[center][img]http://68.media.tumblr.com/007ef36f104f63869340b62d916ce92f/tumblr_ohjc1qULRs1uptrqho1_500.png[/img] [sub]FANFICTION | DANGANRONPA | MATURE (18+) | [url=http://www.pixiv.net/member.php?id=109435]ART CRED.[/url] | [url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/1YJeqL6Iir6OqL-v6TbCIIL6gK7Zro6Wj_1lTXpNKa_I/edit]CAST & CREW.[/url][/sub][/center] [center]As the law stated, gambling was considered completely illegal in Japan as a country.[/center] Dry, chapped lips wrapped loosely around the wrapper of an unlit cigarette, shiny dress shoes scuffed against the concrete pavement of the Tokyo red-light district. A tan trench coat wrapped around the young man’s body, form akin to that of a practicing kendoka. Hands coated by black gloves to protect nimble fingers from the cold brought about by the rainy season dove into his pockets to retrieve a silver lighter. Glasses-hidden ceruleans examined the lighter in his fingers for a moment before stopping to strike the silver device and light his cigarette, letting the nicotine settle into his system before soldiering on, ignoring the red and violet neons painting his body in a ghostly glow. Kabukichō was terrible around this time. The rainy season meant that people wanted to spend time inside, not outside, leaving whorehouses and strip clubs like this to be abundant in customers, wanting to take some time away from the depression of the grey days that the average businessman experienced. It honestly disgusted him. Throwing bodies away like this. All to each their own, he supposed. Buzzing in his coat pocket was his cellphone, eternally on ‘vibrate’. The young detective was never one for flashy ringtones, and his work cellphone always remained in either his coat pocket or his pants pocket, keeping it just as close as he did his work. Nodding to a scantily-clad woman as she passed him, giggling, Togami Byakuya pulled to the side, pressing his back to the brick wall and opening up his cellphone, finding a text-message from a number saved in his contacts as “情報提供者”. Information provider. Informant. His name was Hashimoto Shibuhito, an older man but not a prominent member of the yakuza in which he worked for, the Nanami family, As the LED screen lit up his face, reflecting upon his glasses, Togami allowed his eyes to scan quickly over the text message he had received. [center] [ INFORMANT | 21:07 ] In the Digital Dragon casino. Have to take care of business. Meet you at bar in 45. [/center] [center][ TOGAMI BYAKUYA | 21:10 ] Be punctual. I will be waiting.[/center] Pocketing the smartphone quickly, the sharply-dressed young man adjusted his tie, pushing himself forward to the end of the street. It wasn’t common knowledge that below the concrete streets of the prefecture was a quite-literally underground network of yakuza establishments that required intricate networking to access. Turning a corner as he reached the end of the street, Togami disappeared into a back-alley, smirking with delight as he found a metal, spiral staircase (almost akin to a winding, emergency fire-exit). Descending the staircase, the blonde allowed his eyes to adjust before continuing on through the underground system, seeing the blue-and-green lights and hearing the loud music of the casino in the distance. The sign was neon. That was the first thing he noticed upon entering. DIGITAL DRAGON, in bright blue-green kanji, hung elegantly from the threshold of the gate. Standing at the gate were two younger ladies, both dressed in maid’s outfits, smiling closed-eye smiles as Togami enters. Shedding his trenchcoat but keeping his wallet and cellphone, the girl on the left stepped forward, chirping happily at the detective, “May we take your coat, Master?” “Please do,” Togami replied, handing over his trench coat and receiving a property tag, which he pocketed alongside his phone and wallet. The casino was loud, for lack of a better term. Slot machines lines the walls on three of the four sides of the lobby, with large, green gambling tables scattered throughout the lobby floor. A staircase could be seen in the leftmost corner of the room, leading up to a metal-gated office that he could only infer to be the cashier’s office. In a room separating the back wall of slot machines looked to be a bar of sorts, lined with exotic alcohols from not only Japan, but recognizably America and Europe as well. Finally, on the right-hand side of the room was a closed velvet curtain, with a young man in a nice shirt and dress pants, almost underdressed for the scene in which he stood. Togami did observe, however, that a gun rested in a holster on his hip and something about the white-haired man didn’t particularly lead him to believe that he had a handgun-carrying permit. This wasn’t the first time Togami Byakuya had been to the Digital Dragon casino, and it most certainly wouldn’t be his last. However, something about this trip into the room of sin felt almost… familiar, but in a foreign way. A strange feeling coursed through the blonde’s body, but he pushed his curiosity aside for more than a moment; there was work to be done. Taking a seat at the oaken bar in the backmost room, Togami exhaled a final puff of smoke from his cigarette, snuffing out the cancer stick into one of the glass ashtrays that were lined up among the U-shaped bar. Cerulean eyes