Tell me How Your Blood Flows

Welcome to the Kaze no Ryu, an organized gang whose leader does anything from organ thieving to selling forged paintings. The CIA has admitted defeat, no law enforcers want mess with them. And you thought the judicial system was not as bad as it seemed...


Tell Me How Your Blood Flows





Blinding red strobe lights, perched upon the police cars and ambulances that parked chaotically in the streets, streaked through the dark alleyway, putting a dull gleam into the pools of blood that gathered into shallow craters of the poorly maintained pavement and bringing light to the crimsons stains that splattered the crumbling brick walls. The police had come once they received a call concerning another gang fight, and they had appeared immediately, but was obviously too late to stop or even witness the massacre. The arrival of the ambulances were extraneous, as any person could tell that the unconscious who were lying in their own ponds of dark blood, had suffered fatal wounds.

“Dead… all of them…,” an officer muttered, his hand shaking as he brought it up to smear the beads of sweat from his forehead.

“Yeah… what’s new?” his partner replied darkly around the cigarette that was hanging precariously from his lips. “No one involved in a fight against the Kaze no Ryu survives. It’s been that way since the formation of the gang.”

“K-Kaze no Ryu…?” How do you know it’s them?”

The man sighed inwardly. This was why he disliked working with someone new to the field. “Their killing techniques… look,” he ordered, direction his partner’s gaze to the bodies. “They’ve all been lacerated, stabbed, or decapitated with a blade. Not one bullet was fired. These people in the Kaze no Ryu… they don’t use guns, but they’re one of the top gangs in the world. Can’t believe you’ve never heard of them.”

There was a pause as they watched other policemen investigate. “It’s a scary thought…” the other began quietly, “How powerful they’d be with guns.”

His partner shrugged, flicking his cigarette onto the ground, watching as the lit end was extinguished once it landed into a puddle of blood that lay before his feet.

“We have a lead,” one of the three detectives announced and everyone’s head snapped up. There was never a case in which the Kaze no Ryu left a trace. They came and went as fleetingly as shadows, leaving nothing but mutilated bodies, which was exactly why everyone doubted the detective until their eyes landed on a red slash, plucked from the ground with a pair of oversized tweezers. “This should be from someone of the Kaze no Ryu. The members use only katanas to kill, and the sash is most likely something – an accessory, if you will – that is tied around the hilt of the weapon.”

There was an awed silence, interrupted only by the crackling of mikes, communicators, and the zipping of body bags.

“We move out,” the commanding officer ordered shortly.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Kenichi moved through the halls of Tokyo University, baggy, black pants rustling as a casual, white button down T-shirt billowed slightly behind him. A professor, perhaps in his early seventies, shuffled past him, giving his clothing a disapproving glare, in which Kenichi fired back with a cold, almost impassive glower of his own. The teacher shuffled along faster, gnarled hands clutching the books more tightly against his frail chest.

Ambling through the halls, Kenichi made his way out of the building and was about to take his first step through the double doors when someone right beside Kenichi called out to him “Oei, oei, oei…,” a guttural voice growled with slight amusement, “Aren’t you going to check the test scores?”

Kenichi turned and saw Aki with a cigarette lightly clenched between his teeth, which were revealed with his customary, toothy grin. “No,” he returned curtly.

Sighing with exaggerated jadedness, Aki stretched his arms upwards and clasped his hands behind his head. “But then again,” he continued as if Kenichi hadn’t spoken. “You’re probably first once more.”

“…”

“But,” Aki pursued, guiding Kenichi back into the building, “It wouldn’t hurt to check… wouldn’t you agree?”

“…”

They jostled their way through the cluster of people who gathered around the test results. Some craned their heads to peer over others and the shorter of the people, those who were so desperate to know their result, resorted to jumping up and down unceremoniously, hoping to see their own name at the top of the list. Kenichi, who was among the tallest of the group, rested his weight lackadaisically on one leg as his obsidian eyes roved towards the top of the list.

“Yep, first again. As suspected from you,” Aki announced, a hint of envy tinting his voice.

First out of five thousand students from the senior class. Not bad. Kenichi shrugged moodily and was about to sulk away when someone blocked his way, an expression of utmost hostility imprinted upon their face. “Fuckin’ nineteen year old…. You screwed up the curve by getting a perfect score! Know what that did to my score, you asshole? You don’t even belong in the senior class!” he bellowed latching onto Kenichi’s collar, fisting the cloth in his hands.

Aki smirked. He had to feel sorry for him. The other guy, that is.

Sighing inwardly with disinterest, Kenichi clamped a hand over the restraining fist and squeezed, feeling the bones shatter under the enormous pressure he inflicted.

He howled and cursed, stumbling away as he clutched his now disfigured hand.

