THE UNNAMED ONE
[Kiyoshi Fukudo Sugiura]
(10/23/2005)
The night was still young and the moon continued to retreat behind the dark clouds. A fly buzzed around my ear as I waited patiently in the bushes. My legs began to cramp as I closed my eyes trying to ignore the pain. Voices could be heard as I waited intently as any sound could give away my position. If I give away my position I would not be able to hit my intended target. Footstep could be heard and I knew the moment would be at hand. I felt millions of ants climbing over my shoes and up my suit pants. Insects, mere insects were crawling all over my twenty five thousand dollar Testoni shoes. Footsteps approached and a shadow appeared on the ground. I often wondered if people got weird feeling the moment they were about to die. The figure appeared and a door opened, now the moment had come. Now came my time to strike, a loyal “dog” crouching for hours on orders waiting for this moment.
Popping up from the middle of the bushes my tiny throwing knife flew from my hand. The guard clenched his throat with blood pouring through his hands as he fell to his knees. I emerged from the bushes with a dramatic straightening of my tailored white Armani suit. My legs were stiff from my patience. The man stared up at me through his horror struck eyes. The man bled on the ground and soon drowned in his own blood. Stepping over it to keep the red liquid from staining my cream shoes, I glided over the wall nearing the front of the mansion. However, my former “stake outs” revealed that two guards remained at the front door at all times. This meant I would have to get up to the roof somehow. Sneaking around the building in a flanking pattern I found my way to the side of the mansion. Climbing onto the first floor ledge, I hopped from window to window from ledge to ledge. After much patience and dedication I felt my hands grasp the edge of the roofing tiles. With one final hoist I brought my small stature onto the roof. I collapsed onto the uncomfortable tiles and wiped my sweating face. My age was finally catching up to me. I stared up at the dark sky as I knew the real trouble was on the horizon. My reputation as being a ghost was dwindling and my golden days were now growing behind me. My loyalty was “doglike” to my Yakuza family and if my reputation failed my usefulness would be in question.
(03/21/1973)
How did I ever end up in this mess? The real question was if there was a life outside of this? I was so tired and as I closed my eyes all I could think about was the life that I should’ve had. The training that I received started out when I was very young, almost too young. These were the days when I was supposed to be out playing with my children and maybe have a family. However my young life was cut tragically short one day when I was a mere six years old. A lot of knocking came from our rusted front door, POW…POW…POW ! I could tell something was the matter because my parents were starting to get anxious. My father ended up pushing me into the back room hiding me in the closet. He placed several articles of clothing over me, hiding me from the world like a dirty little secret. “Don’t say anything Kiyoshi you hear me…no matter what you hear don’t leave this closet!” I didn’t even have time to respond when I heard my father shut the closet door. Even with all the clothes on me I could still hear my mother’s voice “go away father, leave us alone!”
The door slammed open and I heard it crash to the floor. “Well, well, well Fukudo, my own flesh and blood. I must say you have been a real challenge to locate.” “Please father…you don’t,” I heard a soft whine as a loud CRACK soon followed. “How dare you speak to me you little bitch…you’re lucky I want you alive. I should kill all of you and burn your pathetic little house to the ground!” My mother didn’t speak I heard the mystery man yell “search the house remember my instruction!” Stuff was crashing to the floor and glass was shattering. I heard sets of footsteps coming up the stairs. The door opened as a man yelled, “Kazuo I found the home wrecking dog!” “Get out or else,” my father screamed but I heard the door swing open wider. A much heavier man was entering the room, “good work Tijo…” The first man gave a soft “thank you boss.” The heavier man’s voice was rough and had a superior tone to it, “I don’t know your name and I don’t want to know. All I want to know is where that half-breed offspring son of yours is?” I thought I could hear my father tremble slightly “he…he is not here!” “Then what’re you doing in here, why aren’t you protecting your wife, protecting my daughter? You certainly protected her enough when you took her from her husband.” My father’s voice became a little stronger, “he was an abusive drunk Kazuo! He raped instead of loved…he ruined,” but Kazuo’s voice boomed like a cannon had exploded. “YOU ruined a business relationship! Now, that once friendly relationship has turned into a war!” “She isn’t a pawn,” my father cried, Kazuo continued “uniting the clans would have increased our business, but because of your blunder the clans are now warring… where is your son?”
