A Bitter Return (Private)

[Kawakami Hotaru]

((OOC Links to all NPCS found here.))


The office air was as stale as she had last remembered Kyou, her eldest brother, sat behind his desk quietly staring back at the rest of his family gently rapping upon a large manila folder. Dried tears stuck to his cheeks, nose red, face puffy, he had cried earlier in the day. They were burying their father, and yet she did not shed a tear, Chiyoko sat in sodden silence with a cigarette pressed between her lips looking down toward the ground, there was nothing she could say that hadn't been said already, her father had passed in the night, pulmonary edema the doctors said. "Let's get this over with, then." Hideo lamented, pressing a palm against his forehead as he waited for his brother to begin reading his father's will and testament. Chiyoko nodded in silence, looking up for just a moment to gaze at her eldest brother before hanging her head once again enveloping herself in a cloud of ash and smoke. Opening the folder Kyou cleared his throat looking back toward his family with a look of uncertainty, he had been his father's lawyer for years and had no doubt documented the will itself, "I would just like to say before we begin, these are entirely his words and reflect none of my views about this family." an odd start, Chiyoko thought. Hideo grunted for a moment, perching his palm beneath his chin and readying for the will, he had never been his father's favorite child, let alone his favorite son, he was no doubt ready to be gouged by the postmortem words of his father.


"To my children:



If the day arises when I no longer walk this mortal toil, I first and foremost wish to let you know one last time that I love you each dearly. That said, there is no time to mourn now, we must remember the world continues to turn, which is why I leave you precious little sentimentality in this, my will.



To my eldest son, Kyou: I leave you in full control of our family and all business aspects within the bounds of Lightning country that entails, I also leave you a stipend of 20,000,000 Yen to use to the benefit of the family. I wish you well, my son."

A brief moment of silence followed as Kyou removed his eyes from the page to look toward his family, tears once again welling in the corner of his eyes, neither Hideo's nor Chiyoko's expression changed at the news, they always knew Kyou was father's favorite, this news was of no surprise to them, "Go on then." Hideo commented with only the slightest tinge of mirth on his breath. Chiyoko eyed Hideo, catching his tone and sighing heavily, he no longer frightened her as he did when she was a child, when she thought he was the boogeyman incarnate, now she saw him for what he was, a broken man filled with contempt, a man that would forever live in his brother's shadow, a pale imitation of her father. Hideo was nothing more than a bitter man trudging through life. Of course she was soon brought back from her thoughts as Kyou continued reading.


"To my second eldest, Hideo: I leave you in charge of our business and family relations in Port Cirrus, effective immediately after my death. Perhaps you will learn to become a man there, instead of the tantrum prone child you've been here." The words fell from Kyou's mouth like a mumble as he avoided eye contact with his younger brother, who once again seem unsurprised at the news, rolling his eyes and mumbling under his breath "Always was a prick." drawing another disapproving gaze from his younger sister, who couldn't help but speak up against her second eldest brother, tensions and emotions running high, "Maybe if you hadn't been such a fuck-up you would've been treated better." her tone was even and staccato catching Hideo off guard as a look of anger crossed his face as the man jumped up from his seat pointing a finger a few inches from her face, "Maybe if this family appreciated anything I've done for it I wouldn't be such a fuck-up, and maybe it would do you best to keep your mouth shut before I remind you how much of a fuck-up I am, little girl." remaining seated Chiyoko stared up toward Hideo, the room silent, the whole ordeal catching Kyou off guard and rendering him speechless, disappointed in their squabbling right after the death of their father.

"Think you scare me, brother?" She gibed, standing as her brother's finger pressed against her chest, "I should" he retorted with an eerie quickness, his finger moved from her chest gently traveling upward to the side of her face, transforming to a gentle pat against her blind side, then without warning came a hard slap from the man. "Stop! Now!", Kyou yelled, but it was already too late for that. It was a wonder that Hideo forgot what his little sister did for a living, or maybe he didn't care, maybe he wanted her to strike him back, and if that was the case she indulged. Two quick jabs caught the man against the nose, the first breaking it and the second sending a spray of claret and mucus dotted his white shirt, sending him crashing back to his seat, holding his nose with a sickly sweet smile. "Oh ho! You got me, you got me." Hideo giggled, looking back to Kyou, "She always did have a temper, eh." Pressing his arm against the arm of the chair Hideo stood, looking back toward his sister, and with a disturbing precision pressed his, now bent, nose back into place, "I don't think you two need me here for the rest of this." he noted walking off outside of the office as Kyou yelled toward his brother to return, to no avail of course.


"Why'd you have to hit him?" Kyou asked pressing his hands over his eyes and sighing heavily.



"He'll get over it." She replied sitting back in her seat, lighting another cigarette and waiting for her brother to continue on with the reading.

She assumed father would be talking about her next, then both of her younger brothers who didn't have the stomach to be part of the proceedings, despite the obvious sadness and tension in the air she was admittedly a little curious to what her father had left her, sitting back she waited for her brother to collect himself once again before they could continue, which proved to be about five minutes sitting in silence before he finally spoke again.


"To my daughter, Chiyoko: I wish I could have lived long enough to see you find someone, maybe even have a family, I know you think something like that's never going to happen, but trust me I thought the same exact thing when I was young. I leave you our spare home in the Seki district & a stipend of 5,000,000 Yen to do with what you will, please continue to take care of our family."

Chiyoko nodded, it was about what she expected, honestly she wasn't elated, no amount of money would bring her father back. "And for Kazuki?" She asked, referring to her younger brother to which Kyou replied fairly quickly, "The Cronopolis estate's his under the condition that we're allowed room and board, and he continues on as the caretaker for our establishments, along with another 5,000,000 Yen stipend."

"That about everything?" She questioned, watching as her brother nodded rather grimly, "They're running an autopsy, you know where to find me." Chiyoko commented exiting her eldest brother's office.

((MFT))

 

[Takaki Saeko]

Another day, another oyabun dead. This one was only in his late fifties, though perishing at a young age isn’t unnatural for men dug in deep amidst the trenches of the underworld. Believe it or not, they don’t often meet their ends because of a bullet or knife, unlike what crime thrillers have you believe. Most of them die of “natural causes,” which in plain kaminarijin means good old fashioned coronaries, strokes, and cancers. The late Ichirou, of the Wakahisa Zaibatsu, died of a terrible heart. He’d probably been prescribed diuretics and antihypertensives by his physicians, but was most likely noncompliant because the meds make you have to pee every ten seconds and that’s no way to maintain decorum when cutting off a dude’s fingertip.

As for me, I’m still kicking, despite rumors to the contrary. There have been rumors of late that I perished off the coast of Bear Country in a kraken attack, but that’s a tale for another time. Evidently a lot of people thought I was gone for good, because I distinctly remember getting mail about the Santaru clan’s plans to marry my dead-ass body to my own cousin so he could legitimize his claim as clan elder! I made sure to put a stop to that—I’m way too young and broke to afford getting hitched (even though cousin romance is pretty hot in books). Oh, and in case anyone in the Lightning Country Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firelocks reads this, I totally lost all my guns in that terrible boating accident.

Since those times in Bear, I’ve resumed a welcome—If somewhat humdrum—low-key existence as the village tax assessor. I take many a yen from our hard-working citizens and put said coins into the Raikage’s personal slush pit because them’s the rules and stuff and armed men will kill you for resisting. I have no idea what our dear leader does with all that money, other than rub it all over his junk for fun. There’s a rumor that Kagetsu Kiyo couldn’t climax unless she had a pair of fresh ten-thousand-yen bank notes rolled up and shoved in her nostrils. I, on the other hand, just have to settle for dong, like every other basic bitch.

But I digress. The Wakahisa oyabun’s dead, he was worth a lot of money, and it’s my job to collect from the estate. That’s the death tax, by the way—a government-sanctioned cash-grab aimed at preventing the transmission of inter-generational wealth, which in practical terms only really screws the middle class. I’m sure the yakuza will try their best to wheedle the Kage out of his part of the take, and I'm there to make sure that the Kage has plenty to spooge on tonight. The only complication, though, is that my underworld adversaries are actual certified lawyers n’ stuff, while I’ve been forbidden from taking the Bar by every known body of jurisprudence in the nation. I can’t possibly win against those guys, which is why I’m going after the small fry. That small fry happens to be my friend, Wakahisa Chiyoko.

As I approach the Wakahisa tenements, I see Chiyoko—I call her Chiquita and that is how she shall stay—exiting the building with a look on her face that suggests she’s been forced to inhale spicy turds rather than that she’s just inherited five meeeeeelion yen (pinky goes to mouth). I want to be all sisterly and shit and take her to ramen and pat her head and tell her it’s going to be okay, but…I gotta do my job.

“Yoohoo, Chiquita,” I say nonchalantly as I sidle up next to her and interlock our arms. “Hey, you’re my bestie, so I’ll level with you. I’m too much of a pussy to go after your brother, Kyou, for his inheritance tax, so I thought I’d pick on you instead. Think you could do me a solid and lend me a fiver? As in five million? You’ll get your money’s worth, I swear. Every red sen will be used to fund the Wall we’re building between us and Fire Country. No more refugees!" I pump my fist weakly. "Yay!”

God, I’m not even trying anymore. I can't when I see what's on her face.

 

[Kawakami Hotaru]

It was always like this, in those darkest times she strode up with some witty comment, some less-than-charming quip, Saeko-San had been an integral part of her life for the past seven years now, she was the person in the world Chiyoko was closest with, perhaps the only one that understood her. A slight smile dotted her lips as her Onee-San locked their arms, already expecting her spiel, she was the tax-bitch of Kumogakure after all. "I missed you too, last I heard you were out slinging dick around Bear country. Pick up any banjo playing yokels?" She replied, Kyou had made it a point to ensure the rest of his family didn't speak anything about their wealth and to direct any tax purveyors to him, "And I'm sorry to say, but Kyou handles all of financial matters regarding our family; so it seems you'll have to speak with him either way, greedy bitch." the young woman briefly chuckled hiding the great inner turmoil that bubbled within her, she had developed a good mask over the years. "Laugh, and the whole world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone" Some old street urchin gave her that piece of wisdom, and while she typically didn't take didn't take the advice of panhandlers that one seemed to have their affairs in order.



