Tokyo Noir: The Complete First Season

by J. Scott Matthews

  “What, Masa? I’m sure that dickwad would be thrilled that someone actually wants to see him, but now’s not the time.”

  Tengu pulled Satoshi back away from the bouncer. “We’ll get him when the fight is over. Hang tight.”

  The announcer finished introducing the human giant in the ring and had just placed one hand on Masa’s shoulder.

  “And here! Here we have one of the finest fighters to ever grace the fighting pits! Masa!”

  The crowd went wild. There were loud cheers intermixed with equally loud boos. Apparently Masa was a divisive figure, even here.

  “Now we will see these two titans finally face off against one another, for personal glory, and the glory of Japan!”

  The booing faded, and only the cheering remained.

  “BEGIN!”

  As the announcer retreated to the side, the two combatants squared off and began circling. The giant moved slowly and methodically as he looked for an opening. Masa crackled and hummed like a ball of energy ready to explode. Against any normal fighter, Satoshi would assume Masa had the upper hand. But his opponent right now was enormous, with corded muscles that hinted at pure brute strength. He looked strong enough to end the fight the second Masa made a mistake.

  Satoshi had seen Masa fight plenty of times before, and he knew what to expect. Hell, he had taught him how to fight, or at least started the process. Masa’s fighting style was entirely his own creation by this point. It was hard to give it a name, exactly, but if pressed, Satoshi would describe it as “hyper-Silat.” With no formal training, Masa had combined what had worked for him over countless fights into a semi-cohesive style. It was aggressive, brutal, and devastatingly effective.

  The giant closed quickly and delivered a blow with surprising speed that Masa barely dodged. As the giant’s momentum carried him forward, Masa nimbly hooked a leg around his other shoulder and swung himself up onto the man’s back. There he delivered three quick blows to the head before jumping off when his opponent grabbed for him. He began circling around him again low to the ground, like a raptor.

  The giant charged. Masa feinted left, then dove right when the giant took the bait. He caught himself with his hands on the ground and launched himself back at the big man, delivering a quick kick to the side of the big man’s knee. The giant reeled and grunted in pain. Masa tried to sweep his leg but didn’t have the leverage to topple the other man. The giant grabbed for him on the ground, but Masa was able to flip on his back and piston upwards, catching the man in the face with the bony part of his knee.

  The giant stumbled back, enraged, before charging once more.

  “Fight’s over,” Tengu said appreciatively beside him. “Masa already won.”

  Satoshi had to agree. The big man was fighting in a blind rage. With his discipline gone, Masa just kept chipping away at him. He kept aiming blows at the side of the same knee, and taking headshots when it was safe.

  It turned into a bullfight. The big man was swinging wildly in the hopes of landing a fight-ending blow. Masa would dodge, then punish him for it with a surgical blow, until the man could barely stand on his one knee. At one point, he faltered and stumbled, going down to his knees. And with his head now roughly even with Masa’s, Masa went for the kill.

  He took a running start, dodged the man’s feeble attempt to grab him, and vaulted into the air as he brought his knee forward. It connected with the man’s face, sending him to the ground. The fight was over. The cheering and booing resumed. Masa turned around, smugly grinning up at the stands.

  The smile on his face died as he looked over and saw Satoshi striding out towards him.

  As soon as the fight ended, Satoshi shrugged off his overcoat and vaulted over the railing before Tengu could stop him.

  “Satoshi!” Tengu called after him.

  Satoshi barely heard him. Masa was right there, and he was going to end this now.

  “Ho-ho! What do we have here?” the announcer said, as he walked on after Satoshi. “Is that some yakuza scum I see sliming his way onto the field of battle?”

  Satoshi’s tattoo-covered arms sticking out of his white t-shirt clearly gave him away. He didn’t care. Masa just stood there, watching him approach. He had him now.

  “Let’s go, Masa,” he said. “I’m done with this.”

