Smiling at the Moon: Volume 1 - Chapter 2 - part 1

The content warning is in the footnotes⁰.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

Yamada Shinji crushed his cigarette forcefully into the ashtray on the dashboard. He then leaned forward to look across the road. The two-lane mountain road had been empty since a small car had passed a while ago; there wasn’t a single soul in sight.

It had been about ten minutes since he had sent a message to Kanou Michihiko’s cell phone. While he didn’t mind making others wait, he hated waiting himself, and he started to get irritated after just a few minutes of sitting still.

Leaning against the steering wheel, he tapped his right foot impatiently. He could see the lights of a nearby vending machine attracting a swarm of tiny insects, buzzing around. In the dim light, shadows fell heavily on his hands. His watch read 12:30 a.m. It was still early in the night.

At the top of the mountain was the private high school that Michihiko attended, along with its student dormitory. The slope was steep, and there were no shops unless you descended the mountain. Halfway up the mountain, a vending machine stood like a ghost, with a parking space in front of it, perfect for turning the car around.

Previously, he had gone to the dormitory gate to pick him up, but because his car was flashy and noisy, Michihiko had asked him to wait at the vending machine instead. Someone might have told him off about it.

"So slow," he muttered, pulling out a new cigarette.

"He’ll be here soon. You only sent that message a moment ago," said Ryota, who was sitting in the passenger seat, yawning widely with a silly expression. Though he was only 165cm¹ tall, he was broad and looked stifling. His face was square like a cushion, with small eyes and a big nose. The most ridiculous part was his eyebrows, thin like worms. Despite being told they looked strange, he never stopped grooming them daily. He would occupy the sink for so long that Yamada had kicked his butt out of frustration more than once.

Yamada pulled out his phone and called Michihiko’s number. It only rang twice before it connected.

"Shinji?"

"You're so damn slow!" he barked, causing Ryota beside him to flinch.

"I’m almost there."

Looking up, Yamada saw a tall, slender figure waving from across the road, dressed in a T-shirt and shorts.

"Hurry up and get over here!"

The slender figure hurried over and climbed into the back seat.

"Sorry."

"Damn it," Yamada growled, and Michihiko shrank down, his shoulders moving lightly with his breathing. He must have run here. Even though he knew this, Yamada couldn't help himself.

Clicking his tongue, he released the parking brake. There was no traffic at this time, so he took a wide turn, crossing into the opposite lane.

"Michan, want a cigarette?" Ryota offered from the front.

"Thanks," Michihiko said, taking one. He was finally getting the hang of smoking; he used to choke and tear up with just one puff.

"The dorm supervisor had just come back, so I had to wait until he went to his room. That’s why I was late."

The dorm had a curfew, and no one was allowed out at night. But not only Michihiko, everyone seemed to sneak out often, and it was an unspoken rule among the students not to snitch on each other.

Yamada looked at Michihiko’s face in the rearview mirror. When they first met, he had been thinner and shorter, almost like a girl, but since starting high school, he had grown taller and developed a more masculine face.

Yamada was 170cm² tall, slightly below average for a man. Around spring this year, Michihiko had overtaken him. The previous year, he had casually mentioned, "You're growing a lot taller," but as Michihiko got closer to his own height, it started to bother him. He had hoped Michihiko would stop growing, but by the time Michihiko entered his second year of high school, he had surpassed him. Now Michihiko was a few centimeters taller, while Yamada, who hadn't grown a millimeter since he was sixteen, was turning twenty-one this year.

"Where are we going today?" Michihiko’s voice still had a childlike tone despite his more masculine appearance. Ignoring him, Yamada watched as Michihiko averted his eyes, looking dejected.

"We’re going to the beach," Ryota said, engaging with him.

"The beach? Are we going to peep again?"

"Idiot! No, we’re not."

He shouted without thinking. The nearby coastline was a popular date spot, and many people parked their cars in the nearby woods for car sex. Once, the three of them had gone around peeping into cars. Most people who did it there seemed to enjoy being watched; once they realized they were being peeped at, the men’s movements and the women’s moans became louder. Perverts.

"We’re going to set off fireworks."

The mention of fireworks instantly brightened Michihiko’s face in the rearview mirror.

"Really!?"

Ryota turned around and pointed at a plastic bag. "The bag next to you is full of fireworks."

"All of this? There’s so many."

"We didn’t buy them; we got them from the boss."

"The boss? Not bought?"

"When the boss bought toys for the summer festival, he scared the store owner... I mean, he got them for free."

Michihiko responded with a noncommittal “Hmm” and rummaged through the bag of fireworks.

"Last year, we ran a takoyaki³ stand at the Tsukiyama summer festival. Are we selling toys this year?"

"We’re doing takoyaki again. The toys are prizes for the boss’s store. We just ran errands."

As they reached the bottom of the mountain, they stopped at a traffic light. Not even a dog or cat was around. It was late, and the lights should have been blinking. He felt stupid for stopping at a red light. Frustrated, he pounded the steering wheel and honked the horn loudly.

"Bro, getting mad at the traffic lights won’t help," Ryota said.

Yamada’s left hand shot out, hitting Ryota’s right shoulder with a loud smack. Ryota screamed.

"What are you talking about? I'm going to kill you!"

"You didn’t have to hit me! You’ve been in a bad mood since the afternoon. Is it because of what the boss said?"

Rage flared up. Earlier in the day, when he had taken this month’s earnings to the office, the boss, Suda, had asked, "Is this all the money you have?" When Yamada answered honestly, "Yes, this is it," Suda had cursed and punched him in the stomach.

"This paltry amount isn’t even enough to wipe your ass! Go extort or rob more and bring it to me!".

