Three Yakuza and a Baby, Chapter 5
Title: Three Yakuza and a Baby, Chapter 5: Feilong’s good evening
Author: priestess_grrrl
Series: Viewfinder
Pairing: none this chapter
Rating: PG-13
Genre: drama with a side order of crack
Notes: Feilong shops at Little Buddha Baby, except imagine everything is three times as expensive. Yes, they really do have a Lil' Empress onesie.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 5: Feilong's good evening
“What do you think, Tao? The crimson or the turquoise?”
“Both of them, Feilong-sama!”
“Both of them it is!” Feilong handed the two velvet-lined silk baby hats to the smiling proprietor, who had been more than happy to keep her tiny shop open an hour later than usual after she realized that Feilong fully intended to purchase half of her inventory. She had wisely chosen either not to notice or not to care about the heavily armed guards patrolling the street outside.
Feilong was feeling especially pleased with himself. In just a few short hours, he’d transformed baby Kokoro from an orphaned waif in duct taped diapers to an elegant little Chinese princess. Little Kokoro, whom Feilong had given a new nickname, Xin-xin, was now clearly the most well-dressed baby in all of Japan. She had enough new outfits to last her an entire month, including a beautiful red and gold baby cheongsam, complete with a tiny frog button closure, a lovely handmade baby kimono patterned with a graceful sakura design, and a luxuriously soft Cashmere onesie with “Lil’ Empress” embroidered on the front, which she was wearing right now.
Tiny tiger slippers covered her little feet (they’re fashionable and they frighten evil away!), on her head was a matching silk appliqué tiger hat with gold, silver and jade charms hanging from it, and little 14 karat gold bells graced her wrists and ankles. She was wrapped in a lavender silk blanket with a floral print lined with ivory plush fur. Feilong could hardly stop from cooing in delight every time he looked at her.
“Don’t we look pretty, Mommy’s little Xin-xin!”
The shop owner had taken to pulling things out of secret drawers and compartments behind the counter, which Feilong especially enjoyed. After all, he deserved the royal treatment, did he not? Even though it had been years and years, Feilong had never quite gotten over being treated like a second class citizen next to his stepbrother all his young life. Despite the fact that he knew very well that he could snap his fingers and get anything he wanted these days, it still gave him a secret thrill to have people pulling out all the stops just to please him.
“Perhaps these would interest you?” The woman handed him a purple velvet pouch fastened with a beaded clasp. Inside it contained two exquisitely beautiful silver hair combs, dripping with pearls. There were also several loose strands of pearls included, which were to be woven into the hair alongside the combs. Feilong ran them through his fingers carefully. He loved the silky feel of real pearls.
“So very pretty! But I’m afraid little Xin-xin isn’t quite old enough for Mommy to be buying her pearls. Her hair has only just started to grow!” He ran a hand over the fuzz under Kokoro’s hat lovingly.
“Ah, but if you will pardon my rudeness, Sir, they would look lovely in your own hair.”
Feilong’s eyes lit up. “In my…? For me?”
Tao clapped his hands in delight. “Yes, yes, Feilong-sama! Try them! I want to see!”
Well, why not? Feilong soon found himself perched on a chair in the center of the store, holding Kokoro in his lap, while the saleswoman wove pearls into his long hair with careful fingers.
As she worked, Feilong monitored the situation outside. One of his own men stood close by the door, which now read Closed. Two more passed by periodically, and Feilong knew there were two Invisibles watching as well, likely from the rooftops, who would interfere only if necessary. Asami’s men were there, too, across the street, looking stupidly obvious. Yakuza were so inelegant; they always looked uncomfortable, like they had guns stuffed in every orifice. Feilong did not understand why Asami felt the need to surround himself with musclebound morons all the time, but then, what did Asami know of grace and elegance? Clearly nothing.
Feilong was still angry at Asami for roping him into this in the first place, though he had to admit, he was having fun. Also, now that he had some idea of what Asami really wanted from him, he could see why he’d asked for Feilong’s help, rude comments aside. Feilong was keenly observant, in a way that Asami’s men were not. They were trained to recognize concealed weapons and potential threats, but subtlety was not their forte. Feilong, on the other hand, noticed everything: every gesture, every movement, every glance, from the brush of the shop owner’s delicate fingers in his hair to the way the lights of passing vehicles glinted off the ruby eyes of the Chan Chu money frog sitting on the counter.
