CHAPTER IX

…

The Inagawa-kai was the third largest Yakuza group in Japan. They have a well-known head office in the Roppongi district of Tokyo. Back in the 70s they controlled many of the gambling houses, casinos, theaters and rug joints in the metropolis. They of course had to fight for control of these territories. These days, they don't have the same power as they did those decades ago. All of the Yakuza weren't the same since the government ousted them as the enemies of society, and passed harsh laws to contain them. But there wasn't a way to completely destroy organized crime. There was no way the police could go head to head with the Yakuza and shatter them. And if they did, things would get very messy. Instead, they might even do more harm than good.

Eventually, they realized that the best way to solve the Yakuza problem was to exclude them from society. They cut off the main source of income for the mobs. Yakuza were ostracized. Companies and businesses refused to hire even ex-Yakuza. Even businesses owned by the mob were deliberately affected. The U.S. froze and removed assets connected to the Yakuza from the market. The Yamaguchi-gumi used to hold trillions of yen in stocks from major railway companies like JP express. Suddenly, the mob found that they had no money. Without money, they were dead. It's like taking away water from the plant.

This ironically made the Yakuza even more dangerous than before. Now incapacitated to conduct businesses legally, and having lost nearly all of their political clout, they turned to more unscrupulous and violent ways to earn revenue. Aside from bookmaking, loan-sharking, gambling and bootlegging, they increased trafficking of drugs. Illegal firearms. They ran illicit prostitution rings. They committed all sorts of frauds; bank fraud, mail fraud, mortgage fraud and internet scams. They rigged auctions and sports matches. Everyone knew that the Yakuza killed people, but they were even more inclined to do so these days. They took kill contracts. Assassinations. They used blackmail and threats. They constantly try to infiltrate the business world and the stock market, where there was money to be made. The market today wasn't the highest. Japan was still hundreds of trillions in debt, and hadn't yet recovered from the collapse of the bubble economy from the 80s. And with life becoming ever more difficult not just in the country but in the entire world, money was becoming as essential as air or water.

The Inagawa-kai was not prepared for a prolonged conflict with us. And so they went for the simplest and very logical solution: they decided to assassinate the boss of the Chiba Outfit. The Inagawa-kai decided to murder Manuel Ieyori. They weren't certain that he was actually the head of the Chiba mob, but there was enough reason to take him out all the same. After all, if he isn't an ally then he's the enemy. There were also other figures that were potentially leaders in the rival organization to the Yakuza. The Chinese Triad had always been an enemy of the Yakuza, and the Chinese were generally regarded with suspicion in Japan. All foreign people were regarded with suspicion. But it was already hard enough having to earn money in this state, now the Yakuza had to compete with the growing presence of foreign mafiosos and hustlers. And so also on the blacklist were Xiao Bo and Johnny Woo. Any one of these people, including several more names, could be the boss that had to be eliminated. What the Inagawa-kai didn't know was that the Outfit operated in a different way.

Manuel Ieyori was essentially the top boss of the Outfit, but he didn't directly control every branch of the mob. That assignment fell unto the underbosses, who did much of the work. There were multiple underbosses. I was one myself. Next in the hierarchy were the foremen who ran crews of soldiers - the trustworthy, committed "made" men. Guys like Hanzo Ieyori and Kenji Isshiki had their own crews with which ran the business. Unlike the traditional hierarchy in the Yakuza mob, where everything boiled down to a straightforward command chain of the Oyabun, the Wakagashira and the lieutenants who controlled the soldiers, our mob had power distributed more equally among the hierarchy. That meant that even if the boss was taken away, the organization could still operate to some extent. The underbosses were separate. They controlled independent smaller mobs.

The Outfit wasn't going to be immediately maimed if the boss was killed, but there was a chance that the underbosses might fight over who gets to be boss next. Mr. Bo and Johnny Woo were now good allies, but they still might turn against each other once Manny was no longer around.

A vicious war between the Inagawa-kai and the Chiba Outfit was inevitable. All hell was about to break loose. I remembered the old Yakuza Jirou. I knew murdering a Yakuza would have dire consequences. Eventually, it would fall upon us. And the Inagawa-kai, with the help of their allies the Yamaguchi-gumi, could certainly defeat us. They had trained assassins. They had better gunmen. They still had some cops, judges, officials and businessmen on their payroll. The Inagawa-kai, though weakened by the change over the years, was still a formidable force. They can easily crush the Outfit given the proper execution and strategy. And so the task of assassinating the rival bosses were entrusted only to their best hitmen.

