Hollow

Sector B of Neo-Tokyo shimmered under the artificial aurora trapped beneath the city's dome, glass spires kissed the sky, their peaks haloed in electric gold and violet. The streets pulsed with silent mag-lev cars, and above them, holographic geishas danced across building faces advertising synthetic sake and neural upgrades.

In karasu no Tsuki—"Crow's Moon"—perched on the 67th floor of the Onigashima Tower, laughter spilled from a shadowed booth near floor-to-ceiling windows. Kaito Kurosawa, grandson of legendary world war III veteran Taro Kurosawa—and Ryuji "Viper" Saito, one of the lieutenant of the Black Snakes gang, clinked glasses filled with chilled dragon's breath whiskey.

"To another successful mission." Viper said, eyeing the amber liquid as it swirled and glistened.

"Mhm." Kaito nodded, downing the whiskey in a single swallow. The alcohol stung at his throat, then curled warmth in his stomach, dulling the gnaw of hunger. He set the glass down on the table, running his thumb along its rim.

"I'm still not used to all of this."

Kaito spoke, looking around the luxurious restaurant they were in.

"The high life or the whiskey?" Viper asked, smirking. He signaled the waitress for another round.

The waitress moved gracefully, almost gliding across the floor. She had the same cold, calculated beauty as all the other women in karasu no Tsuki. Each and every one of them a doll dressed in a kimono, their faces perfectly symmetrical under heavy makeup.

Kaito watched her move, eyes drifting over her slender curves.

"Both, I guess." Kaito said, turning his attention back to Viper. "Feels like it was only yesterday I was eating from a ration pack in some abandoned building, and now I'm here, in a damn expensive restaurant, drinking whiskey I probably can't even pronounce the name of."

"That's the difference a good mission makes." Viper said, shrugging. The waitress returned, placing two fresh glasses of dragon's breath whiskey on the table. "We did good, kid. And good gets rewarded."

Kaito chuckled, grabbing his drink and taking a healthy sip. "Yeah, I suppose it does."

The mission had been a precision strike — surgical, brutal, and exactly the kind of operation that made the Black Snakes feared across Neo-Tokyo's underworld.

Three nights prior, intel reached Viper from a deep-cover informant embedded in Kusonoki Conglomerate's lower logistics: a high-security data vault beneath their old Tokyo Archive Facility was due for a blind reboot. For seven minutes — only seven — every firewall would drop as the system cycled to its new encryption core. The vault contained decades of black-market trade records, blackmail dossiers on rival gang leaders, and most importantly: biometric schematics of key executives within Yamagata Industries — Kusonoki's main competitor in bio-augmentation tech.

The Black Snakes didn't care about politics. But they did care about leverage.

Viper saw an opportunity: steal the data before it re-encrypted… then sell it back to Yamagata at ten times its worth. Or leak enough fragments to spark corporate war while remaining untraceable.

But breaching Kusonoki territory was suicide without power-level interference. That's where Kaito came in.

Using his inheritance from Taro, a prototype pulse-dampening cloaking rig developed during WWIII—he infiltrated alone while Viper coordinated snipers and drone jammers from outside.

The facility was guarded by autonomous hunter-kills—six-legged chrome spiders with plasma maws—but with his grandfather's stealth tech synced perfectly to his neural implants, Kaito slipped through sensor gaps like shadow through cracks.

He reached the core chamber just as systems flushed—and planted three icebreaker cores into exposed data ports before vanishing back into darkness as alarms screamed below zero-second latency defenses kicked in too late.

No casualties on their side. Two hunters disabled via EMP mines planted en route by Viper himself during setup reconnaissance patrol (which he did solo two days earlier).

By morning? The full package landed anonymously—via routed satellite burst—into Yamagata's private server farm in Osaka Zone 7C… along with an encrypted message:

"Price is paid or exposure follows."

Within hours: money transferred via blockchain dead-drop under false identity shells known only to senior Black Snakes handlers…

And tonight? Celebration earned.

"To Victory," Viper said softly now, lifting his glass again—not flashy this time—but solemnly—as if remembering those who didn't make it far enough up these towers to taste real whiskey instead of synth-gin dreams.

