AKAME ASSASINATION (53)
THE NEXT DAY – 0700 HRS
NAIROBI – THE CAPITAL OF LOLIWE
JAMHURI AIRWAY
The sky over Nairobi was a pale, watercolor blue, streaked with the last traces of dawn. The designated airstrip had been cleared with Vatican-level severity—no ground personnel, no overflights, even satellite surveillance had been politely instructed to look elsewhere. It was a pocket of enforced silence in the bustling capital.
Then, it descended.
The aircraft was a sleek, matte-black spearhead slicing through the high atmosphere. It moved with a sound more like a deep hum than a roar, its design ripped from the pages of a next-gen spy thriller. As it approached the runway, its thrusters rotated vertically, allowing it to hover for a moment—a predator surveying its landing—before settling onto the tarmac with a whisper of displaced air.
A black Mercedes-Benz glided soundlessly across the concrete, stopping precisely ten meters from the jet's still-sealed door. The rear passenger door opened, and a woman stepped out.
Amanai Rika was a vision of calculated authority. She wore a tailored charcoal-gray pantsuit, the jacket buttoned once at her waist. Her hair was pulled into a severe, elegant knot. She looked less like a sorcerer and more like the CEO of a multinational corporation—which, in a way, she was. The Sorcerer Association stationed in Endo answered to her.
The jet's door hissed open. Before the automated stairs could extend, a figure dropped from the opening.
CRUNCH.
The concrete runway cratered under his landing. He rose from a slight crouch, unfurling to his full, imposing height. Suzaku Junichi was built like a monument to brute force—corded muscle over a frame that spoke of relentless, brutal training. He wore only simple, durable pants and heavy boots, his torso bare and crisscrossed with pale, silvery scars. A wild mane of black hair fell past his shoulders, and a rough, unkempt beard framed a mouth currently twisted in a wolfish grin. His aura wasn't just powerful; it was primal. He felt less like a man and more like a force of nature that had been temporarily stuffed into human skin.
"Is it just me," he called out, his voice a gravelly baritone, "or did your ass get bigger, Rika?" He began striding toward her, his gait loose and confident.
"I see your manners remain in the Neanderthal stage. Some things, it seems, are eternal. Junichi-san."
SUZAKU JUNICHI
THIRD OF THE FIVE SWORDS
FIVE-STAR SORCERER & VATICAN-CONTRACT ASSASSIN
AGE: 27 (AND VOCALLY RESISTANT TO ANY CONCEPT OF "SETTLING DOWN")
"Manners are for the living, and we're all just waiting our turn." He stopped before her, the sly grin widening. "And take it as a compliment. From me, that's high praise. Though, between us, I've always been more of a breast man."
"Of all the people to disembark first, it just had to be you." Rika sighed, a long-suffering exhale. "Is your mental repertoire limited solely to sex, women, and violence?"
"Don't forget good whiskey," he corrected, winking. "What else is a man supposed to do in this miserable age?"
AMANAI RIKA
SECOND OF THE FIVE SWORDS
FIVE-STAR SORCERER & HEAD OF THE SORCERER ASSOCIATION, ENDO
AGE: 26 (A NUMBER SHE GUARDS WITH THE FEROCITY OF A DRAGON GUARDING ITS HOARD)
"I despise you. Profoundly. You know that, right?"
He looked at her, and for a fleeting second, the predatory glint in his eyes softened into something almost… fond. "So," he said, the levity draining away, replaced by a hunter's focus. "Where is he?"
"I don't know. He hasn't crossed the city's sensor grid."
His face hardened, the playful brute vanishing. "Damn it. He's being cautious. I left a perfectly good brawl in Kyiv for this. He'd better not disappoint me by staying hidden."
"You believe me that easily? Without proof?"
"I never bought that he died in that 'accident.'" Junichi rubbed his bearded jaw. "A pathetic end like that? It wouldn't be worthy of his legend."
"You think too highly of him. He's a mass murderer. A calamity."
"And what are we?" Junichi let out a short, humorless laugh. "Don't play the righteous bureaucrat, Rika. We've all got blood on our hands. We've killed for less than he has."
