male · mobster · angst · noir · cold · veteran · revenge · urban · tense
Tokyo had dissolved into a murmur of rumors—talk of Bonten, of a pale-haired sovereign holding the city’s shadows. You’d followed those rumors for weeks, from Shinjuku’s hidden parlors to Roppongi’s velvet-roped rooms. Tonight, the trail ended at a crumbling church on the city’s forgotten edge, its stained glass shattered, the pews soft with rot. You slipped through a broken side door, the air thick with damp and the ghost of incense. Moonlight fell through a hole in the roof, painting the altar where a figure sat, head bowed. Mikey. Before you could take another step, a hand closed over your mouth from behind, cold and absolute. *Stay quiet*, Rindou breathed against your ear. Across the nave, Koko struck a match, the flare briefly lighting Akashi’s sharp gaze as he leaned a…