"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!?" Isamu yelled at the girl who was about to give an oddly pink, indefinable paste to the boiling soup.

"I JUST DID WHAT YOU TOLD!" She shouted back, her apron covered with soup stains and other rests of thrown food, just like her face and hair. But her partner who seemed ready to shred the whole area, herself included, didn't look much better.

"I SAID SLICE THE FISH, NOT MASH IT!"

"YOU SAID LITTLE PIECES, THESE ARE LITTLE PIECES!"

The male breathed out in strongest agitation while resting his forehead against the cool kitchen cabinet. "You little wretched girl. Is there anything you can do right?"

The two individuals weren't able to cook together in peace for even a few minutes, before one after another of the captive's mistakes and the male's rising temper caused a huge escalation. [y/n] had done her best not to scrutinize her current tasks, knowing a further examination of its reasonableness would only lead her to sink back in the state of strained nerves and bringing her existence in question. Afterall, the preparing of dinner at least caused distraction. For both of them. And as long as she stayed busy in the kitchen, she was not locked in the cubicle's cold lonesomeness- And as long as the man kept her busy in the kitchen, she didn't need to worry about less amusing orders. At least not for the nonce.

Isamu, who seemed to have a hard time calming his nerves, yanked the dish from her hand with a grunt. Without any explanation he started to take small amounts of the puree and squeezed them together, forming them into the shape of a hemisphere.
The female glanced over his shoulders. She watched how skillfully his fingers formed the paste to small heaps, placing each one on a smaller extra plate and garnishing it with sauce and herbs, making the failed food soon resembling an appetizer of an luxurious restaurant. Silently, the girl began to set the table for six persons; while pondering on when the rest of the household would show up. And what their arrival would mean for her. Assuming her task to be finished, [y/n] slumped back on the couch and closed her eyes in an attempt to calm her agitated mind and soul.

Some moments passed before the captive perceived a presence next to her. Parting her lids, she found a lavishly cut glass being held in front of her face. The breaking light on its surface made the item look like set together of hundred little crystals. She hesitantly took the glassware and suspiciously eyed the golden- brown shiny liquid inside. A strong, poignant smell pierced her nose; like spicy- bitter licorice that stopped half way at becoming sweet. She threw a side glance to the male who seemed pretty focused on a cobweb at the ceiling, nipping at his own already half empty glass. Haltingly, she brought the beverage to her lips.

A burning sensation ran down her throat. The unexpected poignancy caused tears to prick the corners of her eyes. [y/n] tried to hold in her coughs- But was startled by the deep laugher that suddenly echoed through the room. Isamu was flashing her a wide grin, glee and amusement flickering in his ash- grey orbs. "Don't tell me it's your first time."

"I- It's not!" The female turned her head away, feeling uncomfortable under his spiteful gaze. Not ready to grant him this kind of triumph over her, she casually took the next gulp. The liquid set a warm glow from her tummy to her chest; its effect slowly calming her stressed and exhausted body.

As time passed and she had finished most of the drink, she could still feel the male's eyes lingering on her.
"Somethin' wrong?" She asked with wariness and confusion. However, Isamu just continued to silently stare at her with an unreadable but intensive look. As she sensed herself getting restless, the captive decided to break the irritating silence. "...Where are the others, by the way?"

The long haired individual took his focus off her and stood up. "Doing business" he answered nonchalantly, stepping over to the bar.

"What business?"

Isamu opened a bottle, pouring himself a second glass. He gulped it down like water before turning back to the captive. The man narrowed his eyes. "What exactly do you think we are?"

Heavy silence filled the quarters once more. The two of them just observed each other.

"Some lil' mafia gang" [y/n] eventually mumbled as she turned her back on him, averting his urging gaze.

"There you have your answer."

That answer didn't satisfy the girl at all. She sank deeper in the pollsters with crossed arms as she pondered on his words. What are mafia gangs even doing? Running around killing people and selling drugs- 

Her hackles rose as the realization hit her. She knew very well what mafia gangs were doing; she had been confronted with enough of their members before. Most of the lower ranged henchmen were adults, groups of drug addicts, eroded by fights for superiority and the very darkest sides of nightlife, ready to follow every order that would lead them to money and safety. Typically their leaders and bosses were older men, too rich and too protected to appear on the outside personally, important task in public were left to the best of their underlings. Not uncommonly, lonely teenagers that went astray found refuge at those gangs, but it was obvious what would happened to them. 

