Ishikawa Tomoko

Saturday, 6th July
15:40
 

Escaping the afternoon heat by venturing into a not-quite-yet-open hostess bar in the city centre, three suited men appeared from the dim stairway leading into the foyer. Entering the large mirror-walled space filled with glass chandeliers and hazy lilac spotlights, the trio were greeted cheerfully by a young beauty in a baby-pink mini dress. “Good afternoon, Okyaku Sama~ I’m sorry to inform you that we aren’t yet open-”

The first man took out what looked to be a photograph from the inner breast pocket of his suit jacket and showed it to the girl who greeted them. “Have you seen this woman?” The small girl with amber-bleached hair shook her head as the other two men glared around the expensive establishment.

Over the other side of the space, a full-figured redhead had just been informed by the male tout that she was being called by the manager. “Tell him I’ll be with him in a moment.” Standing from the scarlet velvet seating just out of view due to frosted glass dividers, the tall woman in her early twenties wearing a figure-hugging white sheath dress advanced for the reception.

The tout trotted behind the woman, his voice shaking as he tried to keep quiet, his fretting fizzling as he shadowed their biggest income. “He’s pissed. Don’t make him even worse, Natsume San.”

Ignoring her male colleague, the redhead stood beside the girl in the pastel pink dress. “Can I help you gentlemen with something?”

The five other present looked to the smiling woman. The three strangers were caught off guard by the body fit for Valkyrie Drive cosplay - her two colleagues knowing exactly what that expression meant.

“We’re looking for this woman, have you seen here?” The first man showed the photograph to the tall woman, who in turn nodded.

“Ishikawa Tomoko: we used to work the same circuit until a couple of years ago. That is,” quirking her perfectly manicured brow, the redhead exhaled a lengthy sigh, “until she started slumming it with B-Rate actors and sucking them off for pennies in order to bring up her relevance.”

“’Got any more recent information?”

“Yeah, I last heard she got a new boyfriend pretending to be her manager. I’d never seen his face before and his accent was a little off. I don’t think he was from around here. Somewhere down West, Nagasaki or Fukuoka maybe, from what I was told.”  

“And who told you that?”

“I couldn’t say. I see a lot of people every day. On a light night, I see between twelve and twenty five people over twelve hours.” Itching her temple with her glitter-tipped nail, the hostess shrugged. “Part of my job is to drink and make light conversation about menial things, and it’s not like we take notes.”

Writing something on a slim notepad, as one would imagine a detective in a drama would,  a second man did just that before looking up, his eyes staring into the redhead’s. “Do you have some kind of issue with her?”

“Yeah, if you find her, tell her that if I see her face around here again, she won’t have one.” The red-haired hostess pulled in a deep breath and made a face like they’d be there all day if she had to explain everything. “Besides the fact she gives a bad rep to every hostess, there’s a list.”

Turning her back, she plucked out a handful of shot glasses from under the counter housing shelves of colourful booze. Placing them on a tray, she handed them off to pink-dress and directed her to put them on the bar to the left of where they were standing. Taking a bottle of whiskey from one of the shelves, the redhead returned her attention to the trio.

“She had the face to become a model or actress but she pissed it away because she had the misconception and ego to think that fame would come as easily by fucking rich old men the same as hard work would. It doesn’t go like that.” Pouring out drinks for the men asking questions, the redhead spared herself a shot. “She worked in a few of the same clubs as I did over the years but she brought nothing but shame for the fact would sleep with anyone for money: that’s not what a hostess is.”

“You have pretty strong opinions of her.”

“Are you telling me that you wouldn’t? You wouldn’t be pissed if someone who did half the work you did but was constantly promoted despite the fact they dragged your name and occupation through the dirt and reaped the rewards even though she never followed the rules?”

Picking up the afforded measure, the skin of the man’s inked wrist peeked past his jacket sleeve. Downing the shot, the man licked his lips clean. “Thanks for your help, and the drink.”

Glittered eyes curved in a smile. “Any time, we are here to serve, after all.”

“Do you have a card; I may need to ask a few more questions.”

