CHAPTER III
…
I planned to fly to Los Angeles for the New Year and reunite with my family. But the business was needing me more and more. I proved to be a brilliant underboss of a mob that was rapidly growing and expanding. I guess I was different from the rest of the guys - who, to some degrees were more experienced and knowledgeable than I - in that I had something intrinsic to myself. Maybe it was a certain genius or an uncanny ability when it came to scheming. I was relentless. I learned fast. I was always on my toes and thinking.
Being an underboss meant that I was now far from the action on the streets. I wasn't allowed to hang with the crew - rather, it was necessary to keep my superficial reputation spotless in the face of the public. Underbosses don't do the dirty work themselves. I was the brain, not the arm. While Hanzo was down in the bayside watching over the smuggling operations, or driving up to Narita city where he and Kenji had set up a hijacking ring in the airport, I was assigned to an office inside the RePublic, a cavernous, furnished barroom in Fujimi district. I organized schemes. I set up new storefronts and bogus companies to launder the thousands of money we raked in every week. I had puppets apply for a legitimate betting license, which I utilized to profit from the local boxing matches and sports competitions. We took in money from the shops. We owned the gambling houses. We controlled the market by unloading the smuggled stuff onto the table and undercutting competitors. I held formidable power while sitting in an office, and all I was holding in my hands were a fountain pen and a pad of paper.
As I rose up the ranks and became an underboss in the Chiba Outfit, I was initially overwhelmed with amazement and also apprehension. The deeper I went down the rabbit hole that was organized crime, the harder are the odds of me ever returning to normal life again. I was very scared to think that I wasn't going to get out of this. Once you're in the racket, you're in it for life. Then I remembered that I had a degenerative illness that was eventually going to kill me within ten years. In a way, that comforted me. I didn't think dying as a mobster was that all bad, but it wasn't good even. What else of a choice do I have? I wasn't planning on pretending that my condition doesn't exist, and that I was going to live a normal, long life. No; I was now living in the fast lane. I was aiming for the top. All the while, still trying to retain some semblance of what people would consider normalcy.
So it wasn't out of the blue when I found myself present at the grand table alongside other high-ranking members of the mob. That weekend evening, as usual, the bosses would discreetly gather at our local hangouts - and this time in particular, the meeting was hosted by me. Weeks have passed, and our control was already solid over the city. And so Manuel Ieyori allowed a temporary respite to bask in our successes. "Let us all not forget who began all this. This boy who, with his crazy gun job idea, allowed us to build our new businesses and made us rich. To the son I never had, Hikigaya Hachiman!"
Everyone raised their glasses and cheered to that. I could only muster a humble smile. I didn't notice Hanzo, whose eyes momentarily darkened in envy. Askance reactions were only understandable, as nobody enjoys having the spotlight taken away from them. But this was not the case between Hanzo and I - we were almost like brothers, and there was no ill will between us. In any case, I'd later on reminded him that if it wasn't for him, I too would not be standing at my present position. In this kind of life, as they say, no man is an island. And building a wall around oneself - as I once did, making a fortress around my heart against society - can only be reasonable at the moment, and doomed to failure in the long run. Or as Mama Imoguiri had taught me, one must learn who to fight with.
Manny continued, very pleased with how circumstances are with him. "The bootlegging business has never been busier than it is now. Without all those goddamned boryokudan gangs strolling about in the port, it's easier to transport the goods into the city. Nobody is snitching on our truckers now. No more extortions. Hardly any police hold-ups even," Manny spoke consistently, leaving little time in between his statements to drink from his mug of beer. "Also, I've gotten in touch with some folks who worked at the fabricas. We're hustling the places. Everything. It's brilliant, ain't it?"
