来いや!

A couple of weeks ago, you ran into an old schoolmate from your first high school. Takahashi… Well, Takahashi Something. He had pointed to himself, grinning with confidence that you'd remember him as the school's poster boy. The school’s popular, handsome basketball star. All you recalled were the lies he used to spread about you being an easy lay. Still, you nodded politely. He was nice and friendly, even presenting signs of actual decency, but then he started to talk about his life and job. Though he had griped about it at length, the take-away he wanted you to have was obvious: that he was a bachelor earning top salary at a top company, and that you should be impressed. Very impressed. You had seen this song and dance before. You had seen it many times before. Hey, why don't I take you out to dinner and we catch up from there? he finally said, after a long spiel of false humility. You quickly told him you had to leave. Thanks, but no thanks. You sighed wearily at the familiarity of it all then.

A memory of no consequence, but the point of it is that you've come a long way in guessing the intentions of men. Sometimes, you can even read the words forming behind their eyes, like lines off a book—it usually involves dinner and a quick stop at a love hotel. You find them to be no better at keeping their thoughts in their heads than a dog would with its drool. Well, not that you’re complaining. Because you know exactly what they will say, you will know exactly what to say. It's a useful skill.

But, now—

"I…" 

The man—this man—Kakuchō… He is a blank slate. To you and apparently even to himself, as he has yet to find another syllable to move on to. What really disturbs you, though, is that you too are searching for something to say. Every word you know is suddenly too inane to use, and you're left with nothing but the discomfort of uncertainty. It’s not like you to be witless. It's not like you at all. Can the surprise of meeting someone from your past really throw you off this much? But it certainly wasn’t the case with Takahashi, was it?

"I—I… It's been a while," he finally manages. Not the most meaningful way to break a silence of eight years, but it'll do. He appears rather embarrassed about not being cleverer.

You smile encouragingly. "Hasn't it? A lot has changed."

"You look… Good."

"Hm. If you'd said 'well', I would've disagreed."

"You would? Why?"

You study his eyes for a moment—so much interest, even though you've only remarked in jest! There he is, beneath the stony visage: that curious boy who had asked if you ditched school. Even cold, hard steel was once hot and tender. You briefly turn and pretend to examine the bottles on the shelf behind the bar, afraid that the growing warmth in your chest will show.

“I suppose I can be better,” is all you indulge. You then scan his build from head to toe. "You, on the other hand… Bonten, I see. My new boss. Think you can do it? Make my life better?"

Again, he considers in earnest. "I'll see what I can do."

"You take things pretty seriously, huh? I think I remember that about you."

"Well, I remember a lot about you. I've thought a lot about meeting you again."

Sweet words… It's easily gathered that Kakuchō is not a glib man. He means what he says, and perhaps that is why you're in lack of a response once more. You are no stranger to sincere proclamations of affection from sincere men, and have always manoeuvred them without much conscience. So, what is stopping you from throwing out another fickle reply now? You quickly realise that this hesitation to speak is the same one you'd felt as a girl, when he had asked if he could see you again all those years ago. 

"Sorry, that came out weird," Kakuchō admits when you take too long to respond. "You really helped me back then, and I never got the chance to pay you back. You—It's just something I think about."

Mama will shriek in panic if she is to catch sight of you now. What are you doing?! Utsu is not supposed to smile this much with a first-time customer! She's right, but at this moment, you don't find it to matter. 

"That has never been a problem to me at all. I didn't help you because I wanted something from you.” You make a small show of fingering his lapel and jokingly add: "But now that you're rich and powerful…"

Kakuchō gives a chuckle. “Come on, I mean it. Like you said, I'm a pretty serious guy. At least let me take you out to dinner."

You freeze. 

Ah…

That line.

That line again.

Suddenly, the ground is hard against the soles of your feet. Takahashi instinctively comes to mind: you cannot help but think of the glint in his eyes when he looked you up and down before asking if you had a free night. The same glint you've seen in all your clients, from Yamamoto-san to Ran. Are you expecting Kakuchō to be different? Can he really be different? His earnesty seems to suggest so, but still a fissure starts to form between your ribs. After all, this is a man you don't actually know. Shouldn't you take this fact more seriously?

In caution, you decide to tell him: "I'm not sure if I can do that."

"You aren't allowed to meet clients outside? I've never heard of a club with that rule," Kakuchō points out. You avoid dwelling on the implication that he's been to multiple clubs. The fissure grows. "Though, I'm not sure if I should count myself as a client…" he added as an afterthought under his breath. 

As you are about to reply, the twittering conversations around the lounge begin to wane, drawing your attention over Kakuchō's shoulder to the centre of the lounge. Just as well. You doubt you can bring yourself to decline his invitation a second time. But there is now a bigger issue to fixate on: the presence of two new figures in the room. One of them is a short young man with white hair you don't recognise, and the other—

"Tanida-sama." Mama shuffles over from the corner where Rindō has been lurking, slightly alarmed in the way a housewife would be if her husband came home earlier than expected. (She'd chew you out for using such an expression, but is that not the perfect comparison?) "You could've sent a message. I would've come to get you at the elevator, at least."

