Chapter 1:
The Best of Times
August 22, 1988
8:47 P.M.
Outside Kamurocho, Tokyo, a city that never sleeps yet still drowns in dreams…
The car rumbled and jerked under him as it drove over the uneven, unkempt pavement. The handcuffs on his wrists were smaller than he expected them to be, rubbing and burning the skin with the slightest movement, only incentivizing him to remain still as possible, which did not prove difficult considering the burly Japanese men in identical, ludicrously expensive black suits that were seated on either side of him in total silence.
His head hung low, seemingly staring at the cuffs or the floor underneath him, but in reality he was barely aware of his surroundings, save for the aforementioned burly men leaving him no room to move and the sound of some soft rock ballad he had not heard in quite a while. It was obviously American; some man crooned in the language and accent. The lyrics hardly found their way into his mind while he recollected on how he got into this position.
His name was Akira Kurusu, age: nineteen, weight: 71.6 kilograms, blood type: A, and he was in some serious shit.
Yakuza… was all he could think.
Akira finally looked up from the floor and out the window. The lights of the famous Kamurocho district were coming into view as they crossed the bridge, approaching their exit. Every meter the car advanced felt like a day to him, though whether it was from his unavoidable fear or his overwhelming exhaustion, he did not know. His long, jet black bangs fell over his eyes, and for what it was worth, he decided to take in the sights of Kamurocho for what might be the last time.
People were coming and going through the stores; women wore sexy, dazzling dresses and men wore respectable suits. The lights and colors were almost enough to blind the young man. He wondered what all those people's lives were like, what they were perhaps celebrating with drinks and good company, or attempting to drown.
The radio DJ cued up another song, and Akira decided to let the music whisk him away from here, even if for a minute.
A single note of a piano, and there was another American singing…
Tonight's the night we'll make history, honey, you and I
And I'll take any risk to tie back the hands of time
And stay with you here tonight
I know you feel these are the worst of times
I do believe it's true
When people lock their doors and hide inside
Rumor has it it's the end of Paradise
But I know, if the world just passed us by
Baby I know, you wouldn't have to cry
The best of times are when I'm alone with you
Some rain some shine, we'll make this a world for two
Our memories of yesterday will last a lifetime
We'll take the best, forget the rest
And someday we'll find these are the best of times
These are the best of times
The Best of Times
-Styx
"Hey!" the goon to his left punched his arm, pulling Akira back to the real world. He looked up to him and saw the man glaring down at him through his sunglasses. "Stay awake, kid. We're here."
The goon to his right chuckled. "Don't let the exhaustion get to you yet, boy. Boss don't like it when his appointments seem uninterested."
"Hmph," was Akira's only response before he was pulled out of the car and into the warm night air. Almost tripping over his own feet to the bemusement of the goons, he took in his surroundings. They were in front of a small, almost quaint hotel with the word "LeBlanc" emblazoned across the top of the entrance. The outside was a reddish wooden look; Akira noted that the appearance was already becoming dated. Men and women around them on the sidewalk gawked and whispered amongst themselves at the suspicious men in black suits pushing a thin-framed boy out of a car, and then pushing him again toward the entryway to LeBlanc. Akira looked back and glared at them, only to be met with another push. "Stay awake, kid," said one of the goons before he forcefully unlocked and removed the handcuffs. "Move, damn it." This time he complied with no resistance.
Walking through the double doors revealed a dimly, almost romantically lit lobby. Lanterns with ornate designs on the sides were placed at strategic points around the room, the furnishings were spotless and seemed brand new, all being fine leather seating and tables made of various types of stone. Akira would have felt impressed were he not punched in the back again to spur him on like a cow being prodded.
They walked by the reception desk, with the finely dressed attendant bowing to the goons behind Akira while acting like he was not even there. The goons took the lead suddenly as they came on an elevator. The goon to his right produced a keycard from his jacket pocket and put into the reader below the numbered buttons, causing a green light to turn on above them and the doors to open. Akira walked in with the goons without needing another prodding.
