切抜く

happy birthday?

meme | accepting 🤝 + 38 …because you are running out of time.

He felt the slightly tension in the threads of his jacket, trying to stay him, having suddenly grabbed his arm. Any mistake of thinking that he allowed this would be punished, even if Mine did not at once snap his wrist out of that hold. 『 What do you mean? 』 A side-swept glance. Time, another moment–

『 Money can’t buy everything. 』 Truer words never spoken. However, before reaching and resonating even deeper within himself, he pressed on. 『 You’d best get going. 』

Okita little humors subtlety, both in his rampant thirst for conflict and in his begrudging obedience – not to Hijikata specifically, no, but to that order. Lucky fool. He may trounce about with his bloodied haori, sure, but the true demon among their ranks…? “Tch. You hearin’ right, or does he gotta get the dog out to sic ya?”

It’d spared him. The guy scrambles away at once, and Okita rises, blade groaning to his grip. He’s rankled! Riled! All of these talentless hacks!– “Damn near insultin’ us. Ain’t ‘bout to watch us lay down and take it.”

He has enough blood on his hands, Hijikata’s glance says suddenly, and sharpened for Okita himself. The decision to save his own blade to serve criminals, traitors and deserters, strengthens his hand. His keen look drifts.

Crowd has thinned out since watching Saitō’s fight. Since he has left an itch that wants scratching—Hijikata knows, Okita would go at it with his teeth were he let to. 『 You’ll lay as you are told, should that hurt your pride there is another path for you to take. 』 There isn’t time to let dissent be sown among them and not another spare life for their purpose. 

「 まさか神室町の地下に　こんな場所があったなんて……驚きです 」

meme | accepting🤝 + 51 → 31 …after a small rejection.

Political… his words were always too genial, for a yakuza. He didn’t shout; the blue and red that linked him and Kanda. A blue flame burned more hotly than the red, however. 『 No. 』 Mine hadn’t said a lot, stony face turned away from Majima.

東京　港区

“A lot of Takahashikai guys in the bay,” Tenji replied, a crease between his plucked eyebrows before he shook his head. The Takahashikai to which Sakurazawa and his cohorts belonged were tenuously allied with the Tojo, that much he knew, but as to the circumstances of that alliance, he was honestly ignorant. He had always assumed that said alliance was born of convenience - a way for the Tojo to stretch their influence down as far as Yokosuka without having to lift a finger. He’d never really thought about it before, and besides recognising family names that he had heard previously, probably couldn’t tell the difference between the organisations on sight. “Figured the Tojo had them to do the hard graft for them, I guess. More important things to do in town.”

This was, admittedly, Tenji’s first encounter with somebody he understood to be part of the Tojo’s brass. Mine didn’t dress like a man who liked getting his hands dirty, but there was something in the arch of his eyebrows which could slice a man from gut to gullet. It made the younger man nervous, bringing his shochu to his lips again - more of a gulp than a sip.

The clipped irritation in Mine’s voice sparked the whites of Tenji’s eyes again - this time with another sort of worry, although it wasn’t clear whether that was concern that he had upset his impromptu patron, or that he’d taken a faltering step in a brutish direction he hadn’t intended. His ego showed in his dithering - he was so wickedly desperate to be liked, even by those he scarcely knew. He couldn’t help it.

“I didn’t mean-.” Something caught in the back of the host’s throat, a grunt which bit back a faltering apology and rendered him silent instead. He closed his eyes once more, took a breath, and when he opened them again, made an attempt at looking something close to serene. His poker face left much to be desired. “… Would he want to see you?”

The Tōjō, perhaps, guarded themselves from reaching further in—he could appreciate Kashiwagi’s calm collectedness, and neither would he step in front of Daigo. But Mine hadn’t been quite truthful as for thoughts spent on Hamazaki; not only the Hakuhō-kai would benefit from whittling away a little at his grip on Yokohama, he was sure.

He glossed over the host’s stuttering answer. 『 He doesn’t know me. 』 Not to Mine’s detriment, convinced of his idea of Sakurazawa. It didn’t lessen the ambition set in his eyes. Even more, they stayed in Tenji’s reeling look.

Chairman. Right. Great. Fuck.

This was exactly the type of situation that Sakurazawa had told him to avoid. It couldn’t have been any more precise if the captain had described it himself and asked Tenji to roleplay squirming his way out of it. Tenji knew that name, although he had not had a face to put to it before — Mine was a businessman first and foremost, from what he had heard, weak fists, sharp wits, big earner. He chanced a glance at the other man’s hands. Manicured fingers, expensive watch, tailored suit - while the look was subdued by yakuza standards, Tenji knew quality when he saw it, particularly when it came to fashion.

The host seemed a little subdued all of a sudden, staring at the table between them rather than meeting Mine’s eye as he had before.