My phone suddenly started vibrating inside my pocket. I picked up the line instinctively. A voice spoke loudly from the other end. "Hikio! Jesus, kid, you had us worried. Where the hell are you right now?"

I was relieved. "I'm on my way to the hospital," I responded. "How's Ieyori-san? How bad is it?"

Hanzo was anxious. "No, don't go to the hospital. They didn't take uncle there. Thank God he didn't get shot, but uncle busted his forehead pretty badly on the car doorway. Listen, everybody's freaking out, I can't talk, and we need you here right now. Can you get over here to the house?"

"Agreed. I'll be there." After the call dropped, I instructed the driver to change our destination and bring me straight to Sakaecho district, on Sakaemachinaka street.

To the ordinary citizen, the streets looked normal but there were sinister signs of alertness and vigilance in the heart-of-the-mob districts Fujimi and Sakaecho. One would notice plenty of young fellows dressed in overcoats and hats of varying colors and tastes. They were the cardboard wiseguys, mere associates. They were the eyes, ears and pawns on the streets. But they weren't so dangerous. The ones you've got to watch out for were the bulls, the real soldiers of the Outfit. They could be anyone and anywhere. A janitor in a blue jumpsuit. The local butcher. Linemen. House painters. Postmen. Any one of them could be armed with a foot-long fish knife, an ice pick or a .22, prepared to eliminate a designated target in an instant. You could never tell who was who. Because what most people don't know is that these cardboard wiseguys, with their three-piece suits and ties, that most people see are just decoys. They're meant to look like Mafiosos so the real mobsters can get to work.

The storefronts along Sakaemachinaka street were all open, but the shopkeepers, who were all members of the mob, were as tense as tripwires. I felt at ease after getting out of the cab. The streetlights were always turned on earlier than usual, but this time there were floodlights illuminating the alleys and crevices in between the establishments. It made lurking around the district impossible. Not to mention all of the CCTV cameras under our control. And the Ieyori house, which was around the corner at an intersection not far from the nightclub, was the palace encased in this impregnable fortress of a neighborhood.

Inside the house, the atmosphere was dire. They were all gathered in the dining room, and Manuel Ieyori sat at the high end, ice pack on his bandaged forehead and nursing himself to a glass of beer. Everyone was talking about the hit. Dan the Killer, one of our friends caught a bullet in the elbow and was in the hospital. Our boss, luckily enough, wasn't hurt by the assailants. Mama Imoguiri was distressed, but more enraged at the current predicament. I felt ashamed, remembering that this could all be very well my own fault - after all, I was the one who had committed a grave error by killing a Yakuza. But no; Mama Imoguiri was frustrated that after having cleared his charges, Manny was about to fall into another gridlock with the law. She left to wait until the next day with her relatives.

Manny said that the attack was no doubt orchestrated by the Inagawa-kai, as it was highly planned out. It was perhaps only by sheer luck or chance that it had failed. The two gunmen had not yet ratted out. Calls were made to our associates within the police to arrange an "interrogation" of the perpetrators and extract information once and for all. Once they gave out names, a counterattack by the Chiba Outfit would be immediately in effect.

I asked carefully, "where did you say Ieyori-san got shot?"

Manuel Ieyori was fuming. "Those motherfuckers crept up on me while I was coming out of a convenience store," he yelled, enraged. "Dante got shot, he's in the hospital. I've got enough on my hands with the prosecutors breathing down my neck, I don't wanna deal with the paparazzi too. What the hell do they think this is, a fucking reality show?"

"Did you hurt your head badly?"

"No, son. God had mercy and I didn't get hit, but the car doorway was the devil himself. Dante managed to drive us far enough before I took over." Manny lifted the pack of ice gently for a moment, took a sip from his glass and fell back on his chair. "Goddammit, this is gonna leave a scar."

I was very concerned. "You're not going to press charges, sir?"

"Niño, are you kidding me? A Yakuza button man drove by and tried to whack me on the streets, what do you think am I gonna do? Go to the police, ask them to put me in a witness protection program? Unlikely."

Hanzo was brimming with anger. "Those crazy bastards have no idea what they just did," he growled in between clenched teeth. "Then let us go and smash the Inagawa-kai once and for all. We'll kill them all for what they did to you, tío."

