PROLOGUE

EPISODE 1

(Rokudaime: Sixth successor, Irezumi: Traditional Japanese Tattoo)

I sat at the dinner table wearing my best smile. I should be used to it now. A nod here, a sympathetic smile there and a well-practiced, breathtaking laugh at the right moment, and people would let their narcissism convince them of my attention.

“Rein? The salt.” Akito’s eyebrow is raised, it may have been the third time he asked. Oops.     

“Of course!” I laughed, but the boy at the other end of the table was unimpressed.

“You have the most unusual eyes,” Akito’s mother peered into them. She was a little bit intense, as I'd come to find. But I was the first friend her son brought home. “I don’t think I have ever seen anyone with eyes like that. Are they blue?”

“Sometimes," I said.

“It’s because he’s a cross breed,” Akito explained, watching me as he took an artful bite of his tiramisu, “like a cockapoo.”

“Aki,” Mrs. Himura hissed, “don’t use words like that.”’

“It’s a real breed of Dog.” Akito shrugged.

“He’s right, Sayako-San,” I said, giving Akito a pointed look, “I'm mixed.” 

“Hafu?" Sayako-San said, "I see."

“But both your parents look—” Akito’s father began, but a sharp look from his wife cut him off. 

“I’m adopted.”

He was referring to my ‘parents’ who attended a recent parent-teacher event. The Himura family didn’t know how to react. They looked to their son for a clue. But even Akito’s spoon was frozen near his mouth.

“Oh,” Sayako-San frowned, “do you know anything about your biological parents?”

“Sayako…” her husband laughed sheepishly, his turn to be embarrassed by a lack of tact. “That question is a little personal, isn’t it, honey?” 

“It’s fine Himura-San, it’s only natural to be curious,” I said, to break through the awkwardness.

Akito had stuffed his mouth with food again, but I had grown familiar with his practiced nonchalance. He was listening. “I don’t remember anything about them, unfortunately. I’m sure they were good people.”

“You seem to have taken well to your new family Rein-Kun," Sayako said, eyes flicking to Akito, "some kids just take things for granted.”

Akito shook his head.

My lips formed a smile. I’m sure it looked forced.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Sayako-San said, "Aki keeps turing every girl down."

"Okasan..." Akito sighed.

"No such luck, Sayako-San," I shrugged.

"That's surprising. You're such a pleasant boy," she said as she served me the last of the Tiramisu. The very Tiramisu Himura-San had been eyeing for the last ten minutes. There was a quiet stand-off between the couple.

Akito didn't look like him at all. Remarkable how such an average couple had created someone as stunning as him. 

“Let him have it Otosan, you guys are being incredibly embarrassing.”

A cozy home, loving parents, warm home cooked dinner, all filled with loving irritation and familiarity. Things most people came back to everyday. I picked at the food left on my plate, forcing myself not to bolt out the door. 

“Sayako–San, Himura-San can have it. Thank you,” I said finally. She looked so sad I worried my discomfort showed on my face. 

The rest of the short visit went more or less in the same way. A few words about school, a few tales from Akito’s perfect and very cheerful childhood, followed by goodbyes and requests to drop by more often. Then Akito and I were walking back towards the bus stop.

“So, what did you think?” He asked me.

“Of what?”

“Dinner?”

“It was alright.”

He huffed, walking ahead of me.

“You have a nice family,” I sighed, catching up to him. “Thank you for having me, Akito. I mean it. I am not used to things like this.”

Akito stopped, forcing me to do the same. “What's your family like?” 

“Quieter,” I said, “and less argumentative about dessert.”

“Right.”

It had not been long since Akito and I became friends. Few months. But I had already begun to notice tiny details on his face that betrayed his thoughts. At the moment, the slight crinkling of his eyebrows and tell-tale tightness around his mouth that told me he was feeling just a little bit guilty.

"I should get going," I said, at length.

Akito took a deep breath, "How is your neck?”

I pulled down the collar of my shirt to reveal purple marks of crushing fingers, his crushing fingers, "It'll take a few more days to fade."

Akito paled.

“I would have said 'Nuclear' if it wasn't okay."

"Like we agreed," Akito nodded, eyes catching on the bruise before he looked away.

I averted my eyes, "...Yeah."

I hadn’t expected him to have a side like that, to be honest. But it was possible I picked up on it subconsciously— that's why I was so damn attracted to him. No idea what to feel about that.

