Page 29 of The Dragon 1 (Tokyo Empire #1)

Chapter twenty-one

The Fox’s Lesson

Kenji

The first thing I registered was Hiro.

He was restrained. Six men held him down across a stainless-steel gurney. One at each limb. His wrists were handcuffed to the metal frame.

Blood streaked from his lip, smeared across his jaw like war paint.

One eye was nearly swollen shut.

A seventh man stood over him with his gun drawn and barrel pressed to Hiro’s temple.

But that wasn’t what broke me.

That wasn’t the horror.

It was on the other side of the room.

My father lay reclined in his hospital bed—machine tubes snaking in and out of him, his skin paper-thin, his face the color of parchment soaked in sake.

Oxygen hissed rhythmically.

A monitor blinked behind him.

A dying god clawing for one last worship.

In his withered, jeweled fingers held a chain.

Long.

Gleaming.

Iron.

And at the end of that chain—kneeling on the floor, naked, bruised, and weeping—was Nura.

My breath caught in my throat.

No.

Her dark brown skin was mottled in purple and red bruises. A fresh welt bloomed across her collarbone. Her knees shook, pressed against cold tile. Her head was bowed but I could see the curve of her cheek stained with tears.

No. No. No.

Two men stood beside her with their guns drawn. One pointed at her temple. The other at her throat.

Her clothes were scattered across the floor in shreds—her top torn in half, panties tangled near the door, her shoes on opposite sides of the room like they’d been kicked off in struggle.

Her shoulders trembled as if her body couldn’t figure out whether to cry or collapse.

I blinked once.

Twice.

I tried to blink this scene into something else—anything else—but it didn’t change.

Yet. . .even chained and broken, she was the most sacred thing in that room. Not some weak woman. Not a victim. But a powerful symbol of everything we still had to lose.

Love.

I looked at Hiro again.

His body was tight with restrained fury. His teeth bared like an animal. Not because of the pain. Not even because of the men holding him down.

He was staring at Nura.

Staring at her like she was the only thing left in the world that still meant something.

They had chained her.

They had stripped her.

They had broken her.

Because of him.

Because of me.

Because of the goddamn Fox.

I moved toward him.

That’s when the shadows came alive.

Three men stepped out—then five—then more. Silent with their guns leveled at me. Red laser sights painted my chest, throat, and forehead. No one said a word.

Reo stepped up beside me and his voice was as cold as a winter funeral. “Get your fucking guns off the Dragon.”

The closest man spoke. “Then, make sure the Dragon doesn’t step close to the Fox.”

“You keep aiming at him and I’ll make sure your mothers cry over closed caskets.” Reo didn’t blink. “There won’t be enough of you left to mourn properly.”

One of the guards sneered gun still steady, “orders are orders.”

Reo tilted his head. “And body bags are body bags. I can fill ten by breakfast.”

A pause came.

Then one by one, the muzzles dipped.

But none of the men moved back.

The one closest to me spoke again. “Take another step, Dragon. . .and we still will shoot. Closed caskets or not.”

The tension crackled.

I bared my teeth at my father. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

My father turned his head—just slightly. His voice rasped out from behind the oxygen mask. “You’re late.”

The oxygen pump hissed again like a serpent coiled in his chest. The machines around him beeped softly, trying to convince us he was weak.

But he wasn’t.

He was powerful because he had nothing left to lose.

I kept my voice steady. “Let Hiro and Nura go. Your problem is with me.”

“You know this thing’s name?” He looked down at Nura. “Did you know your brother was dating this? Skin as dark as night. No hair. I’m told she is one of our packagers—”

“Let Hiro and Nura go—”

“When did your brother become so odd that he would congregate with something like this? An animal.”

Hiro snarled.

It wasn’t a sound humans made.

He thrashed so hard that one of the men gripping his arm nearly lost his hold.

The gurney rattled under the force of it.

