The sound of food sizzling and pain radiating from my left shoulder awakens me. I remove the soft, blue blanket and groan as I sit up slowly.
"Fuck Yasuo, what happened to me?" I grumble to the figure clanging around in the kitchen. However, rather than the man's voice, I was expecting, a calm and soft voice answered my question.
"I'm not sure who Yasuo is, but I found you, shot, and passed out in the alleyway." My head whips towards the voice, preparing to defend myself. However, my eyes lock with a pair of striking hazel eyes instead.
"Who the fuck are you?" I barked at her
"Wow, that's what I get for saving your life?" She sets down the spatula that was in her hand and walks closer to me. "Before I tell you my name, shouldn't you tell me yours?" — she placed her hands on her hips— "I mean it's only fair after you collapsed on me and I had to carry you all the way up here to fix your wound, all because you refused to go to the hospital."
I scoffed in disbelief, "You carried me?" It was hard to believe that this feisty woman had carried me all by herself. She may be taller than most women, standing at what looks to be five-seven or eight, but she looked like she weighed nothing.
"Do you see anyone here besides yourself? Who else was going to carry you? Gosh, your poor mother has such a rude son." Her long, silky hair swayed as she spun back to what she was cooking, letting out a harsh sigh from her soft, ample lips.
"Ahem, um sorry," —I reach up to scratch my head—, "I'm Yoshioka Tajimamori." I gazed over at her, anticipating fear, but she didn't even flinch at the mention of my name, instead a small smile graced her lips. "You can call me Taji though, no need to be formal."
"Well Taji-san, would you like some hotcakes?" She inquired while putting the round, fluffy food on a plate.
"I should probably get —" I was interrupted as my stomach growled in response to the appetizing hotcakes.
Laughing at me, she put the plate down in front of me, along with a small bowl of strawberries and a bottle of syrup.
"Just eat before you go. I promise it's not poisoned." Reluctantly, I gave in to the grumbling of my stomach and took a bite of the food.
"Damn these are good," I mumbled through the bites. She just giggled at me and continued to cook more hotcakes. A comfortable silence fell upon the room as the only sound came from her cooking and my eating, so I took this time to look around her tiny apartment. There weren't many decorations around, instead, it looked rather plain, except for one of the walls which were covered in a bunch of newspaper and article clippings. As I looked at them longer, it dawned on me that they were all written about the Fukuyamas, our enemy family. They were all mostly about possible crimes being connected tied to them: murders, robberies, drug, and sex traffic cases; but a few contained the skirmishes between them and us. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the news had already caught wind of the shootout last night.
I need to get back and inform Yasuo of what happened.
"Thanks for the food, and for stitching me up. I'll repay you another time." Bowing to her to express my gratitude, I reached for my pile of clothes next to me, discovering my shirt was missing.
"Ah, sorry. Your shirt was soaked in blood, so I threw it away. I should have a big shirt that will fit you," she interjected while walking into another room. After a few minutes of rummaging, I hear the soft patting of her footsteps alerting me she's coming back. "This should fit you," in her hands sat a large white shirt with a corgi eating a bowl of ramen.
Are you fucking kidding me?
I raised my eyebrows, appalled by what she was holding, "You expect me to wear that?"
"I don't have anything else that will fit you. Besides, it's cute!" She raises the shirt next to her face while staring at me, waiting for me to agree.
"Mhm, see I have a reputation to upkeep, and wearing that," aggressively pointing at the shirt, "will tarnish it. You don't have just a regular shirt?"
Snapping at me, she retorted, "Nope! If you don't want this shirt that's fine. You can just walk around without one." We started down each other, both waiting for the other to give in to their demands. After debating if it would be more trouble to wear the shirt or not, I sighed in defeat.
"Just give it to me," grumbling as I took it from her and put it on. She gave an adorable smirk as she watched me put it on.
"You don't have to worry about returning it since it only cost me 530 yen."
Hiding the shirt with my jacket, I give her another bow, "Thank you again,"—I reach for my phone— "why don't you give me your number, that way you can contact me when you think of what you want as repayment." She raises her eyebrow at me before hesitantly taking the phone from my outstretched hand and inputting her name and number. Once she hands the phone back, I move towards the door.