"To legacy."

Kaito raised his glass as well, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "To legacy."

They both took a sip, savoring the smooth burn of the whiskey as it slid down their throats. The city sparkled beneath them like a million tiny stars, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

"You know Ken Nikishika has died."

Kaito look at Viper, then a deep breath before asking, "Who was he...?"

Viper's smirk faded slightly, his fingers tightening around the glass. The ambient glow of the city reflected in his eyes, cold, distant.

"Ken Nikishika... was the soul of this gang," he said, voice low. "Not just some founder. He built the Black Snakes from nothing—back when Neo-Tokyo was still bleeding after Kusonoki carved it up like vultures over a corpse during the second corpo war."

He paused, swirling what remained of his drink.

"He didn't leave because he failed. He left because he saw how weak we'd become—chasing money instead of power, selling out to megacorps instead of breaking their chains." His jaw tightened. "He tried to awaken something real. However, one day he left. He went on to make a cult to become immortal, he blew up one city in Hokkaido and then was planning to blow up Neo-Tokyo too, to absorb the necrotic energies of the dead people and become immortal. Whatever that means."

Kaito was taken aback by the venom and passion in Viper's voice. It was so rare to see any kind of deep emotion beneath that cool, collected veneer.

"I didn't know all this," he admitted quietly.

Viper let out a scoff, setting down his empty glass. "Of course not. The higher-ups don't like their history bloody to be spoken openly. Thankfully, he was stopped, otherwise most of us would be dead right now."

Viper's eyes narrowed, scanning the restaurant as if someone might be listening. "They painted him a fanatic, a madman who wanted to burn Neo-Tokyo for some twisted immortality ritual. And maybe he was... at the end."

He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping.

"But before that? He had vision. He saw what this city and to an extent this country could've been—free from Kusonoki control, free from corporate puppet-mayors and corrupt politicians. He wasn't just building a gang, he was building an empire of outlaws strong enough to stand against the megacorps."

Kaito stayed silent, watching him.

"And now?" Viper continued bitterly. "The Black Snakes are nothing but mercenaries with matching tattoos. Bodyguards for rich bastards in Sector A who want their pleasures kept private."

A pause.

"Ken failed… but I still believe in what he started."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"I see."

Kaito was quiet for a moment, absorbing Viper's words. The city lights danced hypnotically against the dome above them, but he barely noticed.

"What happens now?" he asked finally, voicing the question that seemed to hang in the air.

Viper sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Now..."

He took a deep breath, meeting Kaito's eyes squarely.

"Our leader is putting a bounty out for the man who killed Ken. He's a rising mercenary, two of em. They go by Sato and Ox. Not only did they kill Ken and his cultist's, he also killed Zero."

Hearing that name, Kaito couldn't him but widen his eyes, his fingers trembling a bit and his pupils dilating.

"Zero as in, The Zero? As in the Tokyo Butcher?"

Viper nodded grimly, not missing the effect the name had on Kaito. "The very same."

Kaito felt his heart rate spike, adrenaline surging. He knew the stories, every merc in Neo Tokyo did—the ruthless killings, the mutilated bodies, the rumors of a twisted genius behind it all.

Neo-Tokyo's Boogeyman of legend is dead.

"Is it really confirmed?"

"It is, their corpses, well whatever is left of them have been taken in by the police department and an investigation is currently underway."

Kaito swallowed hard, the whiskey in his glass suddenly tasting like ash. "And this Sato guy... he killed them both, and Ken?"

Viper's expression remained stoic, unmoving. "Sato and his partner Ox, yes. They did."

Kaito leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping an erratic rhythm against the tabletop. "Any idea why?"

Viper shook his head, his gaze drifting back out over the city. "None."

A pause. The only sound was the soft hum of conversation from the other tables, the distant whine of a mag-lev train.

"Some say the simplest answer is the most likely, which was that they simply found out that Ken was going to destroy the city and decided to save it for money and fame."

Kaito snorted. "That's some motivation. Save the city so they can get paid."

He took a long drink of his whiskey, wincing slightly as it burned down his throat.

