namedaftercommunists

[namedaftercommunists]

I've been playing Marvel Rivals for a good while now - a Rocket Racoon main and lord. On that note, it has me absolutely heartbroken when someone cues as bucky/punisher/groot, only to change before or half-way through the game to synergize with someone else. Like..was I not enough? :(( I keep healing and giving ya'll unlimited bullets the second the cooldown is off. On the flip side, having ALL three in a game has me feeling pompous and downright narcissistic. Like, yesssss, you three all depend on me dont'cha? If I switch rn -you guys wouldn't be playing at your fullest potential, and that would just be oh-so sad huh? lol

[namedaftercommunists]

Mourning those still alive

I think I've healed a lot as a person -and before I go on this long winded vent post, let me preface this by saying that this isn't about a past romance, lol.

But, back to topic -I believe I've healed a lot as a person. I've grown from the anxiety ridden, scared, and 'clingy' -in a bad and unhealthy way- person that I've been, and I've healed from a lot of the pain and loss that I've had to deal with my, admittedly, toxic behavior.

One loss especially hit me hard, and surprisingly -even to me- I was the one that cut them off in the first place.

I don't want to go in to detail about what happened -I don't want to say or air it out- but it hurt, a lot, especially since the person was someone I basically woven my entire being, descisions, and personhood into for several years -especially my younger years.

Again -I'm aware now that the behavior I've displayed and shown before was wrong, and it put a lot of pressure into said person. In a way -and I don't want to write over their actual thoughts and feelings- I feel glad I've essentially 'freed' the from myself, lord knows they need emotionally healthier friends.

Despite me having cut them off -with weeks worth of planning and rumination, sometimes I feel...what I can only describe as mourning. I remember them sometimes, not all the time -like when the wound was still fresh- but just sometimes.

They just pop up in the back of my mind really -most especially when I'm back in my hometown, or when the old SY GC becomes active with messages from other people.

I don't know much about them now -I don't even know if they still liked the same things I did and still do, but I get reminded of them whenever I see things I think they might've liked, or things I remember they owned before.

Specific colored running shoes, a particular brand of pencils, oslo paper, triangle rulers, neat handwriting, and many other things I don't have the time to write about.

Whenever I see these things and am reminded of them, again, I'm overcome with a sense of mourning, which is funny in hindsight considering they're still alive. I've healed from this loss -yes. In fact, I think it's safe to say that I've made leaps and bounds in progress when it came to healing from this.

And yet -on some days, the metaphorical wound that was left on me feels sore. Painful in rarer days.

The wound reminds me why I'm still apprehensive with becoming -truly- attached with the new people in my life. It reminds me why I haven't yet found a new person to fill the role I've essentially kicked them out from. It reminds me why I am the way I am, for better or for worse.

I don't know what I would feel to know whether or not they feel the same way I do when thinking of them. After all -we shared years together, but then again, it's also been years since I cut them off.

Merry Christmas and happy New Year, 'major loss'.

I hope to never speak or see you again.

[namedaftercommunists]

Anya and Daisuke (Mouthwashing - FanArt)

Went MIA due to me needing to interview an Indigenous community up in the mountains -so sorry about that. Rest assured, I will be posting more oneshots in the near future.

In the meantime -here's some fanart of my favorite characters from the game.

Should I post more fanart? I have quite a few regarding the game 'Sally Face'.

[namedaftercommunists]

'Meant to be' Daisuke (Mouthwashing) X Reader -OneShot

[Story takes place before Daisuke boards the Tulpa] [Fluff] [Romantic] [Gender Neutral Reader] It’s chilly out, and the menthol cigarettes you’re puffing on only add to it.

Ice fills and drains out your lungs with every inhale and exhale you make, and the smoke you make reeks of tobacco –a scent you hate, but admittedly, find comfort in. It hits your face when the wind picks up.

Now your clothes smell of tobacco.

“Stop that.” A familiar voice half-heartedly scolds before a hand from behind takes the cancer stick away from your mouth before extinguishing it with the heel of his worn Converse. The once-white soles are now yellowish with time and weather exposure.

“I hate when you do that.” You groan out -but your tone lacks venom. “-and I hate when -you- do that.” Daisuke says with a sigh before sitting next to you on the concrete rooftop.

He puts his hands out to you wordlessly, and you take out the small spray of antiseptic alcohol on your pocket to spray some on his hands. He never liked the smell of cigarettes, both of you know his parents would flip if he ever came home smelling like tobacco.

“I can’t help it.” You lazily defend yourself as you pocket the spray back. “It helps me keep my mind off things.” You add, despite Daisuke having heard this excuse time and time again since you started smoking years ago.

He rolls his eyes at this but doesn’t continue his nagging after. He knows you won't ever quit, not even with his constant lecture and reprimands. The best he can do is snuff out the cigarettes you light when you two are together.

“Your dad called.” Daisuke starts, and you already know that your father is calling for your whereabouts. You can only sigh and slump your shoulders at this.

“-and what did you say?” You ask, still looking at the city ‘view’. It’s a dilapidated thing, city walls covered in aging -sunbleached posters and tarpaulins that just get pasted and installed over one another since it was cheaper than taking the previous ones down.

It’s a view both Daisuke and you have watched grow and age while growing up.

“The usual. 'I don’t know’” He says with a shrug. “-and like always, he doesn’t believe me.” He continues.

“I don’t know why he bothers asking me. I give the same answer, you know?” Daisuke says with a chuckle, and you can only return it -the two of you never went a day without laughing together.

“You cave in sometimes.” You say, and he can only sheepishly nod at this. “I do- but that’s only, like, when I don’t ‘actually’ know where you are,” He says before awkwardly tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear to see you better. "Can you blame me for getting worried?" He rhetorically asks, and you're unable to talk back to that. Your nightly escapades are only a cause for concern when Daisuke doesn't know where you are.

“So what’s the matter?” He asks with a tilt of his head, referring to why you are up on the rooftops again. You respond with a shrug, which he sighs at.

“C’mon, what’s wrong?” He asks, leaning on your side and playfully nudging his shoulder on yours to get you to budge. You can only chuckle at his intrinsic nature to act childishly.

“Nothings wrong.” You answer, nudging his shoulder back. “I’m just –thinking about things.” You answer truthfully.

“Things like?” He asks, wanting you to expand on that. “I don’t know -just things in general.” You respond with an unsure shrug.

There’s a short silence between you two, with only the city ambiance filling the space before Daisuke inevitably breaks it.

“Are you moping because I’ll be going on that internship in a few days?” He asks somewhat jokingly with a boyish -teasing grin.

You can only scoff and roll your eyes at this. “Not everything is about you, loser.” You say with your own grin -your mood lightening up a bit.

“So you’re -not- sad about me leaving you for a year?” He asks with a raised brow, nudging your side with his elbow a bit. “I mean --I'm bummed out.” You downplay, making him dramatically pout.

“That’s it? Just bummed out?” He repeats with an unserious frown. “I was expecting, you know, tears in your eyes -or something.”

You let out another scoff at this. “I don't see -you- crying. Why should I when you aren't either.” You point out with a dramatic puff of your chest -making Daisuke laugh.

“You don't know that. Maybe I already cried.” He argues, still chuckling at your matched dramatism.

“Did you?” You ask with a curious brow -a bit taken aback.

“No.” He responds with a Cheshire laugh, and you roll your eyes at this again.

“Thought so.” You jokingly grumble before looking away from him -feigning hurt. He only laughs at this some more.

He takes a few moments to calm down, his laughter fading as his demeanor softens and he leans on your side some more.

“But I am sad,” Daisuke admits, his voice just barely above the sound of the city ambiance below you two.

“…”

You don’t know how to respond to this -looking back at him as he rests his head on your shoulder, leaning down a bit since he's just grown a few inches taller than you over the years.

“Aren't you?” He asks, looking up at you, his hair tickling at the skin of your neck. His voice is soft, and it's one of the few times you've heard him be -this- vulnerable with you.

“I am.” You answer truthfully, your shoulders slumping a bit.

You were sad -from the moment he told you about the internship even. It's a whole year apart without the person you've been joined at the hip with for more than a decade now.

It's terrifying and outright depressing just imagining going a day without seeing, talking, joking, and laughing with him.

-to not share these moments with him.

Your hand snakes its way to his, thumbing the bone of his knuckles, and your skin feels the warmth of his.

Daisuke was always warmer than the average person. It's a welcome contrast to how cold the city air was.

He holds your hand back, squeezing it for a moment.

“I'll think about you, like, all the time.” He says, and you can only snort at this a bit.

“You're corny.” You comment, and he can only childishly pout at this. “I'll think about you too.” You continue, your own voice growing softer as you look into his familiar, warm brown eyes.

“Thanks.” He says with a boyish grin, also looking into your eyes.

There's another comfortable silence between you two before he breaks it again.

“You wanna go buy ramen when I get back?” Daisuke asks, and you snort at this once more, tears pricking at your eyes from laughter as he continues to look at you with endearment.

“You didn't even go to space yet -and you're already making plans for when you get back?” You teasingly ask, and he can only laugh at this.

“Well I'm coming back, aren't I? Like, where would I go if not back here?” He argues back with a grin.

“You've got a point.” You say with a nod -following his logic.

“You gotta pay though -it's the least you could do after leaving me here.” You say, with feigned bitterness for his internship. You don't actually envy him, the thought of being in space already makes you nauseous.

“Fair -fair.” He says with a dramatic nod of understanding -the two of you chuckling right after.

You two calm down a few moments later, still smiling at one another, grinning ear to ear. Daisuke's cheeks were red, and your ears were burning the same color.

“I can't wait for you to get back.” You softly say, squeezing his hand. He mimics the action back.

“I can't wait either.” He says it back with the same softness.

It's funny. The city was far from quiet, and yet it felt as if there wasn't anything in the air other than the sound of both of your breaths. Your faces are just inches off of each other.

You always did find his moles pretty. . . . His cheek feels soft on your lips before you inevitably pull away.

There isn't any shock in Daisuke's expression, nor disgust or confusion. Your kiss on his cheek, just on his left mole, felt natural.

Like you were almost meant to place a kiss on it, to kiss his cheek, to kiss him.

Despite it feeling natural, he couldn’t help the rushing of blood to his cheeks, his face flushed.

A few moments pass before it’s his turn to close the gap, the heat of his breath hitting your cheek before his lips then press themselves against yours.

Like Daisuke, you can’t help the blood rushing to your head, the tips of your ears burning hot.

They’re soft. His lips are soft. As expected from someone who carries around a stick of chapstick in his pocket.

It's a simple peck to the lips, nothing more.

It…doesn’t feel like anything- at least not at first.

You’ve kissed others before, same for Daisuke, and like all others -there was no spark or fireworks in your gut afterward.

No. Instead of the usual burning or butterflies in the stomach that films and books always seem to insist upon -this kiss with Daisuke feels…normal.

Like your lips were always meant to be pressed together like this.

He pulls away after, and the two of you just sit in silence at this, looking into each other’s eyes. You two were neither pulling away nor moving closer.

His lashes are long and pretty, it’s an aspect of his that you’ve noticed early on in your youth.

This feels right -just being next to each other like this. With you eyeing every feature, crevice, and fold in his appearance.

Simply drinking the sight in -as if his face wasn’t something you saw daily for as long as you can remember.

Judging from how he’s looking at you, he may be doing the same.

You’ve both grown and changed over the years, yet, you still look like each other.

Daisuke, even with his taller height, the bit of muscle he’s put on, and the longer hair -still looked like the young Daisuke who ran around the classroom with playdough underneath his fingernails, and who boastfully sported the failed eyebrow slit he gave himself.

“I really like your nose. Did you know that?” He says.

The timing is awkward, and you can hear the slight shakiness in his voice despite his soft tone -like he was nervous. Despite this though, his sincerity comes across -it always does.

Your lips are on his again.

It doesn’t go further than that, but when either of you pant and pull away, the other is quick to join their lips again once they’ve caught their breath.

It’s warm despite the chilly night wind that pricks at both Daisuke's and your skin.

You squeeze his hand.

You can’t wait to spend more moments like these after he gets back.

[namedaftercommunists]

Sunshine [Daisuke]

His very character is consuming my being. Thus I'm making it everybody's problem.

[namedaftercommunists]

'Promise? Pt. 2' Daisuke (Mouthwashing) X Reader

[Story takes place after he boarded the Tulpa] [Angst] [Platonic and-or Romantic] [Gender Neutral Reader] [Mentions of Suicide] “Hey.” A voice calls out, slowly rousing you awake, your eyes are heavy -as if they weren’t actually open.

“Wakey -wakey.” The voice calls out again, the hand petting your hair slowly registering on your mind. With a small turn to lie on your back, you’re greeted with the familiar beauty mark-laden face of Daisuke a boyish grin on his face as he looks down on you.

“Mornin’” He jokingly greets with a small chuckle -the open, chilly night sky right behind him. It’s a shame the city lights drowned out the twinkling stars above.

You let out a tired groan at this -burying your face in his lap again, making Daisuke pout as you try to undo his progress in waking you up.

“Oh come on.” Daisuke half-heartedly complains before turning you on your back again. “My legs are asleep -get up.” He whines out a complaint.

You only feign deafness to this though, and it isn’t until he takes off the jacket you drape yourself with do you let out your own whine of complaint - the air pricks at your skin.

“Put it back.” You groan out -too stubborn to take your head off his lap. “Get up.” He repeats with an exasperated tone before threatening to push you off to the rooftop pavement below you with a soft shove.

This finally gets you to move, but not without grumbling your complaints under your breath. He only chuckles at this.

“Your hair is a mess.” Daisuke comments with a laugh, before taming your hair with hands. “Like you didn’t make this mess in the first place.” You say with a scoff and a tired roll of your eyes, knowing full well it’s his petting that got your hair sticking out all over in the first place.

“Give me back my jacket.” You grumble out, snatching the jersey off his shoulder. “‘Your’ jacket?” Daisuke parrots back with a knowing, boyish grin.

“Technically mine. I wear it more than you do.” You say with a cheeky shrug and grin, wearing his old jersey -only a size too big on you. If anything -it just added to the look you were going for.

“Sure it is.” Daisuke sarcastically says with his own chuckle, the feeling on his legs coming back as you sit beside him on the rooftop.

There’s a short comfortable silence between you two -as you both look at the city ‘view’. There’s not much to see really, just the side of other buildings with advertisement boards and flyers pasted over the aging concrete walls. It’s a view you both had long familiarized yourself with and grew to see change over the years.

“I missed you,” Daisuke says, his voice soft as he leans his side to yours. To say you’re confused by this is an understatement. You just saw each other yesterday, right?

For some reason though, you can’t physically bring yourself to ask what he means by that. So you stay silent, leaning back on his slightly taller frame.

That’s weird -why does he feel thinner? You were sure he gained a fair bit of muscle over the years -not lose them.

“Like, I missed you....a lot.” He continues -his hand now slowly creeping up to intertwine with yours. It was cold, his hand was cold. Colder than it should be -even with the chilly night air pricking the both of you.

Something in your gut tells you to not look back at him -to continue looking at the aging city walls and dim city light in front of you. To keep your eyes ahead, and not on Daisuke. Not on the man you basically grew up with. He seems to breathe a sigh of relief at this.

“You were right.” He says once more, and it sounds as though his voice is slowly getting drowned out by the noise of city engines and machinery from below.

