I punch walls until my knuckles are bloody. Doesn’t help.
I hold a knife to my own throat in the mirror and wonder if I’d sing too. I know I won’t, but the gasp… yeah, would be nice if the last one I collect is my own.
Not today, though. Today I’ve got more shit to do.
There’s a row of public phones near the main street, old ones with cigarette burns on the metal. I step into one, shut the glass door, and drop a few coins inside. The line crackles, then one of my guys picks up.
“It’s done,” I say.
“Good,”he answers.“Kobayashi-sama will be pleased.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“About that other problem… He’s coming to deliver.”
Oh,yeah.
“Arakawa-san,”he says, polite.“Try not to make a big mess this time.”
I laugh so loud I scare Kai off the dumpster, even from here.
“‘Try not to make a mess,’huh?” I mutter, cracking my neck. That’s like telling fire not to burn. Like asking a storm toplease, please don’t tear down the fucking house.
There’s a pause on the other end, then a sigh.
“Just be clean this time. Don’t just… let the corpses around. The police’s still on us for the Shinjuku mess.”
“Sure,” I say, grinning into the receiver. “No corpses around.” I hang up and take another drag from my cigarette. “I said nothing aboutbody pieces.”
* * *
Fuck neutral ground.
I hate this bullshit. Even the shadows here feel artificial, like the street’s trying too hard to pretend it’s not soaked in blood just beneath the surface. This whole shit smells like peace treaties and old piss, with flickering streetlights to make everyone look worse than they are.
The guy I’m meeting is already there when I turn the corner, leaning against the hood of a piece-of-shit sedan, arms crossed, trying to look hard. Ryosuke, one of the Kageboshi-gumi’s dogs. Same ridiculous hair, same broken nose, same smug fucking expression. Thinks he’s a big shot because he once held a guy’s head under a bath of acid.
He gives me a smirking nod like we’re equals.
I stop three steps away and crack my neck again.
“Ryo,” I say, spitting his name. “Didn’t think you’d show up without your leash.”
He smirks.
“Funny, I was just thinking Kobayashi-san wouldn’t let you out of your cage.”
“Only when we’re hunting vermin.”
“Then I brought you two.” He gestures toward the backseat of the car. “The gifts.”
Yes,the gifts.
Two fuckers scraped off the bottom of whatever sewer hole the Midori-kai calls home. One’s bleeding from the head, the other’s got duct tape around his mouth and a piss stain down his thigh. Both look like they’ve been roughed up a bit already. Good, means Ryo’s at least pretending to give a fuck.
“These two touched something they shouldn’t in your territory,” Ryo says. “We didn’t know. When Midori-san found out, he told me to do what was necessary to keep peace. You can finish it.”
I step forward, and they flinch. Fucking cowards.
