Chapter -4 Rain And Tension

The city was alive with chaos, rain hammering relentlessly against the streets as thunder cracked overhead. The storm was wild—electricity arcing dangerously close, as if the heavens themselves were ready to strike.

Takamura Yagami sat in the backseat of the car, staring through the rain-streaked window at the distant glow of Yamada’s mansion. Ayaka Kuroda sat beside him, her fingers drumming anxiously against the leather seat.

"Takamura-san, is this really necessary? We could send someone else. What if he has guards? What if it’s a trap?" Her voice held a mix of concern and frustration.

Takamura smirked, his expression calm. "You worry too much, Ayaka. My father used to say a man’s greatest weapon is his ability to adapt. Tell me, Ayaka, if a fight were to break out between a strong, young wolf—predictable in his strength—and an older wolf, weaker but adaptable, who do you think would survive?"

Ayaka sighed, shaking her head. "You already know my answer. But let me come with you. Yagami-san—"

"No need," he interrupted, stepping out of the car. "Wait for me. I’ll let you know if anything needs to be cleaned up."

Takamura approached the mansion’s entrance, where two guards immediately stepped forward. "Sir, you can’t enter," one said firmly.

Takamura simply smiled, his expression polite but unreadable. "Ah, gentlemen, then we have a problem."

Before they could react, he struck the first guard in the throat, causing him to crumple, gasping for air. The second reached for his gun, but Takamura moved swiftly—kicking his knee out from under him and disarming him in one fluid motion.

"Well, gentlemen, rest for a while," he murmured, straightening his coat before knocking on the door.

Inside, Yamada grumbled. "What is it now? Can’t you idiots do your job without—"

He swung the door open, expecting his guards. Instead, he found Takamura standing there, rain dripping from his coat. Yamada’s eyes widened in terror as he stumbled back, fumbling to slam the door shut.

Too late.

Takamura’s foot wedged into the doorway, preventing it from closing. He stepped inside with a slow, deliberate grace, eyes locked onto Yamada. "Well, what a lovely night, isn’t it, Yamada-san?"

Yamada backed toward the sofa, his hand trembling as he grabbed a gun from the coffee table and pointed it at Takamura. "Stay back! I swear, I’ll shoot!"

Takamura tilted his head, a faint smirk playing at his lips. "I can certainly see that, Yamada-san. But tell me... do you have the nerve to pull the trigger?"

Takamura took a step forward. "Well, here I am, Yamada. You know, just pull the trigger. You won’t have to deal with me anymore. Just pull it, and you’ll be free. Come on."

He moved closer, unflinching. Yamada tightened his grip on the gun, his knuckles white. He aimed directly at Takamura’s heart. His breath came in ragged gasps as he stared at the man before him.

Takamura’s voice dropped to a whisper. "Yamada, you’re shaking."

A bead of sweat trickled down Yamada’s forehead. His heart pounded so loudly he could hear it over the rain.

"Fear," Takamura continued, his tone almost conversational. "Yes, that’s what you’re feeling, isn’t it? Your heart is screaming at you—shoot, shoot! But your body… it’s not cooperating, is it?"

Takamura moved further into the room, turning his shoulder away as if unconcerned. Yamada’s hands trembled violently. His mind shouted at him to shoot, to end this nightmare. But his instincts… they screamed a different command.

No.

No.

No.

He wandered deeper into the room, glancing at the scattered papers, the overturned whiskey glass, the cigarette butts littering the ashtray. He let his fingers trail along the edge of a table before stopping in front of a framed photograph. He lifted it carefully, studying it under the dim light.

"Hmm... a very beautiful family photo, huh?" he mused, tilting it slightly. "Look at your wife and children, looking so happy.""Tell me, Yamada-san... is it worth it? The court hearings, the police reports, the statements you made against us—is it really worth the price you’re about to pay?" Takamura’s voice was calm, almost conversational, but there was something heavy beneath his words, something suffocating.Yamada swallowed hard, his gun lowering slightly. ""I... I had to do what was right," he managed to say, though the words sounded feeble even to himself.

Takamura raised an eyebrow, still studying the photograph. "Didn’t you? You chose to report, to file complaints, to go against people you shouldn’t have."

"I had to!" Yamada’s voice cracked. "I thought—I thought it was the right thing to do."

Takamura chuckled, shaking his head. "Right? And what is right, Yamada-san? Protecting the innocent? Upholding justice? Those are noble ideals, but let’s be honest, Yamada, when your wife wakes up tomorrow and finds your body cold on this floor, will she think you did the right thing? Will your children?"

He set the picture frame down gently, turning back to face Yamada. His eyes flicked to the gun still trembling in his hands. "You’re afraid. I can see it in your eyes. Fear is a useful thing, Yamada-san—it tells you when you’re in danger, when to run, when to fight. But fear only serves a purpose when you listen to it."

Takamura took another step closer. Yamada's legs felt weak, his mind screaming at him to act, but he remained frozen, paralyzed by the sheer presence of the man standing before him.

Takamura reached out, placing a hand on the barrel of the gun and slowly lowering it. "You don’t have the resolve to pull this trigger, do you? That’s fine. I didn’t think you would.

Yamada’s legs buckled, and he collapsed onto the couch, the gun slipping from his grip onto the table. His hands covered his face as he let out a strangled sob.

Takamura crouched down, his voice a whisper. "Your family is safe... for now. But you will retract your statements. You will go to the authorities and tell them you were mistaken. You will say that fear clouded your judgment. You will fix this mess, Yamada-san. Because if you don’t... I will have to return."

He leaned down, placing the gun back into Yamada’s shaking hands. "You get one chance. Retract your statements. Clear my name. And never, ever cross me again."

Yamada’s head bobbed in frantic agreement, tears spilling down his face. "I... I will. I promise. Just... don’t hurt them."

Takamura straightened, brushing off his coat. "Good. I knew you’d see reason."

He turned, stepping over the discarded gun as he made his way to the door. He paused, glancing back one final time. "Remember, Yamada-san... I don’t give second chances."

With that, he disappeared into the storm, the door clicking shut behind him.

As Takamura stood outside, one of the guards stirred, reaching subtly for his gun.

"Gentlemen, if I were you, I wouldn't do that," he said with a smile, his voice calm yet laced with warning. "You didn't see anyone here today—I trust you understand? Because I'm sure you both have loved ones waiting for you, isn't that right?"

The guards exchanged uneasy glances before slowly relaxing their hands, deciding it wasn't worth the risk. Takamura smoothed his coat and walked toward the waiting car where Ayaka sat in the driver's seat.

"Sir, should I call the cleanup crew?" she asked as he slid into the seat.

Takamura exhaled, leaning back against the leather. "Oh no, Ayaka. Yamada is a reasonable man. That's why he's a politician," he chuckled.

She nodded, shifting the car into gear as they pulled away from the dimly lit mansion. The rain drummed softly against the windows, blending into the hum of the engine.

"Well, let's go. I'm a bit sleepy, and I can't wait to see tomorrow’s headlines." Takamura smirked, closing his eyes as the city lights blurred past them into the night.