The city was a corpse waiting to be dissected.
At 5:45 AM, the grey mist clung to the asphalt like a shroud, dampening the sounds of the few early risers and the distant hum of traffic.
For Hina, sitting in the back of a nondescript black van, the world outside the tinted windows felt like a fading memory.
Her reality was confined to the seat next to her: a black, reinforced duffel bag, hermetically sealed to prevent any telltale scent of decay from escaping.
Inside sat the head of Luigi Morsuno—a gruesome ticket back into the world she had tried so hard to burn down.
The car slowed to a crawl a block away from the Grand Imperial Hotel. The driver, one of Rei's silent subordinates, didn't speak. He didn't need to. The tension in the car was thick enough to choke on.
"Stay close to the frequency," Hina whispered, her voice like the dry rustle of dead leaves. "If I don't signal within the hour, tell Kai... tell him to keep running."
She didn't wait for an answer.
She stepped out into the biting cold, the weight of the bag pulling at her shoulder.
Over her tactical suit, she wore a series of oversized, heavy-fabric layers—a long, slate-grey parka and loose-fitting trousers.
The internal padding, a specialized non-Newtonian polymer, was designed not just to hide the silhouette of her blades and the Glock 19 on her thigh, but to confuse the magnetic resonance of the scanners she expected to face.
As she walked, the Grand Imperial loomed over her, a monolith of glass and gold that pierced the low-hanging clouds. It was the highest tower in the district, a vertical fortress where Sabushi—the man she called father, the man she called a monster—was waiting in his penthouse throne.
The first barrier was the police blockade.
Yellow tape fluttered in the wind like festive streamers for a funeral.
Dozens of officers in heavy tactical gear stood behind reinforced barriers, their eyes scanning the morning fog with a mixture of boredom and twitchy anxiety.
These weren't just cops; they were the "Dogs of the Kobayashi," the corrupted marrow of the city's law enforcement.
'I guess that he already knew that I was coming.' Hina thought, while taking her special 'pill'.
As Hina approached, several officers unholstered their weapons, the sharp click-clack of safeties being disengaged echoing through the silent street.
"Hold it right there!" a sergeant barked, stepping forward. He was a thick-necked man with eyes that had seen too much bribery. "This area is restricted. No pedestrians. Turn around, or you're going to the precinct in cuffs."
Hina didn't stop. She kept her pace slow, rhythmic, and terrifyingly deliberate. Her hood was up, shadowing her face, but her grey eyes burned from the darkness.
"I said stop!" the sergeant yelled, his hand moving to his radio. "We've got a suspicious female, North entrance. Requesting—"
Hina stopped five feet from the barrel of his rifle. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze locking onto the officer's with a frozen, unsettling calm.
"Dad is here, isn't he?" she said.
The sergeant froze. The words weren't a question; they were a key turning in a lock. It was the ancient password of the inner circle—a code Sabushi had established decades ago. When he went into deep hiding, only those who shared his blood or his most intimate secrets were permitted to use those words to signal "safe passage" with good intentions.
The silence that followed was deafening. The other officers looked at the sergeant, waiting for the order to tackle her, to search the heavy bag, to tear off her hood.
The sergeant's face went pale. He swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the Grand Imperial.
He didn't ask for ID or what was in the bag.
He only stepped aside, his hand trembling as he lowered his weapon.
"Let her through," he whispered, his expression darkening.
"Sir?" another officer asked, confused. "We didn't even check the bag."
"I said let her through!" the sergeant hissed, a note of pure terror in his voice. "Open the gate. Now."
Hina walked through the gap in the barricades.
She didn't thank them. She didn't look back. She just kept walking.
Hina could feel their eyes on her back—predators who had suddenly realized they were standing in the presence of a greater monster.
The lobby of the Grand Imperial was a cathedral of silence.
As the heavy glass doors hissed shut behind her, the noise of the city died instantly. The air inside was climate-controlled to a perfect, sterile temperature. It smelled of expensive lilies and the cold, metallic scent of floor wax.
