"Hi, beautiful," Hirashike's voice could be heard from the other side of the phone. Ryouko would have blushed were she not as stressed as she was; Hira was a real gentleman and a boy any girl could just wish to be with. He was kind and generous, and she loved him, she loved him more than she loved anyone else. She loved the way he spoke to her, and any time she as little as sighted his smile, her heart fluttered and she felt butterflies circling in her stomach. Even now, she could feel them, a tingling sensation that send shivers down her spine. But right now, she could waste no time...<br/><br/>"Hirashike... I have a big problem... You remember how I called Suketsune yesterday night and someone strange answered, then it shut off? Now he texted me the address of some warehouse in Anzai district, and he's not picking up the phone otherwise. I'm afraid..." she admitted, pacing across her bedroom, and into the extra room she kept for a wardrobe, to dig a pair of grey stockings, lined with lace at the top, a schoolgirl's folded skirt, and a soft woolen jumper with a wide neck, out, gently placing them all onto her bed. She kept her head tilted, the thin phone between her ear and her shoulder, as she continued speaking. "I'm afraid someone kidnapped him or something bad happened to him. You know how it is with the gangs of the sort... Or that they want to kidnap<span style="font-style: italic">me</span>. Someone could have just stolen his phone, but if that's not the case, and Suketsune isn't okay, then... I can't just leave it, can I? I need you to come with me... And call someone - if you can. There's... There's this girl Suketsune once met that he told me to call if something happens... So I'll phone her, Shiganori is the name I think... Sweetie, I need you to come... I can't go there alone... I know it's really early in the morning, but I'm afraid alone..."<br/><br/>She stood before the large window, opening up into a beautiful view onto her terrace, the white tiles on the floor covered by the fallen petals of sakura trees that grew nearby, lining the path towards the apartment building. The sun was only rising now...<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>"Thanks, kid." Yutaka's thin lips curved into a smile, and he took the bottle into his hands, opening it seemingly without even a hint of issue, and filling two cups of the four Ryu has prepared. He grabbed one; it was quite a large glass, definitely not intended for drinking sake - but after all, no one cared much for the sort of glass used when he simply wanted to get drunk. They weren't snobs from Ishimaru, they were just what they were, ruthless punks of the city's darkest, shadiest parts. No one considered the type of glass from which you drank important - the fact that you drank from a glass was testament enough that you're on a position high enough to afford a bit of snobbery. The usual custom was just to drink from the bottle.<br/><br/>He pushed the other glass towards Ryu, leaning onto the table once more. "F**k toasts. Let's get drunk." he proclaimed, downing all that was in it afterwards.<br/><br/>Though the glass and the room changed, sake tasted the same. It tasted the same as when he was young, as when he was still at least somewhat honorable, not a black-hearted runaway from the law. It tasted the same as ten years ago, as it tasted in the halls of Lord Niijima, as it tasted from the glass in the cupped hands of the Niijima lady, the same as it tasted from the broken bottle, dripping above the dead bodies of both of them, the same as it tasted above his tombstone, raised above an empty grave.<br/>Some things never change.<br/><br/>How little emotion he held for these people around him was something that hasn't changed since he was young, either. They all owed him something... They all owed him the fact that they were living the way they were, the fact that they weren't on the streets anymore; in a way, all of them belonged to him. But they, too, no matter how much he's done for them, were expendable tools, steps on a ladder that he was climbing, steps drenched with the blood on his hands and soaked with the blackness in his heart.<br/>That was how it always was.<br/>No one cared for anyone - that was the Scarlet Note.