That night, as silence settled over the grand estate and the stars cast their pale light upon the capital, Tatsumi was preparing to sleep when a gentle but firm knock interrupted him. The halls outside his room were quiet, save for the distant clink of a patrolling guard's armor.
"Tatsumi, care for a little stroll?" came Vito's voice from the other side of the door. Calm, quiet, and unreadable, it bore none of the weight of urgency—but all of the depth of purpose.
Puzzled but curious, Tatsumi grabbed his sword—never too far from reach—and stepped out into the corridor. The night air greeted them with a faint chill, carrying with it the scents of old wood, fresh grass, and distant lantern oil. Guards still patrolled the estate, but they barely glanced at the two guests. Night walks were not uncommon among nobles and travelers alike.
Vito led them with a languid, deliberate pace. His hands were in his coat pockets, but his sharp gaze swept the shadows as though every corner could hide a whisper or a knife.
"Vito-san, where are we going?" Tatsumi asked, his brow furrowing. Something in the older man's demeanor was different—more grounded, more alert.
"Remember when I told you there's always a hidden motive behind their smiles?" Vito answered without looking back, his voice low but steady.
The memory struck Tatsumi immediately. Vito had said those exact words the night before. At the time, it had seemed like the wisdom of an old man, hardened by life. Now, the words returned like a blade pressed to his thoughts.
His heart began to pound.
They were heading toward the warehouse—the one Vito had lingered near yesterday, watching it with the quiet suspicion of a man who'd spent a lifetime surrounded by secrets.
"Vito-san, I think we should go back," Tatsumi said softly, unease beginning to rise in his throat.
But Vito didn't respond. His stride remained steady, purposeful, and final. There was no uncertainty in him now.
The warehouse loomed ahead—an unassuming building by daylight, but under the moonlight, it took on a more sinister air. The kind of place that swallowed truth and buried it beneath floorboards.
Gauri stood guard at the entrance, his stance firm, hand resting near the hilt of his blade. The moment he saw them approaching, his shoulders tensed.
"What are you two doing here at this time of night?" he asked, trying to sound calm but failing to hide the flicker of unease in his eyes.
Tatsumi quickly stepped forward, hoping to defuse the tension. "We were just taking a stroll and... it seems we aren't used to the layout yet. We got a bit turned around—"
Before he could finish, Vito raised a hand and stepped between them. His eyes bore into Tatsumi's, filled with a weight far older than the moment.
"Tatsumi," he said, voice low and grim, "I know the stench of death and depravity when I see one."
The words dropped like stones into a silent well. Gauri stiffened visibly. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face, catching the lantern light. Tatsumi stood frozen, caught between two realities—what he wanted to believe, and what was standing plainly before him.
Vito's eyes shifted to the warehouse. His gaze didn't just glance—it dissected. He had seen too much in his life to miss what lingered just beneath the surface.
Gauri swallowed hard, his fingers twitching at his side. "How… how do you know?" he asked, his voice a mix of defensiveness and dread.
Before an answer could be formed, a voice broke the tension. Sweet, melodic, and all too timely.
"Tatsumi-kun? Vito-san? Why are you here?"
They turned.
Aria stood down the path, her presence radiant beneath the silver moonlight. She was draped in fine silk, the hem of her gown barely touching the stone. Her long hair framed her face in waves, and her smile was as gentle as ever.
But to Vito, it was no longer innocent. He saw the cracks behind the warmth. The mask pulled too tight over something darker. Something hungry.
And in that moment, Tatsumi felt it too—a shift in the air.
"Tell me, Signorina Aria, how many guests of yours made it out alive?" Vito was the first to speak, his voice cutting through the night with blunt finality.
"What are you talking about?" Aria asked, her tone defensive but still laced with that practiced charm. "We always take care of our guests–"
"There it is again," Vito interrupted coldly. "That little innocent farce you and your family played with us. You may have fooled Tatsumi with that one, but tell me..."
He took a single step forward. A pause followed, heavy with tension.
"Do you really think you could fool a Corleone?"
Tatsumi blinked, stunned. Farce? What is Vito talking about? What's going on here? His mind reeled as he tried to piece it together.
Vito turned next to Gauri, who had not moved a muscle.
"Open the doors," he said, low and stern, "or I will open them myself."
