Chapter Nine
Break In, Breakout
Akira raised his eyebrow at the girl calling herself "Makoto". Part of him was tempted to laugh at her action movie hero schtick, but there was a flaming determination in her face that let him know she was entirely serious. Keeping his hands in the air, he said, "Makoto, huh? Look, I don't anything about this Kaneshiro guy, I'm just here on business that seems to be very different from yours."
"What clan are you from then?"
"Kinda depends on what I feel like that day."
"What does that mean?"
"Long story. Guess you could say I'm with the Sakura Clan, technically."
Makoto's eyes narrowed, her nostrils flared. "Then you really are a criminal, just like everyone else here."
"Trust me, Miss," Akira stepped forward with lightning quick reflexes, bashing Makoto's hand with his own to seize the gun before pointing it back to her, "I am nothing like everyone here."
Makoto was surprised, but did not move; she did not raise her hands in surrender, nor did she seem very frightened. "Well then?" she pressed. "You're going to shoot me right? Don't want civilians finding out about your business dealings, right?"
"Like hell," Akira replied coldly, opening the loader of the revolver and taking out the bullets. He held them in his hand and gave Makoto back the empty gun. "You can have your rounds back when you tell me what you want with this 'Kaneshiro' and why you think you'll find him here."
"Will your employers be interested in that information?"
"Probably, but this isn't about them."
Makoto looked at the young man inquisitively. "You are a very strange yakuza, Kurusu."
"I get that a lot, trust me."
Makoto put her gun in its holster, her demeanor relaxing ever so slightly. "Junya Kaneshiro has been a wanted criminal for years now, yet the police have been unable to catch him. Recently intel was received indicating that he is held up in Kamurocho, and I am here to investigate."
"Are you a cop?"
"Well," her voice turned almost sheepish, "no."
"Then what do you want with him?"
"I am a bounty hunter," the girl replied resolutely.
Akira was now more confused and amused than concerned. "Really? With a little revolver like that? You're a bounty hunter?"
In a nearly imperceptible flash, Makoto's disposition turned confident, and angry. "Not just the revolver." Makoto stepped forward quickly, putting her foot behind Akira's as she pushed him from the other side. Unable to react, he fell to the ground. Upon contact, his grip loosened just enough on the bullets in hand for Makoto to grab them and load one round in the loader, pointing the gun at the young man. "I'm also highly trained in martial arts," she declared confidently. "I've taken down plenty of men twice your size."
"With what? Sucker punches after disarming them with your 'womanly charms'?"
"You want a bullet in the head, jackass!?"
Akira considered hitting her with a rising reversal, maybe trying his mom's own "Volcanic Viper", a devious uppercut with a strange name she refused to elaborate on or actually teach him, but he decided against it. This girl was not some two-bit lackey like he was used to. Something greater drove her to this dangerous place, and it was more than just money. "No, I really don't. But if you let me up, I'll help you with this 'Kaneshiro' business."
"To get a better paycheck, right?"
Akira stood to his feet, and Makoto did not try to stop him. "No. Because something about this assignment has been fishy since I got it, and maybe some digging will help me find out why."
"Care to elaborate?"
"Do you?"
"Not until I'm out of this place."
"Same here."
Makoto straightened her posture and turned toward the end of the hall. "Then there's no time to dawdle. We'll take the manifest and get out of here."
"Now without my friend."
Makoto facepalmed herself lightly. "For God's sake," she muttered.
"He's not far from here, don't worry. We'll find him, figure out what the hell this RZ-412 is, then haul ass out of here. Deal?"
Makoto nodded slightly. "Deal."
"Good. Let's move."
They scanned the next three aisles, finding them completely devoid of people. When they came on the fourth, they saw a lanky young man with blond hair kicking a wooden crate in frustration. "Piece of shit!" he said as he kicked it once more. "Fucking help me out here a bit!"
"Ryuji!" Akira called, making his way over to him, not noticing Makoto lag behind. "Got any good news for us?"
"Well, I thought I did, but—" He cut himself off upon seeing the young woman behind Akira. "Well," his eyes narrowed, "what the fuck is this bullshit?"
"Ryuji, what are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about her," he pointed to Makoto, his gaze growing furious. "How did you meet her, Akira!? When did she get here!?"
