by Amy Tasukada
Nao liked dealing with Miko more than Sakai and Oyama, for they saw Nao for the fighter he used to be. Miko would’ve heard Nao’s plea to get Takeo replaced and would have reasoned with Father.
“How long is she in there for?” Nao asked.
“Six years.” Father Murata shook his head. “Let’s not talk about things that can’t be changed. What did you bring for me?”
“Oh, yes.” Nao handed over the package wrapped in cloth. “I’m sorry for not visiting more often.”
Father unwrapped the package and opened the box. The round rice cakes were nestled together within wrapped paper. The mamemochi white balls held red beans.
“Mochi rice cakes.” Father grinned. “Don’t worry. I’m getting to the age where I remind myself to take small bites.”
They all laughed. Father Murata reached for one of the treats and took a large bite. His lips curled into a smile, and at that moment, Nao knew he could do no wrong. Sakai tapped his fingers on the file in his hand. Nao must have interrupted Sakai’s part of the meeting.
“It’s from Demachi Futaba,” Nao added, though he knew Father could tell just by looking that the treats were from the historic site.
“Do you remember when your grandmother was still alive and would come down for New Year’s and make mochi with us?”
“I do, yes. We had to pound the rice for so long.”
Murata took another bite, finishing off the cake.
“Has the Double Moon member come back to your house?” Sakai asked.
Muddling the truth with Takeo was one thing, but the severity of doing it to Father was another thing entirely. Nao knew better. Yet when he thought of Saehyun, he was able to ignite something within himself that he’d thought was dead years ago…even if it was only his sex drive.
“No.” Nao’s voice was steady. If it meant Takeo would leave, then Nao would lie with every breath within him.
“Ah, that’s wonderful!”
“Father, it’s been over a week. I think if the Double Moon wanted to do something, they would have. Takeo will be more useful to you here, or helping out with his ward. I no longer want to be a burden to him or you.”
Father Murata shook his head. “I think it’s safer for him to stay with you. You don’t know how these Koreans are, and I feel better knowing one of my best men is there protecting you. They could be plotting an attack.”
“Please, Father.”
“I think you should listen,” Sakai said.
“I can handle myself. You know I can.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Oyama, you saw.”
Nao pointed at Oyama, and silence flooded the room.
“He did hold up well in the boxing ring.” Oyama held up his hands.
“I said no, Nao. You above all of my sons should listen to me the first time.”
Nao stared at his shoes. “I’m sorry for my indiscretion.”
“Good.”
Father pulled a knife from the top drawer of his desk and cut one of the mochi into four pieces. He offered everyone a slice and ate one himself. They all waited to see what Father wanted.
“Is that other gift just as sweet?” Murata pointed to the silver box by Nao’s feet.
“Takeo and I found it outside when we were coming up.”
“You found it outside?”
“Waiting by the gate.”
“Oyama, bring it here.”
Nao said, “The note says it’s from the historic district.”
“We’ve been getting a lot of these little gifts lately,” Oyama said, grabbing the box from beside Nao and placing it on the desk.
Murata untied the bow, and both Sakai and Oyama hovered around the desk, blocking Nao’s view. Sakai gasped, and Oyama slammed his fist onto the table while Father sank into his chair.
“What is it?” Nao asked.
“Takeo!” Murata screamed. “Get your ass in here!”
“What—what is it?”
Nao stood and peered inside the box at a decapitated head. Its eyes popped from their sockets, and the skin was blue. There wasn’t a lot of blood, but Nao assumed it was because the man hadn’t been freshly killed.
“Who is that?” Nao asked.
“It’s Yori, ward leader of the historic district. He was patrolling and then vanished.” Oyama sank back in his chair. “This means we have to find someone else to protect the historic district.”
“Takeo!” Murata yelled again.
Nao blinked, plopping back down on the chair. His teahouse was part of the ward beside the historic district. A finger was one thing. Someone couldn’t be in the yakuza for as long as Nao had been without learning not to mind the sight of a severed finger. But a head? Nao’s stomach twisted, pressing together like a broken tea leaf.
“There’s a note.” Sakai grabbed the piece of heavy paper with brown ink scrawled across it. “‘Kyoto will be ours.’”
“Takeo!”
Nao blinked. He’d found Saehyun in the historic district. The fight he must’ve been in and the timing. Could he have helped capture Yori? No, he was simply a low member probably stuck in the safe house.
Takeo finally emerged from downstairs and bowed before he crossed the threshold.
“How may I help, Father?” Takeo asked, coming up from his bow.
“If any Korean comes close to Nao, I want you to kill them. I don’t care who they are.”
“No!” Nao yelled, his thoughts coming through his mouth. “Many of my regular customers are Korean. You can’t go knocking them off.”
“You mean the host you’re dating is Korean.” Takeo folded his arms over his chest and looked toward Father. “It would be best for him not to get caught up with one of them again.”
“I don’t care.”
“You can’t do that,” Nao said.
Their gazes bored into Nao as if Father had called the passing crow white and Nao had disagreed. He’d spoken out against Father. No one could, not even his biological son.
