Calle de los Locos (Rurouni Kenshin) - Modern Girls and Old-fashioned Men
WORD COUNT: 1301
GENRE: General, Crime
RATING: R (T)
WARNING/s: entirely AU
DISCLAIMER: This is a revamped version of a fanfic I uploaded some months ago at FF.net. I didn't like how it turned out so I removed it, let it rot in my computer for a while before I randomly picked it up today. There might be some OOC and not all characters will be present because there are just some characters I just can't write about.
CHAPTER SUMMARY: Oh yes, we're falling down.
Modern Girls and Old-Fashioned Men
The funeral was held on a rainy spring day afternoon. People in black suits with large black umbrellas stood at attention as the pallbearers carried the casket to the hearse. From a distance, it looked like a small ornate temple, elaborately carved and gilded with gold. Two black limousines followed the hearse while members of the other branch families piled behind. Joining the solemn funeral procession to the crematorium were friends, business associates and acquaintances. At curbside, a television crew was quietly covering the proceedings with a camera while men in suits wearing mirrored sunglasses and tattoos stood only a few feet away, their hands inside their jackets.
“’When it rains, it pours.’” From inside his car, Takeda Kanryuu watched the slow procession with complete apathy. His associate, a younger man with jet-black hair, was likewise stoically gazing ahead, silent. Takeda took a sip from his glass of brandy and continued, “Even the old tiger from the Tama Area came down to pay his respects. I must admit, it was interesting to see him kneeling right next to ex-cabinet member Sakamori Tarou. The media would’ve loved that.”
Takeda replaced his glass, then settled deeper into his seat. Outside, he could see the almost deserted street. The usual crowd wouldn’t be outside at this time, not at this funeral. No, they would be inside their apartments and looking out from behind the safety of locked doors and draped windows.
The death of a yakuza was always an object of fear and fascination. Perhaps it was the crude sight of guns and tattooed men. Or the sense of excitement one got from proximity to violence and violent people. But when the local media reported the brutal stabbing of Hoshino Shigeo, 12th Oyabun of Hoshinokai, one of the oldest yakuza families in the district, every man, woman and child abandoned the streets.
“The other branch families have requested the Saikou-komon to wait until the forty-ninth day to name a successor.” His companion at last spoke in a voice smooth and without a ripple.
“Any news?” Takeda asked, taking another sip of his brandy. “From Shibuya,” he added meaningfully.
The younger man continued to stare out the window. He spoke tonelessly, “Hannya has her under watch.”
“So you found her.”
His companion did not respond.
“We might need to move the plan along earlier than expected,” Takeda added after a moment. “The branch families are clearly too busy fighting like rabid dogs over scraps of meat. But we can‘t afford to wait.”
“I’ll send the word.”
“I don‘t want mistakes, Aoshi.”
His young associate glanced at him briefly. In a quiet voice, he said, “Don’t expect any.”
- - -
“Darling.” Mitsuhara Akiko, who spent the last six months in Europe, kissed the air beside Megumi’s cheek. “Sorry to be late.”
“Nonsense. You’re right on time,” Megumi replied, smiling in greeting. “Love the dress, by the way.”
“Oh, this old thing?” Akiko giggled girlishly as she tried not to preen in her blue cocktail dress that showed off the new thin figure she acquired in a spa in Prague. After a moment, she looked around her and asked where Shinichirou was.
“Shinichirou?” Megumi accepted the oshibori from a serving maid and wiped her hands with it. Shinichirou was an orchestra cellist whom Megumi met at a party in an izakaya not unlike this one. “You‘ve been out of the loop, Akiko. That‘s so over. I‘m a free agent these days.”
“Really? We can fix that. Ieto broke up with Johnny Cheng. You know Johnny, the dentist?”
“No, thanks. The last thing I need is someone on the rebound.”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“Does it ever?” Megumi wondered with a knowing smirk. Akiko just shook her head, laughing quietly.
The izakaya was a small one, accommodating only up to twenty-five people. It was hidden down a side street built on the 34th floor of a boring-looking office building. Inside though, it was sleek and sophisticated, all polished woods and artful bamboo decors, the low lighting serving to emphasize the floor-to-ceiling views of the twinkling cityscape below. As the evening progressed, the place, with its large open kitchen counter and tatami mats, started to fill up with people, most of them from university -- old college friends who went and got a career, got married or pursued further studies abroad.
