6. The Hidden Island
Chapter six
The Hidden Island
Nyomi
The flight blurred after that.
I remember the steady thrum of the blades above us, twisting into a lullaby of metal and wind.
Kenji’s huge hand held mine. His palm was warm. Our fingers remained threaded together.
Within comfortable silence, I watched the veins on the back of his hand and the way his thumb moved in slow, unconscious circles over my hand.
I couldn’t imagine all the things that were on his mind. What did it truly mean for him to go to war with his own father? How much would he gain and how much would he lose?
I caught the way his jaw tightened. I knew enough about father wounds to understand that even justified rage still didn’t set one free. Sometimes it shackled a person’s heart and mind even tighter.
I leaned against his shoulder, and his body was all steel and calm. The ache behind my ribs deepened for him.
Twenty minutes later, we landed under moonlight. The rotor blades slowed with a long metallic groan. The sky outside the window was a deep black. Stars scattered across darkness. When the wheels touched down, a soft jolt traveled through the floor and up our bodies.
Kenji’s hand tightened on mine just slightly.
Eye One rose and opened the door.
A gust of wind swept in—clean, wild, and laced with salt. It kissed my cheeks and lifted strands of my hair.
Kenji unlatched my seatbelt with one hand, never letting go of the other. His gaze flicked down to my lips, and then back to my eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” I said, but the word felt too small for what was happening inside me.
He undid his seat belt.
Then, together we rose to our feet and headed to the door.
He helped me down like a gentleman from another century, palm bracing my lower back, fingertips grazing the curve of my waist. His touch was careful and romantic.
The cool wind was stronger on the landing pad. It tangled in my hair and tugged at the hem of my cape. Salt hung faint in the air.
We stood at the top of a narrow marble path, flanked by torches burning blue and gold.
The island loomed, surrounding us with the sound of crashing waves against the shoreline and the gentle rustle of trees.
As Kenji guided me forward, I didn’t see much at first—just the sharp glint of marble steps, a black waterfall cascading in the distance, trees that looked too symmetrical to be wild, and silhouettes of armed men along the edge of a cliff.
But even in the dark, I could feel the grandeur of this place.
Kenji’s voice broke the spell. “This island belonged to my mother.”
I turned toward him.
“She kept this place a secret from my father. Somehow, she managed to hold onto it her entire life without my brother Jobon or I knowing.”
“How did she get this island?”
“It was passed down to her through her bloodline. A gift. . .or maybe a burden. I don’t know. She never spoke of it.” He paused. “But I think it was her dream island. A place she always imagined escaping to when my father or life became too much for her to handle.”
“I’m still shocked she was able to hide a whole island from him.”
“Me too. Hiding something from the Fox is a great feat. That alone makes her a legend.” There was something in his tone—a boyish awe beneath the stoic surface. A son still lovingly adoring a ghost. “I learned about this place after she died.”
“How did you find out?”
He chuckled to himself. “My grandmother’s sister visited me late one night.”
My brows lifted.
“I was away in Singapore for business and asleep in my hotel.”
The wind curled around us.
He stepped closer to shield me from it. “Much to my Roar’s annoyance, my grandaunt and her men appeared without warning and demanded to see me. He had to wake me up. When I walked into the suite’s living room, she handed me a box wrapped in crimson cloth.”
“What did she say?”
“She told me she had waited years to be sure. That it wasn’t Jobon, and it definitely wasn’t my father. She said my mother had begged her—just once—to keep the island deed safe, and to give it to whichever of her sons came to her in a dream.”
“So your grandaunt dreamed of you?”
Kenji gave the smallest nod. “Apparently, a week before that night, she saw me in a white suit standing on a cliff holding a lighter. Behind me, the world was burning. But my face was calm.”
Goosebumps broke out along my skin.
“She told me, ‘One day, you’ll need a place to disappear. Somewhere no one can find you. Especially not the Fox.’ And then she handed me the box. Inside was the original deed—handwritten in ink and sealed in wax—with a family crest I’d never seen before. And a letter from my mother.”
“What did it say?”
Kenji’s voice went tight. “‘ If you’re reading this, then I’m gone. And if I’m gone, you are no longer safe. The island is yours. Guard it like your heart. One day, it may be the only place left where you can be yourself.’ ”
He looked down for a second. I felt his hand flex slightly in mine.
Kenji sighed. “She knew he would break everything eventually. . .”
We kept walking.
His men followed behind us.
The path curved gently, revealing a broad overlook, and beyond it—sprawled across the cliffs like a sleeping lion—was tons of villas. Black tile roofs. Gold accents. Sliding wooden panels. Traditional yet modern all at once.
“I later found out that this island has been in my mother’s family since the Edo period,” Kenji said.
