Chapter 139: Yami!!
The living room was dim, the soft hum of the clock filling the quiet. Elena’s voice carried warmth and worry in equal measure.
"You may go anywhere, son. Your mother will never stop you. I have no right to bind you—you’re a grown, responsible man now. The only thing that matters... please, come back home to me."
Her words made the room heavy, the moment tender.
Miles’s expression softened. He leaned forward slightly, his voice steady. "Mom, I will always come back to you. I promise."
Elena smiled, though her eyes glistened faintly. "Where are you going, you said?"
"Japan," Miles answered.
Her smile widened. "It’s a beautiful place. Don’t just bury yourself in work. Enjoy your time too."
From the side, Daniel chimed in with his steady voice. "And give us a call when you’re free."
Miles nodded, the faintest grin tugging his lips. "I will."
Elena leaned back, brushing her hands against her lap as though to ease the emotion away. "Good night, dear. Get some rest now. Japan is far."
"Good night, Mom. Good night, Father."
The house fell into its usual peace, but the air still lingered with the warmth of family ties.
Morning
The sun rose clear, painting the villa in soft gold. Bags packed, Miles waved his goodbyes, his figure strong yet steady as Elena and Daniel stood at the doorway. Hope and Asher peeked sleepily from behind their mother, hands rubbing at their eyes, but they managed to wave anyway.
Miles raised a hand in return, then turned toward the waiting car.
Soon, he was at the airport. At the gates, Sayaka was already standing there, her poise neat, her presence calm despite the buzz of travelers around.
Miles walked up, lips quirking into a light grin. "Ohayo, Sayaka."
She glanced at him, her lips curling into the smallest smile. "Good morning, Miles."
Together, they entered the terminal.
"What time is our flight?" she asked after a beat.
Miles tilted his head. "Do you have anything left to do here?"
Sayaka shook her head lightly. "No... just asking."
"Then we leave now."
"Eh?" Her eyes widened faintly.
Miles smirked, a little amused. "Let’s go."
The private jet waited, sleek and gleaming on the runway. Without pause, they boarded.
Inside, the leather seats and polished wood spoke of quiet luxury. The engines roared softly, and the jet lifted, breaking through the morning clouds.
Sayaka sat still, gaze fixed on the window, lips pressed together. Silence stretched between them.
Miles leaned back, one brow lifting. "Why so quiet?"
She hesitated, then admitted softly, "I’ve never flown in a private plane before..."
Miles chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Well, everything has its first time."
Sayaka turned, catching his relaxed smile
..
Citadel City — ACE Headquarters
The glass towers of ACE HQ gleamed against the sun,Diane stepped briskly into Silvey’s office, a folder in hand. "Young miss," she began, voice lowered, "Mr. Kyle is back."
Silvey, lounging in her chair with a tablet, lifted her eyes slowly. "When?"
"Maybe last night," Diane said carefully. "I can’t be sure. But he changed his entire security detail."
Silvey tilted her head, brows narrowing. "Is that a concerning thing?"
"Not on its own," Diane admitted. "But the change was sudden. And his new security—they’re not locals. From their looks and their discipline, I’d say they’re European. Possibly ex-military."
Silvey set the tablet down with a soft click, lips curving into a faint, unreadable smile. "What is he playing at?"
Diane gave a small shake of her head. "No clue. But he went directly to ACE Finances this morning. I think he’s... serious this time."
The room fell into a still silence.
Then Silvey leaned back, crossing her legs, eyes glinting with calm amusement. "It’s fine. Let him play."
Diane frowned lightly.
Silvey continued, her voice measured, confident. "ACE Finances might contribute so much to the family name, but it still doesn’t decide who leads the family. That part—" she tapped her finger against the desk lightly, "—has yet to be fixed.
The plane touched down smoothly at Haneda, tires screeching briefly before the aircraft slowed across the runway. Within the hour, Miles and Sayaka stepped out into the crisp Tokyo air. The city pulsed beyond the airport—skylines crowded with neon signs, endless streams of traffic, and the sharp orderliness that set Tokyo apart from anywhere else.
Sayaka adjusted the strap of her small travel bag. "From here, we’ll need a chopper to reach the clan’s island. I’ll contact my people for a pickup location."
Miles shook his head lightly. "Not yet. Give me two hours to finish some work here. Come with me."
She tilted her head, confused, but nodded obediently. "Alright."
They moved toward the pickup zone. Almost on cue, a sleek black sedan rolled to a stop in front of them.
The driver stepped out—a man in a dark suit with sharp features and a posture that spoke of discipline. He bowed slightly. "Mr. Sterling, I am Satoshi. This is your ride."
Miles returned a nod. "Hello, Satoshi."
They slipped into the back seat. Sayaka, silent but curious, followed close behind.
Once the doors shut, the driver adjusted the mirror. "Where to, sir?"
Miles’s voice was calm. "Ryūsui Dōjō."
"Understood. Here we go."
Sayaka turned toward him, her brow furrowing faintly. "A dōjō?"
Miles glanced at her, lips curling in the faintest smile. "I have a friend there. It won’t take long. Then we’ll go. Contact your clan in the meantime, ask them for the pickup location."
