Yoshiki Tanaka Novels & Stories

Reminders: (surname 1st, name last) Yoshida Hachiro- drums Kurata Sosuke- guitar Tani Rinko- electric violin Fukuda Kagami- currently plays the role of vocalist. Honorifics: san-Mr/ Miss kun- semi/formal title for guys of same age as speaker In the end, Hachiro-kun had no power to do anything. Or rather when he came back from allegedly doing it his face was awkward and twisted.

He was accompanied by two of his bodyguards and his assistant, Tanaka Hiroshi, who was with Nanako previously. Tanaka Hiroshi was Yahiko’s henchman. Yahiko was worried about Nanako’s safety when she went to Oskia for the combat competition, so he asked his most trustworthy person to accompany her along the way. That was why Hiroshi went to Oskia with Nanako.

My heart couldn’t stop racing and soon, the scent grew stronger and I began to feel electric waves running through my veins, causing me to shiver. “Why isn’t it stopping?!” I grumbled in frustration. “Jessica?” His manly voice filled my ears like pleasant music, causing my knees to wobble. “Your name is Jessica, isn’t it?” He asked again. I slowly opened my eyes and lifted my head to see Alpha Kilhan standing right in front of me. He was dressed in all-black tailored suits and pants. His eyes pierced through my mask, staring right into my soul. I could hardly compose the words I wanted to say. His stare and aura made me blank in a way I disliked.

“ Maximo Romano. You are? “ The man greeted. I made sure he saw my left hand as I greeted back. “ Brianna, Trentino. “ I introduced “ Ah, the famous Brianna. I have a feeling we will be great friends,” he said but I didn’t like the mischievous look on his face. Romano chuckled and gestured for Maximo to go to his side. He placed his hand around Maximo’s shoulder and a look of pride flashed his face.

"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.

Traditional wooden beams arched overhead, and low wooden tables with cushioned zabuton seats invited patrons to linger. Aiko Tanaka moved gracefully between the tables in her elegant uniform: a soft pink kimono-style blouse that hugged her petite frame, a crisp white apron tied neatly at her waist, and a pleated skirt that swayed just above her knees. At 24, she was the picture of demure Japanese beauty. Porcelain skin, long black hair pinned up with delicate kanzashi ornaments, and large, doe-like eyes that rarely met a customer’s gaze for long. Yet beneath that polished politeness burned something deeper.

The name glowing on Jerome's laptop screen belonged to someone Collins had known his entire life. Takeshi Yamamoto. His father's right-hand man. Chief Operating Officer of Tanaka Corp for fifteen years. The man who had taught Collins how to read quarterly reports, who had attended his university graduation, who had been at his mother's funeral standing silent and supportive beside Akihito. "It can't be him," Collins said, even as the evidence stared back at him. "Uncle Takeshi has been with my father since before I was born."

Tanaka's was chosen by Shiro mostly because he wanted an open kitchen where chefs do stunts while cooking. As they walked through the door one of the "stunt chefs" caught their attention, he was youngest among them and he looked very familiar to Shiro "oohh.....that's Yamato from class " Shiro said,finally recognizing the young chef. Yamato as student was the most unusual of them all, his father was the school janitor so everybody knows he wasn't from a rich family and most of the royal kids made jest of him. He he was the non royals students

“Of course! “I am!” Ito Tanaka’s mouth twitched for a moment before he gritted his teeth. He was filled with resentment, but he knew full well. No matter how much he tried, he would not be a match against Harvey York. He waved his hand, signaling for the Islanders, scared witless, to kneel before he did the same. It was nothing for the Islanders to kneel. The so-called Bushido Spirit was just a means to fool outsiders.

Masaki Tanaka, now ninety-four years old. He sat cross-legged on a tatami mat, facing a dining table laden with a variety of delicious dishes. It was an excess, in Kenji's opinion, because it was clear the two of them wouldn't be able to finish so much food. Kenji kneeled in front of him, then bowed low with both hands on the tatami floor. His forehead nearly touched the ground. “I apologize for being late.” Kenji was only two minutes late, but he knew his father disliked such mistakes.