Someone very dangerous.

A fist slammed hard into the face of a man tied to a chair, the sound of the slap echoing through the small room. The man being struck was well-built with messy black hair, a white button-up shirt with tailored gray pants, and his face was bruised and bloodied from all the punches he had taken. The man hitting him was a short Japanese man with a blond buzzcut, a black eye patch over his right eye, and a finely tailored black suit and tie, though he didn’t seem to pay much mind that his cuffs were now getting splattered in blood. Despite how small he was compared to the man he was beating, the sound of his hits still echoed through the room, the sound of the captive’s groans and the swinging of the dim light bulb above them only barely audible over the smacks. Despite all being veteran Yakuza soldiers, the other men in the room couldn’t help but cringe with every blow as they watched.

“Alright, you motherfucker, I’m going to give you one last chance before I start breaking out the big guns,” the short, blond man threatened as he wiped his hands with a rag. “Where did you put my money?”

“I-I told you, I left it right where you told me to!” the captive replied through broken lips and missing teeth. “I even did it at the right time, too! I-I double-checked my watch and everything!”

“Augh, this shit again… I told you, it wasn’t fucking there!” the shorter man yelled, grabbing his captive by the shirt. “That kind of dough doesn’t just disappear into thin air, and the only people who knew about where it would be were you, your bosses, and me!”

“M-maybe someone took it before your guy could pick it up?” the captive weakly suggested.

“Impossible; there was only a five-minute window between when you were supposed to drop the money off and when my bodyguard looked for it! It would take an act of god for someone to waltz into that alley and find it there by accident!” the blond man yelled. “Now, if you value your life, you’re going to tell me where the money is, or I’m going to skin you alive and turn you into a pair of knock-off sneakers!”

“Y-you wouldn’t do that… I-I’m protected by the Savage Tigers!” the bloodied captive shouted. “If you kill me, it’ll be an all-out war!”

“I’m afraid you don’t understand the situation. I was supposed to get this money to conclude our peace talks. If I let this slide, it’ll ruin my reputation as head of the Yakuza forever,” responded his captor. “So, if you really lost our money, then your bosses only have two choices - pay up, or face something a hell of a lot worse than all-out war.”

“Fuck! You know as well as I do that they’re not going to cough up that much cash again for nothing!” the captive cried. “Just give it up, man! Is your pride really worth this?”

“Is my pride worth it? Heh… I guess I really do have to start getting serious.” The blond-haired man walked over to a nearby table and picked up a long, ornate knife in a wooden sheath. Slowly pacing back over to the increasingly-terrified thug, he unsheathed the blade and held it up to the man’s face. “It’s time you bastards all learned what happens when you fuck with Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu!”

Fuyuhiko raised the knife, and the man closed his eyes, praying that his **** would at least be swift. But then, just before the blade could come down, the door to the interrogation room burst open, and the silver-haired woman who was supposed to pick up the cash from the Versailles Casino earlier that night.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Fuyuhiko stumbled and nearly dropped the knife. “Didn’t anyone teach you to knock, Peko!?”

“I’m sorry, Master, but I’m afraid the matter is quite urgent.” The woman walks in and politely closes the door to the room behind her.

“More important than beating the snot out of this weasel? Are you sure about that?” Fuyuhiko asked.

“Indeed it is,” she replied, straightening her glasses. “I went back to see if I could find any clues. At first, I found nothing, but then I noticed that the casino had a security camera pointed directly at the alleyway. I went to talk to Celestia to see if she would let me see the footage, but… she wanted to gamble for it.”

“Shit… you didn’t actually play her stupid game, did you? They’re always rigged,” Fuyuhiko replied.

“Of course not - I just snuck into the security room and stole the footage myself.” Peko reached into her bag and took out a thumb drive. “And you’re going to want to see what I found.”

One of Fuyuhiko’s men took out a laptop, and Peko plugged in the drive. A few moments later, a video of the alleyway a few hours before appeared on the screen. There, they watched the man they were holding captive walk into the alleyway with the briefcase leaving without it. A minute later, they saw another dark-haired man - Shuichi - go into the alleyway and exit with the briefcase. The footage ended a few minutes later when Peko herself showed up to check for the case.

“Well, I’ll be damned… the fucker was actually telling the truth! Someone did steal it!” Fuyuhiko shouted, clenching his fists with rage. “Just who the hell is this guy?”

“Unfortunately, I could not find any footage of his getaway vehicle, and I could not ask around the casino without looking too suspicious,” Peko replied. “But whoever this man is, he must be some kind of cold, calculating operator to both find out about this dropoff and steal it without so much as a hitch.”

“S-so, this clears my name, right?” the captive Tigers’ member asked hesitantly.

The one-eyed leader snapped back, “Not so fast, you little bitch. Just because you weren’t the one who took the money doesn’t mean that your whole group isn’t still in deep shit. For all we know, your family hired that guy so they could avoid paying up! Either way, we don’t have our money, and you know what that means…”

The captive quietly asked in a scared tone: “B-but h-h-how do we know he wasn’t one of y-yours, and you’re trying to get us to pay twice?”

“Oh, so now you’re accusing us ?! It seems like someone needs to be taught some manners!” Fuyuhiko turned around to address his men. “Boys! Go take our guest here and teach him a little lesson.”

“W-wait, no! I didn’t mean that!” the courier begged, but the finely-dressed Yakuza men didn’t listen to him. Instead, they dragged him into a nearby bathroom and shoved his face directly into the toilet. “Gllkgrlglrg!”

“Give him a few rounds in there and then keep him locked up down here until we need him,” Fuyuhiko said casually over the sound of the man’s partial drowning. “As for me, I better start getting our soldiers ready. I don’t know how long this fight will end up being, but I’ll sure as hell make sure that we’re the ones who end it and not them.”

“Very well, Master.” Peko bowed her head respectfully. “Shall I escort you to one of your safehouses to keep you safe until the fight has been won?”

“Actually, no; you won’t,” Fuyuhiko replied bluntly.

“M-master?” Peko stammered. “What are you talking about? We need to get you someplace fortified, or else-”

“No! I’m not going to hide from this, and I’m certainly not going to be babied by you anymore, Peko!” the young man shouted. “I need you to get out there, find the bastard that took the money, and retrieve it at all costs. Figure out what that guy’s game is: where he’s from, what family he’s working for, any kind of dirt you can find. And if the money’s gone… you know how to deal with him.”

The swordswoman paused for a moment. “As you wish, Master.” She bowed before turning on her heels and walking gracefully out the door.

Fuyuhiko quietly whispers to himself: “‘fuck’s sake, when will she learn that I can take care of myself? We’ve been together long enough by now…”