It was late at night. The Capital had settled into an eerie stillness, the kind that seemed almost unnatural. The streets were hushed, the moon veiled behind drifting clouds, yet the shadows still stirred—restless, watching, waiting. Even in peace, the Empire never truly slept.
Inside the modest inn tucked away in the slums, the glow of lanterns cast a soft golden hue across the wooden walls. The scent of roasted vegetables and warm bread lingered in the air, the remnants of a humble dinner shared among the found family within.
Vito had just finished serving food to the children, who now helped clean dishes and sweep floors, their quiet chatter a stark contrast to the heavy silence among the adults. Genco stood behind the counter, wiping it down with rhythmic care, his mind clearly elsewhere. Gauri had washed up, his hair damp, eyes distant.
Then the door creaked open.
It was Tatsumi.
He stepped inside, still dressed in the simple, worn clothes he'd used for his covert errand. Dirt clung to the hem of his trousers, and there was a faint stiffness in his movements—like he hadn't yet shaken off the tension of the night.
Thank goodness, he made it out alive, Genco thought with relief, the tightness in his chest easing just a little as he glanced up from his work.
"Tatsumi, I trust that you have done what I asked you to do?" Vito's calm voice broke the stillness. He sat at the table, hands gently folded, his gaze steady.
"Yes, Vito-san," Tatsumi answered with quiet certainty.
"Very good." Vito nodded once, his tone approving but measured. "Gauri, Tatsumi—you both did a good job. Now… you have officially made your bones to our piccola famiglia."
The room seemed to still at those words. Both young men blinked, uncertain. The phrase was foreign, yet it carried weight. "Made your bones"—did it mean they had proven themselves? That they were now truly part of something larger?
Nevertheless, they bowed to Vito, not out of duty, but from something deeper—respect, perhaps even loyalty.
"Thank you… Corleone-sama," Gauri said softly, the words hesitant but sincere. For the first time, he used the title with meaning, recognizing the man not just as a protector, but a patriarch.
Tatsumi remained silent. He lowered his head, holding the bow longer than needed. His face was unreadable, but something in his eyes flickered—regret, maybe. Or uncertainty. Vito noticed.
He studied the boy for a moment, then turned his attention elsewhere.
"Gauri, it's already late. Send those kids back to the house. They need rest."
"Understood," Gauri replied, already moving to gather the children, his voice gentle.
Genco, who had stayed silent until now, raised a hand. "Vito-san, we're running low on olives. We'll need a new batch first thing tomorrow."
"I'll take care of it in the morning," Tatsumi volunteered quickly, almost too quickly. He glanced toward Vito again. "But… Vito-san, there's something I need to speak with you about. In private."
Vito's brow arched slightly. He could hear the edge in Tatsumi's voice—a mixture of tension, resolve, and something unspoken.
"Of course," Vito said calmly. "Come with me."
Vito led Tatsumi to his own room, now refurbished into something modest—something moderately fitting for a man of his standing. The air carried a subtle scent of cedar, aged parchment, and faint incense, a sign of careful upkeep and intention despite its humble appearance. The room's walls were adorned with a few understated paintings, and a small shelf stacked with thick books stood in the corner, catching the low amber light of the lantern on the desk.
Tatsumi took a seat at a chair, its frame sturdy, its cushion softened by a simple velvet pillow that added a quiet touch of comfort to the otherwise sparse furnishings. His fingers ran briefly along the armrest, absorbing the room's calm atmosphere.
"Seems like you've done quite a makeover of your own room," the boy noted, his gaze scanning the surroundings with curiosity.
"Sometimes men like us aren't satisfied with simpler things. Starting smaller like this would do," Vito replied, folding his hands behind his back. He paced slowly, his steps deliberate.
Tatsumi simply smiled, the brief moment of calm not lost on him, though his eyes hinted at the burden of what he was about to share.
"So, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about, ragazzo?"
Tatsumi took a firm breath, steadying himself. "It's about that thing you asked me to do… I managed to beat them first and kill him."
Vito turned to face him fully now, his attention sharpening like a blade.
"Beat them first? What do you mean?"
"Turns out, we're not the only ones looking for Janis' death. I tailed the guy for a while, then I noticed Akame. She was there."
"Akame…" Vito muttered, his voice thoughtful. "It seems I get the gist of your worries."
Tatsumi widened his eyes slightly. A mere mention of Akame's name would mean Night Raid was involved, and Vito was already aware of that, likely from the wanted posters plastered across the Capital. But the fact that he had already figured out they were targeting Janis—without even being told—caught Tatsumi off guard.
It was as if Vito had eyes everywhere, like a spider at the center of a web spun across the Empire.
"Incredible," Tatsumi muttered, just within Vito's earshot, both impressed and slightly unnerved.
"Tatsumi, nothing is incredible if you simply know how to read everything as far as the eye can see from time to time," Vito retorted, his tone calm but tinged with wisdom.
"My apologies… As I was trying to say, Night Raid made their presence known. I really can't afford to let them take advantage, not when we're still establishing ourselves."
