Chapter Text
The sound of Mako's high-pitched screaming is more often than not the first thing that wakes up Ryuko in the mornings.
Despite how routine it's become, Ryuko still jolts out of bed nearly every time, kicking off the covers, and blindly stumbling in the direction of her housemate's voice, ready to pulverize any punk stupid enough to break in. And despite the fact that the latter is rarely EVER the cause of Mako's agitation, Ryuko's already made it down the hall on this particular morning.
"Christ, the sun's not even up yet!" Ryuko groans, feeling her racing heart slow as she spots Mako seated on the rickety table in the kitchen.
"Ryuko Ryuko you have to look at this!" She's practically vibrating in excitement, frantically jabbing her finger at the front page article. Ryuko slips the paper from her, skimming it simply to humor Mako. She blinks a few times, trying to make sense of the letters blurring before her bleary eyes. When the image finally comes into focus, she nearly screams herself.
"Holy shit.." She breaths, sucking in a surprised gasp. Glowering up at Ryuko is her own battered face; in the picture she's sporting a nasty looking shiner, along with a blossoming of purple bruises down her chin. But at least she's staring straight into the camera defiantly.
"You're gonna be like a celebrity now!" Mako exclaims, bumping shoulders with Ryuko to get another look at the article. Ryuko grumbles in response, feeling a stab of irritation once her gaze finds the title.
"Local delinquent takes on the world? God they always blow everything out of proportion. All I did was scrap around with some assholes. They didn't even hit that hard." She remarks, reaching up to brush the yellowing skin around her eye.
"Keep on reading" Mako prompts.
"Last Saturday a wild brawl broke out between neighborhood terror, Ryuko Matoi, and lackeys of the famed Kiryuin syndicate-wait what?!" Ryuko angrily throws the paper back down, "Ok first of all, how the hell did they get my name?! And more importantly, those guys were Kiryuin's?" The name is enough to send a fresh wave of rage through her being.
Mako bobs her head up and down, "Isn't it incredible? This is like something out of a movie! You're the lone protagonist, facing up against an entire army of bad guys, fighting your way up to the top-"
Ryuko cuts her off by gently placing her hand over Mako's mouth, "I'm going for a walk." She mutters, yanking a ragged letterman jacket off the coat rack and storming outside before the other girl can stop her.
The dawn air is brisk, but not unpleasantly so. The wind easily slices through the tattered fabric of her coat, but at this point it's a welcome distraction from the storm brewing in her mind. "It really had to be the Kiryuins didn't it? Of all the toes I could've stepped on, it had to be the most prestigious fucking manicured, heel-wearing toes?" Ryuko pauses midstride, sending a nearby beer can sailing through the air with a clumsy kick.
Luckily the streets are desolate; the last thing she wants is an article about the 'local neighborhood terror' yelling to herself and assaulting bits of litter. She feels the rage bubble up again, and takes off down the street, sprinting hard. The slap of her sneakers against the pavement fills the silence, and for a solid five minutes, before her legs buckle from the impromptu run, Ryuko feels a sense of peace.
When she sinks to her knees before a storefront the sun is just beginning to rise, bathing the town in an uncharacteristically warm orange glow. Ryuko's thoughts drift back to the article as she's drawing in labored breaths. She's heard of the Kiryuuins before. Anyone with 2 seconds of access to television has probably heard of the Kiryuins. All the tales of extravagant heists, unnecessary civilian casualties, always dressed up in a pretty pink alibi-it's enough to make her see red.
*
By the time she returns home it's midday. Mako's out front, dusting bits of chipped paint off the weather-worn porch with a ferocious look in her eyes.
"Hey I'm sorry for dashing out before!"
Mako's head jerks up, and for a split second she looks panicked-like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Ah you're back already!"
"You didn't think I'd be gone all day did you?" Ryuko teases, "What's got you all worked up anyway?"
Mako gives a stiff shrug in response, "Just doing some tidying up. More importantly, are you alright? You must be really scared about that whole Kiryuin thing.."
"Me? Hell no. I was just pissed that I had to share my front cover glory with that stupid name." Ryuko gives her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, frowning when her fingers brush over tensely coiled muscles. She's definitely hiding something.
Without bothering to prod any further, Ryuko simply moves toward the door, figuring that whatever it is, she'll discover soon enough. Perhaps her housemate has brought home another stray animal, in the hopes of convincing her that it's not a flea-ridden mongrel, maybe she attempted to cook with explosive ingredients-Ryuko mulls the ideas over in her head, grinning at the sheer ridiculousness of them. Her smile drops the moment she swings the door open.
