Junko Furuta Yakuza Mga Nobela at Kwento

Andreas introduces me, and this is where they turn around. The Eastern scents now made sense to me; they’re Japanese. The older male steps forward; he looks perfectly polished in an expensive suit, but I can sense a danger about him even as he tries to hide his tattoos: the slicked-back salt and pepper hair, the scars on the side of his face and knuckles. This man is Yakuza; I can tell by the way he tries to shoulder the weapons strapped to him. “Fenriz Vega, it is a pleasure to meet you finally.” He says in perfect English with a faint Kanto accent and steps forward with his arm outstretched. “Tsukishima Kaen.”

replied Gerald in a casual tone. “I see… I go by Futaba Fujiko, and I’m part of Japan’s special forces. I’m here to participate in a special forces competition. Unfortunately, I somehow ended up getting sneak attacked by enemies of my family. Had you not stepped in, I would’ve surely died back there…” explained Fujiko as she shook her head.

The old man started, "Your father was a Korean member of the Kazuno clan. A crime group syndicate that operates in Japan. He was accused of betraying his group by selling information to outsiders. He was killed by Kazuno Haruto, the leader of the clan. Your mother fled to South Korea with your uncle then moved to London. You know nothing about this, aren't you?" Austin sighed. "You just hand me a puzzle piece that completes the whole picture," The story undoubtedly fit but it was foolish to blindly trust his words. Austin stared at the man who still had his black sunglasses on, "Who are you and why are you telling me all of this and how can I know you are not giving me false information and