Smiling at the Moon: Volume 2 - Chapter 3 - part 4

The content warning is in the footnotes⁰.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

The soundproof room perfectly blocked out any external noise. In the private room, in the middle of the night, it was silent, and Soichi’s sigh echoed particularly loudly.

“Can’t we settle this for five million yen¹?”

Yamada jumped up from the sofa and moved to the entrance. He quickly called Maruyama group’s contact. He thought they would accept five million yen instead of the shares. However, the response was a resounding “NO.” They laughed derisively, saying that amount wasn’t enough. But these five million yen was the compromise Soichi had graciously offered. Yamada couldn't back down and kept pushing until the person on the other end of the line changed.

“Are you joking?”

The deep, threatening voice belonged to the man in the coat he had met at the warehouse.

“We've been asking for the shares from the start, haven’t we?”

The unseen voice sent shivers through Yamada's entire body.

“If you don’t comply, I don’t know what will happen to the punk we have.”

Yamada gripped the phone tightly.

“What do you plan to do with Ryota?”

“If you meet our demands, we’ll return him in one piece. Don’t piss us off any more.”

The call abruptly ended. Yamada cursed under his breath at the phone's screen. When he returned to the living room, Soichi was silently watching him, waiting for the report.

“Uh, the Maruyama group guys said money won’t work…”

It pained him to say it.

“I thought so.”

He couldn’t lift his head. Soichi had offered five million yen to settle the issue, but Yamada couldn’t even negotiate properly.

“…It can’t be helped. Forget about it.”

Yamada heard these words of resignation with a sense of despair. He couldn't push Soichi any further. He had already barged in at midnight and forced the conversation. But...

“I can’t forget about it…”

Yamada muttered softly.

“I can’t. He’s my subordinate, but he’s also my friend… like family. So please let me buy your Yobo Corporation shares.”

Yamada bowed his head.

“I don’t have the money now. But… but I’ll pay it back, even if it takes my whole life.”

He planned to buy the shares himself and hand them over. That way, Soichi wouldn’t suffer a loss. Soichi, resting his chin on the armrest of the sofa, gazed out the window. There was no response. Yamada waited patiently until Soichi finally spoke.

“You can’t buy my shares.”

“No, please let me buy them.”

“The price of Yobo Corporation’s shares has skyrocketed due to Maruyama group’s manipulation. It’s likely at its peak now, but selling the shares now would incur a loss of two hundred million yen².”

Yamada gasped. Two hundred million yen… Five million had been laughed off.

“Even if you worked your entire life, you couldn’t repay two hundred million yen. That’s too much for a mere associate. Besides, this mess happened because you screwed up in their territory. It’s your responsibility.”

He couldn’t argue back. “However…”

“If we refuse their deal, they probably won’t kill your subordinate. They know that if they do, we’ll demand a hefty compensation. The police would get involved, and they’d need someone to take the fall, which would cost them money. Unless they hide the body in the sea or mountains so it’s never found…”

“I’ll repay it, even if it kills me.”

Yamada raised his head.

“I’ll make two hundred million, even if it costs my life. If I can’t, I’ll take out life insurance and die. So… please let me buy the shares.”

Soichi looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and pity. He sighed and stood up from the sofa.

“No.”

Crushing Yamada’s hopes, Soichi shrugged.

“You made this mess. Deal with it yourself.”

◇:*:◆:*:◇

Outside the window, the sky was gray, and rain was falling. Yamada paced the room, agitated. He scratched his head so much that his hair stood on end, making his reflection in the large mirror look terrible. Without securing the necessary funds, the deadline of 3 in the afternoon for Maruyama group's call was approaching.

After being abandoned by Soichi, Yamada rushed to the gang’s office. He couldn't give up the Yobo Corporation shares they demanded, but he hoped the gang could negotiate to get Ryota back.

“Sorry.”

At first, Okano, who had suggested going to negotiate, bowed his head before Yamada.

“What do you mean…?”

