The night in Tokyo was cold, the neon lights reflecting their brightness on the streets wet from a recent drizzle. Taro walked with his hands in his pockets, his mind caught up in the conversation he had with Kenji.

"How long do you plan to continue this madness?"

"I don't know, Kenji... I just want to get out."

"There is no way out, Taro. But if you insist on trying, then you better be prepared."

Those words weighed on him. He knew that Kenji did not speak out of cruelty, but from experience. They had both grown up in that world, but unlike Taro, Kenji never tried to escape.

Taro turned a corner and stopped when he saw a group of men in black jackets. They were not from the Matsumoto family. They recognized each other by their insignia, a red moon on the sleeve.

"Matsumoto..." said one of them, spitting on the ground with contempt. "We finally met."

Taro sighed. Another problem.

“I don’t have time for this.”

The group of men surrounded him.

“You have no choice, bastard. Your people have been sticking their noses where they don’t belong.”

One of them pulled out a knife. Taro didn’t even blink. When the man tried to attack him, he dodged it and, with a single movement, twisted the man’s wrist and sent him sprawling to the ground.

The others lunged at him, but Taro moved with deadly precision. Within seconds, two more were on the ground, writhing in pain. The remaining men hesitated.

“Tell your boss,” Taro muttered, looking at the wounded men. “If they have a problem, let them tell me in person.”

The men gathered their comrades and fled. Taro clicked his tongue. This was only going to get worse.

The next morning, Kenji was waiting for him in an alley behind an old building.

“What did you do now?” “Kenji asked with his arms crossed.

Taro lit a cigarette.

“Some idiots from the Red Moon tried to attack me.”

Kenji shook his head.

“Are you stupid? Now they’re going to come after you with everything they’ve got!”

“They’ve always come after me,” Taro said indifferently.

Kenji rubbed his face in frustration.

“Listen, Taro… My father already found out. And he’s furious.”

Taro clenched his jaw. Kenji’s father, a high-ranking official in the Matsumoto family, was someone not to be trifled with.

“He said that if you keep doing this, he won’t be able to protect you. And neither will I.”

Taro stubbed out his cigarette against the wall and looked at Kenji seriously.

“Then don’t protect me.”

Kenji glared at him, then sighed, resigned.

“You’re a stubborn bastard.”

“I know.”

They were silent for a few moments. Then, Kenji looked around and moved a little closer.

“There’s something else.”

Taro noticed his cousin’s serious expression.

“What?”

Kenji lowered his voice.

“Someone asked about you. A girl. She says she’s investigating the yakuza.”

Taro felt a chill.

“Who?”

“I don’t know, but she had a determined expression. She didn’t look like any other reporter.”

Taro thought about the news of James Kitsune’s death and the murders of innocents. This was no coincidence.

“Find out who it is,” he finally said. “If someone is investigating… I want to know how much they know.”

Kenji nodded.

“Be careful, Taro. This is getting ugly.”

Taro smiled slightly.

“It’s always been ugly.”

Without another word, he walked down the street, the shadow of a new threat looming over him.