The boy’s words weighed on my mind as I stepped into HQ. The gates separating the building from the public were large and gaudy, just how Harada liked it, but not without a squeak as they ground on their hinges. Harada’s family crest made up the latch, with the character separating from the surrounding circle as the gates opened. A nice design, for sure, but not very subtle.
“Mama was here. She looked sad.”
I didn’t see nor sense anything. The boy was tired, and probably dreamt about his mother, and in his half-asleep state thought he saw her. There was no other explanation. Nothing set my sixth sense off, although it admittedly wasn’t perfect, but that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? I sensed absolutely nothing. Just my empty lounge room with a tired, grieving boy in it. Back at the woman’s apartment, I had sensed something. No doubt about it, the boy’s father, or at least part of him, remained to watch over his family. She sensed it too, which was why she didn’t want to leave. Come to think of it, what would happen to him now? Movers would be on the case shortly, if not already, and if they were the guys Harada always hired, they’d hardly treat her stuff with care.
The guard at the front entrance nodded as I passed through. I made my way down the empty hall; the board room to my left, toilets to my right. The hall opened into a large open area decorated with all the items Harada had liberated over the years, and a large staircase leading to the second floor. I continued up, all the way to the third, and knocked on the door. I hadn’t seen a single soul other than the guard. It was unnerving. Usually HQ was teeming with bodies by this time.
“Come in,” a gruff voice called out. I grabbed the handle and jolted. Ice cold. I pushed it down and stepped inside.
“Ah, Yotchan, excellent, you’re here. Come in, close that door. Come, sit down.”
The grin on Harada’s face set me on edge. Considering the events of the night before, he was almost too happy. That never led to anything good.
“Sir,” I said, sitting in the seat opposite his desk.
“How’s things?” he said, putting his pen down and intertwining his fingers. I shifted in the chair. It was like sitting for a job interview. Not that I knew what that felt like.
“Okay…”
“Good, good, and the boy?”
“The boy?”
“Taken care of?”
“…Of course, sir.”
He grinned. “Excellent! I knew you could do it. I had my doubts, I’m not gonna lie. I know how you feel about these sorts of things, and I’m sorry, I truly am. It was unavoidable.”
It was absolutely avoidable, but I kept my mouth shut.
“Anyway, that brings me to what I want to talk to you about today. In light of Ren’s little… incident… yesterday, he’s been demoted. If I can’t trust him to carry out my word, then what good is he to me, right?”
“Of course, sir.” I repeated the only words I could like a broken recorder.
“I’ve been up all night trying to deal with the fallout of that little mess. You wouldn’t believe the hassle…”
“Did you get everything sorted, sir?”
“Almost. Still a few bits and pieces we’re waiting on, but the majority of the work is done. The building will soon be mine and demolition will begin. But before we get to that, I have some good news for you!”
“Good news?” What good news could he possibly have at a time like this?
He pushed a pin across the desk. It was emblazoned with Harada’s family crest. “I’m in need of a new lieutenant. I’ve been keeping a close eye on your work and I was planning on doing this anyway, but with Ren out of the way for the time being, well, here.”
…He wanted me to be his new lieutenant?
“I… I don’t know what to say, sir.”
“You don’t need to say anything.” He stood up, moved around the desk and grabbed the pin, attaching it to the front of my shirt. “See? Look at that. Perfect. Like it was meant to be.”
“Thank you…” What else could I say? You didn’t refuse a promotion, and what good would that do me, anyway?
“I’ve always been proud of you, Yotchan. You and Ren were the best sons I could have ever hoped for, and seeing Ren betray me like that, well…” His voice trailed off. “It broke my heart. It really did.”
“Is he…?” I wasn’t sure what I wanted to ask, or whether I should ask it in the first place, but Harada laughed.
“Don’t be stupid, he’s still my son. I would never do anything like that to him. He’s family!”
Family. Family was beginning to feel more and more like a distant memory, or perhaps something I’d never really known in the first place.
“Of course. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. He did something very stupid. It will take a long time to rebuild that trust again. Let’s just say he’s on a little forced vacation in the meantime. That’s why I need you. You’re the best of us, Yotchan. Our Tiger of Rakucho.” Gods I hated that name, but his grin grew ever wider. He loved it. Harada was into all those big bluffs and bravadoes. Who had the biggest sword, who had the baddest family, who was the most cultured, who understood tradition the best; he thrived on it. It drove him. To me, it made me sound like a pet.
“Changes are coming, Yotchan,” he continued, sitting back at his desk. “I need you by my side for them.”
“What kind of changes, sir?”
He picked up his pen and started twirling it. “Big changes. Nothing you need to concern yourself with right now, but some big things are coming, and I feel much better knowing that you’ll be right there with me when they do.”
“What about Kame?” I couldn’t stop the words before they escaped my lips. Harada looked up and tilted his head.
“Kame?”
Right. That wasn’t his actual name, just what I called him. Kazumi knew his name. What was it again…?
“You mean Daichi?”
Yes, that was it! Harada burst out laughing as though it was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. He slammed his fist into the desk and his coffee mug jumped.
