Tanaka Kazunari Novels & Stories

"Last night my personal assistant was caught in a tight spot in the royal chambers. She was about to be assassinated by an unknown assassin when I walked in and stopped it. Fighting him, I realized he is a master of the art of Tai, the oldest and most fierce martial art in the history of werewolves." Gasps came from several angles, bringing in more tension in the members. "Not to worry. The assassin has been injured in the shoulder and should not be able to fight for the time being. With this, I'll urge every member of the pack to report anyone with an injured shoulder", Ryu announced, a smirk on his lips as he gazed at his people. I was about to leave when he reached out to me, asking me to

“Alpha Kilhan, this is much bigger than we thought. We are dealing with a great enemy here. For him to have gotten this report concealed, then he is a man of power and influence, greater than we imagined.” “I don’t care if he’s a god! I’ll find him and I’ll kill him.” I uttered with gritted teeth. “The first record, have you found out who owned the account?” I further asked, raising my head to look at him. “Yes, the account had the name Tima Maria. The money was withdrawn immediately the account was credited, and I also found out it was the first and last money to get into this account. It was closed immediately after the withdrawal.” “And did you find this Tima Maria?” I further inquired an

"Yamamoto Kusakara, he's Yamamoto Kusakara!" Lei Tianrui and the others jittered. They had done enough research to know more about their enemy. Yamamoto Kusakara was one of them. He was not on the top list of the powerhouses in Japan, but he had already reached the third level of Covert Power.

The Lorraine I know has a unique wheezing laugh. "Don't mind her." The bald man, I'm pretty sure he's the bassist/cellist/drummer Satoshi from Blacklist! he glanced at the form I had submitted online perhaps to confirm my claim. "Fukuda Kagami-san, correct?" "Yes, sir." I heard one of the contestants gasp. "That's-" "Ahem!" A chic man with silky long black hair, Renjiro, a bassist/screamer from the former heavy metal band, Ainz glanced in the contestants' direction.

The old man looked up as Ren entered the cemetery before the teen bowed politely to him, a gesture that the old caretaker returned, and Ren went on his way. The teen then went along a path quite familiar to him by then, arriving at the furthest point of the cemetery, the quietest and also the most peaceful area in the cemetery. Ren said nothing and showed nothing on his face as he walked up to one of the gravestones that had the following words inscribed on it in the Japanese kanji letters: Here lies Tatsuya Fujiyama 15 May 1990 – 14 July 2006

Mid-forties, expensive suit, familiar in a way I couldn't place. "Marcus Steele," he said in perfect English. "We finally meet." "Do I know you?" "Not yet. But you'll want to." He handed me a card. "Ryo Nakamura. I have information about your father's company. Information that might interest you." "What kind of information?" "The kind that explains why Kenji Tanaka really wants you in Tokyo. And it has nothing to do with his investment." Ryo glanced at Hana, who was suddenly very interested in her phone. "Call me when you're alone. Trust me—you'll want to hear this."

Then a hand went up. “It’s y equals mx plus b.” I turned toward the voice. The guy sitting next to me was Hispanic. Sharp jawline. Curly hair. Blue eyes. Arms like tree trunks. “That’s correct,” Mrs. Payne said. “And your name?” “Marcelo,” he replied. “My name is Marcelo.”

But not enough. “From what?” she challenges. “Rich men in suits?” Christ. I let out a slow breath, trying to hold onto the last thread of control I have left. “You danced with Kenji Takahashi,” I say finally. She blinks. The name still means nothing to her. Of course it doesn’t. “He’s the head of one of the most powerful Yakuza factions in the world,” I continue. “He doesn’t attend events like this for entertainment. He doesn’t approach women out of curiosity.”

"Mr. Tanaka is here." Carter's mask slammed back into place, smooth, confident, unreadable. "Send him in. Maeve, smile like you love me. It's showtime." Hiroshi Tanaka was shorter than Maeve expected, with silver-threaded hair and eyes that missed nothing. He greeted Carter with a bow, then turned to Maeve with obvious curiosity. "Miss Wells. I've heard interesting things about you." "I hope some of them were good," Maeve managed, forcing warmth into her voice.

He was a great support and a good friend to Eren. Frankly, I would prefer to never have received this letter from Eren. I would prefer to continue to believe that something bad has happened to him rather than knowing that it was his own will. If I didn’t have little Eren, I would have been dead since long. He is my only reason to live now. It’s because of him that I’ve the courage to get out of bed everyday. Pushing my thoughts aside, I pull out through the driveway. But I immediately stop as I see Tamarra, Toni’s wife who is cleaning her porch.