"Oh, don't mind it, Mama-san," Tanida waves a hand dismissively while the other picks an Old-Fashioned up from a waiter. "I know how busy you are today. Besides, I had the happy coincidence of running into Sano-kun at the lobby." He flashes a smile at the other man, who you surmise to be the head of Bonten.

Sound is not the only thing that Tanida has extinguished with his arrival. It's become hard to imagine that just a minute ago, the lounge was bright with giggles and cheer. Every hostess in it has stiffened her spine, sitting or standing with both heels square on the floor, hands either fixing stray hairs or clasped together demurely. Your shoulders too have grown tense and strained, and if it wasn't for a concerned glance from Kakuchō, you wouldn't have noticed how tightly your fingers are curling around the bartop's edge. Even Mama has stowed her pipe away in courtesy. Air is sinking over every one of you. No one in Murasaki is ever spared from the hesitation to breathe when the head of the Mara-kai comes around.

Tanida Yukio is a vision of terror. You're not one to scare easily, but he is horrifying to look at. His hair is still coarse and thick and strikingly black, combed cleanly away from a handsome, chiselled face. Men in their fifties tend to have loose flesh but there is only solid muscle filling out his suit. Vigour radiates from his tanned skin. Tanida has never looked better, appearing in all respects a man in his prime. What? Does that description not tell of something grotesque? Of some hideous abomination? But, it does. There is nothing more fearsome than a terrible man in power who is intent on staying in power. Tanida looks the same as he did three months ago when he sent you to a hotel with the Minister of Finance. He looks the same as he did six years ago when he first gazed down upon you. He looks the same as he did the night he left you crying on his bed. He looks the same, the same, the same. Tanida Yukio is unchanging.

This refusal to age, this obstinacy against the years. This vow of eternity… What can possibly be more monstrous? You'd really fucking like to know.

"Mikey…" you hear Kakuchō mutter. His vision darts between you and the silver-haired man, who's remained quiet and stoic all the while. You know better than to judge a book by its cover, but the paleness of his skin and lack of flesh on his bones are throwing you off. Perhaps this apparent frailty is what makes him so unnerving, because you can only deduce that he has something in his nature, something more terrifying than strength and power, that allows him to lord over beasts the likes of Ran and Sanzu. He glances over to Kakuchō, catching you in his line of sight, and for a brief moment you see that those inky black eyes of his seem to be, indeed, wholly adjusted to the dark.

"Sorry, I have to go," Kakuchō decides, turning stiff and grave. Only now does it occur to you that you've allowed his involvement in Bonten to completely fly over your head. A stone calcifies in your chest. Is Kakuchō different? Can he really be different? The question burns again, growing into a fire too hot. You'd have to be hollow between the ears if you must still wonder where he ranks in the organisation—nothing less than an executive title, from what you've seen of him. You know full well the kind of person who stands in such a position. Noone ever just falls into it. There were decisions that Kakuchō has made, acts he’s committed. All of them foul, no doubt about it. And to think: this he shares in common with men like the Haitani Brothers and Sanzu Haruchiyo!

You try to keep your voice level. “Well, duty must prevail.”

“But I want to speak with you more. Later. Is that okay?”

…Yet, it does not feel fair to paint him with the same black brush as the rest of them. The boy you tended to eight years ago was a delinquent who picked fights, yes, but there was nothing dark about him. Perhaps you are naïve to think that, deep down, he hasn't changed, but the way he is waiting for your answer tells you that you are right. That boy, Kakuchō—he is here now, standing right before you after all these years, isn't he?

“Okay,” you nod softly, hating how quick you are to give the benefit of doubt to a man.

Kakuchō breaks into a smile and—damn it—your heart skips at the thought of being the cause for it. “I'll see you later,” he says, like a promise, and you are made to wonder how you could have closed your door on him back then.

The space around you grows cold and vacant as Kakuchō makes for the centre of the room, where his other colleagues have congregated around a long, curved couch. You feel the stone in your chest again. Two of the men you cannot put names to: one with a large, clean scar down his right eye, and the blonde, goateed man who was fooling around with Rindō. They don't seat themselves before Sano does—unlike Kokonoi and Rindō who are already sunk deep into the plush cushion—but you can still tell they are top brass from their relaxed demeanour around Sanzu, who you know can be particular about manners and hierarchy. Ran, having just arrived at the lounge, slinks into the space beside his brother and sends a playful wave in your direction when you happen to meet his gaze. You stifle a shudder. 