"Dude, what's wrong?" Akira grew more confused and frustrated with his friend.
Makoto tapped him on the shoulder. "It's alright," she said. "He has every right to be unhappy to see me."
"What? You two exes or something?"
"Like hell!" Ryuji shouted. "This prissy bitch could have saved me a ton of pain back in high school if she hadn't been such a lapdog for the principal! Her responsibility was to advocate for her fellow students, and she didn't do jack shit!"
"Sakamoto, please calm down!" Makoto pleaded with him without losing her determined glare. "We can talk about this later!"
"And why the hell are you even here!?"
"I could ask the same of you!"
Akira stepped in between the two, who looked like they were ready to throw down. "Whoa whoa! Time out, both of you! We can clear this up later, I'll even mediate if needed. But for now, let's just get what we done and book it. Okay?"
"I'm in agreement," Makoto crossed her arms impatiently.
Ryuji's jaw clenched with anger, but he then shrugged in defeatistly. "You're right, this is bigger than anything Niijima and I got at the moment."
"Quite mature of you, Sakamoto," Makoto remarked.
Ryuji turned back to the crate, his shoulders tensing once again. "Don't push your luck, prez."
Intending to divert the conversation more completely, Akira stepped forward toward the crate. "What were you looking for in here, Ryuji?"
"Oh, you know, pinup merch, antique katanas, and that scary-ass drug we saw listed on the manifest."
"Your sarcasm is a real asset to our efforts."
"Thanks!" Ryuji gave him a thumbs up. Akira looked down his nose at his friend; Makoto rubbed her temple. "Apparently, this crate should have some doses of the RZ-412. But I can't get it to open for the life of me."
"There's three of us now," Makoto interjected. "Let's all try together."
"Might as well," Akira shrugged. With great exertion eliciting comical noises of stress from the young adults, they managed to open the crate… only by breaking the lid in half with such force that they stumbled backward. "That was loud," Akira remarked, catching his breath.
Ryuji wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. "Oh, who are we gonna offend by breaking this shit? The yakuza?"
Makoto rubbed her burning hands, trying to soothe the pain in her palms. "I, for one, do not care a bit about the opinion of drug runners."
"Thank you for the input," Ryuji remarked callously.
Akira walked over to the crate, tentatively taking a look at its contents. He peered over the edge of the crate, and raised an eyebrow as a man in a red jacket and pants, sporting a garish perm, stared back at him.
"Hey, how's it going?" the man asked in a smooth, low voice, waving his hand Akira in a friendly manner.
Akira paused for a moment, internalizing that what we was seeing was real. "What the—"
The strange man burst forth from the crate, narrowly missing headbutting Akira. Ryuji jumped back in surprise, and Makoto immediately adopted a fighting stance, as did the strange man upon hitting the ground. "You assholes' numbers are up!" the man proclaimed proudly, theatrically. "Today, I will be the wall keeping you scumbags away from the Sakura Clan's territory!"
Akira was about try the "Volcanic Viper" uppercut on the man, but his expression changed from defensive to befuddled in an instant. His mouth hung open slightly as his eyes narrowed, trying to discern just what the fuck was happening. "Wait, did you say Sakura Clan?" he asked.
"Of course! And you Omi bastards are about to feel the wrath of the true strongest clan in Japan! Ichiban Kasuga is about to kick you all back to Osaka!" The man now known as Ichiban Kasuga's demeanor was that of defiance and excitement. He seemed eager, pumped up to engage the dreaded ranks of the Omi Alliance, though not in the typical yakuza fashion. There was no waxing poetic, no vulgar comments about one's mother; Ichiban seemed more like a stalwart manga hero than a yakuza thug.
Akira stood up straight, abandoning his defensive "Dragon Stance". "We're Sakura Clan, you idiot!"
"So you admit it?" Makoto interjected.
"Not now," Akira spat back.
"Hah!" Ichiban guffawed. "Why would I ever believe you? You don't even have a Sakura badge!"
Shit.
Ryuji rolled his eyes as he pulled on his jacket. "Look at this, genius." As plain as day, a small, simply designed silver crest shone on his lapel. Ichiban's confident smirk melted to a look of confusion as his previous assumptions were rendered all for naught.
