The Yakuza Path: Better Than Suicide

by Amy Tasukada

  Fujimoto’s ward contained the highest concentration of native Koreans and was where the Korean mob had their greatest influence. If any ward needed to be controlled with an iron hold, it was Fujimoto’s.

  “Forgive me, Father Murata,” Fujimoto said. “The issue is taken care of. They were drunk and smashed a bar window. They’re heading back to Osaka now. We’re tailing them to make sure they make the last train.”

  Nao’s eye twitched. “They’re still able to walk?”

  “We didn’t want to take it out of proportion.”

  “If any faction of the Korean mob steps foot in Kyoto, they need to be taught a lesson. Kyoto is the heart of Japan, and it will always belong to the Japanese. Do I have to do everything myself?”

  Nao hung up the phone.

  The Matsukawa wouldn’t allow another business to be ransacked by the hands of the Korean Mob. He’d show the Korean cockroaches what stepping foot into Kyoto meant.

  ♦●♦

  Each second on the train pumped more burning heat through Nao’s muscles. His thoughts flashed back to when the Korean mob had destroyed several of its historic shops, many of which had been owned for hundreds of years by the same family. The Koreans had gift wrapped his father’s eyes in a wine glass and delivered them to Matsukawa headquarters.

  Nao got off the train at Fujimoto’s ward and roamed the street for his prey. He found the group of three Koreans no more than a five-minute walk from the station. One was pissing on the side of a building while the other two laughed. The crest of the Blood Magnolias tattooed on their arms.

  “Hey, assholes! What the fuck are you doing in Kyoto?” Nao yelled.

  They cawed to each other like crows in their native tongue. Nao ran while they were distracted and leaped at the one pissing. Nao snatched the man’s necktie. The fabric bit into Nao’s palm as he wrapped it around his hand, digging the knot deeper into the man’s throat.

  The man’s eyes bulged from his head, which pleased Nao more. The quick yelps of panic washed a wave of pleasure through Nao. He lifted a fist high in the air and pounded it down across the Korean’s face, driving it down over and over again. All the pain in his arm disappeared.

  Korean gangsters entering Matsukawa territory needed to expect death.

  The two other men grabbed Nao’s arms and pulled him off. They were drunk, though, and with a quick maneuver of his body, Nao sent one slamming to the ground. Nao’s blood-soaked sleeve allowed him to snake his way out of the other’s grip. He grinned then kicked the Korean in the crotch.

  Nao’s breath came steadily. All his actions slowed, and he no longer had to think. Every cell in his body was made for the fight. He couldn’t escape from it, and the years denying the urges only sent them into overdrive.

  All three of the Koreans were on the ground. It was only a matter of deciding which one deserved to suffer the most by watching the others die first.

  “You disgusting cockroaches!” Nao yelled. “You destroyed Kyoto!”

  Nao kicked one of them, forcing him to wheeze out the air from his lungs. Perhaps sober they would’ve given Nao a decent fight, but they couldn’t even stand straight before Nao took his first swing.

  “You ready to die like the other Korean mob who dared to mess with this city?” Nao laughed.

  “Father Murata, be careful.” Fujimoto grabbed Nao, locking his arms to his sides.

  “What are you talking about? They came into our territory. They need to die!”

  Nao struggled against Fujimoto’s grip, but the hold locked his arms in place. He raised his foot up, ready to smash Fujimoto’s toes.

  “If you kill them, it will start another war,” Fujimoto said.

  All of Nao’s muscles slackened. A dull pain crept into where the adrenaline had flowed. A trickle of blood dripped down his fingertips.

  “Don’t you remember what happened when you went to Tokyo? You did a lot more, and they let you go. We can’t kill them just because they walked into our territory for a couple of drinks and broke a window.”

  The Koreans scrambled away. He couldn’t believe Fujimoto could let them go so easily.

  “Relax, Father Murata,” Fujimoto said. “We can deal with the fallout from this in the morning.”

  The Koreans became small dots on the horizon. Then someone Nao assumed to be the Matsukawa in charge of tailing them ran after. Nao pulled free of Fujimoto’s hold.

