Tokyo Noir: The Complete First Season

by J. Scott Matthews

  “Well? You’ve conjured me, and here I am.” Masa said. “Surely you had a reason.”

  Satoshi nodded. He started to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. Already things weren’t going as he had planned. But then, that seemed to happen a lot when he was around Masa.

  “How are you?” Satoshi finally managed.

  “Fine. You?”

  “Been better. Look, I wanted—”

  “What is this about, Satoshi? What are you dying to say to me all of a sudden? An apology, maybe?”

  Satoshi’s gaze drifted out over the temple grounds. The fog cleared momentarily, revealing the sloping roof of the main gate. Then the wind blew and it was obscured in fog once more.

  “I was told to bring you in.”

  “By who? The Rock?”

  Satoshi nodded. Masa scratched his jaw and eyed Satoshi. He didn’t look at all surprised.

  “Well, if you brought me here to watch me plead for my life, you—”

  “That’s not why I called you here. I need you to tell me why. What does Vasili want with you?”

  “To kill me, I imagine.”

  “For what? What did you do?”

  “Why do you instantly assume that?”

  “Because of who I’m talking to. Does this have something to do with all those jobs you’ve been doing for the big man lately?”

  Masa didn’t reply. Instead, he turned his gaze towards the corner of the grounds, towards the graves. He tilted his head in that direction.

  “Let’s take a walk.”

  Masa began walking without waiting for an answer. Satoshi shook his head, but followed.

  Masa glided past the wooden barrier encircling the cemetery in this corner of the grounds. He began walking amongst the rows of roughly hewn stones that served as graves for the samurai entombed below. Wooden slats stood by each grave, with the names of the samurai written in ancient kanji rendered in florid calligraphy.

  “You know, I’ve always loved it here,” Masa said.

  “Among the graves?”

  “The graves of the forty-seven Ronin. These men lost their leader, Asano. Then they waited years for the perfect opportunity to take their vengeance and kill his murderer. And for that loyalty, that bravery, that … devotion, their names will ring out for all eternity.”

  Satoshi walked with Masa around the graves a few paces back.

  “Their bravery has made these warriors immortal. Their loyalty is still talked of to this day. Probably because loyalty is in such short supply these days. Take you, for example. My best friend, who’s considering turning me in to be put to death.”

  “Dammit, Masa, it’s not that easy!”

  “Loyalty never is!” Masa shouted loud enough that his voice echoed throughout the grounds.

  “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything! And that’s the problem!”

  “What didn’t you do then? Tell me what he wants with you. Maybe I can help.”

  “Speak up for me? Last time I asked you to do that, you turned your back on me.” His voice was pure venom. He closed his eyes, as if he was trying to calm himself, then he resumed speaking in a much quieter voice. “Look, I can’t tell you. If you knew what I knew, you’d be a target too.”

  Satoshi regarded him. “You can tell me anything, you know that. Vasili trusts me, he wouldn’t go after me for … whatever.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

  “No.”

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with the serial killer, does it?”

  Masa didn’t reply.

  “Are you the killer?”

  Again, Masa didn’t reply, but he looked hurt by the accusation. He began shaking his head.

  “You know, Satoshi, you’ve always loved to look down on me. You’ve always loved to play the hero, the stand-up guy, the white knight. But deep down we’re not so different, you and I. Like I always say, two sides of the same coin.”

  “No, Masa. You changed, somewhere along the way. You’ve gotten … darker. I stayed right where I was.”

  “So you’re going to turn me in, then?”

  “Goddammit, I don’t want to do this! But you’ve got to give me a reason not to!”

  “You have all the reasons you need not to do this. You know I’m not the killer—”

  “Do I?”

  “—and you know this is wrong.” He swept the graves around them with his gaze. “Loyalty is only worth a damn if the master you serve has honor. And maybe Vasili has you fooled, but I saw a different side of him when I was his personal gun. And if you think I’m dark …” Masa shook his head and looked away as he trailed off.

