UPBRINGING
Oh Phoenix entered the world not with a whimper, not even with a BANG but instead with a cool, calm collectedness that she would keep her whole life long. She was born Oh Hanbyul in the air.This is to say that two weeks before her due date, her father and her mother had business obligations.
This is something she would come to learn was more important than the concepts of ‘doctor’s advice’ and ‘safety’ by way of her parents. Ignoring the doctor’s orders, they flew to New Zealand. It was up in the air, not far from the coast that Kimmie’s water broke. . . . . . a hush came over the cabin.
They’d brought a doctor with them, of course. They weren’t stupid. But, having a child in the middle of a first class cabin of an airplane was not ideal. No matter how much money she had, nothing could keep Mrs. Oh’s heart from rising in her throat and pulsing so hard she was putting not only herself but the child she was fretting for so. There was nothing that could calm her at that point, legs spread on the floor of the airplane that was now hovering. Turbulence couldn’t be an added risk to this birth. Even the pilot knew. The baby, however, was purely comfortable. She was oriented the right way and perfect on her way out of her mother’s womb. There’s one small exception to her.
In this aircraft with Shinbi Group printed on the side, she left the womb clinging onto it. The doctor was in amazement. He’d never seen a child born with small almost blue fists wrapped around the umbilical cord the way that this one had. If that wasn’t a sign that she wasn’t ready, then no one could have come up with a better one that would say it.
It’s like this, though, that she continued her whole life. Not being ready for things, but being forced into them and having to learn to breathe the new, thin air, anyway.
The biggest of these pushes would come when she was only five years old. (She was raised in Busan before that time and though it was only the first few years of her life, only two of which she could remember, she knew it was in her heart. It held a special place in her heart. Especially the fond memories of the beach trip her mother used to take her on while they lived there. Those memories would never fade for her.) On her fifth birthday, her father realized something. While his wife and child lived in Busan, he stayed in Seoul and as much as he loved the success he had enjoyed till that point, he felt detached from them. As a compromise, her parents decided they would move to Daegu. It was further from Seoul than Busan but her father gave that up for the idea of still living in a metropolis. He ran his business from there while her mother was able to take trips back to Busan with their daughter. It was a nice compromise for everyone until one big mistake.
She was eight when they started fighting. By that time, she was old enough to understand what the problem was and by that time, the natural curiosity she was born with hadn’t been quelled. That was why she was in the dining room crouching under the table that night when they were fighting and her name got brought up.
If you’ve ever felt that heart-dragging, soul-crushing feeling of the world bearing down on you, then you know how Oh Hanbyul felt in that moment. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but she didn’t know that. This fighting continued on for two years. She didn’t have anything to do with it and there was nothing she could do about it. It was two years of suffering until her mother decided she had to go. It was just a suggestion, at first, until her parents decided that she was going to the airport and getting on a plane and leaving her parents’ home at ten years old.
Her life continued like this. She’s raised by nannies in the Bronx as soon as she gets there and enrolled in a private school for only those who succeed beyond their expectations. Was she doing that? No. Would her father pay out his ass for people to think that she was? Yes. It wasn’t that long before she began to finally make friends. Unlike her time in Daegu, no one knew she was a rich kid from foreign parents. No one could judge her for that. She spent her time learning to code webpages and bypass servers in competitions and design video games for fun.
She’d lived in New York for three years before the accident. Someone found out her secret. No one else could’ve known the thirteen-year-old was still in the gymnasium practicing her dance routine. No one else could’ve assumed she’d be so tired she’d fall asleep while trying to catch her breath. No one else could’ve counted on the insurance fraud plot of the wealthy billionaires who ran the school to backfire way it did. Except her father’s enemies.
She can’t breathe when she wakes up. Every nerve in her body reacted to the overwhelming warmth that consumed her being and the only reason she even woke up before she stopped breathing is from the body-crushing weight that the lack of oxygen brought her. She was so weak from the deprivation of the essential element that she was unable to drag herself from the flames of the burning building. The only thing she could feel as she fell asleep was the aggressive licking and almost biting of the flames into her skin as she shrieked out in pain before falling unconscious again.
It was when her parents didn’t show up when she woke up in the hospital that she began to form the cynical ideals that she kept for the rest of her life. Not even a phone call. She’d been reading books while she sat in the hospital with her body full of bandages from the burns that simply stole her youth from her. She was there for months falling in and out of sleep. Listening to nothing and not paying attention when the doctor and surgeons came in her room to talk about skin grafts and healing processes. She didn’t see a point. If her life wasn’t worth much to anyone else, what was the point? It was these fragile moments that turned her heart to stone. First it began with the feeling of lead in her chest when the nurse told her someone was there to see her and the person wasn’t either of her DNA donors. It was worse when she got the phone call from her mother, though. What was it that she’d said ‘be strong, you’re a tough cookie. Don’t worry, I know you’ll heal back just as beautifully as before.’ That was her concern? That she would heal back beautifully? Hanbyul couldn’t help but scoff at the thought. That stab in the chest and gruesome kick straight to her internal organs arrived, though, when she got the postcard from her father. A beautiful Daegu one with her father’s company building on it. The text on the back read: “Like the new design? This is what I was developing. Sorry, I missed you. Love ya, xx” The most she could say was that she was proud of her father for bothering to write in English.
All she had was a laptop at her fingertips and books to read. Sure, she was provided with nannies to watch over her like she had been since she was alone in America, but those women were only bombarded with pillows thrown at them and plastic cups hurled at their heads. That’s until she turns fourteen. Her birthday is spent in the hospital because they feared she would possibly get an infection if she left. Trapped there, her new nanny arrived to greet her. Her name was Hwaji. Hanbyul would never forget such a unique combination of Hangul. The woman came in sweeping something like a storm. A former soccer star, she could literally have handled anything Hanbyul could throw at her. The fits of kicking that Hanbyul threw when they tried to come change her bandages were nothing to Hwaji. It didn’t take much time for the girl to grow attached to the woman. After the accident, however, it was decided that it was safer if she moved to Los Angeles. So for her own protection, at the age of fifteen, Hanbyul is moved across the country with her nanny.
It is in Los Angeles that she finds what she truly has a talent for.
W O R K
She's only fifteen when she discovers the dark web. She's only been out of the hospital for a month or so and school starts in less time than that. It's an anonymous person who drops the access information for her. She still doesn't know what it is, even then, but does she still pursue it? Of course. The words and names of various narcotics...untraceable by anyone start to feed into her irises. She's suddenly drunk on power. But she doesn't know what to do with it. She doesn't even understand why it's her that was given this information...until school starts.