“I know he’s not the kind of man you’d want to cross.” Rumours abounded about the stern-faced yakuza - loudest of all being that he had changed, somehow, as of late. Although Tenji hadn’t known the man before this supposed shift in personality, he had quite a good idea of what had caused it - Sakurazawa’s darkest secret, as black as the ash on the underside of a crippled spoon. He shook his head, looking up to meet Mine’s eyes again as if he might find some answers there. “I didn’t think the Tojo were very interested in what happened in Yokohama.”

『 What made you think so? 』 Speculation and theorizing. He didn’t truly care for an answer. The Tōjō’s influence reached far outside Tokyo, deep into the Kanto region and further still. Not least to Mine’s recent credit; money could buy many things.

The suit he wore, the watch on his wrist. Tenji’s wasn’t the first keen look to be set on it, but the silence with it was other than awe, or even envy. Mine quirked a brow almost imperceptibly, and between distaste and curiosity.

Where Hamazaki’s namedrop bounced, Sakurazawa’s was a guided missile. The whites of Tenji’s eyes flashed in startled surprise.

“He-.” The host pulled his drink nearer himself and wrapped slender fingers around it, gaze downcast while he collected himself up again. Most days, Sakurazawa was a warning voice in his head, almost a cool phantasm. To hear somebody else speak his name was to know that he was more than a recent memory; it was to remember the heat of his hands, and the cold reality of Tenji’s own exile. “People talk about him just as much.” He scrunched up his nose in an attempt to feign a bleeding indifference. “Better face though. If I had to choose who to pour drinks for, I know which one I’d pick.”

Taking a sip of the clear liquid in his glass, Tenji licked his lips. The last contact he’d had with Sakurazawa had been weeks ago, and it was a searing SkyMail after which the older man had stopped replying. He wasn’t worried about Sakurazawa’s safety - it was his usual modus operandi. Lavish a person in attention and affection, just enough to leave them craving the next hit, and then disappear totally for weeks on end. Tenji had been burned by this cruel indifference before.

“Who are you?”

It was the response he’d longed for; withheld understanding that could barely be hidden. Hamazaki had it, too, but that wasn’t where Mine had wanted to spend his effort, time and money. He offered something to build upon,『 I should tell you, Hamazaki is no real concern of mine. 』 Not for a while yet.

But just like him, Sakurazawa had climbed—not out of his hometown, but far enough. Mine’s own hesitation had merely been a formality, after all.

『 I’m the chairman of the Tōjō Clan’s Hakuhō Association, 』 an answer that’d finally turn more ears and eyes, 『 Yoshitaka Mine. 』 The atmosphere didn’t suit handing out calling cards. It would have concluded his introduction in any business meeting, that’s how he held himself. 

“Shochu, then. I’ll pour you a glass. This is actually a pretty good one.” Holding out the hand towel again as if it might make a difference the second time, Tenji opened his mouth to respond to the first question and hesitated, a little hitch of breath catching in the back of his throat. Not precisely, no. He blinked slowly, clearly taking an extra few seconds to gather his thoughts before letting them free.

“I-.” He closed his mouth again with a hum, shutting away the opportunity for an educated guess. “You’ll have to tell me.” Whilst he did his best to stay out of yakuza business, his memory was sharp, and he’d heard plenty from the Yamanobu-gumi about those who played their cards in the big boys’ boardroom – not all of it complimentary. Dark eyes darted to the silver pin on the man’s chest, gleaming as prettily as his suit was pressed. Hakuho. He could recall Sakurazawa breathing the word with equal parts derision and admiration - jealousy was about the only look which suited him.

Tenji did a slightly better job of concealing his thoughts when it came to the next question, squinting his eyes and tilting his head curiously to one side. He debated feigning total ignorance before deciding that was a quick route to landing on his backside or worse.

“I’ve heard of him.” Yamanobu wasn’t a fan, if only due to the rumours that Hamazaki was in bed with the Triads. Pouring two glasses of clear spirits, Tenji presented one to the other man with both hands, setting it carefully on a coaster ahead of him. “Very popular man.” Popular topic of conversation, at any rate. “But if you’re looking for him, you’d be looking in the wrong place.”

『 I’m not looking for him, 』 If he were, it’d be easy to find him; Hamazaki had little reason to hide himself right now, much less the personality. Thinking of him, sitting with legs wide and with all too much importance bolstering his shoulders, Mine’s frown deepened a little further still.

There was the side-swept question of himself. He’d watched the other’s gaze fall down on the pin, knew that mystery and not-knowing was pressure. Mine was much subtler, and in some eyes, where anything but sheer brutality was a flaw, too much so. But one needn’t waste strength, if knowing where to aim to make a mark. 『 What about Sakurazawa, then? 』 Casual, cold and planned; had he more of a mind to reckless pride, he’d boast.