Ryu cussed up a storm, loud and furious, a whole colourful array of profanities. He became aware of his own fierceness when he caught sight of the driver in the next car who had happened to look over at the wrong moment. The driver turned away in a snap, assuming an awkwardly straight face.
Ryu rolled his eyes, leaning in to fiddle with the song selection, cranking up the speakers, blasting some of his favourite songs by Notorious B.I.G. It was the only thing that calmed him in the moment, though the verses felt more and more like his own personal soundtrack. Ryu didn’t know why, but he kept on driving until he arrived at Holy Eternal Sacrifice Catholic Church. He got out, climbed the stairs, even approached the entrance, holding his breath as he yanked the doors only to find them locked. No one was there, of course. Because, as Ryu already knew, he was too late. It was beginning to look like there was no choice but the one Ryu had been avoiding: the one that Tyler had laid out for him. No choice but to crawl into Tyler's trap at seven o’clock.
Ryu had solved the puzzle. He knew Tyler better than he knew himself. What Tyler expected was for Ryu to act like he would, blindly rush to where he waited with his hostage and fight him, one-on-one. Most likely, Tyler wouldn’t do anything to her until then—because whatever it was Tyler had in mind, he wanted Ryu to be there to watch. So the longer Ryu stayed away, the longer he could stave off the inevitable showdown. Ryu hoped. But there were several caveats. One was what might happen if Tyler became impatient and decided having her head as a displayable souvenir was enough. Or what might happen if Tyler was so bold as to bring her straight to headquarters, like a housecat dragging in its latest catch. Or what might happen if none of that happened because Katsuo found them first. Haruna would be sent on a one-way trip she wouldn’t come back from. Ever.
Ryu left the church building, feeling heavy as though the air in his lungs had been swapped for cement. He had one hour. One. Running a hand through his wet hair, Ryu climbed back into the Mazda and slammed the door shut. He started the ignition, music blaring as he told himself to drive. Just drive. Drive somewhere. Drive anywhere—and yet he couldn’t will himself to touch the steering wheel. He’d felt great last month, the first time he’d sat in this seat. He felt entitled. Like he deserved it. But the longer he sat in it, the sicker it made him. This was the car suffering had bought. This was the car Tyler had made off without him in. This was the car Matsumoto had given him as a “gift."
A gift for his birthday.
That or some kind of screwed-up way of atoning for the crime Matsumoto committed also on his birthday: murdering his family, keeping it a secret, and pretending he’d actually cared about any of them, him or his father. Ryu had to act. This was beyond just saving himself. It was about his father who’d left the Syndicate. Or dared to. It was about Haruna’s father who'd gotten Ryu’s father out. It was about his mother and Haruna’s mother who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. All the boys at Tengoku House and a teary-eyed Albert. It was about Haruna who, of no fault of her own, was right now at the mercy of an idiot psycho like Tyler “White Tiger” Kyojo. But Ryu couldn’t think. His brain was all fog. The reality hanging overhead was that Ryu had been branded a traitor the moment he’d confronted and hinted at pulling a gun on Katsuo. Within twenty-four hours, whether he went to Tyler, ran away, or went back to Tengoku House, he’d be dead. It didn’t matter that it would happen under the auspices of Heaven Home for Boys. The Syndicate knew how to make things look like an accident. Troubled boys were known for taking all sorts of stupid risks, experimenting with all sorts of deadly substances, hanging out with all sorts of “bad crowds." Ryu fit the bill. A body covered in piercings, tats, and self-inflicted wounds wouldn’t lend to his innocence either. The coroner would file it under “misadventure." And who’d argue with the decision? His dead parents?
You’re Nobody. Track One.
Ryu felt his jacket’s inner breast pocket for the prayer book, flipping to that one line in the Serenity Prayer that also reminded him so much of what Damon called “wu-wei.” Harmony. Fighting without fighting. Knowing when the right time to act was, and whether a battle was one you could win. Could this apply? How then? How could he make his weakness an asset?
Ryu groaned. Did Damon truly buy into this crap? Even Miyagi, with all his talk of waxing things on and off, offered practical solutions. Not just words. Meaningless words. And the “karate kid” got lucky in the end because even though he faced a bully who was way bigger and stronger, the bully was too hot-headed, cocky, and much too dumb…
“Holy crap!” The light bulb flickered on at last.