It's only the third hour of her first day in the new institution when she's manhandled. Pulled into a locker that isn't what it looks like. She finds herself in an old janitor's closet. Something overlooked when they rebuilt the school after the L.A. riots. It's the boy she meets that pulls her in the most, though. She lives in this moment the first moment they spoke. He was the one who sent her the link. He'd been tracking her. Tracking her hacking work. She wasn't as clean and flawless and she thought she'd been.
She'd done her best to be careful but, it was hacking. Even the greatest people slipped up every now and then and she was only an amateur. It was surprising that she'd really made it this far but she had an aptitude for this kind of stuff. It's only two months into her friendship with this young man that she's rich...in bitcoins selling drugs she'd never take. It's like that now....it's school and two classes on her schedule marked "Technology and Development" that mean her hacking and coding time with this still mysterious boy sitting next to her.
N E E D E D M E
She's coming home when she gets the phone call.
It's dark and even though, she lives in the nicer part of Los Angeles, she can feel the dark hand suffocating her neck as she hears the news.
She's gone.
Her nanny.
Her replacement mother.
Her best friend.
The only woman to ever truly care.
It's another month before she goes to school and catches him joking about it.
"You tried to protect her so much. It's a shame she got killed. You must be...gutted."
It was the snicker that really got to her. Something in her snaped. She could see in her head, the bloody white couch that the older woman's body was found on. The bullets to her stomach. She'd only found out then that her caretaker had been pregnant. That she would've had a small child to play with. She'd seen the blood dripping from her womb and the death of not only the woman but the occupant inside her brought her soul to a halt.
It took a week to process what had happened. Who'd done it. Why...
"You cared too much about her. It was going to ruin everything. I did you a favour." The cold silver makes her finger tremble as she tucks it into her skirt pocket. This would be the last time she would see him alive. She wasn't the only one fed up. All his followers who had lost something were bitter and there wasn't anything anyone else could do. His words from when they'd first met echoed in her brain.
"We'll be king and queen of the Southwest Coast. All of California will be yours. You've got the hacking skills, I have the drugs. I'll make you so much money you won't need to depend on your shitty ass father. People will love you so much that....you will be able to throw them away once you get what you want. I will make you judge and jury and executioner, too. Just...help me,"
It was the irony that made her smirk when he said it. He yelled to those he thought were loyal to him.
"Just...help me," But they didn't. It was funny. He had made her Queen Of The Southwest but now, she'd put the gentle 5.7 pounds of pressure on the trigger to get rid of him and she wouldn't even remember his name. This was her pattern. He needed her and he'd used her and he didn't think she would fight back? He'd made a mistake. Now, he was paying for it.
She'd used him and threw him away once he stopped giving her what she wanted and treating her the way she wanted. And his followers had loved her that much that she could do it and get away with it.
S A M E 'O L M I S T A K E S
After that, she was never the same. She'd gone back to school like normal but her attendance was spotty. She'd show up one week and then not the next. She'd do all her work, though, but it wasn't enough. Her father paid her way through school after that, and due to his absence he hadn't noticed that the lack of work wasn't just from her lack of a parental figure at home.
Her nanny was gone but the drug business was booming. Before she graduated high school, she had the blood of, at least, ten people on her hands and taken up kick-boxing getting into street fights so she could just glance with the blood of many others. Had she tried the drugs she'd sold? Once or twice. Other than that, she was constantly on edge playing a constant knife game with not only her fingers but her life. Throwing her feet over the edge of the U.S Bank Tower at 3 a.m. with nothing to keep her from falling. Sleeping Around.
And Hanbyul? Who was that? Everyone at school was calling her Phoenix now. Even her teachers. Even the principal and that's what she wanted. Oh Hanbyul was dead. She'd died a long time ago. She'd died when Phoenix lost the ability to care for others and not just use them like pawns.
Phoenix was born and Hanbyul had been buried under years of neglect of her parents and piles, very filthy piles of dirty, dirty money and lists of IP addresses.
C O N S I D E R A T I O N
It's only a month or two after her eighteenth birthday when she has to go back to Korea. Technically, it's her own choice but her father wants her back there, too. She's only working for his company for a few months when she figures out how to move numbers. All the money her father should have been donating to charity was going to his own purposes and he was still writing it off on his american tax forms for the section of his company that resided there. Was she tired of it? Exhausted. So she started slipping dollar by dollar and cent by cent, taking her father's money and putting it where it should've been. Helping burn victims and earthquake victims and tsunami victims.
While she does all this she models, but quits after only a year due to boredom.
Here she is now. Hacking her father's company and stealing money from him all while running an international drug business and hacking other things just for fun.
What a criminal she was now. What an emotionless criminal you've turned into. Oh Hanbyul, how fame has changed you.
STATISTICS
NAME: Oh Phoenix
She was originally named a traditional Korean name by her parents but changed it when she was older due to a number of complications involved with her accident. For this reason, even though, her traditional Korean name is the name used on all legal documents within Korea, most other documents will bear the name Phoenix as it is registered as her name, as well.
NICKNAMES: Pho, Nix, Bunny
BIRTHDATE: August 8th, 1996
BIRTHPLACE: Busan, South Korea
SEXUALITY: Mystery
Phoenix is not entirely sure what her sexuality is. Her preference is on a case-by-case basis.
Physical Attributes
HEIGHT: 150 cm
HAIR COLOR: Varies
She wears wigs, often and dies it other times. Since her job within her crime organization is essentially, leader and assassin, she needs to change her look often enough to not be recognized when she is actually in the public eye.
EYE COLOR: Brown
TATTOOS:
Phoenix has several tattoos. Mostly organization related but all are in lighter colors so they can be covered up with makeup for her photoshoots.
-Four White Tall Marks in the center of a sunflower on the base of her neck.
-Sunflower: The sunflower on the base of her neck is representative of the number of people that she's killed. Whenever she kills another person, another yellow petal is added with the condition that the person was killed for the protection of an innocent. The flower currently has 23 petals. Because of this tattoo, she has about an inch of an undercut to give space for her tattoo whenever she needs to get it updated.
LOCATION: Seoul
OCCUPATION: Hacker, Model, and Leader of the F4, an organized crime syndicate that smuggles contraband through payments online by bitcoin.
While Pho's occupation seems nefarious, at first glance, she has set up a lot of charities and shelters through this work. Her 'organization' also sells prescription drugs at a lower price for those who cannot afford them. They also have doctors on staff so that they can treat and access people who cannot afford medical care. This way, the doctors on staff (lots of whom have had their medical licenses taken away under wrongful circumstances) are able to treat patients for no cost while getting paid by Phoenix and her organization and the patients (often the homeless, poor, or too young to have insurance) can get their drugs at a lower price. Along with this, they have set up shelters for those displaced by drug use and mental illness.