The older yakuza laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, that certainly looks real enough. But you could just have stolen that crest!" he accused them.
"Why would we do that?" asked Ryuji plainly.
"To infiltrate the Clan!"
"Then why would we be breaking open your crates?" Makoto added. "Especially when there's no one else here?"
Ichiban lifted his finger to strongly retort, but backed down immediately. "Good point, Miss."
"Thank you."
"A better question," added Akira impatiently, "would be why you were locked up in a freaking crate?"
"Oh, yeah!" Ichiban's disposition became much more positive once again. "You see," he regaled, "I've been stationed in Yokohama for the past couple months, helping establish a business partnership with a powerful business mogul headquartered there."
Makoto whispered to Akira, "I find that very hard to believe. Be on your guard."
"Ditto."
"Two nights ago, some strange shipments came through his property, and naturally, I was sent to investigate, and put the screws to any sorry saps that might be intruding on our new Sakura turf."
"Uh huh," Ryuji nodded dismissively.
"This morning, I stowed away on one of their trucks by paying off one of the guards. That guy wasn't Omi, but the guys that came to pick up the shipment were definitely from Osaka. So, I got in one of the crates and wound up here!"
"And you've been in the crate ever since?" asked Akira.
Ichiban's voice caught in his throat. "I, uh, got stuck."
"You got stuck?"
"They nailed the lid down tight, man!"
"Of course, they did!"
"I thought I'd be strong enough to punch my way out, but then the truck nearly got hit on the highway. They swerved to avoid the accident, and I hit my head on the lid. Knocked me out cold until a few minutes ago. I was about to try escaping, but then blondie here started poking around the crates, and kicking mine!"
"How was I supposed to know you were in there!?"
"Why were you even trying to open the crate!?"
"We're on a mission!"
"So am I!"
Makoto then stepped up to Ichiban and slapped him across the face, before turning back to Ryuji and doing the same. She let out a brief sigh, calming herself. "Kasuga," she spoke as if nothing had happened, "do you know about Kaneshiro?"
"Apart from hearing that he's some lard-ass with a lot of money, not really," Ichiban answered. "I was just trying to track what the hell the Omi were doing on our turf."
Makoto folded her arms, looking off to her right. "Wonderful," she muttered indignantly.
"What about the RZ-412?" Akira asked in turn. "This manifest says there should be some in that crate you were in."
"Oh, that scary shit," said Ichiban, reaching into the crate. "Don't know anything about it, but God knows I wasn't going to touch it." He then pulled out a large metal briefcase, holding it by the handle to show the young adults. There was English writing on the front, which Makoto read aloud immediately, seemingly without effort.
"RZ-412," she said. "Handle with care."
"Well, someone's getting fired with how they were driving," Ichiban remarked.
Makoto turned back to the boys. "Do we have any info on what this substance is?"
"None," said Akira, "except that it was being smuggled with large amounts of coke. Honestly, we haven't the foggiest idea what this stuff is."
"And I don't plan on finding out the hard way," said Ryuji.
"Then let's just get this stuff back to Sakura-san," Ichiban declared. "We caught the Omi in the act, and now we can plan our next move to take them down once and for all!" he pumped his fist as if reveling in some sort of victory.
The three young adults looked to each other awkwardly. "I dunno, I like him," said Akira.
"Let's just conclude this little excursion then," said Makoto.
It was then that they heard the shudder doors at the far end of the warehouse open with great force, causing all four to jump. "Damn," Ichiban whispered, "it's gotta be the Omi."
Akira ducked to his left, away from the new sounds of footsteps and annoyed men, signaling the others to follow. "Well, I'm not sitting around to find out. Let's move, guys."
"What about the other crate, man?" asked Ryuji.
"I forgot about it. Long story… just screw that crate. Let's get out of here."
"I got in from the other end," said Makoto. "I can lead you out through there."
"Yes, ma'am!" said Ichiban enthusiastically, to all present's surprise.
With Ichiban still holding the briefcase, the four new allies sneaked away to the other end of the warehouse, following Makoto in perfect step. They could hear men ordering each other around, arguing about various logistical issues, and their footsteps getting closer. Silently, they all prayed in their own ways that they could escape before the enemy yakuza would realize that one of the crates was opened.
