CHAPTER X

…

The next day, I had to go to school and attend lectures. It was a Thursday, and our room C-306 normally doesn't have classes on Thursday. But again, because of a certain troublesome woman, I cannot go to class on Wednesdays anymore. You think it's not such a bad thing, having two days off the week? I'm the one paying for my tuition fees! And I'm going to miss a lot of important lessons and assignments if I don't do something about it.

So now, while everyone else from C-306 is at home or out carrying on with youthful stupidities, I'm in class C-207 catching up on missed lectures. As our room is occupied by a different set of students, I would just slip into C-207 where the professor does his lectures during Thursdays. I can't say if things were worse than before. Everyone recognized me as "the guy" and they were all giving me dubious looks and whispering amongst themselves. I hardly know anyone else outside of my own class - hell, I don't even bother to remember the names of my classmates! It felt like a really bad first day of school… actually, to make matters worse, I do know some people from this class. Tobe Kakeru is in class C-207 - he's giving me a look that's telling an inside joke between us. So are the two goons who used to be in Hayama's clique. I think their names were Yamato and Ooka. I don't really know much about those two, but it'd be better if they don't bother me.

And then there's Yui Yuigahama. She's utterly surprised to see me… and so are the other girls when they saw her greeting me. Women, for the last time I am not a sex offender! At least Yui gave me the benefit of the doubt and didn't think wrong of me. I'm very grateful for her. I felt sorry on the other hand; I realized I hadn't been keeping in touch with her for quite some time. I guess we're friends, but I feel awkward everytime I think about it. Her good friend Ebina Hina is also in the room. She'd grown out her hair and without her eyeglasses, I realized she actually has charming dark brown eyes. Oh, damn me… my male mind just can't help thinking of stupid things.

But just as you thought things couldn't get any whole lot more fun, it could. Lo and behold, Orimoto Kaori is in class C-207. Yes, the girl who killed me softly… strumming my pain with her fingers… ah, wonderful song, and brings back wonderfully excruciating memories. I think it's good to carry scars. They remind you of your mistakes and every moment you get hurt. Everyone carries scars, but not always on their bodies. First times are special, don't you think? The first person to catch your heart will always hold a part of it forever. I was disappointed of course. Do you know how devastating it is to be crushed on the first time you felt an attraction towards someone? It's like breaking the wings of a bird before it could even fly for the first time. It might heal, but it'll never fly as high or as far as a bird who grew strong. It was just a selfish, one-sided fascination of mine. I was infatuated with Orimoto Kaori. And I could never look at her without feeling a slight twinge of frustration inside me.

Maybe it's just my erroneous brain playing tricks on me, but Orimoto looked… different. I mean, she too had grown out her hair longer, and she looked very attractive. It's funny how someone you wanted was so close, yet so far. And her lovely personality remained - like most of the students around the campus, she knew about the rumours and immediately started stirring up a commotion when she saw that I was now in her class. I bet they're all thinking that I got transferred to another class because of "certain issues". Better not think about it. Just ignore them. I mean, compared to everything I've dealt with during these past few weeks, this is laughable. You tell me, between rumors of a sexual affair with a girl, and rumors of a gun robbery and imminent confrontation with dangerous street gangs and the police, which one should you bother about?

Finally, classes were over in a beat. It seemed like despite all the pressure and oppressive atmosphere around me, I was actually having an easy time with the lessons itself. Now the hard part is dealing through with people in my way. I wanted to get out of school as soon as the last bell rang, but alas, Orimoto just had to step in front of me. "Hiya, Hikigaya-kun!" She has that self-asserting smile on when she greets me.

"Hey. What's up?" I quietly say. My eyes are all over the place and I found myself avoiding eye contact with her. I wasn't embarrassed or anything as I was impatient. I don't know about you, but for what reason within the confines of absolute necessity would you even want to talk with someone from an ancient time in your life? I personally think that people come and go, and when they do go, they must never come back!

"I should be asking you that," she giggled. "Is it true?"

"What is?" I raise an eyebrow at her.

"Come on, you know what I'm talking about. It's no secret. Everyone knows about that blondie from another university. I really didn't see that coming," she said.

"Well… neither did I."

"She's really your girlfriend, huh?" Orimoto smiled.

Now, there are several ways I could answer her. I could just deny and say that there really isn't anything between Miura and me. But then Orimoto would just say, "well, I figured that much. She's out of your league anyway." I could say otherwise on the other hand, but that'll only bring more trouble. But I'm not taking anymore of her snide remarks. I just threw back her question at her. "Well, what do you think?" I say.

She looks at me and giggles some more. "Oh, gosh… I remembered that… I mean, have you heard what everyone has been saying about you two?"

I couldn't give two cents about what they think, is what I wanted to say. "People can believe what they want to believe…" I say quietly.