EDUCATION: Leman Manhattan International Boarding School in Manhattan, New York then American University Prepatory School where she learned to speak Spanish, Chinese, Korean, Japanese, French and English. She stopped learning most of those languages once she reached the conversational point, except for Korean which is native to her, French which she needed in the modeling world, and Chinese which she needed for business.
ACCOMPLISHMENTS: Winner of the Young Programmer's Award; Winner of Korea's Young Kickboxing Competition
POSITIVES: Outgoing, Curious, Sociable, Passionate
SKILLS: Programming, Kickboxing, Photography
LIKES: Flowers, Pictures, Films of any type, Fighting for competition purposes
DISLIKES: Being underestimated, being yelled at, Pork
PERSONAL BLOG
A collection of journal entries written to Phoenix's psychiatrist for a journal that they promise she would keep to express her pent up emotions. Opposed to regular talk therapy, her psychiatrist reads these journals since Phoenix refuses to really talk to her.
DISCLAIMER
Pho's journals are not for in character purposes. They're just for other muns to read. Much like her bio. Your muse should not know this information unless she's talked to them about it or on the off-chance that your muse is Phoenix's psychiatrist which is quite unlikely. So this is for your entertainment as the mun, and nothing more.
March 6, 2018
I was told by apple care and by apple care, I mean my mother's team of the psychologist's that I need to journal.
My mother. My hero. My mortal enemy. The physical embodiment of strength. The mental creator of personal and perpetual pain and torture. When I was six months old, she was diagnosed with cervical cancer. Not terminal but just as bad, anyway. She was in remission for a while. A really long while. So long that I had almost forgotten that she had cancer. I had almost forgotten that cancer was something that plagued the lives of everyone. Money or no money. I had forgotten that was the reason that she had wanted me so badly in the first place. The reason she had taken me from my actual mother because she couldn't have a daughter of her own. The cancer had taken that from her before she even knew it was there.
I had begged and begged not to come to Daegu with her. I wanted absolutely anything but to be in the place that I was born. In the place that he was born. It's funny how you can forget that someone is there and exists and has taken so much from you until you are so brutally reminded. His birthday is in a few days so the ads are up everywhere and my mother- God, my mother. Sometimes it feels like she wants to make me feel bad the way she says things.
"Why didn't you stay with that nice boy? He was so respectful and good."
Too bad I never played his mixtape for her than she would see who he really is. We pass a church on our way to the treatment center. I was never religious. God is for poor people. It gives them something to hold onto. That's what my father told me and I believed it until I realized that all the money in the world couldn't save me from myself.
I think it was the baby. That whole situation. It put the fear of god in me. I do the obligatory chest cross and bow my head as we go past trying to be discrete so as not to angry my mother. I don't believe per se and I'm definitely not religious still but I respect him and his followers. The sane ones, anyway.
Plus, if the whole I died on a cross for your sins is true...well, that's one pretty metal 30-year-old. I hear your thirties are the hardest decade of your life. I guess he would know.
Anyway, he's like a hero here. There are billboards for his birthday bought by fans, of course and we pass by the place where he grew up. I know it because I've been here before. With him, of course.
Part of the reason, I'm so very bitter is because- I miss him. I must admit. I think that's part of the problem with when people get hurt they forget that they loved that person once. That person was their whole life once. That person was their future. Me? I can't forget. I know every time his voice. On the radio or on tv or just- In old voicemails. I remember that he was my world and now I have- Not nothing. But not that. I got my tarot cards read this morning and they all say I should forget him and leave him behind. I put my headphones into my ears and play those last few messages that he left. When I wouldn't answer. The ones from when I was dying and he saved me. We never spent a moment apart except when he was onstage from then on. His voice sounds so frantic. So fragile. So...beautiful. He sounds like he wants me. Not needs me but genuinely wants me to stay around and be with him. I miss that. I miss those days.
It's the general consensus that I'm dead inside but that's only partly true. I'm not dead. There's still some Phoenix left in there yet before I must destroy and rebuild myself. Maybe that's why I agreed to come with my mom to Daegu. I knew that by being here by seeing him every time I turned my head, by...not being able to take a breath without feeling his presence, I would break and then I could rebuild, but this has backfired on me. I never wanna leave Daegu.
It's like limbo. I don't feel like I'm alone, suddenly. My mother, though she's dying is here with me. My ex-fiance, though I now can't look at him without crying is everywhere and I remember who I used to be. How I used to give 100% of my soul to one person instead of giving 70% to one and then sectioning off the rest to whoever I felt closest with.
So much has changed since I last saw this landscape. I have lost everyone and everything and yet, still, I'm here. I have still returned. I destroyed myself and now, I'm rebuilding. I'm rebuilding without the engagement. Without the future babies. Without the career I fought my father so hard to have.
Time for some honesty:
UNDENIABLE TRUTHS
By yours truly, Phoenix Khan.
1) I miss Min Yoongi sometimes. Even though, it might not have been the best thing for me because let's be realistic: sometimes we miss things that are bad for us.
2) I'm not afraid of commitment, at all. I'm afraid of not being the person my partner deserves. I'm afraid of not being good enough. I mean, come on, with an ego my size, it has to get dented somewhere.
3) I, like most women, do not want to turn into my mother. But not because she's a monster, although, she is, but because I don't wanna spend my life arguing with someone I know doesn't love me.
4) Everything gets worse. It's the coping mechanisms that get better.
5) Coke is not a way to escape my problems. It's a way to pretend I don't have any until they get so bad that there's no way to escape them and I only have one option left. It takes the hassle of making choices away so I only have one choice.
6) I don't wanna die. I just don't wanna live like this anymore.
7) Love is only sacred to those who have never had their heartbroken.
8) Wearing the color pink will not hide from your mother that you are gender-fluid and nor will it hide from her that some part of you is a raging lesbian.
9) You shouldn't give people parts of you that weren't meant for them. They can't have it and they can also suck your dick.
10) Nothing really matters but the honest things.
This is what I came to Daegu for. Fate guided me here. I'm looking for the Pho I was when I was five and I left here. Before life broke me. Before I heard my parents fighting. Before everyone fucked with my head. Before I became a coke addict. I'm looking for Oh [REDACTED]. I'm looking for that poor frail girl. Maybe she wasn't so weak, after all. Maybe she knows things I don't. Maybe I should trust her again.
The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly (And there's a lot of ugly)
June 7, 2018
Dearest Diary,
It seems like the only time that I consult you or talk to you, I'm home with my mother wishing I was anywhere else. Except, I don't now. She's still as unbearable as ever except there's a difference. There's someone else here with me and I feel- It's almost not as awful, anymore.
