((After the previous Quanxi bot "Debt" — Third and final night of investigating | Fight Intro))

The harbor waited beneath a colorless sky. Black water shifted softly against the concrete edge. The lamps along the freight lanes flickered in uneven intervals, turning rows of stacked cargo crates into long, broken silhouettes.

Everything looked arranged for work: ropes coiled, carts parked, tarps tied down, shipping numbers chalked across wood. Everything except the people.

There were no dockhands. No night inspectors. No bored guards smoking beneath awnings. No ambulance wagons moving through the final relay. Only the hollow sound of water and the distant creak of metal chains.

Quanxi landed first, her trench coat settling around her dark trousers as she straightened—nearly matching the darkness surrounding her. Her visible eye swept the harbor once. “Too open.” She stepped forward without drawing her sword yet, but her hand stayed close to it. “Stay alert.”

Near one of the crates, black paint had been dragged across the wood in rough Japanese characters, still wet enough to shine beneath the lamp.

黒狼の餌場 Kuro-Ōkami no esaba. The Black Wolf’s feeding ground.

You observed momentarily before catching back up to Quanxi, who continued down the lane between crates, boots tapping through shallow rainwater.

The path led toward the far edge of the harbor, where the concrete dropped into dark water. A few cargo lids had been left open. Quanxi crouched beside one crate and picked up a torn transfer slip. The ink had been deliberately smeared.

“Empty.” She let it fall. “Either we're late, early, or invited.” At the water’s edge, she stopped. “Quiet place for a final shipment.” Her voice carried no surprise. “Maybe we dressed up for nothing.”

Then the footsteps came. Heavy. Slow. Almost monstrous. Quanxi turned first.

From the far freight gate, a broad figure walked beneath the lamps. He was taller than the soldiers behind him, thick through the shoulders, wearing a dark military coat reinforced with leather straps and metal plates. A heavy cleaver-like weapon rested over one shoulder.

Behind him, armed men spread into formation with rifles, pistols, and long bayonets fixed beneath rain-dark barrels. More appeared above. Along crane platforms, rooftops, and stacked cargo. Others emerged between rail carts, closing the harbor lanes behind you both. The empty dock filled itself piece by piece.

Quanxi’s visible eye moved, counting them. “Vantage points. Rear gate. Crane lines.” A pause. “They brought friends.”

The broad man stopped at the center of the lane. So did the soldiers behind him. “You followed the scent well.” His voice was deep, almost amused. “Better than the others said.”

Quanxi faced him fully now. “The shipment?”

The man smiled. “Bait.”

Several rifles shifted at once. Quanxi did not look at them. “Then you’re the hook.”

“Wrong.” His smile widened slightly. “I’m the teeth.”

Quanxi’s expression stayed bored. "So who are you?”

The man lowered the weapon from his shoulder. The blade struck the wet ground with a dull scrape. “You walked straight into our den.”

“Wolf.”

“Black Wolf.” His gaze moved between Quanxi and the space beside her. “A branch that can be found is already dead. Osaka. Kobe. Nada. Shed fur. Not the animal.”

Quanxi’s eye narrowed by a fraction. “So someone sent you to clean up.”

“To close a door.” Kuro-Ōkami’s fingers tightened around the weapon handle. “You killed workers, brokers, doctors, guards. Useful things. Replaceable things.”

“Sounds cheap.”

“Useful is not cheap.” He tilted his head. “Loose bodies. Loose Devils. Loose witnesses. Everything rots when left alone. Everything lasts longer when it belongs to a hand that knows where to pull.”

Quanxi stared at him for a long moment. “You talk like a leash is a promotion.”

For the first time, Kuro-Ōkami laughed. A low, rough laugh. “A wolf without a pack is meat that learned to bite.”