Posted: Fri Jul 07, 2023 4:17 am Post subject: Say-Sha
Sayuri supposed an easy life was never in the cards for her. She can remember a time when she was young, and her parents were both alive and together; happy, doing their best to raise her. It may not have been the most glamorous, but Sayuri could remember being small; they were late on the power bill and the lights were shut off suddenly. Her mom and dad argued about it briefly, but in the end, they found their way back to each other. Sayuri could hear them kiss in the dark before pulling apart, her dad assured her mom, “it won’t always be like this.” Then Sayuri’s mom lit some candles, and they ate convince store sandwiches and instant noodles, while her mom and dad split their “last beer.” Her parents were drunk but pleasantly so, laughing and pinching her cheeks, and ruffling her hair in the candlelight. Things were so hard, but they could still find a way to find joy with each other; and Sayuri never felt unloved.
But everything changes, and nothing stays the same forever.
Sayuri could remember coming home in middle school to. The apartment being unusually clean. Nobody in their family was especially organized or partial to housekeeping. So when Sayuri walked in, she observed that the apartment was so unnaturally clean; it was almost as if something had happened, and the whole place needed to be cleaned up. It was almost New Years, and it was still very cold outside; it was even snowing heavily on this night. The top of Sayuri’s head was dusted in powdery white snow, just from crossing the lot from the bus stop to their apartment. Her father was tucked under the kotatsu, their floor heater blaring orange onto his back. He was sort of hunched over a glass of whiskey, and his hands were folded around the glass in a pensive way. Sayuri’s dark eyes scanned the doorway and she saw her mother’s s shoes were gone, as well as her coat and scarf from the entryway. There was wordless exchange of glances between her and her father; something to be understood silently. Her mother was gone now, either she left of her own volition or…she didn’t. Sayuri understood from a young age that her father (and her mother too) built up their own debt. Both of her parents were unapologetic gamblers, Sayuri had seen loan sharks around the apartment complex so often growing up, they were familiar now. Sayuri was on a first name basis with most of them. It wouldn’t surprise her, that despite their friendliness towards her, if they took her mother. It was common that the wives and daughters of husbands in debt, would be trafficked by the Yakuza. A girls body could be worth a lot.
From then on, it was just her and her father. She never saw her mother again.
When she entered into high school, Sayuri began to “rebel.” She took up the sukeban lifestyle, wearing long skirts and hanging out in a “girl gang.” Sayuri was skipping more classes than she attended, and spent most of her days being a general delinquent. Sayuri smoked, fought and stole, vandalized. Chaos became her normal. When she was done trolling the streets with her sukeban girl gang, she’d roam the snack bars, and karaoke parlors; taking drinks from the local yakuza and getting drunk. Then in the wee hours of the night, she’d return to her apartment, roll her piss drunk father from the bathroom floor, and onto their futon. Then the next day, she would lather, rinse and repeat.
The local yakuza population continued to grow, lots of family owned businesses on her block were being taken advantage of, extorted for as much money that they could squeeze out. There were more drunks pissing in the alley by her apartment, and more thugs cruising the streets and mugging anyone for money. Sayuri developed relationships with the yakuza in her neighborhood. They loved having her with them to get drinks, they filled her with as much free beer as she could stomach. They laughed and egged her on as she instigated confrontations with passerby’s. One yakuza member in particular, was called “Joe.” His name was actually Jūrō, but the origin on the nickname was because he was American born, and moved back to Japan later in life. He spoke Japanese fluently but not without an obvious American accent, so everyone thought Joe was better suited as a name. Joe was kinda of a stupid and useless man, a true oaf. It wasn’t just Sayuri who thought that, the other yakuza thought that too.
Often, they would make jokes and laugh at Joe’s expense. They would ridicule and humiliate him without restraint. But in a drunken stupor, he would only laugh harder; embarrassing the criticism as a gesture of endearment from his family. Joe was someone who was definitely a follower and not a leader. He didn’t come off very educated, not that Sayuri was a genius by any means, but Joe was truly stupid. Sometimes when it was very late and they missed the last shuttle out of the city before curfew, Joe would be the last man stand. Leaning onto Sayuri’s shoulder, crying and laughing all at once. About how hard his life has been, how hard everyone’s life had been. He would whisper against her ear, that she was the smartest person he’s ever met. That she’s better than the life she had been dealt…That he could make it better for her, if she gave him all of her trust. Even for being so hilariously dumb, his charisma and optimism made him charming; inviting even. Sayuri had considered how cool it would be to be a yakuza wife. He could get her away from her dad, she wouldn’t have to be responsible for him anymore. Joe wasn’t overly unattractive looking either; average looking for his age as he was quite a bit older than Sayuri. His face was square but his jaw was soft and his cheeks were round. He had a wide neck and rounded shoulders, a little paunchy but Sayuri had seen him lift incredibly heavy things. The “strong kind of fat,” was a comment one of his peers made about him, which Sayuri thinks was meant to be a compliment. He was covered in tattoos of course, and missing a couple of fingers, which Joe casually refers to it as a very common thing. “It’s a fairly light punishment, most of us don’t have all our fingers.” But Sayuri would hear again from someone else in their group, that Joe was historically, terrible at his job. He forgets too easily, gets distracted too easily, he squanders money that’s not his and wastes his time womanizing.
