I saw Tokyo Godfathers the other night and I absolutely loved it. The movie was beautiful, both in script and animation. I loved the whole serendipity aspect of the movie...
How the three vagrants ended up with a lottery ticket of 200,000,000 Yen prize, and how Miyuki meets her father again.
This is a fanfiction of a possible sequel as the movie left much unfinished business. Not that the ending was unsatisfying just as it was but the romantic side of me wanted Miyuki to find something other than familial love. I wasn't sure how to go about that and I was wary of using an original character when Satoshi Kon's were already so well defined, so I took liberties with an extremely minor character and this is what came out.
Tokyo Godfathers was all about familial love, I was hoping with this story to explore other aspects of love as well. Plus I'm a big mush for romantic comedies.
Disclaimer: I make no profit from this. The story belongs to Satoshi Kon and affiliates.
This is just a test run and I might continue it if people are interested so please review!
I strongly recommend seeing the movie first or my story will make little sense.
Chapter One :"The nail that sticks up must be hammered down."
It was freezing. The snow bit down into his skin like a many toothed thing, but it was still preferable to going to his sister's wedding. She'd throw a fit as soon as she saw him but Kiyoko was Kiyoko and she'd never refuse her ototo anything if he asked nicely enough. Besides, it wasn't his fault he hated the groom. His father...well his father was a different matter altogether and he'd cross that bridge when he got there.
Nobu knew it was a stupid idea the moment it was suggested by Higashi, but he also knew that with friends like his who needed enemies? If he even hinted that he was not up for a round of kick-a-bum-senseless they'd just as easily decide it was just as fun to get a five fingered discount at the next shop they passed by.
Nobuyuki was many things but thief was not among them.
Nobu could handle violence; blood, the swift lighting bolt of agony as a fist connected to soft yielding flesh and stubborn bone underneath. He understood violence. Understood the rush of power and control posing as mercy. He even understood– even though at times this seemed less because he was a Yakuza boss's son and more because he was his mother's son, too– that violence, like any form of control, was only ever preferred by those too weak or stupid to establish power on their own.
His face remained impassive as the gangly and awkward Higashi drop kicked the older man to the ground. Didn't even bat an eye when round faced Osamu dragged out a second man from within jury rigged cardboard box. The old man's flaxen hair dragged on behind him, the white blending in with the snow that blanketed the park ground. His long white beard framed a blank, sallow face.
A little like old father Christmas, Nobu thought as he watched the other boy put on a poor facsimile of intimidation on his teddy bear face.
Ryoichi stepped on the first bum's fingers and stole a small envelope from the man's breast pocket. Nobu frowned. He could handle violence– better than these soft knuckled boys, these rich boys who's mother's apron strings still dangled freely from beneath the expensive brands of their Armani sweaters– but theft was not tolerated.
Let it never be said that Oota Nobuyuki was not a quick thinker. His thick winter coat made it easy to dial his cell without bringing on too much attention, not that any of his crew would notice at this point, so brimming were they with the heady rush of power.
Taking a quick look at the screen, he swiftly adjusted the volume of his ringtone before pressing the 'send' button. The ringtone rang, just as if there was an incoming call and Nobu quickly put the cell to his ear as he finished dialing the number.
"Hi. How've you been?" he said.
After that it was easy. Not even Ryoichi's slow wit was retarded enough to deny the lure of a bunch of drunk teenage girls.
He walked out of the park. The four other teenagers followed obediently with out even a backwards glance at the man they left bloodied and helpless on the frozen ground.
Nobu turned up his jacket collar and took another discreet look behind him, he didn't think the bum had it in him, but sure enough he could see the old man limping after them as they rounded a corner. He only noticed because at that same moment a taxi cab flew passed him like a bat out of hell– the bright winged "A" atop the hood zigzagged through traffic– and he had turned to yell something obscene at the reckless driver.
None of his crew had yet noticed their would be pursuer.
"The girls said they might head for another club," he said conversationally all the boys turned to him in rapt attention, "told us to bring some extra cash...for entertainment."
The others whooped in elation. Let them interpret that entertainment anyway they saw fit, after all the conversation had another purpose, carelessly he asked, "that reminds me, Ryoichi, what the hell did you take from that bum, anyway?"
The gang continued to walk uninterested, their heads filled with things of a more carnal nature, but the shorter boy turned to him quickly, like an over enthused puppy.
