CHAPTER III
…
It is impossible to make everyone happy. And if you try to make everyone like you, nobody will like it. However, it is easy - and fun as hell - to piss off everyone. Some call it "social suicide", but I see it as an opportunity to offend people. If you want people to start paying attention to you, offend them. Offending people is a necessary and healthy act. When you offend people, you just started a discussion. You just forced them to use their heads.
My family left the country and flew to Los Angeles, U.S.A. when my sister Komachi finally graduated from High school, and since then I started living by myself in the city. Five to six days a week, I'd come from Chiba University and walk downtown where I primarily have a job as a bartender in The Grandeur, a fancy nightclub in the Sakaecho district of Chiba city. Manuel "Manny" Ieyori, the uncle of Hanzo Ieyori, owned The Grandeur, which stood near Sakaemachinaka street. Manuel Ieyori was a large, half-Filipino man with thin hair tied back and slit eyes that could probably kill if he glared with intent. You'd think for his size, he couldn't chase a man but he could, and I saw him once run down two blocks while carrying an iron pipe to beat a loan debt out of a guy. Though he was a jolly and generous man who often laughed loudly, you still wouldn't want to cross him. Mostly, he was like a father-figure to me and to Hanzo, who was orphaned at birth.
Manuel Ieyori ruled over the Sakaecho district of Chiba city like an urban raja. He controlled many of the illicit gambling, bootlegging, loan-sharking, protection rackets and extortion games in the area. He owned the on Sakaemachiazuma street, and secretly several more legitimate business establishments. The restaurants, groceries, boutiques and shops in the district pay Manny shobadai, or protection money. He runs one of the most lucrative gambling operations around: sujikuji games. Sujikuji literally means 'numbers game'. It is a very popular form of illegal lottery in most of the working class neighborhoods in Japan. After I graduated from High school and moved into the city, Hanzo first brought me in. Manny was delighted. I was ideal, he said. After just a week working at the nightclub, Manny offered me another job where I can earn additional money: bookmaking. It was a part-time job within a part-time job. Mutsuhiro Fukushi and Jen Matsudo, my two other co-workers at The Grandeur did the same things. They were also into bookmaking. It all seemed so natural. Everyone was into schemes. It was easy to forget that it was a downhill path that led right into the world of organized crime. On the other hand, "only a fool would think that one job is enough," Manuel Ieyori said.
I thought it through and eventually, I was convinced. It wasn't like I was robbing or kidnapping people, these were just typical money-making schemes. And I needed to save up money for the future. I first became a bookmaker, then a loan-shark, and from there, my life in the racket soon began. Fast forward to the present time, I am now a well established business associate and close friend of the Ieyori family, alongside Fukushi and Matsudo.
Mutsuhiro Fukushi, Jen Matsudo and I are not just bartenders at some nightclub anymore. When you're practically a part of what is essentially a crime family, you tend to inherit their knack for scheming. Of course, it's nothing too big or serious at first. Manny was our boss and our mentor, and he taught us business better than any college professor with a business major. He showed us how to run the rackets. In our Freshman year, we started as bookmakers. Every day after dismissal, I'd head to several other pubs, restaurants, parlors, and floristries while on my way to the nightclub, and I'd take sujikiji bets from people. By the time I arrived at the bar for my shift, I'd have with me the collected money which was turned over to our policy banker who took care of the rest of the process. How much I made via commissions depended on how much bets I am able to take from people.
Soon, I was not just a bookmaker for illicit gambling, but also a loan-shark, a fence for contraband goods, a racketeer, and even a chauffeur. I was groomed into a cardboard hustler. I had already acquired my driver's license after I graduated from High school, but only now was I putting it to use. I'd be behind the wheels of someone else's car - Sedans, Chevies, Limos - cars that I couldn't even afford, backing it in a lot for some wealthy patron or associate of Manuel Ieyori. All of us at The Grandeur did side jobs. Hanzo, as Manny's nephew, occasionally supervised the selling of bootlegged and untaxed liquor and cigarettes to wholesalers in the district, Fukushi secretly ran loan-sharking inside the university campus, lending out money to his friends with crazy interest rates, and Matsudo is also a bookmaker like me.
