The man hit the floor with a heavy thud. Calling this a fight or a struggle would be a lie, in every sense. What was happening in this dark alleyway was a shakedown, plain and simple. For the first few months I've lived here, I found the practice unfair. I've been taught that anyone can beat anyone in a fight, as every bout is a contest of willpower. However, the men and women of this city were broken and battered. Utterly lost. It was like fighting children who have just learned how to walk. There was no better word for it: it was unfair.
It took some convincing for me to finally internalize this as normal. This is a necessary thing to do, and there will be a payoff eventually. Not even that much later -- very soon. Tonight. Just think of it as a job, nothing more and nothing less. There was a certain point where I realized I would do anything to get closer to the truth, and this was part of that "anything."
What was happening here was common in this city. Maybe this brought me some small relief. It at least made me think I wasn't some sort of demon. It was going to be over soon, anyways.
The man begged. I didn't really know his name, but he already knew mine. "I, I will bring it by Sunday, Kofuku. I promise. Don't hurt me anymore, please!"
Looking closer at him, it looks like I broke a tooth or two with that last punch. It gave me a pang of guilt; even though I was completely clueless over how much it'd cost to repair those, adding to his significant debt would make things quite difficult for a guy like him.
Try and forget it. It's just a job. That's the mindset you need to have here.
"You ran, sir," I explained. "And I heard from my boss you tried to get out of Maulap City without paying our tribute. I'm sorry, but you know the rules, don't you?" I advanced a few steps forward as I talked with him. He defensively held his arms up, trying to protect himself from any more damage.
I wasn't really looking to punish him further, however. My hands quickly broke through his guard without too much effort, and I searched through his suit's front pocket. It didn't take a lot of rummaging: most people in Maulap keep their wallets nearby, from my experience. It was easy to find, and while it was light, it made some sound, clearly loaded with a few coins inside. Just to be sure, I checked: there was a couple of hydra in there. It wasn't everything he owed, as the amount of debt he acquired was quite significant, but it'd have to do.
"It'll be enough," I tried to reassure him. "Thank you for your cooperation."
While I didn't appreciate that he lied to me, I understood the reasoning why fairly well. It was part of the routine. Maulap City was an unique place in the Naratari Archipelago, and it took some getting used to. It was a city where money was more precious than your own life. The concept was alien to me, but eventually I came to understand that was just how things were around here. Anything the Earth can offer, it is sold here. From goods, to drugs, to love. To gambling, to work, to hate. It was a city that was hard to wrap my head around.
I walked out of the alleyway and left the man there, still collapsed on the floor. The alleyway was between three abandoned buildings, and once I left, some small drops of water fell on top of my head. It was raining. Around this time of year, it was almost every day that it rained.
Though it was the dark of night, even from here, I could see the massive skyscrapers from Maulap still being lit up. While my understanding of the rest of the world was rather lacking, that was uncommon. It showed, however, that the city wasn't afraid of much, if anything at all. Its citizens understood this very well: despite it being midnight, there were still heavy crowds almost as soon as I got out of the alley. Nobody felt any fear, and that much was very clear.
I tried walking along the crowd, mixing myself with them and becoming just another shadow. This city, it almost felt like a living organism. Every person here is a small cell that pumps Maulap full of blood, and it never ever stops to sleep, its heart keeps eternally beating. Despite my reservations against this city, it was hard not to feel a certain sense of admiration, though I also felt jealous at the metaphor.
It almost felt sometimes like every culture on Earth was put into a pot, got mixed together very well, and placed into this city sometimes. It was a cacophony of languages being thrown around in the crowd, and there were all sorts of people around. From gamblers, to sex workers, to street punks, to your average salaryman, all from different places, whispering different things to each other. Few looked at me. Few looked at anybody.
