CHAPTER XIX

…

Narita Rengou, one of the lieutenants in the central faction of the Chiba Outfit, was about to meet with the boss. Once the shateigashira of a Yakuza clan, along with his old-time friend Donato Ichijou, he was now a key member in the mob - the same mob which the Yakuza were at war with not so long ago, and which crushed the Ichihara-kai and left him defeated. But the boss of the Chiba Outfit had been kind to him and his friend. Narita thought of it, and even now, he was perplexed at the turn of events. Had it been on a whim? Could he have perished all the same that day? What were the motives of a mob boss for employing his enemies, a Yakuza, in his ranks? And did he really have the choice to refuse? Narita couldn't imagine his life if he'd left for good - he had no wife nor children to go home to, his father had died, and the law-abiding society would not be keen on his return - but having been offered an opportunity during a life-and-death situation, his instincts knew enough. His friend thought the same. So Narita and Donato both treated their predicament with caution, and agreed not to get too involved. In any case, this was a second chance that Narita wasn't about to waste.

Narita had an idea of what the boss might be intending to discuss with him. Suspicions have already arisen concerning possible moles that were feeding their enemy sensitive inside information. The Outfit was now heavily invested in the bootlegging and wholesaling business, and hoarded bulk amounts of goods which they would market off at a low price for good profits. This was a drastic improvement on the brutish smuggling operations they used to run. Now they were a full-fledged business cooperation with legitimate fronts even, one that was rapidly rising. Of course their rivals would not allow them to slide unimpeded. The hostilities between the mob and the Yakuza disrupted their business, with the innocent union workers getting caught in the middle and getting harassed.

The two were to meet in a secure warehouse located in the quieter portion of Goi district in Ichihara, not far from the bayside. This facility did not house their typical merchandise - it was one of the few select caches of special electronic components, orders of gun parts, mechanical spares, supplies of ammunition and even materials for composing explosive devices. Stock firearms and specialized explosives were never kept - it was too risky, even for a warehouse that was perhaps more secretive than the bank of Japan. So if the police were to ever set foot upon the place - and it was impossible that they could - they wouldn't be able to exactly file the discovery as an illegal weapons trafficking case, as there were no firearms or devices - not any that were assembled, anyways - stored in the place. The components were all divided between different private caches in the city. The last thing they needed was another indictment on their hands.

Narita was initially anxious upon meeting with the boss, who for all he knew employed him under a whim, but he knew that Hikigaya Hachiman was a fair man who had made a fair offer. After the destruction of the Ichihara-kai, there was nothing more to be done but to move on. The offer was nothing personal, and so was his changing of loyalties. It was business. He did not let the opportunity to serve in an area he knew so well slip through his hands. Eventually Narita came to realize that the young boss of the Chiba Outfit was unlike any other Yakuza people - and leaders that he had seen for that matter. Thus he began to hold a personal respect for the patience and sensitivity Hachiman showed, which was seldom seen from the young people these days. Here was a different kind of boss: one who knew how to listen to reason.

However he found the boss to be in an unusually erratic mood. Narita had just walked up to him and hadn't even uttered a word yet. When Hachiman suddenly produced a small box from his pocket and struck a matchstick, picked up another maroon-coloured object from the nearby table and proceeded to set the cord that was sticking out of the thing alight, Narita was flabbergasted. The greatness of the warehouse was mostly dark, save for the dipping light spilling through the high windows that cast shadows beneath the stacks upon stacks of boxes in the place, but he made no mistake. The flame illuminated the space between them. Hachiman had in his hand a bundle of dynamite. If his anxiety wasn't creeping up on him enough, the sight of the brightly sparkling fuse, which lit up the pale face of the boss, soundly rattled Narita's composure.

Narita was upset and blurted his words. "What are you doing?" he exclaimed. "Are you trying to kill both of us?"

Hachiman tilted his head slightly, almost innocently. "Are you afraid?" he asked with a soft look.