So it was safe to say Sayuri didn’t have a steady read on him, and she would continue to keep her cards close to her vest.
But she couldn’t do that for long. Her future had been decided for her, and her life would change drastically.
Sayuri was coming home from school one day, as she approached the front door of her apartment, she could see that the door was open. Her father never left the door ajar, especially since the summer was approaching, he wanted to seal up the house with the cool air from the fans. There was even newspaper taped over their windows to block the sun and keep the apartment cool. She could hear there was some commotion inside, she definitely heard some fragile break; glass shattering. Then, she could hear her father weeping. At that point she surged forward, feeling some primal urge to protect her father from whatever was making him cry. But she bumped into Joe in the doorway, she had rushed forward so she slammed hard into his chest. He “caught” her, held her by her shoulders and prevented her from surging forward again. She tried to look around him, but Joe continued to block her view. Even if she could see around him, behind him her view would be blocked again by the frames of the other yakuza members. Men she was familiar with, men she was friends with. What were they doing here? Joe pushed her backwards, out of the doorframe and grabbed onto her shoulders; continuing to push her away from the door.
“You don’t want to see.” He said simply. Joe said this in English, since he lived in America he spoke excellent English. When they were piss drunk, he would help her with her English and teach her how to speak. They would save conversations in English, for when he wanted to talk to her apart from the others. She couldn’t understand the discretion, what the motivation for it was.
“See what? What are you doing to him?” Sayuri exclaimed, trying to push back against him. He spun her around so her back was to him, and he bear hugged her, picking her up off her feet and steering her down the stairs of the apartment. She kicked her legs wildly in the air, straining against him and reaching for the stair railing, reaching for any leverage to get away.
But Joe carried her, kicking and screaming down the block before stuffing her into a car. She yelled and slammed her hands on the car windows. But nobody came to help her, and she would never see her dad again. Everyone treated her differently, even Joe, when they got in the car with her. They iced her out and ignored her, treated her coldly. It wasn’t like anyway they had ever treated her before. Sayuri asked several times where they were going, where they were taking her. But they never answered, and in the absence of an answer, Sayuri pieced it together. Her body would settle her father’s debt, it happened again, and she wondered if anyone would see her again.
——
Several years later, Sayuri was in fact, still alive to tell her tale. Sayuri had matured, she was a few inches taller and several years wiser. She was moved to “cabaret” bar, that was a front for the yakuza. There were lots of girls who lived and worked there who kindly showed her the ropes, taught her how to make money, and the rules of being property of the yakuza. At this juncture, Joe unofficially owned her specifically, and that changed their relationship completely. He wasn’t charming or charismatic anymore, not to her. And the laziness he was known for, impacted him greatly. When a yakuza man did wrong, he would be punished. It was customary that when the man was punished, his bride would be punished too in the same manner. However cool being a yakuza wife was in theory, wasn’t that cool in truth. As it would turn out, Joe has a wife. She was older than Sayuri and more age appropriate to Joe. She was prettier than him, though her face seemed hardened by the life Joe gave her. She didn’t like Sayuri, hated her even. So instead of Joe’s wife taking whippings with him, it was Sayuri. She was their whipping boy; she’d been branded and mutilated for his negligence, she’d lost her pinky and had a new tattoo to match Joe’s. He got a fish swimming up stream, on his back. It was to represent him pushing against his nature, to be a better and more successful person. When Sayuri got the same tattoo, have the size and on the small of her back, Joe remarked it suited her in the way that a “salmon swims upstream to get fucked.” His impression of her, is that she put herself in this situation with him, that she aspired to be under him of all places.
Even with the violence she was subjected to everyday, Sayuri never let her flame extinguish. She was still a smart mouth (in English and in Japanese), she spared no one’s feelings and held nothing back. Even when it meant getting hit, Sayuri would always speak her mind and tell it like it is. This hurt her work in the bar a bit, she was a little bit too spirited at times for the regulars at her bar. Not everyone liked a girl with two black eyes, stealing shots and loudly abusing the arcade machine in the parlor. She was still beautiful though, she looked just like her mother (or that’s what her dad used to say). In truth, Sayuri couldn’t remember what her mother looked like now. She had the same dark eyes, dark dark, there was no glimmer of gold or amber when the light hit them. Only blackness. Her hair had some body to it, a slight wave; the color had more pigment than her eyes though, a steely blue black. She had arguably too big of lips for her region, thin lips were considered prettiest. But hers were naturally full and plump, and in a gorgeous blush color. The way her top lip curled in its cupids bow, almost made it heart shaped, to match her heart shaped face. She had a long and straight nose that made her profile a little flat, and her ears were a bit big (or so Joe and his wife would say). But she had the most adorable arrangement of beauty marks on her face. Alternating in size, from big to small, stretching from one cheek to the other, five little beauty-marks in a zigzag formation.
