Kansai Man's Tip #1: Insult and harangue the object of your affection.
A week later…
He was going to die. It wasn't a blade or a bullet that was going to do him in. It was Daigo's diet.
Ryuji found to his horror that Daigo ate like a frat boy; he subsisted entirely on junk food. There was nary a piece of fruit or vegetable to be found in the house. It was all pizza and burgers, day in and day out.
If he didn't know any better, the patriarch was secretly trying to kill him.
The situation was dire. It dawned on Ryuji that he would be stuck here for a while, and he didn't like it one bit. He had to think up a plan to get back to Kansai, away from this hellhole.
But first, he had to deal with the food situation.
"Don't ya have anything in this joint besides canned coffee and energy jelly?" Ryuji groused, frowning at the contents of Daigo's fridge. "It wouldn't kill you to eat something not processed."
Daigo was enjoying his breakfast when the blond swanned into the kitchen and started poking around, breaking the morning stillness.
Last night Dr. Emoto had finally given Ryuji a clean bill of health. The pronouncement filled him with dread. This meant Ryuji could now roam around, and the first thing the Omi chairman did was complain and criticize him.
"You're a terrible host," Ryuji continued, "if you ever get kicked out of yer clan and you end up staying at my house, I won't feed ya either."
The patriarch simply raised an eyebrow at Ryuji's dramatic proclamation. "Good morning to you too."
The sight of Daigo sucking on an energy jelly pouch like a toddler only made Ryuji's ire rise. "Don't ya know how to cook? At all?"
"I do. I know how to make fried eggs and bacon. French toast if I'm feeling fancy."
Ryuji couldn't decide whether Daigo was being serious or not. "That's all breakfast food," he said flatly.
"It's always breakfast time somewhere in the world," Daigo quipped.
Ryuji threw his hands up, at the end of his rope. "That's it. Imma head out."
"Give me a list and I'll have my men buy it for you. You don't have to go out," Daigo said, trying to be helpful.
"Are ya keeping me hostage?" Ryuji demanded, eyes narrowed.
"Does it look like I'm keeping you hostage? I'm saying you should take it easy. You just got shot a few days ago."
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.
"I ain't no delicate flower! Do I look like an invalid? The doc said I've recovered," Ryuji said, indignant.
"You're being mouthy again, so I guess you are," Daigo grumbled. They were off to a good start. Dragon of Kansai, his ass. More like Japan's Biggest Motormouth.
"There's no way in hell I'm trusting a chinpira with my groceries," the Omi sniffed, offended that the patriarch even suggested it.
Huh. Daigo didn't expect Ryuji to have such exacting standards when it came to his food. He looked like the type who would pound a Strong Zero and chew on beef jerky all day.
He watched Ryuji as he stalked around his kitchen. He reminded Daigo of a lion pacing around its cage. It was plain as day that the blond had a bad case of cabin fever.
This wasn't about the food. Not really.
Ryuji had essentially lost everything. He was the most feared yakuza in the country, and suddenly he was defenseless, stranded in an unfamiliar place, and under the mercy of a rival clan.
It must've been jarring, to say the least.
Daigo felt bad for Ryuji. For someone so proud, this was a bitter pill to swallow. Sure, the guy was an arrogant asshole; would benefit from being knocked down a peg or two in fact, but what the Omi did to their chairman was exceptionally heinous. He wouldn't wish this fate on anyone.
Making up his mind, he opened a drawer and fished out his car keys. "Please don't crash my car or do donuts with it, ok? And stay within the city limits. We can't guarantee your safety if you go outside Kamurocho," Daigo said, passing the keys to his guest. He wondered if it was wise to let Ryuji run loose; trouble seemed to follow the blond wherever he went. He also knew that if he didn't acquiesce, he would find himself arguing with the ornery Omi all day.
"Yondaime already ordered the clan to leave you alone, so no one is going to mess with you. Don't pick fights with anyone," he added sternly.
Ryuji blinked at him, all wide eyes and innocence. Daigo didn't believe it for a second.
The doorbell rang. They both glanced outside and saw a limo parked in the driveway, ready to take Daigo to HQ.
The patriarch reached inside his pocket and pulled out a brand new phone. "You have me, Kiryu, and Shinji on your contact list," he said, giving it to Ryuji. "Call us if there's an emergency. Do you need anything else?"
Ryuji was surprised that Daigo had agreed so easily. He was expecting the guy to bicker with him for an hour at least. "I'm good. Thanks."
Seeing the blond was appeased for now, Daigo took his briefcase and headed out the door. "See you later Ryuji."