“I feel bad for Ryota, but we can’t intervene in this matter anymore. Sorry.”

“So you’re telling me to give up?”

Yamada approached Okano aggressively.

“Aren’t we supposed to be a family for times like this?”

Okano, known for his sense of duty and loyalty, looked pained.

“He worked for the gang, for the boss. He wouldn’t have taken such risks otherwise. Are you saying you’ll just abandon someone so dedicated?”

There was no reply, but Okano’s troubled expression and closed eyes showed he was suffering too.

“Mr. Okano!”

As Yamada grabbed his shoulders and shook him, one of Okano’s subordinates pushed him away. Okano quickly restrained his subordinate.

Looking down at Yamada, who had collapsed, Okano murmured, “I don’t understand either.”

“…What did you do to Mr. Soichi?”

Yamada was confused about why Soichi’s name came up now.

“What do you mean…?”

“I’m asking if you did something to upset him! We want to help Ryota too, but we can’t. We got direct orders from the boss to stay out of it.”

Yamada’s lips trembled. Ryota had been abandoned even by their leader.

“It’s never happened before that the boss would cut off someone he took under his wing, even if they were an associate. The boss wouldn’t know about a low-level guy’s situation unless Soichi told him.”

Okano clenched his fists.

“I want to help Ryota too. But when the boss says not to involve our men, my hands are tied. I can’t go against the boss.”

A dark stain spread through Yamada’s mind. Ryota had been abandoned by the boss and the gang itself. But Yamada couldn’t abandon him.

Desperate to find a solution, he tried calling Soichi’s cell phone, but couldn’t get through. He wasn’t at his apartment either. Kato’s phone got through, but he said, “Mr. Soichi is busy” and refused to hand it to him. He had been abandoned too.

Yamada lit a cigarette. He couldn’t sit still and had withdrawn all his savings first thing in the morning. But it was only 320,000 yen³. Such a small amount wouldn’t even be considered. He earned nearly a million yen⁴ a month, but most of it went to the gang, leaving him with little savings.

“Damn it!”

Yamada grabbed the wads of cash on the table and scattered them around. The money, which should have been omnipotent, lay around like trash.

When Maruyama group called, if he told them he couldn’t give the shares or anything else, how would they react? Would they torment Ryota more? He wasn’t strong enough to rescue Ryota alone.

The thought of a gun crossed his mind. Could he save Ryota if he brought a gun? Would they run if he threatened them?

Clinging to this glimmer of hope, Yamada realized he didn’t own a gun. He called every familiar gang member, asking if they had one or could lend one, but no one agreed. Even offering double the price for a used gun, he was flatly refused.

Maybe they had orders not to cooperate and didn’t want the backlash.

Less than an hour remained until the appointed time. Yamada’s only weapon was the knife he had carried since his teens. But if they had guns, he’d be killed instantly. It would be a pointless death.

If he could save Ryota in exchange for his life, he wanted to. But he didn’t know what to do. Despite racking his brain, he couldn’t find a solution.

The phone rang. Hoping it was Soichi, Yamada quickly answered.

“Yamada.”

It was Meirin’s voice.

“What’s up?”

“When will Ryota come back?”

When Ryota’s honey trap was exposed, he hid Meirin in a love hotel kitchen. Though normally the yakuza would have found and dragged her out, she was hidden by fellow Chinese workers. She might have been gang-raped otherwise… she was lucky.

“Don’t worry about anything.”

Even if he had no solution, that’s all he could say.

“Is Ryota okay?”

“He’s fine. The gang leaders are negotiating. It’ll be resolved.”

Meirin repeated, “Really, really?”

“Don’t worry about anything.”

She fell silent on the other end.

“He’s not going to die, right?”

Yamada couldn’t answer immediately.

“Won’t die, right?”

“Of course not!” he shouted.

“I’ll contact you once it’s resolved. Don’t call until then!”

He hung up. He told Meirin that Ryota wouldn’t die, but Ryota might be killed. And he couldn’t do anything but crouch in the room.