All those years of martial arts training and he’d failed to figure it out sooner? It was physics. Judo 101. All that and counting on the fact that stupidity would never be in short-supply.
The easy way to take out a guy stronger and bigger than you?
Use his own strength and weight against him.
Ryu blinked down at his watch. Five after five. He powered on the engine and ripped through the parking lot. There was less than an hour left to get to Red Creek Avenue and Main Street—and he knew he’d get there—but not without taking a couple of detours. First stop: the closest Mom-and-Pop grocery store, more convenient store than grocers. After several minutes, he was in and out. In his hand, a fist full of fluffy white chrysanthemums.
Chrysanthemums.
They were perfect flowers. Fall flowers.
To some, they symbolized truth and purity. To others, they represented loyalty, even love. They were the mark of the Japanese emperor. But white chrysanthemums. Those were special. The white flowers symbolized death.
Ryu placed them in the passenger seat and was on the road again. Forty minutes left. The rain had subsided a little, but the clouds that blanketed the sky remained. Ryu focused on the road and goal ahead. He knew where the house was, though he’d never before now had reason to be there. The small community that occupied the housing complex on the North-East had only a handful of Asians living there. By now, with just a little process of elimination, everyone could guess which house ‘it’ was. Ryu drove past, slow, circling the block twice like a shark before coming to a stop in front of the intended target. The lights were off. No one was home. Mom must have been working late or out shopping. Who knows why a mother with such a “loving” and “dutiful” son would still be living in a dump like this—but Ryu supposed she had plenty of cash to go shopping with.
Ryu stole a glance at the flowers. Left hand to the steering wheel, he passed his right over the gear. One yank and the car rolled into reverse. Twenty, maybe thirty yards away… he put the gear into drive. His foot stomped the gas.
Kick in the Door. Track Two.
The car barrelled onward like a canon ball. Ryu made the split-second move worthy of every action film, flowers in tow, hurling himself out of the car just short of it crashing into the building’s side. With a sound like a bomb detonating, its hood folded in like an accordion. Ryu's body rolled until meeting inertia, and he lay winded on the wet concrete, gravel grazing his neck. He gawked at the sky—stunned by how ridiculous, how wild the stunt he’d just pulled was. Staying in the car and taking the full brunt of the airbags? Might have been the smarter move. Chest rising and falling, slowly, Ryu lifted his head. Lights were flickering on. Curtains were drawing from neighbouring units. He smelled the rising smoke and dust and heard the short-circuiting of the car's stereo system. Fighting vertigo and feeling like he’d skydived from a plane, Ryu stumbled to his feet, grasping the remains of the smashed and withered mums. He took several shaky footsteps and dropped them at the front door. He let out a breath. He rounded sharply. Then he fled.
Sky’s the Limit. Track Three.
Ryu rounded the corner, feet pounding against the sidewalk. He skidded down the block and thanked his remaining luck he was a decent runner in spite of the lungs he abused. He stole a glance at his watch. Sixteen minutes! He wheezed a curse word under his breath. He wasn’t fast enough to conti
nue by foot. There was no time to catch a bus. And the rain… the rain that had stopped had returned, this time as ice pellets, stinging his face, soaking his hair, drenching his clothes, slowing him down, cramping his style. He stopped in his tracks, spotting the silver BMW snaking around the bend. It came to a lazy stop in front of him and the person, an oldish-looking white guy in an expensive suit, stuck his head out with a wide, crooked grin.
“Nice weather we have, eh? Need a ride?”
Right. Ryu was on this street. His first thought was to flip the man off. He was either some creep or the friendliest of strangers. And Campbeltoners, even strangers, even old rich guys in BMWs, sure knew to be friendly when they wanted to be. But instead of telling the man where to go, Ryu smirked and did the second thing to come to his mind. With an easy stride, he moved to the driver’s side, reached into his pocket and pointed his Glock.
Grand Theft Auto. East Side Edition.
