[Going through a rewrite! This is a 2000 word chapter!]
The airplane touched down at Seoul's Incheon International Airport with a gentle thud. Inside the cabin, passengers began gathering their belongings, chatting excitedly about their arrival in South Korea. But one passenger sat completely still.
Riku Akuma remained in his window seat even as people filed past him. He wore a simple black coat over dark jeans, looking like any other young traveler. His dark sunglasses covered his eyes, and a plain black backpack rested at his feet. Nothing about him seemed special or dangerous.
But appearances could be deceiving.
When Riku finally stood up, something changed in the air around him. The flight attendant who approached to help him with his luggage suddenly stopped mid-step, her smile faltering. She couldn't explain why, but every instinct in her body was screaming at her to back away.
Riku picked up his backpack and walked toward the exit. As he moved down the aisle, other passengers unconsciously pressed themselves against their seats to give him more room. Children who had been crying suddenly went quiet. Adults found themselves holding their breath.
It was like a predator had entered the room, and every prey animal knew it.
## The Airport Terminal
The terminal buzzed with typical airport energy. Families reunited with tears and laughter. Business travelers hurried past with rolling suitcases. Announcements echoed in Korean, English, and Chinese.
Riku stepped into this chaos and immediately felt out of place. The smells hit him first - expensive perfume mixing with cheap coffee from the food court, cleaning chemicals trying to mask the scent of thousands of people passing through daily. It was so different from what he was used to.
His memories were filled with the smell of iron and blood. Training grounds where he'd learned to fight. Battlefields where he'd proven himself. The sterile scent of hospitals where he'd recovered from wounds that should have killed him.
This was a normal place, filled with normal people living normal lives. They had no idea that someone like him had just walked into their world.
Riku adjusted his sunglasses and started walking toward the exit. Behind the dark lenses, his eyes were unlike anything human. They were reverse eyes - black pupils surrounded by white irises that seemed to glow with an inner light. These eyes had seen things that would drive most people insane.
As he walked, people continued to move out of his way without realizing why. Security guards found themselves turning to watch him pass, their hands unconsciously moving toward their weapons. Shop workers stopped their conversations mid-sentence.
Everyone could feel it - the presence of something dangerous, something that didn't belong in their safe, civilized world.
## Meanwhile, Across Seoul...
### Charles Choi's Office - HNH Group Building
High above the Seoul skyline, in a glass office that cost more than most people made in a lifetime, Charles Choi received a phone call that made him smile.
"He's arrived?" Charles asked, setting down his expensive fountain pen. His smile was thin and sharp, like the edge of a blade.
Gun stood beside his boss's desk, silent as always. The tall man's face showed no emotion, but his eyes were alert. Gun was Charles Choi's right-hand man and personal enforcer - a fighter so skilled that most people considered him unbeatable.
"Yes, sir," came the voice through the phone. "The plane landed twenty minutes ago. Our people are moving to make contact."
Charles leaned back in his leather chair, still smiling. "The Demon's Bastard has finally come to play. One of Shinigami's surviving children, walking right into our territory."
Gun's expression didn't change, but Charles could see the interest in his subordinate's eyes. Gun lived for strong opponents, and the rumors about this newcomer were... interesting.
"Test him, Gun," Charles continued, his voice casual despite the weight of his words. "If he's worth our time, we'll find a use for him. If he's just another pretender..."
"I'll erase him," Gun replied without hesitation. His voice was cold and matter-of-fact, like he was discussing the weather instead of murder.
Charles nodded, already turning his attention back to other business. In his world, potential threats were handled quickly and quietly. This Riku Akuma would either become an asset or become a corpse. There was no middle ground.
### White Tiger Job Center
Across the city, in a much less glamorous building, Tom Lee was having his own discussion about the newcomer.
Tom was a large man with graying hair and the weathered face of someone who'd spent decades fighting. He sat behind a simple desk, a half-finished cigar burning in an ashtray beside him. When he received word about Riku's arrival, he took a long drag and exhaled smoke through his nose.
"Tch... Shinigami's bastard son?" Tom muttered, shaking his head. "That's bad news for everyone. We can't let someone like that run around loose."
Manager Kim stood nearby, adjusting his glasses nervously. Kim was Tom's right-hand man, but he was more of a strategist than a fighter. He understood better than most how dangerous someone with Riku's bloodline could be.
"The rumors say he's incredibly strong," Kim said carefully. "If Charles Choi gets his hands on him..."
"Then we'll have a real problem," Tom finished. He crushed his cigar in the ashtray and stood up. "I'll handle this personally. If this kid is as dangerous as people say, we can't risk him joining up with Choi's crew."
Tom cracked his knuckles, and the sound echoed through the small office like gunshots. Despite his age, Tom Lee was still one of the strongest fighters in Seoul. He'd faced monsters before and lived to tell about it.
### Workers Headquarters
In another part of the city, Samuel Seo was having a very different reaction to the news.
Samuel sat in his chair with his feet up on his desk, a cocky grin spreading across his face as he listened to the report. Unlike the others, he didn't seem worried or cautious about Riku's arrival. Instead, he seemed excited.
