The Weight of Honor:
Prologue:
Return of The Black Messiah Pt. 1
Osaka, Japan
11:42 PM
In the heart of the night, under Osaka's vibrant neon gaze, there's an old soul's whisper from across the seas—a legacy spoken in the rhythm and blues of Black America:
The Freaks Come Out at Night …
They'd say back home … a cautionary tale meant to steer the young and restless away from the dangers that danced in the dark. But tonight, in this neon-lit maze of dreams and diversions, the truth of those words unfolded like the jazz riff playing from the speakers of the limo.
In the heart of Osaka, it was like the city's heartbeat was in sync with the pulse of the world, drawing in souls from every corner, every walk of life, It was a Friday night in July, and the city's bass was booming, turning up the volume with a mix of neon lights, street vendors hustling their delicacies, and a crowd that's a cocktail of every flavor you could imagine. Traffic had built up on the road, giving a silent young man time to take in the sights, as well as mentally prepare himself for what came next.
He couldn't help but take notice of the fact that there were a lot of young adults out tonight, the general foot traffic was heading in the opposite direction of where he was headed. He'd heard that there was some Idol performing nearby. A rising star in the industry. Apparently, this was her first major show outside of her mostly cult following. Pictures of her were all over the strip, Yumi - Yumeni - or something. She wasn't worth wasting precious mental energy on at this point.
"Don't worry about the Traffic sir. We're still on track to arrive at the casino in 5."
A young man reclined in his seat, his eyes focused on the luxury resort/casino in the distance. He'd personally decided to keep the lights dim, asserting that he was better suited to thinking when it was dark. Because of this, the driver could barely see him. The volumetric shadows had cast themselves on most of his face and body, leaving only his eyes visible, the ambient occlusion of the streetlights framing them like a camera shot from an old Tarantino movie.
The young man didn't bother speaking, he merely nodded his head to the driver and returned to his thoughts.
The young man swirled his champagne before taking another sip. He didn't consider himself a drinker for the most part, but sometimes it did help take the edge off before getting himself into these situations. Thankfully he didn't need to worry about being carded. His fake ID was top of the line. On paper, he was a 25-year-old man. In actuality, he was 18 going on 19. He was just thankful he had 2 major things going for him.
One, he had a mature face and a strong physique, making him look older by default. Two, he'd long since mastered the fabled Code-switch. He could easily blend in with so-called "high society." His perpetual scowl definitely helped, was it kinda sad for one so young? Probably… but it came with its perks that was for sure.
*Bzzzz*
The young man felt his phone vibrate, he didn't waste any time picking it up and reading the message, knowing it likely had something to do with his mission.
~Kyūseishu, Kurohyou is in position. Your targets are almost ready to begin their game. What's your ETA?~
'15 Minutes. Tell him to stall if he has to. I'll be as fast as I can.'
~Copy. Remember to commit to your disguise. Roots Rock: Malian Noble. Once you're in, you're free to go by your name again. Your targets will be expecting Kyūseishu~
Sent. The young man pocketed his phone. Everything was in order. Good. This was a big job. The Job. When everything went off without a hitch, he'd finally be able to relax a bit. Maybe he'd go off the grid, and live out his life in much-needed peace. No more gambling, no more missions, no more fighting the system … no more fighting society …
No More Fighting Himself …
The young man sighed, this was really it. The end of the line. Dreams of changing the system, waking up the downtrodden proletariat, enlightening African people to take back their rightful place on the world stage, fighting against white supremacy and global imperialism …
All of it was dust now …
He'd already been retired, Freedomland was supposed to change that. For the first time, he'd been able to rally the people, to put seeds of rebellion against elitist oppression in the minds of not just Black America, but all of America. Subjected to the literal slavery that was the ill-named Freedomland.
For a moment … The revolution had started. All he'd worked for, all he'd ever wanted … it was over the horizon. Despite the pain, despite the beatings, despite the psychological warfare he'd endured on that hellish plantation rerun, the mission was worth it. It was all going so well …
Until it wasn't …
Until … Riley … Grandad …
Until they were—
The young man bit his lip so hard it drew blood. He could feel his palms getting shaky, his heart rate increasing, making way for the Fear to set in.
The Survivors Guilt
He breathed in deeply before exhaling the terrible memories. Now wasn't the time to go down that road. He couldn't think about that right now. He had to stay focused.
The Resort was clear now, the limo drove into the large roundabout with sleek black columns with silver accents welcoming them in.
"We're pulling up now Sir. Enjoy your night, and good luck in there."
The young man nodded at his driver. A rather tall Japanese man in a dapper black suit welcomed him by opening his limo door.
Dressed to impress, he stepped out of the limo into the night, his afro catching the wind like a flag of freedom. His outfit? A sleek, black dashiki jacket with gold trim that made him look like royalty. The casino lights hit him, the melanin in his skin absorbing it in response to the bright red and white lights of the establishment.
"Welcome to Mitsui Garden sir. May I have your name please?" He greeted in English with a practiced smile.
Huey shot him an equally practiced smile right back, giving him a firm handshake. "Roots. Roots Rock. It's a pleasure to meet you." He replied in Japanese, making sure to imbue it with a slight Malian accent. His practiced smile became a bit genuine at the equally genuine smile that materialized on the Japanese man's face at the sound of his native language.
Rule One:
First impressions were Everything
"Come right this way Rock-San." He replied jovially in Japanese, leading "Roots Rock" to the entrance. "I hope your journey from Mali was comfortable!"