flickered around the casino, still, ever-attentive to his surroundings, as a detective of his skill and lineage should be. Taking off his gloves and tucking them into the pocket of his black vest, he began to drum his fingers lightly against the wood of the bar he sat at. Never a patient man. The nostalgic feeling returned to his core, significantly more intensely now, as his eyes locked onto the figure of a young woman sitting at the corner of the bar, about seven or eight seats down from him. Out of his line of sight unless he was looking directly at her, out of earshot unless she spoke up. The face, the body, the way her violet hair cascaded down her body in that neatly-styled braid. The way dark lipstick never left stains on her glass, the way her eyeliner was as sharp as the lies she crafted. The only woman in the establishment who wasn’t a conversation piece or the accessory of a corrupt businessman or yakuza knave. A young man with dress-sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a thick Okinawan accent approached Togami as he sat at the bar, arching a brow. “A drink, Master?” “That woman, down there,” Togami said, pointing with his first two fingers as the woman silently sipped some sort of brown liquor. “What is she having?” “Martell Cordon Bleu Cognac. It’s French -- expensive.” “I’ll take two,” he tells the bartender, not missing a beat, eyes still locked onto the woman as she finishes a conversation with a passerby maid-in-waiting. “But send the second down to her.” The young man adjusted his sleeves and cleared his throat, looking from the woman at the end of the bar to the detective, leaning down to speak into his immediate space. “Master, if I may speak so freely, that woman is a very dangerous, a very scary woman. She is the only woman allowed to gamble past the limit. She is direct friends with the owner of this casino. If I may speak so freely, she is downright terrifying. She eats men like us alive.” “I’m aware,” Togami replied, irritated at the man’s commentary. “I know her. Her name, her face, her talents with a deck of cards. We attended high school together. We were…” he almost stops, but does not skip a beat as he concocts a mediocre lie, one that he was sure that this mindless servant would believe, “...friends.” “My apologies,” replied the bartender. “What is the name for the tab?” “Hashimoto,” Togami stated as he watched the bartender pull the bottle of Cognac from the icebox alongside two frosted glasses, pouring the brown liquor with intensive skill. “A friend of mine. He’s good for the money.” “I know Hashimoto.” The bartender nodded in agreement with the detective’s words. “Good man. Hard worker. Shall I deliver a message with the drink, Master?” “Point her my way and send her my regards.” “As you wish.” Togami let his finger trace the rim of the glass as he watched the man in the white shirt walk down to the corner of the bar, handing the second drink to her just about the time she had finished her first. Watching them speak but not hearing any words, Togami’s eyes glazed over with a near-nostalgia as the bartender pointed towards him, pulling the attention of the woman in the black dress. Lifting his glass to her, the blonde man offered her a long-distance toast before sipping his drink. For the old times. The woman lifted her drink in return, taking a sip as well. The burn was all too familiar. Turning his attention back to his cellphone, Togami was quickly met with the boisterous presence of his informant, arriving behind him in a loud and animated manner. Hashimoto was a middle-aged man with greying hair and slightly stained yellow teeth from an unhealthy coffee addiction, but had the heart of a grandfather and the hardworking ethics of a Togami himself. “Hello, my friend!” He laughed as he sat down to the left of the detective, clearing his throat. “This rain absolutely has taken a toll on these old bones. Say, boy, what are you drinking there?” “Martell Cordon Bleu Cognac. Good evening, Hashimoto.” Togami nods to the other with the familiarity of a businessman and the stoicness of a brick wall. He props one leg up on the other, resting an ankle at his knee, watching as the man ordered some sort of cheap beer for himself. “What was it you wanted to speak to me about in regards to the disappearances of your coworkers?” “Believe it or not, lad,” Hashimoto began, taking the top off of the metal bottle and sipping from it, “I’m here as a messenger. The boss knows we’ve been working together, and she’s not angry about it. She wants to meet with you. She wants to talk to you one-on-one to see if you can find her subordinates.” The development didn’t necessarily shock Togami, but it does allow him to take in the extra information for a moment, nodding in approval. “I understand. Has she mentioned anything about the meeting? A date or a place?” “Here, at the casino, for sure,” the informant told his detective partner, cracking his knuckles lightly, “It’s the only place she’s one-hundred percent comfortable. It’s probably her safest place, anyways. She’s not in a place to meet tonight; her friend from high school is in and they were walking about the town earlier. A pair of absolute dolls, wow-- the boss is adorable in her own kind of young girl way, like a high-school student who sleeps in class all day, but her