Chapter 14: Patience of a Saint
The room was deathly quiet as the old Geezer was still looking Makima in the eyes. It was as if the old man was looking death in its eyes.
He and the others were waiting for Akiyama to suddenly slit his throat or gouge his eyes out, but it never came.
Kazuma knew that his own men were on edge; he was glad they did. They had the guts to know that this was something else.
This wasn't some simple fuck they could scare into a corner and hope that all goes okay. Given Makima's track-record, she'd somehow snap her way out using their bodies as meat shields. But she wasn't doing that; she just sat there non-threatening-like. The whole room eventually thought of her as any other bitch who was out of good cards.
Kazuma's expectations were flipped upside down, and he couldn't wrap his noggin around it.
Why the hell are you docile…? I saw how brutal you were back at the Chiyo estate. Just break a rule and have your head blown off already.
The Golden Blade turned his head over to look at the others. They were all on high horses with their attitudes. It sort of pissed him off with how everyone wasn't on edge anymore.
He peered around the room to still see the rest of the Yakuza families all smug and smirking, finally relaxing after realizing that the vicious predator in the room has been declawed.
The Wakaba family were all grinnin' ear-to-ear with their fancy-schmancy two-piece suits as they sat around with their fingers up their ass, hoping to get some praise for being the ones who thought up the decoy estate idea.
Kazuma reared his head to the far left of the room to the Sakai family. They had a haughty air to them with their cigars and simple chuckles, standing around as if they contributed anything meaningful to the operation. The only thing that Kazuma saw them doing was twiddling their thumbs in their limos and cars while he was out there bustin' his ass!
Then there was the Ito family - they were quiet fucks who adjusted their ties and sunglasses as if they were hot shit. Kazuma didn't see them do anything either.
They were here in hopes of riding on their coattails to a new era for the Yakuza.
Kazuma sighed and placed a hand onto Akiyama's shoulder, hoping to pull him away before he gets cockier.
"Alright, old man, let's put the duct-tape back on her eyes; ya proved your point that 'cha got the biggest balls here." Kazuma pointed at a pair of Yakuza to bring back that remaining roll of Orangutan duct-tape that they used up on her from earlier.
The two men kept her shoulders straight as they wrapped it slowly, blinding the weird-eyed broad once more.
"Think on my offer, child. It's really in your best interest to say yes. If not…?" The old geezer pursed his lips and looked around for some dramatic effect. "Well, the chip in your neck ought to be the best mind-changer. Literally and figuratively if you get my meaning." Akiyama let out another dry chuckle as he struggled to stand, leaning on his cane as he addressed the other Yakuza families in the room.
"This is just one of our momentous victories. We have done what the Pro Heroes nor the Police Force could not. We've caged the beast that was once thought 'unbeatable'!"
The Yakuza roared with approval and Kazuma was the only one that didn't really cheer. He backed off and sat down with the rest of his lackeys on the far right of the room.
For the next hour the old Geezer rounded up all the giddy Yakuza family heads to discuss plans on how to best utilize Makima's quirk. All of them wanting to get rid of high-tiered Pro Heroes scrounging around on their old turfs and get a foothold again.
Like flies to rancid meat, they swarmed Akiyama and asked when they'd be able to put Makima to work. Of course, the old Geezer waved them away and stated that it'll take time to make the psycho comply with their demands.
It didn't take long before their prize was carted off downstairs on a dolly where she'll be kept somewhere in confinement. When asked where she was going, the old Geezer just chucked and said that was his secret to keep.
Kazuma thought that she'd most likely be in some underground cell or basement. No doubt locked there for as long as the old man deemed fit for her.
She had a whole entourage of guards surrounding her on all sides as she was slowly escorted, or rather rolled, out of the study room.
Kazuma shook his head and just sat back, keeping to himself. He was already planning to head back to the Kamino Ward now that the hard work was over. Now, he had to figure out how to properly deal with his own problem concerning the Chainsaw freak.
Majority of the time it appeared at night, and even some of the local Pro's patrolling the area don't bother with the whole case – treating the monster like some local boogey man that's been made up by some idiot online.