“Please, I have a plan.” Nao squeezed his hand around his yukata, his knuckles turning white. He spoke without thinking. “I can be a spy and feed information about the Korean movements to you. I have his number. I can call him.”
His father’s eyes narrowed. “You have his number?”
“He gave it to me after he left. In case I ever wanted…” Nao trailed off, knowing they’d be able to fill in the gap. It was no secret Nao liked men.
Too many circles were on that map for them not to accept his offer, but was it worth it for him to create another lie? Saehyun didn’t care about him and never handed over his number. Nao could lie to himself as well as Father. Saehyun might return, but even more, Nao wanted him to. So if Saehyun did return, Nao could enjoy his company and help the Matsukawa.
“Nao…” Takeo said.
“Please, let me do my part to protect the city.” Nao pressed his hands together. “Kyoto is my home too.”
“You’re a simple merchant. You cannot protect the city.”
“I’ll rejoin the Matsukawa. I got myself into a mess. At least allow me to be beneficial to the Matsukawa.” He lowered his eyes. “Unlike before.”
“So you’ll drink sake with me?” Father asked.
“I will happily do so. But I need Takeo gone. He can’t hang around me as much. If I have someone always with me, the Korean will be on his guard. I’ll never be able to ask him what is going on unless I am alone with him.”
“Yori was in control of the ward next to mine. If Father wishes, I would be happy to make sure it doesn’t fall into the Koreans’ hands,” Takeo said.
Even Takeo agreed with Nao’s plan.
“You see how dangerous they are, Nao.” Murata pointed to the head in the box, completely ignoring Takeo. “I do not feel safe letting you do th
is on your own.”
Oyama glanced sideways with a sigh. “He does have a point.”
Murata brought his hand to his chin and then grabbed the last of the mochi and ate it. The rest of the room stood in silence, waiting for him to speak. Silently Nao pleaded that he’d take the offer or at least that Takeo would be replaced with someone that didn’t send him into a panic.
Father looked to Oyama. “Do you think this is a good idea?”
“We could use an inside ear. Right now, all the acts are random. We’re not even sure where the Koreans’ base is. They’re hiding in cracks like the cockroaches they are. If Nao can find anything out it would help, and he’s always one of our best fighters.”
“Takeo, convince the resident beside Nao to leave. Maybe we should wire your house. That way, he can hear what’s going on. You’re a good man, and you know how my son is. I know you don’t want to disappoint me again.”
“So, like before?” Takeo said.
“No, not like before. Nao knows better than to run off to Tokyo.”
Nao bit his lip. Tokyo… He’d never stepped outside the Kyoto limit since what had happened. Still, he knew full well what Takeo meant to say. How he wouldn’t want to hear exactly what was going on, especially if Nao offered himself as a whore.
“If things start to turn south, believe me, I will make enough noise that the whole apartment complex will know what’s going on,” Nao said.
“You left once, and you made my heart sing. I always hoped that once your teahouse was established, you’d finally settle down and get married. No father wants their son to be in the yakuza. I’m giving you one last chance to back out. You know what coming back means. Death will have his sights set on you again.”
“This is where I belong.” Nao’s throat seared as he said it.
Oyama brought up the sake, and Father Murata poured it into smaller containers. First, he drank from the small dish-like bowl, and then Nao drank from the same dish. Traditionally, blood would be spilled, but that went out with the dawn of disease. Even so, Nao didn’t have to share his blood with them since he already had.
“I’ll call him today,” Nao said, hoping Saehyun would somehow find a new debt needing repayment.
“Takeo will still follow from a distance. Don’t get seen. We need information, so don’t disrupt Nao.”
“Don’t worry,” Takeo said. “The last thing I want is for someone to lose a finger.”
“Is it always this slow on a Tuesday?” Takeo looked up from his magazine at the empty teashop.
“The rain keeps everyone away.” A gentle roll of thunder echoed Nao’s point.
“Where’s the Double Moon member when you need him? You called him how long ago now and no answer?”
Pressing his lips together, Nao said nothing.
“Not as good as you thought, huh?”
Nao had pretended to call the Double Moon member a few nights ago and told him he was welcome back at any time. The lie, which was once small, pressed against his stomach like rolled oolong tea leaves trapped within a ball infuser.
The simple two-night stand with Saehyun would be just that and nothing more. It was the first time in years he’d let someone get so close. Yet, when Nao closed his eyes, he saw the crass Saehyun who was unable to open up, leaving Nao and turning him bitter. In a way, it was better if Saehyun felt his debts were repaid and he never came back. Takeo could leave within a few weeks, and Nao would go back to the life he was used to.
“What are you doing?” Takeo pointed at the teacup.
Nao tried to smile and placed a filled teacup in front of Takeo. “Giving you tea.”
“I’m not addicted to the stuff like you are, little brother.”
The malice oozed out of Takeo’s words enough to make Nao want to punch him. Nao’s fingers curled into a fist, but he did nothing.
“I thought you’d like some since you’re here for the night.”
Takeo leaned back in his chair. “Nah, but you can have the grandma in there cook me some dumplings.”
