Where’s a Good Rye?

“What did I miss, Ozaki?”

Ryuji sank into a comfy leather sofa, drink in hand. It made a satisfying clink as he brought it up for a swig.

“Just Shindou going around, full of hot air. Says that the mighty Yama Ryu got taken out cause he’s past his prime. Felt the need to step up and demonstrate that without you, the Yamaoka Family no longer deserves an officer spot.”

“And he does that by sending his minions to flush out his competition? We’re on the same damn side!”

“The man still lives on the cutthroat logic of stepping over others to get ahead.”

“Yah, well, I’ll step all over his face for what he’s done.”

“Allow me to join you for that, Aniki. I’ll bring the wine.”

“You look like you’re ready to toss back some right now.”

Ryuji shot a stiff look over at his captain, who was sprawled back in a nice chair. Several hands reached all around him to gently dab alcohol on his wounds before bandaging them. They were attached to no less than six lovely girls hovering all around.

“Paying them a pretty wage for some personal service, I see.”

Ozaki waved off that comment.

“Not like anyone’s gonna come to the club after seeing the disaster zone out front. These girls gotta eat. Plus, I only keep around angels that can care as much as they can dish out.”

Ryuji groaned. He had left Ozaki to manage Club Elegant since he seemed more interested in it. As a result, the place had turned into the kind of bar where patrons sipped on some booze while waiting for their turn for ‘special’ attention in the back rooms. One only needed to see the dominatrix-style wardrobe that the girls wore to know exactly what to expect.

“Oh, I know, Aniki. Since you just got out, how about we pull out a theme for the occasion? I got some new nurse uniforms-”

Ryuji felt himself get mentally slapped by a certain someone.

“No? Magical girls then? Fantasy chicks with big swords to go slap on the tush tush?”

“Dammit, Ozaki. Tolerance does not equal permission. Keep those things stuck up your own ass!”

“Okay… more for me then.”

Putting Ozaki’s disturbing pleasures aside, Ryuji had another thought that gnawed at him.

Is Shindou really the type to take a risk on an injured prey in such a roundabout way?

A man that surrounded himself with an army didn’t give him that vibe. If he had wanted to wipe out the Yamaoka Family, picking off the captains wasn’t the way to do it, especially if the main reason was the Yama Ryu’s supposed downfall. Rather, Ryuji felt like he was purposefully being shaved away until he had no choice but to confront Shindou himself. But that only made sense if-

“…he has backers.”

“Come again, aniki?”

“That snake has someone backing him. And with enough confidence that they can single me out for a crack at the Tenjou Clan. Beating me in a showdown is sure to raise his own stock.”

“Must be some bigshot if it’s got your eyebrows in a wrinkle,” Ozaki said, taking a big swig from his drink as if he was readying to get up for another fight.

“It might be if my instincts are right. But until I confirm, it’s best if we lay low. I’ll give you a ring when it comes to blows.”

Ryuji fingered the note in his pocket, the one from Dr. Higashi. Information was what he needed most now.

The Server of Rye.

He took one final drink before setting down his glass, waving goodbye to Ozaki and the girls before heading out of the club. As soon as he hit the street, he eyed the mental map that popped into his vision. He needed some idea where to search.

“Hey, Grace. The Doc said that you-”

“Yes?” Grace tilted her head at Ryuji’s guttural stop.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that Ozaki is a bad influence.”

Ryuji eyed the bright nurse uniform that Grace had on, purposefully gaudy like what the girls wore. A giant needle was braced between her arms like she was ready to give an elephant its shot.

“What, you don’t want a shot of happy juice?”

“There are times that I wonder if you’re really mature enough to understand things like that.”

Ryuji received another mental whack for that comment, laughing off the impact as Grace scrunched her face in annoyance.

v

“Is this the place?”

Ryuji stared down a dark, narrow street, packed wall-to-wall with storefronts and bars, each with a sign or lantern marking their presence. In a way, it looked even shadier than the red-light districts, if not for patrons casually walking down the path, almost rubbing shoulders as they passed by.

A sign hanging over the main entrance read ‘The Road of Gold”. It was a place that proudly withstood the test of time, resisting any change from outsiders. Stories of its inhabitants kicking away any trouble had reached well past its boundaries. Ryuji was even told to keep his neck out of any business here, as those from the yakuza were strung up and turned into examples when they tried to kick out the tenants.

As a result, this district remained the same as it had for many decades – dense, cluttered, and barely held together through patchwork and sheer effort. It stood as a vast contrast from the more urbanized areas surrounding it. But despite it all, light streamed from the slits in the windows and sounds of banter flowed out. Clinks of glasses, scrapes of chairs, and catchy melodies littered the surroundings, imbuing this historical area with constant life.

It was the perfect place to hide someone with a sketchy occupation.

“Mhm. It’s been a while, but I’m sure the shop is still around.”

