The Yakuza Path: Blood Stained Tea

by Amy Tasukada

  The scent of cooked pork and chicken filled the humid air from the stalls on the blocked-off streets. Most were food stalls, but a few others contained various gifts, such as handcrafted fans and pottery, while others carried cheap plastic souvenirs for tourists. Nao tried to sidestep the crowd, but no one moved. They were too busy taking cell phone photos to let someone by. He gave up and joined a flock of people in front of a stall.

  “Fortune! Will you have bad luck or good?” called the plump vendor.

  He reminded Nao of an overstuffed pork bun, lightly browned with a gut overfilling his pants. The beans inside the box held a submerged stick, and each time the vendor hit the side of the box, the beans shook. What Nao needed most right then was luck finding Saehyun, and the crowd wasn’t moving.

  “Come on, son. Maybe love will find you?”

  “Isn’t this more of a New Year thing?”

  “Everyone could use luck at any time of the year.”

  Nao looked around, once more trying to spot Saehyun, but instead found all the people in suits. No doubt four or five Matsukawa were in charge of keeping things in order, yet Nao didn’t recognize any of them. However, he knew only the senior-ranking family members, and they wouldn’t be on guard duty.

  “See what you get,” the vendor said.

  Giving in, Nao put the coins into his bulging hands. Nao grabbed one of the colored sticks, a blue one, and lifted it up. Good luck was scrawled across it with a rolled up paper summary of different horoscope reports for him. Nao smiled. Maybe he’d find Saehyun tonight after all.

  “Come on up! Get your fortune! Good luck or bad, what will befall you this summer?” The merchant continued his chant as Nao walked away.

  Nao looked for a trash can but couldn’t find one, so he put the stick in his yukata’s sleeve. Squeezing by a few more people, Nao made his way up the stalls and stopped in front of an open charcoal grill. Sticks of pork rested on the racks, with small fires flaring beneath them.

  Nao’s phone vibrated with a text from Saehyun. He was going to watch the Kannon and wanted to know if Nao was close.

  The Kannon was a Buddha statue that went on one of the floats. To celebrate the last night of Yoiyama, the float workers would run the Kannon around the district before placing it on the float. Those memories were the ones Nao wanted to remember, not the ones about what had happened in Tokyo.

  Using a megaphone, the police told everyone to divide and make a path. People used their phones to record as the men chanted, getting ready for the run. The bright screens of the phones penetrated the darkness and distracted Nao from finding Saehyun. He bit his lip, wanting to yell at them, even though the screens shined light deeper into the crowd where the street lanterns didn’t. And there was Saehyun, standing next to a building.

  “Saehyun!” Nao yelled, but over the crowds, it was hard to hear even his own voice. He shook his head and tried pushing his way through, but it was impossible.

  “Saehyun!” he called out again.

  The Kannon started. Police reminded people to move as the men jogged up, carrying the statue. Keeping Saehyun in sight, Nao pushed through the crowd only to be pulled back. He turned in time to see the edge of a zebra print before the muzzle of a gun pressed against his spine.

  “Don’t move,” a man said in a thick Korean accent.

  Someone squeezed Nao’s shoulder, holding on tight. Nao stood still. The guy surely wouldn’t fire in the middle of the crowded street, but who knew—the Koreans were crazy. Nao looked ahead at another man in front of him: chubby, with black hair. Nao narrowed his eyes. Chubby was the same guy that stared at Saehyun and him during the pulling of the float.

  “Do what we say, and you won’t be sliced open.” Chubby pressed a knife against Nao’s stomach.

  Saehyun was lost in the crowd, and looking around for him only made the Koreans press their weapons deeper into Nao’s skin. He could shout, but even then, with the noise of the crowd, Nao doubted Saehyun would hear. The people around him would only panic, and one of them would probably get hurt. He couldn’t let an average citizen get hurt, or else the police would have to get involved.It would just cause more trouble for his family.

  “You’re coming with us.”

