The air hung heavy with a damp, salty tang, a familiar scent of decay that clung to the abandoned docks. Above, the sky was a canvas of inky blacks, the moon a frustratingly elusive presence hidden behind a thick veil of clouds. When the sliver of lunar light did manage to break through, it cast a sickly, crimson glow, staining the clouds with a shade that mirrored the blood Kento felt prickling beneath his skin. Perfect, he thought, with a bitter twist of his lips. Perfect for this.
He shifted his weight, the rough planks of the dock groaning beneath his worn boots. His anxiety was a living thing, a knot tightening in his stomach, refusing to be ignored. Oni had commanded his presence here at midnight, and Kento, despite the unease gnawing at him, wasn't one to ignore a direct order, especially when he had to keep his cover. He glanced at his watch, the luminous display confirming his calculations—ten minutes to spare. Ten minutes that felt like ten hours, each second dragging by with agonizing slowness.
He exhaled, the breath misting in the frigid air. He wanted this over with. The waiting was its own kind of torment, stretching the already taut nerves thin. Just as he was about to pace, the wind picked up, a sudden, sharp gust that whipped through the warehouses and across the water. It was a bone-chilling blast, a reminder of the dying season, and made Kento shiver involuntarily.
He rubbed his arms, trying to generate some warmth, but the cold seemed to seep from the very planks beneath his feet. He decided he might as well get moving. He couldn't just stand here like a statue. It wouldn't hurt to get some warming up in while he waited for Oni. Some gentle movements might just loosen the tension coiling in his shoulders, even if it was a small attempt to fight off the dread settling in his bones. He began with a few simple stretches, rotating his neck, then his arms, listening to the creak of his joints echoing in the lonely space. It was a small act of defiance against the cold, the anxiety, and the silent, waiting docks.
Five minutes went by, and Kento saw the headlights of a vehicle coming his way, parking close to his motorcycle. He turned around and headed over, his boots crunching on the gravel as he approached. He saw Oni pull out of the driver's seat, followed by two more figures from the back. He narrowed his eyes, trying to make out their features in the dim light. Large, definitely. Like Oni. This could get interesting.
Oni slammed his door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet night, and walked towards Kento. "Heh, I said midnight, and here you are early."
Kento gave a slight nod, his arms crossing over his chest. "Yeah, well, I don't like being late. Can we get on with it?"
Oni smirked, a small evil chuckle escaping his lips. "Getting anxious for the fight, are you? Or is there somewhere else you need to be?"
Kento's jaw tightened, his muscles coiled beneath his skin, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth as he assessed the two men. Alright, more to this than I thought.
Oni motioned for the two fighters to approach, moving aside to give them room.
The two fighters came into Kento's sight. Both were huge. He'd fought huge opponents before, but these two... they were slightly smaller than Oni, but not by much. One was older, a bald head shaved close to his skull; he was known as Kai. The younger one had a long scar across his face; his name was Shiro. Experienced, by the look of them. He could see their hands were calloused from years of fighting. This fight might take longer than I originally thought; better not underestimate them.
Kai and Shiro were sizing Kento up as well. "It's an honor to finally meet you, Kento Rei Faun."
Kento blinked, slightly surprised. He didn't know these two at all, but they knew him. "How?"
Shiro glanced at Oni, then back at him. "We heard of your reputation for being an excellent street fighter. So, we're here to test that theory."
Kento glanced at Oni, who was sitting on the hood of his car with his arms crossed, then back at the two. Showtime. "I bet."
Oni cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the tension as they turned to look at him. "This is an induction ceremony to greet Kento Rei Faun, the new bouncer at the Jade Dragon, into our underground fight club, as one of our crew members. The rules are simple. This is an unsanctioned street fight, which means there are no rules; anything goes. So, the two of you are going to fight him at the same time. Two on one." He raised a brow as he smirked. "Any problem with that, Rei Faun?"
Kento glanced at them and then back at Oni. "No, it's fine by me. Let's just go already."
Oni smirked, "Fine, then let the fight commence."
The three of them backed away from one another, their eyes catching glances—a silent dance of aggression and anticipation. Kai lunged first, a roaring yell escaping his throat as he swung a fist the size of a small ham towards Kento's head.
