The Yakuza Path: Better Than Suicide

by Amy Tasukada

  “We need to go to the mountains,” Nao said.

  “Going back to your roots? It’s like the old days all over again.”

  “If only being godfather was as easy.”

  Nakamura patted Nao’s shoulder. “Your heart’s in the right place. Everything else will come in time.”

  A slow smile crept across Nao’s face. After being released from juvenile detention, Nakamura had been his glorified babysitter, and Nao stayed by his side until he’d moved out on his own.

  Nakamura snapped his fingers and ordered Kohta to help carry the body into the plastic-wrap-covered trunk. He must’ve realized if Nao called it meant only one thing.

  With the body in the trunk, Nao and Kohta sat in the back while Nakamura drove to the mountains.

  Kohta’s leg continued to shake as they left the city and all the way through the forested hills. The paved road turned to gravel then patches of overgrown weeds and dirt.

  The cicadas humming overpowered all of Nao’s thought. He knew their song. He knew the scent of pine trees and could navigate the hidden path to the Matsukawa furnace with just the sliver of a crescent moon for light.

  At the top of the mountain, Nakamura turned off the engine. Nakamura made Kohta help take the body out of the trunk and propped it by the door. Nao watched with a smile, but then Nakamura headed back to the taxi.

  “You’re not going to stay and help?” Nao asked before Nakamura could shut the door.

  “I’m retired, remember? This’ll take a few hours so call me when you’re ready to go back down.”

  He shut the door and drove away, leaving Nao and Kohta next to a dilapidated barn with a chimney.

  Kohta sighed. “I guess this means I have to help.”

  “If you ever want to afford anything from Louis Valentino again you will.”

  “Louis Valentino?” Kohta stifled a laugh, but Nao’s glare quickly silenced him. “Okay, okay. You’re the boss. I get it. ‘Louis Valentino’ it is.”

  “Wait here, and I’ll turn on the generator.”

  “Like anyone could see in this darkness.”

  Nao trailed his hand along the weathered sides of the wooden barn. The hum of the cicadas’ song drowned out his thumping heart pounding in his ears, the familiarity of his actions wrapping around him like his favorite sleeping yukata. Everything he’d done since becoming the Matsukawa leader ripped at his muscles and haunted every thought with doubt.

  He flicked the switch to the generator, and it’s roar muffled the cicadas’ song. Nao made his way back to Kohta.

  “It’s creepy being alone with this guy,” Kohta said.

  “He’s already dead. Why would it be creepy?” Nao shrugged and entered the code to get into the building.

  “He might come back as a zombie, or his ghost would haunt us since he wasn’t given a proper funeral.”

  “Only relatives haunt you.”

  “But he might, too.”

  “Then you can say a few words when he burns.” Nao grabbed the cluster of plastic wrap covering the body and handed it to Kohta. “Help get him inside.”

  Nao held the door as Kohta pulled the body inside. His eyes widened once he saw the interior.

  The exterior of the Matsukawa furnace looked like a dilapidated barn, but the inside gleamed in stainless steel. Meat-processing machines ran along one of the walls, with a stainless steel table in the middle. The opening to the furnace itself lay flush against a wall while on the outside its smokestack appeared to be a fireplace. Metal cabinets lined the other wall, with a steel sink in the middle.

  Nao pulled out two plastic jackets from a cabinet and tossed one to Kohta.

  “Wouldn’t want to get blood on the brand,” Nao said.

  “Yeah…” Kohta put on the jacket and took a deep breath as he glanced to the body. “So… ah… we’re really doing this.”

  “Let’s be quick about it. Get him undressed, and then we can hack him up so he burns faster.”

  Nao opened another cabinet and gathered the other necessary items: gloves, goggles, and shoe protection for when the blood flew. The plastic wrap crinkled as Kohta unwrapped the body. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his arm and fumbled with the first button on the man’s shirt.

  They didn’t have time for Kohta’s shaking. Nao walked over and pushed a pair of scissors into his hand.

  “Cut them off. They’ll be burnt with everything else.” Nao cut up the man’s pant leg.

  “How can you be so calm?”

