#⤿ VERSE. ✕ PTN & YAKUZA 01 ✕ FIRE IT UP AND WATCH IT BURN ( THIS IS MY WORLD )

[dojimakaichou]

for @queenoftheboard.

★. ―

Daigo was just beginning to doze off when a noise outside of his door caught his attention. He waited for a moment, unsure if it was really for his cell ; soon, however, a droning voice slipped through the portal to his miserable little room. In spite of the sleep still clouding his eyes, the Sixth Chairman rose to his feet. Stiffly, given his old wounds and lack of comfortable quarters, but he managed it nonetheless.

As the guards finished with their normal protocols for entry, Daigo scrubbed his face and pushed his hair out of it. Those dark locks, peppered with a bit of gray due to stress, were growing uncontrollably. The same could be said for his facial hair. Outside of these walls, Daigo liked to keep his scruff neat and tidy. During the course of his prison sentence, however, he had let it go. He now boasted a rather handsome, short beard. There was something about it that amused the yakuza — to the point that he often claimed he would only shave it when he and his pseudo - uncles were freed, much like a symbol of victory.

The prison officials appeared relieved at the sight of Daigo simply waiting, though they quickly schooled their features. It was no secret who he was ( hence his isolated cell ), and many of the younger guards approached him with a touch of nervousness. Daigo had laughed to himself once when he overheard a pair of them, who were practically boys, muttering about the sheer size of Tokyo's most infamous marksman. Evidently, there were some grains of truth sprinkled through the wild stories about the Tojo Clan's legends.

Daigo said nothing as his legs and arms were appropriately chained. He allowed the guards to check his restraints without fuss. A sharp tug to the band around his waist made the yakuza wince, and Daigo sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. In here, he couldn't start fights — not unless he wanted to add more time to his sentence — but there were few who respected that.

After, he was taken through the halls. Daigo lifted his feet to the best of ability, back straight. He was a proud man, and this third stay in a jail would do as much to break his spirit as the last two. As they walked past the corridors leading to the other blocks, Daigo wondered where his uncles were being housed. Their cells were frequently moved in the hopes of preventing any escape ( or rescue ) attempts. Finally, Daigo's destination came in view : the visiting area. The Sixth Chairman raised a brow at that. Who could possibly — ??

Daigo was brought into a private room of sorts with a single metal table and pair of chairs. The guards escorted him to the closest seat, ordered him to sit, and promptly chained the Chairman to the furniture. There were places for the links to slide through and be locked into, which left the man with a highly limited range of motion. Daigo looked around curiously, unsure of what to think. This type of visitation was normally for when he had particularly powerful individuals present that required a greater level of discretion ( and could wave enough influence to remove the glass between them and come close ).

The door he was taken through closed with a snap and a low buzz ; on cue, the matching slab on the other side opened. Shock bloomed in Daigo's features, and he sat back to the best of his ability. His jumpsuit, with its brazenly unbuttoned collar, wrinkled fantastically.

"I was under the impression that today is your birthday, Miss Campbell," Daigo said, lips tugging into a tired smile. His English was rusty, but it would do. "Why the hell are you spending it in a place like this ??"

[dojimakaichou]

★. ―

Daigo politely declined a sandwich for now, though that Eirene brought both made him smile. Really, all he wanted was the coffee. He suspected that food would flip his stomach due to his nerves, which was not an avenue that he wanted to travel down this evening. The yakuza placed his beverage by his feet for a moment and stretched. As he did, the edge of his shirt crept up. A fearsome crack sounded out from his shoulders. It was evident that the Chairman had been sitting for some time before Eirene arrived. Daigo winced, fixed his clothing, and retrieved his coffee. He settled back into place, bent forward.

"Kiryu - san," the yakuza mused, raising a brow. Daigo was aware that the next part of the plan depended heavily on the Fourth Chairman to behave as predicted, which included finding Eirene. A needle of regret came then, sharp and stinging ; Daigo breathed out slowly.

