Chapter Five:
Layer Cake
Akira felt an alien sense of confidence as he strolled down the bustling street, about halfway to his destination given him by Ryuji. As it was earlier, and confirming to himself that it was not some kind of fluke or merely Ryuji's daunting presence, passersby made a point of leaving Akira alone. They still gave him sideways glances, women still ogled him occasionally while men looked down their noses at him. Save for one smirk given to a particularly crass passerby flipping him off, Akira did not interact with nor acknowledge those that passed him. His primary concern was whatever this errand for Ryuji entailed, which would soon be answered as he came across his destination.
The address of what seemed to be a little hole in the wall weapon shop matched exactly to the scribbles on the napkin. Atop the cement gray walls of the tiny place nestled in between two larger convenience stores was a sign reading "Untouchable" in jagged, almost off-putting letters. Akira raised an eyebrow, half-tempted to laugh at the edgy persona given off by just the storefront alone. Can't wait to see the manager, he mused as he pushed the door open.
A tiny bell rang, signaling his entrance as he stepped onto the hard, tiled floor. Lining the walls and shelves were guns upon knives upon guns upon more knives. Most appeared to be models and replicas, but Akira guessed that a little less than half the inventory had to be real. Just what the hell did Ryuji want me here for?
A few feet to his right sat a man. At least, he appeared to be a man. Peeking out over the top of a magazine depicting a beautiful, smiling, and almost concerningly youthful Japanese girl on the front was a cap with a pair of bulky, yellow headphones suspended on top of it. Akira got his first glimpse of the man's face when he lowered the magazine slightly, revealing a pair of grey, pale eyes emitting a glare as sharp as a katana. Akira felt goosebumps rub up his back as that icy gaze met his.
"Can I help ya?" the man asked without moving the magazine. His tone was low and gruff, suggesting a lifetime's worth of "I've seen some shit".
Akira swallowed in his throat, thinking through the next few seconds of his life carefully. "I was sent here," he said slowly, "by Ryuji. He didn't tell me why, just said to come here."
"Hmm," the man groaned. "Password," he looked back to the magazine.
"What?"
"Password," the man declared roughly, glaring at Akira again.
"Uh, Ryuji didn't give me a password," Akira grew a little more uncomfortable, and worried. "He didn't say anything about some password."
The man nodded then rubbed his temple. "Relax, kid, I'm just screwing with you," he replied slowly, his voice sounding slightly less gruff than before. Placing the magazine down, he finally revealed his face. A strong jaw, scruff covering his mouth, chin and cheeks, and a far more neutral expression than when Akira had arrived. "There's no password, I just wanted to see how you'd react."
"And did I pass the test?"
"Yeah, but barely." He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms. "You got guts, kid, but you're gonna need a hell of a lot more of it."
"What, you reading my fortune or something?" Akira smirked, trying to lighten the mood.
The gruff man smirked back at him. "Okay, maybe you got a little more guts than I thought. Anyway, you got a name?"
"Akira Kurusu. What's yours?"
"Call me Iwai." The man Akira now knew as Iwai sat up in his chair and looked the young man up and down closely, seemingly scanning his every feature. "Ryuji already got you into trouble, Kurusu?" Iwai asked nonchalantly.
"Just a bit of a scrape. Is it that obvious?"
"Not to most people, no. But given that I know Ryuji, and your fancy ass suit is dusty, obviously recently by the looks of it, I just assumed. However, since you admit that you were in a fight, and all you got to show for it is some dust and wrinkles on your suit, I take it you were either taking on kids, or you actually know how to fight."
Damn, this guy's pretty perceptive. I don't want to end up on his bad side. Akira nodded. "My mom taught me how to fight practically since I could walk. That, and the guys we took on were just a bunch of high school goons who thought they owned the streets. All we did was give them something to think about."
Iwai chuckled, coming across as rather uncharacteristic to Akira. "Ryuji put you up to that?"
"Yeah, he said it was important, and that he wanted to see how I did in a fight."
"I guarantee you that was the most important part to him, kid. High schoolers who can barely pay for lunch every day really aren't that big a deal to our organization. Ryuji probably just wanted an opportunity to flex both your muscles."
"Honestly, I'm not surprised. I don't even have any idea what I'm doing here."
"Well, pretty sure you've noticed you're in a weapons shop by now."
