Tokyo Noir: The Complete First Season

by J. Scott Matthews

Shakily, she scratched her answers onto the form with the half-dried-out pen she was given, then sank back into her seat. Instinctively she moved her hand over, looking for Satoshi’s. Instead of finding it, her hand just closed over the hard wooden armrest of the chair. She squeezed it as tight as she could, the knuckles of her fist turning white.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The assembled bosses all began filtering towards a door at the end of the room, which brought them to the meeting room. It was a large space with two long tables running the length of it. The table surface was black marble, polished to a reflective sheen, with high-backed chairs arrayed around the outsides. At the far end of the room there was a small raised stage area with a podium. The walls and carpet were jet black, with crimson tapestries and banners hung along the windowless walls. If it weren’t for the bright stage lights, the room would look like a mausoleum. It still did to Vasili. But maybe only because he had seen so many people buried in it.

  The bosses took their usual places around the outside of the tables, with the two rows facing inward. Every boss was allotted time to bring their issues before the board. It was a time to alert the other members of the Kaisha to potential problems on the horizon, as well as to share status updates on each of the bosses’ territories and interests. Vasili hated this part of the proceedings.

  These usually involved a lot of chest-beating and exaggeration from the bosses about their own success. Vasili figured that this wasn’t purely a matter of empty boasting. It was probably designed to show one’s strength, and to guard against being cannibalized by the other bosses if they perceived someone as weak. Vasili hated this part of the proceedings.

  Eriko had tried to put a stop to the boasting time and again. She claimed that her need to know what was really going on with the organization trumped her bosses’ need for preening and dick measuring. This helped some, but not much. Japan had a long history of such problems in its corporate and government sectors. Vasili had even heard somewhere that in World War II, some midranking officers had discovered that Japan’s codes had been broken but hadn’t reported it for fear of losing face to their superiors. He didn’t know if it was true or not, but it wouldn’t surprise him at all if it was.

  “Alright, you know how this works by now. Let’s go down this table and then up that one,” she said, pointing to the other table to start. “Akiyama, start us off.”

  Vasili listened for a little bit, then tuned him out. He was interested to hear what was going on with the larger organization and the city beyond his domain. But by now he knew which bosses he could safely ignore.

  After Akiyama was finished droning came Yoshii. He was as blunt as ever.

  “What can I say? Pussy is always a hot commodity. Shinjuku is strong, with Kabukicho as its throbbing heart, so to speak. The ship pretty much sails itself. But I remain vigilant to ensure that we are not exposed to our enemies. I include not only the rival gangs looking to move in, but also the police and other destabilizing forces.” This was accompanied by a brief glance around the room that ended with him lingering on Vasili. “That’s all from me.”

  Matsuo was next.

  “Hey, look,” Takabe said, whispering to Vasili. “Matsuo’s coming next after Yoshii. Which I imagine is the order they follow in the bedroom!”

  Vasili smiled. “Such a gossip. Is that even true?”

  “Who cares? It’s funny.”

  Matsuo made a show of waiting for them to finish whispering before he began.

  “Construction is stronger than ever, and so is the Kaisha’s Chiba wing as a result! What with the ongoing construction of the Barrier and the recent start of work on the inner-city monorail, more money is flowing in than ever before. Not only do we have controlling stakes in two major cement manufacturers, but our interests in the steel and electricity industries are also humming along at full capacity. Not to mention the hauling, construction equipment, and waste disposal enterprises we operate, which are also working round the clock just to keep pace with demand.

  “But while Chiba construction is a powerful arm of the Kaisha, no body—no matter how strong—can survive without its head. As such, I would like to take this opportunity to thank Eriko once more for her steady leadership. Why, just recently, I had a disagreement with our own Vasili Loginovski, which she was kind enough to mediate for us. A strong body and a wise mind leading it make the Kaisha an unstoppable force!”