"You have little to fear there, actually," Daigo said. "Kiryu - san will never hit a woman, Miss Campbell. He follows a strict personal code, which that is included in. No matter how infuriated he might get with you, he won't strike you." The Chairman swallowed a mouthful of his coffee. "I mean this in the most respectful way possible, but I wouldn't have put you in a position to encounter him if I thought you were at risk of fighting him physically. He deserves his legendary status. I've been on the receiving end of his punches . . . many times. I wouldn't wish that experience on my worst enemy."

Daigo offered a grin, some attempt at injecting humor into the situation. He didn't intend for his commentary to belittle or talk down on Eirene's abilities ; it was merely an example of the Chairman trusting her to know more of the planning that went into his decisions.

"As for his personality, Miss Campbell, Kiryu - san is . . . stubborn." Daigo looked back at the carpet. "You will have this advantage : he is not a difficult man to read. His emotions often get the best of him, particularly when the children that he cares for are involved ― or even mentioned. It would be possible to frustrate him by touching on that topic if you were interested in stalling. He ran an orphanage after he gave up his position as my predecessor and still has connections to it."

"Cute kids," he added as an afterthought, taking in another drink of coffee. Daigo cleared his throat. "Of course, most yakuza would not dare mention his other life. Citizens are supposed to be off of the board for us. You, however, are not one of us and may toe that line to your liking. That Kiryu - san doesn't know you will also help. It will take him longer to figure out if you're bluffing or genuine."

While opening her own canned coffee (a very strange habit of the Japanese, but one she wasn’t entirely opposed to), Eirene took the time to let her own eyes roam over the figure of her partner. Daigo looked nothing like his usual self - it was the very first time they met under such circumstances, too. Any conversations they held before, either face to face or over the phone, had never really offered insight into their non-business personas.

But now, in a small hotel room and where the chairman of the Tojo was dressed down and all alone, he almost looked… Vulnerable, perhaps. ‘Small’ or even 'harmless’ were not appropriate words; even without his tailored suits, Daigo had an imposing aura of his own thanks to his own genetics and training regimen, something Eirene had no hope of ever emulating in the same fashion. For the CEO, favored weapons rested more on the expensive business offices, cold smiles and sharp words backed by financial power; physically, the president of Quinn would never be as menacing as the yakuza.

But even then Daigo was capable of serious harm - it was obvious that without treachery or help of a gun, Eirene would never best the chairman in close combat. Nonetheless - it was profoundly intriguing to be given a window to peek through and analyze the sort of person that existed behind the perfectly crafted façade of a leader. And although his clothes were folded over a pile at the corner of the room, Daigo had not discarded his armor in face of a simple (yet deep) question.

The blond woman chuckled; well, it wasn’t as if she had expected Daigo to freely share his innermost insecurities at the drop of a hat.

The CEO kicked off the slippers she had temporarily claimed as her own at the entrance (removing one’s shoes before entering in any rooms or homes was a habit she was almost getting used to performing automatically, now), and decided to sit down over the actual tatami, close enough to the futon where Daigo could attempt to rest (although his agitated state and the coffee brought over would hardly help achieve such scenario). Folding her legs as the Japanese did, Eirene balanced herself for a bit until finding a comfortable angle, sipping the coffee next and placing it in front of her carefully.

“Spoken like a true general before his troops. You just forget I’m no infantryman, Dojima-kun,” the woman offered with a smile directed at the yakuza, watching his figure dropping to the ground and mimicking her choice of seating arrangements; Eirene’s eyes were rather expressive - and they conveyed whatever her words left in the air, but mostly the fact she didn’t buy for a second that Daigo was excited for the beginning of his plan and nothing else. The Campbell heiress was in no need of a pep talk; she had the stomach to hear the truth.

