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18 November 2017
SATURDAY
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Takemichi's pov
"𝐇𝐄𝐘, 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 hell is the fried rice?!"
The room I stood in glowed a golden hue; paintings and extravagant chip carved wood lining the walls surrounding the large circular table, which held a large array of foods and beverages, many seats occupying vaguely familiar faces and complete strangers.
I stood stiff in the suit I was dressed in – the clothing I was told being imported in from New York, completely tailored to fit my body perfectly.
"Sir," I man states, giving me a questioning look as he pulled out an empty seat, silently gesturing for me to sit.
Without a word, I complied and sat down, eyeing the people present in the room in skepticism. I felt sweat began to build on my forehead, attempting to calm the cold jitters coursing through my hands.
Clenching my jaw; I still couldn't believe that I was a top executive in Toman, which meant that I could get closer to the core of this present gang. Having another look around, I familiarised myself with the varying faces, taking in the way each presented themselves.
Taking a quick glance down, I scrolled through my phone under the table cloth, anxious at not finding Naoto Tachibana's contact.
"Our first important item on our agenda; our treasury balances," a rough voice spoke.
I glance up to see a man in a similar suit to my own, head shaved to show the large tattoo across his head.
"Yeah, no, the first thing on our agenda is my fucking fried rice," another man spoke, who was sat a chair in between me and him on my right, "and plus, there are still guys missing from this meeting," he then pointed out.
The thick scar that ran down his bottom lip clicked something in my mind – matching the face with the name. It was Pah.
