The meeting

In the days following Takumi’s talk with Rei in Aurora Cliffs, Karasu set up his trap meticulously. He arranged for the debt documents to be prepared and made other documents detailing Rai’s price. Her value to him, her potential, was worth many secrets; secrets that could damage the Kuroda Global empire. Karasu doubted Takumi was more than entertained and bored, finding Rei’s charm an interesting diversion for a momentary pastime.

There was no way he would part with high level corporate information or risk company secrets leaking, just to have a roll in the hay with a Chochin girl, even if that girl was an exceptionally sensual fox. Karasu clenched his teeth. Remembering listening to the recording. The arrogant Takumi bragging about his wealth, putting down Karasu’s carefully crafted domain in the shadows. Information was a much stronger currency than Fund Units, and even a snob like Takumi knew as much.

The usual low thrum of The Electric Dragon Den was deadened by a new, oppressive atmosphere. The hostesses hovered nervously near the bar, clients sensing the shift, kept their conversations hushed. The air, thick with smoke and electric jazz tunes, now also carried the silent, metallic threat of imminent violence.

The main doors flew open. Takumi Senior entered, a monolith of corporate power in a razor-sharp white suit. He didn’t walk in alone. Flanking him were seven Kuroda security personnel, their cybernetics gleaming under the neon, their faces impassive masks, their hands resting near the concealed bulges of their weapons. They moved with a synchronized grace that screamed military training and unlimited budget.

They had barely taken two steps into the club when Karasu emerged from the shade near the back. He was a different kind of superior, a specter given form in a dark tailored pinstripe suit. He was not alone. From the stairwell, the private booths, and the staff entrance, twenty of his own men materialized. They were a more varied lot; street toughs with visible chrome, wiry runners with quick eyes, seasoned brawlers with scarred knuckles. They lacked the uniform polish of the Kuroda squad, but they made up for it with a feral, territorial confidence. They fanned out, not blocking the exit, but forming a deliberate, intimidating corridor towards the back offices.

At Karasu’s side, one step behind and to his right, stood Rei. She was a vision of cultivated beauty, dressed in a dark cheongsam, her ruby hair pulled back in a sleek knot. Her posture was perfectly straight, her hands clasped demurely in front of her. But her chin was raised and her black eyes held a steady, unwavering gaze that swept over the Kuroda squad without a flicker of fear. She was the perfect accessory; obedient, magnificent and silently broadcasting force.

The two groups eyed each other, a silent standoff in the pulsating dark. No weapons were drawn, but the potential for carnage hung in the air like ozone before a storm. Takumi’s lips curved into a thin, appreciative smile. “Komorebi-san,” he said, his voice smooth, cutting through the tension, “You certainly know how to welcome a guest.” Karasu gave a slight, mocking bow that didn’t reach his cold eyes, “Takumi-sama. When a legend visits the shadows, one must ensure his path is well-lit and secure. We wouldn’t want any… misunderstandings”, his glance flicked meaningfully to the Kuroda guards, “My establishment can be full of surprises for the uninitiated.”

“I have no doubt,” Takumi replied, his own eyes glinting with detached amusement, “Shall we? I believe we have business to discuss.” He took a step forward, his men moving with him in perfect unison. “This way,” Karasu said, turning without another word. The procession that moved through the club was a surreal, terrifying spectacle. Karasu led, with Rei a silent shadow beside him. Takumi followed, his Kuroda guards forming a tight wedge around him. Bringing up the rear were Karasu’s men, their footsteps a discordant rhythm against the Kuroda’s precise march. Patrons and staff alike pressed themselves against walls and booths to let the dangerous parade pass.

They reached the office door. Karasu’s second, Aoi, opened it. Karasu and Takumi entered, followed by Rei. The head of each security detail, one from Kuroda, one from Karasu’s crew, stepped inside after them, taking up posts on opposite sides of the door, their eyes locked in a hateful stare. The rest remained outside, a wall of tense, waiting muscle and metal.

Inside the office, the world shrunk to a more intimate battleground. Karasu settled into the high-backed chair behind his lacquered desk. Takumi took the plush velvet guest chair in front, looking utterly at ease, as if he owned the very air in the room. Rei moved with a quiet, efficient grace. She went to a mirror sidebar, her movements fluid. She poured two glasses of ice water from a crystal pitcher, the clink of the ice the only sound in the room.

She served Takumi first, placing the glass on a jade coaster before him, meeting his eyes only briefly. Then she served Karasu, her fingers brushing his as she handed him the glass directly; a tiny, deliberate point of contact, a silent message of solidarity. Afterwards she retreated to the wall behind Karasu, standing with her hands in front of her, the picture of compliance.

