Chapter Text
A week later, Yagami hadn’t seen Kitagawa around town again, but he also hadn’t been assaulted by enraged hosts wielding roses, so he counted that as a success. He’d just located the last tonkatsu bento left in the Poppo in front of the batting center when, over the top of the instant ramen aisle, he made eye contact with a freakishly tall, large man, bleached blonde hair like a lion’s mane and a jaw like a cinderblock.
Yagami made a noncommittal gesture, hoping he wasn’t gonna have to fight for his lunch, but the man’s stare only got more intense. As he rounded off the aisle and approached him in front of the onigiri fridge with wide strides, Yagami had time to notice it wasn’t just his hair that was bright; his long coat was printed with wide sweeps of vivid reds and yellows, and his checkered pants were bright lime - the man was a semaphore, built like a brick shithouse. He advanced on him as menacingly as somebody holding three fashion magazines and a Hello Kitty soda in his hands could look, his lips curling into a snarl.
The family crest was almost lost on his lapel. Yagami had just enough time to catch the 富 on it before the man stopped in front of him.
It wasn’t often that Yagami had to tilt his head back to look somebody in the eye.
“Yagami-kun,” said the man, more of a statement than a question.
“Who needs to know?”
“You,” he said, his eyes narrowing, one finger jabbing at Yagami’s chest with a little too much force. “Ya got the Kyorei Clan killed.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, man,” lied Yagami, and he must have lied badly because it set a fire in the man’s eyes.
It was still hard to think about that night. He already felt responsible enough as it was.
“We shared turf back in Osaka. They were our brothers.” He leaned in closer, towering over Yagami. “I’m going to kill you,” he snarled. He had a lot of teeth, or at least it looked like it.
“I think it’d be very rude to make the poor employees mop up blood,” said Yagami, voice steady even if he felt a bit like suffocating. “Can I get a raincheck?”
“Oh, not today.” The man pulled back sharply, his incredibly fake, toothy smile stretching his mouth to a grotesque level. “But when ya least expect it. Soon. Expect the wrath of the Tominari family on yer flat little ass.”
Yagami decided it was wise not to contest that.
The man stalked out in a sweep of his coat.
And then he ran back in a minute later to hurriedly pay, not making eye contact with Yagami, and ran out again with his magazines.
Yagami looked at the cashier. The cashier mouthed, slowly, what the fuck at him.
“I wish I knew, man,” he sighed. “I wish I knew.”
***
Yagami had almost entirely forgotten his bizarre encounter in front of the onigiri display by the time he’d gotten done chasing after some horndog husband to track down all the soapland girls he was throwing the family savings to, and then having to talk down a mob of soapland girls now bereft of their best tipper. At least Kim-san owed him, big time, and he could placate them with yakiniku and beer until they forgot their worries.
Yagami did not have such luxury, and after awkwardly comforting the scorned wife and feeling guilty for taking what was left of their savings as his fee, he was more than ready to go home when Kaito picked him up from the office.
“All the girls happy now?”
“Not happy, but it’ll do. They didn’t trash the Beef Zone, so I think we’re in the clear.”
Yagami chuckled, linking his arm with Kaito’s, still a little electrified by the fact he could do it now, openly, where everybody could see them, and Kaito walked proud at his side. He was also happy he could lock up the office and just leave, instead of living in it, surrounded by ghosts and slightly moldy laundry. “Let’s go home.”
“Sounds good.”
Yagami thought about the threat as they walked past the still boarded up building that used to house KJ Art, and tensed just a fraction, expecting a large shadow to break off the darkened windows and attack them. But nothing happened.
when ya least expect it. Soon.
He relaxed as they slipped through the street leading into the Champion District, already feeling safer in the thick weave of alleys he had started to call home a few months before. And then they stopped in their tracks, just a block from their apartment.
A man with sharp features, perhaps the sharpest man Yagami had ever seen, rested against the wall, feet at the other end, blocking the way and regarding them with a smirk.
“I’m guessing we should take the long way around?” said Yagami, noticing the Tominari crest on the man’s lapel, the only note of color in a completely black ensemble that made his pale skin almost glow in the neon buzz of the champion district.