The Golden Blade growled at having been reminded of that issue and stood back up. He was going to remind Muscles that she owed him a lot of manpower.
He walked over with purpose and put his hands in pockets. He hated how casual Muscles was – talking and blushing like some stupid schoolgirl over the little nerd. "Oi, Muscles, gotta talk to ya."
Her eyes gave him a quick look before continuing with a conversation with Asuka.
You're not just gonna ignore me, you damn gorilla…
He put a hand on her shoulder and forcibly turned her to face him. "I'm here to remind ya that I need men. A lot of men, ya hear me?"
Muscles glared at him, and Asuka had the nerve to butt in as well. Her voice already gave him a migraine. "Can't you see we're busy, Kaz? Why don't you go and talk with the other old fossils over there?" She jerked a thumb behind her at Akiyama's group of decrepit old Yakuza. "You belong there, don't you?"
Stupid little brat… If Muscles wasn't there to be your shield, I'd slap the shit outta ya.
As if on cue, Muscles noticed his stare and stood in front of him with her arms crossed under her chest. "Got somethin' to say?" She glared and was just darin' him to belittle her little nerdy munchkin that hid behind her like a shield.
He grunted in annoyance and let them be. Kazuma would just have to ask Akiyama instead. The old Geezer would make these two lovebirds listen. Still, wouldn't hurt them to respect their seniors!
Kazuma huffed and sauntered back on over to sit with his men in the back of the room – at least they respected him.
They were all huddled together, yappin' about something related to the red-headed psycho being strolled off.
"Where do you think they're takin' the broad, boss?" One of his younger men, Haruto, asked as he scratched his stubbly soul patch.
"Couldn't care less where they're taking the bitch." He leaned down to wait for one of them to light his cigarette. "All I know is that we're stuck here until the pleasantries are all sorted and done with."
Haruto and the others groaned. "The old boss really preening for all the compliments and buttered up words, ain't he?"
"Tch, tell me about it. He'll bask in it till the end of this night."
The so-called pleasantries soon turned into a mini celebration get-together, which, much to Kazuma's discontent, lasted a couple of hours.
Akiyama had managed to further quell any worries, complaints, and other issues that arose with the capture of Makima. It solidified the fact that he had a proper plan in place, and Kazuma was likely the only one who could glean a tiny bit of it.
Everything was beginning to wrap up and the other patriarchs were heading back to their own turfs after the old Geezer had promised them a lot of things. Lots of them left with pleased smiles.
They all were leaving the Estate in droves, talking animatedly about future plans, eventual regained glory, and expansion into downtown Musutafu, and even further beyond.
The clouds above looked ready to weep in joy at their combined happiness.
Loads of praise from all the Yakuza patriarchs were heaped onto Akiyama as he shook their hands and bid them all farewell as they climbed into their SUV's, limos, and black cars.
Kazuma scoffed and began heading towards his own car that was waiting out in the driveway. He knew that all of Akiyama's promises were loads of horse shit. All those idiots, save for himself, Muscles, and the brat, were eating it up like porridge.
The Geezer would've rather scrape his wrinkly balls across a pile of glass shards than give any of these waning leeches a smidgen of territory. The only ones he'd deem fit for those territories were obviously the promising youth – Big Sis and Asuka.
Out with the old and in with the new, but that wouldn't apply to Akiyama. No, he'd still be pulling the strings and start plottin' other devious kinds of plans.
That chivalrous code of theirs only applied to Akiyama when it benefited him. The power he had in his hands was already gonna get him drunk with power.
Kazuma already had the hunch that he'd not be able to get in on the slice of pie that was expanding to new territories in Musutafu. He wasn't stupid; he knew the old Geezer would eventually tell him that he couldn't expand.
He lit his cigarette and hopped into the passenger side of his car, waiting for his captain, Rikiya, to start it up so he could get the hell out of there.
Tch, fuckin' old bastard. I know you.
