. Nijima's Wrath .

. Redundancy .

The Hakone Ashinoko Hanaori.

A mere 4-minute walk from Lake Ashi in the Hakone area of Kanagawa Prefecture in Honshū, Japan

The lake itself is a crater lake that sits on the Tōkaidō road, the main link between Kyoto and Tokyo.

A rather fitting location as a literal link between the former imperial age of Kyoto and the modern technological age of Tokyo.

But while various wealthy clientele enjoys the terrace views, hot spring baths, or general mountain scenery?

A lone figure sits out on the circular “infinity pool” plaza which provides a wide-open, up-close view of the lake and mountain scenery.

Taking a drag of his cigarette in one hand, he taps away at his phone on the other.

?????: <This scrawny bitch really thinks she’s hot shit? I guess I’ll toy with her some more. The Italian though? Probably a wild ride…>

A cool breeze brushes across the air, making his long hair dance temporarily while his “trademark” black shades and silk shirt make it unmistakable who occupies the area.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Heh “Deadbeat Dad Soji”. That should rile the old bastard up some.>

A waitress walks up, nervously, as she holds a tray with an expensive bottle of champagne, the requisite flute, and a bowl full of grapes.

Placing the items down, she gives another smile and quickly tries to get away but not before a clawing grope of her rear causes her to shriek.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Not bad. Not as good as western women, but full enough for some amusement.>

Shiro waves the woman away as dismissive as if he is truly royalty.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Be in my room at six. I want an appetizer before dinner.>

The woman looks ready to protest but is torn as she knows she’ll also lose her job. Of all people? Her savior comes in the form a man not known to be a savior much in the present day.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <Ignore his directive.>

Flanked by his armed guards, Sojiro walks up to the circular seated area.

His face is as stony as ever and he doesn’t even look at the young woman as he passes her by.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <My assistant, Kang-san is down below. See to her that you are properly compensated for the inconvenience my son has caused.>

The woman’s eyes go wide and she almost wants to reach and hug the elder man, but his frigid demeanor and more importantly, a cough and gentle yet firm grasp of her arm by a guard ends that.

Giving a quick bow, she allows herself lead away, in awe of the sixty-year-old man, yet equally as terrified and thankful to be out of his presence even more than his son’s.

Silence fills the area as Sojiro motions for the guards to line the plaza walk away and prevent any further visitors.

Shiro simply ignores him, tapping away at his phone while the elder man walks past him.

Hands folded behind his back, Sojiro stares out at the pristine water of the wide lake.

It was perhaps at most sixty seconds, yet for the guards remaining in place, it felt like sixty hours before Sojiro finally breaks the icy silence.

SOJIRO NIJIMA:

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <*shrugs* Unlike you, I choose to live than be a walking calculator.>

Sojiro’s hands clench together, a vein rising on the side of his face, both serving as the visual display of submerged, yet volcanic rage.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <It would serve you well to think of interests besides your own.>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Such as yours?>

Shiro laughs while not looking up from his phone.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Why would I give a damn about -your- interests? You rising into the National Diet does nothing for me besides make you a bigger nuisance to my enjoying life.>

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <It pains me that you are as much a wild beast as your mother.>

Shiro looks up, with a raised eyebrow from behind his limo tint dark shades. In a way he does look indeed like a wild beast or perhaps an oni as he flashes a malicious smile of his own.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <It pains me that it was your seed that planted in her womb.>

Shiro looks back at his phone, resuming his bored, indifferent look.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <At least Machi would have been an actual father to me.>

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <Everyone has their role to play in this drama. If you would know patience, you would reap the rewards greater than…>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Oh cut the bullshit, Soji! That crap might work on Kitty because she’s Daddy’s Little Girl and don’t know better, but I learned long ago how full of shit you are!>

Taking a drag from his cig, Shiro tosses his phone to the side and leans in. Bracing his elbows on his thighs, he repeatedly jabs the cigarette stub in the air toward his father.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <The only one that will ever ‘reap rewards’? Is -you-.>

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <Spoken by one who lives like a Prince due to my wealth and efforts.>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Well, you’ll be a great politician. Because you can shovel the manure as great as any.>

Taking another drag, Shiro goes back to his emphatic “jabbing” of the cig.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <You don’t let me live this life of luxury out of benevolence or “fatherly love”. You let me live this because it’ll look bad to the Diet and the nation if your first-born boy is a flop.>

Flicking the cigarette out into the pool, Shiro runs his fingers through his long raven hair as he casually leans back, crossing a leg over the other in a half-lotus pose.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Plus, you know that if something happens to me? Something -really- bad? All your dirty secrets come spilling out. I’ve made damn sure of that even if you get the idea to… what’s the phrase by the Brits? Oh yes, “make me redundant”.>

Pausing to contemplate something, Shiro smiles.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Redundant. Always did like that word. Want to know how first came to learn it, Pops? Let me tell you…>

32 years earlier.

A young eight-year-old boy is doing his best to ignore the shrieking wails, loud bangs, and squeaking noises coming down the hall.

As he desperately tries to focus on his game of “The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past”, Miyashiro can’t quite clear out the sounds of his mother screaming in ecstasy down the hallway.

FUMI NIJIMA: <Yes! Junichi! Show me a real man!>

“Junichi” is Junichi Okubo.

Vice President of Diamontronics Corporation.

Son and heir apparent of Taysuke Okubo, the President.

And Sojiro’s direct superior.

Where’s Sojiro?

Off on another “coincidental” road assignment to the Japanese countryside.

Visit like these are daily and so numerous that Shiro has become numb to them. Except for the horrible pig squeals and wails when the two rut wildly in Fumi’s marital bed.

He’s tried to tell Uncle Machi, but that wound up in a severe punishment from his mother after she claimed the boy was making up tales.

So, he endures as always, suffering the horrible sounds and the usual emotional and mental abuse to come after.

JUNICHI OKUBO: <Well if it ain’t the little piss dropping that came out of Soji’s dicklet!>

Junichi is strong, well-built, athletic man.

The very opposite of Shiro’s father and he seems to revel in emphasizing that point.

FUMI NIJIMA: <Leave him alone, Junichi. It isn’t his fault he was the one in a million-success shot for Sojiro.>

Coming out in a robe that barely covers her form, with a cigarette ever trapped behind her lips, Fumi’s quarter-hearted, cruel “defense” is what hurts the boy the most.

Not even looking at her child, she walks past him to the kitchen to fish out a couple of mugs to make coffee for herself and her lover.

Enjoying the source of his torment, Junichi leans down, sneering in the boy’s face with his half-shaven stubble and slick, greasy sheen skin.

JUNICHI OKUBO: <Just remember, boy. You speak a word of this, and not only will your Momma there slap you silly? But I’ll make your Daddy redundant and take her away from this festering shithole.>

Laughing, Junichi gets up and walks up behind Fumi, looping his arms around her and pulling her against his athletic form.

JUNICHI OKUBO: <In fact! Why don’t I do it anyway? I’ll fire the piece of shit when he returns and then you got grounds to divorce him, Fumi! I can show woman like you the -real- life and you can leave him with his little piss dropping!>

As she twirled in Junichi’s arms, their eyes met.

Mother and son.

And what came next is what truly stabbed the young boy in the heart.

The light-hearted shrug and “sorry kid” look from Fumi that told the whole truth.

He was “redundant” to his own mother.

Fighting to keep back the tears that he knew Junichi would prey on, Shiro forced his eyes back to the screen. Focusing on controlling Link and killing every enemy he could.

All behind him, the tormenting wails, cries of pleasure, and rhythmic slapping of flesh resumed.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <You know that shit went on for a whole year? Every other week you were sent on some road assignment, remember? And every day I had to listen to that fucking pig snort and use her like a goddamn onahole. And always with that fucking threat. “Redundant.” And where the fuck were you? Eating the shit with a smile.>

Sojiro’s hands clasp so tightly that his nails draw blood in his palms.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <Leave us.>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Oh no! They need to stay! Let’s tell them all about…>

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <LEAVE US!!!>

The moment of broken restrained and deep-layered fury shocks even the Zaibatsu guards as they look at each other awkwardly.