Mio, Joe’s wife, often remarked that the beauty mark on the side of Sayuri’s nose was the ugliest. Mio said one time, “maybe if I smack you hard enough one say, that ugly spot will fly off.” But Sayuri didn’t hear it, or mind it, Mio was pretty and more mature than her. Sayuri wasn’t sure why she was so insecure, it’s not like she wanted Joe at this point.
Mio could have him, all Sayuri wanted, all she cared about, was a way out. Sayuri aspired to sleep somewhere that wasn’t on the floor of the bar, with Joe passed out drunk on top of her. She had been pocketing as money as she could from working the bar. But it was common knowledge, even if you were the one working, the money you earn is still for the yakuza. Sayuri had been caught stealing before, luckily it didn’t result in the loss of another digit. But even if she did lose more fingers, it would be worth it if she could pay her way out of this life. Surely if her body could be bought to clear her father’s debt, she could buy it back herself, right?
Lucky for her, there was an expectation that there would be lots of opportunity to make money over the next few weeks. There were foreigners coming, western mafia, coming to make trade deals with the Yakuza. Foreigners likes Sayuri because she was more like American girls, they appreciated her enthusiasm. So to speak, Sayuri was putting on her Sunday best for the westerners. It was a Friday night, the bar was already busy and cloudy with smoke. The smoke rolled up through the floorboards of the upstairs room above the bar; it bled through the floorboards and weaved through her polished toes, while she got ready, seated on the floor. Sayuri accumulated into Kobe culture, which the culture here revolved heavily around fashion. Kobe’s annual fashion exposition, encouraged a lot of flashy and extravagant looks. Some of which was unconventional, but maybe the foreigners will like it. Most of the girls at the bar embraced the ganguro style, some of them liked the harajuku looks. Sayuri fell somewhere in the middle, a somewhat toned down version of both. She popped blue contacts in to give her an edge, and she loved big false lashes that made her eyes look bigger. She had colored hair extensions that she braided into her real hair, and she did a moody powder blue eyeshadow and a lip color that was somewhere between orange and pink. Sayuri never felt pretty until she did her makeup like this. She clipped in her favorite earrings, big hoops with English words on the inside that read, “Hell,” and “Yeah.” She stamped little hearts and stars on her face, and slid on all her favorite rings and layered her necklaces.
Normally Sayuri was most comfortable in pants or a long skirt, per her sukeban days. But most of the girls wore dresses, and dresses were popular with the men. So Sayuri leaned into that and put on a emerald green slip dress, that had a black mesh underlay that covered her neck and arms. She put on one of the other girls blue chunky heels, that girl was already downstairs and the color matched her eyeshadow, so she obviously needed them. In her opinion, she was dressed to kill and she would be burying some bodies tonight. She gave herself finger guns and a wink in the mirror before hurrying downstairs.
It had always been obvious to those who served the Nikitin crime family who the heir to the organization would be.
Sasha Nikitin.
Sasha was not only the first-born of his generation, highly cherished and praised for simply being born, he was also the child of the Nikitin’s favored son and golden boy, Adrik. If any of the children of his generation had the right to inherit to the title of leader of the Nikitin crime empire, it would be him. It was his birthright and it was what he had been raised to do.
Sasha not only stood to inherit his family’s business, but had also inherited all the good looks that came with the good family genes. He was often told that he looked like his father with his long face and sharp features, but was softened by his mother’s beauty. He had his father’s foxlike nose, straight and pointed, with his mother’s long-lashed eyes that made him look prettier than any girl. Unlike his father, who had to dye his hair to its darker color, his hair was as naturally as dark as strongly brewed coffee, however, when the sun hit his hair just right, there were vibrant strands of copper peppered in. He had his father’s charismatic smile and laugh, but there was a curl to his mouth that made it look like whatever had him laughing he would keep a secret to himself, a haughtiness from Asha surely.
He had been doing work for his family since boyhood, attending formal sit downs with his father and playing the role of runner boy before he even knew how to ride a bike. Once he graduated from middle school, his work did too. He was allowed to meet on his father’s behalf, usually attended by the more senior members of the crime family, but still having all the authority of someone in charge. By the time he was in high school, he knew the business nearly as well as his father. He knew how to be a mobster, knew who to watch out for, what deals to take, and most of all: how to stay out of trouble with the law.