"DON'T YOU DARE!!"
Aria's voice cracked like a whip, shattering what little calm was left. Gone was the soft, refined girl from the daytime. Her eyes flashed with something colder now.
Tatsumi looked at her in confusion, the transformation startling.
"You dare choose to obey a stranger over the ones who kept you under our care?" Aria hissed, glaring at Gauri.
Gauri stood frozen. He had served this family long enough to know the penalty for disobedience. But this man before him, this Vito—he wasn't just another traveler. No, there was something more. The clarity in his voice, the weight behind his gaze. He knew.
The silence grew thick. Tatsumi's confusion morphed into fear. What did Vito know that I don't? Why is Aria acting like this?
"Can we all just calm down here and–"
Before he could finish, a thunderous explosion ripped through the air. Flames burst in the distance, casting an eerie glow over the yard.
All heads turned.
From the smoke and sparks, five figures emerged—silent, poised, and deadly. They stood effortlessly atop a thin wire strung across the air, like ghosts suspended against the stars.
At the center stood a woman dressed in black, crimson eyes glowing with icy calm. She wore a dark sleeveless top with a white collar and red tie, her waist cinched with a red belt. A scarlet side skirt fluttered over a black, pleated one beneath.
Vito's eyes narrowed.
"So they're here," he muttered.
He didn't need an introduction. Not with that stare, not with that stance. He had seen their faces before.
Night Raid had arrived.
Gauri's guard had faltered. With Vito exposing the truth behind their pristine lies, and Night Raid making their entrance under the veil of night, there was no longer any room for hesitation. The weight of it all pressed down on him, and in that moment, Gauri chose his final act.
He had to do it, even if it would cost him everything.
"Forgive me, Lady Aria," he whispered, more to the heavens than to her, before unbolting the massive warehouse doors with trembling hands.
Aria's eyes widened in disbelief, her voice caught in her throat. "Gauri... no..."
But it was too late. Vito had already stepped inside.
"Tatsumi," he called without looking back, his voice firm and hollow. "I think it's time you open your eyes to reality."
Tatsumi, though stricken with dread, followed Vito. What lay before him inside the warehouse shattered the last remnants of his naivety.
There were bodies—dozens of them. Piled in corners, crumpled in agony, slumped over in pools of dried blood. The stench of rot and rusted iron clung to the air.
Some corpses were mangled beyond recognition. Others were missing limbs. Their faces, twisted in terror and pain, seemed frozen in a final moment of pleading that no one had answered.
But it wasn't just the dead.
Tatsumi staggered forward, bile rising in his throat as he spotted the living. They were huddled behind bars, naked, shivering, their bodies marked by open sores, lashes, and bruises. They didn't look up. Their spirits had long been crushed.
Among the wreckage of human cruelty, he saw her.
A girl, strung up by her arms, head slumped forward. Her once-long black hair draped over her face. Her left leg crudely severed at the thigh.
He knew her.
"Sayo..." Tatsumi fell to his knees, his voice trembling.
Vito looked at the girl briefly, then at Tatsumi. He said nothing, only let out a slow exhale—one of resigned understanding.
Then he turned. Slowly. Calmly. Drawing his revolver from his coat with a fluid, well-practiced motion, he pointed it at Aria.
She stood frozen in the doorway, mouth ajar, tears streaking down her cheeks.
"Tatsumi... it's a lie... I never knew..."
"Don't ever tell us you're innocent," Vito interrupted, voice cold as iron. He met her eyes with an unflinching stare, his revolver steady.
"It insults my intelligence... and it makes me very angry."
A weak voice came from behind the bars. A hand reached out.
"Tatsumi..."
He turned and saw him—a young man with messy dark brown hair, brown eyes clouded in pain, wearing a torn martial arts headband.
"Ieyasu...?"
"That girl... Aria... she invited Sayo and me into her home," Ieyasu said through clenched teeth, rage boiling behind his wounded gaze. "She... she tortured Sayo to death... while I watched."
Tatsumi's body trembled. The truth had finally come to light.
Gauri, silent until now, stepped forward, his head lowered as the unbearable guilt dragged every word from his mouth.
"When they lost consciousness... we brought them here," he confessed. "And Lady Aria... she was the one who did this."
Silence fell. Heavy and suffocating. There was no going back from this.