Akira nodded and glanced around the room, taking interest in the guns and swords on the wall behind Iwai. "Hard not to. Though, it looks like most of these are models."
"You're right, most are. I buy replicas and other stuff like that then resell 'em. But I do stock some real honest to goodness weapons for my, well, more special clientele."
"Those being the yakuza," Akira crossed his arms.
Iwai nodded. "No sense in trying to put it past you; you are a family man now, after all."
"Family man?"
"That's what we call ourselves sometimes, exclusively when talking to other yakuza. We're all 'family men' because we belong to the family, from our minds to our bodies to our souls."
"Talk about a commitment."
"The same one you're apart of now, kid." Iwai got to his feet and stretched his arms, letting out a low groan. "Wait here for a moment, and don't touch anything."
"Uh, yeah. Sure." Iwai opened the door behind him to some back room and disappeared, leaving Akira alone in the shop. Some low-quality elevator music played quietly over the speaks above him, and he could not tell if it made him feel more or less awkward. He spied the magazine Iwai had been looking at, laying closed on the counter. Getting a better look at it, Akira saw an admittedly very attractive Japanese girl with a radiant, sunny smile. Her chestnut hair was pulled back in pigtails, and she was clad in a very revealing bikini, giving Akira a good look at her… developed pale bust.
'Geez, what were they feeding this girl?' he thought. The credit on the photo simply said "Hitomi". 'Hmm, may need to keep that name in mind.'
"Hey!" Iwai's voice called from his side, startling Akira back to the real world. "Look at that stuff on your own time," he glared at him.
"Oh god, sorry!" Akira felt his face begin to burn in embarrassment, until Iwai chuckled.
"I'm just messing with you, kid. Again," he smirked. Akira was still only mostly sure his heart was still beating. However, his questionable heart attack did not keep him from noticing the small, rectangular package he held in his hand. It was about the size of his forearm, and seemed to be a brown, wooden box. "This is what Ryuji wanted you to pick up," he held it out to Akira. "Take it home with you, and don't open it until you arrive."
"Why's that?"
"Why do ya think? You're in a weapon shop, Akira."
"Oh!" Akira's eyes widened. "Is it a gun?"
Iwai's eyes narrowed, looking entirely unimpressed. "No," he said curtly. "I'm not giving some green footed punk off the street a nine-millimeter on his first day. It's just something to keep you safe when fists may not cut it. Everyone gets it when they start out, otherwise we'd have a lot more turnover."
Iwai handed the package to Akira, who took it in hand tentatively. The wood was incredibly smooth to the touch, and glistened in the light, obviously covered in some sort of resin. "I really doubt I have the money for this, Iwai. This looks like the box alone would be worth my life savings."
"That's why you're not paying for it."
"What?"
Iwai nodded. "It's taken care of. All you gotta do is get on back to your place."
"Who covered the cost though? Ryuji? Or…" he paused, "it was Boss, wasn't it?"
Iwai smirked and said, "Heh. Just head back home, kid. Have a good one," he waved his hand to Akira, both as a goodbye and act of dismissal, then picked up his magazine again and opened it, placing his feet on the counter. He pulled the headphones down over his ears and acted like Akira was no longer present.
The young man looked at Iwai with an eyebrow raised, then at the box in his hand. He could try pestering the gruff man for more information, yes, or he could just not cause trouble and go home. He was outside on the sidewalk a moment later.
Akira's legs were sore by the time he reached the front door of leBlanc. He walked in and saw the same huge guards that had "escorted" him the previous night standing outside the elevator. Slowly, and without making eye contact, he walked up to them, keeping his facial expression strong and cold. As he approached, the guard on the right, who was standing in front of the button panel, said in a low tone, "Going up?"
Akira stopped in front of them, his suspicion hopefully not completely apparent on his face. "Yes," he said slowly, "to my room."
The guard pressed a button on the panel behind him and folded his hands in front of himself. The elevator doors opened with a ding. "Have a good day," said the other guard. Akira was at a loss for how to react, simply thanking him and nodding before entering the elevator. He pressed the penthouse button on the panel inside and the door closed.
"The hell was that?" he said aloud as the elevator started to move.
Another ding and the doors opened again to the same lavish penthouse apartment Akira had somehow ended up staying in the previous night. It was quiet, a couple lights were on despite the midday sun shining brightly through the windows down the hall. Maybe Sojiro is back now? Maybe I'll at least get to ask him why he bought me this. Akira held up the box and looked at it again, then made his way to his room. He shut the door behind him and placed the box on the floor, sitting beside it.
