Chapter 14

The Growing Shadow

The Champion's District was a small section of Kamurocho; a square set of alleyways playing host to multiple bars famous throughout the city, especially among its more elderly residents. Akira, Ryuji, Mishima, Ann and Makoto all walked in a group along the narrow alley, trash and cigarette butts being crushed under their shoes unpleasantly. The small alleyway stunk horribly, reeking of garbage and vomit, likely held over from the previous night. All five young adults had varying repulsed reactions upon entering the Champion's District, most involving repressed gagging and unrepressed swears.

Walking through the winding alleys, they came across a small shop nestled between two bars. A sign above the door read "Uta's", the wood incredibly faded, the pain chipping and sun-bleached. "This is the place?" asked Ryuji, scratching the back of his neck in confusion. "He's the Kitagawa heir; you'd think he'd work somewhere a little classier, right?"

"Sojiro said this is the spot," said Akira, his voice sounding different due to him trying not to breathe too much. "Might as well go in and ask, at least."

"Can the five of us even fit in there?" Mishima asked. "This place is tiny."

"Well, the girls need to go inside," Ann added quickly, waving her hand in front of her nose. "This whole place is a dump."

"I agree," Makoto said before bumping herself on the chest, choking down some bile. "Ladies first."

The girls entered the tattoo parlor first, with the guys walking behind them quickly. The parlor was… small. Very small. A reception desk was in front of them, with three seats to their left. A door to the right of the desk led likely to the backroom where the tattoos were inked. But then their eyes wandered, and they took in the sight of many pictures on the walls. Photographs of tattoos that were just… incredible. From the widest strokes to the tiniest details one would consider inconsequential, every one of the tattoos photographed were vivid, powerful, arrestingly beautiful and immaculately detailed. There was a nearly hypnotizing quality to the use of lines and colors to bring out the absolute potential of each design, from a basic flower to a mighty serpentine dragon.

"Holy shit," Ryuji whispered as he looked at a tattoo of a blue serpent flying through a mountain range overlooking a village. The tattoo covered the entire recipient's back and looked like a painting that would normally be displayed in a museum. "The artist here did these?" Ryuji asked, as if not believing his own eyes.

"This is incredible," Makoto eyed a back tattoo of a lion with a black swan on its back, the two animals appearing as if the swan was the soul of the lion leaving its body. "I've never seen anything quite like this."

"Then you must be new to Kamurocho," an elderly man spoke from behind the desk. Standing before them was a small old man, only up to shoulder height on Akira. He had gray eyes, a white mustache and short beard, and was balding on his head. He was thin, hunched over, eyeing them closely with his hands behind his back. "My name is Utabori," said the man. "I am the founder and head artist of this parlor. Now, how can I help you this morning?"

Akira bowed to the man respectfully. "You're Utabori? I'm guessing these tattoos are your handiwork then," he pointed to the photographs on the walls.

Utabori nodded. "Yes, they are. At least, all but the ones on that wall are mine." He pointed to the wall on their right, with eight photographs of various tattoos, though not all of them were full back. Some were on the shoulder, the arm, the leg, but all were extremely impressive. Most of the eight were vivid depictions of strength, such as sword, samurai, demons, and monsters. One in particular was a back tattoo of a cackling shogun with a demonic face and horns, wielding two flaming katana. The message was lacking subtlety, but the skill of the artist was apparent. It was not quite as

"Who made these?" asked Akira.

"My apprentice," said Utabori. "A fine young artist with more talent than most old men like me I know who have trained at the craft since before the war. He's actually about your age, I'd say."

"Would he happen to be Yusuke Kitagawa?"

Utabori looked at the young man scrupulously upon dropping such a name. "I had a feeling you were a Sakura man when you all walked in," he said slowly. "Only an associate of the Family would know him by his real name out here."

"We actually came to speak with him. Is he in?"

"Family business, I assume?"

"Yes, sir."

Utabori chuckled to himself. "Either you young yakuza are finally learning manners, or you're a new kid on the block with that kind of respect."

Akira was growing slightly more uncomfortable. "You could say that."