Vito walked slowly to the window, peering out over the dim streets below. A dog barked in the distance, breaking the stillness for a moment.
"Tatsumi, sometimes you gain advantage by letting others do your bidding… but that would mean we gain something less from it," he said, his voice low. "Sacrifices of control come with those shortcuts."
"Now, you say they were targeting Janis—you better figure out why."
Tatsumi let a soft chuckle slip, more sardonic than amused. "Heh, I think I may have, already."
From his coat, he drew out the ledger he took from Janis' apartment and handed it carefully to Vito.
"Seems like our resident landlord is no more than a paper tiger," Tatsumi remarked as Vito opened the ledger with deliberate care.
His eyes narrowed as he slipped on his newly-bought reading glasses. He flipped through the pages, scanning the contents. Nobles, merchants, Imperial guards—every name and transaction written in this notebook like the strands of a web of corruption. Each page turned seemed to deepen the gravity of what they now possessed.
Then, a small smile crept across Vito's face, calm and calculating.
"Tatsumi, you did more than enough for your big kill. Now, a small question: with something big like this in hand, what are we supposed to do with it?" Vito asked as he closed the ledger slowly.
"Bring it to someone we could trust, let them handle the crackdown…" Tatsumi answered instinctively, his first thought born from idealism.
But then he paused, brow furrowing as realization struck him. His tone shifted.
"But that is not how it works. Not in a place like this." He looked directly at Vito, his eyes steady.
"Instead, we let them get complacent. Word of Janis' death will spread around sooner or later, and these people—these worms in silk—will feel like they're now clear of any connections with him. Like they're safe."
Vito listened intently, the silence in the room thickening with every word Tatsumi spoke.
"And?"
"When they let their guard down… that's when we crack them down. Make them do our bidding. We may gain less from it, like you said, but it's better than gaining nothing. And better still, it teaches them fear. Fear of the unknown hand that watches from the dark."
Vito looked at him for a long moment, then slowly nodded.
"You're learning fast, ragazzo. Just make sure you don't lose yourself in the game. We need sharp minds, not cold ones. Stay clever, but stay human."
Tatsumi gave a small nod in return, his eyes lingering for a moment longer on the closed ledger before glancing once more out the window. He could see the flickering of lanterns in the distance, the quiet hum of the sleeping city barely audible through the wooden walls.
"So I suggest we cool down for a month or two, let the olive oil business run smoothly. After all, we're still starting from the first step. Best to strengthen our roots before shaking the tree."
Vito looked at Tatsumi, impressed at the way he looks at things now. Gone was the naive boy from the countryside who aspired to be a soldier. In its place stood someone more tempered—calculative, but carrying morality like a good man clinging to a shrinking lifeline.
Now you're slowly entering into my world… Into the world of the mafia. The game of shadows, where loyalty and deception walk side by side.
The midnight moon rose high above the mountains that concealed the Night Raid hideout, its light cascading in silver ribbons across the dense forest below. In the stillness of night, Akame, Leone, and Lubbock hurried toward Najenda's personal office, their footsteps silent but urgent.
"Report," Najenda said the moment they entered, her voice sharp and commanding.
Lubbock was the first to step forward. "The mission… somehow ended up sideways."
Najenda narrowed her eyes. Her fingers tightened around the armrest of her chair.
"Explain."
Leone stepped in beside him, crossing her arms. "We saw the target, tailed him straight to his residence. Me and Lubbock stood guard outside like planned…"
Akame cut in quietly, her voice calm but edged. "I was the one closest to the target. I was prepared to deliver the killing blow. But before I could make a move, a gunshot went off."
"Gunshot?" Najenda echoed.
"Affirmative. Three, to be exact. I never saw who fired them, though I am certain Janis was already dead."
Najenda leaned back in her chair, her gaze darkening.
"So, were you able to get a good look at the attackers?"
Akame shook her head. "No. I decided not to overextend. I retreated."
Najenda paused, then extinguished her lit cigarette against the tray on her desk with a slow hiss.
"As long as the target's dead, that should cut off any support to his cohorts. That part's done."
She then placed her arms on the desk, clasping her hands in front of her lips. Her eyes didn't blink.
"Still… It's the second time now. Last week, someone got to Aria before we could, though we managed to make the first strike. And now this."
"Boss, perhaps it's just a coincidence," Lubbock suggested cautiously, trying to ease the tension. But his voice wavered.
Najenda's gaze turned to him sharply.
"There's no point in downplaying it, Lubbock. When it happens more than once, it stops being coincidence. Someone's ahead of us. Someone who knows the same targets we do. And they're working fast."
Leone frowned. "Then what do we do?"
Najenda stood up slowly, her eyes glinting with thought. "We watch. We listen. Whoever they are, they're making moves in our shadows. And if they keep showing up before us… we'll have to confront them, sooner or later."
The room fell into silence again, the only sound being the wind howling through the cracks in the wooden walls.
The game had changed. And Night Raid was no longer the only hand in play.