  He bowed. “I didn’t mean to cross—”

  “Forget it.” Nao jerked his hand, splattering blood on the ground next to the collection from the Korean men. He couldn’t do anything about it until tomorrow morning.

  “Let’s have Kurosawa drive you back to headquarters so you can get back to sleep.” Fujimoto looked around. “Where is he?”

  “Sleeping, hopefully.”

  “You went out without him?”

  It wasn’t like Nao could tell Fujimoto he’d been spying on Chen and his midnight chat with Sakai’s wife.

  Nao rubbed his neck. “You know, I wanted some dick, and Kurosawa would cramp my style. I’m sure you can understand.”

  Fujimoto laughed. “Having someone grumpy can ruin the whole party. I can drive you back. Don’t want you anywhere near that train station.”

  “They’ll make sure the scum find their way back to Osaka?”

  “Of course.”

  Nao looked off to the side and bit his lip to add to the act. “Can we keep this between us?”

  Fujimoto winked. “As sure as you could’ve knocked me out if you’d wanted to back there.”

  ON THE FIRST NIGHT of Obon, Nao dreamed.

  A matte darkness coated the world like the barrel of a gun. A smoky cedar aroma lingered in the air as Nao stood in the void. He took a step, but in the black, he could’ve taken a hundred steps, and still the view wouldn’t have changed.

  A steady clopping of hooves echoed behind him. Nao gulped and shut his eyes, delaying a few seconds longer who he knew he’d see. The hooves grew louder, pulsing in Nao’s ears to match the thrashing of his heart against his ribs.

  Then the hooves stopped, and a shiver crept down Nao’s spine.

  It didn’t matter if he closed his eyes because in every nightmare he’d had since becoming the godfather, he never got what he wanted.

  The green horse emerged from the darkness in front of him. Its nostrils flared and exhaled a green haze, and the cold mist wetted Nao’s face. Nao hugged himself, trying to keep control of his quivering body because he knew what was next.

  “Nao.” His father’s voice echoed in the void. “Look at me.”

  The horse stepped forward, its green hoof slamming down beside Nao’s toes. He tried to fight it, but the power of his father’s voice compelled him to look. His father stared back at him from atop the horse. The lines on his face showed the weight of being the Matsukawa godfather for twenty years. His eyes were missing, replaced with blood-stained, empty sockets. Despite having no eyes, he managed to look into Nao’s very being and exposed all the lies he had told while his father was alive.

  Nao’s lie pressed out of him and echoed in his skull. He had known who Saehyun was the first time he’d glimpsed the Korean’s chest and saw the tattoo. If Nao had told the family from the beginning, he would’ve prevented his father’s death and countless others.

  Nao’s chin quivered. “I-I didn’t mean—”

  “Why did you betray the Matsukawa?”

  The horse hooves landed closer to Nao’s feet as his father rode circles around him.

  “I didn’t know who he was.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  Nao tried to swallow his pain, but he knew that every Obon his father would come and expose the traitor he was.

  The horse charged Nao, knocking him to the ground.

  “How do you like it now?” Nao’s father said. “If you had told us from the beginning, you could’ve stayed a tea merchant.”

  Nao crawled away trying to escape his father in the void, but the horse matched
each of Nao’s frantic steps.

  “You brought this mess on yourself, Father Murata. That’s what they call you now while they scheme behind your back.” His father laughed.

  “I had no choice. I had no choice…”

  Nao clasped his hand over his ears as his father continued his jeers. Nao had been chosen to protect Kyoto. Even if he didn’t want it, the city had willed it. His body was no longer his so he had no choice but to do what the city commanded.

  “Everyone has a choice,” Saehyun’s voice echoed in Nao’s ear.

  Nao tried to keep his eyes shut, but they flew open at the sound of Saehyun’s voice. His teeth were stained with blood, and pieces of his intestines fell out of the wound in his stomach as he staggered toward Nao.

  “Saehyun,” Nao whispered.

  Pain swelled in Nao’s chest, and every breath became impossible. He wasn’t supposed to see Saehyun the night he’d stormed the safe house. Nao had warned him, but he had been stupid and refused to flee the city without him.