Even more shocking is the fact it’s another recent outburst when normally Sojiro has at most one a season.

All the same, they shift awkwardly and bow before shuffling away in departure.

Shiro looks full of maddened glee as he waits for his father’s next riposte once they are alone.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <You overstep your bounds, Miyashiro. I will not have my reputation besmirched in front of any. Especially our hired help.>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Oh yes! We can’t embarrass the great “Nijima-shachou” of the Nijima Global Zaibatsu! Or I suppose in your rotted mind it’s “Nijima-koutei” right? Well newsflash “Otousan”? Your entire empire is as rotted and decayed as your withering body!>

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <The rot of this nation is why I do everything I do.>

While he keeps the volume of his voice restrained, there’s no mistaking the seething vehemence in Sojiro’s tone.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <Complacency and satisfaction with mediocrity is why our country has fallen weak and impotent. Because too many are willing to accept the meager table scraps of the Americans and their system of so-called ‘democracy’.>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <*smirks* Like you did?>

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <*sneers* Fool. I made a temporary sacrifice for a great cause. One that despite my many attempts to enlighten you, seems to fail to reach your ears.>

Turning around, the elder Nijima walks past his son, though he pauses as he reaches the outer rim of the plaza.

As usual, he addresses while still staring straight ahead.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <As always, I will clean up your embarrassment. However, you will remain here, carefully watched so you do not cause further harm to the Zaibatsu.>

Shiro laughs and gives his father a middle finger before holding up his phone.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <See this? I can communicate to the world just fine even from this cage. And if you shut this one down? I have plenty of burners and other means to occupy my time and entertain me. Such as…>

Tapping a file on the phone, Sojiro smiles as he reads it aloud.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <“It is the estimation of Special Prosecutor Kawabata Daisuke that the circumstances surrounding the death of Junichi Okubo on July 17^th, 2002, be re-investigated. The prosecutor believes previously disregarded evidence and factual errors in the police report points to the fact that Mr. Okubo’s death in a vehicle accident may not be as certain as previously believed. This is further enhanced by the lack of identifiable remains as a result of the charred car contents and frame.”>

Sojiro goes completely still.

The clenching of his hands still tight as the droplets of blood drip around his fingernails but he makes no other movement.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <Beware of digging in forbidden ruins, Miyashiro.>

Moving forward in departure, Sojiro gives a final, venom-laced threat.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <They could become your tomb.>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Kitty! Come here!>

27 years earlier.

Thirteen-year-old Miyashiro Nijima walks into the living room of his home, full of smiles as he gets on a knee. Black shades shroud his busted and half-swollen eyes as he holds out a plush toy for the three-year-old toddler that giggles and happy races into his arms.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <That’s my girl. See? It’s a Chichi-san Teddy Bear!>

Kasumi is a precocious child, but already the darkness pervading her young life has taken its hold.

Under Sojiro’s strict yet absent parentage, Kasumi doesn’t speak.

Barely any sounds are made from the child as if she were a robotic doll than human.

Save for when she’s alone with her mother or her brother.

It’s not that she can’t.

It’s that she -won’t-.

Even for Nariko and Miyashiro never is a word spoken. Only the happy smiles and giggles given only in their presence alone serve as her way of intimate communication.

NARIKO NIJIMA: <This is a kind act, Miyashiro. Thank you.>

Shiro ignores his stepmother as always.

It’s not that he hates Nariko for replacing Fumi.

It’s more that he resents her for certain choices.

NARIKO NIJIMA: <Principal Agano called earlier. I’m told you are suspended again. Your father will not be pleased.>

Shiro continues to ignore Nariko as he plays with the toddler.

NARIKO NIJIMA: <Answer me! I will not be disrespected in my own home!>

Kasumi starts crying and immediately Nariko regrets it. Shiro just patiently consoles his little sister, waiting until she’s happy once more and distracted with her plush toy.

Rising from his knee, he turns away from the toddler before dusting off the dirt from his pants and onto the floor unashamedly.

Nodding toward the outer yard, he leads them away from the toddler’s gaze.

Looking at Nariko, he just gives an uncaring shrug.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <What do you want me to say? Some punks wanted to act tough, and I showed them what being tough is.>

NARIKO NIJIMA: <One boy has a broken jaw, another has multiple fractures, a third is reporting hearing loss, and worst of all, one is in critical condition with internal hemorrhaging! There is no way to avoid a record this time!>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <*shrugs* So I have a record.>

NARIKO NIJIMA: <Miyashiro, please. I’m trying to be the…>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Best mother you can?>

Shaking his head in dismay, Shiro points toward the toddler playing inside.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <You’re -her- mother, not mine. I had one and the bitch ran out on me and left me with this oh-so-great life. You’re nice and all, -Miss- Nariko, but I don’t need another. One stupid Whore of Nijima is enou-->

SMACK!

Nariko’s hand crashes against Shiro’s cheek with such ferocity that he falls over onto the emerald grass.

A coppery taste fills his mouth as he pulls himself onto his rear and laughs, full of merriment as the pain radiates through him.

Nariko looks horrified and apologetic at her actions, but her strong will that made her the famed “Tiger Blossom” keeps her resolute as she stares at the teen.

NARIKO NIJIMA: <I have been nothing but kind to you, Miyashiro! Why do you hate me so? Why do you attempt to make me pay for your mother’s sins?!>

Shiro bursts into more laughter as he clutches his sides as if he heard the funniest joke in the world.

Eventually he rises and dusts himself off once more before staring coldly at Nariko.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Hate you for Fumi’s sins? No, Nariko. I hate you for -your- sins.>

Nodding once again toward the house, he continues his explanation.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <For stupidly and willingly marrying that piece of shit I have to call a Father. And worse? Bringing Kitty into this dark, broken, disaster of a world of his. You’ve fucked yourself, but worse fucked that little girl for life and you’re too stupid to even know it.>

Nariko lowers her head, clenching a fist and fighting every urge to take a swing at the boy.

But she restrains herself.

NARIKO NIJIMA: <Sojiro is a complicated man, Miyashiro. But that’s why he…>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Spare me.>

Nariko looks shocked as Shiro shows a hardened edge that should be from boys far elder.

Except for boys of a certain kind.

Ones who usually wind up in the ranks of the Yakuza.

Ones who become the dishonorable associates of Yasuhiro Machi.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Delude yourself, but I know what a piece of shit he is. I just hope you figure it out before it’s too late for you. At the least I’ll damn sure protect, Kitty.>

A sharp cry from Kasumi makes both rush inside.

To find Kasumi on the floor, bawling her eyes out as she points toward her father.

Holding the Chichi-san Teddy Bear and looking at it as if he trapped a rodent.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <No doubt acquired from your gang’s recent spree at the department store, Miyashiro.>

With a sneer, Sojiro tosses the bear into the fire.

Causing Kasumi to scream more in agony and rush for it until two large men, Sojiro’s personal security grab the toddler before she can harm herself.

As she howls and wails, Sojiro walks straight up to the toddler and stares at her with a frigid menace.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <*hisses* Silence!>

Kasumi looks terrified and immediately urinates herself to the dismay of the guard holding her.

Nariko rushes up and snatches her child and stares at Sojiro with a protective, vicious stare that seems to snap the man from his darker aura.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <Forgive me, Nariko. I…>

NARIKO NIJIMA: <We -will- discuss this later, Sojiro.>

Nariko takes the toddler away.

Trying her best to console the child as she coos and hugs her little one.

Sojiro looks the slightest bit… remorseful? Maybe? But he regains his cold edge and looks at his son.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <You have much to answer fo-->

Before Sojiro can finish, Shiro is on him.

Tackling his father to the ground and pummeling him with hardened fists.

Even at thirteen and the elder man thirty-three, the past five years of running with local hoods and his innate hate has turned Shiro into someone far more formidable than his smaller, scheming father.

That is until the guards recover their senses and rip the boy off the man.

As Shiro spews curses at Sojiro, the other man is helped up.

