“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 Chosokabe clan. A smaller house, but fierceand 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 Bushido. 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?”