It was a fun evening of laughter and recollections. By nine o’ clock, some of the guests had decided to move the after-party to the karaoke bars in Dougen-zaka. Megumi excused herself by saying that she had to do early morning rounds at the hospital. She was waiting for the elevator in her apartment building when she suddenly noticed a figure standing in the shadows near the stairs just a few feet away. Because the light was behind him, she could not see his features clearly.
“Can I help you?” She asked, her tone mildly curious, and watched as the figure finally stepped forward. The light fell upon him, revealing a man wearing a hideous mask.
Megumi opened her mouth to scream, and in a moment he was on her, one hand clamping over her mouth while the other twisting her right arm up her back. She whimpered in pain, much too shocked to put up any sort of struggle.
Leaning close to her, he warned in a low, guttural voice, “Scream and I’ll break your arm in three places.”
- - -
A cool wind ruffled the collar of his coat as Takeda Kanryuu stepped from the office building and walked to the shiny black car that stood waiting for him at the curb. He was about to slide in when his cellphone rang.
“We’re at the hotel, Room 428,” said the cold, toneless voice of Shinomori Aoshi.
Takeda settled in the backseat of his car. “Trouble?” He asked.
“A boarder might have seen Hannya come in. Beshimi and Hyottoko are taking care of it.”
“Good. What about the girl?”
“She claims to know nothing.”
“They always do. Keep her under constant guard. I don’t have to tell you how important this is, Aoshi.”
There was a click and the line went dead. Takeda pocketed the phone and looked out the window. The night-lighted streets passed by rapidly. Neon signs, reflector glass, biker gangs speeding by, school girls with orange hair, salary men, tenpura vendors, and all around the noise -- ceaseless like something alive. The city was a jungle and in a few months he would be its king.
If all goes well….
His car made a turn and entered an underground parking lot beneath a tall building called the Hotel Xielan. As soon as he disembarked, a group of black-suited men came and brought him up the elevator to one of the suites on the 12th floor. They told him to wait and left him there by himself. A few minutes later, another person entered the suite.
Takeda recognized him immediately. He was Sadojima Houji, the chief adviser of the Kyoto Group and Shishio Makoto’s right-hand man. He was wearing a long brown coat with a thick collar. A pair of small black eyes under a wide forehead and a lizard-skin case held in one hand completed the whole picture. He greeted Takeda with a firm handshake and then inclined his head slightly towards the door.
“Shall we?” He asked.
Without a word, Takeda stood up and followed him out towards a large conference room at the end of the hallway.
~ TBC
GENRE: General, Crime
RATING: R (T)
WARNING/s: entirely AU
DISCLAIMER: This is a revamped version of a fanfic I uploaded some months ago at FF.net. I didn't like how it turned out so I removed it, let it rot in my computer for a while before I randomly picked it up today. There might be some OOC and not all characters will be present because there are just some characters I just can't write about.
CHAPTER SUMMARY: Oh yes, we're falling down.
Modern Girls and Old-Fashioned Men
The funeral was held on a rainy spring day afternoon. People in black suits with large black umbrellas stood at attention as the pallbearers carried the casket to the hearse. From a distance, it looked like a small ornate temple, elaborately carved and gilded with gold. Two black limousines followed the hearse while members of the other branch families piled behind. Joining the solemn funeral procession to the crematorium were friends, business associates and acquaintances. At curbside, a television crew was quietly covering the proceedings with a camera while men in suits wearing mirrored sunglasses and tattoos stood only a few feet away, their hands inside their jackets.
“’When it rains, it pours.’” From inside his car, Takeda Kanryuu watched the slow procession with complete apathy. His associate, a younger man with jet-black hair, was likewise stoically gazing ahead, silent. Takeda took a sip from his glass of brandy and continued, “Even the old tiger from the Tama Area came down to pay his respects. I must admit, it was interesting to see him kneeling right next to ex-cabinet member Sakamori Tarou. The media would’ve loved that.”
Takeda replaced his glass, then settled deeper into his seat. Outside, he could see the almost deserted street. The usual crowd wouldn’t be outside at this time, not at this funeral. No, they would be inside their apartments and looking out from behind the safety of locked doors and draped windows.
The death of a yakuza was always an object of fear and fascination. Perhaps it was the crude sight of guns and tattooed men. Or the sense of excitement one got from proximity to violence and violent people. But when the local media reported the brutal stabbing of Hoshino Shigeo, 12th Oyabun of Hoshinokai, one of the oldest yakuza families in the district, every man, woman and child abandoned the streets.
“The other branch families have requested the Saikou-komon to wait until the forty-ninth day to name a successor.” His companion at last spoke in a voice smooth and without a ripple.
“Any news?” Takeda asked, taking another sip of his brandy. “From Shibuya,” he added meaningfully.