I could hear my father tremble a little as Kazuo snarled, “Don’t make me ask you again!” “You’re not taking my son Kazuo!” “And my daughter wasn’t supposed to betray her people and family,” “but we are in love!” “IN LOVE,” Kazuo’s voice was filled with sarcasm. “I don’t understand why are you taking our son?” “Do not ask questions your foreign ears shouldn’t hear! If you wanted to keep your nose you should’ve kept it out of our family’s business… seize him!” I heard loud scuffling as I heard my father scream, “don’t come any closer!” I heard a thump and I knew my father was forced to the floor. “Search the house when you find the boy bring him here.” “He’s not here you’re too late.” “So why are you hiding in this room,” my father didn’t respond. “Ah ha,” exclaimed the mystery man “then I guess you wouldn’t mind us looking around your house?”
I heard the closet door beginning to open, “what is it you want from us Kazuo…from our son?” “Just call me a collector,” he said simply “I am here to collect what is owed to the family.” My father screamed, “we owe you nothing can’t you let us be together…get your hands off me!” I felt a pair of hands beginning to dig into the pile of clothes I was hiding in. Finally the man uncovered my face, “Kazuo,” he yelled “I found him!” The man had a flat face with eyes that seemed to bulge a little. He had black hair tied back in a ponytail, “bring him out here Tijo!” He grabbed a handful of my hair and dragged me out of the closet. My father was on his knees with two men holding him down. The final man was as an old man with a deeply wrinkled face. My mother was cowering by the door frame. He had a small black derby with a single pink flower in it. He had a thinning mustache that surrounded his lips and sported sunglasses several sizes too small for his face. “Don’t you touch him,” my father yelled his face red with anger. “You Americans are all the same sticking your nose in business that isn‘t remotely related to you,” “when it concerns my wife and son then it is my concern Kazuo!”
Kazuo nodded to his henchmen as one of them withdrew a knife from his waistline. I saw my mother fling herself at Kazuo, “please father, don’t do this!” Grabbing her by the throat, “I told you don’t ever talk to me like that! You know your place, now stay in it!” He threw her against the wall as easily as if she was a small dog. She fell to the ground and crumbled into a pile on the floor. Kazuo turned to me struggling in the man’s hands. “You will soon learn that women are to be seen and not heard…to do as they are told!” My father began to scream as one of the henchmen began to saw off my father’s nose. My mother lay their crying as I saw a small chunk of bloody flesh hit the floor. The henchmen bent over and picked it up, ’leave my father alone, what do you want from us?” Kazuo stared down at me as the henchmen began to feed my father’s nose to himself. He began to choke and splutter as he threw up. His nose was now lying in a pile of his own vomit. “Please, plea…plea…please, we will do anything just let my son…my son and wife live…take me for them, it is my fault!” “That you lousy American pig is the smartest thing you have ever said.” “However my friend, that is exactly what the plan is… dead men can’t pay debts.” “What, what debt,” my father choked as the blood ran down his face. “What debt,” bellowed Kazuo, “papa,” I cried softly. “Do you know how much money you have cost the clan with your little Romeo and Juliet routine?” The room was silent as my father began to whimper silently at an advancing Kazuo. “You can’t even put a price on how much money we could have made…now,” he yelled as he pointed his finger at my whimpering father. “We our LOOSING money to help finance the war effort, your debt could never be paid.”
My father shook his head, “take my life for your debt.” Kazuo shook his head, “your life means rat shit to me, but your boy could help pay off some of the debt…his life could be worth millions…with proper training of course. He and your slut of a wife can help us reclaim the money and then some.” “He will never help you father! I am your daughter how can you do this to me?” He turned and smiled down at my mother, “You’re no daughter of mine! From here on out I have one daughter…you are disowned. You and your son will work for me. You will live in the shame that you have created for yourself!” “Take me instead,” yelled my father again, “don’t worry…Roger is it?” “You will be taken,” my father sobbed as the blood continued to pour down him. “Just spare my family,” Kazuo just smiled “don’t worry they will have new families and new lives.” “She will work her debt off with the only thing that women are good at.”