Yes … from Mali
Huey inwardly smirked but outwardly kept his pleasant smile. "As comfortable as first class can get. Thanks for asking." He replied simply.
The two continued to make small talk as the man showed him around the resort. From the front desk to the facilities. It did seem like a great place to go on vacation but that wasn't why he was here. While the man continued to show him around, "Roots" focused on observing his surroundings. Taking specific notice of the crowd that was being attracted tonight.
Yasuke Murata, waiting for the elevator.
Haru Takao. Checking out at the front desk … with a rather large briefcase.
Satoru Nomura. Walking out of a dark room half drunk, holding two women of the night in his arms … at least he hoped they were "women" of the night. It was hard to tell these days …
Anyway …
They were all notable Yakuza … and there were undoubtedly more.
Good. That was exactly why he was here.
"Hey! You know what I'm in the mood for? A game of Poker! Take me to the infamous Mitsui Casino if you don't mind." "Roots" requested. The man scoped the scene for only a moment before grinning mischievously. "Right this way sir!"
After a short walk. The man pushed open a discrete but ornate red doorway. "Here we are! Welcome to Mitsui Casino." He said, gesturing across the expansive room, and expansive it was!
As always, it was an overwhelming sensory experience. The smell of the all-you-can-eat buffet shrimp. The sounds of cards whirring in the hands of the dealers. The bells and whistles of the various slot machines, and the racketing noise of their levers being pulled. The jingling of quarters. The playground of neon and strobing lights. The loud murmur of the crowds. The clicking of a roulette wheel, the way red and black rushed together as it spun. The sight of gold and silver and bronze and exquisite fountains and statuary.
His guide bowed to him, "Roots" bowed right back respectfully. "Please enjoy your stay, and good luck sir. Ciao!" He grinned, exiting the room. When he was gone, "Roots" took a quick look around.
After Five long years in Japan, this was a very familiar sight. From the women in red dresses to the high rollers in their suits gliding like sharks, there was even a man sobbing in the corner by the bar, clearly cause his dumbass had bet it all on black or something and lost everything. He grimaced, as much as he'd learned to love the Intellectual aspect of Gambling over the years, he still hated places like this. These casual dens of deviance, desperation, and degeneracy had inadvertently taken the lives of many. It was a Devil's playground, through and through, and it just wasn't his style.
Guap aside. He'd much rather be reading a good book right about now …
"Roots" pulled out his phone. Texting his partner.
'Kuruhyo, I'm here. What's your position?'
Huey pursed his lips at the lack of his quick response, there wasn't any time to waste. Instead of taking a walk around and exposing himself to any of his unfortunately numerous "haters" of the recent past that might be lurking around a place like this, he decided to just have a little patience, leaning against the festive walls with his hands in his pockets. Passing the time by bumping his head to the rhythm of the Jazzy Melodies playing in the background.
"Whiskey on the Rocks Mr. Rock?"
The young man raised an eyebrow, recognizing that voice anywhere, even over the loud ambiance of the room. He grinned, turning around to see a very familiar and welcome face.
Kurohyou AKA … his boy …
Michael Caesar!
"What'd you do, stop for a protest on the way here?" Caesar announced with a grin, stepping forward for a brotherly dap. Time had stretched his dreads down to his back, and he certainly had no plans to cut them anytime soon. Clad in a sleek black shirt under a red vest that screamed 'dealer', he was the epitome of dope professionalism.
"Got held up by some pop idol's gig causing a jam," Huey explained, his tone light but focused.
Caesar's eyes lit up, "You talkin' about Yumemi Yumemite?" His excitement was barely contained.
Huey gave him that head tilt look, the kind of look that put the soul in check. "J-Pop… Really?"
Caught, Caesar scratched at his neck, looking anywhere but Huey's eyes. "N-Nah man, it's just … shorties tracks got some smooth melodies … thought I'd mix them into my beats."
Huey didn't laugh but his lips did curl in amused skepticism. "Riigghht … Well after Islander women, you always did like 'em' Japanese."
"Yeah aiight! You know you do too — definitely miss the sista's tho, we gotta head back to Jamaica again like we did for that job last year!" Caesar quipped, chucking alongside him for a moment. "Anyway…" Caesar quickly shifted gears back into mission mode. "We've got work to do. Lay any questions on me now."
Huey nodded, following Caesar's lead across the Casino. "You've been undercover here for 3 months. No doubt you've noticed things. Refresh me on the situation?"
As they ascended the casino's grand staircase, their voices dropped to a whisper. "This place's been wild," Caesar began, his voice tinged with the gravity of their situation. "High stakes all around, but it ain't just money on the line. We're talkin' about full-on enterprises—drugs, trafficking, arms. You know - the usual savagery. Rumor has it, it's some kind of power struggle, a silent gang war brewing."
Huey nodded, absorbing every detail. "Who am I playing tonight?
"Couple of hard rollers from The Kiwatari Clan. Bettin' on some Cobalt straight from the DRC."
Huey's gaze hardened. "Stolen goods, according to our intel."
Caesar chuckled, a hint of cynicism in his voice. "When's it ever not about exploiting Africa for all it's worth?"
Huey didn't share his humor, his frustration evident. Caesar, sensing the mood, quickly moved on. "They've got it locked up, Bond-style, in a vault on the secret 13th floor."
