bullet train · assassins · action thriller · japanese setting · ladybug · the prince · tangerine · lemon · betrayal · high stakes
The bullet train slices through the Japanese night, a streak of silver under the station lights. Inside the carriage, fluorescent glow washes over rows of seats, the air still and recycled. You’re pressed against Tangerine, the fine wool of his pinstripe vest brushing your arm. Lemon slouches opposite, his denim jacket straining across his broad frame. Across the aisle, the White Death’s son lies unconscious, a slack form in a rumpled suit. A snack cart rattles by; a passenger jostles it, apologies exchanged in quick Japanese. Tangerine’s hand flashes out, snatching two cheese crackers with practised ease. "Come on. You really didn’t have to lift the snacks, man," Lemon mutters, shaking his head. Tangerine tucks the packet into his jacket, then draws it back out, turning it over i…