The younger man continued to stare out the window. He spoke tonelessly, “Hannya has her under watch.”
“So you found her.”
His companion did not respond.
“We might need to move the plan along earlier than expected,” Takeda added after a moment. “The branch families are clearly too busy fighting like rabid dogs over scraps of meat. But we can‘t afford to wait.”
“I’ll send the word.”
“I don‘t want mistakes, Aoshi.”
His young associate glanced at him briefly. In a quiet voice, he said, “Don’t expect any.”
- - -
“Darling.” Mitsuhara Akiko, who spent the last six months in Europe, kissed the air beside Megumi’s cheek. “Sorry to be late.”
“Nonsense. You’re right on time,” Megumi replied, smiling in greeting. “Love the dress, by the way.”
“Oh, this old thing?” Akiko giggled girlishly as she tried not to preen in her blue cocktail dress that showed off the new thin figure she acquired in a spa in Prague. After a moment, she looked around her and asked where Shinichirou was.
“Shinichirou?” Megumi accepted the oshibori from a serving maid and wiped her hands with it. Shinichirou was an orchestra cellist whom Megumi met at a party in an izakaya not unlike this one. “You‘ve been out of the loop, Akiko. That‘s so over. I‘m a free agent these days.”
“Really? We can fix that. Ieto broke up with Johnny Cheng. You know Johnny, the dentist?”
“No, thanks. The last thing I need is someone on the rebound.”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“Does it ever?” Megumi wondered with a knowing smirk. Akiko just shook her head, laughing quietly.
The izakaya was a small one, accommodating only up to twenty-five people. It was hidden down a side street built on the 34th floor of a boring-looking office building. Inside though, it was sleek and sophisticated, all polished woods and artful bamboo decors, the low lighting serving to emphasize the floor-to-ceiling views of the twinkling cityscape below. As the evening progressed, the place, with its large open kitchen counter and tatami mats, started to fill up with people, most of them from university -- old college friends who went and got a career, got married or pursued further studies abroad.
It was a fun evening of laughter and recollections. By nine o’ clock, some of the guests had decided to move the after-party to the karaoke bars in Dougen-zaka. Megumi excused herself by saying that she had to do early morning rounds at the hospital. She was waiting for the elevator in her apartment building when she suddenly noticed a figure standing in the shadows near the stairs just a few feet away. Because the light was behind him, she could not see his features clearly.
“Can I help you?” She asked, her tone mildly curious, and watched as the figure finally stepped forward. The light fell upon him, revealing a man wearing a hideous mask.
Megumi opened her mouth to scream, and in a moment he was on her, one hand clamping over her mouth while the other twisting her right arm up her back. She whimpered in pain, much too shocked to put up any sort of struggle.
Leaning close to her, he warned in a low, guttural voice, “Scream and I’ll break your arm in three places.”
- - -
A cool wind ruffled the collar of his coat as Takeda Kanryuu stepped from the office building and walked to the shiny black car that stood waiting for him at the curb. He was about to slide in when his cellphone rang.
“We’re at the hotel, Room 428,” said the cold, toneless voice of Shinomori Aoshi.
Takeda settled in the backseat of his car. “Trouble?” He asked.
“A boarder might have seen Hannya come in. Beshimi and Hyottoko are taking care of it.”
“Good. What about the girl?”
“She claims to know nothing.”
“They always do. Keep her under constant guard. I don’t have to tell you how important this is, Aoshi.”
There was a click and the line went dead. Takeda pocketed the phone and looked out the window. The night-lighted streets passed by rapidly. Neon signs, reflector glass, biker gangs speeding by, school girls with orange hair, salary men, tenpura vendors, and all around the noise -- ceaseless like something alive. The city was a jungle and in a few months he would be its king.
If all goes well….
His car made a turn and entered an underground parking lot beneath a tall building called the Hotel Xielan. As soon as he disembarked, a group of black-suited men came and brought him up the elevator to one of the suites on the 12th floor. They told him to wait and left him there by himself. A few minutes later, another person entered the suite.
Takeda recognized him immediately. He was Sadojima Houji, the chief adviser of the Kyoto Group and Shishio Makoto’s right-hand man. He was wearing a long brown coat with a thick collar. A pair of small black eyes under a wide forehead and a lizard-skin case held in one hand completed the whole picture. He greeted Takeda with a firm handshake and then inclined his head slightly towards the door.
“Shall we?” He asked.
Without a word, Takeda stood up and followed him out towards a large conference room at the end of the hallway.
~ TBC