Brushing the wrinkles from his suit, Sojiro simply nods toward the door as the guards begin to drag Shiro away.

SOJIRO NIJIMA:

Folding his hands behind his back and not looking at his son… an action that would become routine in their damaged relationship going forward… Sojiro looks at the yard as he continues.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <You will be taken to a plane bound for Europe. A business associate has arranged for you to attend a boarding school for wayward sons such as yourself. Perhaps there you will learn some civility.>

Shiro bursts into a mixture of heartbroken laughs and tears.

Giving Sojiro the middle finger as he’s led away.

Nariko returns minutes later and realizes what’s occurred.

NARIKO NIJIMA: <Sojiro! What’s wrong with you!? The boy clearly needs help! Not to be locked away! And how dare you frighten Kasumi like that!?>

Sojiro looks to have a moment of regret as he walks up and gently caresses Nariko’s cheek.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <I… apologize. I did not mean to scare the child. She is our precious jewel after all.>

He then hardens his expression once more as he looks toward the fire and the now reduced to ashes plush toy.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <But we cannot have contraband traced here. And I will not allow any further… disruptions… to our carefully planned family unit.>

NARIKO NIJIMA: <Disruption? Sojiro, he’s your son!>

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <Indeed.>

Pulling away, Sojiro loosens his tie, and sits on the couch. Ignoring the fireplace, he looks over instead at the large screen TV and turns it on.

Watching the business report about the rapidly rising stock prices and outlook of the Nijima Corporation.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <But he is my concern, not yours. Only the trio in this house will be your family unit. Anyone else is redundant.>

Present.

One day after the confrontation between Sojiro and Shiro.

SMACK!

A hard palm crashes against Shiro’s cheek.

Bringing the ever-familiar pain and sting as he’s wrenched from the deep depths of a drunken slumber.

He feels a body weight fall onto his bed, straddling him, before a hail of more punches fall.

Battering and smashing his face with hardened blows that he barely feels through the haze of liquor and far more painful hangover.

Eventually, however, he has enough and shoves his attacker off him while stumbling and reaching for the pistol at his side table… only to find it missing.

That is, until metal is pressed against his forehead, and he hears the click of a drawn back hammer.

As his eyes focus, he finally takes in the features of his visitor.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <KITTY! How goes baby sis?!>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <You goddamn bastard! When is enough, enough for you?! You are already the first-born and male! You will get everything that -I- deserve as the loyal Nijima child! Yet it’s still not enough for you, is it?!>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <For fucks sake Kitty, either use that thing and put me out of my misery or stop fucking screeching like a banshee!>

Kasumi looks legitimately torn as her finger remains on the trigger.

Eventually, however, she pushes the hammer back into resting and pulls the gun back.

In frustration, she tosses the gun at her brother’s side and slinks off the bed.

Wearing a red pinstripe suit, she smooths it carefully before going to a nearby chair and plopping herself down in frustration.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Do it yourself. I’m sick of having to do everything expected of you on top of my own responsibilities.>

With a weary groan, Shiro slaps the gun away and sends it falling off the bed. Fortunately for both, Kasumi had also put the safety back on.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Not getting rid of me that easy, Kitty. Besides…>

Despite the jackhammering pounding away in his skull, he looks at his sister with pity.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <You’re the one choosing to stay on the leash of that old fossil.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Show some respect!>

Looking at Kasumi with the same ever-growing pity, Shiro just shakes his head even more. Shambling over to the bar, he pathetically slaps and slides is hand over the wood surface.

Sending empty bottles and glasses rolling and crashing off until he finally finds a half-filled bottle of vodka.

Taking a large swig, he shambles over to the chair across from Kasumi and collapses into it. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he leans his headback while his shades remain perfectly in place.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Sometimes I wish I could drink you away into indifference like every other pest in my life. But what can I say? A big brother’s oath to protect his baby sister is lifelong.>

Kasumi’s eyes narrow as she looks incredibly distrustful as much as dismissive of the words.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Oath? What oath? You weren’t even around from what I recall as a child. Off at some prestigious boarding school, not that it did much it seems, and not wanting to be a part of the family unit. All due to your hatred of my mother.>

Shiro laughs while continuing to stare at the ceiling. Lifting the vodka bottle to his lips, he takes another chug while ignoring as gravity that causes a larger flow than expected. He’s completely unfazed as some liquid spills down the sides of his check and under his shirt collar.

Dropping his arm languidly to the side, he continues laughing before finally turning his neck and looking at his younger sibling.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Still buying that bullshit story from Pops, eh? *waves dismissively* Well, whatever pleases you. I at least know I’ve done what I could, Machi has too, and you’ve shown me you’ve got enough brains to someday wake up from the lie and see the shitty, putrid truth.>

Kasumi’s expression shows the nagging seeds of doubt that have been long sown in her, but ever dutiful, she shakes her head and keeps to her conviction about the “truth” of her family.

Reaching into her purse, she pulls out a folded Japanese newspaper, showing the front-page headline about the ongoing scandal involving Miyashiro’s activities in Australia.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <The “truth” is that every time I finally am about to get my due acknowledgement from Father? You pull some stunt to seize back his focus! Miracle Galaxy Pro is supposed to be my moment to not only improve Father’s prestige but further establish my own! Yet all anyone talks about is you sexing some Western bitch with your Mommy issues.>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Actually, -she- called -me- “Daddy” as did her daughter.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Asshole!>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <What the hell do you want me to do, Kitty? I’d be in your goddamn corner, cheering louder than anyone, but you and the old man don’t want me around. Typhoon Strikers? Not a single notice. Golden Sun Fighting? You had his fucking goons block the entrances. So I’m supposed to be like he was when I was a kid and tuck my tail between my legs and be exiled?>

Looking at his sister with his own disdain, Shiro tiredly raises a middle finger.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Fuck you, Kitty. Even -I- deserve better than that if you’re the suppose filial pious cunt that you claim you are.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <I’d gladly have you in my corner if you were a glory-stealing embarrassment! Remember my volleyball championships in university?!>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Heh, not my fault your coach howled like a wolf…>

Flinging the newspaper at her brother in disgust, Kasumi gets up, smoothing out her suit as she stares down at him.

There’s a mixture of hate, anguish, and longing in her conflicted countenance.

Yet once more it’s brushed aside as her sterile, “assassin” like corporate persona assumes control.

Making her way for the door, she opens it and looks at her brother a final time.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <On April 29^th, I compete in the Galaxy Princess Cup Tournament. One in intend to win and become the first Interstellar Dream Champion.>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <You love your fluffy sounding titles, don’t you?>

Kasumi ignores Shiro and continues…

KASUMI NIJIMA: <I doubt I could get you to agree to behaving for the next month, so at the least? If I mean anything to you? Try to restrain your bestial tendencies for that one night? I want Father’s eyes on -me- as I put all of Miracle Galaxy Pro under the Nijima heel.>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Calling me a beast and talking about putting people under heel, Kitty? Heh. You’re same as ever. Get pushed a bit and have that confidence rattled and you go back to be a good little corporate fembot.>

Shiro lazily waves once more while sounding as if in a small tinge of mourning.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Sure, sure. I’ll behave. Don’t want your “embarrassing” big brother fucking up the night, right? Fine. I’ll just keep biding my time until Morpheus, Trinity, or whomever the fuck gets you to follow the White Rabbit.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <What?>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <*sighs* Right. You were six when it came out and I’m sure the fossil made sure you don’t see anything that might teach you to question his carefully crafted reality. Never mind. I’ll just say good luck, Kitty.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Thank you. *pauses* Miyashiro, if you’d just be more… amenable… I could try to negotiate rapproachment between you and Father?>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Sure, Kitty. But focus on that title first. I know it means a lot to you to be the best. So show ‘em that my baby sister is the baddest bitch amongst the bunch!>

Shiro gives a goofy smile and thumbs up that actually makes Kasumi crack and softly smile for the briefest second.

