Chapter 37 Tunnels of Orgasms
Chapter thirty-seven
Tunnels of Orgasms
Kenji
We moved deeper into the tunnels.
The bass and red light followed us. And behind us, the Fox's commanders kept fucking, not knowing that death was on its way back up an elevator to collect reinforcements—and that when it returned, it wouldn't knock.
Hiroko pointed to the left. "This way, so we can stay away from the communal areas."
We went in that direction.
The tunnels were a maze. Hallways branching off in every direction.
More glass rooms.
More naked humping bodies.
More red light.
The bass pounded through the walls and floor, and my pulse synced with it.
We turned left again.
Then right.
Hiroko led us through the chaos with certainty, and I realized she knew these tunnels better than anyone.
And I understood why my father had chosen this place.
Without Hiroko, we'd have been wandering blind through an endless labyrinth of glass and red light, turning corners into dead ends, getting funneled into choke points we couldn't see coming.
Every wrong turn would have eaten time we didn't have, and eventually someone would spot us—a guard, a camera, a courtesan who screamed at the wrong moment.
The Depths weren't just a hiding place. They were a fortress designed by confusion.
Any army that came down here without a map would be picked apart hallway by hallway.
My father hadn't just hidden underground. He'd buried himself inside a trap that only his enemies could fall into.
The only reason we were moving with purpose right now was the woman walking in front of me.
Without her, this mission was suicide.
I watched the back of Hiroko's head as she turned another corner without hesitation.
She was the key to all of this. And my father had no idea we had her.
She stopped us at a door. “Okay. Now. . .there is no other choice but to go out into the customer sections.”
I stiffened.
“All I can do is. . .make sure we are in the places that are typically less frequented, but. . .” She sighed. “It’s been a few years since I’ve been down. Areas could have changed.”
“Don’t worry. You’ve already helped us out more than you could ever know.” I moved forward. “Get behind us, Hiroko.”
She stepped behind us, and Reo opened the door.
The difference was immediate.
The service corridors had been dim.
Quiet.
Forgotten.
Built for people who weren't supposed to be seen.
This was the opposite.
The hallway beyond was wider, the ceilings higher, the red light richer—not the flat industrial glow from before, but warm, lush, and intentional.
Designed to make people feel beautiful while they did ugly things.
The music was louder here too with the hypnotic bass layered beneath it.
And there were people.
Not behind glass walls this time.
Walking.
Talking.
Drinking.
Courtesans in silk red robes that hung open to reveal their breasts. Men in loosened black yukatas with flushed faces and glazed eyes.
No one had noticed us yet.
But they would.
We were a group of armed men in tactical gear walking through a pleasure district. We didn't belong here. Every second we were exposed, the odds of someone raising an alarm climbed.
I kept my guns low against my thighs — visible to my men, hidden from a casual glance.
The Claws did the same, weapons tucked close to their bodies.
Hiro slid his knife up his sleeve.
We moved fast.
Not running.
Running drew eyes.
But faster than anyone else in these hallways, cutting through the haze of sex and smoke like sharks through warm water.
A woman stumbled out of a doorway and nearly walked into Reo. Her robe was open and her eyes were glassy—drunk, drugged, or both.
She looked up at him, blinked, and opened her mouth.
Reo put a finger to his lips.
She stared at him for a long second. Then her gaze drifted to the guns. Her eyes went wide.
But she didn't scream.
She just stepped back into the room she'd come from and pulled the curtain shut.
Smart woman.
We kept moving.
My heart rate was climbing now. Each corner was a gamble. Every open doorway a potential pair of eyes that would end our invisibility.
The Claws scanned constantly—left, right, ahead, behind—their heads moving in practiced sweeps.
Hiroko whispered from behind us. "Left at the next junction. Then straight for a while. It opens up into—"
"Shh." Hiro raised a fist.
Everyone stopped.
I listened for what he had already heard.
That was the best thing about my brother. Those damn ears were fucking supernatural, catching sound many minutes before a normal person.
All I heard was music, but I didn’t fucking move, until Hiro gave the signal.
We waited, and then the sound came.
Footsteps.
Heavy ones.
Boots coming from around the corner ahead. How the fuck did you hear that over the music, Hiro?
Hiro flattened against the wall. I did the same. The Claws and Hiroko pressed into the shadows on both sides of the hallway, and for a moment we were all just breathing and waiting—a dozen armed men hiding in a brothel like ghosts.
The footsteps got closer.
Then closer.
