It was already 4 AM, the sky still clouded in darkness, the world wrapped in silence. Only the hum of Sei’s engine echoed through the empty roads.

  Seiji was on his way to Krueger’s house in Mount Takao — a secluded retreat just far enough from the bustling heart of Shinjuku. The winding roads and dense forest made it nearly invisible to those who weren't searching for it, offering Krueger the solitude he craved.

  Seiji finally arrived at Mount Takao.

  Krueger’s house, a sleek modern structure, sat perched on the mountainside, surrounded by towering trees. Despite its isolation, it was only a short drive from Shinjuku — close enough for Krueger to stay connected to the city when needed, but distant enough to remain detached from its chaos.

  Knock knock.

  Seiji rapped on the door. After a few seconds, Krueger opened it, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

  “It’s four in the morning, Seiji... why so early? Did you find something in Odaiba?” Krueger asked, voice thick with drowsiness.

  “Yes, Mr. Krueger. Let’s sit down first.” Seiji said, stepping inside.

  They sat across from each other at the table. Seiji wasted no time.

  “I infiltrated the Kōtō District quietly, under disguise,” he said, his tone serious. “I found documents listing Shikkoku’s headquarters and several district bases—including the names of key district leaders.”

  He paused, choosing his next words carefully.

  “After leaving the warehouse, I made contact with someone... someone who offered to help me move forward with my plans. But I don't fully trust him yet.”

  Seiji deliberately left out details. He didn’t want to reveal too much until he understood the situation better.

  Krueger nodded slowly.

  “You found useful information. Is that all?”

  Seiji hesitated, then added, “I also found a lead regarding my family. The documents mention someone named Seigetsu involved with Clan affairs... but it’s unclear exactly who. You once told me you and my father were chased by Shikkoku. Could it have been him?”

  Krueger’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes.

  “No... that’s probably just a coincidence. Your father and I were petty thieves back then. We only stole supplies, nothing valuable enough to get involved with the Clans. It’s likely someone else with the same surname.”

  Seiji was skeptical, but he nodded anyway, not wanting to push it.

  “In that case, I still have work later. I’ll get going now.”

  He stood up, bowing slightly.

  “Thank you, Mr. Krueger... for everything. When I lost my family, you took me in like your own. I’ll always be grateful.”

  Krueger smiled warmly and pulled Seiji into a brief hug.

  “You’ve grown into a good man, Seiji. Take care of yourself—and make sure you eat properly, alright?”

  Seiji chuckled softly, nodded, and left for his apartment in Shinjuku.

  At Seiji’s Apartment

  Inside his small apartment, Seiji set up a corkboard pinned with documents, connected by a tangle of red strings.

  The papers he collected detailed information from Kōtō and Nakano districts. Some highlights caught his eye:

  Shibuya District Leader: Alexander Wolfe

  Location: Block 7, Sector 3, Higashiyama Industrial Area, Kyoto

  Specialization: Political Manipulation—Connections to political figures

  Another file stood out:

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  March 21, 2002—Higashi-Ogishima Industrial Zone, Kawasaki:

  Meeting with Seigetsu—FAILED (Conflict)

  Seiji carefully reviewed everything until the clock struck 7 AM.

  I need to get ready. I still have work.

  After a quick shower and packing his things, Seiji left for his workplace.

  At Shinjuku Convenience Store

  “SEIJI! EARLY AS ALWAYS!” shouted Toka the moment Seiji entered.

  “Good morning, Toka. Please lower your voice—it's still early,” Seiji replied flatly, almost robotic.

  “Alright, Mr. Quiet-ji~” Toka teased, laughing.

  Seiji changed into his uniform and started opening the store. Everything was proceeding normally—until a tall American man approached.

  He was about 196cm tall, with mid-length shining blond hair and a bulky frame. The man, holding a phone to his ear, walked up to Seiji’s counter.

  “Yes, this is Alexander,” he said, speaking English with a strong American accent. “State your business.”

  Alexander? Same name... must be coincidence, Seiji thought.

  “I said already! Alexander Wolfe!” the man barked into the phone, frustrated.

  No way. Alexander Wolfe? Seiji’s mind raced.

  “I’ll be staying in Shinjuku for a few days. Meeting with this district’s leader,” Alexander added, dropping items from his basket onto the counter.

  Seiji scanned the goods discreetly, eavesdropping.

  “I’ll call you later—I’m still out in public,” Alexander ended the call, then turned to Seiji.

  “How much?”

  “Oh, don't worry, I speak English,” Seiji said before Alexander could struggle with Japanese. “It’s ￥1,872.”

  Alexander grinned, impressed.

  “Sounds like you’ve got an American accent. California?”

  “No. I just learned it, wish I could travel there, you know.” Seiji lied smoothly, hiding any real details.

  Alexander handed over the money.

  “Just work hard and stay smart. You’ll travel the world someday,” he said, encouragingly.

  Seiji nodded and watched him leave.

  Alexander Wolfe... here in Shinjuku. Coincidence or not, it’s too close to ignore.

  After his shift ended, Seiji returned home to prepare.

  Later that Night, 7 PM—En route to Nakano District

  Seiji suited up in his riding gear, hopped onto Sei, and sped toward Nakano.

  What district will he assign me to first? he wondered.