"Officially, The Kiwatari's are renting this place out from The Jabami Branch Family but the actual Jabami's have been recluses for almost 6 years now. Last I heard, Souko Jabami, the former clan head, came down with some sort of sickness and has been in the hospital for the last half a decade … and her sisters' disappeared off the map," Caesar filled in, his tone laced with intrigue.
"So the Jabamis are MIA," Huey concluded, his mind racing. "Who's running the show then?"
Caesar leaned in, dropping his voice. "The streets are whispering about someone named: Tsuibami. No first name. She's got her fingers in both pies, playing both sides. Around half of the old Jabami Gambling Dens around the country are being run by the Murasame Clan and the other half are run by the Kiwatari. Our intel is spotty at best. Lotta conflicting stories and seemingly random information. The only thing his sources agree on is that name."
Huey's analysis was sharp. "All these 'Bami' names… you think it's tied to the Momobami Clan?"
"I don't see why it wouldn't. It's all one big, tangled web, man. But it's messing up the scene for everyone else," Caesar admitted.
Huey scoffed at the absurdity. "So what you're saying is we're pretty much putting ourselves right in the middle of two clans fighting over ignorant, generational tribalism?"
Caesar shrugged. "Sounds stupid when you put it like that."
"Because it is stupid. There's plenty to go around without stepping on each other," Huey countered, his voice low as they neared their destination.
Caesar nudged him, signaling the approach of their target table. "Win this, and we'll sneak you up to grab that cobalt stash."
Huey nodded, the weight of the mission clear. "Then we rendezvous at the extraction point on the roof where Agent Flowers will pick us up."
Caesar covertly nodded, pasting a smile on his face to appear more professional. "Remember, The House never likes to lose, so the dealer will definitely be cheating. I've only been here for a few months so naturally they don't trust me enough to be the dealer for this game but I can still stand and watch, if you need to know what cards they have at any point in time, you know what to do." He quickly relayed.
Huey nodded, albeit reluctantly. Even in a situation like this, he wasn't a fan of cheating during any gamble. It wasn't like he felt some moral obligation to do so in this case however, these people were vultures, bloodsuckers of the poor, they deserved as much misfortune as Huey could give. It was just that he knew he could beat these guys, and having to cheat against these pieces of crap would bruise the hell out of his ego.
"Nah. You go and give Flowers a call, get him up to speed and make sure he's here when he needs to be and not a second later! I'll handle this." Huey ordered.
Caesar didn't make his apprehension of that plan a secret. "Not a good look god. This mission is too important, we need a failsafe and that's why I'm here." Caesar replied, his tone finite, with no room for debate.
"I can handle these clowns Caesar - you know that. We need to make sure Flowers is where we need him to be - when we need him to be there. I need you to take care of that. When I win, they won't just let us hightail it up outta here with their prize. We need to make sure our escape plan is solid!" Caesar couldn't deny the logic in his words, he was very reluctant, but it wasn't like Huey didn't have a point.
Caesar sighed, giving in to Huey's request: Fine man. I'll make a move. But if that's the play, you need to know this …"
Caesar leaned in close, practically whispering, he said something almost unable to be heard over the electrifying melody of the casino's ambience. He quickly placed something in Huey's hands, which he quickly put into his pockets. Understanding the game plan.
"Be careful! Aiight!"
Huey nodded but he was sure of his capability to handle things.
Besides … He could already see the gears turning.
Huey's entrance was a study in focus, each breath drawing the room into a sharper, almost cinematic clarity. The poker table before him, bathed in the low light of the casino, became an arena. Two opponents, each a mirror to differing tactics of persuasion and intimidation, awaited. The dealer, a figure seemingly plucked from a tale of caution, stood with an air of hidden agendas, his posture a silent testament to the subterfuge at play.
With a glance exchanged between Huey and Caesar, barely perceptible, they acknowledged the con had already been set up.
"Good evening, gentlemen," Caesar's voice cut through the tension, smooth as silk, yet with an edge sharp enough to draw attention. "Allow me to introduce Kyūseishu. The Kyūseishu," he emphasized, laying the foundation of Huey's legendary status with a hint of drama.
Huey, his demeanor as unreadable as ever, assessed his opponents, recalling the wisdom of Malcolm X—the parable of the Fox and the Wolf. It was a lesson in discernment, one that painted his current adversaries in a revealing light. The taller man, Aku Kiwatari, approached with a disarming smile, extending a hand in what was a well-rehearsed gesture of faux camaraderie. "A pleasure, Kyūseishu. Your reputation precedes you," he offered, his voice dripping with a charm that Huey recognized as the Fox's guise.
Huey matched his handshake with a subtle smile, playing along with the charade. "Just a bit of luck on my side," he demurred, his humility a strategic play within the cultural dance of respect and perception.
'Hm … Break the ice, establish camaraderie, then use said camaraderie to temper my negative expectations and lull me into a false sense of security …'
Aku's laughter rang false in Huey's ears, a clear signal of the Fox's strategy to disarm and deceive.
Yamada, the shorter and more openly hostile of the two, cut through the pleasantries with a snarl. "Enough with the niceties. Let's get to it," he barked, his demeanor unapologetically aggressive—the Wolf, through and through.
'And he's just dumb…
As Caesar introduced the dealer, Fumito Kiwatari, the air thickened with anticipation. Fumito's handshake, offered with one hand hidden, was met with a keen eye from Huey, who noted the brief slip of a twisted smirk for only a moment before he reigned it in.
