Kia Ora

The first month of 2021 has already passed us by and yet it felt like only yesterday we were all saying goodbye to 2020. But January was a busy one for me with the Winter Wonderland Promo, getting out another new release and deciding which of the ideas floating around in my brain to use for the newsletter serial. And that's without all the family stuff I needed to deal with.

Now that Deadly Gamble (Tokyo Nights 2) is out, my focus has switched to Not Invisible to Me (aka Grant and Corryn's story). This story will be released under my Mandy Greenwood pen name and is set in Southern New Zealand where I grew up. All going well it should be released in March sometime... more information will be included in future newsletters.

And now for what you've all been waiting for...

Caught (Smoke and Shadows 1).

Takeshi Matsumoto, heir to the Shirokawa-gumi in Osaka has been living in Tokyo for the last four years at the behest of his father. But with the death of his grandfather, Koijiro Matsumoto at the hands of the Araki-gumi everything changes. And Takeshi's father is the first to fall in the ensuing chaos, necessitating his return to the city.

Those once loyal to the Matsumoto family, now want Takeshi dead.

Nowhere is safe. No one can be trusted.

NB: As this is not a finalised copy of the story, there will be editing mistakes.

---------------------------------

Chapter One

Takeshi ducked into the alley and pressed himself against the damp brick wall, grimacing at the stench coming from the two dumpsters he’d squeezed between. Each breath he took came in ragged gasps accompanied by a searing pain in his left side. Not surprising when Takeshi had spent the last thirty minutes running through the back streets of Osaka in the frigid night air as he tried to evade his pursuers. Running wasn’t his thing. Not from trouble nor as a form of exercise. Normally he wouldn’t hesitate to fight back, but in the six months since his grandfather’s death the landscape of Osaka’s underworld had changed dramatically.

Once he could have fought with the backing of an entire yakuza organisation at his back, but now that wasn’t the case. Nothing could be guaranteed anymore. Not the safe places he’d have once run too, or who was still loyal to the name Matsumoto.

He peered around the dumpster carefully and prayed his pursuers continued past the alley. The streets had been crowded enough that the two men chasing him shouldn’t have noticed Takeshi disappearing; his clothing bland enough that easily blended in with the businessmen moving between the bars and restaurant of Sembayashi—a district on the outskirts of Osaka. But Takeshi didn’t think they’d give up on their pursuit of him either. Yet, whoever had wanted his capture had underestimated him; believed Takeshi wasn’t a threat beyond the significance of his name due to his being absent from Osaka for the last four years. It was like the person had failed to realise that Takeshi had been born into this world and his ability to navigate the dangerous nature of it hadn’t been diminished by Takeshi’s father sending him to Tokyo.

But he had to admit, it would be advantageous to his current situation if he knew who the major players in the city currently were and who amongst the fallen Shirokawa-gumi were still loyal to his family. The once powerful organisation splintering into several factions competing for what remained of it—the scraps of power left to them by the Araki-gumi who’d come in and destroyed them. His father had already been lost to the fight for power—necessitating Takeshi’s return a year early than planned—and he had no intention of becoming the next casualty in the war.

Nothing would stop him from claiming the position that was rightfully Takeshi’s, however he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that at twenty-three years of age he could step in and rule in his father’s, grandfather’s steed easily. Not that he’d wasted his time in Tokyo either. On top of studying commerce and law, he’d taken up position in Shinjuku, first as a messenger and then as an enforcer for the Yamashita. The lessons he’d learnt there couldn’t have happened in Osaka where everyone knew as the boss’ grandson—in Tokyo he was little more than a nobody, with only the Shinjuku Ward Boss aware of who Takeshi truly was.

And yet he had no idea who as after him. His attackers grabbed him the moment he’d stepped out of the Shin-Osaka station two days ago. At least Takeshi thought it was two days ago, his phone had gotten broken in the scuffle and lay shattered in the warehouse he’d been held captive in before managing to escape. All he knew about his attackers was that were acting on behalf of someone else… someone who wanted Takeshi out of the way whether by scaring him off or killing him. He wasn’t going to let them succeed at either.

Breath held, Takeshi ducked back behind the dumpster as heavy footsteps thudded along the pavement and paused at the entrance to the alley. Clenched his fists at his sides and listened to the men’s angry voices while praying the gods would favour him and send them on their way.