"Hanselmo, now is not the time for gallantry," Manny said, shaking his head and frowning. "We've got to be clever. They've blown their only shot at us, and now it's our move. We need to be decisive."

"Pero tío, we have an opening to attack now. All our boys are at the ready, and Hikio, Kenji and I have planned the countermeasures through, exactly for when this kind of war breaks out. We can match them, we have the power," Hanzo said, determined. "And so why shouldn't we take the initiative?"

"My son, power is not revealed by striking hard or fast, but by striking true."

They all glanced at me and asked if we had indeed prepared our own crews of button men. I nodded. "It is true. I was already certain that war with the Yakuza was inevitable, sire, but I did not anticipate the Inagawa-kai to make their move so early, and at such an inconceivable moment - on Christmas, no less." I pulled out one of the chairs and sat down at the table. I produced a pocketbook from the breast of my waistcoat and laid it open. It contained the pointers which helped remind me of the entirety of the plan conjured in my head. I had a keen memory, but writing down notes made me impeccable. "I have set up mattress rooms around the city and staging points in Tokyo where our hitmen are placed. The strategic objectives are already drawn and at a moment's notice, given the names, the attack may commence sir."

"He's said it already," Hanzo gestured. "What are your orders, uncle?"

Manuel Ieyori sent everyone out of the room except for the two of us. "Hanselmo. Hachiman. You stay." He looked us over and began to talk in a soft but clear voice. "My sons, the time when our strength will be tested has arrived. No doubt, there will be sacrifices that will have to be made. But these affairs are fickle. They are unpredictable. I should have died on that pavement this morning, then the war will be over as fast as it began."

"Do not say such nonsense, tío," Hanzo quickly said, frowning. "It is God that has saved your life today, and does this not convey a message? No, you will survive to inflict justice on our enemies."

"This isn't personal, my son. You should know that. This is just business. My death would have elevated you to become the next patrón, the top boss and thus would have also opened the doors to negotiations. The Yakuza and our familia have long had an unfinished affair that it seems would now finally be settled."

I spoke up in a reasonable voice. "What will you do now, Ieyori-san? This war will be grueling. But I understand that we have no choice but to face it."

Manuel Ieyori was pensive. "They will try again to kill me," he hummed. "However, there is a way to solve this dilemma."

Realization slowly dawned on Hanzo's eyes, and he scoffed in disbelief. "No! So you're not saying- "

Manuel Ieyori was deliberate. "My sons, you will have to take over the familia while I am gone. That is the only sensible conclusion to avoid an unlimited war with the Inagawa-kai." He glanced down, mulling. His decision was set. "I shall only disappear for a while. A few years, nothing much. Leave the country and wait for things to cool down."

I felt a wave of relief wash over me, and felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted off my chest. Now, if this was our course of action then so be it. Preparations for a sit-down with the Yakuza can be arranged. I began to stand up. "Then it is understood, sire. I will excuse myself and leave it to you two."

"No. Hikigaya Hachiman, I am not finished yet." Manuel Ieyori began in a quiet voice, speaking with a soft and reminiscing air. "Hanselmo, you have always been my favourite nephew. Your mother and father have raised you very well. Now, you have grown into a fine, strong man. I have no doubt that you have a promising future ahead of you, and that you have capabilities." He looked at him with a searching expression. "I know that I can never replace your father, but I want you to know that I already see you as my own son. It is selfish of me, yes. But allow me this once to excuse myself. If only my son Niccolo was still with us, the two of you would have ruled the family business better than anyone else. Pero, the times are different. I hope you will understand my decision to leave Hikigaya-san as the patrón of the Outfit."

Hanzo was speechless for a moment, as if stunned, before gasping in disbelief. "I do not understand. Why him?" He laughed dryly, gesturing to himself. "Do you not believe in me?"

"Son, I will not lose another one of my kin."

"You've said that you have no doubt in my capabilities. Now why do you not give me the opportunity to prove myself?"

Manuel Ieyori nodded his head. "This is an opportunity to prove yourself. You'll understand."

"He is not even our blood. What are you saying?" Hanzo was becoming increasingly impatient. He raised his voice and slammed his hands on the table. "This is unbelievable. How can someone who is not a part of our familia understand how to protect and lead us?"

Manuel Ieyori steeled his own voice. "Hikigaya Hachiman," he pointed at me, "he is as much a part of our family as you and the rest of us. Is he not like a brother to you still? Do you not believe that he is just as close as family to us?"

