It was difficult to look Zixin in the eye. It was his face that attacked him in the dream hut. His knife slashed and life poured from Kiyo’s throat. Even then, he swallowed as he held the gaze of an enemy; surely the meaning of the dream was a warning to this meeting. Yet for the knot in his stomach that said it was foolish to judge the man as evil from dreams alone, Kiyohito could not discharge the lump in his throat that said it was true. His behavior was abhorrent, but not overtly villainous. He was a hothead man that liked women and alcohol, and he was accustomed to cash buying his way in or out of his whim. It was not unlike the behavior of any other criminal. In another reality they might have worked together. Kiyohito knew plenty of Yakuza just like him.
In short order, it was Eido who delivered the order, and Kiyohito twisted in his seat to meet the gaze of the Russian that made her do it. The same conflict that made him knock Zixin to the ground twisted his insides as well. One chat with the Russian would make a difference, but even Eido’s own brother allowed her to be mistreated and Kiyo truly had no right. Perhaps it was Kōta that he should meet in the dark and discuss familial duty.
Thoughts for another time. Thoughts he was unlikely to act upon; surely. He tipped the drink to his lips in silence.
Across from him, Zixin was beaming with entertainment. He lifted his glass, awaiting the mimicry from his drinking companion a painful amount of time before Kiyohito complied. His heart was not into toasting.
As much as it felt natural, he specifically did not watch Eido’s movements following the deposition of drinks. He’d not give Zixin the satisfaction. Meanwhile, the Singaporean man was overtly watching Eido's every flinch. He even licked his lips as he stretched forth to place the drink in front of him. Kiyo spoke for the single purpose to draw his attention away.
“You are of the Singaporean Kao family?”
It worked. Zixin's attention was drawn from Eido to him instead.
“You have not heard of Kao Syndicate?” he asked, perplexed.
Kiyo shook his head no.
Zixin did not seem offended. “My family has been in Singapore for hundreds of years. Duty passed father to son for many generations. Is not the same for Korii-kai and Kiyohito-san? Probably not. Yakuza families rise and fall like the tides.” There was a twist to his lips that made Kiyohito’s frown deepen.
He couldn’t possibly know Kiyo’s origins.
Zixin continued as if probing old wounds to see if they might reopen. He would be disappointed. Kiyo’s scars were invisible.
“You’re probably old by Yakuza standards. Probably a shatei too? What brings you so far from home? Not seeking a lost little brother are you?” Zixin’s question hung on the air like smoke.
Despite the concrete of Kiyo’s expression, his posture shifted into one of mocking relaxation. He leaned back in order to plunge a hand into the pocket of his jacket. From there he produced a pack of cigarettes, and went so far as to politely offer one to Zixin before tapping out one of his own. He preferred the drag over the drink anyway.
“Alright Mister Kao, you have my attention, and now I accuse you of knowing me. If you know Haruto, I ask you tell me where to find him.”
Zixin waved away the offer of a cigarette. His head cocked sideways, smirk hovering as always until it bloomed into a smile of pride.
“Your shatei, Haruto? Yes, I believe he is around, but if you want a favor of me, I will require one in return.”
The smoke filled his chest with warmth and settled some of the wariness from before. When Kiyohito leaned forward, it was a signal that he seriously considered the opportunity.
“I will make this deal.”
Zixin retrieved a piece of paper and slid it across the table. The name written on it meant nothing to Kiyohito, but the accompanying request of what to do with the person was implied.
In short order, it was Eido who delivered the order, and Kiyohito twisted in his seat to meet the gaze of the Russian that made her do it. The same conflict that made him knock Zixin to the ground twisted his insides as well. One chat with the Russian would make a difference, but even Eido’s own brother allowed her to be mistreated and Kiyo truly had no right. Perhaps it was Kōta that he should meet in the dark and discuss familial duty.
Thoughts for another time. Thoughts he was unlikely to act upon; surely. He tipped the drink to his lips in silence.
Across from him, Zixin was beaming with entertainment. He lifted his glass, awaiting the mimicry from his drinking companion a painful amount of time before Kiyohito complied. His heart was not into toasting.
As much as it felt natural, he specifically did not watch Eido’s movements following the deposition of drinks. He’d not give Zixin the satisfaction. Meanwhile, the Singaporean man was overtly watching Eido's every flinch. He even licked his lips as he stretched forth to place the drink in front of him. Kiyo spoke for the single purpose to draw his attention away.
“You are of the Singaporean Kao family?”
It worked. Zixin's attention was drawn from Eido to him instead.
“You have not heard of Kao Syndicate?” he asked, perplexed.
Kiyo shook his head no.
Zixin did not seem offended. “My family has been in Singapore for hundreds of years. Duty passed father to son for many generations. Is not the same for Korii-kai and Kiyohito-san? Probably not. Yakuza families rise and fall like the tides.” There was a twist to his lips that made Kiyohito’s frown deepen.
He couldn’t possibly know Kiyo’s origins.
Zixin continued as if probing old wounds to see if they might reopen. He would be disappointed. Kiyo’s scars were invisible.
“You’re probably old by Yakuza standards. Probably a shatei too? What brings you so far from home? Not seeking a lost little brother are you?” Zixin’s question hung on the air like smoke.
Despite the concrete of Kiyo’s expression, his posture shifted into one of mocking relaxation. He leaned back in order to plunge a hand into the pocket of his jacket. From there he produced a pack of cigarettes, and went so far as to politely offer one to Zixin before tapping out one of his own. He preferred the drag over the drink anyway.
“Alright Mister Kao, you have my attention, and now I accuse you of knowing me. If you know Haruto, I ask you tell me where to find him.”
Zixin waved away the offer of a cigarette. His head cocked sideways, smirk hovering as always until it bloomed into a smile of pride.
“Your shatei, Haruto? Yes, I believe he is around, but if you want a favor of me, I will require one in return.”
The smoke filled his chest with warmth and settled some of the wariness from before. When Kiyohito leaned forward, it was a signal that he seriously considered the opportunity.
“I will make this deal.”
Zixin retrieved a piece of paper and slid it across the table. The name written on it meant nothing to Kiyohito, but the accompanying request of what to do with the person was implied.