"So… you're not a virgin anymore…" she said it in a barely audible voice.

Well, let me tell you something. She's right… but don't get the wrong idea, of course not with Miura! I'll never forget that night… that was probably my most intimate moment. To lie in bed with a very beautiful girl. People get to live up to eighty years, and at best, you get about eight minutes of pure magic. I got about two, and every night I would relive that moment. Once is enough, that was all I needed. Even though she's gone, I could still feel her touch. Hey, at the very least, now I don't have to worry about dying a virgin. That's hitting several marks on my list…

"Heard you had to accompany Miura-san to a clinic… to, uh, you know." Orimoto has that look people give you when they're uneasy, and they wouldn't look at you directly. Meanwhile I suppressed a smirk, because I knew it was all just a fad. I'm surprised they actually fell for Miura's made-up story. Just how gullible can these people be?

She says, "gosh… she must be scarred for life. To go through such a horrible abortion, so."

"Well, she's just twenty-one," I say.

"Yeah, she's so young."

I began chuckling to myself. I thought… well, this is a pretty sick train of thought… I'm really a twisted person! Orimoto notices me grinning a bit, that gross kind of smile I have when thinking of something, well… gross.

She asks me what's so funny. I explained to her.

"Well, Miura is just twenty-one, so… if she lives to be a hundred years old, she's only scarred for, like, 21% of her life."

I've never been good at math. But when it comes to a dark sense of humour… and these are the thoughts that make it necessary to separate me from everyone else. Orimoto stares at me with an unsettled face, and by now I couldn't help but cover myself with my hands. She calls me gross… hey, it's just a joke! Good grief, don't take it so seriously. I excuse myself and we finally part ways. I like to think that she'd be a bit jealous, now that they think Miura is my girlfriend. It's funny, is what it is. But I honestly hope it doesn't escalate into something serious…

Section C of Chiba University is one of the four huge buildings inside the campus, and where I am assigned to. There's no more than fifty classrooms in Section C, divided equally between the eight floors of the building. I am on the sixth floor, and it's actually pretty high up. The stairs are a menace, especially with a heavy bag. We have a very nice elevator at the end of the hallway, with mirrors on three sides of the walls. If you're lucky, you can catch it while there are a few people. And I can't remember how many times I enjoyed getting into the elevator and hurriedly punching the buttons to go down. Then I'd watch people shout at me to hold the elevator, and try to run and get in. I would wave at them mockingly as the doors are closing, and thankfully, they never caught me. It was very pleasing to look at yourself in the mirror afterwards, glowing with evil.

But today, I'm in it with Yui and Ebina Hina. The three of us exchange light pleasantries and talk about college and trivialities. Yui was really surprised that I was now attending during Thursdays. We hardly crossed paths because on her schedule, Class C-207 didn't have classes on Tuesday. Ebina asked me if I remembered that last time when I didn't recognize her. I blushed. "Yeah," I say, explaining that I didn't recognize her and was in a hurry.

"That wasn't the only time I tried to talk to you, you know," She crosses her arms and gives me a slightly annoyed look.

"Um… when?" I asked.

"Oh, geez. You must not remember how many times you didn't hold the elevator and wait for me. That's like, really rude y'know!" She says.

"Yeah, sorry about that," I laugh a bit, scratching my head. "It was funny, though."

"Oh, it's not!" Ebina sighs.

Yui punches me on the arm and pulls a sulky pout at me. "He's also doing that to me!" She cries, "I keep telling you to wait for me!"

"It's a first come, first served basis," I say.

"Mou, Hikki! The next time you do that, I'm really going to get mad!"

I eventually parted ways with the two of them down the street. They were going to a café, and I was going to work. Guys my age would be carousing and loafing around bars, karaoke clubs and other frivolous leisures. I'd look around, and I'd see groups of friends strolling through malls, taking pictures in the plaza and spending their money on food and drinks. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's couples who are making out in the park. Disgusting creatures… I am an advocate of the PDA (Public Displays of Affection) Law! There's no need to show your love in front of other people, I'm pretty sure we get the basics of French kissing…

But I felt like I've outgrown the whole idea of youth. Sure, it's all fun and games but when you get down to it, it's all ephemeral. Youth is like a drug - right now, you're enjoying it and you're all high and happy, but when the effect wears off, the relapse hits like a bitch. You think all that is free? Life will get back at you!

…

There were more people in the bar than usual. Office boys and corporate slaves rubbed shoulders and drowned away their sorrows with a pint of beer or a shot of whiskey. That was none of our problems as bartenders, but sometimes we listened - heard their stories at least, but hardly did we try to give them reassuring words. Again, we were bartenders, not spiritual advisors. And I wasn't the most compassionate human being on the planet, remember?

