by Amy Tasukada
Nao took a step back and loosened his tie. “Keep it up until I come back.”
“Whatever you desire.”
Nao didn’t look back as he scaled the window. Outside, he could breathe again without thinking of Aki’s come-hither accent or the provocative way his lips moved. Detective Yamada was counting down the days to when he could lock Nao up for the drugs in Kyoto. There was no time to get caught up dealing with Aki’s misplaced affection.
Kohta’s shoes were back on Nao’s feet, and they would trade once they met up. Walking in his favorite boots would’ve made the journey to the train station more comfortable.
Once in Shima, with each step he took, Nao sensed a shuffling behind him. He put his hands in his pockets and glanced over his shoulder.
No one but ordinary people looking for a good time.
After a couple meters, the shuffling returned. If it was Kurosawa, he would’ve grabbed Nao and complained about him screwing Aki again and skipping out without him. It had to be the police or some lackey under orders from the traitor.
Nao ducked into a side street then joined a crowd of people. No one there seemed to want to follow Nao as he strolled down the block. The crowd came to a stop at a crosswalk. Nao’s nerve endings curled, sending a tingling down the back of his neck. Someone was following him. There was no doubt about it.
He squeezed his way to the front of the crosswalk then jumped into traffic. A car screeched to a stop while others blasted its horn. He zigzagged between the moving cars until he reached the other end of the street. The uneasiness began to lift as he shuffled into another crowd.
With a few more blocks of quick turns to make sure the tail lost him, Nao made it to the address Kohta had texted. The sky glowed neon, and the thumping bass from dueling clubs poured onto the street. With all the commotion, it would be easy to slip someone drugs unnoticed.
Nao glanced around trying to find Kohta’s wavy blond hair among the crowd. He better not have bailed.
“Hey,” Kohta called, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. “What took you so long?”
“I was tailed. I had to lose them.”
“So now I have to worry about being followed?”
“I said I lost them.”
Kohta sighed and tapped the ashes from his cigarette before taking another drag.
“Where’s the dealer?” Nao asked. “I told you to send me a photo.”
“It was too dark, so his face didn’t show. He was back this way.”
Kohta waved and Nao followed. They entered a white tiled breezeway between one building and another tucked behind. Kohta hovered outside the opening, smoke twirling from the cigarette.
“They do business in there?” Nao asked.
“Right next to the stairs.”
Nao peeked around the corner. “Where’s the dealer now?”
“It took you an hour to get here.”
“Are you saying you didn’t bother to follow him after you told me?”
Kohta shrugged. “They probably went to take a piss or something. He’ll be back.”
Nao shook his head, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice. The minutes passed, and Nao tapped his foot. Then his gaze caught Kohta’s shoes.
“Those aren’t my shoes,” Nao said.
Kohta squished his nose. “Why would I be wearing your shoes?”
“Because you stole them at the brothel.”
“I didn’t steal them. You let me have them.”
“To try on. Not to add to your shoe closet.”
“Your shoes didn’t go with my outfit.” Kohta tapped his cigarette and gestured with his hand. “This outfit is more ‘I got out of bed and threw this on but still look damn hot.’ Your boots give more of a bad boy ‘I slept with you, your best friend, and your sister’ vibe.”
Nao rubbed his temple trying to dissipate the forming headache. “I want my shoes back!”
“You act like you don’t own another pair of shoes.”
“And they don’t have an ‘I slept with your sister’ vibe because they’re my shoes and I wouldn’t do that.”
Kohta blew out a stream of smoke. “Do you want a cigarette or something, because you need to calm down.”
Nao shook his head. “You’re a jerk, you know.”
“You’re funny saying that when you’re the yakuza godfather.”
It would be easier to send an underling to buy another pair of shoes than to have Kohta explain his finer points of fashion every time Nao mentioned getting his boots back. It would look bad if word got out that the godfather to the Matsukawa had his shoes stolen by a prostitute.
“Next time remember to bring my shoes,” Nao said.