Pink-dress went to hand over the company business card when the redhead gracefully handed her personal one over with both hands. “Please don’t hesitate to call again.”

Reading the white slip with silver and blue font, the man read the name aloud. “Diamond Smiles - I guess that is this place - Natsume Shiori…” Reaching over, the suited man stuffed a few paper notes down the front of the redhead’s dress in return. “Thanks, Shiori Chan.” Turning away, he and his two companions left the establishment.

As soon as the door shut behind the trio, the effort the redhead was putting into pulsing her jaw spasmed throughout her body. Flinging her arm out, the back of her hand swiped the empty whiskey glasses off the bar and crashing to the floor. The tout and new hostess watched the tall female’s chest rise and fall quickly, her teeth bared and her line of sight fixed on where the trio had left as she reached into her cleavage. Slamming the money onto the counter, she bit at the air. “Take the repairs out of that and clean that mess up.” Rounding the opening in the bar counter, Shiori stormed across the establishment and towards stairs which led to the second floor.

Pink-dress took the dustpan and brush from the shelf under the bar. The cute demeanour was nowhere to be found as she pouted in her crouching position. “Heh, what a moody bitch.” Her scowl was clear on heavily made-up features as she began to sweep up broken glass.

The tout counted the slips of paper cash. “That may seem true to you, but who do you think covers for you when a customer bilks on you? Natsume San has been at the top of the Tokyo business for a long time. Fortunately for you, unlike a lot of the other women who are selfish and only concerned with status and hooking big fish, she helps out welts like you - Ito - when you can’t keep a guy interested long enough to pay his debts because you have the personality and brain-capacity of a goldfish.”

Jaw askew and eyes narrowed, the young woman scoffed up at the supposed helper. “You’re not exactly winning no awards either, are you Suzuki?”

 

15:55


Arriving at the private estate surrounded by high, pale stone walls, the electronic gate opened barely enough for a person to fit through. The woman opened the car door and got out. Kyohei scrambled for his seatbelt. “Let me come with you.”

One forearm on the roof of the car, the other atop of the open door, she craned her neck down to look inside the vehicle. “You know he doesn’t like you; don’t push your luck.” She handed over the cash card she used for business expenses. Stubbing her cigarette out under her boot, she gave a two-finger salute to the men in the car. “Go and have your dinner. I’ll call you if and when I need picking up.” Leaving no room to be argued with, the blonde straightened up and walked through the gap in the metal-panelled gate more than a meter over her height.

Being met by a row of suited men, the blonde briefly inclined her head as she sauntered up the extravagant driveway decorated with luscious flowering plants and meticulously raked fine gravel.

Pushing her hair back as she came to be faced with an aged, suited man stood at the top of traditional decking, Akito bent her upper body for the first time in politeness that month. “Good afternoon, Saito San.”

“You’re as prompt as ever, Akito Kun.” Turning his body, the man in his mid-fifties held out a manner hand and gestured for the woman to follow.

Back at the car, Reo glared at Kyohei through the rear-view despite the pair of them sitting side by side. “This is your fault.” Before he had even finished his sentence, the addressed had turned on the radio and began rolling a handmade cigarette over his lap.

Without so much as a pause, Kyohei folded the rolling paper and licked the gum strip. Running the handmade smoke between calloused fingers, lazy eyes locked on the flashy dresser. “He hates you, too, you know?”

“Yeah, but you actually did something to piss him off.”

“I wonder which is worse: Someone who did something to anger him, or someone who did nothing and still irked him~”

Brow twitching, the ex-host fizzled. “Fuck off; your face pisses me off.”

The driver’s droll voice ran off as he indulged in his vice. Completely ignorant to the fact his words had bothered his colleague, Kyohei drawled. “Are we getting yakisoba for lunch? Okonomiyaki?”

“You can have instant ramen in the back.”

“No wonder you can’t keep a girlfriend.” Clicking his tongue off his teeth, Kyohei jutted his head to the side with a hiss. "You're really stingy."

“I don’t want to hear that from you, you fucking bum.”

“I’ve had this job longer than you, you retard.” Halting from calling his work-mate out even further, the driver paid attention to the buzzing in his pocket.