Kento ducked under the blow, the wind whistling past his ear, and retaliated with a swift kick to Kai's knee, sending the hulking man stumbling forward.
Shiro was on him in an instant, his scarred face contorted in a snarl. He threw a barrage of punches, each one a hammer blow, forcing Kento to move with a speed he hadn't expected to use tonight. He weaved and bobbed, letting the blows glance off his forearms, searching for an opening. The two were a well-oiled machine, their movements flowing together in a deadly dance. Despite their size, they were fast.
Kento felt the pressure mounting. He was a skilled fighter, but this was different from a one-on-one sparring match. He was outnumbered, outsized, and fighting on uneven ground, his boots slipping slightly on loose gravel and muddy ground from the rain. He felt a sharp pain in his ribs as Kai's fist connected, sending him reeling. He cursed under his breath, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. He knew he couldn't afford to give them any more openings.
He needed to be faster, smarter. He couldn't afford to dance around and play defense. He crouched low, feigning a move to the left, and then exploded forward, slamming his shoulder into Shiro's chest. The force of the impact sent Shiro staggering back, momentarily breaking the coordinated assault. Kento didn't waste the opportunity. He spun, bringing his heel up in a vicious crescent kick, catching Kai on the side of the head. The older fighter grunted, his eyes momentarily glazing over.
Kento pressed his advantage, his movements fluid and precise. He was a whirlwind of motion, using their size and their momentum against them. He focused on timing, on finding the gaps in their defenses, on exploiting the momentary disorientation that had just been given. He dodged a wild swing from Shiro, using his outstretched arm as leverage to propel himself over him, landing behind him with a roll. He quickly launched another kick, this time aimed at the back of Shiro's knee. He saw the man fall down with a heavy thud.
Kai, now recovered, charged, his rage fueling his attacks.
Kento feigned a lunge to his left and then stepped right; Kai followed his movements like a bull chasing a red flag.
Kento quickly side-stepped again, using the large man's momentum to send him crashing into a pile of old pallets stacked against a nearby warehouse. The wood splintered with an abrupt crash, sending the older fighter to the ground in a disoriented heap.
Kento didn't stop. He was in his element now, his body attuned to the rhythm of the fight. He knew he had to finish this quickly. He saw Shiro struggle to get up, his face twisted in pain. He moved, a shadow in the dim light, a whisper of movement, a blur of dark clothing. Delivering a series of rapid, precise punches, targeting pressure points and weak spots. The younger fighter crumpled to the ground, his body shaking.
Kai was back up but was slower and clumsier than before. Kento saw him charge and then ducked under his wide swing, hitting him with a flurry of quick jabs, then ending it with a final kick that sent him flying back to the ground. The two were down, breathing heavily, exhausted.
Kento stood over them, his own breathing ragged, his body aching. He wiped the blood from his mouth again, the metallic taste filling his senses. He turned to Oni, who was now standing, his smirk replaced by a look of impressed surprise.
"Well," Oni said, clapping slowly. "That was certainly something. Welcome to the club, Kento Rei Faun." He offered his hand, a gesture that Kento was surprised to see.
Kento hesitated for a moment, then took Oni's hand, his grip firm. "Glad to be here," he mumbled, his eyes fixed on the two men lying on the ground. He hoped his new colleagues wouldn't hold a grudge. This was only the beginning. He had a long road ahead of him to take down Oni and his crew. He had to keep his cover, learn their secrets, and then he would dismantle this entire operation, brick by rotten brick.
The rain was a persistent drizzle, the kind that soaked into your clothes and chilled you to the bone. Kento adjusted the strap on his helmet, the leather cool against his cheek.
"If that's all you need from me, then I'll be going," he said, his voice a low rumble that barely cut through the ambient noise of the docks. He swung his leg over his motorcycle, the familiar weight of the machine settling beneath him. He was just about to kickstart the engine when Oni's voice, sharp and laced with a chilling authority, stopped him.
"Minion, make sure to keep your phone on," Oni instructed, the casual tone at odds with the grim look on his face. "Since you're in the crew officially now, you'll be on call twenty-four seven."
