“Ryuko Mishima? The head of the Mishima clan is dead as well?!”

Akira exhaled another breath of smoke, all but ignoring Ayame's exclamation.

“Unlike Fourth Chairwoman Sugimoto’s situation…it sounds like nobody actually knows who the culprit was for this atrocity.”

Thank God it’s not Teru, Ayame thought with relief; and immediately felt her worries dissipate into the atmosphere.

“Well, who stood to gain the most from it?” she asked bluntly. “Follow that trail and you’ll likely find the answer.”

“I assumed the same,” Akira eventually said. “However…both of Ryuko's daughters were absent from the mansion that night, and have supposed air-tight alibis to prove as much.”

“…I see.”

Ayame looked at her mother expectantly once again, and Akira turned to sit down in the large, leather chair behind the mahogany desk with a subtle squeak of the material.

“I don't believe the cause of death given for the chairwoman. Not for one instant.”

Ayame blinked in surprise, unused to hearing her mother speak in such a candid, personal way about yakuza affairs.

“Is that right?”

“You thought the same, didn't you?” Akira asked. Ayame paused.

She's sharp as ever, I see.

“Yes, I had the same thought, but...”

“I thought so. I refuse to believe the Chairwoman of the entire Sugimoto umbrella would be sloppy enough, even in her wildest sexual fantasies, to allow some no-name hostess to off her. Ryuko Mishima, on the other hand...”

The Mishima family...an unorthodox group that prided themselves on valuing tradition above all else, but did little to reinforce that claim.

Without even the faintest shred of compassion or humility, they were a group of ruthless, driven killers that had no problem undertaking some of the darkest crimes that humanity had to offer. With their speciality lying in some of the most inhumane, yet flashiest methods of torture and assassination known to the yakuza world, it was no secret – if someone wanted a murder to make a big splash, they got a Mishima on the job.

At first, Ayame assumed that years of sticking her fingers into one too many pies likely caught up with Ryuko, but...

“...The timing between these two deaths is way too close to be coincidental,” Ayame mumbled, finishing her thought out loud.

“That's right. I'm sure that once they heard the news about Sugimoto's death, a Mishima clan member decided to make a play for the title of matriarch with something they had been plotting for a while now. And just like that...another insignificant shadow was snuffed out.”

“So who do you think did it?” Ayame asked, raising an eyebrow. Akira exhaled another smoke-laden breath.

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “But what I do know is that it is very obvious who stands to gain the most from Ryuko’s death.”

Ayame and Akira both paused.

“...You're talking about the eldest Mishima daughter, aren't you?” Ayame eventually asked. Akira nodded.

“Mirai Mishima, yes. She has everything to gain from her mother’s passing. She's also the most ruthless of an already ruthless lot. I don't care about any of this air-tight alibi bullshit. I'd bet everything in this office that she killed her own mother.”

Ayame crossed one leg over the other as she sat on the sofa, and sparked up a cigarette from a near empty packet someone left on the table in front of her.

The women in the Mishima family were undoubtedly damaged. Maybe moreso than us here, Ayame thought to herself with a dull scowl.

Ayame knew very little about Mirai Mishima, other than that she was a woman that was as mysterious, dangerous and impressive as she was beautiful. Composed, competent, and thoroughly unhinged, she knew how to get a job done, and how to rule over her subordinates with an iron fist. On the other hand, Hazuki Mishima – the younger of the two Mishima sisters – was known only for her erratic behaviour and short temper above any actual accolades. Ayame pitied her.

Akira let out a quiet groan as she pinched the bridge of her nose, and Ayame took a drag of her cigarette. The smoke pooled upwards and filled the air of the room; creating a comfortable haze amidst the morning sunshine pouring in through the windows.

“So what now?” Ayame asked plainly.

“Our family has been invited to pay our respects at the funeral tomorrow,” Akira said, the corners of her mouth upturned into a bemused grin. “It was originally just going to be for Sugimoto, but the Mishima clan wasted no time in making sure it became a double feature to honour their beloved matriarch.”

“How do you think it’ll go?”

“Open casket for Ryuko,” Akira replied immediately, “and a closed one for the Chairwoman.”

Ayame narrowed her eyes.

“You’re that sure, huh?”

“Absolutely positive.”

That’s surprising, Ayame thought. Her mother was always confident, but this was a tone of certainty that even Ayame was taken aback by.

“Ayame.”

The sudden shift in her tone didn't compel Ayame to look up from the plush red carpets beneath her feet.