Some people in the family were not as fortunate to have never had a run in with the law, his father included. Adrik had been picked up more than once by the police, deals busted in on, but he’d always managed to get out of custody after a day or two. It never seemed to bother him much, always shrugging it off as part of the job, but Sasha often wondered if it had to be.
Sasha decided in his senior year of high school he would pursue law, hoping that by becoming more intimately familiar with the inner workings of the law, he could help his family exploit it.
And so, that’s how after several years of near constant studying (save for the few stolen moments where he continued to do jobs for his family) and badgering his way into a handful of prestigious internships, Sasha had passed the bar and had the beginnings of a promising career as a lawyer.
At least upfront.
Behind the scenes, Sasha used his knowledge of the judicial system to find sneaky little loopholes and had come to know which cops were “just crooked enough” to take the occasional bribe. More recently, he’d found himself greasing up the palms of precinct captains to look the other way.
Which was how he was able to be in Kobe, Japan right now.
He was supposed to be in charge of collecting some “delinquent charges” from some associates, but when his father asked him to take his place for a meeting with the yakuza, he had asked some rookie cops on his payroll to take over the job for him with the promise of a small cut of the pie.
“I thought we’d be staying in Tokyo. I wanted to go to Shibuya.” Anastasia, Sasha’s younger cousin, griped as they and a group of Nikitin foot soldiers made their way down a busy back street lit up by neon signs suggesting what could only be the promise of alcohol and a good time.
Stasi was Sasha’s uncle Ivan’s eldest child and while she was brought up in the same way Sasha was, she was still new to more formal mob affairs. She and her brother both were more favorable as muscle, fierce enforcers and lethal just like their mild-faced father. However, as she was coming of age, their babushka Riley, suggested that she learn more about the politics to become more aware of the inner workings of their industry. While no one else in the organization would, Anastasia whined and complained to Riley about how boring she thought it all was, and Riley would simply wave her off and lightly scold her for her complaints, acting more like a doting grandmother rather than a formidable mob boss.
Riley had insisted Anastasia go with Sasha for this sit down and while Sasha wanted to complain about this, he was not Stasi and he wouldn’t dare question his babushka’s judgement at having to take her along.
“We’re here for business, not for fun.” Sasha sighed as their group stopped in front of a cabaret bar that one of the foot soldiers gestured to as ‘the place’.
“Sobachkaaaa.” Anastasia groused, but stopped as Sasha raised a hand.
“If this goes smooth, we can take the bullet train to Tokyo tomorrow.” He conceded, but before Stasi could say anything else about the matter, he began inside the bar. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Last edited by PeanutButterGoddess on Sun Jul 30, 2023 11:44 pm; edited 1 time in total
“No, it’s better if we keep our leisure outings to a minimum. None if possible.” Spider interjected, lazily, over his shoulder. Spider had been with the Nikitin’s for more years than he had been anywhere else; joining when he was only a boy, with impressive skills and a pension for vengeance. Spider was meant to be Ania’s sworn protector, as each Nikitin was prescribed a guard when one could be issued. Ania was actually away in Russia for other mob related business, since Russia and Japan had open boarders to one another, she arranged for Spider to go along with her sweet niece and nephew. Spider was no longer a boy though, he aged like any normal mortal man. He was once a scrappy teen, lean and unrefined. But now he was a man in his mid thirties, his frame was enormous and he found the hospitality in Japan less accommodating to someone of his stature. He was muscular and most of those features were scarcely concealed under his garments. The sleeve of his jacket, clinging desperately to it’s seams, as his biceps threatened to tear them with one wrong gesture. The button up he wore had already popped a button, and made no effort to hide his defined pectorals. Ania joked that Spider might be a handsome man if half of his body wasn’t badly burned, sadly, he reflected something that of a melted G.I Joe, under the heat of a magnifying glass. But Spider was serious and didn’t like jokes, he rarely laughed and almost never left a cleave of space, for error. Hence, he was so adamant that they nix any excursions to Tokyo.
“And stay close, it can be easy to get lost here.” Spider added.
Spider had been to Japan and this area even on a past job. He couldn’t even say what it pertained to now, it was a so long ago. But the busy red light district of Kobe, sustained its prestige over the years. It was more cramped, businesses and bars stuffed into any space there was to offer. Establishments were stacked tightly against each other, and the lights blocked out the stars, and the smoke filled the air. Spider didn’t need werewolf senses to perceive the utter debauchery, that oozed and leaked from every crack in the district. It wreaked of indulgence. Sasha and Stansi were old enough now for an errand like this, but Spider was still unsure about being able to ensure their safety in a place like this. It felt like there was infinite possibilities, for things to go wrong.