And so it was that Feilong saw what everyone else had missed completely: the eyes that watched them. You did not rise as high as Feilong had in the Hong Kong underworld by not being able to tell when you were being watched. He had sensed the eyes on him as soon as they had set foot in Chinatown - multiple eyes. It could have been just the fact that Feilong cut an impressive figure, all dressed to the nines, with Kokoro and Tao in tow, but Feilong knew better. There was a difference between being looked at and being watched. This was definitely the latter. It was not, however, the type of observation involving men with guns stalking other men with guns. These were women watching.
From behind swiftly pulled curtains, from tiny third floor windows, from swift-moving cars, women’s eyes followed them. It was almost as if the entire neighborhood were one entity, watching them out of the corner of its collective eye. Never anything overt, never anything obvious, but clearly it was there, like an underground river, flowing quietly beneath them wherever they went.
It was a foolish oversight among Yakuza that they completely disregarded women except for purposes of prostitution. This was not only a waste of valuable resources, but also just plain stupid. Women were just as capable as men of murder, deceit, treachery, and every other type of crooked behavior. Discounting them was extremely unwise and very often deadly.
Baishe did not make such a mistake. Feilong often found it useful to employ women, especially when his enemies were blockheaded Yakuza who were reduced to blithering idiocy in the presence of the female sex. Women held no such sway over Feilong, so having them in his arsenal was like possessing the perfect poison: deadly to others, but to himself, harmless.
Spending most of his youth prowling the streets of Hong Kong doing dirty work for his stepbrother had taught Feilong a few things. One was that in any given location where organized crime was a way of life, the local street women were likely to be networked as tightly as a den of thieves. They did this mostly for self-preservation: after all, in the eyes of the law, the life of a common street whore was worth very little; in the eyes of the average crime lord, it was worth even less.
The lives of these women were often very bleak: if violence, murder, or drugs didn’t finish them off, disease surely would. They knew that they had very little chance of survival if they didn’t have someone watching their back. They also knew that anything they tried to do on their own in terms of defense would likely be futile. So they did the only thing left for them to do: bear witness to one another. Eyes were always watching: every murder, every rape, every hidden heinous act was recorded, as if on sacred criminal parchment, to be used in a court of law that would never materialize.
But the women knew. They saw everything; they forgot nothing, and every once in a while, when something was of concern to the entire community, they would band together and act as one. This was rare, but when it did happen, it was a force to be reckoned with.
Feilong remembered bitterly the aftermath of his stepbrother Yantsui having raped a high class Chinese prostitute. For months afterward, it was Feilong's job to get rid of the female assassins who kept cropping up left and right. He also had the honor of being poisoned several times on his brother’s behalf, since Yantsui had insisted on him tasting all of his food before he ate it, and like an idiot, Feilong had agreed. The up side of it was that nowadays, Feilong was immune to most common poisons, which came in very handy.
The other fringe benefit was that he now knew precisely what it felt like to walk down the street in the city under the glare of a hive of angry whores. There was no doubt about it: the women here knew exactly who Kokoro was and they were not happy about her current situation. Whoever her mother was, she had sent out the prostitute equivalent of a code red, and the women were up in arms.
Feilong knew for a fact that the Yakuza had several brothels here in Chinatown. Chinese women were favored as prostitutes because they were easier to obtain illegally, and because having Japanese whores would make Japanese men feel dirty, naturally. Not that there could be anything filthier than a Yakuza. Feilong considered the entire affair to be deplorable, but then, no one in organized crime was exactly up for citizen of the year, now were they?
It was hard for Feilong to believe that Asami had been stupid enough to knock up one of these prostitutes, but it was obvious to him that the man was concerned about it, so he must have visited at least one. Unless he had a secret girlfriend, which was even more horrifying to contemplate. But if he did, then he’d know whose child it was, wouldn’t he? Feilong knew Asami preferred men, so it was very unlikely that the woman he produced this child with was anything other than a whore.
The bigger question was, why were these women so angry? Feilong knew that he wasn’t just imagining things: he’d definitely been getting dirty looks all evening, and not just your average dirty looks, either... They were the type that very distinctly said, who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing with that child? What exactly had Asami done? And if he had done something unpardonable, why on earth would they have given the baby back to him? Perhaps someone else had stolen the baby from its mother and given it to Asami?