Kento's brows furrowed. He'd been expecting this, but the reality of it still grated. "What about my job at the club?" he asked, a flicker of annoyance in his voice. He worked hard for that position, and it kept his head above water.
Oni shrugged, dismissing his concern with a wave of his hand. "The jobs you'll be doing for us and your work at the club won't conflict. If they do, then figure out how to make them work." His words held the weight of an order, not a suggestion.
Kento sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. So much for freedom. "Fine," he conceded, his voice flat. He slipped on his helmet, the visor obscuring his expression, and with a roar of the engine, sped off into the rain.
Behind him, Oni's gaze fell on Kai and Shiro, a storm of disappointment and anger brewing in his eyes. "I warned you about losing," he spat, the words laced with venom.
Kai winced, his body still aching from the vicious fight. "Yes, sir, we know, but..."
"But nothing!" Oni interrupted, his voice rising. "I thought the two of you were the best. Apparently, I was wrong."
Shiro tried to shift, a groan escaping his lips as a sharp pain shot through his ribs. "We heard how good he was, but neither of us expected this," he mumbled, trying to explain their failure.
"Excuses!" Oni's voice was a guttural growl. "You both failed!" He grabbed them by their collars, hauling their beaten bodies towards the entrance of the abandoned warehouse. Their limbs flopped uselessly as they were dragged across the rough, steel steps, each impact echoing in the cavernous space. Oni stopped at the top of the stairs, letting the two of them drop to the floor with a sickening thud. He then began to pull heavy chains down from the rafters, the metallic clink echoing ominously in the silence.
"Pay the price for failure!" he snapped, his eyes glinting with a cruel satisfaction. One by one, Kai and Shiro were wrapped in the chains, their arms pinned above their heads, and then hoisted upside down, dangling like butchered meat.
They pleaded with Oni, their voices hoarse with fear and pain, begging for another chance. He didn't even glance at them as he descended the stairs, their pleas falling on deaf ears.
Walking to his car, the rain was washing away the blood he had gotten on his hands, got in, and started the engine. He then pulled out an old gas tank, ripped a piece of cloth off his shirt, and dunked it into the gas. Then putting the damp rag onto the mouth of the gas tank before lighting it on fire. He gunned the car towards the building, and upon impact, it blew up into a magnificent fireball. Oni watched for a moment, his face impassive, the flames reflected in his eyes. He moved with a purpose to another spot in the docks where another car was parked, Lou Yan in the driver's seat.
Lou Yan rolled down his window as Oni approached. "Get in," he said, his tone clipped and commanding. Oni nodded and slid into the passenger seat as the window went back up.
"What did you think of the fight?" Lou Yan asked as he pulled away from the docks. "Do you still believe Rei Faun to be a cop?"
Lou Yan thought for a moment, his gaze fixed on the road. "Not entirely convinced. If Rei Faun isn't a cop, then he's probably working with them. I want you to still keep an eye on him."
"Yes, sir," Oni replied, his voice devoid of emotion. The rest of the drive was made in silence.
Kento was nearing the junction, his mind a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. He was getting used to the dangers of this life, but the ruthless efficiency of Oni had shaken him. Suddenly, a flicker of movement in his side mirror caught his eye. He frowned, recognizing the telltale glow of flames. He closed his eyes briefly, a grim understanding dawning on him. With a tight grip on the handlebars, he spun his motorcycle around and sped back towards the burning docks, pushing the machine to its limits.
He dismounted and raced through the main door, stopping as he saw Kai and Shiro hanging from the rafters, their bodies limp and lifeless. He moved as fast as he could, ignoring the pain that shot through his body with each step. The battle earlier had left him bruised and battered, but he wouldn't let them die.
He winced as a sharp pulse of pain erupted from his ribs as he yanked on the chains, pulling their bodies closer. He saw their faces, pale and bruised, and knew he didn't have much time. The flames were licking at the ceiling, the smoke thick and acrid, making it hard to breathe. He worked tirelessly, ignoring his coughs, methodically lowering the two men. Finally, with a last surge of strength, he dropped the last chain, bringing them down to the ground. He pulled them through the door, the air outside a welcome change to the inferno behind them.