Apparently, we were the talk of the town for the past few nights. Of course, nobody knew who we are, but we knew we're the ones they were referring to. Some trucker who came in a while ago was muttering about how the police were going around asking drivers if they knew something about a stolen truck with a false plate number. They were showing a photo of the plate… the shipment of guns were presumably stolen by a box truck from an appliance company, but I know that they won't be able to track it down. It was good that Matsudo changed the plate, or else we would be on our heels right now…

I also overheard from a group of contractors that the bosozoku were looking to buy the stolen firearms. One can only imagine what a gang of motorcycle-riding ruffians could do with guns, and someone was bound to get hurt down the line. It was bad enough that Hanzo was assaulted by gangsters, now other people were inadvertently getting involved in this trouble. Of course, you shouldn't trust rumors and gossip from the street, but if there's one thing I was beginning to learn, street talk is more honest than the media. A delivery boy would know more than a journalist for the very reason that he was on the streets himself, and not bunkered in some air conditioned office.

That evening, we were met by unexpected guests.

A man came barging in through the door shouting, "some yakuza people are coming! The Ichihara-kai are coming!" I could hear murmuring amongst the men. "...holy shit. It's Nozato Uchibo."

If I was raised as a boy accustomed to the urban life and street environments, I would know the unsaid principles and rules of the street, but I wasn't. I was blessed with a family standing on the bourgeoisie level in the hierarchy of society. Rich kids wouldn't know anything about life on the streets - but being in the middle ground gives you more flexibility. Although I was pretty much socially awkward, I knew how to play along and go with the flow. And from the reaction of the people in the room, with men hurrying to leave and some falling silent at their tables, the arrival of the Ichihara-kai meant serious business.

Five gentlemen in jet-black two piece suits entered the room. Isn't it ridiculous to wear sunglasses at this hour… immediately, I spotted the leader, because he strode imperiously ahead of his companions. He took off his shades and surveyed the room with a sharp eye. There was a pin-drop silence.

This man was Nozato Uchibo, presumably a powerful member of the Ichihara-kai, if not the boss himself. Everything about him spoke volumes about power and strength. One of the men behind him was holding a gun. It had to be a shotgun, because that was one of the only legal weapons on the gangland streets. They were meaning serious business indeed.

"Is there any man in here named 'Ieyori'?" He spoke in a loud voice that pierced clear through the heavy atmosphere in the room. When he did not get an answer, he reiterated with much more disdain, "I said, 'is there any man in here named Ieyori'?"

I must keep a calm composure in this ordeal. There is no room for blunders. The dangerous game of negotiations begins. I glance at my co-workers, and turn to Matsudo, who was behind the counter, nonchalantly wiping a glass. I say to him, "Matsudo, get these men a drink," and then tell the rest of the people in the house to leave. "Everyone else, go home. You there, go home. Out."

When it was only the nine of us in the bar, the Ichihara-kai underboss spoke up. "This is a fine place here, ain't it? I hardly visit the city. Am not a metropolitan."

"You said you wanted men called Ieyori," I say, pulling over a chair and sitting down, while Hanzo and Fukushi stood beside me, nervous but with a stone cold expression. "You're looking at three of them."

Hanzo, Fukushi and I did not look alike, but we were close enough to act like brothers with each other. Matsudo as well, but between the four of us, he was the odd one out. In this situation, and considering that nearly all of the bars and pubs are family run businesses, it was easy to assume that the people here were relatives. The three of us knew we had to pretend that we're brothers.

The man was not amused or looked pleased at any degree. If I had to guess, considering that one of them was armed with a firearm, this was trouble. "Right. I've heard of youse," Uchibo says. "And then I did hear of youse, some scum nightclub hustlers in Chiba. And I thought to myself, so what?"

"But then you fucked me over," he pointed a crooked finger at us, with a fierce glare. "So now you have my undivided attention. By the ways, to which one am I talking to? Who's the boss?"

"I'm the oldest." Hanzo Ieyori said.

"Ha! Clearly."

"Are you laughing at my brother?" Mutsuhiro Fukushi spoke up with a stern voice.

"Right," he smirked, stroking his whiskers. He pointed, "you're the oldest, he's the thickest." Nozato Uchibo finally turned his sole attention at me, and frowned. "I'm told that the boss is an Ieyori, and I'm guessing it's you, bacause you're looking me up and down like I'm a fucking painting."

"I want to know what you want." I say, calm as still water.

One of the underboss' companions, a bespectacled man with graying hair began to speak. "There's been vigorous police activities occurring around our city, and we're told about a particular robbery that may have caused all this. Policemen are smashing our pubs, and apparently, this place, The Grandeur, is the only club they'd left untouched."

"They say that Hanzo Ieyori agreed to cooperate when he was arrested, and that is why your club ain't spoiled," Uchibo added angrily.

