The White Tiger of North Bay

Kiku Hayami was tired of it all. She hadn’t chosen her life to turn out the way it did. It was decided before she was born, and there was nothing she could do to change that.

Her only way out was death, and that simply wasn’t Hayami’s style.

Passing the second torii of the compound, she approached the sanctuary where she had been summoned. Her baggy clothes swayed with every step as the coastal breeze whipped at the fabric. While it wasn’t her typical attire, she had been called straight from bed into the meeting, so he would have to deal with what he got.

Asshole, she thought to herself, quickly trotting up the steps to the shrine. Keeping me on a job until sunrise and not giving me the proper time to sleep.

She pushed through the double doors, immediately eying the handful of ‘employees’ loitering around the entrance. They wore their plain clothes, which were nothing more than jeans and shirts with black glasses. Hayami thought the conspicuous look was ridiculous. It was her opinion that they were trying too hard to be gangsters and doing nothing more than drawing unnecessary attention to themselves. But that wasn’t her call.

Nor did she want it to be.

With echoing steps, she continued her saunter along the column-lined hall before reaching the steps that ascended to the second shrine. Throwing open these doors with a huff, her senses were assaulted by a mixture of incense and tobacco.

She hated that they smoked in the shrine. While it wasn’t like she cared much for her familial lineage or the sanctity of the place, she just knew it would have pissed her mom off. Or, at least, she assumed it would have if she were still around to care.

“There’s the White Tiger of North Bay.” A voice croaked from the shadow as a man emerged. “Good job last night, kid, you’re famous.”

Takeshi, the boss's right-hand goon, approached with a half-burnt cigarette hanging from his lips. He waved a rolled-up newspaper in his hands before tossing it to her.

“Front page an’ all!”

“Who even reads the newspaper anymore?” She replied, catching the roll and finding the paper surprisingly heavy.

Unfurling it, she discovered the baton she had thought lost the night before while on the job. She pocketed the weapon and looked at the front page, which wore the bold headline, ‘DEADLY WHITE TIGER OF NORTH BAY STRIKES AGAIN.’ A picture of a warehouse entrance surrounded by cop cars was the paired image, along with a grainy profile shot of the black leathers and the full-face bike helmet she had worn.

Damn, I knew I should have bashed up that ATM.

“You’re lucky you know,” Takeshi remarked, taking a drag off his cigarette. “Our guy in the force was there first. Picked up your little toy for you. Kids shouldn’t leave their things lying around. It’s how they get in trouble.”

“Woops.” Hayami shrugged, unmoved by his comment.

Tossing the newspaper back to him, she watched as his muscles flexed to catch it. With a lunge and a flick of her wrist, the baton extended. With a precision strike, she knocked the cigarette from his mouth, scattering the embers across the floor. He leapt back in response, missing his catch, which caused the papers to scatter.

She took a knee, slamming the baton to the ground and collapsing it back into the grip. With a glance up at the shocked man as he plucked the remaining bit of cigarette from his lips, Hayami revealed her famous scowl.

“Don’t smoke inside,” She ordered. “And clean up that mess.”

Quickly ascending the final steps, she arrived at the shoji that separated the shrine from the boss’s quarters. Without hesitation, she threw the doors open and charged in.

“Well, I’m here,” She snapped, her tone sharp as she marched towards the suited man who sat atop his gaudy throne. “What do you want?”

“Daughter of mine,” He spoke, his black and grey pin-stripe suit shifting as he extended a hand. “Sit.”

A woman quickly emerged from the shadows with a chair in her grasp, but Hayami extended her own hand in denial of the service.

“No. I’ll stand.”

The boss exhaled deeply, raising another hand to his mouth and taking a long drag from a cigar that looked small between his thick fingers. Lowering it, he exhaled a cloud of smoke and forcefully flicked his wrist.

With a quiet hustle, half a dozen servants emerged from the shadows and exited the room. Only once the thin door had been closed did he speak again.

“Is that any way to talk to your father?”

“Am I talking to my father? Or the dragon?”

He smirked.

Leaning over, the man took hold of a file resting atop the end table to his side. With the same flick of his wrist, the dossier flew forward, landing at Hayami’s feet. A picture was clipped to the top of a young man who was maybe a year younger than her.

“What’s this?”

“A job.”

Bending over, Hayami picked up the file and looked over the picture that appeared to have been printed off the hottest new site for aspiring influencers. She didn’t have time for those luxuries, but it didn’t mean she was unaware of their existence or the idiots that tried to make a living off them.

“I just finished a job, or have you already forgotten, old man?”

“You’ll be interested in this one.” He smirked.

She watched him observing her from the corner of her eye as she flipped the file open and read.

No way.

“Wait,” She spoke apathetically, withdrawing a black flash drive and inspecting it as she continued. “Oto Hildebrand? Like, South Harbour Hildebrands? Nah, I’m good. That’s your hatchet to bury.”

“You are a Kiku. It is yours to bury as well.”

“I have no interest in some centuries-old grudge between the families. Send someone else to take the pretty boy out.”

Hayami, no longer interested in being part of the conversation, turned and began walking from the room. With this, the man chuckled deeply as he partook once more of the cigar.

“You care so little for your family.”

“Screw you,” She turned, the fire from her soul turning to venom in her mouth. “You don’t care about family. You never cared about family. Don’t pull that family shit with me!”

“There’s my daughter’s fire.”

“Get burnt.” She flipped him off. “Be a man and end it with your own hands. For family.”

Spinning back to the door, she placed a hand to the wood as the man spoke a final offer.

“Buy your freedom then.”

She froze at this. Waiting and listening.

“Ah, have I finally grabbed your attention?” He spoke as she heard the chair creak under his shifting weight. “Fine, hear this. Finish this job and do it right, and you’ll be free of your familial duties.”

Hayami could feel her heart begin to race. It was an out. The 'out' she had been waiting for. But still, she didn’t speak.

“Befriend the boy in the five-hour window you get. Infiltrate his home and upload that flash drive to their network. Then kill them all and you’ll be free from your duty. Free from your family. For good.”

She looked back down at the dossier and the image of the influencer Oto Hildebrand, son of a rival gangster. The thoughts of freedom swirled around her mind. A tantalizing prize that may never come again for her.

Freedom. She thought, imagining a normal life, wondering if it was actually possible for someone like her.

But…

“How can I even begin to trust you’ll keep your word?” She finally spoke.

“On your mother’s grave, Hayami, I swear to you. Complete this mission, and you will be gifted freedom.”

She waited. Still hesitant but more confident in the word of the man she knew as boss and father.

“Fine. Consider it done.” She said, turning to leave. “For mom.”

Placing her hand on the door once more, the man cleared his throat.

“Oh,” He spoke with a hint of pleasure in his voice. “One last thing.”

There it is. There’s the god damn catch.

“I’ve put a bounty on the boy’s head. Twenty-five million.”

“That’s fine. I can manage some headhunters.”

“And you—”

A chill raced down Hayami’s spine as she glanced over her shoulder at the man. “What?”

“If they take him out before you complete your mission, they get twenty-five million and your body, daughter. If you will not willingly be my heir, you will provide me a suitable replacement. Now, I wouldn’t linger much longer. His train departs at the top of the hour.”

Hayami, burning with rage, slipped a hand into her pocket and looked at her phone. She had thirty minutes to complete a forty-five-minute drive.

Without another word, she threw the door open with enough force to crack the frame before sprinting away.