Chapter Thirty-Two: High Rise
Arcing slowly through the sky, the moon waxing gibbous rose, its brilliance further drowning out stars already faded by the haze of city light. In a finer neighborhood near downtown Tokyo, a line of high rises reached towards the sky, their crests overlooking the shimmering bay beyond. So far above the droning city, these were the places where the prestigious lounged like conquerors, their gazes on the beauty of the sea or Mount Fuji. Here they could indulge in ignorance, blind to the vulgar masses who suffered at their foundations. Here they were free. And yet, even in the seclusion of their penthouse apartments, some warlords were not hidden well enough.
A masked figure in white leapt down from the roof above to alight quietly on the balcony below. The bright moonlight shone down on him, casting his long shadow through the sliding glass door. He tested the door handle and found it locked. And as he contemplated forcing it open, he looked to the side and spied another balcony. After another leap, he tried that door and it slid open.
He smiled. With an apartment dozens of stories up, the illusion of security was powerful. And for him, easy to exploit.
In silence, he entered the living room. A blend of traditional and western influences, it was a modern space with a clean, streamlined design. White suede and marble met brushed steel, creating a blank canvas on which colorful Persian rugs and abstract paintings popped.
As he wove through the opulence, two heartbeats thumped in his ears, and when he homed in on the closest one, a man mumbled.
The demon froze, his eyes scanning the room.
His attention settled on the floor before him. There he discovered a man sleeping fitfully, his bald head peeking out from the top of a plush futon.
Taking care to keep his footfalls soft and his shadow to the side, the demon approached him. With a light sniff, he confirmed what he already knew. This was one of the men he had encountered at the shipping yard, and as he considered the scent, he realized that he'd met the man before. A memory of cigar smoke and cheap liquor came to mind. He was the one who had overseen the gambling den he had burnt down months ago and more pieces of his conversation with the white-suited man fell into place.
The man mumbled again and pulled his covers closer.
The demon crouched beside him, and for a moment, he saw someone else. A small, green youkai appeared before him, sprawled comfortably against the side of a two-headed beast. A bubble of snot grew and shrank from his nose as he snored, and within easy reach, lay the tall and awkward staff that he cherished. Jaken had been a loud and easily flustered sort, but he had never known anyone more loyal. He had been so to a fault.
A pang of guilt closed his eyes as he raised his fist and struck the man.
The mumbling stopped, but his breathing was smooth and steady. He would sleep through what was coming next.
Muffled by plaster walls, another heartbeat thumped, its tempo slow but strong.
Rising to his feet, the demon tilted his head as he listened, and then he stealthily crossed the room, heading towards another door. Turning the knob, he opened it. Inside was a spacious bedroom lit by the moonlight that streamed in through the sliding glass door. Beyond it was the first balcony he had happened upon. Half hidden in shadow was a large bed and under its dark, silk sheets, his prey slept.
With the sure stride of a predator, the demon approached, and with matching grace, he leapt onto the end of the bed.
Then, as if some hindbrain terror screamed at him in his sleep, the man started to stir. And when his eyelids cracked open, the silhouette of a nightmare loomed over him, its eyes burning hot.
"%$#&!" he yelled. And then he was in action, scrambling away until his back hit the headboard on his bed. "Hyousuke!"
The air conditioner hummed.
"Hyousuke!"
"He is enjoying some much needed rest," the demon explained, taking a step forward. "And we have unfinished business that I would prefer to conclude without interruption."
The man flew towards the nightstand beside him and yanked the drawer open, revealing a gun. As he grabbed it and brought it to bear on the demon, it was snatched away and crushed. Broken pieces of metal and composite plastic rained down on him. Next, he fumbled for his cellphone. And it too was stolen. Bits of black metal and glass littered his bed.
Sans clothing or weapons, he roared as he lunged for the demon. Like an afterthought, his fist was swatted away, and a hand grabbed him by the face and threw him back down onto the mattress.
"After enduring centuries of oaths made by the desperate," the demon remarked coolly, "I have difficulty remembering the name of every man who has vowed to destroy me. Would you kindly refresh my memory?"
The man glared at him.
He waited.
Growling, he started for him again, and the demon caught him by the throat before he had risen off the mattress. Picking him up, he slammed him against the wall.
"Name!" he demanded.
"Kurosawa Raiden," the man bit out as he tried to pry his vice-like fingers free.
"Your cooperation is appreciated."
Still holding him by his throat, the demon stepped off the bed.
Kurosawa's heels banged onto the floor when he landed. Dragged backwards, his feet flailed desperately as he struggled to get his body under him.
"Your deceit and the insult to my person aside," the demon said, unbothered by the man who thrashed under his grip, "It's your decision to kill eight of your own men that inspires my visit to see you this evening. Normally, I'd expect a host to provide some tea and perhaps a pastry for their guests, but your pathetic efforts here are to my satisfaction." Unhurriedly, he strolled towards the sliding glass door.
"Those guys were traitors," he growled as he clawed at the demon's forearm. "They betrayed the Shikai when they confessed to the police what was happening at the nightclub and the hotel. They were dead men anyway. Why not put their blood to good use? Too bad you didn't join them. We'll see what happens next time."
"The Shikai? Who are the Shikai?"
He replied with a piercing glare and gritted teeth.
"It appears that you require encouragement."
His glowing eyes reflecting in the glass, the demon reached the door and briefly appreciated the breathtaking view of the distant harbor and the field of city lights that spread west from it. Then his hand found the handle, and without considering its lock, he tore the door down its track. Glass shattered, pelting him and his prey with tinkling shards. They spilled from him as he stepped out through the opening and crunched under his boots. Blood smeared the floor behind him as Kurosawa continued to fight, his bare feet scrabbling across the glass.
