The BeginningA Chapter by Meiko UrushiharaA Murderous Enterprise
A young man
approached a strip mall, his eye twitching in frustration at the rambling of
the slightly younger male walking alongside him. “Kiyohira,” He sighed
exasperatedly. “What in Inari’s name are you talking about?” The younger man
paused, disappointed that the other missed out on his grand speech. “Aw,
Tetsuya, I don’t want to say it all again!” Upon receiving a sigh, the
twenty-seven year old pouted much like a child a quarter his age would. The duo squinted
against the bright lights of the optometrist’s office as they walked in. “Tell
me, Kiyohira, why did I agree to come with you again?” Taking the offered
paperwork from the receptionist at the desk, Kiyohira led Tetsuya to a row of
empty seats. “Why? Don’t you love me, Tetsuya?” He grinned, diverting his gaze
to the paperwork before catching the other’s glare.
“Not particularly,” Tetsuya muttered, slumping against the uncomfortable waiting
room chair. He glanced at the television in all of his half-intrigued boredom.
The news was"yet again"covering the recent serial murders that had struck the
Shibuya area. Another murder had occurred the night before. The
police were stumped; every victim had been an outstanding citizen, a contributor
toward the betterment of the world. They couldn’t figure out who would want them
dead. Worse still, they couldn’t figure out who was next on the killer’s
agenda. “The
police,” The reporter began, “Have reason to believe that the yakuza is
involved in these heinous crimes,” Kiyohira
scoffed, looking up from the paperwork. “They honestly believe we have the time
to kill those that have nothing to do with us,” He murmured thoughtfully. “And
you call me a moron, Tetsuya,” He
laughed and continued filing out the forms. The
report piqued Tetsuya’s interest. Just who did that serial killer think they
were? He couldn’t allow the yakuza’s name to be sullied by false accusations.
He knew he’d have to investigate himself, and exterminate the pest. -/-/- “For
the last damn time, Kiyohira, no, I will not
hold your hand!” Tetsuya’s exclamation earned the pair several strange looks
from locals and tourists alike. “Aw,
c’mon, Tetsuya, I can’t-“ Kiyohira ran into a sign as further confirmation that
with dilated eyes, he couldn’t see. A few onlookers began snickering under
their breath. “What the…” Tetsuya
groaned, grabbing Kiyohira’s hand and pulling him away. He shook his head,
feeling the other man lace their fingers together. Great, he thought bitterly,
now we look like a couple. There was a noticeable red tint on his cheeks. Satoru
Matsuo heard a knock on his apartment door. Expecting his wife and daughter, he
opened the door with a closed-eye smile. “Hey, honey"ah… Sorry, Tetsuya; I wasn’t
expecting you,” He laughed nervously, stepping to the side to allow his boss
and Kiyohira inside. “Uh… If you and Kiyohira are trying to come out as a
couple, I think you’re going about it the wrong way…” He sweat-dropped, noticing
their linked hands. Tetsuya
let out another frustrated sigh. “That is definitely not what we’re doing, Satoru,” He let go of Kiyohira’s hand,
allowing the temporarily blinded man to trip over a rug. Pulling the man back
onto his feet, he gestured to his eyes. “His eyes were dilated,” Satoru
nodded, although it still didn’t explain why their hands were linked together in
such a way. “…So, what brings you here?” He asked, helping Kiyohira find the
couch and sit down. “You’ve
heard of the recent serial murders here, haven’t’ you?” Upon receiving a nod,
he continued. “It seems as though the police are blaming us for the attacks,
and the last thing we need is to have them on our backs. I think we need to
find the killer ourselves and eliminate them,” Satoru
picked up his cellphone. “So you want to schedule a meeting with the whole
division, then?” Tetusya nodded, and Satoru dialed the first number. It wouldn’t
take long to summon the seventh division of the Shibuya Yakzua. -/-/- Kisho
Mitzusaka jumped slightly when his cellphone vibrated in his pocket. He raised
an eyebrow before answering the call"why would Satoru be calling him in the
middle of the day? “Hello? Satoru-san? Is everything alright?” Kisho had
developed a habit of worrying about the others a bit more than he should. “Kisho,
Tetsuya’s scheduled a meeting. Be in Maruyamacho as soon as you can; the rest
of us will be there soon,” With that short message, Satoru hung up, grimacing
as he dialed the number of his least favorite comrade. -/-/- A
can met the wall of Tsuruki Shirokawa’s Shibuya apartment. He picked up the can
with a frown; his can opener was broken, and he was hungry. Hearing his
cellphone ring, he pulled it out of his pocket and quirked an eyebrow. The only
one who would call his cellphone was… “Satoru?” The division’s doctor and
planner would only be calling him if someone was hurt, dead, or Tetsuya was
calling them together for a meeting. Doubting the first two had happened, he
continued with his assumption. “Is Tetsuya on a power high again?” Satoru
growled into the phone. “If I were Tetsuya, I’d have made you commit yubitsume
by now, you cocky son of a b***h. Be in Maruyamacho in ten minutes, and you’d
better do it without another sarcastic comment. Understood?” Back in his
apartment, both Kiyohira and Tetsuya cringed. Wincing
at the blow to his ego, Tsuruki dared not push Satoru any further. “Maruyamacho
in ten? Got it, thanks,” He hung up, his expression revealing how truly wary he
was of Satoru. He set the can down and left. -/-/- Soft
tapping noises echoed through a small, dimly lit office as Shiko Iitaka read
through various news reports. Tetsuya wasn’t the only one curious about the
Shibuya Serial Killer. Hearing his office phone ring, he tapped the speaker
button and continued typing. “Yes?” He answered boredly. “Busy
today, Shiko?” Satoru’s tone reflected his frustration from talking to Tsuruki
moments before. “Tetsuya’s called a meeting. Can you and Tanosuke be in
Maruyamacho in ten minutes?” The
typing ceased. “Yeah; we’ll head out now. Thanks for the heads up, Satoru,” He
hung up, leaving the office in search of his partner. “Tano, where are you?” He
called. Tanosuke
Ishida poked his head out from an adjacent doorway. “Need something, babe?”