"Okay," he cleared his throat, shoulders easing a bit. “My mother...she thinks I'm gay. She probably thinks that about you too. It's not like that.”  

And there it was.

A moment passed.

“I’ll be off then,” I said, “it was a nice dinner Akito. I don’t mind doing it again.” 

“Rein, wait.”

 I halted. "Yeah?”

“Kimiko and I are going to Akihabara tomorrow.”

What?

“She wants to go shopping,” he said, “you could come along. It would be more tolerable if you went with us.”

My hands clenched where they were stuffed in my pockets. Again with the girl? Fine then. We would see how long he could stay in denial. “Sure, why not?”

“I will never understand why boys go for such bland women,” said a silken voice that made Akito lose his precious composure. He whipped around to find a girl clad in the blackest ensemble one could imagine. Stockings, boots, skirt and turtle neck.

“Were you here the whole fucking time?” Akito said.

“I’m not coming with you if you’re going to Akihabara,” Akane ignored Akito as she came closer and put her cold gloved finger on my carotid to make sure his family hadn’t poisoned me. I turned my back to him, feeling all the counterfeit fragility vanish from my face, and she followed.

More important matters than Akito being a closet case had to be attended to that night.

I had insisted on taking the bus precisely because it would take me longer to get to the Yakuza Mansion. Akane sat in the aisle seat next to me, not the least bit inclined on hiding her displeasure. Frank to the point of cruelty. It’s why I liked her.

The short trip downtown passed in a haze, my thoughts mostly preoccupied with Akito against my will. And before I knew it, I was lying face down on a cold tatoo chair, as Nobunaga-San readied his tools. Akane long gone to do whatever it was she did when off duty.

“Rokudaime-Sama, are you ready?” He asked, tracing the ridges of my back with his gloved, clinical hands.

“Yes.” I said, but it didn’t really matter. I had officially been declared the successor to the current Oyabun, my adoptive mother. With the honor, came the irezumi. Traditional tattoos the Yakuza were known for. 

“A Hannya mask is a symbol of great luck,” he said, as he sterilized my skin. A wooden paddle and a needle with silk string rested on a tray to the side. I had to get the tattoo done the traditional way. A lot of pain and a lot of effort went into this, and despite being the one to wear it, the decision of the design rested largely in the hands of the artist. The fact that I want it in red was about all I could tell him, and he was free to disregard even that.

He began drawing the outline free hand, no stencils.

“The Hannya represents a duality of emotion.” he said, as the first prick of the needle pierced through my skin, and I grit my teeth, “It is the tale of Lady Rokujo, a woman so beautiful, she was known all over the Empire. The Prince was so taken that he married her. And for a while, she was next in line to be the Empress. But life was unkind to Lady Rokujo. The Prince passed away, she could no longer be Empress, and was plunged into a terrible sadness till one day, she met a warrior named Genji, handsome and powerful, he swept her off her feet.”

I squeezed my eyes shut againt the pain, but Nobunaga-San showed no signs of stopping as he continued poking color into my skin.

“Theirs was a torrid love affair, and soon they became the talk of town. You see, the warrior was already married to someone else,” he wiped the blood off my skin, “Lady Aoi, was her name. And soon she was pregnant with Genji’s child.”

“Nice going Genji,” I said, digging my nails into the seat. 

“But it wasn’t his fault,” Nobunaga-San sounded like he was frowning, “Genji and Lady Aoi had been married for a few years, but there was no real love between them. Theirs was a marriage born of necessity.”

“What happened next?” I gritted out.

“Lady Aoi humiliated Lady Rokujo one day, and Genji said nothing in her defense. You see, he was falling in love with Lady Aoi now that she carried his child. He harbored only lust for Lady Rokujo, and she had mistaken it for something more. Nonetheless, she grew insane in her jealousy and took the form of a demon, killed Lady Aoi and filled Genji’s life with nothing but sadness and misery.”

“Are you sure the Hannya is a symbol of good luck?” An angry and jealous Demon, overcome by her emotions, hardly sounded like something I would want to carry on my back forever. There was one hung on the wall I was facing, furious from the front and heartbroken from the side, forever suffering.

“Ah but it is, Rokudaime Sama.” Nobunaga-San said, setting aside a pot of blue ink. “It is a symbol of power. It says that you will never forgive your enemies, and that to cross you, is death. It is perfect.”

That’s not what it seemed like to me.