As my hand touched the handle, she called out, "Try not to hurt yourself again. Your body needs time to rest, also don't forget to keep your wound clean otherwise it could get infected."
Engaging in one last staredown with those calculating eyes, I taunted "Don't worry this little wound won't kill me." Chuckling, I stepped out of her apartment, her perplexed stare etching itself into my memories. I pulled out my phone and opened it to her contact information.
So, her name is Mizuki. Interesting.
I back out of her contact and scan through the rest till I find the number I'm looking for. It rings for ten seconds before the person on the other end picks up.
"Nice of you to finally call me. If both Jae-Sang and I didn't hear from you for another day, we were going to assume your body was in some dumpster."
"Please Yasuo, you think those Fukuyama bastards can kill me?" I step into the elevator and press the first-floor button. Even though I can only hear him scoff, I know he's shaking his head at my words too.
"I'm assuming you're not just calling me to chat." I exit the elevator and head out the two sets of double doors. The sunlight assaults my eyes as soon as I step out of the building, forcing me to shield my eyes.
"Yeah, I need a ride. I'm sending you my location right now," I explain as I send him the text.
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes, so try not to do anything stupid in the meantime." He knows me too well, though admittedly he's been taking care of Jae-Sang and I since he was nineteen and we were fifteen. While my idiot best friend Jae-Sang and I would go instigate shit with thugs and other gangs, he would always clean up after our fights and made sure our dumbasses didn't get in too much trouble.
"Before you go, I also need a background check on a Sumi who lives in Spring Night's Apartments, room 806," I order him, grinning as she pops back into my thoughts.
"Since when have you shown interest in anyone but yourself," he joked.
"Shut up and come get me."
"Ok, ok, I'm on my way." Hanging up, I pull out a strawberry lollipop and sit on a bench outside the building, waiting for him to get here while thinking about a certain alluring brunette.
***
After watching his figure retreat out my door, I let out a sigh of relief. Yoshioka Tajimamori. I knew the man I brought into my home had some sort of gang affiliation, but I could never have guessed that he would be the eldest son of the most influential bōryokudan family. I knew better than most how deadly they were. They were the leaders of the criminal underworld, outcasts of society that nobody messes with for fear of ending up with a bullet to the head. There are three main bōryokudan families, first, the Yoshioka's, who currently has the most members and the most territory in Japan, second the Fukuyama's, they're almost the same size as the Yoshioka's but they own significantly less territory, lastly the Ishikawas, they're smaller than the Fukuyama's in members but they own more territory than them. Lately, the Fukuyama's have been pushing against the others to increase their influence. The news has been buzzing about the recent gun battles and murders between Yoshioka and Fukuyama and I'd bet anything that's why Taji-san was shot last night. There's probably already a news article being written about it right now, though it is hard to tell if they'll write about Taji-san since he hardly shows up on the news probably due to his connections. I did see a few articles about him in my research which is why I knew him but none of those even scratched the surface of what he actually is like. He was definitely different than how all the news columns had described him, and those pictures didn't do his face justice. He was gorgeous, with his chin-length face-framing lustrous hair. His eyes were deceptively soft and sharp, and his lips looked very kissable, not to mention he has a good build. Even though he looks slim, once his shirt came off all I felt was solid muscle which compliments his six-four height. I've never in my life seen a more gorgeous, yet dangerous man, who now knows my name and where I live.
Shit Sumi. How can you be so stupid?
I slap my forehead to bring my attention away from the sinful man and back to the reality of the situation. I pull out my laptop and search for any recent news regarding the Yoshioka and Fukuyama family. My eyes scan the screen before locking onto a specific article,
"Is the Fukuyama family encroaching on Yoshioka territory? Recent murder victims show evidence of a future bōryokudan war." My eyes skim my laptop screen as the article talks about how the police have identified three murder victims, killed in the signature style of the Fukuyama. All three of them were missing the pinky finger on their right hand.
It's risky to further involve myself with Taji-san since I might attract the attention of the Fukuyama family, but I can't help being attracted to him as a honey bee attracted to a sickly sweet popsicle. Though little did I know it was already too late for me to escape, for I had already walked straight into the dragon's lair.