Chapter Text
Tokyo, 1997
“Well, got anythin’ to say?”
He kept silent.
A sharp, straight kick in the ribs made him cough and gasp for air. Well, at least, there’s no blood… yet.
“I’ll make you talk, you piece of shit!”
His vision was a little blurry, so he couldn’t be sure how many people were surrounding him. But their leader was already loud and stupid enough to give him enough information.
“You two, watch out so nobody would walk in there! Yasuta, Shikido, go here and put up his ass! Hold him straight right in front of me!”
Nice.
He felt how two pairs of not so muscular hands grabbed him from behind, holding him a bit loose. His acting skills paid off too well, so he had to focus and not blow the whole setup entirely.
“Alright, asshole...One way or another, you WILL talk!”
He felt the breeze from the upcoming fist just before he quickly jerked his head back, so the fist didn’t reach his face at the last moment. Not giving anyone time to think, he headbutted the fist so hard, the sparks flashed his vision and the blood buzzed in his ears.
Holy shit, that hurts! Bad, bad idea! Dumbest even! He didn’t hafta go that far!
Now he was angry.
The grip of Yasuta and Shikido weakened enough for him to get out. Without any more thinking, he knocked them both out with a clumsy roundhouse kick, while their leader, already weeping, still carried his damaged hand carefully. Seems like his headbutt broke some of the asshole's fingers. Good to know.
The other two thugs came back to the sound of a struggle, but his blurred vision didn’t give him enough information about them. So when he tried to keep them out with a wide right swing, he suddenly felt his arm get scratched by a sharp steel.
“You fuck!..”
The one with the knife rushed forward for another slash. Now, he could see the blade — it was small, but sharp, and definitely was a trouble.
The blade was charging right into his torso, and, following some instincts, he stepped aside, catching the upcoming hand perfectly. His knee quickly jumped upwards, snapping the caught arm with a loud crack.
The scream rang in his ears, while he was looking for another guy who suddenly disappeared from his vision. The sudden kick in his back answered about the guy’s location, but he had nothing to answer this sneak attack and the next one — the dropkick that went straight into his spine.
He flew into the wall, feeling the blood still ringing in his ears, dripping in his mouth with a metallic taste.
That’s not good.
“Just shoot this asshole already, screw the info! And take his wallet!”
Now that was a mistake.
He got out from the wall when he heard the click of the pulling trigger. Once again, some unknown instincts drove him to dodge the bullet at the last moment before landing the crushing blow at the shooter — the one who dropkicked him into the wall before. This punch was strong enough to knock the guy out entirely, leaving only their leader behind, who, shocked by that quick and unpredictable outcome, just stood there, still cradling his broken arm.
“W-what the?..” he gasped, backing away and tripping. “You monster!.. Who the fuck are you?!..”
He finally opened his mouth, feeling how accumulated blood doesn’t let him speak. He spat it away, right in front of the thug, which made him even more scared.
“You took words right from my mouth, asswipe. The fuck ya doin’ at this turf, smugglin' erotic tapes in the bright day?”
“H-hey, we have the right to do so! No one has these streets for business!”
“And you just thought it’s free to do yer shit here, right?” He took one step forward, making a point and pining the thug to the wall. “Man, you’re dumb”.
“Shut up, you Kansai brat! Who died and made you king of this city anyway?”
He threw his hand forward, grabbing the thug’s shirt, pinning his entire body to the wall. The blood was still ringing in his ears, but he still could hear himself and thug's whimpering perfectly clear.
“Even if I am from Kansai, that doesn’t mean you hafta right to throw shit at me. Ya opened business on foreign territory without askin' yer boss, or mine. I’m sure as hell ya didn’t even think to give some share to anyone — and that stinks”.
The thug started to break out, but in vain — his grip was tight. He even pressed his fist to his chest, so the thug started to gasp for air.
“I have no fuckin' idea what family are ya from, but I’ll make this one clear,” he snarled right at the thug’s ear. “Don’t even think about snoopin’ around with yer stuff, or I’m gonna be yer smallest problem, shithead”.
He let the thug go, making him slowly slide down on the wall. Another blood clot appeared in his mouth and he spitted it — again at the thug’s feet.
“Now get lost!” he shouted.
The blood felt right at the thug’s face, and he screamed in horror, before getting up quickly and retreating out of the alley. His goons, groaning, slowly followed his lead.
When the alley finally became empty, he leaned against the brickwall, breathing heavily.
That one was close. Almost cost him his wallet. But at least, these assholes won’t start another shit in the area for a while.
His back pocket buzzed. Thank God, they didn’t take or break his phone.
“Aniki, ya good?”
“Just finished," he replied with calm tone. "How's things at yer end?”
“Just gave the collections to the boss. He had a meeting, so he shooed me away. Ya need to pick up? I’m refueling the car right now”.
“Sounds good”.
“Kabuki?”
“Yeah, I will be at the gates in five”.
“Got it. Don’t haste, though, I’m planning to buy stuff here”.
“Don’t take too much time, Ayama. Girls usually don’t like unfashionable lates".