  This was greeted by raucous cheers from Yoshii and his other close cohorts, and a smattering of polite applause from the other bosses. Vasili had to hand it to him; that was well done. In less than a minute, he had announced his growing power and influence to the other bosses, sucked up to Eriko, and loudly declared his recent beef with Vasili. Now if anything untoward were to happen to Matsuo, suspicion would naturally fall on Vasili as the likely culprit. Well played indeed.

  On and on they went, through Yoshii’s faction and down the row. Vasili tuned in again when it was Fujita’s turn, as he had a healthy respect for the man. Fujita ascended the stage, looking tan, fit, and handsome as ever. He flashed his winning smile as he gave everyone in the room his politician’s wave.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I know I say it every time, but it is truly an honor and a privilege to find myself in such august company as—”

  He was temporarily drowned out by a chorus of boos and jeers. They had heard it all before.

  “Alright! Alright!” Fujita said jovially. “I’ll get on with it. As I’m sure the other sokaiya can tell you, business is absolutely amazing right now! I’m sure you’re all familiar with the GCBC trial making headlines. It’s got everyone in the financial and broader business world spooked, and more than willing to pay up if they think we can provide them with immunity from prosecution. We can’t, of course, but don’t tell them that. We barely have to look in their direction before they shower us with money to get us to go away and leave their books alone. It’s a great time to be a sokaiya!”

  Down the row they went. Chobei gave a characteristic confused and rambling speech about something or other. Vasili wasn’t listening. He didn’t tune back in again until it was Uchida’s turn. Vasili had only ever been vaguely aware of Uchida. But now that Takabe said she could be queen after Eriko, he felt like he should start paying attention.

  Uchida was the boss of Edogawa Ward. She was a relatively new addition to the organization’s roster, having won her place there by killing the ward’s former boss. In any other context this would not be tolerated, but Edogawa was now a different animal from the rest of Tokyo.

  Located right at the edge of Tokyo Bay, between the Sumida and Arakawa Rivers at an elevation slightly below sea level, Edogawa Ward has always been vulnerable to flooding. And during the Tokyo Bay earthquake and tsunami of 5/13, the area had been simply devastated. Whereas breakwaters to either side spared those wards from the worst of it, the low-lying regions of Edogawa had served as a funnel for the tsunami. A channel of water spanning roughly the breadth of the ward had sluiced through it, destroying most everything in its path.

  Since then, Edogawa had lost much of its access, as both its underground and aboveground rail lines were rendered inoperable. Many of its inhabitants were killed by the tsunami, and many of the survivors soon left because of the devastation. It descended into chaos. Street gangs, rival yakuza, and other desperate outlaws moved in and used it as a staging ground for their activities. The Kaisha’s former boss there, Yuhara, couldn’t keep them out and couldn’t keep the peace. So Uchida had dispatched him and taken over. Eriko allowed it because she was able to bring the region under control. Even at that, “under control” for Edogawa was essentially a state of barely contained anarchy.

  “I’m sure most of you know me by now. For those that don’t, I joined your ranks after Yuhara’s ‘mysterious disappearance.’”

  She said this last bit with air quotes and an exaggerated wink. This got a few chuckles and some scattered applause. Dark humor always played with this crowd.

&nbs
p; “I was acquitted of all charges, so you know it wasn’t me. Let’s hope he turns up.”

  More laughter.

  “Until that time, I will continue to oversee Edogawa in his stead. Call it a conservatorship, if you will. What can I say about Edogawa? We’re half-underwater, but keeping our heads up. And the police largely stay away from the region. Not surprising, since many call it the badlands, or the wastelands, of Tokyo.

  “But these names are unearned. For those with the right mindset, nerve, and risk tolerance, Edogawa is a gold mine. The people there are largely destitute, so my policy has been not to try to squeeze them via racketeering. We offer protection as a service for businesses that request it. But forcing it on too many would result in mass bankruptcies and impoverish the few people making money there. Maybe in a few years.