"No." Narita forced out a dry laugh. He said, "but boss, you should be. You're going to hurt yourself, come off it."

"Death is something we shouldn't be afraid of. What do you think, Narita-san? In fact, it's the easy part. The hard part is dying, which is what all people are afraid of. It takes courage to suffer."

Narita frowned. The flame continued its crawl down the cord, threatening to come in contact with the explosive. "If you put the fuse out, we can talk," Narita said.

"I've been thinking about this a lot, and I wonder, what have you been up to?" Hachiman asked quietly.

"Doing what you ordered. I wasn't doing no nothing. We're running Ichihara for you, boss."

"I asked around, and do you know what people are saying about you?" Narita shook his head slowly. Hachiman said, "they're saying you're a dirty Yakuza gangster. That, I can understand, but they're also saying that you're a rat and a turncoat. And I wonder, how much of these public opinions are true?" Hachiman waved the dynamite in his hand mockingly.

Narita did not hesitate to drop his poor veneer of politeness and reacted with indignance. He balled his fists and protested. "You're not going to do this. Do you think this is really the best way to straighten things out? This is bullshit! Hikigaya-sama, we're not going to live through this, I'm warning you. Put the fuse out."

Hachiman was undeterred - almost as if he was, on the contrary, amused by this and his eyes flickered with renewed interest. "Oh, you must see, I have the guts to live with this. What I want to know is have you got the guts to die?" he sneered.

"Hikigaya-sama, put the fuse out."

"Where have you been?"

"God-damn it, I swear on my father's grave put it out!"

Hachiman promptly plucked the burning cord from the dynamite just as it was mere centimeters from the sensitive explosive and dropped it on the floor, before stepping it out as if it was a dead cigarette. Whether it was actually real or simply a ruse, Narita did not care to find out. He did not need to take such an insane risk. In any case, Hachiman succeeded in driving him into a corner. Brusquely Hachiman placed the bundle down and leaned against the table, staring at Narita apathetically. Narita let out a heavy sigh, running a palm over his jaw before both his hands rested on his hips. He stared at Hachiman in disbelief. "Hikigaya-sama, are you accusing my loyalty? Do you accuse me of being a snitch? A traitor?"

Narita continued. "If you wanted to have me killed, then do it! But with all due respect, don't you dare fuck my honor! For years I have served the Ichihara-kai because I was bound in debt to them, after asking for money to cure my sick father. But when you came and offered me the opportunity, serving you was by my own volition. Do you doubt me?"

Hachiman closed his eyelids and slowly shook his head. He did not show his impression upon him, but inwardly smiled. Only Narita was stoic enough to dare against the grain - he would curse anyone, the Pope even, if he dared accuse him of a lie. This was a man honest enough, and thus, foolish. And that was why Hachiman knew Narita Rengou to be trustworthy.

He glanced back at Narita silently. "No. But I'm beginning to get concerned with Donato Ichijou-san," he said.

Narita slowly understood. Narita thought for a moment, before remarking, "I'm sure you know this already, but Donato-san is a close friend of the Shuei-gumi." Hachiman listened. Narita continued, "perhaps it had slipped your memory? Donato-san is a kin of the Ichijou family. He is the brother of the oyabun Ryugaku Ichijou-sama. If there's reason to doubt Donato-san, it's that."

No more explanations were needed before Hachiman understood the situation at hand. For a moment, he paused and marveled at his own ineptitude, at how he hadn't realized it sooner. But to be fair, anyone could have just as easily shrugged off such a seemingly trivial detail as they could take it seriously. "Of course," Hachiman smiled, chuckling naively. "There is nothing more constant and humane than the loyalty to familial ties, and thus, more predictable. It's obvious, isn't it? Ichijou-san will always fall back to the one thing he really believes in."

Narita scrunched his nose. "They're making a move already, aren't they?" he muttered. Then for a split-second he appeared to be very concerned, but glanced at the boss with a calm face. "Is there no way to spare Donato-san from this?" he asked.

