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Verse
Star
- Joined
- May 8, 2011
Kuyshin Sabatoro was born with just a tea shop at the very edge of one of many criminal districts of Yareli City to his name. His mother preached tradition to keep him on the straight and narrow, and his father beat him until he cried and pissed blood to honor their ancestors, and to teach him respect.
Or something like that. Kuy didn't fucking know. It made him just a bit better in a fight than the next big asshole on the schoolyard, and that worked out for him. You didn't need to read the books if you controlled the people who did. Respect. Kuy could get that with his scratched-up knuckles and the peeling soles on his tennis shoes. He was a kind of king while the others were trading colorful cards and hunching their backs over their phones.
And after running a while for the Yakuza, he brokered a deal to supply a richer clientele through his family shop. It worked out well. Between his propensity to beat people's skull in and a half-way decent business mind, at least when it came to deals in the shadows, he was boss over his own faction of the Yareli Yakuza. He even got to name it, which was usually reserved to old bloodlines in the game. He was moving fast, and the higher ups recognized it. He wasn't big or anything, but the thing with having a name - even one your parents want to disown you from - is that you can put it on anything and expand.
That's when he saw the Breaux's. Upstart criminals that were quick to amass a supply-chain for the lower tier buyers in Yareli, which was most of the market. Anything else was spoken for, so the new clan had a hard time getting a foothold, since they were beaten down everywhere they tried to set up shop or carve out corners to sell. Speaking to them had been easy, since they were used to sticks and not carrots. Getting to work with the Yakuza meant they'd be protected. And the old man Breaux sweetened the deal further, unknowing of Kuyshin's real intentions.
A marriage.
On paper it was a more equal deal, and a better keeper of the peace. Kuyshin pretended to be all about the pretty girl that came with the deal, though most of his peers preferred he marry someone a little more yellow and a little less brown, fuck, the Breaux girl was kage-colored, but since she came with a pot of gold and all the opportunity of her family, Kuyshin was just grateful. Not like the wife mattered in a marriage like this, either. It was to let the men talk. She almost made a mistake about that on their wedding day, when he was talking it out with the guys on her side that would be running for him, but she'd been wise enough to hush when he damn well hushed her. He'd seen some bitch tendencies in her, since she'd been the princess of a rather successful family, for all she knew. Had aspirations of getting to call shots now that he put a ring on it. It was hard not to laugh in her face about it, the few times they'd met. Had to be hard for her dad to speak to a young man about the future of their family business. Things were going to get harder for the old man. Worse for the daughter, maybe.
Kuyshin was always well dressed. Running around, delivering packages and doing hard dirty work for the Yakuza had paid off, and now he was rarely caught without a suit, given his high position. But tonight he'd pulled out all the stops. Gold threaded black jacket, and the vest was decked out. He'd even sent his wife-to-be a harness thing and given her instructions about it. No need to waste a beauty like that simply because she was going to be his for the foreseeable future.
That jacket came off now, that they were in their hotel room, slid off broad shoulders and was flung over a couch placed close to the entrance of this lavish suite. The curtains were drawn and his wife had been told to be there before him. He sighed and walked in, vest open and shirt mostly unbuttoned already. Tattoos escaping like the veritable bestiary the River Parlor Ritualists had needled onto him. His long neck helped the cut jawline turn toward her. Black eyes and murder.
"Take off your dress." he said as he tossed the cravat to the side too. He was in a slightly softer scowl than usual, because of the champagne. "I wanna see what I bought you."
Or something like that. Kuy didn't fucking know. It made him just a bit better in a fight than the next big asshole on the schoolyard, and that worked out for him. You didn't need to read the books if you controlled the people who did. Respect. Kuy could get that with his scratched-up knuckles and the peeling soles on his tennis shoes. He was a kind of king while the others were trading colorful cards and hunching their backs over their phones.
And after running a while for the Yakuza, he brokered a deal to supply a richer clientele through his family shop. It worked out well. Between his propensity to beat people's skull in and a half-way decent business mind, at least when it came to deals in the shadows, he was boss over his own faction of the Yareli Yakuza. He even got to name it, which was usually reserved to old bloodlines in the game. He was moving fast, and the higher ups recognized it. He wasn't big or anything, but the thing with having a name - even one your parents want to disown you from - is that you can put it on anything and expand.
That's when he saw the Breaux's. Upstart criminals that were quick to amass a supply-chain for the lower tier buyers in Yareli, which was most of the market. Anything else was spoken for, so the new clan had a hard time getting a foothold, since they were beaten down everywhere they tried to set up shop or carve out corners to sell. Speaking to them had been easy, since they were used to sticks and not carrots. Getting to work with the Yakuza meant they'd be protected. And the old man Breaux sweetened the deal further, unknowing of Kuyshin's real intentions.
A marriage.
On paper it was a more equal deal, and a better keeper of the peace. Kuyshin pretended to be all about the pretty girl that came with the deal, though most of his peers preferred he marry someone a little more yellow and a little less brown, fuck, the Breaux girl was kage-colored, but since she came with a pot of gold and all the opportunity of her family, Kuyshin was just grateful. Not like the wife mattered in a marriage like this, either. It was to let the men talk. She almost made a mistake about that on their wedding day, when he was talking it out with the guys on her side that would be running for him, but she'd been wise enough to hush when he damn well hushed her. He'd seen some bitch tendencies in her, since she'd been the princess of a rather successful family, for all she knew. Had aspirations of getting to call shots now that he put a ring on it. It was hard not to laugh in her face about it, the few times they'd met. Had to be hard for her dad to speak to a young man about the future of their family business. Things were going to get harder for the old man. Worse for the daughter, maybe.
Kuyshin was always well dressed. Running around, delivering packages and doing hard dirty work for the Yakuza had paid off, and now he was rarely caught without a suit, given his high position. But tonight he'd pulled out all the stops. Gold threaded black jacket, and the vest was decked out. He'd even sent his wife-to-be a harness thing and given her instructions about it. No need to waste a beauty like that simply because she was going to be his for the foreseeable future.
That jacket came off now, that they were in their hotel room, slid off broad shoulders and was flung over a couch placed close to the entrance of this lavish suite. The curtains were drawn and his wife had been told to be there before him. He sighed and walked in, vest open and shirt mostly unbuttoned already. Tattoos escaping like the veritable bestiary the River Parlor Ritualists had needled onto him. His long neck helped the cut jawline turn toward her. Black eyes and murder.
"Take off your dress." he said as he tossed the cravat to the side too. He was in a slightly softer scowl than usual, because of the champagne. "I wanna see what I bought you."
