Shiroko Robber Novels & Stories

said the leader. “No, no, no, stop, stop,” shouted Yoshiro when he saw one vigilante moving towards him to open his ropes. “Okay, okay, relax! Don’t fight me. Fight one of my people. Is that okay with you?” asked the leader. “Yeah, I can do that,” said Yoshiro with confidence. He finally gulped to catch his breath. After what the leader told him he knew he was never going to win. The leader outed himself as the world-famous assassin. The whole world was afraid of them. How could a mere mortal like Yoshiro fight against them?

He knew how to outsmart his father more than the man thought. That wasn't the problem that he needed to face in the present, though. The biggest problem was trying to get the lump of muscles that had somehow found him out of his apartment. Shiro walked out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his hair and putting on a robe. He wished he had brought more clothes with him at the moment. Wearing something so thin and small didn't seem like it was the best thing to talk to someone in. Especially when that someone was his mate that he was supposed to mark long before it even got to this point.

He had a buzz cut that amplified his stern and stoic expression; his presence felt sharp and strong. He had a glass of whiskey in his hand as he looked at Wesley. Without saying anything, he waved at his men behind him. The man with the bleeding head, whose white karate uniform was stained with blood, came out and bowed at the young man. He then pointed at Wesley and said grudgingly, “Jiro, these are the bastard Arcadians who beat me up! This guy even smashed a bottle on my head! He even insulted our people!” Jiro Sakamoto, the man in the black uniform, drained the cup of whiskey with a cock of his head and then scoffed. “Interesting. I didn’t expect us Ryokanians to be bullied at Bronze Spa

Suddenly, a piercing scream cut through the stillness of the night. Captain Juan and his men rushed toward the isolated cage where they had been holding Ichiro. When they arrived, they found him lying on the ground, his eyes wide open, staring blankly at the sky. His throat had been slit, blood pooling around his body. Juan knelt beside him, his pulse quickening. He hadn’t given the order for Ichiro’s execution yet. Someone had taken matters into their own hands. Roberto, standing nearby, scanned the area, his hand instinctively reaching for his weapon. “Whoever did this… they’re still here,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the surrounding darkness.

A few hundred strong men in black shirts came out from the cars while carrying swords from the Island Nations. In just an instant, those men had already surrounded the entire villa. A tall man in a black suit leading the crowd walked up with a cold expression on his face. “Harvey York! I am Taichi Maruyama of the Shindan Way! “I heard that you took my junior, Noriko Yamaguchi, as hostage! “I’ll give you one minute to release her immediately! “If not, I’ll level this place to the ground and rip you to shreds!” Obviously, the Shindan Way had no fear to do as they pleased in the wilderness.

Shiro replied. [Shiro, a medium heighted, tan skinned, short-hair, and slim build. He is an all-rounder class soldier, who is a close friend of Jin. Suddenly, a woman approached towards Jin and Shiro. She is also a medium heighted, pale skinned, long hair that has highlights in light purple, and dark brown eyes.] “Hey Shiro, I’ve brought you some steamed chicken! Oh! Who is he!?” “Nova, this is Jin, he is one of my friends who gives me his excess scrap materials for enhancing my equipment, and also yours.” Shiro replied.

I raised a hand and Seliora reined in beside me instantly, her eyes narrowing in the same direction. “Trouble,” I muttered. We dismounted without a word, boots hitting stone in unison. The noise came from a stall just beyond the square, where the torchlight thinned. I moved first, Seliora matching my pace, her steps silent as a shadow. A robbery was in progress but the robber was clumsy—young, desperate, the kind that thought darkness made him invisible. He was halfway through prying open a crate when I caught his arm and twisted it behind his back, forcing him against the wall. He cried out, dropping the knife he’d been holding.

He just looked down at his shoes. "Look, I buy alcohol from here sometimes, mainly when the guys need some for a party." I looked at him, surprised. "And that works? No one IDs you?" He tucked his hands into his front pockets, shrugging helplessly. "I have my ways." I smiled, waiting for him to share those ways. "I go up to a register which looks like a cute girl is working at, flirt with her a little bit, get her number and then I magically have alcohol."

He saw the warriors that were on duty that night before he shifted to his human form before walking into the crime scene. "What happened?" he asked them before they were filling him in. He was hearing the explanation before he saw the man that was being attacked by the rogues. There hasn't been a sighting of the rogues on Paphos as far as he knew and this one might be one of them. "Step aside," Sebastian, acting as the doctor for the pack, was trying to get to the injured man. It was a young man around his early 20s as Arthur was coming up behind Sebastian to look at the situation better.

Black Robe slowly said, "Have you suffered?" Ronin suddenly realized something and glared at the man in front of him. "So, it was you who planted those pieces of evidence. Do you know I almost got killed by Zobber?" His agitated demeanor, to Black Robe, seemed like the anger of someone who had suffered inhumane treatment, which made him aware of the success of his plan, bringing him inner joy. "Don't get so worked up. You're still standing in front of me now, aren't you? This time, I'll give you credit," said Black Robe.