Ryota was going to be a father. He had been so happy when he said his child was on the way. Yamada wanted to save him if he could. He didn’t want to see him killed.

But if the gang, his “family,” wouldn’t help, what could he do? Despite showing loyalty through money, he was abandoned in his time of need.

He had cut ties with his biological parents and joined the underworld, believing that the bond formed through the gang was stronger. But what was this? Why did he have to feel so empty and tremble in a room littered with money?

No one would help him. The ones he believed in wouldn’t save him. So what should he do? Who would save Ryota?

Yamada heard a police siren outside. He looked up. The blaring sound from outside was close enough to make his heart pound, then gradually faded away.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

The room was white. The walls, the sheets, the curtains—all white. It was so white it hurt Yamada's eyes. He sat in a folding chair, staring at the regular, rhythmic sound of the ventilator.

Two weeks had passed since Ryota had been admitted, but he hadn’t regained consciousness. His entire body was wrapped in bandages, kept alive by the ventilator.

There was no response when he spoke to Ryota, so Yamada just sat there silently. Michihiko had visited a few times, and Okano had come to visit once, but no one else came to see Ryota.

On that day, after realizing that neither the gang nor he himself could protect Ryota, Yamada called the police. A yakuza member asking the police for help—an absurdly surreal situation.

Instead of Yamada, plainclothes police officers arrived at the agreed meeting spot in the storage yard. Realizing this, the Maruyama group members scattered. During the chaos, they set Ryota’s tracksuit on fire. Ryota suffered severe burns and has not regained consciousness since.

Three Maruyama group members were arrested for assaulting Ryota. Their testimony led to an investigation of Meirin, who was also involved in the honey trap and was subsequently arrested. She was soon to be deported.

Yamada wanted to save Ryota. He sought help from the police, but he wasn't sure if this was the right decision. Maybe Ryota could have been saved even without intervention, or he might have been killed. There’s no answer to the “what ifs.”

“Well, I’ll come again.”

Yamada lightly touched the fingertips of Ryota’s only unbandaged hand and left the hospital. Even if Ryota never regained consciousness or remained in that state, Yamada was determined to take care of him. It was the least he could do to atone for not being able to save him whole.

Yamada was scheduled to be Soichi’s bodyguard again today. He arrived at the apartment at 11 in the morning, a bit earlier than the planned time, as he had something to discuss. Soichi had specified this time.

Kato was there, discussing something with Soichi in the living room. They paused and turned when Yamada arrived. Lately, Soichi had been in a very good mood.

“Good morning. If you’re in the middle of something, I can come back later…”

Soichi smiled slightly.

“It’s nothing important. What is it? Oh, should I ask Kato to leave?”

“No, it’s fine.”

Having Kato there was actually convenient. Yamada slowly walked over to the two.

“I’m here to ask a favor, Mr. Soichi.”

“What is it?”

Soichi seemed to notice that one of his shirt cuffs was undone and began to re-fasten it.

“Please let me stop being your attendant.”

The fingers adjusting the cuff paused.

“…What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Please let me quit.”

It was a conclusion Yamada had reached after much contemplation, especially after the incident with Ryota.

“What will you do if you quit?”

“I’m not quitting the gang, just stopping as your attendant. While I was with you, my subordinate Ryota was running a honey trap with a woman. It turned into such a mess, and now I can’t continue. I don’t have any other subordinates, so I have to earn money on my own.”

Soichi stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“If that’s the case, I could make you my personal bodyguard and pay you a salary. Kato has been busy and going out more. Simple tasks like bodyguarding and driving might suit you better. What do you think?”

Kato, drawn into the conversation, responded, “I think it’s a good idea.”

The discussion progressed between the two of them, diverging from Yamada’s wishes. Yamada found himself blurting out, “Um…”

“Being a personal bodyguard with a salary… it’s too much for me.”

Soichi chuckled.

“It may sound grand, but it’s essentially the same as before…”

“I’m sorry.”

Yamada interrupted, bowing his head.

