Years passed, but the memory did not.
The boy Reina had saved in the rain-soaked alley grew into a man forged by hardship and destiny. Zumi Kogane, age 28 now, stood on the edge of greatness—though he barely recognized just how deep his roots stretched into the past.
Eight years tying to make it in New York City job after Job,eviction and eviction, Debt after Debt… Eight years searching for strength, purpose, the reason his soul felt heavy with echoes of battles he'd never lived…
And always, always, she remained in his thoughts.
Reina. The Black Flame.
He didn't know why her image stayed with him so clearly—the gold in her braids glowing faintly even in memory, the calm authority she held even when she was just twenty, the way she stepped into an alley and erased four thugs with a single word.
Most people from the slums blurred into shadows of his past.
But she stayed vivid.
He'd whisper to himself on long, lonely nights after work or under the luminous full moonlight.
"The Black Flame gave me a chance. One day… I'll repay her. I swear it."
He didn't know then that this vow was older than his current life. That long before he was Zumi… Long before the slums… Long before his mortal struggles…
He had been Sun Wukong, the Monkey King.
And the song he wrote at twenty one he once hummed traveling through forests, fighting beasts, meditating under waterfalls—wasn't really new at all.
It was a melody he thought he invented, a song he titled "The Song of the Black Flame."
A haunting tune of fire, darkness, devotion, and defiance…
He didn't understand why it felt so natural. Why the lyrics came without forcing. Why the emotion in it tasted like déjà vu.
Not until he awakened as Wukong's reincarnation and began the trials to reunite with Serafina, the Goddess of Darkness—his lover from his previous life.
She listened to the song once, eyes wide, trembling.
"Zumi… that song… Wukong used to sing it to me," she whispered. "It was our song."
The realization hit like a tidal wave.
The song he wrote "for Reina"… Was a memory bleeding through lifetimes.
A melody of flames and darkness… Not for a mortal woman, but for a Goddess.
Zumi didn't understand it all yet—not fully. But he knew one thing:
His path and Reina's had been tied together long before either of them could comprehend why.
Present Day
Yorkdale changed. Evolved. Fell into deeper shadow and rose again under one name:
Reina Kurogami.
Ten years had etched her legend into the bones of the slums. No gang dared to challenge the Yorkdale Destroyers. No criminal family risked pushing into her turf. Even corrupt politicians whispered her name with caution.
Her golden braids glowed brighter now—her flame honed, sharpened, perfected.
When she walked the streets, even the air seemed to hold its breath.
The Black Flame was not a leader. She was an empire walking.
But empires attract storms.
And today, a storm marched toward her doorstep.
The ground trembled with synchronized footsteps. Red, black, and gold flags rippled through the air. Leather jackets embroidered with the dragon crest glinted beneath streetlights.
At their front stood a woman whose mere presence cracked the pavement beneath her boots:
Bia. Goddess of Force and Strength. Leader of the Kogane Dragons. Zumi's first wife in the new age of gods.
Her red-black hair flowed like a battle banner, and her divine aura pressed against the world like a hammer waiting to fall.
Behind her, hundreds of gang members marched—disciplined, confident, unstoppable.
They weren't coming for a negotiation.
They weren't coming for a warning.
They were coming for Reina Kurogami.
And every Destroyer watching from rooftops and alleyways felt the cold bite of fear they hadn't felt in a decade.
Because for the first time, someone dared to challenge the Black Flame.
In the Yorkdale Destroyers' hideout, Reina stood on the top floor balcony, arms crossed, coat fluttering in the chilling wind. Her lieutenants whispered nervously behind her.
"Boss… it's the Kogane Dragons."
"It's their leader. Bia. The one they call the Goddess of—"
Reina raised a hand.
Silence fell.
Her amber eyes narrowed as she watched the approaching army of red and black.
"So it finally happens," she murmured, voice calm but burning with anticipation. "Someone strong enough to try."
A slow smile spread across her lips. Not fear. Not worry. But excitement.
It had been ten years since she felt the thrill of facing someone equal, someone dangerous. Her aura crackled faintly—embers dancing around her like the first warning sparks of wildfire.