Then she coughs and regains her composure and turns to leave.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Hey, Kitty? What do you think about Chichi-san?>

Kasumi halts in her step and looks over her shoulder, puzzled.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Wasn’t that some silly fad toy in the 90s? Why would I care about something redundant like that? Get some rest, Shiro. I’ll order the cleaning service to handle this place while you sleep off the liquor.>

Kasumi departs.

Leaving her brother to bitterly laugh as he resumes staring at the ceiling.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Love that fucking word.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Answer me honestly, Kang-sama. Do you have any involvement with the ‘gift’ left to End-san or are aware of Father’s maneuverings regarding her?>

ALICIA KANG: <Even if I had something, you know I’d refuse to tell you. But in this case. Not a single clue. I’d love to mess with Sayaka’s mind and leave her a broken husk, yes. But this one I’m in the dark as much as any.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <And The Black Company?>

A week after the dual confrontations with Miyashiro in Hakone, Alicia and Kasumi are once more at their “gathering” spot of the SUKE6 Diner in Asakusa.

At Kasumi’s question, does the other woman’s eyes narrow as she holds her fork in the air.

ALICIA KANG: <If you have been involved in any tasks involving The Black Company? Then you know that you shouldn’t ask such a foolish question.>

Stabbing at her quiche in agitation, Alicia tries to calm her nerves at the mere mention of the shadowy organization.

ALICIA KANG: <If one is tasked to anything under the umbrella of Project Yomi? As little is disclosed as possible and even less is discussed. Of all of Nijima-sama’s secret projects? That is the one I go in blinder than Zatoichi.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Who?>

ALICIA KANG: <*smirks* You really should find other hobbies besides fighting and Zaibatsu corporate initiatives.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <*scoffs* The Wrath of Nijima has no time for such frivolities. If you want such pointless leisure? Go see my brother.>

A ping goes off on Alicia’s phone and she looks down to see the message. Immediately a puzzled, then annoyed look comes on her features as she raises the phone to Kasumi.

ALICIA KANG: <It seems the great Endo-san has declared a mandatory meeting in two hours.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Since when do the Nijima kowtow and answer anyone’s ‘mandatory’ call?>

ALICIA KANG: <*smirks* Since Nijima-sama signed you up for this faction-based promotion and had his odd inclination to force you to play nice with others. If Sayaka boots you from the Black Dahlia? You have no faction. No faction means no permission to compete in the Galaxy Princess Cup Tournament.>

Closing her eyes, Kasumi works to calm herself and keep her even-keeled stance.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Father’s “tests” are growing tiresome. Also, I could just take over the Queens of Chaos.>

Rising from the table, Alicia walks over and pats Kasumi’s shoulder while nodding toward the exit.

ALICIA KANG: <Isn’t your brother enough of an embarrassment to the Nijima name than associating yourself with that tarnished mockery of a brand?>

The pair depart and load into Alicia’s Lexus LC 500 Convertible. With the top down, the pair enjoy the wind rushing along their skin and hair as they move along the various thoroughfares and boulevards across the city.

Nothing is said in the drive over.

As the pair walk into the Endo Dojo, one of Endo’s lead trainers is seen in the primary training ring, working over maneuvers and holds with Black Tora.

Costanza?

It seems she hasn’t arrived yet, either.

Diana?

Well, she’s off in a corner, making a hushed call that sounds like it’s regarding “reserving booths at McDonald’s”?

Well, anyway…

SAYAKA ENDO: <The Princess arrives!>

Everyone’s attention is garnered as Endo begins her theatrics.

Storming up and flailing her arms like a wild woman while a sweaty, puffed up appearance takes over her face.

Before Kasumi can even respond, Sayaka is pacing back and forth like a caged tigress.

ALICIA KANG: <Keep stomping back and forth like that and you’ll wear out grooves in the floor, Endo-san.>

SAYAKA ENDO: <Shut your mouth, Cripple!>

The words enrage Kasumi who goes to speak until Alicia’s firm grasp on her arm and a shake of the Korean-American’s head, makes her pause.

Endo maliciously smiles at this display.

SAYAKA ENDO: <Yes. Be the leashed hound that you are and mind your tongue, Nijima Kasumi!>

Gasps fill the room from the other trainees and Tora’s eyes narrow behind her mask.

However, she chooses discretion for the moment and instead exits the ring and moves away from the confrontation.

Endo takes an akimbo pose as she stares down Kasumi relentlessly.

SAYAKA ENDO: <Now, you will explain that ‘gift’ sent by your Father. For only he could arrange something like that! What’s his aim?! *Endo nods toward Alicia* Revenge for his Korean whore?!>

Alicia takes a step forward until Kasumi’s arm holds her back.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Respect is given only as it is earned, Endo Sayaka. I’ve attempted to be respectful but you earn none when you insult those under the Nijima banner.>

SAYAKA ENDO: <AHAHAHA! Oh -now- the she-devil shows her horns, claws, and fangs! Where was this at the recent show when you struggled to backup all that “imposing” bluster and supposed “Nijima dominance”? You know where? The same place as the supposed conquering power of the Queens of Chaos!>

Endo points to a trash bin off in the corner of the area to make her point.

Then her eyes return to Kasumi as they gain a hateful stare.

SAYAKA ENDO: <Or maybe like the hound at you are, you hold back at commands of your corporate masters? Perhaps to embarrass me further?!>

Endo’s eyes drift toward Alicia while still addressing Kasumi.

SAYAKA ENDO: <You corporate types may like your “takeovers” but I assure you, Nijima Kasumi, I know far too well how to handle “rising stars” who reach too soon beyond their place.>

ALICIA KANG: <Attempt to bring her harm and I guarantee you that the SIT team they assign to solve your missing person case will be scouring the country for -years- to find all the parts.>

Alicia states as she reasserted herself and fell back into her “Miss Kang” persona.

Or specifically, the Right Hand of Sojiro Nijima.

Moving in front of Kasumi, she stared at her long-hated foe but instead of her furious passion, there was the sterility required of one who rose to the highest ranks of the Nijima Global Zaibatsu.

ALICIA KANG: <-You- overstep -your- station, Endo Sayaka.>

Kasumi seizes the opportunity as she moves to Alicia’s side.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Perhaps my father’s “gift” was to remind you of that. You serve a purpose, nothing more. A necessary checklist requirement to follow the rules of Miracle Galaxy Pro.>

ALICIA KANG: <And the Nijima are always evaluating the terms of an alliance to ensure it still serves their best interest. Pray that Kasumi nor I deem you otherwise.>

SAYAKA ENDO: <Hmph. Do as you wish Princess. But remember there are others in the Black Dahlia who could very much snatch that crown and reduce you to irrelevance.>

This time, Kasumi has to be held back by Alicia as she wants to lunge at Endo.

SAYAKA ENDO: <And remember your “interests” when Shiori Shuko sends her thugs after you.>

Endo’s eyes trail onto Alicia once more.

SAYAKA ENDO: <You should be thankful that I broke your leg before Shiori got her hands on you, Cripple. I suspect you’d be long rotting in some landfill otherwise.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Perhaps it is -you- who should remember your poor choices when you need the aid of the Nijima when Shuko comes for her “receipt”, Endo-san.>

Pivoting on her heel, Kasumi leads Alicia out while Endo’s eyes narrow in further distrust and seething rage.

As they walk out the building, Kasumi sees Costanza off in the distance, but focuses instead on getting in Alicia’s Lexus and driving off.

Though… perhaps a shared look in the briefest moment?

All the same, the convertible speeds off as Alicia raises the top and windows to drown out the outer noise.

ALICIA KANG: <It seems I was right that you’d be besieged on two fronts. Whether by the directive of Nijima-sama or someone else that wishes to make it appear so? Endo is now going to come at you not with a dagger, but polearm.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <*tiredly* Which is exactly the type of discord that an enemy of the Nijima would want.>

ALICIA KANG: <And Nijima-sama himself is… displeased… with your victories not being absolute.>

Kasumi’s jaw clenches tighter while she leans her head against the passenger window to view the passing by cityscape.