"Whatever the reason may be. Our leader is not at all taking the death of his father well, thus the bounty on their heads."

Kaito nodded grimly. He knew that all too well. The boss was seething, practically foaming at the mouth with anger. Every meeting had turned into a tirade, every order barked out with an edge of violence.

"He's going to do something stupid, isn't he?" Kaito asked quietly.

Viper clenched his jaw, silent for a moment. It was true. The leader's grief had turned into blind rage, an uncontrollable wildfire that burned away all reason and caution. He'd been talking about launching a full-scale offensive against Sato and his partner, consequences be damned. Trying to reign him in was like trying to catch smoke with bare hands.

"Yes," he answered finally, the word sharp as a blade. "He will."

Kaito exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. He knew what that kind of anger led to—collateral damage, innocent people getting hurt, a war that would swallow up the entire city in flames.

"I guess it is what it is."

He sighed, looking at an old vintage watch on his wrist, "I'll have to take my leave now. It's getting late, I still need to feed grandpa his meds."

Viper gave him a small, understanding nod. "Take care, kid. And be careful. Things are about to get uglier."

Kaito downed the rest of his whiskey, setting the glass back on the table with a sharp clink. "Always am. You too, Viper."

He stood, pulling on his jacket and giving a final glance towards the glittering city before walking away.

The taxi hissed to a stop beneath the flickering neon sign of Hikari Apartments, its engine winding down with a tired whine. Kaito stepped out, grumbling as he checked the fare on the dash display.

"Three thousand yen!? For ten minutes?!" he snapped, glaring at the AI driver. "You took me around three extra blocks just to jack up the meter—I saw it!"

The taxi's speaker emitted a cold, automated voice: "Route optimized for safety and traffic flow. No surcharge detected."

"Bullshit," Kaito muttered, slapping the payment pad anyway with his thumb.

With a sigh, he turned toward the building—a mid-tier residential block tucked between two crumbling industrial zones in Sector G. It was nothing like Viper's high-rise luxury in Sector B, but it was home. His grandfather's home.

The lobby was empty except for a couple of maintenance drones sweeping the scuffed linoleum.

Kaito hit the up button for the elevator, jamming his hands into his jacket pockets as he waited. The building had a distinct smell—something between damp concrete and mold-laced carpet. It was a familiar stink, but it didn't make it any less unpleasant.

The elevator arrived with a tired lurch, doors opening to reveal the dim interior. Kaito entered, pressing the button for the 9th floor.

As the elevator climbed, Kaito stared at his reflection in the scratched metal doors—dark circles under his eyes, hair disheveled from a long day. He looked older than twenty-three.

"Should've bought those new shoes," he muttered, wiggling a toe that had poked through his left boot. "But that extra five hundred? Nah, let's save it for 'emergencies.' Like Grandpa choking on his meds again."

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

Hallway Nine was quiet—too quiet. A single flickering bulb buzzed overhead. Kaito's footsteps echoed as he walked toward Room 907.

He fished out an old keycard from his pocket—the kind that required swiping—and ran it across the sensor.

A green light blinked twice… then red.

"Again?" Kaito groaned, smacking the card against his palm before trying once more.

This time, with a reluctant beep—the door clicked open.

The apartment was dark. All the curtains were drawn, casting the space in pools of shadow. In the low light, Kaito could make out the shapes of furniture—a couch, a coffee table, a lamp—but little else.

He kicked the door shut behind him.

"Grandpa?" he called, moving toward the back hallway.

Silence.

The uneasy feeling in his gut intensified. His grandfather was always home at this time, watching his favorite old westerns till he fell asleep in his chair. This was wrong.

Kaito reached the back hallway. The door to his grandfather's bedroom was open a crack, a sliver of pale light coming from within. He pushed it open, eyes adjusting to the dimness.

The room was tiny—barely big enough to turn around in without bumping a knee into something. A single bed took up most of the space in the middle, surrounded by a small nightstand and a dresser with faded flower patterns. The window was shuttered, letting only a sliver of light in.

In the bed, Kaito's grandfather —Taro—lay asleep, face relaxed. Next to him sat an mature woman, stroking his brow with slender fingers. She looked up as Kaito entered.