They came upon the back door Makoto had entered from and slowly exited the building, only to see more cars pulling up to the warehouse. "Looks like a deal is going down," said Ichiban. "Those kinds of cars aren't for driving around grunts."
Makoto took stock of the three expensive cars that had just arrived, slowing her walking speed to inspect them further. "They may have information on Kaneshiro," she said.
Ryuji looked at her disdainfully behind her back. "God, what is it with you and that guy? We are not going to go fight those assholes!"
"I know! I just…" her voice trailed off, her shoulders fell. "I don't know what else to do. I need a chance."
"A chance to do what?"
"To fulfill her mission, seems like," said Ichiban. "Wonder what her level is."
Before the boys could inquire as to what Ichiban meant by that, Makoto turned around, away from the gathering yakuza in the distance. "I need Kaneshiro, but I'm not gonna get myself killed before I can even truly start my investigation. Let's get out of here."
"That's the smartest thing I've ever heard you say," Ryuji snided.
"Not the time, man," Akira chided him.
They snuck off with the briefcase toward the fence Makoto had climbed, staying low while watching the proceedings from a distance. A tall yakuza in a white coat exited a limo, approaching a man, seemingly a warehouse worker. They talked for a moment before the yakuza was ushered inside the warehouse.
"Over here," said Makoto. "We can get over this fence. I have a car that can take us back to the city."
"So do we," Akira added. "Think we can pick it up on the way?"
"We can certainly try." Makoto began to climb the fence as quickly as her body allowed. "Kaneshiro's more slippery than I thought," she remarked. "Especially for being so fat, as I've heard—" She suddenly cried out, falling from the fence and onto her back, knocking the wind out of her for a moment. The men tried to help her up, but it was then that the fence rattled loudly, and a figure jumped from atop it, landing on his feet gracefully in front of them.
Slowly, he stood up straight, the moonlight illuminating him. The group stepped back slowly as he approached just as slowly. The figure wore a dark suit of reinforced leather, with a hood adorning his head, and an ornate steel mask covering his face. Menacingly, he drew a knife from a strap on his leg, stopping in front of them.
"Fools," he uttered in a deep, raspy tone. "Truly, you all are embarrassments to thieves the world over."
Ichiban stood up, adopting his boxer-like fighting stance. "You wanna spend all night talking smack, buddy? Or do you actually want to take on four yakuza all by yourself?"
The strange figure's head tilted to its side inquisitively. He then sheathed his knife, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Like I'd actually need this," he muttered.
"Why don't you take that mask off and say that to my face, tough guy!?" Ichiban shouted at him. He dropped the briefcase, breaking into a rush with a powerful cry. The figure ducked under Ichiban's haymaker with refined reflexes before jabbing him in the stomach. The uppercut then followed so quickly that Ichiban never even felt the pain of the first blow before he was knocked over.
"Asshole!" Ryuji shouted at the masked man. "Who even are you, for god's sake!?"
"Who I am is irrelevant. Oh, and you, girl," he addressed Makoto, "your driver got lucky when he drove away in fear of me as I nearly pulled him from the driver's seat of his car. Worthless scum, if I'd ever seen it."
"Bastard," Makoto sneered at him, pulling out her revolver. The masked man leapt toward her as she aimed her pistol, firing a round off as her hands clenched on reflex. The bullet completely missed the agent, shooting off three inches to the right of his head as he grabbed her hand brought his fist down on her wrist. The sharp pain flew through her nerves like lightning, causing her to scream on impact and drop her gun. Akira charged him, putting him into a strong hold, but not strong enough. The masked agent turned on his heel into Akira so hard that the young man lost his balance and grip, pushing Akira to the ground.
"Good try, but not good enough," said the agent. With a powerful cry, Ryuji rushed him as well with a leaping kick. The agent deftly dodged to the side, kicking the airborne yakuza as he did. Ryuji was sent off balance in mid-air as the strong kick connected with his ribcage and he crashed to the ground in a heap. "Embarrassing," said the agent, turning to the others. "Now, you thieve will return what you've stolen."