 “He must be around here somewhere?”

“He can’t have gotten far—”

“Yeah. Maybe I should have kicked him harder.”

Takeshi tucked his knees under chin, pulling his body deeper into the dark shadows being cast across the alley, whispering promises to Inari that he’d offer them up several bottles of premium sake if they protected him now. Whether his faith in the old gods was wise or not, Takeshi didn’t care when it took his mind off whatever slimy substance was sticking to his jeans or trying to figure out what the god-awful stench was. He’d fight if needed, but hand-to-hand combat had never been Takeshi’s speciality, preferring to use a blade or bullets, and right now, he had neither.

He allowed himself a brief sigh of relief as the men moved away, their voices and footsteps fading into the distance until they were indistinguishable from the other sounds spilling into the street. And yet Takeshi couldn’t relax. Couldn’t stay here either knowing that at any minute the men might return and drag him from this place to finish what they’d started. His status in this world no longer existed and any protection it might have afforded him was gone. While his grandfather had been alive, no one would have dared touched him without fear of sparking a war between organisations. But the man was dead, and Takeshi refused to give his enemies the satisfaction of disposing of the rightful heir to the Shirokawa-gumi.

Even still, he found it hard to mourn the man’s death, not when Takeshi knew the man- his grandfather wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him if the old bastard had learnt Takeshi was gay. A part of him wanted to shake the man’s hand who’d fired the fatal bullet and Takeshi didn’t miss the irony of it all either, when the man who’d killed his grandfather was engaged to the head of the Araki-gumi.

Rising from his hiding spot, Takeshi picked his way through the alley, dodging cardboard stacked haphazardly at the rear of the businesses that opened onto it and headed away from the busy Sembayashi street. He emerged onto a street devoid of neon lights and headed west. Bowed his head, jammed hands into pockets and tired not to draw any attention to himself while struggling to orientate himself. His knowledge of this part of Osaka was limited with the area having never been a stronghold of the Shirokawa-gumi, but he knew enough. Heading west would bring him to the banks of the river and from there he could figure out how to reach more familiar territory. However, familiarity didn’t mean safe and once again Takeshi could only pray that the first members of the Shirokawa-gumi he stumbled upon were friends and not those who wished to take his birth right from him.

Takeshi breathed deep and instantly regretted it. His bruised ribs complained viciously at his attempts to run—even if only for a short burst—while the dull ache in his leg was getting harder to ignore. It should have taken him an hour to reach the other side of the Oyodo river, but it had already been walking that long and he couldn’t even see the bridge that spanned it. He wished he could move faster… wished he’d reacted quicker to the ambush that had waited him. Takeshi knew the longer he remained in unfamiliar territory, the greater the chance was of those pursuing him catching up. He wasn’t even sure how much safer it would be on the other side of the river, but at least the part of the city was more familiar to him. Takeshi knew places where he could shelter for what remained of the night before catching the first train to Suita where his family home was located.

Edging toward the entrance of the alley, Takeshi peered around the corner and surveyed the street for danger. The predominantly residential area was devoid of traffic—vehicular, pedestrian and cyclists—making it easier for Takeshi to spot anything suspicious. Deciding it was safe, he stepped out of the shadows and slunk down the street, head bowed, and hands jammed in pockets as the rules his former bodyguard had taught him. Rules designed to mask his presence on the crowded streets of Osaka when his family name carried weight on the city’s streets and his life could be bartered for favours from his grandfather.

He spared the briefest of glances at the street signs and kept his face obscured from the street cameras Takeshi knew were being monitored by the police and the yakuza organisations in the city. They were a brilliant tool for tracking down your enemies or anyone who’d wronged you, however Takeshi had no intention of letting his pursuers use them to locate him. The injuries he carried weren’t serious, but they would slow him down in a fight and Yoshitake had always taught him, that one faced losing in a fight then it was best to retreat before the first punch was thrown.

