You know those old bookstores you see on TV and in movies? The endless rows of unkempt shelves with dusty tomes and the pervasive aura of arcane mystery. Dimly lit aisles filled with secrets and tales lost to the ages. My mother's bookstore looked like a friggin 7-11 by comparison. The place was too damn bright, too damn neat, and had too many freakin’ posters everywhere! It was a cluttered eyesore. You could easily find more personality and intrigue in a sudoku puzzle.

My mother had sat me down behind the counter the moment I got back from school and I’d been stuck counting change and bagging for hours. I often got scolded for watching the clock but at that moment we were just two minutes away from closing.

Wouldn’t you know, that is when the bell on the door chimed, and a familiar ominous figure snaked in. A dark skinned woman in a thick leather riding jacket. Her tough expression, arrogant swagger, and bold tattoos reeked of the yakuza lifestyle. On her jacket gleamed a bronze dragon pin of the Kojima Family. I reached for the telltale manilla envelope under the counter. Without a word, I set it on the counter and unconsciously averted my eyes. The room was quiet and the air was thick. I only risked another glance, when the door chimed again. She stared at me from the doorway with an odd smile I couldn't place. A moment later she was gone and I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

My mother made her way over and locked the door after her, flipping the sign on the door to ‘Closed’. I stretched without a word and made my way to the stairs that led into our apartment. I tossed myself on our little sofa and retrieved my phone from its charger. My mother followed after me and began preparing dinner in earnest.

Working the store might not have been so bad, if I was getting paid. Unfortunately, every time I brought it up she’d derail the topic with a speech extolling the difficulties of being a single mother. I decided to ask again, if only to give her a hard time.

“Kairi, how can we afford that?” She scoffed working a crease out of her apron. “I already had to let Tadashi go because I couldn’t pay him.”

She shook her head and then tapped the counter. “Onions.” she stated then stared at me. “Can you run to the store?”

I lowered my phone.

“But, how can we afford that?” I asked in a mocking echo.

She shuffled over to where she kept her wallet and pulled out a large silver coin. She tossed it in my direction where it glanced off the side of my head before clattering to the ground. I returned my phone to the charger and was left groping around under the couch for it.

I made my way over to Ms. Kim’s Corner shop. Kim’s was your run-of-the-mill convenience store. Counter by the door, freezers in the back. What made it special was its small produce section. See, the nearest supermarket was on the other side of the local Yakuza’s red light district where cops do not tread.

“Anyoung haseyo!”

The proprietor greeted me as I pushed open the door. Contrary to most, Ms. Kim didn’t shy away from her Korean heritage. If anything, she embraced it far too much, considering how far removed she really was from it. She had taken it upon herself to learn Korean and had taken her daughter to Seoul to visit distant relatives on occasion. She even proudly displayed the South Korean flag near the counter.

I casually waved to her and made my way over to the produce section. Pretty much all the bags looked the same so I just picked on at random and hauled it over to the counter. I placed the coin on the counter and Ms. Kim smiled. She placed the tips of her fingers on the coin and slid it back to me.

“Seobiseu.” she said, bowing her head.

I pushed the coin back in protest. My mother had warned me about accepting free things from Ms. Kim. She would occasionally allow the other shop owners to take small things for free as an incentive to keep them coming back. I didn’t feel right about it, between the economic downturn and the yakuza times were tough.

“I appreciate your kindness, but I can’t.” I pleaded. Ms. Kim pushed the coin back to me again.

“Yes you can. Seobiseu.” She smiled.

“NO-BISEU.” I retorted pushing the coin back more aggressively this time.

Ms. Kim chuckled and walked out from behind the counter, ignoring my glare. I sighed and picked up the bag and coin. I was going to get scolded, but what else was new? Defeated, I pushed open the door.

“Thank you.” Ms. Kim called from the back of the store. She’d clearly done that on purpose. I growled under my breath and took an aggressive step out onto the sidewalk. Or I attempted to, but someone put a wall in my way. Okay, that's not true. I had merely mistaken the hopelessly lost mountain gorilla before me as a wall. The hulking beast in the cheap suit glared at me.