  “Where we truly shine is in offering a location to perform business away from the prying eyes of the law, or government. Stash houses, drug labs, remote armories, fighting rings, lately even venues for prostitution in some of the buildings we fixed up. Anything you want to do or want done out of the light, Edogawa has it. Lately we’ve even been offering the Vault. This is a secured storage facility for valuables—however you define that—deep in the heart of Edogawa that is heavily guarded day and night.

  “Many of you have partnered with us in Edogawa already, and are enjoying the security and discretion that we offer. For the rest of you, I would say—at the risk of sounding like a cheesy tourist video for our watery slice of hell—come on down to Edogawa, and see what it has to offer!”

  Next Nobunaga took the stage.

  “Chiyoda Ward is strong. For what it’s worth, we’ve still got the seat of the national government in Kasumigaseki. You know what they say—the city’s in a fog, but the government has always been in a fog.”

  “Again?” Eriko shouted from off to the side. “Every fucking time you use that joke. Get some new material!”

  “Sorry,” Nobunaga said.

  “It’s not even funny!” she protested.

  “Well, let’s agree to disagree. Anyway, there’s always a healthy profit to be made in organizing fundraisers, dinners, meet-and-greets, and so on for the political class. And in handling their dirty laundry and making sure certain problems go away. Also in providing services, procuring them certain party favors, making sure their dicks get sucked. You know, basic add-ons for the people who like to think they run things. Business has been good. Always pays to cater to the people with the money. And the power.

  “There’s only one thing that’s been seriously troubling me lately, and that is the Dark Army. They’ve been worming their way closer to the seat of power for quite some time now, riding on the backs of the Genyoto Party. At first it was small stuff. All of a sudden they were guarding this cabinet minister or that member of the Tokyo Metropolitan Assembly. Then, before you could blink, they were everywhere. Now you see them flanking every major politician at all times, RDP people included. Even ones who didn’t get security details before. I don’t like it.

  “There’s even a bill making its way through the National Diet that would further legitimize them. The negotiations are being held in closed sessions, but my sources tell me that it would expand their authority significantly, possibly even authorize them to use force. Like an extrajudicial police force, except one that’s only accountable to themselves.

  “I’m calling in every favor I can to try to block this. And we in the Kaisha at large must do everything we can to counter this. Historically, Japan has seen similar groups rise to power, though nothing to this extent. And traditionally they have soon been at our throats. Or at least since the recent schism. Their lofty rhetoric is usually about fighting crime, but behind the scenes, it comes down to competition over financial resources.

  “What’s more, the Genyoto and some of its allies in the smaller parties have been trying to pass one no-confidence vote after the other. None have succeeded yet, but if one eventually does the Prime Minister will have to dissolve the Cabinet and call an election. If it doesn't go the RDP’s way and they gain the upper hand, then I—we all—will see our influence diminished.”

  “You want us to campaign for the RDP?” someone shouted.

  When the laughter died, Nobunaga continued.

  “Not just yet. The RDP still has a tenuous hold on power, but there is widespread discontent over their mismanagement in Tokyo and beyond. So I would urge vigilance. If we cannot defeat them politically, the fight may soon come to the streets. Be ready.”

  Vasili waited until Nobunaga had sat back down to lean over Takabe’s seat and whisper to him. “You started with joke—that was good. Then you made everyone shit themselves. I think is customary after that to close with joke. No?”

  “Good. They should be afraid of these guys.”

  Takabe was next.

  “Land-sharking continues to turn a profit. Unsurprising, really, what with all the construction and turnover in land occurring now. Fluid circumstances are the best for wringing profits out of. And also, I’m really fucking good at what I do, so that helps.”

  This earned a few laughs from the assembled bosses.

  “But there is one concern that I must bring up. I’ve been hearing rumors lately of evil shit going down in my district. Disappearances, kidnappings, stories of people being dragged screaming down into the abandoned subway lines. The police are ignoring this for now because there are no bodies. But I fear that there are bodies, they’re just buried too deep underground to find. As you know, the main host of the Invited cult is located in the abandoned Tokyo Station found on my turf.