Today has been especially trying, though. I'm not sure if it's because he's everywhere or because I hear his voice at night but, I'm having some trouble forgetting him now. Not that I had forgotten him before. I didn't. There's no way that I can. Today, though, it stings more than other days. Today, I heard one of the first songs I ever heard his voice in. It was like he was there, smiling at me and nudging me gently asking me what I thought all over again. It was like everything started all over. It was like for a moment in hearing his voice, I was 18 again and we had just met and everything was different and...then I came to my senses. My phone rang and cut the song short and I was in the my mother's very real house again...next to my very real friend...and on the other side of me was the very real boy that I very really liked and suddenly, it was too much. The feeling rushed up to me and grabbed me by the throat and I had to rush... I get up and go to the bathroom, even when he asks me if I'm okay. Even if she asks me if there's anything I'd like to tell her. I get up and go and I sit there in the bathroom staring at myself.
It was one of those shitty existential moments. The ones where you consider for a very real moment that you very really might not be very real. It happens a lot more often than it used to since the divorce. I built my whole life up to not needing a man and then I finally found one that I needed and I guess he didn't need me as much. I'm not so fucking sure anymore what I'm doing. I've never really been sure, honestly, but I'm more unsure now than ever.
I've been working a lot more lately. It's a little scary how much I've been working. People I haven't talked to in years are hearing my names in the street now. Not to mention the bruises I've got up and down my torso to prove I've been busy. I haven't said anything, though. Not to anyone. But it's why I won't let anyone touch me. I can't have them noticing the black and blue across my bellybutton or my sides.
Besides the working...I've been- I don't know. I've been keeping busy. Shopping, photoshoots, all the normal model things that I have to do to keep up my image. It's the cocaine that seems to haunt me most, though. Photographers who get pretty girls hooked on white sugar. . . It's all fucked, isn't it?
It's the scars on my back that have become the most apparent, now. It's summer time, so everyone is wearing tank tops and shorts. The one's on my thighs are easily hidden away with shitty self-tanner. The ones on my back, though? God can probably spot them with his naked eyes seeing how ugly and obvious they are.
This is so....scatter brained...
Let Me Try Again
Is this what you wanted? It seems like B.S. How is this supposed to help me get better? Trauma and depression are terminal. I'm gonna die, anyway, lady. Nothing you can do about it.
It's actually kind of funny the more I think about it. It's a little unfair, right? How someone who never puts in any effort for anyone...someone who does the bare minimum for most things...it's funny how you can be that person but give your all to some people and they still sort of just throw you away.
I have this fear, okay? That what this is supposed to be about, right? What I'm afraid of? Well, okay, here's the thing.
My biggest fear is that it. Will happen again. That the person I love and sleep next to every night will wake up one day, having had an epiphany that I didn't see coming and decide I'm not worth it and that I'm not good enough. That the person will go.. "Hey, I don't think I can do this anymore." and I'll go "What?" and they'll go "Yeah, I'm done." Not in an angry way. Not in a mean way. But they'll just tell me that they don't want me anymore, plain and simple. That they'll just decide that they don't want me, anymore. It's happened three times, now. Three separate times, I've given a lot of energy into loving someone and they've just decided that they didn't want me. That I wasn't it or I wasn't good enough and everyone is under this impression that when things like that happen to me, I throw a temper tantrum and I argue and I'm awful but I'm not. I go quietly. I don't put up much of a fight. I can't. Because it's terrifying to me. Because regardless of whether or not I say it, it's a fear that I live with every day and something that will now be there for the rest of my life.
The fear of being abandoned with no explanation just a "I don't want you, anymore". I think it's so scary because I think about things logically. It's a conclusion that I come to. It's not a thing that I just wake up one day and have an epiphany about and that's also why it's so scary because...it could happen, whenever. I could be perfectly happy. We could be perfectly happy and they could have an epiphany where they just decide that I'm done. I'm out. I'm not the cat's meow. I'm not the bee's knees. I'm not Broadway. I'm vaudeville and vaudeville is dead.
It's almost kind of silly, you know? I have this fear when I'm dating someone that they'll go grocery shopping and come home and be like "Hey, Pho...I have something important to tell you." and that'll be it and it'll be done. And before you say anything, Ms. Psychiatrist. I know what the fuck the problem is, okay? I know that's why I'm always all up under my significant other all the time. They think I don't trust them but that's not really the case. I don't trust myself. I don't trust myself to be good enough. I don't trust myself to be right for anyone.
A good friend? Got it covered.
A good daughter? With much trial and tribulation, got that covered, too.
Need me to kill a man? I'll have a perfect execution plan in literal minutes if you tell me the weapon you want me to use.
But a good lover? A good girlfriend? I don't even fucking know where I'm starting and what I'm doing because in the back of my head is that little nagging voice going "Hey, you could do all this and still, they could wake up one day and decide that they don't want you." and that's....that's terrifying to you, too, right? The thought that you could put in all this effort and try really hard and still it's worth nothing? That's scary, right? To me, it's the worst thing I can think of.
If we're drifting apart, if we argue a lot, if I notice you're not as happy around me as you used to be or vice versa, I see that coming. But if I think we're happy, if I think we're good, if I think we're making future plans together and it all just stops, cold turkey. That hurts. I know what I told you in your office the other day. I told you that one thing. That quote. The one about punches.
"If someone punches you in the stomach,“ he says, “it’ll hurt whether you were expecting it or not. So if the person you love stops loving you back, you’re going to feel the blow even if you saw it coming."
It's from Excerpt From A Book I'll Never Write which is this thing by this girl named Sue Zhao. But, Sue is wrong. In the long run, if I saw the punch coming, it can be justified. I can see that I made mistakes and I can learn from them. I can realize that hey, I did something wrong but it takes two to tango, so we both messed up and here's where we can learn from it and here's how we can grow even if it's not together. But when I don't see the punch coming? Maybe I twist and turn wrong in the hospital bed and cause more internal bleeding. It hurts more because in the long run, it haunts you. You don't know why it happened, you don't know if you deserved it or not, but for the rest of your life, you're looking around and with this aching anytime someone even nears you or your stomach because they might just punch you in the gut again and you won't know why that time, either so you're just left waiting for it to happen.
Ah, this is depressing. Why do I have to write about this? When it comes down to it, all I've had in my whole fucking life were fair-weather friends, okay? I get it, dude. I do. I'm fucked up. I relapsed. I always have a good bit of coke running through my system and I won't let anyone get close because I'm terrified they're gonna leave. But the ones I do let close don't treat me that well, either so no matter what I'm fucked right? I'm just counting down till you decide that you want another patient and you can't treat me, anymore, too. Which is fine. I'll fucking deal with it. I always fucking deal with it because I'm used to it. Being left is who I am now. Being alone makes up the parts of me that I won't show anyone. The parts of me that I don't bother even digging into. Being alone is who I am. I'm just a little cokehead running around waiting for the next punch to the gut, that's all. Feel free to write that all down in your little notepad.