“That’d be nice, yeah.” He had a surprisingly pleasant voice, a gentle crinkle of crow’s feet around his narrow eyes when he smiled like a razorblade.
“And if we don’t?”
He was expecting the man to attack them, but he just kept smiling serenely, and opened his jacket just enough for Yagami to see the glint of the handgun strapped at his side.
“Gotcha. Let’s go, Kaito-san.”
They were almost home when Kaito finally said, “So who the fuck was that?”
“Now, I am not 100% sure, but I think we just met a hitman from the Tominari family.”
“You mean the freak that threatened you in a Poppo? That guy? I thought you said he wasn’t a threat.”
Yagami unlocked the front door, breathing a sigh of relief at being back between walls. He was tired of only feeling safe when hiding from whatever eyes might be watching. “I said I didn’t think he was a threat. We found very little about their family, so I assumed they were bit players.”
“That gun didn’t look fake.”
Yagami slumped on the couch. “We’ll be fine. Just don’t antagonize them.”
“Can’t promise anything if that guy makes another comment on your ass,” grunted Kaito, and Yagami smiled and got up to join him in the kitchen.
He looped his arms around Kaito’s waist as he made coffee, kissing him behind his ear, that blushed red instantly. “Really, Masa? Jealous of me now?”
Kaito shivered. The nickname was still new on Yagami’s tongue, and it never failed to turn Kaito into putty whenever he uttered it.
“You know I’m yours.”
Kaito spun around, dislodged Yagami from his back and dipped him with a kiss hotter than any coffee could have been. “I do. I just worry, okay?”
Back on his feet, Yagami rested his head on Kaito’s shoulder as he resumed filling the coffee machine. “I’ll be careful.”
“No more head trauma.”
“No more getting shot, either.”
Kaito huffed. “Fine. No getting shot.” The coffee started percolating, but his hand was already warm on Yagami’s side.
It was hard to feel safe these days, but this tiny two room apartment, this tiny badly-lit kitchenette with the bad coffee maker they rescued from the Matsugane office, the bed filling almost the entire room Yagami was dumped onto with a laugh, this was their haven. They’d fought and sacrificed and lost so much for it. It was theirs. And no politician or yakuza was gonna take it from them.
***
When you least expect it was right. Yagami did not, in fact, expect the massive man to ambush him outside of the bathhouse, intruding on their sacred bath time. He dropped his bath caddy and towel in Kaito’s arms and dodged the first swing, just barely.
“Really? Here?”
“I told ya! Soon!”
Yagami managed to drag Tominari’s massive range of punches and kicks a little to the side, so hopefully they wouldn’t break anything that belonged to the bathhouse ossan. The old man had seen them every Friday night since they were seventeen, and they owed him as much.
Tominari fought as if his joints were more of a suggestion than a structure, throwing his entire huge mass into every attack and shove, superficially uncoordinated but surprisingly graceful, especially in the hot pink flip-flops he was wearing. He expertly dodged Yagami’s roundhouse kick and flipped him in mid-air to slam him into the wall.
“Tabo!”
“Oh, who’s the hunk?” whistled Tominari, taking a step back and letting Yagami get back into a defensive stance.
“I’m his partner, and you’re in a lotta trouble, buddy,” growled Kaito, awkwardly looking for a place to leave their bath caddies and join the fight.
“Partner, huh,” smiled Tominari, quite literally ear to ear. He yelped when Yagami swept his legs from under him and then crashed like a ton of bricks.
“Ya good, Makoto?”
That was when Yagami noticed the other guy, the assassin or whoever he was, looking a lot less threatening in a white t-shirt, wet hair, and holding two bathhouse caddies just like Kaito was. One of them had a rubber duckie peeking over the edge
“I’m fine, Satopon, just hurt my pride,” laughed Tominari, getting up. Yagami noticed now that he also had wet hair.
Perhaps this was less of a calculated ambush and more of a “I saw you outside and couldn’t miss the opportunity” situation.
Also, Satopon? The sharp hitman did not look like a Satopon.
