Chapter Text

Usami

“We’re going to visit your great uncle,” Usami’s father told him during one of his rare visits. “He doesn’t have much longer, and I think there’s something he needs to tell you.”

“Me? What would—” A smack on his cheek.

“Don’t question me.”

“Yes, sir.”

The two piled into a limo that was waiting outside of his father’s house, and they rode to Yokohama in silence.

An hour later, as they entered a residential area, his father finally broke the silence.

“Yuta, do you know what I do for a living?”

“No, sir.”

“Figured. Your mother never knew the whole truth, either.” Usami didn’t respond. His father sighed. “You’re going to learn today. You’re going to learn a lot, in fact.”

“Really?” His father nodded. Usami had a hard time hiding his smile.

The limo parked in front of a large gate, sitting between walls surrounding the property, several meters high. The driver stepped out and opened the door for the two passengers, and Usami and his father climbed out. The limo drove off, and Usami stared up at the impressive Chinese-style gate.

“Welcome, son. This is happening sooner than I planned, so be grateful. Close your mouth,” he said when he saw Usami gazing in awe. Usami did and stared straight ahead. The enormous doors of the gate opened, one man pulling each door with difficulty. The view now displayed before them was even more impressive—a stone path crossed the large courtyard the gate opened into, wooden buildings painted red with xieshan roofs surrounding it, stone and sand gardens with ponds dotting the area. Beyond the building that the stone path led to was another courtyard visible through the open doors. Lining the stone pathway were men in white Tang suits with golden and green embroidery. 

Wordlessly, his father walked through the gate, and Usami followed a few paces behind him. As they passed, the men bowed, welcoming them. Or, at least, that’s what Usami assumed “Nǐ huí lái le” meant. He had a hard time not pausing at every step, taking in the beautiful surroundings. 

“Yuta!” He ran up to his father, posture straightened. They walked through the building at the end of the stone path into the second courtyard, walking on another stone path with more men welcoming them. Across this second courtyard was one large multistory building, golden patterns painted all over the red. “Yuta. Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not look at him even when speaking. And do not let your face show any emotion. Plenty of what you will hear today will be new, and you may have questions. Do not ask any.” Usami stood straight, determination on his face. “That’s not neutral.” He relaxed his face. “Better. Come.”

He led Usami into the large building. Inside, it was strikingly dark. A scant few paper lanterns were in the corners, but no electric lights were lit. Across the room was a set of double doors, red carpet leading to it. When they reached it, his father knocked three times.

“Jìnrù,” an elderly voice called from the other side. Usami took one last look at his father, then returned to the approved stance as his father opened the door.

The room was equally poorly lit, with an old man lying on a futon on the floor, large silk quilt laid neatly over him. A strong scent of incense wafted in from some invisible corner of the room. His father approached and kneeled beside him, and Usami kneeled as well.

“Uncle.”

“Ah, Lao Da, huānyíng. Wǒ—”

“Forgive me, Uncle, but may we speak in Japanese?”

“Oh? Who have you brought with you?”

“My son, Hao Qiang.” Usami’s breath caught. Was this what his father warned him not to react to?

“Ah, I see. So you never taught him the language of our homeland. Still, this is wonderful. I haven’t seen your boy since he was an infant.”

“Yes, it has been quite some time.” The old man coughed.

“Thank you for making the journey here.”

“Thank you for inviting us. I would be happy to see you in Yunnan if you asked.” The old man chuckled.

“You always were so ingratiating, Lao Da. Do you know why I’ve summoned you here?”

“I assume it’s because of your health.”

“Indeed. I fear I have less time than I had bargained for, and now I have too many loose ends to tie up.” He waited. “It has to do with the inheritance of this Triad.”

“I see.”

“I can’t give it to just anyone, you know. But I have too few relatives to pass it on to. I thought I was making things easier for myself by limiting the relationships those within the Triad can have, but now…”

“Are you not satisfied with the options you have?”

“No.” His father’s fists clenched for just the briefest of moments. “Listen, Lao Da, I know you were hoping to inherit this Triad since my brother, your father, passed years ago. But you don’t have what it takes. I can’t give it to you.”

“I see.”

“Hao Qiang, come here, my boy.” He reached his hand out from under the blanket. Usami looked at his father, who moved aside so he could kneel next to him. The old man took his hand, and Usami made sure not to look him in the eye. “How would you feel about running this Triad—”

“He’s just a boy! He knows nothing—!”