The two men stood at his sides, mimicking their appearance in the car. Neither spoke, neither even looked at the young man. Their faces looked perfectly straight on with their hands folded in front of them and their eyes obscured by their sunglasses. Akira tried to appear composed, but could not help his right leg from shaking. He gritted his teeth in an attempt to stop the jitters but was interrupted by a deceptively innocent sounding ding from above, signaling they had arrived at the penthouse level.
Akira took one deep breath, short and sharp as he and the goons walked into the beautiful apartment, though suspiciously empty. The floor was reflective like a mirror. Around the room was even more exceptional furnishing then what little Akira saw in the lobby, including an easily twelve feet long dining table to his right, nestled close to a large kitchen area. But what caught his eye the most was the back wall of windows peering over the neighborhood and on to the horizon, now bathed in the miasma of colors that was the lights of Tokyo shining bright into the sky. Not a bad last sight, at least…
Akira was suddenly stopped by the goons after only a few steps. "Wait here," the one to the left said. He obeyed, watching them step forward another few steps before dropping to their knees reverently. Akira's confusion was riddled on his face before he heard footsteps from somewhere to his right. Emerging from what he suspected to be a bathroom on the second floor was an extremely built Japanese man of about fifty in white sportcoat and slacks and blue shirt. He wore glasses on his somewhat square-shaped head and his gaze was like steel. The jitters in Akira's legs started again uncontrollably, and only increased as he came down the stairs and stood in front of the goons. A large, pale scar adorned his face under his right eye, and that steely gaze then met Akira's.
He's the perfect image of a Yakuza boss, Akira thought. He looks like he could crush me with his bare hands…
The man glowered at Akira, who fought to even maintain a neutral expression. He then looked down at the goons bowing to him. "I'm afraid you are early, boys," he remarked in a voice as strong as an old oak tree's trunk. "Boss isn't in yet."
What the hell? Akira thought. This guy isn't the boss? If he's not, then who on Earth would be in charge of a guy like that!? Okay, just keep cool. Keep cool…
"Oy!" the man said in a commanding tone, immediately ensnaring Akira's attention. "You going to just stand there like a statue, boy?"
"Eh, um," Akira fought like a boxer to find any kind of cohesive response, but it felt like his tongue was made of lead.
The man looked to the goons. "Stand at the elevator and prepare for Boss to arrive. Should be any second."
"Yes, sir," they responded in unison and walked in perfect synchronicity to the elevator. There they stood perfectly still with their hands behind their backs, leaving nothing but air between Akira and the most imposing man he had ever seen.
"Tell me, boy," the man addressed him, "are you afraid?"
Akira took another deep breath and slightly adjusted his stance, making him look more surefooted and stopping the shaking in his legs. He thought of many responses to the man's question. Should he feign confidence? Reply with something snarky or sarcastic? No, that would be idiotic at the very least. This was a yakuza, and he knew better than to play games with a yakuza. "I am," he said plainly.
The man chuckled to himself and smirked. "At least you're honest, boy."
There was another ding from the elevator behind him, and Akira felt as if he was going to vomit up his own heart. The yakuza looked past Akira as the doors to the elevator opened before smirking at the young man again. Akira heard footsteps and... girls giggling? He heard two girls' voices whispering to each other, causing him more confusion than fear.
"Alright, that's enough ladies," said an extremely deep, almost comically smooth male voice. "Make yourselves at home upstairs, I'll be with you soon."
"Okay!" they both responded cheerfully. "Thank you, Sakura-san!" Their voices were almost sickeningly sweet, and obviously being faked to at least some extent. A second later they came out from behind Akira, allowing him to see the two skimpily dressed women not much older than himself giggling and whispering to each other. They both looked back at him for a moment, then whispered something again, and then giggled again. The indignity was enough to distract him from the current situation for just a moment.
The yakuza in front of him got to his knees just like the goons and bowed his head as Akira heard the footsteps of a man approaching behind him. "Welcome back, Boss," the man said. "I hope the night has found you well."