  “I’ve been breaking down bodies since I was thirteen.”

  Kohta’s mouth dropped. “Thirteen?”

  “Once released from the detention center, I lived at headquarters. They couldn’t have the godfather’s son scrubbing toilets. So they brought me along to help out. Here, lift him up and put him by the saw.”

  Even with Kohta’s shaking arms, he helped Nao lift the man to the body-length table which fed into a vertical saw.

  “So does doing this mean I have my foot in the door of becoming a yakuza?” Kohta gave a nervous laugh.

  “If you want to look at it that way.”

  Nao handed Kohta a pair of goggles before pulling a pair over his eyes and started the saw. With the whirl of the blade, the first initial resistance gave way and sliced through the man’s flesh and bones. An unexpected release of tension flooded every one of Nao’s muscles. He knew exactly what to do, from turning the body to get the perfect angle to sever the joints with ease to knowing where to stand to get the least blood spray.

  Kohta didn’t, and the blood sprayed across his body. He held his nose to the sharp stench of blood oozing out of the gaping wounds. The blade spun so fast it cooked the flesh around it.

  When Nao sliced through the man’s left arm, detaching it from the rest of his body, Nao couldn’t help but imagine himself on the table. If he had died like he had intended when he invaded the Korean headquarters, they would have dismembered him and put him in a similar furnace.

  Was it really better to be alive? He had less than a day to find a traitor or be the sole cause of the dismantling of the Matsukawa by some agreement with the Kyoto police. Perhaps his intended suicide was better than the eternal shame that would follow with his failure.

  Kohta gagged, distracting Nao from his thoughts. Kohta covered his mouth once Nao separated the other arm.

  “If you’re going to vomit, do it by the drain so it’s easier to clean,” Nao said.

  Kohta ran to the drain. The paper booties covering his shoes didn’t help the traction with the pooling blood, and he slid the last foot there.

  Nao had thrown up the first few times he’d watched Nakamura break down a body. Each time, the older yakuza had scolded him for not helping, but by age fifteen Nao could swallow back the bile that had pushed itself up his esophagus. Even that time when he was sixteen and someone had forgotten to refuel the generator, and Nakamura had handed Nao a hacksaw to do the job, he hadn’t throw up.

  Breaking down the rest of the body took a little under half an hour. Kohta would try to help, but would have to run to the drain a few minutes later. Nao couldn’t fault him for it.

  Nao arranged the body parts on the furnace tray along with the pile of the man’s clothes. Ash caked on Nao’s bloodied gloves as he pushed in the furnace tray. He turned it on then patted Kohta on his plastic-covered shoulder as he hovered by the drain.

  “You can help clean up,” Nao said.

  “I’ll throw up again.” Kohta tried to wipe the side of his mouth, but blood speckled his plastic sleeve.

  “You want to stay here longer? Give it a few minutes and it’ll start stinking in here.”

  Kohta gulped. “I’ll try.”

  The design of the room made for easy cleanup, but the job took a while. Kohta hosed down the room with a solution of bleach and water, while Nao cleaned off the machine and anything else they had touched. They cleaned off the plastic jackets and hung them up to dry beside the goggles and gloves.

  Kohta poi
nted to a machine beside the furnace. “What’s this for?”

  “Bones.” Nao walked over and turned it on. Two cylinders on the top jumped to life, turning in on themselves. “There’s going to be some bones not able to burn. Wrap them in a towel and smash them, then put the bits in here for grinding.”

  “You guys really make sure nothing’s left.”

  “We know how to not get caught. So make sure you remember to do this after the body is done. Double-check their teeth too.”

  “Teeth?”

  “To see if they have any gold fillings. Those can’t go inside or else people will find gold in their fertilizer and soon everyone’s poking the beehive.”

  Nao turned off the machine and opened it to look at the bone dust collected inside. Nakamura had once told him the ashes and bones were sold as fertilizer to rice farmers. Nao hadn’t believed him until Nakamura had bagged up a full container and driven them two hours outside the city to give it to a farming supply store.