But in a show of sympathy, Eirene did not probe; in fact, she inhaled softly and reached for the same plastic bag, pulling some sandwiches from within. They were all sealed and carried the logo of the convenience store from earlier, a far cry from the luxurious meals that the Quinn CEO would have favored… But safe and untampered with. The woman selected a tuna one for herself, peeling away the wrappings with a calm to her gestures that Daigo probably did not possess on the eve of his big scheme.

“I’ve decided on the best spots to visit and be seen as of tomorrow; I’ll endeavor to make an impression and be noticed by as many people as I can until the Fourth Chairman invariably comes looking for me,” the Irish lady offered, pausing for a bite and then looking at Daigo again - once he was off the radar, it was up to her to be a decoy and give him as much time as possible for his next part of the plan.

Drawing the ire of the Tojo protectors kept in the dark and Kiryu Kazuma in the same go was a dangerous thing, but Eirene was really looking forward to that encounter. Being face to face with a myth of the Japanese criminal world - at long last.

“Would you mind telling me what to expect of Kiryu-san? I’ve looked, but there is nothing of his legendary fighting skills on film,” Eirene mused, but that was not unusual; those operating outside of the law did not usually like to be recorded, “I will do my best to stall him for as long as possible - do you have any pointers, Dojima-kun?”

[dojimakaichou]

SENT FROM @queenoftheboard​ ―             ( unprompted / always accepting )

A floppy hat, a pair of sunglasses, a long (but and less glamourous) blue dress and the absence of heels were enough to make one believe that the blonde lady walking around the Greek theater of Taormina was anyone else but Eirene Campbell; the fact that she was visiting the place purely for leisure purposes and on a vacation made it all even more bizarre. The final, definitive fact that turned it almost alien was the fact that she was doing it on her honeymoon. And yet, it was true - with a hand over the folded arm of her husband, the two of them toured the ancient site at their own pace, exchanging some comments here and there about whatever remained of the architecture and sometimes trying to picture the plays of bygone eras. It was one of the landmarks of the island they were currently hosted at - and it brought a unique sense of normalcy to enjoy sunshine, fresh air and the company of Daigo out in the open, at long last. Despite their ties to different mafias - there was no reason to believe they were under risk in Sicily; the location was ironic to many, but also frequently selected by many couples on the same occasion as them. At some point, Eirene stopped - and looked up to the former chairman, lifting her own shades up to properly gaze at the ex-yakuza while they talked. "Have I ever told you about my name? It's actually Greek - it belonged to their goddess of peace," the CEO murmured with a light chuckle, and then allowed a hand to go over to the face of her lawfully wedded spouse, brushing the tips of her fingers along his more tanned skin in a touch that was so surprisingly tender that it really felt as if she had been replaced by a perfect copy of some kind. "Can you believe it? Me, standing for peace? My parents obviously had no idea what was waiting for them," the blonde woman murmured, and laughed at her own predicament. Well - maybe it wasn't a clone, after all; maybe it was just the fact that Eirene was, perhaps for the first time in her life... Truly happy.

★. ―

Daigo walked around the ruins leisurely. Occasionally, he dipped his head to catch his Eirene's comments and offer some of his own in turn. It was almost strange to be here, in a way. He didn't hold the same appreciation for this world as the tourists that flitted around them did ; for him, it was merely . . . interesting. The historical places that would inspire that amount of wide - eyed awe for him that others present here boasted were back home.

That didn't mean, though, that Daigo wasn't enjoying himself ― quite the opposite, in fact. There was nowhere else he would rather be at this moment, regardless of the impression the old stones left on him. Daigo's gaze drifted, as it often did, to the woman on his arm. His wife.

At first, their arrangement was made for legal convenience. An idea that served both of them. Yet, in the emotions that seemingly simple business proposal produced, they had found something real. Daigo loved her, loved her enough that it made his heart physically ache and breath short just to look at her. That was why he purchased her a true ring, as unique and daring as her, which sparkled on her finger, and the reason they were vacationing here in Sicily.

