The first glimpse

CHAPTER 1 : THE FIRST GLIMPSE

Akira

He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened his eyes he saw a figure on the road.  His heart raced and breath hitched.

A shadowy creature?

As the distance between them decreased the figure became clearer.  He slammed the break.

a woman?

He could see long black hair flying around in the wind. who was this crazy woman walking on the road at midnight?

or.. was it a....

ghost? no.. he didn't believe in ghosts. could it be a ghost? the thought came creeping into his mind.

He hesitated for a moment before getting out of the car. The woman kept walking like she didn't notice his presence. He slowly approached her. He was a Yakuza he wasn't afraid of a damn ghost. "Miss ghost lady?" she turned around. the light from his car's head light illuminated her face. He was meet with her green eyes and cold gaze. She had a pale skin tone. someone would easily mistake her for a ghost. or was she actually a ghost? the thought crept onto his mind again. no ghosts don't exist. her silence seemed anticipating.

"what are you doing so late at night alone?"A single word left her mouth "walking" she spoke, her tone was as cold as her gaze.

he could see that she was walking offcourse he has two pair of eyes and a  working brain. Damn who was this woman. "see darling a women like you shouldn't be walking alone at night." there was something sinister in his tone. but she seemed unfazed by his tone. she then raised her eyebrows and asked. "A woman like me?" Offcourse she was a woman of few words.

He had only meet her and she was already getting on his nerves. A woman like her he wanted to say beautiful and mesmerising. but he held his tongue. "You're a woman. weak and frail. you don't know what kind of danger lurks in the dark." his words chilling a hint of danger in it.

She definitely didn't like being called weak and frail. who was he to think she was weak because she was a woman. She was far from it. And was he trying to indicate he was the danger? "Danger like what?". He took a step closer to her. A slight smirk appearing at the corners of his mouth. "Like me." she squinted her eyes. Her face remained expressionless. "I don't see anything dangerous."

Damn this woman. Any other woman would be running for her life right now. She seemed unfazed by his indications. was she that fearless? or again was she a ghost? no.. he took another step closer. "look a frail little girl like you shouldn't be alone here at night. any one else would be running for their life" He was used to people fearing him, shaking at the sight of him, not someone being so unfazed by his presence.

"I'm not a little girl and I'm definitely not frail". he chuckled. "oh.. really " He touched her cheek. It felt soft and warm against his finger. Definitely not a ghost. " seems frail to me." Did he just touch her cheek. He has to be stupid to anger her.

She really had no fear. he didn't like it one bit. He had to test it. suddenly he wrapped his hand around her neck. her back pressed on his chest. The knife in his pocket now pointed at her neck.

“Hand over all your money,” he said darkly.

He didn’t care about her wallet. He had stacks of cash rotting in safes across the city. This was a test.

A moment of silence stretched between them.

She didn’t scream. Didn’t tremble. Didn’t beg.

Instead, she spoke in that same flat voice. “If you’re trying to scare me, you’ll have to do better.”

That stopped him.

He stared at the side of her face. No panic. Just steel.

“Who the hell are you?” he muttered. She was a puzzle he couldn’t solve and he didn't like it one bit.e, you’ll have to do better."

She didn’t answer his question. Didn’t utter a word.

She stood still for a moment, feeling the cool press of the knife against her skin. But she didn’t flinch. Her eyes narrowed—not in fear, but calculation. Like she was analyzing him, breaking him down piece by piece. Akira could feel the weight of that stare. Cold, detached, surgical. It made something shift in him. Unsettled him in a way he didn’t like.

Most people would be trembling by now. Begging. Pleading.

Not her.

“You’re testing me, aren’t you?” she said. Calm. Even. Like a surgeon reading a chart.

Akira smirked. “Maybe I am. You think you’re tough? Let’s see what you’re really made of.”

His grip tightened just a touch. The blade kissed her skin, a thin red line blooming. Still, she didn’t react. No flinch, no wince. Nothing. He had broken people for less. But she didn’t just stand there—she leaned into it.

She raised her hand, slow and deliberate, and placed it over his. Not to stop him. Not to fight. Just to press his grip tighter, like she was daring him to go further.

“You think I fear you because you’re Yakuza?” Her voice was steady. Unshaken. “You think a blade and a threat will make me crumble?”

Akira’s smirk faltered. For the first time in a long time, he felt it—doubt. The kind that crept in slow and cold. He’d met killers. Soldiers. Hardened criminals with dead eyes and twitchy trigger fingers. But this woman... she was different. And not in a way he could put into words.

His hand twitched. A ripple of hesitation. Then he let go, stepping back, trying to reclaim his edge. She cought the knife that fell from his arms.

“Who the hell are you?” he growled.

She didn’t answer right away. Just looked at him, like she was trying to decide if he was even worth her breath. Then she met his gaze, eyes sharp and unblinking.

“Maybe the question isn’t who I am,” she said. “It’s who you are, Akira Katsura. The big bad Yakuza boss who thinks a knife and a reputation are enough to scare the world.”

She took a slow step forward, voice cutting like glass.

“You live for danger but fall apart the second someone doesn’t flinch. You think fear is respect. But what happens when you meet someone who isn’t afraid of you?”

His breath caught. She knew his name. And her words—it wasn’t just what she said. It was how she said it. Like she’d peeled back his skin and seen what was underneath.

He took another step back.

She turned without another word and walked away, like the whole thing had been a waste of her time. Her footsteps echoed in the silence, each one landing heavy in his chest.

Akira stood there, still, his mind running wild.

Who was she? How did she know his name? Why did it feel like she’d just walked into his life and flipped the whole damn thing upside down?

“You’re not what I expected,” he muttered under his breath.

She didn’t look back, but her voice came through the night, soft and razor-sharp.

“Neither are you.”

Then she was gone. Just like that. Taking his knife with her like some kind of souvenir.

Akira didn’t move. The air around him felt heavier now. The streets quieter. The silence wasn’t empty anymore—it was charged.

For the first time in years, he wasn’t

sure what came next.

And that terrified him more than any ghost ever could and he hated himself for it.