Nothing is true, Everything is permitted
June 24, 2019
It's been a while since we've spent some time together, hasn't it? Well, I've been mostly...gone...It's a bit difficult to explain to you where I've been so I won't make an attempt. You simply must know that I have been broken. Life has broken me. The loss of my closest friends has broken me. I've been spending a lot of time at the orphanage, though.
I understand now that I probably won't have kids soon, and that's okay. It still hurts sometimes and I feel a certain sting when I see a new baby come into the orphanage. After all, these people are having children and giving them up. I know it's not always their choice, but it feels like a gut-punch when I see a baby come in and I just want to take them home and give them somewhere happy and safe to stay and I know I can't. Still, though, it's nice that I get to spend so much time with them. The staff at the orphanage has been really welcoming to me. I'm grateful for them.
I know I seem really...docile compared to usual. I...It's hard to explain but I'm not so inwardly angry, anymore. I blamed myself for so long about everything with Carey and Yoongi and all of it but...I had to stop doing that. It was killing me. The orphanage has given me a reason to not be high all the time, anymore. I can't enjoy the kids or show and take care of them if I'm high. Some of the older ones have grown really attached to me and I'm sponsoring them to go on their senior trips and things...I told them that if they needed help going to college then I could help them with that, too.
I guess....it still hurts a lot that I don't have kids....it does. But...well....maybe someday.
I did meet a guy, though, but he was annoying. eh...i'll tell you more about that later.
THE F4
F4
The Dragon - Wisdom
Name: Oh Phoenix
Codename: Emperor
Specialty And Responsibilities: The Dragon is the face of the group and the enforcer. While she doesn't do much of the face-to-face negotiations, when people think F4 they think of the dragon. She was raised by wealthy parents and the idea for this organization was hers. She wanted to save not only her friends but herself, too. The dragon keeps things with the other girls, strictly business, these days, even though, she's known them longer than anyone else. The Dragon is not only the Chief Financial Officer of this organization but she is also the leader and technological director. The sales and smuggling for the F4 goes on under the watchful eye of the Dragon. This process is made easier by having a father who is the Owner and Operator of one of the most Prominent business groups in Seoul. When a decision needs to be made, it is the dragon who presents the final and deciding vote. Though she can be young and misguided in her own ways, these mistakes rarely if ever transfer through to the business. She's known as ruthless and cold for a reason. When it comes to combat, the dragon specializes in the use of swords and other bladed instruments. To her, the blade is less like a weapon and more like another appendage to her. She dances with it in an almost reverent way. In her effort to protect the rest of the F4 and the people that they serve, The Dragon has killed the most people. Her flower tattoo contains 23 petals for the 23 lives that she has taken and only for those that she hasn't taken in vain. The others that she has killed for revenge and other reasons remain undocumented.
The Dragon is rumoured to be a devil worshiper, though, no one is entirely sure. This is because many times when an 'accident' occurs and bodies are found, it is said to be so bad that only god or the devil could possibly have made something like this occur. The Dragon is infamous for her pyromaniac tendencies and her nonchalance when it comes to setting others on fire and this is part of what makes her scariest. Though, no one truly knows her face, there are many rumours flying around as to what she looks like. All built around the incredible fear of facing her. The irony of this all revolves around the fact that the Dragon is the smallest in stature of the F4.
Rank and Occupation: Leader and Smuggler, Model
Skills:
Self-taught Computer EngineerIncredible SwordsmanshipImpeccable MathematicianPyrotechnic ExpertSkilled PhotographerRenowned Streetfighter
The Tiger - Utility
Name: ???
Codename: Grand Prince
Specialty And Responsibilities: The Tiger is known as the second-in-command. No one does face-to-face negotiations better than this incredible master of manipulation. It doesn't really help those who oppose her that she's more than just a little attractive and like the rest of the F4, she knows how to use her charms to her advantage. When the Dragon came up with the idea of the F4, no one was more opposed than the Tiger but, after realizing that they would be helping more people than they were hurting, she made it her mission to be the best second-in-command that she could be. The Tiger has a habit of watching over the other girls. It's her goal to make sure they are well-protected. She is the Negotiator of the crew. If The Dragon is the Head of the Board Of Directors then the Tiger is the CEO. Any business deals that occur are negotiated by the Tiger who gets her direct instructions from The Dragon. Unlike the Dragon, the Tiger was not raised by noble birth. Until the time that she was 10 years old, The Tiger lived in poverty, however, when The Dragon's father started a children's program for youth in poverty in Seoul, the Tiger was one of the recruits. She was a ward of Shinbi Group until she turned 18 years old and by that time, had already joined the F4. When it comes to combat, the dragon specializes in the use of dual-handed weapons. Whether it be two guns, dual swords, or any two objects that she can find near herself, in the moment. After the Dragon, The Tiger has the most lives on her hands. This is because even the best negotiator can't win every argument or deal and especially not with criminals. The flower tattoo on her right hip contains 12 petals which she obtained under the same requirements as the other girls.
The Tiger has a reputation for being caring, despite the fact that she will end a life should they choose not to cooperate with her.
Rank And Occupation: Negotiator, Yoga Instructor
Skills:
Master of ManipulationMotherly InstinctsDual-Armed CombatMaster of ForgeryInfamous Heartbreaker???
The Crane - Grace
Name: Baozhai Miao
Codename: Emperor's Assassin
Specialty And Responsibilities: The Crane is the muscle of the operation. While it isn't visible at first sight, the Crane is skilled in hand-to-hand combat. Having abandoned weapons entirely, the Crane is able to subdue her opponents with so little as her master touch to any sensitive point in their body. Much like the dragon, the Crane was raised in wealth. A student of ballet from the time she was only three, the Crane is gifted with incredible grace that makes it difficult for those who oppose her to catch or match her fluid movements. The Crane is probably the member who has known The Dragon, the longest. Even in diapers, the two were together. Their parents were friends, as well. Due to this connection, the Crane is probably the Dragon's though they both refuse to admit it. This causes a jealousy in the Tiger who would do almost anything for the Dragon's acknowledgement. To the Crane, her noble birth is somewhat of a curse since it left her with an incurable blood disease, the result of which is what caused to become so good at hand-to-hand combat. She joined the Tiger and the Dragon when she found the Dragon sneaking off during their Shaolin stays and became suspicious of her old friend. It was soon decided that she would joint he organization as a spy. Her flexibility and ability to be quiet and graceful, no matter the local, made this an obvious choice. Whether it be propelling down from cables or flipping over storage containers in warehouses fulled of armed men, when there's a need to get in and out of a place without being noticed, the Crane is the first choice. As a result of her incredible stealth, she's killed very few. This is a tale that the five petaled tattoo on her left ankle tells very clearly.