A honeymoon. Now, that was not a word Daigo thought would ever apply to his life. Hell, he scarcely managed a mere day off from his duties without the threat of the world collapsing in the last fifteen or so years. The ex - yakuza still couldn't believe that he and Eirene were able to take two weeks to themselves ( or, at times, that he was genuinely wedded at all ). There were mornings he woke up and expected to be back in his apartment, alone, the nightmare of holding the Clan up never gone ― but then he would feel it. His wife, dozing on his bare chest. Feel her breath against his skin. Catch a tease of her blond tresses spread over their sheets out of the corner of his eye. Hear the birds and the soft sounds of the sea from outside of their cozy, private suite.

The businesswoman pausing drew Daigo from his reflections. He tucked his own sunglasses into his hair in response, grateful for the spot of shade so that he could see her beautiful eyes. Given that he was off - duty, of sorts, Daigo's hair remained free from its usual confines. It was messy and badly in need of a cut ; thankfully, its sloppy look matched the rest of his casual attire. Were anyone at home to see the ex - yakuza, they would swear he was abducted by aliens and replaced with a convincing clone. His movements in dark denim pants, a black t - shirt, and tennis shoes were surprisingly fluid. Around his wrists was an assortment of braided leather bracelets that Eirene picked out while they were here. Complimenting this look, she murmured appreciatively as she selected the most expensive and delicately - woven pieces to match him ― a look she assured her husband would not be returned to the bottom of his closet once they were back in Japan. Even if it was just at the spacious apartment they were going to move to . . . she wasn't about to let how nicely Daigo filled in a pair of jeans be forgotten any time soon.

"You haven't," Daigo answered quietly at the question regarding her name, a brow raised. He smiled at her sweet display, happy to be lost in it for a minute, and tipped his cheek toward her fingers to answer it.

Eirene being called after that particular goddess also prompted the former Chairman to laugh lightly. They named you for peace and then raised you for war, he thought. As his wife spoke, Daigo laid a hand on her waist, nudging her closer. He stared into her eyes, expression fond.

"Well . . . " He stole the hand from his face and pressed it to his broad chest, allowing her to feel the warmth of his skin ( as heated as ever and kissed by the sun in this past week ) under the fabric of his shirt and the gentle thrum of his heart. "You bring me peace, for what it's worth. I understand that I have a unique privileges, though." Daigo chuckled, grin wide and easy.

[dojimakaichou]

SENT FROM @queenoftheboard​ ―             ( unprompted / always accepting )

The half empty whisky bottle in front of Eirene was a testament to how the recent news had affected the woman. Usually, the business magnate was not one to allow herself to be defeated - she had gone through many dangerous situations and lived to tell the tale; she did not lose. But that changed the moment she was no longer the sole player on that board. There was someone else she cared for now, enough to lie, cheat and betray for him. A more sober Eirene would say she did it all for Quinn, to keep her turf, to maintain her influence - but the half-drunk Irishwoman confused that with the safety of the man at the helm on the other side. The feeling of all air being sucked of the lungs when the news of yet another attempt on Daigo's life reached her was hard to ignore; the food she had been holding was dropped to the ground, the color vanished from her face. It was only when it there was an immediate follow-up in relation to some 'Tojo legends' protecting both Daigo and Watase that Eirene regained movement again, leaving the restaurant and immediately going back to the hotel. Given the secrecy surrounding the dissolution of both the Tojo and the Omi, there was no one with her in town; no one to remove the phone from Eirene's hands and restrain her from hitting the 'call' button to the new number confirmed to belong to the ex-chairman, putting it on speaker and laying down on the couch, eyes looking at the elaborate details of the lights hanging from the ceiling. "Daigo - it's me," no honorifics, no identification; the voice belonging to the president of the Quinn group sounded different, too, raw with emotion and very unlike her, "Sorry for the time, I just... I heard the news about earlier," she closed the eyes, and despite Daigo not seeing anything, Eirene was quick to wipe away a treacherous tear that ran down her face, "I wanted to make sure you're fine, that's all. You get shot at an awful lot. It's infuriating," a pause, followed by a sigh and the strangest confession of them all, "I want to kill them all."