KASUMI NIJIMA:

She then looks at Alicia with a curious expression.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Though why do you remain involved? Yes, Father assigned you, but you could easily sway him to assign you to one of his other endeavors.>

ALICIA KANG: <We both know that Nijima-sama wants my hands on numerous tasks at once. But this one is his most high-profile outside the Zaibatsu’s dealings. If you fail, I fail. And I do not intend to fail.>

Alicia’s expression darkens as she grips the steering wheel tighter in a momentary reaction to memories that rise.

ALICIA KANG:

KASUMI NIJIMA: <*sighs* Naturally.>

Glancing at Kasumi for a brief moment, Alicia gains a wry smile.

ALICIA KANG: <Plus call it ego or vanity, but I have a personal stake. Ruining Endo’s schemes is one goal. Another is that I have walked your shoes. The heavy expectations, the being the rising star isolated and besieged due to jealousy and malice, and having my focus splintered between my immediate threats as well as the hidden ones.>

A sad chuckle comes from Alicia as she thinks on things.

ALICIA KANG: <Look at me. All sentimental and wanting to be the broken-down mentor in this script. This is exactly what I feared when Nijima-sama decided Miracle Galaxy Pro was your next path. Corporate maneuverings I can remain as cold and lifeless as anyone in the Zaibatsu. But wrestling?>

She shakes her head.

ALICIA KANG:

KASUMI NIJIMA: <If it makes you feel better? It means Father actually likes you. Well, for what “affection” can mean for him. I’ve seen past Right Hands never have the workload you have, but also never the trust not only with the load but the tasks themselves. You’re not even surveilled as closely as other Zaibatsu executives.>

ALICIA KANG: <Not as much needed when almost all of my time is occupied to being at the side of Nijima-sama or recently, yours.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <And you’re not afraid that someone is making maneuvers for your position?>

ALICIA KANG: <Someone -always- is. It’s one of the eternal truths of corporate existence.>

Alicia smiles confidently.

ALICIA KANG: <Don’t worry. I had one career cruelly ripped from me. If this one is to end? It ends on -my- terms.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Report.>

Days later, Kasumi walks into what appears to be a strategic command room at the Nijima Global Zaibatsu HQ.

It’s a massive conference room filled with not only a large screen on each wall, but smaller screens surrounding them, terminals set into the room-long table, and various other technology to present information, communication, etc.

Probably a few holographic and CGI projections as well.

Regardless, all the Zaibatsu Analysts and other workers stand up like the trained peons they are and immediately bow.

“Nijima-sama!”

Kasumi waves them off like the “imperial princess” that she is and looks at one of the screens.

The Lead Analyst of this specific cell rushes up and hands her a tablet. Bowing respectfully, the young woman looks super nervous and eager, but manages to rein in her anxieties as she begins her report.

ZAIBATSU LEAD ANALYST: <Nijima-buchou, recent polls show Nijima-shachou’s approval ratings have greatly increased not only due to our campaign efforts, but your exposure in Miracle Galaxy Pro. It seems joshi puroresu has a greater market share than we anticipated.>

A graph appears on the large screen, showing a 19% approval increase for Sojiro in the national political consensus.

Waiting for Kasumi to give her signal to continue, the analyst waits and upon receiving a head nod, continues her report.

ZAIBATSU LEAD ANALYST: <We believe that current trends will give Nijima-shachou a far stronger foundation going into the late summer debates. Already the LDP, Komeito, CDP, and Nippon Ishin No Kai have sent out feelers to determine Nijima-shachou’s interest joining their various ranks.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <I’m assuming Father’s campaign team is already assessing strategies there. Since we are his cell to remove obstacles and enemies? Present the current ones.>

The Lead Analyst brings up two side-by-side images.

One of a sharply dressed politician who appears in his mid-50s, and another from what would be described as a “beatnik” journalist appearing to be in his late 20s or early 30s.

The zoom comes onto the politician first.

ZAIBATSU LEAD ANALYST: <First is Kurata Mashiro. Member of the LDP and vice-lead in the Nakama faction. They are very powerful and influential. On the surface, they proclaim to have a similar platform as Nijima-shachou. Restoring Japanese pride, increasing economic opportunity, rooting out corruption, and battling the aging issue in the country.>

A video plays of Kurata on a daytime talk show, berating the Zaibatsu.

ZAIBATSU LEAD ANALYST: <He has targeted Nijima-shachou and the Zaibatsu as harmful to the Japanese economy with the Zaibatsu’s… aggressive business policies. He has called for an investigation into the Zaibatsu’s dealings of the past fifteen years.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <But?>

The Lead Analyst brings up images of public records, financial documents, and even some data that shouldn’t be in the Zaibatsu’s hands due to its sensitive nature.

ZAIBATSU LEAD ANALYST: <Many of the Nakama faction, especially Kurata-san, have extensive ties, investments, or other connections to the Saudi PIF or to our rival, Pinnacle Technologies. The Mazecurity deal that Nijima-shachou personally acquired before Pinnacle could close it themselves? It cost Kurata-san 1.7 billion yen personally.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Typical. And the “beatnik”?>

The screen changes to a scraggily, unshaven mess of a reporter in a stained Hawaiian shirt with a “FOR REAL?!” t-shirt underneath.

ZAIBATSU LEAD ANALYST: <Wakao Yoriyuki. Amongst media circles he is referred to as “Wacky Wakao”, but he’s cracked some of the biggest corruption and crime investigations of the past five years. Our sources indicate that his current focus is a team investigation with an Italian journalist. An… Ivano Cappelli.>

A smaller photo appears of a slick, yet equally as beatnik Italian man.

ZAIBATSU LEAD ANALYST: <Their focus has been on the certain Euro-Asian crime enterprises. Especially business dealings between the Yakuza and Italian Mafia. It appears that both have found a connection to the Zaibatsu via the Caponata and Yonamine families. Cappelli is working leads in Europe while Wakao has begun digging into rumors and routes here.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Threat Assessment and Resolution Probabilities?>

ZAIBATSU LEAD ANALYST: <Kurata-san and the Nakama will take deeper research before application of countermeasures, but we expect a sixty-eight…>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <I accept no less than ninety-eight percent probable success rate and I want the measures presented to me by late May. That way we can arrange things to occur by the summer Matsuri season in July when the city is filled with distractions.>

ZAIBATSU LEAD ANALYST: <*stunned* Y-yes… Nijima-buchou. And the journalist?>

KASUMI NIJIMA:

Tossing the tablet back to the Lead Analyst, Kasumi departs the command room. Once outside, she pulls out her smartphone.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Uncle? We need to talk.>

YASUHIRO MACHI: <Fuckin’ Yonamine. Especially that little shithead Yonamine Saemon. I knew operations would get sloppier after his old man checked out.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Well, regardless, I wanted to give you warning and plea for assistance, Uncle Machi. Not only for the Zaibatsu’s sake, but your own. If the Yonamine…>

YASUHIRO MACHI: <*waves dismissively* Yes, yes. I’ve been at this game since your Mother was knee-high and with pig-tails. Leave it to Ol’ Uncle Machi and you focus on that Chloe Storm girl.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Who?>

The expected hard brassy sounds of a saxophone accompanied by the ivory pings of a piano and melodic strings of other wood instruments fill the air of the “Oasis of Truth” jazz club.

Dimming of the wall lighting, provides that nocturnal noir vibe in conjunction with the solid brick walls, covered with posters and pictures of past acts.

Playing up to it and his gangster persona, Machi is dressed in a sharp suit and his “trademark” hat as ever. Smoking a cigar in one hand while swirling a glass of brandy in the other.

The wisps of smoke rising from the cigar would join an expected low-hanging cloud of smoke if not for the exhaust fan nearby that sucks away the particles.

A reminder that even if one tries to live in the past, the present always makes its presence known.