Murasaki's VIP lounge is not small by any standards, but the room feels as if it has been entirely occupied by these men. The god Bonten in his crowning glory, come to create a new world! Such a presence has not been met by Mara before. Tanida's smile still rests easy on his lips, but you note that he has barely touched his drink. He could deal with the old fogeys from the Kawaguchi-gumi and the Sumiyama-kai in his sleep with their predictable greed, antiquated espousals of honour and literal decrepitude. But when it comes to these young upstarts, so hungry and unbounded by worthless moral codes, he'll find little footing to hold his ground on. At long last, he’s come to face a shadow as dark and vast as his.

And just how much of that shadow is cast by Kakuchō…? This question you can no longer ignore. As you watch him take his place beside Sano, like a blade returned to sheath, you realise that the answer is the one you've been fearing all along. 

On this night, the seventh night of the seventh month, seven years ago no less, Sano Manjirō crowned himself king. Every young punk in Tokyo bowed in the same direction that day. If any of them wasn't in fear or awe of the Invincible Mikey, then they weren't at the Battle of the Three Deities. 

Kakuchō was there. 

No empire is built without conquest, and no conquest is led without death. The dominion of Sano Manjirō began with the deaths of Terano South and Kawaragi Senju. In some capacity, Mikey himself was killed that day too. Kakuchō supposed it was the toll of greatness—Izana too had paid it for Tenjiku. But between the two, fate could only choose one to honour, and when Mikey raised his fist over his golden crown after the battle, it became vastly clear that the seat at the top was for him and no one else. Kakuchō could therefore hold no dispute when Sanzu declared it the start of Sano Manjirō's era. Perhaps he had known all along, ever since he first laid his eyes on Mikey at Yokohama Bay, that it’d been inevitable. He and many others had fought for South because even tyrant kings sat on the throne at some point in time, but when the fighting actually began, everybody could see that South was no king. He and Kawaragi were nothing but steps under Mikey's boots, rocks on the road at best. 

But Tanida Yukio is no mere rock. 

“Oi, fetch me a pen and paper,” Tanida nods to the mama after taking a long sweeping look at his guests. “Gotta get the autographs of this boy band for my daughter.”

The mama chuckles heartily with him, notably at the expense of her new bosses, and something guttural rises in Kakuchō’s chest. It's just as he thought: the mama has yet to let go of her affection for the old man… And yet, with the exception of Mocchi, the rest of his colleagues seem to be letting this perceived disrespect slide. The Haitani Brothers snicker as if in approval of the joke while Sanzu guffaws loudly and freely—in the way that he often does when he's ingested some kind of substance. Mikey, on the other hand, continues to hold the dead-straight stare he has on Tanida.

“I don't think we qualify as a boy band with this old man here messing up our jive,” Kokonoi jerks a thumb towards Takeomi, who stoically goes on to smoke his cigarette, “but sure, you can have our signatures. On the contract that is, if we have yours too. So, are you going to accept our terms?”

“My most valuable club for one of your streets to sell drugs on?” Tanida, still playful, cocks his head at Kokonoi. “Alright. I can live with that.”

“Shibuya takes, like, fifteen-percent of the drug market in Tokyo, grandpa. It's not just one of our streets.” Sanzu scoffs from Mikey’s side. “You'll be making so much more money off the meth junkies in Dōgenzaka than the whores in this place. If anything, we're the ones getting short-changed here—”

“What Sanzu means to say is that we'll gladly hand over one of our largest distribution channels to you if it’ll start us off on a mutually prosperous relationship.” Takeomi holds a hand up to interrupt Sanzu, who childishly grumbles under his breath at being spoken over—by his estranged brother no less. “And, for someone just getting into the drug trade, Shibuya will make you prosperous. The crowd there is young and reckless, large and transient. Those clubgoers and tourists will pay for and try anything they think will give them a good time. You can test out all your new products on them and they won't care much even if it's bad stock. A pretty good set-up, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, and the police presence there is a joke,” Mocchi chimes in, snorting. “Those kōban pigs in front of the Kadoebi Soapland are too busy going there themselves. They won't be giving you a hard time.”

“Always good to learn from someone with experience,” Tanida comments with a pointed glance at the rest of the younger Bonten members. “Indeed, we have been embarrassingly slow to enter the business of drugs—the old-fashioned generations before me are to blame, of course—and I agree that Shibuya is perhaps the best place to start our business pipeline. After all, youths are the future of our country, aren't they?” He appears rather chuffed by his own wry joke. 

Unlike the other yakuza leaders they have met, Tanida is not an aggressive man. He does not scowl and he does not snarl. Neither does he examine his nails when they talk, nor jerk his head at them and tell his wakagashira to get a load of the cocky little shits who think they've got it all figured out. It's not as if Tanida speaks to them gently, but he does speak to them with care. He nods and contemplates when they share their comments, asks them questions with the expectation of receiving insightful answers. Woos them with pleasantries while keeping a cautious distance. And yet, no matter how personable Tanida is determined to be, Kakuchō would rather work with any of the scowling, snarling stubborn old geezers. With them, he could at least see where their guns were pointed at, as opposed to the knife in Tanida’s sleeve that will inevitably make its way into their backs.