“Next time?” Kohta cocked his head. “I thought I was done. I found your drug dealer. That’s what you asked for.”
Nao laughed. “You think finding this spot is all you need to do to get out of the debt you owe us? So far you brought me to an empty pass-through.”
“Don’t call me a liar. This is the right spot,” Kohta said through clenched teeth. “He’s coming back.”
The next few minutes passed in silence.
A man dressed in jeans and a white shirt came into the breezeway. Nao took a step closer, hoping to get a better view, but then another person blocked the dealer’s face. They spoke for a few seconds, and then the dealer pulled out something from his pocket and palmed the cash offered to him.
Nao shook his head. “I can’t believe this.”
“I told you it was here.”
“I searched Shima for two days looking for the spot.”
Kohta shrugged. “I must be magic.”
“Like fuck you’re magic. All you do is sleight-of-hand card tricks.”
The dealer stepped into the light. His cropped red hair and large protruding nose became etched in Nao’s mind before he disappeared behind the shadow of the staircase.
“Where do you think he’s from?” Nao asked.
Kohta squinted. “America maybe? Westerners are known to deal drugs.”
Nao rolled his eyes as his stomach uncoiled. There were no Westerners in the Matsukawa. Nao needed to make sure they had absolutely no connection with any of the syndicate.
“How long have the drug deals been going on?” Nao asked.
“I don’t know.”
“But you see stuff. You talked about it like you knew what was going on. You knew who to ask.”
Kohta shrugged. “I guess it was a bit easier last month when the Korean mob was still around.”
Whoever was behind it was slowing down. A weight lifted off Nao’s chest.
“Look, there’s another one.” Kohta pointed.
Nao’s eyes widened. It was the snaggletooth who had greeted him at Chen’s place. Nao’s toes curled in his loaned shoes.
“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath.
“You know him?”
“Shut up.”
Snaggletooth gave a piece of paper to the Westerner. He looked at the paper before putting it in his pocket with a nod. No other words were exchanged, and the dealer didn’t pass anything to Snaggletooth. There was no avoiding it.
The Matsukawa were part of the deals.
Nao bit his lip. Maybe Snaggletooth was the only one involved.
“Go get the paper.” Nao pushed Kohta forward while Snaggletooth took the back exit.
“How?”
“You’re a magician—figure it out. If you don’t get it, consider yourself getting more black eyes because our agreement will be off.”
Nao shoved Kohta into the breezeway, not bothering to listen to any more protests. Nao needed to know what was written on the paper. Then it was a matter of figuring out if Snaggletooth was working for himself or with someone else.
Kohta went to the Westerner and chatted with him for a moment, but he only got some broken Japanese from the man. Kohta smashed his spent cigarette under his shoes and took out his wallet. Money was exchanged, and with a bump into the drug dealer’s shoulder, Kohta headed back
around the corner.
“You actually bought the drugs?” Nao said.
“What did you expect me to do? Go up to him and pretend I’m interested in practicing my English?” Kohta waved the drug packet in front of Nao’s face to punctuate his words.
Shinya’s rapist had done the same thing the first time he’d shot him full of drugs. Nao swallowed the memory of his lover and swatted Kohta’s hand out of his face.
“Throw that shit out and hand me the note.”
Kohta pulled out the note and handed it over. Nao recognized the Romanized letters but couldn’t decipher the meaning. He regretted not staying in school long enough to even recognize which Western language was neatly written on the page.
Nao held out the paper. “Is this English?”
“Maybe.”
“Do you know what it says?”
“I think that says ‘time’?”
Nao shook his head. Kohta wasn’t going to be any help.
“Do you know anyone who speaks English?” Nao asked. “Maybe one of the other workers at the bar?”
“Good students don’t really become whores.” Kohta pointed to a grouping of numbers. “I think this part has something to do with something.”
“You’re sure you don’t know anyone who speaks English?”
“It’s in my best interests to help you out.” Kohta rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t lie. I’d probably get my kneecaps broken if I did.”