“Come on, man!”
The call ended. He put the phone back in his pocket and stretched his neck. The arm still was sore from pain, and he finally decided to take a look. The cut wasn’t deep, but enough for blood to leak through his sleeve.
Well shit. That’ll cost a lot.
He looked around, hoping some of these assholes dropped their wallets, as he didn’t want to spend his own money on clothes. But, unfortunately, it was his only option at the moment.
He sighed and walked out of the alley. The Kabuki-cho Ichiban gai gates were in a fifteen minute walk. Ayama would definitely spend this precious time on shopping and girls so he really doesn't have to hurry. Better look around for some restroom instead, and maybe, pharmacy to take care about this cut. And pain in his ribs also.
Feeling how it became harder to take deep breaths, he slowly walked on the main street, looking around. Sadly, there was no sign of a pharmacy, just lots of familiar salons, shops, and a lonely Shinto shrine on his left.
There’s no way they’ll let him wash his mug there… is it?
But he didn’t even notice how his feet were already carrying him in the shrine’s direction. When he came to his senses, he was already at the shrine gates.
It was already evening, so there weren’t too many people. However, he stepped away from the gates, letting everyone walk in and out, most of them were keeping a big distance from him. He stepped back to some car and took a quick look in its mirror. Of course, there was some blood around his mouth, a black eye that he got right before beating a livin' shit out of these thugs. The collar of his shirt was ripped a bit, but the sleeve was lookin' way worse with a dry blood from the knife cut.
He better find another place.
“There she is, hehehe! Look at this beauty, guys!”
He snapped from his thoughts, trying to locate the familiar slimy tone he could hear around Kabuki-cho at the late hour. Strangely enough, the voices were from the shrine’s yard.
What kind of jackass acts like that there?
He didn’t give it enough thought, as his feet, just like before, carried him inside by some unexplainable instinct. Only when he stopped next to the Shrine’s building, he realised he didn’t bow or clap at the gates.
Guess his suffering for today will last longer thanks to Gods' cursin'.
“Please leave!”
A female, quiet, but stern ranged right at the corner. He jumped, judging this voice was addressed to him, but the unknown laugh, very slimy and corny, instantly dispelled his doubts.
“Come on sweety, don’t be so shy! There’s no way you can make enough money for your stuff working at this place! Buuut… I have a perfect place for you to make big bucks — and probably, even share it with someone who gave you this nice advice”.
“I’m not going to a brothel with you,” the female voice stayed stern. “Now leave”.
“Look at this, guys, a girl plays touchy-feely! Definitely she’s that picky cause her body has some treasures to hi~AAGH!”
He lost his patience and turned around the shrine’s corner, just to evade a flying body that almost knocked him off his feet. But now he could see the entire situation, and he didn’t like it.
Several men in simple but flashy suits were surrounding the lonely miko maiden. Despite the sudden throw and the girl's prepared stance, men were still glazing over her greedy. Some of them were making slow steps towards her, raising their hands with wiggling fingers.
Shitheads.
“Hey! 'nock it off!”
He shouted suddenly even for himself, and his scream ranged through his whole body and cracked ribs, making him wince with pain. But he tried to not give it much thought. If he leaves this girl alone just because he was beaten before, he will lose any remaining respect to himself — and he had to admit, he had left a very little of it already.
“And who the hell are you? Want troubles?” One of them asked. His suit was very tacky, in bright red color, and it was painful to look at.
He squinted, trying to stay focused on the entire group.
“The one who’s lookin’ fer trouble right now, is you, shitheads,” he replied, trying to stay straight. He gave the girl a little nod, so she could run away, but to his surprise, she didn’t move an inch. Is she scared?
“Look at this asshole, thinking he’s a hero or something!” the Red Suit laughed. Others followed him, s ome of them approached him and started to surround.
He could feel the judging glare of the girl, but felt no shame or guilt to be here. To be perfectly fair, he even wanted to throw some more hands right now — just hafta keep eyes for the girl so she could stay safe.
“I insist you all to leave,” she said. “That’s not a place to fight”.
“Or what?” Some of the other thugs that didn’t surround him, turned back to her. “You gonna pray for the gods so they smite us or whatever?”
Something in the girl’s face changed — even in the distance, but he could notice that. However, everyone else were so full of themselves, they didn’t even see how her glare shifted.
“They might,” she replied quietly.
The thug burst with laughter.
“Well, I don’t mind being punished if it means I can have my hands on you!..”
“Asshole!”
He tried to rush closer to her, but the circle of other guys led by Red Suit blocked his way. He clenched his fists, preparing to go through them with a fight.
Suddenly, a short-cutted gasp distracted them all. Thugs turned around, leaving him be, so he didn’t miss this opportunity. Snatching someone’s neck, he swung his body around to clear the way and see what happened.
The thug who was ready to assault the girl, was lying on the floor on his back, groaning. The girl herself, with no changes in her expression, slowly raised up, her arms held in a specific position, as if she just performed a throw. The pose struck something in his memory, but he didn’t understand what exactly, as the other thugs, including Red Suit, unanimously rushed towards the girl.
