Rooftop
The rain poured down relentlessly over Tokyo, streaking across the flickering neon lights that bathed the city in a chaotic glow. On a crumbling rooftop overlooking the labyrinthine streets below, Kogane stood motionless, his golden mask glinting faintly in the dim light. The city thrummed with life beneath him, but up here, it was quiet—a refuge for contemplation amidst the storm.
Kogane: Every city has its shadows. Tokyo just hides them better—bright lights, loud crowds, the illusion of life moving forward. But I see the cracks—the dirt beneath the neon. AAPW was supposed to be my hive, a place of honor. Now, it’s tangled in the venom of the Yamamoto Yakuza. They claim they’re protecting it from vultures like Rupert Mudcock, but a snake in the garden is still a snake.
Behind him, deliberate footsteps broke through the rhythmic rain pattern. Kogane turned his head slightly, catching the silhouette of Sayaka Inoue as she emerged from the stairwell. Her umbrella shielded her from the downpour, and her sharp eyes locked onto him with a knowing smirk.
Sayaka: Kogane. Always the brooding hero. Did you come here to perfect your rooftop pose, or do you hope the rain will wash away your doubts?
Kogane turned fully to face her; his shoulders squared, his stance unwavering.
Kogane: Sayaka. I didn’t think the Yakuza’s messenger would brave the rain to find me. Let me guess—you’re here to convince me to crawl into the hive, or did Yamamoto finally send you to deal with me?
Sayaka’s smirk widened as she stepped closer, the rain bouncing off her umbrella like tiny sparks. Her voice was calm yet carried an edge.
Sayaka: Deal with you? Hardly. I’m here to offer you the same thing we’ve always offered: survival. You think you’re fighting for honor, but you’re just a wasp buzzing against the glass. The Yakuza isn’t your enemy, Kogane. We’re the only reason AAPW still stands. Mudcock would’ve turned it into just another cog in his media machine without us.
Kogane took a step closer, the rain dripping from the edges of his mask.
Kogane: Spare me the sales pitch, Sayaka. The Yakuza isn’t saving AAPW—they’re strangling it. Trading one tyrant for another isn’t justice. It’s just a different flavor of corruption.
Sayaka’s expression hardened, though her voice remained steady.
Sayaka: You talk about justice like it’s something pure. It’s not. Justice needs power to survive. The Yakuza has power. What do you have, Kogane? Ideals? A mask? In the Ronin Rumble, your ‘justice’ will mean nothing. You’ll be just another body in the ring.
Kogane’s fists clenched at his sides, but he kept his voice calm.
Kogane: You’re wrong. Justice isn’t about power but standing up, even when the odds are impossible. The Ronin Rumble isn’t about the Yakuza or Mudcock. It’s about the fans. The people who still believe in something bigger. And when I step into that ring, they’ll see that even one hornet can make the giants bleed.
Sayaka paused momentarily, her smirk returning as she turned toward the stairwell.
Sayaka: Careful, Kogane. Even hornets get crushed underfoot. In the Ronin Rumble, your pride is the only thing you’ll be protecting if you survive.
With that, she disappeared into the shadows, her umbrella the last thing to fade from view. Kogane turned back to the city, the rain continuing its unrelenting assault.
Kogane: They can laugh, jeer, or try to crush me. But when the sting comes, they’ll remember my name.
He leapt from the rooftop into the night, a golden streak cutting through the storm.
The memory hit like a thunderclap as Kogane sprinted through the rain-slick streets of Tokyo. It was months earlier, and the night air was heavy with the stench of gasoline and smoke. The alley was dark, illuminated only by the dim, flickering neon signs of an illegal gambling den. Shouts echoed behind him as he rounded a corner, his mask concealing a face of determination.
Sasaki’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and mocking.
Sasaki: You’ve been a thorn in my side for too long, Kogane! Tonight, the streets will taste your blood!
Kogane skidded to a halt at the end of the alley. Blocking his path stood Daichi Sasaki, his arms folded across his chest, flanked by members of The Syndicate. Behind Kogane, more goons spilled into the alley, trapping him. The odds were grim—just the way he liked it.
Kogane: Still talking, Sasaki? You must be desperate if you brought this many lackeys to handle one man.
Sasaki’s lips curled into a sneer as he stepped forward, the streetlight catching his sharp features.
Sasaki: One man? No. You’re a hornet buzzing where you don’t belong. But even hornets can be crushed underfoot. Tonight, you’ll learn your place.
Kogane’s fists clenched, rain dripping from his gloves as he sized up the group. The thugs advanced, their sneers barely hiding their hesitation.
Kogane: Then let’s dance. But don’t blame me when you can’t handle the sting.
With a blur of motion, Kogane charged forward, delivering a devastating Hornet’s Strike to the nearest goon’s chest. The rapid series of forearm blows left him crumpling to the ground. Kogane didn’t stop, pivoting into a spinning Wasp Wing Barrage that sent another thug flying into a stack of crates.
