“You had a big poster outside the door of a man doing martial arts. The man looked cool. He looked powerful. And most importantly, he looked like me.”
I help him over to the low table where he sits on the floor, cross-legged.
“You saw me looking, and you came outside to speak to me. You said something that changed my life.” I prepare the tea for him and then offer it with one hand, my head lowered in respect. “‘Do you want to learn’?”
“Knowledge is the most powerful weapon in the hands of the powerless,” Sensei says.
Tucking my chin, I hide my smile.
Sensei looks me over. “Did you learn well, Finn-san?”
“Thank you, Sensei. I did.”
His eyes dip to the mahjong board. “Don’t tell me I only taught you martial arts?”
I climb to my feet and bring the board over like I always do. With laughter in my voice, I say, “Of course not.”
After Sensei crushes me at mahjong, I leave him for his afternoon nap and sneak out.
I’m usually able to walk in and out freely. If I wear a hat and a mask, most people ignore me. However, when I was walking in, I noticed that I was getting more looks than usual.
It’s probably due to the song.
I can’t remember the last time Dutch, Zane, and I jammed like that.
Normally, our songwriting sessions start with Dutch noodling around with a riff. I play something edgy that bounces around his melody, and Zane completes everything with a crazy-sick drumbeat. We normally create sets for a party vibe.
Yesterday, it was different.
Zane and Dutch started with the lyrics, and it was obvious that the song would be a ballad-type.
After we collaborated on the melody, we went straight to our dad’s recording studio and mastered the mix while filming. The music video wasn’t anything fancy. It was just us behind the scenes, making the song.
But the audience resonated.
When we woke up this morning, our phones were running hot from all the notifications. Bex Dane, a big name in the music industry, was practically on his knees for us to come do that song at one of his concerts nearby.
Dutch is considering it.
My phone beeps.
J sends me a text with an address and a name.
I text back a thumbs-up.
My phone beeps again.
J:What’s your plan with this Ace guy?
ME:None of your business.
J:I’m assuming, since you gave me the phone and not the police, you want to handle things yourself.
I read her message twice. Before I handed over Ace’s phone, I was second-guessing the decision. The Grave City Crew know that I’m the son of the yakuza head. If those messages were shared with Ace, Jinx would find out about it.
However, I took the gamble.
Training with Kurosaki, I’ve learned that every crew has a hierarchy. The soldiers at the bottom just do what they’re told. They have no access to the bigger plan.
