August 5th, 2025
At Tachibana-Kawasaki Global Headquarters - 1:15 PM
The day had worn on since her parents left. Their voices - disappointed, emotional, worn with concern - still lingered faintly in the air of the CEO office at the Tachibana-Kawasaki Global Headquarters.
But Ruth had swept those remnants away with one long exhale and the opening of her favorite Chanel perfume. Scents, like masks, helped her forget what didn't matter.
Now, she stood poised, elegant, and impenetrable before three men who could change everything.
They were American titans - billionaire investors from tech, energy, and pharmaceuticals.
John Hartford, Louis Trenton, and Marcus Devereaux. Ruth welcomed them with a radiant smile, a subtle bow, and a tailored black dress that hugged her form like liquid confidence.
"Gentlemen," she greeted with velvet charm. "Welcome to Tachibana-Kawasaki. I trust your flight from Boston wasn't too brutal?"
The three men laughed lightly, clearly already disarmed.
"We've heard a lot about your company, Ms. Tachibana," Marcus said, taking a seat across from her. "Revolutionary. Aggressive. Ambitious."
"My three favorite words," Ruth replied with a smirk.
The meeting was smooth. Ruth commanded the room with grace and a kind of subdued ferocity.
She discussed logistics, cost efficiency, environmental innovation. Her voice never rose - her tone danced like silk through numbers and projections, while her eyes told them something more primal.
She was not merely the heir to a legacy. She was the storm that built it.
"Should you bring your business into our fold," she concluded, standing confidently, "Tachibana-Kawasaki won't just accommodate your growth. We'll guarantee it."
There was a pause. The Americans exchanged glances.
"We'll do it," said John Hartford. "We want our next base in New York and Pennsylvania. We'll need you there in person, Ruth."
"Consider it done," she said, shaking their hands with a dazzling smile that barely concealed the ache under her ribs.
As the gentlemen took their leave, praising her poise and promising to dine together in Manhattan soon, Ruth stood near the glass wall overlooking Tokyo's skyline, feeling the weight of triumph. They were in. America was in. She had expanded the family's dominion across the Pacific.
It was everything she worked for. Everything her ancestors would have bled to achieve.
And yet... she felt incomplete.
The silence in the room suddenly broke with the buzz of her phone. She glanced at the screen.
A message.
"He's going to South Carolina. Along with the foreign girl."
Her breath hitched.
She stared at the words. The name of the state felt like a stab wrapped in a warm embrace.
South Carolina.
Ian.
Fate was, indeed, generous today.
He was heading back to where it all began for him. Where his pain lived. His roots. His ghosts. But not alone.
No. That foreign girl.
Ellie.
Ruth's fingers trembled ever so slightly around the phone. Her smile, so full just moments ago, thinned into something brittle. She was happy. Because now she knew. She could follow him. She could place herself back into his story.
But she was also furious.
That girl.
The one who dared to console him. As if she could heal something that Ruth had broken first.
You don't get to steal what was mine first. Her thoughts darkened.
She closed the message. Tucked her phone away. Stared at the skyline again.
Her lips moved silently, a whisper only the glass could hear.
"I'm coming, Ian. You'll understand one day. Why I left."
"Everything I'm building... it's all for us."
And with that, she turned her back on the Tokyo skyline, her heels echoing across the marble floor as she walked toward her next move.
In an abandoned warehouse - 7:30 PM
The warehouse creaked as the wind slid through shattered panes and rusted metal beams. It was a forgotten place - one of many across Tokyo's underbelly - but for the former ninja, it was home. Temporary. Low-profile. Perfect.
He stepped inside, locking the reinforced steel door behind him. No lights. Just the moonlight seeping through holes in the roof.
He pulled out his phone.
1,000,000 Yen
From someone named with only a black heart emoji.
The corners of his mouth lifted into a faint, tired smirk. Payment confirmed. Ruth always paid clean. No questions, no delays.
He changed out of his average-Joe attire - hoodie, jeans, baseball cap - and slid into looser, black indoor wear. His body was exhausted. His mind buzzed with shadows. He sat cross-legged on the floor, rolling his shoulders with a quiet sigh.
Then a voice cut through the silence like a knife through silk.
"How's working for my daughter-in-law?"
The ninja's blood turned cold.
"Is she more generous than me?"
The voice was deep. Calm. And terrifying in its stillness. It carried the weight of old wars, corporate empires, and unspeakable power.
The ninja didn't move for a second.
Then he slowly turned his heart - his heart pounding behind a stone-faced exterior.
Standing by the weapon rack, admiring one of his handcrafted knives, was Lionel Kawasaki.
Ruth's father-in-law.
"K-Kawasaki-sama," the ninja said, immediately rising and bowing with deep, hard-earned respect. "You honor my humble place."
Lionel didn't respond to the bow. He flipped the knife once, twice, inspecting the edge with predatory curiosity.
Then, without warning, he threw it.
The blade sliced through the air, embedding in the wall one inch from the ninja's face.
Not a blink. Not a twitch. The ninja stood still, trained for moments like this - but even he felt the pressure in his lungs tighten.
"Enough games." Lionel said coolly.
He stepped forward, slow, boots echoing across the concrete.
"Who did Ruth track?" he asked, voice low and knife-sharp.
"Who is this... special person she's so desperate to stalk that she paid you a goddamn fortune to watch him like a ghost?"
The ninja swallowed. Ruth had sworn him to secrecy. She used the kind of voice that made a man believe in her dream. And she paid more than well.
But this...
This was Lionel.
And Lionel didn't pay. He commanded.
Silence lingered. The ninja debated his next words with the weight of death hovering overhead.
"...A man," he said cautiously. "Foreign. Young. Connected to her past. I don't know his name. She never said it. Just his face. His movements."
Lionel's gaze darkened. "Son of a bitch. So she's cheating on my son."
The ninja didn't dare ask.
Lionel turned to leave, but paused at the door.
"Next time she contacts you... don't answer. Not unless you want that knife in your heart instead of the wall."
And then he vanished - quiet as a phantom, powerful as a storm.
The ninja was alone again.
Only this time, the silence wasn't peaceful.
It was loaded. Dangerous. A fuse burning somewhere he couldn't see.