Grace skipped down the path, eyeing the signs as if checking for the right one. She rounded a corner, making Ryuji dash to keep up with her. Ryuji felt a bit claustrophobic as the side street narrowed to only allowing one person through. It felt like he could be trapped at any moment because of it.

Eventually, Grace stopped and pointed to a shop, completely sure of the right place. A sign above her read ‘Daruma Queen’. Loose plastic crates stacked outside made it obvious that it was a bar. Ryuji felt a bit parched from trying to match her pace.

“Irrashai!”

A cry of welcome sounded as Ryuji opened the door and stepped into a narrow bar space lined with stools. His attention immediately turned to a bar mama at the counter, dressed in a maid uniform. How out of place it felt made him stutter.

“H-Hey there, I’m looking for someone called the ‘Server of Rye’. Ring any bells?”

The bar mama stared at him inquisitively, her hands pausing from wiping the glasses. He had gotten her attention, but the look she gave him felt like a solid ‘no’. Ryuji was about to creep back out the door until Grace came between them and spoke out.

“Use the secret password.”

Ryuji suddenly remembered Dr. Higashi’s note, telling him that Grace held the key. He turned to the side to discreetly whisper back.

“Well, what is it?”

There was an awkward moment of silence as the bar mama/maid cautiously eyed Ryuji. She reached below the counter to tap an alarm, but then, Ryuji choked comically. Her finger froze as the yakuza-looking thug before her tried to recover his composure, his face taking on a slight tint of pink.

“Um… Make me an Old-Fashioned with Wild Turkey, garnished by a cherry boy.”

The bar mama’s eyes lit up in acknowledgement. She pulled her hand back.

“As you wish, Master.” She brought her hands up to form a heart over her chest.

Another awkward moment passed as the bar mama waited for a follow-up response. Ryuji was sweating bullets, obviously over what he needed to do next. What the bar mama didn’t know was how hard Grace was laughing at the scene.

Finally mustering the courage, Ryuji copied the motion, adding on the final part of the password.

“Moe moe kyunnnn…”

“Please be seated while I prepare your order, Master.”

With a huge sigh of relief, Ryuji hopped onto a stool and waited. He ignored the mess of giggles and flailing that hung right beside him, audible to no one else.

“Did the Doc have to come up with such an embarrassing password?”

“No, no, this is all Megu’s fault.”

“Who?”

A drink was plopped right in front of Ryuji at that moment, breaking his thought. He watched as the bar mama beckoned him to partake in it.

A strong whiff of whiskey tickled his nose. An orange slice and ice cubes were submerged in the brown drink, while a toothpick with two cherries sat on top. It was a familiar cocktail, certainly one consisting of rye, but a tiny slip of rolled-up paper between the cherries caught his attention.

He plucked it, unrolling it to see a cryptic message. “Drink. Your dreams hold the answer.”

It smelled like a trap. But then again, most riddles often did. Ryuji took a glance at Grace, who remained as blissfully ignorant as she normally seemed. With no other leads to go on, he picked up the glass and took a few sips.

A flash of spice and citrus hit his tongue, followed by a mellow taste of sweetness and wood. His eyes darted over to the bar mama for her reaction, in which she made a motion for him to finish. Despite feeling that it was a bit of a waste to down a nice cocktail so fast, he did it, nonetheless. The glass plopped heavily on the counter, and the ice clinked as it settled.

“This way, please.”

The bar mama opened a door to her side, to which Ryuji got up and walked over. He was guided down a set of stairs, past the dark wine cellar and storage. A discreet room in the back was opened, the bar mama pulling him inside before turning on the light.

All of a sudden, Ryuji noticed. The lone chair within the room looked rather blurry. The short path in the darkness had disguised a growing weariness that had creeped up on him. Before he could do anything, he felt a boot to his ass that shoved him into the chair. Straps locked around his wrists and legs, keeping him from getting out.

As his vision started to fade away, the bar mama placed a hand on the top of his head, almost like soothing a struggling child.

“Don’t worry. The ‘Server of Rye’ will see you, as promised.”

Ryuji could barely register that statement, his eyes now swimming. He could vaguely remember Grace flashing him an ‘OK sign’ for reassurance before he succumbed.

The next thing that Ryuji knew, he was standing before a large, traditional street, full of old architecture. They had a distinct pre-Meiji feel, further reinforced by the yukatas that the people wandering about were dressed. Another look and Ryuji eyed several courtesans selling themselves to passersby, making it obvious that he had somehow fallen into some kind of historical pleasure district.

Before Ryuji walked several steps in, he was stopped by someone short in a fancy kimono, hair tied up in a neat brown bun. There was an immediate vibe of ‘important person’ from the aura itself, particularly from the piercing eyes of greed that were directed at him. Yet, something felt strangely off as well, enough to make Ryuji’s brain signals cross in confusion. But before he could bungle what questions he had formed in haste, a chirpy voice spoke to him.