A soured, “disappointed dad” face shows on Machi’s features as he stares at Kasumi.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <You’ve got to be kidding me. How do I, an old, beat up gangster, know who you’re facing at that Galaxy Princess Tournament and you don’t?>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <*shrugs* That’s what the Zaibatsu analysts are for. I’ll get briefed soon, I’m sure.>

Putting his cigar (but not his brandy) down, Machi facepalms in disgust.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <Shiro’s right. You’re a fucking robot, sweetie. Breaks my goddamn heart.>

Kasumi fights back the instant agitated response, wanting to remains respectful to Machi as she sees him as the same level as Sojiro.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <That embarrassment has nothing to do with me.>

Emptying the brandy glass down his throat, Shiro points to a nearby server for another before staring hard Kasumi.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <That “embarrassment” got everything to do with it. Your Old Man might have trained you too well to find the boy an embarrassment, but for me? The kid’s a godsdamned hero.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <*sneers* Hero? Will all due respect, Uncle? All Miyashiro does is leech off Father’s wealth and enjoy his “Bad Boy” persona.>

Machi shakes his head in further dismay.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <This is exactly what I was afraid was going to happen. Soji’s got you so brainwashed that you stopped thinking for yourself. He took the gloves, didn’t he?>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <He did.>

YASUHIRO MACHI: <Fuckin’ asshole. Well, here.>

Reaching into his pocket, Machi pulls out another pair of Tiger Blossom gloves.

This pair look a bit more worn, with fault line cracks in the leather in various spots and the cherry blossom trees and tiger looking less vibrant.

Kasumi looks in shock as Machi hands them to her.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <You think your Mother had only one pair? That’d be nasty and she was far too classy a lady for that. I also figured Soji would do something like that so I held these back and gave you her last unused pair. These?>

Machi looks at the worn gloves reverently as if they were a holy relic.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <These were her first pair and her training gloves eventually. A lot of toil, struggle, and grit were spent in who knows how many practice sessions before Soji fucked it all for her.>

An admonishing look is on Machi’s face as he jabs a crooked, scarred, thick finger at Kasumi.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <Which is why I give them to you now. Because my body might be a bit broken, but the mind’s still sharp as a razor. And I see that Soji’s kept you so controlled and coddles that you sure, you know all them fancy moves and shit like some fuckin’ video game. But when it comes down to it? You don’t -really- know how to scrap. How to scratch, claw, and bleed for every single thing that matters in your life.>

Picking the cigar up, Machi takes another long puff and exhale as he watches the tendrils of smoke rise into the air. The acrid taste somehow calms him as he looks at his beloved “niece” with a pitied expression.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <Shiro might be cashing in on what he believes Soji owes him, but let me tell you something. That boy? He’s been through hell. I know shit that Soji never bothered to care to know. Even now, he may use Soji’s money to get the hotels, booze, and broads. But anything that really fuckin’ matters to him?>

Machi raises his other, scarred and weathered “butcher’s” hand.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <He did it with this and what street smarts he earned the hard way.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <You… actually respect him…>

Kasumi says it in amazement as she looks for any sign of falsities in her Uncle but finds none.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <He’s always been just a jester, fool, and embarrassment to me.>

YASUHIRO MACHI: <Heh, the greatest heroes started out being seen as fools.>

Machi jabs the cigar down, snuffing it out before leaning in. A wince comes over his face as a lifetime of injuries are definitely keeping up with him, but he remains as spirited as ever.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <But this isn’t about him, but -you-. So, tell me something. What do you know of this Chloe Storm? And don’t fuckin’ look at your phone like some cheat sheet.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Canadian, early to mid-20s, and is part of the Gaijin Attack Squad or whatever it is the gaijin group calls themselves.>

YASUHIRO MACHI: <“Gaijin Assault Army”. First fuckin’ mistake. Not even knowing the details of your enemy. I know Soji taught you better than that with all them sharks in the corpo world. But we’ll get to that in a moment. What else?>

Kasumi blinks and finds herself unable to come up with anything else.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <See what I fuckin’ mean? You’re so obsessed with Shiro, doing Soji’s bidding for his fuckin’ Prime Minister dreams, and whatever other antics he’s got you up to that you can’t even see how blind he’s made you.>

As the brandy arrives, Machi takes a drink, gasping as it warms his insides.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <Your Mother had a trainer. This old battle cunt named Juba Hami. And Ol’ Hami had a saying. “A wolf can be tamed, but a tiger never is.” She’s the one that gave Nariko that “Tiger Blossom” nickname. And it makes me sick to my stomach that Soji took that woman’s daughter and stripped away her will, right to think, and worse? He made her a mindless order-taking robot like every other disgusting corporate suit under him.>

Kasumi keeps herself composed even as the hurt shows in her voice.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <That’s not fair, Uncle. Father has…>

YASUHIRO MACHI: <Life’s not fuckin’ fair and don’t make excuses for Soji. It’s good you’re the dutiful daughter and shit, but we both know what a rotten piece of shit he’s become. I tried to stop him, but I couldn’t.>

Sighing, Machi downs the rest of the brandy before motioning for another.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <But I’m not worried about a lost cause like him. I’m worried about the promise I made the day you were born. That I’d not let him ruin you the way I saw he was ruining Nariko.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <*bitterly* You speak highly of a woman who abandoned me.>

YASUHIRO MACHI: <Heh, someday you’ll learn the truth but it isn’t my place to tell you before you’re ready to actually listen. In meantime, let me tell you this. I’ve been hearing how Soji and the old hag… Endo? Both of them are upset you aren’t the conquering ass kicker you’ve been up to this point, right?>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <*sighs* Right.>

Machi grins like a Father who’s about to make his point on his delinquent child.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <It’s because for all you got up here? *taps his head* You don’t got it here. *taps his heart*>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <I-->

YASUHIRO MACHI: <Don’t interrupt an old man when he’s sharing wisdom.>

Kasumi motions for her own drink while taking another deep, meditative breath before nodding.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <*smiles* Good. See, there’s a difference between respect and blind obedience. And that’s the reason you’re struggling to put all those little girls under heel. You enjoy fighting sure to “blow off stress” as you corpos say, but you’re doing it as a duty to Soji. It’s not your -desire-. Those girls in Miracle Galaxy Pro? For whatever crazy reasons they got, they all do it for their dreams and passions.>

Machi watches Kasumi take on the words, seeming her eyes lower, yet her posture tense as it’s clear he’s hit the mark.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <Any gulf in skill is crossed because their heart, mind, and soul are more committed than yours. Even little Costanza, with the same trapped world of her psychopath grandfather got her reasons. I can see it on the screen when she looks at that Vex girl. But you?>

Machi shakes his head.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <You better figure out what it is -really- fast. Otherwise, you won’t have to worry about a possible match against Costanza, because you won’t get past Chloe Storm in the first round.>

Kasumi’s face reflects the brewing storm of calculations and realizations at her Uncle’s words.

As her drink arrives, she loses a bit of manners and takes a large swig herself, not even caring what the drink is.

Slapping the glass on the table, she watches a bit splash up but somehow remain contained in the container.

Then, her eyes gaze up at Machi.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Tell me more about my Mother. Especially who she really was.>

Kasumi taps the gloves while keeping her eyes locked on Machi.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <If I am to succeed the way you hope? I have to know just who the Tiger Blossom was.>

Machi laughs and leans back, crossing his arms with a Cheshire grin on his face.

YASUHIRO MACHI: <Now, you’re finally waking up.>

“The Perfect Drug”

It was the perfect way to describe Fumi Morishita.

The future Fumi Nijima.

She bedazzled a young college student named Sojiro Nijima with her flamboyant personality and sharp looks.

She was in many ways Sojiro Nijima’s perfect foil.

Ruthless. Ambitious. Power-hungry.

The problem was that she met him a decade too soon.

Or rather it took him a decade too long to be forged into what she wanted.

FUMI NIJIMA: <Maybe we should re-evaluate my hasty decision, Soji.>

That was the words she said to him in 1997 when she strolled confidently into Nijima Corp’s HQ and announced herself to his personal assistant as “Mrs. Sojiro Nijima”.

The careful strategist in Sojiro should have immediately had her escorted out.

The dwindling shred of goodness that truly loved Nariko and was a loyal husband, should have gotten a restraining order.

Yet that college boy that had been made addicted to her fell of the wagon.