  Knife guy grabbed Nao’s arm.

  The gun pressed deeper into Nao’s back, reminding him it was still there as the Koreans pulled him away from the crowds. Nao couldn’t fight them; he couldn’t cause a commotion. They walked down an alley, not as crowded since none of the vendors were there on the adjoining road. Nao’s mind raced; things were happening too fast to think. If there was only one of them, he could take him on, but three was impossible.

  “Help,” Nao yelled and was punched in the jaw.

  They threw him in a van. He kicked but was squished under one of them while another took his legs, tying them together. They chattered in Korean, making it impossible for Nao to think. Their hands were on him, patting him before taking out his wallet, phone, and good-luck fortune. The Koreans laughed and blathered some more. Their language sounded laggard and oddly pitched. Nao couldn’t think through it. Things were moving so fast.

  “You think you could stab us with a stick?” The chubby one laughed before hitting Nao in the face with his elbow.

  He barked out in Korean, and again the others grabbed onto Nao’s hair and held his head up.

  Nao blinked, wanting his eyes to stay shut against the pain. The chubby man brought out his phone and took a few pictures.

  “These are going to your father.”

  “You think he cares?” Nao laughed. “Your fucking plan sucks.”

  “Shut up, or else we’ll send your father your tongue.”

  Pain crashed into the side of his head, and Nao’s world went black.

  Saehyun finished his beer and slammed the empty bottle onto the bar counter. He touched the screen on his phone, but there was still no voice mail or even a text. Why wasn’t Nao responding? People already broke down their stalls, and volunteers bagged the last of the Yoiyama trash. They were supposed to go home together. All of Saehyun’s calls went unanswered. Nao couldn’t be that mad. It wasn’t like him to hold a grudge about having to meet up with Saehyun instead of going together. In the morning he’d call and they’d meet up to watch Gion together.

  He’d gone over his plan to kill the Matsukawa godfather enough times with his men that he didn’t need to hold their hand for the actual act.

  Saehyun checked his phone again at two in the morning. He could go to Nao’s apartment. Nao might’ve gotten tired and fallen asleep. Yeah, that was it. Nao was asleep, and that was why he didn’t answer his phone or send a text after Saehyun said he was at the Kannon. Damn it. He’d go to Nao’s in the morning before the parade. They couldn’t miss each other then, and Nao would have to explain why he never called back.

  The door opened to the bar, letting in a humid breeze before it shut.

  “Long day?”

  “Yeah…” Saehyun looked up. Heejun took his seat at the empty barstool beside him. Actually, he took up an empty barstool and a half of the one beside it. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Your phone tracking is on. You should join everyone else. We’re celebrating at the bar down the road—even Lee.”

  “Aren’t you guys celebrating a bit early? The plan to hit the Matsukawa is after the parade.”

  “You weren’t planning anything, but I was.”

  Saehyun signaled for the bartender to get his tab ready.

  “You, plan something?” Saehyun laughed. “All you do is support Lee and me. I don’t think Taejin would let you do anything besides that.”

  Heejun shrugged. “What can I say? You’re a good kid, Saehyun. And back in Osaka, I was no one. Once you guys get Kyoto, I can be one of the heads and get enough money and power to be on easy street for a long time.”

  “Getting old
and want to retire?”

  “Not retire; groom someone to do all the work for me for a few more years. Just like you’re doing with those ward leaders.”

  “Is that why there’s a big celebration? Finally found your apprentice?”

  “No.” Heejun smiled. “You can’t remember my plan?”

  “The kidnapping one?”

  “Yeah, we caught the yakuza boss’s son.”

  “You fucking kidnapped the kid? Where is he now?”

  “Back at the safe house.”

  Saehyun laughed. “Minwoo and Cho are taking care of some kid? We’ll be lucky if he’s not dead by the time we head back.”

  Heejun only laughed louder, and a few nearby patrons turned to look at them.

  “Yeah, you can see him dead,” Saehyun said. “Tell you what, I’m not going to be cleaning up the mess. Cho can be stuck cleaning for the rest of his life.”

