The rooftop garden at Tōriku International College was meant to be a place of peace.
A sanctuary.
Instead, tonight, it would become a battlefield.
---
Yuki Kurogane leaned on the balcony rail, the cool night wind tugging at her silver hair.
Below her, the city blinked and pulsed, a monster breathing neon dreams.
The stars above seemed like lies—too far, too cold, too useless.
Her heart was steady.
Her mind sharper than any knife.
She wasn't just playing the role Hiroshi gave her anymore.
She was becoming it.
The Kurogane Heiress.
The phoenix risen from ash.
---
In the shadows nearby, Hiroshi crouched behind a line of trimmed trees, unseen, unheard.
His custom earpiece buzzed once.
> SPECTER Report:
Intruder detected.
Camouflage active.
Target approaching from South Stairwell. Estimated engagement: 90 seconds.
He flexed his fingers lightly around his weapon —
the same reinforced black chopsticks.
A weapon only a ghost would carry.
A smile ghosted across his lips.
"They're getting bold."
"Good."
---
The first sign of danger came with a whisper.
Not a sound—
a shift in the air.
Yuki felt it.
She stepped back from the railing just as a silver dart shot through the space her throat had occupied a second before, embedding itself into the metal with a sharp ting!
Students screamed downstairs.
Security alarms triggered.
Too late.
The assassin moved like flowing ink—a slim figure wrapped in a skintight suit that bent light itself.
Cloaked.
Silent.
Deadly.
He lunged at Yuki with a blade in each hand, twin arcs of polished death flashing under the moonlight.
Yuki didn't flinch.
She ducked low, just as Hiroshi taught her, the first blade singing past her ear.
The assassin pivoted, a second strike incoming—
—but then Hiroshi moved.
Silent. Swift. Final.
The reinforced chopsticks snapped forward, locking the assassin's wrist mid-strike.
A sickening crunch.
The man grunted—only for Hiroshi to twist and slam him into the balcony rail with bone-shattering force.
The blade clattered onto the marble floor.
---
"You're sloppy," Hiroshi said coldly.
The assassin dropped to a knee, shaking off the pain.
He looked up—and for the first time, saw Hiroshi's eyes clearly.
No mercy.
No fear.
Only calculation.
The assassin sneered under his mask.
"You can't protect her forever," he rasped. "The Garden will bloom whether you like it or not."
Hiroshi's expression didn't change.
But something flickered deep in his gaze.
Knowledge.
Recognition.
"The Garden..." Hiroshi whispered, almost to himself.
"They're moving faster than I thought."
---
The assassin moved again, desperate, blades flashing—
—only to find Hiroshi already inside his guard.
One, two, three precise strikes—wrist, elbow, throat.
The assassin gagged, dropped his weapons, and fell hard against the garden floor.
Alive.
But broken.
Hiroshi crouched beside him, voice soft as a whisper:
"Tell them..."
His chopsticks pressed against the man's carotid artery, just enough to make him sweat.
"...next time, send someone worth killing."
The man nodded, fear finally clouding his features.
Hiroshi stood, cleaning his weapon with a flick of his wrist.
"Take him," he ordered into his earpiece.
Two SPECTER agents, hidden in the shadows, emerged and dragged the broken assassin away into the night.
By morning, he would disappear—
just another ghost swallowed by the city's hunger.
---
Yuki approached Hiroshi slowly, breathing hard but standing tall.
"You knew they'd attack tonight."
"I suspected."
"Why didn't you warn me?"
Hiroshi turned, his face unreadable in the moonlight.
"Because you needed to feel it," he said simply.
"You needed to know the weight of the crown you wear."
Yuki stared at him for a long moment, anger and respect battling inside her.
Finally, she nodded.
"I'm not afraid," she said.
"I know," Hiroshi replied.
"That's why you'll survive."
---
Later that night, deep in SPECTER's underground headquarters, Hiroshi stood before a digital map of Tōriku City.
Red dots blinked across the screen—locations tied to "The Garden."
An ancient secret society.
The real architects behind the corruption that destroyed his family.
They were making their move at last.
And Hiroshi Kurogane was ready.
Not to defend.
Not to hide.
But to strike.
"They thought the Kurogane name was dead," he thought, eyes burning.
"They buried the body..."
"But they forgot to kill the ghost."
He tapped the first target on the map.
"Begin Phase Two," he said into the darkness.
The empire had risen.
Now it was time for war.