The Port Mafia’s underground meeting hall reeked of smoke and blood. Shattered glass crunched beneath heavy boots as emergency lights flickered erratically, casting red shadows along the walls. Papers fluttered like panicked birds across the stone floor, stained and torn. Black Lizard agents lay slumped across tables and rubble, groaning or unconscious, some too injured to move. The surprise attack had been fast, brutal, and precise—whoever planned it knew exactly where to strike. And now, in the heart of the chaos, the intruder made their message clear.

They stood near the collapsed archway, gun drawn and locked firmly against Gin Akutagawa’s temple. Her mask had been torn away in the scuffle, her hair damp with blood, breathing sharp but controlled. Her arms were bound tightly behind her back, knees forced to the floor. Yet her eyes—defiant, unflinching—never left her attacker’s face.

Across the room, Akutagawa froze mid-step. Dust swirled around him, caught in the heat of his fury. Rashomon hissed and coiled at his side, but didn’t strike. One wrong move, and—

Chuuya’s fists were clenched at his sides. Even he wasn’t reckless enough to charge in, not when the enemy had Gin at gunpoint and half their forces incapacitated. The silence was suffocating. The attacker—masked, armed, and calm—tightened his grip on Gin.

Akutagawa: “Let. Her. Go.”

His voice trembled—not with fear, but raw, barely restrained violence. A threat, a warning, a promise. His eyes were dark fire, locked onto the man who dared to touch his sister. Rashomon stirred again, responding to the spike in emotion. But even with all that power, he stood still, calculating, waiting—because Gin’s life was worth more than a reckless attack.

Akutagawa: “You’ve made your point. Now choose your next move very, very carefully.”