Trigger Warning! (PG18)

This episode contains themes about sexual harrasment and generally adult themes. Reader discretion recommended.

Reporting back

Streetlights entering the club’s back office painted Karasu’s face in neon streaks. As he poured himself a drink, the ice clinked like a warning. Rei leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, the rooftop’s adrenaline still humming in her veins. “It worked,” she said, laying Takumi’s crumpled note onto the table, “We had dinner, time enough to get the override codes for the security grid. We practically have Kuroda’s secrets gift-wrapped.” Karasu didn’t look up, “Good. And how did you keep him… entertained?” A beat too long. Rei’s fingers stirred toward her neck, “Standard distraction tactics.” Karasu’s glass froze halfway to his mouth. His eyes, sharp as a razor, scanned her face. Then, slowly, he set the drink down, “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not—”

“Want a mirror? Being this transparent is dangerous”, he stood, circling her like an eagle, “Was it your first time… that close to a man?” Rei’s spine froze, “What difference does that make? The job’s done.” Karasu let out a short, humorless laugh. Then, just as abruptly, he stopped. Something unreadable flickering behind his blue gaze, “Yabai. Sometimes I forget how green you are.” The admission hung between them, heavier than the jazzy bass thrumming through the floor. Rei clenched her jaw, “I’m not some toddler. I’ve been surviving on my own since—”

“—since you were twelve. You’ve told me”, Karasu pinched the bridge of his nose, “But surviving isn’t the same as playing the game. And right now?” He gestured at her flushed cheeks, “You’re broadcasting tells like a face-up poker hand.” Rei opened her mouth to argue, but Karasu cut her off with a raised hand, “Starting tomorrow, you’ll work tables at the hostess floor three nights a week. Learn to separate the act from the ache.” His voice softened, just a fraction, “Or walk away now. Be a maid instead. Your choice.” Rei’s nails dug into her palms. The memory of Takumi’s breath on her neck combined with the humiliation of Karasu’s scolding burning her ears, “I don’t need to walk away,” she muttered, “I need to get better.”

Karasu studied her for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, he reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek black lighter, the kind the high-end hostesses used to light clients’ cigars. He tossed it to her, “Then remember this: never lie to yourself”, the blue tip of his cigarette flared as he took a drag, “It’s the only lie that’ll gut you every time.” Rei caught the lighter, her reflection warped in its shiny surface. For the first time, she wondered if Karasu was talking about her, or the man he’d once been.

First Hostess Floor Shift

The club’s main room throbbed with neon and contrabass, a living pulse of bodies and heat. Rei stepped onto the floor, heels clicking softly against the wavy tiles, the orange hostess dress hugging her in all the right places. Her heart hammered. Not with fear, but with the electricity of stepping into the light, several strangers’ eyes probing her. The tables were filled with corpo clients, gang affiliates and lone Spiders nursing overpriced drinks. Her locks flashed blood-red against the darkness of the club. She moved like she belonged, letting her eyes glide over each man and woman, cataloging tells and opportunities. Every glance, every twitch of a hand, every nervous swallow was data were her lessons translated into real time.

She had been assigned table eight. A tall and sturdy man in a brown tailored suit leaned back, scanning the room like he owned it. Rei approached, smile soft, voice a gentle purr. “Evening,” she murmured. “Can I get you anything?” He blinked. “A drink, whiskey neat,” he said, tone clipped, green eyes narrowing at the poise in front of him, “And maybe some company?” Rei tilted her head, letting a lock of hair fall across her temple, “I can provide both.” Her hand brushed the stem of the glass as she poured, careful to let her fingers linger near his just long enough to make him aware without overcommitting. He chuckled softly, the first sign of disarmament, “You’re new… and seem different than the usual hostesses.”

“We’re not all the same you know,” Rei replied smoothly, leaning in. Her breath was faint, a tease of sweetness in the haze of the Den, “Most people just want someone to listen. I like to make them feel seen, heard.” The man’s posture softened, shoulders dropping imperceptibly. Rei cataloged the change, committing it to memory. A small victory. Across the room, she caught sight of Karasu leaning against the bar, the glow of yellow and violet streaking his features. He didn’t intervene, just stood silent and unbothered, like he was watching birds in a park.

