The Tsukino estate rose like a temple built for gods, pristine and silent on the hills of Minato. White stone walls. Black pine trees trimmed to perfection. Every inch of it whispered power, the kind passed down through blood and violence. From the outside, it looked untouchable.
Inside, it was a cage lined with silk.
Riku waited in a sitting room that smelled like jasmine and smoke, his fingers wrapped loosely around a porcelain teacup he hadn't touched. The last time he'd been in this room, he was sixteen and still believed in rules.
Now he believed in leverage.
Aya entered without announcement, her heels soundless against the tatami.
She didn't bow. Neither did he.
"Bold of you to show up after what happened," she said, pouring herself tea without offering him any. "You're either very brave or very stupid."
"Maybe both," he said.
She sat, smoothing her dress, her legs crossed with the kind of elegance that was almost violent. "You think I ordered my brother to go after your street rat?"
"Miki's not just..."
"Don't. Call her by name in this house."
His jaw tightened.
"I didn't come to accuse," he said. "Just to talk."
Aya sipped her tea. Her eyes never left his. "Talk, then."
"I found a Dōjin mark at the gala. One of the assassins. Red crescent, dagger through it."
Aya didn't flinch. "So the rumors are true. They've resurfaced."
"Your brother knew something. He was watching the rooftops before the attack started."
A flicker of surprise. Small. Controlled. But there.
"He was always paranoid," she said, tone colder now. "Not smart enough to know what to be afraid of."
"He came after Miki."
"I know."
Silence fell.
Riku studied her face the high cheekbones, the perfect skin, the eyes that never told the truth. He used to think he could read her. Now he wasn't sure she wanted to be understood.
"You really think I sent him?" she asked, quiet.
"I think you're too smart to leave bloodstains that obvious."
That earned a small smile. "So you do still believe in me."
"I believe in results."
Aya leaned in, voice low. "Then here's a result: the Council is meeting in three nights. They'll vote on a new head for the family combat division."
He blinked. "I thought Reiji Kurogawa held that seat."
"He's been 'advised' to step down. Word is someone's been leaking footage of his less refined methods."
"You?"
She didn't answer. Just smiled again, wider this time.
"You're playing a long game."
"I always do."
"And where do I fit in it?"
Aya's gaze flicked to the window. Rain again. Tokyo didn't know how to stop crying.
"You're leverage, Riku," she said. "A ghost people can't ignore. If you back me, I get that seat. Which means I get the vote on who's ranked and who's erased."
His breath slowed.
"You want my support."
"I want your loyalty," she corrected. "And your presence. At the meeting. On my arm."
"Publicly?"
"Yes."
"And if I say no?"
Her smile dropped. "Then the Council remembers you as a threat. Not a tool. And the Kurogawas push for your elimination before you can climb again."
Riku stared at her.
"You're holding a knife to my throat."
"No," she said, standing, walking behind him. She leaned down, breath brushing his neck. "I'm offering you a seat at the table. All you have to do… is sit beside me."
Later, Riku left the estate with the rain on his coat and a war in his head.
He didn't trust her. Not for a second. But part of him the one that remembered how her hand felt on his chest, how her eyes burned when they weren't being watched wanted to.
He made it halfway down the driveway before his burner phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
He answered without speaking.
A distorted voice spoke through static:"You don't know who your enemies are, Hanabira. But we do. Meet us. 2 a.m. under the Red Torii at Shinjuku Station. Come alone."
Dōjin.
The line cut.
At the same time, across the city, Miki sat in an abandoned gym, staring at the knife Aya's brother had used.
The handle wasn't factory-made. It was ceremonial. Engraved.
Not with Tsukino markings.
With Hanabira ones.
She blinked, heart thudding.
Someone was setting Riku up.
Or maybe…
Someone inside his broken family was still playing the game.