The night wind blew in from Tokyo Bay, carrying the salty damp of seawater and the city's lingering warmth. It swept through the slopes and lanes near the outskirts, brushing away the heat accumulated during the day.
Moon lay concealed in an old camphor tree three hundred meters from the Tsurumi estate.
Dense branches and leaves enveloped him in the canopy's shadows.
He wore a long black trench coat with the hood pulled low, a mask covering his face as he hid in the darkness.
Through gaps in the foliage, he quietly watched the distant estate.
The Tsurumi Family's villa stood on high ground deep within Setagaya Ward, occupying nearly a thousand tsubo, with high walls enclosing both its front and rear gardens.
The building itself was understated. There were no glittering exterior walls, no extravagant Roman columns, no ostentatious clutter of new money.
The main residence was a three-story blend of Japanese and Western architecture, its exterior painted an elegant gray-white, its roof laid with dark gray tiles, its lines clean and composed.
Yet its details carried a weight of their own.
The main entrance consisted of two heavy bronze gates, engraved with the Tsurumi Family crest-a crane spreading its wings. The intricate, exquisite lines gleamed with a mellow bronze luster beneath the moonlight.
The gateposts were carved from solid granite, bearing a plaque of unfinished pale wood on which the name "Tsurumi" had been engraved in meticulously executed seal script.
The walls on either side were not particularly high, but a stone lantern was set into them every few meters. Warm yellow light shone through paper shades, making the walls resemble a jade sash studded with luminous pearls.
A century-old black pine grew in the front garden, its branches twisting like dragons and casting an enormous shadow in