by Amy Tasukada
“This will give me one hell of a trip to the toilet in a few hours, but it’s worth it.” Fujimoto laughed.
Nao scrunched his nose while the others laughed. Even though Nao couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full meal, he still wasn’t hungry. Even watching as they ate sent a shiver of disgust through him.
“Please excuse him, Father Murata. He’s already had a lot to drink,” Ikida apologized. “I also want to thank you for taking the time to invite me. It’s nice to get away from what’s happening and let my mind wander.”
He should’ve brought a notebook or something to write down their answers so he could compare them later. He could use some phone application, but if he used his phone he’d definitely tip people off that he was up to something.
“Is your mother doing better, Ikida?” Nao asked.
“We’re trying to make her comfortable until the end. We’re going through Mother’s things and getting ready to move into the home.”
A pang of jealousy shot through Nao, but he swallowed it down. The closest he had gotten to living in a Heian-style house was visiting on tours.
“It must be an honor to live in such a traditional house.”
“Mother wasn’t able to do many repairs in her old age, so a lot of the house has been boarded up. We’ll have to look into repairs at some point.”
“It’ll be gorgeous when it’s done. Like stepping back in time.”
“You should stop by sometime maybe, once all the repairs are done.”
“That would be nice.”
With his mother sick, Ikida probably didn’t have time to deal with the drugs, but he could’ve used the money to fund the repairs for the house, since traditional artists weren’t cheap.
Nao leaned back and nudged Fujimoto, who was sitting beside him. “When did you give Ikida the key to Miko’s apartment?”
Fujimoto scratched his chin. “When he asked for it.”
“What day was that?”
“Ikida,” Fujimoto said. “When did you get Miko’s key?”
“The night we all drank sake with Murata at the formal welcoming ceremony.”
Nao couldn’t say that Fujimoto wasn’t being helpful. Three weeks was a long time to have the key, and the lack of dust around the key put the movement of it sooner than three weeks. Still Fujimoto could’ve snatched the locker key and made a copy of Miko’s. But it seemed a bit overly complicated for someone as straightforward as Fujimoto.
Nao cleared his throat to keep Ikida’s attention. “Did you really not send anyone there to clean up while Miko was away?”
“Forgive my indiscretion, Father Murata, it won’t happen again.”
Ikida sounded sincere enough, but could Nao rule any of them out? Jail looked more and more like the place where he’d be living in a week. What could he ask without tipping them off, anyway?
“Fujimoto, when did you get Miko’s key?”
“Sakai brought it over once Miko was sentenced, I think,” he said, gnawing on his chili dog. “Then he gave it to me.”
“Why did he give it to you?”
Fujimoto blinked. “He’s a busy businessman?”
No one’s expression had changed during Nao’s questioning. Either they didn’t care or they didn’t have any connection with the drugs. Perhaps they didn’t know about Miko’s contingency plan.
“Why don’t you take some time to relax?” Kurosawa said. “Miko’s place has a cleaning crew. They’re making it spotless as we speak.”
“Yeah, and your arm is still messed up, isn’t it?” Fujimoto asked. “Protein will be good for you.”
“You punched out a few stitches,” Nao said.
“Did I? See, I still got it in me.”
Nao took a sip of the beer. Asking about Miko’s key hadn’t raised suspicion, but it wasn’t getting him any closer either. Perhaps playing the friendly card wouldn’t give him the results he wanted.
“So where did you get your suit?”
Fujimoto grinned and tugged at his suit jacket. “You like it? It’s new.”
“Who makes it?”
“It’s from Streetfly. I got a bunch of stuff from there. They have a store in the shopping district, in the main train station.”
Maybe Kohta would know if the brand was expensive as well as tasteless. The wind picked up, and the scent of the chili dog hit his nose. He pushed the food aside and listened to the pair of geiko play a drum and a koto. He allowed all his emotions to slowly slip away along with the thought of Detective Yamada throwing him in jail and dismantling the Matsukawa, one court case at a time.