“I appreciate your consideration, but… I’d really like to step down.”

Silence followed his words. Though his problems seemed resolved, Yamada still refused. It wasn’t just about the money.

In simple terms, Yamada no longer wanted to work under Soichi.

Since Michihiko’s incident, something had been bothering him. Despite his sincere pleas to keep Michihiko, a civilian, out of danger, Soichi involved him. Then came Ryota’s situation.

They had messed up with the honey trap. It was their fault. Even if Soichi had refused the outrageous demands, knowing it would cost billions, it was understandable.

Yamada also understood why Soichi couldn’t lend him money without any guarantee. But Soichi could have just left him alone.

Why did Soichi suggest to the boss to cut off all gang support? Why abandon Ryota? Yakuza are people who couldn’t make it in normal society, so they’re bound to make mistakes. The gang is supposed to protect them in such times.

Soichi wasn’t protecting what was truly important to Yamada. Instead, he endangered them. Yamada couldn’t trust such a boss. Loyalty is based on trust. He couldn’t throw everything away for someone he didn’t trust.

“What are you dissatisfied with?”

The tone of Soichi’s voice changed. Yamada couldn’t tell him he didn’t like Soichi himself. He had once admired Soichi’s high-end suits, immaculate hairstyle, elegant demeanor, and speech. But when the respect was shattered, Soichi’s entire presence felt hollow. Even the scent of his perfume was now off-putting. He could stay by Soichi’s side if he wanted, but not with these feelings.

“I’m really a worthless person…”

“Your character has nothing to do with this.”

Soichi sharply interrupted any attempt to divert the topic.

“You know too much about me. I can’t let you go.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“I can’t trust you.”

Yamada felt hollow every time he heard he wasn’t trusted. He had never lied to Soichi. Not once. And yet, he was considered untrustworthy.

“Are you angry because I didn’t help your subordinate?”

Yamada’s throat tightened at the pointed question.

“No, it’s not that.”

“Then why?”

“I… I can’t say. But I’m sorry. I really am. Please let me quit.”

Yamada was determined not to back down. He kept his head bowed, and Soichi said nothing. The heavy, dark silence was broken by Kato.

“Maybe you should let him go.”

Yamada looked up.

“Having a half-hearted bodyguard could be problematic in an emergency.”

Kato glanced at Yamada with a look that felt understanding.

“No. Yamada will not quit.”

Soichi cut Kato’s suggestion short.

“Keeping a cat that’s not used to be around you will not only be useless, but it could end up scratching you instead.”

Soichi’s frown deepened. He didn’t look convinced. When Kato suggested revisiting the issue later, Soichi ordered him to cancel their lunch meeting.

“Cancel it?”

Kato’s expression showed confusion.

“Tell them we won’t be coming.”

“But it’s the first meeting of the new year…”

“Do it now!”

Soichi’s shout made Kato leave to make the call. It wasn’t unusual for the other party to cancel, but it was unheard of for Soichi to do so, especially over something so minor.

With just the two of them, the silence was unbearable. Yamada broke it impulsively.

“I’m really sorry. I know you’ve taken good care of me, and now this…”

Soichi didn’t respond. Kato returned, reporting that he had informed the other party of the cancellation.

“Get the thing from the storage room.”

Kato asked for clarification, but Soichi just repeated the order. Kato left the room again and returned in about five minutes, carrying a small laptop. He placed it on the table. It was unremarkable except for being slightly outdated. Yamada didn’t understand why Soichi had asked for it.

“If you want to quit, I’ll let you.”

The absolute ruler who had been so firm relented unexpectedly.

“…But first, I need you to do one last thing for me.”

“I’ll do anything. Please let me do it.”

Even if he no longer respected Soichi, he wanted to be of use to the person who had looked out for him, at least for the last time.

Soichi smiled slightly at Yamada’s response.

“Open the laptop.”

Yamada pulled the laptop closer. It was light, being small. When he opened it, he gasped at what was inside.

