The night was quiet—too quiet. Kai Hitari preferred it that way. The narrow streets of the city were his refuge after long hours in the dojo. Alone in his apartment above a rundown ramen shop, he found comfort in silence. But peace has a way of shattering.
A scream pierced the air.
Kai's eyes snapped open. He was at the window in seconds, his hand already reaching for the katana leaning against the wall. Smoke drifted from the alley below, faint but rising fast. Flames flickered against brick walls.
Without a word, Kai bolted down the stairs and into the alley. Chaos met him there—two masked men surrounded a woman and a small boy. The woman stood protectively in front of the child, fists raised despite the blood running down her cheek.
Herin Rai.
She moved with fury, landing a punch on one attacker. But the second came from behind. Kai reached them in an instant. One swift motion sent the thug flying into a dumpster. The other turned—too late. Kai's knee struck his ribs, and he crumpled.
Herin stepped back, panting. "Thanks... but I had it handled."
Kai glanced at her, then at the trembling boy. "You were bleeding. That's not 'handled.'"
The alley quieted, save for the crackling of the dying fire. Herin crouched to comfort the boy, whispering softly until he calmed. Then she stood, looking Kai over.
"You live around here?"
"Upstairs."
"I guess I owe you a proper thanks. Tomorrow?"
He nodded. "Be safe."
As Herin and the boy disappeared into the shadows, Kai looked up at the night sky. Trouble had arrived—and it had a name.