Kazoku Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Kazoku

  01

  02

  03

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  05

  06

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  36

  37

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  About the Author

  Kazoku

  The Torihada Files Book 4

  Tara A. Devlin

  Kazoku (The Torihada Files Book 4)

  First Edition: October 2019

  Illustrations by: Emiru the Yurei

  taraadevlin.com

  © 2019 Tara A. Devlin

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  kazoku [kah-zoh-koo] noun

  family

  members of a family

  01

  Ren leaned forward, the scar on his cheek highlighted like a river of blood beneath the red LED lights of the bar.

  “So then, they start walking up the stairs, right?” He lowered his voice and leaned closer, the smell of beer wafting out of his mouth. “Just the two of them. Thump thump. Thump thump. But then they hear something.”

  “…What was it?” Toshiki, one of the newer clan members, sat to my left, trembling. Ren’s smile grew larger and his eyes narrowed.

  “They weren’t alone on those steps. With each ‘thump thump’ they realised that it wasn’t an echo behind them. There was someone else there with them.”

  Toshiki gulped, absorbed in Ren’s ridiculous story. I finished the rest of my beer and signalled for another.

  “W-Who was it?”

  Kazumi, the owner, placed a new beer before me and disappeared with a wink. My heart flipped, but I outwardly played it cool. What good would it be if the others thought that I actually felt emotions? My reputation would be destroyed.

  “They continued up the stairs,” Ren continued, thrilled at such a captive audience. “Then, when they finally reached the last step, they realised something.”

  “W-What?” Toshiki’s voice trembled, as did the hand holding his beer.

  “There was no door. There was nowhere to go at all. They were going to have to turn around and go back down the way they came. They were going to have to come face-to-face with whatever was following them on the stairs.”

  “What did they do?”

  I closed my eyes and took another drink, letting the soft music of the bar wash over me. Serenity was but one of many snack bars in Rakucho, hidden deep within its underbelly and frequented only by the bravest or stupidest of souls. I sometimes wondered which side I landed on, but usually settled on the latter. The owner, Kazumi, was a friend I’d known since the days of my youth on Rakucho’s streets. She’d pulled herself out of the gutter, literally, and built all of this herself. Like us, she was the only one both brave and stupid enough to decide a snack bar this deep into Rakucho would be a good idea. Well, it was hard to argue with her. It was still running several years later, after all.

  “So, the woman turns to the guy, and she’s like, ‘What are we gonna do?’ But his hands are trembling and his knees are knocking. Each time they took a step, it was followed by an echo, and then that echo would be followed by another sound. Another thud on the stairs. He knew they weren’t alone, but he didn’t want to scare her. ‘Let’s go back down,’ he says, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.”

  Ren revelled in the attention. He loved ghost stories. Contrary to his appearance, which looked exactly what you would expect of a yakuza member in Rakucho, he loved collecting old books. The older, the better. Ghost stories were his favourite, but half the time nobody knew whether they were real stories or things he just made up on the spot. If someone was willing to listen, then he’d just keep going until someone told him to shut the hell up.

  “He takes a deep breath,” Ren continued, “steels himself, and then turns around. His eyes go wide, like he can’t believe his eyes, and he squeezes his girl’s hand so hard that she squeals like a pig.”

  “W-What was it?”

  Ren leaned back in his chair and slowly drained the rest of his beer. He placed it on the table with a firm thud and looked Toshiki straight in the eye.

  “Nothing.”

  “…Nothing?”

  He nodded. “He turns around and there’s nothing there. They were alone all along.”

  Toshiki’s brow furrowed. I glanced over at Kazumi and she smiled, drying some glasses and putting them away behind the counter. She’d known Ren even longer than I had. She knew what was coming.

  “If they were alone all along, then what was making the sound?”

  Ren leaned forward again and grinned. It made him look like some crazy guy you might run into on the corner who would steal and then eat your baby.

  “Indeed, what was making the noise? If they were all alone, then that could mean only one thing…” His voice trailed off, and Toshiki leaned closer, eager for the answer. Ren held the moment, the tension tight in the air, waiting for just the right moment to strike. Sweat beaded on Toshiki’s brow, running down the side of his face. He gulped, the air around him so thick you could cut it with a sword.

  “W-What…?” A trembling voice escaped his lips, a mere whisper barely audible over the background music.

  Ren leaned even closer; his grin grew even wider. I braced myself. Toshiki blinked a few times, leaning closer himself.

  Bang!

  Ren slammed his fists down on the table, sending Toshiki’s drink spilling over the edge and knocking the glasses off. Toshiki jumped in his seat, banging his knees on the table underneath. I snickered, and Kazumi shook her head. Ren howled like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.

  “Gotcha!”

  “…That’s not funny, man.” Toshiki sat back in his chair, pouting like a child. If he couldn’t take Ren having a little fun, then he was gonna be in for a rough time with the rest of the family, but to his credit, he smiled when Ren reached over the table to slap him on the cheek a few times.