The fucking inspector, I thought. The man is deadly cunning. First he defamed Hanzo. If he can't attack us directly, he'd do it in any method possible. Now, he's turning the streets against us. Clever.

"To which one am I talking to?" I asked them, keeping a straight face. "Which one of you is the boss?"

"I am Uchibo-san's advisor," the bespectacled man said.

"And I am the fucking boss, okay? Right. End of parlay," Uchibo shouted. "You've been ratting the rest of us devils out. You fucking varmints. What, cash off of the police payroll and sell out these good men trying to make a living out there, eh? That's your level, so! I am Nozato Uchibo, second in the Ichihara-kai and we have a clear line between the police and the yakuza. You meddled with the coppers, so I'm going to have each of you shot against the wall."

The man was dead serious, as the mobster with the shotgun fired at the ceiling. I flinched at the sound, and the smell of powder stung my nostrils. My ears rang. Pieces of glass and drywall began falling down to the floor. But we had to stay calm, otherwise we would lose. This was a mind game. Scare tactics, the oldest trick in the book. They won't kill us, I know so. If they did, they'd do it with discretion. If they shot us right now and then, there'd be a lot of witnesses. That was why I wasn't afraid an ounce.

I slowly pulled out my phone from my pocket and showed the screen to Nozato Uchibo. It was a picture of a man who is the Chief Inspector of Tokyo Police Department, Saburo Oreki. "Mister Uchibo," I say. "Look at it. That man sees us all equally as criminals. He'll let us do the dirty work for him and let us kill each other. It'll be much easier to mop up. Regarding the robbery, he wants something stolen from him, returned. But you are also at war with the Bosozoku, Mr. Uchibo, am I right?" I looked at him straight, expecting an answer. "They're the ones on police payroll. They're attacking your pubs and taking your money. Your men can't control them. You need help."

"Perhaps we should listen to what Mr. Ieyori has to say, before we make our decisions," his advisor whispered.

"Right," I nod. "The bikers are doing a lot of talking in the streets. They have a lot of boys. They're saying that the gambling houses are easy meat because the police are busy with the strikes and the investigation. Now, we have connections. We know how they operate. You have muscle. Together, we can beat them. But divided, maybe not."

By now, I had poured a glass for our guest and one for myself, and stood up to give it to him. I didn't wait, and took a sip immediately, walking back. The bourbon on my tongue did wonders to soothe my nerves. Mr. Uchibo had a small frown on his face, and he put his hands in his pockets, meditating on what I had stated. "Uchibo-san, perhaps we should take some time for reflection. Possibly make an arrangement for a second meeting," the advisor said, solemnly.

"I admire you, Mr. Uchibo," I say, standing in front of him. "You started with nothing, on the streets just like the rest of us, and now you've built legitimate businesses. It would be an honour to work with you, mister Uchibo."

After a moment, he downs his drink in one go, and stares at me. "Nobody works 'with' me. People 'work' for me." From his pocket, he produces a wad of cash, tied with a thin rubber band. It wasn't a whole lot of money. Uchibo motions as if to hand it to me, but drops it on the linoleum floor. He then glances at me expectantly. "Pick it up, boy." He ordered.

For the first time, I put on an expression of subtle disdain, and do not respond. Fukushi began to move to my right to bend down and pick up the money for me, but I held up a hand to hold them. "Sit," I told him, "sit down." He sat down once more. He and Hanzo patiently watched me negotiate with our rivals. I bent down to pick up the money. It was honest money, albeit perhaps with a drop of blood. One shouldn't take this as a sign of submission or weakness. Because you don't have to prove anything. This is business and we are businessmen, not gangsters.

"It's for your ceiling, mister Ieyori," he says.

"Thank you, Mr. Uchibo."

The five gentlemen from the Ichihara-kai left the building, and I allowed a smile to form on my face. My three friends sighed in relief and began congratulating me, but it was not yet time to celebrate. We were far from over. That was a tough ordeal; a very difficult time. The Ichihara-kai would take some time to consider an alliance. This was good. We were making connections. And although most of what I had said were hollow, they would be justified in due time. But of course, there was the ever present risk of danger. Hanzo and the two were frightened when they threatened us, and I was too surprised. But now, I am confident that we will succeed. I will turn the tables on the inspector. Still, they were uneasy.

"So you're planning to side up with the Ichihara-kai," Matsudo quietly says, walking over to us.

"Hikio, we can't mess with the fucking boss of the Ichihara-kai," Hanzo told me, waving a finger sternly.

I slipped a cigarette between my lips and lit it up. After taking a drag, I breathed, "of course not. We don't mess with things we can't handle. Now, Hanzo, we're going to need your uncle's crew soon. What do you think of getting rid of these gangsters once and for all?"