With the talk of money squared away a strange pang of emotion hit our young Chiquita in the gullet, it felt like the worst post-drinking nausea she could think of as a realization dawned upon her, the woman standing next to her with arms locked was now, as if she wasn't before, really was the person she was closest to in this tempestuous world. Turning toward the woman Chiyoko wrapped her other arm around Saeko's back, resting her head upon her shoulder, if she she had any tears left they would have fallen then, but alas she did not. "I really did miss you, sister." She was quiet, her words almost a mumble as if afraid the outside world would hear her weakness in these bleak hours. Breaking the brief hug, Chiyoko stepped back brushing herself off with a slight blush of embarrassment upon her face, as if she had just said something more taboo than usual, she hadn't gotten any better at the whole 'feelings' thing.


Clearing her throat Chiquita took a moment to tussle her hair which was as messy as ever, while meeting her friend once again was a welcome break from her day she still had a task at hand, and now she had someone to force, I mean ask, to tag along with her, besides she knew how much her friend enjoyed hanging around dead bodies and the smell of formaldehyde. "So I was heading to see pops before we put him in the ground, so, uh, how about you come along? I totes need you there for emotional support, y'know. You can be like my support dog, like the ones you see in restaurants and on boats, the ones that totally serve no purpose and shouldn't be there but are there anyway...Y'know." Really it wasn't so much of a request as it was a demand, honestly she would probably be a little crushed if her friend denied her. . . Annnnnyyywayyyy.


Interlocking her arms with Saeko Chiquita lead their way toward the morgue to see their family pathologist, a wonderful man who modeled his work after a certain Dr. Frankenstein M.D. a man she knew little about. The walk was a fairly long one, which she honestly wasn't terribly mad at, it gave her a chance to catch up with her friend a bit more before she had to deal with her father one last time, "So, they're moving me back to field duty." Chiquita mentioned as nonchalantly as she could muster, looking toward her friend to gauge her reaction, knowing full well that the dastardly Ayumu would no doubt soon have them committing treason and dealing with ecclesial zealots once again. "They, uh, also promoted me again in lieu of all our outstanding bravery and duty in the field, apparently I'm a Jounin now. Gave me a few medals, too. Gave me the Hayata medal of sacrifice in battle, medal of valor, a silver star, and a couple others. Think I'm going to melt 'em down and make a nice cup or something." she was never one who cared about titles, medals, or anything like that. It was all a pile of bullshit to her.

Their trip seemed to be coming to an end, Chiquita sighed heavily looking at the daunting building before her, it felt cold and sterile even from the outside, no point in delaying it now. ""Guess we should get this over with." She mentioned more for herself than for anyone else, thinking of how she had now lost both of her parents, though she quickly pushed the thought from her mind as she entered the building, holding the door for her friend behind her, feeling in an distinctly courteous mood, something which was quite out of character. Death does some odd things to a person. The woman at the front desk didn't remove her eyes from the papers she was staring at as the two entered instead she commented with a heavy sigh as if their walking in had already aggravated her, "Doctor's at lunch." Chiyoko rubbed her temple slightly, "Well that's fuckin' spectacular." she replied garnering the woman to look up from her papers noticing who had just entered the small morgue, one of the only ones separate from the massive Aesculapium, "Go ahead, he'll be back in ten or fifteen." the receptionist remarked pointing toward a set of silver double doors that appeared to have no handles which suddenly seemed to pop open as if by magic, Chiquita of course didn't notice the woman holding down a large orange button in the desk she sat behind.

Walking ahead she looked toward her friend with a look of slight worry, not quite because of her father, well not directly anyway, but because of how she felt she might react in front of her good friend, despite all their banter, and everything they had shared, Chiyoko was still very much protective of her innermost emotions. The room was lit with bright florescent lights, the white tiles leading to the walls of caskets hidden within the walls and the cold silver tables sitting in the middle of the room, bodies hidden under white sheets only to be identified by the tags tied around their toes. Everything smelled of formalin, it reminded her of the time they had sat in the icebox in Port Cirrus when Osu dug through the chamberlain, memories both good and bad. "Remember Natsu? I wonder how he's doing these days, hopefully some Shuar's planning on stabbing him in the pecker while he's sleeping." Chiquita mentioned offhandedly looking through the tags before she found the one she sought, staring at the white sheet for a hesitant moment, pulling back the top she gazed upon her father's face one last time and gave a callow, "Goodbye." to the man, he had never been a good man, always distant and harsh and many times she thought how she wouldn't miss him when he was gone, but those thoughts all dissipated as she looked down at the dead man before her. Good or bad, he was her father. Pulling the sheet back she peered over toward her friend quipping with a hollow snicker, "Another one bites the dust." trying her best to hide the subconscious tears that threatened to well in her eyes.

She needed to push these thoughts away, they weren't like her, the urge for a cigarette kicked at her innards, she was sure the dead wouldn't mind. Lighting up she looked down at the instruments one the table noticing one of those Finochietto retractors, the ones used to spread the ribs of dead folks, as a macabre curiosity peaked in her brain as she picked it up fiddling with the device wondering about it's use, "The hell do you think they use this for?" she questioned turning to her friend and poking at her side repeatedly with the device. She thought about making some inappropriate diameter joke, but couldn't force herself to, she simply wasn't feeling up to her usual self. Before she could muster the courage to make her childish joke the sound of the door startled her as she half yelled, "Oh, shit!" tossing the retractor back to it's table with a loud clatter.

It was odd how in this world all the odd ones always seemed beautiful, the pathologist seemed to continue with this theme, tall and obviously in shape, standing in a sort of confusion at the loud clattering and the fact there was someone other than Chiyoko in the room he tried to figure out the situation before him as she continued to stare. A defined chin flecked with a 5 o'clock shadow, large brown eyes, and wavy black hair tied back into a bun. He stood quietly in his scrubs waiting for an explanation, which Chiyoko quickly gave, "She's a close family friend, I asked her to come with me for, uh, support. Y'know, like one of those support dogs..." she caught herself this time before she could go on to ramble about support dogs. "Erhm, alright then." Dr. Mifune replied setting his folder down upon the table where she had just tossed the retractor, arranging his tools once again, "Would your friend like to wait outside, I have some rather disturbing information." his eyes never left the folder as he spoke in his soft and sweet voice, "She's a big girl, sure she's heard worse, doctor." Chiyoko replied, unsure of what this disturbing news could be, it wasn't like the doctor was about to tell her that her father died, she was already well aware of that fact.

Well aware of Chiyoko's stubborn nature, everyone knew by this point, Dr. Mifune didn't attempt to argue with her instead he pulled his wheely-chair and sat, "He died of hypoxia, pulmonary edema, and pulmonary hypertension. Basically he wasn't getting enough oxygen. Now, I know he had been a fairly healthy man, and everything seemed to have culminated rather quickly over the last year, which is why I wanted to go ahead and run this autopsy. Now, there's something I'd like to tell you, bear with me please." Chiyoko nodded, unsure of where the doctor was going with this aside from spouting some medical mumbo-jumbo, looking back toward her friend she shrugged trying to follow the doctor's speech as he continued, "I found trace levels of calcium cyanide in your father." a look of confusion immediately registered on her face at the news, calcium cyanide, her father had been poisoned? "What?", she questioned covering her mouth with a hand. The doctor simply nodded his head, aware of how difficult it would be to process such information, waiting a few seconds before he continued, "It seems likely he'd been unknowingly ingesting it since these symptoms first sprouted." once again she was shocked, someone had been trying to kill her father for the last year? This was unspeakable and horrific, what in the name of Jesus Saito was going on? Her head pounded as if someone had just dropped a ton of bricks on her, tears once again welled behind her eyes as she asked the doctor, "So, so, you think it was deliberate? Someone had been feeding him this shit?" Dr. Mifune once again nodded, "I don't just think it, I am certain of it, and while I know one poisoning doesn't make a pattern I would suggest you take extra precautions from here on out." wiping her eye Chiyoko couldn't help but look toward her friend once again, shocked and confused by the news, as if her world had just been shaken to it's core.

"Doctor, he prepared his own food every day, his own drinks, he bought everything himself, except when we cooked for him." Her voice shook as she spoke, nearing her breaking point as Mifune continued with yet another nod and a look of mixed concern and sympathy, "I'm aware, I specifically called you here for that exact reason, you wouldn't kill your father you had no reason to, but someone did, someone close. Trust no one." he finished closing his folder and standing once again "I will be leaving town immediately, I fear the information I've shared with you puts me in quite a bit of trouble. I owed that man, I owed Oyabun for putting me through school, for relieving me of a life of poverty, for lifting me up from the Cronopolis, catch whoever did this, and when you do. . . Well, you know what to do. Now I must go, I have a train to catch, ladies." and with that the doctor left their sight and their lives.

"What am I going to do, Onee-San?" She questioned looking toward her friend.​

 

[Takaki Saeko]

My blood runs cold at the mention of cyanide in the late oyabun’s system. Why can’t shit ever be straightforward? Death is already traumatic enough, but when tainted with the streak of human malice, that red and indelible stain, it becomes all-consuming. You can be angry at the Allfather for taking your loved ones away in a whirlwind or famine, but the feeling quickly fades. You never stop thinking about a murderer, though.

Part of me wants to pretend I didn’t hear the good physician, or perhaps simply brush off his claims as a mistake or even quackery. But I know Doctor Mifune’s word is as good as gold. Generations of Main Branch sleuths--from gumeshoed genin to the most jaded, chain-smoking whiskey-for-blood jounin--have relied on his expertise, and he’s helped crack open more cold cases than Ozzy on the worst bat-biting bender ever. The poisoning revelation adds a wholly unwelcome wrinkle to what started out as a shameless, government-sanctioned cash grab. But while such a revelation is merely a dreadful annoyance for me, it’s also making Chiquita’s knees wobble.