CHAPTER ten
into the tiger den
Haruna’s body swayed, her grip tight along the pole, watching the darkened sky and a light drizzle become sleet against dirt-streaked windows. She felt a deep sense of eagerness coupled with dread, watching building after building fade away. The first time she had been on this bus it was to travel to the East Side to find Ryu. Now for the second time, she was looking for him. She remembered his words that time. He’d told her to never come back. It was when thinking of this Haruna began to wonder if she was making a terrible mistake. The thought accelerated her heart rate and made her regret more than ever being without her inhaler.
Perhaps Ryu didn’t want to be found. Perhaps there was a very good reason he'd avoided her calls. Perhaps it was just the anxiety talking.
But as Haruna allowed her mind to wander, she began to wonder. About Tyler.
“Where are we going?” Haruna had asked the question so faintly she wasn't certain he could hear her. Reflected in the windows were those leering eyes on a thin, beautiful, hauntingly beautiful face, now less like an angel and more like a ghost. She saw his wide, too-wide smile.
“You’ll see,” Tyler said, his voice a smooth, velvety whisper. “Almost there.”
He was right. It was only a couple more stops before they’d arrived, wherever it was they were headed.
Haruna and Tyler were let off at the corner of Red Creek Road and Main Street, a sombre, downtrodden area. The rain had let up, but it was dull. Grimy. It reeked of urine and something rotted. To add to it, with the sleet melted, the sidewalks and pot-holed roads were muddy and wet. Haruna bit in her lip. A toothless man with bloodshot eyes mumbled something her way. A woman with a shopping cart and a crooked frame swore indignantly at no one. Haruna scurried onward, ducking behind Tyler as he led the way. She kept her head down, her steps cautious, not keen on getting sloshes of water on her clothes and shoes. She looked up as she noticed the illumination against a puddle on the sidewalk. They came to a stop and Haruna took in the neon sign in the window, the words glowing in magenta, Shiatsu Massage.
Huh? They weren’t going in there were they?
Haruna whispered, peering back at Tyler, “I thought you were taking me to see Ryu…”
Tyler stepped back, a curve to his lips. “Oh, don’t worry. He’ll come.”
Haruna shuddered at the light touch of Tyler’s hand at her lower back, urging her on. Exactly what was going on, and why were they at a place like this?
Haruna was met by an intoxicating fragrance, a mixture of orange blossoms and cinnamon, and she noted the seductive decor of tropical plants, ambient lighting and leather seating. The woman behind the reception desk stood at once.
“What are you doing here? No kids!” she snapped, her eyes behind a layer of eye shadow glaring at them.
Tyler was unmoved by the woman, the smile still plastered on his face. Slowly, he sunk a hand into the depths of his jacket. When he pulled his hand out again there was something in it, something he held in midair and raised for the woman to see. He clicked once. Haruna drew back—a twang, a flash of silver—a knife!
The woman faltered, and Tyler’s grin widened, revealing canines like fangs.
“White Flower business,” he said, perfectly calm. “You might want to clear out.”
Haruna’s eyes flitted between Tyler and the woman. Like night and day. The woman’s haughty manner was reduced to wide-eyed blubbering. Nodding like a bobblehead, she stumbled back and shouted something, something Haruna couldn’t understand. Heads poked through doors, and in a frenzy, women were hastening by, speeding through and flying out of the front door. Strange men trailed behind them, giving curious looks at Haruna. Then, at the sight of Tyler’s switchblade, they shuffled out at top-speed.
The alarm bells in Haruna’s brain were deafening.
She circled back and made a break for the exit. Chimes sounded as she threw open the door and dove into the night, frigid air clawing at her flesh. Before her legs could take her down the block, she shrieked. A hard, painful tug yanked her back—Tyler had her by the hair. Haruna winced and stumbled. She shut her eyes and the tears started in them.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Let me go!”
She tasted salt and sweat as his hand clamped over her mouth.
“Shut up. We’re going back inside. Run out again and there’s no telling what I’ll do next.”
He was intent to steer her back, but Haruna resisted, wriggling and squirming. It was like fighting an ocean wave. He was strong. Incredibly strong. And next to him she was frail. Next to him she was nothing. And as Haruna's breaths became shallow, she knew it wouldn’t be long before panic would seize hold of her. She’d truly be powerless then. She strained to see Tyler’s right hand. His knife was no longer in view, but something told her it wouldn’t take much for him to whip it out, to make good on his threat.