I was always at the nightclub after school let out. I was making money. I was learning more and more each day. All the while, we still worked as bartenders when we're not out running jobs. Being a bartender isn't exactly my tempo, but I already had prior experience with this kind of job because I also used to work part time in a bar at the Royal Okura hotel alongside Hanzo and Saki Kawasaki, a former classmate of mine during my second and third year of high school. If you think about it, it'd seem as if my story all began from that fateful crossing of paths between me, Hanzo, and Kawasaki-san, and wasn't so far fetched at all. If I hadn't gotten involved with Kawasaki-san, or became acquaintances with Hanzo Ieyori, I would not be where I am now. Mutsuhiro Fukushi and Jen Matsudo are in the same year as me and they go to Chiba University as well, although we are not classmates. Fukushi is an avid Basketball player, while Matsudo is a math genius with near-spotless grades. But how Matsudo ended up in a job like this, I couldn't figure it out.
Don't get the wrong idea, I am still not fond of my job as a bartender, and even less as a bookmaker. I don't like the idea of work, especially when I have a boss. But I had to accept the truth: you've got to earn your bread in this world. And now that life is becoming more difficult these days, money is even harder to come by, unless you're one of the rich people who are detached from strife. The oldest among the four of us, Hanzo Ieyori, at twenty-six years old, is a strong and capable guy who manages The Grandeur in his uncle's stead when Manny is out on business and family matters. In any case, the four of us treat each other more or less as equals, and we work together to run the nightclub. At this point, after going through over two years together, I could consider them as my friends.
Working-class, impoverished urban neighbourhoods like Sakaecho are the birthplace of many notorious and successful racketeers and even Yakuza, and the local residents rooted for them the way people root for the racehorses winning the Triple Crown. They were familiar names not just in the city, but throughout Chiba prefecture. Even I recognize some of them. Takano Genseida, the Boss of the Zennihon-Genseida-kai, which used to be the dominant Yakuza faction in Chiba back in the 80's, married a woman from this city; Ryuga "Gacha" Chojamachi, who joined forces with the Sumiyoshi-kai to create the largest contraband smuggling and gambling community in Kanto region; Haruo Otawa, the Boss of the Takezawa-kai grew up in Narashino; and the recently deceased Tsumotou "Oto" Soai, the godfather of the Ichihara-kai, once ruled over a large criminal empire. Most of these Yakuza factions gradually deteriorated, and some even completely disappeared,likely due to the devastating consequences brought down on them by the law..
Although the Ieyori family is one of the most powerful people on the streets of Chiba city, they aren't Yakuza. Manuel Ieyori himself would never directly align with the Yakuza. In fact, even if we're racketeers and petty criminals, we don't want to be associated with them. We didn't practice yubitsume or wear gang tattoos. We're hustlers, not mafiosos. It was more like a matter of keeping out of the eyes of the law. The police call us 'boryokudan'; harmful criminal groups. It only sounds worse than it really is. The Ieyori family does command a well-muscled crew who control the streets and run their illicit businesses. That was also how the Yakuza ran, so we were often confused with them. It was a family business. At first I was very reluctant to be associated with illicit organizations of any type, but by now I was an important member of the Ieyori family. I wouldn't call myself a gangster still. I was just a street guy who hustled. A bookmaker and money-lender, nothing more. Or so I thought.
The Ieyori family were practically the only other people who I shared a sense of familial relationship with. Mrs. Ieyori, who we all called Mama Imoguiri, treated me like her own son. I didn't have any other relatives to rely on or even visit, and my own family was overseas, so the Ieyori family really meant a lot to me. I was making my way, working around the city, closer to the common society than I'd ever been before. We really weren't that different from normal people - like everyone else, we worked to earn ourselves money. I obviously learned a thing or two from experience. Folks from around our district knew who I am. Usually, it's them who recognize and approach me to submit their daily bets, either because they frequent our bar and have seen my face before or maybe it's because like any guy who's on the street interacting with the people long enough, I've built a reputation for myself as the reserved young man from The Grandeur - although I was usually mistaken as a cousin of Hanzo Ieyori, or even a younger son of Manny. I eventually accepted being thought of as an Ieyori while on the job. Not a lot of people know my real name. That was also to help keep my personal life privy to myself.