Finally, you will your mouth to move and have your voice cut through the air. “About what?” You ask, confused, your hand tightening around his. It feels bonier.

Dread creeps up your spine.

“About me dying up there.”

~

“I told you.” You barely croak out, the words heavy, cracked, and hoarse from all the crying you’ve been doing this week. Your body feels weak. It's a miracle you managed to get up from bed, dress yourself, and even stand right now.

Your mouth reeks of tobacco -and it tastes like it too. You’ve long since gone back to smoking real cigarettes. There’s no one to nag you about it anymore -so what’s the point in sucking on a cleaner alternative when you can get the real thing.

You can’t bring yourself to look down on what you’re holding onto, the hand in yours is bony, cold, and lifeless.

There’s a picture of a younger Daisuke on top of the casket glass. It’s a picture his parents vehemently hated before -despite it being his formal graduation photo.

Daiuke’s cap was tilted, and the tassel was already moved to the other side. He sported an outgrown mullet in the picture -it’s a look he liked but you found stupid. His next haircut was better -at least, by your standards.

Despite his parents hating the picture from before, they can’t help but feel it encapsulated -him- best.

They didn’t want to put up the picture of him in the suit he wore to his aunt’s wedding -looking uncomfortable and out of his element despite looking formal and proper.

You can’t help but agree with the decision.

“Am I being selfish?” You softly ask, and no one answers.

“I don’t want to look at you.” You continue, still holding onto the bony hand you only found by softly patting around the cushion of his casket.

“I don’t want to look at you.” You repeat with a choked sob -tears pricking at your eyes, a familiar feeling now.

From what the other guests, his parents, and yours said -you know it’s not a pretty sight. Not that a dead person was ever pretty to look at.

You know he’s lost weight, that much is obvious with how the bones of his knuckles were protruding from his hand. He barely had any meat, his body was reduced to that of skin and bones.

You didn’t know anything more -not that you want to. You walked away the moment you heard anyone start to describe his body.

You didn’t want to look down. To look down at who is -was- essentially your best friend, your other half, and see something -someone- you don’t recognize.

You were selfish. You wanted to remember him as the cute boy you grew up with all this time, with that lopsided grin and warm brown eyes looking into yours -skin pink and warm with life, with beauty marks on his face that you almost always stared at.

You didn’t want to see him for the dead body that he is now. The last thing you wanted was to replace the image of smiling, laughing Daisuke with the image of his corpse.

“They’re going to bury you in a bit.” You say, and again, no one answers.

“I got you some things to entertain yourself with.” You continue, slipping a catalog of the latest game releases, his vintage mp3 player, headphones, and finally -the notebook you’ve been writing on every day he was up in the Tulpa- next to him.

It’s a thick, bulky notebook -you never seemed to get enough of writing on its pages, not wanting Daisuke to miss out on any details, no matter how small.

“I’m still halfway through yours.” You admit, still rubbing your thumb on the bone of his knuckles.

“I’ll visit your senior sometime. He’s getting buried a few cities away from here.” You say, regarding the bulky, grumpy mechanic -Swansea- he almost always wrote nicely about.

A short silence deafens you, before finally, the dam in your eyes erupts -tears staining your face once more.

“I hope I get to see you again.” You choke out, holding onto his hand so desperately, as if you could squeeze back some warmth, some life, back into his body.

“I -really- hope I get to see you again.” You repeat, hiccuping, and your breath laboring.

“I don't care where or how, but I need to beat you black and blue --for getting on that ship.” You say with a cracked laugh, your breath getting caught in between each sob you let out.

“--for leaving me behind.” You finally cry out, forced to lean on the white casket you had the misfortune and privilege of decorating -per the request of his parents.

You’re allotted a few more moments with him before you’re finally ushered away by your father, the sound of Daisuke’s mother wailing and crying in his casket replacing yours.

It’s cold out, and Daisuke’s ship diary weighs heavily in your coat pocket -but so does the gun on your side. It’s anybody’s guess which one you’ll grab for in your bedroom tonight.

[namedaftercommunists]

'Promise?' Daisuke (Mouthwashing) X Reader -TwoShot

[Story is set before he boarded the Tulpa] [Fluff] [Platonic and - or Romantic] [Gender Neutral Reader]

“-like, I don’t know man. Should I be worried?” Daisuke asks with a sigh after a long rant about something you guiltily didn’t pay too much attention to, leaning his head on the wall of his bedroom. His hands keep fiddling with the Rubix cube he still hasn’t solved yet since buying it two weeks ago.

“About?” You ask with a raised brow, turning your head to the side to see him, still laying flat on your stomach on his bed, your hands on your phone a you look for new shoes to buy on the internet.

“The future, my career, everything my folks keep talking to me about.” Daisuke elaborates, still thoughtfully fiddling with his Rubix cube. “And? You weren't worried about -that- before.” You ask again, Daisuke wasn’t one to worry often -so when he is, it’s most probably something that’s been bugging him heavily.

“But it’s all they ever talk about these days, you know? I can’t be -not- worried.” He explains, with a scratch on his head, his long hair sticking out in whichever direction as he looks at a random corner in his bedroom with another sigh.

You've always thought it was a nice place -despite its smaller size. Daisuke’s bedroom walls were filled with posters of bands and games he’d been interested in over the years. Instruments he’s learned during his youth were laid out on the other side of his bed, with academic books he half-heartedly reads stacked atop it -it’s very ‘Daisuke’ for lack of a better term.

You just wish he learned the habit of putting his laundry in the basket and not just have them lying atop his study chair and bed so that he can re-wear them for another day.

“I get that. My parents are the same.” You empathize with his plight, taking an e-cig from your pocket and taking a quick puff. Vanilla fills your lungs and the air.

“Oh- come on! Not here! You know my parents are going to kill me.” Daisuke half-heartedly scolds you, waving his hand around in the air to get rid of the smell, the action making you chuckle. “Sorry -sorry, couldn’t help it.” You say with a half-serious shrug making Daisuke groan in slight annoyance. You pocket the stick back -for his sake.

“You’re also getting scolded?” He asks with a tilt of his head after simmering down. “More like getting nagged.” You correct with a scoff and roll of your eyes, and Daisuke only softens some more at this.

“Right now I’m just doing what they’re telling me to do -studying for a major I could care less about but still have to pull all-nighters for because God forbid I get anything less than perfect.” You go on a small rant, ending it with an exasperated sigh and a dramatic roll of your eyes.

Daisuke combs at your hair with his fingers at this, petting you as if you were some antsy cat. It’s an action you’ve long gotten used to, and you'll never admit to this -but it works in calming you down.

There’s a short comfortable silence before Daisuke speaks again. “My mom got me an internship.” He says, his voice softer as he continues petting your hair. His words gain your attention.

“Really?” You ask, wanting him to elaborate, your tone curious. “Yeah.” He says with a nod, opting to look to the ceiling now.

“An internship as a mechanic on the Pony Express.” Daisuke expands, making you cringe. “Isn’t that -that shady delivering service company though?” You ask, a sour taste in your tongue as you turn your head to the side to look at him again.

“Can you believe they put up hiring flyers looking for orphans to apply? Only a company that doesn’t care about their employees would specifically look for people like that.” You continue with a scoff.

“Yeah.” He says again with a shrug. “Why would your mom get you to apply for something like that?” You ask, your brows furrowing. “She means the best, you know? She just wants me to get some experience, try something new, do something productive.” He says, getting somewhat defensive over his mom.

"Oh spare me, you sound just like her." You say with a dismissive wave of your hand, despite being apologetic for your words and what they were implying. You know Daisuke's parents just wanted the best for him -just like yours did for you, but it just overwhelms you both sometimes -their care sometimes causing more harm than good.

He scoffs at your comment, taking his hand away from your hair as if punishment. You purse your lips in annoyance at his hand's retreat -but don't express it verbally.

"I'm going to be gone for about a year." He says, and that instantly gets you to sit upright on his bed in surprise and shock. "What?" You ask, facing him.

"What do you mean 'you'll be gone for about a year'?" You repeat, your brows furrowing in confusion. "Like, I'll be gone for a year." He repeats, not meeting your eyes, and guilt slowly creeping up on him. "I'll get deployed on the first day for some actual on-hand experience." He continues, and you can't help but feel a hint of betrayal and worry fill your chest.

"What?! But you barely know your way around the back of a fridge, much less a literal carrier ship." You say, your breath becoming more labored. “No offense.” You quickly add, and Daisuke only waves his hand in dismissal at this. Not taking it to heart. "I'm not going to be alone," He says, still not meeting your eyes. "I'll just be learning from the actual mechanic, like, look over his shoulder and copy what he does -you know?" He continues.

"For a full year though?" You rhetorically ask with an exasperated groan. "Are you even getting paid for this -or is this one of those 'you get paid by experience' bullshit people do?" You ask, and Daisuke can only awkwardly purse his lips at this. Just from that, you already know it's the latter, you let out another groan at this.

"It's not that bad. Look on the bright side, at least I don't have to pay my folks rent while I'm up there." He jokes with a chuckle, but you can only deadpan at this, worry furrowing your brows. It's his turn to sigh at this.

"Look, I'll be fine, man." He says, sitting straighter and closer so that he can pet your hair again. "You don't gotta be -this- worried for me," Daisuke says with a chuckle, meeting your eyes. It's your turn to look away this time.

You continue to stew in your combined feelings of worry and slight betrayal before inevitably hitting him on the side of his face with a throw pillow. Daisuke lets out a small 'oof' at this, but is overall already used to getting hit with his pillows by you.

"Hey now, that hurt." He dramatically says, despite not being hurt at all. "Like hell it did." You say with a roll of your eyes, hitting him in the head with his throw pillow again.

"You're going to die up there." You voice out your worry, disguising it under an irritated tone as you get up from his bed to just pace around his room. Your feet hit his soft carpet as well as the usual discarded sock that he can never seem to find the other pair of.

"Oh come on, that's a bit much don't you think?" Daisuke says with a chuckle. "I'm already going on a spaceship. You didn't have to wish death upon me to add to that."

"I wasn't wishing you death." You say with a roll of your eyes. "I'm just -saying-, nothing good ever comes from being stuck in a ship with how many strangers for a whole year in space." You continue with a dramatic motion of your hands, looking through the catalog of books Daisuke had lying around on his 'study' desk.

"You say that as if you've already been to space with a bunch of strangers for a year," Daisuke says with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, parroting your words. "I don't need prior experience to know that -that's what's going to happen." You say with a huff.

"Call it off." You continue, almost sounding like a command. Daisuke can only sigh at this. "You know I can't. Mom already set everything up." He explains. "Besides, even if I could -I don't want to." He continues, catching you by slight surprise. “What do you mean by that?”

"This could be good for me, you know? Like, maybe -this- is my calling." He says, looking a bit more hopeful. You scoff some more at this, looking to the side with your arms crossed to your chest.

“You’re going to die up there.” You state again, worry eating you alive. “Stop it -you’re manifesting at this point.” Daisuke half-heartedly scolds.

“I’m not manifesting anything!” You raise your voice, becoming more and more agitated. “Think about it, man! These people could be crazies or just outright mean. You could be stuck with sickos and creeps for a whole year!”

“-or, they could be normal. Ever thought about that?” He counterargues, and it just makes you even more frustrated -throwing your head back with a groan and facing away from him to stare at a random corner of his bedroom.

Your eyes just so happen to land on an old picture of the two of you -little kids smiling in their wonky Halloween costumes where they felt like the coolest kids in grade school.

Your smile is missing a few teeth, but that’s fine in comparison to Daisuke’s missing eyebrow. A failed attempt at giving himself an eyebrow slit to look like the cool older kids from before.

“Hey-” Daisuke starts, and given the sound of rustling sheets and feet hitting the carpeted floor, you already know he’s walking towards you –even with your back turned to him.

“I’ll be fine, promise.” He says, putting a hand on your shoulder and slowly turning you to look at him. Daisuke had grown just a few inches taller than you over the years, it annoyed you to no end since you two had always been the same height before.

“Don’t say that -you can’t promise something like that.” You say with a roll of your eyes, still facing him. “Like -I’ll try and keep myself safe.” He says something more doable. “There -happy?” He jokingly asks, and you can only deadpan at him.

“I’d be happier if you didn’t go.” You admit with a sigh, and Daisuke puts a hand on your cheek to keep your eyes on him. “I’ll keep myself safe.” He repeats, sincere, brown eyes slowly but surely softening your demeanor.

It’s hard believing Daisuke -it really is. You’ve known him for far too long for you to not to know that he has the intrinsict need to be needed. Too enthusiastic to help, to the point that he’ll throw any doubt or apprehension in his mind just to be of service to anyone.

Nonetheless, those brown eyes of his and his boyish smile slowly chip their way through your resolve, and your shoulders slump in defeat. “Please do.” You say, your voice softer in defeat.

“Nice,” Daisuke says with a grin before doing a dramatic fist pump in the air -you can only deadpan at this.

“Be serious, man! You need to keep yourself safe!” You say, getting a little more exasperated at his carefree nature. “I am -I am! And I will -promise!” Daisuke defends himself with a chuckle.

“Just trying to lighten the mood, you know?” He says with a smile. “Trying to get that frown off your face. You already got enough wrinkles as is.” He teases, and you kick at his shin at this -making him yelp.

“You’re an ass.” You say with a huff, and Daisuke can only grin through the pain.

There’s a short comfortable silence before he speaks again -his voice soft. “I’ll miss you…a lot.” He confesses, and you can only weaken by his tone.

“I’ll miss you too.” You reply, your voice just as soft as his. You two have been joined at the hip since -forever. It’s a terrifying thought to be apart, for nearly a year no less.

“I’ll write letters.” He says. “I won’t be able to send them to you or anything -I think? But I could write in my notebook, like, a diary or something, and give it to you after.” Daisuke continues.

“Just my day-to-day on the ship, you know? So it’d be like you were there with me.” He says with a softer smile, and you can only chuckle at this -the tips of your ears burning at the thought of him going through such an effort.

“I doubt anything interesting would happen in a delivery express ship.” You say, still chuckling a bit. “But I’ll do the same.” You continue. “I’ll write about my days here too. So you aren’t left out on anything either.” You say with a smile that matches his.

“Promise?” Daisuke cheekily asks, still grinning, his cheeks slowly burning red as well. You nod at this, committing his face to memory for the year you won’t be seeing him. Not that you could ever forget his face. “Promise.” You parrot back with the same softness.

[namedaftercommunists]

The actual beef I have with this airplane. Oh my god, this manga is making me anti aircraft anything. Wtf bro.

[namedaftercommunists]

I can't read a lick of Japanese, but the way I would let this absolutely cave my head in with that kick of his.

[namedaftercommunists]

Me losing a decade-old friendship :((((((( Me watching Hermitcraft S9, Empires S2, and Double Life to cope with said loss :)))))))))))

[namedaftercommunists]

Conversations and Confrontations [Sanzu Haruchiyo]

Masterlist

It was partially cloudy outside, though it's always cloudy during this time of the year. Not that I’m complaining. The sun can be annoying especially when you usually work in darker conditions. Cloudy weather like this makes me assume I’d have a somewhat decent day ahead of me, maybe release a lot of stress by working the day away.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

“Uh Huh-” I agree, despite paying no mind to the ranting man as I continued to play around with the running yolk of my sunny side egg.