Blood sprayed from his mouth as his teeth snapped in the direction of the man above him.

The barrel of the gun pressed harder against his temple. The man holding it didn’t even blink.

“I swear to every god—” Hiro growled. “If you don’t move that gun, I’ll chew your fucking hand off!”

The sixth man holding his leg cursed as Hiro’s foot kicked violently. One of the handcuffs twisted at his wrist—metal biting deep, skin breaking open—but he didn’t flinch from the pain.

Hiro was pure violence now.

All feral instinct.

He wasn’t trying to break free for himself.

His eyes were locked on Nura.

She hadn’t moved.

But I saw her tremble harder now. The glint of tears renewed in her eyes.

Her lips were parted—like she wanted to speak, to beg, to say his name—but couldn’t.

Her body was still kneeling.

Still chained.

But the spirit inside her was starting to slip away.

I couldn’t let that happen. “Hiro.”

My brother didn’t hear me. He was too far gone—snarling and yanking, trying to pull the gurney itself off its hinges.

“Hiro!” I barked it louder now voice like steel cracking across the room. “Stand down! I’ll fix this!”

Hiro’s gaze snapped to mine.

For one terrifying second, I thought he might not listen. But something in my face must’ve cut through the fury or maybe it was something in my tone. Maybe the use of the word stand —a soldier’s order.

A brother’s plea.

Hiro exhaled like a volcano letting go of a tremor and then he stopped fighting.

But his body still shook; fists clenched, blood dripping from his cuffs, from his face, from the corner of his mouth.

His chest rose and fell like a beast barely held back by rope.

The men holding him grunted. One of them flexed his shoulder, clearly aching from Hiro’s thrashing.

I turned back to my father. “This has gone far enough.”

I drew in a breath, chest hot and tight with restraint. Then I stepped forward just enough for my voice to carry through the room.

“I’m here, Father.” I said it clearly. Flat. Cold.“So tell me—what the fuck do you want?”

He didn’t look at Hiro.

Didn’t look at Nura.

Only at me.

And in that moment, I understood—this wasn’t just about control.

This was about a show.

“I call. You come. That has always been our way.” He rattled the chain.

Nura shivered.

He scowled at me. “What kept you tonight?”

“What do you want, Father?”

“Careful, son.”

“You’ve dragged my brother in here. Stripped and chained his date to your fucking bedside. All of my patience is gone—”

“Still, you must find it.”

“Father—”

“You’re wondering why she’s here?” My father tilted his head toward Nura. “It’s because of love. Your brother’s. Yours. All of you are bleeding over your soft spots.”

I took a step forward.

One of the guards cocked his weapon, I paused my hand twitching near my belt.

I could kill four of them before they fired.

Reo could handle four too.

But we wouldn’t get all of them, especially not with Nura in the middle of it all.

I forced my voice to stay calm. “Let her go. . .please, Father.”

“Not yet.” He rattled the chain again. “She’s a lesson.”

“She’s a guest.” I spoke through gritted teeth. “And you’ve humiliated her for no fucking reason.”

“She’s a liability. She walked beside a Claw. Smiled at the wrong man. Now we see what that costs.”

I turned to Hiro, eyes burning.

He was straining against the cuffs, veins bulging, but silent. That silence was louder than screams.

I turned back to my father.

My throat was dust and fire.

Nura looked up at me. And I swear to whatever gods haunted this planet—she didn’t look afraid of dying. She just looked ashamed.

That shattered me more than anything else.

She thought this was her fault.

She thought she brought war into our world by just existing.

By being touched.

Cherished.

Wanted.

I looked down at her. “I’m sorry, Nura. You will be free soon.”

She placed her view back on the floor and more tears came.

I clenched my fists. My voice came out rough. “You want to punish someone, Father, punish me. Let Hiro and her go.”

My father smiled.

“You still don’t understand, Kenji. This isn’t punishment.” He tugged the chain.