It was a mess. The anti-gang laws had changed, and enforcement had become stricter. If they extorted money and got reported, they would be arrested on the spot. Yamada, being an official member, would be held accountable. In the worst case, the boss himself could be dragged in by the police. Petty extortion was still extortion. It was a dangerous bridge Yamada didn’t want to cross.

Due to the accountability laws, Ryota, who joined after Yamada, remained a semi-member and did not receive the boss's title. If things went wrong, he might end up as an unofficial member who never received the title.

"Our business is really slow. I never thought yakuza could be this poor." Ryota said. "The economy’s bad, so there are no decent work. What, are we supposed to sell drugs now?"

"Drugs are out. You get expelled for that. My friend got kicked out for it."

"That friend was probably a low-level lackey!"

"Aren’t we low-level lackies too?"

Ryota tapped him on the shoulder. When Yamada turned around, Michihiko pointed ahead. "The light’s green."

Yamada stomped on the accelerator. The car roared loudly, speeding up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ryota in the passenger seat hastily fastening his seatbelt.

The car shot through the night’s darkness. Lights blurred into streaks, and G-forces pressed them into their seats.

"Shinji, this is scary," came a frightened voice from the back.

"Idiot, don’t get scared over this."

A sense of superiority welled up from deep within him. He wasn’t scared. The thrill of knowing they could be pulverized if he mishandled the steering. For a moment, he thought he could die, but that feeling passed by like the scenery outside the window.

After twenty minutes of driving, they arrived at the beach. The coast stretched for about a kilometer, with a low seawall running along it. Usually, there would be couples' cars lined up along the seawall, but tonight there wasn’t a single one. It had rained about two hours ago, which might explain it.

"Hey, Michihiko, get all the fireworks from the back and bring them down."

He ordered and got out of the car. The air was humid, sticking to him and making it hard to breathe. The moon was out, but the area was still dark. When he touched the concrete seawall, it was damp from the rain. It wasn’t even suitable to sit on.

Michihiko came following behind, bending forward with three bags of fireworks in his arms. He wobbled unsteadily, his steps uncertain. Even though he had grown taller, his stamina hadn’t improved. Ryota, seeing this, took two of the bags from him.

They found a break in the seawall and descended to the beach. Halfway down the steps, Yamada’s foot slipped, and he almost tumbled down. Cursing, he took out his cell phone to light his way.

When they reached the beach, the sound of wet sand crunching underfoot could be heard. As they walked, their feet sank into the sand. Gradually, their eyes adjusted to the darkness. Yamada stopped midway between the seawall and the waterline and turned around to see that the others had followed.

Ryota placed the bags of fireworks at his feet and sighed, "Man, it’s dark."

"Idiot. It’s no fun if it’s not dark for fireworks."

Yamada rummaged through one of the bags and pulled out a set of handheld fireworks. He tore open the packaging. It was too dark to see which was which, so he just grabbed one and handed it to Michihiko.

"Here, light this."

"Uh, okay," Michihiko said, taking the firework. When Yamada lit it with a lighter, white sparks burst out from the tip. The handle was decorated with cartoon characters, making it look flashy, but the firework itself was a dull, gas-burner type.

"Man, this is lame," Ryota said, watching the firework with his hands on his hips.

"It’s boring," Yamada grumbled.

"Is it? I think it’s pretty," Michihiko said, waving the sparkler back and forth. The trail of light left lines in the darkness, lingering like an afterimage.

The gas-burner firework gradually lost its intensity and fizzled out. Yamada took out another handheld firework and handed it to Michihiko.

"What, light all three at once?"

"Yeah."

"But that’s a waste."

"Stop being so stingy. It’s fine."

"But what if it flares up and goes out of control?"

"Just let go if it does."

Michihiko was silent for a moment, then nodded in understanding. Despite attending a good school and doing reasonably well academically, he often seemed quite dim.

Yamada lit Michihiko’s fireworks. They erupted with a burst of sparks, lighting up the surroundings.

"Yeah, that’s more like it. Fireworks should be like this."

Seeing this, Ryota reached for the fireworks himself. He lit five of them together, brightening the area as if holding a flashlight.

"Yippee!"

Ryota shouted with excitement, swaying his body rhythmically while humming a tune with the fireworks in hand.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm rapping, man, rapping."

"Are you gonna wrap it and microwave it?"

Yamada knew that rap was a genre of music; it was a joke, but Ryota fell silent for some reason, furrowing his worm-like eyebrows.

"That was kinda weak."

"That’s where you're supposed to laugh! Don’t just criticize."

Ryota turned to Michihiko. "What do you think?"

Michihiko, lighting fireworks one by one, replied, "Fifty points?" but then hastily corrected himself, "Uh, eighty points."

Yamada grabbed a bundle of about ten sparklers, lit them, and lunged at Ryota with the fiery cluster.

Ryota screamed and ran. "Sorry, sorry! It was super funny!"

Adding "super" now only irritated Yamada further. He chased the panicking Ryota, swatting at him with the sparklers. Ryota fled across the beach and splashed into the sea, perhaps thinking the water would douse the sparks.

The fireworks burnt out before touching the saltwater. Yamada discarded the burnt-out sticks and tackled Ryota, dunking his head into the seawater. Ryota, being strong, quickly resurfaced and dragged Yamada into the water instead.

The briny cold rushed into Yamada’s mouth. He stood up, spat out the saltwater, and tackled Ryota again. They didn't seriously fight but played around, splashing each other until Yamada, satisfied after landing a couple of light punches, got out of the water. It was getting cold, and they headed back to the shore, guided by the dim lights.

Michihiko was crouched, quietly lighting more fireworks. Seeing them soaking wet, he muttered, "You guys look like idiots."

Yamada snatched Michihiko’s firework and tossed it aside, grabbing his right hand.

"What? No, no, no!"

Sensing something was up, Michihiko resisted, digging his heels into the sand.