  “This coming from the guy who practically worshipped that psychopath Osammy.”

  “I guess we all have to decide where our allegiances lie. So tell me, Satoshi, what master do you serve?”

  Satoshi didn’t answer. Masa looked away and spat in disgust.

  “Well, good luck bringing me to my death, then,” Masa said. “Because you are going to fucking need it.”

  Masa turned around and began walking away. Soon he was gone, swallowed whole by the swirling fog.

  Satoshi stood there staring after him. He was sick to his stomach, and felt like a traitor. A traitor whose days were numbered. He took out his phone and dialed.

  “Yeah, it’s me. I’ll do it,” he said before hanging up.

  He looked around the nearly deserted temple grounds. From somewhere off in the distance, he heard crows cawing. But the fog rolling in left everything shrouded in a suffocating murkiness that was too thick to see through. He lingered for a moment longer before setting off into the gathering dusk.

  He could barely see where he was going now. No matter. He could see the path of stones ahead and trusted that it would guide him through.

  Masters and Servants

  Tokyo Noir - S01 E02

  悪因悪果

  - Japanese proverb

  The Past

  “The big man wanted to see me?”

  Kameko looked up at Masa from her seat in the men’s changing room.

  “You’re late.”

  “My personal assistant entered the wrong time in my day planner. Hard to find good help.”

  Kameko gave a snort of derision.

  “Funny. But maybe drop the comedy act when you speak to him. Get undressed.”

  Masa undressed and wrapped himself in a towel from the stack on the bench. Kameko stood up from her chair by the entrance to the baths. Without saying a word, she lifted both arms, and he followed suit. She ripped off his towel and threw it over one shoulder. Then she did a quick pat-down to make sure he wasn’t hiding anything. Not that he had much to hide, standing there naked before her.

  “That looks badass and all,” Kameko said, indicating his tattoo. “But that is super bad for you.”

  Masa looked down at his body. There was a mural covering the entire front of his chest. On the right side was a grinning demon wearing a kabuto-style samurai helmet. A battered, severed head faced it from the left side. The mural stretched all the way around his body to his backside, where hellish fields of fearsome oni demons and monsters cavorted.

  “Don’t tell me you’re not tattooed.”

  “Oh, of course I am. But you’re supposed to leave some skin uninked so it can breathe. Full-body murals like that will cause all sorts of health problems down the road.”

  “Yeah, well, live for the moment.”

  “What a philosopher. You’re good to go.”

  Having said that, Kameko tossed his towel over his head and stepped behind him, giving his ass a sharp slap as she went. The report from the palm of her hand cracking against his skin sounded like a muffled gunshot in the locker room. Masa’s anger flared.

  “Listen, bitch, I’ve killed people for less than that, so if—”

  “I said you’re good to go,” Kameko said, arms folded in front of her. “And you’ve already ke
pt the big man waiting far longer than you should have. So just keep on walking, alright?”

  He knew she was trying to provoke him and didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. Plus, it wouldn’t serve to show up to a meeting with Vasili upset. He shook his head as he pushed through the frosted glass door into the bathing area.

  “They’re making incredible strides in dialectical behavior therapy these days!” Kameko called out after him. “Maybe look into it?”

  Steam hung heavy in the humid air. The sound of dripping water echoed against the tiled floor and walls. The tiles were of a uniform dark sea-green color, except for the back wall. This depicted a wall-sized mural of ancient Edo.

  Masa went over to the washing area and upturned a plastic bucket to sit on, then began washing himself. As he rinsed, he noticed that there was nobody else in the bathhouse. That was strange, even for this time of day. These meetings with Vasili to get instructions for his next ill deed had become routine lately. But they usually met in Vasili’s office or a restaurant, without going to such lengths for secrecy. Was this a hit? He kept trying to tell himself he was just being paranoid. Vasili didn't want him dead all of a sudden, did he?

