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Miakahashi walked out of the luxurious bath and sauna adjoining his expansive bedroom. His face was flushed red from a whole hour spent soaking ih, the water kept at a sistently high temperature by puters to sooth his body. He dabbed at his glistening black hair with a towel and sidered his fad his naked body in one of the large mirrors in the bedroom. He looked good for his age. His stomach was reasonably flat and if he held it in, a six pack was clearly disable below a thin layer of fat.He had spent most of his time ih thinking<big>?</big> about Hirayama, the soles and Majeneral Wang. The death of this man was the only way to put a stop to all this nonsense. As for Hirayama, he knew what his adviser wanted most of all. That was why he had kept the man close by and not given him the space to think and plot on how to attain what he coveted most of all.
Takahashi was ner to ambition. He himself had been endowed with more of it than most people and that had seen him rise from nothing to what he was today – the all-seeing eye of Japanese politid head of the most powerful Yakuza gang in Japan. He had seen ambition drive men up the ranks of both politid gang hierarchies and he had watched or been instrumental to their rapid falls from grace. Hirayama, by coveting too much behind that sycophantic servitude, was going to gain nothing.
One of the household staff, the buxom maid who had delivered a stern back scrub, had laid out a sted yukata, which he slipped on and walked towards the mini bar. He poured himself a glass of VSOP and walked towards the doors that gave out to his bedroom baly. Takahashi sipped on his ad slid open the baly doors. It was cold but it was his habit to plate the latest figuration of his exquisite rock gardeed by the garden robots, which crafted ever-ging patterns with the random but totally harmonious plat of pebbles and ishi, or rocks. The robots would sometimes rake designs into the sanded area that would have Takahashi totally speechless with appreciation at the sumi, the balance, of it all. Takahashi was anticipating another robotic masterpiece when a blob risiween the banisters caught his eye.
It took Takahashi a fra of a sed to realize that it was a face, a face so expressiohat it sent a chill right through his bones. A body quickly followed as the man swung himself ly over the edge of the baly and landed just three feet away from Takahashi who had retreated instinctively. He kraight away that this was the ese man from the blown-up photographs he had meticulously studied not so long ago, the same man who had murdered Kenzo Yamamoto.
“What do you want?” Takahashi asked in rough Mandarin with an air of feigned authority. His brandy goblet was shaking ever so slightly and he prayed that the man in front of him would not notice it. But it was clear the man did, his crest-shaped eyes homing in on the vibrating glass.
“I am here to relieve you<samp>９9liｂ.</samp> of the burden of living,” the assassin replied in perfect Japanese, causing Takahashis glass to shake even more violently. This man was not Japa he spoke Japah the authority of a native. A thousand sarios crossed Takahashi’s mind but they all ended with the same clusion. He would probably die tonight and the Yamaguchi-gumi would be thrown into disarray. He khis man was not here to collect the laundry. Despite the man’s diminutive size, something told Takahashi that his assailant was not to be uimated. He decided to try deception.
“You doo know who I am. My men will ...”
“Shut up! Your men are long gone. I personally made sure of it,” rasped the assassin, his eyes glimmering in the light behind thick epithic folds. “Who you are means nothing where yoing. Do you know why I will not feel the slightest amount of guilt after your death?”
“I am sure yoing to tell me,” Takahashi ceded weakly. His face had begun to perspire heavily. The sweat streamed down his fad formed wet patches on his fresh yukata.
“Because men like you never get to where you are now without taking a few lives, without ruining a few families and causing public misery. That be fiven. I myself am a taker of lives. Ygest folly is a lack of uanding of t<mark></mark>hings ese, of New a. This is ironiough when you sider the fact that your aors inate from the Middle kingdom. I am going to take your life even though that fate is only a fra of what you and your kind deserve.”
Takahashi was suddenly filled with rage.
“That is a god damn lie and you know it. Nothing but old ese propaganda. We are desded from the sun, a superior rad you know it,” retorted Takahashi, bile rising in him, threatening to choke him. Whatever fear he had felt had quickly retreated, replaced with something approximating his interpretation of bushido, the warrior’s code.
“Then you will die uneducated and misinforme藏书网d” replied the assassin, angry at the insult. Takahashi was already making his move.
From the periphery of his vision, as if in slow-motion, the assassin saw the glint of the chiseled surfaces of the thick brandy goblet as it came hurtling towards the bridge of his akahashi had used the assassin’s slight lapse to attack. Even at that moment the assassin was twisting viciously to the left as the glass sailed by into the night. The assassin waited until he heard it crash in the garden below. At the same time <samp></samp>as Takahashi was itting himself to an honorable death, the assassin rushed towards him, engulfing the Japanese neck with his thin hands. Takahashi’s arms whipped up to break the deadly stranglehold but the move was futile.
The assassin delivered several sharp jabs to specific parts of the minister’s body. Takahashi’s hands grew heavy and try as he could he was able to raise them no further than his mid-riff. The big Japaruggled as the much smaller man’s hands tightehe hold on his neck. He struggled violently, writhing like a ered animal. He clawed angrily at the assassin’s body but his hands were growing heavier. Even though he was suffog to death he realized that the man’s skin was cold to the touch. Twisting his body angrily, he attempted to use his weight to throw the assassin against the crete balustrade. The assassin had anticipated that move and tered with a sudden acrobatieuver with Takahashi’s thieck still within his vice-like grip. Takahashi felt nothing as his neapped violently backwards and his heavy body slid to the floor.
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