The man’s lips curled into a smile, faint but sincere. He tapped his fingers on the table, “You’ve got a way about you… less rehearsed, not plastic. Most girls here, I can see the playbook behind their eyes.” Rei felt heat rise in her throat, unbidden. She tried to hide it by leaning in to pour him another drink, but she knew the flush was there, betraying her. The man laughed softly, amused rather than dismissive, “And that right there. The blush. You know what that tells me?” Her pulse quickened, but she held eye-contact, letting the smallest smile flicker across her lips, “What does it tell you?”

“That you’re still human in a city full of masks,” he said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. His voice was warm, almost wistful, “Innocence, or even the illusion of it, is rare in Mirage City. Makes men like me hope it’s real.” Rei tilted her head, letting the words hang between them like smoke. She steadied her voice, keeping it light but not dismissive, “Maybe you’re just seeing what you want.” His eyes lingered on her, sharper now, curious, “Maybe. But I’d rather believe it’s not an act.”

She laughed softly, the sound slipping out before she could fully control it. It felt dangerously honest, but the man’s smile widened, clearly pleased. Rei tucked it away in her mind: sometimes openness disarms more than artifice. For the next hour, she danced the line between listening and leading, her blush flaring at moments she didn’t mean it to. Yet every time, her client seemed more charmed, more invested. When he left, he tipped generously, pausing at the edge of the booth. “You’ll do well here, little flame,” he said, eyes glinting under in the dimness, “Just don’t let them burn the softness out of you. It’s the rarest currency left. You can call me Mr. Kelly, what’s your name?” Rei bowed her head, smile soft but steady, “Thank you Mr. Kelly. I’m Rei. Come back soon.” As he walked away, she exhaled, shoulders loosening. Across the room, Karasu raised his glass. His expression didn’t offer praise, but it didn’t hold disappointment either. He’d seen everything; every slip, every blush, every careful recovery.

As the bass rolled through her bones and the club wrapped her in its heat, she knew that this was only the beginning of her hostess education. The night wore on, and Rei moved from table to table, letting laughter spill from her lips at the right moments, attempting to tame her blush, brushing fingers along wrists, tilting her head, letting her eyes linger. Every gesture calculated, yet natural, each pause and glance a message she was learning to control.

By the time for her break, she returned to the backroom, the adrenaline still thrumming through her veins. Her cheeks were warm, her hair slightly mussed, her pulse steady. Karasu was there. He didn’t smile, didn’t scold – he simply held up a glass of water, handing it to her. “You handled your first time on the floor well,” he said, voice low, precise. Rei took the glass, her own smirk faint but satisfied, “I think I’m getting the hang of it.” Karasu’s eyes lingered on her, sharp as ever, though there was a hint of something else. “You handled your clients so far. Some clients are more difficult than others,” he said sternly, “Know this: charm isn’t a weapon until you’ve survived the first fight with it.”

Rei nodded and reached into her pocket, touching the lighter he’d given her, letting it press against her palm; a reminder, a tool, a warning. And in the haze of the backroom, she realized something else: she wasn’t just surviving anymore. She was beginning to understand the game.

Before her break ended she touched up her lipstick, then headed back out. Rei approached her next assigned table cautiously. The client was already flushed, his tie loosened, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of him. He smiled at her in a way that made her stomach tighten. Not exactly with fear, but sharp discomfort. “Ah, the new hostess,” he slurred carelessly, eyes lingering too long, “Sit. Sit here”, he patted his knee, smirk widening, “That’s right, on my lap. You’re… perfect. Just the right vintage, ripe.” Rei froze for a heartbeat, fingers clenching her tray. Hostess lessons echoed in the back of her mind: maintain boundaries, even when the client doesn’t.

“I’m going to stand, thank you,” she said softly, voice calm but firm, placing a hand on the edge of the table. She smiled, sweet and bright, the kind of smile designed to soothe, “I’m here to deliver your drink.” The man chuckled, leaning forward, brushing his hand against her hip, “Oh, come on, don’t be timid. I know how these things work. A little fun never hurt anyone, right?” Rei stepped back, keeping a polite distance, letting her hand hover near her hip in a subtle warning. “I’ll get you some free water instead,” she said, voice light, masking the tension coiling in her chest. He laughed, crass and loud, leaning even closer, “I like it when they fight a little. Makes it… exciting.” His fingers caressed her waist.

