The Black Ledgers, Part II

The Black Ledgers, That’s what they called themselves, though to Kaito, it felt more like a misfit crew than an organized resistance. Yet, in the short time he’d been among them, he was starting to see past the surface. Each member had their quirks, their stories, their pain—and their resolve. They weren’t just random victims of the Syndicate’s cruelty. They were survivors, and, as Kaito was beginning to realize, highly capable ones.

Ryuji, alias—Kameki, leads the group, though he carries himself less like a commander and more like a guiding star. He isn’t the type to bark orders or demand respect. It comes to him naturally, from the way he speaks, the way he moves, and the way he makes you feel like you belong, no matter how broken you are.

Then there’s Naoko—alias Moonlight. She appears quiet at first, always hunched over some screen or muttering to herself about encryption keys and data leaks. But once you get her talking, you’d realize she has a sharp tongue and a sharper mind. She could hack into a Syndicate database faster than I could recite the academy’s code of conduct—and she has no problem reminding you of it.

“Don’t touch my setup,” she told me once when I stood too close to her desk. “Last time someone did, it took me three hours to fix their mess. I don’t have that kind of patience.”

Charming, right? But I’ve seen the way her eyes soften when she talks about the people they’ve rescued, or the files she’s uncovered that give someone, somewhere, a chance at justice. Beneath the sarcasm, there’s a heart.

And then there’s Park Do Yoon, or Sabertooth, as the group calls him. He’s... intense. The kind of guy you don’t want to cross. His fighting style is raw and aggressive, all instinct and power, but there’s something disciplined about it too. Like he knows exactly how far he can push before he breaks you—and he’s not afraid to find out.

The Ueno sisters, Moka and Sayuri—Dawn and Dusk—are a surprising pair. Moka is calm and collected, the kind of person you’d want on your side in a crisis. Sayuri, on the other hand, is a whirlwind of energy. Always moving, always talking, always up to something.

“Ryuji-ojii-san said you’re a soldier,” she said to me once, practically bouncing on her heels. “Can you teach me some of your moves? Not that I need them. I’m already faster than anyone here!”

She wasn’t wrong about that. Watching her in action was like watching a sparrow dart through the air—unpredictable, quick, and utterly mesmerizing.

The group was rounded out by a few others Kaito hadn’t had the chance to interact with much yet. Even Yuma, the elusive “Shinobi,” was still absent, off on one of his mysterious errands.

It wasn’t just their skills that impressed him but their determination and bravery to challenge the insurmountable.

One night, while Kaito was helping Naoko set up some surveillance equipment, he asked her why she joined the Black Ledgers.

She didn’t look up from her screen. “The Syndicate killed my father,” she said, her voice flat. “They framed it as a random accident, but I found the proof. They wanted to shut my father up because as a reporter, he got too close to exposing them. So now, I make it my business to do what he couldn’t and expose their evil.”

Her fingers paused on the keyboard, just for a second. “And to make sure they pay for what they’ve done.”

The evening was quiet, save for the occasional creak of old pipes and the hum of a ceiling fan struggling against years of neglect. Kaito and Moka were in the kitchen, scrubbing down a collection of mismatched plates and mugs. Moka worked with quick, practiced movements, while Kaito struggled to keep up.

“Not bad for someone who probably doesn’t do this often,” Moka commented, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

Kaito smirked. “I’ve had my share of chores. Just not as often as this.”

She didn’t respond, the silence between them stretching until she spoke again, her voice cutting through the stillness. “You know, I still don’t fully accept you.”

Kaito looked at her, but her focus remained on the plate in her hand. The words weren’t harsh—more like a statement of fact.

He shrugged, turning back to the sink. “Noted.”

Moka’s brows furrowed slightly, as if she’d expected a different reaction. “That’s it? No argument, no defense?”

“I don’t need to defend myself,” he replied evenly. “You’ll judge me by my actions, not my words.”

She snorted softly but didn’t argue.

After a few moments, Kaito asked, “What about you? What brought you here?”

Her hands paused, a dishcloth dangling loosely between her fingers. She turned her head slightly, eyeing him suspiciously. “Why should I tell you?”

“It’s your choice to answer,” he said simply. “I won’t force it.”

For a while, the only sound was the splashing of water as Moka resumed scrubbing. Then, unexpectedly, she spoke.

“We didn’t have a choice, you know,” she began, her voice quieter now. “Sayuri and I…we were orphans. Our parents died in a plane crash years ago.”

Kaito glanced at her but said nothing, letting her continue at her own pace.

“The shelter we stayed in… it wasn’t bad. It was warm, the caretakers were kind, and the other kids became like family. For a while, it felt like home.”

Her hands stilled again, gripping the edge of the counter. “But then…” She paused, her jaw tightening as her eyes narrowed, her voice dropping into an angry growl. “Those bastards. If not for them…”

Kaito waited, sensing the weight of her words.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to continue. “Apparently, our orphanage had borrowed money from some shady people. When they couldn’t pay it back, those thugs started harassing the staff. One of the caretakers—she was like a mother to us—was beaten right outside the building.”

