Whitewash High: Rising Sun Ch. 06

"Let's hope one or two of the wives are attractive. It'd solve the personnel problem we're experiencing."

Musashi got up and looked out the office window. Cars whizzed by, and it rained again. He lost count of the times it rained in the city.

"Any word from the boys on the Chubu?"

Ryuji rubbed his face, annoyed.

"Nothing. Fuckers are laying low. I don't like it. Maybe someone will give up some info soon. I don't like waiting with my cock in my hand."

"Still have the drill?"

"Waiting and ready for the first asshole to get taken. I'll tool both their knees."

Musashi tapped his chin, sinking deep in thought.

"Something else on your mind, boss?" Ryuji asked.

"I don't know. Something doesn't feel right. Why now? Why would the Chubu show up two years later?"

"Laying low hoping we'd think exactly that?"

"Maybe. I have a hard time buying they'd hide for two years without a single peep. No low level deals. No takeovers. Just show up now, when there is already internal discord in the alliance."

"I'm not a strategic thinker. Set me a target and I go through the front door."

"Too early to tell. I could be completely wrong and you're right that they hid for two years. A lot of patience for thugs. Back on topic, we've got a new club to work on."

The young crime boss walked over to a filing cabinet, pulling out a rolled up piece of paper.

"When are we breaking ground?" Ryuji asked.

"In a year, if all goes as planned. Money is secured. Location bought and paid for. Ten stories of pleasure," he explained, unrolling the paper onto the desk. "A public, combination host and hostess club on the first floor. Private suites on the second. Film studio on the third. More space for expansion to do anything we want. A solid stronghold."

"Bold, boss. No more renting the current studio. No more second-rate escort joints. The big time. Not even Kabukicho has an operation like this."

"That is why we need to make sure nothing fucks this up. I'm going all in on this mega project. It'll help revitalize the area. Politicians are on board."

"You know the clans in Tokyo are going to nose around in the future. Something like this can change the entire porn power structure."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, I need you to keep up the recruitment, and not put something shit out. I want to make sure when we open the doors, we're not a third-rate company."

Ryuji nodded, looking over the basic blueprints. Ten floors to create a symbol of clan superiority. The seven clans of the Aichi Alliance each had their own piece of the action in various sectors inside the city, and surrounding areas. Pornography, the pleasure districts, were the sole operation of the Yamato clan. Akechi worked out of the financial district. Tanahashi crowned himself king of electronics. Ueno took over gambling. Fujita carved out a role in construction. Matsumoto ran the dockyards and smuggling. Takeda, head of the alliance, received a piece of each pie. A feudal fiefdom, modern style.

Two years of peace reigned in the coastal city after the feud with the Chubu Syndicate. Too many smaller clans and not enough room to expand led to all-out war in the Chubu region of Japan. The Chunichi Shimbun dubbed it the 'Festival of Blood' because the event started with a bold, daylight assassination during the city's birthday festival. More yakuza died in that single year's war than any other gang war in the history of Japan. Both Musashi and Ryuji survived the war, taking their small time clan from obscurity to prominence as a member of the winning team.

X

Nik walked home, bundled up in a heavy overcoat. Breath painted the dark night white. A beaming smile couldn't be hidden. Every night a joy, every moment a fantasy fulfilled. A love that struck home true. A few streets past Anri's house was a park they'd stroll in often. Quiet and serene, Nik decided to find an empty bench and enjoy the rustling of leaves. Soak in the moment.

The cold air didn't affect the mood. The rustling felt soothing. Looking up at the full moon, it was hard not to be happy about life. Good job, a happy relationship with the love of his life, and her career taking off. One more positive up to bat and he'd hit a grand slam. But darkness suddenly consumed all sight. Instantaneous, Nik had no chance to defend himself against the object hitting a different sort of grand slam.

"Hold him up like he is drunk," a man called out.

Two others held Nik aloft, carrying the foreign teacher along like they would a friend out of a club. A nondescript van waited at the street corner. The few people walking this late at night paid zero attention to the group. Beer bottles on display, and loud, boisterous talking kept up the charade.

Tossed in the back of the van, Nik laid out on the seats. Off the vehicle went, to a location only the driver knew.

"Wonder what the shithead did?" one man asked.

"Who cares? We get paid per body," a second replied.

"Could be Russian mafia looking to mark their territory?" the third man spoke up.

"He doesn't look Russia," man one said.

"He is gaijin, all look the same to me. Russian, Yankee, British, who the fuck cares? We're each ten thousand richer. Easiest money we'll ever make," man two commented.

"Nah, the girl was the easiest money. A foreigner and some pro. Who'll go looking for them?" man three laughed.

Reaching the destination, a solitary man stood outside the warehouse, smoking a cig. Small billows of smoke ascended. He cracked knuckles, waiting patiently for the kidnappers to pull Nik from the van.

"Take him inside to Fumitsu," the man said.

"Doesn't he get enough work, boss?" kidnapper one replied.

"He wants a second doctorate in torture. Who am I to argue with ambition?" Ueno chuckled.

The kidnappers brought him inside a cold room. A singular chair sat in the middle. A meat hook hung above it. Nothing else. Fancy rope knots kept Nik balanced in the chair, and both upright. The kidnappers high fived each other, happy to be ten grand richer. Ueno handed each man a stack of bills, small denominations, as they left the cold room.

He paced around Nik, observing. A lot of muscle. A lot of meat for Fumitsu to inflict maximum damage to. The crime boss couldn't help but chuckle. Luck was with him. It all fell into his lap. Revenge against the interloper who thwarted his kidnapping plan, and also sticking it to Yamato at the same time.

"Welcome to forty-eight hours of hell."