Shin sniffed the air and scowled.
"…Why are we in Nikita Chinatown again?"
Yuki adjusted the strap on the canvas shopping bag digging into his shoulder. It was packed with soy sauce bottles and enough pocky to choke a middle school.
Taro grinned, gleaming gold tooth catching the sun. "We are here for the legendary divine pork buns."
Shin stared. "We crossed two districts, got lost once, and walked past three guys who looked like they smuggle grenades for breakfast—for pork buns?"
"Not just any pork buns," Taro said solemnly. "The ones from Chou Yun's Cart. Each batch made with ancestral broth. Max fifty per customer."
Yuki squinted up at the gaudy red-gold signage of the alley they were in. Strings of red lanterns swung overhead. The scent of fried garlic and sesame oil drifted between stalls. This place looked like it belonged in another manga.
Taro held up two full bags of fresh, steaming buns like he'd won the lottery. "Victory."
"Cool," Shin muttered. "Can we go home now?"
He didn't get an answer.
Because something crashed from above.
A blur of red and black dropped out of the sky—literally—and landed hard on top of Taro's pork buns.
Steam and meat exploded across the alley.
"…No…" Taro whispered, dropping to his knees. "Not the divine ones…"
Yuki winced. "That… looked painful."
The girl who'd landed blinked. Fair skin. Long red hair tied back with a chopstick. Sharp black eyes. She was breathing hard, clothes slightly torn, but upright.
Then two men dropped after her, landing hard and fast.
"Found you, brat," one of them snarled. Both wore black suits and combat gloves. Not subtle.
The girl turned, fists raised—but before she could act—
A third man stepped from behind a delivery truck. Moved like smoke. Slipped a black cord around her neck and yanked hard.
She choked, stumbled, went to one knee.
The first thug pulled a knife and approached her. "We said alive. But hey, accidents happen."
He never got the chance.
CLINK.
The knife snapped in two.
Taro stood behind him, expression cold. He dropped his sleeves—metal pincers clicked where his hands should've been.
"Not the pork buns," he said softly.
The man whirled around—too slow.
Shin was already there, slamming a broom handle into the second thug's stomach. The man flew backward into a vegetable cart.
The third man tried to drag the girl back, reaching for his sidearm.
She dropped suddenly.
Her stance shifted—knees bent, palms flowing in a circle.
Tai chi.
She twisted her body, turned with the man's grip, and redirected the pull.
With one sweep of her leg, he was airborne—then face-first in the concrete.
All three thugs were down.
For three seconds.
Then—
"HEY!" someone shouted from the end of the alley.
Five more figures approached. All wearing black. All armed.
"She's with them!"
"The redhead and her crew!"
Lu—the girl—groaned. "Seriously? I'm not even in a gang."
Yuki took a step back. "Okay, okay—how many enemies don't we have today?"
Taro looked at his ruined pork buns, expression grim.
Shin glanced at Yuki. "We running?"
Yuki nodded. "Yeah. Let's run."
Lu was already gone, sprinting down the alley.
Shin cursed. "She's fast."
Taro scooped the remaining buns from the ground, shook his head, and took off.
Yuki followed, breathing hard.
Behind them, the alley exploded into shouting.
Wind howled over the Tokyo skyline.
Yuki clung to Sakamoto's back like a particularly terrified backpack, screaming internally as they vaulted across rooftops like gravity was a casual suggestion.
"THIS ISN'T SAFE!" he shouted, voice snatched by the wind.
Sakamoto didn't respond—just grunted and leapt again, legs coiling like springs, weightless for a heartbeat before slamming down on the next building.
Behind them, Shin landed lightly, tossing his jacket back and muttering, "You scream every time. It's getting old."
"I'M NOT A NINJA!" Yuki barked back.
A final leap—and they landed on a wide rooftop dotted with rusted ventilation units and laundry lines flapping like battle flags.
Lu was already there.
She stood near the ledge, perched effortlessly on the metal railing as if she were standing on solid ground. The wind tugged at her red hair, eyes narrowed on the city below.
"We're clear," she said.
Sakamoto set Yuki down like a grocery bag. The boy staggered, knees buckling.
"I'm gonna die of a heart attack before anyone even tries to kill me…" he muttered.