The smuggling operations in the ports were so prolific that the warehouses and basements we used to keep the stuff in were often loaded. And it wasn't just the ports anymore - we had workmen smuggle goods straight out of the factories. Everything was on the list: cigarettes, booze, razor blades, shaving cream, batteries, portable radios, cellphones, clothes, shoes, food, and more food. Crates of fresh seafood were being delivered at the drops; lobsters, shrimps, salmon, red snappers, halibuts, oysters and even caviar. There was so much stuff coming in, it's like Christmas everyday. I gawked at the sight. Some of the guys used the stuff to start their own joints. Most were fenced off and supplied to restaurants, groceries and retailers. I always took home a bag of wine and fruits. Once we sold them off, we made such a fortune that the guys were out partying every weekend.
We practically refreshed the meaning of being in a mob. Then all of a sudden, there was no shortage of young boys joining the growing web of associates. Money - if you were smart and knew how to hustle - was a guarantee in consulting with the local wiseguy. And there was no need for yubitsume or medieval codes of honor. You've only got to keep your mouth shut, look the other way and go with the flow. When they realized that, every guy wanted to become one.
Xiao Bo, the boss of the Chinese faction in our alliance, spoke up. "That is good and all," Mr. Bo said. "I'd applied for a legal casino license, and bought off a legit gambling joint in town. Not to mention the dozens of gambling houses we have under our protection. We're already making so much money - though most of it is spent on bribing the cops and keeping the wrong people off our tails. This city can only give so much, however. I'm thinking of expanding into Tokyo. Maybe take over a joint in Roppongi or something. But what I'm really worried about is this inspector guy. When are we planning to give up the guns? Having the police after us is the last thing I want. I don't want to be put in the black book next to the Yakuza. It'll be a fuckin' fiasco."
"Go to Tokyo?" Manny chuckled incredulously. "Forget about it. As it says in the Book, 'thou shan't bite more than thy can chew.'" One of the men complained about the authenticity of the said passage, but Manny ignored him. He said, "we can't be messing around in the metro after we'd just whacked that son-of-a-bitch in Ichihara. Besides, we haven't got the muscle yet. Let's wait for the heat to die down. Well, I should leave it to Hachiman's discretion on what to do with the guns."
Johnny Woo, the resident boss of the Korean-based gang in Chiba, spoke up, turning his head towards me. "Right, what is he planning, anyway?" His eyes narrowed curiously. "What are you planning, Hikigaya-san?"
I looked up and straightened in my seat, turning deliberate. "Well, those guns are our bargaining chips," I answered quietly. "It's what's been keeping inspector Saburo from going full out search-and-destroy on us, and even in that I'm not so confident in." I looked down into my half-empty glass of iced beer and took a sip. "Because if they do find the guns, there's no telling whether they're going to lay off us or pursue us."
"Do the police guys already know about us?" Johnny Woo asked, motioning towards everyone at the table.
"No, I don't think so. Surely, they probably know we're all a bunch of dirty hustlers, but not that we're all in the same boat."
Everyone laughed for a bit at my light-hearted quip. We all talked for some more. Mr. Bo said in a more serious tone, "but we shouldn't let our guard down. Don't allow yourself to be seen with anyone else from this table out in public. Ironically, it's no good to be associated with each other now."
"Right. Let's not be seen."
"You think the Yakuza are going after us?" One of the underbosses asked. The whole table fell silent for a moment.
"Well, to be fair we did kill the Ichihara-kai boss," I said softly. Kenji was close enough to hear me, but he didn't budge.
"Possibly," Manuel Ieyori muttered, as if weighing inside his head the gravity of the situation. "No, definitely. Let's assume the worst," he changed his mind.
"No matter. What is important is we all focus on what we do best: business. We need to earn more - as much capital as possible. That way, when the time comes, we can defend ourselves. That's very important, being able to protect ourselves and our interests. In this world, wealth precedes power. With money, we can buy our way out of jail, perhaps hire button men to eliminate dangerous threats before they jump us first, and prepare for the long run."
They all listened attentively to everything I had just said. Manuel Ieyori nodded and clapped his hands twice approvingly. "Well said, Hachiman. Exactly, that's what we all ought to keep on doing," he said. "Speaking of which, how's Ichihara treating you?"