It was easy to get lost in the sounds of the crowd, so for a little bit, I did. That was a common mistake I made. Someone bumped into me shortly after this error. Stopping in place in a crowded city like this, you're just asking for something like that to happen. I opened my eyes to see who it was, and it was a common sight around here: another gang member, probably from another family. He looked a little on the chubby side. No, upon closer inspection, this looks to be your average thug with no family associated with him. He had a small group with him, all wearing the same colors.
"Hey! Look at where you're going, you fucking idiot! You almost stepped on my two hundred CC shoes!" He pointed at his feet. They didn't look that expensive. In fact, I'm pretty sure I could find them anywhere.
"Uh, bro, looks like she stepped on it big time," another one of their group said. Then I realized what was happening. This was a scam, and they were the ones who flubbed the script "big time". I suppose I couldn't blame them.
I was going to stay silent and just let this fly, but to be honest, I was in a hurry. I had to deliver the money to the boss as soon as possible. "Please get out of my way."
"Who the fuck do you think you a--" The main one almost lunged at me with a yell, but stopped himself once one of his friends interrupted him.
"Um… bro," the friend from before said, quivering, looking at me like I had three heads. The boss of the group looked at me, and his expression went similarly darker. I tilted my head to the side.
"Shit… no way… um… I'm… really sorry…" The leader looked at his group, and they all dispersed quickly, all looking at me as they went away. After a blink or two, they disappeared into the crowd.
I was unsure of what happened, but then I looked into a nearby store's window, just to check my own face. There lied the culprit: a small botch of blood made its way onto my cheek. I would have to clean that up later. For a brief instant, I almost felt like an animal. I tried baring my teeth, trying to see if I hadn't become some sort of beast. While that made me feel a little better about myself, unfortunately, the thoughts didn't quite go away.
Though I still had to walk. So I decided to traverse through the streets quickly, taking a few shortcuts along the way. That was when I found it at last. It was an unassuming building, just another in the countless in this city. It wasn't dirty, but I wouldn't call it clean either. At the front of the building, there was a sign that said: "Natural Peace Office." I always found that a little distasteful, but considering the owner of this office, it made far too much sense she'd put something like that on there.
I opened the door to the building, and at the front, it looked abandoned. The elevators didn't work, and there was nobody living here. The receptionist's desk had no one behind it, and the only sign of life came from upstairs: the sound of a television, from a room above. I wandered towards the noise. It was just a matter of taking the stairs nearby, and then going past a few doors. Before, this place used to be some sort of motel. I found that a little unbelievable, considering it just had three floors. But apparently, people preferred their discreetness more than any luxury.
What was it now? Well, it's where I live - alongside my boss. The home to the Dakila family of yakuza. I opened the door to room 202, where the heavy smell of cigarette smoke invaded my nostrils, and I immediately coughed more than a few times. "I'm back, Ms. Dakila," I said, trying to shoo away the smoke with my hands. From here, I saw Ms. Dakila, laying down on a couch in front of the TV.
Ms. Dakila was a pretty woman. That I'm willing to admit upfront. Unlike me, she had a bit of a triangular shape to her face. She had long grey hair and dark skin, though her age clearly showed. She typically wore a black suit, dirty with use and not without much care. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was the same one she wore yesterday. If you didn't see a cigar in Ms. Dakila's hand, something was horribly wrong, or she had a drink on it instead. While that made her look somewhat extravagant, don't be fooled: it's all cheap crap. The only thing she spent any amount of money on were her shoes, which was how I knew the punk's were too cheap - two virgo shoes look more like Ms. Dakila's, and she takes a huge amount of pride in them. While she is usually rather composed, offending her shoes is a quick way to trigger her temper. I learned to not do it fairly quickly.
She was watching some news report on the television. Ms. Dakila clicked her tongue once, clearly annoyed. "Ah, Kofuku. Welcome back. Hear the news? Red Tiger's grandkid went to jail. Man, wrestling fans everywhere are going to want that guy crucified. Poor kid."
