Disclaimer: Chii does not own Naruto. She does not own Nagato-koi and Konan-koi's relationship either. Domo.
The Yakuza Tattoos
Ohayou! My name—no, that isn't important. I'm dead, you see, so there's no reason to acknowledge me. What does it matter? I wasn't part of the yakuza, although I do, wait- I did have a tattoo or two. But that was to be expected.
And that's the inevitable truth- my life had been ended already, the word 'shin-e running through my brain countless times before I finally realized what had happened.
I was dead.
The really dumb thing was, I didn't even realize I was dead. I'd been gone for almost a full minute before I realized that I was standing in front of my body, and my killer-was it a yakuza?- with his frickin' gun. Woop- dee- doo. Could I go down now to my new home, so I could go flirt with the spawn of Satan?
But nooooooooooooo, I was still there. Just sitting… patiently… in the seiza position… on the floor. Boy, was I bored. The last thing that gangstah sawed 'a meh was a solid-looking figure… with a gun pointed to his chest. BOOM! We're all happy.
Well, he probably wasn't.
But still.
And so I walked around the empty garage, wondering how the hell I ended up like this anyway, and if I could have fun haunting people I didn't like.
Heck, I could even go to a swimming pool now. Wait… could ghosts even swim? I wasn't even fully Japanese—my so-called mommy was a Chinese woman—proper, with bound feet although it was already illegal. She was still a gaijin, all the same. At least she didn't have six needles with permanent ink on them on a razor blade forced into her skin.
Oh no, it would flaw it.
I also still wondered why the people of Nihon called the Chinese Chigoku-jin. It was so similar, in pronunciation, to the word for hell—jigoku.
Were spirits condemned to wandering around where they died? Or could they step foot out of their threshold, something not many could so during the war? At least, if I were to wander out, I would have no fear—nothing could kill me if I were already dead.
And what of my boyfriend, who was just as feared for his many piercing as well as his full-body tattoos? The full-fledged leader of one of the most feared yakuza groups in all of Wa—the old way to say Nihon. In any way, textbooks certainly weren't going to help me now.
In this part of Nihon—the untouchable part—there were small… yakuza territories, one could say. I had seen many of them without both their little fingers, if not only one. They murdered to earn another part of their body tattoo, and many started when they were at the ripe age of juuni. And to experience so much pain—I myself was only go years older than the age at which many began—in their years.
For the yakuza, everywhere was dangerous.
And honestly, if you're still wandering, 'Nandesuto ka? Anata wa bakayaro desu,' I don't care. I know, I just died, and I don't give a friggin' shit. But all people were born destined to die. And that's not the ryuu tattoo circling around my body talking.
But in all honesty, if you're wondering how the yakuza can afford all of this, and even remain to this day… we have a secret that can destroy the world.
At least our tattoos aren't giving off acids that are burning up traditional buildings.
If that happened since the ten minutes, twenty three seconds since I died, then woooooow. Time sure flies, doesn't it?
If this is what happens when you die, I want no part of it. I would rather be reincarnated as a weasel… no offense.
I've had a really random thought for a while? How can I carry around a .3 millimeter Berretta gun when I'm dead?
I find myself walking towards my boyfriend's yakuza headquarters. Even though I'm dead, I'd best not tell you where it is. After all, quite a few members of the group are dead already.. maybe they can talk to me and him.
I'm sure being paranoid. I walk in, ignoring the silence of the security system. If I were still alive, it would be bearing by now—but who the freak cared?
As if he would lay a finger one me.
I find my orange-haired fool snoring loudly on a heated tatami mat on the floor. He only has his boxer-shorts on, the cute ones with the 'fearsome' bunny rabbits on it. "Just call them usagi," he says. "Bunny rabbits make it sound like gaijin talk."
"No," I would usually answer. "You're just embarrassed to like bunny rabbits."
Nonetheless, I can see his fully-body tattoo. I grin at the familiar scene—the traditional flowers and tiger. Then comes the sign of the yakuza group—the read groups of clouds surrounded by kuro skies.
He obviously does not know that I am gone, probably thinking that I am sound asleep.
I glare a little at one of my own tattoos, a sea of white lotuses, purer than I should ever be or ever was, on my right inner though. Then I glare at my purple nails and a stray strand of blue hair hanging in front of my eyes.
"Aishteru," I whisper, my voice a slight twinkle, carrying a ghostly melody.
I get up to leave. Perhaps another deceased member of the yakuza group could be contacted. How did late people cope with their lives anyways? Although it really couldn't be called a life.
I pause, and look at my boyfriend's peaceful face. Even a member of the strongest ever yakuza group could be innocent, couldn't they? I nod, as if confirming the answer to my own question.
But which one?
I brush a few stray hairs from his forehead and kiss it—just one last time. Even I, a dead yakuza-girl, who still had her .3 mil. Strapped to her though, could be nice. At least… I think so.
Maybe he did too, when his eyes fluttered open to reveal his usual, mesmerizing look. Concentric circles whirled around his pupils, often making me wonder if anyone could bear to tattoo their eyes. But he didn't. My boyfriend's wonderful eyes were in the one-hundredth percentile au naturale.
"Huh?" he mumbled. "Is that you, koi-chan?"
I hesitate, wondering if he could see me. "Hai, koi-chan. It is me."
"Why're you looking like somebody died?" he muttered, then shot up. "Nobody died, right?"
So he could see me. I almost wish I hadn't kissed him. Almost. "I… Watashi… I cannot guarantee you that, koi."
"Don't tell me it's Purantu-san or Sinumannu-san," he moans, not quite awake yet.
I hesitate again. "Go to the parking lot next to hebi's territory."
I won't be there, I tell myself. At least, not my spirit. I walk out of the headquarters, walking to the entrance of the parking lot. I will myself to be invisible again, and I suppose I am as nobody confronts me. I close my eyes and wait a while.
Maybe he would join me soon, I think. After all, not many yakuza live to be very old. I squeeze my eyes shut and pray.
Pray that he will say my name one last time.
Kudasai, Kami-sama.
Kudasai.
Kudasai…
Kudasai…
Finally, I hear what I wish to hear.
"KONAN-KOI!"
"Koi…" I whisper lovingly as I feel my spirit disintegrating
Maybe he would join me soon.
I sigh and let myself disappear..
Yakuza's honor…
"Nagato-koi."