"Prepare the men," she said. "If the Goddess of Force wants a war… we'll give her one."
Far from Yorkdale, Zumi felt a pulse in his chest—an instinct he couldn't explain. A tug, a pull, a warmth.
He paused mid-step, Serafina and Hinata looking at him curiously.
"Something wrong?" Serafina asked.
Zumi looked toward the distant horizon, a faint smile forming.
"No," he said softly. "Someone important is about to enter my life again."
He didn't know how he knew. He didn't know why the air itself felt warmer. He didn't know why the thread of fate tugged so sharply that his heart raced.
But he felt it.
The flame he'd once saved— The flame he'd once sworn to repay— The flame whose song he unknowingly remembered from a previous life
Was about to clash with one of his wives.
Reina… The Black Flame… Was moments from colliding with Bia… And destiny was about to ignite.
Side Story: The Night Yorkdale Learned Fear
The warehouse floor echoed with the crunch of boots.
Twenty men from a rival gang fanned out into a loose circle, pipes, chains, and cheap knives glinting under the flickering ceiling lights. Dust floated in the air like ash. The smell of sweat and rusted metal hung heavy.
In the center of it all stood Reina Kurogami.
Black coat. Jet-black braids tipped with faint gold. Hands resting calmly at her sides. Her glowing amber eyes moved slowly across the ring of men, but there wasn't even a hint of concern in them.
To her, this wasn't a battle. It was an annoyance.
From Their Eyes
We had her.
That's what we told ourselves, anyway.
Twenty of us, circling her like wolves closing in on a lone deer. She looked so small from a distance. Just a woman. Just one person.
But those eyes…
Those golden eyes didn't blink. Didn't flinch. Didn't react when our boss spat at her feet and puffed his chest out like he owned the place.
"Oi, Kurogami!" he shouted, voice echoing off concrete. "You think you're tough just 'cause you scare the Yorkdale dogs? Tonight, you burn!"
She didn't react the way people usually did.
No anger. No fear.
She just tilted her head back slightly, as if even acknowledging him was tedious. Her lips curved into the faintest smirk.
When she finally spoke, her voice was low and cold enough to put frost in the air.
"You've already lost," she said. "You just haven't felt it yet."
A shiver crawled up my spine.
The First Strike
One of the guys near her—big, loud, always the first to throw a punch—couldn't take it anymore. He roared, bat raised high over his head as he charged.
From where we were standing, it didn't look like she even saw him.
But at the last second, she moved.
No, not moved—flowed.
To her, it was nothing more than a smooth Tai Chi step. A turn of the waist, a brush of her hand against his arm as she gently guided his strike off-course. His own momentum betrayed him; he stumbled past her, off balance.
Before he could recover, her heel snapped up in a precise arc, catching him under the jaw.
CRACK.
He dropped like someone cut his strings, body twitching on the concrete.
Reina lowered her leg with slow, deliberate control. She exhaled softly. Not even winded.
Around her, the circle hesitated.
From the outside, it looked effortless. From inside our skin, it felt like watching a god swat away a fly.
Three Against One
Three more surged forward, frustration and fear mixing into rage. Knives flashed in the harsh warehouse light.
Reina's expression didn't change.
She angled her stance, every motion economical—Tai Chi at the core, Taekwondo coiled and ready beneath.
The first man lunged with a forward stab. She barely touched his wrist. A small twist, a subtle pivot, and suddenly his own force carried him off his feet. His back slammed into the floor with a choked grunt, air blasted from his lungs.
The second tried to grab her, arms wide to lock her in place. She stepped into him instead, dragging him into a clinch. One hand hooked the back of his neck, yanking his head down. Her knee rocketed up.
The sound of bone snapping echoed through the warehouse.
He dropped, clutching his ribs, choking on spit and blood.
The third circled, thinking he had her flank. He came in fast, knife low, but Reina was faster. Her body twisted, leg whipping around with terrifying speed.
Her Ember Fang Kick cracked across his temple.
One moment he was rushing forward. The next he was on the ground, eyes rolled back, completely silent.
Reina's braids swayed gently as she reset her stance, breathing calm, eyes half-lidded.
