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The Spanish Ninja in Japan: A Sequel (book 2)	By : lilwitch Category: +S through Z > Street Fighter Views: 834 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: STREET FIGHTER and characters such as Vega are owned by CAPCOM. I make no profit in this work of fiction. For entertainment only.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Marc Antoní's Tokyo penthouse was unlike anything I had ever seen before, with its thoroughly modern interior. We were miles up, looking out over the city through mirrored windows. Inside it was just as spacious, with quite a few rooms. Not as many as my mansion, but enough to keep me away from him during my stay.
It was decorated in the latest modern fashion, with its minimalist white walls, black and white furniture, art deco lamps, abstract art, frosted glass partitions, and random fixtures of neon lighting hanging on the walls. There was a large black bar, housing a selection of drinks and red stools. The floor was a gleaming white marble, cold and pristine, just like the man himself. It was quite a contrast from the old world charm of his mansion in France.
I sighed, sitting with my legs stretched out across the arms of one of his big white chairs in the living room. I studied a strand of my hair and picked through my long blonde braid.
"Do you not have anything better to do in my home than to primp your hair?" said Marc Antoní with his grin, sitting down on his black sofa, a gleaming black coffee table in front of him. He sat down a mirrored tray with what appeared to be a selection of recreational drugs-none of which surprised me coming from him-doing drugs seemed to be an international pastime among the rich and aristocratic these days; doing coke was considered de rigueur among them.
"Being out in the wilderness for months on end was murder on my hair!" I frowned.
He reclined back, crossing his leg over his knee wearing the latest white suit and a light blue shirt. He wore loafers with no socks and I wondered where he was getting his fashion.
"Do you know, I have a stylist who could work wonders on your hair! He has a hot oil treatment he swears by."
I rolled my eyes, continuing to fuss at my hair.
"Since when do you care about my hair?"
He laughed.
"It was just a suggestion. Once again, you are a guest in my home, whether I like it or not, but I always treat my guests well."
I rolled my eyes again; another one of his lies, if I had ever heard one.
"Would you like anything, by the way?" he said, gesturing towards the tray of drugs. I looked over at him and scowled in disgust.
He poured a glass of Spanish sherry, sitting it on the table.
"Would you like some?"
"I don't generally like to have coke with my sherry." I snickered. "I would never tarnish my body with the likes of that."
"Suit yourself." he said with a grin, beginning to cut some lines of coke on the tray and sniffing it. He sat up and wiped his nose with his fingers.
"Would you like some sherry then? It's the best sherry in Spain! I imported it just so I could have it here."
It was difficult to resist the temptation of having anything from my home country; I nodded.
"Yes, I would, in fact. I can't remember the last time I had anything from Spain."
His face brightened with his gleaming eyes and he happily poured me a glass.
"Salud!" he toasted.
"And if you are hungry, I can have my chef make you anything you like. I flew Guillermo all the way from Spain as well; he knows all the best Spanish cuisine and he's even good with sushi."
"You imported him with the sherry, did you?"
Marc Antoní laughed.
"I see you are already in better spirits for having been here."
My palette had adapted to French food and now, Japanese.
I slowly sipped the wine, savouring its familiar taste as it flowed down my throat.
It had been ages it seemed since I had anything from my home country, although in reality, it had only been a year since my journey began in this new land-and more than 2 since we fled Spain.
We sat there in silence, enjoying our wine. There was no tension between us but, I knew it would be a matter of time before I was angry with him again-and as expected, I did not have to wait long.
"You've really grown since I saw you last," he said finally between sips of wine.
"Grown? Hardly. I'm the same tall height I was the last time."
"Indeed. How old are you now? 17, 18?"
"Nineteen." I replied with a grimace.
He chuckled heartily with a nod.
"So you are. January 27th? You are nearly a man."
I narrowed my eyes at him.
"I am a man." I asserted.
"You misunderstand me. Next year you will be 20. You see, 20 is the age of adulthood in Japan. It is a sacred age, and in the eyes of the country, you will be a man."
I scoffed and rolled my eyes.
"In my country, I already am a man! What do I care about this country?"
He sighed.
"I know that your birthdays have not been pleasant for you…"
"Spare me."
"When you become a man in Japan, there is no experience like it. We will have a celebration like nothing you've had before."
I chuckled and sipped my wine, staring into space.
"Indeed."
"But...I can see none of this impresses you. Let's go out."
I turned to him and he tilted his head.
"Ah, I got your attention."
"So what of going out?" I said, sitting forward.
"I assume you like discotheques, don't you?"
I chuckled.
"I do on occasion. What else to do in Barcelona but drink wine, sleep, and party?"
"Such truer words never spoken by a Spaniard! Your parents and I would have outrageously late dinner and party all night at the best clubs."
"I have no doubt…" I muttered.
He clapped his hands.
"So! Shall we? I know all the best nightlife that Tokyo has to offer! Tonight, I shall make you a man of the world."
I had to wonder yet again what he meant. He seemed to determined to make me just as worldly as he was-something which repulsed and intrigued me all at once.
"If you insist."
We arrived in front of a club illuminated with a bright neon sign that I could not read.