"Hey, help me out!" Yamada called to Ryota, who grinned and grabbed Michihiko’s left hand.

"No! Stop!"

They dragged the struggling Michihiko to the water’s edge and, with a loud "One, two, three!" threw him into the sea.

A big splash followed. Michihiko flailed his arms before standing up, soaked from head to toe, with seawater dripping from his hair and clothes clinging to his thin frame.

"That was mean!"

He raised his right hand to strike back but tripped on the sand and fell face-first. Yamada and Ryota exchanged glances and burst out laughing.

As they laughed, Michihiko scrambled up and charged at them. Being untrained, he was easy to dodge, and Yamada tripped him again. Laughing at his clumsy attempt, they watched him get up with tears in his eyes.

"Don't be so upset," Yamada said, ruffling Michihiko’s wet hair. He helped him up and led him back to the fireworks.

"Light some more fireworks, okay?"

Even after lighting a new sparkler, Michihiko’s sulky expression didn’t change. Yamada then took out more sparklers and planted them one by one into the wet sand, making a small forest of sparklers. Ryota helped until they had a spiky hedgehog-like arrangement.

Starting from the edges, Yamada began lighting them. As the first few sparked, a chain reaction of ignition followed, and soon, all the sparklers were fizzing and crackling together. It was chaotic but beautiful, with sparks flying in different patterns and colors.

"Beautiful," Michihiko said, crouching down to watch the display intently.

"Bro, you do nice things sometimes."

"What do you mean 'sometimes'?"

While Yamada was whacking Ryota, the fireworks ended. When the sparks were flying, it was flashy, but once it was over and only the lingering scent and smoke remained, an overwhelming sadness set in. It had been fun and entertaining, but in the end, it felt lonely.

The smoke drifted towards the land, carried by the wind that had picked up. Shivering, Yamada called to the two crouched down, "Let's head back."

◇:*:◆:*:◇

Yamada and Ryota live in an apartment with a six-tatami⁴ mat room and a living room and kitchen attached. The apartment is owned by a legitimate real estate agency, but the gang leader acted as a guarantor due to their connections, allowing them to rent it at a very low price.

The unit bath is small, so they take turns using it. After Yamada showers and comes out, Ryota goes in. Michihiko is crouching at the entrance in just his underwear. He took a sip of beer from the fridge. The clock on the wall was approaching 3:30.

The TV channels are all infomercials. Boring. Eventually, Ryota came out to the living room. Eyeing Yamada's beer, he muttered, "Ah, that looks good," before collapsing onto the sofa. Within a minute, loud, almost inhuman snores filled the room.

Annoyed by the noise, Yamada takes his beer and retreats to the six-mat room. Even after closing the door, the monster-like snoring can still be faintly heard.

While sitting on the bed and sipping his beer, Yamada heard the doorknob turn. Michihiko entered, towel around his waist, carrying a pair of pants Yamada had lent him to change into.

"Why aren’t you wearing any pants?"

"Um, are these clean?"

Snatching the offered pants roughly, Yamada sniffs them suspiciously... indeed, they smell questionable. He must have been mistaken by their clean appearance.

"Just turn them inside out and wear them."

"No way, that's gross!"

Unable to argue further, Yamada hands him a new pair. Michihiko immediately sniffs them. Irritated, Yamada pulls the elastic of the pants while Michihiko is putting them on, exposing half of his buttocks. Michihiko protests, holding his crotch and crouching down.

Tired of teasing, Yamada lets go. Michihiko, still holding the waist of the pants, asks, "Can I sleep here?"

"What about school?"

"I'll say I have a headache and decided to sleep in the room. I've asked my roommate to tell anyone who asks that," Michihiko explains.

"Alright then."

Michihiko climbed into the bed behind him. If he didn't have to drive Michihiko back to the dorm, he wouldn't need to use the car today. So Yamada downed the rest of his beer in one go.

...When they went to a toy wholesaler, the gang leader noticed a slight damage on a toy box. He negotiated aggressively, managing to get a 20% discount on the whole order while keeping the original receipt amount. The saved 20% went into his own pocket. Though the errand was annoying, it had an unexpected reward.

When he threatened the shopkeeper for more, they brought out some fireworks. Ryota mentioned that the gang leader would be happy about the free giveaway, but Yamada had no intention of sharing. The first face that came to mind when he saw the fireworks was Michihiko's. Despite not being a kid, he had an urge to set off the fireworks, thinking Michihiko would enjoy them.

Hearing soft breathing, Yamada turned to see Michihiko asleep, face buried in the pillow, feet sticking out of the bed. His single bed seemed cramped, making Yamada realize how much Michihiko had grown.

Yamada had a growth spurt early, surpassing 165cm in fifth grade, often mistaken for a high schooler. With his tough demeanor, he frequently got into fights with bad kids. Initially, he lost often, but soon, he could hold his own in one-on-one fights. In his first year of junior high, he got into a fight with a delinquent high schooler, who he accidentally sent crashing through a shop window, causing severe injuries and leading to his time in juvenile detention.

Yamada didn't remember his mother, who died shortly after his birth, and his father was an alcoholic. But Ryota's situation was worse— They conspired to commit murder for insurance money and are serving their sentences together. They'll be released in five years, but Ryota said he has no intention of seeing them again. ...The man who was killed was the father of Ryota's classmate.

Yamada thought about magnetism. In elementary school, he experimented with iron sand and magnets. He felt like bad people were naturally drawn to bad places. Staring at Michihiko's face, Yamada wondered if he too would turn bad, but doubted it. Despite drinking and smoking with them, Michihiko stayed out of trouble.

Their tastes didn't align. Michihiko dressed plainly, had a gloomy personality, sulked easily, and acted childishly. Yet, Yamada couldn’t explain why they stayed together.

