“Motherfucker! Tell me why you were in MY territory!"

Each venom-soaked word was growled out through grit teeth, and punctuated by the horribly discordant sound of flesh striking another person's body. Each punch subtly squelched upon impact, with the blood of the victim slicking the assailant's torn up knuckles with every jab. The noise setting Ayame's teeth on edge was the least of her concerns, considering she was said victim being beaten to a pulp.

Ayame opted to say nothing in reply to the fuming demand, and wordlessly spit a mouthful of blood onto said assailant's pure white shoe. A maddening glare crawled across her face, almost in slow motion.

“Bastard...these shoes are worth more than your entire life, you know that!?”

Ayame sighed softly through her nose. She'd had her fill of being placed under luxury items for one day.

Stuck in a dim, dingy, empty room, Ayame could hardly believe the situation she'd landed herself in. The woman currently wailing on her - a red-haired girl, with a seemingly unquenchable appetite for violence - began to pace around the chair Ayame was strapped to, like a hyena skulking around its next meal. If the pain hadn't been getting a little much, Ayame would have found the entire thing incredibly amusing.

It took a lot to scare her, these days. In a way, she was glad for the self-inflicted clemency.

“Answer my fucking question!” the young woman barked. Ayame remained as silent as ever, and was met with a slap to the face for her troubles. “FUCK! I hate you Tokugawa bitches! You're so fuckin' annoying!”

Ugh, this is such a pain... Ayame thought to herself. How the hell am I gonna get out of this one?

With a sudden unhinged laugh, the red-haired girl took another swing - this time, one to the gut. That hit was her best one yet, and the impact caused Ayame to lurch forward against her restraints in pain, hissing through clenched teeth.

The girl barked out a spiteful laugh. Ayame refused to give her the satisfaction of looking her in the eye, and continued to stare down at her shadow beneath the swinging lightbulb as she remained hunched over on the chair.

I can't even remember the last time someone legitimately landed a punch on me...

It was true. Actually managing to hurt Ayame in a fight that actually held some honour would have been impressive; it was no secret that Ayame was an unstoppable force of nature, blessed with natural instincts that could have earned her quite the career in prizefighting.

When the fight was less than fair, however, it was anyone's game...and Ayame would say that being tightly fastened to a chair certainly qualified as “less than fair.”

And to think, I was ordered to stay at home for a quiet night in tonight. How in the hell did it come to this...?

Ah, that's right.

As trouble in the Tokugawa house often started - it all began with Owner.

The calmest part of the day was certainly the beginning of the night, which was returning to the Tokugawa mansion after the brief stint at the ritzy restaurant. A smooth drive accompanied by soft music filling the expensive car was always a luxury; and it also meant Ayame could steal a couple of glances at Chinami in the car's mirror.

“We've arrived,” Chinami announced quietly. Owner didn't say a word as she stepped out of her side of the car, and closed the door behind her. Ayame closed her eyes in exasperation.

“Um...thanks. For, uh. For driving.”

Chinami blinked in surprise, and Ayame cursed her awkwardness. Thankfully, Chinami seemed touched.

“...Of course. Have a good day, Ayame.”

My name sounds so pretty when she says it, Ayame thought, before quietly getting out of the car, too.

After that moment had unfortunately come to an end, Chinami drove off to ferry more mobsters around the city. Ayame wished that she knew where she was going, but was also determined to squash down that longing feeling into the very pit of her stomach.

“Shall we?”

The sound of Owner's pretty voice violated Ayame's serene mental bubble. Owner didn't wait for a reply before threading her arm through Ayame's own.

The two women re-entered the mansion - with Owner humming happily as the two of them walked through the the mansion's halls. Ayame rolled her eyes as Owner continued to cozy up to her as they moved along.

“Let go already,” Ayame demanded, attemping to shake her arm out of Owner's grip. “You're being so clingy.”

Owner slowed to a stop, and as Ayame turned her head to see why, the fox seized the opportunity; as she so often did.

“But I'm desperate to feel your warmth, Ayame,” Owner whispered needily into Ayame's ear; with her breath hitching against her girlish tone, and her lips brushing hotly against the shell of it with every word she spoke. “Aah, I need you so bad that I can't stand it...”

The sensation of such intensely whispered words carressing her skin caused Ayame's back to involuntarily stiffen, as well as her face to flush with a flash of searing red.