“Well, I hate to get all sweaty right after a bath, dontcha, Takkun?”
“Takkun?” The outrage in Kaito’s voice was worth getting called that, actually.
“Keep yer guard up!” laughed Tominari, punching the air playfully as if he hadn’t promised to murder him just three days ago. “Ya never know when I’ll hit ya!”
And then they turned and left, just like that, the threadbare, damp shirts they wore doing nothing to hide the extensive ink on their backs and upper arms, roaring Fujin and Raijin facing each other in a pattern of clouds and thunder that became one single picture when Tominari slung his arm around the smaller man at his side.
Even Yagami had to admit, it was rather impressive. And kind of gay.
“What the hell,” muttered Kaito.
“That’s the guy. Tominari.”
Kaito put a possessive arm around his waist as they walked into the bathhouse, cheerfully greeting the ossan. The bathhouse had been a Matsugane family favorite from before Kaito had even joined, and now that everybody had gone their separate ways, he was always happy to see them.
Of course, realized Yagami as they undressed, it was one of the last bathhouses that turned a blind eye to the yakuza and their tattoos. No wonder they ran into each other.
“I don’t like him,” concluded Kaito as Yagami sat down in front of him, and he vigorously started washing Yagami’s hair.
“He’s weird,” agreed Yagami, boneless. “But we’ve had weirder.”
Despite the fight, they could still relax in the steaming water, and that was all Yagami needed. Their bath time was special, it was when they decompressed and strategized without urgency. They'd solved cases up to their noses in the bath. Yagami wished he could solve this one, but something was still missing. Hopefully Izumi would bring some sort of insider information to the table, because quite frankly, he was at a dead end, and being chased and ambushed while he spun his wheels left a bad aftertaste in his mouth.
Hopefully, they’d get tired of it quickly.
A week later Yagami was no closer to having clear leads on the case, and Tominari and his boyfriend-slash-assassin were not remotely tired yet. Tominari hid behind the counter of Yagami’s favorite takoyaki cart, and launched white hot takoyaki into his face. Popped out of the sewers and threw a manhole at him; what kind of freak throws manholes? Yagami caught Tominari stalking the area around Charles, which forced him to go in from the roof, Sugiura’s preferred route. But then when he climbed back up as he left, later that night, the hitman was there on the roof of the next building over, playing with a knife that glinted as sharply as his impossible cheekbones in the neon haze. He smiled at him, his eyes cold and cutting like that blade promised to be.
They were only slightly less annoying than the Keihin gang had been back in the day, and he was starting to get the impression that they didn’t actually mean to kill him, but Yagami was a lot more on edge these days. He was ready for whatever fancy had taken them to pass, and to be left the hell alone.
***
It was early in the morning when Yagami left for the office, Kaito still snoring in bed and making a strong argument for snuggling back under the covers instead of heading out into the sharp cold air of early Kamurocho spring. He almost expected a certain large man to pop out of a sewer grate or one of those giant cones, at least to get his blood pumping, but nothing but store owners seemed to be bothered to be awake at that hour.
When something moved on the stairs by the office door as he unlocked it, Yagami’s heart almost stopped. Was he really not safe even in his office?
“Yagami-san?”
The man on the stairs didn’t seem particularly threatening. He didn’t seem yakuza, or police. Kind of small, buried in an expensive-looking hypebeast hoodie that clashed a bit with the fact that he looked about Yagami’s age. Hot pink beanie on his head. Not exactly screaming assassin.
“Yeah?”
“You might know my bosses.” He rolled the lip of his hood inside out, flashing the crest pinned discreetly inside. “Tominari family.”
“Ah.”
“My name is Nakamura. I’ve been sent to, and I quote, 'put some fire under Takkun’s ass'— I apologize for my boss, from the bottom of my heart.” He sighed. He looked tired, more than anything.
“No, it’s okay,” chuckled Yagami. “Do you want to take it outside, or…?”
Nakamura looked at his (large, expensive, designer) watch. “Honestly, what I want is a triple espresso. It’s entirely too early to fight.”
“I know a place.”
