The Yakuza Path: Better Than Suicide

by Amy Tasukada

  “The recruits cleaned out your apartment today,” Kurosawa said. “You want to put the books in this cramped room or your father’s home?”

  “I don’t ever want to go there.”

  If Nao’s father had kept the drug key in his office desk, what horrors would Nao find once he stepped foot into his father’s home? Nao would rather keep them buried for as long as possible.

  Kurosawa knotted the gauze wraps with a tight jerk of his wrist. “The least you could do is not fuck a new recruit at headquarters. It makes it uncomfortable for everyone.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Last night with Hisona.”

  “Hisona?” Nao blinked.

  “You don’t even know his name? The whole house could hear you screw him all night.”

  Hisona was much too forceful of a name and didn’t match Aki’s personality at all. So of course he’d forget it. Apparently Aki could act enough to keep the whole household convinced. With only four days left before jail time, Nao was bound to need Aki’s acting skills again.

  Nao grinned. “Aki really knew how to take it. Those recruits are so eager to please.”

  “If you want to fuck one, take them to a hotel.”

  Nao tried not to laugh at Kurosawa’s reddening face. If it was out of embarrassment or anger, Nao didn’t know, but either way he enjoyed it.

  “Taking the time to go to a hotel would’ve killed the mood.” Nao trailed a hand down his own neck to his collarbone. “Have you ever been with a man, Kurosawa? They know exactly what to do during a blowjob.”

  Kurosawa puffed out his cheeks. “Couldn’t you go back to the brothel?”

  “I thought you’d enjoy me staying in for once. Besides, you’re not in a position to talk to me this way.”

  Kurosawa gritted his t

  eeth. “What I’m doing is for the good of the Matsukawa as a whole.”

  “You should respect me more as the godfather of this syndicate.”

  “Someone has to tell you what everyone is thinking.”

  “Good thing they’re not speaking it because I’d punch them in the face. With you, I’m satisfied seeing you get demoted to cutting up dead bodies and burning the Matsukawa furnace once you’re replaced.”

  “I’ll be more than happy to do any task that benefits the family.”

  Nao laughed and grabbed his phone. He frowned; there were still no new messages from Kohta, which didn’t put him any closer to finding the dealer.

  “Fujimoto called last night about a disturbance in his ward.” Nao grinned. “I was in the middle of getting a blowjob, so I told him to handle it. I want to make sure Fujimoto wasn’t an idiot.”

  “You should eat breakfast first.”

  Nao stood. “I’m not hungry.”

  ♦●♦

  Nao stared out the car window while Kurosawa drove to Fujimoto’s ward. A month ago Nao would’ve been going to his teahouse to start his day of serving tea to customers and discussing the finer points of tea leaf oxidation.

  He used to keep a gun in his nightstand and take it out for the refreshing thought that he could end it when it became too much. He longed for those old times when he’d lived for himself because now he couldn’t pull the gun on himself anymore.

  Kurosawa came around the car and opened the door. Nao rubbed his sweaty palm on his pinstripe pants then stepped out of the car. Fujimoto greeted him with a low bow, and he caught sight of the inverted arrows of the Matsukawa crest on the thin strip of his cobalt-blue lapel. His eyes were clear, and Nao wondered how he could look so fresh when he had stayed up like Nao had.

  “This is the bar, I assume,” Nao said.

  The business stood a few meters from where Kurosawa had parked. A man was sweeping up shattered glass from the sidewalk in front. He was about Nao’s age, but his face was pocked with scars. Nao didn’t know him, but the lapel pin told him that he was part of the Matsukawa.

  Nao turned back to Fujimoto and asked, “Where’s the owner?”

  “Ikida is talking with him.”

  Nobody ever answered Nao’s questions. They always jumped ahead to what they thought he was going to ask next. Nao’s fingers curled into a fist. They were stepping on his toes.

  “Where is the owner,” Nao repeated.

  “He’s inside,” Fujimoto said. “Don’t worry, Ikida knows how to take care of things like this.”

  The glass cracked under Nao’s shoes. “So not only did the Blood Magnolias gain access into our territory, but they also smashed the window of a business under our control.”