“Silence!” His father clammed up and looked to the floor. “You look so much like your mother,” he said to Usami. “She was a beautiful girl the one time I met her, not long after you were born. Her name was… Hirose Miyako, yes?” Usami nodded. “How is she?” Usami looked back over his shoulder. His father didn’t look up at him.

“She’s… doing fine. She works hard and provides for me.”

“Does she love you?”

“Of course. And I love her too.”

“What about your father?”

“...what about him?”

“Does he love you?” Usami struggled to answer. The old man nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

“You always told me family was a weakness,” his father said angrily.

“And yet you married and bore a son. Or was that only to increase your chances of getting the Triad?” His father didn’t respond. Usami didn’t know if he wanted to look at his father or not. He didn’t move. “Well, answer my question, boy. How would you feel about running this Triad?” Usami thought for a moment.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’d have to decline. I never knew about this Triad. I know nothing of its influence, its power structure, its rules, its assets, nothing. I can’t even take the lead in a group project at school. I would be unfit to run this Triad.” The old man’s eyes lit up.

“It’s that kind of thinking that would make you great. To consider so many things when you knew nothing of this Triad’s existence when you awoke this morning and to be humble and practical enough to see it as beyond your capability… It shows great maturity.” Usami didn’t know how to respond. If he had been asked a year ago, even a few months ago, he would have responded differently. But Sawamura-chan’s situation put a lot into perspective for him. She was brave, and strong, and smart, and kind, and yet even she struggled as much as she had. And he realized he couldn’t be the one to save and protect her. The work he put into himself to make himself worthy of her was paying off. “Your mother did well.”

“Yes, she did.”

“Do you think your father did well, too?” Usami said nothing. “Regarding my will. I still haven’t completed it yet. I wanted to meet with all my potential inheritors before making a final decision. I only have one person left, but they’re hard to find.”

“Can we help you?” Usami’s father asked.

“Perhaps. It’s my daughter.”

“You have a daughter?”

“Yes, I’m a hypocrite, I know. She’s in Japan, that I know. But beyond that… I’m not sure. She certainly doesn’t go by her Chinese name, Xiao Qiao. I have some leads on who she might be, but nothing concrete. And I can’t have too many people out looking for her, I can’t have people knowing I have a living child.”

“Of course.”

“I had a son, too, but he was killed, oh, decades ago now. He would’ve been my first choice if he were still here. Anyway, I never put in the effort to find her, so I’m starting from scratch. I don’t know what help you can provide.”

“We will do anything we can.” The old man chuckled.

“You never change. If I need your aid, I’ll send a message.”

“Of course.”

“Hao Qiang. Take some time to consider. I have many people in my ranks I trust that can provide you guidance.”

“Yes, sir.” The old man nodded.

“Now, go. I grow weary from conversations these days.” He coughed. Usami’s father shifted back up next to him and bowed deeply.

“Thank you for granting us audience, Uncle.” Usami also bowed. The old man dismissed them with a wave, and they both stood and left.

☆☆☆

It didn’t take long for the silent drive home to become not so silent.

“Why didn’t you tell me about any of this?” Usami asked his father, not looking at him. His father sighed.

“I thought I’d have more time. And that I’d be the one to inherit the Triad after my father, your grandfather, died.” Usami sat silent, turning over the conversation he had with the old man in his mind.

“Is it true that you only had me as insurance? To increase your chances of running the Triad? I’d just be your puppet, right?” His father said nothing, didn’t even look at him. “And what about our names? He called you something I’ve never heard anyone call you. And you called me… what, ‘how much’?”

“It’s Hao Qiang. It means ‘vast strength’. That’s your Chinese name. Your real name.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your birth certificate doesn’t say ‘Usami Yuta’. It says ‘Lang Hao Qiang’.”

“Does… does mom know?”

“Well she had to sign the damn thing, I sure would hope so.”

“And she never told me either?”

“We agreed not to tell you. It was one of the few things we ever agreed on.” Usami was dumbfounded. He slouched back in his chair, bewildered. He stammered, trying to latch onto one of the million questions floating in his mind.

“Does she know about all this?”

“You know more than she does now. She knew my wealth came from something under the table and that it was a family business. Nothing else. And you won’t tell her about anything you saw or heard today.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“The less people who know about anything like this, the better.” Usami started to wonder if it was worth obeying his father anymore.

“And, his daughter. She’d be your cousin, right? You didn’t know about her?”

“No. He always said family was a weakness and discouraged anyone within the Triad from having relationships or children or even keeping in contact with any other relatives. I never thought to ask if he had any of his own.”

“How would we find her?”

“I don’t know.”