friend is a different kind of mature, rustic beauty. Absolutely beautiful, the both of them.” Disgusted by the older man’s description of the two women, Togami looked back over his shoulder to see if the violet-haired woman in the black dress still sat at the table. Finding her missing from the oaken bar and her glass turned upside down, the blonde detective returned his attention to Hashimoto, who was still babbling on about the yakuza boss and her friend. “Anyways.” Togami said sternly, interrupting the man. “Do you know when this friend will be leaving town?” “She has moved to Shibuya, if I remember correctly. To be closer to her yakuza friend. I think tomorrow would be a good date, around this time. I doubt the boss would want to go out on the town with her friend two nights in a row. She’s not that kind of girl.” “Can you find out for sure?” “Of course, my friend. I will call you in the morning if the date is not good. If you don’t hear anything from me, assume that you’re to come back and meet her. She is a very spontaneous young woman.” “I understand. Thank you for letting me know. This was something that could have been discussed over the phone, however.” “We’re not allowed to discuss yakuza business over the phone or through text. It’s part of the code of conduct. We can schedule meetings, talk about getting together for leisure, and the like, but the minute it becomes about work, we have to talk in person. It’s a secrecy rule.” Hashimoto explained, almost in an apologetic manner, as he nodded a bit of an apology to Togami. “I see,” Togami nodded, turning his now-empty glass upside down, a signal for the bartender to come and retrieve it. “I will strike that one down as ignorance of decorum, then. Is that all you had to say?” “Oh, don’t leave so soon, my friend!” Hashimoto laughed, putting his hands on his knees. “Come, enjoy the casino a bit! Show the boss that you are someone who will put money back into her work. Besides, there are lots of pretty ladies here who are just looking for a young, handsome man like yourself to take them home tonight!” Togami sighed, adjusting his glasses with the second knuckle of his thumb, as to not dirty the lenses. “Gambling is illegal in the nation of Japan, and as someone who must enforce the law, I cannot partake in any illegal activities, especially those of yakuza. I am not interested in finding a romantic partner at the moment, and one-night stands are distasteful.” “You are currently investigating the disappearance of yakuza, Togami-kun! Is it not in the heart of a justiciar to let them go missing and rid the world of evil? Or are you not as lawfully sound as you originally stated?” Hashimoto arched a brow at the detective, pairing it with a smirk. “I am investigating possible kidnappings,” Togami corrected the older man. “They will start with your coworkers and then evolve into other targets when the culprit decides that yakuza are not enough. I will have to get involved either way; I might as well stop this before too many people get hurt.” “How many consecutive days have you been working?” Hashimoto asked, sipping at his beer still. “About five,” Togami frowned at the man, standing to stretch his legs. “And before you say I am overworked, I have gone longer than that without a day off. The law must be enforced, and the Togami line is the most successful line of detectives to be mentioned in the Detective Library. I am no exception.” “One game of blackjack,” Hashimoto smiled at the blonde, arching his eyebrows. “Perhaps you can walk home with a little bit more money in your pocket to get yourself a cup of coffee or a nice breakfast in the morning. One game of blackjack, my friend, and I will let you be to finish your work.” Eyes flitted around the casino, watching the pink and blue neon lights blind the slightly-drunken guests. Togami allows his eyes to settle on the velvet-curtain doors, finding that the white-haired man with the firearm was not at his post. Frowning in frustration, Togami’s brows furrowed at Hashimoto, and he sighed sharply through his nose. “One game of blackjack, and then I am in my car, going home.” “Oh, you will love it here, my friend! Here, here, use some of my chips for tonight and you can pay me back if you lose your money.” The ever-generous man placed a handful of poker chips into the hand of the young detective, causing the blonde to look at them in a mixed expression of confusion and exasperation. Following the older man to a table of blackjack with room for two to join, Hashimoto laughed boisterously at the detective’s presence at the table in comparison to some of the others present. “Is there room for one more? I apologize, I had to head up to the cashier’s office.” The voice that echoed properly before the men seated was familiar; the detective did not even look backwards to see the same young woman with the black dress as he had seen at the bar a while ago. Politely, one of the men who was present at the table when Togami and Hashimoto arrived stood, allowing her to take his place at the table for a couple of rounds, standing behind her as he wanted to watch the game unfold. Opening up what appeared to be a small black handbag, barely big enough to fit anything more than a wallet or a small flask, the violet-haired woman took out a small stack of chips, setting them on the table. “A pleasure to have you with us, Kirigiri-sama.” The dealer at the table addressed her, extending his hand. With the gait of a servant (akin to how the bartender addressed Togami, but to a superlative degree), the dealer kissed the back of the woman’s gloved hand. Nodding to the dealer, she folded her hands in front of her, ready to begin the game. “Remember, ladies and gentlemen, all bets are to be properly accounted for, the counting of cards is strictly against house rules, and I as the dealer have the right to remove you from my table at any time. All bets in, please.” 