All of these thoughts were whirling through Feilong’s mind when he felt the telltale eyes on him once again. Outside the window, on the corner across from the two oblivious Yakuza, several young girls in brightly colored jackets and high heels stood together, trying hard to make it look like they were doing nothing in particular. One was toying with her cell phone, another reached into her purse for some lipstick, but it was clear to Feilong that this was an act. The two outside girls stood flanking the third girl, who was dressed in plain clothing and was staring intently at Feilong. No, at Kokoro.
The plain-clothed girl was very young, not yet eighteen, and she seemed wan looking… as if she had just recently given birth. A-ha! Asami had been right after all: a mother couldn’t resist coming to see her child on display. But… if this girl was actually Kokoro’s mother, then… No, it wasn’t possible, was it? Asami wouldn’t sink that low. It was one thing with Akihito, who was pretty girly, but a teenaged girl like this? Feilong smelled a rat. The girl had to be lying. But why?
The group of girls started to move away. Feilong knew if he was going to act, he’d have to act quickly. Smiling his brightest, most charming smile, he lifted his right hand and waved cheerfully at them. The plain-clothed girl stared in horror for a split second, then recovered as her two girlfriends grasped her arms and giggled, as if it had all been a big joke to get the good looking gentleman’s attention. Then they hurried away up the block.
Feilong’s cell phone rang immediately. It was Invisible #1. Feilong picked it up, still smiling.
“Sir? Shall we follow them?”
“Yes, please do. Keep me posted,” Feilong purred into the phone. He hung up. Victory!
“Feilong-sama? Who was that you were waving to?” Tao sounded tired; it was long past his bedtime, after all. Time to take him back to the hotel. They were finished here.
“Just some more of our fans among the ladies, Tao. I think they like you!”
“Aww, no way, Feilong-sama! It was all your pretty pearls!”
The saleswoman held up a mirror to show him the finished product, and Feilong beamed. What had started off as an awfully crappy day had turned out well after all. He now had pearls in his hair, a precious little empress in his lap, and information that Asami Ryuichi wanted very, very badly. Things were definitely looking up.
Author: priestess_grrrl
Series: Viewfinder
Pairing: none this chapter
Rating: PG-13
Genre: drama with a side order of crack
Notes: Feilong shops at Little Buddha Baby, except imagine everything is three times as expensive. Yes, they really do have a Lil' Empress onesie.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 5: Feilong's good evening
“What do you think, Tao? The crimson or the turquoise?”
“Both of them, Feilong-sama!”
“Both of them it is!” Feilong handed the two velvet-lined silk baby hats to the smiling proprietor, who had been more than happy to keep her tiny shop open an hour later than usual after she realized that Feilong fully intended to purchase half of her inventory. She had wisely chosen either not to notice or not to care about the heavily armed guards patrolling the street outside.
Feilong was feeling especially pleased with himself. In just a few short hours, he’d transformed baby Kokoro from an orphaned waif in duct taped diapers to an elegant little Chinese princess. Little Kokoro, whom Feilong had given a new nickname, Xin-xin, was now clearly the most well-dressed baby in all of Japan. She had enough new outfits to last her an entire month, including a beautiful red and gold baby cheongsam, complete with a tiny frog button closure, a lovely handmade baby kimono patterned with a graceful sakura design, and a luxuriously soft Cashmere onesie with “Lil’ Empress” embroidered on the front, which she was wearing right now.
Tiny tiger slippers covered her little feet (they’re fashionable and they frighten evil away!), on her head was a matching silk appliqué tiger hat with gold, silver and jade charms hanging from it, and little 14 karat gold bells graced her wrists and ankles. She was wrapped in a lavender silk blanket with a floral print lined with ivory plush fur. Feilong could hardly stop from cooing in delight every time he looked at her.
“Don’t we look pretty, Mommy’s little Xin-xin!”
The shop owner had taken to pulling things out of secret drawers and compartments behind the counter, which Feilong especially enjoyed. After all, he deserved the royal treatment, did he not? Even though it had been years and years, Feilong had never quite gotten over being treated like a second class citizen next to his stepbrother all his young life. Despite the fact that he knew very well that he could snap his fingers and get anything he wanted these days, it still gave him a secret thrill to have people pulling out all the stops just to please him.