As he pondered, a headache started to creep in, so Yamada turned off the light and got into bed. He moved Michihiko, who was in the middle, to the edge. It was cramped with two men, but it was better than sleeping on the floor.

Unable to lie on his back, Yamada slept on his side. As he shifted, Michihiko, who had been fidgeting near the wall, pressed up against his back.

"Don't cling to me."

Yamada moved his back to shake him off, feeling something hard against his thigh. Even through the fabric, it was noticeable. It was hot.

"What's that hard thing?"

No response.

"Are you... getting horny?"

"I-I'm not!"

Yamada turned over to face him. When he grabbed Michihiko's groin, Michihiko let out a moan.

"You're pitching a tent, aren't you?"

"I-I'm not... I haven't done that in a while."

The excuse was feeble.

"If you're holding back, just do it discreetly."

"I don't want to do it in my room. My roommate can hear me."

"Then go to the bathroom."

Blushing, Michihiko shook his head.

"If you go to a stall, someone might peek."

"Why not just show it off to them?"

Michihiko fell silent, and Yamada chuckled.

"That's right, your thing wasn't impressive enough to show off, was it?"

"Well, compared to before, it's gotten a bit bigger."

"Then show me."

"N-No, I don't want to."

"I'm the one who pulled back your foreskin for you. I'm like your old man, so show it."

Turning on the bedside light and pulling off the towel, Yamada pulled down Michihiko's pants despite his resistance. Michihiko's aroused member caught on the waistband and twitched. Even taking into account the erection, it had clearly grown since Yamada last saw it years ago. Still, it was just below average, and smaller than his own, which gave him a sense of relief. ...I've won this one.

Just by looking at it, Michihiko's member angled further down, with a bead of precum forming at the tip.

"Does being watched turn you on? You're a pervert."

"Isn't it you who likes to peep, Shinji?"

" I like peeping, but it's not just anyone I want to peep at. Only young women."

Flicking the tip with his fingertip, Michihiko shivered and let out a cute "ah."

"I'll watch, so do it here."

"Eh, I don't want to."

"You can't do it in the dorm. Look, there are tissues here."

Setting up the essentials near the pillow, Michihiko hesitantly reached down, glancing at Yamada. He timidly extended his hand below, grasping his own, but stopping midway. He grasped it again, then let go. He repeated the same action several times.

"What are you dilly-dallying for? Get on with it."

When Yamada smacked his butt, Michihiko muttered, "Embarrassing," in a mosquito-like voice.

"What's with saying that when you're exposing your erect dick in front of someone?"

"I don't want to do it myself... Shinji, do it."

"You want me to lend you my hand?"

Speechless with disbelief.

" I'll do it for you too, so please."

With a coquettish voice and eyes glistening red, Michihiko stared intently. The seductive expression made Yamada swallow hard. Yamada, pretending to be annoyed, grabbed the erect member intentionally. Michihiko's hips trembled as he pulled back, and the thing in Yamada's hand quivered.

"You want this, right? Don't pull back your hips."

Michihiko thrusted his hips forward, handling the now easier-to-grip thing up and down, occasionally applying pressure, pre-cum dripped, making a lewd sound in Yamada's hand.

"Ah, uh... ah, ah, ah..."

Closing his eyes, Michihiko gasped softly.

"Your thing makes such a lewd sound, like a woman's private parts."

Teasing with words, Michihiko blushed deeply, and the thing in Yamada's hand grew even hotter.

"You get excited when you hear dirty talk, don't you?"

"N-No..."

"And you're having someone else handle your dick, you hopeless guy."

"I-I'll do yours too, Shinji."

Michihiko reached out. Yamada lifted his hips to help as Michihiko tried to pull down his pants. Michihiko stared intently at his member.

"...Yours is getting a bit harder."

"Well, we're doing something erotic."

"It's bigger than mine."

With a sense of superiority, Yamada retorted, "Yours is designed for kids," as Michihiko grabbed him, causing his hips to tremble. It was fine up to that point, but the rest... well, it was just okay. Truth be told, Michihiko wasn't skilled at handjobs. He just rubbed up and down like he was trying to start a fire with someone's dick, with monotonous movements. Comparing him to soapland girls might be unfair, but there was a world of difference.

Setting aside technique, Michihiko's earnest expression wasn't bad. When Yamada increased the pace, Michihiko let out a cute voice like a girl trying to hold back, "hmm, hmm."

"Don't just focus on your own pleasure, make sure to rub mine properly too."

"Uh, yeah..."

With teary eyes, Michihiko moved his hand diligently. Busy breaths escaped, and through the gap of his slightly open lips, a pink, slippery tongue was visible.

Drawing closer, Yamada gave Michihiko a biting kiss. Michihiko widened his eyes in surprise but didn't resist. Opening his half-open lips, Yamada explored with his tongue. As they intertwined, Michihiko ejaculated, trembling in Yamada's hand. Since Yamada hadn't finished yet, he continued the kiss, and a bit later, Yamada also reached climax. Then he felt Michihiko, who had gone limp in his hands, getting hard again, Yamada remarked, "Your dick is really horny."

Grasping the semi-erect cock's base, Yamada shook it left and right, causing Michihiko to cover his face with both hands. His ears were bright red.

"...It feels good."

"I bet. Even after I made you cum once, you're still getting harder just from touching, huh?"

Michihiko slowly lowered the hands covering his face.

"...Rub it again, and kiss me."

Pleading with a sweet voice, and Yamada grumbled, "I can't help it," as he gripped his horny dick tighter and roughly kissed his lips, reddened from sucking so hard.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

In the early afternoon, after dropping off Michihiko at the dorm's back gate, they headed down the mountain. Ryota sat quietly in the passenger seat like a borrowed cat. He had been unusually quiet since morning. Normally, he was as talkative as a radio left on, so his silence was worrying.