"Like hell," Akira scowled. He turned on his heel, trying to pick up the briefcase, but a knife suddenly appeared an inch in front of his toe, stopping him in his tracks. As he paused for a moment, instinctively reassessing the situation, he was blindsided by a punch to the face before he felt a sharp impact at the base of his neck. To his shock, his right arm then seized up, and he was tripped off his feet.
The agent walked in front of him, picking up the briefcase. "I guess they didn't hear all the commotion yet," he drawled. "Better make it a bit more obvious." He pulled out a gun and shot three rounds into the air. Immediately, there were confused shouts sounding off from the distance, and orders from powerful sounding men to investigate.
"Goddamn it!" Ichiban shouted past the constant flow of saliva in his mouth. "You'll pay for this, asshole!"
"Not tonight, I won't. Enjoy your evening, scum." He broke into a sprint, and disappeared into the night.
"Mother fucker!" Ryuji shouted after him. "God, if only I still had my track legs," he muttered.
Akira stood up straight, loosening his arm as it finally was regaining sensation. "I think we got bigger problems, guys," he looked ahead of them.
Coming across the field was ten yakuza with flashlights, and one found its mark. "Got them!" he shouted to his friends. "Thieves!"
"Son of a bitch," Makoto cursed lowly. "We gotta run!"
"Stay close to me, kids!" Ichiban called out as he started climbing the gate.
They all ascended the gate just before the yakuza caught up to them. The group broke into a sprint up the dirt road, but were immediately stopped by three black vans pulling up in front of them, their tires screeching as the vans came to a sudden stop. Akira and his companions stopped in their tracks, bathed in the vans' headlights.
"Not good," Akira muttered as they all raised their hands in surrender.
Ryuji spat toward the yakuza that were not exiting the vehicle. "Any ideas, guys?"
"I'm thinking," Makoto said unsurely. "I'm thinking."
At the front of the group exiting the vehicles was a tall, middle-aged yakuza in a white suit with a black shirt under the jacket. The man looked like a mighty warrior, worn from many battles but still untouchable by most foes. He exuded a powerful, arresting presence as he approached Akira and friends.
"You know," he spoke with a gruff, commanding tone, "I could ask what the fuck you all were doing in our warehouse, but I don't really give a damn. You're Sakura's thugs, sure, but you're still thieves stealing in the night. And doing a very good job of it," he smirked.
"Who the hell is this geezer?" Ryuji asked.
"Hamura-san," Ichiban whispered. "What the hell are you doing here!?"
Hamura's lip curled in confusion and insult. "What do you think, bud? My job, of course."
"You may not know me, but I know you! You were with Sakura back in the seventies! I've seen your picture before, I've met some of your old men! Why are you running with the Omi!?"
Hamura shook his head and chuckled to himself. The eight yakuza around him laughed in low tones as well. "Well, this makes things awkward," the old yakuza remarked. "We got a history buff on our hands, boys." Hamura reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun, pointing at Ichiban. But their new companion did not move; he stared the older yakuza down with a steely, determined gaze. "I knew the Boss would catch on sooner or later, so this isn't much of a setback. Still," he released the gun's safety, "can't let just anyone walk around knowing who I am, right? Then you and you're fucking terrible perm will be the first to die tonight."
The younger adults were frozen in place, and Ichiban remained steadfast as Hamura readied his gun. His finger applied pressure to the trigger before all present heard a car peel out not fat from them. "What the…?" Hamura looked behind him, and there were two headlights darting directly for them.
"ANIKI!" shouted a younger yakuza as he tackled Hamura to the ground before the errant car collided with the van on the left. The armored exterior of the car struck the van with extreme force, sending one of the yakuza flying to the ground, landing in a bed of shattered glass. He howled in pain as his skin was lacerated.
"What the hell!?" Hamura cried out as he got to his feet.
"Hit the deck!" Akira ordered to his friends, all of them diving behind the van on the right.
Hamura fired off two rounds their way, but missed as they took cover. Akira heard a car abruptly drive backwards, gunshots rang out from all sides. "HAMURA!" an unfamiliar man's voice shouted.
"I know that voice," said Ichiban. "It's gotta be him!"
"Who are you talking about!?" Akira shouted above the violence.
