The Yakuza Path: Blood Stained Tea

by Amy Tasukada

  “He’s come to the shop a few times.” Nao pushed the photo away. “People enjoy our dumplings.”

  “Let me rephrase this.”

  The detective showed a new photo taken by the camera from the shop across the street. A little blurry, but the photo was clear enough to recognize the latticework of his shop.

  “That is your storefront.”

  Nao nodded. He couldn’t deny that. The detective pulled out another photo, one with a timestamp after midnight in the corner. Saehyun was knocking on the teahouse door. Nao controlled his breathing, but the pieces started to click. The photo had to be taken during the night of the Aoi Festival.

  “We find it curious that he would knock so late. The average customer would assume it was closed.”

  “The shop is a public place. Anyone willing to pay can come in,” Sakai said. “This is nothing special.”

  “Let me show you a few more photos.”

  The photos continued in a series and showed Saehyun walking away from Nao’s shop and down the street, then being stopped by a cop until the cop was on the ground with Saehyun bashing his head against the concrete. Nao gulped down his rage. He had assumed the Double Moon had something to do with the cop, but for Saehyun to be the only person involved? For the man he wanted to protect from his family to go against a resident of Kyoto who was just doing his job, it was impossible.

  “It seems like this client of yours stopped by your place before assaulting one of our local policeman.”

  “Is my client charged with anything?” Sakai asked.

  The detective cleared his throat before looking directly at Nao. “Your father and I have an agreement. When I ask for his help, he gives me information. In turn, I forget the organized crime laws passed in the last twenty years. I hope you will help me like your father does. Do you know of any information about Saehyun Park? He’s wanted in Osaka for visa fraud among a list of other crimes.”

  “Who?” Nao raised a brow.

  Sakai glared at him, but Nao knew how to play his hand. His father bowed down to the police enough. Nao knew better than to trust them. He had no obligation to help.

  “Harboring a wanted criminal is illegal,” the detective said. “We found Mr. Park’s prints all over your home.”

  “My home was broken into.” Nao crossed his arms. “This Park must’ve done it.”

  “Is Murata being detained?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then we have no reason to stay.” Sakai grabbed Nao’s arm and pulled him up from his chair.

  “I need to speak with you,” he said through clenched teeth in Nao’s ear.

  Sakai pulled Nao out of the room. The detective followed, calling after them. Nao stumbled to keep up with Sakai’s speed as he dragged him from the police station. It wasn’t until they were outside that the detective stopped following and Sakai let go of his death grip on Nao’s arm.

  Sakai tapped out a cigarette. “First you lie about who you are—”

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “You know fucking well what I mean. Using the name Murata so I’d think it’s Father. There are other lawyers that handle the lower-ranking members. In fact, one of them is already here. I have a family, and I’m going home to spend time with them.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s—I only know you. I trust you.”

  Sakai laughed. “That’s a good one, because no one in the syndicate trusts you anymore. You have a different story each day, and it’s starting to fall apart.”

  “But—”

  “This guy is Saehyun, yeah? You told us that was the name of your tea broker.”

  Nao’s face turned to stone. He knew he could lie again to tell him that Saehyun was a common name, but he had already lost.

  “Do you know him?” Sakai asked again, cigarette smoke swirling out of his nostrils.

  “It’s the Korean. The one I brought to my house.”

  “Saehyun Park is the second-in-command of the Double Moon.”

  There was no way Saehyun was second-in-command. He was an idiot found bleeding in a canal. What leader went out on the streets to pick fights? Sakai had to be mistaken.

  “I was getting information—”

  “You’re fucking someone that’s responsible for taking over five wards. Nao, you’re disgusting.”

  “It’s what Father asked—”

  “Then do the Matsukawa a favor. Invite him over, then fill his stomach with lead. The Double Moon is costing a ton because of the weapons and extra workloads from all the bodies. Not to mention paying people off for their businesses being smashed under our watch.”

  “I was using him to get information for the syndicate! He was going to show me their safe house tonight, but then the cops came.”

  Sakai shook his head. “Call us when you’ve killed him. Until then, consider this your zetsuen. Even Father’s tired of your shit.”

  His zetsuen? Nao’s mouth dropped. It was an irreversible severing of link with the family so deep that postcards were sent to all other syndicate to ensure they wouldn’t offer help if Nao dared ask.

  His muscles jumped beneath his skin as he reached out for Sakai, but he’d already disappeared into the crowd. Taking a step after him, Nao stumbled, but his hands trembled too much to catch his fall. He had no family.

  He should’ve died that night in Tokyo.

  Nao strolled down the streets of businesses with blue-tiled roofs in the Gion historic district. If he could, he would’ve opened his teahouse along those streets and, each night, walked back in time. But the rent was too expensive, even with Father’s help.

  A day had passed since the police raid, and Father still wasn’t speaking to him. Even Oyama wouldn’t answer the voicemail Nao left. It was his feeble attempt to think Sakai was joking about the zetsuen, but it was true. Nao was disconnected from everyone but Saehyun.

