Gambling Slaves

Today, my fifty-first day working for the Bara-gumi, I finally came to learn what the mysterious Takeshi actually did for the organization. He was what was referred to as a Kaikei, which is a specialized rank among the members that oversees the financial responsibilities for the entire organization. Much like Kazuya had told me, one of Takeshi's Kobun members picked me up from Masaaki's store, and gave me a brief rundown of the Bara-gumi's hierarchy, but only after belittling me for being a small, timid little girl.

I certainly couldn't blame this nameless man for believing I was a nuisance. It was rare for yakuza groups to have female members in the first place, besides when spouses got involved via their partners' connections, but it seemed the Bara-gumi was different. We had a female leader, Charlotte, a female in charge of the drug trades, Harumi, and now a young female Kobun that was training to become a loan shark- me. If not for Charlotte's strange obsession with me as a person, I'm sure the Bara-gumi would be better off without me.

* * *

When we arrived at the gambling hall, which had just been the backrooms of a gutted, abandoned building on the outskirts of Tokyo, Takeshi explained with great authority and practiced ease about what we would be doing. To keep it brief, us Kobun would essentially be runners, maintaining the systematic order by offering the gamblers loans when requested. We were no different than a bank, handing out money withdrawals to those who needed them and jotting down information such as how much they took and how often, which would determine the interest and protection fees they would later be sworn to return. My job, in particular, was counting and distributing the cash, since Takeshi figured even a teenage girl couldn't screw up such a simple task.

As the day dragged on, an abundance of shady figures entered at various intervals. Occasionally, a group would enter wearing leather coats or hats, and others would enter sporadically one by one. During my free time, when I wasn't handing the players stacks of cash, I would watch them play games on large wooden tables, such as blackjack, poker, and my personal interest, richi mahjong. I had no clue how to play such a complex game, but just studying the way the players would shout phrases like,
"Kon!"
"Chi!"
"Ron!"
and,
"Tsumo!"
I was having a little bit of fun.

The game itself seemed hard, but the pace they were picking up and setting down tiles was impressive. It wasn't until the fourth round of the game when three out of four of the players let out disgruntled sighs, hanging their heads low as they lined up for a loan to continue.

One character in particular caught my eye. He was a Chinese man, wearing a brown knuckleduster trench coat and a very shabby suit and tie underneath. He had beautifully piercing green eyes, and a head of messy, short black hair. On his chin was accumulated stubble and shadow, but it seemed to complement his aesthetic quite well. He was the last to approach the counter, speaking in a low, hoarse voice as he said,
"Twenty million yen, please,"
with a straight face.

I was shocked, but the other Kobun member taking down his name and amount didn't even bat an eye at the absurd number.

Twenty million yen is a massive amount! He's the only man so far to make a request over the five million mark, and the others were acting like this was completely normal. He must be a regular.

Quickly, I counted and handed him many stacks of cash, watching as he pocketed the money and took a seat right back at the table. He was quick-witted for sure, taking his tiles and arranging them with intense speed. As the game of richi mahjong progressed, I noticed his eyebrows furrowing frantically with each shout of the men.

"Kon!"
"Pon!"
"Chi!"

Despite their quick remarks, this man hadn't made a single peep. I assumed that meant he was dealt a bad hand since the men who had been shouting displayed somewhat happy expressions. Within just a few minutes of claiming his twenty million, I watched as he lost half of it when one of the older Japanese men said,
"Tsumo!"
and slammed his tiles down with a loud clap.

Again, disgruntled groans filled the room, and the game was reset for another round.

The Kobun member who was standing idly next to me gave me a quick tap on my shoulder. I thought he would scold me for watching the clients play, but I was very wrong. He seemed almost nonchalant as he said,
"Yo, I'm going to take a piss. Watch the cash reserves while I'm gone, yeah?"
and stormed off before I could give him an answer.

As instructed, I stood next to the large duffel bag full of cash, not giving too much thought as the Chinese man with green eyes approached me once again, this time holding out his hand expectantly.

"I'll take another twenty, please,"
he said.

"Um, I'm not sure if I'm allowed to,"
I responded, looking over my shoulder to see that my superior hadn't returned from his break yet.

The Chinese man let out a mean growl, leaning against the countertop as he whispered,
"Look, Princess... I'm something of a regular. The name's Wang Xianshi. I should already be registered in one of those papers behind you. I can tell you're new, so let me explain. All you need to do is find my paper and scribble down an additional twenty million under the pre-existing total, got it?"

I paused and tilted my head.
"But I'm only here to distribute, not input figures. Are you sure it's okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine. The others know me pretty well, so just explain when your partner gets back. Now, hurry up and find my paper, I don't have all day, Princess."
The man remarked, tapping his finger impatiently.

Well, if what he's saying is true, I'm sure it's not a big deal. Fine, I'll take on his request only to hasten this man's impatience. Jeez, what an asshole.

I turned my back to him, searching through the stack of papers behind me. I pulled a few out, but quickly realized I didn't know how to read the name Wang Xianshi. I didn't read or write Chinese, let alone much Japanese, so I really had no clue what to look for other than a page that read "twenty million yen."

I hadn't even had time to ask him what the Kanji for Xianshi looked like when I heard the sound of heavy rustling and footsteps storm off behind me. I turned my head quickly, only to see Wang Xianshi sprinting toward the door with a duffel bag full of cash gripped firmly around his hip.

I let out a shriek befitting a child,
"Ah! No!"
and leapt over the countertop, landing hard on my feet as I screamed the first words that came to mind.
"Somebody! Stop that man!"

I ran as fast as my legs would let me, out the door and into the bright, late-summer sun of Tokyo. I scrambled around, completely lost as I pulled my cellphone from my pocket, and gripped my tanto blade firmly in the opposite hand. There was only one person I could rely on faithfully in the moment of my foolish crisis; I had to call Kazuya.