“Lead the way.”
***
Nakamura followed Yagami, squeezing the Koro-nyan squishy in his hoodie pocket. Tominari had pressed it into his hand after winning it at some gacha machine.
“For when ya get anxious,” he’d said, “Plus it’s a dice, heh. Remember the Family’s old cho-han joint? People used to request ya as a dealer. Good times.”
The familiar sensation in his hand slowed down his breakneck spin cycle of thoughts, but only just.
Tominari pantomiming swinging a baseball bat. “Just tell Takkun you’re here to play ball!”
Asagi making a finger-gun gesture, looking down his sharp nose. “The Tominari Family sends its regards.“
Yagami and Nakamura climbed a flight of stairs, arriving at the entrance to a cute cafe. Nakamura hadn’t brought his bat, nor a gun.
Yagami ordered his coffee and pulled out a punch card.
“Yagami-san! This is your tenth visit! Would you like to redeem it for a free pastry?” the girl at the counter chirped.
“Nakamura, you want anything?”
“But that’s your free loyalty pastry,” Nakamura replied. Feeding him? Already?
“You’re the first member of the Tominari Family to not threaten me with violence. I think it’s a cause for celebration, don’t you?”
“Alright. Only ‘cause I was seriously eyeing that croissant.”
They sat down with their food and drinks. Nakamura bit into the croissant, savoring the buttery goodness. It only hit him now, up close, just how pretty this Yagami guy was. He really didn’t need any more things to worry about. He took a deep breath and a sip of his black triple espresso with extra sugar.
“So, uh… About my family.”
Yagami nodded. “They sent you to come fight me, right?”
“Yeah. But I fuckin’-- Tominari ain’t always right, I can tell you that much. Love him like my own family, but I can’t abide this shit. Moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t do it. Knew you were like me.”
“Also not a morning person?” Yagami volunteered.
“Hah. Yeah. But also, would rather talk it out than fight, if possible.”
“Got that right. Wish more people would. If you’d believe it, your boss and his… Cheekbones guy?”
Nakamura nodded. “Satoru Asagi, the Family Captain.”
“Right. They aren’t even the only ones who’ve ambushed me recently. This host, Izumi, attacked me the other day. Threw a rose and a bottle of wine at me. We resolved the issue, but man…”
“Sounds like quite the character.”
“Yeah, I’ll say. So what was it you wanted to talk about?”
Nakamura fiddled with his straw. Where to even begin?
“Tominari can be so impulsive, sometimes. He comes to me one day all bombastic, mad off his ass, saying ‘Nacchan, Nacchan, Asagi got a line on avengin’ Murase-han and Shioya-han…’ The Kyorei patriarch personally asked him and everything. But to me, none of it sounded quite right. I kept tryin’ to tell them, your intel sounds fucky, but when he gets in these moods there’s no talkin’ him down. And I’d rather not fight the guy. Brick shithouse and all. I’d like to hear your side, if that ain’t too much to ask, Yagami-san.”
Yagami sighed. “I guess all this yakuza stuff is real hush-hush as far as intel-gathering…” He stared into his drink and took another sip. He met Nakamura’s gaze with such intensity.
“Nakamura-san… I need you to understand, I really did everything I could. And sure, I fought Shioya and Murase a few times each. But ultimately, everything I did two years ago was in service of unraveling the conspiracy that was using Kyorei men for experiments. Like they were expendable. And I know… That’s no excuse for what happened, to them…” HIs voice faltered a bit.
Oh, his bosses were gonna hear a piece of his mind alright.
“You’re telling me we’ve been harassin’ the only guy who gave a shit about the Kyorei murders?” Nakamura said, immediately regretting how harsh it came out.
“When you put it that way…”
Nakamura’s eyes darted around, as if he’d find something to say. Anything to avoid meeting those haunted eyes.
“The way I’m hearin’ it, my bosses should be gettin’ you a gift basket and a bouquet for your efforts, if you ask me.”
Yagami exhaled. “No need. But if you want, you can tell Tominari-san this: the guys who did Shioya in are dead or behind bars. And the family that did that to Murase is disbanded, now.”
