暴力団

The itching was almost unbearable. The starched Arrow shirt chafed against the  new irizumi tattoos that covered Takahashi from waist to collarbone, the final stage of a five year initiation into the Sumiyoshi-Kai family of Yakuza. The thought of his four thousand years of Samurai lineage did little to relieve his discomfort, and he longed for his uncle Kenji-san to arrive so he could order a drink.

As though summoned by the thought, Kenji-san parted the noren in the doorway. The hostess chirped a greeting, showed him to the back booth where his nephew sat waiting.

Kenji took a seat, his face wooden. “I notice you did not get up when I came in, nor did you bow.”

“My uncle will remember that we are now equals in the  brotherhood. Honorifics are reserved for the oyabun.”

Kenji-san laughed and slapped the table. “You see? I knew you’d be a natural.”

 

What Pegman Saw

13 thoughts on “暴力団

  1. As more people contribute, it’ll be interesting to see how people will interpret a street view of the central ward of Tokyo. So far, I’ve read a melancholy tale of estranged family, and a crime drama. Mine, of course, is time travel.

  2. I like where you took this. From serious, almost resentful history to humor between uncle and nephew.

    P.S. Once again the “get the inlinkz code” button doesn’t show up. Thanks.

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