Utabori was about to say something, then his eyes lit up barely, only for a second. Akira recognized that he figured out something about him, but the old man continued normally. "Yusuke is in the back finishing with a client. You won't need to wait; the client is a Sakura man as well. Come, I'll show you all inside."

"Thank you," Akira nodded, and they followed Utabori through the door and into the back room.

Before them was a small, square gray room with a mat on the floor next to a desk. More photographs of immaculate tattoos spotted the walls, and on the mat was a monstrously large yakuza having his fearsome samurai tattoo be filled in by none other than the guitar prince from the other night, Yusuke Kitagawa.

The blue haired young man worked silently filling in the coloration in that tattoo. He used tiny needles to touch up the red of the samurai's sword hilt, his hands moving delicately and deftly. Every motion was careful and precise, appearing to be more of a surgery than anything else. As the yakuza's chest rose and fell slowly, Yusuke hardly even seemed to breathe, being so focused on his work that it was as if he did not even need to, for awareness of his own body would only distract him from his craft.

That razor sharp focus did not even seem broken when Utabori spoke up. "Yusuke."

"Yes, Sensei," Yusuke addressed him without looking up.

"We have visitors. They wish to speak with you."

Yusuke removed the needles from the man's back slowly, looking up to see the group that had congregated in the parlor. He seemed confused for a moment, glaring lightly at the young people before him. "Oh, you're from the club the other night," he said to the young men. "Sakura-san has news then?" He looked back down to the tattoo, seeming only partially interested in what his guests had to say.

"We looked into what you told us," Akira began, "and we found some things your grandfather should be aware of. However, Sakura told us to speak to you first."

Yusuke continued working the needles for a moment, then paused. He returned to sitting on his legs with his hands on his thighs, bowing his head to the yakuza that then sat upright. "Your tattoo is not quite finished, Aizawa-san," he began, "but I am afraid we will need to continue this another time. Please forgive my uncouthness."

Aizawa stood up, and the young adults in his company then realized how truly imposing he was. The man was a titan of meat and muscle, standing a full head taller than both Akira and Ryuji. His head was squarer shaped than most people, and his eyes were small and beady, turned down in a constant glare. From his rippling muscles emanated a powerful, disarming presence as if all before him knew the hopelessness experienced by those unlucky enough to have gained his ire before. But to their surprise, he simply bowed to Yusuke, who still sat on the floor.

"Thank you, Kitagawa-san," he spoke respectfully, his voice deep and rumbling. "I do not wish to interrupt your business. Please contact me when you have further availability."

"I shall. Have a good day, Aizawa-san." Yusuke bowed his head once more, and Aizawa walked toward the door.

All present got out of his way immediately, but he stopped in his tracks, his gaze falling on Akira. Oh, for god's sake, he thought. "I've heard of you," Aizawa spoke to him slowly. "The Butcher of Kings, some call you."

Akira's eye twitched, then settled in a glare up to the man. "Can't imagine why," he muttered his nostrils visibly flaring.

Aizawa did not seem perturbed by Akira's attitude but did look at him with greater interest. "It's quite the story," he continued, then leaned closer to Akira, their gazes increasing in intensity. "You'd do better by the Clan if you owned up to it."

Akira said nothing, his only response being to keep their glares locked. Aizawa looked him up and down, then left thereafter without a word. Ryuji whistled a long twilling note awkwardly.

"Masato Aizawa is one of our top enforcers," said Yusuke plainly. "His tattoo needed touching up, and we offer a discount to members of the Clan, so I get some practice and he gets serviced by the best tattoo parlor in Tokyo."

"All of Tokyo?" asked Mishima, thoroughly impressed. "Honestly, I can kind of believe it."

"Uta-sensei is a master of the craft. It is a privilege to learn under him." Yusuke bowed deeply to the group. "Allow me to introduce myself, or reintroduce myself to you two men. My name is Yusuke Kitagawa, of the Kitagawa Family. It is a pleasure to meet you."

All present bowed to him. "The pleasure is ours," said Makoto respectfully. "I am Makoto Niijima, a, um, recent associate of this group."

"Yuki Mishima. It's good to meet you, sir."

"I'm Ann Takamki. Glad to meet you."