Hachiman shook his head slowly and solemnly. "You know what happens to him now."

The lieutenant did not attempt to dispute it any more. The boss sighed to himself and this time, it was a cigarette that he lit up. He left a thin trail of smoke as he walked past Narita before marching out of the warehouse and disappearing. Afterwards, Narita tentatively picked up the defused bundle of dynamite and examined it briefly before throwing it into a respective crate and slamming the lid closed. Narita did not allocate time to think if Hachiman was simply ruthless, or actually a madman. He hurriedly chased after him.

…

It was ascertained that Donato Ichijou was the traitor amongst the inner circle of the mob. Donato would have to be eliminated, otherwise his presence would put the Chiba Outfit at a greater disadvantage than it was already in. They could not afford to let loose someone who had penetrated deep into the echelon of their mob. It was not too late to rectify their interior problems. But no more than a day after Hachiman had confronted Narita and deduced the truth, the fatal attack they had been anticipating had fallen, and it was a critical blow to them.

In the past few days the flow of profits had gradually diminished as hostilities between the Chiba Outfit and the Inagawa-kai worsened. Bookmakers and policy bankers from both sides came under threat and some chose to even switch sides. There was nothing to be done about that at the moment. Business had suffered greatly since the Outfit entered a state of mobilization.

Hachiman, accompanied by the two Sieyes brothers Robert and Michael, had gone up to Takashinacho district that Friday morning in order to consult with their associates in the area, as per their business itinerary. They got out of their car after they stopped at the intersection in the district. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Across the street was another bar under their protection, which also served as a drop-off point for the liquor which was driven down from the airport. The Sieyes family was in line to manage this area of the city. Bobby explained to his brother, "we could acquire several buildings in the district and run the upcoming construction jobs once the fiasco between us and the Yakuza blows over." Bobby Sieyes acknowledged the fact that they had come a long way, much farther than they could've gone if they hadn't left Senegal for Japan. All that was left was for their papers to be taken care of and their immigration secured, which Hachiman promised for the Sieyes and their relatives he would take care of.

"After this, and a few more things, Hanzo will know what to do. I will have other things to attend to," Hachiman told Bobby. "Mr. Sieyes, you may assign your brother a respective operation then." Bobby answered, "of course, sire. It will be good for him to learn our trade."

Hachiman was more wary than usual, keeping in mind what Narita had divulged to him the other day. The three of them crossed the empty street towards the bar house. Hachiman slowed his pace a bit as he lit himself a cigarette. The other two also abruptly stopped, but they were looking away from him. There were a line of cars parked in front of the bar, which meant there were guests inside. Before they could approach any closer one of the cars, a gray sedan, burst into flames and the hood shortly exploded open. The noise echoed loudly and startled the few passersby, and triggered the alarms of nearby vehicles in the street. Suddenly several sharp explosions rang through the air. Everyone instinctively flinched, and realization hit them. It was gunshots.

In the back of everyone's mind, they knew someone was about to die. The mere thought of imminent death always seems to light a fire under everyone's arse, doesn't it? However the explosion was merely a distraction, and so were the gunshots - the shots that rang through the air were blanks, and it came from multiple directions. It was intended to scare off passersby. The assailant wore a dark coat and a cap pulled low, with a face mask to prevent identification by witnesses.

Hachiman immediately knew what was about to happen. He darted back to their car, keeping his head low to avoid potential shots. In the ensuing panic, they almost did not notice a man slip out from a corner and creep up towards Hachiman with a dagger under his sleeve. Bobby spotted the potential assailant first, but by then it was almost too late. Bobby yelled at Hachiman, who immediately sensed danger and whirled around. The car bomb and the gunshots were indeed merely diversions intended to set up this specific circumstance.