To us, it felt like watching three men vanish at once.
Flickering Shadow Step
Panic hit the group like a wave.
"Get her!" someone screamed.
Five of us rushed her together. Numbers had to mean something, right? It was five against one. No way she could keep up.
She didn't back away.
She stepped forward.
To us, she blurred. One moment she was in front of us, the next she was at someone's side, then behind another—her movements too fluid, too controlled, like she'd already mapped our attacks before we even swung.
One guy swung a pipe where her head had been a heartbeat ago.
He hit nothing but air.
Then he doubled over, wheezing, as her elbow drove into his ribs with pinpoint precision.
Another brought his blade down in a vicious overhead arc. Reina bent backward, spine folding with serpent grace, the knife hissing past her nose. Before he could recover, she rose with a spinning heel kick that crashed under his chin, sending him flying backward.
From the edge of the circle, all we saw were limbs and motion—her coat swirling, braids slicing the air, bodies hitting the ground one by one.
We couldn't land a single clean hit.
She wasn't just blocking us. She was dismantling us.
Toying with us.
The Scorching Heel Drop
Our boss's right-hand man finally stepped forward.
He was huge, easily the biggest guy in the crew, muscles straining under his jacket. He lifted a metal pipe that looked more like a steel beam in his hands.
"I'll crush you!" he bellowed, charging.
For a second, a tiny, desperate part of me believed him.
Reina met him head-on.
The pipe came down in a brutal arc aimed at her skull. She raised her arm, parrying with just enough touch to deflect the angle, twisting her body to bleed off the force. His weight pitched forward.
She pivoted.
And jumped.
For a heartbeat, time froze.
Her shadow swallowed him. Her body hung suspended in the air, golden braids trailing light like a comet. Then her leg came down, heel aimed like a judge's gavel.
When she struck, the impact shook the entire warehouse.
BOOM.
The floor cracked beneath his head. Dust fell from the rafters. The metal pipe rolled from his limp hand.
He didn't move again.
My legs wanted to run. My body refused to obey.
The Black Flame Embrace
Only one man was left standing: our boss.
His knife trembled in his grip. Sweat rolled down his face. His earlier bravado was gone, stripped away like paint in a storm.
He screamed and charged, more out of terror than courage.
Reina didn't even bother to properly face him at first. She shifted just enough, letting the knife thrust hit nothing vital, letting him think he'd landed something.
In his eyes, there was a flash of hope.
That hope died the next second.
She twisted, hand snapping to his wrist. A spiral of motion followed—Tai Chi redirecting his momentum, Taekwondo coiled in her core. His body left the ground, spinning helplessly through the air like a ragdoll.
Before gravity could claim him, she moved again.
Her braid flashed gold as she turned mid-spin, her leg whipping out in a powerful roundhouse. Her foot crashed into his chest mid-air.
The sound of impact was final.
He hit the ground and didn't get up.
Silence swallowed the warehouse.
The Black Flame Doesn't Flicker
Reina stood in the center again, just as she had at the start.
Broken bodies lay scattered around her in a rough ring—some groaning, some unconscious, all defeated. Not a single scratch marked her. Not a drop of sweat marred her brow. Her coat was still perfectly buttoned.
She took a moment to adjust her collar with two fingers, as if she'd just finished a meeting instead of a massacre.
Her golden eyes swept across us—the ones still conscious, still trying to piece together what had just happened.
She didn't look at us like enemies.
She looked at us like… background noise.
"Tell the rest of Yorkdale," she said, voice calm but carrying to every corner of the warehouse. "The Black Flame doesn't flicker."
My knees gave out.
Right then, I understood.
We hadn't fought a woman that night. We hadn't fought a gang leader.
We had tried to stand against a force of nature.
And we never stood a chance.
The story of that warehouse spread like wildfire.
It became one of a dozen legends tied to Reina's name, proof that the Yorkdale Destroyers' queen was untouchable. After that night, fewer and fewer dared to test her. Eventually, no one did.
Until the day the streets began to tremble with the march of a new power— red and black banners flying high, dragon crests glinting, and a goddess walking at their head, the day the Kogane Dragons came for the Black Flame.