Kenichi, finding the opening, instinctively whipped out a katana from its scabbard hidden under his wide shirt, and then drew it so swiftly across his opponent’s neck that the bleeding didn’t occur until after the blade was tucked back neatly into the scabbard.

Cries of alarm sounded as the person seemingly appeared to bleed with no visible causes. With such eye-blurring speed, no one saw the katana or the movement of Kenichi’s arm, and the only person who heard the hum of the blade as it cut through the air was the victim himself. A deft flick of the wrist on Kenichi’s part prevented light from dancing across the blade. The attack was virtually undetectable.

The person let out an involuntary gasp of revelation, taking another step back, feeling the blood seep through the cracks of his fingers as he pressed his hands to the shallow groove across his throat.

Kenichi calmly walked towards him, stopping for a brief moment to say with deadly softness. “The wound isn’t fatal. If you want to know, I purposely missed two vital veins and an artery, but the next time you get in my way, I’ll take off your head.” And pulling the creases from his loose, long sleeved T-shirt with a crisp tug, Kenichi ambled away, followed by Aki, who threw the other a sneer as he passed.

The student froze with such terror that even the shaking of his mutilated hand had stopped. It was, ironically, not from the attack, but from the impassive mask that Kenichi wore. Such aggression… and not a flicker of emotion had flit across his handsome face.

They made their way outside before the shock would melt away. The voices of concern towards the wounded student faded once the two reached the parking lot. “Kenichi…,” Aki began, “Where’s the red sash around your katana? I thought it was special to you.”

“It came loose,” Kenichi replied smoothly with no rippled of emotion marring his voice.

“Ah, well… what a shame… what would the Kaze no Ryu leader be without that sash, huh?” Aki teased as the chauffeur of the limo opened the door for him. The two climbed in.

“There’s a dinner party today at the estate with the others,” Kenichi told him as they climbed in, “So if you’re planning on running over to a bar with some friends, cancel the gathering.”

“Nah… nothing today. So who’s coming?”

“The Yakuza, of course, a few Chinese Triads, and the Russian and Italian Mafia.”

“That’s fewer than last year…. You didn’t invite any biker gangs? I heard they’re selling their drugs cheap this year. You know… like a clearance sale.”

“Not interested,” Kenichi replied shortly. Aki smirked and leaned back into the leather seats, but he noticed that his friend was looking out the window, staring aimlessly at the buildings that sped past in a blur. He was thinking, Aki realized… he was always thinking.

The sunset cast a faint glow onto Kenichi’s skin, and his onyx eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, were slightly clouded despite the faint light from the sun, which would have otherwise put a golden gleam in the inky darkness of his eyes. Aki saw that his finely structured jaw was clenched, through he didn’t know why, and that his lips were pressed into a thin line. His hair was spiked, as the girls from the University called it, “into messy sexiness.” Aki had to refrain himself from telling them that it was just bed hair.

“I swear…,” Aki began with another of his exaggerated sighs, turning his stare away, “You look more like a girl every time I see you. Get a scar or two, grow a goatee … narrow your eyes or something….”

“….”

Smirking, Aki poured himself a glass of vodka from the built in bar at his side, ignoring the ice cubes. The road curved into a more secluded area, and just as Aki finished his drink, the limo paused briefly to wait for the towering, iron-wrought gate that guarded the vast estate to open.

Kenichi stared at the meticulously manicured lawn that boarded the driveway on both sides, head propped lackadaisically against an upraised palm. When he finally heard the trickling of water from the elaborate fountain that was situated in the middle of the cul-de-sac end of the driveway, the car stopped, and the chauffer opened the door, standing to one side as he bowed respectfully.

“Aki, do this for me. Check to see that the hired scientists are here. They are to stay for the entire duration of the trade to check the authenticity of drugs. Also, see to it that the basement shooting range is fully stocked with dummies and paper outlines so testing of arms will be available.”

“Anh?” Aki grunted with comical revelation. “Why do I have to do it?”

“… Because I need to change my attire. I simply can not greet my guests looking like a juvenile delinquent. The dinner party calls for something more appropriate. Something akin to a suit and tie,” Kenichi said, looking pointedly at Aki’s artfully ripped and tattered baggy pants as well as his sloppy, button down T-shirt.

“A fashion critic now, are you?” Aki shot back good-humoredly. “The guests are not scheduled to arrive until seven. We still have two hours. But man,” he continued, jumping to an entirely different subject, “I hope someone was considerate enough to bring slaves for auction tonight.”

“… You slit the throat of the last one you purchased.”

Shrugging, Aki dug in his pockets, bringing up a box of cigarettes, and lit one. “She was annoying, and she was cheap, so I have no regret doing it,” he mumbled around the cigarette.