Once the third song ended, Nao looked and saw Kurosawa had left. The only time he’d let Nao out of his sight, outside of headquarters, was when Nao had gone to the back room of the brothels. Nao stood and caught sight of Kurosawa at a beer stall talking with Sakai.
“I’m going to go get us more beer,” Nao said. “Wait here for me.”
He walked off before either Ikida or Fujimoto could insist that he stay. Nao slinked behind the vendor stalls so he wouldn’t be spotted but stayed close enough to hear their conversation.
“Then he strangled him with his foot,” Kurosawa said.
“Don’t act surprised, or did you forget he’s a psycho?” Sakai puffed on a cigarette. “His father filled him with so much talk of keeping traditions alive and nationalistic pride. The only reason Nao didn’t slit his stomach open when he nearly caused a war with Tokyo, was because he thought starving himself to death would prolong his suffering.”
Sakai dared to say such words behind his back. He’d show Sakai. He wasn’t psychotic. He wasn’t weak. He could handle the drug problem and give whoever was behind it to the detective without any of their help.
“That’s a little harsh.” Kurosawa rubbed his neck. “He is our godfather. Of course he’s a little shaken up after what happened with his father. It would be odd if he wasn’t acting upset.”
“He’s just the active godfather until Miko gets out of jail.”
“It’s a lot for a kid, all at once.”
Sakai tapped on his cigarette. “What else is he up to? I haven’t had the time to check your texts.”
“He’s becoming obsessed with this prostitute.”
“It’s probably for the best that he’s distracted. I’ll keep things under control, and he can worry about getting his dick sucked.”
Nao frowned. He almost didn’t want to believe his suspicions were real, but Kurosawa confirmed them. He’d told Sakai of Nao’s every movement.
“Which table are you?” Sakai asked. “Ikida wanted to thank my wife for getting the tickets.”
“We’re over here.” Kurosawa pointed. “Shit! Could Ikida not watch Murata for three minutes?”
They turned the corner and headed straight for Nao.
NAO KEPT HIS GAZE toward Sakai and Kurosawa, as he walked away but ended up running into one of the geiko.
“Excuse me,” he mumbled, taking a step back.
The geiko turned. Her painted strawberry lips brought out the red feathers of the crane woven into her black formal kimono.
“Yuiko?”
She smiled. “Mr. Murata, I’m flattered you remembered my name.”
“Your flute skills are wonderful. How could I forget?”
Nao glanced over his shoulder as Kurosawa and Sakai walked past him. Kurosawa didn’t recognize Nao’s back with Sakai asking about the finer details of Nao’s day-to-day activities. They walked off, and Nao decided there was no reason to rush back like a dog to its master. He could talk to someone who understood him and get back to the chili-dog interrogations after.
“It must be hard performing here,” Nao said. “Half the crowd is paying attention to what cheap beer to order.”
She laughed but hid her smile with her hand. “I don’t mind at all, Mr. Murata. In fact, I enjoy it.”
“You enjoy this?” Nao opened his arms as best as he could with one in a sling.
“Most people here are Japane
se.”
“But the teahouse must have many Japanese patrons.”
“Actually, most are foreigners from China or of some English-speaking country. I want to be able to ease the hearts of all of my customers, so I study those languages, but something is lost in translation without the shared heritage to interpret the art.”
So the keepers of Japanese traditional arts were forced to learn foreign languages because not enough Japanese appreciated it. Nao curled his lip.
“Chinese and English?” Nao said. “I don’t even remember English numbers.”
“It would be a pleasure to teach you, if you ever want a lesson.”
“Maybe if I were traveling abroad, but we’re in Japan so I’ll speak Japanese. Don’t the language lessons get in the way of practicing your art?”
She nodded. “Yes, but I think the geiko education leaves many holes. Learning a new dance can be as important as keeping track of finances. I want to do this for the rest of my life. So it’s important to not only keep up with the old traditions, but keep an eye toward the future.”
Perhaps Nao needed to take a business class to understand the files on his desk, but his father never had. Maybe Sakai had explained it all to him but decided not to with Nao so he could look like a failure. Nao wouldn’t put it past him.
“There you are, Father Murata!” Kurosawa yelled.