"So... another monster enters the game?" Samuel chuckled, running a hand through his blonde hair. "Perfect. Things were getting boring around here."
The Workers were one of the four major crews in Seoul, and Samuel was their leader. He was young, ambitious, and absolutely ruthless. While others saw Riku as a threat to be eliminated or controlled, Samuel saw him as entertainment.
"Let's see if he can dance with the Workers," Samuel continued, his grin widening. "It's been too long since we had a real challenge."
## Back at the Airport
Riku had made it through customs and immigration without incident. His fake passport was flawless, and he'd answered all the standard questions with practiced ease. To the officials, he was just another young tourist coming to experience Seoul.
But as he walked toward the exit, he noticed something wrong.
There were too many men in black suits for this to be normal. They weren't airport security or police - Riku had dealt with enough of both to recognize them on sight. These were private muscle, probably hired by one of the local crews.
They were trying to be subtle about it, pretending to read newspapers or check their phones while they positioned themselves around the terminal. But Riku had been trained by the best. He could spot an ambush from a mile away.
The first wave came as soon as he stepped outside.
A dozen men moved in perfect coordination, rushing him from multiple directions. They didn't shout or announce themselves - this was meant to be a quick, quiet kidnapping. Grab the target and disappear before anyone could react.
But they had made one crucial mistake. They assumed Riku was just another strong fighter, maybe a little above average but nothing they couldn't handle with superior numbers.
They were wrong.
"So... the vultures came fast," Riku said calmly, setting his backpack down on the sidewalk.
The crowd of normal people around them began to scatter as they realized something was wrong. Parents grabbed their children and ran. Taxi drivers hit the gas and sped away. In seconds, the area around the airport exit had cleared except for Riku and his attackers.
The first man to reach him threw a punch that would have knocked out a normal person. Riku caught the fist in his palm without even looking, then twisted. The sound of breaking bones echoed across the plaza like a gunshot.
The man screamed and dropped to his knees, cradling his ruined hand. But Riku wasn't done with him yet. A casual kick sent the attacker flying backward into a concrete pillar with enough force to crack the stone.
The other men hesitated for just a moment, realizing they might be in over their heads. That moment of doubt cost them everything.
Riku moved like liquid shadow, flowing between his enemies with impossible grace. Every strike was precise and devastating. A palm strike to the chest that stopped a heart for three seconds. An elbow to the temple that scrambled someone's brain. A knee to the spine that severed nerves.
Bodies hit the pavement one after another, bones snapping like dry branches. Some of the attackers tried to run, but Riku was faster. He caught them before they could take three steps and put them down just as brutally as the others.
By the time the last man collapsed, coughing blood onto the concrete, Riku hadn't even broken a sweat. His breathing was steady, his clothes weren't mussed, and there wasn't a drop of blood on him despite the carnage around his feet.
The few brave souls who had stayed to watch from a distance were now staring in absolute terror. They had just witnessed something impossible - one man destroying a dozen trained fighters like they were children.
Riku looked at the terrified onlookers and slowly reached up to remove his sunglasses. For just a moment, they could see his eyes - those impossible reverse eyes that seemed to glow with their own inner light.
"Tell your bosses," he said, his voice carrying clearly across the silent plaza. "The Devil has landed."
He put his sunglasses back on, picked up his backpack, and started walking away as if nothing had happened. Behind him, sirens were already beginning to wail in the distance as someone called for ambulances.
Riku had only walked two blocks from the airport when he realized he was being followed again. But this time was different. There was only one person, and they weren't trying to hide their presence.
He turned a corner into a quieter side street and stopped. Someone was already waiting for him there.
The man was tall and lean, with sharp features and cold eyes. His hands were casually tucked into the pockets of his expensive jacket, and he stood with the relaxed confidence of someone who had never lost a fight.
This wasn't some hired thug or expendable muscle. This was a real fighter - maybe even a dangerous one.
"You're making a lot of noise already," the man said, his voice flat and emotionless. "I could hear the sirens from five blocks away."
Riku studied his new opponent carefully. Everything about the man's posture and bearing screamed "professional killer." This was someone who had taken lives and slept well afterward.
"And you are?" Riku asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.
"Gun," the man replied simply. "I work for people who are very interested in you, Akuma."
So they already knew his real name. That was troubling but not entirely surprising. Riku's father had made a lot of enemies before his death, and those enemies would be keeping close tabs on his surviving children.
"Let's see if you're worth all the rumors," Gun continued, pulling his hands from his pockets and taking a fighting stance.
Riku smiled for the first time since arriving in Seoul. Finally, someone who might actually provide a challenge.
"I was wondering when the real players would show up," Riku said, dropping his backpack and removing his coat. "Those amateurs at the airport barely counted as a warm-up."
Gun's expression didn't change, but Riku could see the excitement in his eyes. Like Riku, Gun lived for strong opponents. The chance to fight someone truly dangerous was a rare treat in their line of work.
The two fighters faced each other in the narrow alley, both absolutely still. To any observer, it might have looked like nothing was happening. But both men were analyzing their opponent, looking for weaknesses, calculating angles and distances.
The first move would determine everything.