“If it makes you feel better,” Kenichi said as they made their way to the lofty double doors of the mansion, “The Yakuza promised to bring twenty for the auction. Though honestly… I don’t know why you’re planning to buy one when you’re going to kill her later.”

Reaching into his pocket to fish out a set of keys, Kenichi made to unlock the door as Aki eyed the laser emitting devices situated around the perimeters and noticed how they rotated, scanning the setting with eerie, human-like concentration. One focused on Aki as he took a few steps back and another step to the side, watching as it pivoted on its hinge, following every small, shuffling step.

“What are you doing?” Kenichi asked with annoyance, a slight snap in his voice as Aki bumped into him.

“Your laser devices are scaring me,” he said. “I’ve never seen them before. New?”

“Relatively,” Kenichi answered as the lock clicked open. “They were installed this morning.”

“Ah. No wonder.”

Both entered the foyer, taking off their shoes upon stepping onto the marble floor. Aki quickly hopped onto the plush carpet, disliking the cold grip that the bare flooring inflicted on his feet. An old butler was there to greet them and he bowed lowly before addressing Kenichi. “Sir, the dinner tables are set up and the dining room has been decorated appropriately for the occasion. The cooks have iced many beverages for the bar and the waiters have just arrived. Is there anything else that you required?”

“No,” Kenichi replied abruptly before ascending the stairs to the third floor where the party was to take place. He met many members of the gang, who resided on the second floor. Some were polishing their katanas and others were gambling just outside their room, while some just hung around and talked. Their activities stopped when they saw their young leader.

“Yo, Ken-san, ogenki desu ka (1)?”

“’Sup, Ken-sama.”

“K-kombawa (2)….”

He returned the greetings with a curt nod and continued on his way up, ignoring a maid, who pressed her back tightly against the banister as they passed even though they must have been two arm lengths apart.

With a brief pause, Kenichi pushed open the French doors that lead to the dining room and withheld a gasp of revelation as his eyes landed on the sheer splendor of the previously dusty room. Golden lighting gave the room an ethereal glow and put winking glints on the silver wear that were folded within expensive linen. Each individual, bronze rimmed table, which easily hosted ten people, was graced with a bouquet, and ice sculptures, spangled with sparkling frost, were situated on the snack bars that lined opposite sides of the vast room. The music stands on another side lay flat on the ground, as they were later to be erected once the musicians make their entrance.

It was an impressive display of power and wealth. And yet… it was also a display of a massive contradiction to the ugliness and horror that these gangs create.

“Most people live for power, Kenichi. Remember that… and also remember… never turn into those who corrupt themselves… who mutilate their minds for the tempting taste of domination….”

A blinding flash that seemed to come within his head filled Kenichi’s vision and a sudden pain, so sharp and agonizing that Kenichi gritted his teeth, trying to contain the strangled cry of pain, stabbed at his brain. And then in his mind, he saw the rivers of blood that flowed across the marble floor before seeping into the carpeting, dying the cream color crimson. A pair of brown eyes, already misting over with death stared imploringly at him.

Aki entered then, about to announce that he had done what was asked of him when he spotted Kenichi kneeling on the ground, sitting on his heels with both hands gripping his head so tightly that his knuckles turned white while he muttered, “I didn’t… I didn’t…. It wasn’t… supposed to happen. It was for my mother’s sake…. I didn’t… I didn’t….”

He quietly walked away, stalking silently back downstairs. These “mental attacks” as Aki privately dubbed them, happened occasionally, and when they did occur, Kenichi would always be caught saying those words, and amazingly enough, the words hardly varied. Aki, as far as he was concerned, was the only one who knew of these occurrences, and when he asked Kenichi cautiously about them, he would always give the same “what do you mean?” replies. Aki knew what was causing this, but he uncharacteristically did not make an attempt to intrude. It was happening more and more often, however, and although Aki cared, he pretended that there was nothing unusual going on. He worried, nonetheless. After all… the boy was only nineteen and acting like this was rather… unusual for someone of his age.

Walking purposefully to his room, Aki shut it and stripped himself of his clothing, strewing them carelessly onto the bed, while he opened the walk in closet, taking out a black suit, a white undergarment, pants before he strode out of the closet. Just as Aki was about to cross the room, someone poked his head into the room, smiling winningly. “Oei, Aki. You have a tie I can borrow?”

“Maybe. Honestly, Masaki… I don’t know why you never buy your own stuff.”

“Dude…,” he replied, stepping into the room, “The Yakuza usually bring good-looking slaves for auction. No way I’m gonna waste my money on food and clothing when there are girls to be brought.” He put the toothpick he held in between his fingers back into his mouth and chewed, which was his psychological way of curbing his desire to smoke. “And this year-”

“… You need food to live. Mande kuse na (3)…,” Aki sighed, commenting how this was all very troublesome. “I always feel tired when I’m around you.”