“Isn’t there any good way to make money?” Yamada said as he lit a cigarette while driving.

“During the summer, we can make some cash at the festivals, but the problem is after that. I wonder if we could make any money running a dating site or something like that. Can those be made on mobile phones?”

“I don’t really know much about that...” Ryota responded unenthusiastically.

“We're both idiots, aren’t we? I heard that illegal slot machines were good, but I guess they cost a lot to set up.”

Ryota shook his head with a serious expression. “Illegal slots are no good anymore. The cops are cracking down on them, and even in the countryside, no customers would come.”

They both sighed deeply.

“Wearing a gang badge and working part-time at an izakaya isn’t great either.”

The Shima group, which Yamada belonged to, mainly earned its income by running stalls at festivals. But unlike the old days, it’s hard to get by just on that income. Moreover, they were often shut out of festivals by the organizers with signs saying “No yakuza stalls.”

Traditional yakuza ways of making money, like collecting protection fees from bars, are not easy anymore either. If you intimidate an owner who refuses to pay, they’ll report it as extortion to the police, who will promptly arrest you.

In such a situation, small groups like the Shima gang struggle with money, and both the boss and the members can barely make ends meet. Two years ago, Yamada’s senior, Minobe, was arrested for violating the drug control laws. The group strictly prohibited dealing drugs, so he must have been buying them independently through his own route. The group expelled Minobe, declaring his actions personal, so no other members were punished. ...But the group members had a hunch about what Minobe was up to. They turned a blind eye because Minobe’s earnings were substantial. Backed by that income, Minobe rose to the position of assistant to the second-in-command boss within the group.

Nowadays, a yakuza needs to be smart to get by. Yamada once overheard lower-ranked members from other groups saying this when he accompanied his boss as a bodyguard to a gang meeting.

The Shima group is a fourth-tier group under the nationwide Gōda organization. The Gōda group is at the pyramid’s top, with second and third-tier groups beneath it, and the Shima group at the very bottom. Frankly, fourth-tier groups are just worker bees delivering money to the Gōda group.

There’s a way to elevate from a fourth-tier group to a third, second, and eventually to a Gōda group executive. Money. If you can pay a huge monthly tribute to the Gōda group, your group will be promoted. However, the Shima group struggles even to pay the set monthly tribute.

The Gōda group executives are economic yakuza who can generate vast amounts of money.

“It's all about money; it's become a tough era,” the boss once muttered. Having spent his youth in a juvenile detention center, barely attending middle school, dropping out of high school, and unable to hold a steady job, he thought he had no choice but to become a yakuza. Yet, he hadn’t imagined this line of work would be perpetually cash-strapped and so difficult to live by. Even so, he couldn’t go back to being a civilian. He had made up his mind and got a dragon tattooed on his back as a commitment.

“Bro, how’s Akemi doing?” Ryota suddenly asked.

“Akemi? I guess she’s doing okay.”

Akemi was a hostess at the boss’s favorite bar. When the group didn’t have enough money for their tribute, Akemi would help out. She was three years older than Yamada, strong-willed, and a big chest, which he liked. But recently, she found another man and stopped giving him money. Her new boyfriend was a regular salaryman. Yamada thought about threatening the guy to get money but decided against it as it would be shameful. If Akemi found out, she’d scold him, saying, “What are you doing harassing a civilian!”

"I haven't heard much about Akemi lately," Yamada added.

There was no way Yamada could admit he was cuckolded by a civilian and had to just watch. He exhaled smoke forcefully.

“It's just that I got bored of her. You see big tits every day, and you stop appreciating them.”

“So, did you switch to men?" Ryota inquired

"What the hell?" Yamada shouted.

"Early this morning, weren't you fooling around with Michan?" Ryota teased.

"...Were you spying on us?" Yamada fell silent instantly. Waiting for his reaction, Ryota eventually whispered, "I only peeked a little through the door crack."

"Don't you dare peek, you idiot!" Yamada smacked Ryota's right shoulder. In the midst of this, he neglected the steering wheel, causing the car to swerve. When an oncoming car honked at him, Yamada yelled from inside the car, "Shut up, you idiot!"

"Ah, hearing those sounds, I couldn’t help but be curious. Then I saw you two making out."

"When things start to get heated up, the kissing just adds to the atmosphere."

"Well, Michan was strangely sexy..."

A flash of the parted lips and the tip of the tongue flickered through his mind. He brushed it off, thinking, "Who cares if I give a handjob?"

Ryota gaped and blinked in surprise. “You were just jerking off?”

“Of course. Even if rubbing is fine, I’m not into sticking it in like some homo.”

“Is that how it is?”

“That’s how it is.”

Yamada pressed the cigarette he was smoking into the ashtray.

“Anyway, what about money-making ideas? Got any good ones?”

Ryota nodded, thinking about it, but then brought up the previous topic again. “By the way, does Michan have the drive for it?”

“…What do you mean by drive?”

“I mean, to become a yakuza.”

Yamada laughed out loud.

“There’s no way that little punk could be a yakuza.”

He waved his left hand dismissively.

“But I heard there are a lot of college-educated yakuza in the city. Maybe he’d fit in surprisingly well. Michan seems smart, maybe he’d come up with some good ways to make money.”

Yamada stared straight ahead and gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Don’t recruit Michihiko.”

“What?”

“I’m telling you not to even joke about bringing him into this!”

Ryota flinched at the menacing yell and shrugged, “You don’t have to shout. I heard you.”

Yamada had yelled at Ryota, but he couldn’t deny his own thoughts. When Michihiko was in middle school, he had once tried to recruit him into the yakuza. The kid had followed him around like a puppy and was endearing. But now he knew better than to invite him in. It was fine if Michihiko smoked, drank, and partied a bit at night, but it couldn’t go further than that.