Rei’s heart hammered. She tried the soft approach first: tilt of the head, playful smile, brushing hair behind her ear, anything to charm him while keeping him at bay. “I’m not fighting sir,” she said, eyes meeting his, “I’m here to make sure you have a pleasant evening. Why don’t we get to know each other and have a civilized chat?” His grin widened, bold, testing her again, “Exactly! I am just trying to get to know you, sweetheart. Don’t tell me you’re going to act all innocent?” Her composure faltered for a fraction, and that was all it took. He shifted, grabbing her hips and pulled her closer.

Rei’s breath caught in her throat as the man’s grip tightened, whiskey-stained fingers digging into her hips. His flushed face loomed close, his eyes glassy but intent. The jazzy bassline from the dance floor seemed to pulse in her chest, her heartbeat syncing with it, fast and frantic. She forced her lips into a measured smile, even as her skin prickled with unease. Don’t flinch. Don’t break. Stay in control.

“Sir,” she said, voice smooth but louder now, shrill, not the kind of tone she’d practiced in the mirror. She tilted her head, eyes flicking toward the untouched drink on the table. “Please let go of me. I get to know my clients, sit across from them – see them in their eyes, hear their stories.” The man chuckled, low and hoarse, “Pretty little thing wants to play coy, eh?” His fingers trailed higher along her side, testing, pressing, “That makes me want you more. Sit down, or I’ll make you.”

Rei swallowed hard, heat rising in her cheeks; not the charming flush she could weaponize, but the burn of panic threatening to erupt. She shifted, angling her body so his grasp slipped toward her waist instead of her ribs, buying herself a sliver of space. Her smile held, though her jaw was tight. “I promise, you’ll enjoy my company more if I’m comfortable too,” she said, injecting stern warmth into her words, as if she were letting him in on a secret, “Trust me – I want to make your night pleasant, not rushed. Isn’t that better?” But the client’s grin only widened, his breath heavy with liquor, “You’re sweet. Too sweet. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you how this really works.” His hand darted higher, curling around her side and yanking her closer until she stumbled against his chest. The sudden tug caused her to collide with the table making it rattle, the glass clinking like alarm bells.

Her heart pounded, and for the first time that night, Rei’s composure cracked. She pressed her free hand against his chest, a steady line drawn with velvet gloves. “Please,” she said, no longer smiling, her voice shook faintly beneath the surface, “I won’t sit on your lap sir.” The man laughed, head tipping back, the sound ugly and loud, “You won’t? You wanna sit beside me? No. No, sugar. I want you here.” His hand shot to her thigh, fingers clenching firmly, pulling her down toward his lap. The bass swallowed her quick gasp. For one terrifying second, Rei’s composure slipped entirely, her instinct screaming to slap his face, shove him away, to run, to fight. She bit it back, teeth sinking into her lip until the taste of iron steadied her. And then, in the neon haze of smoke and laughter, a shadow shifted. Long, deliberate, threatening. Rei’s fingers twitched but before she could react, the shadow fell over the table.

Karasu’s voice cut through the jazz, calm, precise and lethal in its authority, “I see our guest from the esteemed Yakuza is… getting very comfortable.” The man looked up, startled. Karasu stood behind them, pinstriped suit immaculate, silver strands shining like needles and blue smoke curling from the cigarette in his hand, “Your hostess have been requested elsewhere,” he added smoothly, gesturing toward the back of the room, then gently pulled Rei up beside him, “A private matter. I’ve purchased a meal for you – it will arrive shortly. Consider it… reconciliation.” The client’s grin faltered, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, “Ah… well… sure, I guess…” Karasu stepped closer, the weight of his presence heavy in the air. His voice was silk, but severity underlined every word, “Enjoy your food. You’ll find it more… rewarding than excessive indulgences, Lieutenant Tsukasa.”

The man’s shoulders stiffened, and he swallowed, recognizing the threat beneath the civility. He nodded reluctantly, shoving the hand that had rested earlier on Rei’s thigh under the table, “Of course. Stands to reason.” Karasu’s gaze flicked to Rei, giving her the briefest nod. She exhaled silently, adjusting her posture. Pearls of sweat shun on her temples, as she brushed her hair back behind her ears, with an unsteady hand. They headed for the back room.

“You learned an important lesson tonight,” Karasu murmured as he led her away, “Charm is not a shield against every predator. Some require… intervention. And sometimes, you must lean on allies who hold real power.” Rei let her fingers clasp the tray, frowning faintly, the adrenaline still thrumming in her veins. She had survived, and Karasu had reminded her of her place and the ressources available to her.