My Yakuza

of all Hawaiian spirituality. Everything back in the day revolved around the seasons, offering different gods fruit and the taro root at different times of the year.
Grandma had cracked the case for him, helping to understand his studies. He read the Hawaiian classics and realised now how privileged his life as a student had been. He wished he’d made more offerings to the Moon goddess, Hina. Maybe she would have looked after Siono who worshipped the watery deity.
What day was it? He checked his cell phone. Friday. Man, he’d lost all track of time. In Hawaii, if he were home right now, he’d be grabbing a picnic lunch and heading over to ‘Iolani Palace to listen to the Royal Hawaiian Band entertain the locals with songs written over two hundred years ago. He missed everything about his island home. Why hadn’t Siono ever grown to love the place?
The waitress brought his food and he nibbled at the surprisingly greasy contents of the big white plate. He kept an eye on the street but saw nothing that gave him a concern… except a volatile game of backgammon being conducted by two old men across the road at an outdoor café. They shook their fists in each other’s faces.
As Shiro finished, he put a quick call through to his grandma. He didn’t give her any news, just left his new number. He didn’t say aloha, or that he missed her. Grandma wasn’t like that. As he rose, he saw the two old men were hugging each other. He left the café and caught a cab back to his neighbourhood, getting out about a block from the apartment. He walked slowly, stopping occasionally, using the windows of stores to look around the immediate area. Finding nothing that concerned him, he sped up and returned to his apartment.
Once inside, he took out the weapon and jammed a clip into the handle and pulled the slide back, inserting a round into the chamber. Man, he’d learnt too well from his buddy back home. Home. He looked to make sure that the safety was on and put the gun down on the bed. The weapon both scared and comforted Shiro. He’d never killed someone before but felt, if he had the chance, he would kill the men who were after him now.
The ring of his cell phone jarred Shiro out of his musing.
“Hello?”
“This is your Aunt Sadie. Did you have a fine lunch at that Greek restaurant today?”
“How did you know about that?” he asked nervously.
“I told you before, you are being watched continuously and the fact that you were not aware of it even though you took amateurish attempts to spot someone, you failed. When are you going after the package?”
Knowing she was talking about Kono, he responded, “I’m going to try and find him tonight and study him first.”
“You have two days to complete your assignment. Do you understand? If you fail, those who wait for you will not fare well.”
“Wait! No one—”
Chizu hung up without letting Shiro finish.
Damn that woman! Once again the life of his mother was being threatened even though Shiro believed her to already be dead. But he knew Miki was still alive and therefore in danger.
Panic began to set in as Shiro felt the noose tightening around his neck. He had to take action, but what kind of action? Should he call Kono and explain everything to him? Or was his cell phone being monitored somehow? He didn’t dare risk using the one given to him by Chizu.
Shiro put the gun under his pillow, left the apartment and went up one flight of stairs and knocked on the door to apartment four-o-one. When a little old man answered the door and almost slammed it back in his face, Shiro stuck his foot in the door.
“Please, do you have a phone book I can look at? It’s most urgent,” he said with pleading eyes.
“Who are you?” the man asked.
“I’m your new neighbour who has moved into three-o-nine and I don’t have a phone yet.”
“Three-o-nine? That’s Mrs. Tenaska’s apartment. Has something happened to her?” he demanded to know.
“No, she’s fine. She’s visiting friends in Colorado and I’m staying here for a few days while she’s there. Now can I please see a phone book?”
“Okay, come in,” the elderly man said. “Can’t trust too many people around here, end up getting hurt or worse.”
“I understand, sir. I really do, which is why I appreciate your letting me in. The phone book?”
“Oh, it’s right here.”
Shiro took the book and looked up the phone number for the one hundred and first precinct and found a phone number also listed for the homicide bureau. “Can I use your phone? It’s local.”
“Well, go on, you might as well, you’re here now,” he said slightly irritated.
“Thank you, sir,” Shiro said as he dialed the number.
“Homicide, Brooks speaking.”
“Yes, is Detective Kono Takumi there? It’s urgent.”
“Hold on, lemme see if I can find him,” came the terse response.
As Shiro waited, the old man paced the floor mumbling to himself about letting strangers in his home.
“Takumi, how can I help you?”
“Ah, Detective, you don’t know me but it’s real important that I meet with you tonight and not in the station. What time do you get off duty?”
“Who is this? And what do you want to see me about?” a suspicious voice asked.
“My name isn’t important for the moment, but believe me when I tell you it’s in your best interest to meet me say at the Iron Hand, around eleven tonight?”
“First of all, I don’t go to that bar and second, if you think I’m just gonna meet someone who calls on the phone and won’t identify himself, you’re nuts! Now either answer my questions, or I’m hanging up.”
“My name isn’t important. What’s important is that I was sent to kill you. I’m not going to do that, but we must talk or your former affiliation in Japan will be the end of you.”
“Japan? How do I know you