by CJ Martín
“Daddy, I found one!” she said and smiled weakly.
PART IV
He was in bad shape, but was still able to move. They thought they had won, but he was still alive and somewhat kicking.
Heading to the outside door, he gripped his gun tightly. His eyes shot left, then right. The solitary street lamp played games with the shadows in the trees and between the buildings.
Badly bleeding, he staggered to the other house. Voices--he heard voices! Someone was inside--friend or foe, he could not tell. The door was cracked open. With his gun up, he nudged the door open further.
He saw the enemy leaning against the wall. He leveled his Walther P38 Parabellum with both hands, attempting to steady the shaking. What a fool his enemy had been for not checking and removing his weapon when he had a chance. And now the fool would pay a price for being so careless.
He heard the girl say she’d found something as he pulled the trigger.
Emily screamed and ducked behind the desk. She looked at her father on the floor, motionless. Was he dead? She looked at the dead body of the yakuza’s daughter, then at the mini-revolver next to the body. Without thought she lurched forward, grabbed the gun and started firing in the direction of the Scandinavian. The gun had been readied from when the woman had pointed it to her head.
There were six shots. Somehow, two of them hit the Scandinavian’s body. But it was enough.
She scrambled to her father. His breathing was shallow, but existent. The vest had done its job stopping the bullets, but the impact knocked the breath out of her father. Surprisingly calm and collected, she rushed back to the desk, grabbed the phone, and dialed 911.
She told them what she could about the location. She had heard a train earlier and suspected they were near some tracks. The 911 dispatcher seemed to know about where they were from her description and the location of the nearest cell tower. Uncontrollable tears began to roll down her face as she heard that the police and ambulances were coming.
“Good work, sweetheart,” she heard her father whisper. “Good work.”
About the Story and Yakuza
Yakuza--the organized criminal syndicates in Japan--are often compared to the Italian mafia. There are surface similarities in fashion and organization, but the yakuza are home-bred and have deep ties to Japanese culture and history.
Yakuza often wear tight-fitting and sometimes colorful suits presumably inspired by the 1930s style of Al Capone and other mobsters. Also, like the mafia, there is a strong sense of “family.” Family words are used to describe the organization: “oyabun” (father/boss), “nee-san” (lit. older sister, for women in the organization), and “kobun” (lit. children, for those under the oyabun).
Perhaps to the Western mind, two physical characteristics stand out most regarding the yakuza: tattoos and shortened fingers.
Full body tattoos or irezumi in Japanese, are the most immediately recognizable feature. If you see a Japanese man or woman with tattoos, chances are, he or she is involved with yakuza.
Usually, the tattoos stop at the neckline and mid arm so the person can hide them when needed with high neck collars and long sleeve shirts.
Many public baths (called sentou for heated baths or onsen for baths that use hot water from a natural hot spring) ban customers with tattoos. Upon first arriving in Japan, a friend and I braved visiting a sentou. He was nervous because he had a small (very small) tattoo on his arm. His concerns notwithstanding, we were able to enjoy a nice hot bath without him being thrown out.
As mentioned in The Yakuza’s Daughter, members will cut a knuckle off their left pinkies. This process is called yubitsume (). It is a show of loyalty or a way to atone for transgressions.
If a member does something to require another yubitsume, the next knuckle is cut off. If there are no knuckles left, a different finger or the right pinky is next.
It is said this ceremony developed because a shortened pinky made it difficult to hold one’s sword--called a katana. When the katana is held properly, the pinky is actually the strongest finger, giving the most support. This meant the individual undergoing yubitsume is humbling himself by submitting to the protection of his group or family.
Years ago, I was privileged to meet a group of ex-Yakuza who had forsaken that sordid lifestyle for Christianity. They were extraordinarily nice, always smiling. But on closer examination, several of them had shortened fingers--one even had several full fingers missing, meaning multiple yubitsume. At one point, they disrobed, showing off their full body tattoos.
The Scandinavian at one point in the story tells Tanaka he knows the character for “peace” is in his name. The name “Kazuo” can be written several ways. Among them:
While Tanaka’s birth name (Kazuo) could be written any of these ways, I decided upon --a peaceful man.
All names, characters, and the Tsugawara yakuza are purely fictional.
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If you enjoyed The Yakuza’s Daughter, please look for a full length novel coming February 2012. This story takes place five years after the events of this short story. Mr. Martin also has a number of short stories on various topics.
In the upcoming novel, Emily graduates from high school and the adventure begins only a few minutes after her graduation ceremony ends. Once again, the Tsugawara yakuza try to get revenge on Tanaka. But this time, the yakuza have inside help--people close to Tanaka. Betrayal, murder, timeless friendship, and family secrets abound, delving deep into Tanaka’s past.
The novel will once and for all resolve the conflict between the two factions. Either Tanaka will succeed in totally destroying the Tsugawara family or the yakuza will kill Tanaka and Emily.
Here is a sample showing how things can still go badly for poor Emily:
Emily had dreamed of this day for years. The morning after high school graduation. No more classes. No more Mr. Toady--this was not his real name--in Biology. She didn’t have to worry about being cool or being tardy or how she was going to be able to churn out a last minute book report for English Lit. She didn’t have any childish concerns any more. She was an adult now. Instead, she only had to worry about grown-up things... like what to do with the body that was sprawled out on the floor of her motel room.
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Please contact the author at [email protected] or visit his blog at: http://cjmartinbooks.com
Your comments and questions are most welcome.
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Table of Contents
PART I
PART II
PART III
PART IV