“You gotta understand that we’ve NEVER just out of nowhere stopped Sunday meetups.” Despite my silent hopes that he doesn’t -Rin continues. The sound of his Eiji Murata tailored shoes clacking against the tiled kitchen floor already irritating me early in the morning.

A Tuesday morning at that. Who bothers someone on a Tuesday morning?

“Sure, we sometimes change the venue at the last minute, but we usually tell each other, and we don't just flake out and leave the other one hanging- are you even listening?” He asks, stopping in his tracks to better see if I was actually paying attention.

“Nope, not really,” I answered honestly before slightly leaning forward to swipe a few sausages out the other plate and into mine. A brief silence fills the room, with only the sound of distant cars and the occasional shout from the city below being heard. Somewhat worried, I look to check on the then yammering individual.

‘Yeah, no, he’s pissed now.’ I thought, noticing the subtle wrinkle of his nose bridge.

“Look, what do you want me to say?” I defend myself. “It’s 8:30 in the morning -I’m eating breakfast,” I say, motioning to my half-eaten second bowl of rice, four sausages, a runny egg, a mug full of coffee, and a near-empty orange pill bottle on my right-hand side.

“And then you show up out of nowhere talking about how you need my advice to save your crumbling relationship with your brother. I doubt you really expected me to spew out anything helpful while I’m like -this-” I continue, my tone exhausted from even needing to voice out something so obvious.

“Can we continue this ‘conversation’ after I’m done with all this?” I say with a sigh.

He looks at the table of food for a moment before a teasing smirk makes its way to his face. “Yeah, of course you’d shoo me off. Don’t want me to interrupt you gobbling those sausages down your throat now do you?” His joke earns a satirical laugh from me before I pick one of the said sausages and eat it in front of him.

“Says the occasional d*ck sucker.” I counter, never breaking eye contact as I raise the ‘Kanazawa train station’ printed tourist mug and take a big gulp of cappuccino.

The comment shuts him up, and he breaks eye contact.

A moment of silence washes over the kitchen before he brushes over the comment with a sigh. A moment later, he settles down and takes a stool out -sitting opposite the kitchen island from me. “My relationship with my brother is not ‘crumbling.’ It’s just seen better days, that’s all.” He starts again and momentarily stuns me from downing more caffeine.

I set the mug down with faux seriousness before looking back at him dead in the eye. “First off, don’t word it that way again. You sounded like you had a thing for your brother-” “YOU WORDED IT THAT WAY FIRST, I JUST SAID IT BA-” “Second of all–” I continue, not bothering to acknowledge his cut-off.

“I’m still eating-” “F*ck off. You and I know you don’t care about table etiquette, you--” He cuts off again, severely annoyed, but I combat this by raising my voice. “THIRD OF ALL.” I start. “It’ll be fine, man,” I say, my voice noticeably more level than before. Noticing my more calm tone, he settles down rather than cut me off again.

With this, I continue.

“You and Ran are literally brothers. You’re dumb as f*ck for thinking some chick can just snatch him away from right under your nose. It doesn’t matter if he misses your family playdate. Is your bond with him really that flimsy that once he misses your little tea party -you guys aren’t close anymore?” I voice out, eyeing the numerous mixed feelings that had shown themselves in the deep recesses of Rin's eyes.

“He still should’ve given a head’s up.” He rightfully argues, his gaze moving to meet the island instead of mine. I let out another sigh. “Yeah, that was real sh*tty of him, but instead of arguing and b*tching about it with me, you should be saying all this to him instead. More productive, less drama, more efficient.” I advise, although not in the typical consoling manner. Really, on a surface level, it would seem that I was just shrugging him off -but he and I know better.

We both know I’m trying, me more than him. . . . . . A sinking feeling settles on my stomach, effectively making me lose appetite.

‘I sound like such a hypocrite. Who am I? -running around giving people family advice. I changed my surname to get away from family, f*cks sake.’ I look down at my bowl at this, feeling very much bare from all the sh*t I spewed out.

A short airy laugh fills the space.

I look back up to see Rin looking relatively better than before. His mood, though hard to read had it been anyone other than me and a select few others, had brightened from his last expression.

‘Gross.’ I jokingly thought. ‘Well, at least it kinda helped.’ a smirk makes its way on my face before I wipe it off and pick up my waiting chopsticks.

“Now shut the f*ck up. You sound like my ex from way back in high school. Talking about feelings and sh*t.” I say with a sigh, earning me another lighthearted laugh from him.

A few minutes of silence passed by us again. This time it was more notably on the comforting side rather than the tension-driven and awkward ones from before. With nothing to do but watch me eat -which for him, gets boring pretty fast - Rin starts again.

“I wanted to ask you-” I groan as I remind him that I’m still eating, but he brushes it off with an annoyed click of his tongue. “-why are you here in this shabby apartment of yours? The casino penthouse is basically your home at this point. So why drive all the way here with only–” he pauses and scans the area. “A beanbag couch, a microwave, and a barely running fridge storing a half-eaten cake that reads -happy birthday- to greet you?” He asks as he takes in the near-empty room we currently are in, slightly cringing from the less than appealing -or even functioning- state of the place.

“Did you eat the cake?” I ask, tipping the rice bowl up and scraping the remaining rice grains into my mouth. “No, I didn’t. Poor thing looks like it had been there a few weeks at best.” He voices out before I hum in confirmation. “Been there past a month or so,” I answer, earning a disgusted look from him.

“I was craving black forest while I was high this one time. The bakery I called up only had that cake left.” He nods at this slowly, but the disgusted look stays before he brushes it off with a shake of his head.

“So why are you here again?” He says as he watches me gulp down the last few mouthfuls of coffee I had left. “Oh yeah, no, I’m running away from something,” I answer, my voice uncaring. “Running? From what exactly?” He asks, curious to know as I pick up the dishes and set them down in a filled kitchen sink.

“The consequences of my actions….”

—----------

“Get off of me!” I yell out, my voice reverbing throughout the room, after which I hear her crash on the bar side. The sound of shattering glass and the far-away thunder outside had been enough to -partially- sober me from the liquor. With a clearer head, I look back to see Yukioto getting up and regaining her balance with the help of a cushioned stool.

“I..” I start not knowing what to do, taking in the bruise on her left chin, the light bruise on her right cheekbone, and finally, the confused and crestfallen look on her face.

She refuses to make eye contact with me.

The soft pitter-patter of the rain landing on windows -before was comforting with white noise- had now felt overbearing and overwhelming as I make sense of the situation.

‘I hit her. I think she was trying to help me just as she always had, but I hit her. Why did I hit her?’ I thought, my line of sight moving from her and landing on the bottle of Christian Drouin Calvados.

“Ei, I–” I try a second time, the driver’s first name feeling foreign on my tongue, as I search for words to remedy the situation. But neither of us says anything, and with the rain outside only growing louder and louder, my breath fastens. The drugs, once comforting, were now doing nothing but spiking my anxiety and paranoia.

‘She’s going to leave me. She’ll ask for a schedule change from Kokonoi, and I won’t have her as my driver anymore. She’s going to complain, and the other executives and I–’ my thoughts jumbled and rushed, are cut off as my mouth begins to move on its own.

“Look Ei, I’m– I–” The words die on me.

‘I’m sorry.’ Why can’t I say that? Why can’t I-.

“It’s okay.” Ei starts. Picking herself up slowly and lean on the side of the bar, brushing off any stray glass shards that could cut her. The hit did a number on her, the drugs in my system making sure I didn’t hold back. The bruise on her cheekbone must’ve been from when she fell from my hit. The corner of the bar had also left a light scratch atop the forming bruise.

“I’m okay.” she finishes, her gaze landing on me for just a second before back down to the heel of my shoe. Neither of us says anything for a few moments. Both of us stay in our places, but neither makes eye contact. Before long, she takes a deep breath and looks up to meet my gaze.

“Do you want to go back to the Casino, boss?” She asks, a smile on her face. It's smaller than before, the smile never making its way to her eyes like it used to. Regardless, it doesn’t look like she has any grudges regarding the hit. The look on her face was more than willing to sweep the situation under the rug and continue as we used to.

I give a halfhearted nod in reply. I brush myself off, and I leave the room.

I’d rather not help her up. Not when I was the reason she fell in the first place. It’s better to leave it alone for now. In great timing too, she has to cater to Kokonoi starting tomorrow.

The next time we saw each other, she acted as if nothing had happened.

Everything was fine despite the healing bruise on her chin.

—--------------

The heavy rain from outside the meeting room resurfaces a memory of mine before a heavy punch hits me square in the face. It happened so fast and out of nowhere that I flew a few steps back from where I stood and laid flat on the floor from the force.

“MOCHI. WHAT THE FUCK?” I hear Rindou yell from behind me, agitated, as he tries to make his way over to us, only to be stopped by his brother.

“Rin back off,” I hear the older Haitani warn, his voice serious. “Wha-” before Rin could finish and before I could even pick myself up, Mochi makes his way over to me and raises me by the collar of my shirt, slamming me back first on the meeting room wall.

“You think you’re real f*cking funny, huh? Doing what you pulled and then hiding away before I got the chance to murder you.” From how he said it, he doesn’t want an actual answer. Much less a joking one.

“I think I’m hilarious!” I bite back.

Another punch to the face. The strength put into it leaves me with a bleeding nose. “DUDE, WHAT IS WRONG WITH BOTH OF YOU?!” Rin yells again, and I look over to see him in a tight headlock by Ran. Loose enough to let his brother breathe -but tight enough to restrain him. Instead of answering his brother, Ran continues to watch the scene unfold.

My back hits the wall again -leaving me out of breath. “WHAT TYPE OF DRUGS DID YOU SWALLOW THAT MADE YOU THINK IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO PUT YOUR HANDS ON MY WIFE!” Mochi yells, seething, before changing his hand’s placement from my collar to directly on my neck -cutting me off from breathing correctly, or at all.

‘How does this big oaf expect me to answer when he’s choking me.’ I thought, trying to pry his hands off and reach for the switch knife in my pocket. Though easier said than done when you can feel the veins in your neck and forehead pulse trying to keep the blood flowing.

Mochi is strong, very much so.

You see, Mikey needed capable men for running a gang -much more when running an organized crime group- and so he did just that. He recruited people who were either the best in their field or had the potential to do so. Everyone at the table had something to offer that the others didn’t, be it financial skills, meticulous strategic planning, connections, or anything under the sun seen as vital or needed.

And in terms of raw strength, Mochi dwarfed all of us.

‘But he lacks attentiveness and focus. That had always been his weak point. If I could just get a good distraction, then I cou-’ my thought cuts off.

“You r*ped Carlota?!” Silence fills the room. Rin’s question was so absurd, so out there, that it had taken everyone, even Mochi, aback. He loosens his grip for half a second or two -more than enough time for me to reach over the knife and swipe a deep cut on Mochi’s hand. With a yell, he instinctually lets go of his grip, and I land on the floor feet first.

Without wasting any more time, I grip both his shoulders and knee him on the stomach.

Despite giving it my all -granted, I didn’t have much room to work with- this had only set him a few steps back. I still wasn’t in the clear, there wasn’t enough space for me to tackle him down or run away, and I was still close enough that he could easily body slam me to the wall again.

‘So this is what I get for caring, huh? This is what I get for looking out for someone other than me. What a joke.’

“I didn’t touch her like that, Rin. I beat the shit out of her!” I start, answering the equally frazzled executive before taking a deeper breath and letting it out with a humorless laugh. “And believe me, Mochi. I would’ve done soo much worse,” I say with a smirk. The blood from my nose made its way into my mouth, the smile stretching the skin of my lips. It wasn’t long before the taste of iron settled on my tongue.

“Should have put a bullet on her head for that stunt she pulled!”

The blood rushes to his head. But despite my more than antagonizing words, he lets me continue. “I did what I had to do, Mochi! You know she’s spreading herself thin with all that worrying of hers, so I suggested we let the driver go!” The crestfallen and resentful look on all three faces did not go unseen as I said those words. It didn’t take a genius to know they had grown attached to the bubbling driver, more so than they would like to admit during her near one-year employment.

“I did what I thought was best for her, for all of us. And that’s cutting Yukioto off. You would understand if you j-”

“Don’t pretend that you care about her! As if you care about Carlota, the driver, or any of us here! You’ve never cared about anyone except yourself-!” He seethes out. His booming voice was enough to shake the pits of our stomachs, but what weighed more were his words.

It weighed a ton more knowing it was true. | | | |

I lose control over my breathing.

“Watch it, Mochi!” Rin warns, but his efforts are proven futile “-When everything goes to shit, you wouldn’t even think twice about leaving us behind!” Mochi continues. | | | |

A ringing fills my head.

“That’s enough, all of you" The room stills as King’s voice enters the room, and like clockwork, all four of us in the room bowed in respect as this was our first time seeing King today.

Now standing straight, the air was stiff. Just as it should be, just as it always had been -his presence alone had silenced the once chaotic and hostile room. The only remaining sound is that of air conditioners and the storm outside.

With him were the first-floor attendant and Takeomi. Both of which shared a stoic and attentive look.

“Not only do we have to be on the lookout for possible gang attacks, but now you want to add to that burden by fighting amongst yourselves. What would the Shimada Mihara do once they find out that half the Bonten executives are biting each other, like idiotic dogs.” He criticizes, eyeing the less than ideal state of myself and the others.

Though the urge to defend myself from the situation is immense, I would only prove Mochi right and anger King more than he already is.

“I’m disappointed.” Even with gazes glued to the floor, the glare Mikey had sent was enough to straighten ourselves and send a chill down our necks.

It was clear that although the scowl was to all four of us, he was more irritated with me.

The number two of Bonten. | | | | | The action wounded my pride.

“We’ll have to reschedule the meeting for tomorrow. Because not only had my closest confidants thought it would be a good idea to maul each other. But because we have to discuss Carlota Mochizuki’s fate with her betrayal to Bonten,” Mikey states, and from the corner of my eye, I could see the pain in Mochi’s eyes as he heard these words.

This was news to all four of us, so this information had likely only come up today.

But how come the attendant doesn’t look at all phased? I doubt King had told her first rather than his executives.

Unless, of course, she was the one to deliver the information first.

“Though this affects all of Bonten, I will admit that this is a more personal matter.” King continues, and there is a silent appreciation that Mochi shows to him for keeping this as private as possible.

“Sanzu, Haitanis, you are dismissed.” He ends.

As ordered, the three of us make our way out, Ran being the first to go through the door and me following behind. But before I could leave, I felt a hand set itself on my shoulder and with it the grating tone of the owner.

“Don’t think I don’t know about how this fight happened. You just had to be childish didn’t you?” Takeomi says with disdain and a lowered voice, clearly not wanting to make a bigger deal of this to the others. Though, that didn’t apply to me.

Not wanting to deal with him, I swat his hand away and glare at him from the side. “I don’t want to hear that from you, especially when it concerns Carlota.” I bite back. It was clear to us what exact ‘incident’ I was referring to.

He is livid.

“You-!” He starts but cuts off when Rin inserts himself between us, putting him an arm's length of space away from us. “How about you fuck off, yeah, old man?” He warns.

From behind, I couldn’t tell what expression Rin wore, but it was apparent from Takeomi’s tightening fist that another fight was about to break out. I would’ve been more than happy to beat the living shit out of this man, but I can’t exactly just brush off the fact that King had been watching all this time.

Glaring.

