Page 203 of Celestial Combat

The moment I saw his hand tremble slightly over his glass, I knew he was deep into the bottle. It made this easier. More dangerous, but easier. I watched Kali rise smoothly from our booth and approach him – slow, casual, like she belonged here. She timed it perfectly, brushing against his arm and spilling her vodka across his coat sleeve.

“Oh no! I am so sorry,” she said, voice light, laced with a deliberate Japanese accent. “I did not see you there.”

Aleksandr blinked, slow and blurry-eyed, his focus locking onto her like he was seeing something from another life. He smiled. Crooked. Genuine. “Japanese?” he slurred slightly.

She laughed softly, just enough to disarm, and I took that as my cue. I approached, hands open, that same accent slipping into my voice like a second skin. “We’re just passing through. Forgive my friend – she’s clumsy after one drink.”

Aleksandr waved his hand, brushing off the apology, eyes flicking between us. “No, no. It’s fine. Sit. Enjoy yourselves while you’re young.”

Kali met my eyes briefly as I sat beside her. I kept my body loose, posture friendly, but I was already wound tight inside.

“You remind me of someone I used to know,” Aleksandr muttered again, sipping what was left in his glass.

“How so?” I asked.

He didn’t hesitate. “I fell in love with a woman in Japan. Over thirty years ago now. Her name was Yui.” His voice changed when he said her name. Softer. Distant.

The blood in my ears started to roar.

I could feel the shift in my entire body – tightening, sharpening, ready to end it. It took everything in me not to reach for the pistol beneath my coat. But then – Kali. Her hand slid under the table, wrapping around mine. Her fingers were cold. Firm. A silent plea: Not yet.

Aleksandr fumbled for his wallet. “She was beautiful. Quiet, kind. I still think of her.” He pulled out a photo, worn at the edges but clearly cared for – deliberately kept safe. He laid it down on the sticky table between us like it was holy.

Yui. Standing beneath a blooming cherry blossom tree. Her smile was radiant – so young. So alive.

My mother.

A picture I’d never seen before.

The man who killed her had carried her memory for decades.

And I couldn’t kill him. Not yet. Not while Kali’s hand still held mine like it was the only thread keeping me grounded.

The air in the bar shifted. It was still thick with smoke and spilled vodka and the sharp scent of old leather, but something softer settled into the booth with us – something older thaneither of us could place. Aleksandr was drunk, yes, but there was a clarity in the way he spoke that cut through the haze.

“I was stationed in Tokyo for two years,” he started, swirling the last of his drink. “Was supposed to be temporary. Business. Bratva business, you know how it is.” His gaze flicked to me like he assumed I did. “But then I met her.”

My throat tightened.

“She was working… Well, let’s just say it wasn’t glamorous. But I didn’t care. She had this light about her.” He looked off like he could still see her. “She used to hum while cooking. Always wore cherry blossom perfume. It stayed in my shirts long after I left her apartment.”

Kali stayed still beside me, her hand still resting near mine, fingers curled slightly inward like she was bracing for something.

“I extended the job. Told my people I needed more time, dragged it out. Made excuses. She never asked for anything.” His voice dropped. “Didn’t want anything from me. But that didn’t stop me from trying anyways.”

I stared at him, at the crumpled man talking like he’d lost something sacred, not stolen a life.

“Eventually,” he continued, “She let me help. Just a little. Said she had a boy. That it was hard. So, I got her a job – private, quiet. High-end Japanese families I was working with needed a nanny. I pulled strings.” His smile was soft now, fragile. “Those were the best years of my life.”

“What happened?” Kali asked, her voice the first sound besides his I’d noticed in minutes.

Aleksandr’s expression soured, like the memory had turned bitter. “But in the end, she didn’t want me. Said she was in love with someone else.”

Kali sat up straighter. “What did you do?”

“I left. What was I supposed to do? She was in love with a Yakuza leader. That’s what she said. That she didn’t want a gypsy. That’s what I was to her.”

I spoke before I could stop myself. “She said this to you?”