Takeshi slipped down one alley after another, keeping himself hidden the darkness shrouding them until he reached Oyodo River. He took a steadying breath and stared at the four lanes of traffic that separated him from the bridge spanning the river. If the men chasing him were smart, then this would be the place they would try to recapture him. The wide-open space left Takeshi with nowhere to hide and once on the bridge, nowhere to run. There was always the river, he guessed, however Takeshi wasn’t fond of that idea. Swimming wasn’t an issue, but the months were drawing far too close to winter for the temperature of the water to be conducive for a well past midnight dip. His only option was it make it to the other side of the river and hopefully stumble upon members of the Shirokawa-gumi who were still loyal to his family.

Taking a deep breath, Takeshi stepped out of the shadows and headed for the bridge. He tried to keep his nerves steady, his pace swift but frantic while also watching out for those who sought him harm. The streets weren’t as crowded here as the traffic dripped through the intersection as the lights changed less frequently. But Takeshi wasn’t going to wait for the traffic lights to change. He darted across the road, jumping back when vehicles refused to slow down and ducked between those who’d been forced to stop. Playing chicken with vehicles on a four-lane street might have been a risky game, and yet Takeshi knew it was riskier still if stood still for too long.

His pursuers would catch up to him.

They wouldn’t give up the chase that easily.

But Takeshi wished they would.

And he’d almost made it too, the bridge a mere hundred metres away when Takeshi heard an angry shout behind him. He didn’t dare look over his shoulder knowing it would slow him down. But his pursuers were close. Too close. Takeshi darted across the final intersection that separated him from the bridge and cursed as car horns blared; winced as one car slammed on its breaks a little to slowly and their bumper brushed against his sore leg. Yet still he didn’t stop. Couldn’t afford to as several pairs of feet pounded on the pavement behind him and a car’s engine rumbled to life in the distance.

He could still change direction. Head through Buson Park until he reached the lock and cross over the river there. Except while it would make it harder for anyone in a vehicle to follow him, it also meant spending more time out in the open and in area where controlled by his enemies. Not that Takeshi could guarantee that he’d safer on the other side of the river, but his chances of finding someone who didn’t want to kill him were definitely greater. And Takeshi was certain that if his former bodyguard were able to advise him, that’s exactly what Yoshitake would suggest.

Spinning on his heels, Takeshi ran toward the bridge and cursed, his moment of hesitation allowing his pursuers to close the distance between them. His feet hit the bridge hard, pounding out a frantic beat that matched the beating of his heart. Metres of bridge, of concrete wrapped around steel and rebar were all that stood between Takeshi and— Takeshi wheezed out laugh, freedom didn’t wait him on the other side of the river. His safety not guaranteed so long as the Shirokawa-gumi was tearing itself apart…but he only needed to find one safe spot, a hidey hole unknown to those pursuing him where Takeshi could wait out the next few hours until the trains were running again. A chance to catch his breath and take stock of the injuries he carried while trying to come up with a more credible plan.

And yet the men chasing him showed no sign of letting Takeshi slip free of their grasp.

He drew in a sharp breath, footsteps faltering as an engine, two engines roared louder as they put on a burst of speed and barreled toward Takeshi. Both lanes of the bridge devoid of traffic, not those driving cared at all for the traffic laws—just like every law society tried to impose, they were easily discarded for a shot at power and glory.

And danger wasn’t new to Takeshi. He’d grown up with the music of death ringing in his ears and lulling him to sleep like a sweet lullaby. Spent countless hours evading kidnappers and those who thought Takeshi could be used as a pawn against his grandfather… this wasn’t the first time he’d been confronted by attackers like this. But Osaka’s shadows had changed in the four years since he’d been immersed in their politics and Takeshi was embarrassed to admit that he froze at the sight of two SUVs heading straight for him, headlights switched off. The threat to his life might not be new, but fighting it alone was.

He stumbled back, only stopping when the metal railing of the bridge pressed hard into his back. Chest heaving, he stared at the two vehicles and waited for his attackers to emerge while readying himself to fight back. Takeshi had no intention of being taken easily…again.

His enemy no longer had the element of surprise.

------------------------------

If you want to learn more about how Takeshi's grandfather died, then checkout The Yakuza and the English Teacher series.

Book One: Dangerous Lessons

Book Two: Dangerous Love

Book Three: Dangerous Life

---------------------------

Don't forget to follow me on Facebook or come hangout in my readers group!

Naomi Aoki

Mandy Greenwood

Greenwood's Groupies