“Let it go, man,” I say, easing the purplenette’s hand off and tilting my head for us to go.

We both leave, and I head off on my own with Rin’s voice fading into the background as I ignore his calls.

—----------

“-And I was thinking, I could have that installed as my home system!” She continued. Her voice had filled the car, just as it always had, as she drove me to my destination.

The lights from nearby buildings and moving cars bled and blurred through the raindrops as they ran down the windows, making yet another familiar picture that played out every time I went out with her. Just like before, the rain served as background noise. Coincidence or not, it rained during most of my meetings with Ei.

I don’t think Japan has rained as much as it did this year.

“-there’s been a lot of break-ins reported on the news recently, and you can never be too safe! After all, there’s really no point in -” I’m not sure what spurred me to say it. Maybe it had been the prior conversation about home security systems that had brought it on, or maybe, I had been genuinely curious about what she might say.

To what extent is this woman willing to forgive?

“I don’t think I’d care if you got hurt.”

The car went silent after that.

I turn from my side to look over to where she was seated.

The car was dark, and she preferred to drive that way. The overhead light, I noticed, was harsh on her eyes. It didn’t matter what model car we used, or what color light it was -she always had to squint whenever it was on.

Because of this, we didn’t turn it on unless it was necessary. But this had its downsides as well.

This situation was a prime example of it. With only minimal lighting, I couldn’t discern what emotion she wore, what reaction she had, and what she felt by my comment.

She takes a few more seconds before she finally speaks up.

“I agree,” she says, but I can’t quite pinpoint ‘how’ she said it.

“Are you agreeing because you wouldn’t care if I got hurt either?” I ask as I watch her overtake a driver on the road.

“No, not really,” she replies.

“Explain then.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you worrying about me, boss. I hate it when people do that because I’d feel like a burden.” She starts as she continues down the road, turning a smooth right not too long after.

“-but,” An ambulance passes by us.

It was here, for a few seconds, bathed in red and blue- did I see the few stray hairs that clung to the back of her neck, the slight tilt of her head, and the skin of both her cheeks pinched up to narrow the corner of her eyes.

She looked soft.

“I think I’d visit you as much as I can, boss. After all, you’re my boss.”

She says, wearing a smile.

…..I don’t think that was the answer I was looking for.

| | | | |

My hold on her wrists tightens, even as she thrashes and attempts to struggle from it.

Knowing that no matter what -I wasn’t going to let up, she screams out instead. “I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!! YOU’RE THE MOST SELFISH PERSON I HAVE EVER MET”

I don't exactly know why that affected me.

Why did those words sting as much as they did that day?

Carlota and I were no strangers to insulting each other. If anything, most of our interactions were about insults to each other. If I look back on it now, I’m sure a jab she made about me was our first interaction. It was just something that stuck to both of us over the years. Granted, it became more of a joke as time went by. Nonetheless, Carota had said more vile things before, and vice versa.

So why did my chest tighten at that?

Why did it hurt as much as it did?

“YOU’RE A HEARTLESS DEMON, SANZU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!” she continues. The tears on her face landing on my cheeks as she heaves for a breath.

I’m not sure if it showed, but if it did, I was quick to wipe it off my face.

Not wanting to deal with it any longer, I push her off of me again -only this time- I don’t give her the chance to get back up and fight me again.

“OKAY!” A deep breath leaves me before I start again. “FINE! IF THAT’S HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT ME, F*CK IT!” I yell out, fighting the dull burning of my back and eyes by brushing off and straightening the noticeable wrinkles on my clothes.

I need to get high off of something.

“F*CK ME FOR CARING, F*CK ME FOR TRYING TO COMFORT YOU. YOU WANNA FREEZE HERE IN THE HOSPITAL IN THE MIDDLE OF A SUNDAY? THEN BE MY GUEST! ME? I'M GONNA GO BACK TO MY WARM PENTHOUSE AND SNORT A LINE!”

It was here that I realized that I had never seen Carlota look so broken before.

I turn on my heel and walk away.

The hospital chills pricking goosebumps on my skin.

—----------------------

“Don’t send anyone up to Room 32.”

The station nurse, confused at first, looks up to meet my gaze. However, after recognizing me as one of Bonten’s Executives -the hospital sponsors- she understood fast and did as told.

After typing a few things on her keyboard, she looks back at me to give her report. “I’ve notified everyone to keep away from room 32 regardless of whatever situation, sir.” I nod at this. “Would you like a clean-up crew on standby, sir?” She asks, fingers ready to give the command.

I shake my head at this before looking around the hall. “No, but I suggest you loop back a normal clip on your CCTV. We wouldn’t want anyone to know I’m here. You understand, right, sweetheart?”I say with faux charm. She nods her head at this. “Yes, sir.”

I give her a practiced smile and make my way to the elevator.

‘Selfish.’ A humorless laugh leaves me.

‘How about I prove to all of you how selfless I can be.’ the thought echoes before I pop a few pills in my mouth.

[namedaftercommunists]

Snow and Cigarettes [Kamado Junko]

Masterlist

Snow.

I’ve always hated the cold. Never did I have any particularly good memories made in the snow.

The night was young, 8 pm sharp, just as the caller said. In typical December fashion, the snow not only continued to clump down the cold pavement of the cramped alleyway but also on Carlota-san and I’s shoulders. I couldn’t see much here with only a few -flickering- overhead street lights lighting up a small circle of the space.

‘I know nothing about this place, we’re at a disadvantage if a shootout ever broke out.’ I thought to myself, already preparing for the worst.

But even with minimal lighting, it wasn’t hard to miss the shadow of a 6’7 figure. Not when it had a lit cigarette in its left hand and a leash with a rabid rottweiler in the other.

‘The dog doesn’t look as friendly as it did in the drawing.’

“You come with anyone else, ladies?” Male, late 20’s, or early thirties. His voice is hoarse, either from the cold, or the plethora of cigarettes he had probably burned throughout his life.

From his question alone, he’s on edge, or at the very least -alert, though not as much as I would have wanted him to be. He seemed to be confident enough to handle both of us -armed or not- whether it’s because of the growling dog at his side, or if he too came with a firearm or two before this meet-up, that I’m not too sure of.

“No, we didn’t come with anyone else. It’s just us two” Carlota-san answers. Her demeanor was cool, a complete 180 from her previous -more emotionally driven- mood from earlier today. Though the answer would have most definitely be seen as stupid from a negotiation standpoint, it was clear that Carlota-san was not here for a business deal. She was here for answers- and to do that, she has to have the complete trust of this person, the only way to that of course is by being honest.

‘Still, a bluff would’ve been good. That way he would think twice before doing anything -putting us at an advantage.’

With this, the person takes a deep inhale from the cancer stick before letting it fall to the many other cigarette butts he had on the snow near him. With as much poise as that of a bum, he leaves his position from the wall and takes a few steps forward, the light finally illuminating his face just as it did ours. . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ah, so that’s why he sounded so familiar.

Hanma Shuji.

From way back when Bonten was called Kanto Manji Gang

I should have known from the cigarette addiction alone.

Though I was never close with the former KMG member -our interactions having barely pushed through the two digit mark- I had been hired during his stay and service in the gang.

He didn’t sport the same haircut as before, but that is to be expected, seeing as our last meeting was nearly a decade ago from today. It was apparent that time was kind to him, features wise, but it wasn’t in regards to his eyes, obvious from the prescription glasses he now has to wear.

I was assigned to a different division to the man in question, but nonetheless I recognize him. Keeping up and updating myself on the history of the gang is part of my job, just as it is my job to know of the potential future of the organization -it was only right that I remember a former integral member. . . . . . . . . . . I’ve always wondered where weaklings went after leaving. I was fully sold on the idea of them simply getting killed a few days later in an alleyway -just like this one. Seems as though they just get to run free.

We should fix that. They’re a liability.

Though I remember him, it doesn't seem as though he remembers me. Not a shred of recognition in those dead eyes of his.

“You look cold” He speaks up, eyeing the less than weather-appropriate attire Carlota-san has been wearing. I could tell that his gaze had unnerved her, but nonetheless, she stayed silent. “Want me to offer you a jacket?” He continues, motioning to his warmer choice of clothing, though judging from his air, he wasn’t going to give up one.

“No, but thank you” Carlota answers -faux friendly. This earns a shrug from him before he stuffs his free hand in the pocket of his jacket whilst -subtly looking around the place again, his eyes never really settling in one place.

“So. Where is she?” He asks, a nonchalant tone in his words. “Who?” I ask, knowing exactly who he is referring to. He catches on to this, a click of his tongue echoes through the small space, the sound triggering his mutt to turn more aggressive and attempt to lunge at us.

Its action startled both Carlota and I for just a second. The mutt is loud, its bark irritating as it continues to reverb and bounce to and fro the small space.

‘It looks like it would have rabies.’ The thought voices itself in my head as I continue to look at the dog’s slobbering barks and attack stance, the only thing stopping it from biting either of us was the red leash wrapped around the neck of the damn thing.

I hope it chokes the dumb mongrel.

“You know exactly who I’m talking about.” He continues. His eyes were deadpan and yet serious, he was obviously not in the mood to dance around and play guess.

Having already known that I wasn’t here to give answers, he instead looks over to Carlota.

“You’re the one who agreed to this little get-together of mine. You wanna tell me where she is, pretty lady?” He asks in a sing-song manner before continuing to eye her just as he did before. “What’s your connection to her?” She throws a question back, her arms crossed whilst leaning her weight on one leg. They’re both trying to take control of the conversation, and with it, the entire situation.

Both of them wanted answers, but neither wanted to give information to the other.

He leans back at this -most likely irked with the thought of having to muscle the answer he wants out of us.

“I don’t think you should be the one asking questions here, babe” He says with a scoff, his eyes sweeping the area again. “And why is that?” I ask, hand on holster if ever pulls out a gun to use as a threat. Though it’ll be a problem to track the gun to both his head and the seething animal beside him.

His eyes look over to my person again and it lingers for a few moments before he tilts his head to the side again, a look of confusion and a vague spark of recognition on his features. “Who are you?” He asks, but before I could answer, Carlota-san had already beaten me to it.

“You don’t need to know that now do you?. All you need to know is that we’re her employers." A half-lie, but it was necessary.

A small hiss leaves his person. “She’s under your care?”. Carlota-san nods at this. He nods a few times in understanding, but it was obvious that it was only for show. His gaze goes over to the side and again, back to us.

“Judging from a lack of her presence during this little meeting of ours, I’m assuming she hasn’t been cared enough, or even at all. Your incompetence as her employer is most likely the reason why she hasn’t been able to answer any of my calls.” He voices out, a look of hidden anger in his eyes and features. “What makes you think she’s not just ignoring your calls?” Carlota rebuts but is only met with a sarcastic laugh from the man.

The conversation continues on like this for a few more moments, but something about the smoker’s behavior is really setting off alarms in my head.

‘What is he looking for?’ The thought enters me before I too look around the area, though in a more low-key way to avoid suspicion. His gaze lingered in a few areas, but he seems to avoid one place in particular. The trash bin near the exit of his side. One where the snow looked ever so slightly disturbed.

“So, where is she?” He asks again, my focus completely being thrown off and fishing me back to the conversation at hand. “Who are you to be asking this? For all we know, you have no actual connection with the woman in question.” I insert, my hand not leaving the hidden holster on my side, especially now when there could be a possible companion of his ready to attack out of nowhere.

Another light chuckle fills the air -seemed as though he didn’t notice my snooping. “Might as well show off” He says, smug both in looks and voice.

He lightens the grip on the leash for a small amount. Surprisingly the stupid dog didn’t take this as a signal to attack, rather it stayed in place, letting its owner do whatever he wanted to do.

'It's trained -with a loose leash he can just command the thing to bite us even when he's preoccupied.' I thought, not taking the opportunity to shoot. I'd rather the mutt doesn't harm Carlota.

With the added security, he raises his left hand from the pocket, he brings it to the side of his face, the kanji 'sin' tattoo fully on display.

But with it, wrapped around his ring finger, was a thin -gold wedding band.

“I’m her husband”

| | | | | | | | | | |

A thick silence fills the car, the only sound ever reaching our ears being the constant sound of the air conditioner running, or the sound of different engines from the cars outside as I continue to drive us back to the casino.

Still, this was a topic we can't just simply brush over. No topic ever is worth brushing over, not when it comes to Bonten.

"Yukioto Ei was recorded to be a single woman with little to no connection with existing family -within or out- of the country." I start -the air clammy, but nonetheless I press on. "This information had been looked over by not only me and the screening department, but also by Bonten Executive; Sir Kokonoi Hajime. Not only is her background different to what was stated but to b-" “We don’t speak of this to anyone” Carlota cuts off, her tone effectively taking control of the situation.

‘This is bad.’

“Carlota-san with all due respect, this isn’t something we can just sweep under the rug, what else could the driver be hiding from Bonten?” I reason out as I continue to drive the car back to the Casino.

“She’s a risk to the safety and the security of the organization. I know that you and the others have taken a liking to the driver Carlota, but what we should be doing is relaying this information back to the executives along with giving back the broken phone in hopes of extracting more information from the device. If anything we should also take the ‘husband’ in for ques-”

-

The sound of broken glass and plastic fill the car.

Over and Over.

Again and Again.

Carlota after hearing what I had to say about the situation -had pulled out the driver’s original phone and proceeded to continuously step on it.

I take a left turn.

‘This is fine’ I assure myself. ‘We can make do with the broken parts and give it to the intelligence lab, surely they know of some way or technique to take out data fro-’ My train of thought is cut off as Carlota starts again.

“Open the window” She orders, her eyes still set on the broken pieces, as if to make sure I don’t suddenly reach over and take a handful of it whilst I continue to drive. The thought did come to mind, but it would only put both of us at the unnecessary risk of crashing into something.

‘It’s better to continue to reason with her, surely knows how much this could affect the very livelihood of not only her husband and the executives, but to every other employees as well.’

“Carlota-sa–” But before I could continue, I’m cut off once again.

“You’re forgetting my name attendant. I don’t quite recall as to when we established a close relationship, especially with that biased system of yours. From what I remember you are not only my junior in regards to the time spent serving the organization, but I also outrank you in terms of position, authority, and social status. What give you the right to not only undermine and undermine my authority, but to also refer to me in a casual and informal manner?”

I am overtaken by another driver on the road.

‘It seems I’ve overstepped with her’

“Forgive me Mrs. Mochizuki” I apologize, my tone and posture falling back to a more refined and professional demeanor.

“Attendant, open the window.” She commands again, every second spent together seemingly getting colder and colder.

I do as told and down goes Mrs. Mochizuk’s window.

Sparing no time, she leans down to the car floor and brings up the rubber vehicle mat and spills out the broken phone components to the rubber asphalt of the road. She lets out a deep breath after, before setting the mat back down and dusting herself off from the small glass pieces that happen too cloning to her.

“We are to not speak of this again. Yukioto Ei, her husband, and her family are under mine and Mr. Mochizuki's care. You are to never interfere nor take action in any way shape or form regarding the matter, and most definitely not with the intention of ill or harm. Unless of course you’re willing enough to not only lose your job, but your life as well?” She taunts, eyeing me from the corner of her eye.

‘-and her family. She noticed something from the meeting that I hadn’t been able to pick up. She’s hiding something from me’ I thought before filing it away for another day.

“No Ma’am.” I curtly respond.