She managed to catch some other thug by his neck, only to throw him back at the others with a palm strike. The Red Suit got the momentum to jump on her, but his attempt got stopped quickly by her knee strike and then double lift kick, making the girl get out of the way of other opponents. He stepped in, before some of them realised they missed their target, with a wide powerful swing, knocking most of them out. Those who left standing, retreated quickly, some of them started to look for something in their pockets.
He had to get rid of them first.
He rushed to the first guy who almost put out a gun from his pocket. Not waiting any more second, he headbutted him, ignoring the flashing lights and blood rumble in his ears as much as he could. The attack was successful, as the gunner flew away from the strike, most likely unconscious.
Next one.
He turned to the right, already hearing the familiar click of the switchblade, but before he could do anything, the knife wielder suddenly gasped from air and fell to the ground, as the chop from behind knocked him out.
“Can you stop interfering, please?” The girl asked. There was no more politeness in her voice, only irritation. The next thug, also with the knife, slowly appeared behind her, raising his hand for a strike.
“Nope!” He rushed for the guaranteed hit for the thug behind her. The knife tore his shirt even more, this time not leaving any chance to repair it. He felt how the anger flushed in his face like a pot of hot water and he crushed the thug’s face with a direct right hook.
“Eat shit!”
The thug flew away, right at the Red Suit, who tried to make a sneak attack. Both of them flew at the front gates, but didn’t care. He needed to crush all of these assholes — and luckily for him, some of them weren’t going to give up.
“What are you?..” The girl gasped.
Her confused and slightly worried tone got overlapped in his mind by the straight instinct to fight and overcome. He rushed towards leftover thugs, as if they were bowling pins, and he just got a strike by knocking all of them out.
Not enough… Where’s the rest of them?.. He huffed, feeling how his anger and irritation still didn’t go down.
A lonely figure in the shrine dress appeared before him. The girl’s gaze was disappointed, but worried.
“You have to calm down,” she said sternly. “Or I have to make you do so”.
He felt how the widest grin appeared on his face. This girl really has some talent, he admitted that. And if there’s a chance to throw down a fight with her, why the hell not? He had to blow off some more steam anyways.
The girl lowered her head a little and took a stance.
“I suppose I have no choice”.
He ran towards her, preparing for the most powerful punch he still had in his disposal. But as soon as they went in close contact, her stance suddenly changed — she turned to him with her left side, her right arm raised in a prepared position, and the left one went down.
Is that?..
He couldn’t stop his movement, his body was already moving by inertia, as she easily caught his approaching arm, along with his upper body, and threw it over her knee. As he was spinning, while falling on the ground, the familiar voices rang in his head — not the most pleasant ones.
“You’re such a disgrace for our family!”
“Forget about learning our style — you’re not worth it! Go and find a normal job instead — our house needs money!”
“We don’t have enough pupils, and you’re a part of the problem! You scare everyone by your glum face and clumsy moves! Get out of the training hall!”
His back finally met the ground. The anger, irritation and will to fight disappeared, leaving only the heavy weight of his body and thoughts. And another bloody clot in his mouth, as it appears.
Had to get up.
He tried to move a muscle, but couldn’t. All his body felt like an old fallen tree, without a chance to rise up again or grow some other roots. All he could think and do is just to continue to lie down here until moss and grass will cover him entirely.
Light steps approached him, the bright red color of the miko hakama rustled next to his head.
“Can you hear me?”
Her voice wasn’t stern anymore — there was worriness, guilt even? Why she feels guilty about him?
He tried to open his mouth, but could only gurgle silently. He saw her face, shocked and confused. In close, she was really pretty, as he could admit.
“Sorry, I shouldn't have done that… Wait, is there a wound on your arm? Hold on, I’ll help you get up…”
He tried to stop her, but his throat just continued gurgling. He realised he didn’t drink anything for the last several hours. The stamina drink he got right before that showdown in the alley didn’t count.
She lifted his upper body so easily, as he wasn’t weight a shit. After she placed his back against the chozuya wall, she run away, but came back quickly with a glass.
“Here”.
He carefully took the glass, as she continued to hold it by its bottom, in case he'll drop it. She didn’t let it go even when he emptied the glass in two big gulps. He felt his throat start to function again and took a deep breath, the air became slightly colder in the evening.
“Thanks,” he breathed out and turned back to the girl, as her expression was relieved. “Have no idea what came over me… Sorry”
“It’s me who should apologize, to be fair,” she said. “You really tried to help, and… I had no idea you already went through something bad when you came here…”
He looked down at his dirty and tattered shirt. Oh, right.
“I look like shit, am I?”
“Even worse right now. Your shirt is beyond saving, sir”.
“Well, that’s what got me pissed off at the first place,” he nodded, making a mental point that’s the first time she called him 'sir'. “To be fair, I was hoping to find a pharmacy and bathroom somewhere nearby — I had an important meeting soon”.
