There was an impressive amount of mourning Yakuza in attendance; all with differing degrees of fearsome looks in their eyes as they looked upon the Tokugawas entering the venue. Ayame kept her wry smirk under wraps as she heard the whispers.

…Ayame Tokugawa…shit, I didn't realize she'd be here today.

That’s her, huh…she’s scary.

The Tokugawas? Oh, no. Don’t mess with them.

Where Teru’s chest was puffed out a little with obvious pride, Ayame remained beneath the umbrella with a scowl and a slightly fluffed up ego.

Arriving on the porch steps before the funeral hall, Chinami shook out the umbrellas as Akira turned to face Owner, Ayame and Teru.

“Chinami. Go and relay the order of offering prayers…we may typically be at odds with them, but we will show them our respect today.”

“...Yes, Boss.”

As Chinami departed towards the other groups of Tokugawa members, the four of them made it beneath the porch of the funeral hall.

Inside, it felt expensive and important. This was certainly somewhere that was fit for two Yakuza bosses. The floorboards had a chestnut-coloured sheen, and an expensive-looking green carpet had been placed over them.

“Ah, excuse me…” a woman said behind what looked like a sturdy, oak table. “Please sign in here.”

“Not gonna make us run around looking for a mourning band, are you? I'm not going digging through the trash.”

The woman raised her eyebrow as Teru chuckled, and continued to sign the Tokugawa clan in.

Afterwards, the women began to be led to where the bodies’ were – supposedly – laying in their caskets. Ayame could see inside that there were already a few people in there, crying and kneeling down before the brightly decorated shrines.

“Remember…when we get in there, place your hands together and offer them prayers,” Akira ordered. “Do not show up the Tokugawa clan. Not even a little. This is an important day for us, too.”

“It only just occurred to me to ask this now, Boss, but...will there be a service?” Owner asked curiously.

Akira nodded.

“Yes. The Mishimas want to say a few words, and the Heads are all expected to speak on the Chairwoman’s death, too.”

Arriving fully inside the room where the bodies were, Ayame, Teru, Owner and Akira began to make their way inside; and as they entered, being actually in the room itself felt like stepping into another world.

“…This is eerie,” Teru whispered amidst the silence and flicker of the candlelight. Ayame nodded. Owner giggled quietly to herself, and took Ayame by the hand.

“Ugh, get off of me!”

Owner placed a finger to her own lips as she looked at Ayame, and squeezed her hand warmly.

“Shh,” Owner replied with her typical fox-like grin. “I'm just frightened, being amongst dead bodies...”

Even Owner couldn't help but giggle at that. Ayame sighed in resignation, and Owner unintentionally replied in an excited breath of her own.

“Really...”

“Don’t struggle. Just enjoy my company, okay?”

Owner’s grip on Ayame’s hand tightened to an almost painful degree. Any shred of gratitude for Owner's concern last night had now fully burned away in the embers of the funeral candles, and the fresh disgust Ayame felt was like a knife in the gut.

Quashing down the fury that she felt from knowing this was a power trip – and at a funeral, no less – she stopped squeezing Owner’s hand.

“You seriously get on my fucking nerves.”

“I love you, Ayame-chan. I can't stop thinking about you...I wish I could tell you all the dirty things I want to do to you.”

“Unless you pay me, I don't think so.”

“That can be arran-”

“No.”

Ayame's relationship with Owner over the years had been...a strange one, at best.

At worst, it was violent, and on any given day, it was typically uncomfortable and full of different variations of tension. Owner was an undeniably beautiful woman, but the venom she held inside of her was nothing short of alarming, and certainly evil at its worst. It always made Ayame wonder just what must have happened to Owner back in whatever place she truly called home, though she certainly wasn't going to go digging to find that out.

It had been this way for as long as Ayame could remember. Owner seemed to have an unusual fascination with her, and it was no an exaggeration to say that Ayame had never been able to work out if this was just Owner’s way of expressing a crush, or if it was something that she simply loved to do to get a rise out of her.

Ayame decided to try and push the thought of Owner’s cold hands coiled around her own to the back of her mind for now, and looked around the room they found themselves in together.

There were two caskets; and just as Akira said, one had an open casket, whilst the other was closed.

Ayame heard her mother make a quiet noise of certainty a little further down ahead of her.

Knew it, Ayame thought. I bet she faked her own death and made out like a bandit with half of the families’ fortunes.

The fortunes had not been so favourable for Ryuko Mishima, however – who really was laying there in the casket, and who really was dead. She had a decorative, almost translucent-looking handkerchief placed over her eyes and forehead. Ayame felt her own eyes falter as she looked on; the wounds must have been particularly gruesome.

