Aiko's breath hitched. His words, a low, vicious promise, echoed in the silent apartment. They were the most terrifying and, strangely, the most comforting words she had ever heard. He wasn't just protecting her. He was willing to start a war for her. The intensity in his dark eyes held her captive, a willing prisoner to his vow.
He held her gaze for a second longer before the raw emotion retreated, replaced by the cool, sharp focus of a predator. He dropped his hands from her shoulders, stepping back and breaking the spell. The moment of intimacy was over. It was time for business.
"Their surveillance is an insult," Kaito said, his voice flat and cold. "It is a declaration. It requires an answer."
He pulled out the burner phone he had given her and dialed the single number in its memory. When he spoke, it was in Japanese, his tone clipped and authoritative. "Kenji. Here. Now."
Less than fifteen minutes later, the silent chime of the doorbell announced Kenji's arrival. The grim-faced, older man entered with a respectful bow, his eyes fixed on Kaito, pointedly ignoring Aiko's presence.
"Ishikawa-sama," Kenji said.
"They have watchers on this building," Kaito stated, walking towards the center of the room. "And on three other known family properties. They are looking for her. They are testing our response."
"An aggressive move," Kenji noted, his face impassive.
"They will be met with aggression," Kaito replied. He began to pace slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. He was no longer the awkward man who was defeated by a cat; he was a commander in his war room. Aiko stood by the kitchen counter, trying to make herself small, but she couldn't look away.
"The Kageyama clan's primary source of untraceable income is their gambling den in Roppongi," Kaito said. "The 'Midnight Lantern.' It's a front for high-stakes games played between humans and yokai. The house always wins because their dealer is a Bakeneko, a cat spirit that can manipulate luck."
Kenji nodded. "It is their most protected asset."
"And we are going to burn it to the ground," Kaito said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Metaphorically, of course. I want you to assemble a team. Small. Three of our best. I want you to acquire a Kitsune. A young one, hungry, not yet tied to a clan. Offer it whatever it wants."
Aiko's eyes widened. A Kitsune—a fox spirit. She had only read about them in stories.
"A Kitsune's illusions are powerful enough to fool a Bakeneko's senses," Kenji mused, understanding the plan instantly. "We send in a player, masked by the Kitsune's magic. They cannot be tracked by luck. They will break the house."
"Precisely," Kaito said. "I don't want a drop of blood spilled. I want them humiliated. I want their coffers empty by sunrise. I want every high-roller and yokai client they have to see that the Kageyama cannot even protect their own house. Send a message that is louder than any bullet."
"It will be done, sama," Kenji said with a bow. He turned to leave.
"Kenji," Kaito called out. The older man paused. "Use the western access tunnel. Their watchers are sloppy. They're only watching the streets."
With a final, sharp nod, Kenji was gone.
Aiko was left staring at Kaito, her mind reeling. The speed, the precision, the sheer ruthlessness of his plan was breathtaking. He was dismantling his enemy's empire from forty stories up, using folklore creatures as his weapons.
"People... there could still be trouble, couldn't there?" she asked quietly. "Your men..."
"My men are the best," he said simply. "This is the world I live in, Aiko. Strength is the only language our enemies understand. Hitting their money is cleaner than hitting their soldiers. This plan prevents a war on the streets. This plan keeps the violence contained." He turned to face her fully, his expression grim. "The only way to guarantee your safety is to remove their ability to threaten you. Completely."
He was doing all of this for her. The realization was overwhelming.
He walked over to the kitchen drawer where she had seen the gun. He opened it, took out the black handgun, and checked the magazine before placing it on the counter in front of her.
"I have to go," he said. "I will oversee the operation from a closer location. Kenji will remain outside this building. You will not be alone."
He looked at her, then at the gun.
"The safety is the small lever above the trigger," he said, his voice calm and steady. "Push it down to fire. I do not expect you will need it. But I prepare for everything."
It was a terrifying show of trust.
He walked to the door and paused, putting on a fresh suit jacket. He looked back at her one last time. "Lock the door behind me."
And then he was gone.
Aiko was left alone in the silent, luxurious apartment. The only sounds were the hum of the refrigerator and the soft purring of Mochi, who was curled up on the sofa. She looked at the gun on the counter, its cold, dark metal a stark contrast to the warm, white marble.
He had left her a weapon. He had gone to war for her. And all she could do was wait.