“Kame? Now that’s funny. I can see it. The beady eyes and long neck.” He pointed at me, still grinning. “See, you’re a funny man, Yotchan, despite how you look. That’s why I need you around. Kame. Hooboy. That’s a good one. But, what about him?”
Well, you asked him to kidnap the boy specifically when you knew I would refuse. You used him for something I wouldn’t do and now you were promoting me over him, even though he did the dirty work without question. Harada knew I would question him. Ren once explained when we were out drinking that that was the reason why Harada made him lieutenant first. Not because Ren was better suited for the job, but because he would ask fewer questions. He was always somewhat bitter over that. So why had that changed now?
“He was the one who got you the apartment, after all,” I said. “Why not promote him?”
Harada linked his fingers and leaned forward. He looked into my eyes, locking me in place.
“Daichi is a yes man. He has no brains. Men like him are necessary, but they’re not leaders. They’re a dime a dozen. Men like you, however, are much harder to come by. Some tough decisions are coming up, and last night you showed that you’re willing to question me, but also willing to carry out my orders, even when they go against your own better judgement. That’s what I need. Someone who’s willing to sacrifice for the family. Daichi’s a moron. He’d ditch us at the first opportunity if something better came along. You, on the other hand, have proven time and time again that you’ll do whatever it takes to keep this family together. I can think of no better man.”
I could, and I had my doubts about this “family” he liked to keep waxing on about. The word sounded false coming from his lips. That wasn’t my father. That was a man masquerading as him.
“Anyway,” Harada picked up his pen again and shuffled through the papers before him, “I’ve kept you long enough, I’m sure you have better things to be doing than talking to this old man all day. I’ll
be in contact with you again soon, once everything is sorted out and we’re ready to move on, okay?”
I nodded and stood up. “Yes. Of course.” I bowed and made my way back to the door. Again it stung my hand with its freezing cold touch.
“You noticed that too?” Harada called out, shaking his head. “Got me this morning as well. Must be a draft or something. Strange.”
Rakucho sweltered in the mid-summer heat outside. I doubted it was a draft.
Strange indeed.
15
My phone rang before I’d even stepped out the door.
“Hello?”
“Yotchan? Oh, thank god. L-Listen, you gotta get over here, q-quick.”
Judging by the stuttering, it was Toshiki.
“Toshiki? What’s wrong?”
Heavy breathing. Whatever it was, he was more excited than usual.
“Toshiki?”
“What? Yes, sorry. Just. You gotta get here right now, man. I don’t know what to—”
“Where are you?” I was never going to get any sense out of him on the phone. He could barely speak in person. Why he wanted to join the yakuza was beyond me. He couldn’t stand the sight of blood, he struggled talking to people—let alone intimidating them—and all he ever did was nod his head and do as he was told.
“E-Eita. Eita’s house. Come quick!”
Eita’s house? We’d dropped him off there the other night. He lived to the north of Rakucho. It would take me about 20 minutes to get there.
“Alright. I’m coming now. Hold on.”
I got back in the car and slammed on the accelerator. It was like my happy and familiar life was crashing down around me. Harada shifting his business ideals. Ren’s demotion. Kame acting like he knew things we didn’t. This new kid who couldn’t stop stuttering. An orphan boy the boss wanted dead in my house. And now I was a lieutenant. What was I supposed to do with that? I took orders, didn’t give them. Did he really think that someone like Kame was going to listen to me if he didn’t listen to Ren?
Midday meant little traffic on the roads, for which I was grateful, and I pulled into Eita’s driveway shortly after lunch. Toshiki sat on the front steps, tapping his leg over and over. He jumped to his feet as he saw me.
“Quick! In here!”
I followed him up the stairs to the second floor. The curtain was drawn, and the door closed.
“Wanna tell me what’s going on?”
His face was pale, and he looked like he hadn’t eaten in days.
“Maybe you should see for yourself…” He pushed the door open and stepped out of the way. It creaked and came to a stop as it hit the wall. The stench of blood assaulted my nostrils before I even set foot inside.
“What the hell?” I covered my nose and stepped through the door. I could barely see anything with the curtains drawn, but I didn’t need to. I got the picture. “What the fuck happened here?”
Toshiki shook his head, his face turning more green by the second. “I-I don’t know, sir. He was like that when I got here. The curtains were drawn, and the door locked, but he wasn’t answering, so…”
That explained the broken lock on the door, but nothing else. I knelt down before him. Eita’s face contorted in terror, his mouth hanging open as his blank, bloodshot eyes stared at the wall behind him. His neck twisted in an unnatural direction, as did his torso. He’d nearly been torn in two.
“H-How could somebody do a thing like that?” Toshiki said from outside the room. It wasn’t a rhetorical question. He meant it literally. How could someone nearly twist a full-grown man’s body off like a bottle cap? This wasn’t the work of a rival gang. This wasn’t the work of a person at all. No man was that strong, not even me. A torture device, maybe, but…
I glanced around the room. Eita lay in a pile of his own blood, but that was it. His TV was off. A burnt cigarette sat in an ashtray on the table, next to a half-drunk can of beer. Nothing appeared to be taken or even touched. The apartment was clean.