★. ―

He needed to rest. The exhaustion that Daigo felt was bones - deep. Today's assassination attempt had been the final straw for him : the instant he returned to the modest housing arrangements set aside for him, he stopped in the center of the bedroom and placed his hands over his face. His bandaged upper arm flared up with a dull pain in protest, but Daigo ignored it.

After a few minutes of much - needed silence, the now former Sixth Chairman removed his fingers. He shrugged out of his jacket, threw his tie on top of it, and stripped down to his undershirt and boxers. There were guards everywhere at this point. Some were more visible than others. Daigo was confident in those he picked before retreating, though, and that sliver of peace allowed him to sink into the thin futon at his feet. It wasn't long before he curled up into a ball, fast asleep, with his phone on the blankets next to him.

A soft ringing inevitably came, filling the room. Two full rings passed while Daigo struggled to open his eyes. That the room was completely dark confused him at first ( how long was he out ?? shit ― ) and it took him a moment to remember where he was. As the events of the last several hours came back to him, Daigo grasped his cell. The number was too private for this to be just anyone ; he couldn't ignore it.

His groggy pause gave the person on the other end ample time to open the conversation. Daigo's dark gaze widened, shining from light cast out of the device he held, at the sound of HER voice. He fumbled upward into a sitting position. Eirene Campbell's tone immediately worried him. Daigo's initial instinct was to leave his haven and go to her. As he moved, however, his arm grew more painful. It was enough to shake him out of his half - awake stupor.

Breathe, he told himself. Breathe.

Eirene's explanation for her call soothed the fears that were making his chest tight and heart race. Daigo assumed that she was fine. Shaken, maybe, and clearly intoxicated ― but in no present danger or being threatened. This wasn't a last phone call or cry for help ; it was one friend reaching out to another following a crisis that rattled them both.

The ex - yakuza smoothed back his hair and smiled into the gloom. "I'm alright," he said quietly. Daigo glanced at the crisp white bandage around his right bicep. "I was grazed, that's all. A few stitches and painkillers." As he spoke, his volume lowered and voice shifted to be . . . comforting. It was the least he could do for putting her in this position. She sounded strangely vulnerable, and he couldn't bear to think that it was on his account.

Daigo chuckled. "I do get shot a lot," he conceded. "For what it's worth, you are not the only person to tell me it's frustrating." He rubbed the back of his neck, wincing. "Eirene." The businesswoman's name slipped out, free of any proper addresses. If it wasn't so late ( and his thoughts weren't fogged over ), he would have marveled at how easily it came.

At Eirene's confession, Daigo's grin deepened. To others, that statement would be horrendous. Morally heinous, at minimum. An eye for eye did nothing but blind the world, logically, and murder was not normally the solution even yakuza opted for. For Daigo to hear it from Quinn's president, however ― it was sweet. He recognized the sentiment as one he would parrot if the roles were reserved. There was a level of care for someone close in it that was impossible to ignore.

"Hey," Daigo murmured, as if that little word could potentially ease her anger. "I'm starving, by the way. Why don't I send Majima with a car for you? and have food brought in the mean time? I would . . . "

Like to see you.

"It would be better if we were all together, Eirene. I don't want any associates of my attacker to target Quinn next." That was a good save, right? Daigo inhaled deeply. "Stay on the phone with me. I'll take care of the details."

. . . I'll be right here for as long as you need me.

[dojimakaichou]

★. ―

Daigo was sat on the edge of the thick futon that would serve as his bed tonight. The furnishings in the room were sparse : a rugged - looking small table, two chairs, and a dark TV on a shaky stand. He had briefly contemplated putting on the news ― it would be intriguing to see what the headlines were on what would be the last day of normal for some time. However, his paranoia hadn't allowed Daigo to do it. Pure silence was unnerving, but it could save his life. Beyond these walls, there was a political powder keg nestled in the heart of Japan that was just waiting for the right trigger. Sure, the Sixth Chairman of the Tojo Clan already tossed a match toward it, but it was always possible for someone to get their own flame there first.