“You can use the restroom right there, if you need it,” she pointed at the side of the yard with her hand. A little square building with familiar signs was there, already lit by the street lamp from above.
“Can’t say I can help with the medicine and clothes, though…” the girl continued, looking over his wounded arm. “Maybe you should cancel your meeting, sir?”
“Not a chance,” he sighed and finally found the strength to get up. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll find somethin'… or someone…” he muttered, looking over some unconscious bodies of the thugs that were left over.
“Did ya called the cops?” he asked the girl. She nodded, noticing his glare over the bodies. Her expression changed to clear displeasure.
“Is that a tradition for the yakuza to take someone’s clothes after the fight?”
“Hey, easy!” he shouted indignantly. “I’m not a yakuza! And I’m helluva sure these dicks aren’t either!”
While he was lying, there was a bit of truth in his words. As much as he was working for the yakuza, he did everything he could not to be dragged into their business entirely. He would prefer to stay just a thug than die for their dream of money and power.
“Sure... if you say so, sir”.
She didn’t believe him one bit.
Whatever.
He went to the closest body, the one he headbutted earlier. Fortunately, there was almost no blood at his shirt after the blow, and his build was almost close to his own. That’ll do.
“If you’re going, how should I explain him being undressed to the police?” The girl asked, observing his manipulations with the thug’s shirt.
He sighed, trying to find the best excuse, but got nothing. Screw it, then.
“Tell them the truth, why wontcha?”
“Huh?”
“They were harassin' you, weren't they? Just tell the cops about it, and that some sole loser passed by and decided to help, which cost him his own shirt”.
She chuckled. In the light of the setting sun her smile was kinda adorable. He turned away, buttoning up the newfound shirt.
“And what if they would want to know the name of that exact loser?” she asked.
There’s no way cops will bother by these small fries, himself included. No reason to give the name — they'll just brush it off, since he did no harm to the shrine or the girl.
Or is she asking his name for?..
He turned back to her, feeling his mind twisting with unfamiliar awkwardness. She still looked at him, her smile was still here, addressed to him.
He took a deep breath, as he was preparing to dive into the deepest waters of the ocean.
“Name’s Koji Kazama”.
The smile on her face disappeared — for a moment that was holding less than a second. But that fact alone got him stinged.
Is there a problem?..
But the girl smiled again and bowed to him politely, making him forget his restless thoughts.
“I’m Yuko,” she said. Koji nodded awkwardly.
Suddenly, the phone in his pocket buzzed.
“Ah, shit, I’m gettin' late!” He rushed to the torii gates, trying to tuck his shirt in his pants on the way. “Gotta go, sorry!”
He didn’t see Yuko bowing to him again, as he bolted out of the shrine yard, trying his best to at least walk at a fast tempo. His ribs were still sore from the fight, his arm was scratching the inner side of a sleeve with dried blood on his wound.
But all this didn’t matter.
Koji could already see the familiar lights of the Kabukicho gates. The flashes of red followed his thoughts rhythmically as they were the warning signs for his last meeting.
Yuko… No last name?.. And this fighting style of her… he could’ve sworn he saw it before...
Some cars ride next to him at the max speed with screeching tires. He jumped, feeling how his train of thoughts got lost in the back of his mind.
Work awaits. He had to finish it first, and then, when he’ll get some time, he will return to the shrine.
* * *
“So what’s their names were, ya say?”
“I haven’t asked for everyone, but there were guys named Yasuta and Shikido. Low ranks, or even chinpiras, like me”.
“Did I ask about yer rank?..” the voice on the other side of the line dropped lower, making Koji shiver a bit.
No wonder Ayama wanted him to make this call — he would already drop to his knees at this point with wet pants.
He gulped and took a deep breath, when the phone booth exploded with a cackling laugh, making his gasp.
“Ya don’t have one! And that's what pisses me off! The guy like you could have a lot of shit considerin' how much work ya do for the clan! With dedication and perseverance like that, ya could have yer own family at this point!”
“T-thanks…” Koji breathed again. “I’ll be eternally grateful for accepting me at my lowest point, but I can’t follow you. I don’t have enough to be a person like you or everyone else, sir”.
The phone slightly buzzed with a loud, annoyed groan.
“Ugh, can ya stop diggin’ yerself in the shit and speak straight? What bothers ya?”
Koji gripped the phone, preparing for the worst, as if the person on the other end of the call would jump right on him from above at any second. However, the next question made him stutter from the surprise.
“It’s about yer own family, right?” The voice dropped down again, making the question serious and even intimate.
Koji nodded, forgetting that his gesture cannot be seen.
“I’m sorry for all the trouble, but I can’t accept your offer, sir”.
The phone signed with an annoyance, but not that strong as before.
“That stubbornness of yers… Kinda reminds me of someone, I miss right now... but forget it. If ya really need to go, I don’t mind”.
“Thank you,” Koji replied automatically, but then another voice interrupted the call.
“Oh, sorry for leaving for so long, sir! Who are you talking to?”
“Ah, it’s yer golden boy Koji-chan! Sad to see him go, but don’t worry, as I released you from bearing the pain of his resignation!”
