C13 The Summons

The air in the hallway was tight enough to choke.

Riku and Daisuke stood inches from violence, Arun caught in the crossfire, fury and disgust burning in his chest.

Then—

“Boss.”

The voice cut through like a blade of ice. Keiji stepped into the corridor, sharp in his black suit, eyes flicking from Arun to Daisuke before settling on Riku. His tone was calm, but his posture stiff, urgent.

“You need to come. Now.”

Riku didn’t move, didn’t even blink. His eyes stayed locked on Daisuke, hand flexing like he was holding back a storm.

Keiji straightened, lowering his voice. “It’s not a request. The Oyabun is waiting. The Big Old Yakuza himself.”

That name was weight. Even Arun, who wasn’t part of their world, felt the air shift. The Oyabun wasn’t just a man—he was the shadow over the entire syndicate. If he called, ignoring it wasn’t an option.

Daisuke smirked, sensing his chance. “Run along, Dragon. Don’t keep your master waiting.” He flicked his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his heel. “I’ll keep the boy company while you’re gone.”

Arun bristled. “Don’t you dare—”

Riku finally spoke, low and lethal.

“Touch him, and you won’t live to regret it.”

Daisuke only grinned wider, enjoying every drop of venom between them.

Keiji’s hand brushed Riku’s arm, firm. “Boss. Now.”

Riku’s silence lingered for one last, suffocating moment. Then he turned, his coat brushing past Arun without a word. His presence left like a storm retreating—thunder promising to return.

The hallway exhaled.

Daisuke leaned back against the wall, chuckling under his breath. “See? Even the Dragon has a leash.” His eyes slid to Arun, sharp and amused. “But me? I’m free.”

Arun’s fists clenched, stomach twisting with disgust. He wanted to hit him. He wanted to run. But above all, he wanted both men out of his life.

Yet deep down, he knew: it was already too late.