  Nao needed something if he was going to get back in Father’s favor, but the more he came to know Saehyun, the more Nao didn’t care about the Korean’s flaws. Nao could teach Saehyun how to make miso soup. He could even get tofu at the historic shop. They could have it for dinner one night, and he knew the perfect oolong to match it. Nao shook his head, catching himself. He needed to stop drifting off into daydreams about that man. Sakai—Father, everyone in the Matsukawa needed him dead, and he wasn’t getting back into anyone’s favor until then.

  Clutching the cardboard box with the broken tea bowls, Nao’s knuckles turned white. He took in a deep breath. Going to the metalworker was the only thing he needed to think about.

  He opened the metalworker’s door. The earth-colored walls were accented by photos of broken pottery mended with gold and silver. The small room allowed Nao only about five steps before coming to a counter. Nao received the usual greeting from the thirty-something-year-old man behind the counter. His strong jaw had stubble, and his deep-set eyes were more than appealing, attractive even.

  The fluttering thought struck Nao. Two months ago, admitting even the smallest attraction to someone had filled him with guilt. It was probably Saehyun’s fault with his constant lewd jokes. Nao bit his tongue, a painful reminder to not think about Saehyun.

  “It’s sure hot out there.” The clerk’s deep voice was as tantalizing as the rest of him.

  “It wouldn’t be Kyoto if the humidity in summer wasn’t at its worst.”

  “True.” The clerk laughed. “What can we do for you?”

  Nao placed the box on the counter and watched the clerk pick a larger piece. “These are beautiful.”

  “It’s unfortunate they were smashed.”

  The clerk raised an eyebrow, but Nao offered no further explanation.

  “Some of these pieces are rather small,” the clerk said. “We’ll have to replace those sections completely.”

  “Do you have an example of how that will look?”
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  The clerk turned and shuffled through a few photo albums on a shelf to the side. It allowed Nao to see the small collection of framed photos behind him. An old man was featured in most, but the clerk was in one photo, wearing a blue-and-white yukata of the Gion festivals. He held onto one of the flutes like those played by the musicians who rode on top of the floats.

  “You play flute during the festival?” Nao pointed.

  “That photo was taken the first year I played the flute.”

  Nao smiled. “I was the chigo when I was seven, so I always had a fascination for the instruments since I saw them up close.”

  “So you rode the Naginata float? That’s the one I play on.” The clerk tapped the old man in the picture. “Uncle is in charge of the committee on that one, actually.”

  “He must have helped choose me to play the chigo then.”

  “Here, look through this while I get Uncle.” The clerk pulled out the album. “He’d be the one fixing it due to the heavy repairs.”

  The clerk disappeared into the back and Nao began to look through the photos. Larger clumps of gold were filled-in cracks, while others had metal stitches along a fine, golden line. The pattern of the cracks themselves helped add elegance to the bowls. Nao flipped the page, happy to know that at least his bowls’ scars would be beautiful.

  “It’s sad,” an older voice said.

  Nao was too engrossed in the book to realize the clerk’s uncle stood beside him.

  “Yes, my house was broken into and someone smashed the bowls.” Nao glanced at the pieces.

  “You’re Nao Murata, yes?”

  Nao nodded. He did most of his shopping in the historic district, so being recognized by people he’d never met was nothing new.

  “I remember when you were a child of the festival. You took it more seriously than anyone to date.”

  “It was an honor to help out with the festivals.” Nao bowed. “Thank you for allowing me the distinguished position.”

  “It was too bad you ended up like your father.”

  Nao’s eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “The yakuza are ruining this city.”

  “The Matsukawa helped protect the city. They always are the first to aid, even before the government has a plan in place. They give loans to people the banks wouldn’t touch. They bring tourist—”

  The old man cleared his throat. “Once they interfere with the lives of everyday citizens, they are no longer welcome.”

  “You must be mistaken.”

  The yakuza never interfered with the lives of average citizens. The man must be confusing the Matsukawa with the Double Moon. How could he not tell the difference between the two?

  “I’m sorry, but I’m unable to fix your bowls.” The uncle began to put the pieces back in the box.

  “You haven’t even looked at them.”

  “We no longer serve anyone involved with any criminal organization, just as the laws suggest.”

  “My father had his bowls mended at this shop.”

  “We don’t serve your kind here anymore. We are now part of a coalition with other local shop owners.” He pointed to a large stack of simple black-and-white window stickers on the counter. “They’re hanging on the door of the shop, too.”

  Nao had missed them before, but their words filled him with disgust, like being served cold tea. Written in simple black lettering against a white background, the words read, “We serve only upright citizens, no yakuza.”

  “The police agreed it was a good move for us since Gion is coming. We have to take some kind of action before the festival starts.”

  “How dare you forget the reason it’s so safe to walk the streets of Kyoto.” Nao grabbed the stack of stickers. “You know there’s no petty crime because everyone’s afraid of what the yakuza would do to them.”

  “You are with them and so are not welcome at my shop. Please take your bowls and leave, or I will phone the police.”