A security guard rounded the corner. Then another one right behind him. Both were in mid-conversation with each other.
They saw us at the same time we saw them.
The first guard's hand shot to his radio.
I spotted the fox brand on his neck.
Kaede was already moving, closing the distance in three strides silent, low, fast—and drove his palm upward into the first guard's chin.
The man's head snapped back and his teeth cracked together.
Before the sound even registered, Kaede hooked a hand behind his neck and slammed his face into the wall. Bone met concrete. The guard's nose collapsed inward with a wet crunch, and his knees buckled.
The second guard stumbled backward, reaching for his gun.
Kaede didn't give him the chance as he planted one foot on the wall—pushed off it— and launched himself sideways, catching the guard's head between both hands mid-air. The momentum carried them both into the opposite wall, and Kaede used the impact to twist.
Hard.
The crack was sharp.
Final.
The guard's body went limp before they hit the ground.
Kaede landed in a crouch on top of him. He rolled off.
The first guard was still alive—barely. Crawling on the floor with a shattered face, blood pouring from his mouth, one hand still weakly reaching for the radio on his belt.
Kaede stood, walked over, put his boot on the back of the man's neck, and pressed down slow.
The guard twitched once, twice, and then nothing.
Two bodies.
No gunshots.
No sound louder than the bass still thumping through the walls.
Hiro looked at the other Claws. "Kaede’s in the lead for the sword.”
Toma spat on the ground.
A third guard appeared at the far end of the hallway.
Fox brand.
Gun already rising.
Daisuke's arm moved in a blur. His knife left his hand and spun once—a single clean rotation through the red light—and buried itself in the man's throat up to the hilt.
The guard's gun hand dropped. His mouth opened, but the only thing that came out was blood. He staggered sideways into the wall, fingers clawing at the handle in his neck, and then his legs gave out.
He slid down the wall, leaving a dark smear behind him.
“I’m at least in second place for that sword.” Daisuke walked to the body, crouched, and pulled the knife free with a short, sharp tug. He wiped the blade on the dead man's shirt, flipped it once, and slid it back into his belt.
I jerked my chin at the Scales. “Hide them.”
They rushed over, grabbed the three bodies by their collars, dragged them into a dark alcove between two curtained rooms, and shoved the bodies deep into the shadows, stacking them against each other like discarded furniture.
One Scale pulled a heavy curtain across the alcove's entrance. They weren’t invisible, but good enough for now.
"Move." I headed off.
We went left at the junction, just as Hiroko had directed, then straight.
Then, the hallway opened up and the space that unfolded in front of us was massive.
Cavernous.
A sprawling chamber bathed in deep red and amber light. The ceiling disappeared into darkness above. Silk curtains hung from invisible fixtures, some drawn, most open. Low platforms covered in cushions filled the floor in every direction, and on them. . .nude bodies.
Dozens of them.
A fucking orgy.
Hiroko widened her eyes. “Well. . .this is a change I didn’t know about.”
Men and women were intertwined on every surface.
Half-lidded eyes rolled back in ecstasy or drug-induced abandon.
Their writhing bodies slick with sweat and baby oil.
Limbs tangled. Mouths on skin. Hands gripping, pulling, guiding.
Teeth biting and grazing. Breasts bobbed. Nipples dripped with cum and saliva.
A woman arched backward over a man's lap and snorted a line of cocaine off his cock.
Two men moved together in a slow rhythm on a raised platform, their bodies glistening.
Near the far wall, a woman lay face down across a pile of cushions with her hips elevated. A man knelt behind her with his fist buried in her ass up to the wrist.
On the other side, a group of five—maybe six—undulated together on a massive cushion, so intertwined I couldn't tell where one ended and another began.
I cleared my throat. “I don’t see fox brands.”
“Me either.” Reo scanned the space. “Hide your weapons.”
“Sorry. I’m not much help right now.” Hiro slipped his knife back under his sleeve. “All I see is pussy and cock, and I’m mad I didn’t get an invitation.”
“Focus.”
We walked forward.
The sounds were everywhere.
Wet.
Raw.
Wild.
Moans layered on top of moans, gasps feeding into cries, all of it riding the bass into a perverse chorus composed specifically for a soundtrack of flesh.
Incense hung thick in the air, mingling with sweat, perfume, and the musk of sex.
We moved through it.
All we could do was keep our heads down, weapons tight to our bodies, and pray that no one in this sea of tangled flesh looked up long enough to notice a squad of armed men cutting through their paradise.