Part 1 : Tokyo
Tokyo breathed in lights and secrets.
Rain slid down glass towers like falling ghosts, each droplet scattering neon into a thousand colors. The streets were alive—umbrellas blooming, footsteps splashing through puddles painted in reds, blues, and sickly greens. Somewhere between the glow of vending machines and the hum of electric signs, he walked. Silent. Hood up. Eyes forward.
Null had descended from the mountain like a myth. Now, he was just a shadow among many. But in his mind, the list had started bleeding again.
Five names.
The first was here. Somewhere beneath the thunder, the reflections, and the lies of this city.
The bar was drowning in smoke and synth beats.
Null sat at the far end, alone, a glass of something untouched before him. Rain tapped the windows. The club lights danced off puddles near the door. He watched the crowd without watching.
Then he saw them.
Three men in sharp black suits entered — tattoos creeping up their necks. One of them stood taller, older. Calm. He didn't laugh. Just nodded once at the bartender, who stiffened immediately.
He looked like the boss.
The kind who didn't need to speak loud to be feared.
The kind who might know what Null was after.
The men disappeared behind a red curtain into the upper floor — the private room. Security followed.
Null picked up his drink and downed it in one breath.
The glass hit the table with a sharp bang.
Heads turned.
People stared.
Was he drunk? Mad?
Null stood slowly, every gaze followed him like pret tracking a storm.
He walked to the bar — calm, unblinking — and placed a single coin on the counter.
Bronze. Worn.
A face of an Oni carved into its center — snarling, silent, eternal.
The bartender saw it. His eyes widened.
His hands trembled. He backed away, nearly knocking a glass over.
Then he ran.
Straight to the DJ booth.
The music died mid-beat. Lights stopped dancing.
The bartender grabbed the mic, breath shallow.
Bartender (shaking):
"C-Club's closed! Private event! Everyone out!"
People murmured, confused. Then saw his face —
Panic spread. They filed out fast. No one asked questions.
The DJ bolted.
The bartender didn't even grab his cash.
Within seconds, only Null remained.
The rain outside tapped louder now. The silence inside felt colder.
He walked toward the red curtain. Behind it — the stairs, then the door.
He raised his hand and knocked:
Once.
Twice.
Then a pause.
Then one more.
A coded pattern. One they used in the early days — the old blood.
The door cracked open.
A Yakuza guard peeked through, chewing a toothpick.
Yakuza Guard (lazy tone):
"The hell? Who's still using the old code, man? That shit changed ye—"
He didn't finish.
A flash — then his body slammed to the floor.
Null's hand had shot through the opening, grabbed his throat, and pinned him down in a single blur of motion. Face smashed into the wood.
The coin clattered near his ear.
Inside the room —
A haze of cigar smoke.
Poker chips clinked. Laughter bounced off the red velvet walls. Girls in silk dresses lounged between bottles of sake and ashtrays.
It went dead silent. Like someone hit mute on the world
Four men stood.
One still fumbling with his belt, shame burning on his face.
Another went straight for his gun.
But Null was already inside. Already moving.
He stepped in like smoke, like a nightmare you couldn't shake.
Crack — an elbow to the face.
Thunk — a chair shattered as a man's body crumpled through it.
The third man barely raised his voice before Null silenced it with a fist to the throat.
The fourth? He hesitated. That was his mistake.
Null grabbed the table's edge — flipped it.
Cards flew. Bottles crashed. Screams. The girls ran.
The room was chaos. But he was calm.
In the center of it all, Null stood — coat soaked from rain, blood speckling his knuckles.
Eyes locked on the boss. The only one still seated. Still calm.
Yakuza Boss:
"Who are you?"
Null places the coin on the table in front of him.
The boss glanced at it. Then picked it up — fingers running over the carved oni face, feeling the weight. His eyes narrowed.
Yakuza Boss (softly):
"I've heard the stories. But the world thinks you're dead."
Null:
"How do you know who I am?"
Yakuza Boss:
"We stopped using this coin five years ago. After you died.
Then that Korean bastard took over.
So I figured… maybe you're a copy. Maybe you're him.
Either way — you're not here for drinks.
So go ahead. Ask what you came to ask."
Null:
"What makes you think I came to ask?"
Yakuza Boss (smirking):
"Because if you came to kill me, I'd already be dead."
Null said nothing.
The Yakuza boss leaned back on the leather couch, spreading his arms across the top, exhaling smoke.
Null:
"You struck me as the sharp type.
So tell me — why does someone like you serve under someone like him?"
The boss chuckled. No anger. Just tired truth.
Yakuza Boss:
"There's a power behind him.
A shadow none of us dare touch.
I think you know who I'm talking about."
Null (quietly):
"I know."
A pause. Rain tapped on the windows. The light flickered from a red lantern outside.
Null:
"Sounds like you didn't have a choice."
Yakuza Boss:
"No one did.
But maybe now… the scales can tip."
Null:
"Do you want it back — your city, your seat, your power?"
The Yakuza Boss slowly smiled, placing the coin back on the table like it was an ancient pact being renewed.
Yakuza Boss:
"Now we're talking"
Null:
"Where is he?"
Yakuza Boss:
"I don't know. He doesn't come out in public anymore. We only get orders through his trusted men. We see him once a year—at the annual gathering. That's it. He shows up, collects the money, kills anyone who steps out of line or short-changes him. Ruthless bastard... but I'll give him this—business boomed after he unified Japan."
Null:
"When's the next meeting?"
Yakuza Boss: (shrugs)
"December. Date gets announced whenever they feel like it."
Null:
"Too late. Where does it happen?"
Yakuza Boss: (hesitates, then lowers his voice)
"Tokyo Moon Hotel. Top floor.
The whole skyscraper is his.
Every floor's a warzone—loaded with guns, guards, and cameras.
You walk in... and you die before the elevator dings."
Null: (calmly)
"Then we move the meeting up."
Yakuza Boss: (raises an eyebrow)
"And how the hell do you plan on doing that?"
Null:
"I need a distraction. Can you make it happen?"
The boss stares at him, takes a slow drag from his cigarette. Smoke coils through the dim light. He exhales—thinking.
Yakuza Boss:
"…It'll be hard.
But yeah. I can manage."
stood up, straightened his suit, and extended his hand.
Yakuza Boss:
"My name is Shirato Renji.
And what should I call you, Null?"
Null stared at the offered hand, then looked past it. Cold.
Null:
"Null is dead.
I'm just a ghost now."
Shirato smirked, flicking ash from his cigarette.
Shirato:
"Ghost, huh?
Call yourself whatever you like.
Just make sure he doesn't see you coming."