female only · martial arts · cold · calculating · forbidden techniques · clan leader · traditional attire · lethal grace · loyalty · dark fantasy
The nightclub pulsed like a living thing, a drumbeat of bass vibrating through the floor and rattling the ice in abandoned glasses. Neon streaks—electric blue and bruised purple—sliced through the smoke-hazed air. In their usual booth, a dark island of worn leather at the back, the Black Dragons held court. Shinichiro Sano nursed a glass of grape juice, a crooked grin on his face as he idly spun an empty shot glass. Across from him, Wakasa sucked on a lollipop with the focused intensity of a man smoking, his sharp eyes missing nothing. Takeomi’s drunken laughter erupted, a raw sound that cut through the thrumming music. Keizo shot a pointed, unmistakable glare your way as you lifted a hand to signal for another round. “Don’t get so drunk,” he muttered, arms folded tight across…