"Excuse me, sir."

Hanzo began to make for the doorway, past the men in the living room and out of the house.

"Hanselmo. Hanselmo!" Manuel called to him. "Where are you going?"

"Basta!" Hanzo snapped, throwing a hand in the air as if in defeat. "I will argue no more." He walked out of the house and disappeared into the streets.

I had pieced together a long time ago the possible reason why the alias "Nikkoro" stuck when I worked at the nightclub. I reminded them of their son: well-mannered, intelligent and resolute in his capabilities. The difference was that Niccolo was more bold and ambitious than I. It was only now that the truth was fully revealed.

I racked my memory and recalled what I had learned. Manuel Rosales was an immigrant, so he must've taken up his wife's surname. How they built their way up in society. Mama Imoguiri's son, who died in the drug raid incident eight years ago. How he had supposedly left and turned up as an associate of the Yakuza, and how he was killed by the police because of that. And then it dawned on me that that was probably the origin of Manuel's prejudice against the Japanese mafia. And in a way, the tragic backstory of Niccolo Ieyori was along the lines of own. The end to this kind of life is never good.

After a while, I finally spoke up. "It is because you want to protect Hanzo that you have decided to delegate to me the responsibility of being the boss instead," I said quietly. "It is because I am expendable, and Hanselmo is not."

Manuel Ieyori furrowed his eyebrows and chuckled. "What the hell are you saying? You think I'm as ready to sacrifice you as a hired gun? Son, you are mistaken."

"But he is right." I shrugged and said gently, "Ieyori-san, I am not a part of your family. Not in the end, no. And I owe my loyalty and devotion only to my own family. No more, no less. I ask you not to make me choose between your kin and mine, because I will never betray my morals."

He glanced at me and smiled dryly. "I've never been the best father to my son, I admit that. It is too long, too late for me to correct my mistakes in the past, I know that. Niccolo is dead because of me. I failed to save him from falling down the wrong path. All I did back then was bury my head in the sand and fuck around, drinking away my conscience. I was too self-centered, too fucking absorbed in my own little world that I've forgotten how much family means to me. Not even my wife can forgive such a lapse of responsibility from me." He sighed and leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his palms together sincerely, in meditation. "But I'd like to think that I could still change things. Maybe I've failed as a husband to Imoguiri. I've failed to raise my own son. But… perhaps I can still learn to become a good father to Hanselmo, and to you Hikigaya-san."

I shook my head. "You are wrong, Ieyori-san. You've raised your son well. You're not a bad person."

"How the hell would you know that? Are you a fortune teller?"

"No," I smiled, "but you haven't given up. You taught me and Hanzo and my friends well. We learned from you. Granted, not all our acquired morals are smiled upon by the law, but we're not bad people. Perhaps we're no better than anyone else, but we're certainly no worse so."

"Nobody else will care for us, son. In this world, all you have is your family and your friends. Who will help us? I am a stranger to this country, and Hanselmo is an orphan. We're neither rich nor privileged. The only thing we're entitled to is the company of our family and friends. And in times like these, God isn't the one who's gonna come down and save you. Only the people who, pray, care about you."

"Now you will have to exile yourself, is that so?"

"We do not have much of a choice, and I've judged that this is the most sensible decision. We do not need any more shedding of blood." Manuel crossed his arms and glanced towards the open door, where Hanzo had stormed out minutes ago. "He will hate me, and I can only hope for him to understand."

"I will talk to him."

Hanzo was confused and irritated at the turn of events. There he stood on the edge of the curb, leaning on a post morosely. He was sullen. What devil struck my uncle in the head, he thought, and what a preposterous idea! To make a man who is an outsider to the family the patrón was unthinkable. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, staring blankly in deep meditation.

But I could not blame him. Even I would react in such a violent and bewildered manner when confronted with such a fluke.

I spoke to him in a reasonable voice. "Hanzo," I said, approaching him slowly. "Ieyori-san has his reasons. And I myself did not want this."

"Do not talk to me about my uncle," he growled, turning his head around, but not quite that I could see his eyes. He was clearly in an ill mood. "As if you are his son."

"You are mad at me."

"This isn't the setup, you said. Do you not know how devastating this is, having your own family put more faith in someone from the outside?" He paused for a moment, taking a whiff of his cigarette. His hands closed into a fist and opened again in a rhythmic fashion as he simmered. "This is offensive and humiliating to me, but you couldn't understand, could you? No, it's because you haven't had to deal with the shit I've been through."