Shin brushed off his pants. "Alright, now can someone explain why ten armed goons are after you again?"
Lu didn't flinch. "They're after a key."
Yuki sat down, exhausted. "A key to what? A vending machine?"
"No," Lu said. "To my family's hidden safe."
She turned to face them fully. The street lights below painted her face in golden light, highlighting the quiet tension behind her eyes.
"I'm from the Lu Triad, out of Shanghai. Or I was. My parents were guardians. They protected the location of the family vault for years. When they died… I inherited the key and the burden. I can't throw it away. Not after what they did."
A beat of silence.
Even Shin looked caught off guard.
"…You can't just hide it or fake a duplicate?" he asked, gentler this time.
"If I abandon it," Lu said softly, "I won't be able to face them in the afterlife."
That shut everyone up.
Even Yuki.
Sakamoto adjusted his glasses, expression unreadable.
Shin ran past him, Sakamoto grabbing Shin by the apron like yanking back a misfired shopping cart.
"Wait."
She stayed perched, watching him.
"…You know how to make pork buns?" Taro asked.
Lu blinked. "What?"
"Answer the question."
"Yes, I do."
Taro nodded.
"Then we help you. First. Then we restock the store. After that—pork buns. Homemade. Fresh."
Lu blinked again. "You're… serious?"
"Deadly," Taro replied, eyes narrowing. "The divine ones. Fluffy. Steamed. Proper broth. None of that frozen filler garbage."
Lu smiled faintly for the first time that night.
"Deal."
Yuki exhaled and flopped back on the concrete. "This might be the weirdest gang war ever."
Shin sat beside him. "Nah. This is just Tuesday."
The wind shifted.
From the far end of the rooftop, the air thickened with menace.
Two shadows emerged through the heat shimmer, walking calmly as if the fight was already over.
Bacho, bald and scarred, swords swaying at his sides like steel fangs. His gray mask rose and fell with his breath. His eyes gleamed like someone who didn't see people—only objects to cut open.
Beside him, wrapped in loose chains and trailing footsteps like a phantom, was Son Hee. Purple robe. Dark hair hanging forward like a curtain. A massive chakram clinked at his back, and both wrists were weighed down with chain-wrapped gauntlets.
Lu froze on the ledge.
Yuki instinctively stepped behind a vent.
"Oh no," Shin muttered. "These freaks."
"They're the twins?" Yuki whispered. "They don't even look related. They look like a nightmare and his emotional support cryptid."
Lu didn't blink. "They're twin assassins. They hunt in pairs. They keep the heads of their targets."
Yuki paled. 'I changed my mind. I don't want to be in this manga.'
Bacho stopped first.
His eyes slid across the group until they landed on Lu.
"I'm flattered," he said, voice gravel and glass. "We're famous now."
He touched the hilts of his dao swords like they were pets.
Son Hee sighed, rolling his eyes. "You absolute idiot. We're assassins. We're supposed to be anonymous."
"You're no fun," Bacho replied.
Then, without warning—
BOOM.
Bacho blurred forward like a black flash.
Sakamoto didn't even get a word out before Bacho's heel crashed into his chest, sending him rocketing backward across the rooftop like a cannonball made of regret.
He vanished behind an air conditioning unit, leaving a dust cloud and cracked stone in his wake.
Shin stepped forward, eyes burning. "You bastards."
Son Hee moved before Shin did.
Chains whipped forward—Shin blocked with his arm, barely sidestepping the follow-up chakram swing.
"You angry?" Son Hee asked, voice calm and curious. "Is it because we killed your fat friend?"
Shin's eyes narrowed. "You must be amateurs if you think that would kill Sakamoto ."
He lunged again, exchanging blows with Son Hee—clean, fast, brutal. But Son Hee matched each hit with lazy precision, like he was bored.
Meanwhile, Lu tried to back away.
But Bacho was already behind her.
"No escape," he whispered.
His blade gleamed. He raised it, aiming for her neck.
Yuki panicked.
"LU—"
Then—
CRASH!
The rooftop erupted as a human freight train returned from the dead.
Taro Sakamoto, covered in dust, a vending machine stuck to his back like a backpack, smashed Bacho into the concrete with a double-handed overhead blow.