The Crane has a reputation for being merciful. She doesn't want to take lives or even hurt anyone. She only does so to those that are in the way.
Rank and Occupation: Spy, Ballerina
Skills:
Hand-to-Hand CombatMaster of StealthExpert in Spy TechnologyIncredibly talented BallerinaSkilled in Acrobatics???
The Mantis - Distance
Name: ???
Codename: Prince's Hand
Specialty And Responsibilities: Much like the Tiger, the Mantis was born of lesser means. Unlike the tiger, however, she rose to her success alone. There was no youth group. Instead, The Mantis went to a girl's orphanage where she, like all the other girls, took piano classes. Unlike the other girls, however, The Mantis had an issue. Her wrists, along with every other bone in her body, were weak and frail. The Mantis had trouble continuing to play until she was adopted by a kind Chinese woman. The woman ensure that the girl would get stronger and with the training she received on the Shaolin trips where she met the rest of the F4, she did. The Mantis joined their group the latest. She is the youngest of the crew and though she is the tallest, she is the frailest, still. Her position in the organization is the weapons specialist. In this position, she is somewhat the supplier to the operation. She knows all about weapons and how best to used them but is skilled best in gunslinging. She can shoot an apple off of the head of a man, a mile away with little hesitation. The Mantis is an expert sniper and in their operations, she often stays off-base picking off the enemy one-by-one, even though her petals of protection only have one layer. She tends to stay under the paw of the Tiger since they go places together. The Tiger often negotiating as he Mantis keeps an eye out in case anyone gets a little too frisky.
Rank and Occupation: Weapons Specialist, Concert Pianist
Skills:
Expert SniperMaster ChefTalented PianistAdvanced Researcher??????
How They Met:
In a misguided attempt at strengthening the girls, their parents sent them during their summers to a Shaolin monastery for Kung Fu training. While this opportunity is usually reserved for boys, each of the girls had an influential man in her life who was able to give her access to this opportunity. Since each of these girls came from different parents, they came for different reasons. The Dragon came to learn wisdom and patience at the age of 8, the thing she lacked most in the eyes of her father and the things she needed to become a better businesswoman. The Tiger came to learn balance at the age of 9, something which her guardians claimed she lacked in excess. The Crane came to learn grace at the age of 10, as she focused on her dreams of becoming Prima Ballerina. The Mantis, the youngest, came at the age of 8 to learn defense and gain advantage over her own frailty. Over the summers, these girls gained a bond. The bond which created a criminal organization that would grow to be as revered as the Yakuza with legs in different countries due to the girl's different origins.
(This is written in self-para form cuz it's the easiest way I could think of to write it with my last three functioning brain cells. Also, Kenichi Shinoda and Kiyoshi Takayama are actual members of the Yakuza who I have aged down about 20 years for this bio and I don't own the rights to their existence....obviously.)
tw: gang violence, murder, abandonment, gun
Yasuo couldn't be sure why Otsukumi had always been his favourite holiday. Part of him felt a silly sort of connection to it, knowing that it was then that his parents met. The year had been 1990 and his father, Takayama Kiyoshi, took time, even then, out of his duties as a Yakuza to visit his hometown of Kobe, Japan. His dad had never been clear if it had been the comfort of seeing his own mother or the quality of a homecooked meal that had brought him back to the small beef growing town. Either way, Kiyoshi wasn't aware but it would be the last time he'd see his mother. They'd gone through all the festivities and more importantly, she'd forcefully dragged him along to her annual tea picking trip to Jugoya Tea Farm as much as he pretended to complain, he didn't mind the break from crime donning knee-high boots over his shoes and standing in the bushes with his mother picking tea leaves.
It was at this time that he laid eyes upon Hanaori Mizuki for the first time. She was a few years younger than he was at 28. Yasuo's dad told him, each time he'd asked, that seeing her for the first time was so life-changing that he almost...didn't want to leave Kobe again. He was willing to risk getting slaughtered by his own men to see Mizuki regularly and if he hadn't thought it'd put her in danger, too, he'd have stayed. He offered to stay a few extra days to help them with their tea harvest and when it was finally time to leave, Kiyoshi begged Mizuki not to forget him and she promised she wouldn't.
Sure enough, the next year, 1991, when Otsukumi came around, Mizuki picked up the phone and called Kiyoshi's mother to invite them both back to the farm for tea picking. Over the past year, they'd kept in good contact with Mizuki calling her once a month to check on her and make sure that she didn't need anything and if she had, Mizuki would leave the farm on her bike and ride to the market to get it for her and deliver it by hand helping her around the house, too. That was why when she called and heard Kiyoshi pick up the phone instead of his mother, she was genuinely surprised. However, the surprise was replaced by confusion and then sadness as Kiyoshi informed her that at the age of 28 years old, he had lost his mother. Of course, Mizuki jumped to help with funeral preparations and taking care of anything Kiyoshi needed.
CHILDHOOD 1991-1998
Over the next few weeks, he spent plenty of time with her. His siblings had shown up for the funeral, including his brother who was also a Yakuza, however, Mizuki had helped him, as the eldest, take care of her mother's affairs the most. It wasn't long before Mizuki was looking at Kiyoshi the same way that he had looked at her the year before and when the veil of mourning and sadness moved from his eyes, they had decided to be together. Even though he loved her, Kiyoshi refused to marry. He had to keep Mizuki safe and he knew marrying her and putting her on his family registry would do the exact opposite. He hadn't told her, though, about his job and what he did for a living and soon Mizuki grew tired of him disappearing for weeks at a time and his lack of explanations and just like that, Kiyoshi lost the love of his life.
It wasn't long before Mizuki discovered her mornings were filled with sick and headaches and her ankles were so swollen that she couldn't help her father bring in the harvest like she used to, anymore. She sobbed the night that it finally hit her that she was pregnant with Kiyoshi's child. Despite how much she felt hurt by the man that she loved, she refused to get rid of her child. She wouldn't give him up for adoption, even if, from the very moment he was born, she saw his father in everything he did.
It was in the temper tantrums he had when he got frustrated and couldn't do something. She could see it in the calculated and careful way that he completed each task always leaving time to drink tea with her in their little night time moments. She even saw his father in the way he walked home from school close to the fence of the farm but not so close that he could be trapped should a bully try something on him. It was almost strange how this young man was the picture of his father, and yet still, she'd never written Kiyoshi to tell him about his son.
Despite this, he wouldn't be hidden from his father forever. Yasuo could remember in the very moment as he took a bite of the gooey mooncakes he had made for himself. He had learned the recipe directly from his mother when he was around five or six years old. It had been one of his favourites and no matter where he bought them from, they never tasted like hers. Even his, he had to admit, lacked something. Maybe a mother's love, but unfortunately, he was sure that was something that he would never feel in his life again. Still, he held in his hand, a letter from his grandfather that made him think of the one he'd discovered not so long ago.