I hate seeing her like this; stretched to her breaking point, holding back tears with lines from terrible-but-catchy songs by Queen. Lots of people think Freddie Mercury wrote Another one bites the dust, but in reality, it was the bassist, John Deacon, who actually penned the lyrics. Perhaps I hate seeing Chiquita in this state because she’s like the world’s best worst mirror--the one that shows you exactly how you are when you’re plunged in a world of shit.

When Father died, I also didn’t cry. I clung to a warped sort of pride in the fact that my own reply to hearing of his death was a muttered: “Nothing really matters, anyone can see.” That line, by the way, is a Freddy Mercury original. It was about edgelord nihilism as a mask covering real anguish. I never got to see my father’s body, unlike Chiquita. No one was going to risk lives to explore the bottom of a Tenouzan waterfall, and by now, even his bones have long-since dissolved into ether to fortify the diets of fish. Father was simply there one day, and then he wasn’t. Chiquita, on the other hand, has it lucky.

When she lifted the sheet over the body and made her snarky quip, I really had to suppress the sudden, irrational urge to cuff her upside the head and tell her to show some respect to her father. After all, I’m not her mother, or even her real older sister. I’m just jealous, is all. Jealous that she gets to see her dad’s remains. Jealous, even on some stupidly impractical level, that she’s become a jounin ahead of me. I’m older than her, damn it. We did all those missions together, and I’ve saved her ass an equal number of times! Where’s my Hayata medal and lobster dinner? Sure, I’d probably do the same thing as Chiquita and have it melted down into a cup (the better to swig melted butter with), but it’s the thought that counts!

I ball my hands into fists and dig my nails into my palms. I have remind myself that unlike me, Chiquita actually has some sort of desire to improve things. She took the teaching job at the academy because she wanted to prevent the same shit that happened to us from happening to all those dumb kids out there waiting to make their first kills. Me, I’m happy in my own crapulence. I draw a shit sandwich salary but in turn have almost no real responsibility. Hell, I’ve been inactive for almost two months and no one’s actually fired me yet.

But Chiquita is my mirror, after all. She reflects my worst qualities right back to me, and doesn’t abstain from the hard truths. I keep telling myself I don’t want to make the world better, but that’s kind of a lie. I tell myself that I hated Father, but that’s kind of a lie. I keep telling myself that I’m happy with myself, but that, again, is kind of a lie.

Mifune has prudently decided to skip town. In reality, the good doctor is probably not at too much of a risk of getting his head stove in, but hard-boiled physicians rarely leave things to chance. That leaves just us, and now Chiquita asks the million-yen question: what do we do?

“Shit, man, I don’t know. I’m just a fuckin’ emotional support dog,” I reply, letting that last bit of acrid snark out. It’s only right that I pay her back for all the jabs she snuck in there in that wall of text of hers. Then, I sigh, uncross my arms, and lay my hands on her shoulders. “If we were smart girls, Chiyoko, we’d forget we ever heard the good doctor speak--hell, forget we’d ever even set foot in here--and go about our lives none the wiser. In fact, if we were extra smart, we’d do exactly as the doctor did, and disappear somewhere else for a while. You know, rent a beach cottage in Port Cirrus. Go shopping for the raciest bikinis possible. Get our crotches waxed and our eyebrows plucked. Pick up lanky surfers and make out with them. That sort of thing. Because the alternative is ending up at the bottom of the harbor in tiny pieces, or even worse, putting a bullet in someone you might even care about.”

I sigh again.

“But we’re not that smart, are we? You want to look into his death, don’t you? And I’m enough of a sucker to go along with it. Actually, since this village is so understaffed, I’ve also been appointed chief insurance claims investigator for Kumo, so this may even be part of my jerb. So...I can only ask you, do we try to pretend we’re smart, or do we realize we’re a pair of dumbasses?”

 

[Kawakami Hotaru]

Clutching her head between her heads it was painfully obvious that they damn sure weren't smart enough to leave their discovery alone, "I'm not going to try an pretend that we're anything but a pair of idiots, Onee-San." was her reply looking toward her dear friend somberly. "Funeral's going to be tomorrow, I think I'm going to need you there. Going to need to crash at your place tonight, too. Just in case." She had never been much for asking.

The night no doubt passed in a haze of drink.​

. . .​

She dressed in black as was custom; thieves, murderers, gamblers, and many others lined the streets outside of the funeral parlor and each one held a gift of some sort, flowers, notes, mass cards, envelopes holding yen, all talking among themselves. It took her near thirty minutes to get inside, continuously stopped by the shaking of hands and the condolences of men who likely didn't really give a damn about her father's death, but she shook nonetheless. The sounds within the funeral home were raucous, her family had always believed in celebrating the life of the deceased rather than mourning their death, and her father's passing was no different. Looking back toward her friend she figured it best to explain what they were walking into, "They're probably all shitfaced by now, how Oyabun would have wanted it. Anyway, suppose you should prepare yourself to deal with a bunch of drunk felons and career criminals, they can be a bit brash." a bit brash was an understatement.


Pressing forward the first person she noticed amongst the crowd was that of a frail old woman, accompanied by someone who had once near convinced her to leave her Shinobi career. Obaa-San smiled warmly, passing her drink to the auburn haired androgynous vixen at her side, Miki-Tan clutched the drink in his hands without argument, standing silently until prompted, though Chiyoko couldn't help but spy a slight smirk on the cross-dresser's face. The old woman held her arms open as Chiquita approached her in a quick hug, tussling her hair "Hello, Chiyoko-Chan." the old woman stated, there was precious little else she could say, how are you, sorry for your loss, he died too young, Obaa-San had just lost her eldest son just as Chiyoko had just lost her father. Releasing her from the hug Obaa-San looked toward the one woman here that clearly didn't belong, her expression was one of thanks if not a bit of confusion as she spoke to Saeko, "I see the two of you are as inseparable as ever, Takaki. People are going to start thinking the two of you are an item, or perhaps you are. At least Chiyoko-Chan would finally get someone to sleep with her then." Chiquita's expression turned sour immediately as the woman faked a hollow chuckle at her joke, "Obaa-San!" Chiyoko couldn't help but yell out, already embarrassed by her grandmother. Snapping her fingers Miki-Tan handed the glass back to Obaa-San who gave her a look of approval, "I suppose I should make the rounds, Miki feel free to take a break." Miki-Tan nodded looking back toward the two people she had nearly killed in a sewer in Port Cirrus. "I was half expecting to see your little friend here too, he had plans?" Miki asked referring to none other than one Osuteno, for a moment Chiyoko also wondered where her little friend was these days. "I suppose he did." Chiyoko replied, unaware Kyou was approaching her friend to see who the hell she was and what she was doing at this funeral.

"You people really have no shame." He remarked glaring toward Saeko-San, under the impression she was there to collect on the death-tax, and of course he was none too pleased at the thought, "We haven't even put my father in the ground and you're already here harassing us for the government's money, money they in no way deserve. Deplorable. Absolutely deplorable." Kyou scowled, if he would have been holding a drink he would have no doubt tossed it at her, but he no longer drank. Before he could continue with his rant Chiquita quickly interrupted, "Kyou, that's enough of that. I invited her to join me, she is my friend after all." a look of anger sat upon her brother's face threatening to boil over as he replied full of abhorrence, "Then she can wait outside with everyone who isn't family." Chiyoko once again replied with a quickness, "Saeko-San will do no such thing, she's my family, Kyou." Kyou threw his hands up in aggravation, clearly tiring of the argument as he finally blurted out slightly louder than he should have, "You fucking know father wouldn't have wanted a goddamn tax collector here!" the crowd of family fell somewhat silent as her brother yelled, pointing toward Chiyoko and her friend before he stomped off elsewhere returning the funeral to as it had been before. "Dick." Chiyoko murmured under her breath looking back toward Saeko once again, "The pallbearers will be taking him soon, then we can get the hell out of here, until then there's an open bar. Feel free. I'm going to talk to the rest of the relatives." a defeated sigh pressed against her lips as she thought of talking to everyone else.


Chiyoko would never get the chance as a hand darted out from the storage closet she walked by pulling her in and shutting the door behind her with an eerie quickness, instinctually her hand darted toward the neck of whoever had just pulled her into this closet ready to fight for very life as the light flickered on, Miki-Tan. "What do you think you're doing?!" She questioned doing her best to keep her voice down, removing her hand from Miki's throat, gazing at the slight smile upon his face as he replied just as quiet, "It's been years since I saw you." and without thought the man moved in for a kiss, though it didn't quite happen as Chiyoko did her best to push him away with her elbow, quite put off by the whole situation, "So you pull me into a goddamn closet and try to make out with me?! It's my dad's funeral for Aion's sake!" once again Miki moved in just to be pushed away again, "I'm sorry Chiyoko-Chan." he retorted giving his best puppy dog eyes. Ever a sucker for that look she forgave him damn near on the spot, "Yeah whatever, dude. Just don't pull this shit again, alright." Miki nodded with the saddest look imaginable plastered upon his face, he really was quite the puppy dog, "Maybe I'll see you after the funeral?" sighing heavily Chiyoko made her way out from the closet turning off the light and replying with a, "Maybe." before shutting the door once again.

Making her way to the bar Chiyoko sat with bedraggled hair, a blush on her face, and disheveled clothes, and a look of confusion as she looked toward her friend, and before Saeko could begin to ask what had just happened to her the look of confusion turned to one of defensiveness as she began to blurt out seemingly random things, "What? I didn't do anything, don't judge me. It's definitely not like I got dragged into a closet where some weird stuff happened, that totally didn't happen." realizing she was doing nothing but incriminating herself Chiquita blurted out a quick, "Shut up." before her friend had even began talking. The bartender stared back at the young girl quizzically and as if understanding the situation poured her a shot without question, setting it down before her and watching as she downed it in one swift motion, turning to notice the pallbearers had made their way to the casket.

Kyou and her young brother Kazuki stood on one side, two of her uncles on the other as they lifted the casket moving it toward the exit as everyone made way. Chiquita stood and stared as she wondered why her younger brother was carrying her father and not Hideo, in fact she hadn't seen Hideo at the funeral at all, "Where's Hideo, kind of suspicious he's not here." Chiyoko remarked to her friend, wondering if she would remember Hideo as one of the two men who bailed her out after they had been convicted of treason.


