Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
But it’s. . .bodies. . .
That sent my mind into hysteria.
Dear God.
I shook my head, trying to clear the horrible scent of charred human flesh from my nostrils.
My stomach churned. “You shouldn’t have burned the families.”
He put his hand back on my throat. “This is our way.”
“Then, change it.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Change it?"
"Yes."
"You speak of things you don't understand." An edge hit his tone. "This tradition is older than me. Older than my father. Older than his father before him. It exists for a reason."
"Then tell me the reason."
He released my throat and stepped back, and the loss of his heat felt like punishment. "If a man knows that only he will die for his treachery, he can weigh it. He can decide his life is worth the price. But if he knows his wife will burn? His mother? His father?"
Kenji shook his head slowly. "Then betrayal becomes unthinkable. The tradition doesn't just punish. It prevents."
"So, you're burning innocent people to send a message."
"I'm burning innocent people to save innocent people." His eyes never left mine. "Every family member on that pyre is a future betrayal that will never happen. A knife that will never find my back. A bullet that will never find yours or. . .our kids."
I blinked.
The logic was cold.
Brutal.
And horrifyingly coherent.
I hated that I understood it.
"That's not justice," I whispered. "That's terrorism."
"It's order." He didn’t flinch. "You think the yakuza survives on kindness? On mercy? We survive because our enemies know that crossing us means extinction. Not just for them—for everyone they love. That knowledge keeps more people alive than any mercy ever could."
"And what about the people on that pyre who did nothing wrong? The wife who didn't know her husband was a traitor? The mother who—"
"They might have known. Maybe not the exact details. But they knew something was up. They saw the additional money that didn’t match the job. They heard the whispered phone calls. They chose not to ask questions because the answers would make them complicit."
"That's not the same as—"
"Isn't it?" He tilted his head. "Ignorance is a choice, Tora. A comfortable one. These families chose comfort over truth, and that choice has a price."
“Or is that what you’re telling yourself, so you don’t feel guilty for killing them?”
He went still.
I frowned. “You’re the Dragon. You're not some middle manager following orders. You're not bound by what your father did or his father did. You are the tradition now. You decide what it means."
"Tora—"
"No. You don't get to hide behind 'this is our way' like you're powerless." My voice grew stronger, fueled by something I couldn't name. "You have more power than anyone in this world. You could burn every tradition to the ground and rebuild them however you want, and no one could stop you."
The dragon-shadow surged behind him and its jaws parted in what looked like a silent snarl.
But I didn't stop. "You chose to burn those families and it had nothing to do with tradition."
I was close enough to see the vein in his temple pulse. Close enough to watch his pupils dilate. Close enough to know I'd drawn blood with words alone.
“Tora.” He sneered. “It had everything to do with tradition—”
“Liar.”
Silence.
Kenji stared at me with an expression I couldn't read. The dragon-shadow coiled behind him, dense and dark, its form rippling like smoke in a wind I couldn't feel.
When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "No one has ever spoken to me like this."
"Maybe someone should have."
Another silence.
Longer this time.
Then, slowly, something shifted in his face. The stone mask cracked—not much, just a fracture—and beneath it I saw something that looked almost like wonder.
"You're asking me to be weaker."
"No." I shook my head. "I'm asking you to be stronger than your fear.'"
“Fear?”
“You’re scared others will betray you, so you did that pyre to terrify everyone else.”
“It will work.”
“It may not.”
He studied me for a long moment. To my surprise, the dragon-shadow slowly began to settle—not disappearing, but calming.
Folding its wings.
Lowering its head.
"The people outside." I shivered. "The ones watching. The ones you forced to witness. They're loyal to you. They love you. And you traumatized them today. I bet their children saw that, Kenji. Families saw their friends burn. You're about to go to war with your father—you need everyone strong, united, ready to fight. Instead, you've weakened them. Terrified them. Made them afraid of you when they should be afraid of him."
His jaw tightened.
"What you did came from fear." I held his gaze even though part of me wanted to look away. "You're scared that others will betray you, so you wanted to make an example. Show everyone what happens. Make sure no one ever thinks about disloyalty again."
I shook my head. "But these people were already loyal. They didn't need to be punished for someone else's sins. They needed to trust you. And now. . ."