In the End

Chapter Three - Catalyst

In the previous twenty-four hours, Kirin did not lose that little grin on his face. The silences that filled his noisy day allowed him to remember the sour host from the previous evening. Although it had been short and rather painful towards the end, the kiss that he had gotten tingled down his spine and was remembered by every fibre of his lips. It amused him that he could be so caught up with a single host; someone who looked ready to kill him too! Then again, where was the fun in taming someone already tamed?

“Sir.”

The car rolled to a stop and Kirin blinked out of his own reverie to look outside the tinted window at the Hirokin-kai’s head quarter. It was not a monstrous skyscraper that threatened to shove itself into the heaven’s ass, but it was a horizontal monster that spanned acres of land in the form of a traditional Japanese house. The door opened –not automatically, someone opened it for him, of course!- and the younger kumicho stepped out with a bow of his head. The row of men saluted him with perfect, ninety-degree bows leading into the head quarter.

Instead of going back to his chambers like usual, Kirin headed straight for the control tower. Well, it was more like a room. Just because the outside might appear old and traditional, that did not mean the inside wasn’t equipped with the best, up-to-date technology.

“How is it going?”

“Kumicho-sama.” All five men in the room stood unanimously at his presence in the room, but Kirin waved away their bows with a casual hand.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, enough of that. How is work coming along?”

“Allow me.” The one who took over was Yoozan Daiga, the only son of Yoozan Sumi, the saiko komon. Needless to say, in a group like this, Daiga was the natural born leader. “As you can see on this screen, we have compiled all the data gathered from the last five assassination attempts on you.” Daiga spoke with a frown over his eyes and carefully watched Kirin’s expression. The kumicho merely nodded for him to continue. “It is very obvious from this that we have a traitor in Hirokin-kai. All information surrounding your visits to these places was classified; therefore, no one outside of Hirokin-kai would have been able to access this information. However, the degree of classification ranges from low to extreme, making the task of closing in on a particular group very difficult.”

“Wouldn’t it be likely that there could be numerous traitors? Perhaps working together, perhaps working apart?”

“Yes, that is a possibility that we have thought of.” Daiga started while leaning over to pull up yet another page onto the computer screen. “However, the M.O. of each assassination attempt is similar. They all consisted of a sniper in the dark to take you out as you arrived. This is leading us to believe that there is only one culprit behind all these attempts. Maybe the shooter himself is the culprit. However, that is merely speculation and our task is to find the traitor within the group as soon as possible.”

Kirin’s eyes remained focused on the new window that was pulled out for him. It would be a lie to say that he was not unfazed, but he had spent practically his entire life in a yakuza clan, such things were expected. However, the thought of a traitor within the group had him frowning deeply as well. A traitor meant that someone was unhappy with how things were going; that meant a rift. The most important bond between all members in a yakuza clan was trust, and if there was a rift, trust could very easily fall down that cliff and take everything with it.

“It is of vital importance that we find this traitor.” Kirin stated finally, and drew his eyes away from the screen to survey the room. He made sure to meet each person’s eyes. “I cannot allow such a man to ensconce himself deep within our clan and think that he can get away with it!”

Murmurs of agreement rose in the room, and Daiga took the moment to step closer to Kirin. Although their relationship will always be one of master and subordinate, Daiga had watched Kirin grow up. To him, Kirin was like a younger brother. “Kumicho-sama, please allow me to express how equally, if not more, important it is for you to watch out for yourself at all times! You cannot let you guard down, not even for a second. It is devastating that we have a traitor amongst us, but it will be catastrophic if you are hurt.”

Kirin offered Daiga a boyish grin that spoke of confidence. “Don’t worry,” he lifted a hand to pat the older man’s arm. “I have incredible luck and will live a long life. Mark my words.”

Confidence, it was the first thing that Kirin learnt to exude when he was crowned kumicho of Hirokin-kai. Whether he believed it was of no value as long as everyone else believed him.

[Motel]

Shuusei strongly believed that the club should start doing background checks on these so called clients who begged for their services. Then again, Red Velvet thrived on the basic notion that anyone could get a whore as long as they had the money.

The middle aged man whom Shuusei left Red Velvet with about two hours ago looked like a man worth his time. It was when the man stopped his car in front of a motel did Shuusei sigh and realized that he had be deceived. So much for this pair of eyes that could stare down any yakuza boss but still could not see the eagerness in this man’s expressions. The moment that motel door closed –cheap motel too, might he add-, he was all over Shuusei like he had not touched another human being previously. Now, an hour later, Shuusei took his time getting out of the shower and drying himself off. His surrounding was silent; eerily so.