The car that had saved them pulled around, its rear facing the dazed yakuza as added protection. Inside the vehicle was two men in the front seats, though Akira could not make them our through the tinted windows. One head poked out the passenger window, and it a familiar man in a tall cap with a scruffy face. "Get in, dammit!" Iwai shouted at them. "We gotta burn rubber out of here yesterday!"
"Iwai!" Akira recognized him.
Another head pointed out the driver's window, though Akira had no idea who this was. He had a tall head with a long scar across it from the top of his eye to the middle of the other cheek. He seemed slightly older than Iwai, and just as pissed about them still being at the warehouse. "Move it, kids!" the yakuza called to them. "It's gonna be a warzone here in one minute!"
Ichiban smiled widely upon seeing the driver. "Kashiwagi-sensei!" he called out as they got in the vehicle. "You never seem to stop being a lifesaver!"
"Only when the shit really hits the fan, Kasuga! Close that door and strap in, all of you!"
Ichiban and the younger companions scrambled into the passenger van, but contrary to Kashiwagi's instructions, they were unable to buckle their seatbelts before the van peeled out as it was pelted with more gunfire.
Makoto steadied herself in her seat, trying not to fall into the boys that were sitting on either side of her. "Jesus Christ, this is insane!"
"You ain't seen nothing yet, sweetheart!" Iwai called back as he loaded a pistol. He poked his head back out the window, firing at any Omi members that were loading up their own vehicles. More gunfire pelted the armored van, the sound causing Akira's ears to ring. All their bodies pumped hot with intense adrenaline. Leaning down to avoid any stray bullets, Iwai looked off behind the vehicle toward the main road. "Our reinforcements, Kashiwagi-san!"
"About damn time! Give the kids some guns, Gecko! We're gonna get the hell out of here!"
Iwai reached into the glove compartment in front of him and produced four standard issue pistols, quickly handing them off to the companions. A car much like their own rushed past them, ramming a pursuing vehicle head on in a massive crash.
"Holy shit," Akira muttered.
"Open those windows and lay down covering fire!" Iwai ordered them, taking his own instructions and firing in the direction of two new pursuers.
Coming to the exit of the warehouse property, Ryuji, Makoto and Ichiban all followed Iwai's orders, firing on the cars tailing them. Akira held the gun in his hand and suddenly felt a migraine pierce his head. "Monster," said Kamoshida. Akira shook his head, clearing his mind as he returned to the real world. "Work for us, he said," Akira mockingly mimicked Sojiro's deep, smooth voice, "you'll just be a muscle and pick up some debts, he said!" Ryuji ducked back in the car as he nearly took a bullet between the eyes, swearing profusely. "Augh, fuck Sakura!" Akira exclaimed before rolling down his window. He took the safety off the pistol, feeling the warm night air fly by his face, hearing the chaos of screeching tires and repeated gunfire. "AND FUCK THE YAKUZA!"
Akira poked his torso out of the speeding vehicle as it came on the main road. He pointed his gun at their pursuers, aiming the sight directly at the tires. He fired four rounds that all missed, his trigger finger freezing for a moment as an Omi yakuza leaned out the window of the front car with—
"A FUCKING SMG!" Ryuji shouted above the cacophony.
Iwai reloaded his custom Makarov sidearm, taking cover from the pistol fire before the gunner fired a stream of bullets. "Kansai bastards!" When there was a break in the bullet hail, he leaned out of the car and fired his gun, hitting the windshield of the gunner's car, but missing the driver.
Makoto fired her own pistol awkwardly, unable to get a clear shot as Kashiwagi's driving became more erratic as they encountered more civilian traffic. "Mishima just had to leave," she muttered angrily as she got back in the car, reloading her gun with spare clips Iwai provided.
Akira laid down more covering fire on the gunner's car, aiming for the engine. He landed two shots before he had to reload, ducking back in the car. The gunner fire another hail of bullets at the back windshield, its reinforced glass starting to break. "That's not good," said Ichiban.
"Keep your heads down!" Kashiwagi ordered, swerving out of the way of two civilian vehicles. More Omi vehicles followed the gunner, and the Sakura reinforcements followed. "We gotta keep them out of the main city!" Kashiwagi picked up a radio as another spray of gunfire narrowly missed their vehicle. "Keep these bastards on the highway!" he shouted into the radio. "Don't let any of them in Kamurocho! We can't let them endanger the civilians any more than these worthless thugs already have!"