That man is more cunning than he lets on. This was a familiar pattern he'd seen decades ago when they used to be in their prime. The Turtle of Musutafu loved to rule with fear and elegance.
And what better way to regain that status quo than hanging the fear of death over someone's head with Makima's quirk in his hands?
Akiyama, after finishing some shady whispering with his other lapdogs, strolled over to his window and leaned in to pat his shoulder with a smile. "Don't worry, old friend. I've not forgotten your call for aid. I'll see to it that Big Sis sends her best to help you with your…. What did you say it was again?"
Kazuma sighed and took a drag of his cigarette. "Told ya already, Geezer; I got a monster problem. Tell Big Sis I want her men strapped to the fuckin' teeth with the biggest toys they got in their little secret warehouse. I mean it too."
He pointed at woman in question who was behind Akiyama. She rolled her eyes and flashed him the finger. "Tell Muscles back there to share her toys for this. I want high-end explosives, AP guns, Dragon's Breath shotguns, all of them. I've a feelin' that I'll need a lot more than peashooters to deal with my monster."
The old Geezer let out a dry chuckle. "I'll be sure to relay that to her. But, before you go…" He reached into his pocket to grab a polaroid photo.
Kazuma groaned. "Really, Geezer? I'm sort of lying low right now thanks to the shit show that was capturing your red-headed broad."
"I just have one last favor to ask of you is all, old friend." His wrinkled smile shone as Kazuma sighed, grabbing the photo and looking at it.
"Who's the little shit supposed to be?" He looked at a young boy, about fifteen or sixteen years old. His messy, indigo hair and dull eyes stared blankly back at him.
"A very valuable and much-needed negotiation piece. Bring him to me, alive. Not dead, Kazuma. Alive." The Geezer emphasized the part with a sterner tone.
"Shit's not gonna be easy since the kid's wearin' U.A. colors, Geezer. Might take me a while to find a good spot to nab him. And even if I do, I can't guarantee I won't be put on a watchlist or something. Kidnapping kids ain't exactly my thing, you know. That's also accountin' for the fact that U.A. actually gives a fuck about their own. Might not even be able to, even with my skillset or my boys' skills. Sounds impossible."
"I'm sure you'll figure it out. You always had a way of doing the impossible. You fought the infamous Mirko Hero and don't even have a scratch on your body." He let out another dry chuckl before giving him a focused stare. "Find your useful contacts, whoever can abduct him without a trace. And bring him back here, to my own estate."
"Urgh… I expect you to honor your word about helping me with my issue if I do this. This counts as at least ten favors, by the way."
"I'll make it fifteen favors should you pull it off without issue. Goodbye, old friend. I'll be seeing you. You're the only one I can trust with this—"
"Yeah, yeah. 'This pivotal' mission bullshit." Kazuma cut him off with a shake of his hand. "See ya, Geezer." He waved the old man away and rolled his window up, eager to get out of there as soon as possible. There's no telling what's already happened back in Kamino without his supervision. Kazuma could only hope that another one of his warehouses weren't raided and carved up into an all you can eat cannibal buffet when he got back.
He pulled out his phone and dialed in a number. It picked up and a gravelly, if not ugly voice, answered back. "Hello…?"
Kazuma sighed, as he loathed the fact that he knew these triplets of human trash. But, they were perfect for this job. So perfect that they were the first to come into mind.
"Kendo, gather Uta and Pugsie. I got a job for ya three. A high-paying one. Meet me back at my spot in the Kamino Ward."
"Kamino…?" The voice hummed and made a click of their tongue. "That's pretty far, Kazuma. Not sure if I or Pugsie's fatass even have the energy—"
Kazuma pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Just get there, alright? I'll pay ya fucks upfront too. Ya know I'm good for it."
"Hehe, glad to hear it~! We'll be there. Uta will be happy to see you again, I'm sure of it."
"Fuckin' Geezer… I hate your last-minute plans." Kazuma said to himself as he hung up the phone and peered outside the car window.
The sky outside was beginning to darken with grey, thunderous clouds. It was going to be another night filled with pouring rain. The pitter-patter and heavy winds already beginning to pick up as the droplets of rain lightly battered against his windows.