The laptop had no monitor or keyboard. All its internal components had been removed, leaving it empty except for a black gun and about twenty bullets.

“I was thinking of hiring a Chinese professional, but you saved me the trouble.”

Soichi leaned back on the sofa.

“So, go and kill that pig Kimijima.”

The cold, cruel command made Yamada's ears ring.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

Children, probably elementary school-aged, were playing soccer on the riverbank, taking advantage of the winter break. Yamada sat on the embankment, hunched over, staring intently at the dull-colored river surface. The wind blew, causing the dried yellowish weeds to rustle.

Under his right hand was a small laptop. No one would guess there was a gun inside. He was supposed to use it to kill Kimijima.

Yamada had done several jobs that could land him in jail, but he had never killed anyone. Soichi's words echoed in his mind.

"You know too much about me. Don't you think it's unfair that only I am vulnerable to you? So, I'm giving you the same vulnerability. I've sold off most of the speculative stocks. We don't need him anymore."

He never thought he’d be the one to dispose of Kimijima, who had been using the yakuza for his gain and was now deemed useless.

Everyone knows that killing someone is wrong, even an idiot understands that. But they lived outside such common societal norms. If the boss, who was like a parent, ordered a hit, you had to do it. Even if it was wrong in the eyes of society, the trust between the boss and the underling justified the act of "killing." But Yamada no longer trusted Soichi. He understood Soichi was a remarkable person, but he could no longer respect him.

Killing Kimijima was Soichi's wish. But anyone could be a sniper. He could have hired a reliable Chinese professional instead of ordering Yamada to do it. It was just harassment, a punishment for a subordinate trying to leave. This transaction had no sense of duty or loyalty; neither common sense nor yakuza ethics applied. There was no justification. He was just a murderer.

Yamada pressed his forehead against his knees. He didn't want to kill. But if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be free. Should he throw the laptop with the gun into the river and tell Soichi he lost it? Yamada laughed at himself. Such childish behavior wouldn’t work. He’d only get scolded and handed another weapon.

He sat until his fingers were ice-cold before standing up. The sun was setting, and the children who had been playing were gone.

Should he consult someone? Okano came to mind first. But he felt Okano would just say, “It can’t be helped.” It was an order from the boss’s son, so he couldn’t disobey. Plus, Soichi might already have involved him, making it more likely he’d push Yamada to “do it.” Michihiko’s face flashed in his mind, but as a civilian, he didn’t want to drag him into this. He couldn’t tell anyone he trusted.

He had to decide for himself. But he kept walking aimlessly, unable to make a decision. He vaguely imagined his future: killing Kimijima, getting caught, going to prison. He’d probably serve at least ten years. How old would he be when he got out? He didn’t want to think about it. What would remain for him then? A criminal record and ten wasted years with no recognition or reward.

Suddenly, a ray of light pierced his dark thoughts. Yamada ran to the subway station and jumped on a train. It's Ryota! Ryota was there.

After a ten-minute ride, he got off at the nearest station to the hospital. He looked up at the towering, white building. Killing Kimijima would be easy. But if he got caught and went to prison, who would take care of Ryota? Meirin was about to be deported to China. Who would care for the lonely, unlucky man like him? He couldn’t cross that dangerous bridge. He couldn’t leave a pitiful man alone.

He reached Ryota's private room and heard voices inside. Thinking it was a nurse, he opened the door without knocking. Inside was a tired-looking middle-aged woman in her late forties. Her hair was streaked with gray and tied back, and she wore a light blue sweater with visible pilling. She was thin, almost like a skeleton, with noticeable wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.

When their eyes met, she stood up from her chair and bowed slightly. Yamada, caught off guard, bowed back.

“...Nice to meet you. Who are you?” she asked hesitantly. He thought, "I should be asking you that," but replied, "...I'm a friend."

"Thank you for being so polite. I'm Ryota's mother."

Yamada gasped. She was the woman who, with her husband, had killed the father of Ryota's classmate for insurance money. They had both been in prison. Seeing her now meant she had been released. Ryota had said he never wanted to see them again, that he didn’t want any contact with them.