There's an intruder in the house. A long-haired, porcelain skinned, blue eyed, gorgeous woman-but still an intruder. She's sitting at the dining room table, somehow managing to look pristine and poised against the crumbling backdrop of the kitchen. The stranger looks up from the cup of tea balanced on her pinky, glaring up at Ryuko as if she were the one being infringed upon.
"W-who the hell are you?!" Ryuko finally finds her voice, breaking the silent staring contest.
"You're late." The woman replies curtly, casting her glance down to examine the chipped cup in her hand, "I don't enjoy being made to wait-" By the time the last syllable leaves her lips, Ryuko's already charging across the room.
Ryuko closes the distance in seconds, sending the table tumbling away with a rough shove. She grabs a fistful of the fabric lining the other woman's neck, sneering in satisfaction as her blunt nails catch between the intricately woven threads.
"I asked you a goddamn question."
The intruder raises a single eyebrow at the quick change in events, but seems otherwise unfazed; barely flinching as Ryuko roughly yanks her forward. She stretches her arm, gingerly setting the tea onto the ground.
"Satsuki Kiryuin." And with that, the woman lashes out, driving her fist into Ryuko's side. Ryuko grunts and staggers back a few steps, surprised by both the name and the sudden explosion of pain beneath her ribs. Satsuki stands, brushing aside the hands scrabbling to latch onto her collar again, and lands several more solid blows. Ryuko fights to keep her expression steady, raising her arms to block each punch just a second too late. She grits her teeth, finally falling into a proper fighting stance, when a sharp uppercut slams into her jaw and sends her reeling.
Satsuki lunges, taking hold of Ryuko's wrists, and pins her against the wall.
"You're far less polished a fighter than I had hoped. Perhaps the media really can't be trusted." Satsuki muses, holding Ryuko in place with ease. There's a sharp metal tang welling in Ryuko's mouth, and she ducks her head away, smiling when a trickle of blood from her lips drops onto Satsuki's shoes. The grimace she receives for it is well worth the kick it earns her.
"Is that why you're here? To kill me and mount my head at your family's dinner table?"
Satsuki's mouth pulls together in something that could almost be a smile, and she scoffs, "I'm not one to do dirty work. Perhaps we could have discussed this like civil human beings if you hadn't been so privy to aggression."
Ryuko snorts, "Don't give me that shit. My aggression has saved my ass five times over." She twists in Satsuki's grasp, attempting to overwhelm her with sheer strength. Satsuki merely sighs in response, and relents for a moment, only to spin Ryuko around and shove her face first against the wall.
"Bitch!" Ryuko wheezes as the air is pushed from her lungs.
"If you could hold still for a moment and allow me to speak, this would be going over much more smoothly."
Ryuko scoffs, angling her head as much as she can with the hand pressing against the back of her neck, "You have a minute before I call bullshit and kick your ass."
Satsuki's hold on her tightens, but she mutters an agreement to Ryuko's proposal. "According to the one watching us from the window, you left without examining my calling card."
"Mako! Fuck, you didn't hurt her did you?!"
"Of course not. Although I must say, I'm not sure how the two of you function. You stormed out before her scatter-brain remembered to show you what else arrived in the mail." With that, Satsuki takes a step back, releasing a stunned but still fuming Ryuko, and drops a silver card onto her lap.
Hands still trembling from the fight, Ryuko brings the card up to eye level, squinting at the obnoxiously intricate designs swirling over the borders. There isn't much actual substance to it; a simple "We should chat" written in impeccable penmanship, signed with the unmistakable emblem of the Kiryuin syndicate.
"I hope you realize this wouldn't have stopped me from trying to pummel you." Ryuko remarks, giving the card a final glance over before crumpling it into a ball and tossing it aside.
"Well the point I was trying to convey seems to be lost regardless, so I'll try to simplify things for you. I'm not here to assassinate you in the family name."
Ryuko snorts in disbelief, "Then what is it? Don't tell me this is some weird courting ritual."
"Not even in your most wildly fantastical dreams. I came here to offer you a deal." Satsuki pauses, waiting for Ryuko to butt in with another jab. When the latter remains quiet, finally looking ready to listen, she continues.
"The head of the family isn't happy. The media is our domain; we rule through the fear we strike in the heart of others, and you, intentionally or not, are threatening that fear. Everyone's got their eyes trained on you, and soon enough the scopes of their guns will be as well."
"So what's the deal then? You're not as crazy about killing me as the rest? You want to make some video of me begging for mercy as PR? Over my dead body."
"I want you offer you a fighting chance."