Akira would be lying were he to say he was not at least curious about the contents of the box. He had gotten it from a weapon salesman, after all. He stroked his chin, considering the possibility of what could be inside. It was not a gun, he knew that much. So, the most likely possibility given its size and shape would be a knife. That's gotta be it. Akira slowly lifted the lid of the box, revealing its contents. His eyes widened as they fell on the object inside.
A thin case, the width of about two of his fingers, lay nestled in the inside of the box. A beautiful painting of a crimson koi fish swimming up a river surrounded by trees with deep violet flowers stretched across the entire object. The material it was made out of shimmered even in the dim light of his room, giving off a reflective quality as he could clearly see his face in the white parts of the object. "It's a sheath," Akira said aloud.
The young man picked it up, feeling just how perfectly smooth the sheath was, almost enough for it to slip out of his grasp. Inspecting the admittedly beautiful artwork on the sheath, he caught another glimpse of his face. He looked tired, his eyes had dark bags beneath them, his eyelids hung lower than usual. Then a much more pressing thought came to mind. "The hell am I doing?" he said aloud to no one. "I got a knife, from a yakuza, and I'm opening it in the home of a yakuza boss?! How… just how did any of this happen!?" he rubbed his temple and groaned at the absurdity of the situation he found himself in, but the knife remained in his hand. Akira looked at it again and sighed. "There's not exactly a way out of this right now," he said. He removed his hand from his face and took hold of the sheath, pulling the cover off.
As he pulled, a shining two-fold blade as clear as a mirror was revealed to him, creating an even more crisp image of himself on it. A line of Hiragana characters was engraved on the blade reading "自分が思っていた以上のものになる"
"Be more than what you thought you were," Akira read.
"That's the koi fish's dream," the voice of Sojiro said from Akira's right. The young man saw the enigmatic yakuza standing in his doorway, leaning against the frame with arms crossed. "Let me explain. It's said that if the koi fish can swim upriver over a waterfall, he will transform into a dragon."
"You don't say. I'm guessing you're the one that foot the bill for the knife?"
"Not exactly subtle, I'm aware," Sojiro nodded, "but you're gonna need a way to defend yourself that's a little more immediately threatening than your fists. With good luck, you'll never have to even pull that thing out of your pocket, but I'm not that much of a gambler," the old man chuckled.
"Hmph," Akira smirked. "Well, not that I'm not appreciative of the thought," he sheathed the blade and stood up, "but I'm still not exactly down with this whole business. You know that, right?"
"I do, but whether you're 'down with it' or not, you're gonna run into some unruly types eventually. But then again, you already have had a fun run in, haven't you, kid?"
Akira looked away and smacked his lips. "Word travels fast in this business, yeesh."
"I gave Ryuji a call while you were down at Iwai's and he gave me the whole story. Gotta be honest, I haven't seen the kid that excited in quite a while. He spoke very highly of you, both regarding your fighting skills and your personal skills."
"Well, consider me flattered," Akira shuffled his feet awkwardly. "He's not a bad guy either. A bit hot headed, but he seems to know what he's doing. Also pretty damn good at insults."
"That is a special talent of his," Sojiro chuckled again. "A little rough around the edges, but he's good at what he does. And given you two are the same age, I figured he'd be a good mentor for you."
"It definitely was an adventure," Akira let the smallest hint of a grin reach his face as he thought about the meal he and Ryuji shared, how Ma treated the both of them, and then how they pulverized those upstarts. His gut tingled with excitement at the memory of the rush of combat.
"Tell me, how did Ma treat ya?"
"Oh, Ma? She was… uh, very friendly."
"How friendly we talking here?
"Let's just say I can see why people call her 'Ma'. She's got that kind of motherly vibe about her, but almost in a sensual way, I guess. I'll bet she's very popular with your employees."
"Oh, she is, she is. But not everyone gets to enjoy her company. I'm very close to her family, so I keep her as far away from the nastier side of the business as I can. Meaning the rougher boys of the family don't get to see her much. But those that do are always itching to go down to Serenity for a drink after their done for the day, Ryuji especially."
"They did seem to have a pretty strong connection."
"Ma has a habit of taking the punkish boys like Ryuji under her wing. Hey, keeps everyone happy and makes them better workers, so I'm not complaining."