“You’ll have to excuse me, my performance is next,” Yuiko said before scurrying away toward the stage.
Nao sighed as Kurosawa and Sakai approached.
“We wondered where you ran off to, but seeing you talk with a woman, perhaps we shouldn’t have interrupted,” Sakai said with a laugh.
Nao’s nostrils flared. “I found my father’s key.”
“Key?”
“The contingency plan.”
Sakai’s face remained that of a hardened businessman. “What about it?”
“Miko said you were supposed to tell me about them.”
“We had the ceremony to welcome you as godfather, then the ceremony with Tokyo and Osaka. It’s a lot for one man to keep up with. There were more important things on my mind.”
Nao’s neck strained to rise above the older man, and then the muscles in his good arm flexed. Lies filled Sakai’s mouth more than truths. He saw the Matsukawa as a way to funnel money into his various projects.
“I don’t believe you,” Nao said.
“Did you end up calling Miko about it? What did she tell you?”
Nao’s gaze drifted to Kurosawa for a moment, but the confused look on his face told Nao Kurosawa wasn’t involved in the drugs.
“That’s not the Matsukawa’s contingency plan anymore. It was flushed.”
Sakai’s jaw dropped. “Y-you flushed them? Do you know how much they were worth?”
“I want Miko’s destroyed, too.”
Sakai crossed his arms over his chest, and Nao waited for him to speak. Nao had laid out everything he’d done, and it was up to Sakai to take it from there. Would he say they’d already used Miko’s drugs to pay for something, or did he know nothing about the missing drugs? Either way, Miko’s key was in Nao’s desk, and if no one brought it up, the fact they couldn’t get the key meant someone had hidden what happened.
“It’ll be done,” Sakai said.
“Good, because you don’t have a choice.” Nao grinned and started back for the table.
They followed and sat on either side of Nao. A woman Nao didn’t recognize sat next to Fujimoto.
“There’s Father Murata.” Fujimoto laughed. “He was too busy talking to that geiko to even remember he was supposed to get us beers.”
Nao sighed and rubbed his temple. “Who are you?”
Sakai cleared his throat. “Murata, this is my wife, Kayako. She’s the one with the connection to get us all the last-minute tickets.”
“Nice to meet you.” She bowed her head. Not a single lock of hair moved from the tight bun on the top of her head.
Nao didn’t like her. He wasn’t sure if it was because of her relationship to Sakai or the way she plopped herself at the table like she was part of the Matsukawa. He swallowed the ball of frustration.
“Let’s get a photo of everyone together,” Fujimoto said.
The whole day was turning into a nightmare. Kurosawa took Nao’s phone while everyone squished together.
“Three… two…” Kurosawa counted down before snapping the photo.
He handed the phone back to Nao.
“Can you send it to me?” Fujimoto asked.
Nao stared at the phone. “Ah…”
Kurosawa offered to help, and Nao allowed. Nao’s attention went back to the stage as Yuiko walked across it with another geiko. The others were talking, but Ikida’s gaze was fixed on the stage.
Nao cleared his throat to get Sakai’s attention. “Where’s the list of people who could be my new bodyguard?”
“It’s Obon. Most are visiting family so you wouldn’t be able to interview them anyway.”
“When will I get it?”
“Next week, at the latest.”
“This is taking too long.”
Sakai frowned. “With all respect many from the street side are dead.”
Nao bit the inside of his cheek to keep him from screaming. “Then when can I see our offices?”
“It will be best for you to come on Saturday. Can you wait three days?”
Nao’s eyes narrowed. “Saturday is fine. That’s when our accountant has his birthday, right? Let’s do something for him afterward.”
“Whatever you want, Nao.”
Each of Nao’s nerves twitched. Sakai had used his first name on purpose. Sakai couldn’t disrespect him in front of everyone. He had shown the new recruits what disrespecting him meant earlier today. He didn’t think he’d needed to for the higher elite.
“Did you have time to look over those files, Nao?” Sakai continued. “Did you understand them? Running the Matsukawa is not like running a teahouse.”