Shiko grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the front door. “Where are we
going?” “Maruyamacho;
Satoru called,” Passing by the coat rack, Shiko tossed a hoodie at Tanosuke and
grabbed his own jacket. “It’s cold outside,” Was the only explanation he gave. Tanosuke
pulled the hoodie over his head, walking outside. Shiko wasn’t lying"it was
cold. He grumbled about it under his breath as he walked toward his car,
shoving his hands in the pocket. Tanosuke really hated the cold. They were soon
en route to Maruyamacho. -/-/- Sighing, Seitaro
Miyajima set his newly-cleaned shotgun back in the case it was to be locked
away in at all times. Like the rest of the gun owners in the division, he felt
the gun laws were a bit ridiculous. He’d just locked the case when his
cellphone emitted an unholy screech. Making a mental note to change the
ringtone, he picked up the object and answered the call. Satoru wasn’t fond of
social calls, especially not where his fellow yakuza were concerned. They spoke
only briefly, and Seitaro looked for his keys for a moment and left his
apartment. -/-/- A businessman
walked into his apartment building, greeting the woman at the desk with a warm
smile. On the way up to his floor in the elevator, he has a pleasant
conversation with the other occupant. He was a very well-liked man. He strode
to his door, unlocking it and sighing. He was finally home. The door swung
open, revealing an immaculate apartment. Many would think his home reflected his
personality"warm, neat, and welcoming, but it only mirrored his façade. He set his
briefcase down and hung up his jacket, retreating to his home office. The neat,
polished, gleaming, orderly feel of the rest of the home ended at that doorway.
The walls were lined with paper, the desk was so cluttered most wouldn’t know
what color it was, and haphazard stacks of information towered high in every
corner of the room. He lowered himself into the office chair, turning on his
computer monitor. The bright screen bathed the dark room in a soft light, and
several images appeared affront the man’s scrutinizing gaze. Among the first of
the images was a photo of a young woman. She’d made several significant
contributions to Japanese society, and had started a charity to pay for the medical
care of underprivileged children suffering from cancer. She’d even paid to have
a children’s hospital built in the area. A truly amazing person, indeed. The
next image was of a heart surgeon, one who’d saved countless lives and started
his own charity for the treatment and sheltering of abused animals. All of the
pictures were of that kind; Japanese citizens who’d made huge contributions to
society and those in it. The man clicked on
the first image, hyperlinked to a file that contained a sizeable amount of
information on his next victim. He felt his hatred of her grow with every word
he read"it was almost as if she wanted
to be killed, putting her personal information out in the open like that. He printed
a copy of the information and began to scroll through news reports pertaining
to his work. One in particular
caught his eye, and he began to read. He was silent for a few moments before
having to cover his mouth to muffle his laughter. “I’m connected to the yakuza?”
He scoffed. I don’t think these sycophant reporters could be any farther from
the truth,” He finished reading the report with only a slight smile. He sighed
blissfully, remembering his masterpieces, the good that came out of those awful
people. They had no right controlling society, and he was going to erase their
influence permanently. -/-/- End Chapter Three -/-/-
© 2015 Meiko UrushiharaAuthor's Note
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Added on December 16, 2015 Last Updated on December 16, 2015 AuthorMeiko UrushiharaNew York City, NYAboutHello! I'm new here but I'm very excited to share my work with you all! I've posted my work on a few other sites but was disappointed with the lack of feedback, and that fueled my journey here. I pla.. more..Writing
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