"I don't doubt it." Akira realized he was still holding the knife; he rubbed his thumb across the sheath's smooth surface, and it glided effortlessly across it. "How much did this cost, Sojiro?"
"Akira, don't you know it's impolite to ask someone how much their gift cost?"
"Yeah, but I doubt you give out something this nice to all your new boys, right? This thing looks like it belongs in a museum or some fancy auction, not in my pocket!"
"Akira, it's a nice knife, that's all," Sojiro replied matter-of-factly. "Keep your pants on about it, okay?" Sojiro then walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. He opened one of the overhead cabinets and took out a bottle of vitamins, then swallowed two of them in one gulp. "I may be a criminal, but I'm still up there in years. Gotta watch my health just like any other man my age," he remarked. "Say, Akira, you ever experience the nightlife in your hometown?"
"Eh, no? Why?" Akira placed the knife on his bed and walked out into the kitchen.
"Kamurocho is famous for its after dark entertainment, and seeing as how you're not working any jobs for me yet, I figured you should take the night to see some of the sights."
"Wait, that's it? Just go out and hit up a club or something?"
"Essentially, though you will have one task to complete."
Akira raised an eyebrow and lowered his head slightly. "What would that be?"
"There's a popular dance club I have some investment in a few blocks from here. You and Ryuji are going to down there and check on the place's security. There's been more reports of gang activity in that neck of the woods, and you're going to see if they need any additional help."
"Me and Ryuji?" Akira asked. "I'm guessing he already agreed to this?"
"He'll be by to get you within the hour, he's currently wrapping up an errand. But that really is all: go down there, chat with the manager, and enjoy the rest of your night. Simple as that."
Akira sighed and looked anywhere around the room except at Sojiro. Once again, he found himself wrapped up in yakuza business without even a slight chance at saying no. He bit his lip, suppressing his desire to get angry. It's for your own good and your family's, man. Keep it together and have a good night, for fuck's sake. "Fine," he finally said. "I'll do it."
"I knew you would," Sojiro nodded. "If I find the time, I'll even swing by and check out the place myself, though I do have a few meetings to get to tonight. Anyway, don't bleed your wallet's dry and don't do anything to embarrass the organization. Apart from that, enjoy your evening, Akira." Sojiro began walking upstairs toward his room, but Akira knew he had to at least make one remark as not to seem completely complacent.
"I'm only doing this 'cuz I have to, you know," he called up to Sojiro.
"Whatever justification you need to ease your conscience doesn't really concern me, boy. All I care about is effective, efficient results." Before Akira could utter another word, Sojiro disappeared upstairs, accompanied by the sound of a closing door.
"Damn it," Akira said under his breath. "Another errand for a freaking yakuza." He stroked his chin concerningly, but his mind and eyes were pulled back to the knife on his bed. It lay there still; even in the dim light of the bedroom it managed to shine faintly. More gang activity, huh? Akira thought. Maybe that's why he got me a knife so quickly.
For the next forty-give minutes, Akira remained almost perfectly still on his bed, his knife laying next to him on the pillow. He contemplated the events of the last couple days like had so many times before, and became so deep in thought that he was almost unaware of the world around him. As he thought about the reality of his situation, his thoughts meandered toward his family. It was not like he had never stayed away from them for an extended period of time, but perhaps due to the stress of the situation he found himself in, he plain and simply missed them dearly. Especially his mother. For a moment, Akira considered calling her, if only to hear her tell him that everything was going to be alright, but that thought was dashed from his mind when he heard a loud electronic buzz from the foyer.
Akira got up and looked out of his doorway. On a panel next to the elevator was a dark gold intercom with a shining red lightbulb at the top of it. That same buzzing sound he had heard emanated from it in sync with the light turning on. He walked over to the intercom and pressed the button tepidly. "Hello?"
"Hey, man!" the voice of Ryuji said in a slightly garbled tone. "Just got back here for ya! I'm sure Boss already told you what was going down tonight, so make sure you're wearing something nice and head on down here, okay? I wanna get this meeting out of the way fast as possible so we can have more time with the ladies, you know what I'm sayin'?"
He's certainly excited. "Alright, man, I'll be down in a few."
"Sweet! Hurry it up so we can hurry on over!" With that, the blond punkish boy disconnected.
"Well," Akira said to himself, "this oughta be interesting. A night out with a yakuza, huh? What could possibly go wrong?"