  Fujimoto opened his mouth but then shut it. The fool remembered to keep their secret.

  “We’ll talk about this after I get done talking with the owner,” Nao said.

  Nao stepped into the bar. It could seat twenty, and the stools looked older than Nao.

  He bowed deeply to the owner. “I’m dreadfully sorry for what happened here. The Matsukawa will be happy to pay for the damages.”

  “Damn right, you will be!” The owner slammed his fist against the bar top. “I pay you because you can kick people out quicker than the police since half the time they don’t show up.”

  “I’m sorry.” Nao kept his bow low. “We will do everything in our power to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

  “And who are you?”

  Nao stood. “Nao Murata. I’m the newest godfather.”

  The owner rolled his eyes. “Great. Some high school delinquent is running the Matsukawa. No wonder this is happening. This place has been in my family for generations, and there was never an issue with the yakuza. That’s why I stood by the syndicate even while every business owner started going against them. I’m thinking I shouldn’t have rejected that sticker when it was offered to me.”

  Every nerve in Nao’s body twitched. The historic businesses had started handing out anti-yakuza stickers when the Korean mob had targeted their shops. One by one, the shops had turned their backs on the family because they couldn’t tell the difference between the Koreans who wanted to destroy them and the Matsukawa fighting to protect them.

  “Please, sir,” Nao said. “I pledge my word, this kind of thing will never happen again.”

  The owner laughed and it pierced Nao worse than the gunshot through his arm had. If citizens didn’t think the family could protect them, it would mean they’d lost all influence in the city.

  “Your word as a criminal?” the owner said. “I want the money for the window today.”

  Ikida reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. Nao snatched it and handed it to the owner. Judging by the thickness, it would pay for the window as well as a small facelift to the place. They weren’t paying for just the window, after all, but also for forgiveness.

  “It better not happen again.” The owner grabbed the envelope and put it in his pocket.

  Nao stepped out of the bar, passing Kurosawa, who was hovering in the doorframe, and walked straight to Fujimoto.

  “Who was in control of this block when the Blood Magnolias came and smashed the window?” Nao asked.

  Fujimoto jerked his head toward the guy sweeping. Nao’s heart pounded, but he swallowed back the adrenaline rush. He couldn’t attack every recruit, and while the ones in the house were directly under him, the moron sweeping was Fujimoto’s responsibility.

  “Punish him,” Nao said through clenched teeth.

  “He’s not getting paid for two weeks.”

  “That’s not enough. He should know how to maintain his block. The Korean mob is not allowed to step foot in Kyoto.”

  Fujimoto nodded. “What do you want him to do? Ask him to cut off his pinkie?”

  Nao bit the inside of his cheek. He wanted to say yes, but it wasn’t tradition anymore. Even when people defected, most yakuza let them off the hook without severing flesh. Some traditions couldn’t be kept alive even in Kyoto, but it still didn’t stop the fact Nao wanted it.

  Nao sighed. “Make him shave his head. Maybe his p
ride will take a hit enough to remember not to screw up again.”

  “Will do,” Fujimoto said.

  “I could blame you, too, Fujimoto, but you have a concussion. Next time you’ll pay.”

  “I understand, Father Murata. I won’t disappoint you again.”

  Fujimoto knew how to treat him with respect. Out of all the higher-ups, Fujimoto was the only one with direct knowledge of Nao’s full strength. Maybe if he took Sakai into the boxing ring, he’d listen, too.

  Ikida and Kurosawa were talking. Nao walked up to them, standing beside Ikida, and cleared his throat.

  “Sorry, Father Murata,” Ikida said. “When Fujimoto called this morning, I figured it was because you wanted me to deal with this.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, this is an act of war from the Blood Magnolias. If they want to continue the battle, we will do so.”

  “The situation sounded like some new recruits got carried away while drinking. Maybe they meant no real harm.”

  “They should have known better than to come into Matsukawa territory. If I have to go down to Osaka and slaughter every last one of them, I will make it my mission.”

  “Father Murata,” Kurosawa said. “By your logic, Tokyo should’ve started a war with us after you went there.”

