Page 6 of Celestial Combat

And I walked on.

17 years old

The city buzzed outside – neon humming through the dark, headlights smearing gold on wet pavement. It was almost midnight when I unlocked my door and stepped inside.

My apartment smelled faintly of metal and cedarwood, the faint echo of incense from this morning still lingering. Not big by most standards, but in Tokyo, it was a palace. Hardwood floors. Clean lines. Soft, expensive lighting. Everything in place.

Except him.

He sat like he owned the place.

Lounging in my armchair, leaned back, sleeves rolled up. He was eating my last cup of instant noodles – chopsticks moving lazily, like this was a goddamn picnic.

The soft lamp in the living room lit half his face in amber. The other half, swallowed in darkness.

I didn’t blink.

I didn’t stop walking.

I just locked the door behind me with a softclick.

“What do you want?” I asked, voice flat.

He didn’t look up. Just kept eating. “Nice to meet you, Zane. My name is Matteo Di’Ablo.”

My fingers wrapped around the hilt of the blade resting on the console table behind the corner.

“I could give a shit who you are. What do you want?” I pulled the blade slowly. “It’s the last time I’ll ask.”

He smiled while chewing. “I want to buy your services.”

“I only work for the Yakuza.”

“So they know about what you do for the Sus?”

The blade left my hand like lightning.

But he was faster.

He leaned backwards, raising a metal kitchen knife from the coffee table he was eating at, and blocked my blade, sending it flying across the room. Then stabbed his knife into the coffee table –crack– wood splintering like bone. This time he looked at me.

“Sit down.”

I stared at the blade. Buried hilt-deep.

My pulse didn’t rise. But my interest did.

Advancing,I sat, slow, on the couch opposite him. One hand loose near my thigh – close to the second knife I kept sheathed there.

“How did you find me?”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin he clearly found inmykitchen. “I work with the Su Family, too.”

I exhaled softly, tension unwinding like thread. The Sus weren’t Yakuza, but they were entangled, with their own separate criminal organization. The Su Dynasty sold firearms globally as well as cybersecurity. The world saw them, however, as just another multi-billion fortune 500 company. Despite being mainly situated in the States, they were practically royalty in Japan.

I’d met Maya and Richard Su at one of Boss Akihiko’s penthouse parties, the man who’d trained me when I was a kid. Maya liked the way I carried myself. Richard liked that I didn’t talk unless I had something to say. Their kid Trevor? He followed me around like a shadow.

We were friends now. As much as someone like me could have one.

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