dkrc Chapter 24 The Perfume of the Yakuza
Chapter 24 The Perfume of the Yakuza
Tokyo, July 1989.
A month has passed since that sunrise at the beach.
As the lingering effects of the Showa era gradually fade, the first summer of the Heisei era is approaching with a restless heatwave.
Shinjuku, Kabukicho.
Even during the day, the place is filled with a unique smell that is a mixture of cheap perfume and alcohol.
On both sides of the narrow street, the densely packed signs seemed to be crammed together as if competing for oxygen.
Kitahara Shin wore an inconspicuous black jacket, pulled his hat brim low, and skillfully navigated the maze-like back alleys, avoiding the brothel clerks trying to solicit customers.
He's not here to have fun.
He came to "purchase goods".
Kinji Fukasaku has been working on the script for his new film, "Yakuza Blood," for a long time.
The character's name is "Sawada," and he is portrayed as the second-in-command of a yakuza gang.
The script describes this person in only one sentence: "Like a mad dog in a suit, usually as elegant as a gentleman, but once he smells blood, he will crush his opponent to pieces."
"An elegant mad dog..."
Kitahara Shin repeatedly pondered the word in his mind.
The difficulty lies not in the "madness," but in the point where elegance and cruelty intersect.
Ever since he played a samurai in a Taiga drama, he's developed an overwhelming sense of "righteousness."
Although he practiced his sinister grin countless times in front of the mirror, he always felt something was missing—a kind of "evil aura" that made people feel physically uncomfortable just by looking at him.
That's a unique "pheromone" that only people who have been immersed in violence and crime for years can exude.
Since we can't act it out, we have to make up for it with "equipment".
He stopped in front of an old shop called "Showa Taisho".
This shop is hidden in a dead-end alley frequented only by stray cats, and even the signboard is blackened by smoke.
But within that circle, it was a very famous shop—it specialized in making suits for "gangsters" who didn't want to show their faces in big department stores.
Pushing open the door, the brass bell on the door rang out with a dull sound.
Welcome!
The boss was an old man with gray hair and only three fingers.
He had an unlit pipe dangling from his mouth and was ironing a purple shirt that looked expensive with a heavy, old-fashioned iron.
He glanced up at Kitahara Shin, his eyes like a rusty knife: "Hey buddy, you've come to the wrong place. We don't cater to office workers here, and we don't offer the kind of service you're looking for."
"I'm here to buy some accessories."
Kitahara Shin did not back down; instead, he looked around the shop's furnishings with great interest.
Every piece of clothing here exudes a strong sense of江湖 (jianghu, a term referring to the world of martial arts and chivalry).
Large shoulder pads, a cinched waist, and those flamboyant embroidered linings—it's all about looking rich and intimidating.
"The accessories are on the counter. Look for yourself, but don't touch them." The old man lowered his head and continued ironing the clothes, clearly mistaking Kitahara Shin for an ignorant and curious tourist.
Kitahara Shin walked up to the dusty glass display case.
Inside were piles of old items that had been rejected by pawnshops or whose original owners could no longer retrieve them.
Gold watch, gold-plated tie clip, ivory cigarette holder...
His gaze swept across a pile of clutter, finally settling on something in the corner.
They were a pair of black leather gloves.
It lay quietly in a red velvet tray, its leather as delicate as a baby's skin, yet its color was a deep, dark black, as if it could absorb all the light.
The instant their eyes met.
hum-
[Found an equipable item (green, rare)]
【Item Name: Black Leather Gloves for Debt Collectors】
[Original owner: A famous gang "cleaner" from the Showa era, who was used to wearing these gloves to handle "trouble" that he didn't want to get his hands dirty.]
【Location: Hands/Accessories】
[Condition: Good (lingering bloody smell that cannot be washed off)]
[Basic Attributes: When equipped, personal intimidation +30%, and fierceness in the eyes +20%]
[Special term: Graceful execution (passive)]
Note: These gloves have witnessed countless "cleaning" tasks. When you wear them and make the gesture of adjusting your cuffs and slowly putting on the gloves, you exude a terrifying sense of "I'm about to do some dirty work," instilling a physiological fear in your opponent.
"Cleaning...the dirty work..."
Kitahara Shin's pupils contracted slightly.
This is the missing soul of the character "Sawada".
The reason that character is terrifying is not because he shouts loudly, but because he treats violence as a routine, even ritualistic, job, like "cleaning with gloves on."
"Boss, how much are these gloves?"
Kitahara Shin pointed to the counter.
The old man stopped what he was doing, and raised his eyelids in surprise: "You have a sharp eye. That was left behind by a customer who had a suit made here a few years ago. Later... he never came to pick it up again. You know what that means, right?"
It means that the person is probably gone.
"How much?" Kitahara Shin remained unmoved.
"This is top-quality lambskin. Although it's secondhand, things with a 'story' like this aren't cheap." The old man grinned, revealing a set of teeth stained yellow from smoking. "Fifty thousand yen, no bargaining."
fifty thousand.
This is practically robbery for a pair of old gloves.
But Kitahara Shin didn't say a word, he just took out his wallet, counted out five 10,000 yen bills and slapped them on the counter.
"make a deal."
The old man looked at the straightforward young man with some surprise, put away the money, and threw out the gloves: "Take these, but be careful, these things have a lot of malevolent energy, don't hurt yourself."
Thanks.
Kitahara Shin picked up the gloves, turned around, and left the musty-smelling shop.
……
late at night.
Nakano Apartment.
Kitahara Shin washed his face and stood in front of the full-length mirror in the entryway.
He changed into a black fitted suit prepared for the audition, with a white shirt but no tie, the collar slightly open, revealing a bit of his collarbone.
Her hair was also specially styled into a slicked-back look using hairspray.
Now, he looks like a handsome male escort; he's stylish, but not bad enough.
He took a deep breath and picked up the pair of black leather gloves.
It felt cool and slippery to the touch, like touching a hibernating snake.
"equipment."
As he silently recited the mantra, the icy sensation instantly spread from his hands throughout his entire body.
It felt like an electric current was running down his spine. The gentleness and rationality that originally belonged to "Kitahara Shin" were gradually fading away, replaced by an indescribable restlessness and coldness.
He slowly put his left hand into the glove.
The five fingers tightened, and the leather made a slight rubbing sound, a teeth-grinding "sizzle".
Then the right hand.
He moved extremely slowly, carefully putting on the mask and smoothing out every wrinkle, like a surgeon preparing for a precise operation or a butcher sharpening his knife.
When he looked up at the mirror again, he was stunned for a moment.
The person in the mirror still has his facial features.
But those eyes changed.
His once clear pupils now resembled a bottomless pool of stagnant water. There was no warmth, no emotion, only a chilling mockery.
He slightly curled the corners of his mouth and gave himself a "Sawada-style" smile in the mirror.
"I heard you're trying to renege on your debt?"
The voice was soft, as if greeting an old friend.
But along with the slow, deliberate adjustment of the cuffs, the person in the mirror seemed as if they would pull out an ice pick from behind their back and, with a smile, stab it into the other person's eye socket.
That aura of "refined scoundrel" almost overflowed from the mirror.
Kitahara Shin looked at the "devil" in the mirror with satisfaction and slowly took off his gloves.
The suffocating sense of oppression vanished instantly.
"Is this the 'Yakuza Perfume'...?"
He looked at the bundle of black leather in his hand, a glint of excitement flashing in his eyes.
With this.
Kinji Fukasaku should have no problem with the audition.
and……
He turned to look at the stack of investigation materials about Kanai that he had bought from Sato on the table, his eyes turning slightly cold.
This thing might actually come in handy in real life.