The rain pounded the city like a war drum. In the dim glow of streetlights, water pooled in gutters, washing away the blood of unseen battles.
Inside the battered taxi, Aiko's breath came slow and measured. The city blurred past, neon signs reflecting off the glass like shattered light.
Ryoji sat motionless beside her, eyes scanning the side mirrors. His fingers tapped once against the seat. A signal.
They were being followed.
Aiko didn't turn her head. She forced herself to breathe, to think.
The Agency wouldn't be reckless. Not here. Not in the open. That meant they weren't moving to kill. Not yet. They were watching, closing the net.
Ryoji's voice was low. "Three vehicles. Two bikes, one car."
Aiko's pulse quickened. "Plan?"
A single word. Cold. Controlled.
"Disrupt."
The taxi slowed as they reached a light. Ryoji moved first. The door opened in a blur, and he was gone.
Aiko followed.
In an instant, they were ghosts in the storm.
The bikers hesitated—just for a second. A second too long.
Ryoji was already moving.
A swift step, a sharp twist—his elbow met the first biker's jaw, sending him sprawling. The second barely had time to react before Ryoji grabbed the handlebars, twisting hard. The bike swerved, tires screaming against wet pavement.
Aiko darted into a side alley. Footsteps thundered behind her. She turned sharply, weaving through the labyrinth of Tokyo's backstreets. She felt them closing in—silent, methodical.
This wasn't a chase.
It was a herding maneuver.
She reached a dead end. High walls, slick with rain. No way out.
A shadow moved at the alley's mouth.
Then another.
Four figures stepped forward. Black suits. Suppressors on their pistols. No words. No threats. Just executioners.
Aiko's hands curled into fists.
She exhaled.
Then a whisper of steel.
Behind them—Ryoji.
Fast. Silent.
Deadly.
The first agent fell before he even saw the knife. The second turned—too slow. A single gunshot, muffled in the storm. The body slumped.
Aiko didn't hesitate. She grabbed a discarded pipe, swinging hard. A crack of bone, a cry of pain—another man down.
The last agent raised his weapon—
Aiko kicked his wrist. The shot went wild. Ryoji's knife finished the job.
Silence.
Rain.
Ryoji looked at her. "Lesson nine."
Aiko swallowed. "Which is?"
His voice was quiet. Steady.
"Kill the shepherds. Set the wolves loose."
Then—
A low hum. Barely audible over the rain.
Aiko's breath caught. She turned her head toward the street.
And saw Tokyo change.
The neon glow of Shibuya's billboards flickered—then shifted. The faces of pop stars and luxury brands vanished, replaced by her own face. Pixelated. Enlarged. Labeled.
FUGITIVE. DANGEROUS. REPORT IMMEDIATELY.
She sucked in a sharp breath. The message spread—across skyscrapers, across train stations, across every public screen. Surveillance drones whirred to life, scanning.
Streetlights flashed red. Sirens rose in the distance.
This wasn't a chase anymore.
This was a lockdown.
Ryoji exhaled, rolling his shoulders. His voice was calm, but his knuckles whitened around the blade in his grip.
"They just changed the rules."
He turned to Aiko.
"Now we vanish."
And then they ran—into a city that had become their prison.
To be continued in Chapter 11.....