  Saehyun paid his tab and tapped on his phone. Still no messages. He might as well go drink with the rest of the Double Moon. He’d have to deal with a screaming kid back at the safe house, and being drunk would make that a little easier. Like the crowded rooms and people snoring at the safe house wasn’t enough. Saehyun missed Nao’s bed already.

  “Your hot date never showed up?” Heejun asked.

  “I guess we missed each other with all the crowds.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We saw him coming toward you.”

  Saehyun raised an eyebrow. “We?”

  “Me, Lee, and the rest of my team.”

  “What are you even talking about? I never showed you a picture of who I was dating.”

  Heejun laughed. “What’s your fuck toy’s name?”

  “Nao.”

  “Nao what?”

  Saehyun blinked. What was Heejun going on about? “I don’t know. We call each other by our first names.”

  “First names from the start?” Heejun laughed. “Damn, Saehyun, you must have some charm. These Japanese are stuck up when it comes to shit like that.”

  “Whatever.”

  Saehyun rolled his eyes. He’d never taken Heejun for a jackass, but by rubbing in the fact that Saehyun had never met up with Nao, Heejun was pushing his luck.

  “Here, look.” Heejun pulled out his phone, thumbing through it before handing it to Saehyun.

  “That’s your date, yeah? Nao Murata, son of the Matsukawa godfather.”

  The son of the Matsukawa godfather? Saehyun stared at the picture of Nao. Someone was pulling him up by the hair to get a perfect shot of Nao’s swollen eye. Saehyun’s knees buckled, and if not for the stool he would’ve been on the ground. He controlled his face, knowing Heejun would read any emotion he let slip. Inside he was screaming. He had to save Nao before they hurt him.

  Snippets of Saehyun’s and Nao’s previous conversations pieced together through his rage and fell into place. No wonder Nao had joined the yakuza—but it was stranger than that. No one wanted their family in the mob, and the godfather would know firsthand the harsh and meaningless life they would live. No wonder Nao was able to leave without losing a pinkie. Saehyun clenched his teeth. If he’d bothered to ask Nao more details about his past, Saehyun could’ve pieced together the information and protected Nao from Heejun’s stupid plan.

  Heejun kept laughing. “It was easy to tail him once we realized you were already screwing him. We tried to snag him at the float pulling, but you guys ran off too fast.”

  “You were using me as bait this whole time so it would be easier to keep tabs on Nao? Godfather Taejin must’ve got a kick out of it too.”

  “I told Lee you were doing it for us. That’s why he allowed you to take off so much. You should be thanking us. We kept both the cops and the Matsukawa away from finding you on your dates.”

  Heejun whacked him on the back. Heejun was drunk, and Saehyun struggled not to punch that stupid smile right off his face. He needed to get Nao.

  “Awesome, yeah?” Heejun continued. “You got to chill out and stop being so tense. You can probably get one last fuck in if you want.”

  Saehyun laughed. He couldn’t let Nao die, but maybe if Saehyun asked to kill him, he could sneak him out, then tell the others he’d dealt with the body. Nao could lie low until the city was taken over by the Double Moon; then he could open a teahouse on the outskirts of town until enough time had passed that Saehyun could retire.

  Saehyun stood. “Good idea.”

  “Probably your last one. Once we set up the exchange, who knows where the bullets will fly!” Heejun shook his head. “The thing Taejin makes us do, huh? But it’ll blow the Matsukawa wide open.”

  Saehyun grinned, biting the inside of his lip, letting the pain dull his anger. He couldn’t let Nao die. His thoughts flooded by like a tumbled wall at the end of a mahjong game. He needed to think of a way to get Nao out safely.

  “Damn it,” Nao’s muffled voice came through the gag.