"You are all quite respectful," the young man remarked. "Such a thing is not too common in Kamurocho these days." Yusuke then took a seat at the desk next to him, putting his needles away and cracking his knuckles sharply to loosen the cramping joints. "Now, I assume you are here about the shootout last night."

"We are," Akira replied. "Your drug trafficking theory was correct; there are people using shipments in your territory to circulate substances. But we came across something else that you might find interesting."

"What is it?"

"Some kind of drug we've never heard of before. RZ-412."

"No idea what it is," Ryuji added, "but we found a manifest detailing their shipping schedules, and it was by the more highly valued item on the list."

Yusuke scratched his chin pensively, mulling over the story in his head. "I don't know what this RZ-412 is, but I know someone who may be able to help. A rather recent associate of my grandfather's, but very good at tracking information and money flow. He may be able to give us some clues."

"Us?" asked Akira.

"This matter directly concerns my family, Kurusu-san. It is only right that I oversee it personally."

Makoto then spoke up. "Would your grandfather want you to be a part of an investigation like this personally?"

Yusuke remained silent for a moment, staring at them blankly before rising to his feet. He stretched his arms and legs and rubbed his back before letting out a short sigh of comfort. "My grandfather encourages me to engage in these matters more," he said slowly. "A yakuza needs more experience than simply with a brush."

"What do you parents think about this?" Ryuji asked, crossing his arms. "I've only ever heard of your grandfather in the Kitagawa family."

Yusuke's lips pursed as he looked at the young man, then he walked over to the door. Without looking back at his guests, he said, "We'd best get moving. My associate tends to get busy."

Yusuke walked toward the exit without another word. "What's his deal?" Ryuji muttered.

"Maybe his parentage is a personal topic?" Ann asked. "Seems like textbook deflection to me."

"If he was born into a yakuza family," Makoto added, "who knows what kind of stories he's got."

"Uh, guys?" asked Mishima. "Shouldn't we be going with him?"

They went with him promptly.

The group exited Utabori's parlor and finally made their way out of the Champion's District, prompting Ann to exclaim, "Oh God! I can breathe again!"

"It does take considerable time to… acclimate to the area," Yusuke replied. "Quite a difference from where I was before coming under Uta-sensei's tutelage."

"What were you doing before that?" asked Akira.

"I was studying art," said Yusuke before looking off down the street in the opposite direction to where Akira was. "I had another sensei."

"Must have been quite the master if you're current skills are anything to go off of."

Yusuke paused. "Indeed," he said slowly. "He was quite the genius in his day."

"In his day?" Makoto asked.

"When I came under his tutelage, he was already old and preparing to retire from the art world completely. I learned a great deal from him though, and I would not be the artist I am today if not for him."

"Who was he?" Ann asked. "Sounds like an amazing person, maybe I've seen some of his paintings."

"Have you been interested in the art world for long?"

"Well, no. I've only been taking more interest in it over the last couple years."

Yusuke's fists clenched at his side, with Akira and Makoto noticing. "Then you likely will not know much of him," he muttered, "if anything at all."

"What do you mean?"

"Is this line of questioning imperative to your objective?" Yusuke snapped back quickly, his voice turning stern.

Ann was surprised for a moment, his eyes flaring in indignation, but she held her tongue and calmed herself. "No, I guess—"

"What the hell, man?" Ryuji interrupted her, scowling at Yusuke. "They're just asking you about yourself because you seem interesting. You don't have to shoot her down like that!"

"Ryuji, please," Ann pleaded with him.

"No," said Yusuke, regaining his composure, "Sakamoto is correct. I acted out of line, and I apologize," he looked back to Ann, his expression seeming now more depressed. "That was entirely uncalled for."

Ryuji thought of interrupting further but did no such thing. Ann nodded to Yusuke, saying, "It's alright, really. I'm sorry if I poked at a touchy subject for you."

"That does not excuse such behavior, I believe," Yusuke replied. "I will do my best to make sure it does not happen again."

"Hey, you don't need to beat yourself up about it," said Ann, more concerned now.

"Yeah, it's all good," Akira said, nudging Yusuke on the shoulder. When their gazes met, he continued, saying, "You know, if you ever wanna talk about it, we'll listen."