500 yen. 500 yen. 1000 yen. 2500 yen. 10,000 yen. All eyes hit the stack of chips equivalent to the highest bet on the table, and the dark-stained lips of the woman who sat behind her bet turned up in a bit of a malignant smirk. Togami’s eyes locked onto the familiar woman who sat across the table from him, chest rising and falling sharply as he watched her sip at a glass of ice-water, obviously balancing the drinks she had been drinking to keep her sober and reduce the hangover she might receive in the morning. Her eyes met his for the second time that night. The burn was just as strong. He didn’t begin to wonder for a moment whether or not she remembered him; the name alone, the style of dress, the DSC that was very much so evident in his wallet was all evidence of whom he was. Togami Byakuya. Child of Togami Kijo, brother of thirteen half-brothers and sisters. Thus was the trait of the Togami family. He wondered how many wives and children it would take for him to get it right; apparently Byakuya was the child that could properly inherit the detective intelligence and drive he was looking for in a child. Of course she remembered him. He was hard to forget. Then again, so was she. Kirigiri Kyouko, an unnecessarily talented gambler who had a knack for analyzing facial expressions and mastering the art of a lie. They had given her multiple names in high school when they both attended Hope’s Peak a long time ago: Queen of the Hive, Mistress of Liars, Lady of the Shadow. She hated all of them, only wanting to be referred to by her family name, and what a strong family name it was. Kirigiri. Fog cutter. A name almost unbefitting of her, but in an ironic manner; she did not cut through fog. She stole the fog placed around the faces of those around her and manipulated it into smoke and mirrors that made her appear to be whomever she wanted in front of a crowd. She smirks at him, and her gaze is returned to the cards laid out before her, quickly swept up into her fingers. A young man with white hair passes behind her, Togami noted, as he picked up his cards, looking them over. A bad hand, an unlucky hand. A hand that cannot win. His jaw sets, and he looks at her from across the table again, letting her face be absolutely emotionless as she looks at her own set of cards. Jaw sets, and the dealer addresses her. “Hit.” Seven and five equal twelve. Twelve plus seven equals nineteen. “Stand.” Nineteen. Twenty-two. Seventeen. Eighteen. Eleven. As the dealer dealt out his own cards, Kyouko’s lips curled up into a near-sardonic smile as the man in the white-shirt busted his own cards, allowing her and those who did not bust their own cards to gain their money. Pulling back half her stack, she almost wanted to try again, but simply pulled her chips back into her purse and excuse herself from the table. That was just like her, Togami noted, to play and run away. After all, that’s all that Kirigiris knew how to do. Jaw set, Togami nodded to the dealer and to Hashimoto, excusing himself as well and ignoring Hashimoto’s tipsy protests. He could still see the waves of her dress in the crowd as he pushed himself through numbers of gathering people, sliding with grace as he danced around waitresses with trays of champagne to deliver to sober guests-- spend your money, spend your money! She disappears behind the velvet curtain like a magician, and he was stopped by the white-haired man who had returned to his post. (Perhaps that is where he was returning to when he passed by Kirigiri at the table.) A hand extended to the detective, the young, almost sickly-looking man stood between him and the velvet curtain that held the person he demanded to see again. To receive answers from. “I apologize, sir, but I can’t let you in here. VIP only.” “That woman who just walked back there--” “--is a personal friend of the boss,” the guard noted, an unhealthy smile appearing on pale, pasty skin. “Is there something you need from her?” “Just to talk,” Togami explained, frowning that this plebeian of a man was what stopped him from finally retrieving the information he couldn’t uncover; he wanted to know why she ran. “We knew each other, a long time ago.” “Then I suppose you will have to come back another day. I apologize, Master, but if I disobey orders, my life will become more of a never-ending hell then I already make it to be.” Such dismal words left such happy lips, and Togami felt absolutely disgusted. “Perhaps you can catch her another time.” Togami exhaled sharply through his nose as he backpedaled away from the guard, nodding in understanding. It wasn’t necessarily acceptance of the fact that she had left his grip again, but it was a start. It may not be tonight, but she would eventually answer for her crime.