  No, probably not. Probably just another job. The big man had been using him a lot lately. Still, didn’t hurt to be careful. So with his guard up, Masa stood up and walked towards the baths to find Vasili. He saw the big man sitting down in the water against the wall next to the mural. Jun was off to one side, sitting in water up to his neck. His eyes were glued on Masa.

  “Masa!” Vasili boomed, his deep voice echoing. “Come!”

  Masa felt his anger rising again. Already the big man was ordering him around like he was still some street hopper running errands. Deep breath.

  Masa eased himself into the steaming water next to Vasili. The water was nearly scalding, but Masa didn’t mind. The big man seemed even larger than life in the flesh. Vasili’s tattoos were done in brilliant hues, with ferocious-looking karashishi lion-dogs adorning each shoulder in vibrant red and gold shades. The background consisted of turquoise-blue waves that wrapped around his back out of Masa’s view.

  “Nice tattoos. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your ink before. What’s on the back?”

  “Eh, what do you think?”

  “A rock?”

  “Bingo.”

  Masa nodded. A string of four kanji written in calligraphic script across Vasili’s chest caught his eye.

  “Sonno joi? Revere the emperor and expel the barbarians? Seems a strange slogan for a foreigner to embrace.”

  “Not if you’re an emperor.”

  “I suppose. So is this place always this empty?”

  “I rent it out for today. I like to have privacy when I am talking the shop.”

  “And I was hoping this was a social call. I thought I was needed for my conversational abilities.”

  Vasili grunted. “You’re not known for charm. Is not where your reputation lies.”

  “Oh, and where does my reputation lie?”

  Instead of answering, Vasili nodded his head towards the mural against the back wall.

  “When you look at that picture, what do you see?”

  Masa looked closely at it for the first time. One side of the picture showed samurai in matching armor with drawn swords. They were facing a group of terrified townspeople and merchants cowering in the middle of the street. On the other side of the townspeople was a ragtag group of men wearing homemade armor of hammered plate, ceramic roof tiles, even a washing board. They brandished cooking knives, hoes, rakes, rolling pins, hammers, and other household weapons.

  It was unclear if this motley crew was menacing the townspeople or coming to their defense. Some of the merchants and townspeople seemed to be shrinking from the samurai, while others seemed to be retreating towards them away from the would-be warriors.

  “I don’t know. Looks like thieves trying to rip off the civilians. Or maybe they’re there to fight the samurai.”

  Vasili shook his head. “I see it other way. Those aren’t thieves, they are town’s protectors. Machi yakko, was name for them. Like private police that would protect towns from predatory samurai. They are coming to defense of common man against soldiers. Standing up to powerful men that preyed on weak and innocent.”

  Masa nodded, waiting for Vasili to get to the point.

  “You know what happened to machi yakko? Who are defenders of common people now?”

  “No idea.”

  Vasili tapped his chest. “Us. Yakuza. Gokudo. Is we who are defenders of weaker men against powerful. We are ones that do necessary jobs, even when is not so pleasant. Is our duty.”

  “And what unpleasant job will you have me do?” Masa asked.

  Vasili eyed him without responding.

  “That is the point of all this, right? Isn’t that why you’re buttering me up with all this talk of our noble history? You’ve got another one of your hush-hush jobs for me?”

  “Yes. There is job I want you to do. Is job I can only trust to you.”

  “And what would that be?”

  Vasili’s voice was now so low that Masa had to lean in to hear him.

  “I need you to kill a man for me.”

  “No problem, who are we talking about?”

  “Chobei Mihashi.”

  Masa recoiled as if he had been slapped, getting to his feet and wading backwards through the water several feet. He was shaking his head uncontrollably.

  “What? The shacho’s son? Are you insane?”

  “Sit down, we talk.” Vasili motioned for him to return.

  Masa waded through the thigh-high water and eased himself back down into it.

