The Hitman and Ramen Girl.

The meeting continued well into the night, the air in the small restaurant thick with cigarette smoke and quiet murmurs. Anzaki had pulled out a small notebook, flipping through pages filled with notes and sketches of potential routes and escape plans.

"Lark operates mainly out of his private club downtown," Anzaki said, tapping a rough sketch of the building. "Security is tight, but there's a back entrance used for deliveries. If we can intercept one of the suppliers, we might be able to slip inside unnoticed."

Micca smirked. "Or we could just walk in through the front door like we own the place. Lark likes to keep a crowd around him. We blend in, scope things out, and make our move when the time is right." Ryo crossed his arms, considering both approaches. "Subtlety is key here. If Lark's got powerful connections, he'll have eyes everywhere. We can't afford to make a scene."

Anzaki nodded. "Then we go with the supplier angle. It'll take some work, but I can get us fake credentials. We'll need a way to get close to Lark without raising suspicion." Micca leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. "That's where I come in, right? I can get a meeting with one of his men. Word on the street is Lark's looking for new muscle. If I play the part right, I could get inside without sneaking around."

Ryo considered the plan. It was risky, but it was their best shot. "Fine. We'll move in two nights from now. Anzaki, secure the credentials. Micca, get in touch with Lark's people and make sure you have a way in. I'll handle the rest." The three of them exchanged firm nods. They had done jobs like this before, but something about this one felt different. Maybe it was the stakes. Maybe it was the fact that Ryo's mind kept wandering back to Hana, to the simple warmth of her presence, so different from the cold world he was trapped in.

As they finalized the details, Ryo's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen. A message from Hana.

"I hope you're doing okay. Don't forget to eat!"

For a moment, the weight of his reality pressed against him. He clenched his jaw, slipping the phone back into his pocket. There was no room for distractions.

"Let's get to work," he muttered, standing up.

The night was just beginning, and the shadows were already closing in.

.

.

Ryo spent the next day preparing, checking his gear and reviewing the plan. He and Anzaki met in a safe house, an old apartment tucked away in the city's outskirts. The room was dimly lit, the walls lined with maps and photos of their target.

"We need to be careful about this," Anzaki muttered, pointing to a red circle around the club's main entrance. "Lark has some of the best security money can buy. Armed guards, surveillance cameras—getting in without being seen is nearly impossible."

Ryo studied the images. "That's why we're not going in through the front. We'll use the supplier angle. You sure the fake credentials will hold up?"

Anzaki nodded. "I've got a guy who's handled this kind of thing before. It'll pass any preliminary inspection. But once we're inside, we're on our own."

Micca arrived shortly after, tossing a burner phone onto the table. "Got the in. Lark's men are expecting me tomorrow night. They think I'm a freelance enforcer looking for work. Once I'm inside, I can plant a tracker on Lark's office so we can monitor his movements."

Ryo leaned back against the table, exhaling slowly. "Good. But if anything feels off, we pull out. This isn't just some petty thug—we're dealing with someone who plays at a much higher level."

Anzaki smirked. "Since when are you the cautious one? I thought you liked a challenge."

Ryo shot him a look. "I like to stay alive."

Later that night, as Ryo prepared for bed, he found himself checking his phone again. Hana had sent another message.

"The shop was busy today. I wish you could have been here—it would have been nice to see you."

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He wanted to reply, to tell her something reassuring, but what could he say? That he was spending his night planning a hit? That he was about to put his life on the line again? The distance between them felt impossible.

Instead, he typed a simple response.

"I'm glad the shop's doing well. Take care, Hana."

He hesitated for a moment before sending it. Then, setting the phone aside, he let out a slow breath. Tomorrow would be dangerous. But tonight, for just a few more moments, he allowed himself to think about a different life—one where he wasn't constantly looking over his shoulder, one where he could just be with her.

But that life wasn't his to have.

Not yet.