7 Planning
As much as I loathed the assignment, business is still business as long as the human's target isn't yōkai. That's a single code of conduct among all of us. It is okay to kill amongst ourselves to further agendas, but never at a human's behest.
This high level assassination request had the stench of looming trouble. Especially if it is the yakuza who came on Yako's recommendation. Yeah, no surprise. The kitsune clubs were dens for underground activity - deals were made over alcohol and pleasures of the flesh.
Masakage was the usual referee for that lot. Why Yako now?
The yakuza are on the decline, which was worsened by the current COVID-19 situation. Pitiful, they were once useful partners with hands in politics and businesses. Not to mention excellent clients. Paid in full and on time. They have connections to the politicians on the top, despite diminishing in influence.
Their humble beginnings in the 17th century consisted of grotty scammers, ragged roaming ronins and secretive smugglers, with a network of professional gambling dens then. Then the brothels were involved. Finally, a united conglomerate of human rejects emerged from their society to create a living hell for the very people who spat on them.
The hirer, Myojin Ryuu, is not a boss. At 32 years old, he is very young to be tagged as a successor to one of the biggest yakuza organisations. Of course, a few of the older thugs would be unhappy with that young punk. He wanted to get rid of a troublesome obstacle plus create a gang war. Two birds with one stone.
Well, I can see why. The unhappiness stemmed from the very fact that the older thugs viewed themselves as senior and god-like. Not because of their merits or achievements. Some were a waste of oxygen, inheriting power from their dead seniors, instead of earning it.
From recollection, the yakuza used to be innovative and meritocratic. Promotions were doled out on accomplishments. Now, they inherited the damning old ways of 'seniority complex' from the very legitimate dying organisations, which they used to extort from.
No adaptability to globalisation or technology. Total inflexibility. Intolerance to new ideas. Many of those traditional styled businesses went belly up in the late 1980s bubble economy burst. The same fate that the yakuza was facing in 2021.
So when someone wants a head on a silver platter with a 100% guarantee, they will come to my corporation.
My eyes pored through the photographs of the target. A perverted obese, ugly old 69 year old smiling thug who was way past his expiry date. Diabetes and a few cholesterol related heart attacks should have taken this one. Likes barely legal school girls. Many of whom his men had tricked or enticed into the adult video business or the club hostess scene.
Funny how the lure of a Chanel or a Hermes bag could turn young fresh meat into an incubator of sexually transmitted diseases. In the past, they needed to feed a family. Fine, I can comprehend that. Now, some of these girls are from middle-class families. Never understood humans. Never will.
"Ready or not?" Daija's disembodied voice spoke impatiently.
"Here I come. Just don't hide," I cooed.
"Fuck you," came his reply.
Gotta love his attitude.
And I was in the car park. That's the benefit of having yōkai teleportation powers. We try not to do that too much because of the humans. Nothing like hearing screams echoing through the vicinity, but damn close circuit cameras could catch us in the act.
Fortunately, this is Shinde Inc.'s private car park, so there's freedom since the guards are not human. Just a bunch of fat tanukis, raccoon dog yōkai, lazing around with an overconfidence in their scent catching abilities.
If all fails, there is a spider yōkai waiting at the entry way before the car park. That one isn't lazy. She enjoys feeding on yōkai and humans alike. Note to self: have to talk with her about those messy webs of hers. Sometimes cleaning up her leftover webs can be a pain when we need her to go away for whatever reason. Like a seminar for human associates.
In front of me was Daija leaning casually with his arms folded against his Kawasaki Ninja H2. Judging from the shiny super bike, he possibly modified it. This baby will travel at around 360 kilometres per hour max. Daija in the black t-shirt, black leather jacket, and pants looked different. Ahh, he adjusted his hairstyle to a shorter length.
"Your eyes. The slits…"
"I will wear a helmet. If anyone sees, blame it on those theatrical contact lenses. Quit nagging," he retorted as he got on the bike.
The engine revved. Beautiful humming music to my ears. A tiny squeal of delight escaped. Sometimes humans can also amaze us with building these toys.
"Stop drooling. Your serpent spit can soil my Kawasaki. Get on," he grumbled as he held out my helmet.
I wore it and hopped on behind him. A few more revs and it took off, purring around the large cement pillar towards the open garage door.
The cars were moving like a bunch of snails as we weaved in and out towards the expressway. One more turn, up the ramp, past the electronic toll deduction sensors overhead, and a tiny beep could be heard. Then it was through the double story fly over with the fucking ugly shit ass dust covered metal shields before the view
Daija revved the engine again as kids stuck their faces against the windows of some passing family cars to look before he sped up. I gave a tiny wave to them before his Kawasaki went zipping around the grumpy truck drivers who turned up their fog beams at us in protest. Assholes.
From the express flyover, a breathtaking view of the high rise concrete jungle around central Tokyo with twinkling lights rose. Whoever thought that the slummy backwater city of the Kanto plains would have changed over two centuries. The shimmering lights grew brighter as the same old fucking ugly metal railings greeted us and down into the busy traffic chaos that was downtown Shinjuku.
***
"Heh, you came with your fellow yōkai…," Yako eyed Daija from head to toe.
Yeah. Learnt my lesson not to bring Kyoko in. Had a headache of dealing with her pleas to tag along.
This is Mr Grumpy, who doesn't like others to touch him. I almost had to stop him from shoving the drunk female patrons who tried to flirt with him.
"This is Daija," I introduced, feigning my ignorance. "And this is…"
Yako's face still had a frozen smile. Definitely a good show to be had.
"Yako. Ten tailed kitsune. We have met before when you had nine," Daija cut me off. "I wonder, how long does it take to regenerate a tail?"
Ouch. The burn.
A growl as Yako turned around, red faced, and led us up the stairway.
"The client hasn't arrived yet," Yako snapped at the two of us without looking back.
I snickered. Bringing Daija was a payback to Yako for what he did to Kyoko.
This is how the story goes about how a small time serpent yōkai made it big into the Daiyōkai circles. Daija had no grand Daiyōkai breeding, nor the age to become one.
A thousand years ago, Yako wandered into his territory to feed after getting hunted by humans. So this cunning fox challenged our then small yōkai under the pretext of an eating challenge. Why make it look like he was the asshole to the local yōkai since he was still unknown out of the Kyoto circle? No doubt Yako won.
However, Daiyōkai, like him after a gluttonous feeding, got a tad drowsy. In his arrogance, he let down his guard. In slithers Daija who strangulated him in his slumber for half of his powers and ate three of his tails. Too weakened to fight back, and Yako fled.
Daija practically grabbed the opportunity to swallow power when he could. He could do that to me too. That's what makes him so respectable.
With Daija's presence, Yako looked uncomfortable. A little jittery too. That would make the situation a lot easier to work around. Less of Yako's mind games, and more seriousness to do some planning with the client.