There's a benefit with making connections and familiarizing yourself with people like the Ieyoris. The Ieyori family is respected out there on the streets, and by extension, we were also respected as an associate of theirs. If some thug so much as insulted me, I could get our entire crew to give the guy a good hiding and beat the crap out of him. Of course, that never occurred to me before, because people knew to step aside in the first place and I avoided getting into fights. I realized that although you may be able to stand alone, you'd still need allies - people who will give you the knowledge, skills, and an insight into whatever you will be taking on. I learned how to shut up and listen. And I've learned more on the streets than in any classroom.
So I'm making a living for myself just like the rest of the middle-class. Like I said, I am not particularly fond of my job as a bartender, and I'll tell you why: on weekends when the house is full, it's very troublesome. Men at the end of the week are tired and irritated, and crises soon arise from a house full of workmen on a short fuse. Of course, we're making a lot of money and it is, objectively speaking, a good night for us in business. But there's always some poor sap who'd throw up his drinks on the table, and then we'll have to clean up the mess. I'm probably one with the most number of vomit-spills cleaned up. I've wiped gunk off the marble countertop so many times that I'm not even disgusted anymore as much as I am furious.
It's not an achievement I'm proud of at all. I honestly despise it. What am I going to write on my resumé? Then there are assholes who'd start a fight, and then we'd have to break it up before it spins out of control. I actually enjoy watching men beat the crap out of each other. It's like a bout, and there would even be bets made on who'll hit the floor first. But it's problematic, so we do our best to keep order. And then I remembered the fiasco last night with one of the last people I ever expected to see again. Miura Yumiko. It was our first encounter since the third year of High school. It was also the worst. A hell of a long story that repeated for two consecutive nights.
I'm tired, but I know I can't miss work for the second time in a row. Well, after dropping Miura off inside a motel, I headed for The Grandeur to take my shift. It was unusual for me to miss my schedule, as I always showed up on time. The guys were asking me what was up with me. Obviously, I told them I had to attend to an "important matter." I couldn't just tell them that a drunk girl threw up on me, passed out, and I took her to a motel room, could I?
It is at this time of their life that young men are most ambitious and filled with curiosity. College years are a time to explore, discover the world and yourself, and fuck around. Literally. Well, isn't that great? What a happy time. Coincidentally, this is also the time when these young people are most prone to getting involved in risky schemes that could ruin their life. Blinded by stupidity, which they mistake for the spice of youth, they become involved with drugs, sex, crime and dirty money. The classic genres of every criminal beginning. At least I'm only involved in two of those.
So I wasn't surprised when Hanzo Ieyori suggested to us a certain job that will make us all "filthy rich." We were all young, ambitious men who wanted to take it all, what life has to offer. And Hanzo was the type of guy you'd find to be involved in these kinds of things. Gritty, prone to physical fights and even drugs at one point, he is the top dog on these streets. The king of barroom brawls. He's not dumb, but like most daredevils he'd take risks to have a shot at a perilous venture. But who could be stupid enough to commit a crime based on the whims of his co-worker? We're listening to what he has to say. There's few people left inside the bar and we'll be closing soon. Hanzo is telling us about a robbery scheme.
"Okay… so, I've heard from this man who was here the other day, he was talking about a package of computer parts that was worth one million yen," he says to us.
"Who is this man?" I ask him, suspicious. Already, it was no good. "You know how stupid it is to just believe baseless rumors."
"Wait, let me finish," he said, a smile breaking out on his face. "Of course, I overheard the man so I talked to him. We're not stool pigeons, y'know. We're just barkeepers, and besides I told Kumogawa-san I was interested, so then he told me the details. He isn't a mobster, but his friend Busicho-san, a contractor, had been part of a Yakuza gang for some time. A guy in the Ichihara-kai offered the job to Busicho-san because he wouldn't be able to accomplish it, as he was going to attend a wedding on Friday next week, and his niece would be-"
I cut him off, rubbing my forehead in irritation.
"That's the wrong story. Get to the point."
"Okay. Busicho-san shared the story to Kumogawa-san, and that's how I heard all about it. I don't know if they're taking the job, but whoever manages to deliver that package to the Ichihara-kai will be paid one million cash. The package will arrive at the Kawasakicho unloading bay next week on Saturday, and it's up to us to claim it."
"So take the package… one million?" Matsuda quietly asked.
"Yes. we'll split it equally among the four of us. This'll be an opportunity."
"What are the odds of this job succeeding?" Fukushi says.