——
Inside the bar, things were already electric and alive with the night. There were smoke and lights, there were other patrons there and being serviced by girls. But Sayuri knew where the action was gonna be, and by proxy, where she was gonna be. After coming downstairs, she quickly grabbed a stack of menu’s off the bar. These menus included different drinks and small snack food items, and even girls. This would be important to secure money from wealthy Yankee’s. The bar as a whole was small, it felt even smaller when it filled up with smoke. But there was a room in the back for Yakuza dealings only. Only Yakuza were granted access, and their respective girls. This was the type of thing that Mio would be forbidden from sitting in on, it was considered unworthy of a wife’s attention, filthy and disrespectful. But it wasn’t for Sayuri, pushing the sliding door open with her hip, and the menu’s tucked under her arms. There were already several members there and seated, a couple more girls too. Joe was there and laughing with the others, swinging around a foul smelling cigar. Sayuri feigned a cheerful smile as she bowed and greeted her peers, shuffling in and finding her spot; standing behind Joe.
He appeared to be in a good mood, which was lucky for Sayuri. That usually meant that Joe would preform better in the meeting, people usually liked his charisma when they first met him. His optimism served the Yakuza sometimes, it also meant that Sayuri could get away with more. Sell more wine maybe, pocket more cash, take bigger risks. Optimism was a sentiment that she and Joe shared, considering she was contemplating her moves for the night, all while sporting a purplish black eye; gifted by Joe on a pervious night. But it was this black eye that propelled her onward, Sayuri was determined that she wouldn’t die in this place; she would not die, tethered to Joe and Mio.
"Woah, that's so weird, Sobachka. You sounded exactly like Spider just now. I mean, surely that must have been you speaking since you're the one in charge." Anastasia said, her tone all mocking sarcasm.
"Don't be a brat, Stasi. He has a point." Sasha scolded, raising his arms outwards as two yakuza stepped forward to frisk him for weapons, which he thought was a little ironic considering they were there to discuss arms deals. "But I do call the shots, so if things go smooth and if we have time, we'll go to Tokyo." He made sure to give Spider a pointed look, reminding him that even though he was older and had been involved longer, Sasha was still in charge.
The men briskly patted over the crushed velvet fabric of Sasha's suit, which was very unlike his usual lawyering attire. Any other day, he opted for one of the charcoal grey suits in his closet that spoke more modestly rather than the louder garments he wore during his "dirtier" affairs. For this trip in particular, he'd opted to pack several different Armani suits, all of which were tailored to the long and slender lines of his body. They were all more or less loud, after all, to dress gaudy was to assert your status in this world, but this one was the most outlandish with the dark velvet and golden cufflinks and buttons. He wore a pair of black smoking slippers that also had a pop of gold at the toe to match the other accents on his persons. Underneath, he wore a plain white button-up and a slender looking tie with an opulent looking tiepin that held a bright red ruby that made it look like a fat drop of blood pooled there.
Stasi stood by, ready for her own pat down, but she was waved on. Perhaps being a woman wasn't enough to merit a weapons search, or perhaps it was her skintight attire, which left little to be hidden and to the imagination. She wore a formfitting dress that matched her cousin's suit in color and fabric. It barely came down to midthigh and had a slit all the way up her hip that showed off muscled legs from years of gymnastics training with her father. She wore a pair of high heels that were the same dark shade of red that she wore on her lips as well as the jeweled pins holding her usual bobbed curls into a tight knot at the back of her head.
Whether it was her being a woman or her appearance, Sasha thought it was a fool's mistake to allow Anastasia to bypass their frisking. She was a formidable opponent without a weapon, but she was downright deadly with even just a knife. They'd be lucky if she didn't have something on her.
Once everyone was checked, their group was guided towards a back room in the otherwise busy bar. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Spider couldn’t help but conceal an eye roll at the two “children.” Though they were old enough to be in this business, they were still very much children compared to him, in terms of age. That being said, tragically, Sasha was in charge. Which was annoying. Not because of anything specific about Sasha, Spider just knew better. The Nikitin were all werewolves, all skilled beyond perfection in one area or another. Ania never needed him to protect her, just like Sasha and to some extent, Anastasia too, did not need his protection. So knowing all this, Spider was here as a glorified baby sitter. He stood by the door and minded the mortals, he arranged their travel and stay in foreign lands; and he would undoubtably be carrying Stasi’s shopping bags if they did venture to Tokyo.
Spider was frisked, they found and advised him to leave his gun with the doormen. But that was all they found, that he had on him. Spider had spent enough time on the inside to know creative ways to conceal weapons on his person; again, the Nikitin’s did not need this. But it is why he was able to earn his way into the mob; Riley liked his persistence, and how it transferred into ingenuity. He was resourceful, and they would never find the razor blade hidden in his mouth, or the cyanide on his person, carefully hidden in an unassuming box of cigarettes. Spider didn’t smoke, but they wouldn’t know that.
