Instead of walking barefoot into Naoya’s quiet little studio, I’m crammed into the passenger seat of a shitty black sedan with Ryo at the wheel, windows half down and the stink of his cologne in the air.
We’re headed to deliver a message. Real fucking work.
Kobayashi-sama gave the order himself, so there’s no saying no, no matter how much my skin’s itching to be somewhere else.
The peace accord between Kobayashi-sama and the two other big names—Midori-san of the Kageboshi-gumi, and Hasebe-san of the Tetsukaminari-ikka—has held longer than anyone expected. We split territory. We stopped bleeding each other out in the alleys. The turf grew. Bigger profits, fewer dead bodies, less heat from the cops. And now, our new shared problem is some loudmouthed rats on bikes calling themselves the Gora Specters. Punks who think patch jackets and Kawasakis give them balls. Their little slice of turf sits where our next cut should be, and someone’s gotta soften them up.
That someone is us.
Tonight we’ll see how they bite. Maybe take out a tooth or two.
Ryo exhales hard through his nose, tapping his cigarette out the cracked window.
“This shit’s beneath us.”
I don’t answer.
“We should’ve sent the new guys. Let them break their noses and learn something.”
He’s right, but I won’t say it. I keep my eyes on the road ahead because there’s no way I’ll agree with him out loud. Ryo talks too much, the asshole. Half the time I want to punch his throat just to hear him shut up for five minutes.
He smacks the wheel with his palm.
“You hear that, Arakawa? That silence? That’s your fucking personality these days. Did Kobayashi-san finally tame his dog enough to not talk unless someone tells, huh?”
I don’t answer.
“Figures. You got your tongue cut or something?” He spits out the window. “No wonder Midori-san wanted me here. Gotta keep you from messing this up.”
I picture breaking his nose against the steering wheel. His blood would look good on the dashboard. I bet he sings nice.
Ryo laughs, teeth flashing.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? You wanna hit me, I can feel it. Go ahead, Arakawa. Show me how the big dog from Dokugumo-kai fights.”
The bastard’s really begging for it, and I can feel my pulse beating behind my eyes. But if I kill him now, the fucking “peace” goes to shit. Fuck, I bet I wouldn’t be able to go see Naoya for a couple of months, if that happened.
“If someone gets whacked tonight, my money’s on you, especially since your dick fell off and all.” He gestures with his cigarette to my crotch. “Did you grow a cunt overnight?”
“You fucking done?”
He shrugs.
“Nah, not yet.”
“Let’s just go in and get this shit over with.” I tap my fingers against my thigh, my knuckles begging for pain. “We smash their fucking faces, go home. Easy.”
Ryo gives that infuriating, teeth-baring smirk of his.
“You think it’s gonna be that easy?”
“I bet I could take them all down by myself,” I say, and I mean it.
He laughs.
“That right? Then let’s make it interesting.”
“You wanna count bodies?”