“Maybe Michan prefers a normal life. He seems like he’s from a good family, smart, goes to college, gets a job…”

Ryota stretched and let out a big sigh.

“How much longer will he keep hanging out with us?”

“…What do you mean?”

“I mean, if he finds school friends more interesting or discovers something more fun, will he stop spending time with us?”

That might happen, but Yamada didn’t respond. The thought of the bullied kid who once followed him around calling him Shinji, looking down on him someday, made him feel sick. Especially since he had been so fond of him.

“Man, you’re a guy, so stop nagging. Shut up!”

Yamada yelled impulsively, and Ryota, feeling unfairly targeted, hunched over and looked down.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

I’ve been asked why I became a yakuza. Some might say it's for easy money or to be with beautiful women, but for me, it was simply better than staying at home.

My father, an alcoholic from the start, was a man who, despite being a civilian, acted like a yakuza. He had a short temper and loved gambling. He would hit me just for being in his line of sight, saying I was a nuisance. Once, he hit me so hard my eardrum burst. Things were somewhat manageable as long as my aunt, his sister, was around to take care of us. However, when I was nine, my aunt stopped coming around after my drunk father beat her, breaking her ribs and right arm.

Because of my father, I never showed up for school events like field trips, open classes, or sports days. When I started middle school, I began delivering newspapers to pay for school meals. On payday, he would get to the office before me and take my wages. I genuinely wished he would die.

The year I left home, the cancerous presence of my father quickly vanished as he died. From then on, my only father figure was the leader of the Shima group, who took me under his wing. He was the only adult who truly listened to me. I felt that I could even give my life for him.

I parked my car at the edge of a construction site behind a fifteen-story old apartment building, surrounded by black and orange barriers. Once, the site supervisor told me off for parking there, but after I yelled at him, he never complained again. I took the elevator to the third floor, where room 305 served as both the office and home of the boss. There’s no sign outside to avoid trouble with the neighbors.

The first time I was brought here, I expected the boss to live in a big house with a large yard and fierce guard dogs like Dobermans or Tosas. So, seeing the old apartment door was disappointing.

As I reached for the door, it opened from the inside, and I quickly stepped back. It was Suda, the second-in-command.

"Good work."

I stepped back further and bowed my head. Ryota, who was behind me, hurriedly did the same. After Minobe was expelled, I started working under Suda. He was an even tougher superior than Minobe.

Suda would yell at me if I didn’t bring in enough money, comparing me to a useless horse. He seemed to think of us subordinates as mere tools, ordering us around with just a gesture. It was also him who told me to get products for the street vendors.

Suda, with his thin, nervous face, smiled when our eyes met. It was unsettling since he had never smiled at me before.

"See you later," he said, patting my shoulder as he walked down the hallway.

After he left, Ryota whispered to me, "Suda seemed in a good mood today."

"Maybe something good happened," I replied. It felt strange, but it was better than being yelled at. I entered the apartment without giving it much thought. Inside, a sign with our group’s name was on the right-hand wall. A narrow hallway led to the living room, where a black leather sofa and a bear rug were laid out. Photos of past bosses lined the walls, and a decorative sword was displayed above the cupboard holding the safe, giving the place a proper yakuza vibe.

The boss wasn’t at his usual spot by the window. I thought he was out, but then I saw him sitting on the sofa, hidden behind some houseplants, holding his head in his hands.

"Boss, what’s wrong?" I rushed over. He didn’t respond at first, but then slowly lifted his head and muttered,

"Suda is going civilian."

"What...?"

It was unthinkable for Suda, our number two, to become a civilian.

"Not just him. Kobayakawa and Seki said they want to go civilian too."

Kobayakawa was forty, and Seki was twenty-eight, both older and more experienced than me. I looked up at the board with the names of our members. The Shima group was small, only eight members, including the associate member Ryota. With two in prison, that left just six active members. If the top three left, it would just be me and Ryota.

The boss, small and frail, showed the wear of his nearly seventy years. He looked at me, weariness etched on his face.

"We can’t stop those who want to go civilian. Times are tough, and the police are cracking down. Even just running street stalls is hard now."

He looked at me and asked, "What about you?"

I figured he meant if I wanted to quit too. I looked up at the ceiling, my mind made up.

"I’ve committed to this life, got the tattoos and everything. I can’t just go back to being a civilian. To me, the group is family."

Ryota quickly added, "Me too." The boss nodded slightly, saying, "I see." He gazed out the window, silent for a while, then said,

"In that case, Yamada, you’re the new second-in-command of the Shima group, starting today."

◇:*:◆:*:◇

The summer festival at Tsukiyama is on the last Sunday of July. It's the biggest event locally, the prime time for earning money. It's also one of the few festivals where Shima sets up shop.

On the day of the festival, not a cloud was in sight since dawn. It was sunny throughout the day, though the forecast predicted clouds and deteriorating weather in the evening. However, there was no sign of that in the sky.

Around 7 in the morning, Yamada and Ryota set up their stalls in the space allotted to them. They were used to setting up tents for festivals, but having two locations meant it took more time. Last year, Yamada and Ryota ran a takoyaki stall together, but this time, they planned to also run the lottery stall that Suda had left behind. The space was secured, and Suda had left all the prizes he bought with the group. They couldn't afford to waste anything at this point.

Setting up the lottery stall would be straightforward once they laid out the prizes, but making takoyaki required time with water, flour, and ingredients.

After some preparation, Yamada left Ryota behind and headed up the mountain in a mini truck. Soon, he spotted the vending machine where they were supposed to meet. Beside it stood Michihiko in jeans and a T-shirt, and another person who looked thin like Michihiko but notably shorter. The two standing together resembled a scarecrow, Michihiko being taller.