“Absolutely, Tanida-san,” Ran, who Kakuchō senses has been waiting to speak, follows up smoothly. “So, on that note, we take it you have no objections to leaving the future of your club to us, yes?” 

“Well, I can't say I have no objections at all…” Tanida trails off. “I built this place from the ground up, brick by brick. Murasaki is like a daughter I raised by hand. Surely, you can understand why it's hard for me to give her away?” 

“Oh, don't you worry. Rindō and I will take real good care of her. We already have all these ideas on how to do her up. It's time for daddy to lay back and let go, wouldn't you say?”

Only Ran can make a smirk look like a smile. It is bold of him to be so cheeky, but Tanida stays amused. 

“You know, Ran-kun, I should've told you when we first met,” he takes a beat to observe Ran before continuing, “but I've been hearing about you and your brother since you were little boys. Look at you two now, all grown up.”

 “Why, have you been feeling threatened?” 

“Feeling proud, in fact,” he says. “With all the tails you've been stepping on, I was surprised you could even live long enough to drink. Any day can be your last, you know?”

To that, Ran reaches for his glass of champagne on the table and clinks it lightly against Rindō's, then raises the drink to the older mob boss. Tanida is so delighted by the impish response that he bursts into chuckles. 

“I really do like you,” he says, shaking his finger at Ran. “I suppose that if anyone else is to run Murasaki, it’s best if you brothers do.” He returns the toast to Ran with his bourbon and both men down their alcohol together. 

Kakuchō would've scoffed if it wasn't inappropriate to do so. Of course the two slippery, facetious bastards would get along—though, he is glad to have Ran be more endearing to Tanida than not. It seems that they are finally heading towards a solid agreement now. Kakuchō draws a quiet breath and only realises then that he'd been holding it, almost as if he'd been waiting for permission from Tanida. Looking around the room, it seems that everyone, Bonten or Mara or the hostesses alike, is feeling the same way. 

“So, complete ownership of Murasaki, right?” Tanida makes a gesture to the bartender, and a couple of waiters work at gathering glasses. “Everything from the staff and the stock, down to our little casino in the basement?”

“Yes, if you would be so kind,” Ran replies. Then, in an uncharacteristically direct manner: “Most importantly, we want Mama-san and the girls to really be working for us.”

“Mama-san and the girls count as staff, you know?” Tanida teases, flagrantly skirting the point that Ran is trying to make. “Though, I believe that Mama-san works for no one but herself…” he adds, winking at the Mama beside him as he slides a hand onto her thigh. The Mama again humours him with laughter. She remains unflappably cool on the surface, but the fact that she's fished out her pipe reveals that there is some tension she has to relieve. “I’m a simple woman.” A long spew of smoke shoots out between her red lips. “I work for whoever pays me better.” 

Tanida shrugs. “What did I say?”

"Well, then," Ran says silkily, crossing his fingers over a knee, "I'll see to it that the first item on the agenda tomorrow is to discuss your bonus, Mama-san."

A waiter then arrives at the table between them to place clean glasses on it, as if setting them up for the conclusion of their deal. In Kakuchō's opinion, Ran should not be satisfied with that simple answer and ought to pursue the matter further, even if something does tell him there is truth in the Mama’s say on it. But he is also aware of the delicate harmony balancing in the air, which will no doubt tip and crash if they are to begin an interrogation, and so he can only count on Ran to be more cautious when he is dealing with the old fox as her boss.

“Though, there is a small, logistical issue with the girls…” 

This old son of a bitch… And there Tanida is, breaking it anyway. It must be intentional that he is only bringing up issues this late into their conversation, after so many discussions. Kakuchō detests that the old mob boss has them dangling off his every word. Sanzu and Ran and the rest of Bonten have been abrasive and demanding–and frankly, cocky—while Tanida is accommodating and courteous. But they have never been in control, have they? What does Tanida want now? 

“Woah, no need to look so worried. It's nothing big, really. More of a formality, in fact,” the old bastard tells them, holding a palm up. “Rest assured, the girls who work for Murasaki come with the club. They're all yours, they're under your paycheck. But there are a couple of girls working here that work for the Mara-kai and get paid out of our books, so technically they aren't really your employees.”

“Why the special arrangement for them?” Kokonoi crosses his arms. “Debtors to the Mara-kai?”

“Right on the nail, Kokonoi-kun. You know how it is," Tanida appeals. "For these girls, you boys will have to pay me their wages, and then I'll pay them their wages. That's the only difference between them and the other hostesses. Just think of it as a secondment of sorts.”

“Sounds reasonable enough. We can discuss the details another day.” 

“Like I said, just a logistical formality.”