  “I knew you’d say you loved me one day,” Saehyun said.

  Nao shook his head. “I was lying.”

  Saehyun sank to his knees, and Nao looked away. Saehyun could’ve lived if he hadn’t been so stubborn.

  “You said you loved me so I would die smiling.” Saehyun wiped away one of the tears rolling down Nao’s cheek. “What part of that is not love?”

  The weight inside Nao lessened, and somehow, he could breathe again.

  “Come on, say it again.”

  Nao rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “I don’t. I can’t. Not after what you did to the city.”

  “I know you still love me. Why else did you keep the bracelet I gave you? Why is it under your pillow and not in the trash?”

  The weight returned, squeezing Nao’s lungs. The war had been all Saehyun’s fault. Nao wouldn’t have even reintroduced himself to the family if it hadn’t been for him. Nao had enjoyed each moment of his secluded life before meeting Saehyun.

  “Why didn’t you save me?”

  Nao flinched at Shinya’s voice.

  The tears flowed freely, blurring Nao’s vision. The scattered memories of Shinya Nao allowed to surface were never Shinya’s final hours, but tonight Nao knew that was how his lover would come to him.

  Shinya’s cold hand caressed Nao’s hand.

  “I’m so sorry,” Nao cried. “I tried. They held me down and put a knife to my neck.”

  They were all worthless excuses. There was no amount of atonement Nao could do to make up for his inability to save his lover’s life.

  Shinya grabbed at Nao’s hair. “Look at what they did to me!”

  Nao knew what he would see and flashed back to the worst night of his life. Not only had he let Shinya die, but he’d allowed him to be tortured first. He’d done nothing as they’d drugged the love of his life so much that Shinya didn’t even realize his final moments were upon him.

  It was all Nao’s fault, and even though he didn’t want to see, Shinya deserved his attention. He deserved Nao seeing what his failure had caused.

  Shinya was naked except for the blood and semen covering his inner thighs. Purple bruises in the shape of handprints outlined his hips and gripped his wrists. Nao let out a gurgled cry.

  “Why didn’t you save me?” Shinya pleaded, blood trickling down from the slit in his throat.

  “Because I wasn’t strong enough.”

  Nao reached out and pressed his hand over the bullet wound in Shinya’s chest. His erratic heartbeat thumped against Nao’s hand. Even underneath all the bruises and blood, Shinya was as beautiful as the first time Nao had seen him at the host club.

  Shinya’s icy hand covered Nao’s. “Then become stronger so you can protect the next person you’ll love.”

  “No! I can’t love anyone. I can’t with the city…”

  Shinya rolled his eyes. “Don’t be silly.”

  “I want to be with you. I miss you.”

  “You don’t have to anymore…”

  A loud purr drowned out the rest of what Shinya said. Then a sharp prick to his face woke him up with a startled scream.

  Nobu rubbed her head against his face and squeaked out a meow. A green mist seemed to linger in the air as the last essence of the dream faded away. He pulled Nobu to his chest.

  Footsteps echoed in the hallway, and then a shadow lingered outside, behind the door.

  “What do you want?” Nao yelled.

  The door slid open, but only a few inches.

  “Please forgive me, Father Murata,” Aki said, bowing his head to the floor. “I heard noises and wanted to make sure you weren’t in need of anything.”

  “I don’t know,” Nao said, more to himself than to Aki.

  Aki slid the door all the way and inched inside. Nao must’ve screamed loud enough to wake him since he was dressed in boxers.

  “Sometimes when I feel overwhelmed, I touch something.” Aki pressed his palm against the straw mat floor beside Nao’s feet. “I feel it and remind myself that it is real. That I am real.”

  “And what if you don’t want to remind yourself that you are real?”

  Aki pressed his lips together. “I’m happy to serve you any way you desire.”

  Nao let out a sigh. Aki made everything like an open invitation to sex.

  The sheets were damp, and the humid Kyoto summer still lingered in the air. Yet underneath the blanket, his skin flushed with goose bumps. He was freezing.

  The look in Aki’s eyes was of near worship. Aki shouldn’t care, not after everything Nao had done. Everyone he had ever loved had died, and if Nao allowed the spark to ignite in Aki, he would die as well. It was the city’s way of telling Nao that Kyoto was his only lover.