"What are you saying?" Yusuke asked incredulously.

"Exactly what I said: you ever want to get it off your chest, we'll listen. We've gotten pretty good at it by now."

Ryuji chuckled awkwardly and rubbed his temple. "I'm still workin' on it, I guess," he admitted. "I'm sorry for that, man."

Yusuke stopped in his tracks, and the others did the same. Akira worried he may have overstepped his bounds, but Yusuke then laughed lightly in his throat, a pleasant smile appearing on his face. "You are a very strange group," he said, "but far more approachable than most yakuza I meet. No one ever cares about what I have to say on such matters." His smile faded, and his expression became more neutral again, almost crestfallen. "That is probably why I reacted so strongly."

Makoto stepped up next to him, smiling awkwardly. "Talking about yourself can be very difficult if you've had a hard past," she said with an uncharacteristically caring tone. "When you're not used to that kind of self-expression, you're hardly able to know how to go about it in a healthy way. That takes time." She looked away, embarrassed at her openness. "I'm still working on it myself."

Mishima spoke up next, smiling kindly to the blue-haired young man. "None of us have had perfect pasts, Kitagawa-san; we all have been through our fair share of awful. So no need to feel embarrassed about it. We can relate to you, is all we're saying."

"And if the time comes where you wanna talk," said Akira with noticeable confidence, "we've got your back, man." He smirked, though his eyes were genuine and friendly. Ann was unconsciously unable to take her eyes off his beaming gaze and proud smile.

Yusuke smiled sheepishly, but definitely appeared more calm than before. When he was not acting, well, strangely, this young man did seem rather charming and capable. His bluntness would certainly take some getting used to, and the minutia of socialization seemed somewhat lost on him, but when he was calmer and letting a bit of his guard down as he was now, he seemed just like a genuinely nice person. For a yakuza, at least. "I shall keep that in mind," he smiled. "Perhaps after our business with my associate is concluded. I am feeling rather starved, now that I think about it."

"Starved?" asked Ryuji. "When's the last time you ate?"

"Breakfast," everyone raised their eyebrows at the mundanity of the response, "yesterday."

"Huh!?" Ryuji exclaimed.

"You're kidding, right?" asked Ann.

"Not at all," said Yusuke plainly. "I was very busy yesterday with appointments and other such business that I forgot to eat."

"You forgot to eat lunch and dinner?" Mishima asked.

"I did say that, yes," Yusuke deadpanned, the severity of the situation seeming lost on him.

Akira rolled his eyes and turned on his heel. "Alright then, we have our meeting, and we get you some food. Let's roll."

They then "rolled" to Nakamichi Street, where Yusuke said his associate was located. The boulevard was crowded and busy, with people coming and going out of business complexes, restaurants, and shops at a brisk pace. Each building was three to five stories tall, housing multiple businesses and renters on its floors. Yusuke led them to a four-story building next to a bustling beef bowl restaurant, ascending the metal staircase to the top floor. There was a door before them, and Yusuke entered without knocking.

The group entered a large office with one computer desk, three bookshelves against the walls, and took in the sight of a man sleeping on a couch next to a coffee table in the middle of the room, boxes of ramen and cans of beer cluttering the ground and shelves. The man was admittedly quite attractive, with long, dark hair and a scruffy, thin beard on a strong chin. He snored lightly, apparently not noticing the group of young adults that had barged into his office.

Getting a good look at him, both Akira and Ann suddenly realized who they had come to see, confusion and surprise riddled on their faces. "Akiyama-san?" asked Akira.

"You know him?" Yusuke asked him.

"Not really, we just ran into him at the bar the other night."

"'We'?"

Akiyama snorted loudly as he was instantly roused from his slumber. Sitting up on the couch, he rolled his eyes with a long groan, waking himself up. He stretched his arms and let out a long yawn before rubbing his face.

"Akiyama-san," Yusuke greeted him, bowing respectfully. "Pardon us the interruption. I was not aware you were… on break."