“Thanks. Now that you mention it… These days, it kinda feels like our family’s headed that way, too. What with all this shit that’s been happening higher up the chain with the Omi.”
“But you’re sticking around?”
“I can’t imagine life without them. They’re my real family, too. The Patriarch, the Captain, and the Lieutenants."
"The Lieutenants? Are there more guys Tominari was planning on throwing at me?"
"You’re looking at one of ‘em. The other two… they're Tominari and Asagi’s pet ferrets. Dolce and Gabbana."
Yagami snorted. "You shared your rank in the Family with ferrets?"
"I know, I know. It's not as demoralizing as you might think. Boss is real genuine and he always listens, eventually. And as weird as they are, I gotta admit the damn things are pretty cute."
"You got any pictures?"
"Asagi runs a whole Chatter for them."
Nakamura tapped on his phone and turned it around to show a picture of a white ferret and a brown and white ferret with a mask pattern on its eyes.
"He writes little interactions for them, and everything. Imagines them as a classic manzai duo." He swiped to show a picture of the mask one in a little sparkly wizard hat and cape. "Makes them costumes too."
"Wouldn't expect that from a guy like him."
"I've known them for ten years and they still manage to surprise me sometimes. But if you're thinking of following the ferret Chatter, maybe wait a day so I can talk to them first."
"Hah, or what, he'll sic them on me?"
"You'd be surprised how hard those little bastards can bite. But, anyway. That's all I needed from you. I'll get outta your hair, unless you need anything else?"
"You can throw a couple punches at me if you want to technically not lie to your bosses. I don’t wanna be the reason you get in trouble."
Nakamura waved his hand in front of his face.
"Nah, it'll be fine. I'll be able to talk to them. To be honest, I think Boss has grown… Kinda fond of you? He talks all affectionate about you. Seems like he looks forward to fighting you."
"That makes one of us. Oh, before I forget. It's a long shot, but has your Family ever dealt with anyone connected to Michiru Kitagawa? I imagine she would do a little better at covering her tracks, but…"
Nakamura tapped his nails against the table… Kitagawa… Maybe?
"You know, I'd have to check our records. Wanna give me your number so I can get back to ya?"
Yagami handed his phone over with a new contact card opened. "That would be great."
"And hey. If you need anything else, feel free to text me," Nakamura said, handing Yagami's phone back.
***
Nakamura squinted at the shelves in the hair product aisle at Donki. What was the name of the brand of bleach Tominari used? Fuck it. Nakamura pulled out his phone and hit call on his most recent contact.
“Oi, Nacchan! What’s up?”
“Hey. What hair bleach do you get again?”
“Oh! The one in the red box with the idol-lookin’ girl on it. Sensitive skin formula.”
“Thanks. Oh, and since I got ya on the line. You free to meet up right now?”
“Nah, not right now. ‘M about to attack Takkun.”
“What?! Are you shittin’ me?! We talked about that! No more attacking Yagami-san! We don’t even have beef with him!”
A woman with a small child eyed Nakamura reproachfully. The teenage girl looking at hairspray edged her way out of the aisle. Fuck. Raising his voice in public again.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” Nakamura said to the woman, bowing. He walked as fast as he could to the store entrance, head down, mumbling apologies.
Outside, however, nothing could stop him.
“Oyaji, I swear to fuckin’ God if you don’t—”
“C’mon, Nacchan! Don’t be like this! Takkun’s gotta see this outfit. I had a whole plan, and he’s so fun to fight!”
A girl handing out pocket tissues stared at him. Maybe one thing could stop him. Nakamura sighed.
“Whatever. But you owe me— no. You owe him for this one.”
“Makin’ it up to Takkun~ Makin’ it up to Takkun~” Tominari sang. “Bye, Nacchan! See you soon!”
The fuckin’ nerve of him, sometimes.
***
He’d just finished a cat search for Nekomiya and was debating texting Kaito to see if he wanted to get lunch before they went to Charles when he heard it.