Standing in front of the mirror, he lifted a hand and wiped a jagged line of mist away to look at himself. It was pitiful that this body should still be sought after with such fervour when Shuusei could not even find the will or the want to let it live on. What was there to live for? His lips twitched and Shuusei looked away to pick up a towel and rubbed it against his hair. The man only had enough money to buy him for exactly three hours, and unless he could magically produce some more cash out of his ass, Shuusei was going to get dressed and walk right out of here.

Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t surprised to see a third party standing in the room when he swung open the bathroom door. In the door way, he paused and looked at the standing man. Dressed in black, gun in hand, and his client dead on the bed; it required not the mind of a rocket scientist to figure this scene out.

The killer turned to look at him when the door opened, and for a moment they merely looked at each other. Although Shuusei was dressed in nothing and unarmed, there was not an ounce of fear from him. A dying man had nothing to fear. The host looked from the killer to the man and regained his composure. He walked into the room as if this was the most usual scene to see when one exited the bathroom. “What did he die for?” Shuusei asked calmly as he tossed the towel onto the nearest chair and he picked up his clothes from the floor.

Che; stupid asshole didn’t even wait to let him put his clothes on a chair or something.

“I don’t know.” The killer answered, gun still in hand but no longer raised. He watched the host move around the room while dressing himself. If he was any less composed, he would have questioned his own disbelief. “I don’t care.”

“Ah, spoken like a true professional.” Shuusei buttoned up his shirt and flipped the longer strands of his hair out from beneath it. His hair was still damp but he liked the feeling of being clean. “So, why are you in this business of killing people?”

“Because it’s the only thing I know how to do.”

Rummaging through the client’s pants, he found the wallet and pulled out the wad of cash that was strapped inside. One bill, two bills, three, four, five… Shuusei counted ‘till he was satisfied with his amount before shoving them into his pocket. The answer left him a little rattled, but when he turned to face the killer, his face betrayed nothing. “Is that so.” He regarded the other calmly for a long moment, gauging his sincerity before jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the robbed wallet. “There’s still cash remaining, feel free to go ahead.” He was a host, not a thief. He only took his rightful amount.

The killer looked at the wallet before turning for the door. “I don’t need the money.”

“Suit yourself.”

It took him but five steps to open the door, and Shuusei was keenly aware of the presence behind him. Perhaps it was the words that were uttered, but the host paused at the door way and spun back around to face the other. In this close proximity, and with the aid of the dim lighting in the hallway, Shuusei gauged that this killer should be around his age. Maybe a bit younger.

Young, for a killer. And yet, he had spoken like a true professional.

The killer did not shy away from the gaze and on the threshold of discovery, they remained rooted and starring until Shuusei tilted his head ever so slightly. “Are you tired?”

“Yes.”

A question that penetrated multitudes of layers was met by an automatic response that answered with every single one of those levels met. Perhaps in that moment, there was a silent understanding between the two of them.

Shuusei’s lips twitched into a faint smile before he dropped his gaze and slipped out of the room, followed by the killer. They moved silently down the hallway and out the back door. The killer’s fingers were still gripped around his gun, unsure of this game and of this man in front of him. He was prepared to kill if it meant to silence a witness, but this host had provided him nothing but a sense of detachment from this world.

“I need a ride.”

Shuusei’s voice broke his thoughts and he looked up in a startle. “Where to?”

The host couldn’t help but laugh; it was a slow and almost playful sound that was laced with so much seduction he didn’t quite know how to respond. “I’ll tell you on the way.” Somehow, that was all that was required for him to find his car keys and open the door for the host.

A king, he couldn’t help but feel; it was as if he was serving a royalty.

“What’s your name?” He couldn’t help but ask after exactly eight minutes of silence in the car.

“Shuusei. You?”

“Shinya.”

“That’s a rather unfitting code name.”

“It’s my real name.”

Here, Shuusei had to turn and look at the man driving. The host could not help but wonder if Shinya did everything seriously. He killed seriously. He spoke seriously. He drove seriously, with both hands on the wheel and all. Shuusei couldn’t help the small laugh. “An assassin telling me his real name, is that wise?”

“Is it wise for a host to be sitting here with the killer who just killed his client?”

Touche.

“Then I guess we’re even.”

And cue in that silence once again.

They say that true companionship was not defined by similarities or differences. They say that true companionship was defined by how you regard the inevitable silences that would fall into any interaction. If it was awkward, then perhaps all the amiable talks were just to fill up space with something so that the ugly truth could not be discovered. If it was comfortable, then perhaps there needed to be no words at all; all was within one’s understanding. It had been precisely twenty minutes that they’ve known of each other, and silence had accounted for ninety percent of those twenty minutes. Yet, there was no discomfort with the silence; the longer it stretched, the more meaning there seemed to bear.

