Chapter 10 How a Man Kills
Chapter ten
How a Man Kills
Nyomi
Hiro leaned back in his chair. "Let's start with Kaede."
"Alright. Tell me about him."
"But, first you must understand this one thing.”
“What?”
“The best way to know a Claw is to know how he fights. How he kills."
I swallowed.
Hiro studied my face. "That bothers you?"
"You just said the best way to know someone is to know how they murder people. Yes, Hiro. That makes me a little. . .uncomfortable."
"Why?"
"Because. . ." I took a breath. "Because where I come from, you get to know someone by asking about their childhood. Their dreams. Their favorite foods."
"I can tell you Kaede's favorite food."
"Great—"
"But it won't tell you who he is. Not really." Hiro tilted his head, and something in his expression shifted. It became deeper. More serious than I'd seen all morning. "Nyomi. You want to make drinks that capture these men. That honor them. That show them you see them."
"I do."
"Then you need to understand them the way we understand each other. Not the civilian way. Our way."
I set down my pencil. It suddenly felt too light for this conversation. "And your way is death?"
"Our way is truth." He leaned forward. "When a man takes a life, there's nothing between him and himself. No audience. No expectations. No persona he's trying to maintain. Just him and the act and whatever he really is underneath everything he shows the world."
The kitchen felt quieter suddenly.
"Some men kill fast." Hiro snapped his fingers. "Efficient. Clean. One strike, target's down, they're already moving to the next objective. No wasted motion. No lingering."
"And that means they're. . .practical?"
"Good. Yes. But,” He raised one finger. “It also means death is only a task to them. A job. Something that needs doing and then it's done."
I considered that. “And. . .what else would they say?”
"That these men compartmentalize well. They don't carry death with them. They sleep fine at night. Good soldiers. Steady. Reliable in a crisis because they don't let the weight of it slow them down."
"Okay." I crossed my arms, truly intrigued. "Tell me more, please."
"Some men are slow with the kill. Intentional. They want the target to see them. To understand what's happening and why." Hiro's voice stayed even. "These men believe in justice. In lessons. In making sure the death has meaning."
"That sounds like cruelty."
"Sometimes, but sometimes it's the opposite." He made a weighing gesture. "A man who kills a traitor quickly—is that mercy? Or is it letting him off easy?"
I didn't have an answer.
"Some men kill angry. Some kill cold. Some kill sad—and those ones are the most dangerous, by the way.”
I widened my eyes. “Why?”
“A man who grieves while he takes your life is a man who's made peace with what he is.
" Hiro's eyes drifted. "You can read everything about a person in how they deal death.
Their values. Their wounds. Their relationship with power.
Whether they see themselves as predator or protector or something in between. Or just. . .something very fucked up."
The words settled into me.
Heavy.
True in a way I didn't want them to be.
I let silence stretch between us.
Never in my life had I thought about death this way. About what it revealed. What it exposed. That death could be a mirror. That the way a man killed could tell me more about his soul than anything he said or did in daylight.
It was haunting.
It should have made me want to leave this kitchen.
This island.
But instead, I leaned in closer, yearning to learn more.
And that made me question what kind of person I was becoming.
"Thank you." My voice came out softer than I expected. "For taking the time to explain this to me. You didn't have to."
"Yes, I did." Hiro shrugged like it was simple. "You're trying to see the Claws. Really see them. The least I can do is give you the right eyes."
I nodded slowly.
"Also. . .you get my respect."
“For what?”
He tilted his head. "You're not running."
"Should I be?"
"Most people would."
"I'm not most people."
Warmth flickered in his expression. "No. You're not."
The air between us shifted. A wall came down, and understanding rose in its place.
I looked down at the sketchpad, but I wasn't seeing the page anymore. I was letting everything Hiro said settle into places in my brain that I didn't know existed.
Death as a mirror.
Killing as a confession of the person’s soul. The truth of a man laid bare in the moment he takes a life.
My heart began to pound.
If that was real—if I believed it—then what did that say about the man I had fallen in love with?
I thought about the pyre and looked up. "When Kenji burned those traitors. . ."
Hiro went very still.
"What does that say about him?" I cleared my throat. "Using your way of understanding someone."
For a long moment, Hiro didn't answer. He just looked at me.
Measuring.
Deciding.
"You really want to know?"
"I need to know."
He nodded slowly. "Then I'll tell you. But remember—you asked."
I braced myself.
"Fire is absolute."
“Okay.”
"It doesn't wound. It doesn't warn. It erases. Completely. Totally.”
I parted my lips.
“Not quick like a blade. Not clean like a bullet. Fire is slow. Consuming. A man who chooses fire doesn't want his enemies dead—he wants them unmade. Reduced to ash so complete there's nothing left to bury. Nothing left to remember."
My heart boomed in my ear.
"My brother sees betrayal as unforgivable. Not just punishable. Erasable. Because even the memory of it is a threat." Hiro's jaw tightened. "Those traitors didn't just die, Nyomi. They were deleted. Removed from existence."
My fingers found the edge of the sketchpad and gripped it. "That's. . .terrifying."
"Or safe?"
I didn't answer.
"Because here's what you're missing. He did it publicly. In front of everyone."
"And that matters."