This world is dangerous, he told Madarame ( or something like that ). The leader's face swam up in Daigo's thoughts . . . as did the features of another soon. An old ache came to the Chairman's chest then ; the familiar sting of abandonment colored his recollection of the short meeting he conducted with Kiryu in the back of that taxi. Turned what should have been a comforting talk into something bitter.

Daigo's impromptu encounter with Kiryu only reminded the younger man that it was better for him to do things alone. Trust normally gave way to disappointment, and there was little hope of companionship when one held the highest seat in the Japanese underworld.

He almost called it off with her in the time between the taxi and now. Almost checked out of this place and found another. Almost tried to find a way to disappear that ( in theory ) she wouldn't be able to track. ― but. Daigo sighed to himself in the dimly - lit room and scrubbed his hands down his face. There was something about Eirene Campbell that was different than all of the rest. She didn't benefit politically from Daigo's death, which did help her standing ( he wouldn't pretend it didn't ) ; more importantly, though, she felt real. The brilliant woman behind Quinn was as ambitious and cold - blooded as himself, someone to be careful of, but Daigo never once found her disingenuous. Whether acting with or against him, Eirene had always been sincere, and so he believed her. He couldn't bear to think she would betray him, and that simple statement terrified him.

The yakuza stood abruptly at the first sound of someone near his sanctum. Daigo sucked in a sharp breath and instinctively reached for his precious pistol. Coarse fingers tucked it sloppily into the back of his pants in an effort to hide it. He peeked through the little hole in the hall. While Daigo didn't recognize Eirene immediately, he was fine with the assumption that this was her. Quietly, he cracked open the door, flicked on the remainder of the light, and pathed back to his bed.

Daigo offered space generously. He retrieved his pistol, held it up for the businesswoman to see ; to show his peaceful intent, he silently tossed it onto the pile of clothing near the window. The yakuza's suit jacket, collared shirt, vest, and tie were neatly folded on the floor next to his polished shoes and belt. Daigo was left with his trousers and a white t - shirt that hugged his chest. His threadbare slippers were courtesy of the establishment. There was another pair by the door if Eirene wanted. Of all of his finery, Daigo's watch was all that remained on his person. Even his hair was undone : fluffed out of its usual slick style and merely pulled behind his head with a rubber band he found floating in his pockets. This state of undress would usually be shameful to the Chairman, who was particular about how he was seen, but he hoped the obvious lack of defenses and laid - back style would prove to Eirene that he was willing to place an intimate faith in her that he awarded to few.

( frankly, the length of his day was also getting to him. )

The Chairman smiled. "Yours is masterful," he said in reply to her disguise. "As for Kiryu - san . . . you're not wrong, Miss Campbell." Daigo sprinkled the touch of English in his sentence with ease. He rather preferred to call her that way ; the very Western surname didn't go well with the appropriate honorifics on his tongue. ― and there was a touch of nostalgia to ' Miss Campbell, ' which was how he referred to her at the beginning of their game before there was an established familiarity. "I would assume he's lucked out simply because no one who would know was looking. None of his coworkers have any listed history with the yakuza." Daigo paused before adding "I assume" in a very clipped voice. It was too late for him to erase how offhandedly he spoke about Kiryu's associates, as if he more aware of the environment surrounding his predecessor than he let on.

Daigo narrowed his eyes at Eirene's approach, instinctually straightening. His nerves would not let him relax with the change of proximity. The can she handed him, however, caused his expression to flood with gratitude. He murmured his thanks and cracked open the beverage. Such a crisp, satisfying noise told him that there was no chance the can was tampered with, and he drank from it gratefully. It tasted better than the few water bottles he had pulled from vending machines on the way here.