“Tell me what happened again. From the start.” I stood up and turned to Toshiki. He stood by the door like an invisible barrier was keeping him out.
“M-Mr. Harada told me to go pick Eita up this morning, sir. Said he wasn’t answering his phone.” Eita’s phone stuck out the back of his jeans. It happened sometime last night, then. “I got here and knocked on the door. No-one answered. I called him myself and I heard the phone ring inside. I panicked, so I kicked the door and, well…”
“The door was locked?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The window?”
“Also locked.”
The front door was the only way in. I moved through the rest of the apartment, checking the windows. For a yakuza member, it was a dingy apartment; small and grimy and barely enough to call a home, but some guys preferred it that way. Eita never struck me as a man of discerning tastes. Still, no-one deserved to die like this.
The door and windows were locked. Sometime before morning Eita was killed… From the inside. His keys hung on a hook by the front door. It was possible that someone else had a key, sure, but that still left the question of “why?” Why kill him? Why in this way?
I leaned down before him, careful not to touch anything. His torso was twisted in half, like it had been rotated on his spine. His neck had been twisted similarly, bringing it back to the front again. His head stared at the wall behind him, a look of pure terror that I’d never seen on a man’s face before.
“I think I’m gonna be sick again…” Toshiki ran off and I heard the sounds of throwing up.
That was it. No other wounds. No visible stab holes. No bruising. Nothing. He’d been twisted in half at the torso and then twisted again at the neck like a corkscrew. Who—or what—could do such a thing?
“Did you tell anyone else about this yet?” I stepped outside and found Toshiki hurling over the edge of the balcony. He turned, wiping spit from his face.
“N-No, sir. Just you.”
Nobody else knew. Not even Harada. He would blow his top once he found out. I could hear him already. “It was those Toyotomi assholes! They did this!” I didn’t think even they were capable of something like this. I closed the door behind me.
“Stay here and watch the door, okay?”
“Wait, w-where are you going?”
“We need to inform Harada, and I don’t think this is the type of news that should be delivered over the phone.” I jogged down the stairs and opened the car door. Toshiki leaned over the balcony.
“You’re leaving me with him?”
“Just don’t go inside and don’t touch anything. Make sure no-one else gets in, alright? I’ll call Re—” No. I couldn’t call Ren. Not anymore. Ren was also out of action. “We’ll send someone over soon,” I corrected myself. “Just stay. Don’t touch.”
I pulled out and sped off down the road before he could argue.
Harada was not going to like this.
16
“Come in!” A booming voice called through the door and I stepped inside. Harada apparently hadn’t moved since I last saw him. He sat at the desk, continuing to write whatever it was he was writing. “What is it?” He looked up and then frowned.
“There’s no easy way to say this, sir…”
“Then spit it out.” His mood, however, had changed. Something had happened in the time it took me to get to Eita’s house and back again that had him grumpy. Just my luck.
“Eita’s dead, sir.”
He lay his pen down on the desk and clasped his hands together.
“What’s that now?”
“I’ve just been to see him, sir. He’s…” Twisted in half, sir. Rotated on his spine in several places. How else could I explain it? “He’s dead.”
Harada’s hands trembled. “You… You saw this with your own two eyes?”
Unfortunately. “I did, sir.”
“You’re sure he’s…”
Yeah. I was pretty sure he was dead. “Yes, sir. It… It wasn’t pretty.”
Harada stood up and crossed the short distance to stand before me. He looked up, as he always did, searching my eyes for something. “Tell me straight, boy. What happened?”
I shook my head. “I don’t entirely know, sir. I received a call from Toshiki that Eita wasn’t answering his phone, so he went to see him. He heard the phone ringing inside so he broke the door down and found him dead in the living room. He was…”
“He was what?”
I closed my eyes a moment, the horrifying scene flashing before them.
“He was twisted in two. Sir.”
Harada’s brow furrowed. “Twisted in two? W-What does that even mean?” His anger bubbled forth, causing him to stutter. There hadn’t been a yakuza death in several months, at least, and much longer for a brutal one such as this. One death meant that others would be coming, an avalanche that would stop for no-one. Harada was on the precipice of that avalanche, holding the detonator and waiting to press it, even if the explosion took him along with it.
“Maybe it would be for the best if you saw for yourself, sir, I don’t know how to—”
“What did you see?!” His voice rose so suddenly that I flinched. I pointed to my torso and motioned a twist.
“Like this, sir.”
“Like this? What the hell does this mean, Yotchan? My boy is dead and you can’t even tell me how?”
I sighed, my own irritation spilling forth. Pulling my phone out, I called Toshiki.
“Hello?”
“It’s me. Take a photo.”
“…What?”
“Just do it.”
“Are you—”
“Now.”
I hung up and waited. A few seconds later the phone vibrated. I showed it to Harada. His eyes squinted as he attempted to take the scene in and then widened.
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