After that the vehicle is consumed once again with silence. . . . . . . . . . . . .

We took a left from Ejima Sugiyama Shrine and over Sumida river. Traffic is moderate. Time check 9:02pm.

[namedaftercommunists]

Hair and Coat [Mrs. Carlota Mochizuki]

Masterlist

“Ei-chan, come here I want to see how this looks on you!” I call out, holding up a simple rose gold necklace with a star charm hanging off of it. From the corner of my eye, I could see Yukioto’s head perk up in response before she made her way over to me. “Mrs. Mochizu–” “Come closer, hurry” A smile shows on my face as I hold up the necklace to her neck, the rose gold complementing her darker skin tone.

“AWE! You look so good in them! We HAVE to buy it now.“ A small chuckle leaves her before she takes both the necklace and my hands to hers. “As nice as it is to see you happy Mrs. Mochizuki, I don’t think I have 30,240 Yen on hand right now,” She says as she eyes up the price written on the small card propped up on the display I took the necklace from. “Nonsense! You know I would never let you pay for anything when you’re with me!” I rebut waving my hand in an attempt to wave off the thought.

“And I rather you call me Carlota-san, you’ve been working under me for MONTHS now, we’ve long passed the stage of calling each other by our surnames'' I add, a pout on my face before I put the necklace back in it’s stand knowing for sure she would never let me pay it for her. A short silence graces both of us before it is cut off.

“Hmmm,” A hum leaves her before she goes down the aisle and comes back with a pair of earrings. She holds the pair on either side of my face checking to see if it had fit me. It wasn’t long after before she lightly smiled and lowered the item into my hands. “I think these look great on you Mrs- Carlota-san.” She cuts herself off, and a small smile graces me again at her correction before she leads me to a small built-in mirror nearby.

Now facing my reflection, I hold and wear both earrings to the sides of my face once again. The earrings consisted of several connected circles and hoops, some of which were its natural gold color, and the others a more serene white gold. Just as Yukioto had said, the earrings had suited me well, the asymmetrical shapes and hoops fitting my face and face shape nicely -giving it definition- and putting the focus on my face.

“It’s a bit heavy,” I voice, a light laugh leaving me before I take them off. “Oh, well we can always look for another one like i-” I shake my head at this, both my hands holding the earrings delicately. “No, I’ll check this out. I won’t be able to wear it every day due to its weight, but for sure I’ll be wearing them whenever an important event comes up”

A soothing warmth rests on my cheeks at the sight of my reflection before turning around to face Yukioto. She wears a content look on her features before she tilts her head to look at me rather than the mirror. A light chuckle leaves me again before I head to the counter, Yukioto following behind. “I like you Ei-chan, you’re a breath of fresh air from all the testosterone those executives never fail to exude. It becomes suffocating after a while.” We both laugh at my comment before handing the earrings to the waiting lady.

____________________________

The cold pricks at my exposed skin as I continue to stare blankly at the glass separating me from the OR, though it served as a barrier it had never hidden the sight of multiple professionals in scrubs operating and stabilizing my friend for the third time within two months.

‘For the third time in two months.’ The thought stews in my head before I direct my line of sight to my thinning hands and fingers. I don't think I’ve been able to eat the same since then, nor did I sleep as much as I used to. Still, I can only imagine what Yukioto would go through once she wakes up.

if she wakes up

The hospital was quiet this afternoon, not a lot of people were waiting nor were there any nurses and doctors going from one room to the other. It was especially silent near where I am, only the sounds of shoes squeaking against tile could be heard, even then it was much too far away to be an annoyance.

I direct my focus back to the OR, eyeing whatever I could of Yukioto’s as multiple nurses and surgeons walked to and fro from her still figure. The sight brings me to leave a few crescent marks on the back of my hand as my nails dig into the skin.

‘I caused this.’

A bitter taste settles on my tongue as I look over the few scrubbed figures eyeing the sorry state of my friend.

‘I caused this.’

My line of sight turns glassy; a familiar weight waits atop my waterline as I see one of them bring out a bone saw.

‘I caused this.’

Tears silently fall and line my face, my shaky breath rattling the core of my being.

Amputation, right below her left knee

‘I caused this’

My thoughts are cut off when a comforting weight falls on my shoulders and covers my body from the cold AC. Knowing full well who it is, I continue to stay silent, my left hand leaving my right as it reaches out to the corner of the heavy suit jacket -pulling it closer to my figure, basking in the residue heat.

A sigh leaves the other in response to my silence as they take a rest on the steel seat a space away from me in respect. This lasts for a few more moments before it is broken by a cough from the pink-ette himself. “You know, you can’t just keep giving your husband a heart attack. I mean it was funny the first time, but it isn’t as funny when done a third time.” A chuckle follows after, the sound seemed to echo through the hallway.

“Your bed must be hard as a rock considering those dark bags under your eyes. I should hook you up with this mattress brand I found a few years ago, soft memory foam, I don’t recommend the pillows though, they smell awful for the first few months” Another laugh leaves him and this goes on a few more times before he notices my lack of response despite his best efforts to lighten the mood. After the fifth joke, he stretches both his legs and arms out to get the blood flowing and breathes out a tired and defeated sigh.

“She’s had multiple organ failures during her stay here, all showing up on different days. Life-threatening and minor injuries showing up out of nowhere they said.” A much more serious tone goes over his voice, fully abandoning the happy-go-lucky shtick he had run with before.

“I would have chalked them up to be incompetent seeing as her condition only worsens with every second, and I would have killed them all for that, but that isn’t the case is it? Considering they’re one of the best out there that money could buy -courtesy of you and your husband-” He continues, putting both hands on the steel arms provided on the chair.

From the corner of my eye, I could tell he was looking -waiting for a response from me, wanting to know exactly what my reaction would be. This type of information was not new to me, I was the first to know about Yukioto’s condition, the first to know of their findings on her, and the first to know about her worsening health. I know that he knows it too.

“She’s a case they’ve never encountered before. Her injuries are dire, at this point, she won’t be able to live a normal life even if she were to survive.” My grip on the jacket tightens at this. The action doesn’t go unnoticed as he looks over at my bleaching knuckles.

Another sigh leaves him, “Look Carlota, you’re my friend and whatever is happening here clearly isn’t good for you health-wise. This isn’t your fault, nothing here is your fault, maybe you should let her go and we ca-” My body moves before either of us can process.

The sound of metal sings and bounces from each wall of the hallway, as does the sound of shuffling shoes and crumpling clothes. I jump from my seat and without hesitation grab him by his hair, strands of pink being ripped out of his scalp from the abrupt action.

Sanzu, taken aback as this type of violence was unheard of from me, wasn't able to move nor lean away in time and could only yell out in shock and pain the sound echoing and plaguing my already tired mind. “WHaT THE FU?!--” Before he could even finish I had already pulled a relatively good amount of hair from him before we both fell from our seats.

“MOTHER F*CK GET OFF OF ME!” Now on the floor, Sanzu sobers up from the shock and tries to push me away from him, unknowingly helping me pull out more of his then healthy hair. “HOW DARE YOU!” I start -my voice hoarse and cracking from my abrupt and loud use.

“HOW DARE YOU SUGGEST THAT! I THOUGHT THAT OUT OF EVERYONE HERE YOU WOULD BE ON MY SIDE!” A sob leaves me as I now try and scratch the skin off of his face whilst rivers leave my eyes. At this point, I had felt my vocal cords tearing, I had felt it ripping like paper, even so, I didn't hold back as I continued to scream and shout at the scarred man below me.

“HOW DARE YOU SUGGEST I LET HER DIE AFTER ALL SHE'S DONE FOR ME! AFTER ALL THAT SHE’S DONE FOR YOU!” I yell out, my eyes closing for a moment to blink away the tears leaving. The strength of my scratches and hair-pulling had faded out for just a second as I wallowed in the emotional pain I hadn’t been able to express as loudly as freely as I have now.

Sanzu, taking note of the opening, punches the lower portion of my gut, causing me to double down from the pain, the muscles contracting and the bile threatening to leave my insides. The action had effectively rendered me weak enough to fully push me off of him.

My head harshly came into contact with the tiled floor, the impact disoriented me to the point that I had to put both palms flat on the floor and reassure myself that the world was not spinning as widely and as fast as it is doing right now.

“CARLOTA, ARE YOU HEARING YOURSELF?” He yells in retaliation, pushing himself off the floor and bending down to look at my face clearly while I continue to nurse the back of my head. “NO ONE FORCED HER TO TAKE THE JOB, SHE TOOK IT WILLINGLY, SHE KNEW WHAT SHE WAS GETTING INTO AND SHE DID HER JOB!” He continued, his voice had gone hoarse from all the yelling, and frankly, he was tired of my shit.

He takes a deep breath before he runs both hands on his hair and stands straight once again, an exasperated huff leaving him. Even when he had done every exercise he could think of at the top of his head to cool down, it still wasn’t enough to well down the apparent anger, annoyance, and irritation that had consumed him.

So he starts again. “LIKE ANY OTHER F*CKING BUSINESS THERE IS, ONCE AN EMPLOYEE IS USELESS, YOU LET THEM GO!”

The statement sobers my brain from the impact and with no time to waste, I tackle both Sanzu and me back on the floor. The sound of his back hitting the tiles was apparent and oh so loud.

Though he was not able to stop me from bringing both of us down, he knew better now and was able to catch both my wrists before I could do any more damage than I already have.

His hold was akin to that of unmoving steel and iron, even with my thrashing and pulling to free my hands from him, his grip had not budged in the slightest.

Unable to do more harm, I opted to scream out my thoughts instead. “I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!! YOU’RE THE MOST SELFISH PERSON I HAVE EVER MET” I yell out trying to break both my wrists from his solid grip. “YOU’RE A HEARTLESS DEMON SANZU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!”

A flash of hurt shows on his face before it is overpowered with anger. Having had enough, he pushes me off of him once more -only this time he doesn’t give me the chance nor time of day to get back up fast enough to fight him again.

“OKAY!” A defeated breath leaves him before he picks it back up “FINE! IF THAT’S HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT ME, F*CK IT!” He starts, brushing off and straightening the noticeable wrinkles on his dress shirt and slacks. The sound of the heel of his shoe clicks against the white tiles and with the sound was the deep and hurried breathing of both me and the tall man.

“F*CK ME FOR CARING, F*CK ME FOR TRYING TO COMFORT YOU. YOU WANNA FREEZE HERE IN THE HOSPITAL IN THE MIDDLE OF A SUNDAY THEN BE MY GUEST! ME? I'M GONNA GO BACK TO MY WARM PENTHOUSE AND SNORT A LINE!” With nothing left to say, he turns around and walks away from view.

It was here that I realized that I was never familiar with the sight of Sanzu’s retreating figure.

____________

A few minutes had gone by as I continued to sit on the cold floor. A few sniffles leave me before bringing a hand up to wipe the tears off of my face and tame my now frazzled hair. I sat for a few more moments, steadying my breathing before I brought myself to stand up and walk back to my seat.

Sanzu had left behind the coat he had lent to me.

Either intentionally or if he has simply forgotten, I’m not quite sure.

Having gotten over the whole fight I bring the coat back over my shoulder only to feel a slight bulge in the pocket of it. Curious, I rummage and pull the object out to be met with an unrepairable phone inside a plastic ziplock bag.

It was Yukioto’s phone.

‘He might have wanted to give this to me as a keepsake if I ever agreed to ‘let go’ of Yukioto.’ A scoff leaves me at the thought before I turn both the device and the bag around, inspecting it. It was badly damaged, so much so that it would never run again even if I was to hire the best man there is for the job.

‘The least I could do is replace it before she wakes up.’ A cough catches my thoughts and I tilt my head to see Kamado-san, her right eye finally having healed from the black eye Sanzu had given her a few weeks back.

From what I heard from Kanji, he was angry that her nonchalant and uncaring report from before turned out to be far from the actual situation and state of the driver.

“Mrs. Mochizuki, I do think it’s best for a change of scenery for tonight.” She voices out, a sliver of guilt showing on her features as she drinks in my frizzed condition. ‘She knew Sanzu and I had fought.’ With this, I wordlessly pull out my phone to check the time.

6:22 pm, I've been here in the hospital for roughly 4 hours now.

A sigh leaves me before I nod in agreement with her suggestion. “Are there any stores nearby that sell phones?” I ask, pocketing both mine and Yukioto’s phone in the coat as Kamado pulls out hers.

“There’s one a few blocks away from here, Mrs. Mochizuki. But judging from how outdated the phone is, I’m not sure you’ll be able to find an exact model of it there.” A sigh leaves me again.

“That’s fine, I’ll just look for something similar”

_______________________

”-And then Kyoujuro, bless his soul, had to carry Ran out of the building. The sight was awful, don’t get me wrong but it was also hilarious when I look back at it. Ran is a GIANT compared to that 5’4 of a man!” Both Yukioto and I share a laugh at this, I lightly clear my throat of the cupcake and continue laughing whilst I reach out for a glass of iced tea.

“As overbearing as they are, I could never replace the executives. Sanzu and Ran more specifically, they’re assholes let me tell you that, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t close with them. Kanji always gets a migraine whenever Sanzu and I get up with our reckless shenanigans.” Yukioto laughs at this, the cookie in her mouth threatening to choke her just as the cupcake did to me due to laughing so much.

“I didn’t know you and Boss were close at first, but now I know better.” A chuckle leaves her before she reaches out for her glass of orange juice. “Now that I think about it, you and Haru-chan have gotten quite close, don't you think so?” This catches her off guard and makes her pause from her much-needed drink. She shakes her head at this before continuing to drink from her glass.

“Oh don’t fight it! Sanzu is a hard man, heart as strong as a rock, unfeeling too. There is no known universe out there that would make him give you a raise if he never fancied or at the very least enjoyed you and your company” I teased, studying Yukioto’s expressions as she continues to deny it. “I don’t think Boss and I are at all acquainted or close at all Carlota-san” “Oh really? That’s not what I saw when I saw him practically draped over your shoulder that one Thurs-” “Carlota-san-------

Carlota-san

_______________

“Carlota-san!” The voice shakes me from my thoughts and I come face to face with Kamado, a worried look on her face. “I’m sorry for raising my voice and informally calling you Mrs. Mochizuki -we’re here now.”

Rakuten Mobile. We’re here.

I nod my head absentmindedly before leaving the car and making my way over to the store. Kamado, having already known my now fear of cars -takes no offense to me leaving her behind and proceeds to turn off the vehicle. Though I’m sure that even if I were to leave her behind for no good reason, she still wouldn’t take offense to it. . . . . . .

“This is the closest I could find to this model. But if I can take a look at the old phone for just a minute, the sim and memory card should still be there. We can just transfer those to the new phone.” The store clerk voices out, putting the replacement phone on top of the counter for us to see.

It was of the same brand and the same color, but it differed in size and model. Still, it was the closest one according to him. I nod in approval before motioning for Kamado to pass the broken phone over.

With the phone now in his hands, the worker cracks open the back cover of the device, and from it spills little paper strips.

“Oh, I didn’t know that was there, let me pick up the rest” As nonchalant as the voice of the worker was, my brain on the other hand was racing with thoughts.

Small crude and childlike drawings were on the paper, one was of a spotted brown and black dog, and another of a small park bench. But the one that catches my attention the most is of two -no- three figures drawn on a separate note.