“So, who are these girls?” Rindō questions, apparently having sobered up enough to be critical. “Depending on how much they fetch for the club, we may or may not have a problem with it. We don't want you to suddenly pull out the high-earners and put them somewhere else.”

“That’s of no concern. We don't earn as much money through them anywhere else. God knows we have with our other clubs for some of them,” Tanida explains. With his elbow hanging off the backrest of his couch, he turns around to scan the lounge, motioning for each girl he has in mind to step forward as soon as he spots them. If any of them appear to be hesitant, he'd have a Mara-kai lackey step towards them in warning. 

An odd, unpleasant feeling seizes Kakuchō’s chest when he sees that you are one of them.

“Hmm… I suppose a couple of them are heavy-hitters.” Tanida considers you and the other girls. “And if I'm not wrong, Rindō-kun, your brother has spent quite a lot on this one…” Then, of all people, he moves his hand to place it on your hip, patting it like a farmer might pat his prized cow. 

Kakuchō has long outgrown being a hot-head teenaged brawler and so he does not react immediately, but damn it, does he want to yell something in protest. It's not as if he had any time to ponder why you are working in a place like this since his conversation with you, but he had hoped that it'd at least been of your own free will. So, you were forced into it, huh? What sort of trouble did you get yourself into to end up under the Mara-kai's control? More pressingly, is there anything he can do to get you out of it? He wishes that you'd look up from the ground and face him instead. 

“What if we buy them off you? Then all the girls will belong to us, right?” The question slips out of Kakuchō before he could stop it. He can sense the mild surprise in the stares of his colleagues, especially Ran’s, which he concedes is only natural: he is never one to speak up when it comes to the red-light business, after all. Even Mikey is watching him closely now, and Kakuchō acknowledges the need to be more careful with his probing to avoid any more scrutiny. You make the pressure easy to ignore, however, when you finally turn your eyes to him in what seems like hope. 

“If you are to buy their debt off us, Kakuchō-kun, then, yes. There will be no need for that complicated payment system and they will be regular Murasaki employees,” Tanida answers, his sight flitting between you and Kakuchō. “Unfortunately, their debts are not on the table.” 

"Can they be, though?"

Tanida narrows his eyes. "Why are you so interested?"

Kakuchō doesn't gratify him with a reply, choosing to maintain his stern glare instead. In private, however, the straightforward question has sent him into a panic because there is no tenable reason he can give. Not without implicating you, at least. He almost breathes a sigh of relief when Ran leans forward to answer instead. “Utsu is second in the club, isn't she? I, for one, know what she is capable of, and I'm sure the other girls are not far off." Ran casts a wink your way, then switches up quickly on the playfulness to send Kakuchō a serious look. He supposes that Ran means to tell him to leave the discussion to him, but he fears he has also inferred that you are no stranger between them. "We only want the best talent for our business, and we will prefer it if there's a clean break."

“A clean break, huh? What, afraid that I'd still have a finger in your pie?” Tanida laughs. He flicks his wrist dismissively. “Just think of me as a minor investor with no say in your business. I promise you that Murasaki will not be affected in any way.”

“Won't you even toy with the idea, at least?”

“Let's just say that you can't afford it.” In a tone of finality, he sends you and the girls back where you came from.

The fact that Tanida has put his foot down on this one point should raise alarms for everyone. Clearly, you and the other debtors are of significant worth to him, and not just monetarily. Shouldn't Bonten be more cautious of this? Shouldn't Bonten fight to get the best out of this deal with the Mara-kai? Isn't that the whole point of this fucking meeting for them? If Ran isn't going to do something about it, then maybe he will—

“I'm tired of this negotiation.”

It is the first time Mikey has spoken since he's entered the room, and with that sentence he's left it quieter than it was before. Now, it seems that everyone is waiting on Mikey’s next words over Tanida's.

“If you say that it's no big deal, then it's no big deal.” Mikey glances briefly at Kakuchō and suddenly, all those urgent questions he had don't seem so urgent after all. Kakuchō's mind begins centering again and a sense of shame creeps in when he realises how uprooted he had been. That's right... He has forgotten his place. Mikey needs him to be Kakuchō of Bonten, who knows better than to meddle with the Haitani's area of business. He tightens the arms crossed over his chest and Mikey, now assured that his third-in-command is back in line, continues: “Whatever those four girls are worth, we'll deal with it. Their debts are none of our business. Is there anything else you want to bring up?” 

“No,” Tanida purses his lips and shakes his head. Even he looks to be a little more wary around Mikey. “Nothing else.”

“Then let's sign the contract. We've been dragging it long enough.”

“I agree," Tanida has the gall to say, being the main cause of delay. "Well then, let's wrap it up!” 

On cue, the bartender comes scurrying with a freshly corked bottle of champagne, which he perfunctorily presents around before pouring into the glasses laid out. Fulfilling his part, Kokonoi snaps his fingers and his assistant appears with a tray. Two pieces of embossed cardstock and two fountain pens can be found on it. “Well, negotiations are all about compromise, I guess,” Kokonoi sigh, as if to get one last remark in. 

