Author's Note: Here is the second chapter. I hope that you enjoy it. Please leave a review to tell me how I am doing.
Childhood is filled to the brim with important scrapbook worthy milestones. From baby's first word, to their first steps, to learning how to ride a bike, and their first day of school, these precious moments were the stuff that childhood was made of but not if you were a Shimada.
At the tender age of two years old, Hanzo Shimada survived his very first assassination attempt.
Asleep in his bed, Hanzo was unaware of the assassin that crept into his room. His death was meant to settle a business dispute and reclaim honor from a disgruntled business partner of his father. The assassin retrieved the syringe filled with air that would cause an embolism in the toddler. The assassin never had a chance to use it. The armed guards of the Shimada Clan silently stormed the room and put a bullet hole in the assassin's head.
Hanzo slept on, never knowing that a man died in his bedroom.
When Hanzo was five, his father showed him how to fire a bow. His first attempts were sloppy but when he managed to shoot a servant in the thigh with a misguided arrow. His father was so proud of him that he bought his son a new bow with expertly made arrows. Hanzo's father claimed that his son showed the Shimada clan's strength. The servants wisely kept out of the way when young Hanzo practiced with his bow.
When Hanzo was eight, his parents brought him to a business meeting. There was a man tied up in a chair. He was bleeding and gasping for air. His parents very calmly explained to him that the man was a spy and he was sent to destroy their family. Rage burned in Hanzo. How dare this man, this lowly worm, try and hurt his family. His mother gave Hanzo his bow. His father asked his son to protect their family.
At age eight, Hanzo killed his first man.
His teenage years were shaped by the family business. As the oldest son, it was his birthright and duty to carry on the family name. He stayed by his father's side and learned the ropes: how to intimidate, how to break people, and expand the empire that was the Shimada Clan. His father, Ryuji, was quite the clever man. To expand the Shimada's global reach, he chose to go into the hotel business. He picked remote places, places that were safe from the arm of the law and had no extradition treaties. The Shimada business took over small villages and in the blink of an eye, warped them into sprawling cities of excessive living. The cities that the Shimada Clan controlled became playgrounds for the wealthy and powerful.
As Hanzo's father entered his golden years, he set his sights on moving the operation towards America. It was to be his crowning achievement. The Shimada Clan dominated the east, it was time to move to the west. Or they would have, had Ryuji not been found dead in his office. He was slumped over with the plans of the American expansion held tight in his hands. At first, assassination was thought to be the cause but his death was more mundane. No assassination, but a run of the mill heart attack. Ryuji Shimada had worked himself to death. Overcome with grief, the clan matriarch, Hime, soon followed her husband to the grave. Within a month, Hanzo and Genji Shimada were all that was left of the Shimada Clan.
To the enemies of the Shimada Clan, blood was in the water. Grief made people weak. Hanzo could not mourn his parents, he had to carry on the Shimada name. Less than a week after his parents were in the ground, Hanzo formally took over as head of the Shimada Clan. On the day he became the leader of his family, Hanzo took a solemn vow. He would never allow his family to suffer, to be hurt, and he would carry on his family's name.
The preparations for the western move were done immediately.
In the outskirts of Ghost Town, Texas was a beautiful contemporary house. It's very existence was out of place with the surrounding desert. The wood, brick, and stone siding didn't belong there, the irregular floor to ceiling glass windows didn't have a place, it's high and steeped roof was too strange for the desert. The house as a whole was a sore thumb that interrupted the natural beauty of the desert. It stood proudly against the winds and harsh heat as though to say "You are nothing. You will be tamed".
Hanzo Shimada viewed the landscape from the comfort of the living room. Hands folded neatly behind his back, the oldest Shimada viewed the expansive landscape. A tumbleweed bounced by. Hanzo scoffed.
"My father chose this town as the site for our Western expansion?"
The places they scouted, took over, and built new cities from the ground up had some sort of niche that was marketable. How could he sell a desert?
Maybe as a graveyard, he thought. Spacious. Buy one acre for three thousand dollars, dig twenty feet deep, and bury up to ten bodies. Taxes apply for exceeding body limits.
"Yes, sir." Answered Satya Vaswani, his personal assistant.
Satya Vaswani was a new transplant from the Shimada Clan's India operations. She was smart, with an impeccable eye for detail and order. A gorgeous, if not cold, woman with dark brown eyes, straight black hair, and pouty lips that were pulled into a constant frown of disapproval.
"From what I could gather from your father's notes, sir, he planned to create Ghost Town in the image of Las Vegas."
Maybe his father could see it but Hanzo did not. It was a wasteland.
The graveyard plan looks better by the minute.
"I see."
"We have a meeting with the board of directors nine months from now. They expect your answer on moving forward with the operation by then. I have compiled a list of residences in alphabetical order, business in order of year established as well as yearly earnings and current debts. The reports are on your desk. Do you require anything more, sir?"
"Nothing more, except where is my brother?"
Satya brought up the security system. The first place she checked was the garage. "The Ferrari is missing, sir. I have access to the GPS. It shows that he is currently in the downtown area. Would you like me to send him a message about the meeting?"
"If my brother does not wish to involve himself with my family then it is on his head."
"Yes, sir."
If Hanzo Shimada was the backbone of the clan, then Genji Shimada was the trick knee.
Driving downtown at an obscene speed, the thirty-five year heir to a criminal enterprise laughed wildly. Dressed in ripped up jeans and a white t-shirt with a boob window, Genji gleefully shouted, "Yippie ki-yay motherfuckers!"
Texas! He was in Texas! Could there be anything more cowboy than Texas? He had to get a ten gallon hat, boots – snakeskin boots for sure, and what else?
Chaps! Genji thought excitedly, Black chaps! No, wait – black assless chaps.
Hanzo would flip when he saunter back into the house with that get up. It would annoy him more than when he first came home with his hair dyed green. That settled it, he was buying them as soon as he found them. Genji got out his cell phone, taking his eyes off the road.
"Siri, find me assless chaps."
Siri did not respond. Genji looked down at his phone. No service. Not even a bar. Genji moaned.
"Come on, I always have service!"
Genji just barely stopped at the red light. He revved his motor in frustration. He liked the western aspect of this place but without cell service, he wasn't going to survive here. Genji waited at the red light. It was still red. Genji moaned even louder.
"Change! Now!"
The light was still red. Genji banged his head against the steering wheel. He never came to the towns that his father picked out until things were already in progress. It was his job to pick out the girls and guys that worked in the casinos and shops. They always had to be beautiful. Ugly wasn't part of his image. But looking around this dinky little town, Genji saw that there was not a single beautiful person to be found.
Oh Kami, is there anyone hot around here?
He scanned the streets for a sign of someone with even a drop of natural beauty. There were none.
This place is a total snooze-fest. Who am I supposed to do around here? Little old bag ladies? Gross.
To say that Genji was a playboy would be an understatement. His method of operation? Find the hottest person in town, wine and dine, and before they had dessert, have them in bed. He moved hard, he moved fast, and he was always successful. There had yet to be a person who could resist Genji Shimada. The light was still red. Genji searched for anyone who met his standard. He would hate to have his streak broken.
But then he saw him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Genji saw a yoga studio adjacent to a gym. It had a large front window to show off the class's workout. The man was truly a diamond in the rough. Dark sun kissed skin, a great ass, and he was shirtless with a six pack. He was a dream.
That's the one.
The light turned green. Genji flipped his sunglasses down. A smug smile was on his face as he drove off.
I'll have him screaming my name soon enough.