Being a part of a yakuza syndicate meant certain things. One such thing was loyalty. Loyalty, above all else, was crucial for the inner workings of a syndicate to function properly. No loyalty, no syndicate. Though there were a plethora of other rules that one remained at the top of the meticulously inked list. Now, when one breaks the number one rule…well, let's just say it doesn't end very well. Once the rule has been broken, there is no hope of redemption. You're either taken on a very long walk, going to get gardening supplies, or a personal favorite; nighttime fishing by the shore. Many break the rule unwillingly by simply having a drunken talk to another, not realizing their own syndicate affiliation. Some do so willingly out of spite; scorned by another member and their higher skillset or simply just sick of being ordered around.

In the city of Musutafu hid a very well known, dangerous yakuza clan known for extreme torture methods and fierce belief to their sworn oaths. Those who crossed their path often vanished from daily life without a trace. Citizens who owed a hefty sum became enslaved until their debt was paid, or they were cut loose from life. Any who laid eyes on the members in public immediately dispersed from sight, too afraid to risk their lives for an honest mistake. Even the police task force avoided any interaction simply due to the fact that even if chargers were filed, they were dropped the very next morning, and the member was released from jail. An endless cycle of fighting the justice system. Not even the government dared to throw the book at them.

The clan Uraraka reigned supreme for hundreds of years, meticulous bloodlines maintained strictly in order to have the strongest of heirs. All male heirs ruled the syndicate with an iron fist...until the first female successor was born. Many were shocked; the higher-ranking members protested heavily that she, a woman, could not lead such a strong syndicate. Males were the strong back that carried the burdening weight of a large family. Women bore strong, male heirs. For weeks they fought amongst themselves, throwing every reason they could at the Yakuza head, Kenji Uraraka, only to be shut down vehemently with two words.

It's final.

As the future Yakuza leader grew, she learned. To be strong. Confident. Firm-handed. Yet also kind and considerate. Fair with corrections yet authoritative. Young Ochaco Uraraka embraced the lifestyle with her entire being, becoming the perfect epitome of the infamous Uraraka namesake. Some still had their doubts until the young woman inherited the title of leader, yet she strove to prove the naysayers wrong. Day after day she dedicated to studying the Yakuza way to prepare for the blood right of ascension, ignoring the normal leisurely pleasures of a teenage girl.

For as her eighteenth birthday slowly crept closer, an opportunity appeared to step back from clan duties. Her mother, Fumi Uraraka, persuaded Yakuza leader Kenji Uraraka to allow a single day of freedom, a simple taste prior to a lifetime of obligations. A brief contemplation was held. Then…a simple yes. No explanation, no lecture on how to be safe. A single, trusting yes and freedom was gained, albeit fleeting. Twenty-four hours. No restrictions. A handful of members would escort the fierce brunette on her gallivanting around town. For as innocent and gullible as she may seem, Ochaco Uraraka was an expertly trained martial artist. No man nor trainer could pin the young woman to the floor, their moves reflected mere milliseconds before their bodies hit the floor. She was a force to be reckoned with.

Yet somehow, as she laid upon the muddy ground in a stunned stupor, rain pouring down over the young woman, she realized how little of the real world she truly knew. A sudden attack by an opposing gang had taken her by surprise, the weather covering the sounds of his heavy footsteps and eager breathing. A large, calloused hand slapped over the lips whistling a happy tune and dragged the Yakuza member down an isolated alleyway. Despite struggling and using every technique Ochaco knew, she was outweighed. Outmatched. Outmuscled. They were a professional at kidnapping, that much she learned from the first few seconds of interaction. Tightly clamped mouth, arm pulled back painfully behind the back, fast, calculated steps; an isolated area where only the rats and starving street cats resided.

