CHAPTER IX

…

Does friendship fall under the category of professional relationships? It depends. You may consider an acquaintance in business as a friend, only to a certain extent. For example, you would help him in his work, but you would not rely on him in return, at least not with the level of trust as with a brother or a close friend. Someone once said that in business, there are no friends. An even more powerful saying is never mix family and business.

Call it hypocritical, but now, I find myself placed in a precarious position, and needing every ally I could get. And one of the first names to come up in my mind is Zaimozuka Yoshiteru. Yes, my old friend and classmate, a tech-savvy otaku who scored As in the Computer Science and Programming courses. I needed someone to keep us tipped on possible police movements. We can't have any unexpected events jumping us. Now obviously you'd think, isn't it much more practical to hire a real professional on the internet than some clumsy young man? Zaimozuka wasn't my first choice but right now I needed someone who I can rely on during these times. Besides, he was a professional in his own right, if not a bit foolish at times. And being on the internet for most of his life, he would be more than capable of providing our gang with information and knowledge, as well as keeping an eye on social media and online incidents. That was the reason I came to see him.

But Zaimozuka isn't exactly as friendly with me as before ever since that day when Miura barged into our classroom and the huge misunderstanding started. We haven't talked in a while, but at least he's not as ignorant as the others. That Tuesday, I went to the library and found him there. As usual, he was sitting on the couch alone, reading Popular Mechanics and minding his own business. He doesn't notice - or deliberately ignores me when I sit down beside him. Without looking, he says, "so here he is, the boyfriend of the blonde bombshell who went to have an abortion."

"That's not true at all," I say. "You know how impulsive Miura can be."

"Ah, but that does not change the fact that you two are dating," Zaimozuka finally faces me, putting down the magazine. His eyebrows were raised and he had an unamused expression. I deny that we are dating, but he insists that we are. "It can still be dating, if you're going out with a girl," he says to me.

"Okay, fine. Maybe we are dating, so now what?" I sigh, knowing it is easier to just allow people to believe what they want to believe. But we're not dating, I refuse to accept it… I don't want to date Miura, because… well, for one, fire and ice is never a good combination.

"You were the chosen one, Hachiman! It was said you would destroy the riajuus, not join them! You were to bring balance to the force, not leave it in the darkness!" Zaimozuka does a silly imitation of Obi Wan and obviously, I was the Anakin turned evil in this story.

"Look, I never joined them. I never forget friends just because a girl came into my life," I say.

"Oh, how touching," he chuckles, crossing his arms. "Well, good for you, finally finding someone new. So, what brings you here, old comrade?"

"Well, you see, I kind of need some assistance- "

"You need my help?" I was going to say something else, but Zaimozuka cuts me off. "Come now, Hachiman. If you need help, just say so! That's what bros are for."

I did not like the notion of accepting help for it leaves one indebted. But he does have a point, so I take up his offer. I explain that I needed someone to help me with matters involving computers, networking and "stuff that happens in spy movies", my silly pretense of creating the intelligence division in our little gang. But he doesn't know it yet, the full extent of what he is getting into. "If you would be so kind to do me that favour," I say.

"Very good," he agrees, but of course, Zaimozuka also asks for something in return. "Now there's a favour I'll ask of you, and I'll tell you what it is next time."

I didn't tell him yet the whole picture he was getting involved in. The next day, while on my way to The Grandeur nightclub after changing into my working attire, I thought about my encounter and "dinner date" with Miura. It was quite peculiar - Grape-nuts, a nasty argument, almost destroying our ties with each other only to come back from near point-of-no-return and becoming friends. I blush and cringe slightly, bringing my hand over my eyes. Yes, I actually asked Miura if she wanted to become friends with me! It's still surprising to me, even more so when she accepted… maybe it all started with me sticking around just because of pity and perhaps some twisted self interest to entertain myself with the company of a pretty girl, but now I find myself caring about her in a way that was arguably genuine. But it's not like this was the first time both of us actually acknowledged each other. You can say that we used to be acquaintances back in third year highschool.

How do I describe her? Miura can be like Komachi who can be quite silly at times, but actually give you that indescribable, even mysterious feeling of motivation… but she's nowhere as cute as my sister. In fact, it was quite the opposite: she can be imposing, scary and aggressive. Back in High school, she always called me "Hikio", a diminutive of my name in front of my acquaintances. It stuck, and until now even Hanzo calls me that. Occasionally, she can be bubbly and ignorant like Yui, but sometimes, she just falls silent and incredibly pensive… almost as if she was in deep thought, and I couldn't discern her clearly. And I'm thinking, maybe it's a sort of manic-depressive tendency or something.

