ᴜsʜɪᴏɪ | ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ɪɴ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: ɢōᴋᴜᴅᴏ

Gokudō (n.) : The Yakuza's way of life
"The ultimate path"

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The pitch black sky aroused no stars.
The environment was relatively quiet except the few stray animals that inched by every now and then.

It was their usual location. No one ever found them there. On the outskirts of the city. Behind an abandoned factory in rural Takegawa.

Ushijima leaned against the car after stomping out the cigar that he'd been at for a while.

The knife slid against the brick with a slow, dreadful sound.
They were playing with him.
Like a lion toys with prey before the grand finale.

Light rain began to puddle against the concrete as the man before them pleaded pitifully.

His decent suit had been reduced to a tattered maya blue blouse and ragged black slacks. He was a bleeding mess.

Blood seeped from his mouth everytime he began to speak.
He had defensive wounds around his fingers and his left arm had been gashed severely. It was a miracle the tendons still kept it together.

His voice was hoarse and cracked.
"Please! Don't-do this--I have a family."
He proceeded to take a small photo from his torn pants pocket.
The crumpled paper shook between his bruised fingers.
The tears in his eyes were visible even through his swollen eyelids.

"Sorry bud, should've thought this through. Hōzai doesn't do exceptions. That'd be bad on our reputation. You understand. Don't you?"

Tendou squatted in front of him. His arms rested over the baseball bat that levelled on his shoulders.

"I-I'll-I swear I'll get it right next time! I won't mess up again!"

"Hurry it up Tendou. Tachizawa is waiting at the port."

Tendou stands up rolling the bat in his hands. "Damn Wakatoshi! I'm tryin' to have a little fun. I don't get that much these days."

"Wait please -."

He bent over. He whispered something in his ear that made him stop. Tendou rose with a disgusting grin, swinging the bat over his head.

The sound was shattering.
The type of sound that etches itself into your bones.
The feeling never goes away.

Oikawa jumped at the impact.
Tendou walked over to Hiyō and traded his baseball bat for a 40 caliber revolver .
Hōzai was notorious for how they did their victims.
Especially traitors.

Oikawa clutched his coat and walked over to Ushijima. His wanted to get away from the festivities and the job at hand.

He brushed pass Ushijina and plopped into the car exhaustedly. Oikawa ran a hand through his hair as he looked into the abyss of the ocean.
The door opened. Ushijima sat in beside him. A consecutive blare of gunshots permeated the secluded area.

Oikawa furrowed his brows and slumped in the seat.

He wasn't opposed or in favor of the heinous crimes the Hōzai committed. He was just use to it.
But it still gave him chills.
He knew what he was getting himself into. He chose to become a part of this.
He chose to cut all of his ties.
He chose to become a criminal.