The meeting had just ended.
Pointless, as always.
Another round of empty words, unreadable stares, and veiled threats from the Sayaki clan.
I got into the car.
My men followed.
— Sir, where do you want to go? one of them asked.
— I'm hungry. Find a food stall.
— Hai, sir.
Ten minutes later, the cars slowed in front of a small place, barely noticeable under the rain.
Faded sign. Dim light. No cameras.
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 as I walked in.
Steam. Oil. Noise.
We sat at a table in the back.
Three of my men took their places around me silent, disciplined, alert.
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, but not stiff.
I observed her.
Brown hair pulled into a simple bun.
Held by a wooden hairpin, small, deliberate detail.
One loose wave slipped against her cheek.
She brushed it back behind her ear without thinking.
A quiet, instinctive gesture.
The way she moved…
Unpretentious.
But graceful.
Without knowing, she moved like someone trained to avoid attention.
She took our order and left.
Unusual.
Fifteen minutes passed.
She returned with the dishes.
Still composed.
Still calm.
— Oyabun, murmured one of my men, 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 quiet minutes.
Then the door slammed open.
Three men barged in loud, aggressive, worthless.
They knocked over chairs.
Shouting. Threatening.
One of them grabbed the waitress.
Touched her.
I frowned.
— Shut them up. They're disturbing me.
— Hai, Oyabun.
But before anyone moved.
She acted.
She reached into her apron, pulled out a pair of chopsticks, and stabbed the man in the eye.
He screamed.
She backed away, grabbed a chair, threw it, and then snatched a kitchen knife.
She 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.
Rare.
Rare for a girl.
Rare for someone so young.
And even rarer for a foreigner.
She didn't beg.
She didn't run.
She threatened.
I watched her for a moment.
No fear.
Only cold anger.
We left.
As 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...
..........................
💬 Enjoyed the chapter?
If you liked this scene, don't forget to add the novel to your Library, and leave a comment — more action and secrets coming soon 🔥