Episode3

The mansion had a way of swallowing sound.

Even with Jun’s restless pacing, Mei’s pointed questions, and the distant hum of conversation in the halls, the place felt… muted. Like every word spoken here was measured, weighed, and filed away for later.

I’d been trying to distract myself with the breakfast Hana left — miso soup, grilled fish, and rice — but my appetite was gone. Jun sat opposite me at the small table, glaring at his untouched plate. Mei leaned against the wall, arms folded, her gaze fixed on the door like she expected it to open any second.

“This place is creepy,” Jun muttered. “Like some rich villain’s lair in a drama.”

Mei’s eyes flicked toward me. “You sure he’s not?”

Before I could answer, the door opened, and Renji stepped in. Behind him came Riku — the scar-jawed rifleman from last night — and Ayane, her platinum hair glinting under the morning light.

“Breakfast is over,” Renji said, his voice clipped. “We have a meeting.”

Jun scowled. “Meeting for what? He’s not—”

“Jun,” I warned, but Renji’s gaze had already pinned him in place.

Riku closed the door, leaning against it with an ease that made the room feel smaller. Ayane crossed to the window, peering outside like she was checking for snipers.

Renji spoke directly to me. “The Moriyama syndicate has been moving fast. They’ve already hit three of our businesses in the last twelve hours. If they take more, the smaller crews will start switching allegiance. That ends with your death.”

“I’m not your boss,” I said.

“Not yet,” he corrected. “But your name still carries weight. I need you at the table when we meet with the other families tonight. Show them you’re not hiding.”

Jun’s chair screeched against the floor as he stood. “You can’t drag him into this!”

Riku’s voice was calm but edged. “He’s already in it, whether he likes it or not.”

Ayane glanced over her shoulder. “And if he keeps pretending he’s not, he’ll get all of us killed. Including you, grease-boy.”

Jun’s fists clenched, but Mei stepped between them. “Enough. We’re all on edge. Fighting each other isn’t going to help.”

I looked at Renji. “What exactly are you expecting me to do? Shake hands? Pretend I care about running a crime family?”

“I expect you to survive,” he said simply. “And for that, they need to see you’re worth protecting.”

---

The rest of the morning was a blur of preparations. Hana found me a tailored black suit that fit better than I wanted to admit. She adjusted the cuffs, stepping back to look me over with a faint nod.

“You look like him,” she murmured.

I didn’t have to ask who she meant.

Mei refused to leave my side, trailing me through the halls as I tried to memorize the layout. We passed an open room where two men were cleaning and reassembling firearms. Another door revealed a map table scattered with marked locations, stacks of cash, and unlit cigars.

“This is insane,” Mei whispered. “It’s like walking into a movie set.”

But the thing about movie sets is they’re fake. This wasn’t.

---

By evening, the main hall was filled with people — some in sharp suits, others in street clothes with the restless energy of men who carried knives in their boots. A long table stretched across the center, its polished surface reflecting the golden light from the chandeliers.

Renji took the head seat. I was placed to his right, an unspoken message to everyone present.

The introductions were a blur of names and nods — old allies of my father, wary lieutenants from smaller crews, a few people I recognized only from whispers in my childhood.

The tension in the room was thick enough to taste.

Renji wasted no time. “The Moriyama think our heir is unprotected. They’re wrong. Kaito will be assuming his father’s seat for the duration of this conflict.”

A ripple of murmurs passed down the table. My pulse spiked, but I kept my face neutral.

One man — heavyset, with gold rings on every finger — leaned forward. “With respect, Saito, he’s untested. We’ve bled for this family. Why should we follow a boy who’s never—”

Renji’s hand came down on the table, sharp enough to silence him. “Because he’s a Kuroda. And because anyone who doubts that can walk out now and see how long they last alone.”

The man shut his mouth.

I glanced at Jun and Mei, standing near the wall. Jun’s expression was all nerves, but Mei… Mei was studying the room like she was mapping exits.

Renji’s gaze met mine briefly, and I understood — this wasn’t just about showing strength. It was about making them believe.

The meeting ended without blood, which I took as a small miracle. But as the guests filed out, Riku stepped up beside Renji, murmuring something low in his ear. Renji’s expression hardened.

“What is it?” I asked.

He didn’t sugarcoat it. “Moriyama hit one of our safehouses an hour ago. And they took someone.”

My stomach dropped. “Who?”

He hesitated — just long enough for my pulse to spike.

“Jun’s cousin,” Riku said. “The one who works at the garage.”

Jun’s face went pale. “Taro?!”

Renji looked at me. “This is your choice, Kaito. We can strike back tonight, but it will mean stepping onto the board. No hiding. No walking away.”

The room felt suddenly too small, the air too heavy.

My mother’s face flashed in my mind — the way she’d stood between me and the gunman. I thought of Taro, probably tied to a chair somewhere, wondering if help was coming.

When I finally spoke, my voice was steady.

“Tell me where we’re going.”

Renji’s lips curved in something that was almost approval. “Good.”

---

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