This was the place.
Over a year of hunting. Of ensuring it had indeed been a theft by foreign agents, of identifying said agents and managing to track down their furtive movements, they could finally act. The compound was massive, walled and brimming with all manner of thug and thief, the task before those settling into position a daunting one indeed.
But these men were born for daunting deeds. Soldiers trained to survive suicide mission after suicide mission, bringing results when it seemed impossible to do so. They were driven by raw discipline, tempered by skill, and glowing white-hot with righteous anger.
The ones who had stolen their work from the Winchester estate were behind these walls.
But they would not stay safe for much longer.
~-~
Souma granted Galina the courtesy of listening to what she had to say. Standing silently within the private confines of the garden, eyes never leaving hers, rapt attention paid solely to her lilting voice.
She wanted him shamed. She wanted him embarrassed and dishonored, wanted a revenge to mirror what he inflicted upon her almost a year ago. Galina had said then, that what he did not know of Russia was vast. Had this been what she meant? That Russian revenge, Russian 'justice' was to inflict upon others what one felt was inflicted upon themselves?
Quite the difference, from his own people.
If a child was born to a wealthy and powerful Japanese family, he was expected to honor the reputation his name held. He needed to act a very certain way, maintain a certain image, and overall stick to a minimum set by the status he was born into, one he could try to rise above, but never fall below.
For a child born to the poor, the less fortunate, or the 'simple' Japanese family, however, the 'minimum' was always one step higher than you could reach. Your parents had a name worth less than the filth shoveled from the stables? It was on you to change the opinions of those you met. Your parents had a decent name, a good home, an average life? It was on you to distinguish yourself as someone with the potential for more. Step forwards, reach higher, never fall back. The smallest dishonor could be more harmful than any great deed could erase. True no matter one's heritage, but to the Takahiro's it rang truer still.
And Galina had to know.
How long had she been here? Living within his clan, weaving her contacts as she learned his culture? She knew his family, knew what they honored, what they stood for, what they strove for. Of course, this was a fitting revenge, then, to force dishonor upon the honored son.
But Souma knew his family, had been raised by his family. And Souma knew his father, knew what lay in store for those who could not lift up the Takahiro name... but also what could truly be called 'dishonor'.
If Galina wanted her 'Revenge' to be complete, to have meaning, there was one more step she had to complete.
And if she knew that, she wouldn't be standing here, alone in the corner of the compound.
"I, see." Souma nodded quietly, no smile appearing to match the one on Galina's own lips. They stood apart, facing each other, not another soul in sight. "You plan well, work well, cannot ignore that. Will have to find right words to tell Father..."
His voice trailed off at the thought, as if Souma decided that moment to try and figure out just what he would say... The he moved.
Reaching for the knife would take to long, so he lunged, bare-handed for Galina before him. He didn't snarl, didn't shout, his eyes remaining locked on the Russian spymistress, lips drawn tightly and paling from lack of blood. He surged forth, aiming to drive a heavy blow into the softness of Galina's stomach, aiming to land a foot behind her leg so he might topple her down, aiming to catch her off guard long enough to drive her skull against one of the many, heavy stones dotting the grounds.
The body of the one who shamed him would be the first thing Souma showed his father. He would salvage his pride and honor by denying Galina the full victory she sought. Right here. Right now.