NARIKO NIJIMA: <Be thankful I know that there is goodness still in you and that Kasumi needs a stable home. That was your one allowed indiscretion.>

Those were the words Nariko said to him six months later when she learned of the affair.

Machi had barely kept himself from beating Sojiro within an inch of his life.

And the man swore to both he would not make such a fool mistake again.

But he would, every now and then.

Like an addict who’d get clean then gave that “small taste” Sojiro continued his indiscretions every 12-18 months.

While Fumi waited and watched.

This time she would be patient.

This time she would be sure whether Sojiro or Junichi would be the right bet.

SMACK!

NARIKO NIJIMA: <YOU BASTARD!>

The pain of the slap meant nothing next to the pain as he watched the tears fall down Nariko’s face.

July 7, 2002.

He’d never forget the date.

As Nariko was dressed immaculate in a yukata for the local matsuri, she was everything Sojiro wanted for a perfect corporate wife.

She charmed at dinners with her appearance of innocence and tenderness.

And despite how greater the divide had grown between them in philosophy, she had remained a loyal and dutiful wife and mother.

NARIKO NIJIMA: <I’ve given you a decade of loyalty, despite the hideous monster you’ve become. I truly believed I could redeem you, and you thank me with this?!>

Sojiro didn’t need to look at the photos flung at him.

He knew the truth that he’d been repeatedly unfaithful much like an addict that visits a drug den.

NARIKO NIJIMA: <Kasumi and I are leaving.>

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <You may leave. But Kasumi will remain.>

It was then Nariko Nijima learned that she too had been too late.

Her husband was irrevocably lost and worse, he had built a strong-arm empire enough to have -her- escorted out of their home.

Not only that, but Sojiro relocated her to the United States.

Nariko Nijima would lose her homeland, her husband, and her child all in a span of 24 hours.

With the power of the Nijima Global Zaibatsu lawyers behind him, it was a ruthlessly efficient divorce.

One that left Nariko well cared for financially but one that ensured she’d not see her daughter again.

Even Machi’s protests fell on deaf ears and the Zaibatsu’s power had grown far past the Yakuza’s.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <Your mother has chosen to live elsewhere, Kasumi. Her philosophical differences are too great with ours. I am sorry to say that she did not choose to take you with her.>

That arctic, heartless, soulless statement, as if it was a PR statement for the media than his 10-year-old daughter was how Sojiro told his daughter what happened when she came home from school that day.

Ever the dutiful daughter, Kasumi’s heart was shattered as she believed her Father with her blind loyalty.

And Fumi?

Well, it had all been to plan.

After seeing Junichi fall to ruin and the Zaibatsu’s rise, she began her full court press to convince Sojiro to return to her. That she would be the ideal corporate wife.

When he seemingly enjoyed the “taste” of her forbidden fruit yet refused to commit?

Well, that’s why she had carefully (and secretly) documented each encounter with Sojiro.

Making sure to send the large file to her “successor” when she felt the time was finally right and Sojiro had forced her hand to “move things along”.

She was now prepared to reclaim her throne except for one gross miscalculation.

The demon that she had planted the first seeds for had grown into a monster beyond her imagination.

JUNICHI OKUBO: <You fucking needle-dicked piece of shit! Do you know who I am?! I’ll fucking kill you!>

July 17th, 2002.

Just ten days after losing Nariko.

A plan over ten years in the making was finally reaching its climax.

On a typical foggy night at the docks, a heavily beaten and battered Junichi Okubo laid along the slimy, grime slick concrete.

Sojiro Nijima had not only started a company to compete with Diamontronics, it crushed it.

Within a decade, the Nijima Corporation had transformed into the Nijima Global Zaibatsu.

At first, his manuevers had been relatively benign.

A buyout and merger.

All Diamontronics employees given opportunity to either take a healthy severance or be re-assigned within the Zaibatsu with proper pay.

Former President Taysuke Okubo treated with the utmost respect with an honorary board member seat as Sojiro never forgot the man had given him his first job.

But it was all in waiting.

Taysuke Okubo had died four months earlier.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <You should choose your words more wisely, Junichi. For you know not how many you have left to spew.>

Four months was all it took for Sojiro to destroy Junichi’s world.

Suspended without pay, stripped of his stock options, disgraced in the media due to a corruption scandal involving side business interests…

Junichi went from prince to pauper and now laid handcuffed at the feet of the man who’s life he had terrorized.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <As of this time, I find your position and your presence… what was the word? Oh yes…>

The demonic smile on Sojiro’s face unnerved the man in a way as if had gazed at an eldritch horror.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <Redundant.>

JUNICHI OKUBO: <Fuck you! I’m a national hero!>

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <Not when your dealings with the Chinese are made public. It will be hard to find you “heroic” when the public reads that you razed an entire neighborhood of elderly citizens for a Chinese developer.>

JUNICHI OKUBO: <You’ve got no proof!>

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <Perhaps, perhaps not. But public opinion is all that matters. Plus, you will not be around to see whether that is true or not.>

Like a skittering beetle, a black, heavy armored truck, like those for banking deposits, slowly rolls up.

From the back, two musclebound men in white medical scrubs rush out and snatch Junichi from the ground.

As he struggles and flails, he finds himself shocked at the can barely move a centimeter in their strong grip.

Behind them, a tall wiry blonde man steps out.

His hair slickened back and he looks straight out of a 1990s power techno video with his “mad doctor” attire including black rubber gloves and slim rimmed glasses.

Clutching Junichi’s chin firmly, he inspects the man like livestock until Junichi spits in his face.

His eyes narrowing, the man pulls out a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wipes away the insult.

“MAD DOCTOR”: He will do.

The man speaks in English but with a strong Austrian accent as the “orderlies” drag the screaming Junichi off.

Looking at Sojiro, the man bows to Nijima and switches to Japanese.

“MAD DOCTOR”: <Doctor Gregor Lehner at your service, Nijima-san. This specimen will get wonderful for our new genetic trials. My superiors at The Black Company thank you for your kind donation. We hope this will be the first of future fruitful business arrangements.>

Doctor Lehner snaps his fingers to the driver who rushes out and offers a suitcase stuffed with Japanese Yen and U.S. Dollars to one of the Zaibatsu’s guards.

Once both currencies are counted and confirmed, they nod to Sojiro.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <*smiles* It is my pleasure.>

DOCTOR LEHNER: <Yes. Well, we shall be off then. The usual contact will reach out to you through the established channel for future talks.>

Barking orders at the men in his native Austrian, the Doctor returns to the armored vehicle and quickly it reverses and disappears into the thick morass.

Moments later, a sedan drives up.

A non-descript man in a black suit jumps out and quickly bows to Sojiro.

Another exits from the rear of the vehicle and quickly pulls out what appears to be an already dead corpse.

Placing it in driver’s seat.

As Sojiro walks away, then men make preparations as they pour gasoline and other accelerants all over and through the car.

FUMI NIJIMA: <Well, that’s that.>

Fumi states with a bored tone while smoking a cigarette as she witnessed the whole thing.

Just as she had done years earlier to Miyashiro, she had given the same “tough luck, kid” look to Junichi when Sojiro sprung his trap.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <Indeed. Save for one last matter.>

“The Look”

Something that would become over the following 20 years a feared thing mentioned in whispers amongst many in the corporate and criminal worlds.

Where Sojiro Nijima seemed to impossibly go from a calm, human to a devil incarnate in front of one’s eyes.

It was at this moment it was birthed.

In this moment, the last bit of goodness in him died.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <You think me a fool, Fumi? That same weak-willed doormat that you met in 1980? The one you and Junichi tried to make “redundant”?>

FUMI NIJIMA: <Soji, don’t do anything you may regret.>

She gave in warning, expecting him to cower.

Instead?

He chuckled.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <Regrets and you are inextricably linked. But in this moment? No. The regret shall not be mine.>

His hate-filled eyes bore into hers as Fumi instinctively took a step back. Only to bump into the strong arms of a Zaibatsu soldier.

