Not terrible

[Mikhail]

Koji kept his lip from curling in disgust at the two pigs before them. Eiji was Wakagashira over the clans in this district. More importantly, he was his Oyabun.

He had been given much honor from this man, plucked as he was from the dregs of the streets to eventually serve as a member of his family, a bonding made permanent by the sakazuki sharing.

They had come into this aptly named hole only to make contact with a Russian with ties to a cartel in Mexico. It was purely chance- or the humor of the ancestors- that they would see the Kolomov men they were to meet later there at the pool table. Or that these men would pressure them to the table and proceed to begin the delicate discussions in this fashion and in this place.

He did not expect these dogs to follow the code of jingi. But that they would be here, drinking and becoming less controlled by the moment when they had an important meeting later this evening with them, was a grave insult.

These men did not respect Eiji, did not respect the ninkyō dantai, their ancient organization itself. For that alone, Koji wanted to slip his blade up into the bald man's chin, to feel the hot sticky blood course down his hand. But his Oyabun merely looked at him. It was enough to keep him still. He would bear the insult until such time it could be borne no more.

He looked around the room and found the man they were supposed to have met. The scars had been distinctive. But he was not alone, as they had expected. A woman sat with him. She had the look of the Chuugokujin. Pretty, even with the scars. Koji would even say moreso, because of them.

Still, why did he bring her? He caught his Oyobun's eye and flicked it at them. The man's nod was slight. He was still speaking to- or more accurately, being spoken AT- by the bald man, Stanislav.

Borne, until it could be born no longer. For Eiji...


Edited by Mikhail, Feb 16 2018, 11:38 PM.