“What?”
As Koji listened the hyena-like giggling, some other sounds teared through the laugh, as if someone grabbed the phone in panic.
Finally, he heard a familiar voice.
“Kazama, are you serious about that?”
“I’m sorry, sir. I understand what I could get if I become a yakuza, but I’m not good enough for that”.
“Kid's way too shy! I’m sure he’s helluva strong to make his own little family — heck, I wouldn’t mind fighting him, if he’s that good as I heard!”
“I’m not saying that you’re making a mistake, Kazama… but are you really sure about that? About leaving?”
“Leavin'? That’s not what I meant!”
“Who said about leavin’?” the other voice interrupted again, with a noticeable annoyance.
“But weren’t you saying…”
“Ah, c'mon! I just wanted to tug yer best kid at my side, and he turned it all into a shitty drama! There was nothin' about leaving the clan — am I right, Koji-chan?”
He exhaled heavily, feeling completely exhausted.
No way in hell he will stay here, with all respect to this man. He managed to turn this entire conversation about collections into absurdity, just because he was bored. And he managed to do that to Koji despite them both being in different families of the clan. Koji would never say it out loud, though — he still wanted to stay alive and not risk teasing the main beast of the clan.
“Relax, I’m not going to kill ya or anythin’,” the voice on the other said cheerfully, making Koji even more worried. “I know how important are guys like you, and we need to keep ya alive for… well, or a long time. But even if yer not plannin’ to create ties with the clan, it’s not worth sayin’ goodbye to us yet”.
“I understand,” Koji replied. Surprisingly, that answer didn’t bring him a sense of dread or meaninglessness. He didn’t feel himself caged or trapped, despite knowing how clingy yakuza could be to the civilian's services. There was some kind of understanding he felt at the other side of the call, until his boss spoke to him once again.
“I suppose that all was a misunderstanding. I’m glad you’re still with us, Kazama, but you better be careful with the fights you pick. I’ll check around, but if these guys you were fighting turn out to be from otther clan, that could mean trouble”.
“Don’t worry, sir. I didn’t tell them shit. In fact, they have no idea I have ties with you”.
“See? That kind of guy we need at times like this! Great example of how to not be a chickenshit!”
“Thanks, sir”.
“Heh, don’t mention it. Awright, I think it’s time for me to go — have a lot of work. It was nice to have a talk with ya, Koji-chan!”
He kept silent until he heard how the door closed at the other side of the call.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I should’ve called later”.
“It’s okay. He got a point, though… maybe it will be better for you to stay?”
“With all respect, sir, I can’t hold an oath. I’m too weak to be one of you”.
“What makes you say that?”
Koji felt silent.
What kind of question is this? Sure, he was strong, some people even compared him to particular legends of the yakuza world — but he still was a small fry. And he would’ve preferred to stay that way — to keep everyone away from that life, and from himself.
“Is your family even grateful to you for all you’ve done?”
Another question that kept him silent. Family…
He never asked them — neither did he even wanted to. For him, it was enough to give them money from his questionable work, and no one asked about his own feelings about it. And, to be fair, he never wondered about it himself.
“Listen, Kazama, I understand why you don’t want to become one of us. But what’s the point of doing this for people who don't question you about the risks? What will they do, if you suddenly die? There’s still a high chance for that to happen — even for you”.
“I don’t give a shit”.
“Well you better do!”
The boss’ voice suddenly became sharp as he was nailing his words straight into Koji’s brain.
“Try to ask yourself, for who you actually do all this, if not for us or your family! There is a price for everyone — even for you! And one day, someone have to recompense you for all the things you did!”
Koji didn't say anything, while these words — along with other ones, from his farthest memories — kept floating in his mind like a hoard of jellyfishes. All stingy, annoying, making him think about himself. As if his opinion, his life , were actually worth some shit.
As if.
“You can’t keep up like this forever, kid. This world will not appreciate your sacrifices — it will devour you. And I’m not talking about the world of yakuza — it’s a general rule of thumb these days. Find yourself a worthy price — and keep up to it”.
He wasn’t saying anything for a long minute, until he finally whispered exhaustly.
“Thank you, sir”.
“Sorry for being harsh to you, especially after all you’ve been through today. Take care of yourself tomorrow, then. Relax, and don’t even think about the work at least for a day. Got that?”
Tomorrow, huh. Funny coincidence, he has plans for tomorrow. He nodded.
“Understood, sir”.
“See you later, then”.
Koji finally placed the phone back, feeling how it got wet with the sweat from his palm. Even the air in the phone booth was lukewarm and heavy. Just for how long was he talking?
“Aniki, you okay?” Ayama ran to him, worried. “Yer face is pale as fuck!”
“Well, I just got a couple of words with a legend, and then boss scolded me”.
“By legend, you mean… Oh crap," Now it was Ayama’s turn to become pale. "What the fuck did ya say to him ?”
“Hey, I didn’t say shit, relax. They both just wanted me to give an oath to the clan”.