They soon laid her father down in the family plot next to her mother, there were precious few tears around her, as it turned out very few people cried for a gangster, and she was too far involved in finding the person who had killed him to even begin to mourn the fact that he had died. Whispering toward her eldest brother Chiyoko asked about Hideo's whereabouts, "Where is he? she questioned assuming Kyou would know who she was referring to, which he surprisingly did "Hospital." an ounce of worry tracing his voice drawing Chiyoko's entire attention. "What happened?" She asked watching as Kyou shook his head ever so slightly, "Overdosed." Kyou returned his attention to the matter at hand, standing in somber silence as a crowd of onlookers watched as the Oyabun departed into the ground.

Chiyoko sighed, Hideo had always been in trouble with the gear, and it seemed it may have finally caught up with him, part of her wondered if it was a matter of guilty conscience, for as long as she remembered Hideo had always hated their father, maybe he finally worked up the nerve to do something about it, yet something didn't seem right about the thought, she needed to speak with her brother immediately. "We need to go see my brother." She declared looking toward Saeko once again, beginning to remove herself from the funeral.



((OOC: Apologies on the delay, work and everything. Next post we're going to get to talk with Hideo a bit about the whole situation.))

((MFT))

 

[Takaki Saeko]

Let’s never do that again.

And by “that” I mean spending the night drinking with Chiquita after said banana has just found out her father’s been iced in cold blood. Alcohol and tragedy tend to make for strange and sometimes murderous bedfellows, kind of like Sid and Nancy. And like the paragons of drug-addled punk rock, Chiquita and I passed the night stewing in bitter recrimination and outbursts of terrible, terrible sobriety. My memories are hazy at best, but I think we both had a few of those “bawl my eyes out because daddy didn’t love me” moments, followed by ill-informed attempts to make brownies even gooier by replacing all the water with oil, and finally fell asleep whimpering in each other’s arms, having failed to resolve those abandonment issues that made us the broken women we are today. When I woke up, I was covered in vomit and my mouth was full of hair. So basically, the best possible circumstances for going to a formal event.

* * * *​

The Wakahisa sure put the “fun” in funeral. I’m not even trying to be snarky, here. This is way better than the mandatory office Festivus party that the Legation puts on every year. Yes, it’s mandatory—Yumers is the one who made it so—and no, there’s no booze. We all try to make the best of it by one-upping each other with terrible holiday sweaters (mine had it so I looked like Mrs. Claus in a chainmail bikini), but the bottom line is that no one actually wants to spend time with the bosses while sober.

At the oyabun’s open-casket bash, though, I’ve already been called a lesbian (lovingly) and placed into a basket of deplorables, and that’s all within the first five minutes of setting foot in the place! Plus, there’s an open bar to nurse my hangover. This all beats the shit out of the office party any day of the week. Unfortunately, Chiquita has to take her leave to do her own version of mandatory socialization, so that leaves me alone for the moment. In the corner of my eye, I think I see her getting pulled into a closet for makeouts. “Clever girl,” I mutter, before turning in the direction of the open bar.

I never get the chance, though, because I promptly manage to shoulder-check one of the older attendees at the party. I must’ve gotten him good in the chest, because he stumbles back and barely manages to avoid falling. He’s an older man, too, which adds to my embarrassment. “Excuse me! I’m so sorry,” I blurt out, and try to reach for him in vain. Ugh, now Older Brother Kyou will definitely have me thrown out.

Fortunately, the man seems unfazed and breaks into a generous, wide-mouthed smile. I get a look at him for the first time since our mini-debacle. He’s probably in his sixties or seventies, but looks about two decades younger. His skin is deeply tanned—almost orange—and his hair is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before: it looks like a toupee, but at the same time, it’s not.

“No, don’t be sorry. So sad to be sorry. Never apologize for who you are, Miss…”

“Takaki,” I say. I can’t help but raise an eyebrow at his speech. “Call me Saeko, though. I’m terribly sorry about what happened. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“You’re hung over, aren’t you?” he asks.

“I…yes, I suppose I am.”

“Come with me,” the man says. He leads me over to a side table, where he gestures for me to take a seat and stay put. I can’t help but follow his commands, though he’s revealed little about who he is or what he wants. He disappears for a moment, then comes back and puts two large tumblers on the table. I reach for one and take a sip, only to find out that he’s brought me…water?

“Thanks…” I say, trying to mask my surprise.

“If you’re hung over, you need water, not booze. Booze is bad for you. Very bad indeed. You make bad decisions on booze. How many bad decisions have you made like that?”

I look down at my glass, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “Quite a few,” I say, softly.

“You sound unsure of yourself, Saeko. But to succeed, you need to be confident. You need to trust yourself, because trust is what breeds confidence. But you can’t be confident without trust. Trust comes from within. Right now, I think you don’t trust yourself. You’re going through a tough time. If you ever doubt what you’re doing is right, then trust yourself first. Trust your gut.”

I blink at look up at him, feeling a sudden weight on my chest. I take another sip of the water in an attempt to drive the feeling back down, only to have it come back as a stinging in my eyes. “Look, sir, I don’t even know your name, and I’m the one who blundered into you in the first place, but… but you’re right. I don’t know what to do right now. My friend’s in a tough spot, but…but I’m also jealous of her and…part of me almost wants to see her fall on her ass. Am I a horrible shitbag for that?”

The orange-skinned man drinks deeply from his own tumbler and wipes his mouth with a sleeve. “When I see a man with a taller building than mine, I want to be the one with the tallest building. When I see a man with a bigger zoo and more pokemon, then I want to have the biggest zoo with the most pokemon. I wanna be the very best. I wanna catch ‘em all. But I wanna do all that by building that taller building, and not by tearing my competitor’s down. I want to build a better, larger zoo, not destroy my rival’s. Because then there would be a lot of homeless pokemon, and that’s very, very sad. If you’re jealous of your friend, then you should show that you’re better by helping the hell out of her.”

God, he’s right. How did I not see it, myself? I have to take this to the end. I have to be there for Chiquita, no matter what. Only then will I obtain the moral victory. I wipe my eyes and smile at the man. “Thanks. I needed to hear that. Now I know what to do.”

My temporary companion nods sagely. “Then my job here is done. Good luck on your quest.”

“Wait, sir!” I say, rising from my chair as he turns to leave. “I don’t even know your name. Who are you? One of the Wakahisa?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m just a patriot who wants to change things for the better. Good day, Saeko. Do your part to Make Lightning Great Again.”

Before I can press him further, he’s already disappeared into the crowd. I look down at my hand, ball it into a fist, and press it to my heart. I need to trust myself again. Whoever that mysterious orange-skinned man was, he’s made a difference for me. Perhaps he didn’t tell my his name because I wasn’t worthy, but I will find him again one day, and learn who he is.

At this moment, Chiquita stumbles up to me with an unmistakable head of what we in the industry call “sex hair.” I chuckle under my breath as she half-denies, half-brags about getting some quick nookie in the closet at a funeral. I wonder who the lucky stallion was, but I have my suspicions.

“I have some breath mints if you need ‘em,” I say. “Helps cut that ‘salty’ taste.”

To which she promptly tells me to ‘shup.

The rest of the funeral goes about as expected, although try as I might, I fail to catch even a glimpse of the older man who may have changed my life with a few of his peculiarly-worded sentences. Ugh, I think I’ll start seeing him in my dreams if I’m not careful.

Chiquita tugs at my sleeve, and tells me that it’s time to go. At last, there’s a lead in the case. Hideo, who always seemed to be the loose cannon and the dangerous one, is conspicuously missing. If I learned anything during my stint on homicide investigation (I watched all of The Wire), it’s that the missing guy’s the killer for sure.

“Let’s get on it, sister,” I say with a squeeze of her hand.

 

[Kawakami Hotaru]

There was little in the way of conversation on the way toward the hospital, there was precious little that could be said, her brother had missed their father's funeral for his mistakes, the brother she wished she never had. For as long as she could remember Chiyoko had, hated, no perhaps hated isn't the correct word, loathed, despised, abhorred, these words were more fitting for her feelings toward Hideo. He was their consummate fuck up, and for the briefest moment there was little doubt in her mind who had been feeding their father a steady dose of death, it was him, she knew it in her bones despite having no evidence to back her theory. He did it. He did it. He did it. But did he really, it was unlikely at best. Hideo had never had the best relationship with their father, but he was his father nonetheless, and she knew that, he was brash, prone to violence, and just a generally deplorable human being with a track record that spoke for itself, but family was as important to him as it was to her. Pressing her hand she brushed her hair from her face, flush looking back toward the one person she knew she could trust in this world for the moment, her mirror, her solace, that goddamn idiot that would no doubt support any stupid and childish decision she sought to make. "If he did it . . ." She blurted out staring out toward her Onee-San as they stood near the entrance of the Aesculapium, struggling to find the words to finish her sentence, on some level she knew it didn't make sense, but logic had been replaced by emotion, her thoughts muddled. She made no attempt at finishing her comment, instead pushing forward into the hospital, brushing past the receptionists who didn't seem to blink an eye as two known Kunoichi entered the hospital, she knew were he would be, same floor, same doctor, same room as it always was.


The elevator dinged for each floor, they were alone, Chiquita stood pressed back against the railing doing her best to regain a semblance of composure, hiding hot and ragged breaths, glancing toward her one and only friend in this world from the side of her eye, doing her best not to look her directly in the eyes as she silently grieved for a few brief moments before she spoke, "Don't let me. . ." once again she trailed off as her thoughts pooled into some indescribable mush of confusion and hurt before briefly and poignantly returning to her, "Do anything I would regret." knowing full well that it ultimately wasn't up to that woman she stood in the elevator with, it was up to her, personal culpability. "Please." Chiyoko mumbled as the elevator dinged a final time, opening to a familiar floor.

"Visitors are required to sign in." A young nurse chimed as they walked out, Chiyoko stared at the woman for a brief second before her thoughts once again returned to her, "On business of the state, we won't be signing in." the nurse looked befuddled for a moment, though she knew there was little she could do, it wasn't like Shinobi required warrants to visit people.


