The car number plate was a bust too, leading to a dead end at a scrap yard. Chai and I have been texting, but just like me, he has no idea how whoever we are dealing with found out we had a lead. The only people we told about the car were the two guys at Herald Security who are geniuses when it comes to finding shit out and whom Chai personally vouched for. He met them in high school and the three of them went to England together, after which he hired them.
I sigh, staring at the text I sent Chai. He’s still not replied, which means that his meeting must’ve overrun.
“Gee, Leo. You sound like a maiden in love who’s been locked up in a tower so she can’t bang her Prince Charming,” Naomi tosses at me, chuckling like the evil aunt who must be the reason for the princess’ misery.
I throw an edamame skin at her. Chris laughs. We are at a sushi place near IS-Halls, enjoying a late dinner after I came back from training.
“I can’t believe how easily the college agreed to let you miss classes for the entire next week. The teacher is still up my ass for oversleeping and being late that one time,” she says with a dramatic sigh, pushing a few hair clips into her hair, so her bangs stop getting in her way.
I glance at Chris. He still doesn’t know who I’m involved with, and Naomi and I have agreed to keep it that way.
“Easy fix, Naomi. Just get yourself a friend who donates generous amounts to the college like Leo did,” our friend laughs, his black lips curving in a wide grin.
He’s technically not wrong. The gym renovation the Akiyama Group is sponsoring did go a long way toward ensuring no one had any problems with me missing classes here and there. Until I finish this trial period and get the permit Chai promised, I do need to maintain my student visa or I risk getting deported. And that would suck, big time, not only because I’d have to go back to the US.
We finish our food and head back to the dorms. Since it’s Thursday, that means we have game & movie night in the lounge. People are already gathering when we arrive, though we don’t start until an hour later when today’s designated shoppers come back with drinks and snacks.
The next morning, I don’t have training because of a kanji test, which gives me time to revise. I think I do well, struggling just with one question that I don’t leave empty anyway. When I arrive at the Keikai Estate just before two, Aran is waiting for me in the foyer.
“Hey, Aran. I’m surprised to see you here. I thought I didn’t have the shooting class until five?”
He nods, gesturing me toward the elevators. “Hi, Leo. There’s a change of plans. You’ll do shooting first. Swimming and weightlifting will be in the evening. You can do freestyle. One of the guys can spot for you.”
“And what am I doing in between?”
“Daichi is in a meeting with his lieutenants. He wants to make introductions.”
Oh boy, what a way to make me regret having thatkatsudon. I haven’t really met the Kumicho since that day at the Arena and I liked it that way. He’s kind of intimidating, but not in the way Chai is that gets me hot just remembering it.
“Will Chai be there?” I ask, pressing my mouth shut at the narrowed look Aran shoots me.
“He will be. Now go get changed and meet me at the range.”
Aran is merciless today, making me go one versus five in the airsoft room once I’m done practicing dismantling a gun and then putting it back together. I’m using a silencer and the point is to take the other guys without giving out my position. I manage it for four out of five.
“You need to improve your footwork. And your weak spot is your right side, just after you’ve taken a shot. Remember to always double check.”
I nod, panting, and shake hands with the others. In the week I’ve spent training here at the Estate, some of the guys have started opening up to me. I still hear a lot of gaijin slurs, but the bumping and shoving has decreased. I think that seeing me work hard like them, if not harder, is a big part of the reason, but I’ve also been having dinner here occasionally and trying to chat them up in bad Japanese.
Once I’ve showered and put on a clean pair of slacks and a shirt, I follow Aran to the top floor.
“I didn’t realize the meeting was here?” I say, combing my hair back with my fingers as we pass the mirror wall in the reception area.
It’s grown a bit longer than I usually have it, the unruly locks playing up my tousled just-out-of bed look. I should probably visit a hairdresser sometime soon.
“It rotates every month.” Aran stops in front of a massive double door. “Are you ready?”
I square my shoulders and school my face into a neutral expression, crossing my hands behind my back. “Yes.”
We enter a gigantic room with an amphitheater layout. About a dozen men sit at a round table in the center, while the rows around it remain empty. The Kumicho is holding a tablet, bobbing his head absentmindedly as the man with the light brown suit talks about something.
“Shouldn’t you be attending, too?” I ask Aran in a whisper, making sure I maintain my scowl. “Aren’t you, like, the right-hand man? TheWakaman?Washiman?”
Aran’s shoulders sag on a slightly exasperated exhale. But it’s only slightly, which is progress. “Wakagashira. And yes, I am and should attend. But the official meeting hasn’t started. We are doing the introductions first.”
Being reminded why I am here takes my stomach on a rollercoaster ride. I double-check myself and make sure I am as bodyguard-y as I can be. I even try for an extra constipated expression so I can impress everyone with my dedication to the job.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Aran greets in English, dipping his chin. I do the same, keeping my eyes on the floor. “As requested, I have brought along Kwanchai’s bodyguard, Leon Caruso.”