She stared wide-eyed and slack-jawed at Owner, cycling through a carousel of emotions as she stood frozen on the spot: disgust. Shock. Anger. Giddiness. Confusion. Lust? No. Disgust once again.

“Wha-what the fuck?! Quit it!”

The lustful look in Owner's eyes melted into the signature sneer that she typically wore.

“Oh, my. With how easily wound up you are, I'd think you were a virgin, Ayame-chan. Have you never been touched by a woman...?”

And with that, Owner unhooked herself from Ayame's arm; and began to sprint down the hallowed halls of the Tokugawa mansion with an impish giggle.

Rolling up her sleeves with a scowl so intense it would make even the most seasoned of yakuza avert their eyes, Ayame began to give chase behind Owner with loud, thumping footsteps in hot pursuit. She hadn't decided just what she'd do when she finally caught the troublemaking woman in her claws; but any sense of victory over Owner would be incredibly sweet.

“Get back here, you fucker!”

“Oh, Ayame-chan! Catch me! Catch me if you can! Ahaha!”

Just as Owner was about to slip around a corner and out of sight, she screeched to a halt; with her demeanour shifting to one of a serious professionalism so quickly that it made Ayame wonder if she had hallucinated half of the things that just happened.

“Xiuying. Ayame. Stop acting like teenagers.”

Ayame found herself slowing to a reluctant stop, too. Only one person ever dared to call Owner by her real name.

A dark, commanding figure stepped out from behind said corner. 

Before them now stood Akira Tokugawa – the head of the Tokugawa clan, and mother to Ayame and Teru.

Akira was a woman who was respected and feared in equal measure, and not without good reason. She would go to extreme measures to make sure that any money people had borrowed from her family was repaid in full; alongside a crushing mountain of interest to tighten the noose around the necks of their so-called clients. One of the only things she considered Teru to be good at was blackmail, and that was about where her expectations for her other daughter stopped. For Ayame, the expectations were much higher, which Ayame often felt boasted a strange sense of personal pride.

Accompanying her extortion tactics, there had been rumblings for some time that Akira had some big dirt on a powerful politician. While Ayame believed that they were little more than rumours, the fact that they were so actively believed by the underworld had certainly helped to build up Akira's reputation - as well as the Tokugawa clan's - as a dangerous force to be feared.

The imposing woman stood before Ayame had short, choppy dark hair; a razor-sharp gaze written in her ruby red eyes; and a sleek, black designer jacket that hung off of both shoulders. Age had done little to dull her handsome features; if anything, she only looked better as the years crept onward. Her voice was low and throaty - husky from years of heavy smoking and yelling at subordinates - but it was a voice that commanded respect and attention. Even the way she stood was deeply intimidating.

All very necessary qualities in a good mother.

“…Boss,” Ayame greeted curtly, and bowed her head low. “I’m deeply sorry for my behaviour.”

No I'm not, Ayame thought privately. Akira folded her arms across her dark shirt, sighing heavily as she looked Ayame up and down. Owner stood beside her with that same infuriating grin that Ayame had grown to loathe.

“Save your breath, Ayame. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“I know,” Ayame spoke softly, wincing at the ugly feeling of something crawling along her skin as the judgmental eyes of superiors burned into her. “Chairwoman Sugimoto, right?”

Akira shook her head.

“No. Well...not just Chairwoman Sugimoto.”

Ayame raised an eyebrow. The gravity of what her mother was saying began to sink in.

“Wait, what…?”

It was hard to believe, but...something else had happened.

“…I’ll explain in my office,” Akira replied brusquely as she turned on her heel. “You've got three minutes to attend.”

And with that, Akira was out of sight, leaving naught but a trail of cigar smoke hanging in the air. Owner was also long gone, having scurried behind Akira's every move, leaving Ayame standing alone in the hallway.

Sighing wearily, the lone Tokugawa placed her hands on her hips in confusion.

Something else...? What the hell is goin’ on here…?

Unsure of what to expect from Akira at any given time, the Tokugawa twins were rarely surprised or daunted by their aloof mother. Their family was fucked up, unusual, unemotional and a little ragged at the edges; so in that way, maybe they really were a totally normal family, after all.

A nervousness gripped her as she arrived at the large set of doors that was emblazoned with their family's crest. Raising her hand cautiously, Ayame finally found the strength within herself to knock on the door three times.

“Enter,” Akira announced.

With a squeak of the door’s handle, Ayame made her way into the room ahead of her with a sense of familiar trepidation.

“Pardon the intrusion,” she offered up, obligated.