“Perhaps these would interest you?” The woman handed him a purple velvet pouch fastened with a beaded clasp. Inside it contained two exquisitely beautiful silver hair combs, dripping with pearls. There were also several loose strands of pearls included, which were to be woven into the hair alongside the combs. Feilong ran them through his fingers carefully. He loved the silky feel of real pearls.
“So very pretty! But I’m afraid little Xin-xin isn’t quite old enough for Mommy to be buying her pearls. Her hair has only just started to grow!” He ran a hand over the fuzz under Kokoro’s hat lovingly.
“Ah, but if you will pardon my rudeness, Sir, they would look lovely in your own hair.”
Feilong’s eyes lit up. “In my…? For me?”
Tao clapped his hands in delight. “Yes, yes, Feilong-sama! Try them! I want to see!”
Well, why not? Feilong soon found himself perched on a chair in the center of the store, holding Kokoro in his lap, while the saleswoman wove pearls into his long hair with careful fingers.
As she worked, Feilong monitored the situation outside. One of his own men stood close by the door, which now read Closed. Two more passed by periodically, and Feilong knew there were two Invisibles watching as well, likely from the rooftops, who would interfere only if necessary. Asami’s men were there, too, across the street, looking stupidly obvious. Yakuza were so inelegant; they always looked uncomfortable, like they had guns stuffed in every orifice. Feilong did not understand why Asami felt the need to surround himself with musclebound morons all the time, but then, what did Asami know of grace and elegance? Clearly nothing.
Feilong was still angry at Asami for roping him into this in the first place, though he had to admit, he was having fun. Also, now that he had some idea of what Asami really wanted from him, he could see why he’d asked for Feilong’s help, rude comments aside. Feilong was keenly observant, in a way that Asami’s men were not. They were trained to recognize concealed weapons and potential threats, but subtlety was not their forte. Feilong, on the other hand, noticed everything: every gesture, every movement, every glance, from the brush of the shop owner’s delicate fingers in his hair to the way the lights of passing vehicles glinted off the ruby eyes of the Chan Chu money frog sitting on the counter.
And so it was that Feilong saw what everyone else had missed completely: the eyes that watched them. You did not rise as high as Feilong had in the Hong Kong underworld by not being able to tell when you were being watched. He had sensed the eyes on him as soon as they had set foot in Chinatown - multiple eyes. It could have been just the fact that Feilong cut an impressive figure, all dressed to the nines, with Kokoro and Tao in tow, but Feilong knew better. There was a difference between being looked at and being watched. This was definitely the latter. It was not, however, the type of observation involving men with guns stalking other men with guns. These were women watching.
From behind swiftly pulled curtains, from tiny third floor windows, from swift-moving cars, women’s eyes followed them. It was almost as if the entire neighborhood were one entity, watching them out of the corner of its collective eye. Never anything overt, never anything obvious, but clearly it was there, like an underground river, flowing quietly beneath them wherever they went.
It was a foolish oversight among Yakuza that they completely disregarded women except for purposes of prostitution. This was not only a waste of valuable resources, but also just plain stupid. Women were just as capable as men of murder, deceit, treachery, and every other type of crooked behavior. Discounting them was extremely unwise and very often deadly.
Baishe did not make such a mistake. Feilong often found it useful to employ women, especially when his enemies were blockheaded Yakuza who were reduced to blithering idiocy in the presence of the female sex. Women held no such sway over Feilong, so having them in his arsenal was like possessing the perfect poison: deadly to others, but to himself, harmless.
Spending most of his youth prowling the streets of Hong Kong doing dirty work for his stepbrother had taught Feilong a few things. One was that in any given location where organized crime was a way of life, the local street women were likely to be networked as tightly as a den of thieves. They did this mostly for self-preservation: after all, in the eyes of the law, the life of a common street whore was worth very little; in the eyes of the average crime lord, it was worth even less.
The lives of these women were often very bleak: if violence, murder, or drugs didn’t finish them off, disease surely would. They knew that they had very little chance of survival if they didn’t have someone watching their back. They also knew that anything they tried to do on their own in terms of defense would likely be futile. So they did the only thing left for them to do: bear witness to one another. Eyes were always watching: every murder, every rape, every hidden heinous act was recorded, as if on sacred criminal parchment, to be used in a court of law that would never materialize.