  Nao glanced back to Kohta. His flushed face and bloodshot eyes made him look far from the polished prostitute Nao had picked from a catalogue. Kohta coughed and held his hand over his nose. The smell of burning flesh took a while to get used to; even then if Nao thought too much, his natural gag reflex would kick in, too.

  “Why don’t you get some air?” Nao said. “I’ll call Nakamura and meet you outside.”

  Kohta flashed a weary smile. “Thanks, boss.”

  Nao ducked into a far cabinet and grabbed an electric kettle and tea tin he had put there years ago. The plum oolong tea might’ve been a bit stale from age, but the airtight container made it not too bad. Tea might help Kohta calm his stomach if not his thoughts.

  Nao called Nakamura while the tea steeped and filled two cups with tea before heading out. The sun still hadn’t lit the sky, but the blackness of the night had lightened to gray while they were inside.

  Kohta’s cigarette burned in the night.

  “It’s not bad, all things considered.” Nao handed him one of the cups.

  “Thanks.” Kohta grabbed the cup but put the cigarette to his lips instead.

  “Got another one of those?”

  “It was my last one.” He took a long drag, then held it out. “We can share if you want.”

  Nao took the cigarette to his lips. The little shot of nicotine helped keep him focused. He would go to Chen’s once Nakamura came, and ask about the letter. Then he would find Fujimoto and bring up the key. Two hours had been wasted dealing with the body, but it delayed his jail sentence until midnight tonight.

  “I’m going to leave, but you need to stay and finish the job.”

  Kohta snorted. “I get to be the bone grinder.”

  “If any part of the body is found, the police have to call it a murder. Until then, it’s another missing person. So you need to do a good job.”

  “At least I know I won’t be arrested for murder.”

  Nao tapped off the cigarette. “If you want to be extra careful you could burn your clothes.”

  “With how much these cost?”

  “The clothes got you into this mess in the first place.”

  “How much do you make in the mob? You must get tons of ladies, too.” Kohta took a sip of tea. “You know what I mean.”

  “I guess some can find the underworld attractive.”

  “You know, I used to be a normal host. I thought the card tricks would get me more ladies, but they flocked to the ones with the best clothes and hair.”

  “See, maybe you should try men.”

  Kohta shook his head and took the cigarette offered him.

  “I took the loan with the Matsukawa since a bank wouldn’t. I thought the extra looks and better clothes would help. I got more clients, but not quick enough.” Kohta laughed. “Maybe I should’ve joined the mob in the first place, and it would’ve saved myself a lot of work and one less black eye. Next time I’ll know not to eat before I come.”

  Nao laughed. “You start off scrubbing toilets and cleaning the cat’s litter box. This comes after six months into the year-long apprenticeship.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.”

  Nao took one last drag from the cigarette and looked out at the city. Perhaps Kyoto had foiled his suicidal plans so he could find the cancer eating away at it.

  ALL THE HAIRS ON Nao’s skin pricked up, and he swallowed, trying to relieve his dry mouth. It failed, but he wouldn’t give up his search.

  Nao had tried to talk to Chen and Snaggletooth, but they both were conveniently gone when he’d arrived. Calling them proved futile as Chen didn’t answer, and Snaggletooth had left his phone at the safe house. Waiting for them would waste precious hours, so Nao had to call Kohta with instructions to watch the safe house when he was finished with the body.

  The next person on Nao’s short list was Fujimoto, who’d said he was at the gym when Nao called. The sun still hadn’t skimmed over the Kyoto mountains when Nao entered.

  Recruits from all over Kyoto packed the premises, trying to get a workout in before the start of their duties. Nao skimmed the room, and between someone jumping rope and another lifting hand weights, he found Fujimoto. He was punching a bag, with Aki holding it firm from his overexerted punches.

  Nao couldn’t help his gaze snapping a quick top-down glance over Aki. He wore a tight long-sleeve top and dark sweatpants. The clothes covered every bit of his skin, which only made Nao think about what Aki would do in the shower. Everyone would see his white, highlighted skin, so it would be futile to hide it.

  Fujimoto put in a final powerful punch to the bag before cleaning the sweat off his forehead with a neon-yellow towel.