A flicker of his true intentions.
To Fumito, the lack of reaction on the boy's face led him to assume that he didn't catch it.
'Yes. Good luck' Fumito jested in his head. ' … Good luck after we take you for all you're worth; and when you're living on the streets, rolling around in piss and shit. We'll "offer" you a way to pay your debt by licking our boots clean, or maybe we'll string you up and use you as target practice for our me-
"Aargh!"
Fumito's frustration was palpable as he found himself unexpectedly sprawled on the floor, his dignity in tatters. The shock of the fall left him disoriented, his gaze snapping up to meet Huey's, who looked back with a blend of concern and surprise. "Everything okay?" Huey inquired, his voice laced with genuine curiosity as he extended a hand to help Fumito back to his feet.
As Fumito dusted himself off, nursing the ache in his shoulder, he couldn't help but begrudgingly respect the ease with which Huey had lifted him. Beneath the elegant lines of his Dashiki suit lay not just a formidable mind but an equally formidable physique.
"I'm fine," Fumito snapped, more to his bruised ego than to Huey, making his way back to the sanctity of his dealer's station. Aku's reaction was a thinly veiled amusement, his smile straining under the effort to not burst into laughter. Yamada, on the other hand, didn't bother hiding his mirth, openly chuckling at the scene. Huey, however, remained impassive, his reaction—or lack thereof—only adding to the weight of the moment.
"It's Time to Begin!"
~ -The Weight of Honor- ~
Fumito had to give the boy credit … he lived up to his reputation and then some.
Despite deploying every sleight of hand he knew—Stocking, The Riffle Shuffle, The Bridge Strip Cut—Huey didn't budge, his strategy rendering Yamada's aggressive plays futile time and again. Fumito's internal monologue churned with frustration and awe as Huey calmly reclaimed his chips, his expression as unreadable as ever.
'I've pulled nearly every trick in my arsenal on him … all for naught! His cards have been mostly pigs and while he has lost a hand or two to Aku, he's been able to manipulate that neanderthal Yamada since the start! ' Fumito fumed to himself.
He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, This was what Kyūseishu was known for, an unrivaled, almost unnatural level of Focus and Stoicism. So far he'd barely said a word, even in response to Yamada's taunts. Still, he'd assumed the rumors were exaggerated, they usually were. He never could have imagined that the legend was so true to form!
Yamada's teeth gnashed against one another so hard it was almost audible. Snarling in Huey's direction, he slammed his cards down, announcing his defeat with a roar, the table itself seemed to quiver under the force of his anger. "DAMN IT!" he bellowed, pointing an accusatory finger at Huey.
Huey tried not to react but the G in him couldn't help but feel some type of way about this fat-ass neanderthal's grubby sausage fingers in his face. He clenched his teeth hard from behind his closed lips but kept his cool. He'd already sonned him by now anyway, victory was always the best revenge.
Besides … What the hell was he finna do about it? Huey would bet all of his winnings that all Yamada would do was throw a hissy fit anyway.
"YOU CHEATIN' SACK OF CRAP!" Yamada's outburst was as loud as it was wet, his anger spattering across the table. "YOU'VE WON THE LAST 2 ROUNDS WITH SHIT HANDS! HOW THE HELL ARE YA DOIN' IT?!"
Huey allowed himself the slightest hint of a smirk.
'Case and Point!'
From across the Table, Aku shook his head, his amusement was clear. His mock sympathy for Yamada thinly veiled his enjoyment of the spectacle. "My, my, Yamada, try and show a little decorum," he chided, his voice dripping with sarcasm and condescension. Huey remained stoic, aware that while Yamada had been easy enough to take out. Aku was a different story. He hid his intentions rather well, and he wasn't half bad at bluffing either.
Aku, for his part, was already plotting. 'Although … The troglodyte is right. This boy is far more adept than we had considered.' he thought to himself before inwardly smirking. 'Adept, but not a threat. The House Always Wins! It's time to end this farce once and for all.'
"What an invigorating round that was! So far this game has really gotten me fired up!' Aku exclaimed excitedly.
"However … I think it's time we bring this little game of ours to an end, don't you … Kyūseishu"
Huey would have had to be a fool to miss the drastic change in his tone … and the energy in the room. From the shift in the slant of his eyebrows to the morphing of his smile into a sneering smirk. He wasn't playin' around anymore. Huey's eyes locked on Aku's, a silent battle of wills playing out between them.
Fumito seized this moment of distraction to tilt the odds in their favor, his hands moving with practiced ease to introduce the two trump cards into play. The crowd around them, oblivious to the deception, added pressure for a victory that would cement their dominance.
'Now it's over Kyūseishu! 50 Million Yen on the Line for you now. You'll regret making a fool out of us. You'll be our slave until the day you Die!'
Fumito wiped his wicked smirk off of his face, clearing his throat to regain the attention of the final two players. "Attention players, that was our final betting round. With Yamada out of the game, we have only our two final players remaining. Aku Kiwatari and Kyūseishu! He waited a moment while the cheers from the crowd died down. I'm sure you understand what this means." He exclaimed, pausing for dramatic effect, a wicked grin on his face. "It's time for a Showdown!"
As Fumito laid out the community cards, anticipation hung heavy in the air. Aku, confident in the victory secured by Fumito's sleight of hand, barely glanced at his cards. He was certain of his impending win—a Royal Flush that would not only crush Huey but also enhance his own reputation and wealth significantly.