  Kurosawa’s words bit into Nao’s core. He had gone to Tokyo with Shinya, which had turned into his lover’s last day on Earth. Nao took in a deep breath. The muscles in his hand twitched as if someone had squeezed it.

  Ikida smiled. “We can arrange a talk with the Blood Magnolia leader, Taejin. Then you can make sure the careless recruits pay the proper punishment.”

  “How can we get ahold of him?” Nao asked.

  “I can arrange it for us,” Ikida said. “I have his number.”

  Nao narrowed his eyes.

  “You have his number, too, Father Murata,” Kurosawa added.

  “How do I have Taejin’s number?”

  “I’m sure Sakai put it in there. It’s standard in case a situation like this happens.”

  Saehyun had described Taejin as the wolf in every wall because wherever his victim went he’d hunt him. The idea of Taejin having his number for midnight chats sent a chill down his spine.

  “You can set it up, Ikida,” Nao said. “I want to get this worked out as soon as possible.”

  Ikida walked a few feet away to make the call.

  First the drugs and then the Koreans crossing the border. Nao didn’t know what was worse. Maybe it was for the best. It had been a Korean drug mule in the suitcase, and Taejin could probably answer some of Nao’s questions if he was truthful.

  Ikida hung up the phone and walked over. “Taejin’s people say we can meet him in Osaka. It’ll be standard procedure. We won’t bring weapons, and they won’t either.”

  Nao narrowed his eyes. “It seems like the perfect opportunity for an ambush.”

  “That’s not the way it’s done.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past those Korean bastards.”

  “He said we need to do it now.”

  Nao hadn’t stepped foot outside of the city since that night, and in less than an hour, he’d be in Osaka with the family’s biggest enemy.

  “DON’T WORRY,” FUJIMOTO SAID from the front seat of the car. “We’ll go in, you talk to Taejin for a few minutes, and we’ll be back in Kyoto in less than an hour.”

  Sweat slicked Nao’s palms. Fujimoto’s words didn’t slow his rushing thoughts. The last time he’d left Kyoto had it turned into a bloodbath. Shinya’s gargled voice had begged for more even as blade had kissed his throat. Nao squeezed his eyes shut, but rather than the usual subtle death of darkness, crimson met him. Shinya’s blood sprayed out, and he turned to Nao. It wasn’t real.

  “You didn’t love me enough to save me,” Shinya’s words echoed in Nao’s head.

  Shinya’s icy hand caressed Nao’s throat and sent a chill down his skin.

  “Are you okay?” Ikida asked.

  Nao willed his eyes open amongst the red droplets blurring his vision, and Shinya disappeared

  “How many of these have you done?” Nao asked.

  “I’ve negotiated over twenty company mergers.”

  “So, you haven’t done anything like this before.”

  “Men can be at their worst when you’re talking about money.”

  Nao rolled his eyes. “Unless they pointed guns at you during negotiations, your experience won’t help.”

  Kurosawa drove through the weaving Osaka streets with such ease, but every turn churned Nao’s empty stomach. Kyoto’s streets were laid out in a grid to mimic a Chinese garden, and the mountains cut off any sprawling expansion. Osaka’s weaved in and out like a limp ramen noodle.

  Everything grew hot. Nao’s clothes itched his skin, and he wanted to shred them all for a yukata. If it hadn’t been for Saehyun and the other stupid Koreans, he would’ve been in his air-conditioned teahouse. The humidity had to be the worst it had been in years.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right I have no experience in this specific situation, but I won’t fail you,” Ikida said.

  Nao shook his head.

  “I know your mother isn’t doing well. It felt impossible when my father passed,” Nao said, “but I know you won’t let me down.”

  Ikida was supposed to be Nao’s right hand in all dealings with the Matsukawa, but because of his mother’s illness, they hadn’t bonded. Nao rubbed his palms against his pants and caught sight of the ring on Ikida’s finger.

  “You’re married?” Nao asked.

  “Wife and two children.”

  “That’s… nice.”

  Even the words Nao spoke sounded fake, but Ikida was double his age. He’d fathered children, and Nao doubted Ikida had ever killed a man before. There was no connection to build a bond over other than the respect of position.

