Good evening, and thanks for the lovely reviews!

After some deliberation I've outlined most if not all of the story. We'll see if that sticks. There will probably be a decent amount of action combining with the drama if it holds up. After all it's not Mai-hime without rainbows, shit going down, stuff blowing up, and green sparkles!

Mai-hime and related franchise belongs to Sunrise.


Domesticated Disillusion

One year later

"I'm home."

There was no response from the empty apartment when Natsuki stepped through the doorway with her coat tucked under her arm. Beneath the coat she wore a crisp black suit with matching tie and a white dress shirt with a button-down collar. She quickly hooked her finger under her tie to loosen it while dropping her keys on the counter and setting the coat on the coat tree beside that. The apartment was bathed in light after a quick flip of the light switch and the young woman sighed wearily.

It was another hard day at work. Although what she did was very fruitful in terms of money it was a rather thankless job. She needed the money though—she was almost completely broke from an entire year of pouring her money towards information brokers. Her knuckles groaned as she rubbed them absently, but she knew they would be fine with a little bit of ointment and some rest. She made her way over to the couch and plopped down with the remote in hand. The TV shuddered to life and picked up in the middle of a popular variety show that she paid only casual attention to before shifting to lay down on the couch.

The TV was on loud. It helped to keep away the auditory memory of flesh hitting flesh, of bone cracking into bone. She turned so she faced the set. She had this job for over a year and she was very good at what she did. Her life settled into this monotonous pattern with her job that started at any hour and the subsequent crawl home for rest and maybe a meal if time permitted. She shifted and patted her stomach absently. The pre-packaged lunch box from the convenience store down the street was more than enough for the day's worth of food as evidenced by her stomach's lack of response. She nodded to herself and focused back on the television set. The colors blurred in and out and her eyelids fluttered before they slid shut.

A loud vibrating noise against the table caused Natsuki to shoot up into a sitting position. She fought to get her breathing back to normal before glancing around to check the source of the grating noise. Her hand blindly knocked into the cell phone and she cursed under her breath before curling her fingers around the blinking phone. She turned it over to view the display and groaned.

"I slept that long?" she muttered before she flipped the phone open and brought it to her ear.

"… This is Kuga."

"You've got a job in a half hour, sleepyhead. The target was seen wandering around your streets. Don't worry, it shouldn't take too long. And be clean with it."

Natsuki frowned.

"I always am."

The line went dead and she flipped the phone shut. With a soft groan she rubbed her eyes with her knuckles and settled in a slouching position on the couch. The television was still on, this time to the nightly news. She scarcely paid attention to it as she shoved herself up and went over to the kitchen for a glass of water. After she drank her fill she set the cup down and grabbed her suit jacket and overcoat. She also grabbed a pair of insulated black leather gloves as an afterthought. She tugged the gloves on her hands and a soft smile emerged from her lips as she closed her hands into fists. It wouldn't take very long at all.

She walked out into the bitter chill of a winter's night. The overcoat unfurled from her body as a strong gust of wind howled through the narrow street. She continued to walk with her hands shoved in her pockets and head bent down low to stave off some of the harsher blasts. It was too late and much too cold for anyone in their right mind to be out for the night. She sighed and watched the condensed air leave her lips in a white cloud. That telephone pole looked like a good place to wait. It was freezing against her upper back but she leaned against it and waited patiently. It took less than ten minutes of waiting before she saw her target.

She knew his face and build from countless photographs. She knew his name: Maeda Yamato. She knew he was thirty-nine years old with graying hair. He had two children in grade school and a wife who cooked him his favorite curry rice every Wednesday night when he came home from his job as a salary-man. He took the train to the industrial district every day at 4:30 in the morning for two hours and was never late to work. He turned in nothing but the most exemplary work, his colleagues would say.

However, he was fond of drinking a little too much, and with that came a fondness for gambling in mahjong. He was an amateur player and did well for himself. Subsequently he began to lose when games were played with hustlers the yakuza hired to get their money back for them. After a particularly harsh loss, Maeda cried wolf on them by claiming that he was under the protectorate of a powerful underboss in the city. He bounced out on paying the princely sum of two million yen before the ruse was found out. The swindled men were not amused and decided to take matters in their own hands—which meant they got on the phone and opened their wallets.

In the back of his mind he knew who she was. As her cold green eyes roved over and locked onto his, he felt his steps slow until he finally stopped in front of her. He wasn't a stupid man—at least, she hoped he wasn't any more stupid than he already was in the first place. A desperate grin lit his face and her eyes narrowed.

A muscular thug—probably hired, she mused—stepped out and attempted to grab her in a bear hug. She nimbly escaped and threw her coat onto his face. The cloth flapped over his eyes and he clawed at the thick coat to free his vision. She launched herself in the air and sailed down towards him. She twisted in mid-air and a leg snapped out to catch him in the back of the neck. The sickening crack echoed. He stumbled and did a strange, jerky backwards dance before he hit a concrete wall and slid down. Casually she retrieved her coat to brush off the snow before carefully folding it up and placing it on top of the prone thug.

Maeda turned and tried to run away. He heard a strange noise behind him—it sounded like some sort of dog, he thought. He felt something close around the back of his jacket collar. A gurgled yelp was cut short as he was roughly jerked back. She used this leverage to neatly lift the man into the air before slamming him into the ground. The snow lessened the impact in exchange for filling his body with a cold shock that caused his teeth to chatter uncontrollably. He was flipped around so that his back rested on the frozen asphalt. He had no money. He could not pay. And even if he could, they would not take the money. All this he read from his killer's eyes and suddenly he seized up. Again he felt himself shudder from something other than the cold.