'Our community cards are Q - J - 10 - 8 - 9. Thanks to Fumito, with these new hole cards, I'll be a ringer for a spectacular Royal Flush! I'll have beaten Kyūseishu, which will do wonders for my rep, and I'll have an extra 50 Million Yen for my troubles.' He gushed to himself, still maintaining his insincere cheshire smile on the outside. He looked up at the Afro-headed young man beside him, 'You are a worthy opponent, but you never stood a chance! Even you should know better than to challenge The Kiwatari Clan on our own turf! I'm afraid this is it for you Kyūseishu … or maybe I should say … Huey Freeman, they surely won't call you that after what I'm about to do to you.'
Aku's internal victory lap was cut short by the realization of Huey's unyielding gaze.
"Aku."
The mentioned man glanced up, meeting Huey's icy stare with a subtle glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Ooh, am I sensing a side-bet coming here?" He retorted smoothly, his voice carrying the cadence of a seasoned hustler.
For the very first time … Huey grinned. It wasn't the usual flicker of amusement, nor a trace of doubt. It was a full-blown "I'm onto you" smirk.
And it sent shivers down their spines.
Huey leaned in, his tone cool and confident. "Let's spice things up a bit …"
Aku hesitated, his arrogance momentarily faltering in the face of Huey's dramatic silence.
"I haven't even peeked at my hole cards … and neither have you. Let's seal the deal first, then reveal our hands. Here's the pitch: if either of us lands one of the top two hands, that player walks away with a lil' extra." His voice remained steady, every word dripping with calculated nonchalance.
For the first time, Aku's grin wavered … considerably.
"I'm listening …"
Huey pressed on, "You win, and you get an extra 50 Mil out of my pocketon the side." Huey's smirk brightened a bit at the clear interest Aku now showed. "I win, and I get the same from you… It's a fair bet, right? So whaddya say … Winner takes all. You game or what?"
Fumito, lurking in the background, paled as he realized Aku was actually considering it. 'NO! What is he Thinking?! He doesn't have an extra 50 Million Yen? That kind of money would have to come out of our reserves! It isn't his to give away! If he loses, we have to explain to our superiors why we've lost twice as much money as we were supposed to gain from this game! This arrogant Fool will get us killed!'
Aku's grin slowly returned, confidence gleaming in his eyes. With the only leftover Ace and a King, he was guaranteed to win this little side bet. If the bastard wanted to part ways with even more of his money, that was on him.
"Sounds like an intriguing side bet, Kyūseishu! I just hope there won't be any hard feelings when I Crush You," Aku declared, his grin widening into a sinister smirk. His eyes, previously closed, now glinted with a sickly yellow predatory gleam.
And just like that … The Fox had revealed himself …
Fumito's nerves danced on the edge of panic, his senses heightened by the weight of Aku's ominous deal looming over him. 'This is Madness! We are dealing with The Kyūseishu! We Cannot take ANY unnecessary Risks! It doesn't matter how assured our victory might be, you never bet more than you can afford to lose!'
Yet, as the tension mounted, the room buzzing with the electric anticipation of the crowd, Fumito's fears were momentarily drowned out by the sheer magnitude of the moment. The air was thick with excitement, every spectator's breath held in suspense as the final showdown loomed. Fumito's voice cut through the cacophony, attempting to assert control over the unfolding chaos.
"LET THE DECISION BE MADE!"
Despite the assurance of Aku's impending triumph, a gnawing uncertainty clawed at Fumito's consciousness, refusing to be ignored. Then, like a thunderclap in the stillness, the intensity of Kyūseishu's gaze pierced through him, igniting a storm of apprehension that surged through his veins. It had been quick. So quick that before Fumito even realized it, Huey's gaze had refocused on Aku … but he felt it!
The atmosphere crackled with electricity as the anticipation among the crowd reached a fever pitch, their excitement palpable in the air. The volume of their chants and cheers surged like a tidal wave, threatening to drown out even the commanding voice of Fumito as he prepared to make his announcement."
"THIS WILL DECIDE THE GAME!"
The tension in the air was so thick you could practically taste it, swirling around like a tangible fog. Every heartbeat echoed in sync with the crowd's thunderous chants, their collective energy pulsating through the room like an electric current. Fumito, standing at the center of it all, felt the weight of the moment pressing down upon him as he prepared to unveil the decision that would shape the game's fate.
"NOW…"
"SHOWDOWN!"
In a devilish red spark, Aku's smirk contorted into a near-demonic grimace as he slammed his cards onto the table in conjunction with Huey, with a wicked force that shook the room, the impact reverberating through the foundations of the casino itself. The air crackled with raw energy as their showdown unfolded, each moment stretched to its breaking point.
Aku, on the brink of delirium, stared into his opponent's eyes with wild intensity. "I WIN, FREEMAN! FEAST YOUR EYES ON MY-"
But then, a sudden hitch in his breath shattered the bravado, his entire being freezing in disbelief. With an audible gasp, his demeanor crumbled, replaced by a pitiful whimper of defeat.
"Two … Jokers …"
The crowd exploded into frenzied excitement.
