The yakuza is (sort of) here

The slightly creaky floorboards and aluminum railing of the boat wasn’t something Kirika was used to. She would rather be either driving the ship, or in the ship’s library.

Today, she was on the deck of the ship, surveying the area, flanked by two stiff guards in crisp black suits. They resembled the letter M in heights; Kirika was at least 9 inches shorter than each of the guards. They were to arrive at Manta Carlos Island in less than 30 minutes, and Kirika thought it was important to survey the general geography of the surrounding area. None of the three seemed perturbed by the weather, coupled with the way they dressed. The three did manage to get some strange looks from other passenger on the boat.

Kirika stared out into the distance, noting the islets and the height of each wave. Though she seriously doubted that she would forget exactly how many islands she spotted and where, it wouldn’t hurt to get several maps of the area from the library later.

Soon, the ship docked at the port. Kirika took her luggage and gave her escorts the slightest of glances, before making her way down the ramp. They followed wordlessly, their watchful eyes hiden by dark, mirrored sunglasses. Everyone gave them a wide berth, leaving them free and uninhibited while walking. Kirika led her escorts across the pier, towards a section of uninhabited sand. Kirika took a moment to check if anyone could be listening in, and that their voices were masked by the waves, before addressing her escorts.

“When you return, inform my family that I have arrived,” she curtly prompted, as if she wasn’t about to send them a message the moment she could. “You don’t need to stay here, you should return.”

“Ms. Akiyama, your mother and brother insisted that...”
One look from Kirika was enough to peter the 6-foot man into silence. She let a moment pass to remind the man who was in charge here. Once she felt that her point was made, she nodded and picked up her suitcases. “Dismissed.”

It wasn’t difficult to find the admissions office; a queue of students with varying sizes and types of luggage was forming in front of a queue. She could swear that some of them were carrying weapons, or dangerous magical items; did these people have any idea what to bring and what not to bring in a school environment? She arrived unarmed. Her handguns were in one of her suitcases. It was pointless to argue, though; she was probably the only ordinary human in a school full of “special” beings. Albeit a human with the force of an entire yakuza behind her.

She was tempted to clear out the line with force, but remembered that she had dismissed her guards outside of the school. Well. Waiting in line wouldn’t be too hard, probably, so she set down her suitcases and waited.

The wait was more boring than annoying. The line inched along like a slug. Kirika wasn't used to waiting, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to endure this minor inconvenience. That was what it was. An inconvenience.

There was a minor scuffle behind her. She was about to turn around and give them a tongue lashing when someone nearly a head shorter than she was bumped into her. She nearly snapped at him, but then she saw his face.

Oh god no. Why. What are you doing here.

The boy, her fiancee, stammered an apology. His stupid glasses and his less-than-spectacular height were here in a remote island in the Pacific ocean. Well, he did change his glasses, but who cared? She gave him a look of pure venom from her lofty height.

"What are you doing here? Why are you here?" she hissed.

Kirika blinked and narrowed her eyes at the diminutive boy. It was then that she saw it. The lack of the pressed suit, the eyes slightly wider than usual. Was this really Heisuke? Probably not; it looked like another case of her temper getting to her first. But one could never be too sure. She folded her arms and tapped her foot once, making a clicking noise on the tiled floor, eyeing the boy like a hawk.

"You look a <i>lot</i> like someone I know," she stated heavily. "Including the height, poor eyesight and baby-face."

Kirika smirked as she noted the boy's eye twitching. Looks like she hit a nerve. But as he spoke, she realized that there was no way this could be Heisuke. It was just another angry 12-year-old French kid.

It was adorable how he was trying to pick a fight with her, though. She decided to humor him.

"Are all tiny French kids really this loud and obnoxious?" she asked, returning the facial gesture with her teeth in a grin. "All I did was describe someone I know."

Kirika's smile grew wider by two molars. This was one wound-up kid. Winding him up even further was efortless and entertaining. Even the people around them seemed to be entertained. Some people were giving them strange looks; a couple of people behind Kirika in the queue were backing away.

The queue moved forward. Kirika stepped forward in line, but gave Hal a look as if to egg him on. "If you continue on that way, you will burst. A sad end for someone as youthful as you."