Chapter 5: The Red Torii

The Red Torii at Shinjuku Station was an urban relic forgotten, weathered, and wedged between two collapsing buildings like a broken gate to nowhere. At 2 a.m., Tokyo's neon heart beat low and slow. The rain had stopped, but the streets shimmered with afterglow, light bouncing off puddles like stray memories.

Riku stood beneath the gate with his hood up, pistol tucked under his coat, and no backup.

No footsteps behind him.

No whispers in his earpiece.

Just the soft hum of a vending machine and the distant laughter of the city's sleepless ghosts.

Then he heard it.

A shuffle of leather boots. A sharp intake of breath.

He didn't turn. Just waited.

"You came alone."The voice was feminine. Smoky. Sharp like broken glass hidden in silk.

"That's what you asked for," Riku said.

A figure stepped into view from behind the far pillar, a woman in combat boots and a crimson half-mask, long silver hair braided tight down her back. She wasn't armed. Visibly.

But Riku could feel it. She was dangerous.

"We didn't think you would," she said, circling slowly. "Most men like you are still slaves to their families."

"I don't have a family anymore."

"Not true. You have a name. And names… bleed."

She stopped two feet from him. Close enough to smell the faint iron on her gloves.

"We've been watching you, Kurokiba."

"I figured. You were at the gala."

She tilted her head. "Did the Tsukino girl thank you for saving her life?"

"She offered me a leash."

Her laugh was low, amused. "Of course she did."

"You Dōjin kill heirs. That makes you terrorists."

She tsked. "No. We kill puppets. The heirs we kill? They kill hundreds without lifting a blade. They rig matches. Arrange 'accidents.' Drown the unranked in debt and vanish their families. We're the reckoning they forgot was possible."

Riku's hand twitched near his hip. "And what do you want with me?"

She stepped in. Too close. Her gloved fingers slid along the edge of his collar.

"We want you to remember what your family really was," she said. "What they were doing in secret. Before they fell."

His jaw tightened. "You don't know anything about the Hanabira."

"I know your father had a ledger. And it went missing the day the house burned."

Riku froze.

Because no one should have known that.

The woman smiled beneath the mask. "Find the ledger, and you'll know who betrayed you. And who buried your family to keep it quiet."

She stepped back. Tossed a small flash drive into his palm.

"Start with that. It's not the whole truth. But it's a crack in the wall."

He looked at it, then at her. "Why help me?"

"Because if you fall in line with the Tsukino and Kurogawa, you'll be just another fangless dog barking orders on command. But if you remember who you were, what the Hanabira stood for…"

She leaned in again.

"You could end them all."

And just like that, she vanished into the shadow of the station as if she was never there at all.

By the time Riku got back to his apartment, the sun was barely threatening the skyline. Tokyo was always hungover by morning, smoggy and disoriented, like a city that couldn't remember what sins it had committed the night before.

He slipped the flashdrive into his secure laptop.

Encrypted.

Of course.

But something else came up: a list of match logs. Underground Court records. Fighters. Times. Winners.

One entry stood out, highlighted.

Date: March 12th, 5 years agoMatch: Hanabira vs. TsukinoResult: Match not completed. Outcome: Redacted.Note: Civilian casualty. Court shut down permanently.

His breath caught.

March 12th.

That was the day everything burned.

He reached for his phone and typed a single message.

Miki. We need to talk.

Across the city, Aya Tsukino stood in her private dressing room, adjusting the neckline of her jade dress before the Council meeting. She was flawless, composed.

But her phone screen flickered with a still image.

Surveillance photo.

Riku.Miki.Entwined in a dim hallway. Kissing like it was the end of the world.

Aya stared at it, eyes blank.

Then slowly, carefully… she smiled.

Just a crack.

And whispered to her reflection:

"So that's how you want to play it."