The demon crossed the balcony to the elegant iron railing, and with an easy effort, he ripped it free from its anchors. The metal whined as he bent it away until there was nothing between him and the sixty story drop below.
His nostrils flaring as he grunted, Kurosawa wrestled frantically against him, yanking on his grip and kicking at his legs. The demon felt none of it as he began lift him up by his throat over the city below. Desperate toes clung to the balcony until it slipped away, and he dangled over the precipice.
"Do not fight too much," the demon warned, "Your feeble strength is nothing to me, but that doesn't mean that I weigh enough counterbalance every idea that might enter your fatuous mind."
Kurosawa scowled at him as his legs stopped flailing to hang limply.
"One more warning," he added, drawing him close to stare at him eye-to-eye, "Don't bore me."
Expletives snarled from Kurosawa and he spat at his face. Saliva splattered across the mask.
As he returned him to arm's length, the demon let out a stiff yawn.
A few fingers loosened from Kurosawa's throat, and he frantically grabbed onto the demon's forearm.
"Fine," he growled. "Fine!"
"You were of the Kuro-Sakura clan before, correct?" the demon asked, his fingers tightening again around the his neck.
Against the brace of his grip, he nodded.
"The head of the clan? The father?"
"The oyabun, yes."
"But no longer," the demon deduced, "Because of my disruption to your thievery and brutality, you've lost your clan and your position."
Kurosawa snorted. "Don't think too highly of yourself. At the time, you were simply the excuse that was made to steal what was rightfully mine."
"So, your clan was seized and now you serve another. Who are the Shikai?"
His lip curling, he looked away. "The biggest yakuza clan in Japan."
"Tell me about them."
Kurosawa coughed out a laugh.
The demon's eyes narrowed, and his hand tightened.
The laugh turned into a gasp.
"I don't know anything about them," Kurosawa choked out, "They're secretive. They keep all their business interests in silos and decentralized. Hell, even protection rings from adjacent districts don't know each other's shit."
His grip softened enough to let him get some air.
He gulped it down.
"They're a clan. A family. But they don't trust each other?" the demon asked.
"And that's how they've thrived. You can't betray what you don't know. I'm a regional boss and the only time I've even seen the oyabun was when he was behind a screen. All I get are asshole proxies and that's it."
"Family by blood but not by heart."
Kurosawa chuckled weakly. "Something like that. For now, the sole reason why I've interested the oyabun has to do with you. I'm the only one who's ever had to deal with you." Then his eyes brightened, and another laugh turned coughing fit erupted from him.
"What?"
"For weeks, they made me report to their tower while they fine-tuned their plan. Like I was some lowly serf at their bidding…"
His grip tightened. "Explain."
"No need to threaten. I'll give you this one for free."
He waited.
"The tower is a fortress," Kurosawa explained, his voice growing hoarse. "Security measures are state of the art. And the men who guard it are former military or law enforcement. They're not going to miss like those idiots at the nightclub or the hotel. On top of that, where the oyabun stays at in the tower is a closely guarded secret. But even when you try your best to be unpredictable and mysterious, patterns emerge." He grinned. "Like your patrol route for the city. Made the shipping yard ambush simple to set up. Unfortunate about the execution."
"Make your point."
"The oyabun is strangely devout, and on the days of the full moon, he always leaves to worship at the temple. That ancient one with the massive garden. That bastard Ishida, the oyabun's right-hand man, scheduled an appointment with me on one of those days. And then he left me sitting in the damn conference room all morning. I'm certain that he was the one who took the oyabun to the temple and back for services."
"Why would your lord, who values security, require only one guard to accompany him?"
Kurosawa snorted. "Nothing says 'look here, I'm the oyabun' like a convoy of armored cars. No, it's just the two of them, lowkey and unassuming." He let one hand free from the demon's forearm, and using his thumb, he made a slicing motion across his own throat. "If you want to take the father's head, that's when you should do it."
"Why have you told me all this?" the demon asked, lifting his chin. "Without coercion, you betray your father. Are these more lies and deceit?"
"No," he spat, dripping acid, "I've lost everything because of you both. There's nothing I would enjoy more than watching you murder each other. Even if only one of you dies, I'll call it a good day."
His hand suspending the man over the glittering city below, the demon looked into his eyes, and under the icy blue moonlight, he found only cold hatred glaring back. There was no fear or doubt. Just loathing and a lust for vengeance. They could be sharing some tea in comfort and nothing would be different. He wasn't intimidated. He wanted revenge. If he added a veneer of class and stoicism, he could be looking at his own reflection, trapped in a familiar cycle of selfishness and ruination.
The demon glanced back through the shattered door towards the apartment's living room. "You've not lost everything yet, but if you continue to let your wounded pride guide you, you will."
Kurosawa scoffed. "Save your pity for yourself. I will have vengeance, and I will take back what's mine."
He nodded, and then pivoted to the side as he tossed him back through the opening in the doorway.
Kurosawa bounced across the mattress, and his breath burst from him when he banged into the headboard.
"I erred in my warning to you," the demon amended as he turned to face the bedroom with his back to harbor beyond, "If you continue on this path, you will not be the one who loses everything, but you will be the one branded by it. The one cursed with remembering it." He paused. "Swallow your pride, because it's not a merciful fate to bear."
Then he stepped back off the balcony and disappeared.
Rubbing at his neck as he sat up, Kurosawa glowered at the emptiness where the demon had once been and put his fist through the wall.