Moka’s lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers trembling slightly. “Some of the kids reported it to the police. But somehow, the people found out. One night, they set fire to the orphanage.”

She stopped, her voice choking off as if the words were too heavy to let out.

Kaito’s voice was soft but steady. “You and your sister were the only survivors.”

Her head turned sharply, her eyes locking with his. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, she looked away, her expression hardening. “You know what? We have work to do. Let’s skip the idle chatter.”

She grabbed a plate and began scrubbing it furiously, as if trying to erase the memory with each motion. Kaito didn’t push further, sensing that she needed the space to collect herself.

Kaito stepped into the backyard, the cool evening breeze brushing past him as he exhaled deeply, trying to clear his mind. The faint chirping of crickets filled the air, and the dim light from the house cast long shadows across the overgrown grass.

Near the far corner, Naoko sat on an old wooden bench, idly spinning a small blade in her hand. She glanced up briefly as Kaito approached but didn’t say anything until he was closer.

“You’ve heard Moka’s story, right?” Naoko asked, her tone casual yet probing.

Kaito paused mid-step, raising an eyebrow. “You overheard us talking, didn’t you?”

Naoko shrugged with a faint smirk. “Maybe.” She leaned back, the blade now still in her palm. “Anyway, they’ve both managed to survive all this time, never knowing the truth. Ryuji brought them in about two years ago, and we explained everything—the Syndicate, the reality of what happened to their orphanage.”

Kaito frowned, his gaze lowering. “And?”

Naoko sighed, her voice softening. “Honestly? I’d prefer those two girls forget about this and live normal lives. They’re still so young, with bright futures ahead of them.”

Kaito studied her, noting the flicker of emotion in her eyes. She spoke as someone who had long abandoned the hope of a normal life, someone who had given herself fully to a vendetta she couldn’t walk away from.

Naoko continued, her voice taking on a lighter tone, though it felt forced. “Well, they’ve loosened up a bit, especially Sayuri. That girl’s full of energy. Sometimes too much.”

Kaito nodded thoughtfully. “And Moka? It feels like she’s still struggling.”

Naoko’s smirk faded, replaced by a more somber expression. “Can you blame her? She’s had to carry the weight of her sister this whole time. Protecting her, keeping her spirits up. And deep down, she feels responsible for what happened. She battles with the guilt of it every single day.”

Kaito glanced toward the house, his mind replaying his earlier conversation with Moka. “That’s... heavy.”

Naoko nodded. “Yeah. Well, try to understand her. I think what she really needs is someone who can rescue her before she can truly move on.”

Kaito looked back at Naoko, sensing the depth of her words. “Rescue her, huh?”

Naoko’s smirk faded, replaced by a more somber expression. “Yeah, but for now, she’s focused on destroying Amato.”

Kaito blinked, tilting his head slightly. “Who’s Amato?”

Naoko glanced at him, hesitating for a moment before answering. “Oh, I probably should have told you sooner. Amato Makino, also known as Black Wing, is one of the heads of the Syndicate—at least from what we know. He’s also in charge of Syndicate operations in some parts of East Asia.”

Kaito’s brow furrowed, and he paused for a moment. “You mean the Syndicate isn’t only in Japan?”

Naoko gave him a sharp look, her expression serious. “I believe they’re much bigger than that. They’re like an empire, with influence in various parts of the globe.”

Kaito’s mind raced as he remembered something. “Now that I think about it, I first noticed their symbol during an American news broadcast. Beating them won’t be easy.”

Naoko nodded firmly. “Well, that doesn’t mean we’ll sit by and watch them ruin others.”

The conversation lulled as both of them let the weight of their words settle.

Naoko stood, slipping the blade into her pocket and stretching lazily. “Yep. But that’s a tall order, isn’t it?” She glanced at him with a knowing smile. “Anyway, don’t let the night air get to you. Get some rest. Tomorrow’s another day.”

With that, she walked past him, leaving Kaito alone under the dim light of the stars. As he turned toward his room, he muttered under his breath, the name heavy on his tongue. “Amato Makino—Black Wing. I wonder if he’s connected with Mom or Emi. I’ll find out for sure.”

A few days later, Kaito wandered through the abandoned apartment complex, trying to familiarize himself with the layout. He took a wrong turn and found himself in what seemed to be an underground basketball court.

The sounds of grunts and sharp impacts filled the air. Kaito crouched behind a pillar, peering into the court. There, Do Yoon and another member of the Black Ledgers were sparring midair.

It wasn’t like the combat drills at the academy but rather reminded him of his days in the military. They were raw, dynamic, and unpredictable. Do Yoon moved with a feral grace, his strikes landing with precision and force. His opponent matched him blow for blow, their aerial maneuvers almost defying physics.

Kaito’s breath caught as he watched them. These weren’t just rebels. They were elite fighters, each one bringing a unique skill set to the table.

As the spar ended, Do Yoon wiped the sweat from his brow and noticed Kaito watching. “Enjoying the show?” he called out, smirking.

Kaito stepped out of the shadows, shaking his head in disbelief. “I didn’t realize you guys were this good.”

Do Yoon shrugged, grabbing a towel. “You’d better keep up, newbie. We don’t have room for deadweight.”