“Welcome! Americans! Ruskies!” Joe greeted loudly and with great enthusiasm, as the Russians entered the crowded room.
Everyone stood up and offered customary bows, offering their guests their respect before diving into pleasantries. Joe stayed standing, offering out his hand to Sasha for a hardy american handshake.
“My name is Jūrō, but you may call me Joe.” He began before introducing the important people around the room. The women did not get mentioned, except for Sayuri. “This is Sayuri, she will be helping me translate tonight.”
Sayuri offered a proud and chipper “courtesy,” and offered the dark haired fella in the velvet suit and cheeky wink. She smiled and gestured for everyone to sit, before offering out the menus.
“Please don’t hold back from ordering anything, we’ve got lots of great wine and spirits, even more beautiful girls.” She said, offering a wicked grin.
Spider waved away the menu dismissively, practically shoving them back into Sayuri’s hands. “We don’t need any of that.” He said quickly.
“Don’t be so hasty, all the girls know how to satisfy.” Sayuri countered, opting to leave the menus open on the table.
“Yes! please! It would be our great honor if you were fuck our girls, they’ll do whatever you want, right, Sayuri?” Joe boasted crassly, slapping Sayuri on her rear end as he proclaimed so.
Sayuri jolted slightly with surprise but did her best to conceal it with a giggle, trying to force it to sound more excited than nervous. If it were too nervous, she could be excused from the meeting, Joe not wanting to threaten the evening with a bad attitude from Sayuri. If she failed to assist Joe tonight, it’s likely that she’ll be punished, if not by Joe, definitely by Mio. There wasn’t a much greater grievance, than embarrassing the married couple in any capacity. And to be dismissed from Joe’s service, in front of other Yakuza as well as visiting guests, surely, Mio would beat her black and blue.
“You all can begin without me, if no one wants to order a drink, I’ll bring tea for the table.” Sayuri proposed before excusing herself. The room was already small, there were far too many bodies in there to begin with. Shuffling past everyone, Sayuri stumbled into Mister Velvet Suit.
It was hard to pick it up before, there was too much smoke and too many scents mingling in the air. But practically tripping over Velvet Suit, she could smell something overwhelmingly familiar. Not good or bad, not stinky, which Sayuri was around enough sweaty men to recognize that kind of musk. He smelled like her, that way wolves smelt. Once she caught a whiff, it was undeniable. It was a strange concept, Sayuri knew she couldn’t be the only one in the world, but she never expected to meet another one.
Her mother shared once after she turned for the first time, that her Grandmother was a wolf too. For some reason it skipped Sayuri’s mom, neither of them were sure why. But Sayuri’s mother also shared, that when she was small, a family of hunters, sought after werewolves in Japan, and chased them to near extinction. Except for Sayuri, born too late to be apart of that excitement.
She blinked, her face puzzled and even more skewed looking in the flashing lights. She couldn’t believe he was here, another one, someone like her. She cracked a smile, this one was genuine but no less wicked in truth. It was too early to say how, but Sayuri could feel a plan; a way out, was generating in the shape of a velvet suit.
This was the first time Sasha was brokering a deal with the yakuza himself, but he was thorough if anything else and had done in-depth research on the people he would be working with in this deal so he knew exactly who Juro was.
Juro, at a glance, was nothing to write home about. He had been a part of the yakuza just as he came into adulthood and in all that time had done nothing of notoriety other than persistently biting the hand that fed him. He had been caught skimming money, more than once, and was known to throw around the yakuza title in a way that drew plenty of negative attention to the organization. He was little more than a petty criminal and Sasha was not impressed with him or the fact that the yakuza sent him specifically to meet with him.
Sasha looked down at Juro's hand being offered up to him, noting the missing digits. When he raised his gaze to Juro's face again, he gave the man a dry, knowing smile before accepting the handshake and taking his seat opposite of the stocky man. He was aware as Stasi took a seat behind him and leaned forward to whisper to him in Russian.
"He's missing fingers. Not even they trust him, Sobachka." She said, all her joking mirth from before gone as she eyed the man with malintent. If it was one thing the Nikitins were known for, it was for their loyalty. Most of those who served in the Nikitin family did so for their whole lives and were rewarded handsomely for doing so. It was a dirty business they worked in, but the Nikitins at least attempted to have honor.
"I know, but we're here. We make due." He said back, just as the woman Joe had just introduced came stumbling into him.
He caught her by her shoulders before she could land on top of him, but while her body didn't hit him, her scent did. It was a very particular smell, something warm and alive, and very familiar. It was the smell he had known his whole life, a smell he'd known from the moment he'd been placed on his mother's breast, still warm and slick from her body.