The woman pulled out a folding chair from the corner of the room and set it up, offering it to Yamada. Feeling awkward standing, he thanked her and sat down.

"Ryota, your friend is here. Isn’t that nice?" she said, as if speaking to a child. But there was no response, only the regular hiss of the ventilator. A tear dropped onto the sheet. The woman took a handkerchief from her bag and wiped her eyes.

“...I'm sorry.”

She sniffled.

“I hadn’t seen him for a while. I heard about it from someone and came rushing over, only to find him like this…”

Yamada watched the profile of the woman who had killed for money. People don’t change easily. Some never have the word “regret” in their dictionary. This woman might be thinking about taking advantage of her son’s coma to get insurance money.

She sighed deeply.

“But maybe if this hadn’t happened, he wouldn’t have seen me. I wasn’t a good mother.”

She gently touched Ryota’s fingers, the only part of him not bandaged. Her fingers were covered in band-aids and cracked. Noticing Yamada’s gaze, she clenched her fingers into a fist with a bitter smile.

“My hands are dirty, aren’t they? It’s from water work. They get rough no matter what I do…”

“Oh, no…”

Feeling embarrassed, Yamada turned his eyes to the window, where the wind rustled.

“I have to try harder,” she muttered to herself.

“I really have to try harder. His father is dead. I’m the only parent left. I’m all he has…”

She touched Ryota’s fingers again and spoke to his unresponsive face.

“When you get better, should we go to Disneyland? You wanted to go, right? But maybe you wouldn’t want to go with me anymore. You’re already twenty-two.”

Yamada stood up. The woman looked up at him.

“…I… I’m leaving now. Excuse me.”

Yamada fled the room. Outside, the cold wind stung his face, intensifying his sadness, loneliness, and despair.

He didn’t think Ryota’s mother would try to get insurance money again. She seemed to want to care for her injured, unconscious son, making it her purpose in life. Even without him, Ryota had his mother. She would protect him.

Yamada understood her feelings, even though he wasn’t her. He had thought similar things. Using Ryota as an excuse to shoulder the burden, he was trying to escape the reality of killing someone.

There was no escape. Nowhere to go. The train shook. Children on the opposite side shouted, "Snow, snow," excitedly. Snow was falling diagonally outside the window.

Suddenly, he remembered his father, who had died in the yard, hugging a bottle of sake, as if he had fallen asleep. A shiver ran through Yamada’s body, and he felt a wave of nausea.

Yamada jumped off the train at the next station and ran to the bathroom, where he vomited. The smell of vomit mixed with the memory of snow. Cold. His father had been cold. He didn’t kill his father. His father drank himself to death. It was good that he died. He was a waste of space while alive. He was always angry about something. It was better that he died.

With a loud thud, the laptop fell to the bathroom floor, the lid popping open. The black gun and bullets were inside. Despite having seen them before, Yamada’s body trembled.

He picked them up and tried to close the lid, but it wouldn’t shut. Yamada took out the contents, loaded the bullets into the magazine with trembling hands, and put the remaining bullets in his pocket. He tucked the gun into his belt.

When he stepped out, the snow had stopped. It wasn’t even six, but it was dark as night. Yamada returned to the platform, sat on a bench, and took out his phone.

“Shinji?”

Michihiko’s voice came through.

“What’s up?”

Yamada hung his head. “Nothing.”

“Where are you?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just talk about anything.”

“Anything? What do you want for dinner tonight?”

Michihiko’s voice, sounding lost, made Yamada laugh. A train approached, and the noise drowned out the phone.

As the train moved away, Michihiko asked, “Are you at the station?”

“I don’t need dinner. Don’t come to my place tonight.”

Yamada hung up the phone, turning it off completely.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

There was no time to waste. Soichi had set the deadline for killing Kimijima to "by the end of the day." Having returned to Roppongi, Yamada called Kato.