Room 607, the door was cracked, no body guard sat outside the door, no family members surrounded her brother, no flowers, no get well soon cards. Still the soft sounds of conversation emanated from within the room as Chiyoko paused outside the door, looking back toward her friend, who was this bastard talking to? Pressing gently against the door Chiquita motioned for her friend to come a bit closer as she peered inside the room.

She had never met the man standing in the room, short and clean cut, lithe and well dressed, "You know I'm sorry." the voice was foreign to her, it wasn't a man she had ever heard before as the situation turned stranger by the moment. "You know I love you." She recognized that one clearly, Hideo sat propped up, a saline IV kit stuck in him, no doubt dehydrated from a night of activated charcoal and having his stomach pumped, it was surprising her brother was conscious at all, apparently it wasn't bad enough to put him in a coma. They watched in tempered silence as a man she had not seen a single time in her life wiped stray flecks of hair from her brother's face, a look of worry dotting his lips as Hideo did his best to convince the man he was alright, "You should leave soon, they might figure something out." Chiyoko squinted at her brother's comment, figure something out? was this an admission of guilt? "They haven't figured it out yet." The stranger replied removing his hand from her brother, turning to leave. It was now or never.

With a single glance back toward Saeko Chiquita busted in the room, garnering a look of shock from both the stranger and her brother who nearly yanked his iv out from the sudden movement, "Figure out what, you son of a bitch?!" emotion once again took over. Pointing she yelled at the stranger her face flushed red, "Sit the fuck down!" and to her surprise the man did, there didn't seem to be a look of fear upon his face, not nearly as much as an expression of 'Well, we were going to get caught sooner or later.' Hideo sighed cupping his hands around his head letting out a muffled, "Why are you yelling at him?" through him, as if unconcerned that he had been caught confessing to murder, which in reality he hadn't, nope, this situation was a bit different. Of course our little idiot was far too caught up in her emotions to realize what she had actually just walked into too fueled by rage and resentment to care, "You know damn well why I'm yelling at him, you bastard!" Hideo sighed once again heavier than before, as if disappointed in his sister more than anything, "And here I thought out of everyone in the family I was going to tell you first, and here you are yelling at us after dad died. Because I'm in love with a man." her brother replied, though it seemed what he had just said had just flown right over her head, as if she hadn't heard any of that.

For a brief moment Chiyoko looked back toward her friend, wondering if she was keeping up with the situation as she returned her gaze back to Hideo to begin yelling yet again, "You were going to tell me first?! That you killed our fucking father, that you poisoned? . . ." and with sudden and impeccable clarity everything dawned on her as if she had just been hit with a ten ton hammer, "Wait. What?" she looked to her friend, then the stranger, then her brother, back to Saeko, back to the stranger, oh shit. This wasn't, uh, what she thought. "You're in love with a dude?" well, she didn't know that, though before she could continue her line of question Hideo seemed to have caught on to the whole 'dad was poisoned' debacle nearly jumping from his bed "Wait, wait, wait, someone murdered him?! And you thought I did it?!" a clear mixture of confusion, hurt, and anger rattled through his scratchy voice as a look of obvious shame sat upon Chiyoko's face as she realized how stupid her line of thought had been. "So you didn't kill him?" She questioned, looking back toward her friend to jump in, far too confused to even continue her line of thought as her brother barraged her with questions. What just happened? . . .



It took a solid ten minutes for everyone to get on the same page, apparently Hideo was into dudes, which was all fine and dandy, and apparently he didn't kill pops, that was also pretty cool, or she at least didn't think he did as he seemed just as surprised and hurt at the news as she was the day before. Hideo's friend was some high ranking bureaucrat, married to one of the Shogunate's assistant, it was just a strange meeting as a whole, though he did decide to leave shortly afterward to allow the three to discuss the news Chiyoko had just dropped. "But, uh, I've seen you with women." Chiyoko bumbled out looking back toward her friend, probably the most confused she had been in years, and of course Hideo grew increasingly more aggravated wanting to talk about the more pressing matter at hand, the murder of their father and all, though he did have the sense to realize she wouldn't be stopping her line of thought unless he put an end to it "No, no you haven't. You've seen me around women, there's a difference, now can we put a stop to that. Oh, and why the fuck is your friend here? . . . You know what, never mind, I don't even care. Now, what happened to Oyabun?"


The explanation was fairly brief, someone dun poisoned him, apparently it wasn't Hideo, that was the key points. Wasn't like they had any leads, evidence, or anything like that. And once again a moment of clarity dawned upon her, it had been well over ten years since her brother had an overdose, he had always been meticulous about his, eh, habits. It didn't strike her as likely that something even like their father's passing would lead him to throw caution to the wind, "So, what happened to you?" she questioned with all of her new found clarity. "Think I was spiked." Hideo replied as a pattern seemed to begin to form, Chiquita immediately turned back toward her friend wondering if she saw the same pattern, "Think doctor Mifune was on to something?" the good doctor had warned her to be careful, he himself had even skipped town. Did he know something they didn't? Most likely. Returning her gaze back toward her brother she returned to their line of conversation, "Be honest here, did you do anything last night?" she asked wondering about her brother's habits, he replied with a simple nod no, it seemed oddly genuine. Who in the name of Jesus Shuttlesworth was doing this then?

"So what did you do last night, Hideo?" Chiyoko asked trying to piece together what was happening, Hideo closed his eyes for a moment trying to think as Chiyoko once again looked toward her friend as the situation seemed to get weirder and weirder with each post, day. "I drank with Kyou and went to sleep, swear on mother's grave."

Chiquita did not reply to her brother instead she turned to her friend grabbing her by the arm and pulling her from out of the hospital room and speaking with hushed tones, "He's probably telling the truth, and I honestly don't know what to think. I mean, the way it sounds. . . You think maybe, maybe Kyou had something to do with this?" honestly they had little else to go on.




(MFT)

 

[Takaki Saeko]

The plot gets thicker, and this story’s just become a darker shade of noir. We’ve just fizzled on our most promising lead, only to be given another, much more dangerous one. The way we’re going, this is going to end up with us both taking the long sleep at the bottom of the harbor. The fish are going to have to work hard to get at our bodies, though, because they’ll probably be encased in concrete first before we’re pitched off the side of a mooring barge. To get out of this one alive, and also prove to Chiquita that I’m totally the older sister here, I’ll have to rely on all my training, and that means going back to the days when I was just a pretty young thing who wanted to make a difference and bring justice to the world. Yes, I was a gumshoe once. And no, I never found Carmen Sandiego.

The Criminal Investigative Division of the Main Branch is an organization with a long and hallowed history. Generations of starry-eyed apprentice dicks have learned the art of cracking cases by being paired up with world-weary veterans. By virtue of that transmitted institutional memory, the CID has brought justice to thousands of killers and solace to many more grieving widows and orphans. Because while theft and rape are heinous enough, what we tend to focus our energies on is murder.

I remember my time in the CID well. When Kiyo was Raikage, it was part of the mandatory job rotation for all fresh genin. After all, learning how to investigate crimes turns you into a better criminal, and many shinobi are just state-sanctioned criminals when the chips are down. Chiquita may not have undergone the same training, though, because one of the first things that Hayata Shin did when he came into power was abolish that requirement. No, Shin wasn’t an idiot (at least not for that): the CID was also one of the most corrupt of the village’s pillars.

The veteran detectives always taught you to go for the easy convictions. A woman dies? Make her husband or boyfriend. She’s a lesbian? Then it’s her wife or girlfriend. “Whoever’s bangin’ the broad,” is what my trainer always used to say. I remember ol’ Roshi Garowai well. Built like a tank, smoked like a factory, and drank whiskey like a thirsty horse. Especially when it was “appropriated” for free from the various barkeeps we’d visit while on duty. When a series of cases came up with dismembered women in Port Cirrus, we put six men on the gallows for that. Six men who were probably innocent, but didn’t have the connections to hire a good barrister. I always thought that there was a serial killer on the loose, but I was told to keep my mouth shut. The convictions were what mattered. They were the only thing that mattered.

Ol’ Roshi was part of the problem but he was far from the only one who created it. He was a product of the system, not its controller. But he did his job of training me well. After all, I can now identify where the police procedural shows on TV are fucking up. In the case of the Wakahisa oyabun, I know what Roshi would tell me to do. And honestly, it’d probably lead to a conviction, even of someone as well-connected as Hideo.

Chiquita pulls me out of the hospital room, though we’re probably still in earshot of her brother and his lover. That’s fine, though, because Hideo needs to learn to fear his imouto, or one day she really will end his worry punk-ass existence.

“Alright, Chiquita, here’s where we stand,” I tell her, after taking a deep breath. I rub my temples. “Again, you have one of several options in this case. And much like one of those ‘Choose Your Own Misadventure’ books, most of those choices are wrong and end up with us being turned into sashimi for really rich people who are into the guro fetish.”

I reach out and pinch her belly. “Yeah, those sick bastards will love this. Nice n’ juicy. Anyway, the easy choice, and the one where we survive, is obvious, and that is: make Hideo for the crime. It’ll be an easy conviction. First, he has no alibi. Remember, he’d be relying on Kyou, a rival with no love lost for him, to support his testimony. I think I know how that will go. Second, he has motive. Based on what we know about him, Hideo’s always been the jealous, violent type. Don’t think I didn’t notice the broken nose you probably gave him. Third, he had plenty of opportunity to commit the crime. He’s more than capable of obtaining cyanide and poisoning your father’s meals, or more realistically, hiring someone else to do it. And fourth, the courts are going to look down on a man who incites another man to commit adultery against a dependent wife and possibly child. That’s another mark against his character. The trial will be quick. I predict less than a week, the magistrate will shoot down the appeal, and Hideo hangs before the month is through. That's what my old trainer would tell us to do. Good ol' Roshi. Wonder if he's dead of liver cancer yet.”

I turn my head to cast a sideways, knowing glance at Hideo’s paramour. He only pretended to leave, and in reality was hiding out around the corner. The man’s face is white as a sheet. Good. If he and Hideo know the stakes, they'll be more willing to help. I turn back to Chiquita.