Once the patriarch was gone, Ryuji resumed rummaging around the cabinets. All of them were empty, except one. It only contained four cups, a set of plates, a bent frying pan, and a spatula. No food AND tools. Not even a single knife or a chopping board. It was the barest kitchen he had ever encountered.
"What the hell Daigo, you don't have anything in here! How do ya live like this? Goddamn," the blond muttered to himself. Ryuji made a mental note to berate him again later.
Finding a writing pad and a pen, he started listing stuff down. This was gonna be a long-ass list. It would take him at least two trips, maybe three, to get all the materials he needed.
His stomach rumbled, displeased for being ignored for so long. He had no choice but to swipe some of Daigo's energy jelly. Fuck. His life had devolved to this. He sucked on it angrily, cussing out the Omi, Tojo, Jingweon, everyone, and everything under the sun.
Ryuji finished his list and grabbed the car keys and phone. His original phone was gone, and all his contacts along with it. He had no way of reaching anyone or knowing what was going on back home. Maybe he should learn how to create smoke signals or start teaching homing pigeons to carry messages.
His katana was missing too. Luckily he still had his wallet, so he was not completely helpless.
He wasted no time and hurried to Daigo's car, whistling in appreciation when he saw it. Parked outside was a sleek black Porsche 911; it was the latest model too. The patriarch's choices relating to food were questionable, but he had good taste when it came to his ride.
Ryuji savored the feel of the plush leather seat and the low purr of the engine. He should get himself one of these. He scrolled through the saved addresses on the GPS, picked downtown Kamurocho, and off he went.
Kamurocho looked starkly different during the daytime. No loud barkers nor garish neon signs that gave its signature seedy appearance. Morning brought out the salarymen and office ladies, rushing to get to their jobs. A sprinkling of visitors here and there. It looked like any other city, not the infamous nightlife capital of Japan.
He cruised around, looking for a parking spot. He found an empty space at Nakamichi Street.
As soon as he got out, Ryuji saw a familiar face. The man was standing in front of an office, talking to a couple of chinpiras. Spotting Ryuji, he dismissed the teenagers and approached the Omi chairman. He didn't look surprised to see him here.
"Rokudaime," the guy greeted, bowing deeply. "Welcome to Kamurocho."
"Yer Daigo's captain. Shinji, right? I think we've met before."
Shinji nodded, delighted Ryuji still remembered him. "Yes. It's been a while."
The Dojima family captain was tall and lean, still sporting the same buzz cut all those years ago. He wore a purple dress shirt adorned with golden flowers, black slacks, and a leather trench coat. Shinji was one stylin' dude.
"Do you need any assistance? I'd be happy to show you around the city."
"Naw, I'm ok. If ya could tell me where I could get groceries and kitchen tools, that would be great."
"There's a Don Quijote at the end of the street," the captain said, pointing straight ahead. "South Senryo Avenue has fresh produce. But there are many more scattered all over the place." Shinji snapped his fingers. "I have a map of all the businesses in Kamurocho. I'll get it for you. Right this way, Goda-san," he said, ushering the chairman inside the building. They took an elevator to the third floor.
The first thing that greeted Ryuji was the huge Dojima family crest in the middle of the room. But as far as offices go, it was rather nondescript; the standard cubicles, messy desks, and computers. It was mostly empty, save for a few members typing away, trying to meet their deadlines. They didn't even look up.
Shinji led Ryuji to his office and opened a file cabinet. After a few minutes of digging, the captain took out a manila folder with a map inside. He handed it to Ryuji.
"Woah. This is something else."
Shinji grinned. "Nishida made it for Majima-san. He uses it to stalk, er, track down yondaime's whereabouts."
At first glance it looked like a map anybody could purchase from a convenience store. It listed all the shops, bars, clubs, restaurants, etc., of Kamurocho. What made it unlike any other was its…extra features. Nishida had chronicled the Dragon of Dojima's behavioral pattern in this map. Red dots indicated Kiryu's favorite hangouts, blue lines for his usual paths. It even included secret passageways, shortcuts, and ambush points.
"Seems like a lot of effort just to track Kiryu-han down," Ryuji told Shinji solemnly. Then they started cracking up. This was Majima they were talking about. Having a map of the whole city drawn up for the sole purpose of hunting the object of his obsession was on brand for the Mad Dog. The one-eyed patriarch turned everything up to 11, especially if it involved the hapless Tojo chairman.
"Say, ya know any good tailors?" Ryuji asked finally, wiping his eyes after laughing too hard. "I gotta get new threads. These clothes ain't cutting it."
Shinji tapped the northeast side of the map. "That's Momotaro. His shop is all the way in Park Boulevard. Would you like me to drive you there?"