  Masa just smiled and shook his head. “Well, that’s too bad, because they’re just getting started with you.”

  Masa began walking off. Satoshi went to grab him, but the announcer got to Satoshi first. He pinned him from behind in a viselike headlock. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart,” the announcer hissed at him.

  “Do we have a patriot in the audience willing to fight for the glory of Mother Japan against this yakuza cancer?”

  The crowd’s frenzy grew to a fever pitch. Satoshi looked off to the side. Two men were scrambling to be the first through the gate.

  “Or two patriots!” the announcer said. “Even better! Let’s show this plague on society what honorable men think about these criminals drinking the blood of our countrymen!”

  Satoshi looked over. He saw the two men approaching as Tengu looked on uneasily from the entrance. And several rows up in the stands, he saw Masa looking on, his expression hard to read from this distance.

  As the announcer threw Satoshi to the ground, he cursed himself for his stupidity. He kept wishing Tengu would grab Masa, but realized there was little chance of getting him out of there even if they managed to get him. Besides, Satoshi had other problems to worry about now. The first of which was already throwing a punch his way.

  Satoshi sidestepped the blow easily and drove his fist into the man’s ribs. He instantly had to duck as the second man throw a wild haymaker his way. He came up this time with an elbow uppercut that caught the man hard in the gut, then quickly pivoted to avoid being grabbed by the first.

  They were clumsy and slow, more brawlers than experienced fighters. Satoshi flowed like liquid through their punches. But he wasn’t able to land many counterattacks. The fact that there were two of them cut down his response time to razor-thin margins. Suddenly, one of his attackers landed a blow to his forehead while he was focused on the other.

  Satoshi went sprawling. His vision blurred from the blow and the world faded out. He heard the men approaching before he could see them, so he hobbled back away from them. His vision returned somewhat, but everything was still indistinct. He saw the vague outline of one of the men as he threw a punch, but he couldn’t see precisely where it was coming from. He dodged, but the wind on his face from the man’s fist told him the punch had come close.

  He could hear cheering coming from a million miles away. And from somewhere closer, one of the men landed a blow to his ribs, then his chest, that sent him to the ground. He tried to half-walk, half-crawl away, but the other man was upon him now, kicking him as he attempted to get away. Satoshi threw a desperate uppercut that missed, receiving an off-kilter blow in the process that sent him to his knees.

  Satoshi’s vision blurred again as his head drooped. Sensations were floating up to him as if through a thick liquid. He could taste the dust of the ring around the blood in his mouth. The footfalls of the approaching fighters sent puffs of dust up with each step. The roar of the crowd vibrated in the small of his back, making his skin tingle and his hair stand on end.

  He looked up again to see the lights and rising tide of the crowd, but soon his vision swam out of focus. The image dissolved into the flash of light from the powerful stadium lights above. And as he waited for the final blow, all he could see was a dazzling radiance.

  Hisoka looked up at the harsh glare of the examination lamp. The light was bright to the point of blinding. She tried to reach up to push it away, but it was too far to reach. She slumped back, exhausted.

  “How about here?” the doctor asked as he pressed on another spot on her abdomen.

  “It hurts,” was all she managed to say as she winced.

  She couldn’t see him on the other
side of the screen. He was an older man with the harried, overworked manner of most emergency physicians. It was like he was trying to process her as quickly as possible so he could get on to the next patient. Not that she could blame him, but some warmth would have been appreciated.

  “Uh-huh. And how about here?”

  “There too.”

  “And here?”

  “It hurts everywhere.”

  “Okay. I’m going to ask you to spread your legs now.”

  She did as she was told while the doctor put on a glove.

  “And the bleeding, how long has that been going on?”

  “I’ve been getting spotting for about a week now. Not much. But today the bleeding was more intense.”

  “Uh-huh. And is that when the cramps started?”