"Oh, yeah. I totally forgot about that!" he replied searching for the envelope that he pilfered. Finding it he looked up at Nobu expectantly, "I think it's cash or something. You think it's worth anything?"
Thinking quickly Nobu put on a disgusted air, "You serious, Ryo? It came off a bum. I wouldn't even be touching it. Who knows what kind of shit that envelope has."
A horrified look passed over Ryoichi's face as he looked down at his bare hands clutching the envelope, "You d-d-don't think I'd, uh, get sick, do you?"
Nobu shrugged,"How the hell should I know?"
The germ freak Ryoichi fell hook, line and sinker, "Maybe you should hold on to it till we get back. You know me, I'll prolly lose it and shit."
"I don't know, I think I remember something like that was what gave Osamu's brother the Clap, or something– is that blood?"
Nobu hid a smile, Ryoichi visibly turned green and his hands had begun to shake,"Look man, I'll let you keep a thir– half, I'll give you half. Just hold on to it."
Ryoichi would have dropped the envelope regardless of wether Nobu took it or not, and hurried to the rest of the gang saying something about how he forgot that his mother wanted him to do some vague chore somewhere and then he was off running down the street as if his penis depended on it.
"What's wrong with him?" Higashi asked.
Nobu shrugged, and hid the envelope in his jacket pocket, " I'll catch up with you guys later. Gotta make an appearance at my sister's wedding after all. See ya."
And with that he was off. Jogging back the way they'd come through the snow that had once again begun to fall. The bum had collapsed near a dumpster next to a brightly lit Mcdonald's.
Nobu prodded him with his foot and when he didn't move he knelt down beside him, "Hey, Old man. Wake up, it's no time for a nap."
"Beat it kid. Come to kick on old bum when he's down?" he raised one bushy brow, "Oh, yeah been there done that."
"Yeah, yeah. They're a bunch of retards, I know,"if his friends were assholes he wondered what that said about him. Nobu waved the comment off and dangled the envelope infront of the man's bloodied face, "So you want your stuff back or not?"
The homeless man said nothing, but he took the envelope back and held it reverently.
Nobu knew he wasn't gonna be thanked– didn't think he particularly deserved it, either– and took off until a gruff voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Why bother?"
Nobu shrugged, "Cus I'm not a thief. And you didn't deserve that, no matter how bad you reek."
The dark haired boy turned around, left the man to his own devices and went to look for his companions. Besides Kiyo was gonna be there. And she was hot.
Two days later his father Oota Harukichi, Kumicho of the Godaime Oota-gumi yakuza and his wife, Fumiko, were assassinated as they were leaving for their son-in-law's funeral. The ambulance that would have saved their lives had crashed into a convenience store, instead.
Seven months later...
Nobu was slowly losing his mind.
It was the middle of summer and the heat seemed to be boiling his brain in his skull.
If one more person called him 'boss', he would not be responsible for the bodies that would be left behind.
There was always a deference to his presence whenever he entered a room, but that was more in respect of Nobu's father as Kumicho than anything else. Everyone knew that his older sister was next in line to become the next Chairman. Their father had been preparing her for the role her whole life, but after becoming a widow a day after her wedding and losing her parents not a day after that, Kiyoko was...not the same.
The snake was left headless and many feared that putting Kiyoko in charge would incite another yakuza war. Nobu snorted. Yeah, right. Like making a seventeen year old head of one of the biggest yakuza families was really a fantastic idea. It was tantamount to putting an OCD patient with a predilection to pressing buttons in a missile silo.
"Where do you want this box of old accounting books, boss?"
Nobuyuki's head snapped up almost comically and in one swift move he stood up, removed his shoe and threw it full force at the head of one of his father's most loyal men.
"Out! You– you– YOU!" woe be the day when Oota Nobuyuki was reduced to speechlessness, "If I hear that word one more time I swear to god– "
He never finished that sentence, partly because the man had hightailed it out of there on the second 'you' but mostly because his sister was standing next to the shoji screen that separated the antechamber from the atrium.
His sister had once been a large woman, much like their father had been. Where Nobu had the lean, willowy build of their mother, Kiyoko was her father's daughter in both build and epicurean taste for life. Her weight loss was one way that she had ceased being the old, familiar Kiyoko. Where there was once soft comforting grace there now lived jagged, angular lines and a stern unyieldingness. His sister had been replaced by this brittle, stoic woman and in some ways this was leagues more alarming than the loss of his parents.
