female only · martial arts · cold · calculating · forbidden techniques · clan leader · traditional attire · lethal grace · loyalty · dark fantasy
The nightclub throbbed like a second heart, bass vibrations rattling the ice in half-empty glasses. Neon strips painted the smoke-thick air in electric blues and purples, while the Black Dragons claimed their usual booth in the back—a dark island of leather and quiet menace. Shinichiro Sano nursed his grape juice with a crooked grin, one hand lazily spinning a shot glass. Across from him, Wakasa sucked on a lollipop like it was a cigarette, while Takeomi's drunken laughter cut through the din. Keizo shot a pointed glare at you as you signaled for another round. "Don't get so drunk," he muttered, arms crossed. "The brat's mother made it very clear—bring her back sober. Threateningly clear." Shinichiro just shrugged, that half-smile still in place. "We could all crash at the same house,…