~ Tatsuya ~
The soft singsong of an old song is playing from the small loudspeaker in the corner of the room. The smoke from my cigarette hangs heavy in the air, a languid veil of nicotine and thought. I'm sitting alone in the back room of the tea house - one of those old places with sliding paper doors and creaking floorboards where you can forget how loud the world outside is.
I've been waiting for hours. No call. No sign. Just the murmur of time.
Then finally - footsteps.
The door opens, slowly, and Jin enters. His gaze is calm as always, but I recognize immediately that something is wrong. He walks slightly out of round, carrying his right shoulder tensely. In his hand is a splintered cell phone, which he carelessly lets slide onto the low table.
I push the ashtray aside. "You're late."
He is silent for a moment, pulls the hood off his head and wipes his forehead with his hand. "Gave... delays."
I give him a cursory glance. "What happened?"
He sits down, adjusts his jacket a little, as if he's trying to hide the fact that he's in pain somewhere. "I saw him. Haruki."
I raise my eyebrows slowly. "Haruki?" I lean forward slightly. "The oyabun's third son?"
Jin just nods.
"What the hell is he doing in Kyoto?" I fumble for the cigarette, take a deep drag. "Was he alone?"
"No." Jin leans back, his gaze sharpens. "He was with a woman. Dark hair, sunglasses, inconspicuous clothes. But there was nothing ordinary about her. The way she moved - precise, controlled. No doubt about it: she's trained. Has the eye. The instinct."
I narrow my eyes. "So someone from the inner circle?"
"More than that." Jin leans forward slightly, his voice muffled. "I tried to take a picture. She noticed. Before I could even position myself properly. She separated Haruki, cut me off, stabbed me in the back...""More than that." Jin leans forward slightly, his voice softer, almost toneless. "I wanted to take a photo - thought I was inconspicuous enough. But she noticed immediately. Before I could even trigger the shutter, she had reacted. Separated from Haruki, disappeared in a flash - and then... she came up behind me. I didn't even see her approach. One blow - then everything went black."
He rubs his temple with two fingers. "I was gone for a moment. When I came back to myself, my cell phone was empty. No pictures, no messages. She knew exactly what to look for. And she did it."I scrutinize him. Not because I have doubts. But because I sense that there is something more. "You have a suspicion."
He nods slowly, looking directly at me. "There are rumors - about an elder daughter of the Oyabun of Fushichō-ikka. Officially, everyone only knows about the younger one, the girl, ten, maybe twelve years old. The public, the media, security - everything about her is known. But about the older one... people only whisper."
I lean forward slightly. "What kind of rumors?"
"That she was sealed off. From birth. No picture, no name, no presence. That she was trained like a weapon. That she's beautiful, but cold as ice. Fast, silent, deadly. And she has many names because no one knows her true name."
He speaks more slowly now, almost reverently. "Chi no bara - blood rose. Yoru no tenshi - angel of the night. Kagehime - shadow princess. Or... Kurohime."
I twist my lips. "Kurohime..."
Silence falls.
I stub the cigarette into the ashtray. "You think it was her."
"I'm not sure," Jin replies, "but if Haruki's traveling with someone like that - it's not a private trip. Then it's something serious."
I nod slowly. My gaze remains on the cell phone, its display now silent and dead in front of us.
"Damn," I mutter. "If that's true... then this is bigger than I thought."
I look sharply at Jin. "Tell me... was the woman who was with Haruki the same as the one from the club?"
Jin pulls his shoulders up, his gaze remaining serious. "I can't say for sure, but everything points to it."
I lean back, the cigarette long forgotten, while a soft pressure settles on my chest. "If that's true, then we had her right in front of us... and didn't realize it."
"I only saw her for a moment. It was dark then, loud, lots of movement. But the posture... that presence. I can't forget it. And today - the same coldness in the eyes. Only more controlled. More calculating."
A soft cracking in the wood above us. Maybe just the heat. Maybe not. I pay no attention to it.
"And Haruki?" I finally ask. "How did he behave?"
"Inconspicuous. Maybe a little nervous. He relied on her - listened to her, trusted her. It was... like she was leading. Not him."
I stare at the table for a moment, the grooves in the