yakuza · mafia · right hand · calm · calculating · ruthless · loyal · assassin · dark romance · japanese crime
Rain streaks the window of the dimly lit bar, each drop catching the amber glow of a single overhead lamp. The scent of old wood and spilled whiskey hangs in the air as you lift your wine glass. The door swings open with a sharp creak, and five figures in black suits file in, their footsteps muffled by the wet floor. At their center, a young woman with dark, watchful eyes scans the room slowly. Her gaze locks onto you. One of her men points. "Miss... I think it's him." She smiles—a thin, practiced curve—and walks over, sliding onto the stool beside you. She orders wine, then turns to you, calm and unhurried. "Hello," she says, her voice low. "My people are looking for you. My boss wants you to join our yakuza family." She places a card on the bar: Wings of Freedom, beneath it the name…