“The second choice, and this is the ‘get made into sashimi’ choice, is this: it’s also obvious to me that Hideo’s not our man, but at the same time he knows something. And he’s already indicated to us, in his own way, that he thinks your brother Kyou did it. I can’t say for sure, but the chance that Kyou’s our man is higher than anyone else I can think of right now, and that includes everyone in your competing criminal organizations. So really, we should investigate Kyou, but do it carefully. We need evidence—a shitload of evidence—before we can even imply that Kyou did anything. A sealed and signed confession written in blood would be nice. But we won’t get that, so we need to nip at the edges. Maybe go for the food tasters who served your father. Call in a mednin pathologist to do an analysis of the last meal your father had. Hell, try to get Doctor Mifune to come back, though it’s unlikely. You knew your father best, so I’ll leave the details to you. After all, Chiquita, this is your case. But if we slip up, well, I’m gonna get my tits chopped off for sure.”

I glance at Hideo's room. “I know you wanna leave, but I’ve got one final question for Sir Wakahisa.” I step back into the room and eyeball Hideo. He’s sweating, and not from the aftereffects of whatever he was poisoned with. “So, have the physicians told you anything about what your drink might’ve been spiked with? Have they run a full toxicology panel on your blood and urine? Be honest with us, and be polite to Chiquita, because I have no compunctions about sending you to hang if you piss her off.”

We full film-noir now.

 

[Kawakami Hotaru]

"I've always liked Sashimi." She replied, the thought clinging to the back of her brain that Hideo was not the one behind this cluster fuck of a situation, walking back into the room her eyes cold and hard focused upon her elder brother as her friend asked the pivotal question of what his drink had been spiked with, and with little surprise he confirmed the elephant in the room, "Fuckin' cyanide." he replied coldly. "Be safe, brother." Her voice was bitter, half coated in irony as she gave the bedridden man a pat upon the side of his cheek, he knew, she knew, they knew, unfortunately they had yet to grasp the full danger of the situation, a situation which would end in the death of a family. There was only one woman in the world they could trust now, trudging from the room Chiyoko's eyes pressed to the ground as she contemplated the situation "We need to disappear, figure this shit out. I know where one of his food tasters lives, maybe we go see him, maybe I go see him. Things might get, well, illegal." though she knew arguing the point of going to see this man alone was a moot point, Saeko-San would never let her do something like that by herself, perhaps out of solidarity, perhaps because the woman knew if her young friend went alone there would be another body to bury, another father to put in the ground whether he knew anything or not.

That night the heavens wept in Kumogakure​

Not snow, but a biting rain fell upon the city as the two committed a breaking and entering, the home was quiet, rain beat down upon the tin roof, the only sound in the ghetto. "What the fuck?..." She questioned locking the front door behind her friend as they both breathed in the fumes of death in the small shack, copper, bile, feces. The smells of death surrounded them, the scene was an obvious one her eye fixed upon it as she looked to the small kitchen, table and chairs strewn across the ground as a man laid face down in a pool of his own fluids, still fresh. Chiyoko's eyes darted from the man back toward her friend, drawing the blade from her ankle, "This didn't happen long ago." the connotation of course being whoever slaughtered this man could still be there, hiding in the shadows, lurking in wait. A single message lain written against the wall in red next to an opened door reading simply 'Traitor', a feeling of nausea hit her in the stomach as the young woman peered at the message left behind, the situation was getting grimmer by the second. "Guess someone got to 'im before we could." Chiquita remarked, a mixture of emotion growing in her belly and threatening to expose themselves to the ground beneath her as her eyes stayed fixed upon the cracked door, the pitter patter of the rain still beating down upon the roof as if God himself was crying for the injustice done to this man.

There were precious few words left in the young woman's repertoire as she moved toward that door, in fear of what she would find behind it not knowing that it would scar her just as Roenesia, Kagoshima, and Port Cirrus had. There was no look of horror plastered upon her face as Chiyoko gazed upon the scene before her, only briefly looking toward her dear friend for the sake of solidarity, for warmth in the horrors of the darkness and rain. "I've lain with monsters." She remarked, thinking only of her family, the people she knew who had inflicted this pain upon the world, she was guilty by association, knowing forever of atrocities such as this but never having seen them first hand until this moment. Red covered the comforter of the bed, beside the bed stood a small crib that the young woman forced herself toward, her feet dragging the ground as the sound of the Gods cries wailed upon the walls. The blade she grasped so tightly slipped from her fingers as Chiyoko lingered over the poor child, "I'm sorry." her voice strained. . . " This is unforgiva--" Before she could finish her lamentation a loud banging echoed from the outside of the house, "City Police!" a voice cried out before another loud bang came from the door along with the creaking of breaking wood, it was a fucking set up from the beginning. Yet she could not force her feet to move, her lungs to breath, her mind to function, looking back toward her friend she once again lamented, "So sorry."

The death of a brother​

He was a small man, the man who killed Wakahisa Hideo. Dressed in scrubs and doctor's coat, all of his features utterly unremarkable, from his short cropped black hair to his brown eyes, the type of man to get lost in a crowd, the type you see everywhere and nowhere, not quite sure if he had just been a figment of the imagination or a man of flesh and blood. His two guards did not ask for identification from the man as he closed in, they knew the deal already as he strutted into the hospital room, Hideo lay fast asleep, his lover long since gone back home to his wife. There was no fight, no struggle, no whimper, no bang, nothing. Hideo was simply there, then he wasn't. Thirty milligrams of cyanide entered his drip, and then, well then there was nothing. It seemed two problems were now out of the way.






(((Ugh, I feel out of practice.)))

 

[Takaki Saeko]

As if I needed any more confirmation of this fact, our completely different reactions to seeing an infant with its ribcage turned inside out show, once and for all, that Chiquita’s the real human being here and I’m the monster. She’s been overcome with shock and grief and self-recrimination at the sight, while the strongest emotion bubbling from my tar pit of a psyche is annoyance. It’s not even like I’m a mednin who sees dead babies every day, either. I don’t have that excuse. No, I’m just annoyed that our strongest lead has yet again evaporated into nothing, and even more so that whoever ordered this grisly hit knew exactly where and when we’d come knocking. So who’s the mole? I wonder as I grit my teeth. Or could Hideo actually have been playing us all along, even going so far as to poison himself to throw us off his scent? How could we have allowed ourselves to be played so hard?

Either way, if we sit around here and self-indulgently wallow in the horror, we’re dead. Those cops aren’t here to arrest us and bring us to trial. They’ve been sent to shoot us five times each in the head and then claim we committed suicide. Thank Shinbatsu they’re not actual ANBU, or we’d already be getting diddled by the vicecom in a cold, dark cell at the bottom of the ocean or wherever their black site is. I take a quick look around: this is squalid urban housing, so that means no windows and no back doors. This means we’re in for a rough fucking. Chiquita’s obviously not in the mood, but I don’t care.

I draw my arm back and give her a nice backhand across her cute round cheeks (the ones on her face). “Enough! Take your ‘sorry’ and shove it up your ass! We’ve got to fight or we’ll never avenge your dad, his flunky, and his flunky’s kid!”

No sooner have I said my piece than the cops burst in. Calling them “City Police” is kind of like calling corn smut “Mexican truffles.” Really, they’re mostly thugs, drunkards, and criminals who’ve been forced to work for their room and board at the local jail by being sent out to shake down, beat up, and sometimes kill whoever the magistrate happens to point at. Right now, we’re facing six of them. Most are armed with knives and clubs, but their bossman in the back has a flintlock, so I need to make sure to always keep one of the toughs in between me and the gun.

They don’t waste any time trying to tell us to come quietly or even put our hands up. The first one tries to cave my skull in with a piece of rebar, but even without any stats to my name I’m still better than that. I lunge toward him to avoid the blow and close the gap, then drive my elbow right into the soft part of his throat, dropping him immediately. Look, I’m a girl--we have to fight dirty. Another tries to slash at me with a knife, which I deflect with my forearm (stings like hell) and take from its owner before driving back into his gut. Another grabs my hair and slams me into the wall. I duck out of the way of his heel and sweep his leg so he falls. All the while, the gunman’s trying to get a good bead on me. This is really, really annoying. I hope Chiquita’s pulling her weight and isn’t being quietly murdered in a corner, because that would make us both look bad. I smell sulfur and the room gets smokier. No loud bang? Bossman probably had a flash in the pan, which is great news for me. Before he can try and re-prime I wrest the gun from his hands and beat him to death with the wrought-iron barrel.

After a few moments, I realize the room’s quiet again, and that I hurt all over. My swollen hands are covered in soot and blood, I’m dripping stuff on the floor, and it’s not my period. “Chiquita? You alive? You crap your pants?” I call out. I can barely stand, I’m so sore. How the hell do film yakuza get in hundreds of brawls like this without batting an eye? “We should check on Hideo. And kill him. You know, in case he set us up.” I want a cigarette. “Maybe a shower, first. I look very un-ladylike right now.”

 

[Kawakami Hotaru]

The hard slap across her face brought the young girl back to reality, sounds of hired thugs breaking in reminded her of every day of her life, of every mission she had gone through to this point, of living in the slums until they broke down your doors from a complaint by your neighbors about falsely selling dope, what had come over her? This was just another day. Instincts returned at a moment's notice as the sting from her face subsided only to be matched by a burly man swinging a blackjack across her face, barely brushed away with her wrists, a quick kick to the man's solar plexus put him out of commission sending him down to the floor next to the dead man laying on the ground. The few seconds before the next man could attack her gave her just enough time to grab her blade from the ground, it would undoubtedly be criminal to murder these men, they were unfortunately in some small way related to the government and were largely above being murdered even in self defense. Luckily they had once again found themselves in a situation where they were ultimately fighting men who didn't have nearly enough training to engage in combat with two high ranking Kunoichi, the next rushed toward her knife aiming at her belly, though with a quick movement she was able to dodge from his way as the bowie caught in the wall behind her, two quick elbows broke the man's jaw dropping him to the ground.


