She watched her husband from across the opposite side of the kotatsu, observing him sip his tea as he did everyday, wondering if he noticed that she dropped peppermint extract into his tea this time or not. They hadn't spoken with eachother since they had gotten married, not a single word. The first year, she watched his habits and tried to take up what she could, like making his daily tea, and washing the laundry. He never told her to do anything, and he had no intention of forcing her. Though it was tradition, he silently sympathized with her due to their arranged marriage. He knew this was their way of life, but he still felt bad for her. He glanced down at his glass, having noticed as soon as she set his cup down that she put peppermint in it, though he wasn't sure why. Perhaps she was trying to change things up to keep them from getting boring, or perhaps she was trying to annoy him into speaking. If it was the latter, he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. He simply continued sipping his tea as if nothing was different. She frowned and stood up, upset that he didn't complain. She knew she had to do something more dramatic this time, something that will guarantee a reaction. She was too stubborn to speak first, to her it was an unspoken battle. She began looking around to see what she could mess up. There wasn't really much she could do, so she slid open the front door and sat back down at the kotatsu. It was a chilly November day, and the warmth of the room was quickly being sucked out. He glanced at the open door, then turned the kotatsu on high, which earned a glare from his wife. He now knew her actions are meant to spite him, though he wondered what she intended to accomplish. He had always been a very quiet person, and had no reason to speak to her, and didn't understand that is what she wanted. She stood up again and yanked the glass of tea from his hands and poured it on his lap and glared down at him. He could only stare at her in shock at first, but after a few moments, a small smirk and a deep chuckle erupted from his throat, and he stood up as well. "What are you trying to do?" He spoke calmly. She stared at blankly for a moment, completely shocked he actually spoke, though she snapped herself out of her daze. "I-" she stopped and cleared her throat to prevent it from cracking from lack of use, then started again. "Why won't you speak to me?" she demanded, which caused him to stare at her in surprise. "You want me to talk to you? That is why you are acting out?" She looked away from him, trying to hide the blush that came to her cheeks. "Y-yes. I don't know why you ignore me so much. Do you hate me?" He stared at her startled and quickly replied, "No, of course not. I thought you hated me." She looked back at him with an angry pout, "Then why do you never speak?" His expression softened into a small smile, "I apologize. I have always been rather quiet. I will try to speak to you more often, if you would like." Her blush returned, brighter than before, "Y-yes please..." From that day on, their silent marriage had been shattered, blooming a sweet and caring one instead, and soon they even fell in love. On the third year of their marriage, she gave birth to a baby boy, on February first. She wanted nothing more than to coddle and hug her son all the time, but her husband stopped her from coddling him for very long. At only two years old, he began teaching his son the ways of the Yakuza, and instilling into him the ideals and morals that come with it, often depriving his son of sleep as part of training. He was becoming quite proud of his son. He was bright and quick to learn and master techniques, even creating some of his own. Though he began to realize his son's weakness as he got older. He was too soft, mentally. He refused to harm women or animals, much to his fathers annoyance. Though he knew this was his wife's doing. She never wanted their son to grow up to be cold and emotionless, and tried to surround him with the softer parts of life. Though eventually his fathers teachings over powered his mothers. He became cold, quiet, and a lethal fighter in a large range of weapons. When Kiroki turned fifteen, his father became very ill, and the doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong. They could only give him pain medications as they watched him waste away in bed. Kiroki and his mother frequently traded off on taking care of his father, though as the years went by, he got worse and worse. Three years later, when Kiroki was 18, his father was lying on his death bed, and told him to leave the family business behind and go into a more respectable career. In the last 3 years, the territories the Akiyama family held have been taken away by other Yakuza families, and now they had nothing left. Reluctant as he was, Kiroki agreed. Soon after, his father died. Low on funds, he decided to live at the dorm of the college of his choice. It was extremely easy for him to be accepted into the school, his grades had always been quite good. He moved into the near empty dorm where he met the only other student in the dorm, Abel Beckham. Instantly, he found the man to be incredibly annoying. He was constantly pestering him and following him around, trying to get him to speak, to which he continued his silence. One day, Abel had decided to try and attack Kiroki, to which all his training had came in handy. After that day, Abel never tried attacking him again, and stopped trying to make conversation for the most part. Once he was settled into the dorm, he hardly ever left his room, mostly studying and watching whatever happened outside. Over time, he noticed a new dorm mate pop seemingly out of nowhere, Dalton...Dalton. He could never remember the American's last name. Dalton tried making conversation once, but didn't bother afterwards, considering him a wast of time. Then awhile later, orphan Satoshi came. He became friends with Satoshi rather quickly, both seeing eachother as kindred spirits. Both worked hard toward their goals and weren't real talkers. Everything was going well until he looked outside one day, now 19. He saw a girl, as it seemed to be, with a lifeless expression and clearly American features. Her lifeless face framed by her sandy blonde hair, the dash of color on her face, a small green orb, was the only thing that stood out well on her thin body, besides the fact that she was so malnourished. She looked up at him, much to his surprise, and he stared back at her for a moment, before turning away to continue studying.