English-speaking schools stayed open late to fit into busy student’s cram schedule. Nao could ask one of them to translate the note. He walked off.
Kohta cleared his throat. “What else do you want me to do?”
“You know the location of the ward’s safe house?”
“What worker in Shima doesn’t?”
“Watch it and tell me if anyone from the photo I sent you goes in or out.”
Kohta nodded. “I’ll take some magic pictures for you.”
PHONES WERE stupid.
If there was any doubt left in Nao’s mind about any positive advancement in phones, it had vanished within the last few hours. All the businesses teaching English were closed, and every online English translator he found sent back incomprehensible gibberish. All the advertising for a human translator required Nao to wait twenty-four hours, which he had no time for. Having the internet on his phone proved pointless if he couldn’t get the answer he needed.
He’d walked clear out of Shima and found himself on the cobblestone streets of the historic district. It was 3 a.m., and a misty drizzle rained down. The last day of Obon fell upon the city. The mountains surrounding Kyoto would have bonfires to guide the ancestors back to the underworld, but with all the rain, they might not even be able to light the fires.
The last day of Obon also meant only three days were left before Detective Yamada blamed all the drugs on Nao. At least he’d found out Snaggletooth had something to do with them. Yet even then, he could’ve been following orders from Chen or even someone above him. Nao wouldn’t put it past Sakai to go behind his back and sell the drugs to refill the Matsukawa coffers after the war.
If Sakai had decided drugs would offset the losses during the war, then it would be in the accounting books. In a few hours, Nao would meet with Sakai to see the different businesses the Matsukawa owned. Nao could look over the books then, but he didn’t know much about accounting beyond the basics he’d taught himself as a tea merchant. Sakai did say the accountant was having a birthday. Nao could plan something for him and take the books to someone who understood them.
Nao shook his head and curled his toes, stiff from four hours of walking. A few geiko scurried home on the abandoned street. Nao stopped, covering his mouth with his hand.
Yuiko knew English. She could translate the note.
Geiko were known for keeping secrets, so Nao could trust her. Yet strict rules with geisha culture had been laid out centuries ago. Men weren’t allowed in their houses, so if Nao visited Yuiko, she’d get in trouble with the mother of the house. In a way, geisha houses ran like the yakuza. Mother wasn’t Yuiko’s real mother but the mother of the house.
Nao straightened, ignoring his aching feet. There was no choice. He called on her for Kyoto, and she cared for the city, too. Yuiko would understand.
Perhaps the phone wasn’t too bad. Fan pages dedicated to geiko and geiko-in-training flourished on the internet. The geisha house Yuiko represented had been listed by her photo. Another search navigated Nao through the historic district and to Yuiko’s home.
Light filtered through each of the square windows on the second story of the wooden home. Outside a lattice entry hung a carved plaque displaying the geisha house name along with smaller slats for the resident within. Nao stepped inside the covered porch and rubbed the back of his neck.
He knocked on the door, and an older woman answered. Her braided gray hair was thrown over her shoulder, and the silver strands picked up the reds in her summer yukata robe. She glared at Nao and crossed her arms over her buxom chest.
“This is no place for men,” she said.
Nao’s shoulders rolled back, and he straightened his posture. “I need to speak with Yuiko.”
“If you want to see her, make an appointment at the teahouses.”
The woman shut the door, but Nao lurched forward and shoved his foot in the door. She pushed against the door, squashing Nao’s toes, but he didn’t move.
“Leave at once!”
“It’s important that I speak with her,” Nao said.
“I’ll slam your foot. Don’t think for a moment I won’t because of who you are.”
Nao ground his teeth. “I don’t have to go inside. I’ll stay outside, and she can talk from where you are.”
“Who’s at the door?” Yuiko’s voice came from down the hall.
“Nao Murata!” Nao yelled.
The old woman turned her head but kept her weight on the door. “Yuiko, get back to your room.”
“Mother, let him in.”
“I will not have you or this house’s reputation tainted by this…” Mother glanced back at Nao. “Criminal.”