The rooftop cracked under the impact. Bacho's sword flew from his grip and embedded itself in a nearby vent.
Taro exhaled.
"…Sweet bean buns," he said, standing tall.
"That's what I want next."
The rooftop cracked beneath them as Sakamoto's punch smashed Bacho through the concrete like a wrecking ball made of rage and carbs.
BOOM!
Dust erupted as both hitmen crashed through the floor and into the level below, shaking the entire building.
Yuki flinched so hard he nearly fell backward.
"Oh god. That's two floors down. Do we still call that a rooftop battle?" he muttered.
Then—Son Hee stepped forward.
He looked at Lu, strands of dark hair framing his pale, calm face.
"Give me the key," he said, voice silken. "And I'll give you a beautiful death."
Lu's fists clenched. "I'd rather die than give it to you."
Son Hee sighed, as if dealing with a child.
"Then you'll die like your parents. They said the same thing. So noble. So… tragically lacking in class. They loved a trinket more than their own lives."
Lu's eyes burned.
But before she could move—
Sakamoto's hand shot out from the rubble, grabbing her shoulder gently.
"Don't," he said simply.
Shin added from behind, "He's baiting you. Badly."
Yuki, meanwhile, had ducked behind an AC unit with a broken antenna in his hands like a makeshift spear.
Okay. Think, Yuki. You can't punch. You can't kick. But you've got hands. And bad aim. You are the world's most desperate support unit.
Son Hee flicked a small throwing knife at Lu with a lazy flick of the wrist.
Ting!
Sakamoto caught it with two fingers.
"Oh come on," Yuki muttered. "How is he still casual after falling two stories?!"
The dust cleared as Bacho reemerged, bruised and silent, swords in hand.
Son Hee cracked his knuckles. "Time for the Tofu Scramble."
Yuki blinked. "The what?"
They both lunged at Sakamoto, blades spinning, chains slicing through the air.
But Sakamoto—dodged everything.
Every single slash. Every flying elbow. Every chakram throw. It was like watching a lazy dad playing DDR on expert mode with one hand in his pocket.
Son Hee actually gasped.
"No one has ever—"
CLANG!
Sakamoto smashed a pot over Bacho's head, knocking him cold with a thud.
Then—
CRACK!
A frying pan slammed against Son Hee's chakram, shattering it into two crooked halves.
"Damn you," Son Hee hissed, backing up.
Then he turned—
And went straight for Lu.
Yuki's heart stopped.
I have to do something.
"HEY TWIN FREAK!"
Son Hee turned just in time for a can of pineapple juice to hit him in the face.
It bounced off harmlessly, but distracted him just enough for—
Shin to read his mind, grab a nearby rope, and flip Son Hee onto the ground with brutal force.
"Stay down."
Sakamoto, without missing a beat, swung the entire office fridge into Son Hee's chest.
The rooftop fell silent.
Yuki stood there, clutching the empty juice box, breathing hard.
"…Did I help?"
"No," Shin said.
"Yes," Lu said.
"…Maybe," Sakamoto said, already dragging the bodies.
Wang stood in front of a massive steel vault deep in a hidden basement, frowning.
"What's taking them so long…"
Behind him, the elevator dinged.
Sakamoto and Shin stepped out, dragging Son Hee and Bacho's unconscious bodies like garbage bags.
Wang turned, eyes wide.
"Wait—wait! I was just following orders!"
Lu appeared behind him.
Wang turned.
She smiled, cold and sharp.
"No apology brings back the dead."
She punched him through a screen panel. He dropped like a stone.
Yuki winced. "Oof."
She turned to the vault. Inserted the key.
The lock clicked.
The door creaked open—and what waited inside was…
Treasure.
Gold. Jewels. Stacked art. Priceless scrolls. Sealed swords. Even a Game Boy Color in a glass case.
Yuki's jaw dropped. "Is this One Piece?!"
Shin pulled out a dusty notebook and squinted. "It's an inventory list. Says every item belonged to a Lu family head. Their most treasured thing."
Lu stepped through reverently, scanning the shelves until she stopped.
At the very back, beneath a soft light—
A sake bottle with a hand-painted tag.
"I'll drink this with my daughter when she comes of age."
—Father
She stared.
Then smiled.