The Price of Information
Tokyo: Shibuya District
In a room filled with cigarette smoke, eight people gathered, with one sitting apart from the rest behind a desk bearing a nameplate that read "Yamashiro Ueda." He appeared to be in his early thirties, with black and gray hair, piercing black eyes, and a dark black jacket adorned with the name and logo of a metal band. Multiple piercings adorned his nose, ears, and even his lip.
"So, that's what you want to know, huh?" Ueda asked, leaning back lazily in his chair, addressing the man seated across the desk from him. The others in the room, including this man, had a rough appearance—not in the sense of being downtrodden, but more akin to a group of hardened crooks.
"That's right, and we know you're the right guy to ask for something like this," the man in front of Ueda replied, taking a drag from his cigarette. Clearly the boss of the group, he sported a scar across his forehead and appeared to be in his mid-forties, with balding gray hair and intense black eyes. He wore a red shirt adorned with a pin, a symbol shared by all present—a clear indication that they were all members of one thing and one thing only: the Yakuza.
"Well, then I'm sure you're aware of the price tag attached to that kind of information," Ueda stated firmly, leaning on his desk. The boss of the Yakuza gestured to one of his men, who promptly handed over a white envelope to Ueda. Ueda accepted it, inspecting the contents before shaking his head. "This isn't enough," he declared, placing the envelope back on his desk.
"Give us a discount, why don't you? It would be best for both of us," the boss suggested with a smile, but Ueda sensed the veiled threat behind his words. "I thought the Yakuza were about honor, not stooping to the level of gangs," Ueda retorted, unmoved by the boss's demeanor.
The boss chuckled. "Honor doesn't hold much value nowadays. And we're not stooping to the level of gangs, not yet anyway. They would've just beaten the info out of you," he remarked, taking another drag of his cigarette.
"Is that so? Well, sorry to say, but no deal. If you won't pay me my amount, then you can get out of my office," Ueda stated boldly, showing no fear. The boss sighed. "I tried to be reasonable, but you forced my hand," he said, turning to his men and ordering, "Grab him." The men grinned, some cracking their knuckles as they moved toward Ueda.
However, before anything could happen, there was a sudden knock at the door.
"Oi, Ueda! I'm here for some info!" The voice from behind the door made Ueda's demeanor immediately shift. "Damn it, what's that little shit doing here!?" he exclaimed, confusing the Yakuza members.
"I heard you, Ueda! I know you're in there! Open the door before I break it down!" yelled the voice from behind the door. Ueda turned to the Yakuza members with a sense of urgency. "You know what? I'll give you the info for free if you can take care of the piece of shit behind that door," he said, appearing desperate. The boss smirked in response. "I'll hold you to that. If you don't keep your end of the deal, it's the meat grinder for you," he warned. Ueda waved him off dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just deal with the guy behind that door," he said impatiently.
The boss rose from his chair and motioned for his men to open the door so they could handle whoever was causing the commotion outside. "Should we kill him or just break a few bones?" the boss asked Ueda, seeking guidance. Ueda's response was firm. "Just get rid of him. I don't care if you have to kill him for that," he instructed. The boss shrugged in agreement as his men opened the door, revealing a young high-school boy standing outside.
"The hell?" the boss exclaimed in confusion, his eyes narrowing as they landed on the boy with blue eyes and blond hair, a foreigner in a black tracksuit with white stripes. "Who are you guys... whatever," the boy said dismissively, scanning the room. When his gaze landed on Ueda, he pointed accusingly. "There you are, you little bastard! I need some info from you," he demanded, his tone brash and impatient. Then, addressing the Yakuza members, he ordered, "You guys, step out for a bit. I gotta speak with him," shooing them away as if they were dogs.
"The fuck did you say, you brat!" one of the Yakuza growled, grabbing the boy's collar. In a swift motion, the boy retaliated with a back fist, the sound of bone meeting bone echoing in the room as the Yakuza member crumpled to the ground, knocked out with a single blow. "I have a name, punk. It's Richard," he corrected, looking down at the unconscious Yakuza member with annoyance and a hint of boredom.
The rest of the Yakuza members looked at their fallen comrade in shock, their expressions quickly morphing into fury as they glared up at Richard, spewing threats and curses. "Do you have a fucking death wish, you fucker!" one of them yelled, his voice seething with rage. "We'll skin you alive!" another threatened, his eyes burning with malice. Despite their menacing words, Richard remained unfazed, blocking out their angry tirades with an irritated mutter of "Shut up."
The boss raised his hand, signaling for silence, his expression darkening with anger. "Hey, brat, do you know who you're dealing with?" he growled, his eye twitching with barely contained rage. Richard casually slid his hands into his tracksuit pockets, his tone dripping with disdain. "Just some low-level Yakuza who aren't part of the Shinryu Clan," he replied bluntly.
The boss's vein popped at the insult. "Are you saying just because we aren't part of the Shinryu Clan, we're weak?" he demanded, his voice rising in fury. Richard looked down at them with a contemptuous sneer. "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying," he retorted without hesitation, his words like daggers cutting through their pride. "You're nothing but bottom feeders who'd run away at the sight of any major gangs and suck up to any Yakuza you come across because all of you are worthless trash that has no right to exist."