A Japanese man stood there, guarding the door. He wore a suit, his black hair combed back into a wave, shining with pommade.
Marc Antoní said a few brief words to him in Japanese and with an acknowledging grunt, the man let us in.
It was a dimly lit place with booths and tables. I looked to see no dance floor in sight and I frowned.
"Where is the dance floor?" I asked.
He chuckled, taking a seat in a boot and I sat next to him.
"Not that kind of club, I'm afraid."
"Then why'd we come?"
"I figured before you danced, you'd like to soak up some atmosphere first...and maybe some Japanese liquor."
I sighed and rolled my eyes.
"What makes you think that?" I replied, resting my chin in my hand, looking around.
Across from us in an adjacent booth sat a group of Japanese people. Men in suits, some wearing sunglasses, their heavily oiled hair standing in a high pompadour on their heads. They had their arms around women in tight dresses.
"Careful where you look, my boy."
"Why?"
"Those men are Yakuza...powerful Japanese gangsters."
"They don't scare me, Marc Antoní."
"Well, they should. They control most of Japan today. They're not like other countries where their mafia stays in the shadows. Everyone in Japan knows of them, they are both feared and in some cases, respected. Some say they've done more for Japan than the government themselves."
I chuckled and he handed me a glass of Japanese whiskey. I was not fond of it but I was keen to try it.
The liquid hit my mouth and I could not help but to cringe. He laughed heartily at me.
"So whiskey is not to your liking, I see. Very well. I will get you some red wine."
"That's the nicest thing you've done so far."
"Yes well, heed my advice, Vega. Be careful and do not interfere with them. If you ever get involved with them, even I cannot save you."
"You have had dealings with them, then?"
"More than that. They are highly lucrative business men! I am in the middle of a deal now that could secure the entire future for my associate."
"That syndicate? Shadowlaw?"
"Shh! Mind your mouth, boy!" his green eyes flashed and I smirked.
"Whatever. They can't even understand us. And if you're not going to take me out, I am leaving." I declared.
"And where do you think you're going? You have not yet learned your way around this city."
"I have learned more than you think. Geki taught me the ways of the city. I will not need a map where I am going."
"Remember what I told you and heed my advice. Those men are not so hard to spot when you know where to look. They are often missing their ring fingers, sometimes more, and are covered in tattoos."
I scoffed.
"I'll remember. They must've bought up the entire market in pommade!"
He sighed and took a swig of his drink and I rose to leave.
I had the driver take me back to the apartment. There, I found my training garb and my claw and mask. This was my playground.
I roamed the rooftops, jumping from building to building, the neon lights washing the blackness of the city in rainbows of color. I watched the digital marquees lit up on buildings flashing bulletins in pixelated characters, thousands of people it seemed, crossing the street like a never-ending stream. Cars patiently waited in their queues as the people passed.
It seemed that this was a city that did not sleep and I came alive then, immersed in it.
I watched as bubbly Japanese women passed, smelling their scent from my vantage. One wore an off-the-shoulder top, showing off what little of cleavage she had, her slender hips hugged by a tight short skirt, her long curly black hair done up in a ponytail to the side of her head.
As alluring as her features might be, I felt no immediate urge to take her-or her friend, for that matter. No, tonight, I needed something more.
I continued on my prowl, silently watching the city as it passed beneath me.
Just then, I heard a commotion below; I looked down into a dark alleyway where there were 3 men arguing, it seemed. Two of the men wore suits, facing the other man who was dressed a little more casually. Carefully, I peered down closer and I could see the 2 men in suits held guns on the other man. I smirked to myself; this was just too good to be true!
I had not had a decent fight in months and the fact that they possessed guns did not deter me from my mission.
Swiftly I dropped down upon them, my claw slashing their victim's throat, his warm blood splattering upon me, and in quick succession, I drew my claw on the throat of one of the gunmen, his blood too showering me. I was thankful to be shielded in my mask, my body swathed in my ninja garb.
As I slowly rose to my feet, the last gunman stood before me, a particularly ugly specimen; his nose was crooked and looked as if it had been broken many times, and his skin blemished with scruff growing around his face, the man's black hair was combed back into a wavy pompadour, glistening with pommade just like the hairstyle of his comrade, his dark almond eyes glistened with fear and fury. His hand shook as his gun pointed at me but I was not afraid.
One swift kick, I knocked the gun from his hand, knocking him back. Undeterred, he drew a knife and I knocked that out of his hand as well.
Trembling, he wiped his bleeding lip, crouched down on his hands and knees. His weapons lay nearby but with my claw pointing at his throat, I knew he dare not move.
He screamed what sounded like a name and I looked down.
I crouched down and beheld my work, the puddles of blood surrounding me, its smell warm and thick in the air.
He continued to scream, reaching towards his fallen comrade.
He stammered in Japanese.
"Who-who are you? Who do you work for?"
I smirked and I slowly removed my mask, my long blonde hair glowed in the moonlight. I drew my tongue slowly across the blade, savoring the warm taste of blood. I saw the man's face contort in horror.
He screamed at me again, demanding who I was, the spit flying from his mouth. I could see his face red with anger, the veins popping up in his forehead.