  At the Nakano District Base

  Seiji parked at the usual spot and walked toward the agency entrance.

  “こんばんは！ボスがあなたを待っています！” greeted the Nakano members.

  “こんばんは。皆さん、英語を話せますか？英語の方が気楽なんです。” Seiji asked, preferring to use English.

  “Yes, sir,” they replied, switching easily.

  He was escorted straight to Noa’s office.

  Noa greeted him casually, “Good evening, Seiji. Welcome back.”

  “How polite of the man who once sent bikers with swords after me,” Seiji said dryly, unimpressed.

  Noa chuckled.

  “It proved my point, didn’t it? And I paid you what I owed.”

  They sat across from each other. Noa offered Seiji a drink, but he refused.

  “Let’s skip the pleasantries. I accept your offer, Noa. But no funny business. Betray me, and you lose your head,” Seiji said, calm but deadly serious.

  Noa smirked and extended a hand.

  “I wouldn’t dare.”

  They shook hands, sealing the agreement.

  Seiji hesitated—should he mention Alexander?

  No... not yet. Can't trust him fully.

  Noa noticed the pause.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing. Let’s just get to the details.”

  Noa nodded, switching to business mode.

  “Your first task: eliminate the Kōtō District leader. I don’t need the entire district destroyed—just proof that the leader’s dead. Bring me the head if you want it clear.”

  He handed Seiji a flash drive containing all necessary intel.

  “The Kōtō leader is known as the ‘Ronin of Kōtō.’ He’s traditional—his men favor katanas and swords. But don’t get comfortable. They still have guns. Review the files yourself.”

  Seiji nodded, pocketed the drive, and left to prepare for the battle ahead.

  At Seiji's Home

  Seiji sat in the dim light of his study, the soft hum of his laptop filling the silence as he scrolled through the data on the screen. His fingers danced over the keyboard, rapidly pulling up every bit of information he had gathered on the Ronin. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, but time felt like it was standing still as Seiji methodically compiled the pieces of the puzzle.

  He needed to measure how big a threat Ryujin Takamura—the Ronin of Kōtō—truly was. More than that, he had to craft a strategy to take him down, to ensure that whatever danger Takamura posed would be neutralized before it could reach him.

  The documents on his laptop screen outlined everything he needed to know, details carefully gathered from his intel sources:

  Ryujin Takamura

  Alias: The Ronin of Kōtō

  Male

  188cm tall

  42 years old

  Proficient in Kendo, Laido, Laijutsu, and Filipino Martial Arts Kali Arnis

  Also trained in Krav Maga

  Below this was a blueprint of Takamura’s base. Seiji had already started marking it up, tracing escape routes, entrances, and hidden points with circles and arrows. It was a meticulous job. Infiltrating Kōtō's heavily fortified base was no small task. He had planned for every eventuality—each route marked with escape strategies, each doorway considered.

  Seiji’s plan was set. In two days, he would be ready to move. He had prepared the necessary tools: guns, knives, flashbangs, and other gadgets for use in the operation. Every detail was accounted for, and no stone would be left unturned.

  Meanwhile, in Takachiho, Miyazaki, Japan

  The quiet beauty of Takachiho was almost deceptive. The air was filled with the soft sounds of the river flowing gently nearby, the calmness of the town in stark contrast to the secrets it held.

  Two men sat together, conversing in low voices. The older of the two, looking to be in his late 60s, was dressed in a dark cloak, blending seamlessly with the shadows. He exuded an air of mystery, his face partially obscured as he spoke.

  Across from him sat a man in his mid-30s, his posture straight and regal. He wore a long black haori embroidered with gold dragons, a black kimono with intricate gold trim, and wide black hakama pants. A thick gold sash cinched his waist, and black boots completed the look—an attire fit for royalty. He carried himself with an imposing presence, fierce and powerful.

  It was clear from the way he held himself that this man was no ordinary individual—he was a leader.

  "Long time no see. You've been hiding well these days, Ijin," the older man remarked, his voice tinged with amusement.

  Ijin, the man in the gold-embroidered haori, looked out over the river, his gaze calm and calculating. “This place is peaceful, isn’t it? No one would think to look for me here. It’s not just for my protection, though. It’s to protect those who might come after me.”

  The older man chuckled softly, a knowing smile on his lips. “Yes, you wouldn’t be a clan leader if you weren’t capable.” His tone shifted, becoming more serious. “But let us talk about why I’m here. The boy seems to be progressing quickly. He’s finding leads that could expose the clan.”

  Ijin turned his eyes toward him, his expression unwavering. "There is no need to worry. He’s meant to find us eventually.”

  The older man frowned, his concern evident. "But won’t this cause us trouble? If he discovers us too soon..."

  "No," Ijin interrupted, his voice calm and confident. "I have plans for him. The first step is for him to discover who he truly is. Let him follow the path. For now, we must let things unfold."

  The older man didn’t argue, merely nodding slowly. He bowed slightly before rising to leave.

  Ijin remained seated, his lips curling into a small smirk. "The long-awaited destiny is finally closing in on us... and it fills me with pleasure," he muttered to himself, his voice growing darker as he chuckled menacingly.

  The air around him seemed to thicken with the weight of his words. The game was about to begin, and Ijin was ready for whatever came next.