There is not much to say about the signing itself. Months of work and potentially explosive discussions, and all they have to show for it are two sets of names: one in elegant calligraphy and the other in almost juvenile scribble. Kakuchō prevents another scoff from escaping. As if some pieces of paper and drops of ink are going to stop either organization from betraying the other… Even so, he appreciates the sense of relief that flooded the room when Tanida lifted the heavy Mara-kai seal off the contract. 

“Pleasure doing business with you boys,” Tanida drawls, raising a glass of champagne. He looks expectantly at Mikey when he notices that he is the only one who has not taken his drink off the table. Seeing this, Takeomi leans in to whisper into Mikey’s ear and when Mikey relents by picking the damn glass up, Kakuchō figures that the advice was to put up with the taste of alcohol for just this one occasion. He swallows his own drink when everyone else does.

At last, it is done.

There is a moment of stillness, which is, of course, promptly broken by Sanzu. “So, we gonna fuckin’ party or what now?”

“Well, I'll leave you all to enjoy your club,” Tanida laughs, standing up. “It kills me to say this, but my nights of partying have long been over. If my blood pressure doesn't kill me, my wife will. You boys have fun, just don't forget about Shibuya.” 

However, instead of heading straight for the door, Tanida proceeds to make rounds across the lounge, warmly shaking the hands of the waitstaff and hostesses, presumably thanking them for their service all these years. There is obviously some insidiuous intention behind this show because: come on, Tanida has no love for these people! Even the blind can see how terrified they are to be in the same room as him—he has never treated them well. They know better than to trust his pretty platitudes, and Bonten does too. It is suspicious how smoothly the night has gone for them, even with the small wrench that Tanida threw at the last minute. But, because they have absolutely no proof of whatever Tanida is planning, they have no choice but shake his hand and keep a lid on the questions for now. 

"She's all yours, boys." Tanida says to Ran and Rindō, patting them on their shoulders. The Mama, in true renegade fashion, has switched to stand on their side to bid Tanida goodbye. I won't see you off, she tells him, puff of smokes billowing. It's been a good run. Kakuchō wonders if there is an angle to her being so cold. Tanida waves for his guards and officers to leave, and only when there are more Bonten men than there are Mara does the air in the room feel easier to breathe. 

“Boy, he is who I want to be when I grow up,” Mocchi whistles, twisting his back in a stretch, earning a raised brow from Kakuchō. So much for not taking orders from that geezer on a cane... The blonde bull of a man pulls a new bottle of heavy liquor to him. “Hey, Ran, Rindō! Get to doing your damn job and bring the girls back here!”

The crude demand must have annoyed the brothers, who would've probably preferred to not being spoken to that way in front of their new employees. Nonetheless, Ran's signature smile does not budge and he stands up tall in the middle of the room, flicking against his champagne in a bid for attention. The men and women of Murasaki are quick to hush themselves, and a couple of hostesses can be seen nudging each other between suppressed giggles. Every one of them is understandably curious, even hopeful, about the new owners. Kakuchō breathes a sigh. Poor things, he thinks, watching Ran begin his speech. Little do they know that the only real difference between them and Tanida is age.

"Kakuchō, I want to leave." Mikey says abruptly. As his voice is soft and as listless as ever, the Haitani's speech can go on uninterrupted. The boss really has no taste for crowds and celebrations after all. It's not as if Kakuchō has been listening to the spiel anyway, and so he readily tends to Mikey. 

“Okay, I'll call you a car." He can feel Sanzu eyeing them from wherever he's slinked off to. "Give me a moment and I will send you—"

“No, you stay here with the rest of them. Who knows when you all will get a night off like this again.” Mikey says rather omniously. He waits until the Haitani's speech has reached its end with rounds of applause before staightening himself and adjusting the black cardigan he has on. Then, he rests a heavy hand on Kakuchō’s shoulder and whispers: “Whatever you had on your mind just now, you take the chance to sort it out.”

Kakuchō simply nods in response, and Mikey leaves the air between them cold and chilly. Can't say I didn't deserve that one, he admits to himself as he motions for men to accompany the boss out of the club. He just hopes that none of his other colleagues has picked up on how sloppy he had been with himself. He can't even imagine the hell that Sanzu will put him through if he is to catch even a whiff of it. Self-punishing has always been a word to describe Kakuchō, and so he is already thinking of ways to put himself through the wringer at the gym tomorrow. But first, Mikey is right. He needs to sort himself out, and now that the business with the Mara-kai is over, he can finally have the space to do so.

It doesn't take him long to find you, because he's made it a point to never look away again. There you are, by the bar where he left you. Kakuchō has always held contempt for the weak-minded men who'd unravel and forget themselves when a pretty girl comes into view. He's met plenty of them in his ranks and up till now, in his opinion, it has always been a problem of discipline. They simply lacked it. Weakness of the flesh, as the saying goes, and there's nothing quite as pathetic as weak men. 