Karasu took a slow sip of water. “So,” he began, his voice deceptively light, “You wish to discuss acquiring Rei’s services?” Takumi mirrored the action, taking a sip from his own glass, “I prefer to think of it as the acquisition of a contract. Miss Rei explained her contract comes with certain… entanglements. I’m here to settle them.” The polite conversation was a razor wire, stretched taut over a bottomless pit. Rei stood perfectly still, the silent, beautiful prize at the center of the power play.

The air in the office grew thick with unspoken threats, the air heavy with expensive cologne, smoke and the cold sweat of looming conflict. Rei remained calm behind Karasu’s chair, her posture was tame, but her eyes were not. Every time Takumi Senior’s steel eyes drifted to her, she met them with a look that was anything but submissive. It was a look that challenged, that declared her own agency even in this den of wolves. Karasu laid his cards on the table with the flair of a showman. The documents for her father’s debt were straightforward, a paltry sum in the grand scheme. Then came the other file. Karasu slid it across the lacquered table. “Her considerate worth,” Karasu said, his voice a low, steady rumble.

Takumi took the file, his expression one of bored distraction. He opened it, his eyes scanning the contents. The detached facade faded, replaced by a evaluating focus. The document didn’t list a number. It listed secrets. Vulnerabilities in Kuroda’s net architecture, the names of corrupt mid-level executives ripe for blackmail, the location of a hidden data haven; a curated selection of some of Karasu’s most damaging, unverified intelligence, all tied to Rei’s value. It was an audacious, brilliant and incredibly risky move. The file specified how those where examples of information Takumi could avoid being leaked and the type of information expected to be received in order to purchase Rei’s contract permanently from Karasu.

A slow, reluctantly impressed smile spread across Takumi’s face. He closed the file with a soft thump, “I must admit, Komorebi, you have a flair for the dramatic.” His eyes lifted, first to Karasu’s defiant stare, then to Rei, “The lady must possess truly remarkable potential for you to value her so… creatively.” He leaned back, crossing his legs with an infuriating casualness. The tension in the room was a live wire, his guard and Karasu’s shifting on their feet, hands drifting toward hidden weapons. Takumi took a long, slow sip of his water, the ice clinking in the profound silence.

“However,” he continued, his voice smooth as silk, “this seems like a rather… adversarial way to do business. War is so messy and unnecessary.” His gaze settled on Karasu, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees, “The lady herself expressed a desire for freedom. A noble aspiration. I am inclined to help her achieve it.” He set his glass down decisively, “A compromise: I will pay the original debt. In return, Miss Rei is not purchased. She is hired, five days a week. She will be given her own residence in Sakura Avenues. A place of her own, a taste of the independence she craves. And her… services… will be available to me, for a mutually agreeable fee paid to you, until such a time as she has paid her own dues and earned the end of her current… confinement.”

The proposal was a masterpiece of cruel manipulation. He was framing himself as the liberator while simultaneously agreeing to lease her, stripping Karasu’s claim of any pretense of honor and reducing it to a simple, brutal transaction. He was also subtly, viciously, pointing out that Rei was essentially property, a slave in her current contract; highlighting the vulgarity of Karasu’s business model.

Takumi paused, letting the humiliation of the offer sink in. Then he added, his voice dropping to a conversational yet lethal tone, “It’s a far more civilized solution. And civility has its rewards. Kuroda can be a powerful ally to those who are… reasonable”, he glanced at his own impassive guard, a massive man with cybernetic optics, “Our security division is exceptionally skilled at resolving conflicts. Permanently. It’s always better to have such resources as allies, don’t you agree?”

The threat was naked, delivered with a polite smile. I can have you killed. Karasu’s jaw was a rigid line of fury. He had been outmaneuvered. Takumi hadn’t taken the bait of the secrets. He had called the bluff by refusing to play on Karasu’s board, instead reshaping the entire game into a humiliating, pragmatic business deal wrapped in a veiled death threat. Karasu had underestimated the man’s obsession with Rei and his ruthless patience. Karasu’s knuckles were white against the edge of the desk. He had to accept. To refuse would be to declare a war he couldn’t win against the full might of Kuroda. This deal, as grotesque as it was, was the only path that left him with any leverage; and kept Rei connected to him.

He gave a single, sharp nod, the motion costing him dearly. Takumi’s smile widened. “Excellent!”, he stood, straightening his impeccable suit jacket. He didn’t look at the documents again. His eyes found Rei’s and in their grey depths, she saw it: not victory, but authority. He had won the first round; he was not in a hurry. “I’ll have my lawyers draw up the necessary documents,” he said smoothly, “I’ll expect her moved to Sakura Avenues by the end of the week and ready to work by Monday.” He turned and walked off, his guards falling in behind him.