  Their car stopped in front of a dim sum restaurant. A pair of stone lions guarded the entry. Kurosawa checked the surroundings before he opened Nao’s door. The sour air clung to Nao’s throat. He coughed as they entered the restaurant.

  A pair of Koreans greeted them, one in a zebra-striped shirt and the other in an equally garish red-and-yellow floral print. So no Korean knew how to dress, not just Saehyun.

  Nao sighed as Zebra patted him down for weapons. It wasn’t like the Matsukawa were getting the same courtesy of checking if the Blood Magnolias had hidden any weapons.

  “They’re good,” Zebra said.

  “I’ll tell Taejin it’s all good,” Floral replied. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  They spoke decent Japanese, but the few misplaced accents scraped across Nao’s ear like a dull switchblade. Floral disappeared into the back of the dimly lit restaurant while a hostess escorted everyone else to a round table with a pink tablecloth. A rotating tray with soy sauce, and a canister of chopsticks, sat in the middle of the table. Zebra sat on one side, while Nao and the rest of the Matsukawa sat opposite, leaving two seats open.

  The seconds ticked by while Kurosawa, Fujimoto, and even Ikida drank the tea a plump woman poured for them. Nao couldn’t believe their casualness. His toes curled in his shoes, and he tried to keep his anger in check. He didn’t need to start a fight. He only needed to make sure the wandering Korean recruits received punishment.

  A shockwave of pain shot up Nao’s arm as his fingers curled into a fist when the hostess put a menu in front of him like he was going to eat lunch, but everyone else marked up the paper menu. Shrimp dumplings, sticky rice in a lotus leaf, pork ribs… Nao swore Ikida asked what he wanted at some point.

  Floral opened the kitchen door, and Taejin entered. He looked like a dead tree, dressed in a black suit with a red tie. His lavender hair was like a bird’s nest, and a traditional fox mask covered his face.

  He’d worn a mask the mock them. There was no other explanation. Nao clenched his teeth.

  “The tea’s not to your liking?” Taejin asked, sitting in a chair. “Don’t worry, you owe me a debt. It
would be a missed opportunity if I poisoned you before it’s repaid.”

  Nao rolled his eyes. Koreans and their obsession with people owing them debts, like it had done Saehyun any good.

  “Thank you for allowing us to dine and discuss business today,” Ikida said.

  Ikida didn’t need to be nice to them. Nao shook his head. He needed to get back to Kyoto. He needed to get out—

  “I got the better end of that deal, right, Murata?” Taejin stretched out his arms. The red lines of the fox mask seemed to swirl under his cold eyes. “There I was, on a midnight drive in Kyoto, and I stumbled upon an ex-tea merchant. Now the Matsukawa godfather owes me a debt.”

  “Shut up,” Nao said.

  “That’s not very nice to say after I invited you here.”

  “Father Murata, please,” Ikida said under his breath.

  Nao leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms despite the pain. A metal cart rolled by and delivered over twenty small dishes. The aroma of deep-fried shrimp and pork filled the air. The steam curled around Nao’s nose but didn’t entice him to eat. Instead, he glared at Taejin in the ridiculous mask.

  “You know, I fucked Saehyun, too,” Taejin said. “Right before he plucked out your father’s eyes.”

  Nao gritted his teeth. “I don’t care.”

  “He said my cock was better.”

  Nao bolted out of his chair, and it thudded against the ground. He snatched the chop sticks and clutched them in a fist. “You want me to fucking poke out your eyes?”

  Zebra and Floral reached to their sides and pulled out guns. Kurosawa pushed Nao, toppling him to the ground.

  “Relax.” Taejin laughed and slid off the fox mask. “Murata here is too into traditions to ever go against an agreement.”

  Taejin’s gaze bore into Nao as if he was reaching into his lungs and squeezing the breath out of him.

  “Why do you have weapons!” Nao yelled.

  “You are in my territory. I can do what I want.”

  Ikida cleared his throat and picked up Nao’s chair. “Perhaps it would be best if we discuss what we agreed about on the phone.”

  Taejin laughed. “Why do you want to spoil all the fun, Ikida?”