Nao stood and backhanded Sakai. His mouth dropped, and he pressed a hand against his cheek. Nao clenched his first, reminding himself that he shouldn’t let the adrenaline take over. He couldn’t become a slave to his savage nature.
“You speak so informally to me one more time and I won’t give a fuck about how long you’ve been the business leader. You will be fired,” Nao said, his pulse pounding in his ears.
Sakai slid his hand off his face. “Forgive my indiscretion, Father Murata.”
“I am in charge when Miko is gone. Everything I say and do is set in stone. Is that clear to all of you?”
They all agreed, Sakai the last to speak. Of course he would, though. Somehow he was the one behind the drugs. He’d never told Nao about the contingency plan, and Nao wouldn’t mind seeing him locked up. If only he had proof.
NAO LEANED AGAINST the kitchen counter. His gaze bounced from Kurosawa in the living room back to Aki washing up after dinner. The sleeves of Aki’s jumpsuit were pushed up to his elbows, exposing his milk-tea-colored skin. White patches spotted his arms and covered his fingers like the cleaning bleach had eaten away the pigment of his skin. Nao inwardly winced and hoped it didn’t hurt too much.
Kurosawa pretended to check on the cleaning every five minutes. If Nao had gone to the office, he would’ve found some excuse to do the same, or he’d have sat outside the door to make sure he didn’t wander off.
After the beer garden festival, Nao had disappeared into his office to look over paperwork, but the stacks had been neglected while he’d planned his attack. He couldn’t trust anyone in the Matsukawa with power. He’d find it out himself. The only trouble was leaving without Kurosawa noticing, but Nao knew how to make Kurosawa look the other way.
It was 10:00 p.m., and Kohta would be starting his day. Unless Nao wanted to stay in Kohta’s shoes longer, he needed to put his plan in motion. Nao waited until Kurosawa “checked on the cleaning” again before Nao abandoned his place beside Aki. He grabbed Kohta’s shoes fr
om the entry closet and quietly put them outside.
The mukaebi fire flickered in the stone lantern, helping guide the spirits back to their houses. A flush of heat rolled over Nao as he thought about the spirits who would follow him for the next three days. Maybe they’d offer some wisdom on how to catch the traitor.
Phase two of Nao’s plan started when he closed the front door and bumped into Kurosawa’s leg as he strolled past. Nao looked back with a grin as a crease appeared in the center of Kurosawa’s forehead. Aki dried his hands and smiled as Nao approached. He doubted Aki’s lingering glances went unnoticed by Kurosawa.
Aki smiled. “Father—”
“Come with me.” Nao grabbed one of Aki’s wrists and gave it a light pull.
Aki obeyed and followed where Nao led. They stopped in the hallway, allowing Kurosawa to get a perfect view of them together before Nao pulled Aki into the nearest bedroom. The door slammed shut, and he pressed Aki against the wall.
“How can I be—”
Nao covered Aki’s mouth with his hand, silencing anything else he wanted to say. If he talked, it would ruin the illusion they created. Aki’s hot breath danced across Nao’s fingers and a fluttering tapped against his chest. He hoped it would work.
“I need you to moan,” Nao whispered while Aki’s hair tickled his nose.
Aki’s eyes widened.
The heat radiating from Aki filled Nao with the sweet nostalgia of past love. Their chests touched, and Nao’s fingers slid off Aki’s mouth and trailed over his parted bottom lip. His almond eyes begged Nao for more. He swallowed, his hand trailing down Aki’s neck to grasp the recruit’s hip. Even if the caresses were to help Aki’s act, Nao grew more light-headed with each of Aki’s breaths upon his neck. Nao’s knee spread Aki’s trembling legs apart, and he leaned into his crotch.
“I said moan,” Nao whispered.
Aki’s mouth opened, and he let out a moan with closed eyes. Could a moan be breathed out with a Kyoto accent? Nao wasn’t sure, but if he weren’t so caught up in the next phase of the plan, Nao would’ve taken the time to find out.
“That’s it,” Nao said, raising his voice to be heard clearly through the door. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. I can tell how much you want this.”