At first, he thought it was horses, like a battalion of Huns descending onto Theater Square. Then he looked up, and barreling down Theater Avenue, one massive arm held out into a terrifying clothesline, was none other than the patriarch of the Tominari family, howling his name at the top of his lungs.
He was also, Yagami realized as he braced to roll under the attack, wearing a perfect replica of Sawamura Haruka-chan’s debut costume, complete with sparkling pink boots and lace fluttering madly after the unhinged yakuza.
“You know,” quipped Yagami after the first swing had gone wide and he’d rolled into a safe range. “It kinda defeats the purpose of a disguise if you just come at me screaming anyway.”
Tominari launched himself at him, and even with Yagami’s skill and keen reaction times it was scary to have that much mass throw itself at you without any kind of apparent control. “Whaddaya mean disguise? I ain’t disguised, Takkun.”
Yagami cringed. He was never gonna get used to that name. “Then what’s the costume for?” he snorted, trying to low sweep Tominari and barely grazing the heel of the boots. How could somebody this big be so fast? In heels, to boot? “You some kinda freaky fanboy?”
“I’ll have ya know,” gasped Tominari, briefly scandalized enough to get punched in the stomach. “My love for Haruka-chan is entirely pure.”
“Huh-huh.”
“‘sides, ain’t ever been into girls.” This time Yagami was the one surprised for a split second, enough to get elbowed in the chest and fuck this guy hit like a truck. “You’ve met my husband and all.”
“Met is a big word.” croaked Yagami, trying to get leverage against a surface to backflip off it. Got it. His soles connected with Tominari’s jaw.
“He’s just shy,” said Tominari, and spit out a tooth and a mouthful of blood, lace-clad wrists propped on his hips. “Ain’t he hot when he’s bein’ all dangerous like that, though?”
Yagami leaned against the wall, panting. “I guess. So the skirt…?”
“Oh.” Tominari tilted his hips with a flutter of tulle. “Just felt kinda femme this morning.”
Yagami laughed. “You know what? Valid.”
Tominari regarded him with interest, cracking a smile that, while bloody and still containing a lot of teeth, was a lot more genuine than the ones Yagami had seen before. “Well, that was fun. I gotta skedaddle, Takkun, but we should totally do this again, yeah?”
“Wait, I talked with Nakamura, and he said you guys have only been attacking me because you got the wrong idea about what happened with—”
But it was too late. Tominari had jumped on a parked bike that absolutely did not belong to him and was already pedalling away at the speed of light. Yagami sighed. They really did all manage to find him somehow, huh?
He checked his phone, realized the fight had actually made him slightly late for their meeting with Izumi, and picked up his pace.
***
Yagami arrived at Charles to the sound of commotion inside. His worries about someone intruding on their safe place evaporated upon realizing the source of all the shouting was none other than Izumi, giving his all at the light gun cabinet near the benches.
“Take that, motherfucker!” he screeched, holding the gun in both hands, crouched in a combat stance.
Yagami watched as Izumi managed to enter his name into the top score spot with the finesse of someone intimately familiar with that particular menu screen.
“Hey, Izumi,” Yagami said.
Izumi whirled around, eyes huge. “Um. About how long have you been standing there?”
“Hey, it’s rude to interrupt a man’s game, right? But, long enough to understand you’ve earned your place, through hard work and passion, as #1 at Blue Lighting and at Elevator Action Death Parade.”
Izumi’s cheeks burned. He’d done it again, in front of Shinji— Yagami and his cute sunglasses friend at the front desk.
“Isn’t Yagami the worst?” Sunglasses Friend said, hint of a smile playing across his lips. “But really, I’m happy you appreciate that game so much. I rescued it recently from some guy in Osaka I found online. Had to fix the elevator door motion myself, but I think I did a pretty bang-up job.”
Oh. To Izumi’s dismay, his heart still did a little flip-flop every time someone mentioned Osaka. He shook it off.
“Of course, it’s such a stupid and fun little game. I wish they made them with gimmicks like this these days,” Izumi replied with his best charming smile. “But I agree. Yagami is the worst. I’m Izumi, by the way. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. Name’s Higashi.”