*WHOOAAHHHHH!*
*WHAAAATTT?*
*NO WAY!*
*HOLY SHIT!*
*INCREDIBLE!*
*HE JUST LOST 100 MILLION YEN!*
*MAN DID YA'LL SEE THAT SHIT!*
*Did That Really Just Happen?!*
*Why Was He So Sure He Was Gonna Win Anyway?*
*Geez, Brutal! Wouldn't Wanna Be That Guy …*
Aku's world collapsed in an instant, his once-confident facade crumbling into dust. His psyche plunged into chaos, grappling with the stark reality that snatched victory from his grasp. The voices around him merged into a distant roar, inconsequential against the internal storm raging within.
'HOW? How is this possible! Fumito had a King and an Ace — I Saw It!' Aku's thoughts screamed in silent agony. Utter disbelief coursed through him like poison, his body virtually shaking with Shock and Fury!
And there sat Huey, the calm within the tempest, his smirk a silent testament to unshakeable confidence, a beacon amidst the uproar.
*KING/ACE*
Fumito stood frozen, his whole body trembling. He could barely even breathe. The realization of his failure like a noose tightening around his neck. Had his meticulously laid plans been so easily unraveled by this enigmatic force? What happened? He'd shuffled the trump cards in his hands into the deck and passed them to Aku, he knew he had! Did Kyūseishu somehow intercept them? How had he done it?!
Yamada, who had been quietly seething in the corner, furiously grabbed Aku by the tie and yanked him in so close Aku could feel his hot breath on his face. "YOU DUMB FUCK! YOU JUST DRAGGED ALL OF US INTO THE MEAT GRINDER! THE CLAN WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR THIS!" He spat, his threat a promise of retribution as palpable as the grip on Aku's tie.
Aku, reduced to a mere echo of his former self, found words failing him, the magnitude of his error rendering him speechless.
"H-how …" he started, "H-How did you-, Aku's query, a feeble attempt to grasp the unfathomable, was cut short by Huey's composed interjection.
"You mean how I ended up with the winning hand you were expecting to get?" Huey's tone was smooth, he launched an intense, cold-blooded side-eye towards Fumito, sharp enough to cut through the tension. Fumito stood frozen, a statue of fear, he desperately tried to shake off the unease that clung to him like a second skin. Huey's gaze was as sharp as a tempered blade; it was as if those eyes were dissecting him, layer by layer, revealing truths about himself he wasn't prepared to confront. Those eyes! His eyes almost seemed to glow a mesmerizing, hypnotic Gold at its core, within a Black void that almost seemed to hold the mysteries of the universe, commanding and vast, with a blinding brilliance at their core that was almost too intense to face head-on.
The sensation was inexplicable; Fumito's legs trembled, his seasoned composure at risk of crumbling under the intensity of Huey's stare. It was as if he was being seen, truly seen. Judged even, by a force far greater than he had anticipated.
In that moment, as he wrestled with the revelation unfolding within him, Fumito understood the reverence and fear that the name Kyūseishu inspired. This was not just a man; he was an embodiment of something much greater, a symbol of righteous divinity and power that transcended the mere physical.
'Kyūseishu: The Black Messiah,'
the words echoed in Fumito's mind, a title that now carried a weight he could feel pressing down on him. Kyūseishu, with his unassuming strength and enigmatic gaze left Fumito puzzled! He could barely even describe what he was seeing, it was like … like …
like staring into the eyes of GODHimself …
As Huey stacked his winnings with a rhythm that seemed to sync with the pulse of the room, his demeanor was the epitome of chill. "Well …" he began, his voice smooth as silk, wrapping around the tense atmosphere, "Ain't much for me to say, really." His glance swept over the crowd, a serene yet commanding presence amidst the chaos. "You see, this game? It's more than what meets the eye. It's about the shadows, the sleight, the unseen moves.
He locked eyes with Fumito, the man flinched, his breath hitching on contact. "You clearly know that much … right Fumito?"
"And a little heads-up for you," He started again, offering a nugget of wisdom like a mentor schooling a novice. — "Always cover your Six."
At that moment, Fumito's world spiraled into confusion and panic. 'I still don't understand! What is he talking about? How could he have …- His thoughts raced, grappling with Huey's cryptic hint, leading him to a terrifying realization. The fall—had Huey engineered it to swap the cards? But he had been watching Huey the entire time. How could he have missed it?
'How did he do it? When did he...?'
Just then, a crisp voice sliced through the tension, turning heads in unison. Huey shifted his focus, locking eyes with Caesar, who now wore a grin that mixed pride with professional restraint.
Then, it hit him…
"Outstanding performance, Kyūseishu-san." He started in spectacular code-switching fashion. "Let's proceed to collect your well-earned winnings, including the hefty sum courtesy of Aku-san," Caesar announced, his voice carrying a note of intrigue and formality.
The realization hit Fumito like a physical blow. The Newbie! His sudden disappearance post-fall, the reshuffle before Huey's entrance... It all pointed to a collusion that Fumito had been blind to. The pieces fell into place, a narrative forming that painted his downfall with chilling clarity. It all added up. The boy must have conspired with Huey, slipping him the jokers, enabling him to switch the cards undetected during Fumito's moment of vulnerability.
Watching the two walk away, Fumito felt a numbness spread through him. He was trapped in his own web of deceit, unable to cry foul without incriminating himself. The realization was a bitter pill to swallow; he had been beaten at his own game, within his own domain. The crowd had already crowned their champion, blind to the machinations behind the scenes. Fumito was left to stew in his defeat, a victim of his cunning turned against him.
