C42 Riku’s Judgment

The Oyabun’s guesthouse was quiet, the only sound the low hum of cicadas and the faint clinking of ice in Riku’s glass. He sat in the center of the room, dressed in black, one hand curled loosely around the whiskey tumbler. The amber liquid caught the lamplight like fire.

Keiji entered, bowing low. His shoes were still damp from the night streets