Before I realized, I was already in front of the nightclub and I was greeted by my co-workers. I noticed Hanzo slumped on a chair with bruises on his face. His clothes were disheveled. It looked like he was mugged. He was visibly agitated, and cursing every minute and then. Matsudo sat at the same table, typing away at his computer. Hanzo was nursing himself to a glass of whiskey while holding a bag of ice against his stomach. Then he told me what had happened. He angrily says, "those goddamn cops sent fucking bikers to do their dirty business. Bikers! Shit, the boryokudan are on their payroll."

I asked how he knew. The Grandeur, and practically every other bar, izakayas and restaurants in the city relied also on some of the strong-arm street gangs for protection and generally keeping order during busy weekend nights. Nightclubs were essential venues for gangsters, and this obviously entailed getting embroiled in business and association with each other. It was the politics of the street. Pay these guys and they'll leave you alone, and sometimes even come to your aid when you most need it. Piss them off, and you may find yourself dealing with broken windows and burned down shops. It was a system the police didn't respect, but certainly acknowledged. Organized crime is better than unorganized crime after all, and these criminals practically governed themselves. But that doesn't mean the police are turning a blind eye on them. Quite the opposite actually - the law has eyes everywhere.

Hanzo says that he was always on the blacklist of the police ever since they caught him beating up several men over a dispute on unpaid debts. He was a loan-shark for a long time now, a common hustle on the streets. People would get loans from people other than bankers because it was easier. You didn't have to go through painstaking processes. Because in order for bankers to give you a loan, you must first prove that you don't need it. Anyways, there'd been a lot of overdue debts and Hanzo decided to take matters into his own hands, literally. It wasn't just him who carried on with the deed; but when the police caught wind of them, he decided to take one for the team. It was no good bringing down the rest of the gang during a crisis.

When the police reviewed the records of Hanzo Ieyori, it did not help him at all. During High school, he was involved with numerous misdemeanors, cutting classes and serious offences, being a hot-blooded delinquent during those days. And while in the last year of college, which was the time I was in my third year of highschool and worked alongside him at the Royal Okura Hotel, he was charged with substance abuse. The rascal had been doing marijuana on some nights after we finished our shift! No wonder why he was always in a chill mood. Manny was furious at his nephew's stupidity. He phoned up Kouki "cop-out Koki" Kiriyama, a lawyer who fought for fishy cases on a daily basis. If one of us was pinched, it was cop-out Koki who could get us out on a bail, for a price of course. Hanzo got out on a 250 thousand yen fine, and for a good couple of months did community service around Chiba. Hanzo isn't a bad guy - far from it. He's no different from an ordinary fellow on the streets, born a step below the middle class of the social hierarchy. His family wasn't dirt-poor, but for him to finish college, he needed another way to earn his yen. People have to do what they have to do. But Hanzo isn't above using brute force and unsavory methods to accomplish what needs to be done.

In Japan, there were the Yakuza, which was the equivalent of the Mafia in western countries. And then there were the boryokudan, petty thugs and biker gangs commonly seen on the streets, but without the fancy Harley Davidsons and the Hell's Angels appeal. The former is obviously more serious and powerful, but the Boryokudan did the dirty work themselves. And sometimes, both parties collaborated together, which meant more power and control over their territories. These bikers were not only hired by the Yakuza, but even they were sometimes on police payroll. And some of these thugs beat up Hanzo, trying to extract information about the guns, on behalf of the police. He wasn't the only one who was targeted. Anyone who they suspected could be involved in the gun robbery were confronted. The reason why the police hired gangsters and ruffians to do the dirty work is so that they, the police themselves, cannot be held accountable for the use of unconventional methods to accomplish their missions. After all, witnessing a police officer beating up a civilian in pursuit of a crime is never a good news.

Matsudo told us that the current threat to our group was the Chief Inspector of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department himself. "His name is Saburo Oreki," Matsudo says. "He knows about the gun robbery, and he's out to find who stole it. He is a ruthless man. We ought to keep him off our tails if we want to stay out of trouble."

Mutsuhiro Fukushi had been keeping quiet for most of the time since this scheme escalated. We agreed, Tobe as well, to split up for a while after this is all done. But I knew that this was just the beginning, and even I am not prepared to commit to the life of crime. Yet every decision I've made in my life led to this moment, so maybe it was fate… or a really stupid and illogical chain of coincidences. Fukushi said to us that this inspector was the same one on the news several years ago. "Isn't inspector Oreki the guy who busted the Dojin-kai case in Fukuoka last 2016? That was a hell of a drug raid. If this man is on to us, it's going to be every man for himself."