Two tall figures -one colored in maroon and the other a deep purple- stood on either side of a smaller one -one colored in bright red, all three of which were connected by holding each other’s hands. With a small sun drawn on the corner of the paper and a line of green beneath their feet to show grass.

They look happy, like a family of some sort.

‘Did I just ruin something precious? Would Yukioto be angry if she knew I had meddled with her things? Who are the people drawn?’

The worker comes back up from his crouched position and lays out the other two drawings atop the glass counter, Kamado having noticed my stiffness took it upon herself to bring the drawings to herself.

Without giving it too much mind, the worker continues with his job and inserts both the sim and memory card into the new phone.

It was silent for a few seconds, only the sound of soft jazz music playing on the speakers of the store could be heard, but it wasn't long before the phone rang and lit up with a number shown on the screen.

The worker, not knowing what to do, passes the phone to me, having assumed that I was the owner of the previous phone.

My thumb hesitates on the receive button. It was beyond me why my hands shook in nervousness and fear, maybe it was leftover adrenaline from the fight not too long ago.

The beating of my heart continued to speed up for a few more seconds before I had finally tapped on the screen.

“EI! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?”

The sad voice reaches my ears.

________________

“KANJI! OH MY GOD, YOU LOOK AWFUL!” Tears stream down my face as Yukioto passes half of my husband's weight to me, both ushering him to the couch to lay down.

A groan leaves him as he lays on his back and reaches to cup the apple of my cheek to comfort my sobbing person. “Mahal, what happened?! Look at yourself, you’re all bruised, and-and bloody, and I-” “Shhhh, I’m okay dear, I’m okay” “NO YOU’RE NOT! I JUST TOLD YOU THAT YOU LOOKED AWFUL!”

Despite my apparent worry, Kanji brushes it off with a strained chuckle and continues to run his thumb on the surface of my cheek. “It’s fine dear, I just-” before he could finish though -Yukioto interrupts him and turns to me.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Mochizuki, but do you have a first aid kit? We need to stop the bleeding before he loses any more in him” I nod my head frantically at this before standing up from the floor and hurriedly rushing to the bathroom to take the emergency medical kit.

I had rummaged and nearly flipped the whole sink cabinet over in my desperation, but by the grace of God, it was exactly where I had last remembered it to be.

On my way back I hear Yukioto calling what seemed to be Rindou on the phone -informing him of the situation.

“Thank you Yukioto-san, Carlota can take it from here. I'll replace the bloody seats as soon as I can.” Kanji mumbled out before a painful groan left his throat. “It’s no problem Mr. Mochizuki, the seats can wait another time.”

Having seen me from the corner of her eye, she takes a step to the side to give me space, but before I do I turn to her and give the tall woman a teary hug. “Thank you so much for bringing him back Yukioto-san.” A sob escapes me during the middle half of my thanks and she runs a hand on top of my head in comfort, as nice as it was I pull away from her hold and knelt to tend to my bleeding husband.

Looking back on all of it now. Had Yukioto always worn such a faraway and painful light in her eyes?

[namedaftercommunists]

_____ & ______ [----- --------]

Masterlist

Eism cx

Everything had hit you all at once

Blood continued to drip from your leg, from your arm, from your head. It was a feeling you were not new to, after all, this was not your first time in a car crash, much less your first time being mortally wounded. It is however the first time not knowing whether or not you’ll make it out of this alive.

Your breathing was shallow, but at the very least it was still there. You felt numb, tired, drained. It won’t hurt if you take just a small nap right?

Fjtn dy

After all, you did so much over these past few years. It’s been a little over a decade since you’ve been able to truly relax. You deserve some shut-eye. Just a short power nap. A small rest from everything.

Your eyes are heavy and you feel yourself start to drift off.

GKUO EZ OS

But then again, you still have a job to do.

Your eyes flutter open, and to make sure it doesn’t close again you bring your good hand, albeit slowly, to the side of your neck and lightly, deeply, scratch at its surface.

Your bones felt weary, painful, and gritty. Still, you power through it. A grunt leaves your person from how much you were moving, the pain felt unbearable. Though the feeling was never foreign, you were used to someone protecting you from the worst of it, you were so used to being protected, cared for, sheltered.

It’s sad really, how you’re still so used to it even when it had been so long ago.

You scan your surroundings, the dashboard, the floor, the seats, all of which had shards of glass sprawled on top of them, seemingly having covered everything. Due to the impact, the door from your side had been folded into the interior of the car, and trying to open it would only be a waste of time seeing as the other car was still very much embedded in yours.

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You move from your seat with a broken hand resting on the equally broken driver’s seat window. Glass shards pierce through and deeper on your palm due to this, but instead of giving attention to it, you try and muster the strength to pull your body through the window. The metal of both cars sang in distress from the added weight, and the broken car door rattled with them in unison.

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The blood from your hands causes your grip to slip from the metal causing you to lose balance and be seated back from your previous position. Your breathing had become more and more labored as seconds ticked by, your pulse engulfed your hearing, and the smell of leaking gasoline did no favors in clearing your mind as the smell continued to consume and invade your tired lungs.

You were doing so well, is this how you die?

But you haven’t found them yet.

You’ll be leaving them behind.

You don’t wanna die.

Not like this.

You hear the humming of a vehicle not too far from you.

Pybfr lbhe rlrf, cynl qrnq, qba'g yrg gurz xabj lbh'er fgvyy nyvir.

You painfully reach out to the back of your pocket. The faint sound of crinkling plastic and aluminum hits your ears as you begin to take the packet of pills and shakily bring it to the other hand, popping one off from the rest. You never liked dry swallowing these things, but it’s not like you have any choice considering the situation.

With this you tuck the rest back in your pocket and turn your head to face the steering wheel, closing your eyes and slowing your breath to sell the idea of being dead.

It was hard closing your eyes whilst trying to fight off the need to sleep.

Ghom zwys hvoh, W'zz hszz mci kvsb mci bssr hc acjs

Time seemed to pass slowly whenever you were waiting for something to happen. It was either that or the person outside had taken their time before going near the wreck you sat within. Though as painful as it was to wait for something to happen, the few minutes of anticipation served as a benefit, the pills you had taken had now affected your body.

You are now numb.

It wasn’t long before you heard the familiar sound of a car door opening, the same song of shifting metal humming their tune for you to bask in again. You hear the person sob for just a moment before their weight moves closer to your body. Their hands grip the upper half of your torso and your right arm, dragging you towards them, you felt akin to that of a puppet being tossed about, being moved from the driver's seat and away from the wreck.

Continuing to play dead, you hear the person mutter several panicked apologies under their breath, a few sobs and whimpers leave the individual, their hands shaky and clammy on your skin.

You hear the same humming of a vehicle drawing closer and louder. The rough texture of asphalt graces your skin for a moment before you hear a metal door open and feel yourself getting lightly tossed inside. Your head hits the metal of what you assume to be the back of the car’s door, prompting your expression to wince for just the tiniest bit before forcing your muscles to relax once more.

The door is shut once more before you hear the shuffling of feet from outside, walking towards the front of the car and starting its engine, driving off to who knows where.

Cdsb mcif smsg, mci'fs ozcbs bck

You open your eyes only to be met with the roof of a white van. The machine looked to be fairly new, with no signs of rust nor a thick layer of dust. It must have been cared for then. Whether it was cared for by the owner or a car rental’s employee is debatable, and frankly, unimportant.

Your breathing is heavy and your chest tight with every inhale you take. The feeling of the cold metal floor on your back served only little assurance in holding your consciousness in this plane of existence, still, you can’t help but feel appreciative of the cold prickling on the surface of your skin. After all, it was a feeling you more than prefer over the sensation of your blood continuing to seep out of your person.

You look around the enclosed space and discern the following items: plastic bags, plastic trash bags, a newly bought XL wheel of straw rope, a few wheels of scotch and duct tape, scissors, and a newly bought long crowbar.

Time continued to tick by and it wasn’t long before you arrived somewhere, the car parked and its engine turned off. You had little to no idea as to where you might be, but even with the smell of iron permeating the small space, the unmistakable scent of the salty ocean made its way to your lungs.

The driver’s door opens and closes shut. The anxious muttering of the man before could be heard even through the walls of the van, accompanied by the fast pacing of his legs.

“Female, full Filipino, has long dark hair, in her early thirties.” Over and over again before his voice fades out from the distance.

The description fits both you and Carlota.

This person is a last-minute hire. It’s obvious at this point, an unsure demeanor, panicked muttering, the constant stream of apologies, inexperienced handling, not checking on the state of your body even, that and the fact that he doesn’t even know that you were, in fact, not Carlota.

Atpkt cd dqkxdjh igprth, pcs ipzt iwt rgdlqpg lxiw ndj.

You muster up enough strength to sit up from the floor, your muscles contracting in disagreement from the action. Still, you push the feeling aside and continue to do the motions necessary for the task at hand.

Your arm reaches out to grasp the familiar feeling of plastic, retracting the items near your person and tying the bags over your shoes, fully encasing them. Your arm reaches to your side once more, grasping the cool metal of the crowbar before making your way out of the van.

Backdoor warehouses, a pier, the smell of rusting metal, and the smell of old and peeling paint, all of these things you can identify and discern, but the tiredness of your eyes and the overpowering smell of blood stooped you from knowing more as to where you might be.

You walk to the warehouse in front of you, the steel rolling overhead door peaking open and recently disturbed, there was no doubt that the man who had essentially kidnapped you went inside.

The familiar smell of Southern yellow pine enters your lungs and you are momentarily hit with a deep sense of nostalgia, but rather than taking the time to reminisce distant memories, you opted to stay focused on the situation at hand. After all, you might die. Though dying does have its benefits.

“Why is there no signal?!” You hear the same man from before yell out in frustration. Pin-pointing his whereabouts to the best of your ability, you come to see the man’s back turned to you in one of the many isles of the storage building His hands were as shaky as before, this time holding his uncooperative phone.

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You walk back to the corner of the crate, hoping it would do you some cover if ever the person in front of you had a firearm. You reach your hand out to feel in the pocket of your sweatpants and come into contact with the grip of the gun Carlota gave you.

Bzcc yzd

Though you try and aim for a clean shot to the head, your left arm stiffened in protest, having lost enough blood to restrict it from being moved to its fullest extent. It’ll have to do, as you shoot the man in the back.

He falls to the ground from the sheer force of the bullet and his phone skids out of his grasp. The person turns around to face you. Having finally been able to take a good look at his face, you’ve remembered him to be one of the more problematic politicians that have had his scandals shown and reported on the morning news and radio one too many times. Even when covered with tears, snots, and sweat, you knew it was the same person. Not that it mattered, you were no better than him. What mattered, on the other hand, was that he had just set your progress back for who knows how much.

“HOW!? HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?!” He looked terrified of you, his pupils dilated in extreme fear. The reaction was warranted, but you pay it no mind. All you know is that if he ever did have a gun, he would have already pulled it out in retaliation long ago.

You step out of the cover of the crate and shoot him in the chest once more. He lets out another painful cry holding his chest in hopes to stop more blood from seeping out, slowly crawling away from you, and skidding more blood on the polished concrete floors of the building. The man pleads for mercy, apologizing hastily once more. As he does this, tears continue to stream down his face, he mentions having a child and a wife waiting for him at home in hopes you let him go out of pity or guilt. His babbling is cut short when you once again shoot him on the chest, this time he changes his tune.

“YOU’RE GOING TO HELL FOR THIS YOU MONSTER, HOW F*CKING DARE YOU! YOU’RE KILLING A PERSON! GOD WOULD NEV–” You shoot him in the head.

Lscw zak kzajl sfv ojsh al sjgmfv qgmj sje. Vgf’l klwh gf lzw tdggv kg qgm vgf’l dwsnw ljsuck.

You walk over to the lifeless body and strip him of his shirt. Momentarily you catch sight of a burned sigil or mark on the right side of his back, as interesting as it was you pay it no mind, wrapping the newly acquired fabric to your arm. The action takes a toll on you, giving you what felt to be the most painful headache you had experienced, along with it was the wave of nausea hitting the deeper recesses of your gut.

Ybgw lhfxpaxkx mh abwx

You walk over to the man’s discarded phone on the ground and promptly shoot through it if ever there was a tracker embedded, after which you kick its broken parts underneath one of the steel isles. You should’ve saved your bullets and made do with your crowbar in case something ever goes wrong, but you’d rather you spend lead than continue to stretch your strength further than it already has.

You wander through the aisles once more, one lined left and right with towering crates and catch the silhouette of a folded step ladder. Thinking you’d have a higher chance of hiding in a higher location, you drag the heavy thing to the side of one of the crates.

The ladder was steady, but the same could not be said about your legs, as you slip on the third step up and land on your torso. The drug you took not too long ago had begun to wear off and the impact of your body against the reinforced metal steps dealt enough damage and pain to force you into taking a short breather. Now that you think about it, you should have threatened the man from before to give you answers, at the very least, a lead of some sort, but it was too late to do that knowing all that’s left is an unmoving corpse.

You look down to your feet. You had slipped off the ladder because one of the plastic bags you had wrapped around your foot now had a small puddle of blood inside it.

Mbcn, nuey nby jfumncw vuam ion uhx nowe nbyg migyqbyly ih u wluwe.

You carefully take both bags off and tuck them in an unseen corner, making sure the blood inside them stayed there as to not give any more obvious signs and markings that you were still in the building.

You try to stand up again, but your whole body didn’t take too kindly to that, already tired from everything, and especially more tired as you continue to lug around the heavy crowbar. Unable to do anything more, you continue the rest of the way by crawling, leaving skid marks of blood much as the other did. You hoped no one would notice them as they were pretty high up and you had trek a considerable amount of distance away from the van and away from the body.

The smell of stained wood pushes you to continue crawling. Suddenly, a loud creak sings. The wooden lid you had stumbled across was weak and had not been properly put on top of the rest of the crate.

Ocdn dn adiz, jkzi ocdn jiz viy cdyz dindyz do.

The crowbar felt heavy on your hands, still, you bring it over to the edge of the crate. You had put your weight on the other end of the tool successfully opening the lid all the way and taking out the few nails that had been hammered to it.

Your muddle mind could not care any longer as you make your way inside the crate. The drop was deeper than you had expected, the polystyrene peanuts giving a false sense of depth. You groan in pain, and it was here where you couldn’t stand it any longer. . . . . You cry. Fully cry.

It hurt so bad

Everything had hurt so, so bad.

Your tears sting your eyes as they made their way out, making their way down the sides of your face and irritating and small cuts it made its way over. Your breathing became shallow again, gasping greedily for air. Your body waited for something, anything to take away the excruciating pain you felt. Your bones felt brittle, they shook without, rhyme, or reason.

You cry, wail, and sob in pain.

Pwga ukqn ldkja kqp wjz ywhh pdai.

Taking your phone out, now littered with cracks, you try to call someone, anyone from Bonten. Acquaintances, receptionists, attendants, secretaries,bosses, but much like what the man from before experienced, your calls don’t connect due to the lack of signal.

With every failed call your hope diminished until it was no more.

Your phone notifies you of its low battery.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You no longer think of surviving . . . . . . . . . . . . . . You call them . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The call doesn’t connect . . . . . . . . Everything is out of your control now, there is nothing else you can do. . . . . . . . . . You continue to tap at your phone. . . . . . . . . . . . You need to call them.

