Chuuya walked into his office, all dolled up as usual. He may be a mafia executive, but he still places importance on looking good for no one but himself. Well, maybe that wasn't so true anymore.

He looked at his desk and sighed. Another fucking letter. "How does this bastard keep getting in? What minion of his is he sending to leave these on my desk?" Chuuya grumbled to himself, setting his bag down beside his desk and picking up the letter.

For the past ten, maybe twelve, months, there's been another mafia on the streets of Yokohama. The Dusk's Bouquet, they call it. It's a pretty name, Chuuya can admit, and their leader has some good handwriting and just maybe he wouldn't be so pissed to find another letter from the bastard if the Dusk's Bouquet hadn't been giving the Port Mafia a run for its money and they weren't so damn good at covering their tracks.

About a year ago, the Port Mafia started realizing that less people were buying jewels, drugs, sex work, and other industries the Port Mafia has dominated for decades from them and that it seemed like another group was challenging their territory. Now, this wasn't too big of a deal at the time, they'd just stop out these little sparks where they were and continue their work before anything grew into a flame, but fuck. Even now, they don't even know the leader's name. All they know is he's a guy, he's fucking rich as all hell, and he apparently has been watching them because he knows fucking everything about the Port Mafia for some damn reason. ~~And he keeping writing letters and leaving gifts for Chuuya like some secret admirer.~~

Only through the first paragraph, Chuuya put the letter down and walked over to his filing cabinet. He remembered Mori saying he was going to leave a mission file in his office when he came in the next morning. God he hoped it wasn't about the Dusk's Bouquet, but, of course, he couldn't be that lucky. Their people were holding a soirée on the rich side of town, their leader was rumored to be making an appearance there.