Izumi gestured to the modest arrangement of blue and purple hyacinths he’d set on the arcade’s front desk.
“Um, those are for you, Yagami.”
“Oh, really? They’re beautiful,” Yagami said, “Didn’t know this was a flower kind of occasion.”
“Any occasion can be a flower occasion,” Izumi said matter-of-factly. “This particular arrangement is a peace offering. Think of it like this: were I a tackier man, I could have gotten you a cake that says ‘Sorry for Ambushing You’ in frosting.”
“I think I get the idea.”
“The purple hyacinths stand for forgiveness and apology, and the blue are for sincerity.”
“Wow, you really don’t mess around,” Yagami mused.
Izumi’s voice was dead serious. “In the world of flower arrangement, there’s no room for messing around.”
Higashi eyed the flowers with interest. “Where’d you get these? I think the back room’s décor could use a more delicate touch.”
“Grew them myself,” Izumi replied, “Although I could direct you to some reputable florists.”
Before they could continue with the finer details of botanical suppliers in Kamurocho, a loud voice cut in from the entry hall.
“Yo, Tabo, Higashi!”
A big guy with a chinstrap beard and an orange silk shirt that could be seen from space walked in, followed by a younger man with orange hair and the kind of face Izumi’s managers would kill to hire, and a baby-faced kid in a business suit wearing a backpack that enhanced his youthful look by an order of magnitude.
“Oh, the pretty flower guy is here already?” asked Chinstrap Dorito.
“The what guy?” Izumi demanded.
Chinstrap Dorito chuckled. “Tabo’s got that picture of you with your number and the flowers pinned up on the office bulletin board. What’s your name again?”
He has my picture up? Izumi shook it off. “Izumi. And you are?”
“Kaito. I’m Yagami’s partner.”
Izumi couldn’t bring himself to ask whether he meant like, detectives, or—
Kaito gestured to Ginger Spice and Baby Spice. “This is Sugiura and this is Hoshino.”
“So this is DILF hunter’s favorite?” asked Sugiura.
Izumi blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
Kaito laughed. “DILF hunter is what Sugiura calls Kitagawa-san, since, y’know, she likes her hosts older.”
“I’m thirty-five, you little gremlin!”
Sugiura laughed. “No, no, I get it now, she’s not really a DILF Hunter. You have a lot more fancy wine aunt energy and Yagami’s like… A cool older brother. Kaito-san, on the other hand...”
“Wouldn’t get hired,” Izumi finished for him, “Although I don’t imagine any of this group had any particular aspirations to a hosting career.” His head spun a little from how deadly accurate “fancy wine aunt” had been. Kids these days.
Sugiura nodded. “Got that right. More than I can say about most of your type.”
“Huh?”
“What he means is, he’s happy you’re not one of those aggressive recruiting types… He gets enough of those I have to start threatening legal action to get them to back off,” Hoshino cut in.
Izumi squinted at the badge on his lapel. “You’re actually a lawyer?”
Hoshino nodded. “Yeah, I work at the firm Yagami used to work at.”
“Yagami is a lawyer? Seriously?” Izumi made that up as a joke.
Yagami chuckled. “Well, not practicing. Like I said. I’m a private detective now.”
“You get disbarred for using unconventional kung-fu based witness intimidation tactics or something?”
Kaito tensed up noticeably, hand on Yagami’s shoulder, but Yagami waved him off. “Bit of a long story, but this just ended up being a better fit for me.”
Izumi nodded. “We all have our calling… Sorry.”
“It’s alright. So, what did you want to tell us about Kitagawa?”
Izumi took a seat on one of the benches, crossing his legs just-so.
“Since she’s a politician with a reputation to uphold, she has this whole arrangement with management where she enters and leaves the club through the backdoor. Wig, big sunglasses, the whole nine yards. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t take her business at all, but when the money’s good, it’s good, you know. I understand she pays out the ass and stops short of threatening the club if any word were to get out. Anyway, I don’t know his name, but she’s got this big guy working as a bodyguard. Just huge. Definitely there to be intimidating, make sure none of us half-his-size guys get any ideas about talking. As yakuza-looking as they come. I started calling him Kenshiro,”
Izumi looked down. “Like, y’know, from Fist of the North Star… None of the younger hosts got the reference but the name stuck. Anyway, the weird thing is, me and the guys always see Kenshiro around when Kitagawa comes by. Except for the day Yagami met with her. No one saw him. Oh, and he’s more often than not wearing this absolutely awful pinkish suit straight out of a Miike movie.”