The Sakura vehicles started taking the sides of the Omi's, preventing them from taking any exits. When there was a clearing on the road, the cars would ram each other, or open fire on each other's side. The machine gunner's car evaded a directed slam from the side, pulling up close behind Akira and company's van. Everyone ducked as he aimed, but there were no gunfire. Only a loud crash as their car was rammed by a civilian vehicle. They all looked to see what had happened, and Makoto's face lit up like a Christmas star.
"MISHIMA!" she exclaimed.
"MISHIMA!?" Ryuji shouted.
The car Makoto and Mishima had rode in with was now hounding the gunner's car, sideswiping it repeatedly. Akira could barely make out the face of a young man in the driver's seat, furiously pulling the wheel to ram their pursuers. "Badass," he remarked.
"Holy shit," Ryuji's eyes widened as he was entirely unable to believe what he was witnessing.
Makoto leaned out the window again. "Let's give him some help!" She unloaded five rounds at the car, shattering one of the side windows from their diagonal angle in front of them. The rest followed suit, and Akira aimed his gun once more. He lowered the barrel by one inch, aiming for the tires. Mishima rammed the car once more, nearly causing the gunner to fall out and smashing their driver's side door.
Akira focused his mind. The chaos went quiet, his eyes zeroed in on the pursuer's tire as it swerved back into the sight of his pistol. He fired twice and the world seemed to slow…
He hit his mark directly.
The pursuer swerved out of control, drifting as the tires screeched and the engine roared. The gunner was flung from his seat and rolled down the road. Mishima rammed the car one more time, sending its front directly into the road's wall. The car stopped dead as Mishima drove onward.
Makoto pumped her fist in the air excitedly. "BOOYAH!" she exclaimed.
Ichiban slapped Akira on the shoulder as he ducked back in the car. "Great shot, buddy! You oughta pick up a lotto ticket when we get back!"
Ryuji hugged his neck from behind. "That's my boy!" he shouted with a jovial smile. "That's my fuckin' BOY!"
Kashiwagi picked up the radio once again. "Kyodai, divert all remaining Omi vehicles away from the city. We're returning to HQ. Send a detachment to secure the warehouse when these Kansai fucks are kicked out of our city."
"Acknowledged, Aniki," a yakuza responded. "We'll take it from here. You can make sure the Boss is safe."
"Right on. Kashiwagi, out."
Mishima pulled up beside them, allowing them to see the severe damage done to their car. Makoto cringed upon seeing it up close. "That's gonna be a lot to pay him back for."
"The Clan will take care of it after questioning," said Kashiwagi.
"Questioning?"
"You're a civilian, Miss. I assume your friend is too. We will need to ask you some questions when we get to the hideout. Don't worry, you're not in trouble. We just want to know who we have to thank for saving our asses tonight."
"Then you'll hear no objections from myself or my associate," Makoto replied promptly.
Kashiwagi smirked and nodded as they came upon their exit. "You're a reasonable one. Good. That will make this even easier."
As the adrenaline started to wear off, Akira sank back into his seat, looking to the ceiling. All his companions around him adopted similar positions over the next minute as they came back to Kamurocho proper. As they passed Tenkaichi boulevard, the large, brightly lit ornate arch basking them in white, he realized just what had really happened in their adrenaline-fueled haze.
"I think I killed another man," Akira muttered under his breath.
Ryuji leaned forward in his seat, putting his head next to Akira's. "Technically, it was Mishima in this case, I think."
"Really?"
"Well, I dunno for sure. It's just that if it's so heavy on your conscience, you can blame that. Or gravity. Or his poor life choices."
Akira nearly laughed at his friend's assessment of the situation. He leaned back, looking out the window at the peaceful crowds staring at their car riddled with bullet holes. "Maybe I'll try just that for this one," he said.
You'll just be collecting debts, he said. And you'll just be collecting your teeth off the ground when I get back, Sakura.
…
…
…
No, I can't think like that. I'm not a monster. Mom would never think that way; Dad absolutely would not. No, I'm not going to fight for it. But I sure as hell am going home soon, that I'm sure of.
Fuck this town. Fuck the yakuza.
