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2024, Roppongi, Tokyo.
A sleek black Cadillac Escalade driving through roppongi its polished frame reflecting the vibrant chaos of Roppongi at night. In the driver's seat sat a man in a perfectly tailored black suit, hair slicked back neatly, expression cold and professional.
In the back, a young man sat with calm, unyielding presence. His white shirt and black vest were immaculate, and his black hair was combed perfectly. His black eyes scanned the streets with detached precision.
Driver announced : Mr Inagawa you reached your destination
"…It's Sosuke. Not Mr. Inagawa." His voice was flat, measured.
The car stopped in front of the Roppongi Haru Nightclub. Sosuke opened the door, stepping out with measured steps. The night air was heavy with the scent of neon lights and late-night city energy. His hand gripped the door handle with quiet determination.
Before he could fully enter, a fist collided with his face. Sosuke stumbled backward, head snapping up instinctively. Two men in black, varisty jackets stood in his path, laughter dripping with menace.
"Gotcha, motherfucker!" one of them sneered.
Sosuke wiped the blood from his lip, voice low and dangerous.
"You dumb shit… I'll tear you apart."
He lunged forward, his fist connecting solidly with the first thug's chin. A sharp crack echoed in his ears as he followed with a savage left hook.
The second thug retaliated with a kick to Sosuke's gut, sending a jolt of pain through him. Punches rained down in rapid succession, each strike heavy and precise.
With a growl, Sosuke dropped low, tackling the second thug to the ground, pounding his face relentlessly into the floor. Rage boiled inside him.
"You Chinese piece of shit!" he roared.
The thug's companion lunged, locking an arm around Sosuke's neck, attempting to choke him. Teeth gritted, Sosuke slammed a backward kick, breaking free, and grabbed a metal coat hanger from the wall. With a swift snap, he broke it in half and charged.
His jab struck true, impaling the thug in the stomach. The man collapsed, gasping for air. Sosuke crouched, lifting the thug's jacket collar to reveal embroidered words: "…Escizuone de Ragnarok…? So they weren't Chinese " His exhale was sharp, eyes shadowed with cold fury.
"Haru… you bastard. Let's see what kind of shit you pulled this time," he thought grimly.
Pushing himself up, Sosuke stormed toward the stairs and threw the heavy door open.
"HARU! YOU SET ME U—" he shouted.
Two figures came into view. One stood tall and thin, black hair with streaks of silver , baggy pants hanging loosely from his frame, counting money with a smug expression. The other was Haru, unconscious on the floor.
"Well, well. Bleeding already. And you still walked in. Didn't think you'd crawl past my boys downstairs, brat, but we knew you'd come Inagawa sosuke. " the unknown man said, voice laced with mockery.
"Who sent you?" Sosuke demanded.
"Oi—Brat, you don't get to ask questions. But i'm here for checking the yakuza boss's kid eh."
the man replied, voice teasing, almost playful.
Sosuke grabbed a chair and hurled it at him. The unknown man dodged effortlessly, letting out a soft, mocking laugh.
"I'm Not here for you but. BRING IT" Sosuke growled, threat clear in his tone.
"Ooh, darling, I would absolutely LOVE to," the man said sarcastically, rushing toward him.
They collided, fists crashing against flesh with increasing intensity. Each strike landed harder and faster than the last, until finally, exhaustion began to weigh on both of them.
Sosuke, mid-fight, noticed something unsettling. This guy hits randomly… doesn't seem like he has any martial arts training.
Before he could react, the unknown man slammed him onto the couch, raining down wild, rabid punches as if trying to punch through him entirely.
"I expected better, to be honest. No way you stood a chance against the guys downstairs. Brat," the man spat, relentless.
Desperation flared in Sosuke. He grabbed a glass, shattering it over the man's head.
"Shut the ACTUAL fuck up. You look like a goddamn lizard."
He spun, delivering a roundhouse kick. The strike was blocked, and a strong right hook slammed into him.
"That's useless, Inagawa," the man said, exhausted, yet still standing.
Sosuke lay on the ground, barely able to move, blood dripping from his brow, chest heaving with exertion.
---
After both fighters reached the limits of their endurance, Sosuke struggled to catch his breath, lying flat on the floor, his vision blurred by pain and rage.
The unknown man stood above him, panting, sweat sliding down his face. Then, a twisted grin appeared.
"…I expected you to fall faster," he said hoarsely.
He stepped back, his expression unreadable, hair black with streaks of silver catching the neon light.
"You're strong… but not yet. I won't waste my time on you."
Sosuke pushed himself up weakly.
"Get back here! I'm not done with you—!"
The man waved dismissively.
"Wait your turn, Inagawa… when you're ready for the real war. Remember us—Escizuone de Ragnarok."
He walked calmly into a dark corridor, leaving only the faint sound of his footsteps behind.
"Alright, goddamn sweet payday… oh right. The owner can't hear me. He's face first in dreamland. Sleep tight, sugarplump."
The door closed slowly behind him. Sosuke was left alone, trembling, rage still bubbling beneath exhaustion.
"…Who the hell is this son of a bitch?" he thought, heart hammering in his chest.
Fifteen minutes later, Sosuke opened the Cadillac door.
"What happened, Mr. Inagawa? Why are you all bandaged?" the driver asked nervously.
"Shut up. I told you two thousand times, I'm Sosuke. Not Mr. Inagawa. Don't call me that."
"I apologize—"
"Don't fucking say anything. Just take me to Nakata," Sosuke interrupted sharply.
The driver nodded in silence.
On the way, Sosuke's mind churned. Why did he always have to go through this? The urge for revenge, to prove himself, flared inside him.
Through the window, he noticed a homeless man struggling with another over a beer bottle. Sosuke ordered the car to stop. He tossed a $200 bill toward them, thinking it would solve the problem.
Driving away, he glanced back. The two were still fighting over the money.
A frown crossed his face, disappointment settling in. He lit a cigarette, taking a long drag, lost in thought.
To be continued.