Page 116 of Brutal Unionn

I step into the strike, dodge low, and slam the hilt of my katana into his jaw. His sword clatters to the ground. In a single motion, I grab his wrist, twist until he falls to his knees, and raise my blade high. He looks up at me—terrified.

“I told you,” I whisper, “I’d let you live.”

And then I bring the sword down—clean, fast—severing his hand at the wrist.

He shrieks, falling backward, cradling the stump, blood spraying across the polished floor as he kicks away from me in terror.

“Take that,” I snap, eyes narrowed on his newly formed stump, “as a reminder to choose your leaders more wisely.”

Behind me, I hear the wet sound of a blade sinking into flesh. A gurgle follows. I glance over my shoulder to see Nadia standing over the final guard, blood dripping from her knife as his body spasms, then stills.

Takeda remains at the head of it, calm as ever, the only man left untouched.

He rises slowly from his throne, adjusting the sleeves of his black kimono, as he descends the dais with practiced calm, not an ounce of fear in his posture. At his side is a sheathed katana, lacquered black with a golden dragon curling around the hilt.

He draws the blade in one smooth, reverent motion. The steel hums in the air. He brings the katana up and assumes jodan-no-kamae—high stance, blade raised above his head, tip angled forward, body squared with mine.

My pulse doesn’t spike. I’ve trained for this moment my entire life.

“Well?”he calls down. “Are you going to kill me like a man, boy? Or will you hide behind your whore and let her do it for you?”

I raise my katana and begin walking toward him, boots echoing through the chamber. “I’ll kill you myself, Oyaji,” I say flatly. “But I already know what the future holds.”

I stop a few steps away from him and assume the same high stance with my blade as high as the chain between my handcuffs will let me and I angle the tip forward.

He looks at me with a humorous smile. “And what does the future say?”

“That I will take your head for using that language on my future wife,” I say, voice echoing throughout the room.

His expression darkens, and for the first time, I see it—that flicker of rage. “Then I suppose that would make her a widower,” he snarls, and lunges.

The clang of steel rings out as he crashes into me, blade-to-blade. He’s still fast—strong—but I’ve fought him in my mind a thousand times. Every form. Every weakness. Every lie. We break apart and circle. He comes in low, I parry and snap the flat of my blade across his ribs. He grunts, surprised.

“Anata ni wa kono shogo wa fusawashikunai,”you are not worthy of this title.I hiss, striking again—low then high. He blocks, but barely.

“Omae wa kono ichizoku no nawokegasudarou. Omae wa kyodai-tachi to onajiku amaenboda. Kusatta hahaoya to onajiku.”You will disgrace this family's name. You are just as spoiled as your brothers. Just like your rotten mother.He growls and lunges again, slashing toward my neck. I duck under, pivot behind him, and rake my blade across his back. Not deep. Just enough.

“You trained children to be killers,” I spit, landing a blow to his thigh, forcing him to drop to one knee. “You are afraid of true men, that seems soft to me.”

He roars, sweeping wide and catching my shoulder. Pain flashes hot, but I twist with it and elbow him in the jaw. He stumbles, and I kick him hard in the chest, sending him crashing onto his back.

“You don’t know how to lead without killing everything around you,” I say, breathing hard, blood dripping from myarm. “You break. You poison. You steal. You are the most dishonorable man I know.”

He scrambles to his feet, swinging wildly. I dodge, drive my foot into his ribs, and knock the sword from his hand. It skitters across the floor, ringing once before going still.

I press my blade to his throat, breathing steady now. I’ve waited my whole life for this moment, but it doesn’t feel like victory.

“You could’ve built something,” I whisper, pressing harder. “But all you did was destroy. And still—still I gave you the chance to walk away.”

He coughs, lip bleeding. “Because deep down, you wanted my approval.”

I lean close, my face inches from his. “No,” I say, voice cold as steel. “I wanted to prove I never needed it.”

Then I swing.

Not for his neck.

Not yet.