"Because it wasn't just punishment. It was a promise." Hiro spread his hands. "Every loyal man on this island saw those flames and understood: this is what the Dragon will do to anyone who tries to hurt us.”
“And us is?”
“Everyone on the island.”
“I thought so.”
“The pyre strengthens all as a family. That pyre says this is how far the Dragon will go if anyone messes with us. This is the line—and anyone who crosses it gets erased."
I thought about the Claws and Fangs. The way they looked at Kenji. The devotion in their eyes. "So. . .most of his people who saw that pyre today. . .they weren't traumatized?"
"No."
“It was a nightmare to me, but. . .what did they see?"
"Safety. Justice. A king who would burn the whole world to protect them." He smiled. "They’ll sleep better tonight."
I sat there stunned.
Hiro let the silence hold. He picked up my pencil, turned it over in his fingers, then set it back down. “If my brother had done less than that pyre today. . .all the Scales would have seen weakness. And weakness makes them afraid. And afraid men make mistakes. And mistakes get people killed."
He let that land.
“I’m realizing that. . .I’ve got a lot to learn.”
“But you knew that.”
“Not completely.”
“You did.”
“I don’t know about that. . .” I shook my head. “This morning I told Kenji that he should come to me before doing any major executions.”
Hiro stared at me for a few seconds and then laughed.
And I didn’t laugh with him.
So, he blinked, stopped laughing, and then widened his eyes. “Hold on. Are you serious?”
“Never mind.” I waved my hand. “Just pretend I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re really serious?”
“I just thought. . .” I swallowed hard. "I thought there was a better way for next time. . .maybe a vote. Oh God. Never mind. I know I sound fucking naive right now.”
“A vote on what? My brother killing people? The Dragon?”
“Okay. We’re done talking about this.” I tried to hide my face in embarrassment.
“You asked my brother to vote with you before he kills someone?”
“Not vote. More like. . .kind of get my permission.”
Shock hit him. “Who’s permission again?”
“We’re not talking about this.”
Hiro laughed so loud I knew that the whole house heard him.
I scowled at him. “Alright. Alright. I got it. That shit wasn’t that funny.”
“Your permission?” Hiro continued to laugh. “Oh God. I wish I had been there. What did his face look like?”
“Back to Kaede, please.”
“No. No. I want to understand your thinking. The Dragon discovers a traitor. The man is on his knees in front of him, and instead of hurting him, my brother stops what he is doing, calls you up and says, ‘Mommy, can I kill him?’”
“You know what?” I pointed at him. “Now you’re not getting any food during this cocktail party.”
“I don’t need any food now. I’m getting too much satisfaction from your utter audacity.”
I flipped him the middle finger. "In my defense, I was so traumatized. The smoke. The smell. I thought. . .everyone felt that way. I thought those flames were a horror for everyone who watched."
"They weren't."
"No." My chest tightened. "They weren't.”
"Those men betrayed the family. They tried to kill Kenji. Tried to destroy everything—every person, every bond, every life we've built together. And they failed." Hiro's jaw set. "And now they're ash. And the men who stayed loyal? The men who fought? The men who bled for this family?"
He spread his hands. "They're alive. They're here. They got to watch those pieces of shit burn. Fuck those traitors.”
Holy shit.
I sat with that. Let the truth of his words crawl under my skin and burrow somewhere I couldn't reach.
When I finally spoke, my voice came out different.
Quieter.
Stripped of defense.
"You know what the fucked up part is?"
Hiro raised an eyebrow.
"I wasn't trying to control Kenji. I wasn't trying to be some civilian who thinks she can change the yakuza." I looked down at my hands. "I just. . .I saw him last night. . .”
Sadness covered Hiro’s face. “He took Sako and Mami hard.”
“He did.”
“And what he had to do. . .”
“Yes, and so. . .I see the pyre and I thought if I could just. .
.be involved somehow. . .maybe I could carry some of what he goes through with him.
So he wouldn't have to hold it alone." I shrugged.
“Obviously, I also wanted to control not seeing that horror too but. . .I wasn’t thinking that.
. .I had the right to approve his kills.
So you know. . .I know that sounds stupid. "
"That's actually not as stupid as it sounded."
"Okay."
"Still naive."
"Obviously."
"But you're learning. And you're not running." He tilted his head. "That's more than most, and the heart of it. . .is exactly why you belong here."
My eyes watered. “I want to belong. . .”
"You already do." He held my gaze. "And for what it's worth. . .Kenji's lucky. Not every woman would try to carry that burden with him. In fact, most would ask him to put it down."
Pressure rose in my chest. "But he can't put it down. Right?"
"He can't." Hiro's voice softened. "But now he doesn't have to carry it alone."
I let that settle.
Let it become something I could hold onto.
The kitchen felt different now. The same pots and pans. The same prep stations. The same light through the windows. But I was different. Something had shifted inside me—settled into place like a key finally finding its lock.
A tear slipped down my cheek.
Smiling, Hiro reached out and rubbed it away. "Okay."
I cleared my throat.
He pulled the sketchpad toward him. "Enough of this. We have a cocktail party to plan."
"We do."
He cracked his knuckles like a man preparing for battle. “Where do we begin?”
I picked up my pencil. “How does each Claw kill?”