With that, the Yakuza's patience snapped. "I'll show you who's worthless, you brat!" the boss roared, rallying his men into a frenzy of violence as they launched themselves at Richard, their fists flying and their rage unleashed, while Ueda cowered behind his desk, seeking cover from the chaos.
One of the Yakuza members launched a wild punch at Richard's face, but he casually sidestepped it with ease. In a fluid motion, Richard retaliated with a precise right jab to the Yakuza's nose, shattering it on impact. Richard maintained a bored expression, his left hand still tucked in his pocket as he nonchalantly observed the chaos unfolding around him. *After fighting MoH'es, these guys are pathetic,* he thought with disdain.
Another Yakuza attempted to kick Richard in the stomach, but Richard swiftly grabbed his leg with his right hand and yanked it, causing the Yakuza to lose his balance and tumble to the ground. Meanwhile, three more Yakuza converged on Richard simultaneously. One threw a punch, another attempted a tackle, and a third attacked from behind.
Richard effortlessly dodged the punch, redirecting it to strike the Yakuza attacking from behind square in the face, rendering him unconscious. Simultaneously, Richard delivered a punishing knee strike to the jaw of the Yakuza attempting the tackle, knocking him out cold. As the chaos unfolded, the boss watched with a mixture of anger and a hint of fear creeping into his thoughts. *Who the hell is this brat?* he pondered, his eyes narrowed with growing apprehension.
The Yakuza Richard had jabbed in the nose attempted another punch, but before he could follow through, Richard seized him by the face and forcefully slammed his head into the wall, rendering him unconscious as well.
The two remaining Yakuza members glanced nervously at their boss, fear evident in their eyes. They clearly didn't want to continue the fight, but the boss's harsh command spurred them into action. "What are you doing!? Don't let some high-school brat beat you!" he bellowed, his voice filled with frustration.
Richard looked at them as if they were less than trash, and that's exactly how he saw them—completely uninteresting. Nevertheless, when the Yakuza members attempted to attack him again—one with a punch and the other brandishing a knife—a twisted idea flashed through Richard's mind.
With effortless agility, Richard dodged the punch, waiting patiently as the Yakuza wielding the knife charged toward him. As the knife-wielding Yakuza closed in, Richard's expression twisted into a psychotic grin. In a sudden and brutal move, he seized the Yakuza who had thrown the punch and hurled him at the charging assailant with the knife.
The sound of steel meeting flesh echoed in the room as the Yakuza Richard hurled staggered back, blood seeping from a deep wound in his abdomen where his comrade had collided with him. Shock and horror washed over the boss and the remaining Yakuza member as they witnessed the gruesome spectacle.
Amidst the chaos, Richard's laughter erupted—a chilling, maniacal sound that sent shivers down their spines. The boss gazed up at Richard, his expression a mixture of astonishment and dread, as Richard wiped away tears of laughter. "Ah, now that was interesting," he chuckled between fits of laughter. "If you don't want that guy to die, then I'd recommend going to a hospital," he quipped, his laughter fading into a sinister smirk.
"O-oi, are you insane? Do you know what you just did, you fuck!" the boss yelled in a mixture of anger and fear, his voice trembling with uncertainty. Richard, unfazed by the outburst, began to slowly advance towards him, his gaze piercing and his demeanor intimidating.
"Insane? Yeah, I am. There's no denying that. But that's not important," Richard stated calmly as he closed the distance between them, his towering figure casting a shadow over the boss, who visibly trembled under his gaze. "What's important here is if you're insane enough to still fight me," he added, his voice dripping with an eerie calmness.
As Richard loomed inches away from the boss's face, the leader's resolve crumbled, and he fell to his knees, bowing with his head to the ground in a desperate plea for mercy. "Please, spare my life," he begged, his pride overshadowed by the stark fear of death.
Richard let out a sigh, his expression indifferent. "Yeah, whatever. Get out of here. None of you matter anyway," he dismissed with a wave of his hand, his tone devoid of emotion. The boss scrambled to his feet and hastily made his exit, leaving behind the wounded Yakuza member.
"What about him, Captain?" the conscious Yakuza member asked, referring to the one that got stabbed. "Who cares? Let's get away while we can," the boss replied, his priority now self-preservation. With that, they fled the scene, leaving Richard to deal with the aftermath.
Meanwhile, Richard looked down at the bleeding Yakuza with a fleeting moment of contemplation. *Should I help him?* he pondered briefly before dismissing the thought with a shake of his head. "Nah, too much work. You'll have to get rid of the body, won't you, Ueda!" Richard barked, his voice cutting through the air like a whip as he shoved the desk behind which Ueda had been cowering, revealing the trembling figure of the terrified informant.
"Why the hell do you keep coming here, man? Just leave me alone already!" Ueda exclaimed in frustration, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and annoyance.
Richard grinned, his expression almost predatory. "That's never happening, Ueda! Don't you remember that I called you interesting?" he taunted, relishing in Ueda's discomfort.
Ueda felt like crying, but with a resigned sigh, he stood up, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine, what do you want now?" he asked, his tone weary.
Richard patted him on the shoulder patronizingly. "Good boy," he said, his tone dripping with condescension, eliciting an annoyed look from Ueda. Ignoring Ueda's expression, Richard continued, "Sit down for a sec, 'cause I've got a lot to tell you."