Nura flinched.

I snapped.

I didn’t move.

But something inside me split down the center.

The Dragon didn’t roar.

He seethed.

My voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “If you want a monster, Father, I’ll give you one.”

“Is that a threat, son?”

“Stop hiding behind a chained woman. Let them go and we will see what it is.”

“Is that how you talk to your sick father?” Then, his other hand moved. The fingers—trembling slightly from age and sickness—slid beneath the silk folds of his lap blanket. When they came back in the open, he had a pistol—small, sleek, and black.

He didn’t lift it.

He didn’t point it at Nura.

He didn’t point it at Hiro.

But that wasn’t the point.

My father had a reputation. The Fox had never pulled a gun without firing it. Even in courtship. Even during negotiations. Even during my fucking childhood.

If the Fox drew his weapon, someone would always, eventually bleed.

I saw it land in Hiro’s mind the second the gun cleared the blanket.

And Hiro lost it. He roared—pure fury, raw and guttural. It ripped through the room like a grenade with no shrapnel, just pain.

Then I heard it; the sharp crack of metal breaking. Hiro’s right wrist somehow snapped through the cuff.

Hiro ripped free, launched upward and with one blood-soaked fist, slammed the nearest guard against the wall so hard the man crumpled like wet paper.

“STOP!” I screamed again, not wanting my brother to die.

A guard surged toward Hiro and tased him in the ribs. Another two grabbed his shoulders. The seventh man recovered just enough to bring his knee into Hiro’s stomach before pinning him down again.

It took five of them to barely get him restrained again. Even then, his body bucked and twisted, his teeth bared, his voice hoarse from screaming. Blood dripped down his face like a mask and still he thrashed.

I moved in.

Not too close—but just enough.

Just enough to show him he wasn’t alone.

“Hiro,” I whispered this time. “Look at me.”

His eyes found mine—wild, broken, shining with tears and rage.

“I’m going to fix this.” I said, trembling inside but holding steady outside. “Let me fix it.”

He didn’t nod.

He didn’t blink.

But he stopped fighting.

Barely.

I turned back toward our father—and that goddamn gun still resting in his lap like a crown jewel.

Reo was at my side now. His shoulders stiff, his breath too shallow, and for the first time since I was a child. . .Reo looked terrified. That made something inside me shift. If Reo was afraid. . .we were deeper in the pit than I thought.

Then the Fox spoke again.

Like none of it had just happened.

Like Hiro wasn’t bleeding.

Like Nura wasn’t still trembling naked, at the end of a chain.

Like the threat of death wasn’t coating the air like formaldehyde.

“Did you know…” my father said slowly. “That the Lion paid me a visit this morning before he left Japan?”

I put my view on him. “And?”

“The Lion brought no gift or any form of respect. He simply walked into my room, unannounced with all of his men, and he did not sit down.”

I swallowed.

“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 of my bombs. 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.

So, he picked the one soft spot I had left—my brother. And. . . He would use Nura too if he deemed it necessary.

Dear God.

I swallowed. “I apologized to the Lion. All is fixed now. He will not be back.”

“I told you not to work with the French—”

“And I have learned that lesson.”

“I fear you need more lessons. Never is the Lion to come to me.” His bottom lip shivered.

“That will not happen again.”

“It won’t because you will learn this lesson tonight.” Just as fast as he said those words, he lifted the pistol and pointed at Nura.

“No, Father. Don’t.” I trembled.

Nura looked up.

Not at me.

Not at the Fox.

She looked at Hiro with her eyes—still wet, still shining. Yet somehow, through all the blood, through all the bruises, through all the guns pointed at her head, she smiled.

My father fired the gun.

A single crack split the air.

Her head snapped back.

The smile vanished like smoke.

Blood sprayed across the tile.

And the chain fell silent.

No!!!

Nura collapsed in a heap of bare skin and bruises, blood pooling beneath her.