[namedaftercommunists]

Nightclubs and Meetings [Kamado Junko]

Masterlist

(venue) https://www.google.com/search?q=parq+san+diego+venue&tbm=isch&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiPvb271_T1AhXK6WEKHb_oDeEQgowBegQIARAc&biw=1799&bih=800#imgrc=sDedfFdETQU2CM

-------------------

The night was young, men and women filled the streets as they went in and out of bars, nightclubs, gambling circles, and many more, much like any other Friday evening. Bonten was no different, especially when the organization’s heads consisted of young, thrill-seeking, and without a doubt, good-looking men. Roppongi had never looked better.

‘Technically, I’m surrounded by several irresistible men and women. Needless to say, I am living the dream. A lot of people would kill to be in my place.’ A small smug look shows on my face briefly before I mask my expression to show that of professionalism. Regardless of the setting, tonight being a nightclub, I mustn't forget that I am still on duty.

“Kamado-san,” Upon hearing my name, I tilt my upper body lower to come face to face with one of my seated bosses -Haitani Rindou- bringing a glass of Hennesy to his lips and resting his left hand on top of the thigh of a hired dancer in the club. “How can I help you, Haitani-san?” I voice out.

“About the driver, how is she doing?” He asks, before setting down his glass to the hands of the woman beside him. His voice though monotone as ever held a sliver of interest and concern regarding the brought-up matter. 'I'm so good at the job that I can even read Rindou-san now.' The thought enters my brain, happy with the little accomplishment I had just gained from being able to notice such a small detail.

“Yukioto-san?” I ask, wanting full confirmation as to who he could be referring to. He gives me a nod in return, leaning down to grab a half-empty bottle of liquor atop the low table in front of him. “Well, according to her assigned doctor, most of her injuries consisted mostly of deep lacerations and cuts -save for her left leg and arm- which had been twisted. Dr. Terado-san said that the vehicle Yukioto-san was driving saved her from dying on impact -it was armored and strengthened to a tee- was one of the best in our possession. He said that it was the amount of blood that she lost that was concerning, that along with the fact that–”.

“Attendant, he only asked how she was doing, not a whole doctor’s report” My words - caught in my throat- as I got cut off by one of my more intimidating bosses, Sanzu Haruchiyo. I mutter an apology at this, before lowering my eyes down to the tips of my heels to hide from Boss Sanzu’s glaring. “Don’t mind him Kamado-san, he’s just being pissy tonight” a more forgiving voice chimes in, belonging to that of one of my other bosses, Haitani Ran, a teasing smirk adorning his face whilst he makes eye contact with Sanzu-san.

“You’d think snorting a line of cocaine off a hot woman’s chest would improve his mood a bit” A light voice joins the conversation, belonging from that of Kokonoi Hajime as he sets down a dancer to sit on his lap whilst lowering a boulevardier cocktail on top of his table. His quip earned himself an irritated, and borderline murderous, growl from the pink-ette and I swear that the action made a few of my arm hairs stand with alert. 'Even when he has a coked-out woman sprawled on his person, Boss Sanzu never fails to intimidate me' I internally sigh.

Kokonoi-san doesn't seem to be too bothered though, as he shrugs off the action and shares a light-hearted laugh with the woman entertaining him before adjusting his seating and signaling for me to continue where I left off. Though it is a bit hard to make out features considering the room is only lit with moody purple, pink and blue lighting. It's quite the feat that Sanzu-san can fully convey his annoyance with this minimal light source. 'As expected of Boss. Bonten's number 2 truly is above his game.'

“The doctor said they were able to stabilize her condition and were able to transfer blood in her system. He said that she would be unconscious for at least two more months before she would wake up due to her head trauma and that she would need to attend physical therapy for her leg and arm -both of which had been put in a cast to have her bones heal correctly-. When she wakes up, she will most likely have PTSD from this experience.” I finish, making sure to cut my words down to avoid irritating Boss Sanzu further.

"Carlota hasn't been able to sleep as of late because of that. She's been worried sick for both me and Yukioto’s safety since that day, but it’s good that both she and the driver are in good hands now." Mochizuki Kanji, loyal and level-headed as ever, sets down his nonalcoholic drink whilst avoiding eye contact with any of the dancers. 'It's hard to believe that he was ever a loose cannon back then. Granted I was never there to witness the before to compare to the after, but I trust whatever Mrs. Mochizuki says.' I stew at the thought a bit more.

A series of laughter reel me from my thoughts as the Haitani Brothers, and surprisingly Akashi Takeomi teases Mr. Mochizuki for his 'softness' and how he's 'missing out on the women'. Although their words were deplorable if ever heard from another party, it was not in any seriousness for those who know of the wedded Mochizuki's and the group. Mrs. Mochizuki was a respected individual in the circle, and if ever Mr. Mochizuki was to do something that alluded to infidelity, he would surely be beaten and ridiculed for it.

'Not that he ever would, he and Carlota-san are relationship goals at this point.' The thought brings a small smile to my face, happy knowing that my friend -technically boss- is happy with her marriage.

“金色的天空 (Jīnsè de tiānkōng) has made an alliance with Shimada Mihara.” . . . . . .

The change in atmosphere was apparent once Kakucho-san revealed this piece of information. The room felt suffocating, everything had turned gritty and both the mood lighting and club music had turned nauseating. ‘I feel like throwing up.’ Though I’m sure my panic was apparent and visible to the others inside the room, the others, more specifically the Bonten Executives, had mastered the art of having a poker face. ‘Though the fact that they stopped talking and laughing altogether is enough to tell that this is dire news’ I thought before looking down to the tips of my heels once again to keep the leftover pasta I had for dinner.

This is no joke. Jīnsè, they’re a Chinese organized crime group, much like Bonten. ‘But that doesn’t make sense, I thought they disbanded? Pan Guang died of old age, and he didn’t have anyone of his blood to pass the title of leader to. Unless they gave the title to someone else? But loyalty doesn’t come that easy. Even if that were the case, how come we’ve only heard of them now after 4 years of silence?! And an alliance with Shimada Mihara?!” My thoughts are cut off once again, this time, by the younger Haitani Executive

“That explains why all the corpses I found were Chinese.” He brings the bottle of Hennessy to his lips before setting it down with an exhale. Otani Nao, his secretary, and my subordinate, upon realizing the heaviness of the topic of conversation, ushers the dancers and women out of the room to give the higher-ups their much-needed privacy. Though the club and the rest of Roppongi were under the territory of Bonten, it didn’t hurt to be precautious and to always assume the worst, especially with this line of work.

‘This conversation may be why the other secretaries and I were brought here with our respective Heads.’ With this, I bring out my clipboard and pen to document the meeting, a few others go over to their bags, purses, and suitcases to bring out files and clipboards of their own, no doubt they were tasked to carry them before coming here.

"Which ones?" Akashi-san asks the younger executive. "The ones that crashed into Carlota and the driver, they were both Chinese. I didn't think much of it at first because the man Yukioto-san shot back in the warehouse wasn't, but it turns out he was Congressman Sankyu Hinato, and the little piggy here has-had debt with Jīnsè." Rindou-san continues, before taking hold of a file off Otani-san and passing it off to his brother and the others.

A whistle of faux amazement leaves Kokoni-san, his eyes looking over at the amount of debt the man accumulated before his passing. "Illegal gambling, betting on illegal street racers, betting on illegal underground fighters, illegal horse betting, investing in shitty crypto, the list goes on and on. You'd think after all this shit luck he'd start to doubt himself with all these crazy 'business' endeavors." He continues to scan the paper given before passing it off to the other executive.

"We didn't know it was Jīnsè at first. Two Chinese men weren't anything special, especially when Yokohama Chinatown was just roughly a few blocks away from where Carlota and Yukioto got shit on. Both Rin and I just assumed that those f*cks had debt of their own and were just used as feeders. We were right of course but one of our private detectives found out that all three of them owe money to the same gang. Jīnsè ain't dead apparently." Sanzu-san starts, taking a few files off from his assistant and passing them off to everyone else much like what Rindou-san did.

Having now known as to who exactly tried to murder his wife, Mr. Mochizuki's grip on the paper tightens, leaving giant creases and folds of the file. His expression was unreadable from where I stood, opting to tilt his head down to face the floor, but from what I know of the Executive, it wasn't much of a stretch to say that he was pissed beyond belief. From what I remember he was only ever like that during fights, or whenever it was a cause for concern regarding Mrs. Mochizuki. This situation falls into the latter category.

"They're also why Noda Tadao, Ginza Ichibun's owner, complained about the prices of quality fish.'' Sanzu-san continues, eyeing Haitani Ran and he goes over the printed text on the paper.

"They hold power over the fisheries, fishermen, and even the fish market. They're selling the product for higher than it actually is to keep more of the profit." The older Haitani continues reading before sighing, laying the file on top of his lap, and angles his face up to face the ceiling out of frustration.

"They're also embarking on international drug trading. For lower prices than ours too, it won't be long before our services and products get overshadowed by theirs." Kakucho-san adds, earning a *tsk* from both Akashi-san and Sanzu-san.

"They seem weaker" . . . . . . . . .

The room is engulfed in silence, everyone, including the secretaries and I, pause from our work to give our fullest attention to the current speaker.

Mikey-san.

Bonten's Head and King.

"They have fewer numbers than before, they don't have half of what they used to have back then under Pan Guang" He continues, looking over the few files passed around the executives and slowly flipping over every one of them, fully taking his time and going through the information gathered.

"When did they ally with Shimada?" He asks.

"Our sources say they allied only a few weeks ago, back on 16th of October," Kakucho-san answers, giving his full attention to Mikey much like the rest of us.

"So it's shaky at best…… Takeomi, have you reached out to the other gangs yet?" Mikey asks, looking over to the raven-ette. The senior Haitani raises his hand at this, catching the attention of the head. "If I may, I went ahead and did that for us only a few days ago. I wasn't able to give attention to it nor give a report about it though due to the recent events that had just transpired." Ran then motions over to his secretary before taking a file from her and passing it over to the seated platinum blonde.

"Kemuri Kawasaki, Midori Yamato, Hofu Sagamihara and Odayaka Machida. All mentioned gangs from before, I talked to them a few days prior - some personally, others over the phone- and was able to set up a meet-up with all 4, both the head and their most trusted subordinates will be attending. We've discussed a time and place, the meeting had been set to take place in -Kashiwa Dining Bar LOTUS- in Kashiwa-Chiba, on December 12, 9:22 pm." He continues.

'Chiba, it's neither our territory nor theirs. If anything, we're the ones who are closest to the place in question. Everything might turn out well.' I thought before standing in attention once my name had been called.

"What's my schedule for that day?" Mikey-san asks, looking over to me for answers. With this, I quickly take out my work smartphone along with my portable calendar to check. "You're free during the whole day of December 12, Boss." I start -scrolling through both my physical and digital calendars.

"But you do have a meeting with Dr. Matsunaga Kiku for the mass production of crystal meth on December 10 -accompanying you will be Akashi-san. That and another one on December 17, where you have a meeting with Mrs. Suzuki Latanya for a business deal regarding the Adult clubs near the heart of Tokyo -accompanying you will be Kokonoi-san." I list out, checking over just in time to see the Boss nod his head in response.

"Haitani Ran, expect a call from me tomorrow afternoon, we'll talk more about the cross-gang meeting. Haitani Rindou and Kakucho, stay for more instructions. That will be all for tonight, meeting dismissed.."

[namedaftercommunists]

Sight and Smell [Rindou Haitani]

Masterlist

“It’s been two days since the car wreck. With how Carlota-san described her injuries, I’m sure by now that she’s lying in a ditch -dead- somewhere.” I mumbled out, my hand clutching the steering wheel despite it being in park, and staring off at nowhere in particular. Sanzu slams his palms on the hood of the car in frustration before letting out an exasperated groan.

“Where the fuck is she!” He yelled out before relocating his hand to grip the sides of his hips and focusing his gaze on the pavement as a means to regain composure. “I am losing my goddamn mind over this! We’ve been searching everywhere!” Seems as though it didn’t serve much help. “I’m getting pissed off!” Way to go, pointing out the obvious. “Why the f*ck do you even care this much? You never batted an eye to your other drivers before her” I voice out, ticked off by his attitude.

“Like you’re one to f*cking talk. How’s bi-weekly bar drinking with your little buddies?” He bit back, a condescending tone lathering his words. “Oh wait! Both your partners are busy, aren’t they? One is pussy whipped by the most basic b*itch there is, and the other is most probably having maggots feast on their f*cking intestines!” He hollered out.

Having had enough of his behavior I pressed on the horn, earning a bitter yell from the strawberry mullet. “Get the f*ck back in dipsh*t, I’ve had enough of your whining” A series of swears leave Sanzu before he makes his way back to the car and slams the door shut once inside. This coaxed an irked noise from me before backing off the parking space and driving off to our next search destination.

“Where at?” I ask, paying extra attention to the side mirrors once the road merges with the other. Sanzu takes out a small square of crumpled yellow from his suit pocket before reading out the next line of texts. “Says here that there’s a series of warehouses near a Gundam Factory” He mumbled out, his eyes squinting the tiniest amount more as he tried to properly make out the words with Takeomi’s god-awful handwriting. “Yokohama Shinko Warehouse, Shibuya Warehouse, Kawanishi Warehouse, Tsurumi Warehou– you get the f*cking point” I let out a hum with this before turning the car to a road that led down to them.

A brief silence filled the air before it was broken by a defeated exhale from the strawberry blonde. “At this point, we’d be bringing a rotting corpse back to the casino” he muttered out, his focus turning to the window of his car door, making it impossible to read whatever expression he wore. ‘Though I have a good guess as to what it might be’ I thought before overtaking a particularly slow car ahead of us.

“You seem quite fond of her” I voice out, briefly looking from the corner of my eye to gauge his reaction. “As if you guys aren't” A peeved breath leaves his person as he leaned his weight on the cushioned frame of his seat. “I admit that Ran and I enjoy her company, but that really isn’t much of a surprise is it, considering my brother’s personality? You, on the other hand, you’re a different case” I counter, taking note of how his pointer finger had begun lightly tapping on the arms rest of his chair. ‘That’s new’ I mused, wondering where he had gotten the habit from.

It took him a few moments to reply, but when he did his expression had been transparent, seemingly having nothing to hide from this. “She puts up with me, it’d be a pain to get a new one to drive me around. Besides, even Kokonoi pointed out that she was the best at her job, I don’t wanna have to settle for a B-tier driver.” his voice only a little over a murmur.

I hum in agreement before jokingly choking the car to a short pause. The action caused Sanzu, who had opted to not wear a seatbelt, to lightly hit the glove box from the momentum. It wasn’t long before I was given an earful of swears and threats from the scarred person, but his efforts were proven ineffective as I had simply laughed it off and continued driving like usual.

His murderous spiel had died down when I had pulled over in front of one of the warehouses, a tone of seriousness washes over the both of us as we eyed the building’s metal walls. A sigh leaves his lungs before he goes over to step out of the car, continuing to eye down the chipping paint of the sad structure. “First of many,” he says before shutting his door and waiting for me outside. “Let’s hope it’s the last '' I murmured before stepping out as well.

—---------------------

It was in fact not the last. Sanzu and I had gone around the whole pier, warehouse after warehouse, corner to corner trying to find at least the smallest sign of an oddity to no avail. Both he and I had grown more and more irritated with every search, and with it was a growing dread and hopelessness with every failure.