It was the smell of another wolf.
He blinked, surprised, and saw his own shock reflected back at him from the girl.
"Are...you okay?" He asked, hands still on her shoulders. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Sayuri smiled and was already in the process of standing back up. But before she could reply in any capacity, Joe grabbed the back of her arm, hard, and jerked her backward.
“I am so sorry, so terribly embarrassed. Sorry about that!” Joe apologized on behalf of Sayuri, he was still holding her arm, pinching the back of it hard as he held onto her. “Hurry up and apologize to him.” He said to Sayuri then, jerking her arm a little.
Sayuri smiled wider, something she learned how to do when dealing with Joe. She didn’t wince at all from the way he held onto her, in truth it didn’t hurt very badly. It did make her want to bite him, though. Shove him off roughly and spit in his face. But that was never going to fly. She shrugged his hand off her and bowed her head politely.
“I am sorry.” Sayuri said, annunciating every word, so Joe could hear her apologizing clearly over the music. “Excuse me again, I’ll bring back some nice wine; on me, as an apology.” She offered with a smile, before excusing herself to do just that.
As soon as Sayuri left the room, other members began speaking at Joe so he may translate to Sasha and company. It seemed everyone else had moved on, paying no mind to Sayuri or her spill. Let alone how Joe handled her after it had happened. Nobody seemed to mind Sayuri at all. Spider wouldn’t have normally let something like that slide, not if he was here of his own volition. While Spider was considered the “young one” in Riley’s guard of gunmen, he was painfully old fashioned. Chivalrous and protective, it couldn’t make sense to him, beating on a woman. But he knew better, the same way Sayuri did, it wasn’t his place to speak up, and it would certainly be outside of his station to do so.
Sasha felt a muscle jump in his jaw at Joe's rough handling of the woman he'd introduced as Sayuri. Though he was certain she could eat this man if she wanted to, and she certainly looked like she wanted to, he was also sure that her allowing Joe to treat her as such was more about self-preservation than anything else. There was nothing in her that looked afraid of Joe, but there was certainly something there that kept her from lashing out.
He took a little breath and offered the girl a smile that was all his father's.
"It's alright, as long as you're alright." He said to her. "It isn't your fault that our host decided on such a...cramped meeting place." He gave Joe a sidelong glance. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Joe made a face of realization. He looked around quickly, observing the space was cramped, especially with so many bodies. The intention of hosting business meetings here, was that it was a Yakuza space. They ran the bar, and any profits accrued from the bar that night, would go straight into their pocket. It served a purpose. But perhaps for this, for their foreign guest, it was better to go somewhere else. He quickly signaled for his peers to cease in their talking, and quickly communicated to them, Sasha’s disapproval. There was some more conversing amongst them, a few of the gesturing wildly for Joe to say something to Sasha.
“We are so sorry, sir. You’re right, let’s go someplace else. There’s a great club nearby, we can get a private room. It’ll have even more amenities, perhaps your lady will like to dance?” Joe offered, nodding and smiling at the woman with them (Stasi).
“Oh, are we going dancing?” Sayuri chimed in, returning with the tea and wine she promised.
“Yes! Quickly, grab your coat, Sayuri. We’re going to take them to the club by the train station.” Joe instructed.
Sayuri gave a curt bow, dropping the serving tray on the low table, before disappearing again to do as she was told. She returned as quickly as she had disappeared, she apparated at Sasha’s side when they were departing from the bar. She didn’t have a long or heavy coat, a light jean jacket that was cropped right below her breasts. It was scribbled on with market, different kanji and English phrases, doodles. It was something that could’ve been made by a child or bought from an expensive store. It wasn’t of course, it was made by Sayuri herself.
“I think you might like the club better.” She said to him quietly, but still with a friendly and knowing smile. Joe wouldn’t like it if she talked to Sasha too much, but he was busy talking to Spider, probably pertaining to a safety or some other miscellaneous business concern.
The club was nearby, most of the most seedy places in Kobe, were plotted next to each other, near the most central part of Kobe. So this place, and most hotspots in the area, would be in walking distance. The varying Russian and Japanese guards made a wall around its core members as they walked. Making it a little easier for Sayuri to talk to Sasha more discreetly.
"I bite. Hard." She said in Russian accompanied by forced laughter.
"I don't actually dislike the room, I dislike the man." Sasha replied as he gave Sayuri a discrete up and down now that he had a moment. She was very pretty, he noticed, with soft round features and a glint of mischief in her dark eyes. "I think that you do too. You shouldn't let him treat you like that." He said to her. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Sayuri laughed a bit, like Sasha said something truly funny. She reeled in her laughter, and fanned Sasha off. Of course she considered often, how good it would feel, to tear apart anyone who has ever hurt her. Ripping apart Joe and Mio, would be euphoric probably. But it would be dangerous for her, it would likely mean a quick end. Kobe was riddled with Yakuza, since that’s where their headquarters was. Most surrounding major cities too, and all their connecting trains and buses, and all their borders; manned and controlled, by Yakuza. Sayuri would never be able to face them all, she would go down under heavy bullet fire; and they would win. She would never get far with Joe and Mio’s blood on her hands.