“Noooo...” I miserably cooed to myself. Before I could attempt an apology, he twisted my arm behind my back. I held back a scream as he turned me around and dragged me over to a car idling by the curb. I tried to rip his hand off, but his grip was solid and I couldn’t get under it. An old man in a grey blazer opened the back door and helped push me inside. I barely pulled my feet inside before the old man slammed the car door shut.

I found myself sitting next to a tan suited yakuza bronze bengal tiger with a chipped tooth. I caught the driver eyeing me through the rear view mirror but he said nothing. The bulky one who had grabbed me in the first place made his way into Ms. Kim’s on his own, as the old man took to smoking up against the car.

I wished I’d brought my phone, though even if I begged them the cops weren’t going to come, not out here. Past the windshield, something caught my eye. A pair of figures briskly approached the front of the car. A girl in a black and yellow tracksuit with dragon scales tattooed down her arms and a Yakuza with bleached hair. The old man tossed his cigarette and the driver jumped out to meet them. I couldn’t hear the exchange, but the tone suggested an argument. The tracksuit girl took the initiative, instantly downing the old man with a glorious haymaker.

The driver charged blondie, leading to them both grappling for leverage. The man next to me opened his door and attempted to join the melee. Seeing an opportunity, I tested my own door but it was firmly locked. I cursed and began crawling over the seat to go out the other side.

However, just as I reached for the door, it violently swung as a kick from the tracksuit girl, whose name I later learned was Tsubasa, sent the tan-suited man crashing into it. She stomped over her fallen foe and pulled him up by his collar and into a heatbutt. I winced at the sound of it. The girl cackled madly, her face smeared with blood. Blondie tossed the driver forward to Tsubasa who slammed an elbow up into his chest.

The gorilla finally emerged from the shop and without pause charged blondie who jumped back, but was still knocked to the ground on impact. Tsubasa sidestepped a heavy punch as blondie rolled back up. The three of them squared off. The smaller two circled in opposite directions trying to get behind him. Forced to pick a side, he grabbed Tsubasa by the arm and held her for a heavy swing, but before he could put the proper momentum into it, she cracked a fist into his side, throwing him off. The man grunted but did not let go. Blondie jumped up on his back, wrapping thin arms around his neck. Then, with one foot planted in the small of his back, began furiously kicking. Manila Gorilla cried out in a frustrated roar that pitched up when the tracksuit girl kneed him in the groin. The giant doubled over where Tsubasa playfully socked him in the jaw for good measure.

I had been so distracted by the ongoing fight that I hadn’t left the car. I realized it was probably an excellent time to leave. Unfortunately, in my haste I’d crawled headfirst, so I was left choosing between putting my hands down on the pavement or trying to turn around in the seat. Staying in the car seemed to be the less painful option, so I turned myself around and pushed the door open with my foot. I didn’t turn to look at the victors. I just bolted for home as quickly as my legs could carry me.

I was not nearly quick enough. A powerful hand slammed down on my shoulder mid-sprint and yanked me back. Tsubasa grabbed my arm and pinned it behind my back, spinning me around to face blondie.

“The hell do you think you’re going?” Blondie demanded in an oddly androgynous voice. Before I could answer, the one holding me started shouting.

“Mako!” Blondie spun around just as the car peeled away with all passengers aboard.

“We need to call this in.” Tsubasa tightened her grip on my arm.

Makoto rubbed tired looking eyes and spoke softly. “This is not a great place for this conversation. Let’s take her back to the Club.” Makoto turned back to me and pointed. “You’re going to come quietly.”

I nodded emphatically knowing better than to open my big mouth unless called on. Tsubasa shoved me forward.

“Really? C’mon!” Mako glared past me.

The walk to the club was uncomfortably quiet and that they did nothing to restrain me as we walked, and it only made me more jumpy. Makoto lit up a cigarette and I did my best to pretend the smoke wasn’t bothering me. The whole way Tsubasa was on my heels and her awkward gait made sure I was always aware of her breathing down my neck.