"A Desperate Cry in the Shadows of Yakuza"

The bright fluorescent lights above me seemed to pierce through my eardrums, making my head throb in agony. I covered my ears, trying to block out the cacophony of sounds that assaulted my sensitive ears. The hum of the air conditioner, the chatter of passersby, and the wail of sirens in the distance all blended together to create a maelstrom of noise that left me reeling. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, but my mind was a jumble of worries. My mom's medical bills were piling up, and I was no closer to finding a job to pay for them. As I walked down the street, I felt like I was living in a world that was not designed for people like me. I had severe autism spectrum disorder, and my hypersensitivity to everything around me made everyday tasks feel like climbing a mountain. The simplest sounds could make me cringe, and the brightest lights could leave me blinded. And then there were the age regression issues - sometimes, I felt like I was a newborn baby, unable to communicate or care for myself. My mind was a fragile thing, and I often felt like I was walking on eggshells, never knowing when I would regress to a state of infancy. I looked down at my mom's medical bills, which I had been carrying with me everywhere I went. The numbers and words blurred together on the page, but I knew what they meant. We were running out of time, and I needed to find a job - any job - to pay for her treatment. But it seemed like every door I tried to open was met with rejection. They didn't want people like me, with my disabilities and my limitations. I felt a pang of sadness and frustration, wondering if I would ever be able to find a way to help my mom. As I walked, I found myself in front of the Yakuza headquarters. I had heard stories about the Yakuza, the Japanese mafia, and their ruthless tactics. But I was desperate. I thought about approaching the building, but my fear of rejection held me back. What if they laughed at me? What if they turned me away because of my disabilities? I didn't think I could handle the shame and disappointment. But as I turned to walk away, I felt a presence behind me. I turned to see a tall, imposing figure standing in front of me. He was dressed in a sleek black suit, and his piercing eyes seemed to bore into my soul. I felt a shiver run down my spine as he approached me. "You look like you're looking for something," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Or someone." I hesitated, unsure of what to say. But then I saw the curiosity in his eyes, and I took a chance. "I'm looking for a job," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I need to pay for my mom's medical bills." The man's eyes narrowed, and he held out his hand. "Let me see that," he said, nodding towards my mom's medical bills. I hesitated for a moment, but something about his kind eyes put me at ease. I handed him the bills, and he scanned them quickly. His expression softened, and he looked at me with newfound understanding. "You're trying to find a job, but you're afraid of getting rejected because of your...condition," he said, his voice gentle. I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. How did he know? "My name is Hange, and I'm the prince of this organization," he said, his eyes locked on mine. "And I think we might have a place for you here."