The rest of the drive was as silent as the drive over. As soon as they got back to his father’s house, Usami packed up his things and walked back to his mom’s apartment.

Majima

“Can’t ya drive any faster?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I have to obey the speed limit.”

“Psh, not like this is tracked by GPS or nothin’.”

“We don’t have much farther to go.”

Majima was taking a taxi ride to Ijincho. The Florist asked him to go down there—one of his contacts had gone AWOL, and he promised Majima that the next thing he would ask of him would be on the house if he did this. He was already trying to decide what that would be. Hell, he might be able to get some more information on the Snake Flower Triad while he was out there.

He was dropped off in the bar district. He was instructed to go to Survive Bar, where he would meet up with one of the subordinates of The Florist’s missing contacts.

The bartender was a foreigner, sporting a large forehead with blonde hair and aviator sunglasses, but his grasp on Japanese was surprisingly solid. Majima got himself a Bloody Mary and waited. The bar itself was empty outside of him and the bartender, and he glanced around to get any read on what kind of place this actually was. It seemed normal enough, it even had a karaoke set. While he was deciding whether to have a crack at it, someone walked down the stairs in the back and sat at his table. He was wearing an oversized black jacket with the hood up, face covered by a balaclava. While it was December, it wasn’t chilly enough for that getup, especially inside.

“Pleasure to meet you, Majima-san. I’m quite familiar with your work as a—”

“Yeah, yeah, pleasure's all mine, whatever. Get to the point.”

“Alright. I’m from the Geomijul, are you familiar—”

“The Florist gave me a run down. You guys got all the information in the world about this city, right?”

“Just so. Well, despite our giant web of information, our leader has managed to completely vanish.”

“Ya check your blind spots?”

“We don’t have any.”

“There’s always a blind spot,” Majima said, pointing at his eyepatch.

“I assure you, Majima-san, we don’t have any.”

“Alright, fine. Your leader, tell me about him.”

“ Her name is Seonhee,” he said, pulling out a photo of her. Quite the looker. “Thirty-one years old. A cunning, ruthless woman who knows what she wants and gets it. But she is also dearly beloved by everyone in the organization.”

“Maybe she wanted to leave, then.”

“Believe me, Majima-san, I have considered every possibility regarding her disappearance. Including it being of her own volition. But I can think of no reason why she would.”

“Alright. Well, I’d like to see for myself how airtight this whole operation of yours is.”

“Fine. The Florist trusts you enough to send you out here to help us. And if you try anything, we’ll know. Midnight, tonight, Eomeoni's Vow, Koreatown.” The man stood and left without even making sure Majima could make it. He’d have to.

He had plenty of time to stew and think while waiting. About Makoto. About Haruka-chan. About this Seonhee character. So many women causing trouble. He loved it. 

After spending some more time in the bar, breaking in the karaoke machine, having another bloody mary, and figuring out where to even find this “Eomeoni's Vow”, he walked to that restaurant and waited some more.

Midnight, on the dot, the door to the kitchen opened. Without even checking, Majima walked straight through. Several individuals clad in black were waiting for him.

“Ya not gonna try to jump me, are ya?”

“No, Majima-san, we’re not in the mood to die tonight,” said a man now standing beside him, who had the same voice and outfit as the man he spoke to at the bar.

Majima’s brow twitched. He still hated The Florist for taking advantage of him and causing him to break his 19-year-long no-kill streak at the docks. But he was still an invaluable resource.

Completely surrounded, he was guided by the men in black through the back door of the kitchen. They walked up and down fire escapes, through twisting alleys, man-made blockades, until somehow, and Majima wasn’t even sure how they actually got there, they were inside a large control room, covered wall to wall, floor to ceiling with screens.

“Huh. Who was first, The Florist or you guys?”

“Us, naturally. But what The Florist achieved on his own is quite impressive compared to what we had to do as a whole organization,” the man he had spoken to earlier said. As he spoke, he lowered his hood and removed the balaclava. Majima wasn’t expecting such a handsome man underneath, hair dyed to be stark white, and was he wearing guy-liner? “My name is Han Joongi. Second-in-command of the Geomijul.” Majima nodded in greeting.

“So, show me what you can see on all these,” Majima said, gesturing at the screens surrounding them. Han took some time to show him what they were capable of seeing. Everywhere Majima pointed on the screen as a potential blind spot, they showed him a new angle that had that spot in full view.

“What about the sewers?”

“We have cameras on every manhole cover and every entrance and exit we were able to locate when first setting this operation up, updating as the city went under construction.”

“Anywhere under construction now?”

“We have cameras there, too.”