But the women knew. They saw everything; they forgot nothing, and every once in a while, when something was of concern to the entire community, they would band together and act as one. This was rare, but when it did happen, it was a force to be reckoned with.
Feilong remembered bitterly the aftermath of his stepbrother Yantsui having raped a high class Chinese prostitute. For months afterward, it was Feilong's job to get rid of the female assassins who kept cropping up left and right. He also had the honor of being poisoned several times on his brother’s behalf, since Yantsui had insisted on him tasting all of his food before he ate it, and like an idiot, Feilong had agreed. The up side of it was that nowadays, Feilong was immune to most common poisons, which came in very handy.
The other fringe benefit was that he now knew precisely what it felt like to walk down the street in the city under the glare of a hive of angry whores. There was no doubt about it: the women here knew exactly who Kokoro was and they were not happy about her current situation. Whoever her mother was, she had sent out the prostitute equivalent of a code red, and the women were up in arms.
Feilong knew for a fact that the Yakuza had several brothels here in Chinatown. Chinese women were favored as prostitutes because they were easier to obtain illegally, and because having Japanese whores would make Japanese men feel dirty, naturally. Not that there could be anything filthier than a Yakuza. Feilong considered the entire affair to be deplorable, but then, no one in organized crime was exactly up for citizen of the year, now were they?
It was hard for Feilong to believe that Asami had been stupid enough to knock up one of these prostitutes, but it was obvious to him that the man was concerned about it, so he must have visited at least one. Unless he had a secret girlfriend, which was even more horrifying to contemplate. But if he did, then he’d know whose child it was, wouldn’t he? Feilong knew Asami preferred men, so it was very unlikely that the woman he produced this child with was anything other than a whore.
The bigger question was, why were these women so angry? Feilong knew that he wasn’t just imagining things: he’d definitely been getting dirty looks all evening, and not just your average dirty looks, either... They were the type that very distinctly said, who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing with that child? What exactly had Asami done? And if he had done something unpardonable, why on earth would they have given the baby back to him? Perhaps someone else had stolen the baby from its mother and given it to Asami?
All of these thoughts were whirling through Feilong’s mind when he felt the telltale eyes on him once again. Outside the window, on the corner across from the two oblivious Yakuza, several young girls in brightly colored jackets and high heels stood together, trying hard to make it look like they were doing nothing in particular. One was toying with her cell phone, another reached into her purse for some lipstick, but it was clear to Feilong that this was an act. The two outside girls stood flanking the third girl, who was dressed in plain clothing and was staring intently at Feilong. No, at Kokoro.
The plain-clothed girl was very young, not yet eighteen, and she seemed wan looking… as if she had just recently given birth. A-ha! Asami had been right after all: a mother couldn’t resist coming to see her child on display. But… if this girl was actually Kokoro’s mother, then… No, it wasn’t possible, was it? Asami wouldn’t sink that low. It was one thing with Akihito, who was pretty girly, but a teenaged girl like this? Feilong smelled a rat. The girl had to be lying. But why?
The group of girls started to move away. Feilong knew if he was going to act, he’d have to act quickly. Smiling his brightest, most charming smile, he lifted his right hand and waved cheerfully at them. The plain-clothed girl stared in horror for a split second, then recovered as her two girlfriends grasped her arms and giggled, as if it had all been a big joke to get the good looking gentleman’s attention. Then they hurried away up the block.
Feilong’s cell phone rang immediately. It was Invisible #1. Feilong picked it up, still smiling.
“Sir? Shall we follow them?”
“Yes, please do. Keep me posted,” Feilong purred into the phone. He hung up. Victory!
“Feilong-sama? Who was that you were waving to?” Tao sounded tired; it was long past his bedtime, after all. Time to take him back to the hotel. They were finished here.
“Just some more of our fans among the ladies, Tao. I think they like you!”
“Aww, no way, Feilong-sama! It was all your pretty pearls!”
The saleswoman held up a mirror to show him the finished product, and Feilong beamed. What had started off as an awfully crappy day had turned out well after all. He now had pearls in his hair, a precious little empress in his lap, and information that Asami Ryuichi wanted very, very badly. Things were definitely looking up.