On Yasuo's seventh birthday, he'd been playing out in the tea fields like usual. He'd been helping his grandfather lately since his mother hadn't been feeling well. Something had stopped him, though, he'd seen a crow fly across the eastern sky and it was as if a chill crawled down his spine. He dropped his basket immediately and ran into the house yelling aloud, "Mama!!" But it was too late.
Not too long after, a man came to collect Yasuo from his grandfather. His Sofu, or grandfather, had explained to him that he felt it would be better for Yasuo to grow up in the city with his father and so, he packed the tea set that he and his mother had drank from each night and most of Yasuo's belongings.
Not that Yasuo thought about it, that was the first time he'd seen his father, even if he wouldn't know that the man who had spoken to him was his father for years. The man had knelt down in front of him and patted his head gently with a large grin, "My name is Takayama Kiyoshi. I work for your father. You're safe with me," Of course, Yasuo had been a hesitant child from the start and he refused to follow this man until he watched he and his grandfather interact over the course of a few days and realized they were truly acquaintances. It was only then that Yasuo agreed to go with Kiyoshi.
While Kiyoshi was a high-ranking Yakuza official, he was only second-in-command and so he feared that his son would not have the level of secrecy and protection that he'd hoped for. Because of this, Kiypshi decided to speak to his boss, Kenichi Shinoda.
Kenichi and Kiyoshi were only six years apart in age and while they looked vastly different, Yasuo looked so much like his mother that it almost didn't matter that he didn't look anything like Kenichi because honestly, he didn't look much like Kiyoshi, either. Yasuo remembered the moment he sat down in Kenichi's office for the first time. He'd walked into the room and it was quickly emptied by the man's associates. Once the room was clear, he could clearly see a pile of gifts that were obviously for him. Yasuo's skin crawls at the memory. Other children must've been easily convinced by gifts and shiny things, he assumed but Yasuo had been different. He didn't want gifts. He wasn't impressed by his father's shiny things. He wanted his mother back. Kenichi crouched in front of the seat where his son was sitting and grinned.
"Sit up straight. Let me see your face," And so he did and that was how his relationship would continue with his father. For the most part, Yasuo had been an obedient child. Patient and focused, he took to all the training and lessons that his father had to offer with him. If he was being groomed for something sinister, he'd had no idea and he wouldn't know. After all, he was just doing as he was told.
First, it began with martial arts and swordplay classes and soon, that graduated to schooling with the best private tutors. A rudimentary knowledge of the Japanese legal system and it's various penal codes and twists and turns. Musical training where he learned to play the Koto. Walks with his father where he learned to charm women and what it truly meant to be a man. It was as if his father was raising him to be the perfect man but there was something deeper within Yasuo that he didn't know was there until his first assignment for his father.
It was intended to be a simple drop-off of some equipment (firearms) and technically, it was something beneath Yasuo's paygrade. While he had to earn his way up like everyone else, the jobs he was assigned to typically included more intelligence. Even at just 14 years old, the boy was commonly known as a prodigy. It wasn't that he lacked conscience but moreso that he was able to see past it in a way that others couldn't. By failing to quiet that part of his mind, he was able to connect with his victims or even their allies and manipulate them in a way that his similarly ranked counterparts couldn't. It was partially something he had in instinct from his father but it was stronger in him.
The soft boy that Mizuki had raised died with her. His grandfather had intended for life with his father to be better and more beneficial but all it had taught Yasuo was that...life was hard and cruel and unfair. It had taught him that humankind was evil and capable of more than they let on. Most of all, it had taught him that...if he didn't stomp on others, they would stomp on him first. Because of this, he faced the world with a pair of steel-toed boots on and didn't hesitate to trample those who moved underfoot. As he arranged the flowers for his next delivery, it dawned on him that the drop-off that day had probably been a set up from his father. He'd been sitting in the car silently watching the boy that he'd been assigned to deliver with. The other boy had been 17 and while Yasuo was only 14 at that time, he was the one in charge. There were certain privileges to being the boss' son, of course and even more privileges to being proven a success.
As he had watched the other boy step out with the duffel bag and into the warehouse, he could see the sniper aimed at them from the corner of his eye. Yasuo was good at that. He was good at details and even moreso, good at knowing when to say something about those details. He knew exactly how this was going to go down and he'd leaned back against the seat and scoffed. He couldn't believe these fools. They were really going to try to kill a member of the Yamaguchi-gumi and take weapons from them, too. Amateurs. Of course, he wasn't going to call his father for help with this one. He was sure he could handle it. As the other boy walked up to their business partner, the other man dropped his bag on the ground unzipping it to show the unmarked bills in the case, but just as Yasuo's partner began to unzip his bag he heard the shot. He let a moment pass and soon, the older boy was on the ground holding his shin, a pool of blood on the ground. He couldn't help but chuckle at it. Slowly, he opened the door and as the older man recognized the large golden ring on his father, he knew that he'd made a grave mistake. That was the ring of the kumicho...the kingpin. Yasuo reached into his coat pulling out an SMG and raised it slowly.
He didn't make the rules...but this man broke them. He adjusted himself just slightly knowing that the moment he made a move towards the other man, the sniper would take their aim. His finger pressed down against the trigger and he took a deep breath. "It's unfortunate really. You're handsome. Such a waste," He smirked as he stuck out his tongue teasing the man before taking a step forward and hitting the trigger of his weapon ending the man's momentary horror. He took a look up at the sniper raising his hand to show the ring and then giving a playful wave as he leaned forward with a sinister grin on his face. He knew only a fool would dare injure him after realizing who he was. That was the first time he'd ended a man's life, but it certainly wouldn't be the last.
ADULTHOOD 2015-NOW
It was after that time, actually. Now that he thought about it up until the moment whe he had taken that man's life, he wasn't sure that he wanted his father's life. He wasn't sure that he wanted to do the thing that he was raised for but feeling that...powerful. Feeling as if he could take very life from someone's body made him feel...big. It made him feel more alive than he'd felt since his mother had died. It wasn't that he liked murdering others, no. It was more complex than that. He liked seeing the fear in the man's eyes and so, he became a figure even more terrifying than his father, Kenichi, and his uncle, Kiyoshi. See his father and his uncle had joined the Yakuza looking for family. They had pledged loyalty to the Yamaguchi-gumi clan because that was where they felt like they had the kind of connection they missed at home. That was where they saw success. Yasuo hadn't made that choice. Yasuo had been born into it. This was his family. Without a doubt. This was where he belonged and moreover, this was his power.
