The meeting had just ended.
Pointless, as always.
Another round of empty words, unreadable stares, and veiled threats with the rival clan's leader.
I got into the car. My men followed.
– "Sir, where to?" one of them asked.
– "I'm hungry. Find a food stall," I replied.
– "Hai, sir."
Ten minutes later, the cars slowed in front of a small place, barely noticeable under the rain.
One of my men stepped out first, opened the door, and held an umbrella over my head.
I stepped out without a word.
The smell of hot broth hit me the moment I walked in.
We sat at a table in the back. Three of my men took their places around me, quiet as usual.
Then she appeared.
– "Good evening. What can I get for you?" she asked softly.
I looked up.
A foreigner.
A gaijin.
But her Japanese was flawless. Smooth, natural.
Her smile was polite, without stiffness.
I observed her.
Her brown hair was pulled into a simple bun, held with a wooden hairpin — a small, careful detail.
One loose wave had slipped against her cheek.
She brushed it back behind her ear without thinking. A quiet, instinctive gesture.
The way she moved… unpretentious, yet strangely elegant.
She took our order and left.
Unusual.
Fifteen minutes later, she returned with the dishes. Still composed. Still calm.
– "Oyabun," one of my men murmured, "what do you want to do about the Sayaki clan?"
– "Send men to all their clubs. Burn them down."
– "Oyabun… if they fight back, it could start a war."
I turned to him slowly.
– "Are you questioning me?"
– "No, Oyabun… forgive me."
He dropped his eyes at once.
A few minutes passed.
Then the door slammed open.
Three men barged in.
Loud. Aggressive. Worthless.
They began knocking over chairs, shouting.
One of them grabbed the waitress by the waist.
He touched her.
I frowned, slightly.
– "Shut them up. They're disturbing me."
– "Hai, Oyabun."
But before anyone could move, she acted.
She reached into her apron, pulled out a pair of chopsticks, and drove them into the man's eye.
He screamed.
She backed away, grabbed a chair and threw it without hesitation, then snatched a kitchen knife and stood between the old woman and the men.
– "The next one who touches her — or me — I'll slit his throat."
I raised a hand.
– "Wait."
My men froze.
She was calm.
Too calm.
No panic.
No screaming.
Not even a tremble.
It was rare.
Rare for a girl.
Rare for someone so young.
And even rarer for a foreigner in this kind of situation.
She didn't beg.
She didn't run.
She threatened.
I watched her for a moment.
No fear. Just a cold, burning anger.
We left.
Before we stepped out, she bowed.
It was a typical Japanese gesture — but from her, it felt genuine.
I said nothing.
I wasn't hungry anymore...
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I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The story is just beginning.