"How am I holding up?" he echoed, looking up at her. "Fine, Miss Campbell. This evening has gone flawlessly so far. The pieces are all in place for the opening matches tomorrow." His fingertips tapped the side of the can. It wasn't hard to tell that he was agitated under the surface, but he didn't see the need to get into his personal business. In the stark overhead lighting, several of the aged and thick scars on his arms were given new, ghastly life. "Have a seat wherever you like. I hope everything is well on your end."

♙ 1.e4 .an opening for Dojima Daigo / @dojimakaichou

The hotel building was less than impressive - it was barely worthy of the three stars it advertised underneath the neon lights making up its name, and there were several signs around of a location that had seen its prime a long time ago: wallpaper peeling off, small infiltrations on the ceiling, flickering lights here and there and nothing to show for room service.

As far as vacation retreats went, that was no resort; but for a temporary safehouse and hiding spot, it was remarkably generic. Nothing too over the top and still within city center - no one would think of looking for Dojima Daigo in the most obvious place of them all: Fukuoka. Soon enough, from early next morning onward, mostly everyone would have assumed the worst and declared the Sixth Chairman of the Tojo to be missing after a night stroll following an alliance negotiation.

But Daigo had not gone anywhere and the fact that Eirene was in that suite would have sounded strange to most (if not all) relevant yakuza players of the Tojo - they were not friends, and the history between the biggest clan in all of Kanto and the Quinn group was one of strife. There had been a lot of heated conversations, not so veiled threats and no small number of sabotage attempts before a cold war of sorts was controlled, a truce between them enforced at the request of their leaders.

Still - a meeting between the two of them without any of their personal bodyguards would be strongly opposed or outlawed by their inner circles. And yet, that was precisely what the Quinn CEO and the Tojo chairman were doing, all the time being careful enough to ensure they were not being followed or drawing attention to themselves, and setting the first step of a plan mostly elaborated by Daigo in motion.

Eirene had to appreciate it - the ingenuity of his scheme, the patience for a long game; her rival was a worthy one, and a man she had come to grown fond of. Besides, with Daigo away from the Tojo, things were less than hospitable for Quinn's operations in Kamurocho; but as long as he had the clan under control, her profit margins were likely to be undisturbed by external factors.

To ensure the status quo remained as it was, she had volunteered to be chased and hunted as some sort of betrayer - and frankly, the complicated sets of moves and counters that had been orchestrated excited her. More than the danger involved, there was the possibility of the real enemy seeing through their ideas - and the exhilaration of a high-profile game beginning was hard to masquerade, even more so than the CEO's unusual appearance in the streets of any Japanese city.

And that was why Eirene took some time by the door, carefully removing the most relevant parts of her disguise - a hat, a long wig made of black tresses, a pair of sunglasses to keep her trademark eyes covered. They accompanied a leather jacket over a mini-dress and knee-length boots that she would never ordinarily choose to wear - instead of a businesswoman, Eirene looked like the groupie of an indie band, but it felt good to get at least the fake hair and the flamboyant hat off.

"It would seem your former mentor and predecessor isn't as dedicated as I am in relation to disguises," Eirene mentioned once she looked like herself again, at least from her neck up, "Suzuki Taichi and Kiryu Kazuma could be twins. One look at his driver's picture on the company's directory and I could tell it was the same man... If he's truly as legendary as everyone tells me, I wonder how he made it thus far without anyone putting two and two together."

Eirene's movements were slow then - her undressing meant to be both a source of comfort (for her) and safety (for Daigo), as he was able to examine his partner for any concealed weapons. The woman then picked up a plastic bag from a convenience store, walking over to the yakuza and handing him a can - coffee, still pleasantly warm despite walk from the store to the hotel, keeping another to herself. It was late - and yet there was not going to be a lot of sleep for either of them anytime soon.

"How are you holding up, Dojima-kun?"