Catching the flashing, Reo teased. “Is that your dope buddy-”

A fist blindly connected with Reo’s neck as the other hand prodded at his phone screen. “Don’t talk shit.”

Writhing and rolling about in his seat dramatically, Reo let out throaty groans while his so-called partner checked the notification he’d received. “I have three missed calls from Natsume.” Without missing a beat, the driver called the number back.

Holding his neck as if he was strangling himself, Reo half howled-half cooed. “Then call her back.”

“Were you born a moron, or were you dropped?” Holding the cellphone to his ear, Kyohei waited less than two seconds before the line was answered. “What’s wrong?”

Huffing, the voice on the other end of the call jolted a few times. “A-ah yeah, uh-h-hold on a sec…” The sound of weight hitting metal was quickly punctuated by a splay of curses. In no time at all, the female was back on the receiver and panting. “I have something I need to talk to Sai about but I can’t get hold of her. I wanted to know if you’ve seen her.”

“More importantly, are you okay? You sound like were in the middle of being smashed.”

The woman on the other end of the line clicked her tongue. “I was changing my hosiery.”

Blank faced, Kyohei placed his vice to his lips and lit the end. “She got called by Kiryū a little early. Is there anything we can help you with?”

“Actually, if you have the time, I want you to call around while she’s busy.”

“Finally, you’re going to accept my feelings, Shiori Chaaaan~” Reo exclaimed as he had the side of his head practically glued to his partners.

“Fuck.off!” Kyohei shoved the passenger away with some force, sending the edge of his forehead colliding with the frame around the door.

“Do you have time before she returns? It’s pretty important.”

“We’ll pick you up. Where are you?”

“I’ll meet you at the arcade across from the cabaret mall at quarter past.”

 

16:02

Afternoon sunlight shone through between the paper doors left open. The therapeutic clank of bamboo hitting stone each time it filled with water gave the occupants of the room their only indication of time.

“Still no sign of her, Boss.” A suited man stood behind a sliding door, only the edge of his face shown past the barrier.

Fingertips on the clay cup, the greying man in crisp hakama exhaled a low breath. “Keep looking.”

Stopping at the open doorway which led into the garden, Saito inclined his head before taking his shoes off and entering the large space filled with traditional ink paintings and antique vases. “Jūtarō, Akito Kun is here.” He held his hand out to the woman a couple of steps behind him.

Following suit of removing her boots, the female entered the room filled with heirlooms and men trying to catch up to them. “Good afternoon, Kiryū San.”

“Sorry to call you here earlier than usual but we have a problem.” The speaker, the man with pristinely combed-back coal hair and traditional grey hakama, nodded to the guest. “Take a seat.”

Easing down onto the emerald cushion on the other side of the low lacquered table, Akito knelt seiza style with her hands on her lap in wait for whatever mess she was about to be brought into. “What’s this about, Kiryū San?” She continued to face straight ahead, not bothering to pay any mind to the two other men in the room.

“We’re still waiting for somebody.” Both of the men more than double her age noticed the split-second flinch on the female’s face, but only one of them mentioned it.

“You really hate people being late, don’t you, Akito Kun?”

“Tardiness usually carries on into every other aspect in a person’s life. If you can’t keep time, you-”

The side door slid open and in the threshold stood a short man with wild hair, his dress sense leaving a lot to be desired considering whose company he was in. “Do you need somethin' from me?” His manners weren’t much better either.

“Take a seat, Hattori.” Sitting off to the homeowner’s left, one leg curled under him, the man in his mid-thirties plucked a cigarette packet from the breast pocket of his ugly floral shirt. Sparking the end of his crinkled smoke, the newcomer inhaled the fumes and made himself comfortable. Kiryū paid little mind to the informality but Saito looked as though he was about to shoot up and beat the vagabond with his folding fan at any moment. Gesturing for the young suited man who was standing rigid in the corner like a piece of furniture, the homeowner also took to wafting himself with a decorative paper fan. “Pour the tea, Yanagawa.” Doing just that, the suited man Akito presumed to be a guard was turned into a maid.