Akiyama smacked his lips, looking the group over drowsily before responding. "There's no such thing as an interruption when it's a Kitagawa at my door," he said, and even his groaning, groggy voice was attractive. Every move he made exuded a confident swagger, even when he was half asleep. Akiyama looked to Akira and Ann, both appearing unable to make heads or tales of the situation. "Ah, I had a feeling you lovebirds were involved with the Clan. Heard a hell of a lot about you in particular, hero boy."

Ryuji could not repress a chuckle. "Lovebirds?" he asked.

"Drop it, that's not how it is," said Akira defensively.

"You two are dating?" asked Makoto innocently.

Ann then spoke up before Akira could further object. "No, we're not! We were just out for drinks the other night and this guy happened to be at the same bar. He left right after we arrived, and thought we were on a date. Never got a chance to correct him."

"So, you're not dating?" asked Mishima.

The two "lovebirds" said in unison, "No!"

"Whoa, sorry, guys," Akiyama waved his hands in front of him with a friendly smile, "didn't mean to offend you. You just made for such a cute couple, I guess I couldn't think of any other explanation." Akira and Ann looked to opposite ends of the room in an awkward huff, trying to ignore the heat rising in their faces. The red in their cheeks, however, was impossible to be ignored by those looking at them.

Yusuke motioned to the man before them, changing the conversation subject. One would expect this to be an attempt to sway the focus toward something less awkward, but Yusuke's expression and tone indicated he either did not grasp the awkwardness of the situation, or simply did not care. The truth was unattainable, save for himself. "May I introduce Shun Akiyama, owner of Sky Finance. Akiyama-san has been a long-time business partner and collaborator with the Sakura Clan and the Kitagawa Family; his services extend from loansharking to dabbling in information broking." He turned to Akiyama. "And that is why I have come to you today, Akiyama-san."

"Aizawa busy today or something? Never see the son of the patriarch out doing the grunt work."

"There are things being set in motion as of recent, Akiyama-san, and with the recent events that have transpired, your office was the first place I thought of to start at. You will be compensated, of course, proportionally to the information provided."

Akiyama finally stood to his feet. He was not much taller than the young men there, but he was considerably more muscular. His dapper purple suit fit snugly on his frame, making the dark color of his eyes and hair pop. With one hand in his pocket, a voice as smooth as butter, and a slight tilt of his head, he seemed to be a walking embodiment of the oft sought after philosophical and personal goalpost of the "cool motherfucker", in spite of the supposed lack of cleanliness on his part, given the cluttered stage of his office.

"You're talking about the shootout last night," Akiyama began. "I heard rumors about the shipping warehouses on the other end of town being used for ulterior purposes, but even I didn't expect a highway gunfight straight out of the movies." He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. As he put the cigarette in his mind, one could practically hear the soft, senseful tones of a saxophone in a Western noir film. "This is some serious shit, my friends," he remarked as he lit his cigarette. "But in my business, word does tend to travel fast, especially underground."

Akiyama turned around, looking over his office, his smug and confident smirk never leaving his face. "No one working against the Sakura Clan would be a big enough dumbass to come to my firm for a loan or a bit of info. Doesn't mean they wouldn't go elsewhere."

"You have a lead?" asked Yusuke.

"Potentially. Does this question have to do with drugs?"

"It does," Akira answered in Yusuke's stead. "We weren't able to get any samples, but we came across mention of some substance called RZ-412. Do you know what that is?

"A contact of mine in Shibuya reported some out of the ordinary dealings going on with a local drug outfit in the area. Normally, I don't pay much attention to that stuff; I don't get involved in drug dealing. But this stuff…" Akiyama's tone and expression darkened. "My contact couldn't verify much of anything, but I was still about to bring it to the higher-ups when you guys decided to damn near blow up the parkway last night. Woke me up from my nap, for God's sake."

Ryuji crossed his arms, shifting his weight awkwardly. "Well, we didn't decide to."

"Yeah, but you still put on quite a show. Could see some of it from the top of the building." Akiyama leaned against his couch, blowing out a puff of smoke. "My contact gave me the details he could gather up over the phone," he continued. "He'd been following some pushers for about a week, trying to track their supply chains since they started out here in Kamurocho and were obviously not on Sakura's whitelist. A few days ago, he tracked them to the other end of the Hotel District on the North Side, and they were going over a deal with some middleman.