  “Sure it is,” Ren said. “It was hilarious.”

  “If you have the humour of a 10-year-old, maybe…”

  That made Ren laugh even more. Toshiki glanced at me in the corner and I shrugged.

  “Old man Yotchan’s heard that one a thousand times before, haven’t ya?” Ren hit the table again, jiggling some of the glasses.

  “More times than I heard you crying like a baby after drinking too much of Mama’s special wine.”

  Nobody in the bar ever called Kazumi by her name; not in front of others, at least. She was always “Mama.” That was her job, after all.

  “Mama’s wine is poison, I don’t care what you say,” Ren said.

  “I’m standing right here, you know.” Kazumi called out from behind the bar. Ren held his hands up in apology and she smiled.

  “Sorry, sorry.” He leaned forward again and waite
d for Toshiki to join him. “Seriously, don’t drink Mama’s wine. She poisons it.”

  Toshiki nervously glanced at me. I shrugged. The boy would believe anything.

  “P-Poison?”

  “Sounds like somebody wants a drink!” Kazumi called out over the music.

  “No, no! We’re good, thanks!”

  “Why don’t you tell the kid an actual ghost story,” I said, gripping the neck of my beer. “You owe him that much.”

  Ren leaned back and crossed his arms. He furrowed his brow and then his expression turned into a grin.

  “Oh, I got one for ya. A real good one. This one’s a true story.”

  “…True?”

  I took a drink and leaned back, closing my eyes. That would keep them occupied for a bit, and I could enjoy the peace and quiet. So little of that these days.

  The doors burst open and three men came running inside. They stopped and bowed when they saw Kazumi and then turned to us.

  “Bad news, sir!”

  “What is it?” Ren’s tone turned sour. He hated his stories being interrupted.

  “Toyotomi men, sir. Outside.”

  “…And?”

  The Toyotomi family worked under the Nakano clan, one of two head clans that attempted to exert control over Rakucho. The other clan being the Shimada, under who we, the Harada family, worked. Our boss had long had a beef with the Toyotomi, stemming back to their own days as kids when Toyotomi dated Harada’s sister. Lifelong rivals, they ended up on opposite sides of the gang war, and we right in there with them.

  “They were messing with some of the blues, sir. Said they had no right to be here because this was their turf. They had some women in tow, I think they were trying to—”

  Ren pushed himself out of his chair.

  “Women?”

  The man nodded. Ren turned to me and I gave a single nod. Nothing got Ren more worked up than women. Before he ran the streets, he lived at home with his single mother and younger sister. He never spoke much about his early childhood, but he didn’t take kindly to anything harming women. He didn’t care about any Toyotomi or Harada beef. But trafficking women? That he wouldn’t sit by idly and let happen.

  “They think this is their turf?” He repeated. “They think they can sell women right here, on our land?”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him that, technically, this wasn’t anybody’s land. This far into Rakucho, nobody cared. But Ren had made his mind up. He finished his beer and pulled Toshiki up by the front of his shirt.

  “What’s your name again, kid?”

  “T-Toshiki, sir.”

  “You any good with those?” He pointed to the kid’s fists.

  “You mean fighting, sir?”

  “No, I mean knitting.”

  “…I…”

  “Of course I mean fighting, geez.”

  “Oh, uh, yes sir. I think.”

  Ren turned to me. “He thinks. Wonderful. Come on, kid. These Toyotomi assholes need to be taken down a peg or two, and whaddaya know, we’re just the people to do it. How about you, Tiger?”

  I hated when he called me that, and he knew it. That was why he did it. I cracked my knuckles and stood up. I towered over Toshiki and he gulped.

  “You ready, kid?”

  He nodded. I glanced at Kazumi and she gave a single nod. If worst came to worst, she had a gun underneath the counter for protection. The police wouldn’t come this far to help. Out here, you were on your own. I didn’t even have a gun, and I didn’t like that she did, but what else could we do? It was life or death, and when it came down to it, I’d rather her have it if it meant it would save her life.

  Ren cracked his neck and grinned. “Alright. Let’s go bust some skulls!”

  02

  “Well, well, what do we have here?” Ren finished the remains of his drink and then pointed the bottle at the Toyotomi boys. One of them had a kid barely older than 15 in his grip, his face close enough to kiss him. The teens were dressed head to toe in blue, and all but one of them had their eyes wide open in fear. Perhaps somewhat ironically, it was the boy being manhandled who looked the least scared.

  Colour gangs. That took me back. When was the last time I saw those? I must have been a kid myself. Why were they making a comeback now? Who decided that dressing in nothing but a single colour was the fashionable thing to do again?

  “Whaddaya want?” The thug turned to glare at Ren, giving the boy in his grip another shake. Two women cowered in a corner nearby. Ren’s eyes flitted between them and the thug, then with a jerk of his head, they ran off into the night.