  A throbbing pain shot through his head as if a cast-iron teapot had smashed his face. He coughed around the rope in his mouth, which only made him want to vomit. The hood over his head was like the darkness in Nao’s memories, and Nao fell into a panic. He needed to find a way to escape. He jerked his arms, but they were tied to the chair. His feet, however, were free. He snarled, lifting his weight up as best he could, but it threw him off-balance, and he landed sidewise on the floor along with the chair.

  He pressed his hands together. The rope was tight around them, but if he rubbed hard enough, sweat or blood would provide some kind of lubrication.

  The door opened with what sounded like two people entering. They spoke in a mix of Japanese with a random word of Korean.

  “Stupid jjokbari, knocking himself over.”

  Nao’s world shifted as the chair was pulled up. Someone pulled the hood off, blinding him. When he tried to open his eyes again, only one opened; the other was swollen shut.

  “Hey, fucker,” said the other, who had black hair.

  He jerked Nao’s hair back. Nao winced, but the pain quickly worsened with a hit to his jaw. He needed to spit, but with the gag in his mouth, all Nao could do was cough as saliva dripped from his chin. He let out a deep breath. He needed to think clearly and not panic.

  “Ouch.” The Korean flexed his hand. Apparently he hadn’t learned that hitting someone hurts.

  Nao’s thoughts ran together. The Koreans were there to mock him, and Father wouldn’t give up Kyoto to save him. Nao’s life was in his own hands. A copper taste slid over his lips and down his throat as the Koreans continued to punch him. Amid the beatings, Nao took stock of the room. It had one entry. In the corner stood a pile of plastic wrap and a table with a dozen white bricks stacked on it. Nao narrowed his eye. He knew it was drugs, but sticking out behind them was a glimmer of something, a sword or at least a knife. Nao rubbed his wrist more, hoping the Koreans were too occupied with beating the shit out of him to notice.

  “Let’s get this over with so Saehyun will finally let us do something besides clean toilets and burn bodies,” the fighter said.

  Nao’s ear perked up at Saehyun’s name. He was in charge of those idiots? They were younger, though, and didn’t wear jumpsuits as the yakuza did. It was clear the pair were nothing but the first-run recruits left to housework. No wonder they were morons.

  The blond untied Nao’s gag, and Nao spat on the ground before moving his jaw. That was one binding gone, and the sweat was building on his wrist. They wouldn’t send the house staff to kill him, so he might still have a chance. His family wasn’t going to save him, especially after the zetsuen and Saehyun. Saehyun…

  “Get the camera ready, Minwoo.”

  The blond, Minwoo, grabbed the camera, and stood in front of the table with the drugs. He held the camera and gave a thumbs-up.

  “It’s recor
ding?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m not an idiot, Cho.”

  Nao held back a snicker. They were both idiots. He had to use that to his advantage. The remains of his old self surfaced, replacing any panic with a steady craving for bloodlust.

  “Read this.” Cho pulled out a piece of paper and held it in front of Nao.

  Nao stared at the note. The Japanese was scrawled in a downward slope. The note had several scratched-out letters, and obviously two different hands had written the message. It was clearly a message to the Matsukawa. “Surrender Kyoto now or else I’ll be dead by the end of the parade.”

  Nao grinned. “I would read it, but you wrote the wrong character.”

  “Shut up!” Cho punched Nao in the chest while the other snickered.

  “If you keep on punching him, he’ll pass out again,” Minwoo said.

  “I know you wouldn’t want me to say the wrong thing and mess up your message.” Nao laughed, tasting copper.

  The men exchanged more words in Korean, and Nao watched them carefully. If those bumbling idiots were doing the recording, were they the only ones in the house? He needed to get to the blade. He could take them down, but not until his hands were free.

  “You know what it says. Nothing is wrong!”

  Nao laughed. “It’s totally wrong. Did you even graduate middle school?”

  “Shut up.”

  Nao wiggled his hands even more and realized he could almost get them free, but if those men were that nitwitted, maybe they could make it easier for him.

  “I can change the character for you if you want,” Nao suggested. “After all, what would Lee think if you fucked this up too?”