Kazuo laughed at his own comment as my father screamed in anger and frustration. My mother clawed at Kazuo’s feet “please father, don’t do this! Roger is my soul and my heart!” Kazuo gave a wicked smile “well now you will have his…give Fukudo her husband’s heart, since she betrayed her clan for it. She must always have it!” I had to turn my head as I watched the henchmen lean my father back and plunge a knife into his chest. I tried to picture myself far away as I knew my father’s heart was being ripped from his chest. I was dragged away with the last vision of my mother receiving her husband’s still beating heart in the palm of her hand. The picture faded from my sight. My whole life was dedicated to paying off a debt that could never fully be repaid. An eternal life of servitude, a “loyal dog” obeying his Yakuza masters.
(Present)
However with this hit hopefully a portion of my family’s debt could finally be paid off. I huffed a little, what would I do with freedom? What would I do without working or mastering a new fighting style in every country I went to? Would I be lying on a beach stretched out on a towel giving three fingered waves to the men that crossed my path? For the first time in what seemed like ages I felt a smile cross my face. It almost hurt, after all those muscles had not been used for a long time. The clan’s operations would never end and escape was impossible. I gazed at my hands only three fingers remained on each, well two if you didn’t include the thumb. Each loss was a sign of dishonor, a debt towards a freedom I would never know. I was forced to pay a debt that I could never repay for my parent’s love. My life has been a giant war, and the scars of these wars covered my entire body. However many of the scars that I showed were due to the discipline and training that I received. I remember after the fifth time running away they started skinning my back. I remember the man flapping a huge chunk of my own skin in my face, “every time you run I’m going to cut you like American beef jerky!” However all these battle scars were nothing compared to my “ultimate” betrayal.
(03/19/1983)
I was young about sixteen years old when I was brought before my new master a man named Masahisa Daiyu. He continued to call me by my grandfather Kazuo’s nicknames, “The Unnamed One” or “The Guard Dog.” Masahisa was a small master but still larger than Kazuo’s wife, Chao-Xing. Chao-Xing had acquired me after my fi rst master Kazuo died. When Masahisa Daiyu was named the new Kumicho of the Yamaguchi-Sumiyoshi-Ikka Family, Chao-Xing passed me down to him. Masahisa had come out of his way to be at the Temple of Heaven. Chao-Xing didn’t want me near her so she dumped there until Masahisa became Kumicho. I began to learn T’ai Chi Ch’uan at the time. I knew that if he had come all this way to see me now there had to be something wrong or he had come to collect me. But when I saw Naryuki thrown at my feet, I felt my heart fall to the pit of my stomach.
“From your look of confusion I believe you know what this is concerning,” said Masahisa. I watched as his scrawny body lay broken and bruised on the floor. His creamy skin was f i lled with many cuts and scrapes. I wanted to hold back my tears. “Are you going to cry,” sneered my new master, who ordered me to address him as master. “Who would think that Kazuo’s grandson, his own blood would be a dancing faggot fairy! Your mother had brought us shame, but you have brought a dishonor that I will not tolerate even in my dogs!” “What did you do to him?” My new master had black hair that was combed back. He was broad shouldered and hands like winter gloves. “We found this,” he threw a piece of paper at me, which I snatched in one fluid motion. “A love letter from your partner, apparently he can’t live without you. My guards found him trying to sneak into your hut the other night… wanting you to run away with him.” “Please just don’t kill him master,” “why” he shouted. “So you two can run away together…no, no, no, I should end you…slit that little throat of yours. However you are the best in your class and have unlimited potential. It would be a shame to waste such a talent. Even though I won’t have a faggot guarding me, so I have decided to transfer your services to my number two man until I die. The new Oyabun can have you, but until your training here is finished the Waka Gashira will be your new master for now.” He snapped his fingers and two men emerged dressed in traditional martial arts robes. They were older students and members of the more advanced class, future enforcers for the Yamaguchi-Sumiyoshi-Ikka Family. The men picked Naryuki up and brought him over to a large wooden pole, “What are you doing master?”