Then he catches your eyes, and when you smile and begin to walk towards him, he realises that those men never stood a chance. 

But the crash doesn't come, because you are now gliding past Kakuchō without so much as a glance.

“Nikaidō,” he starts, stepping forward, eager to close the distance, eager to pick up where you two left off. You are getting closer and closer, just not fast enough.

People who have been struck by cars? He imagines that this is what they must've felt before impact...

What kind of man is Kakuchō of Bonten?

It is not in your nature to sit around, shaking your legs in wait for an answer, when there is something you desperately want to know. You were certain that the awful twisting in your guts will not go away until you have reached a conclusion, and so, while Tanida was off teasing the Bonten leaders for being young and pretty, you sidled up to Koremitsu when he came bearing bottles of Dom Perignon. You quickly learned that Kakuchō of Bonten sits right below Sanzu on the hierarchy, that he was a hired hand when Bonten needed money. That Kakuchō of Bonten was the chief reason behind all those bodies during the gang wars several years back, young or old, civilian or otherwise. That was all you learned from that toady git Koremitsu and it should've been enough, but the sick feeling didn't go away. If anything, it got worse. 

And that was because you didn't know enough to know, right? You couldn't base your judgement of Kakuchō on hearsay. No one but Kakuchō would know what he thought of the lives he's paid to take. It's kill or be killed in his line of business, and he just happened to draw the quicker gun. You'd just have to wait for a chance to talk to him and find out. 

Then, he just had to go and answer it for you.

“What if we buy them off you? Then all the girls will belong to us, right?”

Ah… So Kakuchō of Bonten is the kind of man to speak about people that way. People like you. The same kind of man as the one sitting next to you, patting your hip as if you are livestock.

But, still, the sickness doesn't go away. 

As you stare at the cold, stern man sitting on the opposite side of the table, you arrive at the epiphany that you already know what kind of man he is. Kakuchō of Bonten can only be the kind of man that Kakuchō of Bonten is. What you should have asked yourself is this: what kind of man is Kakuchō? What kind of man is the one who told you he'd see you later at the bar? The one that the boy from eight years ago had grown up to be? 

And once you have asked yourself the right questions, you realise there is only one answer: they are all the same man.  

Only then does the sickness clear up. And when you reflect on the past hour, you think of that fool Atsuko and all the hopes and dreams and funny ideas she had let herself believe about Shō-kun. Then, you think of how you are no different from her and fucking Shō-kun and you are left with nothing but shame and disgust for yourself. Man... You huff to stop your prickling eyes from leaking, are you a fucking idiot. You hate to be dramatic, but desperate times call for desperate measures and you must vow to never feel this way again, and so you resolve to be strangers once more with the man with the scarred eye.  

"Let's just say you can't afford it," you hear Tanida say, and you don't hesitate to leave when he dismisses you and the other girls in debt. It is funny that Tanida should say that because as far as you know, an organization like Bonten will not even flinch at a debt like yours. But as Tanida has made it clear, there is nothing they can do. Nothing that Kakuchō nor even Ran can do. In the end, nothing has changed. The debt is only yours to bear, and the sooner you pay it off, the sooner you can get out of this hellhole. You've been getting close to the three-million, anyway. It's just a matter of surviving Murasaki's new management till you get there.   

"Yua," a smooth baritone calls out to you, and you nearly jump when you see Tanida standing before you. He envelops your hands in his and smiles like some proud father. "You've done well for yourself. Two executives in the palm of your hand, huh? Do what you will with that kind of power." Your blood runs cold at the touch of this sick man. He leans in to whisper in your ear and you are once again brought to the verge of tears. "Once I have the meth kitchens set up, I will need you to talk to the Chinese for me again." You swallow your spit and nod. Tanida touches your cheek in mock affection before leaving for the next hostess to speak to on his fake goodbye tour, and only when he is five bodies away do you begin to breathe again. 

Your job... You have to do your job and get the fucking money...

You quickly wipe the tear escaping down your cheek and blink the rest away. When your vision clears, you notice that Haitani Ran is the first thing you see. He is occupying the space in the centre of the room, brother already piss-drunk at his side, surrounded by your colleagues who are listening attentively to some nonsense speech he has prepared. For some of them, it is probably their first time meeting him, and you do not miss the admiring gazes they have for him. You scoff in pity at them. Tanida, too, had been handsome and charismatic. Don't they learn?

Rindō ends the speech eloquently for Ran by whooping and telling everyone to go crazy. You wait until the crowd around them has thinned out before grabbing a random drink off the bar counter and downing whatever it held in one gulp. You suppose you are glad that your job often involves alcohol, because you'd really rather not be sober if you must deal with Ran. You put your game face on and, when you feel ready enough, begin for the center of the room where Ran is.

