Chapter 15
My Wife わぎもこ
Riyu
“Where the fuck is my wife?” The man across from gives me a slow blink, neither surprised nor perturbed by my demand. Instead, he slowly swivels in his chair, nodding to his younger brother.
“Where the fuck is our sister?” Porter Shipmoore asks as his older brother remains silent behind the desk in the office they have the nerve to lease in a building the Takedas own.
The sheer bravado of these guys is unmatched, save for a few of our acquaintances and the men in our own family.
Having been raised with the sort of power that makes countries crumble gives you a certain type of fearlessness.
“You’re asking the wrong question of the wrong men.
What use do we have of your vigilante sister?
Our wives never utilized her services. The simple fact is you failed to protect her while letting her run rampant, making enemies of some powerful men — kings even.
Now the chaos she has sown has visited on her.
” I tell them with cool ruthlessness. They understand and will respect nothing less.
“Prosperity’s good work aside. She is a Shipmoore and as such we will have her back, unmarked, unmolested and whole.
” Bishop finally speaks. “Once she is again in the bosom of her family, I’m sure your wives will be returned.
Though we have no idea how you managed to lose your wives again, we will endeavor to offer you any assistance you require.
” Steepling his fingers, Bishop gives us the briefest of nods indicating the meeting is over.
Standing, we bow. The Takedas and Shipmoore — two of the most powerful families on the planet are at war.
“What do you suggest now?” Hisashi asks as after we relay the information from the meeting.
“They have them. We are at war with the Shipmoores. They have left us no other choice.” I know it without any evidence, nor does my cousin demand any.
No one else would dare go against the Takeda empire.
No one has the resources of the proxy network they’ve managed to establish since opening an office in Tokyo.
They made one error though; we rule this country.
“Shut them down. No Shipmoore vessels may enter or exit. Delay all contracts in every country we have influence. Our sole goal is to make them feel the impact of their poor choices.” I tell the men in the room. This goes no further than those present.
Just then a call comes in. The screen in the conference room we use to simultaneously monitor several of our businesses fills with an image.
Clicking the button, I stand, watching a live feed of my wife and Bridget fill the screen. They are sitting in a garden. The kimonos gifted by my mother they wore the night of the theater are gone. Clad in simple linen lounge sets they seem oblivious of being watched.
“How long do you think they are going to keep us here?” Ev asks slowly stirring her tea not looking at Bridget directly like she doesn’t want attention drawn to her.
Stepping closer to the screen, it almost feels like my chest is caving in. She’s so close, it’s as though she’s mere inches away, but there is nothing in that garden that tells me the location.
Fists clenching, I watch helplessly as she lifts her head, watching Bridget shrug. “I don’t know. I know Ti and Ri are beside themselves — do you think they think we ran away again?”
My brother grunts. I know he thought it. Hell, I did too. Thought maybe even Haha had a hand in it too. She’d been a little smug at the little tea party she held for them.
It wasn’t until I saw how truly distraught she was after they were taken that I relented.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I gave Riyu my word.
I hope he believes in that. I just hope no one gets hurt by this.
I hope they don’t do anything to cause Prosper anymore pain.
She was just trying to help people. She doesn’t deserve this.
” Taking a sip of her tea, she puts it back down like she lost interest in it.
Bridget nods, fiddling with her food as if she’s not really interested in eating the large array of food set before them.
“Nope, she doesn’t, but she also told us hundreds of times she knew the consequences of her actions and she was willing to take whatever problems came her way because of it.” Shrugging a little, she takes a petit four and pops it in her mouth.
“With those two behemoths behind her, I can see why she thinks that. Still—” Ev stops short, a dead giveaway if I ever saw one.
She’s not na?ve enough to think they are not at least being observed.
Knowing any implication will only further antagonize her captors, she covers the hesitancy with a sip of tea. “Still, I just want her back safe.”
Bridget is already nodding, but I doubt the Shipmoores, who I know are probably watching alongside us, aren’t fooled.
“Ladies Takeda, it’s time for your daily constitutional.” A demure servant says off-camera.
Ev and Bridget both stand, walking behind the woman deeper into the garden.
After a moment, the camera switches focus, following them along the path they take as the attendant leads them along a scenic path.
A few minutes later, the screen switches back to black. Then blazes with one phrase: YOU KNOW WHAT MUST BE DONE.
“Motherfuckers,” Takashi swears wrathfully.
It’s obvious who it’s from — the Shipmoores use none of the tatemae of our culture. The bluntness of the West is evident in all their actions without them taking credit outright for their actions.
“I can almost respect their approach if we weren’t the ones being targeted.” Leaning back in my chair, I swivel to face Hisashi. “You have a relationship with Tsuyoshi Tatsumoto, do you think he can be reasoned with when it comes to her?”
“Can any of us be reason with when it comes to our women?” Hisashi dead eyes search ours.
“What alternative do we have? Wage war on two fronts?” Looking from man to man I feel that soon the streets will be running red with blood soon this is not resolved soon.
“Perhaps, they will be satisfied with proof of life and contentment” Hisashi muses.
“You would not allow that if it was Kana.” I remind him of the length he and Kiyoshi went to secure the freedom for their sister and even their despicable mother.