  “Showing the newest gym member a thing or two,” Fujimoto said.

  Nao avoided any kind of eye contact with Aki and kept his full attention on Fujimoto. “I want to speak with you.”

  “Sure, what do you need, Father Murata?”

  “Alone.”

  Aki’s eyes, like his formal good-bye, were empty. He headed for the showers, and Nao cleared his throat.

  “When did Sakai speak with you about Miko’s home?” Nao asked, trying to remain vague.

  “A few days ago.”

  “What exactly did he say?”

  Fujimoto rubbed the back of his neck. “Pretty much what you said to me. How I’d be in charge of making sure it was clean.”

  Nao’s eyebrow rose. “Did he say anything about a key?”

  “Her home key? Yeah, I got that. Don’t worry. I sent a crew in there right when he told me.”

  “What about Miko’s office key?”

  “I only have her house key. Did the office have a lock?”

  Fujimoto’s upturned eyebrows told Nao everything. Fujimoto had no idea what Nao was talking about. Sakai hadn’t told him about the drugs. So Sakai wanted to either keep their contingency plan without his consent, or cover up the fact that the drugs had been taken to begin with.

  Nao smiled. “I think you’re losing some of that extra weight. You’ll have to buy new suits.”

  Fujimoto laughed. “Thanks, Father Murata. I’ll have to become friends with the tailor.”

  Nao would have to hint more about getting new suits or else he’d be stuck seeing the ultramodern monstrosities for the rest of his time as godfather.

  After nodding goodbye to Fujimoto, Nao whistled as he entered the white-tiled showers. Everyone greeted him formally, and then Nao told them to leave. They stared at him for a brief second before grabbing their towels and walking out wet and half-clothed.

  Nao grabbed Aki’s wrist to keep him in the steamy room while the last recruit left. Shampoo dripped down Aki’s damp hair, beaded along his chest, and then stopped at the towel hanging on sharp hip bones. Nao swallowed, hoping to push away the lingering question of how Aki’s skin appeared underneath the towel. Nao needed to see less of Aki, or else the question would drive him mad.

  Once the door shut behind the last recruits, Nao released his hold on Aki’s wrist, but Nao’s
fingers tingled at the loss. He stepped away, keeping a distance between them, and sat on one of the benches along the center of the room.

  Nao focused on the dripping showerhead as he spoke to Aki. “You put the books back without any trouble?”

  Aki nodded. “I took a picture before I took them.”

  “Did you get in trouble for sneaking out?”

  “I said you called for me. They realized I was honoring my duty to the family head.”

  Nao pressed his lips together. A pit in Nao’s stomach smoldered. Aki hadn’t brought up fulfilling desires; perhaps the kiss with Kohta had finally silenced them.

  “Have you fought before?” Nao asked. “If you have some experience, I can hurry along your apprenticeship and assign you a ward by the end of the month.”

  “A kid punched me once in elementary school.”

  “Oh?”

  “He wanted my milk.”

  Nao tried to hide his laugh but couldn’t. He imagined a five-year-old wide-eyed Aki sipping his milk at his desk only to have some bigger student punch him for it.

  “Did you punch him back?” Nao asked.

  “My nose started bleeding, and the teacher told me to go to the nurse.” Aki’s cheeks reddened.

  “So past fighting experience is a no. I’ll talk with them about lightening your household duties so you can get extra practice here.”

  Aki’s toes curled, but he said nothing. He would stay shivering and mostly naked until Nao dismissed him. Yet Aki knew Nao before he’d become godfather, and having him there reminded Nao of who he could be. He didn’t have to be a person so used to seeing intestines spill on the floor he no longer gagged.

  “Aki, I—”

  The shower door slammed opened.

  “There you are!” Kurosawa yelled. “I told you to go back to headquarters.”

  Nao sighed.

  “Chen and I were up all night searching for you!” Kurosawa continued. “I was convinced the police had grabbed you, but then Fujimoto called and said you were coming to see him.”

  So Fujimoto was to blame for giving away Nao’s location. He would have to set up some kind of punishment for him, perhaps make him burn his suits.