I was indignant. "Did you think that I had that much of a choice?"

"And did you try to refuse?" He whipped around and angrily berated me. "I do not expect for you to comprehend what is at stake here. This isn't some petty affair of pride and reputation. No matter how much we lie to ourselves, in the end you are not one of our family. And that is why I do not expect that you are enough to sustain not the mob, but my family during these times. Don't get me wrong, you're a trustworthy and honourable guy," he said, beginning to smile superciliously. "But let's be honest here. Hikigaya-san, you know the way you never trust other people? That's how I don't trust you either. There's no telling."

I narrowed my eyes, listening carefully. "And what are you suggesting?"

"Between your family and mine, which one are you willing to betray first?"

I finally raised my own voice to match his. My gaze turned sharp and steely. "Are you questioning my integrity?"

"It can't be helped, can it? We all have to make… difficult choices."

I stepped in front of him and faced him with a dead serious resolve. "I would never betray my family, and my friends no less. My… moral values won't allow me to do so," I said coldly, glaring at him. "The same way it prevents me from betraying my people, despite them being mere pawns to me and never quite considered to be my own family. But that's nothing to do with my own cynicism or equal hatred against all people." I finally smiled curtly.

Hanzo stared back, his expression turning even darker. "Are you threatening us?"

I was surprised. "Of course not, Hanzo," I chuckled. "I'm just reminding you that I love you, my dear brother." He remained suspicious towards me. I held up my hands and reasoned with him gently. "It's not a choice between my family and yours that I've decided not to leave. I've wanted to quit this life and go home, yes, but how low would that be after all you and your family did for me? No, this is now a personal obligation of mine. There is no choice to be made, because we are now equals - granted, not in blood still, but that's not important anymore."

Hanzo frowned, scrutinizing me as if to see if I was lying. He scoffed and shoved his hands in his pockets before pacing along the sidewalk. I went alongside him. The snow-encrusted streets were dark now and the air, though cold, was calm. I spotted the white Prius with a distinct sticker placed on the rear window. It was the car I was given by my father.

"Come off it now and let's go for a ride," I said shortly.

He agreed. We did not speak the entire way, but we both thought of the subsequent events that led to where we are now. It all happened too fast, even for me. We drove uptown to Kaizukacho, passing through winding roads. The traffic became thinner once we got on the highway, and we stopped in the middle of the interchange. We both stepped out of the car and stood before the ledge, staring at the scene. From a high point such as a skyway, you could survey the urban environment clearly. Chiba city was before us, all bright and brimming with life.

I pulled out a pack from my coat pocket and placed a cigarette between my lips. The match head burst into a little flame and braved the chilly wind, as I placed it against the tip to light the cigarette. After taking a couple of puffs, I spoke.

"The truth is that I still want to leave this country, you know? Despite everything."

Hanzo sighed, crossing his arms. "You've got it way better than me. I can't wish for my mom and dad to come down from up there, can I?"

Both of us were detached from our own families, and that was the truth. No different from anyone else, we were going down a path to see if we would find something that we could hold on to. Then, we thought of the immediate circumstances at hand. It sent a shiver down our spines. What the hell are we doing? It was a rhetoric. Now we've gone from the lighter side of this kind of life into the grisly truth. This is a life where we could lose everything. This was a fantasy built on a nightmare.

"We could see the whole of Tokyo Bay from here. It feels like we're on top of the world, don't you think?" I said.

"Yeah," he nodded.

I sighed heavily, pushing one hand under the breast of my coat and the other behind me. It felt cold. I furrowed my eyebrows and stared at the sky.

"Hanzo, I can't do this alone - This whole running the mob thing. Look at me, I'm no boss," I said. "I did not want this. And there's never been a twenty-one year old godfather in history," I quipped sardonically. "One that holds a lot of responsibilities no less. I'm just as good as I need to be."

Hanzo glanced at me, finally accepting. "Then that'll have to change. I guess you're in charge now."

"No. Let's be honest, you're more likeable than me," I grinned. "Nobody wants an authoritarian for a leader. They want someone who appeals to their interests. Look at it this way: I'm only a piece fitting in the jigsaw. And in this case, the brain of the operations. You are the heart of the Outfit, Hanzo, and we can't succeed on our own."

