The Shokaku Society building looked no different from an ordinary, unremarkable company. Men in black suits walked into the building, chest badges pinned to their lapels. They would greet people they passed, offering polite nods of acknowledgment, their whole demeanor projecting an image of propriety and a desire to avoid trouble.
But this was not the true face of the Yakuza. Every seemingly lawful act was merely a cover for their illegal activities. Disaster relief efforts, handing out candy to children on Halloween—it was all a form of whitewashing, designed to change the public’s ingrained perception of the Yakuza and lull them into complacency.
“How may I help you?” a young organization member standing at the door asked.
“I’m looking for the boss of Shokaku Society, Masaki,” Tsukiyuki Rio said, a calm, easy smile on her face. Five maids followed behind her.
The young member’s eyes flicked to the weapons in the maids’ hands, and he immediately nodded.
“Understood. May I also ask your name?”
“Tsukiyuki Rio.”
“Please wait just a moment.”
Anyone bearing the name “Tsukiyuki” was a VIP who could not be slighted.
Though it was only a rumor, the young man guarding the door had vaguely heard that nearly every major gang in Tokyo essentially worked for the Tsukiyuki family.
The young gang member turned and left.
Hand in hand, Gao Sijin and Tsukiyuki Rio stood in the lobby, which was floored with black tiles. His gaze happened to fall upon the Shokaku Society’s code of conduct, framed and hung on the wall:
For the health of our nation, members of this organization refuse to traffic drugs.
For our national culture, members of this organization refuse to smuggle domestic artifacts.
For the sake of morality, members of this organization refuse to harm civilians.
For the interests of our nation, members of this organization refuse to oppose the government.
…
The list of rules was written in large, powerful calligraphy strokes that were meant to be imposing and resounding. But the crooked, twisted characters struck Gao Sijin as profoundly unsettling. Only by peering into the gaps between the words could their true meaning be faintly discerned. Behind every single line of their code of conduct, two words were written: “Pure hypocrisy.”
A few minutes later, the elevator descended from the upper floors to the first.
The man who stepped out was in his fifties, wearing a suit. He had a cultured, scholarly air, dressed in an impeccable, polished style with a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.
This was the boss of Shokaku Society, Masaki Toshihisa.
Flanking the boss were a senior advisor and three underbosses.
Compared to the low-level thugs, the executives didn’t have particularly fierce appearances.
This was an almost excessive level of courtesy.
Masaki Toshihisa gave a slight bow, lowering himself before the eighteen-year-old Tsukiyuki Rio like a humble apprentice.
“Young Lady Tsukiyuki, welcome to our establishment. I am Masaki Toshihisa, Fifth Generation of Shokaku Society.”
Tsukiyuki Rio swept him with a cool glance and gave a proud nod.
“I know why you have come to see me, Young Lady Tsukiyuki. If there are matters to discuss, please, let us speak upstairs.”
“Boss Masaki, my patience is limited. You had best give me a satisfactory answer.”
Tsukiyuki Rio, still holding Gao Sijin’s hand, stepped into the elevator.
As they rode up, Gao Sijin stole a glance at the backs of the several gang members. They seemed to have no tattoos.
Noticing his curiosity, Tsukiyuki Rio offered a slight smile.
“Gao-kun, it’s mostly the low-level thugs who use tattoos to flaunt their status. The characters Takeshi Kitano played in his early films were all third-tier leaders who never got near the core power structure. A large portion of bosses actually don’t want others knowing their business. But there are no absolutes; a small number of people like Auntie Fumiko exist, too.”
The moment Fumiko was mentioned, Gao Sijin’s brow furrowed involuntarily. He thought of poor, pitiful Uzuki.
He truly hoped he could save her from that sea of misery soon.
The elevator reached the seventh floor. As the doors opened, the black corridor finally possessed a hint of the gang atmosphere seen in movies and dramas.
On the seventh floor, one could see Hannya masks mounted on the walls and murals depicting samurai wielding blades. Even the few organization members stationed around were equipped with firearms, looking as if they could be thrown into combat at any moment.
“Insolence!”
When Masaki Toshihisa reached his men, he slapped one of them across the face.
“Who told you to have your weapons out? Young Lady Tsukiyuki is our most honored guest! Who are you on guard against? Let me tell you: even if Young Lady Tsukiyuki ordered someone to kill me, you are to make no inappropriate moves whatsoever.”
The two young gang members holding submachine guns immediately stowed their weapons and retreated with lowered heads.
“My apologies for that rudeness, Young Lady Tsukiyuki.”
“It’s nothing. Shokaku Society is a major organization; such precautions are only reasonable. I have no interest in the other internal affairs of Shokaku Society. I only wish to know what exactly happened the day my fiancé was nearly assassinated.”
“This way, please, Young Lady Tsukiyuki. Let’s discuss it in detail.”
Entering an office, Masaki Toshihisa gestured for everyone to sit. The room had several windows, and he was acutely aware that right now, at least four sniper rifle scopes were likely zeroed in on him.
He therefore had to weigh every word and action with extreme caution.
He had witnessed the miserable fates of those who defied Tsukiyuki Rio.
The Fourth Generation boss of Shokaku Society, Shiraishi Kunio, simply because he had seen Tsukiyuki Rio as a young girl and made a few inappropriate remarks, was sealed in concrete and dropped into the deep sea.
No matter how he begged, he could not gain Tsukiyuki Rio’s forgiveness.
“Please, have some tea.”
Masaki Toshihisa kept his demeanor as calm as possible, offering teacups to Tsukiyuki Rio and Gao Sijin. He didn’t forget the five maids behind them, either.
To prove it wasn’t poisoned, Masaki Toshihisa personally took a sip from the teapot. But no one gave him that face; no one touched the tea on the table.
Seated upright on the sofa, Tsukiyuki Rio said, “I did not come here to drink tea, Boss Masaki. You must know why I’ve sought you out today.”
“Yes, I know. It’s because the man who tried to assassinate Mister Gao Sijin on the street that day owed our organization money. So, Young Lady Tsukiyuki, you suspect Shokaku Society orchestrated the incident.”
“And did Shokaku Society not orchestrate it?” Tsukiyuki Rio’s voice was cold as frost.
“Absolutely not, Young Lady Tsukiyuki. I admit that since I took over, Shokaku Society has engaged in many illegal activities, including contract killings. But I swear, we would never dare defy you. Have you forgotten? I personally witnessed you sever the limbs of the Fourth Generation boss, Shiraishi Kunio, with your tachi. The Yakuza, to put it bluntly, is just a bunch of high-class thugs who bully the weak and fear the strong. To make an enemy of you… even if you gave me ten times the courage, I wouldn’t dare.”
Her dark crimson pupils locked onto Masaki Toshihisa, trying to find a flaw in his micro-expressions.