I told him it was alright down there in the neighboring city. "We're almost done setting up the new gambling joints and arranging lines for smuggling goods around. Now, we can monopolize the market with almost all of the ports under our control. We still need to keep an eye out for the occasional hard-nosed cop though," I said. "Then, I'm planning on taking over the labor unions in Chiba."
"Ah, yes. Then I'll leave it to you," Manny said confidently. "Let me know if you need anything. Have you got that union boss Sagawa-san on yet?"
I told him I'd just met and spoken with him a few days ago. "Leave it to me. Now, we're working on the project site in Tsubakimori. It's under the Yukinoshita Constructions company. We're looking to squeeze out two, three billion yen from the place by manipulating the unions."
"Ah, forget about it!" He laughed heartily. "This kid's too much of a genius. Well, let's see if this'll work. Again, if you need anything, let me know. I'll back you up."
But we were beginning to be noticed not just by the law, but by the real Yakuza mobs. They knew something was going on. People generally held an aversion towards the Yakuza and got along better with Outfitters - mostly because we were vague. There was no telling if a guy was a mobster at all; we didn't have full-body ornamental tattoos. We didn't cut off fingertips. Most of the guys usually don't even dress up like mobsters. Hanzo liked to wear aviator glasses and a red aloha shirt which I regarded as absolutely repulsive, and Kenji, being a former electrician, wore the blue union jumpsuit during the day. And I looked indifferent from the ordinary nobody. So we weren't outright noticed as public enemies off the boot.
The truth was that the police had no idea that the "Chiba Outfit" existed. They knew about the recent gang-to-gang violence in the city, but they saw it as a trivial inconvenience at worst. Criminals were killing each other. They thought, if anything, they should celebrate. One gangster killed was one less problem to deal with. And they took the drastic decline in crime in Chiba as a sign. They had no idea that we forced almost all of the street gangs in the city to align with us into one large mob. The Yakuza on the other hand did not let this growing anomaly slide so easily.
The murder of a Yakuza boss was inexorably bound to shake the underworld. It was like an earthquake that disturbed the rest of the Yakuza clans, particularly the Inagawa-kai. The Ichihara-kai was only a minor clan in the conglomerate of factions that made up the Inagawa-kai, but the sudden disappearance of an entire clan was shocking. The last in the Soai bloodline was dead. The soldiers? All gone, deserted or switched sides. The two senior lieutenants in the mob, Donato Ichijou and Narita Rengou also went under the radar. The Inagawa-kai wouldn't tolerate something like this. They knew much that a gang war broke out and the Ichihara-kai was annihilated. Whoever came out on top would've controlled a lot of assets left by the Yakuza. It was the greatest insult in a long time.
The Inagawa-kai didn't exactly realize that a new mob called the "Chiba Outfit" had materialized, but they knew about the gangs in Chiba. They knew about the Chinese monopoly. The Korean union. The bootlegging business and gambling operations and the Ieyori family. A long time ago, the Inagawa-kai invited Manuel Ieyori to join the Yakuza and become a senior member. A well-respected and influential family like the Ieyoris would be a valuable ally to the Yakuza. The Ieyoris weren't extremely wealthy nor did they have any world-spanning political control, but they did have something just as potent: power over the city streets. It wasn't a surprise when they found out, through spies and rumors, that Manuel now headed one of the largest and most powerful mobs around. It was easy to conclude that the Ieyori family ruled the mob that had destroyed one of their allies.
The Inagawa-kai could talk. They could strike a truce and potentially demand compensations for the damages brought by the war. After all, if Manuel did in fact destroy the Ichihara-kai, it would be an act of war against the Inagawa-kai. It was something they couldn't just tolerate. The only son of the renowned boss Oto Soai was dead, and they had lost everything in Chiba, Ichihara and virtually the rest of their strongholds in the peninsula. But the fact that we've yet to detect an open act of retaliation was unnerving to me. It was hard for me to tell where the first blow would fall, but the storm was certainly gathering on the horizon.