"Foreigner!"
I chuckled and likewise, responded in eloquent Japanese.
"I am death. I am God's wrath to be visited upon by the ugly in this world."
"You are the devil!"
"I could be...to you."
"Are you going to kill me, then?"
I cocked my head, dipping a finger into the pool of blood and licking it; he grimaced at me.
"Perhaps...but maybe there is no sport in it." I replied simply. "The others died much too quickly for my satisfaction…but then again you, you I could take my time with."
I rose again, looking upon my prey. I could see the sweat glistening on his forehead and the gleam of the pommade in his hair and I smirked at him.
"Get up!" I commanded. "It does not suit you to be wallowing in their blood."
He stood on shaky legs, his dark eyes gleaming fiercely at me.
"Who are you?" he asked again. "Who do you work for?"
I folded my arms.
"I do not work for anyone." I stretched my clawed hand out and admired the bloodied blades gleaming in the light.
"I am the one holding my claw to your throat. I will ask the questions."
He swallowed but remained firm and I sighed.
"If you must know-and I am not sure it matters, as I will kill you anyway-I am called many things…'Balrog: the Demon of Barcelona', 'the Scarlet Terror'...but you may call me Vega."
He lowered his head and gave a quick bow, though I did not return it.
"Am I to die now, Vega-san?" his eyes regarded me from beneath furrowed brows.
"Are you so eager to die?" I smirked at him.
"I can give you anything! Anything you want! Money! Women!"
"I have no need of money...and what makes you think I would be interested in your women?"
"We have many different ones...maybe some from your country."
"I would gladly skin your whores!" I hissed and his eyes widened. "They would never be fit to touch me."
He swallowed, his eyes darting back and forth and I watched the thoughts cross his mind and then he looked at me, his dark eyes gleaming with new hope.
"Blood! You will swim in blood...all the blood you wish. I have nothing more to offer."
"Is that so? and how could you offer such a thing to me?"
"You speak very good Japanese, Vega-san."
I tossed my head back with an indignant snort, my long braid swinging back over my shoulder. It was a token phrase, a blanket statement that could be used by some Japanese to lure one into a false sense of security with them. I was too smart for the likes of him.
After learning so well from Geki sensei, Geki taught me well in both martial arts and cultural etiquette.
"You know, I have never seen a foreigner like you before. Perhaps you could be of benefit..."
I snickered.
"Your friend lies dead, in a pool of blood, and you wish to hire me?"
He dropped his gaze, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and he looked back up at me.
"We were brothers, bound by oath...I will miss him, but I cannot fight you alone. I think that you would be fearsome against our enemies."
I shifted my weight and folded my arms, scoffing.
"I am certain of that."
"May I?" gestured the man at his suit pocket.
I watched him carefully. I was nearly certain he did not have any other weapons, but to my peril, I let him dig in his coat.
"You wish to smoke? Fine, then. It may be your last one."
The man took a cigarette and lighter from his jacket. His hands still shook a little and I chuckled.
He took a deep drag of his cigarette and exhaled, looking at me. The cloud of smoke rose like fog around him.
"My brothers will come for you. It is unforgivable, what you did."
"So? It does not concern me."
"That man owed us a debt, a debt which he was paying when you killed him and my partner. You must pay it back."
I laughed at him. Clearly, he had no idea who he was talking to.
"I owe you nothing!" I hissed.
"You killed one of my brothers and wounded me. The loss of our debt is incomprehensible…" he puffed on his cigarette, locking a dark gaze on me. "You must pay it back."
I smirked, shifting my weight again, leaning closer to him. He may have been a thug but he was a much smaller stature than me and I towered over him. My shadow encompassed him in the dim light.
"Is that...a threat?"
I could see his eyes sparkling in the darkness and I could see him swallowing.
"It is the truth. If I cannot make you pay us compensation for damages, they will."
I chuckled.
"I do not fear your organization."
The glow of the end of his cigarette smoldered like an ember and I knew he was shaken.
Before either one of us could make another move, a shiny black car pulled up blocking the alleyway and more men in suits piled out, surrounding us. The clicking of guns echoed through the alley as they pointed them all at me.
One called out to his comrade that I had so eloquently pinned down. The others fanned out and observed the slaughter of their brother and their mark.
He smirked now, confident that he was safe, folding his arms.
"I told you they would come."
I beheld each of the men but I was still resolute.
One approached him, speaking in rapid-sounding Japanese, no doubt ensuring he was unharmed and wondering what had happened.
"It is all right," he announced to the group as they held their guns trained on me.
"He saved me."
A collective utterance was heard among the men and I had to keep my jaw from falling off and hitting the floor. I took a breath and locked my gaze on his, ensuring I had heard correctly. The gleam in his eye told me I was correct. I did not know what he had planned, or what I had to do with it but now, I would find out, whether I wanted to or not.
Puzzled glances were exchanged among the men and he continued to puff on his cigarette.
"Come, Vega." he beckoned towards the waiting car.
I sighed, resigned to my unknown fate.
- 3
- 4
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The Spanish Ninja in Japan: A Sequel (book 2)