He screamed as he stared into the frightening eye of the black wolf on top of him.

The wolf snarled and a blast of searing air blew into his face. A liquid hot jolt of desperation shook him to his core and he desperately clawed at whatever was securing him to the ground.

Was it a hand? A paw? What the hell was it?

What the hell was a wolf doing here in city streets?!

His panic only reinforced the grip on his neck and he sputtered as he fought harder to try to breathe. He began to feel lightheaded and the attacks on her arm slowed to faint punches. His eyes began to roll to the back of his head as they caught one last glimpse of that frightful emerald orb.

Would this be the last thing he saw? Inwardly he screamed out at his killer, this black wolf. He wanted to say that he wasn't the one to blame here. He had two children. His wife wouldn't be able to keep the family afloat, especially when the yakuza come to collect the debt. His family would fall through the cracks of society.

His mind flashed. For a fleeting moment he remembered that he had taken his family out to the park two days ago and they had made snow angels on a hillside. Some money fell out of his wife's purse and he found it to be a high-denomination bill. Wordlessly he had pocketed it. Idiot, he had thought, she deserves not to have this. For all my hard work, all she ever does is drop it like an ungrateful child. He used that bill later that night to buy several drinks… and initiate a game.

She knew this as well. She knew that he was a liar and braggart. She knew that he had been swindling his family out of their savings for years. In the future when his wife checks for funds for the children's school tuition she would find nothing in their savings accounts. He had spent it all on liquor and several high-stakes games, one of which would now land them in a world of debt. It was all in the papers she had been given, black and white. It wasn't her job to consider any extenuating circumstance.

All of his arguments expelled in one strangled noise as his fighting ceased. His fingers froze in the middle of one final push and she wrenched her arm free from his cold hands. She took in a deep breath to steady herself when the dizziness caused her to lean against the same wall the thug was occupying.

"Ah. Looks like I overdid it this time."

She shuddered but felt the nauseating presence lift from the back of her mind. With a shaky sigh she turned to observe the unconscious man beside her. The cleaning crew would be here soon. The snow would cover everything in time for the neighborhood street cleaners to completely destroy the crime scene in the name of keeping the streets snow-free for traffic.

Something crinkled as she pressed her hand against his coat pocket and she shifted as she extracted the source of the noise. It was a slim white envelope filled with bills—his recent paycheck. She stood and counted the bills. It wasn't enough to pay back the debt. He was going to go out for another night of gambling. With a sneer she pocketed the envelope and retrieved her coat. She shrugged it on before reaching for the cell phone.

"It's done."

There was a lengthy pause before the other line responded.

"He's not dead, is he?"

Natsuki nudged the prone body with her foot.

"He was scared shitless, but he's not dead. He also brought a friend that I had to take care of."

"… Boss is going to have a field day. Anyway, good job… I guess."

"Just… pick them up before they freeze to death."

She clapped the phone shut. The fur that insulated the collar of her coat stood on end as she popped the collar up. It surrounded her neck and cheeks, giving her the grizzled appearance of a beast lurking the shadows of pre-dawn winter. This wolf stuffed her hands into her pockets and felt the envelope between her fingers as she marched back through the snow towards her home. Her footsteps were covered by the falling snow by the time she left the street.

Two nights later was curry night. Maeda Sachiko heard the doorbell ring and she looked up from the simmering pot. Her oldest child looked up from his videogame and made to get the door before Sachiko waved him back. He shrugged and returned to his game while his mother wiped her hands on a dishcloth and walked over to the door of their modest three-bedroom house. She opened the door and was greeted by a young woman with piercing emerald eyes. The girl smiled—it did not quite reach her eyes, Sachiko noticed—and she extracted a slim envelope.

"In light of the circumstances and your uncle holding the position he does, the underboss is willing to rescind his earlier threat of imposing your husband's debt onto you. In exchange he requests your permission for punishing your husband at his own convenience."

Sachiko blinked before heaving a sigh of relief.

"I'm glad. When I heard the charge from my uncle I just about died. Yes, the underboss has my permission to do as he pleases." Sachiko stared at the envelope. "And this is…?"

"The underboss felt that you would do better with your husband's paycheck than he would."

Sachiko accepted the envelope with a short bow.

"That man…" She straightened and her frown melted away. "Thank you very much, Kuga-san. I'm happy my uncle recommended your services."

"It's no problem. It is my job as a negotiator."

"Still…" Sachiko smiled. "… Would you like some curry?"

A few minutes later Natsuki walked out into the bitter cold but this time with a bag carrying a set of two plastic containers. She looked down at the plastic bag and shrugged before setting off with the meal in tow. It was a fair exchange –she had been in a mood for curry anyway. Her leisurely walk took her back to her apartment and she turned the key through the lock.

"I'm home."

For a second she could hear the voice tickle her ears with a kind "Welcome back." The illusion diminished but the feeling remained deep in her chest, something unfamiliar but welcoming. She set the bag down and rubbed her forehead. For a moment she felt herself go blind at the action when her palm covered her right eye. She did not fight this unnerving sensation.

"I wonder… What would you think of me now?"

The image of a patient smile bloomed beneath her closed eyelids and she found herself mirroring it unconsciously.

"Wait for me, Shizuru."


Author's Note: I was reading the reviews again when editing this and grew somewhat inspired over Tomoe's prospect as a villain. This is not to say that she isn't in the villain spotlight at the moment... but she does have her reasons.