Touching back on the notion of scheming; I didn't understand why nobody was taking advantage of all the opportunities I was seeing. There were golden eggs hidden everywhere - surely, I'm not the only one who's noticing all of these chances. Japan was at a point where globalization was taking place and the only direction you could go was up - that is, if you handled yourself properly. At the moment, I didn't realize that what made me such a superb earner and an even better mob boss was my observational abilities. I surveyed the details. I paid attention. I scrutinized to a further extent than most people.
I guess you'd say I was overthinking and overanalyzing. Maybe I actually had an inherently criminal mind. In any case, I was excelling at something. I never knew I'd go this far once I was outside of school and in the mob. And Mr. Bo surprised me by making me the manager of the RePublic club. It was my front and my first legitimate business. I couldn't believe it. I actually had a legit job now. I owned an establishment. I was earning honest money in part. Mr. Bo told me to receive it as a sign of good faith. In reciprocation to this gesture, I became friends with him. Xiao Bo sensed, one of the young protegés of Manuel Ieyori has the potential to go farther than any of them.
Anyway, I never did well at Monopoly. I guess despite my mastery of running multiple big money-making schemes in the city, I don't really have a business mind. Oh, I'd usually manage to own a couple of railroads. And Water Works, of course. I'm not a complete asshole; I know a monopoly when I see one. Everybody needs water. But it always frustrated me that the other players wouldn't let me build houses on Water Works. They said it was zoning or some shit like that. I think they were jealous that I had vision. The worst fight I ever got into was with Yumiko, when I tried to put hotels on the Electric Company. Vision.
As far as other properties were concerned, naturally I'd snap up Baltic avenue as soon as that became available. "How much is that piece of shit? Sixty bucks? Give me that. I gotta have a place to live."
About the best thing I'd ever own would be one or two properties in the light-blue series. Maybe Oriental Avenue. No houses, of course. Just an excavation or two. That's about all I ever had on my property - plans. Surveyor's marks. I just couldn't get financing. All my friends would have shopping centers, malls, condominiums, industrial parks. And they liked to rub it in.
"Oh boy, Hachio, you're comin' down my side of the board now! Get ready to pay up!"
"Oh no… please god, roll me a big one." Then I'd roll the dice. "Holy crap. A ten! Thank you, god! Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump!... fuck you, Yumiko. I ain't even stopping on your side. Fuck you and Boardwalk too!" I sneered and gloated over my little success.
"That's alright, Hachio, you'll be around again," Yumiko said, giving me a menacing smile.
Of course, you can't move your token until you remember which one is yours. "Which one is mine? Am I the hat? I could swear I was the hat. No, that was yesterday. Wait! I know. The racing car. I'm the racing car. Hey, who's the ship? Hanzo, are you the ship?"
"No, he's not the ship. I'm the ship. I get the ship every game, don't even touch it."
Kenji was the second most greediest among us. Guess who's the first. Now, none of them wanted to be the iron. Not even Yumiko. It's too feminine. The worst token to have was the cannon. The big gun. It's the only topheavy token. It kept falling over. Throw the dice anywhere near it, and it falls on its side. And then some anal retentive would say, "who has the gun? Are you the gun? Would ya pick it up, please? And you, Kenji, are you in jail, or just visiting? Well, if you're just visiting, put the car on the side of the jail, not on the actual part."
Some players really cared. That's why they won. I never won, but I was always there at the end. Because I had all the one-dollar bills. Twenty-five hundred dollars in singles, and they needed me to make change.
I would try to borrow money. "Please, Yumiko. Just five bucks. I wanna buy a pack of cigs."
"Fuck you, Hachiman. But I'll give you five bucks for Water Works."
"Ten."
"Seven-fifty."
"Yumiko, they don't have a fifty-cent bill."
"Tough shit. Tear a dollar in half."
No, I wasn't very good at the game, but I spent a lot of time landing on Chance. And I always tried to buy it. I got into more fights trying to buy Chance. I'd move my token. "... three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine… Chance!"
Turn over the card, a little aristocrat with a hat says: "two hundred dollars for being an asshole!"
Yumiko would always laugh and shake up the table whenever that card would turn up. Well, she loved it. All I could do was laugh along. "Hey, Hans, shuffle those cards, will you? That's the third time I got that one!"