“…”

“The funeral will be tomorrow, so don’t get into any trouble tonight. You're to stay in, and that’s an order. If you’re missing from a funeral like this…”

“…I understand,” Ayame replied, and Akira let out a sigh of relief.

“Good. Then we’re done here. I’m not giving you any orders today.”

“None at all…? You’re sure?”

Akira frowned.

“You’re a liability at times like this.”

Ayame felt a keen sting lick at her emotions from those words. She pursed her lips, unsure of how to react as the seconds passed by.

“I don’t appreciate being told things like that.”

“Don’t talk back to me.”

Ayame buttoned her lip, and fast. Akira exhaled, as though she realized that her tone had been a little too pointed – even when she wanted to drive said point home.

“...Listen, Ayame. You are a liability. But you’re also an incredible asset. If you’d tone down your behaviour just a little, you could easily be the leader of the Tokugawa clan within the next few years.”

A gentle knock came at the door, stopping Ayame from speaking up further.

“…Who is it?” Akira asked gruffly.

“It’s me,” Owner replied with a sing-song tone that Ayame rolled her eyes at. “Teru’s just arrived home, boss. Should I invite her up?”

Ayame closed her eyes.

She's been gone all night...I wonder what the hell she's gotten up to this time.

“Just arrived home…” Akira groaned. “That girl…yes, send her up.”

“Right away, boss.”

Returning hastily with Teru at her side, Owner opened the door without showing her own face; and as Teru entered across the carpet, both Akira and Ayame looked aghast at the woman before them.

“…Your face.” Akira remarked with a deadpan tone to her voice. “What the hell have you done to your face…?”

Ayame stared blankly, finding it hard to take in the sudden change in her sister's appearance.

“Is that real, Teru? Please tell me it isn't real.”

Teru Tokugawa had returned – and with her, she had brought a newly-printed tattoo just beneath her right eye. It was a simple black number; in English cursive, the word “Endure.”

“Heh…cool, isn’t it? I didn't think it was possible for me to look even more handsome, but this does the trick just right.”

Teru pridefully puffed out her chest, seemingly boasting. Ayame wasn't sure whether or not she should laugh or sigh.

Her questionably placed pride wouldn't stick around for long, however. Teru's back straightened as she looked directly ahead, and saw the dark expression take over her mother’s face.

“You are dismissed, Xiuying,” Akira said calmly, and Owner closed the door behind her with little more than a scoff.

Teru shifted her weight from one foot to the other, unsure of where to look beneath her mother's scrutinizing glare. Ayame's gaze darted between her mother and her sister, a nervousness rearing its head from deep inside the pit of her stomach once again. A storm was surely brewing.

The three of them stood in silence for what felt like a lifetime, though it couldn't have been more than a few moments at best.

“…Good afternoon, mom,” Teru finally said, trying to hide her nerves behind a pleasant smile.

“You address me as boss,” Akira spat. “You are no daughter of mine.”

Teru blinked. Ayame, too, was surprised.

“Wh…what makes you say that, m – err, boss?”

Akira stood from her seat, and carefully balanced her cigar against one of the many authentic crystal ashtrays that were dotted around her office. The movement was slow and deliberate; one didn't have to be a shrink to see the cogs of anger furiously churning away in Akira's head.

“What a fucking embarrassment you are. Do you do anything besides throw the family funds away on women, booze, and useless shit? Your self-indulgence rivals even my own.”

Teru remained silent; somewhat sheepishly. Akira continued.

“Do you have any idea at all of what happened in the real world, our world, while you off drinking the night away? Or were you too busy with your head between some woman’s thighs?”

“M-Mom! Please...!”

Akira slammed her fist down on the table, and both twins visibly flinched. A pinch of panic overtook the both of them when Akira walked out from behind her table, closing the gap between herself and Teru with a face like thunder.

“You good-for-nothing brat! I wouldn't give a shit if you stayed out all night partying if you actually did some fucking work! What do you do in the first place?!”

Teru felt beads of sweat begin to form on her forehead. Ayame kept her mouth shut, though a nervous shake subtly ran its way along her spine. Neither of them dared to say a word as Akira continued on her tirade.

“Are you content sitting at the bottom of the food chain?! Because I have no reason to promote you, nor will I ever disgrace the family by doing such a thing! My own daughter! You fucking disappointment!”

Akira was furious.

Both Teru and Ayame felt the blood drain from their faces as Akira pulled out a gun from the holster strapped across her chest, and roughly pressed the barrel against Teru’s forehead.

“W-Wait, boss! Please…!” Teru exclaimed, holding up her hands as Akira clicked the barrel into place. “I – I had no idea you'd–”

Akira yanked Teru closer by the collar of her shirt.

