IX
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Arc IX Chapter 3
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“Nee-san, the bento isn't necessary.“ Yuki pouted. A sigh of annoyance escaped her lips.
Nee-san was completely exaggerating. As usual.
Yuki knew nee-san only wanted her best, and Yuki loved nee-san dearly, but still ... Too much was too much. Nee-san's love suffocated Yuki at times. Her care and attention exceeded any reasonable measures. Nee-san acted like her mother.
Don't catch a cold.
Don't forget your scarf.
Don't stay up for too long.
Eat your vegetables.
Don't come back late.
Don't trust strangers on the streets.
Asami shook her head and rewarded Yuki with a gentle head pat. “On the contrary, I insist. Food is a necessary commodity. My cute little Yuki-chan can't go hungry. You must eat in order to grow strong and healthy. You are way too skinny.“
Asami poked her waist. “No muscles. No meat. Nothing. You definitely need additional energy.“
...
...
...
Yuki blinked while Katsuki nommed in the background on her plate of delicious, divine tuna.
Katsuki was once again a happy little kitten. Her whiskers approved.
Her mistress granted her a large tuna to celebrate this joyous day. The taste. The texture. The taste. The aroma. Celestial.
Katsuki guarded the tuna jealously. The fish was her tuna. Her tuna alone.
Yuki studied nee-san. Her sisterly smile forced Yuki to capitulate. Yuki relented and accepted the bento. “I understand, nee-san.“
Asami clapped her hands. “Excellent.“
“Where did you even get the bento from? I didn't see you cooking.“
Asami sighed. “Yuki.chan, you know, my culinary skills are sadly subpar. So I exchanged it for money. The bento was bought with love.“
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Yuki raised her eyebrow. “Bought with love?“
Yuki stared at her packed bento. That explained a lot.
Asami nodded. “Indeed, bought with love. In the end, the intention counts, doesn't it?“
Yuki disagreed, but she declined to comment. Nee-san must be right. Probably-
Asami offered an encouraging smile. “And now off with you. You mustn't be late! This is your first day at the academy. We can't leave a subpar impression, can we?“
Yuki clenched her small fists. “We can't.“
Asami pinched her cheek, despite Yuki disapproving. “Exactly.“
Yuki prepared to leave: Her backpack was stuffed heavy with books, pencils, and paper. The academy awaited her.
Yuki stole a last glance at her overcaring nee-san.
Nee-san waved and wished her goodbye. “Don't forget your umbrella, Yuki-chan. Rain is a constant companion.“
Yuki followed her advice. A small umbrella accompanied her.
The door closed and Asami was now left alone. The apartment Pain put at her disposal, her personal little kingdom, felt empty. Shadows encroached on the room without Yuki's cheerful presence.
Asami chuckled. Yuki was better left in the dark about certain matters, as she was still a child. It was too early to involve her.
Asami gripped her umbrella and moved out. The time was rife. “Katsuki, follow me.“
Katsuki obeyed her mistress despite disliking the cold rain, despite abandoning her tuna.
Katsuki jumped and coiled around mistress' neck.
Asami tickled her chin. “Good kitten, work awaits us.“
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Asami navigated through Amegakure.
Her destination was the Hattori clan, a clan once revered and respected by the common masses. The clan might have fallen deep following Hanzo's death, but they were still reliable, and neutral. They sided neither with Pain nor with the remnant faction in Ame's ongoing civil war.
Amegakure's streets were empty. Was it fear, or the rain, people avoided the open. No people. No joy. No life. Gloom reigned the streets, a common sight.
Most people retreated into the safety of their homes. Only the dim light of shops and food stands illuminated the village. The hardships of life marked the faces of the vendors.
The ceaseless rain turned the unpaved ground into a quagmire of mud and filth, but the elements wouldn't stop her. The mud merely impeded her progress.
Her attire attracted the gazes of her surroundings. Their interest didn't escape her sharp senses.
Asami strolled along the way, armed with an umbrella befitting her standing. Her figure stood out among the grey mass of people. Her elegance, her grace, her regal demeanour. A girl clad in silk, born in silk.
Katsuki noticed the stares. As a diligent kitten, her duty was to protect her mistress from harm.
Her fluffy paws poked Asami's cheeks. “Ojou-sama.“
Asami greeted Katsuki with a broad smile. “What's the matter, my little kitten?“
Katsuki pouted. She might be a kitten, but she was still a princess of the cat clan. “People are watching us. The gazes. They are everywhere.“
Asami giggled amused. “Don't worry, they are following us for a while.“
Katsuki hesitated. “You knew?“
“Silly kitten, it's only natural for a princess to be admired by her subjects.“ Asami tickled Katsuki's chin.
Katsuki fought the temptation, but resistance proved futile. Her defences crumbled. Mistress shamelessly exploited her weakness. Tickles.
Katsuki pouted. Evil mistress. Cruel mistress. Mistress treated her like a newborn kitten.
Asami merely giggled. “Apparently, even royalty pouts.“
Katsuki objected, “I don't pout.“
“Sure~.“ Asami tilted her head and continued her stroll.
The quarter was stricken by poverty. Decrepit buildings flanked the streets. The economic crisis following the war and Pain's strict policy of isolationism hit Amegakure hard. Trade collapsed and industry imploded.
Desperation and unemployment allowed crime to flourish. Driven by their most basic needs, people turned against each other. Forgotten were filial bonds and friendship when hunger called when survival was prioritised.
Beggars, fathers, peasants, refugees, veterans flooded the streets, people discarded once they had outlived their usefulness, willing to do anything for little coin and bread. Their new masters were happy to oblige.
The overabundance of cheap manpower proved a fertile ground for the underworld of Amegakure. Emboldened by the absence of a functional administration, organised crime took over the streets. Pain either didn't see or didn't care.
The syndicates lost any semblance of respect, and it showed. Unbothered by consequences, they carried their heads high, arrogant and complacent as if they owned the village. Petty lords with delusions of grandeur.
Their chests swelled with pride, and conceited grins flashed across their faces. Their tattoos were a testament to their honour.
Asami clicked her tongue in visible displeasure. Their shamelessness disgusted her. Their impudence offended her.
Crime operated in open daylight. They didn't even pretend to hide their unsavoury business. Drugs. Gambling. Kidnapping. Blackmailing. Assassination. Prostitution.
Their establishments provided their customers with a steady supply of flowers waiting to be plucked. No effort was spared to satisfy even the most extravagant tastes. Their customers enjoyed their time and each night a petal was torn.
The bosses ruled the streets for far too long. They lacked proper respect. It was time to remind them of their rightful place beneath the sun ...
Asami stopped. Her ears picked up signs of trouble, a commotion.
A cry erupted from a nearby alley. A boy collapsed to the filth of the street. A metal bar had struck the poor boy with full force. A group of illustrious gentlemen kept him company. Their tattoos betrayed their affiliation.
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