“…Alright.” Akira said quietly, after a brief time. “The service will begin shortly.”

After leaving the funeral hall, it was clear to see the real event was taking place in the courtyard. Large, white marquees towered above rows of white chairs; and in the corners, there were black lilies in beautiful, white vases. Ayame thought how strange it was that this felt like a ceremony solely for the benefit of Ryuko Mishima’s unrelenting spirit, and not at all for a Chairwoman that had supposedly passed away.

“Will you get your hand off of me, now?” Ayame whispered to Owner, as they began to emerge from the funeral hall. Owner giggled.

“Oh…” she replied. “You don’t want to be seen with me? But we had such a lovely night together...”

“You are so weird sometimes.”

As they began to make their way a little further down the steps, and towards the grand, white marquee that signalled a grand speech was about to take place…

“…Ah…”

Chinami returned; and the first thing Ayame noticed was that her gaze locked on the hand-holding from Owner with her own.

Immediately, Ayame shook Owner off violently.

“Ayame.”

Noticing the action, Akira’s tone was icy. Ayame gnawed at the inside of her lip angrily as Owner smiled.

“Sorry…she’s always like this,” Owner said, hanging on Ayame’s arm. Chinami maintained her air of silent stoicism.

“C’mon, stop being a pain in the ass and let’s get over there!” Teru interrupted; though her gaze said she knew exactly what Owner was doing. “Ayame, come here.”

Taking Ayame forcibly by the arm and bringing her over to where she was, Owner chuckled as the five of them now walked into the marquee.

Inside was a sight to behold, but no longer because of the Mishima-themed decorum. This time, it was a sight to drink up because there were simply so many families all gathered in one place.

So many different women were intermingled. So many different suits, sunglasses, scars and expressions. Ayame narrowed her eyes as Owner and Akira brushed past her, and Teru turned to face where her and Chinami were stood.

“Listen…” she began, as they huddled just shy of the marquee’s entrance. “We’ve got to endure a few speeches, and then we can go and blow off some steam. Alright? But you gotta hang in there for now. Don't let Owner piss you off.”

“I don't know what you mean,” Ayame replied through grit teeth. Teru sighed.

“Sure you don't. But on the off-chance you do, we’ve still got to at least seem somewhat presentable in front of the other families.”

Ayame exhaled through her nose calmly, and Chinami nodded in agreement.

“People like her...are not worth the energy, Ayame.”

A surprisingly candid statement from Chinami was always going to be enough sense for Ayame to calm down.

“…You’re both right,” Ayame replied amicably. “Thank you.”

The three women made their way over to where the majority of the Tokugawa clan was now seated; and sat themselves down on their own designated row alongside their mother, Owner, and a few other lieutenants.

“Wonder if Kuro will show up today…” Teru mumbled. Ayame nodded.

“Maybe. If she’s not too busy with R…with the bar.”

With their mother in earshot, neither twin wanted to talk too loudly.

“Um…yeah.”

“Who is Kuro?” asked Chinami.

“She’s a cool lady,” Teru answered bluntly. “I -”

With a sudden squeal of the microphone up at the front, the entire marquee was rendered immobile and silent.

It was a sound that suddenly made every spine in the room straighten on alert, and impressively, not a single word had needed to be uttered.

In truth, it was simple – a presence appearing before them all had placed her hand on the microphone, but she hadn’t spoken at all. Her presence was intimidating and impressive, and her energy spoke volumes louder than any of her words ever could. The way she stood exuded confidence; the solemn, sure look on her face more of a giveaway than the white suit she wore as to just who she was. And, of course…the long, red hair that flowed down her back was a tip-off as to just who was standing before them.

“…That’s her, isn’t it?” Ayame quietly asked to whoever was listening.

Because up at the microphone before all of the families was a woman whose name had been on everybody’s lips; a woman that had, arguably, been the most anticipated part of this entire day.

“Mirai Mishima,” Akira mumbled. Everybody in the room suddenly felt tenser.

“Are we all listening?” Mirai’s dulcet tones spoke into the microphone. Teru chuckled.

“Ooh. I just got a nice tingle.”

“Will you shut up?!”

Mirai paused for a moment.

“Allow me to start by saying…if anybody doesn’t listen to this speech properly, or feels as though they cannot remain quiet while I am talking…you are free to leave.”

Nobody said a word. Everybody could read between the lines.

“Good,” Mirai said with satisfaction, and smiled. Ayame felt a tenseness gnaw at her stomach.