It was his sister, Ayaka.

"Shhhh, don't shout! Grandpa was having a panic attack, he's only now gone to sleep."

Kaito felt a rush of anger at being shushed like a child, but he bit it back. His sister was only trying to protect their grandfather, and right now that took priority.

"What happened?" he whispered, crossing over to kneel by his grandfather's side. Taro's face was pale, lined with more wrinkles than Kaito remembered. His breathing was shallow but steady.

Ayaka sighed, folding her hands in her lap. "He had another one of those episodes where he thinks he's back in WWII. He was yelling, smashing things... I had to give him his sedative. He wouldn't stop otherwise."

Kaito nodded, running a hand through his hair. This kind of thing had been happening more and more lately—Taro's health was declining rapidly and the stress of it was taking its toll.

It was natural, of course. He was almost a hundred years old now, practically a living fossil from a bygone era.

"We should consider moving him to an assisted care facility," Kaito said quietly, watching the rise and fall of his grandfather's chest.

Ayaka bristled. "No. No, no, no. We are not dumping him in some old folks' prison. He raised us—he's family. We take care of our own. Dad's gone, his son is gone before him. We're and mom are the only family he has left."

Kaito clenched his jaw, lowering his voice further. "I'm not saying we abandon him, Ayaka. But look at him! This isn't just bad days anymore, he needs real medical supervision. The apartment's a hazard if he starts thrashing again. What if he falls? What if he burns the place down?"

Ayaka turned to face him fully now, eyes sharp in the dim light. "And what then? Let some corporate clinic hook him up to machines and bill us until we're bankrupt? Or worse—hand him over to one of those Kusonoki-affiliated 'elder centers' where they harvest organs from senile patients under the guise of 'treatment'?"

She leaned forward, voice barely above a whisper but full of fire.

"No hospitals. No megacorp doctors with scanners and cold hands telling us how much time he has left like it's a damn stock report."

Her gaze softened as she looked back at Taro.

"We care for him—here—in our home… like he did for dad when he was sick. I won't let him spend his final days away from us."

Kaito wanted to argue, but the passion in his sister's eyes stopped him short. She was right, Taro was old, frail, yes, but he'd always been stubborn as a bull. The thought of strangers poking and prodding at him in some faceless hospital room was abhorrent. And Ayaka... well, she could be even more stubborn than he was sometimes.

"Alright," he said finally, letting out a sigh.

"We'll keep him here."

"Good. Now, where have you been?"

Kaito hesitated. Telling her the truth meant revealing his double life, the missions, the blood on his hands, the lies he carried like lead in his pockets. But she was family. She deserved honesty.

"I've been working," he said carefully. "Mercenary stuff."

Ayaka's face darkened instantly. "You're still doing that? Kaito, you told me you were done with all that after your last job nearly got you killed!"

"I was done," he shot back, lowering his voice so it wouldn't reach Taro's ears. "But rent doesn't pay itself! Neither do Grandpa's meds or your clinic bills! You think I like coming home covered in other people's blood? I do what I have to."

"Dont tell me you're hanging out with those gang folks again."

"It's not a street gang, it's a well respected organization!"

"They're both the same to me, filled with lowlifes."

Kaito opened his mouth to snap back, but stopped himself. He saw it again—the same look in Ayaka's eyes that had been there the night their dad passed. Fear, helplessness… and a silent plea.

He exhaled sharply through his nose and rubbed his temples.

"Fine. Say what you want about the Black Snakes," he muttered. "But without them? We'd be on the streets right now."

Ayaka looked away, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"And Grandpa wouldn't last a week." He stood up slowly, voice quieter now. "So yeah… I work for them. I kill for them sometimes if it comes down to it. But I come home alive and that's what matters."

Silence stretched between them like a wire pulled too tight.

Finally, Ayaka whispered:

"Just promise me you won't die out there."

Kaito didn't answer right away.

He walked over to her, gently placed a hand on her shoulder, then leaned down and kissed the top of her head like he used to when they were kids hiding under blankets during storms.

"I promise."