“My dogs need to learn discipline, and I am afraid this club doesn’t allow or believe in your…life choice. If I am going to give you away and then the next Kumicho will eventually have you, I have to instill discipline…beat the fag out of you!” He waved his hand as if the words were new to him. “What are you doing master,” I repeated terror creeping more into my voice. “Thankfully nobody besides us knows of the incident, and thankfully we are going to keep it that way.” I began to shake my head, “one day I will break out of here and I will make sure that every secret is spilled from this family!” Masahisa shook his head, “I will make sure that your…tongue…remains silent!” “I will never remain silent! You need me to repay my parent’s debt that you and Kazuo constantly keep telling me about!” He pointed at me, “I TOLD YOU THAT THE KUMICHO IS YOUR MASTER, WHICH IS ME…and I intend on making sure that the debt is repaid and in blood if needs be!” “I will never repay it…I would rather die!” My master stormed forward at me, “you will learn to fall in line and learn discipline like everyone else! You are my own personal guard dog and will learn unconditional loyalty!” I saw the shaved head of my lover covered with more cuts. His eyes seemed glazed over after the numerous beatings and whippings.
My master turned to the two older students and gave a nod. My fellow students called it the “nod of death”. I screamed as I began to run towards my lover. I had forgotten about my master who had chopped my chest as I ran out of my place. My head hit the back of the wooden floor as I felt lights popping in my head. “INSOLENCE,” my master growled with such anger. I turned over and for the first and only time in my life…I cried. I watched my lover’s throat being cut. I watched as his eyes were wide with terror at me. The kindness and passion that they had once shown me were filled with bruised eyes and tears. He fell to the ground grasping his throat as I tried to crawl towards him. My hand outstretched to him as I felt my master’s foot press down on my back. His bloody hand outstretched to me as he fell to the floor in a pool of his own blood. “I love you,” I whispered and for a brief instance I like to think he smiled before the light left his eyes.
“You aren’t my dog anymore. but if you go to a new Kumicho after me you will learn your place and learn loyalty no matter what the cost!” Masahisa snapped his fingers again and the older students descended upon me. That is when my voice was quieted and I learned “silent obedience”. I would never know love like that again. I searched everywhere finding many that resembled his young age and looks but none that could replace him. The older I grew the more distant his face became in every new adolescent love interest I would take.
My master Masahisa was true to his word. The Waka Gashira became my master until he gave me away as instructed to my new master an “Oyabun” until he died in 1984. I never knew his name I only called him Master. When Masahisa died in 1985 the new Kumicho didn’t want me either. I stayed with the “Oyabun” who was now replaced by a man named Liko Yoshida Sugiura. He was the one that forced me to continue my training throughout our travels together.
(Present)
Rising up from the cold rooftop, I flattened my suit and straightened my tiny black shades. Creeping across the roof I moved to a large exhaust vent, the only other way into the building. It would be a tight squeeze for awhile but then again it needed to be done. The vent popped off easily as steam began to rise in a giant cloud. I stuck my hand through feeling the humidity in the vent. I climbed through it and began to shuffle down it as silently as possible. My hands burned slightly on the metal sides. The deeper I traveled the more steam seemed to billow up at me. I began to hear voices and the clanging of pots and pans. The kitchen was just below me. My feet began to slide on the moist metal walls. Reaching into my suit coat I pulled out a small powdered ball. This was it dropping into the middle of a crowded Triad run kitchen was a sure death sentence. The ball fell at least I would have some company on my journey. The ball dropped and the room instantly filled with white smoke. Releasing my hands and feet from the wall, I fell on top of a stove and gave a quick swinging kick at a nearby chef. He fell to the ground as I was withdrawing my pistol. I shot at anything making the slightest movement. My name fit my actions I was nothing but a ghost to my prey.
Pop…one of the cooks had caught one in the chest. The butcher knife he was holding fell to the floor with a clatter. “Sun’s been shot,” I turned to the voice and saw a man withdrawing something small and silver. Two quick pulls of the trigger and the cook fell backwards into a pile of vegetables. Pop, came from another cook shooting blindly into the fading smoke. Flipping over the counter, I fell to the ground as the final cook yelled, “what the hell?” Pop…pop, two more slugs exited my silenced silver pistol as the man immediately fell to the ground. He bled for a couple more seconds before his life had fi nally left him. I rose from my knees as I kept my pistol withdrawn. I moved over towards the door. All I needed to do was climb up a flight of stairs and break into the main office.