It was all over almost in an instant. Hachiman raised his arms to defend himself, but did not feel the sharp edge of the dagger connect. All he saw were the wild eyes of his assassin, as the man screamed and lunged at him. But instead, he felt a jarring push which sent him violently crashing on the curb. His left arm was crushed under him. Hachiman was dazed for a moment. Robert Sieyes had leapt forward and shoved the boss out of the way, in the process also bringing down the assailant with him. Before Michael could catch up to them and react, the man hastily untangled himself before limping away. On cue a motorist roared along the road, picking up the assassin before taking off in tandem.

Michael Sieyes ran over and dropped to his brother's side, his face drawn with horror. He slowly rolled his brother over as Hachiman staggered and sat upright. The blade had gone in right up to the hilt, and Bobby was bleeding out heavily. Autopsy would later reveal that it had penetrated the liver and a major artery. Michael opened his mouth to scream, but it seemed as if his throat caught and only a whimper came out. He cried for help, but Michael realized that it was not that the onlookers, who were all staring at them in silence, did not understand his tongue. It was that they couldn't help him - or rather, they wouldn't. Met with this overwhelming desperation and the sight of his wounded brother, Michael could only weep and cry until his voice broke.

Hachiman kneeled over Bobby, clasping the man's hands in his. He could not feel his own wound in his arm. Hachiman was frozen, unable to speak as the worse soon became clear. His vision started to become marred with hazy patches, as his head felt cold. His ears were ringing. Robert Sieyes laid on the side of the road; he squeezed his eyes shut and a tear rolled down his temple. He moved his parched lips, but if he had uttered anything at all, Hachiman could not hear it. Hachiman could not understand the last words of Robert Sieyes.

…

Though there were four of them inside the sedan, there was a deafening silence among the men. The boss himself remained reserved and kept his eyes looking out of the window almost lethargically. Hachiman did not display enthusiasm nor discomfort, but he was listening and thinking. Hachiman recognized where they were, because he'd been to this place before. It was the same izakaya in Narashino that he'd dropped by. It was where a friend of his also worked. "You know what to do. No more, no less. Hikigaya-sama wants this finished at the soonest," the driver reminded quietly, as the car came to a stop and two lieutenants got out of the backseat and onto the curb.

They made their way towards the izakaya. The house was, unusually as it was a weekend night, seemingly closed. The blinds were shut and though the glass door was unlocked, when the two men entered the place all the chairs were upturned atop the tables. Save for the three female baristas behind the bar, the izakaya was empty.

The man wearing a light brown coat spoke brusquely. "Where is the manager, Makabe-san?" He demanded.

One of the baristas, the tallest woman of the three and presumably the one in charge, replied, "who's asking for him?"

"I am." The other man wearing a black coat answered. "All fingers pointed that this place is a Yakuza den."

After he finished his sentence, there was a pin drop silence. For a few moments, both parties stared at each other. The man was quick to notice the silver-haired barista slight her right hand under the countertop as her eyes narrowed. Then it clicked and they were all on the uptake immediately. The two mobsters pulled out their guns from under their overcoats. Kawasaki Saki had her own shotgun sighted just in time, finger on the trigger and resting steadily on the countertop. Her two friends didn't back out either.

"Fucking hell," Kawasaki glared, seething between clenched teeth. "Drop it!"

The gunmen did not budge. This was a lethal standoff they were all caught in. Kawasaki knew it would end horribly. She would kill one of the bastards before she herself was shot, and hopefully her friends would not be harmed. The mobsters, on their part, were aware that if they fired shots now, they could easily be overwhelmed and killed by one of the knife-wielding women, who was slowly moving around them.

It seemed that the standoff would drag on for hours when they were interrupted by the sound of a bell ringing, as another person entered the door. It was another mobster. Kawasaki couldn't believe what she was seeing when she recognized him. She blinked and her eyebrows furrowed. Hachiman appeared to have a slight look of surprise, as he gazed at everyone in the room. He raised both his hands gently and made an attempt at negotiating.