She moved towards him, the taught roundness of her pregnant belly jutted out in a convex line, like a ball resting atop a ruler.
"Don't be so melodramatic, Yuki-chan," Kiyoko said.
Nobuyuki frowned at the name. At least one thing hadn't changed, she was still the only person allowed to call him that. Kiyoko ambled forward and just as she reached him she grimaced and put one hand to her swollen abdomen. Any comeback he might have said died in his throat.
Nobu, alarmed, steadied his sister gingerly, "You should be in bed, Onee-san."
Kiyoko waved him away, " I've been in bed all day, I'm pregnant not infirm."
He scowled at her stubbornness, "Look, sis, I just don't want to see you bend over one day and pop the thing out before it's done baking. Okay?"
His sister laughed. He smiled goofily, it had been a long time since she'd last laughed.
"Oh," she wiped at her eye in mirth, "I don't think that's how it works. And that's your niece– not a loaf of bread you're talking about."
"Yeah, sure Ms. Anpanman," he directed her to a place to sit, "Now sit, already."
His sister sighed as she sat. He looked out over the garden. This was the most beautiful spot to sit upon. Their mother had spent countless hours tending to her flora. A row of peach trees stretched out before them, their soft pinkish petals had already fallen and lay strewn about the grass like fallen soldiers. He could hear the gentle trickle of the fountain that emptied into a small stream. The water meandered alongside the trees in a thin ribbon; a liquid snake on emerald green grass. Some petals had drifted down into the water, too, and they floated like frail dreamlike boats. He could see the old cream colored walls of the side of his home. Its strong wooden beams supporting the tiered house like sentries at their posts.
He had thought that nothing could ever harm him here, once.
"You don't have to do it, you know." Kiyoko said apropos to nothing.
His sister's voice broke through his thoughts. He looked at her sharply. He knew exactly what she was talking about.
"You know as well as I do that that isn't true." he made to move away but his sister grabbed on to his hand fiercely.
"It could be. You could tell them you don't want anything to do with the girigake." she looked at him with wild, unabashed hope, her large brown eyes quivered with unshed tears. "That you are not yakuza and shouldn't be made to fix the kumicho's mistakes! That you just want to live quietly with what's left of our family!"
She was shaking all over and he was afraid to say the wrong thing. He knelt in front of her and took both her hands in his. Kiyoko had never, ever needed him to comfort her. She'd always been the one to comfort him. A soft arm across his shoulders, a gentle look. He felt unbalanced. It was alarming how quickly their roles had reversed. He was afraid to say the wrong thing but he couldn't bare to lie to her either.
"I can't please everybody, Onee-san. But I can try to please the ones that want us dead for whatever sense of misplaced honor. And to do that I have to go through with the girikage,"
She looked unconvinced but she had begun to gain some semblance of control. Good girl, he thought.
He continued.
"And if that doesn't work we could always run away to Argentina and get fat off beef and empanadas," he gave a long sideways look at her belly and put his hand on the roundness of it, "how 'bout it Anpanman Jr. Hablas Espanol?"
Dinner was a quiet affair. His sister was still fragile and the mood at the table was tense. Hayato, the man who had taken Nobu's shoe to the head, sat to his right. He was a huge man with an incongruent baby's face. All the other men at the table, six in all, always made a point to rib him about it. But it never seemed to bother Hayato, not that he was a push over for that kind of thing, but it was the wicked less, playful banter of siblings and not the malicious jab of any real harmful intent. Though sometimes, like any real sibling, there was that too.
These same men had been at the table for as long as Nobu had any real memory. Hayato had taught him how to do his first somersault. And Shinohara– the short, eternally bored man that sat to his left– had been the first to congratulate him on his first time getting drunk ( not that Nobu would ever be giving the man any reason to do so a second time. Hugging a public toilet and being completely frank about his feelings for a certain Kiyo was a one time deal. Thank you very much.)
Nobu had a feeling it was because of these men that he and his sister weren't going the way that their parents and Kiyoko's husband had gone.
And just like that he lost his appetite.
"I'm going for a walk," he said and excused himself from the table, "I'll be at the park."
"Don't be too late, Okay?" his sister replied. But Nobu was already half way out of the house and didn't hear the 'Bye, boss!" that chorused out of the dining room. It was for the best, anyway.
He had to take the train and two busses to get there, but the route was one he was intimately familiar with. He had been making this same trek for the last six months, after all.
He wasn't sure what drove him to it. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was a burgeoning neurosis after the violent death of his parents, but he could not get that homeless man out of his mind.
