The dojo in Osaka exudes an air of reverence and menace. Shadows of ancestral weapons and calligraphy dance on the walls, lit only by the flickering glow of candles. The faint scent of incense mingles with the sharp tang of tension in the air. A low wooden table sits at the center, surrounded by Otakebi Fuji, Tsurugi Yama, Yamato Ikari, and Hibiki Seishin. Each member of The Shikona Legion carries the weight of anticipation. Standing before them is Kenzo Takahashi, his sharp suit immaculate except for the veins of fury pulsing in his neck. A storm of rage shatters his usually calm demeanor as he slams a dossier onto the table, scattering photographs of Takeshi Nakamura's battered face and X-rays of his crushed hand.
Kenzo Takahashi: Look at him! Takeshi Nakamura—reduced to this! Humiliated! Broken! And why? Because of that fat American pig, LuLu Biggs.
He leans forward, his glare sweeping across the group like a blade. His fingers grip the table's edge so tightly that his knuckles turn white.
Kenzo Takahashi: Do you know what it means to me? Nakamura is not just another soldier—he is my protege. My investment. And now he lies in a hospital bed, pissing through a catheter. The Yamamoto clan’s honor hangs by a thread because of this failure!
The words land like blows. Tsurugi Yama fidgets slightly, his fingers toying with the tassels of his belt. Yamato Ikari leans back lazily, a smirk tugging at his lips. Otakebi Fuji, seated at the head of the table, bows his head slightly before speaking in a voice like rolling thunder.
Otakebi Fuji: Kenzo-sama, your pain is understood. The Shikona Legion will restore the clan’s honor. LuLu Biggs will pay for what he has done.
Kenzo’s eyes narrow as he straightens, brushing invisible dust from his lapels. His voice cuts like steel.
Kenzo Takahashi: He’s not the only one—Takuma Sato—Etsuji-sama’s white whale. The time has come to rid us of him once and for all. He threatens our chances of winning the Ronin Rumble and everything the Yamamoto clan stands for.
Yamato Ikari chuckles softly, drawing Kenzo’s sharp gaze.
Yamato Ikari: A white whale, you say? Then we are the harpoons. Shall we aim for the heart or toy with him first?
Kenzo’s lip curls into a sneer, but before he can respond, Tsurugi Yama speaks, his tone measured but laced with greed.
Tsurugi Yama: Kenzo-sama, such significant targets deserve significant rewards. The clan’s coffers are vast, are they not?
Kenzo’s fist slams against the table, making the candles flicker. Tsurugi flinches ever so slightly.
Kenzo Takahashi (voice sharp, dripping with disdain): Your reward is the honor of serving the Yamamoto clan. Do not let your avarice make you forget your place, Tsurugi.
Tsurugi lowers his head, a flicker of resentment passing through his eyes. Hibiki Seishin has been silent until now and has shifted slightly. The flickering candlelight catches the scar across his face as he raises his head. His voice is soft but eerie, carrying an otherworldly weight.
Hibiki Seishin: Kenzo-sama, I must speak. The mountain spirits have spoken to me. They whisper of ruin—a shadow that will fall if vengeance guides our steps.
The room goes still. Even the flickering candles seem to pause. Kenzo stares at Hibiki as if weighing whether to dismiss him or strangle him on the spot. Finally, he speaks, his voice icy.
Kenzo Takahashi: Ruin? Shadows? This is not the time for your riddles, Hibiki. The spirits do not guide the Yamamoto clan—Etsuji does. And you will follow my orders.
Hibiki meets Kenzo’s glare unblinking, his calm presence unsettling in its defiance. Otakebi’s deep and authoritative voice cuts through the tension.
Otakebi Fuji: Hibiki, you will respect Kenzo-sama’s words. Our path is clear. The Shikona Legion will not falter.
Yamato Ikari chuckles again, his smirk widening.
Yamato Ikari: Perhaps the spirits simply fear the storm we bring.
Kenzo straightens, smoothing his suit jacket. His tone softens, but the menace lingers.
Kenzo Takahashi: You may jest, Yamato, but do not forget what is at stake. The Ronin Rumble is our battlefield. I expect LuLu Biggs to be broken, Sato silenced, and the Yamamoto clan’s honor restored. Fail me, and you will wish the spirits had taken you.
He turns sharply on his heel, the enforcers following him as the heavy door slides shut with a resounding thud. The Shikona Legion is left in tense silence, the flickering candlelight reflecting the unease in their eyes.
Hibiki lowers his gaze, his scarred fingers tracing the table’s grain as he mutters softly, almost to himself.
Hibiki Seishin: The storm may come, but even storms bow to the mountain.
The distant rumble of thunder rolls across the sky, a harbinger of the chaos to come.
