Yuta Hayashi

[Kiyohito]

Kiyohito & Ryker

The neighborhood they entered was residential in appearance. Upper class, certainly, but not the opulent sprawling mansions of the Russian aristocracy that Kiyohito glimpsed online. The curb was empty all the way down the block, but they parked on the street down the road from their destination. Walls too high to climb loomed above the sidewalk in the interim. Despite the fortified exterior, Kiyohito felt strangely at home as they stopped at the gate.

Ryker identified himself on the security system. As soon as the gate slid open, two men in black suits stepped out to greet them. Kiyohito didn’t expect to recognize either except to say they were Japanese. Both wore Edenokōji-gumi symbols. Ryker dutifully held out his arms and allowed himself to be pat down. They found a pocket knife, but upon clearing his throat, it was returned to his possession after a brief examination; a relinquishing that Kiyohito found odd. There were no such weapons on himself to confiscate.

The interior of the grounds was starkly different from the street. The house was modern with a long, flat roof and multiple levels. The door rolled open from the inside, and Ryker ducked in like a welcome guest.

They were shown upstairs. Faces blank of emotion glanced as they passed. Kiyo frowned and put his hands in his pockets so to not be tempted to wring them with nerves. The members of different clans occasionally met for parlay or negotiations. When Kiyohito was witness to such meetings, it was either to serve drinks or stand watch at the door. He never imagined he would be meeting with the oyabun of the Moscow yakuza, let alone to make a deal with him. It was tantamount to treason. 

Ryker plopped onto one of the low chairs. Kiyo noted that none of them removed their shoes when passing the threshold, and he wondered just how much the Edenokōji had assimilated into foreign habits. He thought about as much as he wandered to the window to peer upon the grounds. There he waited.