With this in mind, [y/n] recalled each of the household's faces and appearances, but none of them would really fit in her previous description. The unratable and intimidating Katsuro, the feisty and strong Akito, the competent and daunting Isamu; those were the people she could presume to be capable of whatever kind of things. However, the young Shiro, with his lighthearted and joyful smile, and the fine- boned Yasu with his reserved behavior didn't quite match her stereotypes. But in the next second, the image of the bluehead changed, and the plate of egg- drop soup in his unassertive hands turned into a loaded gun. The insecurity in his blue orbs vanished to the cold emptiness she had experienced during their first encounter. Beginning to recall the events of the previous night, she remembered how easily the whitehead had been able to rob her, how painstaking it had been to chase him; and how Akito, Yasu and Shiro had kidnapped her without bigger efforts.

This could only mean two things. Either she was not nearly as strong and trained as she thought she was, what would be a contradictory to all the victories she had crested in the rough street life- Or she was trapped in the middle of highly skilled serious criminals. Or both. Caught up in the deep and weight of her thoughts and realizations, the girl didn't even noticed how she slumped down on her knees.

Only then the female picked up on the absence of a pressure she had used to feel on her skin. The pressure of certain items she had been wearing close to her, things that were supposed to deeply sting her hips in this position. Alarmed, she jumped up and traced over her clothes for the missed objects- but the knives were gone. She scanned the floor around her, the couch, but couldn't spot the weapons anywhere.

Have I left them somewhere? I can't remember putting them awa-

"Are you searching for these?"

[y/n]'s incredulous expression turned into one full of distrust and cautiosness as she watched Isamu playing around with a silver shining object. Provokingly, the blades danced around his fingers in fluent motions, tracing over his hands without leaving the finest cut.
They wordlessly gazed at each other, analyzing and skeptical, trying to read each other's mind. The meaning of the situation kicked in. A feeling of slow awareness, of recognition stroke from somewhere deep inside through her whole form. Words weren't necessary- the captive clearly understood what his piercing look was telling her. Eventually, he put the kitchen tools aside and walked over to the iron door, opening it with an inviting gesture. Slowly, numb, the girl dragged herself to the entrance, suddenly feeling as if her bones were replaced by stones.

A short while later, [y/n] heard several footsteps entering the area behind the wall. The metallic barrier moved again and the captive carefully stepped out to see the living room filled with the presence of the four returned individuals. She stopped on the threshold, indecisive about entering the males' radius of attention.

"Isamu! Is dinner ready yet~?" 

Shiro leaned over the dining table, twirling his fingers in the soup until the ravenhead slapped his hand away; Akito wore an expression like he just had returned from babysitting ten toddlers and Yasu sat on his chair like he had never done anything else in his entire life. Even though none of them had noticed her yet, the lass felt her body tensing up with alertness and discomfort. Of course, she had mistrusted every single one of them from the very beginning. But this was an all- new level of wariness. She winced as her eyes met bright lime ones.

Katsuro had suddenly appeared in front of her, giving her a polite smile. Nevertheless, fatigue was clearly carved in his face, along with hints of stress. Whatever he had done in his absence, it surely had been exhausting. "I hope you are enjoying yourself so far, [y/n]?"

The addressed female was taken aback by the sudden question and offended by the obvious irony behind the words However, the neatly dressed male seemed to actually await an answer. Hoping to end the unpleasant conversation as fast as possible, she simply shrugged her shoulders.

"Please come, have dinner with us." The blond led her to the chair at the one end of the table before taking a seat on the opposite. Isamu sat down to her left, Shiro to the right, flashing her a joyful grin. 

"Say [y/n], how was your night?" The white haired boy took her bowl and filled in the hot, steaming soup. Her gaze wandered over the dining furniture. Each one of the strangers was busy with eating or having discussions about things she didn't understand or had no relation to. Apart from the leader.

He sat there, his head casually rested on the back of his hand, observing her with an analyzing, rather warning look. His lips were curled into an expectant and amused smirk. 

"Fine." The girl eventually answered coldly without breaking eye contact. Relieved that Shiro didn't intend to continue the chat she eventually turned her gaze on the creamy light green liquid in front of her. Even though [y/n] had nothing but pancakes today- and the chance of a meal like this was something rare and not taken for granted in her daily life- she didn't sense the slightest of an appetite. Everything seemed so wrong. Everything was so wrong.

She shifted around on her chair, at a table with the people who had abducted her and held her captive. Yet all they did was chatting, conversing and eating, not appearing to mind her attendance at all. Apart from one. Shiro eagerly talked to Yasu who didn't really seem to listen, Akito glared daggers at Isamu who refused to give him attention and departed from the scene. The female didn't even dare to look at the blond's direction. She could still sense his chartreuse orbs lingering on her.

"What's wrong, [y/n]? Don't you like your soup?" The silverhead next to her surveyed the silent guest with a worried expression.