He gave the sight of Musutafu one more look before closing the blinds to lock him in an off-white luxurious living room.
The television flicked through various channels of food advertisements, B-roll films, and the usual news Giran listened to.
He plopped down onto his leather couch with a glass of Kuroyoshi whiskey and stared at it with a defeated sigh. After the declaration from his Yakuza contact that they'd rather keep that devil than kill her, he'd lost plenty of sleep and sanity.
The beauty that was the news anchor Ai Yume, in her white business coat and matching skirt, began explaining some breaking news about an explosion in the Shinjuku suburbs.
It left the Pro Heroes Kamui Woods in critical condition and Mtn. Lady suffering from minimal injuries. The slow pan from the Okinawa beauty shifted to Tsukauchi's tired mug as he provided some context of what happened, as well as a few brave words from some heroes on how they'll crack down on criminal activities to ensure this doesn't happen again.
Lies, all of it. He knew better than anyone that they'd most likely rather focus on the Control Killer situation and the USJ attack.
Though what caught his attention was the announcement that a top player in Hero society, Mirko the Rabbit Hero, was later found in a comatose state at an estate farther away from the scene. She had to be air-lifted to a nearby hospital apparently and there's already a gathering of concerned fans praying for her well-being.
His eyes then lost interest at the 54 in plasma screen television and glanced over to a thin sticky note with a phone number and all too familiar set of initials slapped onto his coffee table in front of him.
I could still try that approach, but that'll no doubt land me in her sights immediately.
He resisted the urge to grab the burner phone and dial it. His hand reached out before pulling away and falling into defeat beside him. Instead, Giran just sat in his couch and stared into the glass cup, watching the amber liquid swirl about.
Giran already had an inkling that Makima was planning something big. Something on a scale that'll put her previous suicide missions to shame. Whatever it was though, he had no clue.
Before he'd cut all contact with Makima, he kept tabs on her whereabouts, and she often paid visits to a lot of different areas in Musutafu. Most of them involved high altitudes, like the tall skyscrapers here and there near the downtown areas of the city.
He scanned through a couple folders of pictures he'd received from one of his sneakier contacts that had access to CCTV footage that had cameras where she'd be found.
"What exactly are you up to?" He grabbed one picture of Makima resting against a railing that overlooked the cityscape.
Her eerie disinterested expressions in these photos always gave him the creeps. It was like a mask she could perfectly morph into at a moment's notice.
The information broker shook his head and rubbed his eyes. There was a lot going on and he knew that it was a matter of time until Makima put two and two together about his involvement with the Yakuza.
He'd have to crack up an escape plan – maybe skip town or seek refuge with Kurogiri's buds. Anything to have some form of protection against Makima's eventual wrath for his betrayal.
Never should have got in touch with those idiots….
Giran took another swig and set the whiskey glass down with a sigh.
Her entrapment in the old Yakuza's pitiable excuse of an underground cell turned into a full week.
The smell of the cell was horrid – it was perpetually dank inside and the smell of mildew mixed with dirt and human body odor from the guards wasn't doing so well for her nose.
The black burlap sack combined with the duct-tape on her eyes and mouth were also uncomfortable, and weren't at all changed regularly.
A whole week's worth of work, time, and planning gone to waste because of these roaches that skitter and prowl around, hoping she'll cave into their demands of using her power for their glory.
Worthless and selfish. They had no purpose here or in the outside world for that matter. They just took up space and wasted precious oxygen and resources. The only thing they were good for is dying and feeding the dirt that they lay in by becoming fertilizer.
Even literal earthworms would've served a better purpose than them.
Their attempts at threats didn't work. She knew they wouldn't dare try to kill her; her 'quirk' was too valuable to lose. The old man, Akiyama, adamantly refused to let her.
Because of the daily injections to keep her sedated, Akiyama saw to it to get Makima a specialized, if not blackmailed doctor, to come in and ensure she's taken care of every Sunday.