Those were times that admittedly, I actually enjoyed. Yumiko would hang out with me and I'd take her along my way. She and Hanzo Ieyori already knew each other before, as in High school Yumiko's popularity preceded her even in other campuses, and also because she used to occasionally come around with her friends at the Angel's Ladders café. She acted really demanding just to spite me. "Give me a highball, and I want that ice in one piece!" And I had to wear gloves, because otherwise she'd complain. Those were the days. Now, we often went to cafés and played chess; or played billiards; a game of poker in the basement; or even just walked around the city until we got tired and went our own separate ways.
But we didn't really talk a whole lot - at least not in the usual manner of most people. We had a peculiar sort of silent understanding between us in that it was enough for me to comfortably sustain the conversation with a few words.
Today, we settled inside a pool room and were having a game of eight-ball. And while we played, we talked.
"Hachi, who are you going to spend the holidays with?"
"Family," I answered quietly. I puffed away with my cigarette while watching a blue striped ball collide with an orange one and roll towards a pocket. "Who else? Not like I have a lot of other people to see."
Yumiko glanced up at me before returning her attention and leaning over for her shot - only three more solids to pocket. She asked, "do you want to… come over to my house on the twenty-fifth?"
I was curious. "Why?"
"Not like I also have a lot of other people to celebrate with," she replied. "All my friends are busy and won't hang out with me."
"What, don't you have a family? You have five uncles and aunts," I laughed softly. "Heck, go to them and ask for gift money. You're lucky. I don't have many relatives - that I know of. I never get any of those nice little red envelopes."
"I know you get what I'm trying to say." Yumiko sighed listlessly. She straightened herself and gazed at me in anticipation as it was my turn. I patiently listened. "It's just… I don't know. My relatives won't be coming over anyways. They're not too fond of Pops. And Pops is like, the Grinch when it comes to Christmas. No fun."
"Why don't you visit your grandmother? I'm sure she'd love to see you."
"Yeah… I don't know. I don't see her very often, and I'm not certain if she likes me or not. Feels like she's indifferent towards me."
"You think? She asks a lot about you. I'd met her some days ago by chance, and she's inquiring if you're alright, if you're eating well, or how things are going for you at school."
Yumiko's eyes flickered. She smiled, piqued. "Really? You talked to her? What did she say?"
I blew a puff of smoke again before answering. I hummed, recollecting my interactions with Miyako-sama. "Well, I just said that I was a friend of yours, and she asked me to give you her regards. She loves you very much, I can tell. Thing is, people often don't know how to show it, so they come off as cold and distant, but you remember that they still love you."
Yumiko stared at the table, her expression composed, analyzing the position of the cue ball. She was quiet for a while, before softly saying, "grandma was very kind to me but… she's also pretty strict. I'm kinda scared of her, to be honest. When I was a kid, she'd hit me with a cane if I was messing about."
This brought a grin to my lips. I giggled. "Ha, I'd hit you with a cane also if you were fooling around, Yumiko."
"Oh, shut up," she scoffed. Yumiko continued, now meaning to tell me a story. "Anyway… so yeah, she can be strict and sometimes very mysterious. You know, Grandma used to have a phonebook, and everytime someone Grandma knew died, she'd open her phonebook and cross out the names of those already dead. Ma and I found it really morbid."
"Yumiko… it's probably not a phonebook. That's Miyako-sama's hit list."
"What?! No, you're joking. God, I don't know who's more twisted - you or her."
"Oh no, she's certainly more pessimistic than I, and for a good reason. Old people are cynics by heart. After all, who wouldn't lose faith after spending over half a century on this damned world? I'd hate fuck-all as well if I lived that long enough."
Yumiko was vexed. "Ugh… you're evil."
"Not really," I shook my head. After a few more minutes in silence - only the noise of the solid ivory-shelled balls colliding and the whirring of the ceiling fan was heard - the game ended with my win. The score: 4-to-2. But we've lost interest in the game already. I decided to tell her.