Huey's strut from the table was pure cinema, the kind that would make Shaft nod in respect. He didn't just move; he owned every inch of that space. His presence, a gravitational pull that commanded attention without demanding it.
As the minutes went by, Aku remained seated. He hadn't moved an inch since the end of the game, his mind still a cacophony of fear, doubt, and impending consequences. He suddenly felt a large hand resting on his shoulder, he looked up to find a tall melanated man, the bartender it seemed, staring down at him with pity in his eyes.
"Sorry man …" he consoled before walking off. Unfortunately for Aku, he hadn't gotten far enough away for the devastated gambler not to hear what he said next.
"Wouldn't let that shit happen to me tho …"
~ -The Weight of Honor- ~
Heading to the 13th floor was easy enough, you just had to know where to go. Thankfully, Caesar was one nosey son of a gun!
They'd gotten their money easy enough, well, easy might not have been the word they'd use. Huey certainly had his fair share of dirty looks to deal with when they'd pulled up with so many chips. 50 Million Yen, plus another 50 Mil from that sucker Aku. Taking 100 Million from The Kiwatari Clan, fair game or not, was already a creative way to get jumped. Taking their cobalt reserves that they'd paid good money for on top of that? Now that was a lynching! Needless to say, it shouldn't have shocked anybody that the two young men had went in, gotten what they'd came for — and the moment they'd clinched their loot, didn't waste time admiring the casino's decor. They made a beeline for the stairwell, the rooftop their target, they hauled ass to get the hell up outta there as fast as humanly possible. Their former disguises? Ditched, now nothing more than cargo in the same black duffle bag that safeguarded the much-contested cobalt.
In their place, the pair donned sleek, black tactical gear, with matching black lower face masks too boot, as if they'd stepped straight out of a spy thriller, each suit tailored to their unique talents. Huey's outfit boasted a custom waist strap, a perfect sheath for his katana, a silent nod to his warrior spirit. Caesar's ensemble, on the other hand, featured an oversized holster, ready to cradle his shotgun like a beloved, albeit deadly, companion.
Overkill? Maybe to the untrained eye. But in the high-stakes game they played against the Kiwatari Clan, overkill was just another word for being prepared. After all, The Kiwatari's were gonna figure out they'd been duped at some point, and if they just so happened to get the message before Huey and Caesar had made their escape, they'd need more than just luck on their side. They need insurance. "ass-whooping insurance"—because if push came to shove, they were more than ready to make the Kiwatari's pay a deductible
Caesar burst through the door first, the duo bolting into the cloak of night, the city's neon glow a vibrant reminder that their escape was still within grasp. The clock was likely nudging past 1 maybe 2, their adrenaline-fueled heist had finally reached its zenith.
"Man, feels good to be up outta there!" Caesar exclaimed, soaking in the semi-fresh city air, his voice slicing through the tension with a slice of humor.
Huey, ever the strategist, wasn't ready to drop his guard. "We ain't exactly outta the woods yet. Where's our exfil? Shouldn't our bird be here by now?"
Caesar paused, his senses on high alert, scanning the skies until the distinct hum of helicopter blades sliced through the night. "There! Our chariot approaches," he declared, pointing towards their salvation as it cut across the skyline.
Their brief sigh of relief was shattered by the sound of chaos erupting from the stairwell. Footsteps thundered, a crescendo of impending doom as voices—dozens of them—melded into a threatening roar. They were outnumbered, and outgunned, but not yet outmaneuvered.
"Damn It, so close!" Huey cursed under his breath, racing to the door to slam it shut, engaging the electronic lock with a swift, decisive click. The ensuing barrage of fists and fury from the other side made the metal groan in protest.
"Caesar!" Huey's voice was sharp, laced with a cocktail of fear and resolve. "Status?"
"Chopper's almost here—10 seconds, tops!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
With the door buckling under the assault, Huey braced against it, his muscles screaming against the strain. "I doubt we've got that long!". He barked, the strain evident in his voice.
The chopper, now a maelstrom of wind and noise, loomed closer, a rope was thrown down—a lifeline amidst the storm. "It's go time, Huey!" Caesar yelled, his voice barely rising above the roar of the blades.
With a glance at the chopper, Huey knew the stakes. Making a run for it wasn't just risky; it was a death wish. Knowing their assailants were armed to the teeth, Huey made a split-second decision. He pulled a smoke grenade, yanked the pin with his teeth, and in a move as daring as it was desperate, he rolled it into the path of their assailants, breaking for the chopper.
The door burst open just as the grenade detonated, engulfing the rooftop in chaos. Most of the attackers were swallowed by the smoke, their coughs and curses filling the air, but a few managed to clear the haze, their guns barking deadly intentions.
Shots rang out, slicing the air mere inches from Huey as he sprinted, his every step a defiance of fate. He reached for Caesar, their hands clasping in a grip of brotherhood as they were yanked skyward.
Then, amidst the chaos, a figure emerged from the smoke, rifle aimed with deadly precision at the ascending pair. His finger barely brushed the trigger when a shot thundered, a precise, deadly interjection from above.
BANG!
The would-be assassin crumpled, his demise marked by the whisper of a bullet cutting through the air. Huey and Caesar, still reeling from the adrenaline, craned their necks upwards to catch a glimpse of their savior. There, standing with the calm of a storm's eye, was Agent Flowers, the barrel of his bolt action rifle still smoking, his silhouette framed against the moonlight. With a display of strength that bordered on the absurd, he hauled them into the chopper, their bodies tumbling onto the deck in a heap that was as much a testament to their exhaustion as it was a setup for a slapstick punchline.