The Red Tiger's grandkid went to jail? While that was an exciting yet painful topic, I unfortunately didn't have any time for it. I cut to the chase. "Ms. Dakila, here's the last of the money I agreed to collect for you. Now my debt has been paid. It's time for you to fulfill your end of the deal."
"How long have we been doing this song and dance, Kofuku?" Ms. Dakila said, with a big grin on her face, and a somewhat playful tone to her voice. She enjoyed playing games with me. "Let me look at the money first."
I closed the door behind me, walked over to her, and handed her the money. I didn't count it very well, but I knew it wasn't enough, and I had a feeling she knew it too. Ms. Dakila took her time counting every single bill, then puffed some more smoke from her cigar.
I hated smoke, and I particularly hated fire. It took some effort to keep my fists from shaking, this up close. But I maintained my composure, at least slightly.
"You know that's not enough, right?" Her skipping right to the chase at least made me feel a little better. I nodded. "But it's close-ish, so I don't mind. As long as you do one last thing for me. Tonight."
"This was the last thing," I protested, hands balled into fists. "I'm not a mercenary, and I'm not your toy to play with."
"Relax, Kofuku," Regardless, her voice didn't show an ounce of fear or respect. "This shouldn't take you even a single hour. No, less than thirty minutes."
I was curious. This wasn't your average shakedown, then. Usually, the process required a lot of tracking, something that I didn't like doing all that much. I raised an eyebrow, then waited for her to continue.
"I need you to meet with somebody and give her something from the higher ups. That's it. The meeting's already arranged." She didn't sound too concerned with such an important job. At least, that's the impression I got. But it was hard getting a read on Ms. Dakila most days. "See the suitcase in the corner there?"
In fact, there was a silver suitcase there, thrown aside in the corner like it was nothing. "Don't open it. Don't even look at it. Just deliver it to the target, and then, I'll tell you what I know. How about it?"
It was a trick. Somehow, she'd find a way to worm her way out of it, or break her promise with a loophole that I'm not quite yet figuring out. My face betrayed my distrust, apparently, because she grinned from ear to ear.
"C'mon, kid. It's an easy job, and you know it."
"Will people be hurt?" I asked, a little apprehensive.
"Who isn't, around here?" She replied, quick like a whip. "Do you need me to call the Protectorate to make sure it's A-OK?"
I got the idea. Unfortunately, she had a point: the job is easy. Too easy, almost. But I was all out of leads, and didn't know where to go from here. If this was all it took, then…
"I need you to promise me."
"I do, kid," she laughed with every word, her voice a little hoarse.
I walked in front of her now, and her body language showed some protesting, but I didn't care. I extended my pinky finger towards Ms. Dakila.
"What is this shit?" For the first time, she looked annoyed, even though her voice sounded a little amused.
"Promise me." I sounded firm.
There was a legend where I came from: if you ever broke a pinky promise, you'd be forced to eat a thousand needles. Because of this, I never broke a promise. And if Ms. Dakila broke this one, I'd make sure she would eat every single one of those needles.
She didn't seem as serious as I did, however, when she intertwined her pinky against mine. "Deal. It's a promise."
It was a binding vow. She can sound as serious as she wants, I didn't care. I was going to remember this. I let go. "Who's the target?"
"A foreigner," she seemed like some tension left her shoulders.
Ms. Dakila searched her pockets, and showed me a picture. It was an elegant white woman, with long black hair and green eyes. She wore a beautiful suit, and was younger than Ms. Dakila, but still an adult. It was clear her eyesight was quite bad, as she wore glasses. This photo was a little old, but not old enough where she'd look completely different. At least, that's what I figured, anyways.
"Just hand her the suitcase. She's going to hand you some money. Then you come back here, and I'll tell you what I know. Sounds simple?"
I didn't know what to ask. I wish I was born clever, but it was hard to find the right words to say, here.
But finishing this once and for all sounds good.
"Yes."
Then I touched my own cheek. It was wet with blood still. The rain didn't clear it away.
"But I need to wash my face first."