Yakuza!Jotaro x Reader- Flower and The Serpent

Sake

Sake. It was clear, sharp, always shocking. You absolutely adored the rice spirit, with its hand-sanitizer smell that cleared the nose like Vicks vaporub, and the way it burned the sinuses as it went down. You'd grown up in a rural area, with acres of barley and other grains going to making beer. The brewery would always smell of hops, and on the days they were preparing the mash it would stink up the whole town with that fermented scent. Sake was so clean-smelling by comparison, and it absolutely fascinated you. The first time you tried it you fell in love, and vowed to yourself to become a sake sommelier.
"I can't see you making any money in this." Your mother had said as you got the bus into the next town over to take the three-month course. Over that time, you learnt many things- about the polishing of rice, and the difference between daiginjo, gingo and Honjozu- that was, slightly polished to very polished rice in the preparation of sake. You learnt many things over that course, but two in particular stood out. The course was being run by a restauranteur searching for a sommelier for his friend, Mr Matsuzaki. Matsuzaki owned one of the finest restaurants in Tokyo, and had travelled the world in search of a sommelier befitting of him.

"Everybody, take a glass." The restauranteur said to you and your fellow course mates. You'd all go onto good jobs in the industry, but Mr Matsuzaki would offer only the finest of you a job at his restaurant. The course was being held in the local function hall, a room that smelt like all-purpose cleaning fluid and dust. Before all of you sat a small cup of sake, poured from an anonymous black bottle.
"Before you is a vintage Junmai Daigingo sake. I want you to all try it, and tell me what kind it is based on taste alone." Mr Matsuzaki said, sitting at the head of the table. Everyone took a sip, and gave feedback.
"It's so citrusy and tangy."  A man next to you said.
"I'm getting leaf mould..." the girl across the table remarked. You just shook your head and sighed.
"This is crap!"
A gasp rang out through the crowd.
"What did you say?!" The girl who'd remarked on the leaf mould said.
"Jumnai Daigingo is known for not being diluted with brewer's alcohol, and for having slight honey notes. This isn't even sake, it's watered down vodka." You said. There was silence, and then Mr Matsuzaki laughed. He pulled the label off the bottle, revealing it to be Smirnoff Ice.
"Correct! I wanted someone who speaks the truth, and especially a foreigner for the job. The rest of you were just being arse-kissers because I'm a big shot. You're hired, y/n! I'll be glad to work with you."
On the flight to Japan a few months later, visa in tow and Mr Matsuzaki sitting next to you, you learnt a few vital things.
One is that the finest sake in the world is a Junmai Daigingo-shu, and that the taste is unmistakable.
The other is that all of Tokyo knows you don't fuck with Jotaro Kujo.

"Why'd you find a new sommelier like this?" You asked Mr Matsuzaki, taking out the earbuds to your CD Walkman and putting aside your Japanese language workbook as the plane crossed the Pacific ocean to Japan. You'd been studying the Japanese language for a year, but it always helped to practice. Matsuzaki pushed aside his aeroplane dinner of curry and rice, and turned to you with a worried look on his face, like a rabbit being stared at by a hungry fox.
"Nobody anywhere near Tokyo wants to be a sommelier anymore! They've all been scared off, so I thought to go further afield. Anyway, the test showed me that you're braver than the average candidate by telling me your thoughts. And you'll need bravery in this line of work, I'm afraid."
"Why's that?" You asked.
"Y/n, how much do you know about the Yakuza?" Mr Matsuzaki asked with a gulp.
"Um... They're gangsters. Organised crime, and they carry swords and have tattoos. They're vicious." You replied. You didn't have a personal computer at home, yet you'd been IM-ing your new Japanese roommate via a cyber cafe, and she'd said that she'd ensured the apartment you'd be sharing would have internet, AND she'd bring her computer. Because of this, your knowledge on the Yakuza mainly came from old late-night gangster movies, and the mandatory warning on every travel guide in the library.

"The largest Yakuza clan in Tokyo is currently the Joestar clan." Mr Matsuzaki said, looking behind his shoulder as if gangsters were watching him. "They operate out of the Shinjuku district, which is where my restaurant is. It's not just Shinjuku- they control the Shibuya, Minato, Chiyoda, Bunkyo and Shinagawa districts too. Every business owes them protection money, and those who don't pay up shall suffer horribly."
He gulped, and continued.
"The Joestar clan is run by Kujo Jotaro. He'll have anyone who writes a newspaper article on him killed, so not much info on him gets out, even now with the internet. Fuck, the cops even fear him! Kujo rules these streets with an iron fist, and he's got a bunch of lackeys that hang around with him everywhere. Apparently his grandfather was an old-timey American gangster in the fifties, with a Tommy gun and everything. His father ran the clan before him, but Jotaro took power by force. You don't want to cross with that blade of his, as everyone who does so dies."
"So the restaurant is in gang-land?" You asked.
"No, half the city is! The Yakuza aren't like the Mafia, or the LA gangs. They don't do public shootouts, they do their nasty work in private, and leave the remains around for everyone to see. But yes, my restaurant is in the center of their operations, and I pay them 200k yen a month. It would be more if I were a bakery or just an iyazaka, but Kujo gives me a reduction."
"Why's that?" You asked.
"We specialise in seafood and sake. It's his favourite, and why nobody else wants the job. Now let's stop talking about this, it's scaring me!" Your boss said, quaking like a leaf in a storm. You tried to focus on your CD, but everything reminded you of that Yakuza boss looming over your future like a dark cloud. The audio seemed to taunt you, or perhaps warn you of what was to come.
Kiken. Danger
Watashi wa kiken ni sarasa rete imasu. I am in danger
Anata wa kiken ni sarasa rete imasu. You are in danger
Watashitachi zen'in ga kiken ni sarasa rete imasu. We are all in danger.