The Syndicate regrouped, Sasaki barking orders.
Sasaki: Don’t let him slip through! Surround him!
Kogane backflipped to evade their grasp, landing gracefully and launching into a flurry of kicks and punches—Insect’s Fury—overwhelming two more attackers. But the numbers were against him, and a crowbar-wielding thug landed a glancing blow to his side. Kogane staggered but refused to fall.
Kogane (inner monologue): Pain is nothing. Justice doesn’t waver. Not now, not ever.
Sasaki finally stepped into the fray, his strikes precise and powerful. A spinning back elbow—a move eerily similar to Kogane’s Guardian’s Mantle—clipped Kogane’s jaw, sending him stumbling. Sasaki smirked as he loomed over him.
Sasaki: This is the reality you refuse to accept, Kogane. The strong rule, and the weak crawl at their feet. That mask doesn’t make you a hero—it makes you a fool.
Kogane wiped the blood from his lips, his golden mask gleaming defiantly.
Kogane: Better to be a fool with honor than a predator with none. You may win tonight, Sasaki, but I’ll be back. And next time, you won’t have your hive to protect you.
With a burst of energy, Kogane delivered a blinding Golden Sting—a flying knee that struck Sasaki square in the chest, forcing him to stumble back. Using the opening, Kogane flipped over the surrounding thugs and disappeared into the shadows, leaving the Syndicate in disarray.
As he escaped into the Tokyo night, Sasaki’s frustration echoed behind him.
Sasaki: Run while you can, hornet! One day, I’ll clip your wings for good!
The memory faded as Kogane stood on the rooftop once again. The rain fell harder now, but his resolve was as sharp as ever.
Kogane (inner monologue): Sasaki and his Syndicate may think they own these streets, but they’ve forgotten one thing: even a hornet’s sting can bring a giant to its knees.
Kogane stood still on the rooftop, his gaze fixed on the glowing Tokyo skyline. The rain poured down in relentless sheets, pooling at his feet and streaking down the golden mask that hid his expression. He clenched his fists as Sayaka’s words echoed in his mind.
Kogane (inner monologue): Justice needs power to survive. That’s what she said. That’s what they all believe. Sasaki. The Syndicate. Even Tanaka himself. To them, power is a hammer, and justice is whatever they say it is. But real justice… real honor… that’s something they’ll never understand. It’s not about power. It’s about standing up even when you’re alone, especially when you’re alone.
The rain's sound was interrupted by the faint hum of a neon billboard in the distance. Kogane turned to face it, his golden mask reflecting the garish image of Rupert Mudcock’s grinning face. The billboard loomed over the city like a specter, its message bold and unmistakable: “M.O.X. Media—The Voice of the People.”
Kogane (inner monologue): And then there’s him. Rupert Mudcock. The puppet master pulls the strings, dividing the world and feeding the fire of greed and hatred. He talks about freedom, but all he’s ever done is sell it to the highest bidder. If the Yakuza is a hive of venom, then Mudcock is the spider spinning his web around the whole damn world.
Kogane took a deep breath, the weight of the Ronin Rumble pressing heavily on his shoulders. He knew what awaited him in the ring. Fifty-nine opponents. A battlefield where alliances would crumble and betrayals would come swiftly. Behind it all, two forces were pulling the strings: the Yamamoto Yakuza and Rupert Mudcock’s empire.
Kogane (inner monologue): The Yakuza. Mudcock. Two sides of the same coin. Both claim to protect, but all they do is poison and destroy. And I’m caught in the middle. If I stand with AAPW, I’m fighting for a hive run by criminals. If I stand against them, I’m handing victory to a man who’s turned the world into his chessboard. So, where does that leave me?
He clenched his fists tighter, the rain streaming down his forearms.
Kogane (inner monologue): It leaves me with the fans. The people who still believe in something bigger than power or money. The ones who cheer for honor, for justice. For the heroes, they want to see in the world. The Ronin Rumble isn’t just about winning. It’s about showing them that even one man—one hornet—can stand up to giants.
As he stared over the city, the rain slackened slightly, and a faint sound caught his ear. He turned his head sharply toward the stairwell. He thought Sayaka had returned for a moment, but there was nothing—just the echoes of a restless city.
Kogane (inner monologue): Sayaka thinks alliances shift like the wind. Maybe she’s right. In that ring, everyone will fight for themselves. But not me. I’m fighting for something bigger. Something they’ll never understand.
He stepped closer to the rooftop's edge, his golden mask shimmering faintly in the glow of the neon lights below.
Kogane: Let them come. The Yakuza. Mudcock. Sasaki. All of them. When the Ronin Rumble begins, they’ll see what justice looks like. And they’ll feel the sting.
With that, Kogane leapt from the rooftop, disappearing into the stormy Tokyo night. His silhouette vanished against the sea of neon, leaving only the faint glimmer of his mask behind.
Kogane: Justice doesn’t need power. It just needs someone willing to fight for it. And I’ll fight until my last breath.