  “You don’t need to worry about me,” Nao said.

  Aki nodded but stayed. He would stay there until Nao told him to leave. For the first time since Nao had forced him to moan, Nao caught sight of more than Aki’s hands. The white blotches that graced his hands sprinkled his chest and patched his neck and face. Nao hadn’t noticed the difference on his face during the day. The blotches on the other parts of his body couldn’t be from using too many cleaning chemicals scrubbing the Matsukawa floors.

  “What happened?” Nao asked, pointed at Aki’s hands.

  “Nothing.”

  “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

  Aki closed his hands as if wanting to make them disappear. “I have vitiligo. It’s a skin condition.”

  The rough transition between the white and the rest of Aki’s pale skin tone captured Nao’s gaze. It was alluring in an exotic way. One of the blotches covered over one of Aki’s nipples while another was a dark sepia. The white one blended in except for the protruding nub.

  “Is it treatable?” Nao asked.

  “My parents tried when I was little, but it didn’t last. I’ve learned to accept it, but during the day I wear makeup and keep myself covered up so other people don’t have to see. They think I was burned or was in an accident. I don’t want to make others around me uncomfortable.”

  Perhaps Aki had joined the family because of the vitiligo. Nao hadn’t noticed it, but maybe in other jobs where the uniform wasn’t a jumpsuit, the condition was more apparent.

  Still Nao couldn’t let Aki fold his feelings into some beautiful crane. Nao’s love couldn’t be pretty or cherished. The city would never allow him the freedom to love another no matter how sincere Aki’s smile.

  “I’m sorry if I’m speaking out of turn, Father Murata,” Aki started. “Your bandages are bleeding again, and it looks like you’re getting a fever. I can change your bandage if you like, then perhaps call the doctor?”

  “Don’t speak so freely to me.”

  “I humbly apologize.” Aki’s formal apology spilled out of his lush lips.

  “Don’t disturb me when I’m sleeping ever again.”

  Aki opened his mouth but said nothing. He gave a bow and left.

  Nao sighed, and Nobu st
retched out, flexing her claws into Nao’s side. She glared at him with golden eyes and meowed.

  “I’m not going to let him get the wrong idea,” Nao said to her.

  She meowed again.

  “Maybe I should kick you out, too, if you’re going to be like that.”

  THE DOOR SLAMMING AGAINST the wooden frame woke Nao from his deep sleep.

  “You should be awake by now.” Kurosawa dropped a bag of bandages beside Nao then squatted beside him.

  “What time is it?” Nao asked.

  “I already told you, time for you to get up.”

  Nao rolled his eyes. The cat scurried out through the half-closed door. Some company she was when there was somewhere new to explore.

  Kurosawa grabbed Nao’s injured arm and pulled up the sleeve of his yukata robe. Nao swallowed, but his mouth stayed dry. He never had gotten around to changing the bandage last night.

  “It started bleeding again?”

  Nao shrugged. “I didn’t notice.”

  Kurosawa grunted and ripped off the gauze bandage against Nao’s skin. A halo of yellow pus mixed with the deep crimson of new blood over the layers of dried brown.

  “How did you make it to twenty-six without dying?” Kurosawa asked. “You can’t even remember to change a bandage. Half the time you don’t eat.”

  “I didn’t ask for your help.”

  Nao never asked, but Kurosawa always changed his bandages. The wound was in an awkward position, and Nao couldn’t get it cleaned with only one hand. He never minded the help, but today Kurosawa’s jerky movements made Nao frown.

  “How did you rip your stitches out this time?” Kurosawa rubbed his temple. “Never mind, I probably don’t want to know. I’ll make an appointment with the doctor for later today.”

  Nao narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  “No one can tell you what to do, can they?”

  Nao grabbed Kurosawa’s wrist. “I’m glad that fact has finally sunk into your thick skull.”

  Kurosawa’s eyes turned cold. It was clear he wanted to say more, but he kept his mouth closed. Nao let go of Kurosawa’s wrist, and he went back to bandaging Nao’s arm.