Yes, it will be okay... It will be okay, everything will be okay... Yet, she couldn't feel safe and secure. Memories begun resurfacing, memories of unpleasant things she did not wish to have in her head as she put the phone down, slowly walking over to the bathroom and cleaning her face, applying an obnoxious amount of black mascara onto her long lashes, to gaze upon her reflection in the mirror. She disliked the face that stared back at her by the same amount that she loved it... It was a face so much alike to the photographs of her mother, which gazed deep, deep into her soul with the orbs of her grey eyes. And Ryouko was displeased by that. Yamahata Kaneko was a woman of great beauty, but also great vanity, as told to her by her uncle and aunt... And she died young, oh so young.<br/>Ryouko wished that she would have stayed alive. That it would be someone else, and that she wouldn't be alone.<br/>She could not bear losing one more person so dear to her. Even if she was just a child of two when that accident happened, she missed her mother, she missed the presence, a hollowed hole gaping within her chest, nothing ever enough to hold it together the way it should. She couldn't afford to lose Suketsune or Hirashike like that.<br/><br/>She was dedicated to that, to that one thing, to keep them close and hold them near. No, nothing would make her give them up. With those thoughts, she braided her hair, pushing it under a tight cap, to then slide a thick black wig, sporting a couple of cat ears on top. Its hair was long and coarse, reaching under her ribs, its long bangs shadowing her grey eyes. Like that, she hurried to get dressed. She was about to pull her skirt on, her soft grey jumper already hanging around her figure loosely, when she heard the sound of tires under the windows. And the moment the door, unlocked to let him in, clinked with the sound of a doorknob opening, she ran towards it, throwing herself into Hirashike's arms.<br/><br/>"Hirashike... You arrived so fast. I was really afraid... But now that you're there... It's all going to be okay, right? Maybe... Maybe it's just a prank, and someone took his phone..." she spoke, voice shaking, but she forced herself to keep her composure as she looked up into Hirashike's eyes, searching for a hope that would light the candle of her own faith somewhere in his face. He could always reassure her... Make her feel like everything was okay... There was no one she'd love more than him.<br/><br/>All of a sudden, her phone rang. She reached for it, for a moment breaking out of the embrace she was enclosed in, to stare at the display. Sayuri... What could she want?<br/>She picked the call up, nearing the phone her ear.<br/><br/>----<br/><br/>"Sure, get her some." Yutaka shrugged the matter off, refilling his glass. He cared little for what his subordinates did inside the hideout as long as they weren't wrecking it, or intruding into his room. He knew as much as that the girl wouldn't do anything, and that meant anything at all by the command of anyone but him. Such dogged, obsessive loyalty... Almost like the dogs of the Empress, which crawled in her shadows and followed her so ardently it made his guts turn.<br/><br/>"Hand the bottle over," he turned to Ryu, jaded yellow eyes gleaming in the scarce light, entering the kitchen through the curtains, "we're not some Ishimaru high society motherf**kers to drink from cups."  he grinned, grabbing the throat of the bottle with the firm grip of his pale hand, and taking a swig straight from it.<br/>For, keep words such as these close to your heart, intoxication was a strong weapon that knew no good from bad. It took everyone, rich and poor, rightful and unjust, twisted and honorable all the same, claiming them, claiming them all.<br/>For now, however, Yutaka welcomed this intoxication, pouring into his brain and poisoning it, a warmth that had nothing to do with the way of the sun, traveling across the sky, for right now, he cared for naught.<br/><br/>----<br/><br/>A plastic bag, old and dirty by the looks for sure, rolled across the small courtyard, propelled by the wind, twisting in the thin membrane of synthetic material. It was swept to the wall of the house next to it, and for a moment pushed tight against it, before it rolled out of the way, continuing its travel along the pavement.<br/>'Arms & Ammo' read the sign above the metal door, by now still locked. Shiganori Weapons and Provisions, read the sign that lined the entrance by the right. Both the signs above and beside were worn by weather, once maybe painted a deep cobalt blue, but now boasting a dull grayish color, much like the facade of the building itself. The shop itself was located in its basement, an entrance made through a backstreet, known only to a limited few that liked to dig into filthy dens like these.<br/>Yukio Shiganori disliked people, that was why she chose to live in such a secluded place.<br/>After all, they were all just a bunch of unreliable bastards!<br/><br/>Cold water soothed her dry mouth, pushing a few painkillers down her throat with its tide, and she stared into the reflection of her head in the porcelain of the cup. A messy head of coarse, unkempt black hair, wrapped over with a white scarf; bags under her blue eyes, skin pale as it always was, not naturally, but faded by the time she spent in her basement, under the bright neons that aided her in constructing her beautiful creations.<br/>She yawned, putting the cup back onto the counter, and stretching made her way out of the back premises of the shop and nearby rooms. Still groggy from staying up so late working on something from a customer, she grabbed her pipe, stuffed it, and keeping it between her teeth she lit it, stepping outside the shop. The metal door closed, but she cared little for that, standing before it in her usual old tank top and sweatpants, bare feet in poisonously green flip-flops resting upon the dirt on the ground.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">Someone should sweep this place up,</span>she thought as she gazed at the courtyard, a cloud of smoke leaving her body through the nostrils.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">But definitely not me.</span>she added then.<br/><br/>Only then did she sight the man, drawing near. Her sole remaining hand pulled the pipe out of her teeth, and she aimed an inspecting gaze onto him, scanning his figure with caution. Not a new customer... But a well-paying one. He ordered less ridiculous thing than those gangsters, of which one once purchased a 1.5 meters long flamethrower, practically only created to roast crowds alive, but anything that paid well enough to grant her food for a day and paid for heating, water, and electricity counted as a good job. For work as this, after all, one needed to pay well.<br/>She attempted to raise her right hand to him as a greeting, only then remembering that today, she did not have the prosthetic attached, and instead of black ceramic, metal, and circuits there was nothing, just a piece of electronic, embedded into the stump of her arm. An annoyed sigh forced its way out of her at the muscles, uncomfortably shifting, and sending a wave of pain through her body, nearly strong enough to make her twitch.<br/>"Mornin'." she greeted her visitor. "Long time no see. Got somethin' new, or wanna check out what I got inside?" she questioned him lazily, tilting her head to the side as she spoke, the pipe still in the fingers of her raised left hand.