Then, Kakuchō steps into view and suddenly he is all you can see.

Two executives in the palm of your hand, huh? Tanida's voice rings and you are cold again. 

No...

Your job. You have to do your fucking job.

You walk right past Kakuchō, and knowing you'd falter if you are to see the look on his face, you make sure to keep your eyes straight on Ran.

“Utsu!” The man of the hour exclaims when you join the gaggle of hostesses still flocking around him. You suppose that he's piqued even more of their interest now that he's the handsome, new, age-appropriate boss. Your arrival seems to bring dismay to your colleagues, who take it as their cue to leave—Ran is originally your client, after all. They have enough grace about it now, but you suspect that they're already planning out the lies about you to tell Ran in the coming weeks. But, that is a headache for another day.

“Congratulations, Haitani-san. That was a wonderful speech," you tell him fawningly, even though you cannot recall a single word he's said to save your life.  

"Was it, now?" he smiles, studying your eyes. "What was your favourite part?"

This fucking guy... You attempt to distract him from an answer by running your hands all over his forearms as you hold onto his bicep, almost rolling your eyes when it seems to work. "I hope that your fancy new title doesn't change things between us."  

“Why, I was hoping that it'd bring us closer,” Ran replies, ever the smooth bastard. "It's occured to me tonight that there is a lot about you that I don't know.”

"Didn't you say you like the mystery?"

"Yes, but solving it is part of the fun."

Just like that, the nausea you had fought so hard against has come back. 

“Nikaidō.” 

And now, to make everything worse… You curse inside at the familiar voice. 

“Kakuchō!” Ran greets happily. He slips his arm out of your grasp to smother your shoulders with it. The position forces you to face Kakuchō head on, and you have no choice but to keep your smile no matter how exhausting it is. “Let me introduce—Wait a minute. Do you already know each other?” 

Even though he's asked that, you know from Ran's shit-eating grin that he's already figured that out at some point before. 

"We met briefly when we were younger,” Kakuchō summarises tersely. He seems restless and distracted, and you deduce that Ran’s arm over you has something to do with it. “Look, can I talk to Nikaidō for a bit?”

Ran shrugs, deferring the answer to you. You're trying not to care, but you cannot help but wonder about their relationship. The delight that Ran had when Kakuchō approached him suggests they are more than colleagues, though you doubt that Ran sees him the way he does Sanzu. You consider the way the two men are waiting for your reply, and even though Ran is being cooler about it than Kakuchō, it is not lost on you that he is just as expectant. In the palm of my hand, huh...? Perhaps if you play your cards right, you can use their relationship to rid them of, modesty be damned, their affection for you. 

“Now is not a good time...” you decide, lightly leaning into Ran. You get the sense that he is thrilled, and because it is a little too much for your liking, you add before he can get any ideas: “I’m still on the clock.”

Kakuchō appears to be surprised by your reply, but perhaps because of his regard for Ran, he does not protest against it. "Another time, then," he grits out. 

An explosion of cheers and jeers from a corner of the room provides a welcome break for the conversation, which even Ran and Kakuchō must admit is getting unpleasant. The three of you watch as their blonde, goateed colleague—Mochizuki, was it?—attempt to sit four hostesses on his arms while Rindō holds two up. They all fall to the ground soon enough, and amused laughter escapes Ran. Seeing your chance, you ask to head over to the commotion with him, and because Ran has never refused you, the both of you begin to walk away. 

"I'll send a girl over so you won't get too lonely," Ran tells his friend over his shoulder.

"Don't bother," Kakuchō says gruffly from behind. "I'm going home."

He sounds as if his whole night has been ruined. Stupidly, you feel a twinge of guilt at being part of the reason why. You don't turn around to see him leave, afraid that the sinking feeling in your chest will grow too much to bear. Atsuko and Shō-kun come to mind again. 

"So, Nikaidō, huh?" Ran's sleazy drawl worms into your ears, and you are reminded of his touch against your skin again. "Are you going to tell me the other half of your name, or am I going to have to look through the employee files?"

You sigh, already wary at the thought of dealing with him. "That's cheating, Haitani-san."

"I told you before..." you are halted in your tracks, and you feel two hands guide your face towards Ran's. "It's time you call me 'Ran'."

"Oh, you have really done it now..." Ran warns you quietly, and you realise that you alone are entirely responsible for what happens after.

Time and time again, Ran has incited dread in you, but never has he made your heart pound like this. Once again you are kept in fear for what he might do next. You swallow the rising bile in your throat, and you hate that in this position, there is nowhere for you to hide from this monster. But as you look into his handsome face, his half-lidded lilac eyes, you decide that you'd rather suffer him over whatever you were put through by Kakuchō. You find your hands creeping up to hold his.

"Okay, then," you say. "Ran."

Glossary of Terms / References Used | Next Chapter TBC