Akira nodded her head.

“Have a seat,” she said, half-heartedly.

Ayame entered the lavish-looking office that belonged to her mother, and immediately found her senses assaulted by the scents of smoke and fine alcohol that hung around her like a fog. She shook her head as the door clicked closed behind her.

Ayame looked around her mother’s office; a place she should be so familiar with, and yet, the amount of frivolous luxury that was packed into one room somehow managed to surprise her more every time she entered.

Similarly to the rest of the mansion, the walls were decorated a deep red that screamed opulence; trimmed with gold at the edges for an added touch of wealth. There were rare antique pieces made of gold and silver dotted around, as well as large oil paintings of previous Tokugawa matriarchs in their prime hanging on the walls.

Despite the the gaudy luxuries and furniture, the ego was certainly the most expensive part of this room. Akira made no secret that she had an unwavering sense of pride being at the top of the food chain; this was clearly the room of someone who was not just viewed as a boss by those she led, but who unmistakably saw herself in that very same light.

Ayame tried not to let how pointless it all was get under her skin, but it always did.

Standing up from her chair, Akira walked over to the large windows behind her, and turned around to look out over the Tokugawa estate's grand courtyard. Taking another puff of her cigar, she exuded power as she stood with her back turned to her daughter. Ayame waited with baited breath, and could do no more than remain staring at her mother's back for what felt like an age.

“…First and foremost…” Akira finally began, tilting her head ever so slightly towards her shoulder as she looked out across the courtyard. “I want to hear about what happened last night.”

“Last night?” Ayame asked, blinking in surprise.

“I've been told that you were covered in blood, and that the only thing that managed to wake you up was a bucket of ice water,” Akira responded plainly. “That is unacceptable.”

Owner...! That fuckin' snitch!

“I didn’t need the bucket to wake up, mom. That was just the way Owner chose to ruin my morning--”

Akira took it upon herself to bulldoze the conversation by talking over Ayame before she could finish her sentence.

“The housekeepers will have a field day, scrubbing blood out of your carpet for the second time in a week. I've been told you have a penchant for maids, but if these are the lengths you go to for a peek at their uniforms...”

Hearing her mother bring up her dating history was already embarrassing enough for red cheeks; on top of that, Ayame felt like a scolded child for her actions. She bit her lip to repress the anger welling up inside of her, and Akira sighed.

Somehow, with that sigh, the mood came down a little, too.

“Did you kill her?”

“Who?”

“Who else? I’ve not heard hide nor hair of the Himekawa lieutenant I told you to go talk to. Surely she wouldn't be stupid enough to ignore a Tokugawa calling card.”

Ayame fought back a shiver of disgust at the horriffic memory being dredged up once more.

“...Yes,” Ayame finally answered. “She's dead.”

Akira’s eyes looked her daughter up and down with a deep disapproval.

“You better have done as I told you to. That punishment is there for a reason.”

“Are you asking if I chopped her up? Because of course I did,” Ayame responded sharply, patience finally beginning to wear thin. “Why do you think I was covered in so much blood? It was...disgusting.”

“Then don’t do it again.”

Ayame felt a sudden chill rush up her spine as Akira turned around with a fearsome glint in her eye.

This was more than a mother scolding her child – this was a warning.

“…I can only apologize, boss. I’m sorry.”

In front of others, Ayame would refer to her mother as nothing other than “boss”, and that was that. It had always been that way once she had gotten old enough to be useful to her. When it was just Ayame and her mother alone, Akira could be called mom a little easier, but that didn’t mean that the power dynamics were truly any different.

Akira exhaled her smoke in a draconian fashion before turning away from her daughter.

“I expect better of you, Ayame. Don't let my expectations down a second time.”

Ayame felt an unwanted sense of guilt rest on her shoulders, and bowed her head reluctantly.

“It won’t happen again.”

Akira simply scoffed.

“Didn’t you want to tell me something?” Ayame asked; hastily wanting to get off of this subject, and also feeling a sudden, renewed nervousness. “Something didn't happen to Teru, did it?”

Akira took a poignant pause, taking another puff of her cigar. Ayame felt her heartbeat pounding in her ears as the world seemed to slow down around her.

Shit...is it really Teru? Wouldn’t she be more upset if Teru died?

Actually, no, she probably wouldn’t be…

“Last night, alongside Fourth Chairwoman Sugimoto’s death,” Akira finally spoke, “Ryuko Mishima was shot dead in her office.”