I frown as I pull up the Venom app again and type out a reply to him.
Snowflake
Huge apologies, but I have to cancel tonight. I’m here, but I just got word this second about some family stuff I need to take care of. I’m SO sorry to do this last minute.
Kaiju doesn’t respond. Which, to be fair, seems super on-brand for a man who calls himself “strange beast” or “giant monster” and promises to “ruin me”.
I frown as I stare at the screen again. Still no reply.
Snowflake
I’m really sorry to do this to you!
I exhale as I start to make my way through the crowd, texting Okita, my driver, to come meet me.
Another buzz from my phone has me pausing to look at the screen.
Instantly, my heart skips a beat.
Kaiju
This isn’t over until I say so.
My family,the Ishida-kai, has unquestionably ruled the Tokyo criminal underground for decades, ever since my father Kolya came back to Japan from his exile in Russia to claim what was his. Recently, however, our hold on this city has been…challenged.
Apparently deciding Kyoto wasn’t enough for them, the Mori-kai has recently expanded in a large way into Tokyo, helped by their treaty with the Nikolayev Bratva. Not long ago, it appeared we were looking at actual, blood-in-the-streets war with them. But then cooler heads prevailed, and the conflict was “downgraded” to a Cold War.
But I’ve read my history books, and I know how Cold Wars are won.
With spies.
Which is exactly what I am tonight.
Okita is loyal enough to not ask awkward questions like “Why are we stopping at a clothing store to buy a men’s black hoodieand black sweatpants?” Just the same, I have him drop me off ten blocks from my actual destination.
I walk the rest of the way to the vast compound that the Mori-kai have recently moved into. When I’m near, I pull my coppery blonde hair into a tight bun and yank up my hood, covering my face enough to—hopefully—conceal both my gender and my race.
Dad is half-Japanese, half-Russian. My mother was all Russian. Needless to say, my hair color, gray eyes, and unquestionably Caucasian skin don’t exactly do much to help me pass for a young Japanese man looking for a potential gig with the Mori-kai.
But Higashi, my secret source within the Mori-kai organization, also told me that the initiation tonight also has all the initiates wearing masks. So when I finally get to the street that runs behind the Mori-kai compound, all I have to do is keep my hood up and my head down as I join the line of other initiates at the back door.
When it opens, a big, surly-looking Japanese guy steps out and immediately jams an e-cigarette between his lips, sucking greedily.
“Listen up,” he growls in Japanese. “My name is Kai, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is for you all to fucking listen, follow directions, and shut the fuck up. Any questions?”
“Yeah—”
Before the guy can actuallyvoicehis question, Kai strides over, grabs him, and physically hurls him halfway across the street.
“Out. Don’t ever come back. Hopefully that answers your question.”
The rest of us stare as the guy with the question picks himself off the ground, glances at Kai, then turns and scurries off into the night.
“Anyone else have a question?”
Nah, I’m good.
Kai slips back through the door and the initiates follow him, one by one. A man just inside the dimly lit hallway hands out blank blackonimasks. I quickly slip mine on, finally able to raise my head a little more without giving away my identity.