The Hidden Hall
The sound of rain patters softly against the paper windows as the four members of the Shikona Legion stand in tense silence. Their leader, Otakebi Fuji, is seated at the head of a low table, his massive frame hunched forward. Tsurugi Yama leans against the wall, arms crossed, his impatience clear. Yamato Ikari studies a map of the Ronin Rumble match layout, his sharp eyes scanning for weaknesses. Hibiki Seishin, as always, lingers in the shadows, his presence more felt than seen.
The shoji door slides open with a harsh snap, and Kenzo Takahashi enters, his tailored suit immaculate despite the storm outside. In his hand is a slim manila folder. His usually composed demeanor is gone, replaced by fury barely held in check. He doesn’t bow. He doesn’t speak. He slams the folder onto the table, scattering its contents—photographs of a battered Takeshi Nakamura, his face swollen and bruised, a catheter tube taped to his body.
Later That Night
The Bigg House
The cracked, graffiti-tagged marquee of The Bigg House looms over the quiet Tokyo street. Inside, Otakebi Fuji stands in the center of the abandoned dance floor. His stern gaze sweeps across the shadowy room, the faint hum of a distant generator the only sound. Tsurugi Yama idly paces near the bar, his fingers trailing through the thick layer of dust on the counter. Yamato Ikari crouches by the DJ booth, using a flashlight to check for surveillance cameras, while Hibiki Seishin leans against a wall, his oni mask dangling from his hand.
The oppressive silence breaks as Yamato speaks, cold and focused, while disconnecting the last security feeds.
Yamato Ikari: Cameras are down. If Biggs didn’t already know we’re here, he’s about to.
Tsurugi scoffs, tossing a half-empty bottle of champagne into a dark corner. The glass shatters, the sound reverberating like a gunshot.
Tsurugi Yama: Let him know. I want him to feel the fear crawl up his spine before we crush him.
Otakebi steps forward; his towering frame illuminated faintly by a cracked chandelier. His voice is measured, carrying the weight of a leader.
Otakebi Fuji: Arrogance is a weakness, Tsurugi. Remember the mission: we send a message, not chaos. Biggs will answer for what he did to Nakamura in the Ronin Rumble.
Hibiki tilts his head; his voice is soft and unsettling.
Hibiki Seishin: The spirits stir. They warn of a confrontation... but their whispers are unclear. Biggs has allies in this place, hidden in the shadows.
Yamato rises from the DJ booth, slinging his laptop bag over his shoulder. His expression is grim but determined.
Yamato Ikari: Doesn’t matter who he’s got. This place is a mausoleum. It’s his tomb, and we’re the gravekeepers.
Tsurugi grins, leaning against the dusty bar, his eyes gleaming with violent anticipation.
Tsurugi Yama: Let’s ensure it’s a closed casket.
Otakebi raises a hand, silencing the group. His voice cuts through the tension like a blade.
Otakebi Fuji: Enough. Hibiki, scout the upstairs. Yamato, check the exits and seal them. Tsurugi, with me. Biggs may be waiting, but so are we.
As the group moves to their tasks, the creak of a heavy door opening echoes through the club. Everyone freezes, their heads turning toward the VIP lounge upstairs. A faint light flickers, followed by a deep, familiar laugh: LuLu Biggs.
LuLu Biggs (offscreen): Y’all came all this way to crash my house party? Shame it’s been dead since the pandemic.
The Legion members exchange tense glances. Tsurugi’s grin widens as he tightens his fists, while Hibiki seems almost entranced by the sound. Yamato adjusts the drone on his wrist, readying for action.
Otakebi Fuji: (calmly) Stay sharp. He wants to rattle us.
The laughter grows louder, accompanied by the faint thud of heavy footsteps descending the VIP lounge stairs. LuLu emerges into view, dressed in a long coat, his gold chains glinting in the dim light. His sling is gone, replaced by a steel baton in one hand. He’s flanked by his Terracotta Titans, Sun Hao, and Zhou Kai, who crack their knuckles menacingly.
LuLu Biggs: I was wonderin’ when Yamamoto would send his lapdogs. I guess I hit a nerve, huh? It's too bad for you. Biggs doesn’t play nice.
LuLu’s booming voice fills the space, reverberating off the walls. The Legion slowly moves into position, forming a line as Otakebi steps forward, his presence unshaken.
Otakebi Fuji: This isn’t about playing nice. It’s about respect—you’ve lost every ounce of it."
LuLu smirks, his eyes narrowing as he gestures toward Nakamura’s brutalized jacket draped over a chair near the bar.
LuLu Biggs: Respect? You mean that bitch Nakamura? Respect doesn’t keep you alive in my world, Fuji. Power does. You got the guts to take me down, or you just here to talk?"