Needless to say, there are no loyalties in a band of thieves. While walking down an alley an hour ago, Hanzo was apprehended by several gangsters. These men were supposed to not meddle with the police, even more insult the nephew of their benefactor. He was furious, shouting and cursing at the men, "I am Hanzo Ieyori! By god, I swear I'll kill both of you!"

It was a mistake. "Hanzo Ieyori? The lead pack dog of The Grandeur, we've heard all about alright!" The thugs only persisted in beating him even more. It was a score to catch the nephew of Manuel Ieyori, the owner of The Grandeur and the apparent boss of the rival crew to these men. When the thugs had done him in nicely, they pushed a phone against his face, and it was the inspector himself on the line. Hanzo repeated to us everything the chief inspector said him:

"Now Mr. Ieyori, I want you to see this as me introducing myself to you, understand? In this world, the only thing that interests me is the truth. What do you know about the robbery?"

Hanzo yelled, "what robbery?!" One of the men jabbed Hanzo violently in the stomach, making him spit. He cursed and told them that he fucking knew nothing. Then they beat the crap out of him again. The voice of the inspector on the phone was cold and robotic. "After twenty years of dealing with animals like you, I can tell just by the tone of voice whether you're lying or not. You have neither the cunning of your father, or the guile of your uncle. Understand this. It is well within my power to have you and your criminal family lying face down in the gutters before the year is out."

The Inspector said he would come to meet the leader of this robbery and see it himself that he be arrested and put into trial. But they weren't getting Hanzo to spill. Not during those circumstances. I praised him for his courage, for all praise is worth. But this was not good. This was a dangerous game. A chess match, and inspector Saburo had just tried to check us by threatening our leader. What he didn't know is that I was the brains in this operation. They were led to believe that Hanzo really is the mastermind, when it was someone far from the list of suspects. But by now, I was beginning to see what we are really dealing with. Jen Matsudo proposed to execute our failsafe plan and bail out. It was getting too risky and dangerous. Hanzo was already hurt, and we're all next no doubt.

"Next Monday on the nineteenth. There'll be no moon and we can take the guns down to Ichihara and leave them on the Yoro riverbank. They'll be found by truckers first thing. Is that an agreement?" Matsudo stated.

Everyone agreed, except me. "I changed my mind," I say. "You know what? I have an alternative strategy." When I told them my intentions, they were shocked.

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" Hanzo stares at me in disbelief.

"Have you not seen the streets?" Fukushi says. "They've sent investigators and fucking gangs to find these things."

"That's right. They've shown their cards," I say.

"Their cards?" Matsudo listened carefully, and although he was against any more of my schemes, he was open to hear a possibly better solution.

"If they want the guns back this badly, then they'll have to pay," I stated calmly. "That's the way of the world. Fortune drops something valuable, an opportunity in front of you, you don't just dump them into the river."

"You're crazy, Hikio," Hanzo laughed nervously. "I've always stuck around with you like a brother, but you're going to bring only hell down on your head."

"Do you remember what happened in the 2016 Fukuoka drug raid? This is the same inspector that ordered the assault on the Dojin-kai which killed thirteen innocent people. He spares no effort in pursuing his cases, especially when it involves organized crime and illegal businesses," Matsudo read a news article to us about the Chief Inspector of Tokyo Police Department. "You want to play against a man who hasn't lost a single case in the twenty years of his career?"

"Just leave it to me," I reasonably said. "I'll deal with him."

"There he goes," Fukushi sneered, throwing his hands in the air. "Hey boss, in case you haven't noticed, we're no different from the Yakuza now."

We all shared a naive laugh. It was all we could do to ease ourselves as we prepared for the coming storm. So much had unfolded during these past few weeks that I completely forgot that it was Wednesday today, and I was supposed to be spending time with a certain fiery woman… We all helped ourselves to cold glasses of beer, which was consolation for me at least.

I was exhausted, but I couldn't sleep. My hands were quivering. Being a criminal doesn't necessarily make you a bad person, does it? Society dictated from the beginning what is correct and what is wrong. But who gave them the right to dictate what is and what isn't? I would rather think of all this as something akin to a game of chess. But to treat people as pawns? It's not that simple. But that is how it must be. You're either a piece on the board, or the player. The Inspector began with a vicious opening move. I chose to play a risky gambit, the result of which would be the difference between failure or success.