Ryuji shook his head. "I've been stuck in Daigo's house all week. I could use the exercise."
They worked out the best route to get to the tailor, then the produce store, and the last stop was the wet market for seafood. Shinji volunteered to get the kitchen tools, so Ryuji gave him half of the list.
Several clan members doing their rounds did a double take at the buff guy making his way down the road. They didn't recognize him at first. The usually well-dressed Omi chairman was wearing a t-shirt, sweatpants, and sneakers. Clutching a map with a befuddled expression on his face, Ryuji appeared like a typical tourist.
"Rokudaime! Good morning." They gave a hasty bow and scampered away before Ryuji could even react.
This happened a few more times as the blond strolled further along; family men bowing then scurrying in the opposite direction.
Ryuji winced. Everyone was giving him strange looks with the ridiculous outfit he had on. In their world, appearances were everything; especially for someone of his status. He picked up the pace; the sooner he got fitted for new clothes, the better.
He got sidetracked when he saw a takoyaki stand at Shichifuku Street. Daigo's energy jelly didn't quell his hunger at all, and he was curious if the Tokyo version was as good as Osaka's.
Bleagh. It was bland and rubbery; not even in the same league as Magutako or Kukuru back home.
Ryuji nearly wept. This takoyaki was the icing on the crap cake. What a shitty week.
He tossed the rest of the food in the trash, adding a takoyaki pan to his list. Guess he had to make his own then.
By the time he arrived at Park Boulevard, his foul mood had returned. Momotaro quaked before the hulking man who stomped inside his shop. This chap looked like he could snap him in half with one hand.
"I need suits. Whaddya got?"
Momotaro gulped and wordlessly handed Ryuji a book of sample fabrics. The blond flipped through it, picking cream and beige colors for the suits. For shirts he chose dark brown, navy blue, olive green, and indigo. The tailor proceeded to take his measurements.
After they were finished, Ryuji slapped a thick wad of cash on the counter. "I want five suits and seven shirts. I'll pick it up in three days." Summer just started so he didn't need a coat. Thankfully the shop had two pairs of white wingtips in his size.
The tailor gaped. "Sir, this is a large order. I need more time than that."
Ryuji added more money, paying double for the whole bill. When money talks, bullshit walks, like Uncle Homa used to say.
It didn't work. "I can't fulfill your orders in such a short amount of time," Momotaro repeated.
The blond scowled. "Alright, four then."
"Sir, one custom-made suit takes two weeks to a month to make." The tailor was sweating profusely now. "We have some available over there if you're interested."
Ryuji's patience was wearing thin. "Do I look like a chump who buys off the rack?"
"Please be reasonable. I'm a tailor, not a miracle worker."
Ok then, time for the Pablo Escobar method.
"The customer is always right. Why are ya arguing with me?" Ryuji growled. "I ain't running around town in sweatpants! Have it ready in four days or I'm gonna burn your place down. Got it?"
Momotaro was shaking from head to foot. "Of course, sir. My apologies. I'll have it ready by then," he squeaked, bowing several times.
Gotta hand it to ol' Pablo; his technique was simple, yet effective.
"And don't do no shoddy work either. I want it perfect, ya hear me?" The blond threw him one last glare and made his exit.
His trip to the produce store and wet market went off without a hitch, much to Ryuji's relief. He didn't know if he could take any more shit today.
Shinji had messaged him earlier that he was done buying all the other stuff on his list. It was already late in the afternoon when they loaded all his purchases in the car. There should be enough time to put the groceries and tools away, and also prepare dinner.
Ryuji thanked the captain and started the engine, driving straight back to Daigo's house.
Dojima residence
During his short jaunt downtown, Ryuji made an observation. He knew the clan's ranks were thin, but he didn't think it was this bad. Last year's war took a major toll. There weren't that many members left from what he saw, compared to the legions that Omi had. To make matters worse, the remaining three major families were headed by a recovering alcoholic, an IT guy, and discount Nishitani.
What a sorry state of affairs. There really was no point in wiping them out.
Ryuji carefully peeled and deveined the shrimp. He was making tempura tonight. He figured he should start with something simple since his cooking skills were kinda rusty. Being a chairman didn't leave him that much free time to indulge in his hobby, so he might as well practice while he was marooned here.
He chopped a large eggplant and zucchinis, making sure to keep the pieces uniform in size and shape. The rice was already cooked, and the miso soup was simmering in the stove. All that was left was mixing the tempura batter and frying the shrimps and vegetables. It shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes.
Ryuji checked the clock. The patriarch was late. Where the hell was Daigo?