Then, Aria's voice cracked under the weight of her shattered facade. Gone was the sweet girl that Tatsumi had met, replaced now by her true self—cruel, venomous, and unrepentant. It was the version that Vito had peeled from behind the mask.
"So what? You're all just worthless hicks from the country, right? I should be free to treat them however I want!"
Her voice, once dainty and graceful, now sounded shrill and erratic. Gauri flinched, as if struck by her words. It was one thing to suspect her cruelty, another to hear her revel in it. Vito stood still, his expression unmoved, watching the noble girl unravel.
"Besides, that girl was so impertinent for having such straight hair for a farm animal! Even though I'm troubled with such unruly hair. That's why I agonized her so meticulously! In fact, she should be grateful that—"
A gunshot shattered the air.
Aria froze. Her words died on her tongue. Vito's revolver smoked gently in the cold night. His stance was relaxed, but his eyes burned with tranquil fury.
"You killed her... over her long hair..."
He stepped forward, cocking back the hammer with a steady hand. Another round clicked into place. Each movement was deliberate, driven not by rage, but by a righteous, focused disdain.
"You call yourself nobility, but you're nothing more than a pezzo di merda. A vile piece of shit. You don't deserve any mercy."
As he raised his gun again, ready to deliver justice, a sword suddenly rose between them.
Tatsumi.
The young man stood with blade in hand, not shaking, not yelling. Just staring back into Vito's eyes. What Vito saw was not defiance, but pain. Tremendous, soul-breaking pain.
"Do as you must," Vito said quietly, slowly lowering his revolver.
Aria smiled through the tension, thinking herself victorious.
"See! You don't have the guts to kill—"
She never finished the sentence.
With a swift pivot, Tatsumi drove his blade straight into her abdomen. The steel cut through silk and flesh in one clean stroke.
"Huh?"
Her face froze in shock. Blood bubbled at her lips. And in that final, fleeting second, she realized the truth—the boy she had toyed with had passed judgment.
She collapsed to the ground, dead before her body fully hit the stone.
At his cell, Ieyasu looked on with a smile on his face.
"Heh, that's Tatsumi for you—"
He suddenly began to cough up blood. Crimson droplets splattered across the stone floor, and his voice grew raspier with each breath.
Gauri immediately sprang into action, smashing the lock on the cell door and forcing it open with a strength born of panic. Tatsumi rushed inside, catching his friend as he slumped forward.
"Ieyasu, what's wrong!?" Tatsumi shouted, desperation cracking in his voice.
Gauri knelt beside them, eyes grim with a realization that made his stomach turn. "It's the Lubora disease," he said heavily. "The mistress used to dose prisoners with it for amusement. She recorded their suffering in her diary like it was some twisted science experiment. It's too late for him now."
Ieyasu's voice, weak and strained, barely rose above a whisper. "Tatsumi… You know, Sayo… she didn't give in to that bitch… not even once. She endured it all. She was so cool..."
"Ieyasu," Tatsumi murmured, squeezing his friend's trembling shoulder.
A faint grin spread on Ieyasu's lips, his eyes glazed but filled with a strange peace. "So for my death... this Ieyasu-sama here will also... keep it real..."
Those were his last words. With one final breath, Ieyasu closed his eyes, his face frozen in a quiet, defiant smile. Just as he said, he died keeping it real.
The warehouse fell into silence. The stench of blood and rot hung heavy in the air. Tatsumi remained kneeling, unable to tear his gaze away from the lifeless forms of his friends. A swell of grief surged through his chest, burning hotter than any fire he had ever felt.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered. "I was too late…"
Behind him, Vito stood still, arms crossed, his eyes heavy with contemplation. He watched Tatsumi closely, taking in the way his shoulders shook, the clenched fists, the pain radiating from every part of him.
Then, softly:
"Regret is the burden of all men who seek justice," Vito said, voice calm but grave. "But tell me, my boy… what will you do now?"
Tatsumi lifted his head, wiping his face as he clenched his jaw.
"I'll keep fighting. For them. For everyone suffering under this Empire."
Vito nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly.
"A wise choice."
Outside, the city of the Empire still glimmered in the moonlight—uncaring, cold, and immense. But within that warehouse, something had shifted. A fire had been lit.
And it would not be extinguished.