"The guy they were talking to wasn't too keen on further collaboration, saying the drugs they were running were too serious for his tastes, and he wanted out. They whacked the guy when he said that; pushed him to the ground and blew his brains out, then stuffed his body in the car and burned rubber out of there."

"Jesus Christ," said Makoto.

"My guy tracked them across Tokyo to Shibuya, and they met with some other contact that was apparently going to help circulate their goods. My guy barely got out of there alive and went to ground after getting me the info. He says the drug wasn't being circulated to the public but was going straight to the middlemen's bosses. Didn't know too much else about it, but the fact that a hot new drug is being kept off the streets got me really intrigued. My man says this is some scary shit they're running, and anyone that wasn't able to keep the secret was gone immediately. Said he heard them refer to it one time as 'Shadow'."

"That likely refers to the RZ-412," said Makoto. "I have a really bad feeling about this."

Ann then asked, "Then what the hell were they doing at the warehouse if they weren't going to circulate it?"

"My guess is it was a shock tactic," Akiyama explained. "Kamurocho hasn't been contested in a long time, and it's looking pretty definitive that the Omi Alliance from Kansai is involved. They're the Sakura Clan's biggest rivals, but that doesn't mean there aren't other former Sakura men who would want to stick it to the Boss."

"You mean like Hamura?" asked Ryuji.

"Never met the guy personally. All I know is he and the Boss' captains had a serious falling out some years back. Maybe he's out for revenge now? Even I don't know for sure, but I may have a way of finding out."

"And what would that be?" asked Makoto, taking a suddenly more significant interest in the man's words.

Akiyama shrugged, putting out his cigarette. "I don't normally like to directly involve my collaborators in my business, but you guys are directly affiliated with the Boss. Head to West Park at the other end of the city. You'll find my contacts there. Just tell them Akiyama sent you and you'll be gold."

"That's all?" said Akira. "We go talk to some hobos and they tell us what's going on?"

"Shit's going down, kid, and it's going down fast. I would have been in contact with my guys today anyway, and it looks like we're both after information. Go find out what you need to and give me some of the details if you have the time. But the Boss comes first, of course."

Akira shrugged, shaking his head. "Like we got a choice. Guess it's cardio day."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Akiyama remarked with a smirk. "I'll especially want to hear about it if any excitement happens, so get a move on! I want a nice story to enjoy later."

Akira rolled his eyes and turned to the exit. "C'mon guys," he said, "let's get this over with. Uh, good meeting you though, Akiyama-san."

"Same to you, and sorry again about the lovebirds comment." There was no remorse in the man's voice, but Akira ignored the comment and left with the others.

As they descended the metal stairwell, Ryuji remarked, "Quite the, uh, character, that Akiyama guy."

"He has been affiliated with us for about four years," Yusuke explained. "The Sakura Clan helped him establish himself in Kamurocho, and now many denizens of the underworld from all around Tokyo and beyond come to him for financial aid and information. His personality has often been seen as, um," he paused, stroking his chin, "excessively lackadaisical."

"There was a probably a month's worth of ramen containers on the floor," said Mishima. "You'd think a guy as well connected as him would be eating like a king."

"Maybe it's his preference?" Ann guessed. "Not all rich people like to eat super bougie. I've heard that it can eventually get boring, and you might crave simpler foods after a while."

"And who doesn't like ramen?" Ryuji added enthusiastically. "I mean, I can go to Kanrai pretty much whenever I want, but the ramen up at Kyushu No. 1 Star is always a good choice. Even the higherups of the families go there once in a while. I mean, it's ramen, man! Hey, anyone wanna hit up Kyushu when we're done?"

"I've been meaning to try it," said Makoto with a pleasant tone. "I haven't gone there since I was a kid."

"It is quite delectable," Yusuke added with a much more proper tone than Ryuji. "The owner of the restaurant is on good terms with the Clan. We may even be able to get you in for free."

"Oh, goodness, no!" Makoto exclaimed. "I don't do handouts. No work should ever be done for free. My dad always told us that one."

Akira nodded to her. "Quite the standup guy," he said. "Not everyone is willing to believe that."

