Chihiro Akisame (チヒロ アキサメ Chi-hi-ro A-ki-sa-me)

Chihiro Akisame, born in Tokyo’s Kamurocho district, was shaped by cracked pavement, flickering neon, and the kind of silence that only comes after a fight. Life there wasn’t safe, but it was real band real meant messy, loud, and sometimes beautiful. She grew up in a cramped apartment with her younger brother and a father who drank more than he spoke. Rent was always late. Dinners were whatever was left. Her brother had shoes two sizes too small. And still, Chihiro kept going. Because no one else would. Just to make sure her brother doesn’t grow up the same way she did.   Back then, making friends meant accepting people with scars, some on their knuckles, others in their past. Her circle was mostly older kids tied to gangs. But to her, they were just the ones who waited when she was late. The ones who made her laugh.   Then came the night that cracked everything open. Fourteen years old. A car. A shout. Gunfire. One of those boys collapsed in front of her, and all she remembers is the sound before the shot. The click. She didn’t speak for days after.   Since then, she’s worn a different face. The happy one. The silly one. The one who jokes too much and talks too loud. But the truth is, she’s always watching. Always writing. In her notebooks, faces and patterns live side-by-side with half-finished shopping lists. She’s waiting for something or someone. And when she finds them, she wants blood. She calls it justice. Maybe it’s not.   One day, she saw a man in a green-gray suit handing out flyers near her street. No sales pitch. Just calm eyes and quiet purpose. She followed that flyer out of Kamurocho and into Hidora Security. She signed up on instinct, moved one district over, she joined the Yakuza not for pride, not for tradition. For safety. For structure. For her brother. And if she ever needs to use what she’s learned to keep him safe, or to shut her dad up, she won’t hesitate. Not anymore.   Now, she works under the Hidora Banner. She’s still clumsy. Still gullible. Chihiro always tells herself it’s not a big deal. Just a job. Just survival. But yeah, truth is, it’s not her full story. A few people have seen a tick or two into it. Just enough to know, she’s fighting for more than what shows on the surface.  

Post Retirement

After three months with the Hidora Clan, Chihiro’s fire began to fade. The loyalty she once admired turned to violence too easily, and the blood on the pavement never seemed to dry. She told herself it was just part of the job until it wasn’t. One rain-soaked night, she walked out of the Hidora offices without a word, leaving her badge on the counter. Since then, she’s drifted through Kamurocho and Okubo, taking odd jobs at cafés, convenience stores, anywhere that didn’t ask too many questions. The girl who once chased justice now lives quietly, nursing the weight of disillusionment.   Her brother moved on the city did too. What’s left of her is routine small comforts, quiet nights, and the soft hum of passing trains. She still keeps her notebooks, still watches faces, but her anger has turned inward. Somewhere deep down, she wonders if peace was ever real, or just another story she told herself to keep surviving.