“Sankyu Warehouses, last ones” I voice out with a tired sigh, pulling over in front of the series of storerooms near the waters. Sanzu -wanting to get over it already- had wasted no time in exiting the vehicle, making his way over to the metal doors, I do the same, though with more poise than he had.

It didn’t take much before I caught up with him, but instead of walking around and checking the perimeter as we had before, he stood still with his back facing me. “Sanzu, what’s wr—” “Shh!” he cut me off, his head turned down and tilted to the side as if trying to focus on something.

I turn my head to look around the interior expecting the worst. ‘There aren’t enemies aro-’ It was only then did I catch a whiff of something that smelled absolutely awful, in response I tilt my head down and bring the scruff of my button-up shirt over my nose in a pathetic attempt to filter the revolting odor.

“What the hell is that sm-” “Shut the f*ck up” he scolded, raising a hand in my direction trying to fully convey how crucial it is that I keep quiet. A moment of silence fills the building, the only white noise being the distant crashing of waves coming into contact with the concrete pier. ‘What exactly are you listening f-’ My thoughts get cut off once again when I finally hear it.

It was a constant faint tapping, echoing throughout the stockroom. At first, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, warehouses tend to wither down with its constant abuse from the weather, it could very much just be a hole in the roof -letting rain drip inside the building.

But it had been sunny all week— and the tapping held a certain rhythm to it.

The same rhythm Sanzu held when he tapped on the arm of his seat.

The man in question -without prior notice- runs further in, having pinpointed as to where exactly the noise had come from. He was fast, faster than me almost. Not only that, my only way of navigation was to follow behind him, seeing as I had no idea where exactly the rapping originated. Sanzu weaved in and out of isles, even jumping over one when he deemed it too much of a waste to run around it, and with no other choice, I followed after him.

“F*cking hell” He mutters under his breath, his pace faltering for a few seconds before he continues to run, turning heavily to another corner. I slowed down and stopped, turning to look at what exactly had caught him off guard as he continued to run off.

In front of me, lying on the ground was a shirtless body, over a day or two old considering its smell and its condition. Dead middle in its forehead was a bullet hole, though it seemed as though that the shot was only as a precaution seeing as its chest had a few more bullets embedded in it. Dried blood surrounded its perimeter whilst blowflies littered the surface of the body “I guess this explains the smell” I voiced out loud before bringing the collar of my shirt back up and swatting the few more daring flies away from my person. “Rindou!” I hear Sanzu yell out.

((K–fv- —w qg– –o t–k a- zw–))

It didn’t take me long to get to where he was at, having pinpointed his location due to his yelling. In front of him was a sizable wooden crate, proportional in dimensions much like its surrounding counterparts. Unlike the others though, this one, in particular, had its top lid partially open, and inside it was the source of the tapping. “Sanzu what are we ev–” “No time, just help me up!” I got cut off again, but at this point, I didn’t have enough energy to be annoyed by it.

I let out a sigh, going over to the neighboring crate before bending my knees and bringing my hands together to form a step. With a small run-up, he takes foot on the makeshift step and grips both hands on the surface of the wood before pulling himself up. Once fully situated up the top, he lies down and brings down a hand for me to reach up.

Following his lead -and curious as to what exactly he is adamant about- I take his offer, doing a small run-up just as he had, before stepping up the surface of the wood and latching onto his hand, bringing me up with him.

((S– l—w'k sfglzwj))

‘There’s dried blood up here.’ I thought, looking over to a skidded trail of blood leading to the crate of interest ‘and it smells awful’. I feel a pat on the back of my shoulder from Sanzu as he walks over to one side of the -barely open- wooden lid and motions me to do the same. With no room to complain, I do as I was told and we both move the heavy plate and throw it to the aisle.

. . . . . . . . .

“Holy shit”

Inside was Yukioto, lying on top a sea of packing peanuts bathed in dried and -a very concerning shade of- dark blood. Her left leg twisted, bloodied, and serrated, was only seemingly held together by her equally torn dress shirt. Her left arm was in no better condition, but much like her leg, a second shirt -most likely belonging to the corpse before- had been wrapped around it in order to hold it together and stop blood flow.

Her whole body, most prominently her top half, had every surface bruised with hues of purples and blacks, so much so that you could barely make out the centipede tattoo she has inked on her skin. The left side of her torso, along with her head, had been bleeding heavily, the right side of her neck having scratches on them. Her face was pale, her lips chapped, dark bags tinted the lower half of her eyes, her hair was matted and her eyes were closed.

The sight horrified both Sanzu and I.

With the body that greeted us, it wasn’t so much as a stretch to say that she was dead, that we were too late in finding her despite her best efforts to stay alive. Even when I had looked away, the image was burned into the back of my skull, prominent with no sign of going anytime soon.

That was until the tapping went off again.

I look back over inside the crate and bared witness as her right arm -her pointer finger, shaky as it was- continued to tap at the screen of her dead smartphone. Against all odds, Yukioto Ei lives another day.

A laugh escapes Sanzu. He smiled at the absurdity of the situation, his eyes showing relief deep in the pools of skepticism. It seemed as though I wasn't the only one who thought of this to be impossible. I laugh along with him. With no time to waste, Sanzu jumps down to the pile of packing peanuts, making sure to not step on anything connected to the seemingly immortal being.

Still not over the inconceivable situation, he laughs once more before looking down on the woman lying motionlessly save for the tapping. "Can you believe this Rin? Chick was already half dead when the accident happened, two days pass by, and even with death himself dragging her in, she's still clinging and clawing on the sides of death's death door." He says, snickering as he eyes the moving finger. "Stubborn b*tch" he continues before looping his arms on her person and carrying her bridal style.

"Wouldn't be the driver she is if she wasn't" A chuckle of my own leaves me before I straighten myself up and look around the area. "Get us something to climb out, Rin" "No sh*t. That's what I'm doing, dickhead." I reply, looking down on the dried blood and following after it. 'Surely she used something to climb up with. As immortal as she may be, she couldn't have just climbed up a random tall *ss crate with all her injuries'

Sure enough, at the end row of dried-bloodied crates was a step ladder, equally stained with blood. 'Convenient, but not unlikely for a warehouse' I thought, before raising the step ladder up all the way and bringing it back to the two waiting persons.

((Zw jweafvk ew gx qgm))

Moving the heavy thing was difficult, not to mention annoying as its feet scraped on the hardwood constantly. Though this was the case, I put up with it seeing as it was of great importance, especially when the life of an incredible Bonten asset is on the line.

I reach the wooden box they were inside in and I couldn't be happier, even despite the still foul smell lingering around the area. "Dickhead, heads up I--" my voice gets caught on my throat as I drink in and process the situation I had gotten myself into.

Inside the crate were Sanzu and Yukioto, only Yukioto was awake now, and in her hand was a gun, the gun -pointed straight at Sanzu's head.

Against my better judgment, I call out to her. "Yukioto-san" No response by either of them, seemingly frozen in time save for their breaths. "Yukioto-san!" I call once more, louder than the last- my right hand now grabbing hold of the body of my handgun.

"YUKIOTO!" The gun on her hand falls to the floor of packing peanuts and she loses consciousness once more.

A silence fell between the both of us, shaken by what just transpired.

. . . .

"What the f*ck was that?"

[namedaftercommunists]

Blood and Bruises [Mrs. Carlota Mochizuki]

Masterlist

“-and Nao-san, told me that Sir Rindou was getting jealous of Sir Ran’s new girl. She said that maybe it’s because Sir Ran is serious about this girl, and because of that she told me that he hasn’t been spending time with his brother like he used to!” Yukioto shares whilst still focusing on the road ahead. A gasp escapes me as she continues to tell me about the situation that she heard from Haitani Rindou’s secretary.

“Ei-chan, this is big news! You probably didn’t know because you’re still fairly new but Haitani Ran had always been known as a big womanizer!” It was her turn to gasp now. “Really?! I always thought that it was just his personality” I shake my head at this. “NOPE! I should know, I met him when he was still back in Roppongi. Women flocked to him left and right and he broke their hearts front, back, and center.” I voice out, a disapproving pout on my face. “I didn’t really think of it that way. I thought that—------”

-------

A crash.

It all happened so fast, at the time I didn’t even know what hit us, the situation only coming to clarity once I heard the most guttural and agonizing cry I had ever heard in my lifetime.

The lighthearted atmosphere was no more, instead, it had turned dire and grave. The smell of lime-scented car freshener was replaced with the metallic and iron stench of blood, suffocating and gut-turning. Gone was the initial happiness that had been brewed between two friends.

Shards of glass had been thrown about, every flat surface inside the car had pieces and fragments of glass on top of them, multiple of them had pierced the left side of my body and face. Blood had streamed down the right side of my head, it had most likely come into contact with the passenger door when the other vehicle crashed into the driver’s seat.

The driver's seat.

I turned my head to the left, albeit slowly due to the pain and it was only then did my brain begin to fully register noise. A series of cries, filled with excruciating pain, had left Yukioto’s being and it wasn’t for dramatics. Her left leg had been mangled, it had been partially crushed from the impact and it had been deeply cut from the car door when it had bent inside. Her leg and the left side of her head were bleeding profusely. Her left arm bruised purple and black from the impact, tiny cuts littering it, it was safe to say that her reaction was warranted.

Yukioto held the steering wheel with white knuckles as she continued to scream and cry in pain. Both car alarms had been blaring in full volume, horns from surrounding cars roared to life, and muttering from the civilians outside could be faintly heard. Despite all this, it did not dull nor drown the familiar click of a gun.

A shot fired, the bullet hitting the metal of my car seat. With this instinct taking control over me, I ducked in order to hide from fire, both my hands hurriedly opening the glove box and feeling the familiar grip of a Glock 23. Another shot fired, hitting the passenger door where my head had just been resting on. The bullet had come from the left side of the auto, the shooter was most likely the driver of the other car, or was another individual who was seated on the passenger seat.

‘Come on, shoot one more time. Tell me where you are.’ My hand trembled, as did my shoulders. It didn’t take a genius to know that fear had consumed me, though that was the case, that very same fear had been overpowered with the need to survive. Another shot fired, the bullet had hit the glass of my door, had they been in the driver's seat they would’ve aimed for my shoulder. The shooter was a passenger.

Time always seemed to slow down when your life was on the line. Adrenaline overtook the aching pain as I took off the safety of my gun, slid the barrel up, pointed the gun to the passenger side of the other car, and shot. Once. Twice. Thrice. Four Times.

My eyes gain focus. Seated on the passenger seat of the other car was a corpse, two bullets lodged in the chest and one on the side of its head. Next to it, seated on the driver’s seat was another one, its head bashed and lodged in the glass of the car, dead on impact. During this, Yukioto’s shrieking had mellowed down to tears and sobbing, focusing on regaining her senses and trying to assess the situation.

“Did any of the bullets land on you, Carlota-san?” She asks, slightly tilting to the side, her head had been leaned on the bottom grip of the wheel while she gauged the severity of my injuries. “No” I reply, trying to stabilize my breathing as I had noticed I had been hyperventilating. “That’s good” A small smile shows on her pale and trembling lips, the simple action enough to have tears continue streaming down her face.

“Carlota-san, can you unbuckle my seat belt for me please?” She asks, unable to reach it without needing to twist her body and possibly putting herself in more pain than she already is in. I nod in compliance before slowly reaching out to her seat in order to click the seat buckle. My arm strained and bled more from the action, a yelp of pain leaving me before I moved it closer in order to remedy the ache.

The reaction did not escape Yukioto’s watchful gaze as she raked her eyes to my arm and my bleeding head. “Carlota-san, you have to get out of here” I shook my head in disagreement “And leave you here? In this condition? No.” She takes issue in this, her brows scrunching in disapproval.

“Mrs. Mochizuki, please do whatever it takes to get back to the casino. Your husband is waiting for your return” Her voice had turned deeper, more demanding, her tone not leaving any room for protests. This stuns me into silence, taken aback by the change.

Mrs. Mochizuki, that’s right, if anything the people who crashed into us were most likely here to get rid of me, Kanji’s wife. Kanji lived a dangerous way of life, and I had known of that way before I had accepted to marry him, I had accepted that there would be risks and dangers when I had chosen this life with him.

But Yukioto hadn’t. She was just a driver and she had been dragged into this situation all because I was married to the love of my life. Her leg had been mutilated, her skin bathed in red as it was littered with shallow and deep cuts alike, her body bruised and tinted purple, all because she drove around Kanji’s wife. Me.

Tears fell down my face at this realization. Is this really all I can do? There’s no possible way to help Yukioto. She was too tall, too heavy for me to carry out successfully. The only exit was the passenger seat, moving her would cause her too much pain. I can’t call the ambulance either, this situation was gang-related, they’d take her away, lock her up for questioning and sentence her to jail. Is this really it? Is my only option really just running away? Alone? Leaving Yukioto to die?

A cold hand held mine and this took me out of my thoughts. A bittersweet smile showed on Yukioto’s face as she held on tighter to my hand as if assuring me that it was okay, it was okay to let her die. This prompted more tears to fall down from my face. “You can’t do this to me Yukioto-san! I don’t want you to die!” I replaced the hand she held with a gun on my other. “You can’t die! You have to come back, okay?! Promise me you’ll come back!”

A somber mood envelops her features as she holds eye contact. “I’ll try Carlota-san” I wipe my tears with a bruised arm before leaving a kiss on her forehead. “Do your best Ei-chan”

—------------------------------

I ran. I don’t know for how long, but I had ran far. Far away from the car wreck, far away from the bloodied passenger seat, far away from Yukioto, and far away from the situation, I had caused. My name is Mrs. Carlota Diwa Mochizuki, and it was my name that would take my friend’s life away. But Yukioto said she’d try, she said that she’d try her very best to stay alive. I trust her, she'll live for sure!

But she didn’t promise.

My feet were bruised from the heel down as I ran farther and farther. The strap of my heels burned the skin of my ankle, and my legs ached with its use. Stop complaining Carlota! Imagine how Yukioto feels! This is nothing compared to her injuries! Keep running, you can’t let Yukioto’s sacrifice be in vain!

My legs trembled and it wasn’t long before my knees met pavement. I couldn’t run any longer, the injuries were becoming too much to bear. The adrenaline had slowly dulled out, my body had lost too much blood, my muscles ache in pain and overuse. I couldn't run anymore. I failed Yukioto.

“Mrs. Mochizuki?” A familiar voice calls out. I look up to see Otani Nao, Haitani Rindou’s secretary. “MRS. MOCHIZUKI!” The pastries she held in her arms dropped in surprise before she hastily made her way over to me. Her hands held my shoulders before her eyes inspected my body and the graveness of my injuries. “We have to get you back to the Casino! Hurry along, my car’s not too far from here” she held onto my person before leaning my weight to hers, relieving me of its burden.

I couldn’t help but cry at the turn of events. God was watching over me, and he made sure I went back into the arms of my lover by guiding not only me but Nao as well. Nao had led me to a parking space and pointed to her vehicle, reassuring me that I would be able to get back to the casino safely. I nod indebted to her kindness before she opens the car and seats me in the back, lying me down to rest my bruised body. She runs and makes her way to the driver's seat before turning on the ignition and driving me over to the Casino, where I would be treated for my injuries and where my husband currently is.

Please God above, do me this service, please watch over Yukioto Ei.