Page 2 of Secrets & Sake

Could it be? My heart throbs with anticipation.

Sniffling, she nods. “The police did. I gave them the same description Himiko’s friends gave me. They knew right away who I was referring to. His name is Raiden Noboru.”

This is it! The one thing the victims have in common so far—Raiden Noboru, enforcer for the Namikawa-kai. Noboru has a reputation as big as Tokyo itself. The Wolf of Asakusa sticks to Namikawa’s side night and day, except when he’s out terrorizing people into paying their protection fees on time. He’s my only lead, and so far, he’s been seen in the company of two of the missing people.

This can’t be a coincidence, can it?

“They didn’t even bring Noboru in for interrogation! Claimed there wasn’t enough evidence.” She huffs, eyes narrowing in anger. “It’s well-known Namikawa owns the police. Unless Noboru kills someone and there are witnesses, the police will never hold him accountable for his actions. Not unless they want to risk Namikawa’s anger.” Sighing, Nakamura says, “The Wolf of Asakusa is untouchable.”

A feeling of hopelessness claws at my guts. The yakuza are so deeply entrenched in this society that it’s hard to feel like any fight against their corruption is winnable. They’ve blackmailed and bribed people in some of the highest positions of government.

“I’m familiar with some folks in the police department,” I say. “There are good people, men and women, who are just as frustrated as you are with the corruption. It’s not that they believe Noboru is innocent. The opposite, actually. But they’ll need serious evidence to charge him with anything. Unless they can prove beyond a reasonable doubt that he’s done something to her or the other missing people, they’re not going to risk getting on Namikawa’s bad side.”

Nakamura blinks fast. “He did it. I know he did. He’s kidnapped my daughter, and nobody believes me!”

I take her hand before I can stop myself. “I believe you, Nakamura. That’s why I’m here. I want to help Himiko and everyone else like her who has gone missing.”

She laughs coldly and wipes her eyes. “What can you do?”

I paste a smile on my face. “Well, I can’t fix the system, unfortunately. But I’m a reporter. The very least I can do is try to link Noboru to these disappearances.”

“And how will you do that?”

“I don’t know. Not yet. But I’m going to do whatever it takes to help.”

For a while, we sit and talk, and Nakamura tells me more about Himiko. I take notes for my story and listen. All the while, my mind is running wild. Noboru is involved. I just know it. All I have to do is find a way to prove it.

Raiden Noboru.

The name haunts me as I try to sleep and consumes my every waking thought from the moment I leave my apartment. I overslept, so I have just enough time to grab a packaged onigiri from my local 7-Eleven and run to catch the train. The train is packed but quiet. Once we’re in Chiyoda, I book it to the Jiji Shimbun’s headquarters on the other side of Hibiya Park.

As I march through the office, waving at my colleagues, a plan takes root. Speak to my editor and convince her to let me chase this lead. There’s a story here, I know it, one that could make my career. For years, I’ve watched my colleagues make the front page with their amazing stories while all my articles got buried in the back. Raiden Noboru and his connections to the missing people like Himiko are going to be my big break.

My editor, Reiko Hasegawa, jumps when I practically barge into her office. Before she can so much as greet me, I blurt out, “Excuse me, Hasegawa, but I’ve finally got a lead! Raiden Noboru was last seen in the company of Himiko Nakamura and Kohei Asano. They both went missing after leaving establishments owned by the Namikawa-kai. I’m telling you, I think the Namikawa-kai, or at least Noboru, is responsible for these disappearances.”

Hasegawa exhales slowly. “Onodera, there’s no evidence to back up your claims. None of the other missing people were even involved with the Namikawa-kai.”

“I’ll find more evidence! Let me chase this lead. There’s a connection here. I can feel it!” I’m ready to get down on my knees and beg at this point. “I want to write about Noboru’s connection to the disappearances for the morning edition tomorrow.”

Hasegawa purses her lips. “Any unflattering press about the Namikawa-kai could get us in trouble. The last person to write a story about them got his face slashed open, and the office received threats. It’s too risky.”

My shoulders slump in disappointment. “But—”

“I’m sorry,” she says, and the finality in her voice shuts me down. “You’re a good reporter, Onodera. Keep it up. You’ll get your big story one day. Now, here.” She hands me an edited copy of a story I sent her last night about a spate of pet thefts around the city. It’s covered in red marks. “Make these corrections and send it to me in an hour.”

She wants me to write some story about a missing poodle that won’t even make the front page. This wouldn’t have just been a big story; this would have been the story of my career. If my father could see me now, he’d laugh in my face.

Some reporter I am.

Later that evening, I begin the walk of shame home. The first thing I do once I’m inside is crack open an ice-cold Asahi beer. My apartment is all one room, only a little bigger than my dorm back at university if that dorm room also had a kitchen. I sit on my futon by the window and drink to the soundtrack of honking cars and PSA broadcasts over the speakers.

On the wall above my bed is my growing case map. I’ve put up photos of Himiko, Kohei, and another of the Blue Lotus, where they both went missing. All in all, there are ninety-five missing people. Hostesses who disappeared walking home at night from their jobs. Drunk salarymen who never made it home to their families. The abductions began in January and have only been piling up. The only positive is that there are no bodies. They’re not being killed. So they must be kept somewhere. But why? There haven’t even been any ransom demands.

In the center of my little map is a photo of my suspect, taken from a yakuza fan magazine. Raiden Noboru. If he weren’t a yakuza thug, I’d say he was handsome. He’s young. Can’t be much older than me, if even. He’s got high cheekbones, a strong jaw, dark eyes, and midnight-black hair that he sweeps back with a pomade, and the man looks damn good in a suit. Okay. I admit it. He’s hot as hell, even if it chafes to admit that about a scumbag like him.

Fuck. Am I going to hell for thinking that if he wasn’t a criminal, I’d sit on his dick in a heartbeat? Probably.

My phone rings, making me jump. When I see the I.D., I barely stifle a groan of dismay. I swipe to answer. “Hey, Mom. Is everything all right? It’s late.”

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