“Family will always will out,” Takashi nods in agreement.
“It will be up to Tsuyoshi to convince his pet her compliance is in the best interest of his family.” My cousin’s monster says with cold finality, taking over.
“I will go talk to him and make the request.” I announce to the room at large.
“I’ll accompany you.” Takashi says.
“We will not be killing anyone, brother.” I dead eye him. Know I miss my wife, but he seems ready to burn and salt the earth at the moment at the loss of Bridget.
“Hai,” Giving me his word with a slight deferential bow.
Screwing him a hard look, Hisashi grunts. “Need I remind you that our alliance with the Tatsumoto was long in coming, and they are not the ones holding your wives?”
“Yes, and the assholes who gave her to him are safely tucked away with their pregnant wives with heirs on the way.” My twin reminds our cousin how Kiyoshi signed off on the gift Akchiro supplied to the yakuza prince to cement the deal between the Takedas and Tatsumoto syndicates.
“Yes and now it will be you two who further strengthen this alliance. I have every confidence you will.” Rising after basically telling us not to kill Tsuyoshi Tatsumoto, he bows and leaves the room. The soft click of the door that follows may as well be a gunshot.
The fortress of the Tatsumoto Yakuza prince is a renovated ancient samurai mansion — all sleek lines and manicured bonsai trees graduating in degree and height as our car gradually makes its way up the incline of the hill it sits atop, looking down on the valley below.
Strategically, it’s perfect. With the three hundred-sixty degree views afforded from his ancestors’ building, the home in such a place, the Tatsumoto will never be caught unawares.
There was no point in a surprise visit. We’d never make up here alive. As a courtesy, he agreed to meet with us, but we know as well as he does that is all it will be.
The yakuza prince is fully aware of everything that is going on in Tokyo regarding the pet he insists on keeping.
Unmoved and unbothered and probably obsessed to boot, he’s felt no desire to engage with us or any other the other Yakuza clans in regards to parting with her.
Nor has he reached out to her brothers to resolve the issue.
The scenery is majestic. It’s almost idyllic, and I’d actually appreciate it more where not for the task I’d set for myself.
As soon as the car comes to a stop in the circular drive, a cadre of Tatsumoto Yakuza spill from the entrance of the residence, lining the path to the door.
Stepping out of the vehicle, we hand over our knives, daggers, and signature Katana, leaving them in the care of trusted Tatsumoto soldiers. Each man bows with the promise to take care of our cherished items. There are no guns — to use one in Yakuza culture is dishonor.
“This way, Tatsumoto Sensei awaits.” A scared man, Kenshin Tatsumoto, head enforcer, second in command and first cousin, says with cold indifference after we’ve removed our shoes for house slippers.
Warrior to his core and a former Japanese special forces officer, he, along with his cousin, has put more bodies in the ground than anyone aside from us.
We dip our heads in bows of greeting, following as he takes us down a hallway laden with masterful art. Hisashi informed us of Tsuysohi’s secret passion for art.
His work is museum-quality. I can’t take my eyes off the masterful pieces. Each step leading us down the corridor takes us to more and more magnificent works of art.
Takashi’s and my eyes meet. “Genius,” he mutters.
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” admonishes the man leading the way. “He killed the last person who praised his work.”
A servant slides the doors open as we approach.
Stepping back, Kenshin bows as the servant leaves. Closing the doors as we step in, he takes a position just outside the door.
“Konichiwa,” comes the voice of the man lounging in the tradition seating area. Bowing to Tatsumoto, we wait until he motions us forward.
“Thank you for seeing us, Tatsumoto Sensei.” Bowing again, I take on the role of senior brother addressing the man of higher rank.
“Please sit.” Motioning to the cushions across from him. He settles back, resting his pigment-stained fingers in his lap in a steeple-like fashion, not unlike the elder Shipmoore brother.
“I understand there is a misconception regarding my wife.” He drops that bomb as if it’s common knowledge that he married the woman who was gifted to him a year ago.
“Ahem, Bishop and Porter Shipmoore have expressed concern for their sister’s wellbeing. They are unaware of her marriage —”
“You’ve talked to my brothers?” Looking up to the beautiful figure entering from the garden, her arms filled with flowers, we finally see Prosperity Shipmoore the first time since she kneeled muzzled at his side on Akchiro’s super yacht over a year ago.
Looking at Tsuyoshi who gives me a nod, I answer, “Yes, they have taken up residence in Tokyo and made their desire to see and hear from you well known among our business associates. Presently, our wives are guests of your brothers as we work to help resolve the issue of their most beloved sister’s absence from their lives. ”
Her eyes look to her husband and back to us. Swallowing visibly, she puts the basket down, making the bump protruding from her kimono evident.
Making her way over to Tsuyoshi, she takes his hand as he helps her to take her position at his side.
“You warned me this would happen. I’m sorry.” Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. Despite her best efforts, one slips through.
Face hardening, Tsuyoshi swipes the tear away like it offends him.
“I’ll take care of it,” he promises her, but she’s already shaking her head.
Gripping his wrist, she kisses it, shaking her head. “I need to do this — I should have already done so.”
Nodding, he reaching inside a hidden pocket of the kimono he’s wearing, handing her his phone.
She dials a number, “Bishop?”