“And you still refused? Man, ya just had some sort of a blessin', if even legendary yakuza insisted you come over! Just how stubborn are ya not to do so?”
“It’s not that, man. I just don’t want their expectations to turn into disappointment," Koji went to the vending machine, hoping to buy some water. Luckily for him, there still were some bottles.
“But seriously, I don’t getcha,” Ayama muttered, while Koji was picking the bottle and sending coins one after another into the machine. “You strong as fuck, you always get yer job done, ya don’t talk shit and don’t let anyone to dishonor yers or the clan's… You’re the perfect definition of a yakuza!”
“Says who?” Koji annoyingly yanked the bottle out of the vending crate. “Can you at least stop sayin' how good I am? Because I don’t like flattery and bullshit like that”.
“It's not bullshit, aniki”.
He gulped some water and looked back at Ayama in question, meeting his serious gaze.
“I have no idea why ya think you’re shit at this job, but that’s not true,” he said. “I’m sure as hell ya can make everything work, even if you’ll be out of the family business”.
“And all I hafta do for that is just believe in myself or what? Stop feedin’ me that crap, man”.
“I’m just sayin’...”
“Ayama,” Koji stopped him with stern look.
“Gotcha. I’ll shut up,” he sighed and pointed back at the end of the alleys where they both stayed.
“How ’bout unwindin' in karaoke then?”
“Nah, I’m going to sleep. And hit the pharmacy. Need some painkillers for these ribs of mine”.
“Aniki, ya should take better care of yerself!”
“I know, Boss told me the same,” Koji said wearily. “He doesn’t know about my ribs, though…”
“Should I tell him?”
“Nah, I’ll do it myself, if tomorrow won’t be enough for me to rest. Take care, man”.
He waved and went to the other direction of the street, away from the Kabuki-cho.
After walking for a couple of blocks, Koji felt his eyelids become heavier. He focused his vision on the road ahead. Gotta keep up at least until he hits the train — then, he can sleep for a bit before finally reaching home.
But the fatigue, along with dulled pain from today’s fights, came over him, as he passed by familiar torii gates. Some part of his mind reminded Koji about his disrespectful entrance earlier, and he didn’t find any better time to make at least a single bow as a sign of an excuse.
And, with this single bow, his entire body went on the ground, following the basic laws of physics and his own fatigue.
Shit.
That was the only thought he managed to have when his head hit the ground, and everything turned into saving, cozy darkness.
* * *
“Koji!”
He didn’t want to get up. The pain of defeat, along with almost visible brickwall on his way to understand the basics, were surrounding him just like in that one music video from the East.
He felt alone, powerless and stupid, and it made him angry.
“You are a disappointment, Koji,” the stern male voice ranged above him. “Thank heavens, your parents don't see this — otherwise they could’ve died from embarrassment and we'd have to deal with their funeral!”
The words stung his mind like red-hot iron peaks, making him sniff and swallow his own angry tears. He was still lying face down, so they didn't see his face. But they still could hear him.
“Oh, stop crying!” The female voice joined the scolding. “You should be grateful we accepted you after your parents died! Shame they didn’t teach you at least the basics of the Kazama style — otherwise you at least could be the first pupil here!”
“Indeed,” the male voice sighed. “And that’s a shame, especially after hearing about your father’s life. Even if he had a decent talent in martial arts, he didn’t give you any lessons. What a waste of a man… and foolishness”.
“Was his father talented though? He was just some monk, they usually don’t even have to fight?”
“No idea, but he at least could teach this brat to throw a punch”.
The male voice became angrier, his words sounded heavier and sharper, like a barking.
“Are you planning to continue to lie down and cry? The Kazama family never shows their back to the opponent — they will never show weakness! You’re disgracing our family! Get up!”
“Get up!” the female shouted. “Stop being a nuisance and be useful for once!”
Their anger resonated with his own. He couldn’t understand why, but it wasn't because of their words about his father. He didn’t even remember him, but they didn’t know about it. All it matter is they were still throwing harsh words into him, and his patience was on its edge.
Along with anger, something else raised in his mind — as if there was a small geyser bubbling from the unknown power. More and more, it continued to reach every limb of Koji’s body, as he continued to gather himself from the ground.
“Stand up!” male voice shouted. “And this time, try to break the defence properly!"
He obeyed. The man before him, his uncle, took a familiar stance.
Koji saw it a million times — the famous Kazama attack reversal stance, able to parry any limb, if it was a straight strike. But there was an exception for such a powerful move — it wasn't able to catch elbows or knees.
A thought, quick and refreshing, as a blast of the wind, pierced his mind, connected with his accumulated anger, embarrassment and will to prove himself. All he had to do was to focus that whirlpool of emotions and thoughts into one particular attack to finally get things right.
“Well, we’re waiting!” His uncle shouted, continuing to hold the stance. “Make your move!”
The next second he was crumpling on the floor, groaning, as he couldn’t hold the pain in his solar plexus from the knee strike. Koji even thought his attack was imbued not only with his own strength, but also some gust of wind — similar to the one that crossed his mind earlier.