That had been why he'd accepted so quickly when his father had finally resolved to promote him to the board. At 25 years old, he was going to be the youngest member of the leadership board and also, the first to be inducted after the Yama-Ichi War. He remembered sitting in his father's office and seeing the proud look on his face. Even though his father had been the leader of the Yamaguchi-gumi Clan for almost twenty years now, his son knew he wasn't the serious and scary man that people depicted him as. Yasuo smiled just thinking of his father. The man who took the train to important meetings instead of a chaffeured limousine. The man who took him for ice cream on the way to a big important banquet thrown in his honor. His son was always his most important priority, even in the middle of a serious operation, he was always a good father. A solid man. His work had never interfered with him being a good father. Yasuo didn't know how that was possible but it was and he appreciated it.
It had almost been time for his inauguration when his father had left the office for something urgent. Yasuo, being the curious young man that he was, had been so eager to see the ring his father had bought him that he'd taken the opportunity to sneak into his father's desk. A desk that would one day be his and look for the box himself. However, that was when he discovered it.
It was the scent that had alerted him first. Lavender and freshly pressed jasmine leaves. He almost slammed the drawer shut at the strength of the memory of his mother, but he couldn't. He had to know what was there. Why did his father's drawer smell so strongly of her? Did he really save the letters from so long ago? But he had thought...his father didn't know about him until his mother had passed. He had to know.
Dear Kiyoshi,
Oh, my dear Kiyoshi. I understand now. Not only who you are but why you were gone and why you didn't put up a fight when I asked you to leave. I thought that you didn't love me, anymore. I thought that there had been someone else but that wasn't it, was it? I found a letter in your mother's things and now I know.
Why didn't you tell me? Then again, I guess...for the same reason that I didn't tell you about Yasuo or give him your last name or put me on your family registry. You wanted to protect me. I wanted to protect him...us. I wish you could see your son, Kiyoshi. He has your eyes. Kind, but stern. Loving, yet cautious. He's so...aware. He's only six but he acts like he's sixty sometimes. He's so careful. He reminds me so much of you. Sometimes I look at him and I feel lost and I wish that it had gone differently between us, Kiyoshi. Although you are not here with us, it's almost as if you are. It's almost as if he's you. He's always willing to help and he's so obedient. If there are rules, he's not afraid to question them but once he understands them, he follows them so...willingly. He's so smart and so independent. Sometimes, I feel like he'll outgrow me before he's even ten years old, but then again, maybe he won't outgrow me, at all.
Kiyoshi...the reason I'm just now telling you about this is because, I'm sick. By the time, this letter reaches you, I will be gone. I feel my days drawing to an end and each night, when I have tea with our son, it makes me feel more hopeful about reincarnating. It makes me feel more joyful about passing on because I know that he is strong. When we met I felt 恋の予感 ( literally translates to the feeling of knowing falling in love with someone is inevitable when you first meet them or premonition of love ) and I know that you felt it, too. I hope that you also feel it when you meet our son. I hope that you love him in the same way that I do. He needs his father to teach him the things that I cannot and he will need you more than ever when I am gone.
There is a deep regret in my heart...You have missed crucial moments with your son because I was too afraid to break that barrier and risk getting my heart broken once again, but even now, I love you, Kiyoshi-san. Please take care of our son for me. Mizuki-chan.
His eyes teared up just thinking about it. Whether they had meant to or not, his parents...they'd lied to him. Kenichi wasn't his father and Kiyoshi- Kiyoshi wasn't his uncle. Why had he all those years ago come to the farm and told him that he was just a friend of his father's? Why had he lied? To Protect Him. That was his first, thought. After all, being the boss' son came with it's perks. He'd thought that so many times over and over. But he wasn't the boss' son. He was just a bastard found by his father who'd apparently chose to pass that responsibility off to someone else, instead. A blind rage flew through him at that moment and there was a loud smash as he slammed the drawer of the desk shut. He threw open the office doors with a force trudging up to his adoptive father and shoving the letter against the man's chest. "When did you plan on telling me? Now? In ten years? When you were both fucking dead and I was in your seat? That way he could avoid the consequences like how he'd avoided me, right?"
That was the part that stung the most. Kiyoshi had been his favourite uncle. He'd been the one he trusted most. He told Kiyoshi some things that he didn't even tell his father. He talked to Kiyoshi about girls and the best strategies for his hobbies like swordfighting and flower-arranging. He'd even taught Kiyoshi the tea ceremonies that his mother had taught him. Little did he know that Kiyoshi already knew because Kiyoshi had been his father all along. Of course, Kiyoshi was far from innocent in this but he had always admired his son, even if he didn't claim him and a part of him was even jealous that his son had risen even faster in rank than he had. For this, he allowed Kenichi to take all the blame.
The other members tried to hold him back, but Kenichi stopped them. After all, blood or no blood, he still considered Yasuo to be his son. It didn't matter that he was, instead, his friend's child. He'd raised Yasuo. He'd taken him fishing and taught him how to tell the difference between different kinds of koi fish and how to grow them in the pond of their home. He'd taught his son to eat with a knife and fork in the American way and played the Koto with him in the drawing room on spring holidays. As much as he could see the fury in Yasuo's eyes, he knew that his son, no matter how ruthless, wouldn't hurt the one who raised him.
And he was right. Yasuo wouldn't hurt him but he also wasn't sure that he trusted his father anymore, either. He requested to be stationed elsewhere not too long after his inauguration and his father, understanding that he was still in pain, obliged his wish, sending him to Hawaii where they had their own branch. He gave his son command since their former leader was killed and for a year and a half, Yasuo helped them prosper there. Under his lead, their numbers grew larger than ever before. They hadn't owned property or businesses in the U.S. before Yasuo had gotten involved and though he was only 26, he managed to give them more control over the islands than they'd ever had. Even without his men seeing his face directly, they took his orders as he delegated them through his board of directors. A faceless man with all of the control. Of course, that only lasts so long. The American government saw the movement and they tried to put a stop to it quickly but by then, Yasuo had already found a leader to replace himself and left. He was always like that, one step ahead of the law.
It was this that earned him the name: Yokai Tsukasa, phantom chief, while others referred to him as 顔のない首長 or the chief without a face. He became a boogeyman. It was said that those who did see him face to face never lived to tell the tale. It was said that he, unlike his father, did not teach lessons but only dealt punishments and he guessed, a part of that was true. What had happened with his fathers had left him so detached that everyone else was simply a pawn in his plan for reaching at his father's seat. To avoid the government and lay low, he decided he would need a place where they weren't likely to look for him and so he decided to settle in Salem. His father had some old friends there, he knew and it was just set far enough apart and secluded enough that he wouldn't have to worry about answering to anyone, especially not his father, for a while.