From the sounds of him, he seemed like a prime target to help her escape. Though, her plan of using him was shot down as this doctor was always accompanied by a pair of guards.
The Doctor, Shinji Nakaoka, sounded genuinely kind yet skittish. He was obviously a greenhorn by the sounds of how he reacted to the guards' provocations of being scrawny and pencil-armed.
"P-please, I-I have to work." He said firmly as he fixed Makima's IV bag.
"Pah, no use tending to this one, Doc. She's a lost cause. Don't see why the boss even wants her, to be honest. She's practically not done a single thing since we nabbed her."
The doctor ignored them and continued to work on her. He whispered in, obviously distraught and uneased by her current predicament.
"I-I don't like what they're doing to you, whoever you are. As a doctor, it is my duty first and foremost to serve and protect my patients. What they do to you is simply atrocious."
"Oi! No talking to the bitch, Doc." The guard slapped the back of his head and knocked him to the ground. The two laugh and joke about how weak the man is and go back to talking to each other.
Again, the doctor leaned in, testing his luck and apologizing in her ear that she'll be alright. He almost reached up to tug on the burlap sack, obviously curious to see what her face looked like, but his hand was soon slapped away.
"Oi! I fucking said no talkin' to the bitch!" The doctor was grabbed and tossed outside of the cell. "Yer endangerin' our lives by trying to be buds with her. Ain't you got a brain in that head of yers? That's the Control Killer, ya hear?" He spat on the man and scoffed. "Fuckin' civvie ain't got a fuckin' clue."
"Right? Asshole, know your place." His friend added in and also spat onto the man's lab-coat.
The doctor left in a hurry and it left her back to her own thoughts and the random conversations between these two guards.
She picked up simple banter from the men, saying that they'd rather be upstairs meandering about, heading home to relax, or anything other than guard duty.
The only thing she did hear every now and then when she regained consciousness was the sound of those two useless guards who bantered and kept watch outside her makeshift cell.
"And then I told her that the kid ain't mine, but she was like, 'you know dang well it is!', and I was like, nah, you're batshit insane." He groaned and shook his head as if reliving whatever domestic dispute he'd experienced. "But she just didn't listen, man." A lean man with thick sideburns said to his overweight and balding friend.
"No way…! You ought to man up and just tell her how it is, dude." The fat one chortled and tried to offer his own input, even if it looked like he was not actively listening to the man.
Other conversations were meaningless to her. Nothing was useful here. She'd hoped they'd slip up some of their plans that she could use to her advantage, but before she could even try to muster up strength, another does of sedatives flooded into her blood, making her lose consciousness.
It was like being trapped in your own body and your only chance of reprieve was through dreams. And even dreams began to blur and turn to mute darkness.
The entire situation was repeated every day to ensure that she wouldn't fight back. Only when she was extremely drowsy and weakened did Akiyama and his other lackeys come down to try and make demands and offers.
Torture, death threats, and honey-traps were all involved, and nothing enticed her. Money was never really a problem, neither was finding a sexual partner.
Everything that these Yakuza tried didn't work. She applauded them for their capture of her, but she had no praise for their attempts in swaying her to do their bidding.
But, every Sunday, a sliver of a chance of escaping this was possible. With each visit from Dr. Nakaoka, her smile widened under the duct-tape and burlap sack.
And her eyes…Her eyes saw opportunity.
Makima just had to play the waiting game. She just needed to have the patience of a saint.
AN: The curse of writer's block... A lack of motivation with a combo of procrastination sprinkled in. Damn you, cursed twinned fiends! If only us readers and writers can find a way to fend off these vile creatures that torment us so. :(
The cruel fate of us writers aside, I'm back! And I've been letting this story marinate for... *checks calendar* about four months. Yikes. I've not been cooking and feeding you all. Truly, I've failed and I humbly bow before you all for my insubordination as a Makima connoisseur!
I shall forsake the right to dream of being squished by our manipulative queen's thighs as punishment.
;c
But, I hope you all enjoy this little appetizer while I get back to the grill to bring back more Makima shenanigans.