Saejima’s knuckles felt the yielding resistance of flesh and bone, a sensation he was well familiar with. The man trapped within his vice-like grip fell silent for a brief moment, too stunned to react. He was back to wailing soon afterwards, thrashing and flailing like a child throwing a tantrum. It was a sad, pathetic sight. The men who joined up with the Tojo these days were all cut from the same cheap cloth. More so when it came to the Hakuho clan, a band of party boys led by a psychotic ex-banker. Or rather, formerly led. As far as Saejima was concerned, Mine had earned his one-way journey to the pit more than any other man in the clan. A dog about to bite the hand that fed him would sooner or later have to be put down. What they hadn't anticipated was a retaliation, a hit at Daigo from one of Mine’s lackeys.
“Please” the Hakuho man mumbled weakly, sputtering blood “I joined up a week ago. I don’t know nothing. I have a kid, she's three years old!”
Saejima’s grip tightened, the fabric of the man’s shirt bunching under his fingers. “What's that got to do with me?”
A pitiful “what?” escaped the man’s lips.
“Akimoto-san, wasn't it? Ya ever go out in the wilderness, Akimoto-san?” Saejima asked, his tone conversational as he shoved his victim hard against the brick wall that ran the perimeter of an old tobacco factory. “Ever come across a wild animal? A predator?” He allowed a moment for the question to settle, watching as panic danced in the man's eyes, searching for a response that would spare him further suffering.“Do ya think nature cares about yer baby daughter? Do ya think it cares about circ*mstance or human misfortune? Nah, Akimoto-san. Nature is all about purpose and function”.
There was no doubt in Saejima’s mind that the Hakuho man was speaking the truth; the way he carried himself, his youthful appearance and the fact that he’d never even glimpsed his face before in Tojo gatherings all pointed to his status as a new recruit. A small fry like that wouldn’t have been privy to whatever machinations had left Daigo Dojima clinging to life in the ICU of the Touto University hospital. It wasn’t revenge Saejima was after. The vipers that made up the Tojo clan had given one hell of a show when the news of the Chairman’s assassination attempt broke, weeping, cursing and touting their loyalty through grand declarations of war against a phantom enemy. Among them only a handful of people were truly shaken by this sudden turn of events, his kyodai with his misplaced affection for the sixth Chairman first and foremost.
Saejima’s heart, on the contrary, was entirely unmoved by Daigo’s predicament. His primary concern was the stability of the clan. Forged within the Tojo from an early age, Daigo made for an excellent Chairman, level-headed, pragmatic and far-sighted.Under his leadership, their organisation had grown in numbers and expanded its reach by forging several lucrative deals. Replacing Daigo Dojima with any old opportunistic, power hungry fool would endanger all their futures. Saejima had come too far to allow that to happen; his path as a Yakuza was marked in blood, his fate, Yasuko’s fate, Majima’s fate, they were all irrevocably tied to the Tojo clan.
He wrapped his fingers around the Hakuho man’s throat in a final effort to wring out any piece of information he may possess. He squeezed, feeling the frenetic pulse within, the man’s heart firing away at the speed of a gatling gun.
"P-Please... don't...! Please!" Akimoto-san's whimpering dissolved into feeble wheezes as Saejima's iron grip constricted his vocal cords.
Saejima’s strength far exceeded that of the average man; it was what rendered him such a valuable asset in the Yakuza world. Growing up, he had to learn to control and moderate it. Once, in the heat of sparring, he had nearly crushed Majima's windpipe with a chokehold. Saejima did not intend to kill Akimoto. He needed him to remain very much alive and vocal so that he could relay to the rest of the Hakuho clan in vivid detail the events that transpired during their encounter.He sought to sow the seeds of fear, nurturing them until they consumed every corner of their domain, choking the very air from their halls and offices. Sooner or later, Daigo Dojima’s would-be killer would emerge from his hiding place, like a rat forced out of its hole.
The upbeat tune of the ringtone Majima had picked out for him broke Saejima’s concentration. Seeing Yasuko’s name come up on the screen, he decided to take the call, one hand still gripping Akimoto’s throat.
“You make a sound and I will end you” he warned the trembling man before picking up.
“Saejima! How’s everything back in Tokyo?” Yasuko’s voice chimed through the speakers. She sounded like she was walking amidst a busy crowd.
“Not bad. How’s the conference going?”, he asked back, casting a sidelong glance at Akimoto, who tried his best to hold back a sniffle, snot and tears cascading freely down his face.
“Not bad”, Yasuko echoed. “I met some interesting people. You know Akiyama Shun by any chance? He works in Tokyo as a financial analyst, Kamurocho based”
“Never heard of him” Saejima replied.
“Well, he’s quite an interesting guy. He told me something about the Tojo clan you might want to know”
“What does he have to do with the Tojo?”
“He happened to be going through the sales records of certain businesses associated with the Tojo Clan and noticed something odd”, Yasuko explained. “Nearly all of the buyers were registered under the umbrella of a single company- a non-Tojo affiliated one. I’ll send you the details”
“I’ll check it out” Saejima stated, watching Akimoto’s face turn a deeper shade of red. “I appreciate the lookout, sis”
“That’s what I am here for” Yasuko affirmed. “Take care of yourself for me”
—
“It’s not the Hakuho clan” Baba stated with conviction, absent-mindedly twirling his wine glass to watch the crimson liquid swirl.
They had taken their seat at the farthest corner of the small bar. The place was empty save for the bartender and a couple sitting on the tall chairs by the counter, well out of hearing range.
“How can ya know that for sure?” Saejima inquired.