"I'm in front of the apartment now. Can you make up any reason to get Kimijima to leave?"

Yamada looked up at the towering apartment building from across the road.

"I could do it inside his room, but if he knows it's me, he won't open the door. Besides, it's easier to do it outside."

Kato was silent for a moment.

"Getting Kimijima to leave is easy, but... Yamada, are you really okay with this?"

His voice was gentle, as if he were trying to reason with him.

"If you want, I can still mediate. Why don't you come back under Mr. Soichi?"

Yamada felt his resolve waver.

"Mr. Soichi is smart, but he’s still learning how to use people. He really liked you. And..."

Kato trailed off. Yamada waited, but no further words came. He closed his eyes, gripping his phone tightly.

"It’s impossible."

He muttered softly.

"Even if I come back, Mr. Soichi won’t change. He’ll probably just think of me as a troublesome stray dog returning."

"That’s..."

"Mr. Soichi is smart. Smart people who don’t think they’re wrong don’t change. I can’t follow him anymore."

Yamada heard Kato sigh on the other end.

"I understand... Kimijima will leave within fifteen minutes."

With that, the call ended. The countdown to becoming a murderer began. Despite his dry throat, he felt no urge to drink.

He would shoot Kimijima when he came out of the apartment. Aim for the head, and he would most likely die. Yamada looked around, crossed the street, and hid behind a vending machine.

The head is a small target. Someone had told him that killing at close range was more certain. The gunshot would cause a commotion, but it would take the police at least five minutes to arrive. No ordinary person would chase a gunman. He would have enough time to get to the subway and escape through multiple transfers.

Yamada touched the side of his belt, feeling the cold, hard gun. He had checked the bullets several times on his way here.

Despite all his preparations and ensuring Kimijima would come out, he still hesitated. He didn’t want to kill. He despised Kimijima and had wished him dead, but those were fleeting emotions. Yet, he knew he couldn’t be free unless he killed Kimijima.

Couldn’t that fat bastard just die in his room? Couldn’t someone else kill him? Anyone but him...

Tired of thinking about killing Kimijima, Yamada looked down. Kato had said, "And..." before falling silent. What could he have been about to say?

A figure emerged from the apartment entrance. The man Yamada had wished dead shuffled out slowly. Yamada's heart pounded painfully in his chest.

Kimijima walked in the opposite direction of Yamada’s hiding spot. Yamada followed him at a distance of about 10 meters⁵. Kimijima, wearing a white down jacket that emphasized his bulk, looked like a meat bun.

Kimijima entered a space under the overpass. A train passed overhead. Now might be the chance, with the sound masked, but Yamada’s fingers trembled too much to draw the gun.

Despite the cold, sweat beaded on his forehead and soaked his armpits and palms. He trailed behind Kimijima like a shadow.

Kimijima entered the electronics store, picked up a USB memory stick and batteries, and headed to the register. It was a good opportunity, with Kimijima’s back exposed, but there were too many people inside. Yamada thought he’d wait for a quieter place.

Kimijima left the store and started back the way he came, approaching the overpass again. There wouldn’t be another chance. If he didn’t kill him soon and Kimijima returned to his apartment, it would be impossible to do it today.

Yamada glared at Kimijima’s back. This man, who profited from crime and exploited the yakuza, deserved to die.

Yamada pulled out the gun from his side and quickly closed the 20 meter⁶ gap.

Kimijima entered the space under the overpass. No one was coming from the other side. As his heart pounded wildly, Yamada grabbed Kimijima’s shoulder.

Kimijima turned, squinting suspiciously. “You...”

Yamada tried to drag him to the side of the path, but Kimijima resisted, twisting his bulky body. When Yamada pulled harder, Kimijima tripped and fell backward.

Yamada pressed the gun to Kimijima’s forehead. But his arm and finger trembled, unable to pull the trigger. Sensing the danger, Kimijima let out a high-pitched scream, like a dying chicken.

"Help me, help me, help me..."

Tears poured from the pig’s eyes.

