Ratio(22)

The restaurant was full. The quiet murmurs of lunch time conversations filled the air, mingling with the steamy hisses from the kitchen grills and the quiet clink of tableware, the dull, tuneless melody of some obscure Asian pop band coming through the stereo system.

Lunch arrived after a few minutes, Osaka-style Okonomiyaki, a savory pancake stuffed with grated nagaimo yams, dashi fish stock, eggs, shredded cabbage, and thinly sliced pork belly. The waitress set the dish down, along with a second beer, and cleared the empty bottle away. Jonny ate quickly. The sticky, salty food helped him drain the second Asahi before finishing his plate. He ordered another.

Checking his watch, he wolfed down the last of his lunch. He had arrived early, allowing him to keep an eye on the door, as well as fill his stomach, while he waited for his Oguchi family contact to show. His uncle had arranged the meet, but Jonny figured it was more of a formality than anything else.

The lunchtime rush had peaked, a line of people huddled in the doorway. Or maybe it was the shitty weather. Still, it would be hard to pick out Kanezaki in the crowd of diners, most of whom were Asian. There were a few hakujin scattered around, looking puzzled by the menus, but this place was off the beaten path and tourists rarely dropped by. A fitting place to meet.

A tall, muscular man approached, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. Japanese features, his eyes locked on Jonny’s table. The man took a seat opposite without introduction and glanced around. His gaze settled on Jonny, apparently waiting for him to say something.

“You Kanezaki-san?” Jonny said eventually, sipping his beer.

The man nodded.

“You’ll be pleased to know everything’s going as planned. Tomorrow night should go off with a bang.” He smiled.

Kanezaki eyed Jonny’s drink. “What you drinking that Canadian piss water for?”

Jonny waved one of the waitresses over and ordered two bottles of Kirin Ichiban import, and picked out several appetizers; yakitori, gyoza, and tsukemono in chili sauce. The waitress nodded and walked away, brought the beer back with her. Jonny made sure his lunch mate’s glass was filled before his own.

Kanezaki took a long sip of his drink. The end of his little finger was missing, something Jonny recognized as a Yakuza tradition; severing one’s own finger to prove undying loyalty. He had always wondered how painful it was to remove a finger, and how much whisky was involved. He figured a lot.

Taking in the surroundings, Jonny had the sinking feeling he should’ve found a classier place to meet, a place where they could’ve talked privately. Since Kanezaki walked in the door, the table was getting much more attention.

Kanezaki ignored the food when it arrived.

“You eating?” Jonny asked.

“Not at this shit hole.”

“My uncle said you were here to assist,” Jonny said, changing the subject. “I’ve got everything under control. I don’t need any help.”

Kanezaki laughed. “I’m here to make sure you don’t fuck up,” he said, taking a deep swig of his beer. “The family has a lot riding on this weekend.”

“Yeah, yeah I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Listen, I know the family took a chance using me. But I’m more than capable, and you’ll get what you want.”

Kanezaki finished his drink. “Come with me.” He stood up.

“Where are we going?”

“Just come with me.” He made for the door.

Jonny followed, pushing through the line at the entrance. Kanezaki pushed open the door and stepped out into the rain, disappearing around the corner and into the alleyway.

“Shit, we didn’t get the check,” Jonny said, increasing his pace. He rounded the corner and spotted Kanezaki halfway down, partially obscured in shadow. “Shit,” he said again, breaking into a jog. He caught up a few seconds later.

Out of sight of the street, Kanezaki waved Jonny closer.

“What the hell are you –” Jonny started, but never got to finish.

Two other men appeared from a sheltered doorway, tossing half-smoked cigarettes onto the wet ground. They were both tall, a little taller than Kanezaki, with obvious muscle and smart-looking rain jackets. Their eyes fixed on Jonny’s as they sidled up.

“This him?” one of the men asked.

Kanezaki nodded.

“Doesn’t look like much.”

“He isn’t.”

Jonny felt his muscles tense. He took a step backward.

“Where you going?” Kanezaki said. He turned to one of the other men. “I think we got ourselves a runner, boys.”

The two men laughed.

“Isa, Kimura, show our friend how we deal with unko like him.”

The two men marched forward, grabbing hold of Jonny’s coat. The slightly taller of the two reached into his jacket pocket, before jabbing something cold and hard into his stomach.