“Honey, are you okay?!” His aunt ran towards his groaning uncle, glaring at Koji with hate. “You little prick, what did you do to him?!”
The quick adrenaline rush from the victory changed to fear in his mind as Koji realised what he’s done. He stepped back, feeling how the inner geyser of his sudden power freezes, as his uncle slowly stood back with his wife’s help.
“You little shit…” he wheezed. “You're supposed to use only the moves from the Kazama style… How dare you bring these street brawl tricks into our house?!”
Koji gasped, the panic overcame his mind, as his mouth started trembling.
“B-but you didn’t tell me what move counters the stance… I didn’t know what to do!”
“Quiet!” Aunt shouted, her high-pitched voice rang in his ears. “If you really are a Kazama, you should've already known that stance is countered by grabs or low attacks! And you… you did it on purpose, didn’t you?! Honey, can you breathe?”
Koji’s uncle suddenly took a step forward, making him retreat back to the wall. He tripped, falling at his back, miraculously not hitting a shinzen with his body. A familiar three-part crest of the Kazama family was hanging above his head, along with the motto that got turned upside-down in his eyes.
'Softness triumphs over hardness'
“Look what you did! Do you want to anger the gods?!” Aunt shouted, rushing to him. She grabbed Koji by his training kosode and tug him closer to her, so Koji could see her angry face. With the family crest and motto still flashing before his eyes, the overall image engraved in Koji’s mind, filling him with fear and shame.
“Let him go!”
She gasped, as his uncle took a step closer, just to grab Koji by himself and threw him towards the exit. The throw was humiliating, as if uncle didn’t see Koji as a person at all, but as a robber.
“Go and find some decent work!” he barked. “If you can’t be our student, there’s no point in continuing to teach you! Start paying for your life here, if you can’t be a proper practitioner of Kazama style!”
“Or at least find us some pupils who will be better than you!” Aunt added. “Make yourself useful, you ungrateful barbarian!”
Koji felt how the images of an angry aunt, the Kazama crest and the dojo are mixing with his own feelings into something explosive. But even then, the image of an uncle, groaning with pain, was still flashing before his eyes.
Kazama style was not about causing harm to anyone.
He can’t do it.
He can't do no harm .
He’s worthless.
Koji cried.
A loud, whaling howl burst from his throat as he continued to walk across the dojo’s yard, to his folded school uniform, a backpack and scattered books.
He should stop crying. He still had classes today and the final exams were this week. And he actually was too old to cry like a baby — the other 14-old boys aren’t crying like that.
But Koji couldn’t stop, the tears were flowing on his face, making his head lighter and a little dizzy. The more they flowed, the more they felt like gentle touches of someone caring enough for him to calm him down.
And when he felt something like a palm covering his cheek, Koji opened his eyes.
* * *
Yuko gasped, when her hand, gently covering his face a second ago, jolted away as if it got electrocuted.
“What the?!” Koji screamed, gasping for air. The air was here — cold, pleasant, making him feel wet paths on his face.
Oh shit.
He looked at Yuko, still sitting next to him. They were in a small room, which didn’t look like a part of a shrine. A small table, locker and a couch he was lying on, were the only furniture. No books or a TV, and the only door he could see was slightly opened, showing the outside yard.
“You fell asleep at the gates,” Yuko said. “You’re lucky I was still here — otherwise the police would’ve picked you up with wrong assumptions”.
Koji looked back at her. She wasn’t wearing her miko clothes anymore, but her casual clothes were modest. A plain green turtleneck shirt, blue jeans with their paint being almost dried out, modest and simple brown shoes. Her hair, previously being held in a traditional shrine side-ponytail, now were cobbled in a simple bun. The mysterious miko from before now looked like a tired office worker.
As if he looked any better after crying like a bitch in his sleep.
He turned away in embarrassment. What a great start to their acquaintance.
“You’ve seen a nightmare, haven’t you?” Yuko asked, not attempting to get closer.
He continued to look away at the empty wall, listening to the buzz outside. Early morning, as it seems.
He heard a light rustle, as she stood up, then her steps, approaching the door. But, instead of leaving him alone, she rustled something at the exit and came back. A single onigiri appeared before him, lying on her palm.
“Are you hungry, Kazama-san?”
Hearing his own name stung something in his mind, as he turned sharply to her, only to meet her gaze. To Koji’s surprise, there was empathy and understatement, as if she knew she crossed some forbidden boundaries by waking him up.
“You may leave if you want, but please, eat this at least,” she said. “I’m not working until noon, but I can leave you alone to buy some supplies for the shrine”.
Koji looked at the onigiri she gave him. The feeling, close to hunger but different, started to linger in his mind. Along with the memories about the talk with his boss yesterday, his nightmare and her kindness, there was something Koji wanted to express — and to his surprise, this wish was way more powerful than hunger or familiar pain in his ribs.
He opened his mouth.
“Can you stay?”
As he let these words out, the familiar shame overwhelmed him. He doesn’t~ no, she doesn’t have to be that nice to him. He isn't worth it. He never was. Why the hell did he even ask her to stay?