Hachiman spoke carefully. "Everyone, we can talk this through. There's no need to be rash." He turned to his lieutenants and motioned for them to stand down, "Lower the guns, gentlemen," he ordered before turning his attention forward. "Kawasaki-san, let's straighten this out," he said slowly.

Kawasaki was incredulous. "That's coming from you, a fucking mafioso?!" She spat out, scoffing at him.

"I'm not a mafioso. This isn't what it looks like."

"You're a lying bastard as always."

Hachiman kept a straight face and slowly stepped forward. "These men are simply looking for Makabe-san. No one else needs to get hurt."

"She's dead." Kawasaki said coldly. "Just this afternoon. But I guess you'd find out eventually, as it seems your gang put out a hit on her. Now, are you going to get out or are we going to have a shootout? We're all going to die here, I can fucking guarantee you that."

"That was not our intention in coming here."

"Bullshit."

"If Makabe-san is dead, then it makes matters worse. And now, if you are a part of Makabe-san's crew," Hachiman addressed Kawasaki and her companions in the place, "you and your friends should know that you're on the wrong end of this mess. People are going to get hurt, believe me. You could get hurt, Kawasaki-san. Makabe-san is an associate of the Inagawa-kai, and this isn't something you'd want to get into."

Kawasaki was inwardly shocked that Hachiman knew about her involvement with a gang, and even more surprising were his claims about her deceased friend's ties with the Yakuza. Still, Kawasaki remained distrustful. "How would I know you're telling the truth?" She retorted.

"Because taking Makabe-san hostage was an alternative to killing her. She was a daughter of an important man in the Inagawa-kai. We're at war with them, Kawasaki-san."

"W-What?"

"Hanzo Ieyori is the second-in-command of the mob in Chiba," Hachiman said quietly. "As for me…"

Kawasaki frowned and stared at him, astonished. "You're the kumicho of the Kantogure-gumi?" she stammered. Hachiman nodded.

"That's what you people call us. It's the Outfit to be precise, but that's not important now." he sighed and said, "there's a war between the Inagawa-kai and us. Yesterday, one of the Sieyes family was killed during a botched attempt on my life." Hachiman suddenly pulled the sleeve of his coat off his left arm to reveal traces of blood on his shirt, which had seeped through the bandage underneath.

"That is the truth. They tried to kill me."

"Don't tell me you're looking for justice," Kawasaki muttered, still keeping a hold of her gun. Hachiman sighed, and became sullen.

Kawasaki couldn't believe her ears. Her companions were equally disturbed and confused as well. Hachiman continued. "I ask you, Kawasaki-san, and your friends to please understand that this is something nobody wants. But this conflict is too late to be stopped, and it would be for the better if you resign from further associating with the Inagawa-kai."

"You are asking me to betray them?!"

"I'm asking you to be sensible."

"Makabe-san was a friend of mine. And you killed her. Now, you're asking us to turn over. You motherfucker, you're worse than a yakuza!"

"I did not kill her, Kawasaki-san." Everyone hesitated upon sensing Hachiman grow more serious. "I may have, indirectly, but that's not important anymore." he regarded everyone and said, "now if you all don't want any more of your friends to get hurt, listen to me and get away from this mess. You should know that the Inagawa-kai will be ruined in this war, and you're all on a sinking ship. Is that what you want? We're not just talking about your friends getting in danger, but your families as well. Believe me - and I'm not even at the forefront of this - the Outfit will stop at nothing until they finish this war."

"You don't owe your loyalty to them. Not to the Inagawa-kai. We're all the same, all everyone wants is for this shit to be over so we can go home safely. I'm very sorry about your friend Makabe-san. We lost one of our friends as well. But we have to move on, this isn't personal. It's business, that's all it is."

Knowing that there was nothing else to be done, now that the war had gone beyond the point of no return, the mobsters slowly turned around and left the building. There was a morose atmosphere, and as Hachiman turned back to look at his friend, he recognized a look in her eyes that he had seen years before. She bit her lip but did not cry. She was too used to this feeling.