"I'll do anything. Anything. Please, help me, help me, help me..."

Seeing the pig’s tear-streaked face made Yamada hesitate.

"Help me, help me, help me..."

This was not a face he wanted to see. Yamada closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. But there was only a clicking sound; he had forgotten to disengage the safety.

There was a rushing sound of water. When Yamada looked down, he saw that Kimijima's crotch was rapidly getting wet, creating a dark stain on the sidewalk. Instead of feeling disgust, a wave of pity welled up within him. This pig was pitiful and pathetic.

"Mom, mom, help me!"

Yamada disengaged the safety and pulled the trigger. The dull gunshot echoed. The smell of gunpowder wafted gently like the end of fireworks.

"Run."

Smoke rose from the bullet embedded in the asphalt, soaked with Kimijima’s urine. Yamada growled lowly at the pig, whose eyes were wide open and lips trembling.

"Run. Don’t go back to the apartment. Don’t go to the cops. Don’t think you'll be safe in prison. The gang has eyes everywhere... Run for your life."

Yamada stuffed the gun back into his side and took off running. He boarded a train at the nearby subway station, not caring about the destination. As he looked at the students in tracksuits, the middle-aged salarymen, and the young women fiddling with their phones, the disparity between his recent ordeal and the mundanity of the scene around him made his head spin.

Yamada collapsed to the floor. He had failed to kill Kimijima. Instead, he had let him go. He should have left it alone, but he couldn’t. Even if he didn’t kill him, he couldn’t have just let him be.

"Excuse me, are you okay?"

A voice asked. Though the concern was genuine, it felt annoying at the moment. As Yamada tried to stand up, the gun fell from his side with a thud.

He hurriedly picked it up. When he looked up, the young woman who had spoken to him gasped, her face turning pale. Yamada walked through the train car to the next, then the next, before getting off at the next station and jumping onto a train that had just pulled in.

Relieved that no one was chasing him, he wondered what would happen next. He hadn’t killed Kimijima, and had let him go, so punishment was inevitable. He doubted it would be as simple as losing a finger. He would probably be killed.

He had told Kimijima to run. But now he had to run too, to avoid being killed. He needed transportation. He remembered his beloved car from the countryside, rarely driven but costing him in parking fees.

Yamada got off at Ookuho station. Peeking into the monthly parking lot between the station and his apartment, he noticed people loitering around his car. Recognizing them as gang members, he backed away and hid behind a residential wall.

The younger gang member circled Yamada’s car once, then left the parking lot. Once out of sight, Yamada approached his car. It was immediately obvious what had been done. The car sat unnaturally low, its tires completely flat. They had been punctured.

Fear gripped him. Taking away his transportation meant they were cutting off his escape route. It must have been because Soichi had learned he had failed to kill Kimijima. But less than twenty minutes had passed since he let him go. How had they found out so quickly? Had Kimijima been caught and ratted him out? Or had someone been watching?

If this was the situation at the parking lot, the apartment was likely being watched too. Yamada returned to the station and boarded another train.

Standing by the door, he looked down. Fear gnawed at him. Among the passengers coming and going, there could be gang members. Being shot dead would be the best-case scenario. He remembered a rival gang member who had endured three days of brutal torture—fingernails and teeth pulled out. Yamada didn’t know what became of him but suspected he had died.

He kept rubbing the gun hidden in his suit. Despite holding a weapon, he felt weak—pathetically weak. So, he ran.

Yamada took out his wallet from his back pocket. With trembling hands, he counted his money. He had only 1,800 yen⁷. He couldn’t go to a major station; gang members might be watching. But where could he go with just 1,800 yen?

He got off at the next station and transferred to a westbound train.

Footnotes

0. Content warning: violence.

1. Around $31,000.00 USD.

2. Around $1,240,025.00 USD.

3. Around $1,984.00 USD.

4. Around $6,200.00 USD.

5. Around 32.8 feet.

6. Around 65.5 feet.

7. Around $11 USD.

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