"Extremely, old friend," the man replied. He came from around Akira, allowing him to get a good look at the "Boss". With a title like that and the respect seen by the others, he expected a tower of a man to come forth, capable of ending a man with a glare. But what did come forth only added to Akira's confusion. The "Boss" was skinny, slouched, and all around unimpressive physically. He wore glasses on his long nose and his chin was exceptionally pointy. He looked Akira up and down slowly, as if inspecting him for weaknesses. "Though, my night off has been somewhat ruined by getting called into work again."
"Forgive us, Boss, but it was urgent."
"I am well aware of the urgency, Kuze." "Boss" walked over to Kuze and tapped his shoulder, which apparently was the signal to get up, which he immediately did. "I am simply lamenting the need to cut my night short. I was on a role in Shogi tonight."
They're acting like I'm not even here.
"Well, I hope your appointment will not take long, Boss," Kuze said respectfully.
"So do I, but I don't think that will quite be the case tonight." "Boss" patted Kuze on the back. "Go down to the bar and buy yourself a nice drink. No need for you to suffer this boredom as much as me."
"Thank you, Boss," Kuze grinned. "It's not like you'll be needing protection from this scrawny-ass kid anyway."
"Oh, I wouldn't sell him too short, you know," Boss chuckled. "We already know he has potential." The two men laughed in unison.
Well, I'm fucked.
"Be seeing you, Boss," Kuze said as he began walking away.
"You as well, friend," Boss replied nonchalantly. "Take care." As Kuze walked past Akira, he gave him one more indignant, almost hostile smirk, to which Akira responded with a glare and nothing more. The elevator dinged and now, Akira and the "Boss" were alone. The young man's heart began to race and he gulped in his throat.
Boss looked Akira dead in the eyes. Though he was feet away, Akira felt as if this older man was breathing down his neck. "You know why you're here, kid?" Boss asked plainly.
Akira met his gaze, despite feeling he was going to crawl out of his own skin. "I do. I stood up for what was right and am being punished for it."
Boss chuckled low in his throat. "That you're interpretation of things, huh?"
"It's the truth."
"Yeah, well many people don't see it that way." Boss walked up to Akira, causing him to take a step back only for the older man to walk right past him and toward the kitchen, pulling a bottle of wine from the large refrigerator. "Were it almost any other man," Boss began whilst pouring himself a glass of deep red wine, "you'd be at home right now, playing video games or getting with a girl or whatever the hell you do for fun. But you screwed with the wrong guy, kid."
"And now you're going to punish me?" Akira replied. "Gonna cut off my finger like traditions tell you to?"
Boss chuckled again, then turned around and started laughing before taking a long sip of wine. "You think you're here for punishment? No, you're not here to be punished, Kurusu. You're here for your own damn protection."
Akira felt his heart jump at the statement, but his mind could barely process it, much less believe it, prompting a very simple response of, "What?"
"Exactly what I said: you're being protected. If my boys hadn't swooped in when they did you'd probably be getting your skull kicked in in a ditch somewhere."
Akira folded his arms, regaining his faculties from the revelation. "And why exactly are you helping me then? I don't know any of you! So forgive me for thinking that getting chloroformed and cuffed and thrown into a car with a could of yakuza muscles wasn't exactly reassuring.
"We did that so as not to draw suspicion from other families, boy, and you should be very, very grateful. I can already see you have an attitude and it will definitely have to go very soon. So, will you hear me out or not?"
Akira nodded, figuring he had to be either telling the truth, or was a sadist pulling his leg to lure him into a false sense of security. "Fine. What's your interest in me?"
"Up until a three days ago? Nothing. But when you gave that man a broken nose, well, every yakuza in the city became interested in you, mostly just to see what would happen. But it wasn't just for the fact that you punched a man in the nose, though. You really know why we're all so interested in you?"
Akira lowered his gaze and glared at Boss. He had had his suspicions, and without saying so they had just been confirmed. "My parents have nothing to do with any of you people anymore," he said resolutely. "If they had any dealings or ties to your clan, they're long gone. I don't know if they were yakuza, and I don't know if anything you're saying is the truth, but I do know that they left any of that behind, if it happened at all."
