|
|
|
|
It wasn't often Sakai asked for a favor. That's why, when he asked Chiharu to check up on something, she immediately agreed. Not only was she sure his case was serious, but given all the man had done for her - from recruiting her into the family to practically adopting her as a sister - this was small in comparison. A simple tracking mission, how hard could it be? Apparently very hard. Perhaps she should've seen this from the start. Perhaps if she had been more careful, it would have been different. Sakai dealt with weapons after all. Guns, knives, and other tricky items. Bringing the in was hard enough, and to sell them successfully? In a country where even legal weapons were heavily frowned upon and bullets counted to the last one, that had to be no easy feat. Chiharu should've known the competitor was someone special. She had to give it to them; they played her perfectly. The first couple of drop-offs were hard to track, and even then Chiharu hadn't been sure they were the ones. But somewhere along the way, they must have figured out she was watching. So after confirming that they were, in fact, the ones Sakai's clients flocked too, she started looking harder. And suddenly, they had become that much easier to find. Chiharu originally attributed that to her renewed efforts, but looking back, they were surely baiting her out. She curses herself. Be careful, Sakai had said, something seemed off. When she described the people she'd seen, the way they talked, he grew thoughtful and advised her not to make sudden actions. She'd brushed him off, saying how close she was to tracking them down. But look where she was now. Hell, she didn't even know where she was. Chiharu blows hair away from her face. A dark room with pale yellow lighting. Whatever windows there were are narrow strips high off the ground. The heavy metal door mocks her from across the room. Keys sparkle from someone's pocket, daring her to reach for them. But of course she couldn't. Her hands are pinned behind her as the men in the room wait silently for something (or someone). Well, she had put up something of a fight. But even if she hadn't, Chiharu doubted they would've left her alone. With physical resistance clearly futile, she too waits. Saito Eiji |
|
|
|
|
|
|
[googlefont=Sarabun:ital,wght@0,400;0,700;1,400;1,700] Even in his nicely tailored suit, Eiji still feels, at times, that he is nothing but a boy playing pretend in life. The business meeting he just conducted was no doubt real—there were agreements being made, real money being exchanged, empty laughter and emptier smiles. The people had felt real to him then, even with cigarette smoke obscuring their faces; and as he was talking to them, Eiji felt nothing was amiss. But as Eiji walked out, he caught his reflection on the hotel’s mirror and felt uneasy, as if he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It has been years since he started helping Gongjia with his businesses, but the word businessman still sounds to him like a joke. A criminal would be a better word for him, though even then Eiji feels he could not quite fit inside the mold carved by that word. If he is neither a businessman nor a criminal, then what could he really be? Is it possible that he would forever feel as if he does not belong anywhere? On his way to the car, someone whispers to him that his men caught the intruder that has been snooping around their office in Kabuki-cho. Again? Eiji thinks tiredly, though why not again? This is only the nature of Gongjia’s business, this world with no peace to be found anywhere. Eiji nods as he gets into his car. He is lucky that he is not far from home; the meeting took place in Shimbashi. His car glides in relatively empty traffic. As Eiji looks out the car window, his solemn face lit up by the streetlights they pass through, the thought of the intruder slips out of his mind. It is raining lightly by the time he arrives. Someone holds open an umbrella for him, even though it only takes not more than five steps from his car to the door—another thing Eiji never got used to. The intruder, as it turns out, is a young girl who couldn’t be older than twenty. Her hair is dyed green, but it not the brightness of her hair that catches Eiji’s attention, but the fierceness of her eyes. Her arms are roughly held by one of his men. After signalling his men to guard the door, Eiji says gently, “Why, she is still a child, isn’t she? Don’t be so rough on her.” The man who has the girl loosens his grip, though he doesn’t let go. Someone brings out a chair for Eiji to sit, and now he and the girl are facing one another. Eiji gives the girl a thin and tired smile. “My name is Saito Eiji.” He says lightly. “What’s yours?” Nakamura Chiharu |
|
|
