Matcha for Kurai

An act of loyalty comes with deep meaning. Loyalty can provide a sense of purpose and enrich your life in ways you didn't think were possible. What they don't tell you is how loyalty can disguise the bitterness that lies underneath. Much like the powered form of matcha.

In downtown Tokyo, Kurai Kutsuki stared through the Koji Cafe window from the shadows across the street. A smile twitched his lips as he admired what he considered heaven.

He glanced at his watch; almost midnight. The cafe was unusually slow. Then he saw her, and her beauty softened his stern frown. Life in the yakuza had hardened more than his features. On any other day, his jaw was clenched tighter than his fists. His eyes, narrow and intimidating, was the face of an enforcer. A grunt.

She reminded him of spring. The way sakura petals floated in the wind, announcing the season's arrival. A new beginning. She was the light missing in his life. A sun beam warming his skin. He knew if he didn't tell her soon, he would regret it.

He pushed open the cafe doors and the smell of sweet breads and creams filled the air. Kurai committed to his routine. He approached the counter, placed the milk bread on the tray, and waited patiently for Misaki to ring up his order.

He checked his watch a second time.

"What can I—Oh it's you! The usual?" Misaki said.

"Yeah. One Matcha latte, please."

Misaki pulled strands of her dark colored hair behind her ear. "You're a creature of habit."

Kurai's heart raced. Her hair. Her smile. Her delicate hands. The way she floated behind the counter as she made his drink. With her, he could leave the shadows. She was the way out. With her, he could live some kind of normal life but he smirked at the idea. Who was he kidding? There was no normal life for guys like him, but Misaki was worth the risk.

"Here ya go." She said with a wide smile. "Good to see you, again."

Kurai nodded as he lingered in the moment. His brain; overthinking the situation, and his heart pounded against his chest. They could be here at any moment. It was only a matter of time until his yakuza brothers figured out that Kuari didn't complete his last assignment. He couldn't do this anymore. The nightlife. The gambling and extortion. Parts of himself he'd lost over his loyalties to cold-blooded monsters.

Kurai's loyalty came with the agonizing pain of the irezumi. The tebori method, hand-poking tattooing with a wooden handle and metal needles, felt like a thousand knives scratching his body. Kurai was given the Koi carp design, swimming through sakura petals that covered his entire right arm.

Any time Kuari visited Koji Cafe, he quickly rolled down his sleeves. Even going as far as to always keep his right hand in his pocket. Doing all he could to hide his loyalty scars from Misaki.

Kuari thought of all the people he roughed up. All the lives ruined. Wives, children, and siblings affected by his actions. He thought about the life he took. He couldn't take on another assignment. Taking out another person considered to be an enemy of the yakuza. The thought turned his stomach as he sipped his matcha latta, easing the nausea.

Kuari noticed two shadowy figures outside the cafe. All too familiar frames. He clenched his fist at the unfairness of time. This was it. If he didn't tell Misaki now, it would be too late. As he spun around in urgency, he was caught off guard by the buzzing of text messages, knowing it was from his unwelcomed guests.

"What's up, Kuari?" Takeru said.

"You tell me?"

"A grunt taking a nightly stroll?"

"I was thirsty and I don't need a chaperone."

"Word on the street is you're running? Unfinished assignments, obvious disloyalty...You think you can just leave?"

"I'm done. I can't do this anymore." Kuari typed back.

"Would she have anything to do with it?"

Kuari glanced at her. Her loose hairs danced on her neck as she prepared another latte. The sight of her was refreshing. He found it torturous to only view the ocean, but never feel the kiss of the waves on his skin.

The shadowy figures moved closer towards his ray of light.

"I'm not coming back." Kurai threatened. "Our Taichou is going to have to do better than sending the two of you to stop me."

"It's your funeral."

"Perhaps" Kurai responded

Kurai knew they would report his whereabouts and wait in the shadows for their orders, but there was no more time to waste. Kurai moved. Desperate to act, dashing behind the counter. Kurai's grip on Misaki's delicate wrist, pulled her towards the back door of the cafe and outside into the chill of the midnight air.

Distress hung on her face as she left the warmth of the cafe. She felt the cold of the back alley.

"What are you doing? Let go of me!" Misaki said, trying to twist out of his grip.

"Look, you know nothing about me but my name is Kurai. You have to believe me when I tell you why I come to this cafe so often." Despite all he had done and all the atrocities he had committed, nothing was more terrifying than what he was about to admit to her.

"I'm in love with you, Misaki." Kurai said, breathing a sigh of relief and releasing her.

Frozen in a moment he wished he could replay under a happier circumstance, Misaki had become a statue. A porcelain doll. Empty, and cold. She turned her back to him.

This was not his ray of light. She was an eclipse.

"Kurai, I could never love someone like you." Misaki hissed. "Never come back to this cafe." She demanded.

A samurai's death would have brought him more peace than the heartbreak he just experienced. She abandoned him in the dark alley, returning to the cafe.

Confused, he walked the perimeter of the building, returning to the window. His home away from home, where he always watched her. Her radiance still affected him. He would always love her.

His phone rang and solemnly, he answered. He knew it was Shuji, his Taichou.

"Beautiful isn't she?"

"Yes, she is." Kurai said.

"I hate cleaning up after you, Kurai. Get to the house, now."

"No. I want out. I'll do whatever I have to do."

"Doesn't work like that. We have rules but it's your choice. All I can do is respect it and do what I must. Out of my love for you, I'll give you a head start."

Kurai accepted his fate. Death was coming for him and there was nowhere to run. With one last glance he marveled at Misaki.

"And her?" Kurai asked.

"What about her?"

"Won't she be a target?"

The villainous laugh from Shuji echoed in his hollow body. Kurai felt the loss at a game he didn't even know he was playing.

"She's no target. She's our prized possession. The daughter of Kenji Tatsuo, our Kumicho."

Yakuza was in her blood. Misaki was never his escape, and never the light he had yearned for. The illusion faded and his stern frown returned. She was the life he couldn't stomach anymore.

Kurai pulled a cigarette and lighter from his pocket. He struck a flame, lit the tip, inhaled deep, and enjoyed one last drag. He had fallen in love with the dragon's daughter, only soon to be devoured by the dragon himself.