Kai and Shiro lay unconscious, barely breathing. Quickly, Kento pulled out his phone and dialed the emergency number, relaying the situation as quickly as he could. He knew that this location would bring unwanted questions, and his new affiliation would be discovered. He mounted his bike once more and drove away just as the sirens began to blare in the distance. He knew he couldn't stay, but the image of the blazing building, the two unconscious men, and the cruelty of his new "crew" would be imprinted in his mind forever.
The metallic scent of rain still clung to the air, a lingering ghost of the storm that had just ravaged the city. Kento finally made it back to the apartment, the rumble of his motorcycle fading into the night's uneasy quiet. The external storm had passed, leaving behind a trail of wet asphalt and scattered debris. But the storm within him, a tempest of anger and anxiety, still raged unchecked.
He parked his bike with practiced ease, the familiar weight settling between his legs like a second skin. The walk to his door felt longer than usual, each step heavy with the weight of the night. He fumbled with the keys, finally managing to unlock the door, the click echoing in the unnerving silence.
He tossed his helmet onto the kitchen counter, the hard plastic thudding against the wood. The keys joined it, their metallic jangle a sharp counterpoint to the heavy silence that followed. He didn't even bother turning on the lights. The dim light filtering in from the street was enough to navigate.
His body felt bruised and battered, each ache a reminder of the brutal fight. He seethed, a low growl rumbling within him, fueled by the memory of Kai and Shiro. Those two fought like Oni, down and dirty, a whirlwind of feral rage. They hadn't pulled a single punch, each blow aimed to incapacitate, to destroy. He could still see their faces, contorted with fury, their attacks relentless. He had won, barely, but the victory felt hollow, coated in a layer of grim satisfaction and deep-seated unease.
The thought clung to him, like a persistent shadow: Oni, he was like the monstrous figures from folklore, fueled by some twisted sense of honor. Lau Yan and his crew wouldn't take defeat lightly. They would be coming for Kai and Shiro, he was sure of it, seeking retribution for being bested. A shudder ran through him. He had inadvertently put them in danger.
He retreated to the bathroom, the cool tiles a welcome contrast to the heat of his anger. With meticulous care, he peeled off his sweat-soaked clothes, revealing the raw, angry welts and cuts that crisscrossed his skin. He winced, the pain a stark reminder of the night's brutality.
The shower was a refuge, the hot water a balm on his battered body. He scrubbed at his skin, trying to wash away the grime and the memories, but the metallic tang of blood lingered, a persistent scent that clung to him like a second skin. Blood ran down from his body, swirling in the drain, a grim reminder of the violence he had endured, the violence he had participated in. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the cool tiles, and felt a surge of nausea. He knew, with chilling certainty, that no amount of water could wash this away. This night, like so many others before, would forever be etched into his memory, a stark reminder of his double life and the price he paid for being an informant.
When he was done, he shut off the water, the silence amplified now that the rushing water was gone. He dried himself with a rough towel, then surveyed the damage in the mirror. His face was a mask of exhaustion, his eyes haunted. He worked with practiced precision, cleaning and disinfecting the wounds, using thread to sew closed the deeper cuts, the familiar pain a dull throb against the ache in his bones. Each wrap of gauze, each careful stitch, was another step in his routine, a grim litany of self-preservation after a night spent in the city's underbelly.
Finally, his wounds tended to, he discarded the bloodied remnants and cleaned the bathroom with a weary sigh. He pulled on a pair of soft sweats, the loose fabric a welcome touch against his battered skin. There was nothing left to do but retreat.
He walked, leaden-footed, to his bed, collapsing onto the mattress with a groan. The faint light of the city barely touched the room, making the shadows dance like the Oni he had faced. He closed his eyes, but the images still flashed behind his eyelids. He knew sleep wouldn't come easy, not tonight. The storm within him may have subsided, but the tremors remained, a constant reminder of the violence that had become his reality. He was tired, so very tired, but he knew this life, these nightmares, were his burden to bear. He surrendered to exhaustion, the darkness pulling him under, the echoes of the night fading, at last, into the oblivion of sleep.