  “Not started, got worse.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He fell silent then as he walked over. He pushed her legs further apart. Then she felt his finger slide into her. The lubricating jelly he had slathered on his gloved finger was cold and made her shudder.

  “Could you be gentler?”

  “Almost done here,” was his reply. “How does that feel?”

  “It hurts. Badly.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  When he finished, he threw the gloves in the trash and walked to where she could see him. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

  “I’ll be honest, Miss Namonai. I can’t find anything wrong physically.”

  “That can’t be. Isn’t there anything else you can do? Any tests?”

  “Frankly, I think you should just go home and get some rest. Take some Advil.”

  “No … something isn’t right here. Aren’t you even going to perform an ultrasound?”

  “Look, Miss Namonai, I know everyone thinks they’re an expert because they looked up their symptoms online. But I’m going to have to ask you to—”

  “I’m a nurse on a pediatric ward,” Hisoka said. She was breathing heavily now and having trouble talking. “And this is not nothing … in fact, my symptoms are consistent … with low-lying placenta or … or placental abruption, among other potential problems. I could … I could be in danger.”

  The doctor regarded her coolly. Then, without a word he picked up the phone on the wall and dialed three numbers.

  “Do you have anyone up there at this hour that can perform an ultrasound? You do? Okay, great. I have a patient down here on the emergency ward who needs one done ASAP. What’s that? No, possible pregnancy complications. Room 109. Great, thanks.”

  With that, he hung up, made a mark on her chart, and put it on the holder at the end of the bed. He left the room without another word.

  Still breathing heavily, Hisoka sat back. The pain was still intense, coming in waves now. Suddenly, a jolt of pain tore through her, and she hunched over on her side in the hospital bed.

  Something wasn’t right.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When it was Vasili’s turn to speak, he took a different tack. He approached the podium and stood there looking out at his fellow bosses for a few moments. Then he began to speak in a low bass rumble.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about death recently. Maybe is not surprising, there is killer on the loose in my territory. And lately I’ve seen more death than I care to—including two people who were close to me. Death has always been part of this business. Has been only constant over the years. I almost don’t even notice it anymore.

  “But I always wonder: what is it about a person that allows them to take a life? What is it about us that lets us deal in death without blinking? With just a word, we have the power to kill. Not everyone can do that. Psychologically, I mean. I do it without hesitation, when is necessary. But so too does this killer. Maybe we are more alike than I want to admit.

  “So now is new question on my mind: what separates us? I’ve done things worse than this killer. Or at least ordered worse things done. What makes me different? Maybe is not as much as I like to think.

  “I used to think people like us, who can take life so easily, were better somehow. Like we had some knowledge others didn’t. An understanding of the way the world really is, coupled with resolve to act accordingly. But I don’t think that anymore.

  “Because there is a savageness to it, one we share with this killer. It allows us to prey on others without feeling the remorse that should stop us. Is like we are less human. And I’m starting to think that we can’t just feed off others like this, like vampires. We can’t just suck the host dry.

  “I am thinking we need to be more strategic in how we use death, and violence. We can’t brush it off as just the ‘cost of doing business,’ or whatever. I think we need to think more carefully, not just slit throats first and ask questions later.

  “Because if we do that, we’re no better than this killer out on the streets now. Is just something to think about.”

  When Vasili finished, he was greeted by an overwhelming silence. Eriko was wheeled out to take the stage.

  “Thank you, Vasili, for those opening remarks from the high school ethics class you teach.”

  This got a good laugh from the assembled bosses. Eriko smiled and continued.

  “Now that we’ve heard your thoughts on murder and mortality, it’s only fitting that you should all have to gaze upon the grim visage of death. So let me just say: greetings!”

  This elicited a dark chuckle from many of the bosses. Vasili smiled. He had been hoping for a better response to his comments. Or any response at all.

  “I guess this is just my way of gently breaking the ice so that I can tell you what you’ve all already figured out: I’m dying.”

  This was greeted by protests and exaggerated denials from the assembly.