Finally getting to the point of why she had been summoned early, Kiryū placed his gaze on the female sweating profusely. “You’re familiar with Ishikawa Tomoko, are you not?”

“Unfortunately.” Akito looked up and hummed as she counted off her fingers. “I met her a few years ago through a mutual acquaintance and lent her some money. Around this time three years ago, actually.”

“How was she at repaying her debts?”

“Horrendous. I had to chase the bitch every Goddamn time.”

“Yet you kept lending to her? That’s unusual for you.”

“I feel like I’m on trial for something here. If that’s the case, I’d like to know what you’re trying to get at.”

“As blunt as ever.” Chuckling, the homeowner halted wafting his fan. “Ishikawa has gone missing.”

“That has nothing to do with me; if I was going to get rid of her, I would have done it a long time ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“She was always late with repayments but when she did pay up, she returned extra and she was good at sending other customers my way.” Using the back of her sleeve, the female wiped the sweat from her forehead and the back of her neck. “It was extra work to chase her, but in the long run, she made me money.”

“Ya really are just like they say.” The hobo-impersonator snorted a brief laugh but when the woman didn’t bother to give him an ounce of attention, he made a throaty hum as he bobbed and weaved his head in mockery. “Ehh~ do you have a complex? Should we start addressing you as Hime Sama?”

“Knock it off, Hattori San.” It was clear on Saito’s face that addressing the younger man with honorifics physically pained him.

“You could have asked me all of this over the phone, Kiryū San.”

“I don’t want any record of what we’re about to talk about. I actually want to ask you a favour.”

“Seeing as I’m already here, you might as well go ahead and ask then.”

“Ishikawa was having an affair with one of my Captains on and off for a number of years, as well as a fling with a business partner. Now, that isn’t unusual by any means but there is a new family trying to move in on my turf and I’ve recently been informed that Ishikawa has taken to one of their higher-ranking officers.”

“I can see how this would be a problem but this is Ishikawa we’re talking about. She’s known for spreading the love.”

“It’s possible that she knows more about this family than some low-life bint should. The Captain she was seeing went to confront her, and then his body turned up.”

“In pieces, I heard.” Hattori hummed as he stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray with some vigour.

“Ishikawa has been missing now for over two weeks. Her bank account hasn’t been touched and three of our exchanges have been ambushed. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

“A runaround has made off with family secrets, sold them to the enemy, and then disappeared.”

“That’s how it looks, isn’t it?”

Making an attempt at dragging the humid air into her lungs without coming across as if she was on the verge of carking it, Akito cracked her neck to the left with closed eyes. “I still don’t see how this has anything to do with me.”

“You were able to find her every time she ran. I want you to do the same again.”

“You have thousands of men at your disposal and half of the police force in your pocket. You could even hire a PI.”

“If she thinks she’s being chased by me, she really will go underground.”

Pinching the corners of her lips, the female shrugged her right shoulder. “That’s if she’s not dead already.”

“I hope for all of our sakes that isn’t the case.”

“I would have thought that would be the best outcome for you.”

“Personally, I couldn’t care less about one less whore in this city, especially if it turns out she has been double-crossing the family. The simple fact is that my business partner is besotted with her and wants her back at any cost.”

“Forgiving a traitor will look very bad for you, Kiryū San.”

“You don’t need to tell me that. But it will look even worse if everything gets pissed into the wind due to one girl.”

The pieces were beginning to slot into place for Akito. All she had to do now was ask that dreaded question. “When I find her, what do you want me to do with her?”

Hattori coughed a laugh. “You sound pretty confident, Hime Sama.”

Ignoring the childish nickname which was no doubt used in order to goad the woman, Kiryū nodded to Saito who in turn shifted around and retrieved a duffel bag from the cupboard behind them. “I want you to do everything in your power to detain her until Hattori gets there. This is a very delicate situation, Akito Kun. It needs to be under the radar; I don’t want anyone outside of this room to know we’re looking for Ishikawa.”

“I know you’re not going to like it, but I have to tell you now that Onaga and Kuroda will be helping me. Likely Natsume, too, as she has connections in the water trade.”