Please , he thought, for the love of everything, please say no. Let me leave at ease.
But she didn’t hear his silent pleas — or didn’t want to listen, as she sat next to him once again, with another onigiri and a couple of coffee cans. One of cans she handed to him, and Koji took it gratefully, feeling how the sense of kindness, so familiar and yet so distant, is overwhelming his body.
He better not start to cry again.
He saw how his hand was shaking, but, to his surprise, so was hers. Something about her hands raised in his thoughts, and Koji tried to catch onto it to distract himself from an embarrassing feeling of gratitude.
“Say,” he tried to speak, feeling how difficult it was to let words come out. “The moves ya used on those assholes yesterday… Weren’t they from Kazama martial arts?”
Yuko didn’t say anything, unwrapping her onigiri slowly. Koji noticed how her hands shook a bit more after his question, and felt guilty.
“Guess I had to realise that you could notice,” she replied. “They’re… clumsy”.
That reaction was very familiar to Koji. That guilt of not reaching standards, the embarrassment, the uncertainty… as they were his own.
“I’m not judgin' or anythin’ y'know,” he said quickly. “Just got surprised to see it. Been a long time”.
Yuko raised her head, and their eyes locked. A silence filled the room, as they both looked at each other. Understatement, empathy, even sorrow — they exchanged it in that silent conversation about nothing.
But in this silence, Koji suddenly felt how he has nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing to prove, either, as Yuko didn’t ask him to do so. And he felt she didn't need to prove something to him either — even if he was lowkey interested in her knowledge.
And Yuko somehow understood his wish, as she opened her can of coffee with a sudden enthusiastic look. He bit his onigiri, waiting for her to say anything.
Finally, she spoke.
“You’re a teacher?”
“Do I look like one?” he asked back and laughed. “Good joke, though”.
“I was serious”.
Koji stopped laughing and blinked at her.
“You said you’re not a yakuza yesterday, so how exactly do you make money?” she asked.
There was no hostility in her voice, only curiosity. He couldn’t hide the truth from her, so Koji scratched the back of his neck.
“Well, that one is kind of a lie. I’m not a yakuza, sure, but I’m workin’ for ‘em. Lookin’ over their turfs, stoppin’ any lil’ mess. Ya can say, I'm some sort of janitor in the yakuza world, when the big guys don’t want to get their hands dirty”.
“So you kill people?”
He shook his head.
“As I said, I’m stoppin’ any lil’ mess in the town. That doesn’t include murders, but… there can be some broken bones. I’m tryin’ to not gettin’ to that, unless shit hits the fan”.
“That’s strange”.
“Haw? How so?”
Yuko sipped some more coffee from her can, then took a bite from her onigiri.
“I was watching you too, yesterday. And even if you are familiar with the Kazama style, your moves were mostly different. Very brute, if I dare to say”.
“Why thank you,” he grinned for a second. “But as I said, I’m not a teacher, far from it. And, if we’re goin’ to observe each other's skills…”
He turned back to her, remembering all the moves she performed the other day. Only two of them were familiar to him thanks to his useless training classes. But everything else..
“You weren’t holding on to this style entirely either, ya know,” Koji took a bite from his onigiri, perhaps way too aggressive. “These palm strikes? The chops? I don’t remember them in the Kazama style, and I’m helluva sure they weren’t implemented during the last decade”.
Yuko sighed, as if she was ashamed of getting exposed like that. She slowly bit her onigiri and chewed it, all that under Koji’s expectant look. Finally, she finished and took a deep breath.
“To be honest… that’s not what I’m proud of,” she said. “I wish I could do better, to completely follow the path of the Kazama style, but… old habits die hard”.
Koji nodded slowly.
“Yeah, I know that feeling. I was just curious about what style that was”.
Yuko’s face suddenly became darker, as if he touched some sensitive themes for her. A familiar panic started to fill Koji.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean harm! If ya don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay!” He shouted, trying to calm her down. Luckily for him, she listened and nodded in gratitude.
A sudden, daring thought visited his mind — just like a long time ago, the day when he had to forbid the practice for himself forever. But, despite that, he still remembered the theory and a sudden wish to share it with a fellow Kazama style practitioner made Koji’s heart burn.
“Ya know…’ he said, not believing his own words. “I don’t use these moves much, but I can show you the ropes, if ya need. Whatcha say?”
Yuko’s eyes widened, as if he just promised her something out of this world. Her practice at this point must be really shitty, if his offer made her react like that. Something wasn’t right.
But her happy face, full of excitement and gratitude, filled Koji’s soul with unfamiliar warmth, similar to the one they both shared in their silent exchange five minutes ago.
Any fight is a conversation of sorts, even the practice one. It seemed to be that Yuko needed a good listener, companion in this kind of talk, and Koji hoped to become that kind of partner to her. Because he desperately needed that kind of talk too.
“Let’s do this!” They both shouted simultaneously and laughed.
Koji took it as a good sign of their partnership.