"People giving up their time and effort to help you or provide you with something should always be compensated. Even acts of charity should always be received with grace and gratefulness."

Ann giggled lightheartedly at her remark. "You sound like a saint, Niijima. It's kind of cute."

"Huh!? Oh, well…" Makoto trailed off, her face blushing lightly. "My family has strong convictions is all."

Ann nodded with a smile. "And that's a good thing." The two girls exchanged a quick glance, and Makoto spied genuine appreciation in Ann's gaze. Her embarrassment was abated, and what was left was the slightest sense of acceptance; a gift experienced seldom in her short time on Earth.

"So, Kurusu-san," Yusuke began.

"What's up?"

"You and Takamaki are not dating?" he asked with complete deadpan.

Akira's eyes shot open for a moment, his attention coming back into focus. "No," he said. "We are not."

"Oh," Yusuke said plainly. He turned his gaze back in front of him, only saying, "Alright."

Yeah, still kind of a weirdo.

Ann slowly made her way to the back of the group, her gaze meeting the street beneath them as she tried to once again suppress the reddening of her cheeks. And once again, she was unable to do so, the image of Akira standing victoriously over the thugs that had jumped them replaying vividly in her mind. A crooked and awkward smile appeared on her face as she tried not to think about her friend and the comments that had been made about them. She silently cursed herself for getting so flustered, clenching her fists as she attempted to refocus her mind. It took longer than she wished to admit for her to succeed in this endeavor.

Little did she know that Akira was experiencing similar phenomena, though this had been going on consistently since he first laid eyes on her in her dress she wore that night. The memory of her strutting into the lobby, a bubbly and vibrant smile on her face as bright and glowing as her golden hair, was not and had not yet been lost on him, nor was he hitherto able to keep this memory from intruding his thoughts. He soon realized he was staring into space thinking about that night out with her and did his best to calm his mind, focus on the situation at hand.

This proved more difficult than he would have ever confessed to.

West Park was a large section of the city, but the scenic footpaths for pedestrians encompassed only a small amount of the space. The leaves on the trees were a vibrant green, the late summer sun shining through them strongly, bathing the footpaths below in bright yellow. A gentle, warm breeze rustled the leaves above them, with people coming and going along the paths. The park was seldom busy save for around the holidays, and there could not have been more than twenty people present at this time.

"Akiyama-san made it sound like we'd have to convince someone to let us in," said Mishima. "This is a public park, why would we have to be let in?"

"Maybe he wasn't talking about the park," Ryuji remarked with a thoughtful tone.

"What do you mean?" Akira asked.

"I've heard rumors of something being hidden in West Park. Not long after I got to Kamurocho, I heard some drunkard at a hostess bar talking about a casino located in the park. I was pretty tipsy myself, so I didn't think much of it, you know? Sounds totally ridiculous, and the guys he was talking to thought the same. But I never forgot what he said that night, just haven't had the opportunity to go looking for myself."

"I too have heard these rumors," said Yusuke. "Though what I heard was that there was a bathhouse here as well."

"A… bathhouse?" Makoto asked, flabbergasted. "In the park?"

"That sounds absolutely ridiculous," said Ann with a very matter of fact tone. "I mean, it's a park. Why would there be a casino and a bathhouse in a public park? I mean, there are kids here, for crying out loud!"

Akira scanned the area as they came to the end of the footpath. To their right was a small fountain, and beyond that was a large metal wall with two seemingly homeless men standing in front of it, watching the people go by. There eyes and Akira's met, and they exchanged suspicious glares. "Maybe it's not in the park itself," he remarked.

"What are you talking about, man?" Ryuji asked.

"Follow me."

Without waiting for a response, Akira walked up to the homeless men in front of the wall. They watched him closely, inspecting every step he made as he approached them.

The one on the right, a thin man with a scraggly beard and damaged clothing peered down his nose at the young people. "What d' you want?" he asked in a voice as off-putting as his stench.

"Hopefully, your help," Akira replied.

The man on the left, an older gentlemen with a full white beard and milky eyes, replied, "With what? We're hobos. What would young people like you want help with from us?"

"Do you know Akiyama?"

The men paused and looked to each other with narrow eyes. "What about it?" asked the man on the right.