Boss smirked at the young man. "First thing you have to learn about this world, kid, is that you never leave it."
"What are you talking about?"
"When one joins the yakuza, they're in it for life, no matter how hard they try to leave. You can run to the other end of the earth and you'll be pulled right back in in time. Every yakuza that ever lived died with some connection to our little world. Maybe some kid made it big and got a fortune out of it, but then retired or ran to the States when he was old. I guarantee you his funeral was paid for with money he made extorting small businesses and beating down rivals and thugs. Your parents are just the same, and they didn't try to run nearly as hard as you think they did." Akira was about to bring down a flood of wrathful swears on the man, but he was stopped when Boss raised his hand. "And before you get all uppity about how your parents 'really are', you should know that they're the ones that contacted me to get you out of there and put you under my protection."
Akira's mouth hung agape as it tried to form some sort of swear word, but nothing came out. His eyes widened and he relented as what Boss said sunk in. His gaze then fell from the older man's eyes to the floor, allowing him to see his downcast reflection.
Boss nodded. "They couldn't exactly call the police and put you all in protective custody, now could they? So they contacted me. It's the first I've heard from your mom since before you were born. I just wish it had been under better circumstances."
"You knew my parents?"
"I did, but I knew your mother far better than your father, which is why she called. She knew she could sway me to taking you in and getting you out of the crosshairs for a bit. Try as I did, I couldn't say no, and now you're here, making me talk so much my wine is going lukewarm."
Akira put his hand to his forehead, suddenly feeling the most confused he'd ever been in his life. There was a leather seat to his right and he took it, not thinking to be polite about asking whether he had permission to or not. "So…" he began slowly, "what happens now? Why did this even happen in the first place? Who the hell did I punch?"
"A very powerful, and very dangerous man."
"He was gonna rape that woman!" Akira whirled around in his chair and blurted out. "I saw it and knew I had to intervene! It's not like it's my fault he was to drunk to block my punch!"
"And yet here you are, with apparently no one caring whether it was your fault or not. If they did, your mother would never have contacted me." Boss' tone was as dark as the wine in his glass.
It was then that another, even more unsettling thought creeped into Akira's mind. "What happened to my parents?"
"They're currently under my protection, however limited my resources may be. They're safe, I guarantee it. It doesn't seem like anyone knew who you were or where your family is, but I set up some watchful eyes for them, just in case."
"And then why am I here if they're so safe?"
Boss walked over to Akira and sat in the seat next to him. He took another sip of wine. "Because you're going to be a lot more use to a lot more people if you stick here with me, and do exactly as I say."
"Hey, fuck you!" Akira shot up from his seat. "I'm no yakuza and don't want any part of it! Just let me go back and see my family!"
"I can't do that, kid," Boss replied with little inflection or expression.
"And why the hell not!?"
"Because your parents were in my debt, and you're going to be the repayment." Akira's eyes widened and he felt the burning urge to lay this man out. "Run from it, try to fight it, you'll only get yourself tortured and killed. I didn't want to do this, honestly, but your parents owed me in a way they couldn't just pass." Boss leaned forward in his chair and glared into Akira's eyes. "I told you, no one ever leaves this life."
Akira still glowered at Boss. His chest was tight, his muscles tense and flexing, ready to break this man's nose just as he had that low-life rapist. But he could not bring himself to do so. For whatever reason, despite the fact that he was looking down on the man, he felt completely disempowered. He lowered his arms as if defeated or dishonored. "Who the hell are you?"
"My name is Sojiro Sakura, patriarch of the Sakura crime family." He stood up to look down at Akira. "The family you are now a part of." He led Akira to the windows looking out over the neighborhood of Kamurocho and sipped his wine. The streets had only gotten busier, with many people seemingly having the times of their lives.
"This city appears beautiful," Sojiro began, "but under that beauty is a sickness, a cancer that is quickly becoming terminal. Every day, I watch it progress and infect more and more once pure parts of this little town. Soon, it will reach a dramatic and ugly conclusion, Akira, and I am in no way blameless in it ending up like this."