Tsurugi takes a step forward, his voice dripping with venom.
Tsurugi Yama: Keep talkin’, Biggs. You’ll be eating those words—along with your teeth.
Otakebi raises a hand again, stopping Tsurugi in his tracks. The tension is palpable as Otakebi locks eyes with LuLu, the silence heavy between them.
Otakebi Fuji: Enough words. Let’s end this.
The flickering light casts long, ominous shadows over the once-glamorous Bigg House. The generator's hum grows louder, merging with the sound of thunder outside as the confrontation draws near.
Showdown at The Bigg House Rooftop
The rooftop of The Bigg House was a battleground drenched in the glow of Tokyo’s neon skyline. A chill wind whipped across the helipad as Otakebi Fuji stood tall, his eyes fixed on the crumpled form of LuLu Biggs. The Shikona Legion loomed behind him, their imposing forms casting long shadows under the flickering rooftop floodlights.
LuLu coughed, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, but his gold-toothed grin remained intact. Sun Hao and Zhou Kai stirred beside him, battered but unwilling to yield, while Yuki hovered near the rooftop’s edge, a blade discreetly hidden in her palm.
Otakebi took a step forward, his massive frame exuding dominance. He raised his voice, deep and commanding, carrying the weight of the Yakuza’s wrath.
Otakebi Fuji: LuLu Biggs, you’ve tested the patience of the Yamamoto clan for the last time. Tonight, the shadow of the Yakuza claims this territory. Next time, it will be your life.
Before LuLu could respond, Yamato Ikari charged forward, speed belying his size. He rammed into Zhou Kai with a devastating shoulder block, sending the Titan crashing into the rooftop railing. Zhou barely clung to the edge, the city lights glinting off the streets far below. Yamato turned, a storm brewing in his eyes, and pointed a menacing finger at Sun Hao.
Yamato Ikari: You want to stand against the storm? Let’s see if you can weather it!
Sun Hao lunged, his fists flying, but Yamato was too fast. He ducked under a wild swing and countered with a spinning knee to the gut, doubling Sun Hao. As Sun staggered back, Yamato grabbed him by the neck and hoisted him, slamming him onto the cold steel with a resounding thud.
Meanwhile, Hibiki Seishin moved like a specter, circling LuLu. His steps were slow, deliberate, and unnerving, his aura as cold as the mountain spirits he claimed to commune with. LuLu pushed himself to his knees, shaking off the pain, and locked eyes with Hibiki.
LuLu Biggs: You think I’m scared of some ghost story? Come at me, freak!
Hibiki tilted his head, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he struck, his massive hand wrapping around LuLu’s throat. Lifting the larger man off the ground was a feat that seemed almost supernatural, and the eerie silence that followed sent a chill through everyone present.
But LuLu wasn’t done. With a desperate surge of strength, he grabbed Hibiki’s wrist with his good arm and twisted it, breaking the grip. He landed on his feet and retaliated with a headbutt that sent Hibiki backward.
LuLu Biggs: Ain’t nobody choking out Biggs, ghost or not!
The battle raged on, chaotic and brutal. Yamato hurled Sun Hao into a pile of steel pipes while Zhou Kai managed to pull himself back onto the rooftop, joining LuLu in fending off Hibiki and Otakebi. Yuki darted between the chaos, slashing at Yamato’s side with her hidden blade, drawing a grunt of pain but failing to slow him.
Finally, Otakebi raised his voice, halting the fight with its sheer authority.
Otakebi Fuji: Enough!
The Shikona Legion regrouped as an imposing wall against the battered but unbowed Titans and their leader. Otakebi’s gaze bore into LuLu, his tone colder than the night wind.
Otakebi Fuji: You’ve earned this night, Biggs. But don’t mistake survival for victory. The Yakuza never forgets a debt.
LuLu wiped the blood from his mouth and staggered forward, his grin never fading.
LuLu Biggs: You can send all the shadows you want, Fuji. I’ll be here, shining brighter every time you try to snuff me out.
Otakebi’s lips curled into a thin smile. He turned, signaling for the Legion to follow him toward the exit. As they disappeared into the stairwell, Hibiki paused, his voice low and cryptic.
Hibiki Seishin: Beware the storm that follows the mountain's silence.
The words hung like a curse, leaving LuLu and his crew to process the ominous warning. As the rooftop returned to an uneasy stillness, LuLu glanced at his Titans, his voice rough but resolute.
LuLu Biggs: They hit hard, but we hit harder. Get ready, boys. This fight ain’t over. Will fix there ass’s tomorrow night in the rumble.
The scene faded with the neon glow of Tokyo painting the night, the sound of sirens in the distance hinting at the chaos to come.