Yakuza Boy: Or the Man with Painted Flesh (~Unedited~)

Chapter 28

(Yuji's POV)

Kida was a hard man to find but after days of hunting him like a blood hound, I found myself standing in an alleyway in south Akita.

I look over the information I had gotten from a few residents and despite some minor physical differences such as hair color and clothing style, the descriptions fit Kida.

An old man is selling ramen in a small stall and I decide to put something on my stomach, unsure of what I'm going to find when I come face to face with him.

"こんにちは。私はあなたのために何を得ることができますか?"
He greets me with a polite smile.

"最も人気のあるメニュー項目は何ですか？それを取ります。" I reply.

The man nods and I pay for my meal, waiting in silence while the old man pulls the curtain closed.

His stall wasn't any different than any of the other hundreds of stalls littered all over Japan but a tip about this particular stall peeked my interest..

I didn't have to wait long.

A seat down from where I sat was Kida.

The long hair on his head was buzzed painfully short and he now had a mustache. His hands were bandaged, hiding his tattoos from curious eyes and he wore baggy clothes to hide his lean body but Kida and I had known each other for more than seven years... I knew that it was him.

My intent wasn't to hide... I wanted Kida to know that I was looking for him.

My cigarette was nearing its end when Kida cocked his head to the side and sighed.

"Of course he sent you..."

The cigarette butt dimmed after it made contact with the wet ground and I leaned against the counter, turning to get a better look at him.

"Don't act like you aren't happy to see me.."
I shot back.

Kida chuckled, giving me a sad smile.

"I'm not going back.."
He mumbled quickly.

"Where's Nala?"
I responded just as quickly.

A nerve had been struck. The way his body went rigid told me everything.Kida looked down at the empty countertop in front of him and tears were running down his cheeks.

From this action alone, I knew that something was very wrong:
Kida didn't cry.

When we were kids, we cried most days because of similar family trauma. Kida never knew his father and his mother was the mistress of a small time gang leader. Both of us were kids that grew into men too quickly; so eager to prove ourselves to all the older members when we didn't know ourselves at all.

But that was eight years ago so seeing Kida sobbing pained me and had me on edge, simultaneously.

His bloodshot eyes widened and he looked lost.

"... Not here... I won't talk about this here..."
he spoke sadly. He started to breathe erratically and I was alarmed at the violent trembling of his hands.

I slide off of my seat to calm him but I stop everything that I'm doing when I see the barrel of the glock Kida is holding on his lap pointed in my direction.

My hands go up in a nonthreatening way as I try to ensure him that I'm not going to cause him any harm.
"Easy...I'm not going to hurt you Kida."

I wasn't lying... I hadn't come to kill Kida. He wished me no ill will and he'd saved my ass on more than one occasion.

At the same time, I doubted myself. The gaunt man sitting next to me was not the Kida I knew and I instinctively went into high alert now that I knew his actions were mostly spontaneous.