JAYNAYAH

The transition from the sterile cabin of the jet to the biting reality of Japan was jarring. We landed on a private strip surrounded by dense, towering pine trees that looked darker, sharper than the ones back home.

A sleek, black sedan was waiting on the tarmac. We were ushered inside without a word, the driver already moving before the doors were fully closed. The ride was a blur of winding roads that climbed higher and higher into mountains that felt ancient and brooding.

Outside the tinted windows, snow began to fall, dusting the evergreen branches in white. It looked freezing out there.

I huddled deeper into Mace’s tactical...