SOJIRO NIJIMA: <You too must learn why it is a poor choice to displease me.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <So far, she’s only been in tag competition with the Bonecrusher. Still, she can handle her own in the ring.>

ALICIA KANG: <Well, yes, Chloe Storm comes from wrestling royalty. The Storm family’s name is all over the North American industry. I had a match against her mother, Janet, once when I was a rookie. Woman turned me inside out and played with me like I was a mouse toy with her the cat.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <You say that with admiration in your voice.>

It is a week after Kasumi’s dinner with Machi.

In the “modest trappings” of Alicia’s upscale, top floor luxury apartment, the pair watch the two recent matches involving Chloe Storm.

ALICIA KANG: <The Storm are cocky as hell, but they can back it up. Think of it like you can massively dislike someone but respect their skill all the same.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Uncle Machi was right. I’ve been an entitled, arrogant combatant, spoon fed my opponents to make Father’s glory look greater. I just… didn’t want to admit it.>

ALICIA KANG: <If it makes you feel better? Chloe isn’t much better. The Storm are known for the best trainers, gyms, luxury cars, and so on. Where she has the advantage is that she’s been trained since a child.>

Kasumi keeps watching the matches over and over. Then she finds videos of other matches of Chloe’s.

And a funny thing happens.

Kasumi gets excited.

With each passing moment, the anxieties of living up to Sojiro’s expectations, Endo’s demands, or any of the other outside noise fades away.

There’s only the blonde Canadian on the screen before her.

There’s only the realization that for once, she isn’t the one with the distinct advantage.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Uncle wants me to “scrap” on my own. To figure out how to fight for myself. I suppose a gaijin doppelgänger is a good start.>

Taking a moment, she looks at the weathered gloves on the coffee table before her.

Alicia also takes notice and smirks.

ALICIA KANG: <You know, I should confiscate those from you.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <You should… but I-->

ALICIA KANG: <You don’t have to worry. Nijima-sama’s instructions were to hold onto the pair of gloves that he took from you at Big Bang Evolution. Not any other pair. Though I’d advise you don’t let him see them.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <*nods appreciatively* So I’ve been told.>

Kasumi continues staring at the gloves before she changes to video search not to that of Chloe Storm.

But of late 80s/early 90s videos of Tokyo Roller Derby.

Specifically, anything involving Nariko Uchida.

ALICIA KANG: <You realize fighting for one parent over the other won’t change your lack of focus?>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <No. But if I can watch her, understand her, figure out what made her great and attracted my Father to her? Perhaps I can find myself. He doesn’t like meek women. Yourself, for example, would not be his Right Hand if you were completely servile.>

ALICIA KANG: <Which makes an interesting contradiction considering his demand for complete obedience.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <All the same, we both know he fixates on the exceptional and how they can be use of him. And Uncle Machi has made clear he wants me to emulate her more. I recall she was strong spirited, but… so much has happened in the last 20 years it’s…>

ALICIA KANG: <Almost as if her image has been blurred and obscured now in the ocean of the Zaibatsu initiatives?>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <…yes, actually. And to face Chloe Storm? Or any of these joshi? I now get a sense I will have to find myself. Carefully, so that it does not gather Father’s notice to soon. But to know myself? I have to know where I came from. And know it from my own eyes, not my Father’s carefully crafted narrative.>

ALICIA KANG: <You’re putting me in a most undesirable position. I should report this to Nijima-sama, but…>

Alicia sighs and shakes her head.

ALICIA KANG: <…I’ve been there. And the most twisted part of this all is that I suspect Nijima-sama has anticipated all of this.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <So then…?>

ALICIA KANG: <You tread carefully. I won’t lie and say that I will not protect myself first and foremost, but as long as I am not in grave danger? I will attempt to support this endeavor as best I can.>

Knowing the grave consequence of what Alicia just declared, Kasumi gets up and for the first time since she was a child, embraces another in a hug.

It even shocks Alicia who stiffens at first and then relaxes.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <You have my word that I will do all I can not to bring you harm, Kang-sama.>

Alicia chuckles and pats Kasumi’s cheek in a sisterly manner.

ALICIA KANG: <It was easier when you thought me a scheming future stepmother. This… closeness is worrisome. I suppose all we need now is an 80s training montage.>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <A…what?>

ALICIA KANG: <*chuckles* Never mind. So what is the first part of finding more about Nariko? I could have the analysts…>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <No. That would be playing exactly to Uncle Machi's point.>

Kasumi sighs and shakes her head in mild trepidation.

KASUMI NIJIMA:

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Back so soon, Kitty?>

Once more at The Hakone’s Infinity Pool Plaza.

Shiro as usual holds court with giggling, fawning young women until Kasumi’s vicious presence scares them away.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Really know how to make friends, don’t you?>

Ever one straight to business, Kasumi sits herself down.

The look on her face is one of uncertainty but resolve to push forward.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <I’m not ready to believe most of the garbage from your mouth. But I believe in Uncle Machi. So…>

She stares hard at her brother.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <Tell me about my Mother.>

Shiro looks taken aback at her request.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <The fuck would I know about her? I was shipped off, remember?>

KASUMI NIJIMA: <You were there for the first three years of my life I’m told. And probably some before that. Tell me who she was, what she was. Before…>

Kasumi struggles with the words but eventually forces them out.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <…Before Father ruined her.>

Leaning in, Shiro gives a pat to Kasumi’s shoulder which she flinches off and he raises his hands in surrender.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Alright, too soon for the affection. But as you wish Princess. At the time I was too young and stupid myself to realize she deserved saving too. Suppose all these years later, I can’t fault her for being a woman in love.>

Over the next few hours, Shiro fills Kasumi in on what she can.

Events wise, there’s nothing of great revelation, but it’s the manner that Shiro speaks of Nariko that strikes Kasumi.

KASUMI NIJIMA: <You know, I’ve only ever seen you show such respect for Uncle Machi until now.>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Heh. I had a lot of thinking at that boarding school once Pops exiled me. Plus, I’ve seen how much worse he’s become since she left. I didn’t realize just what a monster that Nariko was holding back from the world until she wasn’t there to do it anymore.>

KASUMI NIJIMA:

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <*shrugs* Do as you like, Kitty. All I care about is…>

Shiro looks over at Kasumi with a dead serious expression.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <Are you prepared to finally come back from Wonderland?>

Rising from her seat, Kasumi looks past her brother, toward Lake Ashi.

A soft wind caresses her features as she smiles and looks toward her brother.

KASUMI NIJIMA:

Giving a formal bow to Shiro, for the first time in ages, he sees a happy small and the briefest glimpse of that little girl who used to fawn over him.

As she strides off, a more confident cadence in her steps, Shiro laughs and raises a drink to her disappearing form.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <That’s my Kit-Kat. There’s still hope for you yet.>

?????: <How touching.>

Snapping his gaze forward, Shiro blinks in astonishment and swivels his head left and right before centering back on the figure before him.

Dressed in a violet, pinstripe suit, the woman’s flesh is completely covered by the suit. Even her hands are covered with gloves.

But most striking of all?

Her face is hidden behind an ornate porcelain kabuki mask.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA:

FUMI NIJIMA: <Does it truly matter to you?>

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <*laughs* Not really.>

FUMI NIJIMA: <Good. All that matters is Sojiro’s downfall. But bide your time. There’s no need to rush things. Let us see how it all plays out.>

Leaning over the couch he’s sat on, Shiro flails and tries to grasp for a half-filled vodka bottle on the ground.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <I didn’t believe you for shit when you first appeared, but I have to admit you’ve been right so far. Machi seems finally sick of him. So that just leaves Kitty as the only other person I want to keep from being collateral damage. Remember our agreement. Do whatever the fuck you want to Sojiro and the rest, but Kitty must be spared.>

FUMI NIJIMA: <That, my son, depends on Kasumi.>

As he rises to look and respond to his mother…

She’s gone.

Taking a large chug of the vodka, Shiro breaks into a maddened laugh and tosses the bottle off to the side where it crashes and shatters.

MIYASHIRO NIJIMA: <If I -am- fuckin’ losing it, at least it’ll be a whole family affair.>

Fin.