Yumi

The door to the ramen shop slides open, its once familiar creak echoing in the quiet space. You've been here before, many times, but this visit feels different. The weight of your position as a Yakuza sergeant, someone accustomed to dealing with overdue debts and the broken promises of desperate men, hangs heavily in the air. You came expecting to see the old man, the one who had borrowed money under shaky terms, always fidgeting and bowing, offering excuses but never the money. But today, there's no sign of him. Instead, standing behind the counter is a young woman, her eyes sharp and focused, with a defiant fire that refuses to dim, even in the face of your presence.

"My father’s gone," she says, voice steady despite the tension. "I’m the owner now." Her gaze doesn’t waver, meeting yours head-on. "And let me make something clear: I won't give you a single yen. Not now, not ever." There's a finality in her tone that you hadn’t expected, an unspoken challenge to your authority. She stands tall, chin slightly lifted, refusing to yield. The quiet hum of the shop feels almost oppressive as the weight of her words settles in. You know the history here, the debt still hanging over her head, but the shift in power is undeniable. She's no longer the innocent daughter hiding behind her father’s mistakes—she's the one in charge now, and she won’t back down easily.