  “Forget for a minute who I am talking about. Forget that he is son of Kaisha’s leader. For now, just hear me out on why he needs to die.”

  Masa said nothing, just gazed wide-eyed.

  “Chobei has become liability to everything syndicate has built. To everything I’ve built. He’s too hotheaded, is making mess of things in Kawasaki. I am tired of cleaning up his messes. Cleaning up crime scenes, smoothing over relations with rival leaders, keeping everything out of newspapers. Is too much. And I am not only boss changing his diaper like this. Somebody needs to take care of him before he brings us all down. This isn’t job I can trust anyone with. This job calls for—”

  “Someone you think is out of their goddamn mind? Someone crazy enough to actually consider going after the shacho’s son?”

  “Look, you and I, we have our differences in past. But—”

  “You mean like with Sachiko?”

  “Who?”

  Masa’s jaw clenched and unclenched uncontrollably. He swallowed hard.

  “My ex-girlfriend. The one—”

  “Ah, yes, her. She was no good for you. No, not girl for you. But that incident proves my point. You have always been reliable soldier. Look at you, you still have all of your fingers. How many other kobun who have walked Path as long as you can say that?”

  Masa’s eyes widened at that, and his jaw began clenching again. “Yeah, true,” was all he could manage. He closed his hands into fists that hung over his knees.

  “I need someone with your skills. Someone with your cunning, your ruthlessness, to get this job done. Anyone can pull trigger and end a life. But you, you are an artist. A killer born. That’s what I need now.”

  “I don’t know … what would the shacho say if she knew about this?”

  Vasili sighed. “She does not need know about this. She’s good leader, sensible. Except when it comes to psychopath that is her son. It is her only weak spot. Which is why men like us must handle matter. Men who can put sentimentality aside and do what is right for the Kaisha. Are you man for job?”

  Masa looked past Vasili at the mural behind him. “How do I know that once the deed is done you won’t come after me?”

  “Masa! How could you even say that? I hope you know me better than that. I take care of my people. And I will take care of you. How does
one hundred million yen sound? Half now, half upon completion. Plus, satisfaction of secretly knowing you helped to save the Kaisha.”

  Masa was silent as he considered his options.

  “Of course, if you refuse, I will deny this conversation ever happened. To start with.” Vasili gave him a meaningful look.

  After a while, Masa nodded his head. “Alright.”

  “Good. Talk to Toymaker. You have blank check for whatever hardware you need for the job. But whatever you do, don’t fuck up. This cannot come back to me in any way. If it does, I won’t be able to help you.”

  “You’ll hang me out to dry, you mean.”

  “Just don’t fuck up, is what I’m saying. Do we have deal?”

  Masa nodded.

  “Very well,” Vasili said.

  Masa stood up and waded to the other side of the bath. He glanced again at the mural on the wall. To his eyes, it still looked like the town’s so-called protectors were heading into battle with the samurai. The townspeople were just caught in the middle.

  He changed quickly, then left the sento. He was eager to escape the warm, humid air of the baths, which had gone from relaxing to suffocating.

  Once out on the street, he sucked in air in huge gulps, before setting his respirator in place. He looked down at his hands, which he held splayed in front of him. Then he pulled on his right ring finger. He twisted it back and forth until the gelatinous makeup holding the prosthetic finger began to pull apart from his skin.

  Masa dug into the rubbery prosthesis with his fingers until he had extracted the recorder inserted within. He rewound it for a few seconds, then held it to his ear and played it back. The recording was tinny, but Vasili’s voice was clearly audible.

  “… don’t fuck up. This cannot come back to me in any way—” Vasili said on the recording.

  Masa clicked the recorder off and smiled.

  Chapter One

  “Gaaaghhh!” screamed the naked man tied up on the concrete floor.

  Once his cries of pain had tapered off, he went back to breathing heavily. He turned his head as much as he could to the side and spat up more blood. The only illumination came from a bulb hung directly overhead.