Whispers of Shikiban:The king walks among us-Chapter 67 --

4th Floor – Pre-Mission Dressing Room

Reika stepped out like she owned the void.

The coat she wore—obsidian black, streaked with violent violet lines that shimmered under the dressing room's sterile lighting—moved like liquid shadow. Every shift of fabric whispered danger. The texture wasn't silk, wasn't armor, but something in-between. It looked like it should weigh a ton, but it flowed like smoke. Beneath it: a form-fitting tactical dress, sharp angles and utility seams, hugging her torso before cascading into sleek black pants. Her boots clicked against the polished floor, announcing her arrival with military precision.

Tucked under one arm was her black book—silent, ancient, unnerving. The gloves came last. Open-fingered. Tactical grip. She slid them on with the kind of calm that meant she'd already counted every exit, memorized every shadow, calculated every threat.

She looked up. The room had gone still.

A Kageshiki stood by the uniform racks. Masked. Silent. Draped in ceremonial sayro, her entire presence screamed controlled danger. She didn't move, didn't blink. Just watched Reika like she was both impressed and annoyed.

"Kagetsu-san," the woman said finally, voice cold and clipped. "We do offer skirt variants. Upper-knee length. If you prefer something more... breathable."

Reika's stare could freeze oceans. "I'm not here to sell a fantasy."

"Understood."

The woman bowed slightly. Unbothered. "Your badge ranks X. This uniform is woven with anti-absorption threads. Blood slides right off. It stays clean—symbolic, perhaps. Order in chaos."

Reika raised a brow. "All this... put together in two days?"

"Advanced tech," the woman said, deadpan. Like the answer was obvious.

She extended a small black airpod. It looked ordinary. It wasn't. "Secure squad link. Mic'd. Encrypted. You could get thrown through a skyscraper and this won't budge."

Reika took it. Snapped it into her ear. Half a second later—

"MY SISTER!"

Daigo's voice exploded in her ear like a grenade of chaotic affection. "YOU LOOK INSANE! Like... fashion demon energy!"

Reika didn't react. "Thanks."

Yeji's voice came next. Calmer. Grounded. "Zai units aren't like regular Shikiban. These things are smarter, faster, brutal. The Shikiban King made them by hand. They don't feel. They just calculate."

"I'll just punch 'em," Daigo muttered. She could hear the air punches through the comm.

"Bro..." Ishigo's voice was pure disappointment. "When will your brain wake up?"

And then—

"TA-DAAAA~!"

The door flung open. Yeaga entered like he was on a catwalk. A white coat flared around him, layered perfectly over a black undersuit. Hair styled, face smug, walk confident. He twirled once. Stopped. Winked.

At Reika.

Her brain momentarily blue-screened.

If he winks again, I'm stabbing his aura.

This man thinks he's God's gift to drip. Someone unplug him, she thought.

"You took an hour," Ishigo groaned.

"System's built like Harvard math," Yeaga shot back. He tapped his airpod. "Hey, can I play music through this? Mask lady, Bluetooth me?"

"It's for mission use only," the Kageshiki woman said, voice colder than the rings of Neptune.

"Damn."

"Hard same," Daigo added.

"They'll all be dead by morning," Ishigo muttered.

"Focus," Reika cut in sharply. "Souta-san wants us in the Red Light District. Move."

Kabukicho – Shinjuku, Tokyo – 9:41 PM

A neon fever dream.

Kabukicho breathed chaos. Flashing lights. Crimson signs. Projected geisha ads flickering on building walls. The smell of yakitori smoke tangled with the sharp bite of rain on concrete. It was a living, glowing monster—its heart beating with techno music and whispered deals.

The squad moved through it like shadows.

Souta waited under a flickering streetlamp like some off-brand anime antagonist who didn't know he was the hero. Arms crossed. Coat fluttering. Eyes scanning.

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"Didn't think you'd show," he said, amused. "Was half-expecting you all to flake."

Reika stepped up. Unbothered. "Still using sarcasm to cope with your childhood abandonment? Must be exhausting."

Souta smirked. "Still got that sharp tongue, I see."

Then chaos.

"GET BACK HERE! THAT'S MY SNACKS!"

Daigo sprinted past them, chasing a kid through the alley with the rage of a hungry bear. The kid clutched an onigiri like his life depended on it.

"I told him I didn't have any money!" the boy yelled over his shoulder.

The shopkeeper looked like he was about to cry.

Souta exhaled. Stepped forward. Pulled out a sleek black card. Paid. Silent. No flex, no words.

Yeaga gasped dramatically. "Souta-san... you're disgustingly cool. I hate it."

Souta only tilted his head. "That hotel across the street—we think a Zai is hiding there. I booked it. Whole 7th floor."

Hotel – 7th Floor – 10:15 PM

The hallway was sleek. Polished floors. Velvet wallpaper. Dim, sensual lighting that made Reika feel like she was inside a perfume ad.

"Bad news," Souta said, tossing each of them a bag like a disappointed dad. "Zai recognize our standard uniforms. We can't risk it."

Reika caught hers. Opened it.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

"...This is a hooker starter kit."

"It's a kimono," Souta corrected, way too casually.

"A see-through one."

"It's what the girls here wear. It's normal. You're our only female operative."

Reika's expression went glacial.

"You want me to pretend to be a working girl?"

"Yes. We'll act like your clients. Blend in. Zai won't think twice."

Her silence could've shattered mirrors.

"If anyone lays a hand on me," she said, low and venomous, "I will remove their arm and personally feed it to them."

Then she snatched the bag and disappeared into the bathroom. The door shut with the kind of slam that promised bloodshed.

Inside, she stood in front of the mirror. Pulled the kimono from the bag. It was crimson, with embroidered lotus patterns that shimmered gold. Slits high enough to make her question if this was actual attire or a prank.

She sighed.

This wasn't what she trained for. But missions were missions. She'd play the part. Blend in. Smile sweetly.

And if anyone touched her?

They'd find out real quick that Reika Kagetsu wasn't some fragile flower.

She was a blade dressed in silk.

Outside the bathroom, Yeaga whistled low. "If she comes out and looks good, I swear I'm converting."

"Bro, shut up," Daigo said, mouth full of Pocky.

Ishigo shook his head. "Y'all are about to get stabbed through the floor."

The door creaked open.

Reika stepped out.

And for a second, the room forgot how to breathe.