“And this year,” Masaki pursued, ignoring Aki’s comment, “I have my sights set on a certain girl. I saw her picture… and she is HOT. Heard she has a quick temper, though…. I’ll have to tweak her personality a bit.”

Rolling his eyes, Aki looked on the ground, scanning the piles of clothing for a tie, and he found one hanging limply, as it so happened, on a leather chair near the window. “Here,” he grunted, tossing it to him. “Who knows…? I may outbid you just to piss you off.”

Laughing, Masaki knotted the tie expertly before replying, “Dude… you’ll never outbid me…. I have more money than you, ‘cause I just sold my old bed slave to this corrupted businessman. Made one helluva profit-”

“Unless Kenichi decides to bid,” Aki interrupted, amused at the thought.

“Dude… he’s not interested in girls. He says he ‘has no interest in frivolous things such as romance or rape’ whatever that means,” Masaki said. Shaking his head, Aki resisted the urge to tell him to pick up a book sometime and improve his vocabulary. “By the way… Kenichi said he wanted everyone armed for the party.”

Aki snorted derisively, tucking the end of his belt into the loop. “He was telling you, because you always forget your katana.

Shrugging, Masaki gave a careless wave and bounded towards his own room, nearly tripping over his out stretched socks.

The intercom crackled briefly in Aki’s room and he looked at it, waiting expectantly for a message to be delivered as all others did the same. “Minna-san (4),” a maid’s voice rang clearly throughout the second floor, “The gathering is scheduled to begin in half and hour. Please assemble in the main dining room on the third floor.” There was a brief pause. “Aki-san, Kenichi-sama wants you in the foyer to greet the guests with him.”

Sighing, Aki trudged downstairs, making last minute adjustments to his hair with a few swats of his hand so it wouldn’t look, as Kenichi would probably put it, “like a juvenile delinquent’s” hairstyle.

Aki glanced out the window as he made his way downstairs, seeing that a few limos had already arrived. A few people were bringing out racks and suitcases containing illegal arms and others were pulling out forged and stolen paintings. Packets of banned drugs were piled on one side of the driveway and a group of chained men and women huddled together on another side. A truck rumbled into view, and Aki assumed that it contained more illegal goodies.

“Aki,” Kenichi called softly once he spotted him, and the first thing he said was, “Are you armed?”

“Yeah… two of my best kodachis (5).”

“Good,” he replied, staring ahead at the main door as he talked. There was a hesitant pause, which Aki found unusual of Kenichi, as he usually revealed no wisp of uncertainty in his actions. “The leader of the Yakuza…,” he muttered, “Is someone I hate, but he has a good collection of implosion lenses for atomic bombs, and that was why I invited him. He hates me too, so there’ll be some tension between the Kaze no Ryu and the Yakuza.”

“What happened? We had good relation with them last year.”

“That was last year,” Kenichi answered in his muted voice, “When they didn’t consider us a threat to their position as the top organized gang in Japan, but when they found out that guns are useless against us, they became more aggressive… and naturally, there were many fights that erupted sporadically between the two gangs. I don’t know if that will happen tonight.”

“I see….” Aki studied Kenichi with his grey eyes and then gave his exaggerated sigh, rubbing the fuzz on his chin thoughtfully.

It was going to be a long night, and Aki sighed yet again, wondering if he’d have the energy to put up with all the tension.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
A/N:

Some guidelines to pronouncing Japanese terms:
The “e” is pronounced as an “eh”
The “a” is pronounced as an “ah”
“r” is pronounced like an “l”
“o” and “ou” is pronounced as an “oh”
“g” is pronounced as “geh”

These rules always apply and never vary in any situation.


Phrases:

1. “Hey Ken-san. How’s it going?”
2. “Good evening”
3. “How troublesome”
4. “Everyone”
5. Kodachi is a blade shorter than the average katana, and can be used individually or as a pair. In this case, Aki prefers to use two: one for defense, and the other for offense. (And I made his fighting style this way because… well… it’s just cooler haha… =])


Also… if anyone cares to read….

I really like writing about this type of stuff…. My mom calls it my “bad boy adoration phase” lol. But the thing is… I find that I don’t like modern day movies about gangs and how they always use guns.

Besides… using katanas isn’t like fencing, where there’s a rigid structure of your movements, ex: step step, stab. Step, lunge, stab… Ya know? Fighting with katanas is, I believe, infinitely more artful and free where people side-step, spin, or charge however they like. Using kodachis is even more beautiful. The stances and movements look like a ceremonial sword dance.