"We're working with him; he sent us here. Said we'd need to drop his name to 'get in'."

The men looked to each other again, then back to Akira. "Show us yer pins," said the one on the left.

"Pins?" asked Ann.

Akira rolled his eyes, and he, Ryuji, and Yusuke all held up the labels of their jackets, showing off the Sakura Clan pins they brandished. Akira felt ready to vomit at what he was about to do next, but the mission was more important than his person feelings. "Does the name 'Butcher of Kings' mean anything to you?"

The homeless men suddenly became far more interested. "You're the boy," said the old one on the left.

"That's me."

The older man suddenly became much sadder, and everyone noticed a change in the atmosphere. "Kamoshida's goons nearly killed one of my friends when he wouldn't tell him about where a hostess he saw was heading after her shift. They thought that just because they offered us table scraps that we would give up an innocent woman to them. They beat the shit out of my friend and he only got out of there by playing dead before we came to help. At least that hostess got home safe."

Akira nodded, his posture becoming slightly more relaxed. "Your friend is a good man. If you can point me his way, I'll repay him for what he did."

"He's off on duty now, but come by in the evening sometime, and we'll get you to him. He'll appreciate any help you can provide."

"And he deserves it," Akira nodded. "Now, did Akiyama send us here for a good reason, or a wild goose chase?"

The old man's crestfallen expression turned to that of a weak smile. "Akiyama-san has always been good to us," he said, "never forgot where he came from. And you are the one who killed Kamoshida as well. You can go in."

The homeless men turned to face the door and entered a numeric code into the lock on the handle. There was a loud click, and they pulled the door open, revealing a dark stairwell descending to a concrete landing. "Take a left and keep walking 'till you come to the next staircase," said the younger homeless man. "Go down that staircase, and keep going straight. You'll know it when you see it."

"Thank you," said Akira respectfully. "We appreciate it, really."

They descended the staircase, coming across more homeless men on the landing below. They were obviously near a sewer, indicated by the absolutely repulsive stench that quickly filled their nostrils. Even Ryuji was nearly tearing up at this point.

Ann coughed deep in her throat, saliva building up in her mouth. "Twice today – twice! – we have to go to places that smell like a garbage dump. I'm going to need a long, long shower when we're done."

"What?" Ryuji asked, feigning confidence and acting like he wasn't ready to throw up. "You not feeling as sure about our 'heroic mission' after all, Takamaki?"

"Piss off, Sakamato," she coughed again. "I can see the tears in your eyes! They're already bloodshot! You're not doing any better than I am!"

"Well, you've got a point," he conceded.

They followed the pathway to find the staircase they had been directed to. At the bottom of the staircase was another door, and they wasted no time opening it to get out of the sewer area. As they opened the door, they saw and smelled incense burning in lanterns on either side of them, at last reducing the stench of literal shit they had suffered through. Akira didn't particularly care for the earthy scent of incense, but anything was better than the sewer.

There was another small staircase below them, and at the end was a wooden landing with vibrant red carpeting. Coming down to the landing, their jaws all dropped as they saw a set of small buildings built on either side of a small canal running under the walkways. The lighting was bright and red, though with a mix of colors that gave off the air of evening, despite it being the morning. In the buildings was women behind bars of wood, dressed in short and skimpy, vibrantly colored kimonos with nothing underneath, beckoning the men that passed by with sensual siren voices and promises of pleasure. Threatening security guards were placed across the pathway, making sure no man tried to take anything on offer for free.

"A… red light district?" asked Mishima, barely able to find the words to describe what he was seeing.

"This is…" Makoto began, "I don't even know what this is. It's like something out of a schlocky martial arts movie."

"I have died and gone to heaven," Ryuji muttered.

Yusuke got out a small sketch book from his breast pocket, opened it to a blank page Yusuke got out a small sketch book from his breast pocket, opened it to a blank page as he took the pencil in hand, and started drawing feverishly, making an impressively accurate representation of the scene in brief time. Akira simply made an audible gulp in his throat.

Ann's eyes widened at the sight, hardly able to believe what she beheld. "We are so fucked," she remarked.

[Reviews are always encouraged.]