'I'm here on my father's behalf,' he said.
Yazumi Kojuro was the very picture of formality as he sat ramrod straight on the low sofa with his fists on his knees. His crisp brown suit and and polished leather shoes fit in well with the furnishings of this grand study.
He was impressed by the careful blend of grandiose and comfort that the Federov house was styled in. In fact, the journey from the main gates, to the front door, up the grand staircase, down the hallway and into the Master study appealed to the artist in his soul.
On an ordinary day, he would have appreciated the carved wood details that lined the ceilings, noticed that it matched the details of the banisters, and observe the sturdy but well-crafted furniture, but this was no ordinary day. With one glance, he saw that the Federov's were well-to-do indeed, which served the purpose of his visit nicely.
Within the study, bookshelves packed full with books and folders lined the walls, broken up on one side of the room with a display case. The required family photos lined the shelves as testament to the family as it grew, but what had attracted his attention was the large family portrait that hung behind the desk.
Stanislav Federov had impressed him as a man with an edge. From the way those bull-like shoulders emerged as he stood, to the firm grip with which he had shook his hand, Yazumi Kojuro felt assured that this alliance would not fail. Could not fail. The family portrait had thrown him off.
And so, he thought wryly, as he despatches of his enemies, he has his family smiling behind him.
'I understand,' Stanislav finally said. 'Is it time then?'
He had offered them cigarettes out of a slim, golden case but only Kojuro had accepted. Kojuro's son, a slim young man in a sharp, grey suit had politely refused. Instead, he produced a silver Zippo from a pocket with which he lit their cigarettes. Sweet smelling smoke wound its way above their heads as they took long puffs.
'Yes,' he murmured quietly, his tone resolute.
'Very well,' Stanislav Federov stated crisply. He waved a hand to his butler who bowed his head at the summon. 'Get me the folder in the left-hand side drawer of my desk. Then bring Anton.'
The butler obeyed the command. His slipper-shod feet were silent over the carpeted floor. With the folder retrieved, he unobtrusively placed it by his Master's side, then stepped back again to fulfil the latter part of his order.
'But,' Stanislav went on, 'we cannot adhere to the original arrangement. My only daughter has married.'
Yazumi Kojuro let out a heavy sigh as his brow plunged into a severe frown.
'Is there no other young lady within the family?' he demanded. His spirit sank at the piece of information. Had they travelled to Russia for naught then? A thousand thoughts flurried in his head but he deigned not to voice them.
A slow smile spread across the Russian mobster's face as he considered the idea, then his sharp eyes shifted to rest on the young man. Yazumi Kai straightened under the scrutiny. He had come willingly to offer himself as a groom for the Federov-Yazumi alliance, but had not expected negotiations to be suddenly derailed.
'There are cousins, yes,' he offered idly. 'And I am sure your son is a fine man. But their parents are not willing to enter their children into such a contract after all that happened.'
'And whose fault was that?' Kojuro remarked sharply with his lips curled in irritation.
He clumsily stubbed his cigarette into the bronze ash tray, betraying the undercurrent of emotion that he had so carefully hidden. With some effort, he rose to his feet, sucking in an even bout of air to dispel the tension in his chest.
His thoughts strayed to the gang wars in New York. So much blood spilled, and for what? Neither mob had gained an upper-hand ever since the fights began, but the Yazumi's were suffering back in Tokyo, and they badly needed the war in New York to stop to preserve their resources.
Sprawling grounds and manicured gardens lay before him. A large, marble statue of Ares rose up from the midst of neatly-trimmed rose bushes. Beyond the summer house that the Greek god guarded, was a lake rippling gently under the afternoon sun. Far in the horizon was a stretch of dark green pines that signalled the beginning of untamed land.
'So,' he unwillingly uttered after a long exhale. 'My daughter.'
A flicker of agitation crossed his features at the thought of his youngest child joining a mafia family in marriage. She knew nothing of this deal, let alone specifics of the family's business.
The Russian mobster languidly rose to his feet to join him by the windows.
'My elder son should be around her age,' he commented off-handedly. 'Of course, she may choose from his cousins as well.'
'But she's only eighteen,' he muttered, more to himself than to the man beside him. From the reflection of the floor-length windows, he could just make out the concerned features of his own son. 'She's still in school.'
'I'll accept the daughters of your associates if need be,' Stanislav offered. His own son was twenty-one. In his mind, eighteen and twenty-one were much the same in terms of years, though he was well aware that mannerisms and attitudes differed. 'But the situation is getting worse as we speak. The sooner we settle this, the faster we can resolve our problems.'
'No.' Yazumi Kojuro shook his head. He turned back to see his son staring back at him, his features fighting to keep off the apprehension. 'I will not hand my family's burdens onto someone else. I will bring her to New York once she graduates.'
'I understand.' Stanislav Federov had spun about as well. 'Then I'll inform my son of this matter. Until next year?'
He nodded slowly, a murmured, 'Yes,' barely leaving his lips.
Next year would come soon. But between now and then, would the families be able to hold on? Could his daughter bear this burden on her slight shoulders?
The butler had returned with a lawyer whom Stanislav Federov introduced as his son-in-law. They returned to the coffee table where the folders were laid out, accompanied by the most ostentatious of fountain pens. One file was offered to Yazumi Kojuro, who after scanning the lines of print, fixed his signature above the required line before sliding the file over to the mobster. He signed on the other document as well, of which one copy would be kept in his possession so that both families would have evidence of the agreement.
To break the contract would be death.
~
Kai was silent as they left the Federov household in their chauffeured car. They had achieved what they came to set out, but in a manner that he least expected. He had never looked forward to this marriage deal, and the sudden lack of weight on his shoulders surprised him. But for it to go to his sister!
The pair conversed softly in their native tongue, cautious of the listening ears of their driver.
'We're really going ahead with it?' he asked his father.
His father nodded grimly. His eyes had strayed to the window, despondency reflected in his gaze.
'We have no choice.'
Every generation had to make its sacrifices after all.
~
Stanislav Federov returned to the windows, watching as the Rolls Royce pulled down the cobbled driveway and past the main gates. Once it disappeared from his view, he turned to his butler.
'Prepare the plane for New York. And get Leonid to meet me at the Excelsior.'
This deal, he thought, could either spell the start of a new dynasty, or the devastation of two families.
~
R E M I N D E R :
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