Bigger than ever." Mica leaned against Axel's chair, smiling.
"You shaped her perfectly," she said. "She trusted you more than anyone."
Axel exhaled smoke, eyes half‑closed.
"She was never meant to survive the endgame. She was meant to clear the board."
Mica kissed his cheek.
"And she did."
Axel smirked.
"Beautifully."
THE END!!!!!