"To tell you the truth of it, I'm not too confident of what I'd do if I was boss and even less without your regular assistance." He shrugged. "No man is an island, I guess you'd say. I'm still pissed, but that's that." He gestured with his hands and looked at me. "Now, I know my place in the grand scheme of things, and so do you. It happens that you're now the top boss of our familia. Given how things are, all we can do is fulfill our roles. And you'd better not fuck it up, Hikio, or you'll be sorry."

I smiled. "Don't worry, I won't."

"Good." Hanzo sighed, relieved. If this is what Manuel Ieyori decides to be the sensible course of action, he thought, so be it. Again, this wasn't a case of pride and petty prejudices. This was a serious affair with no room for blunders. The fate of the mob is at stake. He continued. "Now, we are ready. Do you see that star up there?" He pointed at the pitch black sky, not quite towards a particular cluster of glimmering spots.

"Where?" I looked.

"Right there, do you see it?"

"I do not see."

"Are you sure? Slightly to the West?"

"I assure you, there's not a star there."

"Well then," he let out a laugh. "As long as I'm the only one who can see that star, we'll do whatever the hell we want, and by God we'll do it. Nothing will fail us."

The next day was spent hastily preparing for Manuel Ieyori's departure. I have then decided to give him a flight ticket to Los Angeles - It was originally intended for my own use and to spend the New Year with my family. But again, the plan has changed. If Manny could leave Japan before a court summons is issued, then it would be ideal. He can lay low overseas on the plea that he is under malicious threat in his own country. The courts will have to compromise and will not be able to prosecute him again soon. And it would essentially postpone the war between the Outfit and the Inagawa-kai. Negotiations could then proceed. Thus it was arranged.

By two o' clock in the afternoon, he had packed up and was prepared to leave.

"Take this ticket, uncle," I said, approaching Manny. I handed him a strip of printed blue paper and a sheet. "I was supposed to join my family this New Year but… you need this more than I do. Take a cab to Narita airport. The flight leaves tonight for Los Angeles at seven-thirty."

Manuel Ieyori was pleased, having finally heard me call him by a more familial address. He refused at first out of consciousness, but I insisted. He finally took it gratefully. "Son, God bless you." He put his hand gently on my head and smiled. "How can I ever repay you?"

"I only have one more request," I said. I picked up a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with a flimsy red ribbon, and several more envelopes. "Please send regards to my family. Tell my mother that I am safe and that I will see them soon, after I finish my third year. Here is the address," I added, giving a card to Manuel.

He agreed and promised to drop by our residence to deliver my message. Manuel Ieyori bid his wife Imoguiri and his nephew Hanzo goodbye, and we waved him off as his cab rode down the street and disappeared into a corner. It would be a long while before we would see him again.

That night, I called my sister.

As I sat in the dimly-lit room of my apartment, I listened to the phone intently. I squinted at my hands, which were cold and slightly trembling, reminding me that I had not taken my medication since last night. It was also because I was dreadful. The small brown medicine case that I always kept in the breast of my overcoat was unfolded on the coffee table in front of me. I picked up a clean syringe and began to drive the needle into a small vial containing Dexamethasone. A voice picked up on the other line as I filled the solution into the syringe.

"Onii-chan, happy New Year!"

I was delighted. "You're three days too early!" I scoffed. "Are you guys okay there?"

"Yes. And you?"

"I'm fine." I hummed. "Will you put mom on the phone for me?"

"Oh, she's gone off to work. I'm just about to go to class."

"I see."

Komachi sighed affectionately. "Onii-chan, you're as bad with conversations on the phone as you are in real life!" She giggled. "You stay safe, 'kay? I love you, bro."

I found myself smiling. That was all I needed to hear. Someone once said that 'the longer you stay out there, stubborn and hateful of it all, the harder your heart will become. Until one day, you can't feel anything anymore.' I feared that it was true. But that's why we have our family. It's so we don't forget who we are. The sting of the needle digging into my skin brought me back from my brief monologue. I emptied the medicine into my vein and flexed my hand, afterwards letting out a sigh of relief. It numbed my senses a bit, but it cleared my head.

I wish I could speak for longer with my sister, but I had just received a message that the two perpetrators had already ratted, and Hanzo wanted me at the precinct. And she also had her own day to go through. We all have to go our own ways. There was no room for melodramatics. I frowned sadly, wiping off something wet from my eye with a finger before turning towards the phone on the table, and spoke.

"I love you, little sister. Never forget that."