It had begun to rain, but only gently so, a very light mist. Sayuri smiled again, looking up at the sky as its droplets made contact on her pale skin. It felt nice, even if it gave her a certain chill. She turned up the collar of her jean jacket, to protect the warmth around her neck. Girls weren’t allowed outside a lot. Usually there was an errand person who would collect any essentials for the bar girls. Sayuri felt privileged, that she could be outside right now to feel the rain.
“Hm, and what would you have me do? Eat him? Is it so simple where you come from.” Sayuri asked him with a slight grin, peering over at him with a sidelong glance. She was posing a somewhat genuine question, but she executed it like a joke. She did find the notion funny, that Velvet Suit, felt familiar enough to Sayuri, to give advice like that. “What would you do, if you were me?”
“I’m in the business of making people disappear, especially those who wrong me or the family.” He explained as he watched Sayuri seemingly enjoy the simple pleasure of the drizzle on her face. She was terribly pretty, he amended his previous thoughts about her appearance. His smile softened as he looked away. “But I’ve never eaten anyone. My father says people taste terrible and mediocre gangsters taste even worst. So I guess if I were you, I wouldn’t do that.” _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Sayuri’s smile deepened, as his softened, and she looked at him as he turned to look away from her.
“I hope I don’t need to tell you, we’re in different businesses.” She chuckled, scrunching her nose as she did so. “I think the reaction to you making someone disappear,” she began, touching an intact index finger to the lapel of his velvet jacket. “Would be very different than if I did it.” She finished, holding up a hand with her pinky cut down to the second knuckle. She was f embarrassed of it, or even ashamed. She normally drew smiley faces on the tip, it made her laugh. It wasn’t even the most brutal thing they had done to her.
That being said, she imagined the price for killing Joe would be more costly than that of a pinky.
Sasha blinked, surprised by the sudden reveal, before his brows furrowed and he reached over to take Sayuri's marred hand.
"They did this to you? For what?" He asked. He knew it was fairly normal for a yakuza to be missing a digit or two to mark their lack of loyalty and obedience, but Sayuri wasn't a yakuza. Of course she seemed to have her ties to the organization, otherwise why would she be there? But she
wasn't an active member. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Sayuri blinked, and flushed with some surprise. It was customary for her to be handled roughly and without care. Him grabbing her hand would merit less reaction if it were to hurt her. She looked away briefly, shaking away her remaining surprise before returning with a smile again. She took her hand back and jammed them into the pockets of her jean jacket nonchalantly.
“I don’t really remember now, to be honest. I lost it when Joe lost one of his, his mistakes are also mine. Could you imagine what I would lose if I were to cross them of my own volition?” She posed the question but didn’t wait for an answer.
They arrived at the club, there were more lights and louder music, a line of people outside; pacing and awaiting entry. The door man spotted the group approaching and parted the crowed to allow the mob priority entry. At the front of their group, Joe looked over his shoulder and spotted Sayuri with Sasha. He seemed to offer an expression of suspicion, wondering what they were talking about no doubt. He waved a hand at Sayuri, beckoning for her to rejoin him at his said.
“I’ll see you in there. Happy negotiating.” She grinned, offering a little wink, before hurrying to catch up to Joe as they filed in.
The club was one of the bigger establishments in the area, consuming a whole block on its own. It was three floors plus a rooftop bar, naturally there was always either a live DJ or band playing. There were girls dancing in tabletop cages, and on large platforms, organized throughout the building. There was very obviously other Yakuza there, other business dealings taking place outside of this one. Different men disappeared into private rooms; drinks and girls going in, but not appearing to come out. If there was a noise to be heard, say a gun shot, the firing of it was not likely to penetrate the sound barrier the sound amplifiers provided.
Spider looked uncomfortable, even in such a chaotic space, he felt like a spectacle due to his horrible scaring, and his stature. He fell back and found his place in step beside Stasi. He wasn’t far from her to begin with, but he felt better being closer than farther away. He didn’t want to lose her in the throngs of people.
Joe lead them to their own private room on the second floor. This room was much bigger, it had a deep circular booth with an impressive oak table in its center. Behind the booth was an aquarium built into the wall, housing extravagant and invasive fish. Spider even noticed a Lion Fish, swaying amongst the brightly colored coral.
“Hopefully this is more to your liking!” Joe boasted with pride, certain that it would be an improvement, and he’d receive some sort of praise for his change of environment.
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