Yet skill could only bring you so far before luck bested you, pain echoed through her side, muscles spasmed as Chiyoko finally realized the cattle prod poking into her side pumping her with enough joules to bring down a full grown bull. Knees locking she dropped, hand gripping the prod jerking it away from the man atop her and leaving him off balance, holding the edge she caught the man's ankle with the handle of the prod with just enough force to snap his ankle, break the device, and bring him down to the ground with her. With labored breath she stood, looking around the room her friend pistol whipping a man half to death, it was over. Her heart pounded, "I'm alive, I think." she called back as the room spun around her, leaning against the wall her knees still refusing to work properly, "Hit me with enough jolts to fuckin' bring Frankenstein's monster to life." a shower sounded wonderful, and she was in no condition to fight afterward, maybe they had gotten sloppy, or maybe these men had gotten lucky.

"Soon as back up gets here we're marked as criminals again, god damn it." Sparking a cigarette she looked over toward her friend, this time it was her fault, maybe this was cosmic karma for everything Saeko had dragged her into before, if there was a God he was definitely the type of dick to engineer something like that, or so she thought. Pressing her hands against her knees the dry heaving began, quickly handing off the cigarette to her friend, a few seconds of gagging later it was time to escape the scene of the crime.



"Thanks, we won't be long.", Another dingy apartment another cold night, the apartment smelled of burnt aluminium, the owner a good man with his share of problems, once a doctor and now, well now he was nothing but a poor man trying to get by. "Shower's in the back, sorry I missed the funeral, you know how it is." The man replied without question, it was none of his concern why they were in his abode, wasn't even the first time that he had illegal guests in his home this week Chiquita nodded in silence looking back toward her friend, "Nothing but five star amenities for you, lover girl. I mean as long as you don't mind the smell of someone freebasing and showering using a garden hose." her fingers pointed toward the small bathroom in the back illuminated by a few rosary candles, the glass mirror to the medicine cabinet long since shattered and the shower was exactly as she had described it. A large garden hose hung up, connected to the bath faucet below. Rustic and charming.

"Well you know the deal, either of you hurt?" The man asked running a hand through his comb-over, his practices had been used by the underground for years now, for anyone who couldn't pay their deductibles, or those running from the law. "Think I'm fine, Ryou. How 'bout you, Onee-San?" No doubt they had a few bumps and bruises, but there had been nothing too terribly serious from what she had seen. Ryou plopped upon his couch with a heavy sigh, signaling for Chiyoko to come over, "You're here, might as well let me do what I do, promise you I've been off the shit for at least a couple hours now." and with that shining promise Chiquita figured what the Hell, a good check up would be in order while her friend took her shower, afterward they could trade off.

"Few bruised ribs, burns, nothing major." He retorted after his check had ended, you know for such a seedy underworld type Ryou had always carried himself with the utmost professionalism, standing he walked over toward a small mini fridge crouching down and opening the door to reveal around 50 120Ml bottles of liquid morphine, a couple bottles of pisswater beer, and a small to-go box of lo mein which he started to chow down upon, "You're not worried about getting caught with all that?" Chiquita asked curiously, trying to relax her mind as much as she could before her friend returned and it was time to leave again, Ryou shrugged his shoulders noncommittally "What are they going to do, sue me for malpractice again? Put me back in the Torre, doesn't scare me anymore." before they could continue their conversation it seemed her friend had returned and it was time to switch off for a few minutes, leaving Saeko with their newest gear fiend friend.

Her shower was much shorter, bitch-san had of course used up all the hot water and Chiyoko wasn't really in the mood to stat diddling herself to begin with.

Be safe.

"Yeah. Yeah."


With minimal banter it seemed the inseparable dynamic duo were on their way again, their detective agency tackling a much more personal case than ever before, and little did they know it was getting worse by the second. Running a hand through her still dripping hair Chiquita paused for a moment in the middle of the dark street looking back toward her friend, "What happens if it wasn't Hideo? I mean, what if it was Kyou? You know I would be honor bound to kill him... Fuck that police judgement, sending him to the Torre, he would have to die...And then, I mean, what family would I have left?" it would in all likelihood be the death of a family. "I'd have Obaa-San, and a nephew and niece with a father whose blood would be on my hands. Jesus Saito. for a second it seemed her mettle was fading, though she once again thought back to her father who had been poisoned, the parents and child slaughtered in order to frame them, the brother they had tried to kill. Consequences faded, they didn't particularly matter anyway. "Fuck it, you make your bed you lay in it, right?" she questioned looking for guidance from the only women who she had ever considered as a role model, as family, as a mother, a sister, and perhaps most of all a friend...

"We've been trying to contact you for hours." The receptionist commented as Chiquita walked into the upper floor of the hospital once again, a look of immediate confusion settling upon her face, "What? Why?" she already knew why, but didn't wish to come to terms with it. "I'm afraid I'd only be able to discuss this matter with family of --" Chiyoko was once again getting tired of hearing the same shit from everyone, Saeko-San was family, blood or not. "Tell us whatever the fuck it is you're going to." and with a sigh the woman did, her eyes not able to keep contact as the looked down to the papers sitting before her. "I'm afraid your brother passed while you were gone." Stones sat in her stomach as Chiyoko stared blankly at the woman, trying to process what she had just heard, the woman continued "We've been trying to get in contact with anyone, you're the only one to show up, his body guards left a while ago to inform everyone...If you want to say your good byes..." There was little point in listening anymore, and in silence Chiyoko walked toward that room.

And with that the emotional toil of ten years of duty finally crushed her under their weight, turning that door she looked toward a man she both hated and loved, a little smirk plastered upon his face as he laid quietly. Her legs gave out, and for the first time in years she broke down in tears, real tears and sobs, wishing for someone to hold her and comfort her in hopes that the world would be better than it was, her life in those brief moments hurt more than she could have possibly handled.

 

[Takaki Saeko]

Oh shit, Chiquita, I...

When we saw the dead kid, I felt annoyed. Now, watching Chiquita cry, I feel constipated. My skin's a cage that prevents me from leaping out of it to chase horrible, horrible freedom. All I want to do is run around in circles flailing my bare fascia and sinews around while my feet leave a swirl of bloody tracks that look like kindergarten fingerpainting class. I want my raw, weeping nerve endings to clench the chilly air and cold tiles and sweaty sheets of the bed and scream aloud in unison for the madness to stop. I want Cathy Mitchell to dump my shrieking mess into a red copper pan and mash the spinning tines of an eggbeater into my eyesockets just like she does on TV.

Most of all, I want to do something. I want to start picking at Hideo's body right away--sniff in his dead mouth for the characteristic almond scent of sodium cyanide or turn his buck naked corpse onto its belly to check how long he's been dead for. Hell, I'd even settle for rearranging the flowers in the room. For fuck's sake, Chiquita, stop crying and take action, is what I want to tell her right now. Maybe I should slap her again. It worked last time, right? Slap her again and again and again because that way she'll stop reminding me of the darkest days of my own life and then we won't both feel so helpless anymore. Yes, I'm considering putting a beatdown on my best friend who's lost multiple family members in less than a day, that's the kind of trash person I am. Constipation is a hell of a drug.

I squat on my haunches next to her and and just rub her back and bury my face in her hair instead. Call it a compromise.

"We should go," I tell her after a while. "They won't do anything to his body. They've already made their point. Come home with me, get some sleep. There's nothing we can change here."

 

[Kawakami Hotaru]

Dry your tears sweet one, now is the time for revenge. The comfort of a hand rubbing against her back only lasted for a few precious moments, the sound of boots trudging through the floor beat into her mind, followed by a cry for evacuation, they couldn't even let her mourn it seemed. "Why does this shit keep happening to me?" she pondered wiping her bloodshot eye as the group began to close in on the room. It was once again time for a fight, they did not shout their intentions this time, seemed they were getting at least a bit smarter. "I'm really getting tired of it." Chiquita remarked pressing her hands against the ground and finding her footing as the group of men huddled on both sides of the glass doorway, just outside of the room, their intentions clear, for a brief moment she was able to look back toward her friend seeking comfort, but that time was over now.


And then with a nearly silent clink of a door opening ever so slightly the flash-bang rolled into the room, there was no longer any time to feel sorry for herself or anyone else, instinct took over again and with one quick kick the bomb sailed back toward the safety glass with the velocity only a Shinobi could produce, there was a reason they weren't allowed to compete in the world cup, shattering a baseball sized hole to the outside world, then blinding white light and deafening noise erupted, the two had been lucky not to catch the brunt of it, the men outside not so. As macabre as it was they had the tactical advantage in the room, ultimately in the small space they could and would have to negate their enemies superior numbers, there was nothing quite like a fight with your back literally and figuratively against the wall. Seconds passed as the still dazed men began to pour into the room, flailing madly, Kumogakure's finest untrained riot squad didn't have shit on them.

While it felt like minutes the fight, just as any real fight with anyone who had far superior training against the average man, lasted only seconds two approached her while the other two in the room rushed toward her friend in a mad bull-rush to detain her. Sounds and movements, her hand gripped at the billy club of one of the two, as the other slammed a fist into her stomach, only to be kicked backward just hard enough to lose his footing and fall ass first onto the linoleum tile. Her fingers still gripped upon the man's club as he refused to let go, jerking him toward her the young woman, with a quick shoulder ram his teeth flew toward the heavens above painting her with a flash of red liquid, her eyes closed as she released the man letting his dead weight crash to the floor.

Her fingers traced the outlines of her face, wiping the impurity away, but not before a jarring tackle took the air from her lungs, a loud cracking echoed through the room and the pangs of glass breaking against her back returned Chiyoko to reality, they had nearly gone through the goddamn 6th floor window, seemed these men wanted to die tonight. A hand wrapped it's way around her neck, vision still blurred from the spray she managed a quick open palm to the figure's elbow dislocating it with satisfying ease, his terse yell immediately cut off by her movement, grasping at his shoulder the man's face suddenly crashed into the window once again, shattering it and sending the poor bastard six stories down. It was official, if they hadn't killed a government official, well, they had now.