"So I'm flying to Los Angeles next week and staying over at my family's new place in the city for the holidays," I quietly said. "I'll get you a souvenir for when I come back."
Yumiko refused to show her delight, and instead grumbled to herself, feigning distraught. "You're just going to leave me here? How heartless!" She walked over and leaned towards me. "You wouldn't have an extra ticket by any chance, would you?" I shook my head. She sighed, disappointed. "Can you take me with you?"
"Don't be stupid- " I started, but she cut me off.
"Damn, I meant take me to a party you're going to," she said, annoyed. "You've been highrolling around the city these days, and I know about it. My friends had seen you in the casino once. What're you up to?"
I hummed amusedly. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Ah… come on, let's go to a club or something. Don't you like parties?"
"Only when you're not in it."
Yumiko growled and nudged me forcefully to the side, while I chuckled. I don't know about her, but all this was beginning to become repetitive for me. I appreciated Yumiko's company, but perhaps I was just far too humorless and cynical to fully appreciate these moments. If one would look at the elderly, it's apparent that there's an inherent cynicism residing inside of them. "I'm too old for this shit" sort of mindset. They know they're going to die soon, so what's the point of having fun? Old people sulk in their rocking chairs silently, waiting to finally die. Nothing else to hope for. That's why they're irritable. They don't want young people parading around in their face - it's almost a mockery. Youth is an insult to pessimists. And the knowledge of oneself's end is a real mood-spoiler.
Breaking away from my momentary monologue, I turned my head towards Yumiko, who stared back at me searchingly. In a way, I always thought, she looked beautiful while unsmiling and only with an expression of apathy on. This was the other side of her, the more composed and cool-headed side which I admired.
I shook my head. "Why, of all people, are you asking me to go with you to a party? In case you've forgotten, I'm not exactly a hedonist or a party-person. Just go with your boyfriend."
She laughed dejectedly. "I don't have one anymore, remember?"
"Then find another one."
"Just who do you think I am?"
After a while she turned the question around. "Why don't you have a girlfriend?" She asked me in an accusing tone.
I parted my lips to answer, but remained silent. Silence is also an answer after all, and she knew that. I thought, I could do that. But again, I had too much a cynical mindset. You get a girlfriend, then what? Blow money over her, your bank account runs out and eventually she leaves you. Marry her and there's still no guarantee she won't rip you off and run away with another guy. Doesn't matter if you've got a good heart. And after going on several "practice dates" with Yumiko, the peculiarity of it all becomes even more apparent to me. What's the bloody point?
"Look here," I started, flicking away my cigarette into a nearby bin. We began to slowly walk out of the house towards the glass doors. Yumiko was silent. "People these days are always wandering about, searching, looking for someone to 'love' them," I said, taking on a slightly mocking tone which irked her. "They're the most pitiful saps you'd see. They're looking for something that doesn't exist. Finally getting a girlfriend or a boyfriend makes them feel better because at least there's one person that gives a shit about them. Makes them feel special and more important than the rest of the seven billion people in this hole. But only for so long. So after they break up, they go look for another person- "
Yumiko glared at me indignantly. "That's enough!" She cried. "You're too cruel."
"Wait, I'm not there yet," I insisted, furrowing my eyebrows. "What I'm trying to say is that's not the case with us. We've got friends who care about us. The only genuine thing in this world is family, and next to that is friendship. It's everything. It's more than talent. More than the government. Friendship is almost the equivalent of family."
I didn't realize I was slightly flustered from nervousness at what I was saying. Yumiko stared at me, as if in disbelief, then let out a soft laugh. Her cheeks slowly reddened. "Oh? You're saying that I'm like family to you?"
"Don't get too ahead of yourself," I muttered. "You've got me to look after you, that's all."
"Well then… I'm glad." She smiled. "And you've got me too, y'know."
I nonchalantly put both of my hands in my pockets as we went down the cold, noisy city avenue. Her orange parka was a sharp contrast to my darker overcoat and the gray surroundings. Yumiko stuck close to me so as not to get separated. And she latched onto my arm because I did not leave my hand out, for inwardly, I did not want to hold her this time.