Page 139 of The Dragon 1

“He just. . .strolled around the room, touching the wall, giving it a knock or two, and then stepping forward to knock on another wall. He did this without saying hello.”

I held out my hands. “Is that it?”

“No, son.” My father sneered. “That is not it. Then, the Lion after assessing my goddamn room, he turned to me and simply said. . .”

“What?”

“The Lion said. . . ‘This hospital’s foundation is not strong enough to survive any ofmybombs. You should consider a new place to lay or at least. . .talk to your son and teach him the many ways of respect.’”

I stared at him.

The oxygen hissed again.

“And then the Lion left,” my father added, voice barely above a whisper. “No goodbye. Just his men and him walking away.”

The Lion’s message was very clear:“If Kenji fucks up one more time with me, I will bomb this hospital, old man, and finish what your enemies could not do.”

Not a warning.

Just a promise.

The more I thought about it—the more I pictured it—I could see it all play out in my father’s mind.

The Lion strolling into my father’s hospital room like it was his fucking penthouse.

No greeting.

No gun.

Just silence and power.

Knocking on walls.

Listening to the way the structure echoed beneath his knuckles. Testing the bones of the building like a butcher tapping ribs. Calculating where the explosions would need to go.

And my father?

He probably shit himself during the visit.

Literally.

He probably fucking shivered in front of his men. Tried to hold his bowels, tried to hold his pride, but it all spilled away.

All while Kazimir walked circles around him, dragging his bulky shadow through the IV drips and monitors—death in custom shoes.

And now we have it. You feel like a punk and want to take it out on your sons.

Therefore, this show tonight with Hiro and Nura wasn’t just about me, it was about the Fox trying to sew his manhood back together with humiliation and chain links.

He was trying to remind the world—remind himself—that he was still a boss. That he hadn’t become some brittle old bastard tied to oxygen and fear, forever trapped in a bed that might blow sky-high if a crazy Russian whispered the word.

And now he needed to punish someone too, for feeling like a weak man.

Make a show of power.

Re-establish dominance.

Remind the Dragon that the Fox breathed fire first in Tokyo.