Luckily, the ravenhead reentered from the kitchen in the same moment, with a tray in his hands, placing each plate of fish paste at the resident's seats.
The males went silent. None of the members, apart from Yasu who immediately started eating, seemed to figure out how to proceed with the unrecognizable dish: Shiro examined the small pink pile from all perspectives, nudged it with his fork as if he expected it to move. Akito furrowed his brows at the good like it would keep the secrets of the universe inside.
"[y/n]'s creation" The ravenhead explained, the disdain clearly audible.

"Delicious."

It was the first time that the leader had raised his voice to speak. The captive glared at the sardonic grinning man with high moroseness while the other members promptly began to eat. Isamu emerged next to her, looking down at her with a frown.

"Leave her alone, Isamu. She will eat if she feels the need to." Katsuro interrupted, pointing his fork at her. The black haired male regarded him like he was about to retort something, but eventually sat down again. 

"I'm not hungry." She spoke calmly yet stern.

A loud growl from the girl's direction roared through the dining area, silencing every attendee once again, pushing her in the centre of attention and mocking glances. Reluctantly, she began her cold meal.

In the commotion of tidying up and senseless debates about evening- better said morning entertainment- [y/n] found the chance to escape the area unnoticed and hid herself in the bathroom. With her back against the closed door she sank down on the cold tiles, rubbing her eyes in depletion and gloom.
I need a plan. Damn it, I need a plan.

She got up again and stepped over to the sink, splashing cold water on her face in search for refreshment. Her gaze strayed to the mired mirror where two tired [e/c] orbs stared back at her. Anxiety flickered in them, and even weaker, a spark of wrath. The youth of the feminine features was tarnished by traces the stress and the lack of sleep had left. Drops ran down the soft skin and dripped to the ground. The girl kept regarding her reflection, searching for ideas and answers in the strangely so unfamiliar lines. Closing her lids, she took a deep breath. 

Every room I have seen has no exit, that's for sure. But there are some left I haven't checked yet. I somehow need to get inside them...
She approached the bath tub, sat down on the edge, stretched her legs out and leaned her head back.
I need to find out more about all this. I need to find their weak points... And what's more, I need to figure a way to endure all this 'til I can run...

"[y/n], are you alright? You've been in there for quite a time" 

It was Shiro's voice that came from behind the bathroom door. The girl was so surprised by the sudden interruption that she fell backwards in the tub- not caused by the whitehead's vocals but by the heavy boom that followed. 

"Open the door, brat!" Akito kept pounding against the entrance with all his might. "You're not the only one who needs to-"

"Akito, don't you dare to use those words in the presence of a girl! [y/n], I'm really worried, would you let me in..."

The startled female could only furrow her brows as the troublemakers' voices suddenly fell silent. She got up and carefully opened the door, curious about the change's cause. Blue locks appeared in her view. Yasu slightly turned his head in her direction as he perceived her presence. His one hand had a tight grasp on the collar of a pouting Shiro, his other arm hold the struggling and swearing redhead in a firm headlock. [y/n] was confused that the trained scarlet haired boy had so much trouble with freeing himself from the clearly slighter male's grip. 

"Please get ready for bed" were the cyanhead's final words before he made his journey to the living room, pulling the two other members with him.

Her eyes followed the departing group until they vanished in the dining area. Her gaze started to stray through the hallway. The painting at the end of the corridor caught her attention again, and she slowly approximated it. However, instead of halting at the masterpiece, she ended up in front of the black double door. The door that kept a giant arsenal of several different weapons behind. Her hand trailed to the handle. With quick glances, [y/n] assured herself that no other individuals were watching her.

She carefully stepped into the wide hall, turned on the lights and gingerly closed the entrance behind her. Absentmindedly, the intruder wandered around the room. The longer she regarded the single weaponries presented on the shining red satin, the more she caught herself searching for something small and unobtrusive enough that its absence wouldn't be noticed. She came to a halt in front of a vitrine that held different knives under its glass surface, in diverse lengths, metals, and intended uses. Her hands carefully opened the glass cover and traced over the cold metals, until her fingers stopped as the material underneath them changed. She took out an elongated wooden object: The item looked like a pocket size form of a baseball bat; it was maybe half as long as her forearm and had the same diameter. Moreover, it was surprisingly heavy, the wood as hard and tough as iron. Possibly tough enough to break locks. Or bones.

The captive shoved the impact weapon in the hem of her shorts and covered it with the baggy shirt. Let's just hope that Isamu won't find it this time...

Before her disappearance would be noticed, [y/n] erased all obvious hints of her presence and made her way back to the living room. Apart from Yasu who rested on the couch and opened his eyes as the female reentered the area, no other members were present. The boy got up and wordlessly opened the certain metal- door, throwing her expectant glimpses. The girl remained on the spot, unsure about her next move. She felt the cold wood on her skin. The silence and soleness had an alluring effect. Whatever held her back from entering the small chamber vanished as firm footsteps came down the corridor- She quickly slipped through the entrance before Katsuro had a chance to interfere.