Once again wiping the mire from her eyes, Chiquita looked toward her friend making sure she hadn't been throttled to death just yet, and it seemed she was still drawing breath, they had now dealt with six of the men, only four remained, she counted marking each down...

One...Two...Three...​

Then came the bang, the smell of gunpowder, the smoke, the fire alarm setting of the sprinklers from above. They hadn't been lucky enough for two misfires in a night it seemed, time seemed to freeze for those brief moments as Chiquita looked toward her friend to see if she had been the unlucky one, no gunshot wounds, then it was time to check herself, looking down it seemed obvious as crimson began to flow from her lower right side, it didn't take a medic to know where that ball had hit, who needs two kidneys anyway? Well, at least they would have the morphine close.

This needed to end, had to end, the shock would wear off any second and no matter how much of a glorified sword-banging-baby-killing-bad-ass you were no one's able to take a shot to the kidney in stride thoughts of casting an unholy hellfire upon the men crossed her mind, but somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind she was still a Shinobi, the risk of collateral damage was far too high still, so what if she died, Chiyoko damn sure wasn't bringing a whole hospital floor with her. Moving forward bile collected at the back of her throat and with a cough exited her mouth in the form of mucus and blood, her fingers darted toward a small rolling table filled with surgical tools sitting out in the hall, no doubt left in the ensuing panic grasping at a small scalpel, her vision blurring once again watching as the table collapsed onto the ground taking her down to a knee watching as the man tried desperately to reload his flintlock under the spray of the water from above, fucking idiot... she thought, not only about the man but about herself as well getting caught with a bullet.

With labored groan she managed to stand again, her fluids leaking down to the ground and mixing with the water soaking the tiles below, inching closer to the bastard that had put a bullet in her belly, the other three didn't matter anymore, she could only pray to Aion himself that Saeko-San would deal with them as she closed in on the bastard who cocked the gun back to the side readying to swing and catching her across the face with concussive force, her free hand reached out grabbing onto the bastard and bringing him down to the slippery floor with her as the sprinklers above finally stopped. Once more a hand wrapped around her neck, vision blurred again before the pain of a fist smashing into her wound brought everything into clarity again.

There. It. Was.​

"

That tattoo upon his wrist same as hers, his labored grip slipping as the grunts and expletives escaped from his lips only to be turned into a panicked gurgling as the surgical instrument entered at least three inches into his trachea, his grip loosened, both hands wrapped around the neck removing the tool and trying to put pressure on the wound, but it was of little use now. It was over.



"Fuckin'...Morphine...Get me the fuckin' morphine, or the fentanyl, or the goddamn dilaudid...Just get me something." Her fingers pressed against what had once been a kidney, pain echoed through her body as she sat up, looking for her friend, the shock had ended but the concussion removed just enough of her sense to where the pain wasn't absolutely unbearable, and to her surprise that all mighty God of a woman Takaki Saeko returned within moments with a concentrated shot of the type of shit they give to people on their death bed, snatching the syringe her blood slicked fingers pressed it into her lower side, "It was Kyou, I know it...These were our goddamn men...We need..." her speech interrupted by another cough expelling more of her insides before continuing "To see him tonight, before he figures out we ain't dead yet." it seemed that in all likelihood that if she didn't see a surgeon soon she would be dying herself, ironic that they were in a hospital were she knew for a goddamn fact that no physician would touch her now, and forcing a shaken up surgeon to go digging in her guts with a caliper under death threats didn't seem the best idea.

"Help me up...We're leaving... She would hear no argument on the matter, no one had ever claimed Chiyoko was the smartest...

Lullaby​

"Get the kids, don't want them hearing their daddy dyin'.", Her still bloody fingers pressed against the door to what had once been her home, now but an empty shell filled the thoughts of the death of her family, hand pressed against her stomach the young woman walked toward her eldest brother's bedroom, watching him in peaceful slumber. Resting gently upon the foot of the bed she watched as he slept, one hand clasped around her side, the other gently jostling his leg until the man woke, wiping the sleep from his eyes and beholding the sight before him, "What in the world?" his fingers darting toward the end table, fumbling to put his glasses on and turn on the lamp, the sound of fainted shock echoing through his voice "Chiyoko, Jesus Saito what happened?" still half asleep, his sister half dead. Sitting in silence she stared at him, eyes welling with tears once again, ""Why? Just...Just tell me." she questioned, not strong enough to look the monster in the eyes, "What are you talking about?" he questioned back, feigning ignorance. Pushing off from the bed she moved closer to her brother, "Just answer the question, Kyou." and once again he refused, "I don't--! Ugh!" guttural noises escaped his lips as her stiletto pierced between his ribs, collapsing a lung. She would not ask again, her weight resting upon the blade, the only thing holding her up. "What the fu--!" Once again no answer as she withdrew the blade only to pierce downward again, "You could still live." she remarked, coughing once again as her own lungs burned for oxygen, fear darted in his eyes like an animal caged and trapped drawing in half-breaths to continue living.

"Because, I --" It didn't matter.​

His reason held no merit, and once more she withdrew the blade only to press into his chest again, he killed them, it didn't matter why. Her fingers slipped, body falling from the bed left to sit upon the carpet below in that callow light, and for a second she looked back toward the man that had once been her brother, but no more.

Saeko! Let's leave... She called out into the darkness, vision leaving her, it was over.​

 

[Takaki Saeko]

Ryou, the back-alley surgeon-cum-quack, looks at me expectantly.

"Basically, it's always a clusterfuck when we girls get together. We never went home after discovering Hideo. We weren't given the chance. Like clockwork and without any chance for recovery, the shitstorm hit us yet again. Our new attackers weren't as drunk and unskilled as the city cops were. They were, as we discovered later, real live footsoldiers--wakaishu is the proper kaminarijin term for them--sent to kill off their own older sibling in the org. According to the will, Chiquita was at least one step above--a wakagashira--but under Kyou's direction, she was no better than dead meat. And so we fought yet again for our lives.

"Unlike the previous hour's fight, this time I was the one who traipsed around in an instinctual stupor while Chiquita was a thundercloud of claws and fury. I think I only got by because the men were probably thinking to only rape me later, while Chiquita was their real target. Either way, I'd glad she was there, and I'm even gladder that she was the one to take a bullet. Yeah, yeah. A true friend would've wanted to be the one in harm's way, but remember that I'm kind of a monster in the end. That, and I've picked up a few tricks from Osuteno over the years. If one of us was going to get seriously hurt, it probably should be me administering medication and applying pressure, rather than Chiquita trying to retardedly dig out the bullet with her ham fists.

"So that's what I did: I opened the nearest pack of gauze and shoved the lot of it into Chiquita's flank while she moaned and screamed in a non-sensual way. Then, I jabbed two milligrams of 'Vitamin D' (hydromorphone, better known by addicts as its trade name: dilaudid) into her thigh and hoped that she'd pass out from blood loss and I could take her to a real surgeon. Alas, she gave me no such luck. I knew there wasn't any arguing with her, anyway. And she had a point. Had she gone to the hospital, she'd have ended up on the wrong side of a cyanide drip as well. So off we went to do the deed.

"Lucky for us, the new kumicho of the family, Wakahisa Kyou, had grown overconfident and security around the complex was inexcusably light. He'd thought he'd tied up all the loose ends: his brother, his sister, and the food taster. Hell, he'd also gotten rid of that pesky-ass tax collector who wanted to take his hard-earned inheritance and give it all to Yumers. The last part, I can sympathize with. Who wants to give any of their shit to that man? Anyway, Kyou-kumicho woke up to a rude surprise: Chiquita's knife in his chest. I never heard his reasoning for why he'd engineered the family massacre, either. Chiquita wasn't interested in hearing it, so she stabbed him again.

"It was her last conscious act before she passed out--finally--from blood loss. And that's when I took her here, because I don't want anyone legitimate knowing about our little party tonight. Also, you're not Larry Nassar, so we probably won't get fingered against our wills. And that's the story, Doctor Ryou."

The doctor shakes his head and takes a minute to wipe his glasses. "This is why I am glad I did not have daughters."

"I agree with you on that, doctor," I say with a shrug. "So, will she live or die?"

"Depends. Do you have five million yen to buy a black-market regeneration serum?"

"I don't...but she does." I walk over to Chiquita's bed and rest my hand on her cheek. She's nearly white from anemia. Naked and bandaged under a sheet, she looks so small right now. "Chiquita, honey, I'm hereby invoking the Akira Saito Civil Forfeiture Act and taking all of your inherited money so that I can put it into a poorly-managed government slush fund that I'm gonna divert another five milion yen from and turn into non-serial large bills that I'm gonna have delivered to 'Doctor' Ryou's illicit sources so they can get us this magical potion thingy so you can take it and not have to be brain-damaged for life, more than you already are. If you're cool with it, just grunt in pain when I pinch your ear, mmkay?"

I pinch her ear and she stirs. "Yep, that's consent," I say to Ryou. He's a doctor, he'll understand. "Now, can I trust you to administer the serum when it comes to your door in a few hours?"

"Yes, of course," he says.

"Then I've got to be off. Oh, one more thing. Please give this to her," I say, and hand over Kyou's copy--the real copy--of the former kumicho's will. "I discovered this on Wakahisa Kyou's body after Chiquita passed out."

Doctor Ryou gives me the stinkeye. "You rifled through his belongings while your friend bled out on the floor?"

"Look, man. This was a lesson my parents drilled into me at a very young age: no matter what happens in the cutscene, you always, always loot before moving on in the game. Anyway, this is important for her. I'm not sure if she knows this, but the copy that Kyou apparently had with him at the formal executor's meeting was a forgery. The real copy, signed by the old kumicho, Chiquita's dad, names her as next Wakahisa Clan chairman. Kyou was supposed to only be interim chair, and mentor her until she felt comfortable assuming the reins. Obviously that didn't work out. Anyway, just give it to her once she's not retarded anymore."

With that, I leave the place. I have a lot of work to do and not much time for it. Chiquita had better not be ungrateful that I took her inheritance to save her dumb ass...

[TL, phew! This was supposed to be finished in 2016, but you know...]