From the foot-sized opening of the door, Yuiko smiled at Nao.
“Then I’ll go outside to talk with him.”
Yuiko clutched the door and pulled it open. Her white makeup gone, her skin was the color of milk tea. She stepped outside and shut the door behind her. The blue-and-golden fabric of her kimono shone underneath the porch light.
“Mr. Murata, please excuse my appearance. I was in the middle of changing.”
The door opened, and Nao’s eyes widened with the thought that Mother would snatch Yuiko, but she only stood there. Her face was completely red, and her brows were pulled together so tightly they drew a single line.
“Get inside before someone sees. I’ll make tea for your intruder.” With the curt words, Mother walked off.
Yuiko hid a small laugh behind her hand and then held out a pale-green-kimono-sleeved arm toward the door. “After you, Mr. Murata.”
“I didn’t mean to make Mother angry with you.”
Yuiko winked. “She’s bound to get angry at me for something or other. Things have changed since she was a geiko, and she doesn’t understand my reasoning for a lot of the things I do. This room should work for our talk.”
Sliding open the first door, Yuiko took Nao into a tatami-floored room with a black lacquered low table in the center.
“Yuiko, I need—” Nao started, but loud footsteps thumping on the ceiling interrupted him. Nao glanced up.
“Younger sisters,” Yuiko said. “Two others live in this house with me. I hope they don’t disturb you, but at least they’re not listening at the door.”
“Only two? This house looks like it could hold a dozen.”
“There’s fewer and fewer of us each year.”
Mother came in and delivered a tray of tea, her gaze shooting daggers at Nao. He smiled, hoping it would somehow lessen her anger.
“Oh, Mother, stop
worrying. No one will think we’re up to any nefarious deeds. Everyone knows Mr. Murata prefers men.”
Nao blinked. So even people not connected with the underworld knew his orientation. It must’ve been the reason why Yuiko didn’t mind breaking the rules about seeing him. As Mother left, her glance to Yuiko spoke volumes. Perhaps seeing Nao wasn’t the first rule she’d bent.
Yuiko poured a cup of green tea into a blue handleless cup and passed it to Nao. “What is it I can help you with?”
The note in Nao’s pocket burned against his thigh. Whatever was on it would help him, but it could also lead him to discover how hypocritical his father had been.
Nao cleared his throat and held the teacup in his hands. “I remember you mentioned you knew English.”
“Decided you want lessons after all?”
“Not today. I have a note I’d like you to translate.”
Nao slid the note to Yuiko. She picked it up and glanced over. Nao waited, taking a sip of the tea. The warm liquid soothed his throat but reminded him how exhausting hours of walking in someone else’s shoes could be.
While Yuiko looked over the note, Nao’s gaze drifted to a spot of white grease paint left on the side of her neck. She must’ve been taking off her makeup when he’d knocked. Didn’t Aki have a white patch of skin on the exact spot? Nao closed his eyes and conjured up the image of when Aki had woken him yesterday. The way the white spots covered the recruit’s skin captivated Nao. Would Aki’s prick be speckled white like the rest of his skin?
Nao forced his heavy eyelids open, putting an end to the lucid dream. It wasn’t the time to think about Aki. In fact, once the drug issue was over, Nao should graduate Aki so he couldn’t reside at headquarters anymore.
“This is an easy translation,” Yuiko said.
She put the note down and took two small sips of her tea. Nao waited for her to start, but she said nothing more. Was the note so damning she didn’t want to speak of it?
“I want to become friends with you, Mr. Murata,” Yuiko finally said.
Nao blinked. “What does being friends have to do with the note?”
“I told you there are less Japanese visiting the geisha teahouses each year. Only another Japanese person can truly understand my art,” Yuiko said, a gleam in her eyes. “If more anti-yakuza laws are passed, you will find some way to subvert them. If there’s another war, you will be the ones to create the black market the people will run to. No matter what happens, the yakuza will always have money. So I must admit I want to become your friend for purely artistic reasons.”