Tojo HQ
Daigo was in the middle of a meeting, with Majima doing most of the talking. It was only supposed to last for an hour; now they were approaching three. The Mad Dog tended to ramble on and go off at a tangent; half of the time was spent reminding him to stay within the agenda, but Majima kept swerving in different directions. Mine had taken it upon himself to give their meetings a semblance of structure, because Kiryu and Daigo had given up already.
"They're not gonna leave Goda alone. They're gonna come here and finish him off. Ya know any Omi chairman who didn't die horribly? Zero. That position is cursed, I tell ya."
"You're right Majima-san. It's not a question of if, but when. That's why we have to develop a plan," Mine said, making a valiant effort to steer the discussion back on track.
"We definitely have to strengthen our security in Kamurocho. It would be better if we beef up the borders near Kansai too, but we don't have enough manpower for it," Daigo remarked.
"Easy, let's just recruit more. We should start having quotas or something," Majima said. "Back then, we didn't even worry about having enough members. People just joined. Do you remember, Kiryu-chan?"
Kiryu gave a nostalgic smile. "Yeah. The 80's was something else."
"And we had so much money. Did I tell ya guys I once bought a solid gold statue in my likeness? I didn't even blink at the ten billion yen price tag."
"You had one of those too? I don't know where mine went," Kiryu said.
Mine cut in before the two older men could go down memory lane; he didn't want to listen to more tales about disco battles and cabaret feuds. "Perhaps each family could submit their strategies and we start conducting weekly workshops? That way we could identify what our strengths and weaknesses are."
"Wait, that sounds like group work. I hate that shit! I always end up doing everything and somebody else taking the credit," Majima complained, recalling his school days. He ended up getting suspended after pummeling his classmates. It kickstarted his life of crime, all thanks to stupid groupwork.
Kiryu didn't look too excited about the idea either, remembering a similar experience.
Daigo was about to try convincing the two to accept Mine's plan when his phone rang. He gave an apologetic look and stood up to take the call.
"Daigo! Where the hell are ya?! I'm almost finished making dinner. Get yer ass in here."
"I said call me for emergencies. This is not an emergency," Daigo hissed, moving further away from the group, out of earshot. He noticed them affecting an air of nonchalance, attempting to hide the fact that they were not-so-subtly eavesdropping on the conversation. They didn't need to; Ryuji's voice was loud enough that he might as well be on speakerphone.
Majima clapped a hand over his mouth, muffling his guffaws. Mine looked annoyed at the disruption, while Kiryu tried to hide his amusement.
"This is an emergency!" Ryuji insisted. "I'm hungry and alone in your creepy-ass house. I need company! Don't make me come there." He hung up, fully confident that Daigo was going to obey.
"He's definitely feeling better," Kiryu observed.
Majima cackled. "Bossy little shit, isn't he? He's been like that since he was twelve." He grinned at Daigo. "Ya better hotfoot it home, yer househusband is waiting."
"He certainly nags like one," Mine said drily.
Daigo reddened. He looked at Kiryu. "May I?"
"You're excused."
Daigo made a quick bow to everyone and dashed out of the room, the Mad Dog's laughter following after him.
Arms laden with fruit, Daigo struggled to open the front door. He found Ryuji in the kitchen again, whistling as he stirred something in a pot. He didn't notice the patriarch had arrived.
"Good evening. I got you a fruit basket." Daigo placed it on the counter beside Ryuji, a peace offering of sorts. He was relieved to see the blond wasn't brooding anymore.
"Oh, thank ya." Ryuji gestured at the table. "Go ahead and dig in. I'll bring the miso over."
Daigo was impressed; the table was already set and the food looked like something out of a high-end restaurant. He put some rice and ebi tempura on his plate but didn't eat until Ryuji sat down.
"Why were ya late?"
So dinner came with interrogation. Daigo had a feeling this was going to be part of their routine from now on.
"Sorry about that. We had a meeting about how we are going to keep you safe from the Omi, except Majima kept derailing the discussion."
Ryuji snorted and started on his soup.
"I already mobilized our agents. They should give us an update about the situation in Kansai soon. Mine's hackers will monitor your patriarchs' communications. Majima's family will provide the extra security. Just sit tight for now and we'll handle it."
The Omi chairman nodded, satisfied. "Thanks, I appreciate it."
"You're welcome." Daigo helped himself to more tempura. "I didn't know you could cook. This is delicious."
Ryuji turned pink at the praise and looked away. "Considering the crap you eat every day, anything is an improvement."
Daigo chuckled, not taking offense. "I guess I'm lucky you're here then, to show the error of my ways."
Ryuji smirked. "Yeah. I guess so."
