Momomaru Kurogane's Story

Suddenly warping in was the black sedan. Nissho still quite sullen as his subordinates try to cheer him up.

"Gee, its hah... kinda cold out here," Miles says, cranking up the heat. "Like, this ha-ha is f-freezing."

"I. Don't. Care," Nissho says. folding his arms. "Have we caught up with those freaks yet?"

"Sho-chan..." Momomaru whines. "Just let it gooo!"

"No! Not Sho-chan! I am Nissho Kurogane, and I. AM. THE. BEST!" He exclaims raising out of his seat and flailing his arms before slumping back in his seat. "I... have to be."

Socks pointed at the black sedan. "Meme. Follow them." socks said to meme "Ok socks!" meme says"the 4 of them get in meme's Ford F150." They start following them. The ford has black tinted windows.

As they drove along the Siberian-esque expanse, Miles looked in the mirror to see another car fast approaching from behind.

"Um, boss, I... think we're being tailed," Miles says, before muttering something about wondering where they got that car from.

"But weren't we tailing them? Ah, whatever," Nissho says, giving a faux grin of confidence before rolling down the window and looking out it. "Wait, is that a Ford!? Geez... how bumpkin can ya get? Whatever, I'll cut them down like their ugly green friend!"

"That was a zombie, Sho," Momomaru says with a sigh.

"Yeah? He did seem pretty brainless," Nissho laughs. Momomaru sighs. "Get alongside them Miles!"

TBH rolled down his window. "Hey you creep!" Said TBH.Socks pointed his gun up and waved. Blaza was just eating a banana because he was hungry and meme was still driving."Just thought to check up on ya!" Socks said jokingly.

"Yeah? Actually today has been kinda rou- I mean, you will rue the day you insulted a Kurogane!" Nissho yells.

"Rue, wow, Sho-chan, those speech classes are finally paying off," Momomaru mutters with an eye roll. She then pulls herself up out of the window and onto the roof of the sedan with her bladed claws. "Hey, uh, so um, sorry about my little brother, he's kinda sensitive, you know? This whole Yakuza family inheritance thing has gone to his head."

"Don't apologize for me, sis! I'm trying to intimidate these fools!" Nissho whines.

"Boys..." Momomaru says under her breath. "Look, can't you just make up? I mean, you kinda started it Sho."

"They called me a creep! Insulted me! And they are wearing weird clothes," Nissho says.

"And we're literally weasel-like beings in a crime syndicate warping around in a black sedan," Momomaru responds. "Am I the only one who notices how absurd that is?"

"I noticed," Miles says, raising a hand.

"Shut up, Miles," Nissho groans.

"Shutting up, boss," Miles says, lowering his hand and hanging his head.

"Not Kinda. He did start it!" Blaza Said.

Socks loads his shotgun.

"And that is absurd!" Blaza said to them.

"But Still you are a creep!" TBH Said.

"Hey guys?" Meme said to Blaza,TBH and socks

"Yeah?" They reply.

"There is a white van following us." Meme told them.

"A White Van? Why? DONT TELL US THAT'S ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS!" Socks yelled pointing his shotgun out the window.

"Yeah!" Blaza says after finishing his banana.

"Wait.. Is that? Juice!" Socks said.

"JUICE! OVER HERE!" Socks yelled at him.

"Hey Socks!" Juice said.

Meme stopped the car to pick him up.
They get back on the road.

The Black Lotus bore down upon the joyriding group, a mischievous duo that Don Kurogane recognized all too well – his youngest son and daughter. "Of course, it was them," he muttered under his breath, disappointed that Nissho had chosen this path.

Momomaru, on the other hand, had always possessed a streak of rebellion, which had troubled him. What unsettled him more was the realization that she would be the only daughter he'd have to arrange a marriage for. With her insistence on vibrant dyes and whimsical fancies, she proved to be a challenging prospect for any potential suitors that met his approval.

Miles, hailing from a notably expendable background, lacked the privilege of noble upbringing, but his responsibilities were clear: he had duties to fulfill and an obligation not to defy his warlord's wishes. The persistent fact that Miles had never once sought Kurogane's approval was more than just a minor irritation, but then again, Kurogane had never held particularly high expectations for those with weak resolve.

However, in a perverse way, Miles' actions might inadvertently serve as a valuable example to the lower echelons of Kurogane's dominion, a stark reminder of what awaited those who failed to toe the line.

The electronic door's unsettling hum announced the arrival of the troublemakers. Kurogane sat with his back to the entryway, bringing his claws up to his face, interlocking them tightly. The first to enter was Nissho, brash and reckless as ever. He shoved aside some of Kurogane's loyal samurai, making a direct path to his father.