Shinya’s car rolled to a stop in front of Red Velvet, and Shuusei unbuckled his seat belt to open the car door.

“Do you work here?” It came from within the car, and Shuusei turned to duck his head back in with a raised eyebrow. “I thought you were from Opiate.”

Shuusei’s eyes flashed at that name, a violet that spoke of annoyance and dislike. He offered a smile and leaned against the opened car door. “If I were from Opiate, I would not have been in that cheap motel with some dying man’s dick up my ass.”

Shinya’s lips moved but no words came out. “Point taken.” He finally said.

“Come in and play sometime.”

And the host moved back to shut the door before turning to head for his work, his home, and his life; all rolled into one. He did not look back to see whether Shinya was still there or whether the assassin had taken off already. No, Shuusei never did such a thing; he never looked back.

The closer he moved towards Red Velvet, the more noticeable his headache became. In that previous moment of silence, it had soothed his head. However, now that he was back within the bowels of this sleepless club, the music, the people, the crowd, the smell, everything put a frown on his face and his head throbbed. Out of habit, he patted his pockets for his cigarettes when he found something else. Digging into his pocket, Shuusei pulled out a cylindrical, plastic, white bottle that rattled when he shook it. Inside were pain killers.

Memories of yesterday night flooded back and Shuusei’s fingers closed around the damned thing tightly.

He remembered his annoyance when he found the bottle sitting outside of his room this morning and wanted to step on it. No matter how strong the urge was, he restrained and picked it up. The note however, he did enjoy tearing it into pieces and throwing the debris into the trash can. Upon reflection, Shuusei didn’t even know what pissed him off so much about Kirin. In all his years of rolling from one yakuza bed to another, Shuusei had met numerous others who made his insides turn.

Kirin? He was in a league of his own. So much so that Shuusei could not even describe the feelings that he had for that stupid man.

His eyes scanned around the club and he pinned them on the young kid sitting alone in a booth. There was a reason why he kept this bottle of pain killers, and it was not to remind himself how much Kirin annoyed the hell out of him. Heading towards the youngster, Shuusei brushed past people who starred after him. He knew his eyes and the butterfly on his body drew towards this club a great crowd of people, but he also knew that not everyone was privileged enough to see them.

“You.”

“What do you want?”

“Something that will be beneficial to the both of us.”

“How is a whore going to benefit me other than suck my dick?”

Shuusei’s eyes were ice cold when he looked down at the cocky child. This one looked to be no older than eighteen, but there was already a pretentious swagger about him. Shuusei had seen him around, hanging around men of importance and wanting to join Shigeki-ikka, one of the two most prominent yakuza clans in the city. The other one, of course, was Hirokin-kai.

“This,” Shuusei started and put the bottle of pain killers onto the table “belongs to the kumicho of Hirokin-kai.”

“And?”

Oh Jesus Christ on a fucking bloody stake! Shuusei did not know whether he wanted to roll his eyes or bash his head against something at the stupidity that these young ones were capable of.

“And, are you stupid?”

“Hey you whore!” The kid jumped up immediately. “Watch your mouth or I’ll put it out of use for you.”

“You stupid little kid can’t even take a hint when it’s thrown at you, what makes you think you can stand here and threaten me?” Shuusei took one step forward and shoved the younger back onto the sofa. Before he could move, Shuusei had already lifted a leg and placed his foot atop his chest, making sure the kid felt his weight. Even if there wasn’t much weight to begin with. “Now you listen to me and deliver this bottle back to Hirokin-kai’s kumicho, got it?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Aren’t you always trying to kiss ass and join Shigeki-ikka? Well, here” he nodded towards the bottle “is your opportunity to make a name for yourself and get the attention of someone in Shigeki-ikka.”

Shuusei watched as the kid tried to wrap his head around what he just said. Two minutes and he finally saw a light in the dark. Oh for fuck’s sake, how could society tolerate such stupidity?

“Why are you helping me with this?”

“That,” Shuusei finally removed his foot and inclined his head to look down his nose at the kid “is for me to know and for you not to know.”

Why do the dirty work himself when he could get someone else to do for it him? Besides, this kid obviously shouldn’t be breathing if he was practically made of stupidity. And either way, Shigeki-ikka’s kumicho was not an idiot and would never consider accepting him as a member anyways.

Hey, this was a city with two yakuza clans; it was only a matter of time before they decided on who stayed and who left.


To be continued...