Sprawled, face down and ass up, side by side, the duo could only offer groans of discomfort and embarrassment, their near-death experience morphing into an unintended comedy sketch amidst the adrenaline-pumped escape. They had, against all odds, survived.
"Next time, boys," Flowers deadpanned, the corners of his mouth twitching with the ghost of a smirk, "try not to skip the staircase traps, huh?"
The groans that answered him were in perfect harmony, laced with annoyance at their own oversight.
Agent Flowers, more a moving mountain than a man, towered over them, his tactical suit a mirror of their own. Since his departure from the US covert ops division, it was clear he hadn't been neglecting his physical training.
As the two gathered their bearings, Flowers went to the cockpit to relay orders to their pilot, a mysterious stocky-looking man with gray hair, although it was too dark to see much more of him.
Once upright, Huey and Caesar sank into their seats, each processing the night's events in silence, their breaths coming in deep, steadying gulps.
Caesar, his mind replaying their brush with death, leaned back, attempting to find solace in the chair's embrace. Huey, ever the sentinel, peered out into the night, scanning for any signs of lingering threats. The city below was calm, oblivious to the drama unfolding above.
"That was too damn close, Flowers," Huey finally broke the silence, his voice heavy with a mix of relief and lingering tension.
Returning from his brief stint at the cockpit, Flowers offered them an apologetic look, his rugged features softening. "I know. Should've been here sooner," he conceded, his voice bearing the weight of responsibility and a protective hint of regret for what could have happened had he been a second later.
"Well, what took you?" Caesar inquired, sensing some unsaid context to his delayed arrival.
Flowers settled into his seat across from them, his posture rigid, the lines on his face telling tales of battles past. "We tracked down the Murasame Clan's Wakagashira: Kazuo Onibaba. It wasn't easy getting him to talk. His loyalty was… impressive," Flowers recounted, his tone a blend of admiration and frustration.
There was a silence, Huey and Caesar couldn't help but shoot a Quick Look each other's way that they somehow both interpreted perfectly.
So … who's gonna ask him?
Despite Flowers' grizzled exterior and professional veneer, he had a flair for the dramatic, a trait Huey and Caesar were all too familiar with.
Taking the bait, Huey ventured, "So … how'd you break him" Huey asked — somewhat awkwardly.
"The old-fashioned way. A good, hard kick to the nuts. Let's just say, his resolve wasn't as iron-clad as his loyalty."
Caesar's attempt to stifle his laughter was futile; the absurdity of the situation momentarily lifting the weight off their shoulders. Huey, caught between disbelief and amusement, simply shook his head
"Right…" he awkwardly drawled out, hoping to end the conversation there but Flowers continued.
"Repeatedly. And yes, with my spiked steel boot, for added persuasion," Flowers elaborated, the shadow of a smirk still playing on his lips.
"Alright! Alright!" Huey interjected, half-amused, half-horrified by the mental image. "Damn …" he muttered to himself, shaking his head with a grimace. He didn't know how he did it …
Flowers brought the conversation back to what was important. "Anyways. We were able to retrieve vital information from him, about a hideout, where other high-ranking members would be guaranteed to frequent. I deployed my men into the field, but I never heard back from them."
"What happened?" Caesar asked, his tone now serious, sensing the gravity of the situation.
Flowers' response was heavy with unspoken anger and loss. "A massacre. My team… gone."
The revelation hung in the air, a heavy silence enveloping the cabin.
The chopper seemed to shudder with the wind's growing intensity, as if in anticipation of Flowers' confirmation.
"It was him, wasn't it?" Huey stated more than asked, the name unspoken but understood by all.
The chopper's blades cut through the air, the only sound for a moment that felt like an eternity.
"Yes," Flowers confirmed, his gaze distant, yet burning with a fire kindled by vengeance and loss. "It was him."
"Amane Murasame: Head of The Murasame Clan!"
~ -The Weight of Honor- ~
End of Return of The Black Messiah P1
And that's the first chapter!
I want to say thank you to the people who stuck around for the entire read. Chapters will be around 8-10k words on average. This is the prologue where we briefly set up the foundation of the story and give you guys some much-needed context on where Huey is in his life right now, his backstory, and some basic lore on this universe. I'm sure you noticed a heavy emphasis on The Yakuza, they are a pretty major part of the narrative, but not exactly in the way you might think going off the information you get here. I'm sure the name Kiwatari is one you recognize, not to get into spoiler territory but a certain student at Hyakkaou and his clan have a much bigger role in this narrative than in the canon universe.
Also, Amane Murasame, I'm sure you guys are wondering what I'm setting the stage for here. All you need to know for now is that the offscreen dynamic between the many wealthy families (Notably "Bami") in the canon work is expanded upon and revamped in many ways. As I said in the Authors Note, the worldbuilding of Kakegurui outside of the school isn't as cut-and-dry as many people think. We're going to be exploring conflicts related to that pretty often in this story.
Anyway, I'm going to be posting this story on a Bi-Weekly basis so expect the second and final chapter of the prologue by next Thursday. This is an unlikely crossover so It should give readers a chance to find this story and build a lil interest in the meantime. For my readers who may have been disappointed by the lack of action in this chapter, I promise you'll get your fix in Part 2!
With that being said, I'm out! Peace.