  Acid gurgled in Nao’s stomach and stung his throat. The Matsukawa were always there for the people, and all of a sudden, they were lumped together with the Double Moon like immoral crooks. The citizens couldn’t turn their backs on them.

  “The Matsukawa help protect the festivals and make sure shops like yours stay open. The Matsukawa aren’t the ones causing this mess, it’s the Koreans.”

  “The police protect the festivals through legal means, and my shop is kept open because the government deems it a national treasure. We do not need the Matsukawa or any other criminals to subvert the system.”

  “Screw you.”

  Nao threw the stickers in the air. They fluttered down, and he walked out, leaving his tea bowls on the counter.

  In the labyrinth of stairs and hallways, Saehyun found the tattoo shop he’d spent the past ten minutes looking for. He nodded to the store assistant and sat on the little bench offered to him. Various photographs of tattooed bodies covered the walls, but they didn’t hold Saehyun’s attention for long.

  The Double Moon had five wards under their control, and with six more to go, their progress was keeping Godfather Taejin in Osaka. If only they could keep their good luck up, he might decide another surprise visit wasn’t necessary. Saehyun couldn’t deny the extra income from the drugs was helping the efforts. At least now he could afford more than dumplings and lube.

  He pulled out his phone and flipped through the messages. Most were from smaller teams he trained, listing their current movements taking over the next ward. They were doing well so he could ignore them, but the reminder from Heejun about the next couple’s day perked Saehyun up.

  He pulled up Nao’s number and called.

  “Hello?” Nao answered.

  “You doing okay?”

  “I’m still a little shaken up over what happened.”

  “I said you couldn’t play mahjong without gambling.” Saehyun laughed. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. It’s not like you were charged with anything.”

  Nao sighed. “That’s the last thing I need.”

  Saehyun stared at one of the tattooed photos on the wall. It was a crimson butterfly reminding him of Nao’s phoenix. Saehyun had tried calling when he heard the teahouse was raided by police but received no answer. He was worried, but it wasn’t like he could go down to the station and ask what was going on.

  “What kind of jewelry do you like?” Saehyun asked.

  “Jewelry? You called to ask me about jewelry?”

  “That, and I wanted to know when I could see you. I could come over tonight.”

  “We were supposed to meet at your place.”

  Damn it. Nao was still thinking about that? Saehyun hoped he’d be too distracted by the police to remember their plans. He could find a recruit’s apartment to use, but eventually that could cause its own drama.

  “So dinner tonight?” Nao asked.

  “This weekend. Want me to cook bibimbap again? You liked it last time.”

  “We can cook it together.”

  Saehyun smiled. “You know what? Why don’t you teach me how to cook something Japanese, and I’ll teach you how to make something else Korean.”

  Nao laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I never thought you’d care to know about a Japanese dish.”

  It was probably the understatement of the century. Two months ago Saehyun wouldn’t have believed it himself, but the quiet life Nao had carved for himself, despite being a troublesome youth, was something Saehyun wanted. Not having to fight or worry that he’d be hauled off to the police station each time he showed his visa. With Nao he could have that quiet life where the biggest threat would be over-steeping the tea.

  “If I cooked Korean all the time, you’d probably complain.” Saehyun smirked.

  With their plans made, they said their goodbyes.r />
  The assistant called Saehyun to the back. The tattoo master sat on the straw mat floor, like a mound of rice in a serving bowl. Saehyun took off his shoes as he entered and sat where the master motioned in front of him.

  “What kind of tattoo were you looking for?” the tattoo master asked.

  “Eventually a full-body one, but for now the back.”

  “Why?”

  “I always thought they looked badass.”

  The master frowned. Saehyun heard that the traditional masters were a little picky, but he never thought he’d feel intimidated by someone that reminded him of a side dish.

  “Someone I knew showed me his. It was stunning.” Saehyun shifted his weight on his feet. “I always thought he was a weak kind of guy, but when I saw the tattoo, I realized there was more to him, a side that I was discovering.”

  “So you want people to see it and think you’re tough?”

  Saehyun shook his head. “People see me and think I’m some Korean punk. I want them to think they know me, but then when they see my tattoos, they will realize I am something different, that there’s more to me than that.”

  “The process is very painful. Much different than a Western-style tattoo that go on quicker because of the machine.”

  “Good. I need to be stronger for Gion.”

  Saehyun closed his eyes, and Nao’s tattoo emerged in the darkness. The sweet arch of his back and the way the phoenix feathers danced under him. What pain Nao must’ve gone through to achieve such a deep crimson.

  The master nodded, pulled down an album, and handed it to Saehyun. “Look through it and tell me what catches your eye.”

  Saehyun opened the book offered to him and flipped through the first few pages, which were filled with full-body images of various designs, ranging from butterflies and cherry blossoms to dragons and carp. What stood out to Saehyun was how much red covered everyone’s body.

  “Why does everyone get so much red?” Saehyun asked.

  “The red is a hard color to make. It’s like a mild dose of poison coursing through your veins. It won’t kill you, but you will break out with a fever more than with the other colors. People like the red to show how tough they are.”