Imminent Storm
The atmosphere at the Xelno headquarters was always charged with palpable tension. Hideaki, after leaving Viktor, had returned to his room to recharge, savoring the calm before the storm. He knew the peace wouldn't last. The shadows of war loomed on the horizon, and every moment counted.
Hideaki stood in front of the mirror, shirtless, observing a scar the size of an almond on his chest. It told a story of violence and survival, which clearly didn't please Hideaki as his fists were already clenched, his brows meeting gradually, and his gaze dark. Lost in the depths of the past, the door suddenly opened, and one of his lieutenants, Yamagata, entered the room without knocking. Yamagata was one of the guys Hideaki trusted; they grew up together and had lived through various dramas and happy moments together. He was as muscular as Hideaki, an imposing man with dark red hair and piercing eyes. His face bore the marks of many battles, and his gaze was that of a man ready to do anything to protect his leader. It was hard to believe this guy was only 20 years old. As often said, life's harsh realities shape people.
"Hideaki," Yamagata began in a deep voice. "There's news from our scouts. They've spotted unusual movements near the Kurokumo territory."
Hideaki nodded, his mind already in strategic mode. "Very well. Gather the men. We need to be prepared for any eventuality."
During the war that the Xelno started to gain control over a larger part of Tokyo, several gangs didn't survive, but there were also some that managed to hold their own against the Xelno. The Kurokumo was one of them, if not the most formidable gang the Xelno had faced so far. The reason wasn't their numerical superiority; in this regard, with the Xelno's habit of annexing the survivors of rival gangs they fought, the Kurokumo simply couldn't win. However, despite their numerical weakness, they compensated with the strength of their members, who should never be underestimated.
From a certain perspective, the Kurokumo were much more violent and sadistic than the Xelno. In this gang, only individual strength mattered; there was no talk of any family or noble ideology among these guys—they were all, without exception, thirsty for combat. In fact, to join the gang, one sometimes had to go as far as killing a member, and the position of that member would become the winner's new position. Even the leader wasn't spared; on the contrary, he liked this way of operating because, according to him, always having his life in danger pushed him to become stronger every day.
In Tokyo's underworld, an unwritten rule even emerged, stating that anyone who valued their life should never have dealings of any kind with these lunatics. This rule originated when a guy who owed money to one of the Kurokumo members saw his five-year-old daughter get her throat slit in the middle of the street as a reprisal. That's the kind of demons the Xelno were trying to subdue.
After hearing his boss's orders, Yamagata nodded and left the room to carry them out. Hideaki, now alone, closed his eyes for a moment, letting his mind wander, trying to release the accumulated pressure. Suddenly, he thought of his mother—the softness of her features, the warmth of her smile; everything about her contrasted with the brutal world he lived in. But he knew that his feelings and emotions could be weaknesses that might hinder the success of his plans.
Regaining his composure, he took a glass of whisky before heading down to the meeting room. There, his lieutenants were already gathered around the large mahogany table. Maps were spread out, showing control zones and strategic points. Yamagata was briefing the men on the latest information received.
"We've spotted several Kurokumo vehicles heading toward our territory," Yamagata explained. "They might be preparing an attack or simply testing us."
"They don't even try to go unnoticed and charge straight ahead," one lieutenant commented, exhaling a puff of smoke. "They're really hooked on fighting, it seems."
"You're no better than them with your cigar," retorted a female voice before letting out a small laugh. "All brawn and no brains."
Before the guy could respond to the provocation, Hideaki spoke up, his voice calm but authoritative. "We can't afford to underestimate our enemies. Every move must be anticipated. Yamagata, increase patrols and strengthen surveillance points. We must be ready to counterattack at any moment."
The lieutenants nodded, each understanding the gravity of the situation. Hideaki continued, detailing defensive plans and offensive strategies. Everyone in the room knew that war was inevitable, and each was ready to do whatever it took to survive.
As the meeting was coming to an end, Hideaki signaled Yamagata to stay. The other lieutenants left the room, leaving the two men alone.
"Yamagata," Hideaki began, lowering his voice. "I want you to conduct a discreet investigation on Viktor. Something doesn't sit right with me about him. I don't want any unpleasant surprises."
Yamagata nodded, a serious expression on his face. "I'll handle it. We need to be cautious of everyone, especially in these times."
Hideaki nodded. "Good. And make sure our scattered men are ready to intervene if necessary. We must remain united."
******
[Meanwhile, in a city restaurant]
The soft glow of paper lanterns illuminated the traditional Japanese restaurant, creating a warm and intimate ambiance. The lacquered wooden tables were perfectly set, and the murmur of discreet conversations mingled with the gentle trickle of water from a small indoor fountain. At a secluded table near a screen decorated with cherry blossom motifs, a man in his thirties waited, occasionally glancing at the entrance.
Suddenly, a slender figure appeared in the doorway. The woman was dressed in an elegant kimono, her features hidden under a parasol adorned with delicate flowers. She moved with natural grace, approaching the man's table. Her voice, soft but assured, broke the silence.
"Good evening."
The man looked up, his tired and worried features barely visible. "We couldn't meet anywhere else but here… honestly!?. Anyway, sit down; we have much to discuss."
The woman, still calm, took a seat opposite him, placing her parasol delicately beside her. Her face remained in the shadows, making identification impossible, but her voice suggested she was younger than him.
"Are the preparations for our business in place?" the man asked, his serious gaze diving straight into the heart of the matter.
The woman nodded slightly. "Partly. We've infiltrated some of their members and gathered some crucial information. However, there's still much to do to ensure the success of this... mission."
The man frowned slightly. This wasn't the answer he wanted to hear. "I thought everything would be ready by now. Time is pressing, and every day we lose exposes us more."
The woman remained impassive. "We're doing our best. But you must understand that what you're asking us to accomplish requires time and precision. We can't afford to be reckless."
A server approached discreetly, placing steaming cups of tea in front of them before slipping away. The man took a sip, trying to clear his mind.
"Very well. But make sure everything is finalized quickly. We can't fail."
The woman took a sip of her tea, her movements still graceful. "I understand your position. But don't forget that to continue our efforts, we need the agreed-upon sum."
The man stiffened slightly. "I thought we had an agreement."
"We do," she replied calmly. "But additional funds are necessary to ensure the operation's success. Without them, it will be difficult to maintain our members' motivation and discretion."
He sighed, knowing she was right. "Very well. You'll get the money. But I want concrete results. No empty promises."
The woman nodded again, her eyes fixed on him, though her face remained hidden. She then stood up gently, adjusting her kimono. "The message is clear. We'll do everything in our power to ensure the success of our mission. But don't forget, the balance of the money must be settled. Without it, things could go wrong, and not just for us."
She turned to leave but paused before crossing the threshold. "Take care. We're all in this dangerous game, and the slightest misstep could cost us dearly."
The man watched her disappear into the darkness of the restaurant, her words visibly echoing in his mind. He knew the stakes were high and that every decision counted. As he finished his tea, he got up, paid the bill, and vanished into the shadows.