Yakuza Tour Guide (18+)

4. Mark of the Dragon

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I feel so self conscious walking with him. It's like everyone is staring at us, or maybe they're staring at me? I must look completely out of place with Tatsu. He's so intense, but he blends in naturally because he's Japanese. I'm just some dorky little American girl who got ready to leave her hotel in less than fifteen minutes.

If he's thinking the same thing, he doesn't show it. I even catch him a few times, when he thinks I'm totally entranced by the crowd, giving me little glances up and down. I take a breath and repeat my positive affirmations.

He invited you out for a reason.

You are desirable.

You deserve this.

We end up at a convenience store, which doesn't look special or anything. I cluelessly follow behind Tatsu until he stops, scans the shelf, squats, grabs a bottle, and thrusts it into my hand. "This. You're supposed to drink it before you have alcohol, but it should still do the job."

I offer to pay and he refuses. When we get out to the street, I eye the little bottle and crack the cap off of it. That smell... It's like opening a bottle of cold medicine. I take a sip and, yeah, pretty much tastes like cold medicine, too. It's way too sweet, with a sour, bitter aftertaste. I grimace.

"And what is this?"

"Ukon no Chikara."

Ukon no Chikara. "The Power of... Turmeric"? It's just an herbal drink?

"So, is it safe to drink the whole bottle?"

"That's kind of the point. You drink the whole thing and gone."

He makes a chopping motion as he says it. Gone.

"But what else is in it?"

"B vitamins, fruit flavor, stevia, beef liver."

I nearly spit the mouthful I have back into the bottle. With a concerned little whine, I swallow. "Beef liver!?"

He laughs at me and gives me a pat on the shoulder. "Yeah, I mean think about it, what gets all the alcohol out of you?"

"Your liver, I get it. So, next time I have a stomach ache, should I eat some beef stomach?"

"Sure, let me know how that goes."

That smile. I wonder if Tatsu smiles all the time, or if that's just for me. He doesn't exactly look like a big "smiler." I give him little side glances, too, as we walk and that happy look on his face just... disappears the moment he's not focused on me.

I realize that we've been speaking Japanese this whole time. When did that happen? I'm either way more fluent than I thought, or Tatsu is being kind and not pointing out how badly I'm butchering his language.

That's when a guy approaches us who I can only describe as a Japanese man who looks like he's cosplaying as James Dean: white tshirt, jeans, black leather boots, sunglasses and a ridiculous pompadour. Also, the tattoos. All up both arms, he has dark blue and red dragons.

I swallow hard. I may be a foreigner, but I know enough to know that the only kind of Japanese man who has traditional, chiseled tattoos like that is a Yakuza. Think, the mafia, but in Japan and with swords instead of tommy guns.

"Ay, Tatsu! Fancy running into you," Japanese James Dean says. He must be assuming I don't speak Japanese, because as he tilts his sunglasses down and ogles me, he says. "Damn, you're smooth with the ladies. Where'd you find a gaijin bitch?~"