Struggling was fruitless. Until another member sent out an alert for her missing appearance, Ochaco was nothing more than another victim for the predator dragging her down a dark, narrow passage to hell. He whispered nasty, vulgar threats while deeply inhaling against her nape. A hard mass pressed against her in hip thrusted intervals. Oh, the dirty things he wheezed about doing to the future head of the Uraraka clan. Revenge, he said, for denied admittance to such a prestigious gang of forgotten Yakuza. Tainted lineage from a pair of tits and lips. No one would belong to a clan led by a woman whose purpose was nothing more than fucking and spawning, he cackled.

Before even a finger could be lifted from the delicate flesh, a loud crack filled the rainy air and sent Ochaco sprawling into the filthy alley water. Spitting out a mouthful of the putrid swamp concoction, she turned to see who had come to her rescue. Auburn eyes widened in shock; it wasn't a clan member. A brawny, dark-haired man stood above the perpetrator with a scarred hand cocked back in preparation to strike again. Another sickening throw concealed the sound as thunder rolled across the stormy skies. Two punches and the attempted rapist was downed. Impressive. If it weren't such a shitty experience, Ochaco would almost commend him for his brave yet reckless action.

Any who crossed the Uraraka clan, especially of higher ranking, would—

"Are you alright, miss?"

Such radiating kindness had the woman blinking from the stupor she'd slipped into, auburn looking over to see a hand extended forward. Trailing further upwards, Ochaco took in his features. A young face just barely hinting at bordering a chiseled outline, vibrant emerald eyes, brows furrowed slightly in concern. Even through the sheets of droplets the freckles adorning each check was visible in the clouded light of day. A masculine, brawny body that looked almost hilarious against his slight baby face. If she didn't know any better, he easily outmuscled the unconscious man lying in a heap of garbage with a half-mast pole in soaked pants. Wary, Ochaco took his hand.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"You're more than welcome. This isn't the first time he's tried the same thing. His mistake was coming back to the same alley. Are you sure you're alright? Can I call someone for you?" He asked, a silky baritone slipping out. Despite his appearance that would be intimidating to some, not an ounce of immorality seeped out. Cautious, yet tired of sitting in a piss puddle in the very new outfit, Ochaco accepted the offered hand firmly.

"I'll be fine, don't worry about me. I should get going. Thanks again for your help." Ochaco replied evenly. Giving him a reason to stick around longer would only spell disaster for the man. Another member would start ripping him apart the moment they made the correlation of soiled clothing. And for what it was worth, losing another kind soul in this wretched world wasn't something she'd allow. He pulled her up with ease before dropping his hand back to his side.

"Are you sure—"

"Yes. I suggest making yourself scarce. Have a good night." Without another word, Ochaco spun in her sopping wet heels and headed for the alley entrance. Barley fifteen feet away, he called out.

"Will you at least tell me your name? Mine's Izuku Midoriya!" Izuku called out over the rolling storm.

Ochaco faltered, debating. An alias would be suitable for her savior, right? Revealing her full name would shoot a red flag up faster than the now dying erection that thrusted into the swell of her ass. Slowly, she turned back towards him. Not even a spec of maliciousness oozed from his bulky frame, the white button up shirt clinging to every curve and dip of his body. Auburn narrowed slightly in thought. What would the harm be for a stranger she'll never see again? "My name is Ochaco."

"That's a beautiful name. Have a good night, Ochaco, please be safe out there." Izuku beamed brightly, waving a hand prior to turning his attention back to the limp body.

Izuku Midoriya, huh?

Izuku waited until the young woman was gone from sight before pulling out a phone and speed-dialing a heavily used number. It rang once before connecting. "Target acquired. About had another victim to add to his lists. Requesting pickup."

"Roger. She stick around?"

"Negative." Emerald eyes lingered towards the entrance of the alleyway, hoping for a glimpse of the mysterious woman once more. Who was she?

"Good work today…Detective Midoriya."


My name is InuKagsluver4eva and I'm horrendous about not finishing my other stories while starting new ones :). Just thought of this one and I wanted to do a preview page to see what kind of interest it got. Let me know what you think!