“Listen, Saejima-san. When someone's been in this business as long as you and I have, they’ve already rubbed shoulders with all the key players. The Hakuho clan works with the same couple of people whenever they want someone out of the picture” Baba explained. “I know both of them and neither was involved on such a high-profile hit”
There was something shifty about the bartender that night, the way he kept glancing over at them. Saejima liked the man for his discretion, and the way he didn’t care to pad a long stint of silence with banal small talk.
“Could be someone from within the clan” Saejima theorised. “One of their own men”
Baba shook his head in disagreement. “From what you’ve told me, I highly doubt it. It sounds like a professional hit. Your boss is an extremely lucky man to have come out the other side”
Yet again, Saejima locked eyes with the bartender, who promptly lowered his gaze. His shoulders were tense, his posture stiff. Saejima wondered if it was their presence in the bar that was putting the man on edge. Baba could easily blend with the crowds- it was part of what made him such an efficient hitman- but Saejima stood out like a sore thumb whenever he went.
“Let’s finish up here and call it a night” he told Baba, downing his sake in a single gulp.
“Already?” Baba replied, the disappointment evident in his features. “We haven't seen each other in ages”
“Can't really spare any time for socialising the way things stand with the Tojo right now. But I appreciate the help nonetheless”
“Whatever” Baba grumbled.“When the dust settles, you owe me a dinner ok? So don't you go diving head first into that mess”
Saejima chuckled. “Doncha worry, Baba-chan. I’ll buy ya that dinner even if it's the last thing I do. Michelin starred and all”.
___
The Touto University hospital was a labyrinth of corridors and staircases. As a nurse led the way to Daigo's room, Saejima took note of potential vulnerabilities; a window facing a neighbouring building, an unguarded emergency exit, a staff elevator accessible by the general public. Since Daigo regained his consciousness, Majima had enforced strict access control to the Chairman's quarters, permitting only Saejima, himself, and select members of the medical team.
Halting a few paces from Daigo's room, the nurse offered a respectful bow before departing. The door stood slightly ajar, with blinds drawn to obscure the sunlight. A thin stripe of daylight illuminated the room, casting harsh shadows on Daigo's face. Majima occupied a chair at his bedside, eyes shut, his slumber punctuated by the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. His left hand was resting on the bed and Daigo, his gaze distant and thoughtful, reached out to take hold of it, gently stroking the skin over his knuckles with his thumb. Caught off-guard by the uncharacteristic gesture of affection, Saejima chose to linger out of sight a little longer.
“Saejima-san, is that you?” Daigo's voice pierced the silence.
He stepped into the room, greeting the man with a polite “sixth Chairman”. He had let go of Majima's hand, Saejima noticed- he had an image to maintain after all. In their world, attachment equaled weakness.
“The hell happened to him?” Saejima asked, nodding at Majima's direction.
With a soft grin, Daigo replied: “ I talked the nurse into giving him some pills. He’s been keeping guard here every night. Figured he could use the rest” Daigo himself looked like he could use those pills, his skin still palid from his recent ordeal, his features etched with weariness. He looked older than his age, Saejima noticed, a far cry from the fresh-faced kid who had ascended into the Chairman's seat all those years ago, carrying an air of arrogance that rivalled that of ancient emperors.
“Can't have him dying on us now” Saejima joked darkly. “Listen, Daigo, I have been doing some digging. I am starting to think the Hakuho clan was not behind what happened to ya”
“Could have told you that myself” Daigo replied without as much as raising an eyebrow. “Already informed Majima-san here. I had the bullet extracted by the surgeons tested. It’s from a Japanese rifle, now discontinued. It’s an old, heavy and inefficient weapon”
“So why would anyone use it?” Saejima inquired.
“There’s two possibilities: One, as a matter of principle. Japanese make, national pride and all that. And two: because they’ve been using it their whole life. They are comfortable with the weight, the shape of it. It’s their tool of choice”
“The way ya talk, I’d wager you’ve already got a theory on the culprit’s identity”
"I can't assert with certainty, but there exists an expert marksman within the Tojo clan partial to this rifle," Daigo confirmed.
“An expert marksman who bungled the job?”
“That's a good point” Daigo noted, “I suppose you’d also have to consider this: the man in question was my instructor at one point. He’s known me since I was a child. Seeing the face of his former student in his scope, I’d like to think he faltered at the decisive moment”
Saejima huffed a laugh. “So he’s an old acquaintance too? Do me a favour boss, don’t ever throw a birthday party. The stress is gonna kill my kyodai over there”
Daigo shot him an incredulous look, but soon after broke into a strained fit of laughter, clutching his wounded chest as he did.
“Say your theory is correct. Is the guy Dojima family?” Saejima asked once the chairman had somewhat calmed down.
“No. He's from the Nikkyo consortium” Daigo revealed.
“Well sh*t” Saejima exclaimed with a sigh. “This is one hell of a mess”
“Not necessarily,” Daigo countered. “Here’s what I want you to do, Saejima. “Don’t let a soul know that I survived the attack. In fact, I want you to do the opposite. Spread rumours of my passing, dress in mourning clothes, have people make funeral preparations. Let the vultures circling the clan dive in for the feast. Let our enemies reveal themselves.I’ll lay low and gather more intel. When Mine regains his senses, perhaps he can be persuaded to give us some insight into his involvement in all this”
“When Mine..?” Saejima echoed, confused. “Sixth Chairman, Yosh*taka Mine is dead. Weren’t ya informed?”
Daigo’s expression froze, his features giving nothing away. His fingers twitched, instinctively seeking Majima’s hand on the bedsheets. Swallowing dryly, he said:
“Huh…I must have forgotten. All these painkillers…they’re clouding my mind”
Saejima almost pitied him.
“Would you mind…could you give me a moment?” Daigo requested.
“Sure thing, boss” Saejima said. “Take your time”