  “Mind you, I have nothing concrete on this yet—these are all just rumors. But I have found out the hard way that you ignore rumors at your peril. Because even the most insidious ones generally have a grain of truth to them. So I’m keeping an eye on the situation, for fear that it may deteriorate further.”

  “What do they want?” someone shouted from the back.

  Takabe shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. But I don’t like having such a large and potentially dangerous cult amassing at my gates. Especially when we have no idea what their endgame is. See me after if you know anything else. That’s all.”

  “I like you better when you’re cracking jokes,” Eriko said. “Alright, Vasili, you’re up.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  A single, trembling, blood-spattered fist was held aloft, then brought down again, and again.

  Each blow that landed on the downed man sent more blood spattering against the dust of the fighting pit. Finally, after far too long, the announcer stepped in and called the fight. The announcer held the victor’s hand aloft and declared him the winner. The loser was dragged from the center of the ring, leaving a streak of dark, muddied blood after him.

  Satoshi gazed around the arena. They were in Nippon Budokan, a popular site for sumo events and concerts. Once a month it set up the fighting pits to host the bloodsports at the Festival of Knives. The floor area had been converted to a large dirt pit where the combatants fought. It was roughly the size of a basketball court and surrounded by a wooden plywood barrier erected for the event. The panels contained nationalist slogans, the logo for the Genyoto Party, and ads for its various officials.

  Compared to the half-empty theater arena, the fighting pit was packed to bursting. The stands were full of people up to the very highest rafters, with the overflow standing in the stairways between the rows. The din produced by the crush of people in such a confined space was suffocating in its fury and intensity.

  “OUTSTANDING! SIMPLY OUTSTANDING!”

  The announcer’s voice boomed as he traipsed around center stage. He looked to be a beefy ex-military-type wearing combat fatigue pants and a tight-fitting tank top over his muscular torso. His bald head gleamed under the bright lights. He wore rose-tinted glasses, black hoop earrings, and a nose stud. As he went through his patter announcing the next fight, several stagehands were busy sprinkling loose sawdust over the bl
ood smeared on the ground.

  Satoshi leaned over to Tengu. “So … what’s the style here? Seems to be all over the place.”

  “Yeah. Looks like anything-goes MMA,” Tengu said, eyeing the next combatants as they took their starting positions. “That first fight seemed to be a Muay Thai fighter versus Krav Maga. That last fight was a Sambo guy who wiped the floor with what looked like Aikido or some bullshit. I mean, Aikido, seriously. That’s like bringing a pillow to a flamethrower-fight. So now with these guys—”

  “Hang on,” Satoshi said. He thought he had caught something on the other side of the arena. “There he is.”

  Satoshi pointed to a spot right against the barrier. Sure enough, there was Masa. He had wisely chosen to wear a long-sleeved shirt that covered his tattoos.

  “Let’s go,” Tengu said.

  They slowly pushed their way through the throng of people to the other side. Satoshi tried to keep an eye on Masa, but it was hard with the crowd all around them. By the time they got to where he had been standing by the gate, Masa was nowhere to be seen.

  “There.”

  Satoshi looked to where Tengu was pointing and saw Masa walking out towards the center of the arena. He walked next to a man who was nearly twice his size. When they reached the announcer, they each turned and faced a different direction, then bowed.

  “Your next gladiators salute you!” bellowed the announcer.

  Satoshi tried to push ahead towards the gate, but was stopped by an enormous bouncer.

  “Not yet, wait until you’re called,” the bouncer said.

  “I’m not here to fight.”

  “You’re not registered?” the bouncer asked.

  “No.”

  “Well, then, you ain’t going out there.” So saying, the big man shouted at the crowd pressing in around them. “I said step back!”

  “I don’t want to fight, I just want him,” Satoshi said, pointing towards Masa.