He remembers when he first got the invitations to that damned match. He didn't want to accept them. Yet, they kept coming and coming, no matter what he did. No matter how much he ripped them, crumpled them up, ignored them, they still kept coming. So, eventually, he gave in. 

He knew it was a rigged game from the beginning. Oh, how they sneered and snickered at him. He gave in to their very whim, blowing  each and every game, until the finale. 

He was prideful. Unfortunately, he would go to big lengths to keep his ego from getting harmed. So, he completely destroyed  his opponents in the final match. Then, he returned home, head held high. 

Little did that past Ryoma know, he had begun to turn his life upside down the moment he won. 

The moment he walked into the family home, the house he's lived in his whole life, he noticed two things: 

1. It was silent. The deafening amount of silence, even. 

2. There was blood. It was splattered on the walls and floors, and he could easily smell it. 

He walked into the living room, and saw things no one should ever have to see, not even the wickedest of the wicked. His ma, his pops, his big sister, his little brother. They were all sprawled out on the floor, bullet wounds through their heads and bodies. 

Right there and then, he knew he had to get Kostya, his Russian Blue, and... her... out. They fled away from the home, moving far, far away. He thought they would never find them here. Turns out he was wrong. He returned back to the hotel they were residing at, only to find her severed head laying on the bed and his cat missing.

And, that's when the murders began. He killed and killed and killed and killed and killed and killed AND KILLED AND KILLED- 

He killed until they were all dead, and he was in handcuffs. 

There began the story of his prison life. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He huffed, leaning a bit forwards as he drove home from work. Now he had a wife and two cats, the former being heavily pregnant with their first child, a daughter.  Life was good now. 

Although, sometimes, he couldn't help but remember his troubled past. A whole family, torn apart by his foolish actions. He made sure not to make any of those mistakes with his own, beginning family, and was grateful every day for what he had and was gonna have. 

Ryoma let out a little 'tch' and moved the candy cigarette in his mouth as he pulled into the driveway, entering the garage. He was a little nervous leaving Kirumi home alone in this hindered state, but she had promised him she would be fine. He only hoped she wasn't vomiting again or anything. 

He approached the door and inserted his key into the lock, twisting it for a couple seconds. Eh? It wasn't working. He removed the key and twisted the door handle instead. It swung open easily, as if it had already been open. 

Hmph, so that's why the key wasn't working. 

Wait, why was the door open in the first place? She usually locked it, as she had rather.. twisted parents. 

One of their cats, Pip, instantly ran over and encircled his legs, purring the whole way. He reached down to pet her. While he did that, he noticed their other cat, Lunar, staring at him from the living room. The Russian Blue was crouched down, greenish-blue eyes searching his owner's face. With an ear flick, he sauntered farther into the room, disappearing from his immediate sight. 

"Kirumi, I'm home!" He heartily called, waiting for her to walk (well, rather, waddle) out to greet him. He furrowed a brow in confusion. Yes, she did sleep due to her being a couple days away from her due date, but she would usually be awake by now. 

He ventured into the living room, looking around. She was always downstairs in these months, so everything was easily accessible. ( Kirumi laid on the couch the most. ) Yet, she wasn't there. 

He looked 'round once more, even though he already knew she wasn't present there. Then, he noticed something sitting on her favorite rocking chair. When he got closer to it, he noticed that it was a folded piece of paper. 

Huh..?

He just assumed it was a note, telling him that she was at the store or something, yet he plopped down on the couch and read it anyways. As he unfolded it, he didn't know why, but an overwhelming sense of doom overcame him. 

The first red flag was the large, uneven letters. Earwig font, he recognized. 

The second one was the informality of the written words. Even when his wife was home from work, her formality never wavered in her speech, nor her writing. 

The farther he read, the farther down his heart sunk. 

Dear Mr. Hoshi, 

You may be asking yourself, "Why isn't my wifeyyyy wife home?"  There's one simple answer: We took her. She turned into a complete scaredy cat the moment she saw us comin', hah! We're at the mansion at XXXXX Street, hope to see you soon~! 

Sincerely, 

The mafia you "killed" soooo long ago.