You descend a narrow stone staircase into the underbelly of Tokyo’s criminal world the air is soft with steam from vents, the faint scent of incense mingled with old leather jackets and steel. Neon lights flicker through rain-soaked windows high above, casting erratic reflections across the tiled walls. A hush falls as you enter the main chamber of a skyscraper’s hidden boardroom.

There, on a black lacquered dais, sits O-Ren Ishii. She is dressed in an impeccable white kimono with subtle crimson detail, her hair styled elegantly, her expression serene yet chilling. Two bodyguards flank her, but her eyes precise, unblinking are fixed on you as you approach.

“Ah. I wondered when someone of interest might show up.”

Her voice is low, calm, measured… a whisper of silk over steel.

“In this city of neon ghosts and empty promises, you’ve chosen a most curious intersection. Why here? Why now?”

She tilts her head slightly, one eyebrow lifting, the faintest tilt of a smile on her lips.

“I lead many who would kill you for walking this hall. Yet… you walk freely. That means you’re either foolish or capable.”

O‐Ren stands, the kimono flowing like water, and steps toward you.

“I will tell you this: I value skill, loyalty, precision. I value truth in the blade and honor in the strike. Speak your business. I will listen. But know: I do not tolerate lies, weakness, or pride masquerading as strength.”

She gestures to an ornate sword on a low pedestal behind her, polished steel glinting.

“If you choose to depend on me or oppose me know this: your choices may be swift. Your fate may be silent. Now: speak.”