The large dining room was lit up like a night club as waiters were still cleaning up the kitchen table. I walked through the door and all the waiters stopped in their places. They stared at me with faces hung low. I raised my finger to my mouth, “shhh” it was hard to make “s” sounds without a tongue. I pointed my finger at the top floor and one of the men nodded at me. I nodded my head in thanks and motioned my hand towards the kitchen door. They all seemed to understand as they all began to leave the room. As I crept out through the living room I heard some of the waiters leaving the mansion. With the murder of this man their own debts would be wiped clean, a guard patrolled the bottom of the stairs. Pulling out a four point throwing star, I placed it between my remaining two fingers. I heard the man turn on the spot. I popped out flicking the star at him. It landed in the man’s throat as he fell to his knees with blood running over his hands. “Intruder,” yelled a guard at the top of the stairs. I flung one of my tiny throwing knives at him hitting the guard in the hand. He let out a scream as he stared at the small dagger piercing through his hand. I withdrew my pistol quickly as my two shots hit the man square in the chest. He wavered on the spot before he fell forward tumbling down the stairs. People came running towards the large atrium. A fight was soon to ensue in the large mansion.
I watched the second floor balcony as shadows moved across the wall. I heard a gurgling sound from the guard that still kneeled bleeding onto the granite floor. Without a second glance I emptied the remaining bullets into the guard. He fell forward and died on the spot. I felt no pity, no remorse, death was inevitable. Clipping another magazine into my pistol, I took a deep breath and began up the staircase. I flipped over the banister and hit the second floor. I crouched as two guards came through the doorway. They fell in a hail of gunf ire. The granite walls fractured under the bullets. I even had to admit that it was a close call. I began to run up another flight of stairs reaching into another pocket I threw another “invisi-ball”. Throwing it behind me I began to run up the stairs, “I think he went this way!” Someone had yelled it from the top of the stairs. I turned the corner and shot the two guards before they even noticed. I was too quick for most people, I was truly the best. I was truly a ghost.
At the top of the stairs I came to a brown door. I kicked through it and there stood a man standing no more then a hundred feet from me. He was wearing a black suit with black sunglasses and smelled of fresh red roses. I popped the pistol at him and like something out of my nightmares he dodge every bullet. He moved with the speed of the wind. I emptied my gun as the man smiled, “You missed!” I dropped my gun as I saw behind the man was my intended target. My target was facing out the window but had the same cabbage like head that I had memorized in the picture. My target’s bodyguard threw a rose at me. I watched it land and slide across the floor, “for your funeral.”
The man was faster than any man I had ever seen in my life. He threw several small knives at me. I had to duck all the way down as they flew over my head, but in that moment the man had already descended upon me. A foot came swinging at my face, and it took all my skill to dodge it. We began to swing at each other. Our karate punches being blocked and repeatedly thrown. The air was filled with the blur of fists and legs flying. The man turned and threw a round house kick and I blocked it with relative difficulty.
He was too fast for me as his kicks collided with my ribs. I felt one of my ribs crack as his fist collided with the side of my face. I turned his wrist and pulled his face towards my “final” weapon, the weapon I only used in the most desperate of situations. I pulled my wrist back so far to expose a small sliver tube around my arm guard. I felt the lever release and shoot a white powder into the man’s eyes. He howled in pain as he pulled away clenching them in agony. I saw blood running over his hands as I knew the powdered glass would tear his eyes to shreds. I withdrew my only “birthday” gift that I had ever received in my life. Two silver sticks clattered out from my arm guards into both my hands. They were smooth with a small curved blade at the end to cut up a man slowly like a salad. Crossing my arms I sliced the man’s chest open with a large X. The man howled as I flipped around his flaying grasps and stabbed both the sticks into the man’s shoulders. I felt the button at the top of the sticks click underneath my thumbs. A secret surprise that I saved for only the truly worthy. I watched a red light blink twice as the man gave one last scream before a large BOOM spread the man’s remains over the entire room. Unnecessary yes, but I had made my point and my only regret was that I had ruined a perfectly good suit. “Damn,” I heard my mind say, “My shoes have poke-a-dots now!”
I saw my intended target now staring at me clapping slowly. I heard the man say, “Impressive…very impressive Mr. Kiyoshi Fukudo Sugiura.” I froze a throwing dagger now raised high, “I assume by your frozen nature you’re wondering how I know that it’s you.” His face was long and reminded me of a turkey. His wrinkled face sagged as his crooked nose hung like large beak. His suit was poorly dressed and his little bow tie read of a hidden weakness, “I am the man that stole your master’s business venture. I know you were sent to kill me for it, but if you spare my life for a mere second I believe I can help you in more ways you can understand.” “Here it comes” I heard my mind say. The part where people try to barter their way out, I shook my head and raised the dagger a little more and took aim.