“Her bloodline was samurai. From the Chōsokabe clan. A smaller house, but fierce and loyal to death. Most of them were killed off during the Meiji Restoration, when the samurai caste was abolished and westernization swept through Japan. But a few branches of the family survived.”
With every new detail, I felt myself slipping into writer mode.
My senses sharpened.
There was just so much here—history, inheritance, secrets passed down through blood. Samurai legacies buried beneath a modern mafia empire. A mother who protected a sacred place in silence, and a son now fighting to keep it alive.
It was all too much.
Too layered.
Too human to ignore.
I wanted to write a book about it.
Kenji continued, “Long ago, her family went into hiding. Changed their names. Became potters, tea masters, shrine caretakers—trades that looked gentle. Quiet. But beneath it, they kept everything that mattered. The discipline. The swordsmanship. The land. The pride.”
“So you have samurai blood in those veins?”
“I do. Her family followed Bushidō. Loyalty. Honor. Discipline. And vengeance, when necessary. My grandaunt was one of the last trained in the old ways. She knew how to fight with a short blade, how to track without sound, how to make a man vanish in the woods and never be found.”
“And she gave that knowledge to you?”
“She gave me the choice to claim it.”
We stopped again.
I turned to him, searching his face. “And did you?”
He met my eyes. “I didn’t just claim it, I built my empire on it.”
Standing there with him, on the island his mother had kept hidden like a final heartbeat, I understood something I hadn’t before.
Kenji wasn’t just fighting to win.
He was fighting to honor his mother and truly protect his legacy.
Now I understand even more.
“Once I took ownership of this island, I bought the surrounding islands over the years. Quietly. Carefully.”
“How many islands did you buy?”
“Seven. During the day you will get to see two of them across the channel.” He pointed to the West.
I looked but of course all I caught was darkness.
“Reo and Hiro didn’t even know about these islands until three years ago.”
“What did they say when you told them?”
“They were shocked that I could keep a secret for so long.”
We continued walking. The marble path widened the farther we went, flanked by perfectly spaced lanterns glowing amber against the darkness.
The island was alive with movement.
As we crested a rise, I saw them.
More villas.
Tons of them.
Tucked into the landscape.
Some were modern glass-and-wood constructions. Others looked like old ryokan inns, complete with paper windows and cedar beam roofs. The further back we went, the more the jungle cleared—revealing rows and rows of them, each tucked behind its own flowering wall or bamboo screen.
People were arriving too.
I saw figures stepping out of helicopters farther down the southern ridge. Another helicopter was just beginning its descent, its blades stirring the sea into white mist.
Kenji's men waited in all-white uniforms, escorting families quickly but gently through small stone gates and down winding paths.
Most wore dark coats. Some held children close to their chests. Others wheeled small suitcases behind them. I spotted a woman in a flowing red kimono holding her daughter’s hand as they stepped inside one of the nearer villas.
On the right, a teenage boy carried a violin case like it was the only thing that mattered.
I smiled. “You have your men’s families here too.”
“Anyone that I love and all who they love will be protected in this war.”
We passed a small garden with a koi pond and a curved wooden bridge, and I caught sight of a man in a dark robe lighting incense beneath a carved stone dragon.
“You’re safe here, Tora.”
I looked up at him.
“No one—not even the Fox’s men—can reach this place. It’s not just remote. It’s erased.”
I blinked. “Erased?”
“There’s no cellular signal. No GPS locks. No traceable tower pings. Anyone trying to find coordinates gets bounced through fourteen different satellite loops, then dropped into digital noise. Even if someone flew overhead, all they’d see is cloud cover and decoy terrain.”
“How is that possible?”
“I have a team on sister islands scrambling signals and delivering algorithms that choke every system.” He motioned behind us with his chin—toward the dark horizon where the sea swallowed sky.
“Japan has over fourteen thousand islands. Most people only think of the main four—Hokkaido, Honshu, Kyushu, and Shikoku—but the smaller ones? That’s where the ghosts live. That’s where we are.”
I muttered in utter disbelief, “Hackers. . .”
“The best. Born in basements. Raised in blackout chatrooms. They’ve been on the islands for years—disguised as fishermen, monks, solar engineers.
If anyone tries to trace us, they’ll find an abandoned medical facility in Okinawa or a fake weather station off Aogashima.
By the time they realize it’s false, the trail has already moved. ”
“I’m beyond impressed.”
“I know my father well. His secret weapon is surveillance. He sees everything, even before it happens. The only way to beat someone like that. . .is to vanish. Not hide. Vanish. ”
I shivered.
“You will have a new team of men here too.”
“Why not the security guys that I already had?”
Worry crossed his face.
Oh fuck. What’s wrong?