He wanted to find him and...what? Apologize? It was a bit late for that. Tell the man he was no longer friends with those idiots? It was true, his social life had gone to utter shit these past months, but he didn't see how the other man could possibly care.
Maybe it was just curiosity. He wanted to know what it was like to drop off the face of the known world. The yakuza weren't known for being obvious, bright examples of society. It was called the underground for a reason. But not even yakuza life could compete with the anonymity that came with being a vagrant.
Maybe he wanted that, too. Find a nice cardboard box where no one could find him and shove a knife in his back (or gun as had been the case for his father).
He walked the winding path through the park. A couple was sitting on one of the benches as he passed. They sat affectionately close to each other, the man had his arms around the woman and she looked at him not adoringly as he would have thought but with a vague sense of some other feeling Nobu couldn't yet place. From the looks of it Nobu wasn't the only one, the boyfriend kept advancing on his uninterested girlfriend. It was sort of gross the way the man was gushing out half wit platitudes at the clearly nonchalant female. She kept shoving him away discreetly, her face serious and uncompromising. Nobu grimaced, and then he realized what the look on the girls face had been...disgust. And then he realized something else: she was gonna bitch slap the other teen.
Nobu pretended to look away uninterested, he wasn't into domestic violence anyway, and sure enough he heard the hollow resounding slap of someone's hand meeting a face at a very fast speed. A moment later the girl hurried past him, her pace brisk and furious. He could tell she wasn't done venting her anger because of the rigid way she held her shoulders and the nerveless way in which she kept rearranging her school portfolio. The strap grew taught and then fell slack against her back and as she passed him a small piece of paper fell out of a side pocket.
Before picking it up he looked to see if the boyfriend was still around. Like he expected he wasn't. Not many like to wade around in their humiliation after getting backhanded by a girl half your size.
It was a photograph.
Well, I'll be damned, he thought.
It was a picture of three people. A man, the ugliest woman quite possibly ever, and a skinny boy holding a bundle in his arms.
The boy and the woman, though extraordinarily ugly, were of no import. But the man was the same from that night.
He was still holding the picture, angling it up to try to catch as much light as possible so that he could see it better.
The woman was still ugly, but he wasn't entirely sure his first assessment of the boy was accurate. He looked more like a she.
"Oi! What are you doing?" a strong female voice said, "just you just steal that?"
Nobu's head snapped up at the sound of the voice and he said in irritation, "I wasn't stealing."
The voice belonged to the brown haired girl that had just fought with her boyfriend. She was wearing her school uniform even though it was already night and school had been over for hours, strange that he didn't notice before. She was pretty, maybe. But her lip was curled in irritation and her eyes gave him that appalling higher-than-thou look he absolutely loathed. He narrowed his eyes at her. She looked familiar, something about the shape of her eyes and her high cheekbones.
He held out the picture for her to take, "You dropped it."
She took the picture and rolled her eyes as if dismissing the whole incident as something too unimportant for her to worry about and made to move away.
Then it clicked. The boy was a girl! And she was standing right in front of him eyeing him like he was a particularly nasty rat.
"I'm looking for someone," he said when it looked like she was going to leave, " Do you know the man in that picture?"
The girl wrinkled her nose and sniffed roughly, "Which one?"
Nobu looked back at the photo in her hands. Hm, that explained quite a lot actually, "The one not in drag."
The girl didn't even look at the photo as she put it back in her pack, "Nope, never seen him."
"Don't be thick. You're obviously in the picture," he said irritated.
"Wha– I'm not thick!" she said looking at herself, "I'll have you know I've lost lot of weight!"
"Okay."
The girl's face pinked and she said, "Yeah, so maybe I know him, what's it to you?"
Nobu shrugged and used the lie that always seemed to work in cases like these, "I owe him money."
"You owe a bum money...and you're selflessly paying him back?" she eyed him doubtfully.
Nobu forced back the urge to roll his eyes, she wasn't going to buy the lies he was going to tell her so he decided to treat her like he would any yakuza thug when he wanted information.
"Ten bucks says you know exactly what it is I want to know," he said reaching for his wallet.
"Thirty."
"Fifteen." he replied..
"Twenty or I walk away."she countered.
Nobu sighed, he was starting to think the boyfriend she just broke up with was better off, "Fine."
She took the money, shook his hand and introduced herself, "Ishida Miyuki. Pleasure doing business with you."