Then suddenly, there was the groan of a revved-up engine. A break slam. A car screech.
Haruna's eyes narrowed against the glare of headlights. A silver sports car skidded to a standstill, its front wheels veering off the road and climbing the curb. Haruna's heart skipped several beats as Ryu stumbled out. Eyes trained on her and Tyler, Ryu slammed the door and slid his hands into his pockets. He took a number of steps towards them.
Tyler laughed. “Way to wake up the entire neighbourhood, you goof.”
“Can’t be helped. I was doing way over 70 in a 50 zone. Besides, no one ever sleeps in these parts, genius.”
Tyler nodded back at the car. “What is it then, wise guy? An Audi?”
“It’s obviously a BMW, smartass.”
Their conversation was just this casual, insult-laden back and forth. Haruna was flabbergasted. Where on earth did Ryu get a BMW from? And couldn’t he see that this guy literally had her by the hair? Either Ryu had managed to read her thoughts as he often did, or she had rushed to judgement. His gaze shifted from Tyler, whose grip on her hadn’t waned, and met hers, holding contact. Haruna thought she saw a hint of nervousness before his expression blanked, and his stare became deadly.
“So how about you let her go, hey Tiger?”
Tyler chuckled. “You’d like that, eh?”
Ryu stepped closer. Haruna’s panic set in. Tyler had a knife! His grasp on Haruna's hair loosened, and she strained to catch a glimpse of his free hand. The knife in his pocket. He was reaching for it. Short of a second thought, a whirlwind of a force descended, hurling itself forward from out of nowhere.
Haruna screamed and ducked. She crouched on all-fours, trembling. She squinted to see Tyler careening backwards, then stabilize himself just short of falling. Ryu hurtled towards him a second time. He jumped, both legs in the air aimed for Tyler. Tyler dodged, and countered, twirling into a kick intended to bowl Ryu over. Neither had managed to land a hit on the other. Haruna scampered back, her bottom dragging along the wet concrete. Ryu threw his guard up as Tyler hurled a straight punch. Ryu glanced at her, his face fierce.
; “What are you doing? Get out of here!”
Sure. It made sense to go, leave, run far, as far a she could manage by foot. But she couldn’t do it. It was like her limbs were an extension of the pavement. The weight consumed her, clutched her from her chest down. Her body shook, her ribcage and all its contents on the verge of combustion. She had to go. She had to move. But she couldn’t. Even though Ryu was biding time so she could escape, she couldn’t do it.
THUNK.
Tyler landed a blow on Ryu. Haruna cringed at the sound of contact, the sound of Ryu’s groan. She shut her eyes. She began to drift, feeling the beginnings of a familiar out-of-body sensation. Was this what a heart attack felt like? These were going to be her last seconds of life. So much, so many things she would miss out on…Oh God! Was she really going to die here? Right now?
Haruna shrieked, feeling a violent snatch at her elbow. Tyler forced her upwards, lifting her until she stumbled to her feet. She swallowed hard as the cold blade pressed against her throat. Her eyes, unable to blink for even a millisecond, flicked towards Ryu in the distance. His cheek was bruised. His lip was bleeding. His body damp. His shoulders bobbed up and down with his shallow breathing. He dug a single arm into his jeans and whipped out his gun, pointing it at Tyler.
Haruna froze.
Tyler’s voice breezed over her shoulder and along her neck.
“What if you miss?”
“I never miss,” Ryu snapped. “Namen ja neyo!’
Haruna’s mouth fell open. “Ryu, you can’t…” Her voice was strained.
“I have to—”
“—YOU PROMISED YOU’D STOP DOING THIS!” She gave into desperation, screaming the last part in a way that stung her throat and left her gasping. She squirmed as Tyler’s knife pressed harder under her chin, against her neck.
Ryu lowered the gun.
Tyler’s voice sounded like a grin. “Yeah, just like that. You listen to her.” His breath washed behind her ears and over her cheeks and she shivered in spite of its warmth. “Adorable, isn’t she? Especially with that scared look in her eyes.”
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