  “Quiet down! Quiet down! We all know it’s true. Now I know the question on everyone’s mind is who will succeed me. At least, considering how hard some of you were campaigning for the position tonight. Sorry to disappoint, but it won’t be settled tonight. Rather, I want to ask you all to a formal dinner next week, where we will discuss the matter of succession.

  “Now, if it were up to me, I’d make you all acting shacho. You’re all my children, special snowflakes who all deserve a gold star and yada yada …” Eriko trailed off in a wanking motion.

  “Damn. I can kind of see where Chobei gets it now,” Takabe whispered to Vasili.

  Eriko continued. “But while any one of you would make good leaders, one of you would make the best leader. And this organization will not settle for good, only the best. I’m still considering my options here.

  “Sorry to stroke you all up and then leave you hanging. But I’m afraid I have to defer my decision until the next time we meet. We will be having a formal dinner to discuss the matter, one week from today. You will all be here for it.”

  Eriko was clearly flagging. It used to be that she could drink and smoke most of her bosses under the table at all hours of the night (or the following morning). Now sitting upright for a few hours was enough to exhaust her. She looked haggard and drained just from the effort of speaking.

  “I will say this about the succession,” Eriko continued. “My decision will be final, and you will all abide by it. This is not a democracy, and this choice is not up for a vote. I’ve seen syndicates go that route before, and it never ends well. Each faction tries to kill members of the others, buy off votes, intimidate others … in short, it’s a mess.

  “We will not have that.

  “No. We may be outlaws, but we will comport ourselves like civilized barbarians. So my word will be final. Because we as an organization must all stand together, or else we shall fall apart. Think on that. Dismissed.”

  The bosses talked amongst themselves for a bit, then slowly began filtering out the door to their waiting cars.

  There was a jam at the door as they all tried to leave at once. Unfortunately, Vasili’s crew found themselves pressed up against Yoshii and his contingent.

  “Well said, Vasili,” Yoshii
said with a wry smile. “That was a bold ramble you delivered up there on … something or other. I couldn’t quite tell.”

  “Thank you, Yoshii. I can always count on you to not get point. And probably not the job of shacho.”

  “Well, either way, a free meal is a free meal. Oh, but just a word of caution, Vasili. She said it was a formal dinner, so remember to dress appropriately. Because unlike in Russia, in Japan track pants, a button-down shirt, and Timberland boots don’t count as formal wear.”

  This was greeted by harsh laughter and a few jeers, while Vasili just nodded and smiled. It wasn’t a bad joke, if he was being totally honest.

  “I will try to dress in formal wear that is more appropriate to Japan. I will have my people prepare my finest skirt.”

  The smile dropped from Yoshii’s face. “A hakama is not a skirt! It is a dignified and formal—”

  “Relax! Relax! Is just joke. You give it, you get it. Is how it goes.”

  “I don’t find you particularly amusing, Vasili,” Yoshii said. The humor was gone from his face now. “Never have.”

  “Is no problem. I feel like I am growing on you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  When the blow came, Satoshi could feel the brute force of it reverberating through his bones.

  But he didn’t feel the blow itself.

  He looked up to see the world swimming in slow motion, as if through a thick syrup. He saw the big man’s face exploding backwards and to the side, driven by a clenched fist. The owner of the fist soon came into view as Tengu’s momentum carried him through the blow. Satoshi’s vision dimmed again, but when it swam back into focus, Tengu was sitting on top of the other man’s chest, pummeling him as he lay prostrate on the ground. His fist flashed up and down, each upstroke sending streams of bright red blood backwards. Each time his fist connected, it sent a puff of dust up from the floor below the man’s head.

  Satoshi’s head cleared, ever so slightly, when he felt hands upon him, pulling him to his feet. Tengu’s face swam into focus. Satoshi saw the concerned look on his blood-streaked face from far away, as if through a long, dark tunnel.