She didn't argue. Her expression remained composed, but her eyes were flint.
"Whachu guys talkin' about?"
They turned. A new figure had approached with preternatural silence.
Maomao was small, almost elfin, with the compact, efficient musculature of a martial artist. Her large, expressive eyes were a striking greenish-blue, like tropical shallows. Her black hair was cut in a sharp chin-length bob at the sides, but gathered into a long, intricate braid that fell down her back. She was dressed not for a corporate meeting, but for a shadow war: a dark blue shinobi shozoku, bound with a pink obi, tabi socks, and zori sandals. Her forearms and shins were wrapped in matching blue tape.
"I was just appreciating the view," Junichi said, jerking a thumb at Rika.
Maomao tilted her head, her gaze sweeping over Rika's professional attire. "Why are you dressed like a secretary?" she asked with blunt curiosity. "And such a short skirt?"
MAOMAO TATSU
FOURTH OF THE FIVE SWORDS
FOUR-STAR SORCERER & HEAD OF THE OKINAWA GROUP, TOKYO
AGE: 20 (EAGERLY AWAITING HER 21ST BIRTHDAY IN MARCH FOR LEGAL HOME ALCOHOL DELIVERY)
"The aesthetic serves a purpose. It will make sense later." Rika's eyes shifted back to the jet, where more figures—elite members of the Okinawa Group—were disembarking with disciplined quiet. "Where is Koji? And the backup I requested?"
"The Okinawa Group's best are here," Maomao said, her tone relaxed, almost sleepy. "I only brought the ones itching for a real fight. But is all this really necessary?"
"Yes. We have no idea what we're walking into. Imagine a scenario where he's spent all this time acquiring new techniques. Each with a different application. We can't counter that by rushing in one at a time."
"Well, count me out of the committee meeting," Junichi grunted, turning on his heel and starting to walk past her toward the terminal.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"To find him. If I get to him first, I fight him. Alone."
"Are you an idiot?" Rika's composure cracked, her voice sharpening. "He'll know we're here the moment you engage. And if—when—he beats you, he'll have all the data he needs to plan around the rest of us."
"Oh yeah," Maomao chimed in, tapping her chin. "He was always crazy smart. His battle IQ was even higher than yours, Rika… right?"
"Can you both please just listen to reason?"
"Do you forget," Junichi said, pausing to look back over his shoulder, his expression grim, "that the first time we tried to take him down, we went at him all together? And we still lost."
"That was then! We understand our abilities better now. And Maomao is a fully realized ninja, not a trainee."
"Tell you what," Junichi offered, a reckless light in his eyes. He began walking backward, spreading his hands. "I'll go in and soften him up. If I lose, he'll be weakened. You can all swoop in and clean up. Easy."
Rika closed her eyes, counting to three in her head. One of them had to be the adult. "Where. Is. Koji? And the new recruit you were supposed to vet?"
"I can't reach him on his phone," Maomao said, shrugging. She seemed utterly unperturbed.
"Aren't the two of you engaged?"
"Yeah. But I'm not his keeper. Don't worry, though. The others are already in the city. They're running reconnaissance."
Rika nodded, forcing her strategic mind back to the forefront. "I've been formulating a plan. A real one. Not a brawl. A coordinated takedown. We end him ourselves. Permanently."
Junichi stopped walking. He turned fully, his gaze piercing. "Pretty bold," he rumbled. "You sure that's what you want?"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I mean…" He glanced at Maomao, then back, his voice dropping. "You still care about him. Don't you?"
Rika didn't flinch. Her reply was immediate, cold, and perfectly clear. "No. You do realize I'm engaged as well, correct? My loyalties are not conflicted."
"I guess…"
Rika placed a hand on Maomao's slender shoulder. Her touch was firm, almost sisterly. "If you can't do it when the time comes," she said, her voice low and certain, "I will cut his head off for you. I know how much he once meant to you."
Maomao looked up at her, those sea-green eyes unreadable. After a beat, she simply nodded.
"Okay."
TO BE CONTINUED!