“On every single angle? I doubt it. When was Seonhee last seen?”

Han described to him the last day Seonhee was seen. It was a bit over a week ago, and she was walking through Chinatown late at night. They showed the video of her walking, wearing a trench coat, hat, and sunglasses. But her pink hair was still visible. It was almost like she was trying to be suspicious. She walked into a restaurant, and they switched the view to the interior. 

She wasn’t there.

They moved forward and backward in time, but at no point did the camera from inside the restaurant show her opening that door.

“Ya sure it’s the right restaurant? The right day?”

“100%.”

“Maybe someone doctored the footage. Recorded over the original.”

“We considered it, but it would be an incredible feat. Very few of us have access to the recordings, and even fewer have the ability to doctor them.”

“Ain’t you all computer wizards? You’d be able to figure out a way around it if ya tried hard enough.”

“Believe it or not, most of us here don’t have those skills. Part of that is on purpose, the less people know how to manipulate our setup, the better. But, also, just about everyone here is an exponent of the Jingweon mafia. You familiar with them?”

“Oh, yeah, more than familiar.”

“Well, since they’re a bunch of old-school mafia grunts, most of them never even had the opportunity to learn about computers. It’s safer this way.”

“I see. Where is this restaurant? I wanna check it out myself.”

Han led Majima to Chinatown, to the restaurant Seonhee somehow did and didn’t enter, Heian Tower. Han was on edge the entire time.

“What’s eatin’ ya? You scared you’re gonna get spirited away, too?”

“I mean, if someone so cunning was able to take even Seonhee, we don’t stand a chance.” Majima scoffed.

“We’re fine.”

By the time they reached the restaurant, it was already past 1 am. The doors were locked, no lights were on.

“We breakin’ in?”

“Just wait.” Soon, Majima heard some loud clicks coming from the doors, and they swung wide open. They opened into a small vestibule, curtains draped on either side to give an air of luxury, before another set of doors swung open before them again, leading into the reception area of the restaurant.

“Your guys?”

“Actually, the owner. We have plenty of dirt on him, he’s more than happy to cooperate.”

“Hm.”

They walked into the reception area. The place was massive, with multiple floors and multiple private dining rooms, and it was the epitome of opulence, with large chandeliers, giant Ming Dynasty-style vases, and jade fu dog statues guarding each hall. A man sporting a bright red vest approached from one of the private rooms.

“Welcome, Han-sama and esteemed guest.”

“Name’s Majima.”

“Majima-sama.”

“Majima-san, this is Wong, the owner of this fine establishment. Wong, this is Majima-san, sent to help us locate our Queen of Geomijul.”

“Ah, I see. Well, please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing towards the private room he just came from. “My chefs are making our specialty Peking duck.”

“Oh, please, you don’t have to—”

“Of course I do,” the owner cut off Han. The three sat around the ornately carved table, white tablecloth laid over top, hosting dishes upon dishes of rice, soup, pickled vegetables, dumplings, and many others. Majima leaned forward on the table and stared the owner down.

“Where’s Seonhee?”

“You don’t play around, do you, Majima-sama.”

“Ain’t got the time.” The owner nodded.

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t know where she is.”

“Bullshit—”

“Majima-san,” Han warned. Majima stood and put his foot right up on the table.

“You know where she is, Wang. You’re a terrible liar—”

“Majima-san!”

The owner put up his hands in defense. “I’m being honest. I don’t know where she is. I didn’t even know she walked in here.”

“Yeah? Ya sure? She’s pretty hard to miss.” It was then that a waiter wheeled in a cart that was carrying a tray, cloche on top.

“Ah, the Peking duck. Please, Majima-sama, at least sit and enjoy our food. Peking duck is our specialty.”

“So I’ve heard.” Majima sat down in his chair as the waiter pushed the cart next to the owner and placed the tray in front of him. “What, ya not gonna serve the guests first?”

“I need to make sure it is up to our house standards first.” The waiter lifted the cloche.

The owner was sitting dead in the chair, bullet hole in his head, the waiter on the floor having suffered the same fate. Han was holding a gun, pointed toward the now dead men, a second gun still lying cold on the tray that was under the cloche. Majima only flinched at the sudden bang of the gun and slouched back in his chair.

“You’re not even going to ask why?” Han asked.

“I was in the yakuza, shit like that happens all the time. Figured he probably didn’t want the dirt you had on him hanging over his head anymore. Or he knew something about Seonhee, but I doubt it.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“This isn’t the restaurant she walked into. Because that wasn’t her on the monitor, was it?”