"Shinji, you're late!" As soon as Yamada released the handbrake, Michihiko dashed to the driver's seat to complain. His eyes showed a hint of anger, and his forehead was lightly sweating. Even though he thought he was wrong, Yamada didn't apologize.

"Don't complain about being late in just twenty minutes or so. We're busy on our end too," he shouted from the driver's seat. Actually, they were almost forty minutes late, but he decided to brush it off casually. Michihiko beckoned, "Come here," and the other scarecrow approached.

"Shinji, this is my roommate, Mori.”

After the introduction, when Yamada raised his right hand and said, "Nice to meet you," Mori nodded slightly and said, "Hello." His face was not bad, but his expression was blank and unfriendly. Yamada hated to say it, but he was gloomy, just like Michihiko.

"Where's Ryota?"

Michihiko wiped the sweat from his neck with a towel.

"He stayed behind. We also brought the takoyaki equipment, so we can't leave it unattended. It would be a disaster if it got stolen."

Michihiko looked surprised and nodded slightly, "Hmm."

"Is there someone who would steal such heavy machinery?"

"Those things are expensive. They could take them to a recycling shop."

"In such cases, do you file a police report?"

There was no way they would. And if they found the culprit, they would want to rough them up... but he bit his tongue. Behind him, there were Michihiko's law-abiding friend.

They needed Michihiko's law-abiding friend to work diligently. They were the part-time staff for that purpose. One person could manage the lottery stall, but two were needed to run the takoyaki stall. Last year, with Michihiko's help, they had a team of three, but it was still so busy that they felt like asking anyone, even a cat or a dog, to lend a hand.

It was fine for Ryota to handle the lottery stall and for Yamada and Michihiko to manage the takoyaki stall, but that meant the person at the lottery stall couldn't even go to the restroom. It would have been better if the stalls were next to each other, but since it was a lottery, they were about fifteen meters apart.

They needed another part-timer. When Yamada asked Michihiko, he said his roommate could help, so he brought him along. That was the gloomy Mori.

Since the mini truck was a two-seater, Mori sat in the passenger seat, and Michihiko sat in the back of the mini truck. To avoid trouble if they were caught by the police, Yamada instructed Michihiko to wear a plastic sheet over his head until they arrived. While sitting in the back of the mini truck, Michihiko warned, "Shinji, absolutely no drifting, okay?"

After loading the two into the car, Yamada backed up the vehicle and headed down the mountain. He drove safely while stealing a glance at the small high school student in the passenger seat.

"Are you Mori?"

When he called out, Mori turned towards him.

"I think Michihiko has told you, but you and the other guy, Ryota, will sell the lottery tickets. I can't pay much for the part-time work, but you can eat as much takoyaki as you want."

Mori's face, which had been vague, brightened at the mention of food.

"Okay."

He responded eagerly. Yamada thought it was good that he was straightforward, and then he was surprised when Mori asked, "Aren’t you driving the Nissan Silvia today?"

"How do you know about my car?"

Moreover, today I was driving a mini truck.

"You used to come near the dorm often, right? I was curious about who you were, and when Michihiko said he knew you, I got interested..."

Apparently, the red car stood out.

"I like cars. That Silvia, the engine sound is completely different, right? The muffler is amazing. Do you go to the mountain passes?"

"Occasionally."

Mori muttered, "That's cool," and sat back in the passenger seat. The hard cushion of the mini truck creaked slightly.

"I want a driver's license too. I want to turn eighteen soon."

"Do you have a car you want?"

The response was immediate.

"Integra."

Yamada had received Silvia from Minobe and had customized a car that had already been significantly modified to his liking with money and time. He loved mountain passes and driving fast, but if he wanted to battle seriously on the passes, a lighter, more agile car would be best. The Integra was a popular model among mountain pass enthusiasts. This guy was serious.

"Well then, how about I take you to the mountain passes when you have time?"

"Really?" Mori eagerly chimed in.

"I don’t race, I just watch though."

"That's fine. I want to go," Mori said.

Realizing he was a car enthusiast made Yamada think, "Maybe this guy's alright," which might be a bit simplistic.

"If you're hitting the mountain passes, a March might be good. They're pretty common."

"March is a bit..." Mori hesitated, looking down.

"The shape is a bit lame," Yamada acknowledged.

"That's the thing. The body is cheap, but..." Mori trailed off, sharing the same thoughts.

As they chatted about cars, they reached the road behind the shrine, where Yamada parked the mini truck on the shoulder. This area served as a parking lot for vendors.

They headed back to the stall they'd prepared along the approach to the shrine. By 10 in the morning, most of the stalls along the path were set up. Although the festival started in the evening, people began coming out around noon on Sundays, which all the vendors anticipated.

As they walked, Yamada continued talking to Mori about cars.

"The March may look like that, but when you see it running, it's pretty cool," Yamada said.

"Really?" Mori asked.

"Yeah, a lot of people tweak it since it's easy to modify," Yamada explained.

Michihiko, who had been walking behind them, suddenly came alongside and said, "If you're going to the mountains, take me too."

"I thought you didn't like the mountains? You nearly wet yourself the first time I took you," Yamada teased.

"I didn't wet myself! Don't say such things in front of Mori," Michihiko protested, his ears turning red.

Yamada laughed and put his hands on his hips. "So the wet spot on your pants was just sweat?"

"I'm telling you, I didn't wet myself!" Michihiko insisted, though he looked on the verge of tears. It was amusing, so Yamada continued to tease him.

"I don't want my car to smell like urine," he said.

"It's unfair to go without me. Take me too," Michihiko pleaded, acting childishly.

"Plus, the more people there are, the heavier the car gets," Yamada remarked.

Michihiko pouted, and real tears started forming. Yamada laughed, put his arm around Michihiko's shoulder, and ruffled his hair.