The aged man’s features scrunched up at the mention of the men’s names. “You’re right, I don’t like it. I don’t like them.” Scowling into his cup, Kiryū pulsed his jaw. “However, neither of them have shown the slightest intention to betray you, even when introduced to power tools in the hands of my men.”

“So, I can take that as permission?”

“Keep it to those three. If it gets back to me that somebody looking for Ishikawa, you’ll have a bad day.”

Saito placed the duffel bag beside the female. “This is your down payment and work expenses.” Handing over a slip of paper to the woman, he inclined his head. “These are the contact numbers for Hattori. Also Harada Keisuke, he will help you if you need any resources.”

Akito looked at the slip for less than ten seconds. Folding it back up, she took the lighter from her pocket and set it on fire.

Seeing black smoke bloom from the smoulder, its ash beginning to fall on her slacks, Hattori flopped to the side. “Are you out of your mind, you crazy bitch. We’re in a room made of wood and paper!”

Tossing the remnants into the ashtray as the flame consumed the last of the paper, the blonde rose from her spot. “I’ll check-in every three days.” Taking the handle of the black bag, Akito folded in half. “Good afternoon.” Stepping out into the humid air, she returned her feet to her boots and set off down the outdoor decking which rounded the side of the mansion.

Lighting another cigarette, Hattori scowled at the open doorway where the woman had left. “Stuck up bitch.” A crack filled the gentle air of the room, quickly followed by a hiss from the scruff. “What was that for?”

Holding fan up in threat for another attack, Kiryū stared at the man in his temporary employ. “Watch your mouth, Hattori.”

Waiting for the gates open, for her body be released back out into the real world, Akito kept her breath until she turned the corner of the high walled estate. Shoulder against the stone wall, her mind rehashed everything she’d been told that day, and all of the days before it. She had known Kiryū Jūtarō all of her life due to forces out of her control. The feelings he held for her mother only extended to her when it suited him and their connection had got her into trouble more often than not. That was likely to be the case this time around as well. She had confessed to a crime she did not commit seven years ago in order to get out from underneath the debt her family’s antics had brought about. She took the fall for a moron who went and got himself locked up not twelve months later for a petty theft which connected him to another murder he had taken part in. She should be angry about the way things had turned out. With her admission to false guilt on his behalf, she should have been released from Kiryū’s grasp, yet she was back to being at his beck and call because of another fool. However, more than the four years she had exchanged, she had been robbed of things that could not be got back.

Akito almost felt as if she was taken for a joke. The promise that man had made meant nothing in the end. He said she was free of her association with the family when she was released from prison three years ago but in reality, nothing had changed. She was still under the thumb of a megalomaniac mobster who continued to harbour a twisted sense of devotion to a woman long since gone. The others in that family were much better.

The man - Hanazawa Daisuke - she had started out a business with when they were both in their second year of high school had left her to become part of the name which had accumulated infamy decades before either of them were born. He betrayed her, but she couldn’t hate him for it because they had been friends before they had become rivals. And regardless of their currently amicable relationship, Saito Asahi was still Kiryu’s childhood friend-turned-accountant for the Tokyo branch of the Yamaguchi Gumi and an advocate for doing things the old school way. Kiryū’s bastard son - Kimura Rikiya - was one card short of a deck and unlike Saito, he did not feel the need for courteous relations with the woman, or any woman for that matter. If anything, he seemed to enjoy quite the opposite. And now there was that man - Hattori - who she had to deal with. She didn’t like to work with strangers at the best of times, but the way he presented himself, the obvious lack of apprehension he showed around the two older men meant only one of two things: he was either a complete simpleton, or absolutely out of his gourd. Neither of which were appealing traits when lives were on the line. Hers, especially.
 
Stopping in the shade of a towering camellia bush which hung over a neighbouring home’s wall, Akito took a metal flask from inside her purse. Choking down four large mouthfuls, the woman hissed at the burn running down her gullet. Replacing one vice with another, she plucked a cigarette from the packet in the pocket of her slacks. Lighting the end with one hand, the other scrolled through her phone contacts.

Updated: 12th January 2020 - 21:40