We pulled up on the street directly in front of the club, not bothering to worry about keeping the car out of sight or making it difficult for anyone watching to see where we were going. So early in the morning, and late at night, the only people around were as head strong into crime as we were, and we stayed out of each other's way. Biker gangs on the streets in Kabuki-cho, however, were a different story, and I had washed my hands clean of their blood more than once in the past.

I got out of the car and tugged at my suit jacket to straighten it, and survey the situation at hand. There were only three motorcycles in front of Club Diamond's entrance, though there was a small group of people standing around them. "You've got to be kidding me." I said to myself under my breath as I caught a familiar face in the crowd. "Genji!" I shouted his name over the hum of their chatter.

The whole group went quiet, looking toward me to identify the source of the shout. Genji came forward, his arms out to his sides. "If it isn't Obata! Man, where have you been?"

Genji had grown up at the same time as I had, but his side of the street was a little more rough than mine. We knew each other only by last names since we were children, never really becoming friends. He had been introduced to petty crime simply as a means to survive long before I was thrust into Yakuza life, and during our teen years, we were able to bond over the common interest. Genji, though, had no discipline, no respect, and turned to gang life over syndicate life. He wore tattered jeans, dirty wife-beaters under leather vests, too much gaudy jewelry, and kept his hair in a sort of long buzz-cut. He was skinny, eccentric, loud, but he seemed to genuinely enjoy what life had thrown at him.

We grabbed both of each others' hands in a friendly shake, nodding bows to each other. My two guards stood close by, but I wasn't worried in the least. There was no doubt, the moment Genji spoke my name, they knew who they were dealing with. "It has been a long time. I tend to keep out of sight these days."

"You shouldn't be seen here." Genji threw a gesture over his shoulder to indicate he was talking about the club specifically. "These gals hate gangs, and they especially hate Yakuza." He laughed loudly just for show.

"Actually, I'm here to meet a friend. Not business."

He leaned in a little closer, as if we were sharing a secret. "And how did you know I would be here?" More loud laughter, a friendly slap on the shoulder. My unamused expression must have given me away though. "Oh. Are you keeping company with hostesses these days?"

I took my cigarette case from the inside pocket of my coat, offering one to Genji, which he greedily took without hesitation. "I always have. They're the only women who will have anything to do with night life men."

I held out my lighter, producing a flame for him to light his cigarette on. "How did you manage to rope in one of these ladies? Come on, spill the tricks, I need insider information."

"No tricks, I'm afraid. She's just a friend." But I was at the end of my hospitality toward the gang, even if Genji was an old acquaintance. I balled my fist around the collar of his shirt. "Now clear out." I told him. I sensed the group behind him tense, getting ready to run. "Before I have to bring out the guns."

Genji held his hands up to show that he didn't mean any harm. "We're leaving." He said. "I'll see you around. And know that I'm onto you, Obata." He began walking away slowly, following the group until he mounted the back of a bike with a driver. "She's not just a friend."

I watched the group until they disappeared at the other end of the street, then took out my phone. "Do you treat all your friends that way?" My attention snapped up to the voice that had somehow caught me unaware, and I saw Ito standing only a few paces from me. "I saw you shake hands with him, and I thought you must have been familiar with the gang, but then I saw what looked like you threatening him."

She had changed out of her form fitting, glamorous hostess dress, and was standing before me with a clean face, smooth hair, wearing a more simple shirt and skirt. She had a light jacket on, and her hands were clasped in front of her around the handle of a small purse. In contrast to the way she looked inside the hostess club, or in the judo club, she seemed so young. I was suddenly more aware of how quick I was to open my eyes to her, to really see her as a person and not just a transaction, and it scared me.

"Genji and I kind of grew up together. We've known each other forever." I shrugged, leaving my hands in my pockets as I tucked my phone away, trying to brush off the interaction as no big deal. In the back of my mind, I wondered if I wanted to downplay the situation in front of her to make myself less intimidating. "Our organizations don't really get along, though." I took a drag of the cigarette I had lit alongside Genji's, glancing at her almost sideways through the smoke trails. "You look really nice."

She immediately looked down at herself, attempting to hide a blush that came to her cheeks accompanying a small, shy smile. "Thank you, Obata-san. And thank you for coming all this way to help."

"I'm glad you called me." I told her in all seriousness, though I was having trouble looking at her, if I was honest with myself. "It was much safer than trying your luck going unnoticed with those baboons around. Do you need a ride home?" I motioned behind me to my two guards standing at the road's edge where my car was parked.

She leaned over slightly to look past me. "Actually, I was going to ask if I can buy you a drink to thank you." Her words were hesitant, as if she was trying hard to force them out.

I purposely waited a beat to answer her, as she had given me a moment to sweep my eyes over her as she looked at her shoes. "Absolutely." Her eyes snapped up to me in what looked like surprise, but she held her ground.

I waved behind me to my guards, letting them know to stay with the car, and I began to lead her just a few doors down from the club. The bar there was no more than a hole in the wall, but the staff worked hard and they really cared about properly serving guests. The outside was no more than a doorway wide, but was decorated with dried bamboo and plants with long, tall leaves in heavy concrete planters. It had an automatic sliding glass door, but a traditional curtain and small bamboo gate concealed it to give the illusion that it had been taken right out of the middle of Kyoto. The inside could best be described as just a long hallway with stools pulled up to a heavily lacquered wooden bar.

We sat side by side, our knees inwards toward each other to allow us to talk face to face. I had chosen a spot at the very end of the bar, though we were the only customers. "There's just a few things I think it's only fair you know about me before we become friends." I told her. She draped her fingers around her drink glass and nodded to me, signaling that she was ready to listen. "Number one. I'm pretty sure Sensei said you were a first year in college, right?"

She nodded once to confirm. "Yes, I go to school part time so I can also work part time. I got the job at the club because it pays more than any other job, but it's also at night so it doesn't interfere with class times."

"So that makes you twenty years old?" She nodded again. "I'm fifteen years older than you. Some might consider that age gap a little strange."

She laughed lightly, giving away that she had likely been thinking the same thing. "It's okay, Obata-san, I'm not expecting anything. It's just nice to be familiar with a person like you."

I took her words as a compliment, though I wasn't entirely sure if they were. "Number two." I took up the closure of my jacket and opened it slightly. "I carry a gun at all times." I tried to gauge her reaction, and her expression told me it was something she expected, but didn't quite believe was real until it was revealed to her. "Number three. Maybe you've already caught a glimpse from training with me, but I am covered in tattoos."

"I think the tattoos are beautiful." She said timidly. "Specifically your style of tattoos. They're so striking, and the stories they tell are so loud."

Fearless. She was fearless, I thought. But I wasn't trying to scare her. I was trying to prepare her. "Number four. This is the last one. I'm a dangerous man. And I'm not saying this to sound cool. I'm not trying to impress you." I laughed in spite of myself through a sip of my drink. "My life is full of crime and illegal activity, and I'm secretive about a lot of things for my safety."

She peered at me as if I had been lifting an invisible veil of truth. "You seem like an ordinary enough man to me." She said, her eyes on me studying me hard. "You're well groomed, well dressed, well spoken. In fact, men like you are pretty rare. For more reasons than one." She stated her facts flawlessly and without hesitation.

I wanted to make sure she understood, though. "Ito-san, I'm a Yakuza." My world was very different from hers.