“I can help remove your debt,” this time I stopped and he smiled, “I see that I have your attention!” I gritted my teeth and the man waved a soft hand, “I see in your eyes that I know my time is limited, so I will make it quick.” He seemed to take a deep breath and then “I have organized a little deal with your new Kumicho and Liko to spare my life. I had to know for sure if you were ready. I agree my position here was a risky move, but I’m glad that all the legends that I have heard about you are true.” He smiled wider as he said, “It’s nice to see that age hasn’t yet taken its toll. This dog still has much fight in him.”
For the first time ever I lowered my weapon, he had obviously done his homework on me. Any man that took this kind of time to figure me out needed my attention. He knew of my physical condition like a sports player deteriorating slowly after every game. “I have been in contact with your master and for your work I will pay off your debt,” I nodded at the man and he continued. “You know my name is Pascal and let’s just say I need a certain man eliminated from a picture I am painting. If he is eliminated then you can have your freedom.”
The seconds ticked by “well,” asked Pascal who stared at me. “I know you lost your tongue, so to answer your eventual question you would have to leave right this minute. Your master knows and agrees with the transaction.” Pascal raised his hand again and said “I can fi ll you in more on the plane ride if that is alright?” I stood there and thought on the subject for what seemed like forever, so I decided to make this point as clear as I could. I pointed the dagger at him and then I pointed the dagger back at me, luckily Pascal understood. “I promise you I will not cross you, I do not want you as an enemy. If you have any questions we can call from the limo waiting downstairs.” He motioned around the desk hands raised, “please...with me if you don’t mind.” I watched him make his way towards me, “let’s not keep the pilot waiting, here is a letter from your master. I will make sure you can call him the moment we are in the limo. I’m just in such dire need for some tea aren’t you?”
Dear Kiyoshi,
When your mother had shamed the family your grandfather thought that the clan would never live down the dishonor that she brought. In many ways I have cared for you as a master would care for his pet. I have sometimes even cared I dare say even more than any normal master. However don’t excuse my caring for love, you were a very loyal guard dog. I often wondered why the Kumicho didn’t want you, why he wouldn’t keep you for himself. I must admit the pain it causes me to sell you, especially with all the training everyone continued for you during your travels. I have worked out a tremendous deal with Pascal. I shall truly miss your protection and will have difficulty in replacing you. Have fun with your new life and Pascal has assured me that your birthday present will follow you wherever you go on this earth.
Liko Yoshida Sugiura
(05/25/1995)
I was waiting in a limo when I had received my only birthday present. My master presented me with a black satchel. “You have been training well Kiyoshi. You see our guards have to be good, but you...you’re our guard dog. Good is not good enough for you. You have to be the best, which is why everyone has continued your training. With the business we deal with anyone could understand why. A dog only learns to fight well through experience…with proper training a dog becomes a champion killer. A weak dog serves no purpose…to anyone.” His sunken eyes stared at me as I opened up the satchel. Two thin metal rods fell out. They were a bit thinner than knitting needles. A small two inch blade was curved at the top. “Its custom designed for you, I heard the knife is similar to a surgical scalpel.” It shined in the sunlight as it twirled in my fingers, “custom gripped to your hands…oh, that button on the end, yes well that is a little surprise. Ah, ah, ah,” he slapped away my hand, “bad,” he said as he gave a stern look. “Contained in each rod is a small explosive approximately the size of a grenade.” I gazed up at him as he smiled, “don’t worry, I have many, many more so just come to me when you use them up.”
We exited the limo as I placed my “birthday presents” into small holes into my powder ejector arm guard. An arm guard that I had designed to release a powder when my wrist was pulled back far enough. I considered it a little insurance policy. Sure the fighting would be considered a dishonorable act for cheating, but nobody followed the honor code anymore. In a f ight honor was won with only the victor standing. The rods did not rest well in the brace, but would do for now until I had it custom designed. I straightened my suit jacket as we made our way into the fancy Rising Sun Hotel. People bustled down the street as my master walked ahead. His age getting the better of him but still he ma