"Very good," Hanzo told us. "You see, we'll just come and pick up the package in a truck. They'll let us into the pier, they do that all the time. Think of it as making a delivery. There'll be no cops and robbers shit and all that."
"Kawasakicho unloading bay, next Saturday. Seems fine to me."
"I could buy a ticket to China with that," Matsudo says to himself.
"China? Why China out of all places?" Fukushi sneered.
"Well, are you any better? You're just gonna blow it over shoes."
"I'm going to buy myself a car," Hanzo butted in. "Then I'll pick up my girlfriend in it."
"I thought you didn't have one?"
Hanzo cursed at Fukushi, then at Matsudo who began to snigger as well. Then he looked at me and asked.
"Hey, Hikio. How 'bout you? What're you gonna do with your cut?"
I was silent for the most part. They were actually considering it. I was surprised with Matsudo, who didn't strike me as a risk-taking guy, but then again the job was really appealing. The truth is we've done schemes of this degree before. In fact, during my Freshman year, one of the first illicit activities I took part in was intercepting deliveries of scotch and gin. I was only nineteen when I drove a twenty-two footer, while Hanzo managed to convince a wholesaler that we were the ones taking the order, even showing fake manifests to the man. Or that time when I was assigned to be the fence for some hot goods, selling the stolen stuff to customers for a lower price. But this is different. This is a robbery, and the truth is that I've never robbed anything or anyone before. Maybe I've committed theft a handful of times, but theft is different. It was a lot to take in, and it would be a big decision. I wanted to refuse. Why would I consider such a foolish decision even?
"I'll pass," I say to Hanzo, as everyone begins to stare at me. "I'm out of this."
"Whoa, hold on man. Think about it. We've done jobs before, haven't we?" He says.
"Come on, Hikio. Don't spoil the trip," Fukushi groaned dispassionately.
"We're bookies, not robbers. Let's just be content with what we have," I muttered.
Hanzo tried to persuade me, but there was simply no way I would agree to such a scheme. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," he said. Well, it's also an opportunity to be imprisoned for a lifetime. I knew sooner or later, trouble would call out to me, and I had to be wary. I don't want to delve deeper into this crime-life than I already am in. They spoke among themselves and said they were taking the job, whether I'm in or not. Hanzo said that they needed my skills on strategizing and formulating the plan, like in the "counter fourteen" scheme, so not only am I going to be responsible for the operation, if everything goes to shit I'll be accused of being the ringleader.
But I could not stop thinking about the money. Is two hundred grand worth putting my future at stake? Of course not. They were sneering at me and calling me a "dead kid" for being a rational person. The classic peer pressure trick. But two hundred grand? That would be more than enough to get me a round-trip ticket to Los Angeles. I could apply for a U.S. visa, and reunite with my family. I'd finish college, get my accredited degree, and find a job abroad. A hundred possibilities popped up in my mind, but all of them sprouted from this ill source. Hanzo said that the deal was open until next Sunday, if ever I change my mind.
I left the club that night in deep meditation. Of course I'm not supposed to agree with this risky scheme. I was already making just enough money. But I made a promise to myself that I'll shed my complacent attitude. You miss every shot you don't take. I have a feeling that I'd regret it if I reject the offer. At the same time, I felt like I was jumping into the point of no return. But remembering how I came to be a loner by being close-minded and reluctant to step forward… I sighed. Maybe- just maybe, I'd see this scheme pull through. At the very least, I'd be fine with playing a minor role. But I knew that no matter how small, a role in a crime makes you an accomplice.
I'm trying to explain that I'm not a bad person. I wouldn't harm anyone - unless of course, when circumstances call for self-defense. Being a criminal doesn't necessarily make you a bad person. It just makes you a bad citizen. And isn't 'crime' just another concept invented by society to point out who's the bad guy?
I remembered my High school days, when I was the social outcast. I was the subject of bullying and harassment. But society needs people like me, so that they can point fingers and say, "that's the bad guy." We're so miserable that we need an enemy to blame our problems on. Nobody wants to admit, "oh, I was wrong. I was an asshole." I'm always saying that there's something wrong with society. But what if the truth is that there's something wrong with me?
Well, if there's something wrong with me, then society made me that way.
If you've watched movies, then you'd know that there are no happy endings for the bad guys. And thus, my criminal tragedy has begun.