Nao turned and walked a few steps toward the kitchen. He bit his tongue. The last few nights had left him wanting to punch Takeo in the face. He would bang on the door if he slept through the text alert, demanding that Nao open up to make sure he was all right.
“Oi,” Takeo called. “Take back the tea.”
“You could at least pretend to drink it.”
Takeo pushed the glass off the table. It hit the ground, shattering.
“No, I can’t. You can go clean that up.”
Nao slammed his fist on the table, but Takeo didn’t even twitch.
“You expect me to clean that up?”
“It’s your job, isn’t it?”
Their gazes met, but Takeo only grinned, leaning back in the chair. Nao fought the urge to kick the chair out from under him, but he walked away. Father wouldn’t appreciate it if he beat up his bodyguard, and Takeo performed the act only to irritate him. Nao stepped into the kitchen, where the old cook and the waiter were playing cards.
“It’s quiet tonight,” the waiter said.
“Our guest wants dumplings, and he broke his teacup. Go clean it up. I’m going to start a tasting.”
The waiter smiled. “Are you still looking for that new oolong?”
“I’ll find it soon. If no one comes in, you both can join me.”
Nao stepped back to the bar and leaned against the counter, taking in his tea collection. For the past few weeks, he’d searched for another tea to offer his customers. He’d found the other teas easily, but this one proved more difficult. Pulling out five white porcelain cups with matching lids, Nao prepared the tasting. He took out the last samples mailed from his broker. They were kept in silver aluminum bags, the tea’s name written on a sticker. He glanced back to the tea wall, plucked one of the tins down, and put it next to the bags.
The bell rang, signaling a customer. Nao said the normal greeting, but when he looked up, his breath caught in his throat. Takeo quickly looked up but then went back to his magazine. After all, Takeo thought Saehyun was nothing more than the host Nao dated. Saehyun grinned, sitting on the stool before the five tasting cups.
“You came back?” Nao couldn’t help but smile.
“Needed to get out of the rain, and your dumplings aren’t half bad.” Saehyun grinned and eyed Nao’s crotch. “Your other dumplings aren’t bad too.”
Could Saehyun go three minutes without a sex joke? Nao’s gaze lingered on the wet dots that spotted Saehyun’s white shirt, his tanned skin becoming exposed even when clothed. Yet still his shirt had the same garish look, with black letters in English on the collar. Nao looked away, hoping Saehyun didn’t catch his stare.
“No umbrella?”
“Didn’t think it would rain today,” said Saehyun.
“They don’t call it the rainy season for nothing.”
“True.” Saehyun smiled.
“You’re agreeing with me for once?”
He laughed. “I guess even a jjokbari can be right every once in a while.”
Nao stared back at the English lettering. “You wear the strangest clothes.”
“Strange?”
“Like the English on it.”
“It marks the left and right side of the shirt’s collar.”
“Is that what it says?”
Saehyun raised a brow. “What, you don’t know English?”
“I never paid attention in class.”
“I was a hell of a lot better at English than Japanese when I came here.”
Nao turned, hiding his smile, not believing how happy he was to see Saehyun. Nao poured hot water into a teapot. The warmth radiated off the porcelain pot and into his hands.
“Did you mostly stay at Korean schools, then?” Nao asked.
“Yeah. I was dragged over here w
hen I was fourteen. Try to force a fourteen-year-old to learn a whole other language like Japanese and expect them to still give a fuck at the end of the day.”
“I honestly wasn’t too good at school. I didn’t care.”
“You got picked on for having a girl’s name.” Saehyun laughed.
“Many men are called Nao.”
“But not many.”
Nao shook his head. Why was he telling Saehyun about his school years? Saehyun cared nothing about him, so maybe that led Nao to say things without giving them any thought. Nao bit his tongue, the pain a reminder he needed to find out about the Double Moon. The image of Yori’s head, his eyes gazing up at him, reminded him the least he could do was help his family out.
“Fine, you win. Not many men are called Nao.”
Saehyun picked up one of the empty cups. “What’s with all the teacups?”
Nao could hardly believe Saehyun wasn’t gloating about his victory.
“I’m tasting new teas.”
“Tasting?”
“I’m trying to find a new oolong.”
Saehyun’s eyes went blank in that far-off gaze Nao recognized when customers sat at the bar and asked for a tasting, not realizing what they were getting into.
“You know what oolong is?”
Saehyun chuckled. “You’re a silly Japanese if you think I know anything about tea.”
“Here, smell it.” Nao opened the tin and pushed it toward Saehyun. “What do you smell?”
“Woody, kinda smoky.”
“Yes, oolong tea has the greatest variety of oxidation. It’s my favorite type of tea since it comes in such a diverse flavor profile, and the leaves…” Nao scooped out a spoonful. “Do you see them? The way they are curled? After they’re steeped, they open up like flowers.”
Saehyun smiled, and at that moment, Nao wanted to share all of his tea with him. What was he thinking? He was supposed to be gathering information, not teaching him the finer points of the Camellia sinensis plant.
“I’ve never seen anyone get so excited about tea before.”
