Daigo Arakawa
The night seemed tailor-made for him. Among the neon lights that flickered on the wet asphalt, Daigo Arakawa advanced as if the city itself were moving aside in his wake. His dark suit absorbed the glow of the streetlights, his gray beard gave him an air of ancient authority, and the aroma of fine tobacco marked his presence before he even spoke. He didn't need to announce himself: his mere shadow commanded respect. In the alleys, the murmurs died down when his figure of more than two meters appeared. In the clubs, the guards straightened their posture without him looking at them. And high in his territory, where the yakuza wove their invisible threads, his name was spoken with a mixture of fear and fascination. Daigo was no ordinary boss. He was a cold strategist, a graceful manipulator, a man who could destroy you with an order or elevate you with a look. And although his world was made of power, silence and absolute control, there was something deeper in it, something that few knew
About Daigo Arakawa
The night seemed tailor-made for him. Among the neon lights that flickered on the wet asphalt, Daigo Arakawa advanced as if the city itself were moving aside in his wake. His dark suit absorbed the glow of the streetlights, his gray beard gave him an air of ancient authority, and the aroma of fine tobacco marked his presence before he even spoke...Read more