"I'm just kidding. I'll take you too. Just don't wet yourself," Yamada said, pinching Michihiko's cheek. His sulky expression softened a bit. Suddenly, the savory smell of sauce wafted through the air. As they approached their stall, the smell grew stronger.

"What are you doing?" Yamada shouted.

Ryota, inside the stall, greeted them, "Welcome back, boss!" as he raised a skewer of takoyaki. On the grill, the takoyaki looked deliciously round.

"I got hungry since it was so early," Ryota said, chewing on some takoyaki as he quickly packed more into a plastic case. He added sauce, mayonnaise, and aonori⁵, then stuck in three toothpicks.

"Help yourselves. We need to eat well because it's going to be busy from here on out," Ryota said.

Although Yamada thought about the gas cost of heating the grill so early, Ryota's laid-back manner made him lose the will to be angry. He took one takoyaki and handed the rest to Michihiko and Mori. The takoyaki Ryota made was fairly ordinary. Ordinary, but...

"Hey, there's no octopus in this," Yamada said.

Ryota replied with a straight face, "Oh, that's a miss."

"What do you mean, a miss?" Yamada exclaimed.

Ryota casually rotated his neck. "I didn't want to waste the octopus, so I made it a takoyaki roulette. The boss's was a miss."

"Ryota, mine doesn't have any either," Michihiko said, raising his hand.

"Mine too," Mori added.

"None of them have octopus, do they?" Yamada said.

"They do. At least one does," Ryota insisted.

Yamada clicked his tongue. "When you're serving customers, leave out the octopus in about twenty percent. If it's thirty percent, you'll get complaints."

"Twenty percent is okay?" Mori murmured, prompting Yamada to hurriedly explain.

"I mean as an example. I always put in a hundred percent," he said, making a pointless excuse.

As people began to trickle in, Yamada sent Ryota and Mori to the lottery booth while Michihiko stayed to help with the takoyaki. Since Michihiko helped last year, he knew the routine and efficiently arranged the tools and checked the ingredients and water without needing Yamada's instructions.

Yamada sat on a folding chair, smoking a cigarette, but suddenly stood up.

"Hey, Michihiko."

"What?" Michihiko asked, turning around while kneading takoyaki batter in a bowl.

"Do you want to run the lottery booth with Mori?"

Michihiko looked puzzled and asked, "Why?"

Yamada scratched his head. "I thought Mori might prefer to be with you."

Michihiko tilted his head. "He doesn't seem like the shy type. I think he'll be fine."

"That's just your impression," Yamada said, shrugging.

"Ryota looks tough and his clothes aren't great; he gives off a yakuza vibe. I'm worried Mori might be scared," Yamada explained.

"Mori will be fine," Michihiko insisted.

"What do you mean?"

"I heard Mori's father was in the same business as you, Shinji," Michihiko said.

"What?" Yamada asked in surprise.

"I don't know which group, but he's in prison now."

There are tens of thousands of yakuza, many of whom have families. It's not unusual, but most kids hide their parents' occupation.

"Is that okay?" Yamada asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Won't he get bullied at school for having a yakuza parent?" Yamada asked.

Michihiko chuckled softly. "No one at school knows. Remember when you picked me up at the school gate? Your car stood out, so people were curious about what you were doing there. While others didn't notice, Mori saw me get in your car and asked about you. At first, I dodged the question, but he kept pressing, so I told him you were a yakuza. That's when he revealed his father was too."

"Ha," Yamada responded vaguely, then sat back down in his chair and lit a cigarette.

"…It's like a magnet."

"Huh? What did you say?"

"Nothing."

Yakuza attract other yakuza. Truly, it's like a magnet.

"Hey, Shinji. Can I start grilling the takoyaki?"

Michihiko's shoulders were shaking with eagerness.

"There aren't any customers yet. Besides, we'll be grilling so much later that we'll get sick of it."

"I really want to try grilling them. It's been a year."

"Fine, whatever."

Michihiko joyfully started grilling the takoyaki. The smell began to draw people to peek into the tent. Last year, when I had him help with takoyaki for the first time, it was a disaster. He forgot to put in the octopus, forgot the mayonnaise topping, and the takoyaki weren't round but spread out like amoebas. I wondered how he managed to make such shapes in the round molds.

But that was only at first. After grilling several batches, he got better. Maybe because he's meticulous by nature, once he got the hang of it, he started producing perfectly round and beautiful takoyaki.

When Michihiko finished grilling the first batch, he offered one to Yamada.

"I'm good. I just had some of Ryota's."

"Just one. Please try the first one I made."

Even though he wasn't hungry, he accepted it. It had octopus inside, and was fluffier than Ryota's. It was delicious. As he ate it, he noticed Michihiko watching him with a very pleased expression.

"Is it good?"

"…Yeah, it's good."

Michihiko turned back to the takoyaki griddle. His back was broad. The image of the bullied boy crying with his pants down was long gone, but he still seemed endearing in a way.

"One takoyaki, please."

A customer came right away. Michihiko turned around and said, "We've got a customer." It was a kid, about high school age. Yamada stood up from his chair and told the young customer, "One is 500 yen⁶."

Footnotes

0. Content warning: NSFW.

1. 5'5" tall.

2. 5'7" tall.

3. Takoyaki is a ball-shaped Japanese snack made of a wheat flour-based batter and cooked in a special molded pan. It is typically filled with minced or diced octopus, tempura scraps, pickled ginger, and green onion.

4. Around 10 square meters or 106.75 square feet.

5. Aonori (dried green laver or seaweed) is green seaweed that is dried and powdered. It has a distinctive aroma that goes well with Japanese dishes such as Okonomiyaki, Yakisoba, and Takoyaki.

6. Around $3 USD.

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