Kanto Union, third-tier group — Shirahōkai headquarters.
The building was a grand Japanese-style mansion, its splendor deliberately flaunted to reflect the rapidly rising power of Shirahōkai—a residence that could rival those of noble families.
Tsuda Masaaki stepped out of his car at the mansion's front gate and straightened his suit.
Two Wakashu standing guard at the entrance bowed to him in unison.
Tsuda acknowledged them with a nod and strode toward the side entrance.
He wasn't yet qualified to be welcomed through the main gate—he still had to enter through the side.
But this was still a step up from having to use the servants' entrance. After all, this was Japan, where hierarchy was paramount—and nowhere was status more strictly observed than within the yakuza.
Passing through the gate, Tsuda walked along a small corridor and entered the main house.
Waiting in the entryway was Kobayashi Oka, a Wakashu of Shirahōkai. The moment Tsuda entered, he bowed deeply. "The Boss, Young Master, and Wakagashira are already in the tea room."
Tsuda gave a grave nod and followed him toward the tea room.
The room was six and a half tatami mats in size—traditional Japanese architecture often measured room size by the number of tatami mats. One mat equaled one tatami.
The room was a textbook example of a washitsu—with no solid walls. The roof was supported by pillars, and what seemed to be walls were actually sliding doors.
A room entirely enclosed by sliding doors—this was the essence of a washitsu.
Many modern homes styled as Japanese mansions merely imitated the appearance, while using modern construction methods. But among the yakuza, maintaining these traditional details was part of their identity—a declaration of value and status.
At the center of the tea room, seated in the place of honor, was the first-generation Boss of Shirahōkai, Shirahō Sōgo. Behind him, a sliding door displayed a dramatic ukiyo-e-style painting of a tiger mid-pounce.
Flanking Shirahō Sōgo were the Wakagashira and the Young Master.
Before each of them sat a cup of tea and a tray of cold appetizers.
Drinking tea while eating cold appetizers might seem odd, but Tsuda wouldn't dare comment.
Besides, he knew that Shirahō Sōgo had a notorious obsession with sashimi.
"It's you, Masaaki," Shirahō Sōgo said, looking up and gesturing toward the cushion across from him.
Tsuda didn't sit immediately. He bowed deeply. "Good evening, Boss."
"Mm. Good evening."
Only after this did Tsuda seat himself properly on the cushion.
As if on cue, a sliding door opened softly, and two kimono-clad women entered, carrying fresh tea and a tray of cold appetizers, which they set before Tsuda.
"Have you eaten?" asked Shirahō Sōgo.
"Not yet," Tsuda answered honestly.
"Then eat. This is today's freshly landed salmon and sea bass. Unfortunately, we've run out of tuna, so you'll have to make do with these."
Tsuda thanked him once more, picked up his chopsticks, and placed a slice of salmon into his mouth.
Watching him eat, Shirahō Sōgo asked, "The gun we entrusted to you—still secure?"
"Yes. In perfect condition—ready at any time," Tsuda replied quickly after swallowing.
In the yakuza world, being entrusted to safeguard firearms was a profound mark of trust.
And that trust wasn't just personal—it was a reflection of one's standing and competence.
The Japanese police were often more zealous about hunting down illegal firearms than even solving homicides. Gun possession was easy to convict and carried heavy sentences. Finding one was practically a guaranteed promotion.
In contrast, homicide investigations often ended in acquittal due to lack of evidence.
That Shirahōkai had entrusted Tsuda with a firearm was proof of the Boss's deep confidence in him.
Rumor had it that Shirahōkai would soon be promoted to a direct affiliate of the Kanto Union. When that happened, Tsuda-gumi would rise as well—moving from third-tier group to second-tier group.
After confirming the matter of the firearm, Shirahō Sōgo shifted the conversation. "You've heard about Nishiyama Heita's little disaster?"
"I have," Tsuda thought—so this is why I was summoned. "We've already begun investigating Kiryu Kazuma, and initial progress has been promising."
"Good. Now—if I asked you to close the dojo acquisition before the next Kanto Union executives' meeting, could you manage it?"
Tsuda raised an eyebrow. "Before the meeting? That area is still Nishiyama-gumi turf. Would it really be appropriate for us to intervene so openly?"
"Once you move in, it becomes your turf," Shirahō Sōgo replied calmly. "Nishiyama-gumi has publicly admitted their failure. They won't interfere. This is your chance to prove yourself among the third-tier groups. If you succeed, I will bring you to the executives' meeting—you'll have a seat behind me. Isn't that desirable?"
Tsuda's heart beat faster.
To outsiders, having a seat at a Kanto Union executives' meeting might sound trivial. But within the yakuza, it marked a passage into the upper echelons—you were no longer a small-time thug shaking down local shopkeepers.
You became a big-name villain.
Tsuda bowed deeply. "Understood. I will resolve this within one week."
At that, the Young Master, Shirahō Akira, spoke. "Tsuda, people have always looked down on your fighting skills—saying you're not a true yakuza. Now that the brawler Nishiyama Heita has suffered a loss, show them what you're capable of. Use every means you have—prove them wrong."
Tsuda bowed once more. "I understand. I will not disappoint you."
Then the Wakagashira, Sakata Jinsaku, spoke. "Would you like reinforcements? We recently recruited a skilled swordsman—I can assign him to you."
"Thank you, Wakagashira, but that won't be necessary," Tsuda declined firmly. "I already have a plan. Since the Young Master wishes me to prove myself, I will handle this in my own way. What cannot be solved through force can be resolved with intelligence. I will show those who doubt me that the times have changed."
"I see. Well then—good luck," Shirahō Sōgo said.
He picked up his chopsticks and with a practiced motion swept all the sashimi on his side of the tray into his mouth—without so much as dipping it in sauce.
While chewing, he casually gestured to Tsuda—a clear sign that he was dismissed.
Tsuda promptly rose, bowed again, drained the last of his tea, and left behind the untouched cold appetizers. He stood and exited the tea room.
After he left, Shirahō Akira asked his father, "Will this really be alright?"
"Why not?" replied Shirahō Sōgo. "Nishiyama Heita lost because he underestimated his opponent. Tsuda is far more cautious—he won't make the same mistake."
Back in his car, Tsuda Masaaki found Shin'nosuke waiting.
"I just parked the car and didn't even get a drink—why are you already back out?" Shin'nosuke grumbled.
"Less chatter. We're going to President Satō's house."
"President Satō of the Transport Union?" Shin'nosuke confirmed, starting the car.
"Exactly." Tsuda leaned back in his seat, a slow smile spreading across his face.
(End of Chapter)