"Than what do you need me for?"
"We have identified the sickness, boy, and now we need the cure. Together, we can be that cure. The families relations will collapse if we don't do something, and when that happens, it will inevitably lead to chaos. We, Akira, will make sure nothing like that happens."
Akira hanged his head low. "And I don't have a say in this."
"No, you don't. The man you humiliated is right at the center of this sickness, and as it would turn out, some punk-ass kid laying him out has shaken up things here a bit. If a kid like that can affect the yakuza world with one lucky, incredibly stupid punch, imagine what he could do if he actually tried to make something happen around here."
"I told you, I'm no yakuza! I don't even really know anything about my parents' history with it. Whatever they did, whatever they owe you, can't we repay it once this is all over?"
"If that debt is not repayed now," Sojiro said more sternly, "then they will never get the chance again, and all of Tokyo will pay for their brat's selfishness. You say you're no yakuza? Well, get that idea out of your head as soon as you can, kid. You were born a yakuza, you're closer to us than you know, and now we've just made it official." Sojiro raised his glass to Akira, who had the most curious mixed expression of confusion and anger on his face. "Welcome to the Sakura family, Akira Kurusu," he smirked and downed the rest of his wine.
Akira turned on his heel and walked back a few steps, but stopped in his tracks. He looked around the apartment like a lost puppy. "Something wrong, kid?" Sojiro asked with a self-satisfied smile.
"I, uh, I don't know," the young man stammered.
Sojiro walked past him and put the wineglass in the sink in the kitchen, washing it out nonchalantly. "It's not an unforeseen reaction, I guess. You're probably more overwhelmed than you ever have been in your life."
"You can say that again."
"But don't worry. I told you, we'll be the cure to this city, Akira. You're going to do some pretty impressive things in the next few months."
"Then what do I do now?"
Sojiro placed the wineglass on the drying rack and looked back at Akira. "What every yakuza newbie does, kid: exactly what your superiors say, without question. No matter what it is, anytime, anywhere, you bow that big head of yours and do it without a second thought. Simple, right?"
"I guess."
"Good." Sojiro walked past him and up to the staircase to their right where the girls had gone. "Now, your first task as yakuza is to get to bed. There's a guest room to your left, and all the essentials have already been provided for you. Just don't make a mess of anything."
Akira looked to his left and saw the indicated door. Plain, white, and unassuming. He nodded his head. "Okay."
"Right. Now, I have a date to get back to that you've kept me from. They're probably asleep by now, and if they are you'll have to work double to make up for my lost time, kid. But get some rest now. Trust me," he turned around and started walking up the stairs, "you'll need it."
"But there's so much I still need to know!"
Sojiro stopped. It was a long, painful moment before he spoke. "You don't know what you need to know, kid. You only just got your feet in the water, now's not the time to jump headfirst into the deep end. Keep your wits about you, and you'll find everything you need."
Sojiro disappeared up the stairs, leaving Akira alone on the floor. He made his way to the guest room and opened the door. All that was in there was a bed, a lamp, and a closet. Akira threw off his jacket and fell onto the bed. His head hurt, his muscles ached, and his mind raced with the overwhelming information he had just received.
"Tokyo is sick?" he said to himself. "The families are falling apart? And my parents… what the hell is happening?" His eyelids began to feel heavy, and the room seemed to become darker. Sleep was taking him, but there were so many questions he desperately wanted answered. Who was that guy I hit? What do my parents have to do with it, and why does Sojiro know mom so well? I can't believe I'm here, I still don't really know why I'm here. But if they're gonna take me from my family all because I stood up for what's right, I won't take that lying down. Whoever that man was is responsible for all of this, and I have to make sure my family is safe. Whoever you are, wherever you are, you won't get away with this. I wasn't born a yakuza, but I'll do whatever it takes for my family to be safe.
If this city really is sick, and one broken nose is the start of the cure, then maybe I can do something. Mom, Dad, whatever you were before I was born, I hope that same strength is in me. Because I've never been more scared in my life…