“Shut the fuck up!”

Ayame couldn't stay silent for a moment longer, her heart beating wildly in her chest as she dared to defy the woman she feared the very most in this life.

“Mom, stop! Shit, don’t kill her!”

Akira paused, listening to Ayame’s sudden plea. Teru was visibly trying her best to hold it together and failing.

“Why shouldn’t I?” she asked bluntly. Ayame’s eyes widened. “Quickly!”

“Why…? Because she’s your fucking daughter, that’s why! Wouldn’t you regret it?!”

“Killing a waste of space like this? A constant leech on the family funds?! Ha! Don’t make me laugh!”

“Wait, I’m sorry!” Teru pleaded, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. “Why are you so angry?! Damn! I didn’t think you'd be this pissed off…!”

Though Akira's voice was loud, her aim was steady. Ayame hadn’t forgotten in the midst of their morning chat – no matter how deceptively relaxed it may have felt – that her mother’s mood could flip on a dime. Especially when it came to Teru. It seemed as though the mere sight of her drove Akira into a furious frenzy, more often than not.

“You do nothing!” Akira roared. “You achieve nothing! You are nothing! You insolent–”

“Mom! Please, stop!”

Akira exhaled angrily as Ayame pleaded again. Slowly; agonizingly so, in fact; she began to place the gun back in its holster.

“…If I catch wind of you spending any more Tokugawa money on trivialities like tattoos and sex without doing even the faintest hint of some fucking work, I’ll have you killed.” Akira seethed. “Got it?”

Teru nodded – very quickly. Akira took a seat back on her chair. Ayame felt every single one of her limbs shaking with the adrenaline of her mother about to splatter her sister's brains across the office carpet.

“…Good,” she stated with an air of finality, suggesting that this entirely traumatic experience for her daughters had come to a close.

Teru, knowing better than to challenge her mother when she was angry, tidily took a seat next to her sister. Ayame's heart ached with a crushing sadness upon seeing Teru; always smiling, always joking Teru; now on the brink of tears.

She never cried, though. Neither of them did.

After brusquely explaining the situation to Teru once again, Akira shook her head and pointed towards the door.

“Get out of my sight, both of you. The funeral is tomorrow. Get into trouble tonight, and I really will have your heads.”

“Yes, boss,” both of the Tokugawa twins answered solemnly; and were only too glad to be leaving after such a loud reprimanding.

Standing outside of the office felt like leaving one world and entering a new one. Ayame felt like she had finally come up for air, and she could see that Teru was visibly trembling. A part of her always felt sympathy at times like this, though she felt utterly incompetent when it came to dealing with the heart. Ayame's go-to medicine for her personal emotional ailments was either alcohol or solitude...but her typically cheeky sister would benefit very little from such self destructive methods.

And so, she did the only thing she could think of doing – she gave Teru a hug.

She wrapped her arms around her sister, and gave her back a gentle pat as she pulled her closer. Teru stood dumbfounded with her arms hanging at her sides for a moment, unsure of how to react to such gentleness that felt wholly unfamiliar to her.

And then, as the warmth and compassion of another seeped into her bones, Teru allowed herself to finally stop worrying about appearances and feel; and buried her face – gently – against Ayame's shoulder.

Ayame did what she could to comfort her sister with a stalwart expression and a warm embrace, while Teru, for one of the first times in her life, let her tears flow freely.

Ayame's heart lurched out of her chest and into her throat whenever she felt small sobs wrack Teru's frame. She could count the amount of times she had seen her perpetually cool sister lose her composure on one hand.

And finally, after the blanket of emotional silence was lifted from the two of them, Teru stepped away from Ayame with a shaky exhale; unglamorously wiping her now runny nose and tears on the inside of her shirt.

Ayame couldn't help but smile a little at the sight of Teru hiking her top up to hide her face like a child.

“Don't do that, Teru...your boobs are gonna be covered in snot.”

“I've already soaked your shoulder with my tears, so this is my penance,” Teru said between sniffles, successfully regaining her composure on the back of a joke that made her sister chuckle. “There goes my toughness credentials with you, eh?”

“So, uh...” Ayame asked, scratching at her cheek awkwardly. “Wanna go play some cards? It sounds like we’re on house arrest for today, so we may as well try to have some fun.”

“Eh, why not?” Teru replied with a lop-sided smile; seeming as though she had calmed down remarkably quickly. “Just lemme go change my shirt first...”

“Alright,” Ayame replied with a returned smile. “I'll be waiting downstairs.”