Mirai’s satisfied smile faded into a very sombre expression, and she sighed quietly against the microphone.

“When I killed my mother,” she said, as the room audibly gasped, “she had a smile on her face.”

“Killed her mother?!”

“You killed your own Matriarch?!”

Mirai looked to her right at one of the guards by her side, who shot a large, burning hole through the roof of the marquee with a sawn-off shotgun. The room made a noise of united contempt and disbelief as rain began to splash on the floor beside Mirai.

“One more word out of any of you,” Mirai said with a calm eeriness about her, “and I’ll massacre this entire room.”

“You bitch…!” a member of the Oshiro family cried. “None of us were allowed guns in here!”

“…Hazuki. Do something about her.”

The attention turned to a young woman behind Mirai; who looked just as dead behind the eyes as most of the Mishimas did. Though she held a wilder-seeming spark to her, Ayame couldn’t help but restrain a chuckle at the sight of the bruises across her face, and wonder if she'd seen the damage she had done to Ayame yet in turn.

Though perhaps the most pitiably of all, Ayame thought that she looked as though she didn’t want to be here the very most out of everyone.

“...Yes, nee-san.”

“So, uh…is that Hazuki Mishima?” Teru whispered. “She’s really cute.”

Ayame rolled her eyes, and Teru covered her mouth strategically to hide the laugh now slipping from her lips.

“You are so predictable. This girl almost killed me and I just knew you'd still think she was hot.”

“Hahaha! Well, you're alright now, aren't you? It's all a thing of the past.”

“You asshole!” Ayame replied, though really, this was a side of Teru she found endearing out of sheer predictability. “Oh, well. I guess you can't change your stripes.”

Owner, on the other hand, smiled quietly with her eyes; though Ayame felt a great deal of concern as she noticed just how frosty the gaze was looking upon Hazuki in the first place.

But now, the room could only watch on aghast as the Oshiro family allowed one of their own to be dragged outside by three Mishima members; with Hazuki hot on their heels to do who knew what to them out in the rain.

“Now, then...” Mirai begun again; and turned her attention back to the room of horrified on-lookers. “As I was saying…when I killed my mother, she had a smile on her face.”

I don’t think even I could kill mom, Ayame thought, with an icy chill along the back of her neck. I wonder if Hazuki knew.

“My mother, Ryuko Mishima, was a woman with a keen sense of the future.” Mirai smiled. “I am named for that exact purpose. The future. I hold the key to the Mishima family’s future as the next Yakuza world power.”

With bloodied fists, Hazuki and two other Mishimas re-entered the marquee; soaking wet and wild-eyed. An Oshiro member rushed outside, and everyone remained silent at Mirai's ambition. She continued.

“My mother was an incredible woman. She even sacrificed herself on the very day that the Chairwoman passed over. My mother took it as a sign; a sign that her death meant fresh blood was needed.”

Ayame and Teru exchanged a concerned glance.

“The Mishima house is built on bodies - and those of the Mishima family never relent…” Mirai said; her tone increasingly more passionate with each word. “We never step down from the positions assigned to us. We are Mishimas, both before and after death.”

A slight tremble overtaking her as she spoke, Mirai steadied her composure.

“There was no greater honour for me than to be able to not only take her place, but to be able to place her into the jaws of death myself. We have entered a new age of the Yakuza...things will never be the same after today – if only because I will not allow those that struggle like bugs under my heel to rise any longer.”

Mirai smirked cockily, but still with an exuding air of class. Akira scoffed…but even a woman like her made sure to do it quietly.

Everyone’s going to start fighting for position of Chairwoman, then… Ayame thought with an internal groan. Oh, great.

“I have no intention of allowing the Mishima family to be second to anyone…and only we will be at the very top, where the rest of you can find us. Thank you.”

Bowing slightly, the speech had ended; and the Mishima clan clapped with an uproarious applause for their new leader.

“The future! The future!” they all chanted; and every other family inside the marquee was either bewildered, furious, or in awe. It didn’t seem as though any of the Mishima clan were in the slightest bit phased that Mirai had just confessed, openly, to murdering their Matriarch and enjoying it.

“What the hell was that?” Teru blurted out over the applause. “Was that even a speech in memory of Ryuko Mishima?!”

“She’s a self-obsessed egomaniac,” Akira replied in turn. “She’ll go far.”

“Well, fuck.”

“Let's go home,” Ayame said in relief.

“Home?” Teru replied.

“Uh...yes?”

“We're not going home yet, Aya. We've got the afterparty to go to – sorry...'memorial service'.”