  “I’d hate to interrupt your little kiddies party here, but, now bear with me, I’m sure you can understand why it’s not a good look. You fiddling with the children and all.” Ren tapped the empty beer bottle on his head a few times and grinned. A gun jutted out of the back of his pants. He was the only one of us who insisted on having one, even when he knew the trouble it would bring. I’d only seen him use it once; he seemed to enjoy the fear it inspired more than the actual use of it. Still, of all of us, he was the only one who looked like he’d been ripped directly from a yakuza film. Missing his pinky finger up to the first knuckle—a sign of the one and only time he ever messed up; deep scars on his face and neck; the liquid movement of his facial expressions and the gruff tone of his voice; he was old-school yakuza through and through. And he sure enjoyed a fight. Relished it, even.

  “Fiddling… What?” The tough guy threw the kid into the wall and turned his attentions to Ren instead. “What did you call me?”

  Ren rolled his shoulders back, preparing for battle. “I didn’t call you anything, pretty boy, but I understand that language can be a little hard sometimes for a buffoon such as yourself.”

  The “buffoon” turned to his buddies. Six of them in total. Six against five. Even odds, if we assumed the blues ran off with their tails between their legs, like any smart kids would. They were gangster wannabes and not quite ready for what the world had in store for them yet.

  “…Did he just call me pretty?”

  “I think he’s making fun of you, Taku.”

  “Yeah, Taku, maybe I am.” The word dripped from Ren’s lips. I took a step forward and stood by his right shoulder. As usual, I was the tallest guy there, and the buffoon gave me the once over before sneering.

  “This your pet dog?”

  “Tiger, actually, but I’d hardly call him a pet. More of a rabid stray, really.”

  I sneered. The buffoon’s eyes suddenly narrowed. He wasn’t that stupid, it seemed. “Tiger? As in… Tiger of Rakucho?”

  “I have a name, you know.” I hated when people called me that.

  “Shh, Yotchan. Even you have to agree that’s hardly as threatening.”

  I said nothing. Toshiki stepped up by Ren’s left shoulder, trying to puff out his chest and failing to hide the trembling in his hands. His first street fight. Things were about to get fun. The two Harada men who burst into Kazumi’s bar dragged up the rear.

  “Get outta here,” the big guy told the kids. The blues ran off down the street, all but the angry one who had just been manhandled.

  “No. We’re not done here. You—” The big guy backhanded him across the face. The kid stared at him in shock for a moment, touching his lip and coming away with blood. His eyes flashed murder and then he laughed. He took a step back, and then another. He looked at Ren, then myself, then the big guy one last time. “This isn’t over.”

  “Yes, it is.” The kid ran off and the big guy stepped forward. “Now, whaddaya want?”

  Ren circled the guy as his cronies stood back. Banging the empty beer bottle against his head, he inspected his prey.

  “Now, me personally, I don’t have anything against you guys. Really. It’s the boss that doesn’t like ya. I couldn’t give two hoots about what you do or who your boss does.”

  The guy watched Ren circling him, his fists clenched and knuckles turning white.

  “But, orders are orders.
We’re not supposed to sit idly by and watch you rough up kids or try to move in on our territory, ya hear? I mean, who roughs up a kid?” Ren turned to the rest of us and laughed. “A bully, that’s who. A big. Dumb. Bully.”

  He smashed the bottle over the buffoon’s head and the man screamed. It sounded less like a man and more like a bird screeching. His friends charged into the fray and the two Harada men behind me rushed them. Toshiki trembled, his arms up in a fighting pose but shaking all over the place.

  “Tosh.”

  “…Yeah?” Even his voice trembled.

  “You never been in a fight before?”

  “…Yes. I mean no… I mean…”

  I slapped him on the shoulder and grinned. I was good at one thing in life, and one thing only. This. Speaking with my fists. Letting my body do the talking. Ren was the chatterbox, and liked to intimidate his foes with words first. That wasn’t my style. I grabbed one of the Toyotomi boys and he squeaked as I pulled him in. Toshiki jumped back, and I lifted the man by his shirt and pants and tossed him into a garbage can.

  “See? Easy.”

  Toshiki’s mouth opened and closed. He’d get it, in time. I had my first fight at age ten. A sixth grader stole my ball and everyone laughed. Big kid. There was no sign at the time of the giant I was to become, but after putting him on the ground and making him cry, none of the kids ever stole my ball again. The yakuza were much the same as that old school ground, only now the school ground was much bigger and I the biggest of all.

  “You got this, Tosh. They’re just fists.” One connected with my jaw, followed by a short burst of pain. I smiled. There it was. Now it was a fight. I punched the man in the nose and blood exploded everywhere. Two of his friends rushed me from either side, grabbing my arms and trying to pull me down. I headbutted one and then threw him into his friend, sending both tumbling to the ground.

  Ren ran circles around the big guy, jabbing him like a boxer. A quick punch to the stomach, another to the side. One to the side of the head, another to his lower back. The guy didn’t know where to look, and by the time he’d turned to see where Ren was, he was already delivering another punch on the opposite side.