"Yo, what's the deal? I was gonna kick the shit outta so-," Nissho began, puffing up his chest with defiance. But in a swift, unexpected movement, Kurogane spun his chair around and rose to his feet, defying the laws of speed for a creature of his size. With no prior warning, he delivered a vicious backhand to the young troublemaker, sending Nissho hurtling through the air until his back collided with one of the bridge's panels. The bridge operators scattered in disarray as Nissho struggled to prop himself up against the chair.

"Are you okay!?" Momomaru cried out, rushing to Nissho's side in concern. She attempted to help her brother to his feet, but he pushed her away, desperately trying to salvage his pride, his mouth bloodied from the unexpected blow.

Momo glanced at her father, fear and guilt etched across her face. "Daddy, it is my faul-!"

Nissho interrupted her, trying to save face through the pain. "S-shut up! It was... my elaborate plan... you got in the way!" he barked, spitting blood to the side.

Kurogane's piercing gaze turned to Nissho. "So, you planned what? To harass insignificant specks? To what end? What assets do we gain from bothering vagrants? What conquest is that? I've been lenient because... you are but a whelp, but that time is passing," he said, before turning to Momomaru, his tone unwavering. "And you will refer to me as your Don."

Shoved forward by a pair of formidable samurai, Miles was brought into the room. His shades slid off his muzzle and landed on the floor, and he instinctively reached for them, only to watch in dismay as the samurai's relentless march crushed them underfoot. Stumbling slightly, he was pushed closer to Kurogane. The two samurai knelt before their Don before stepping back.

As he stood before the imposing warlord, Miles's breath slowed, the air growing sticky in his throat as his heart sank. He gathered his courage and slowly raised his head, attempting to speak. He wanted to apologize, to explain that he had not foreseen things taking this turn, that he had merely been following the orders of his young masters. However, his words got stuck, and all that emerged were incoherent, stuttering utterances.

"And you," Kurogane continued, his powerful hand closing around Miles' throat and effortlessly lifting him off the ground. The stark difference in their statures had never been so apparent, and the chauffeur's life flashed before his eyes. He was certain he was dead, and as he gazed into the dark, unyielding depths of Kurogane's crimson eyes, he found no trace of mercy—only an icy void.

Gasping and struggling in vain, Miles felt the vice-like grip tighten, Kurogane's nails digging into his flesh. It was an agonizing moment of desperation, every breath a struggle for survival.

"D-... My Don, I told him to, let him go," Momomaru pleaded, her voice trembling with fear.

She threw herself against her father's arm, her efforts feeble yet filled with defiance, attempting to persuade him to lower his vice-like grip and release Miles. Her actions were a mix of desperation and resolve. More defiance, he thought, acknowledging her courage in the face of their dire circumstances. It was no surprise that she cried and pleaded; that was the role designated for her particular gender, after all. Indeed, there were no female samurai, and this was precisely the reason. Soft, Kurogane thought. He tightened his free hand, the fabric of his robe splitting to reveal the ivory and black gleam of his bone-like blade. "Remove yourself, or do you wish to see this up close?" he uttered, his voice cold and unforgiving.

What came next, to Kurogane's somewhat grim delight, was Nissho finding a second wind. With newfound determination, he propped himself up on the chair, then launched himself off the headrest and threw himself at his father, his own bone blades extending with a loud snap in a frenzied attempt to reclaim his dignity and seek revenge for the humiliation he had suffered. It was a typically brash move, but somewhere within the warlord's heart, a spark of pride ignited. Nissho's blades met Kurogane's, and for once, the warlord's crimson eyes locked onto his son's.

"Sloppy," Kurogane uttered, his voice oozing with contempt, before overpowering Nissho with ease and flinging him backward. The whelp staggered to his feet, refusing to relent. Again and again, he hurled himself at his father, launching one failed strike after another. His actions were predictable yet persistent, foolish yet strangely inspired. Yet, as time passed, the novelty of this rebellion waned.

With one final surge, Kurogane grabbed Nissho, dangling him off the ground. However, this time, his hand clamped onto the young Kamaitachi's face, his sharp nails digging into his cheeks. It wasn't mercy that drove Kurogane's actions, but a different, more primal urge. He dropped Miles to the ground, leaving him wheezing and coughing as he kicked himself away into a corner as he held his bleeding throat, lucky that none of the claws pierced a major artery. He was lucky that now... he no longer mattered.

"Perhaps something worthwhile will come of this after all," Kurogane said, a stoic look upon his face, yet a glimmer in his eyes. "I'll forge you yet."