Kaito’s eyes went wide. “Tabo. You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”
Yagami nodded. He got out his phone and tapped at it for a bit.
“This him?” he asked, turning his phone around to reveal none other than Kenshiro.
“Wait, you know him?”
“His name’s Ozaki. Kaito-san and I kicked his ass a few times. He was part of the yakuza family Kaito-san and Higashi were in before it disbanded.”
Higashi sighed. “Figures this is what he got himself up to after all this. Never did seem to have a mind of his own… Always seeking out a crueler, more powerful person to serve. I imagine this Kitagawa looks like another Hamura to him. But with less tracksuit.”
Izumi let the memories of the truly awful velour abominations he’d seen both in person and in text messages at all hours to his second phone wash over him. “I’m not familiar with this Hamura you speak of, but all I’m saying is… Tracksuit might be what seals the deal for him.”
Sugiura swallowed a giggle. “Hah— what?”
“You know that type of older woman who goes all out on buying designer activewear, but it’s less about the actual jogging than it is the aesthetic? Kitagawa had a phase like that.”
“Damn, if I’d only known that was it, I would’ve had Tashiro take me shopping and we could’ve kept the family together,” Higashi remarked.
Izumi burned with curiosity over this hot yakuza gossip but held his tongue. Didn’t want Kenshiro— Ozaki’s likes on his ass over tacky jogging attire, after all.
Yagami scrolled through his phone some more, muttering to himself.
“Hey, I think that might actually help us. Give us a lead, at least. So we know she’s definitely working with yakuza, or whatever yakuza do nowadays in this city, present company excluded. Wonder if Nakamura could do anything with that info?”
Izumi’s mouth hung open, question dead on arrival. Stupid. Unbelievable. Nakamura’s an incredibly common surname. How are you still not over this shit? Yagami was probably talking about an information dealer or something. Scruffy ex-cop who knows everyone-type. Trench coat full of fake designer watches. Not his Nakamura, if he could even say something so—
“You okay, man?” Kaito asked, big eyebrows knitted with concern.
“Oh, yeah, I just… Remembered. This Ozaki guy, he actually did get kinda rough with one of the younger hosts. Hikaru-kun, bless him… He’s such a hothead, all full of youth and honor… He mouthed off to him, telling him Blue Lightning ought to throw the likes of Kitagawa out, and Ozaki grabs him by the collar and throws him… We all had to hold him back… Kid’s too stupid for his own good, y’know.”
Yagami nodded, eyes tender, almost nostalgic. “I know the type. Thank you so much, Izumi-kun. I’m glad you could help us.”
“And hey, if you wanna come by and play some games, shoot the shit about flowers, you know where to come, alright?” Higashi said.
“Or if you need any truths uncovered, or have some truths to uncover yourself,” Yagami added.
“What, you saying I’m welcome to help out at Pretty Boy Detective Agency?” Izumi asked.
“Well, shit, you’re definitely pretty enough,” Sugiura said.
Izumi returned the warm smiles. “I’ll… Be sure to keep in touch. Hypothetically speaking… You guys know how to find people, right?”
Yagami tilted his head. “Depends what you mean, but yeah. Comes with the job for sure. What are you thinking of?”
“Nothing, just wondering if it was like in the dramas.”
“Sometimes my whole life feels like a drama, man.”
“Well, thanks. Nice meeting you all,” Izumi said, finally, pushing this particular drama plot from his mind.
***
That night, their personal ghosts wouldn’t leave any of them alone. What they’d left behind, the threads they left dangling, the mistakes they’d never atone for.
Perhaps at the end of this clusterfuck of politics and death and the past forcing its way back around their throats, there was going to be some peace.