Sayaka hesitated, then nodded. "Alright." She pulled out her phone, fingers tapping quickly, a short message sent.
The city blurred past their windows—busy streets, endless signs, rivers of people moving with purpose.
At last, the car slowed to a stop on a quiet street tucked away from the neon chaos.
Satoshi turned. "We have arrived, sir."
Miles and Sayaka stepped out.
"I’ll wait here," Satoshi added. "Please finish your business."
"Thanks, Satoshi," Miles said simply.
Sayaka’s eyes wandered to the small wooden board hanging crookedly above the gates. The lettering, though faded, still carried dignity: Ryūsui Dōjō.
The place was modest, almost unremarkable against the concrete walls of the city. But stepping through the sliding doors was like stepping into another world.
The air changed instantly—cooler, quieter, carrying the faint scent of cedar wood and tatami mats.
Shoes neatly lined the entryway, a low rack waiting for visitors to leave theirs. Beyond that stretched the practice hall: wide tatami flooring marked with faint scars of use, the faint creak of wood echoing with each step.
Paper lanterns hung along the walls, casting a soft glow over calligraphy scrolls with phrases of discipline and balance. Wooden bokken rested neatly in racks along one side, while on the opposite wall hung spears and staves, each polished and cared for despite their age.
At the far end stood a small shrine—simple yet solemn—with incense bowls and a hanging portrait of the dōjō’s founder. A faint trace of sandalwood smoke lingered in the air.
The place carried no luxury, no pretension. Only quiet, discipline, and history.
Sayaka’s lips parted slightly as she looked around, her voice barely above a whisper. "It feels... alive."
Miles walked forward with the familiarity of someone who had been here before. His steps were steady, his gaze calm, as though each corner of this hall was already known to him.
A man in a white gi stepped forward from the far side of the hall. His footsteps were heavy, his expression sharp. The faint chatter in the dōjō hushed as he approached.
"This isn’t a place for you, foreigner," he said bluntly, his tone edged with disdain. "Ryūsui Dōjō only teaches those who have roots in this land."
His eyes flicked toward Sayaka, narrowing. "She can join, perhaps... but she’ll have to prove herself first."
Miles’s lips curved into a quiet chuckle. "Believe me, you don’t want to mess with her. I’m not here for lessons. I want to ask you something."
The man snorted. "Really? What a joke." He waved a hand sharply. "One of you—come. Test her. If she passes, maybe then I’ll listen to your ’question.’"
A young student stepped forward, bowing quickly before squaring up in the center of the tatami.
Sayaka glanced at Miles, her eyes searching his.
He gave her a single nod.
Her posture changed in an instant. Calm melted into razor focus.
The student lunged. In the blink of an eye, Sayaka’s body twisted, her hands snapping like a viper. The boy hit the ground hard before anyone fully registered what had happened. Gasps rippled through the room.
Miles chuckled openly now, shaking his head. "Told you."
The students who had been whispering moments before were silent, staring with wide eyes. Even the man in the gi seemed frozen, disbelief written across his face.
Miles’s tone sharpened, cutting through the stunned air. "Now. Answer my question. Where is Rei? I want to meet him."
The man straightened, trying to recover his authority. "Sensei is busy. Come tomorrow."
Miles’s smile thinned. He stepped forward, his presence pressing like a weight across the room. "Really? Fine then. Fight me. If you win, I’ll leave quietly. But if you lose... you will call Rei here. Now."
The dōjō’s air tightened. The challenge was clear.
The man in the gi let out a loud, mocking laugh, the sound echoing through the quiet hall.
"You think you, a foreigner, can beat me in my own land? I acknowledge she has talent—she belongs here. But you? Weak. You couldn’t even touch a strand of my hair."
Whispers broke out among the students lined along the walls.
"Is this foreigner crazy?"
"He’s going to get his bones broken."
"Yami-san won’t even need to try."
Miles tilted his head slightly, a grin tugging at his lips. "You bet?"
The murmurs grew louder. To challenge Yami here was unthinkable.
Yami—the senior student of Ryūsui Dōjō. He was the pride of the hall, the most talented disciple under Master Rei. His speed and power were legendary among the younger students, and his confidence was absolute.
Yami stepped forward, rolling his shoulders, his gi rustling softly. His presence carried weight, the kind that made students bow their heads slightly as he passed.
"My name is Yami," he declared, voice ringing with pride. "What’s yours, foreigner?"
Miles’s smile didn’t fade. "Call me Miles."
Yami smirked. "Alright, Miles. Here’s the deal. If you can stand after taking two of my hits, you win."
The confidence in his tone was unshakable, like stone.
Miles shrugged lightly, voice calm. "Hn. Alright. Easy for me."
That casual answer made veins bulge at Yami’s temple. His fists clenched, his breath sharp through his nose.
"Let’s begin," Yami growled, stepping into the ring.
The atmosphere thickened. Students leaned forward, ey
es wide, waiting for the clash.
Miles just rolled his shoulders once, his grin still calm, almost amused.
To be continued...