Hina walked across the vast marble floor, her boots making a soft thud-thud that seemed to echo upward into the high, vaulted ceiling. She observed every detail. The security cameras that tracked her every movement, the guards standing at the pillars, their hands resting on the grips of their holstered submachine guns.
But the thing that truly signaled the danger was the people.
The hotel staff—the porters, the receptionists, the concierge—all stood with their heads bowed low. They didn't look at her or offer a greeting.
They just stood like statues in a tomb.
Those actions spoke louder than a thousand words for Hina.
Now she had confirmation that Sabushi knew she was coming. He probably had told them all to bow before the prodigal daughter's return.
The atmosphere wasn't one of welcome; it was one of submission before an execution.
Hina's eyes narrowed. Every shadow felt like a blade. Every person she passed felt like a timer counting down. She felt the urge to reach for the knives hidden in her padding, to start the bloodletting here and now, but she suppressed it.
She had a gift to deliver and a role to play.
"Welcome home, Miss Hina Kobayashi," a voice whispered.
He had called her 'Kobayashi'. That was her old surname before she returned to her original 'Ishikawa'.
She didn't turn to see who said it. She just kept walking toward the bank of elevators at the far end of the hall.
She wanted to make this as quick as possible.
The elevator doors were gold-plated, reflecting her distorted image as she approached. She looked like a ghost, a grey smudge against the opulence.
She reached out her hand to press the call button. Her fingers were inches from the sensor when the world tilted.
BOOM.
The vibration hit her first. It was a deep, guttural roar that traveled through the foundation of the hotel, shaking the massive crystal chandeliers above her until they chimed like funeral bells.
It was the explosion at the Central Police Command—the diversion.
Miles away, Rei's "suicide squads" were currently turning the city's heart into a furnace.
Inside the lobby, the reaction was instantaneous.
The electronic locks on the main entrance clicked shut with a sound like a guillotine.
Heavy steel shutters began to descend behind the glass doors, sealing the hotel off from the outside world. The Grand Imperial was no longer a hotel; it was a locked cage.
Hina pressed the elevator button. Nothing. The digital display stayed dark.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Miss."
A young porter, no older than eighteen, was standing a few feet away. He was pale, his eyes wide with a mixture of pity and fear. He was trembling so violently that the brass buttons on his uniform were rattling.
"The elevators are locked down for 'security' reasons," he whispered, his voice cracking. "The boss... he said the elevators are only for those who have already earned their place at the top."
"Do you know who I am?" Hina turned to him, her voice menacing.
The boy was still trembling. "Y-Yes... that's why I'm saying that."
In that moment, she realized that elevators were a trap.
Hina kept staring at him. Her grey eyes were boring into his soul. "And how am I supposed to get to the 50th floor?"
The porter gestured toward a heavy fire door to the left of the elevator bank.
"The stairs, Miss. You have to take the stairs." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a terrified hum. "Please... don't go. Each floor... they're waiting. He's put them all there. The people you thought were gone. The ones you didn't finish. They're all waiting for you on the way up."
Hina looked at the fire door. She understood now.
This was Sabushi's game. He didn't want a simple meeting.
He wanted a gauntlet. He wanted to see if the "Blade" he had forged was still sharp enough to cut through the ghosts of her past.
"Thank you," Hina said, her voice devoid of emotion.
She adjusted the weight of the bag containing Luigi's head. She felt a cold, sharp excitement beginning to bloom in her chest. This was what she was born for. This was the price of her freedom with Kai.
She walked to the door and pushed it open.
The stairwell was narrow, lit by flickering fluorescent lights that hummed with a sickly, electric frequency.
The concrete walls felt like they were closing in. She looked up into the spiraling darkness of the stairs, feeling the presence of dozens of people—killers, rivals, and shadows—waiting for her on every landing.
Her ascent would not be a walk; it would be a massacre.
Hina took the first step, her hand finally reaching inside her parka to grip the cold, familiar handle of her favorite combat knife.
"I'm coming, Father," she whispered to the shadows. "I hope you're ready for your gift."