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Side Story #21: Toshio's Matchmaking Service
🕑 Added 2020-04-07 15:17:40 +0000 UTC<Author’s note: This story takes place before the events of Book 1.>
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Side Story 21: Toshio’s Matchmaking Service
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■■ Jijinto ■■
“If all marriage counselors look like you, hun, then I’ve got myself an excuse to settle down,” said the geisha with a wink. She bent down low in front of Toshio to pour him a cup of tea, her low-cut yukata leaving little to the imagination. “You’re a sight for sore eyes after serving sailors and samurai all day.”
“If your eyes are sore, I recommend warm compresses,” Toshio replied without a hint of humor. Flirting was something he didn’t understand, but that was hardly the only thing that eluded the shinobi’s grasp inside the mansion of Hyuga’s most powerful yakuza family: the Yamagata-gumi.
“Ain’t this place just a treat? What a lucky dog you are, Tanji—you’ll be livin’ here some day! I can see your old man is gonna have to pay you some visits! Make sure you don’t get up to too much mischief,” Shibuya laughed, elbowing his son who sat between himself and Toshio.
“Uh...yeah, sure,” Tanjiro replied. The sole nautical engineer of Shibuya & Sons looked down at his cup of tea with a frown, a bead of sweat falling from his brow. He was nervous as most men would be before meeting their potential bride in a marriage interview. That he didn’t want to be there was obvious, but he had no choice—Toshio had assured him of that much.
Not above using blackmail, the ninja known as the Heartless Hound leveraged the shipwreck of the Tekkōsen against the shipbuilders. Knowing that reporting the disaster to the Emperor would sink them in more ways than one, Shibuya had no choice but to comply with Toshio’s demand.
Luckily for him, the demand was more than agreeable.
“Oh hey, sweetie,” Shibuya hailed the geisha over, “could use a refill of saké. No—don’t leave the bottle. Alcohol tastes better when poured by a beautiful woman! Ah-hahaha!”
Toshio’s demand was simple: a meeting with Shiroyama, the soon-to-be wife of the esteemed yakuza boss. More importantly, she was a demon. Emperor Satsuma had seen her in his dreams just as Toshio had seen her with his own two eyes, in a shrine deep within the Yamato slums.
She was a dangerous foe unlike any the ninja had faced before. But Toshio was as determined as ever to destroy her. “I’ll prove it to you, Satsu-kun. The Sword Who Strikes the Heavens...they aren’t the only weapon you have at hand!”
“—I swear it! Just one more week is all I ask!”
A muffled yell from another room broke Toshio away from his thoughts. It was the sound of a woman beset by grief, and provided as a reminder that this carpeted and brightly decorated mansion was home to a dark, criminal enterprise.
“If I had a ryō for every stupid broad begging for an extension on their payment, I’d retire from puttin’ up with this shit!” said a voice, also female, though in much more vulgar tongue. She continued her scolding until she was interrupted. “Damn, they’re here already? Alright...you’re lucky I’ve got other shit to do, nurse. Just make sure you and that fossil of a doctor pay on time next week—otherwise you’ll be workin’ for us! Let’s go, Daisuke!”
“A protection racket,” Toshio mumbled to himself, “this wouldn’t be permitted in Yamato. To see such lawlessness is—ahCHOO!”
The ninja sneezed just as the shoji doors across from their table slid open to reveal two yakuza thugs. The taller and much larger among them was a bald man who had to slouch in order to get through the door frame. Though even after he did, his slouch remained—poor posture accompanied poor hygiene as Toshio could smell his breath from across the room.
“Tha’s them over there, Nishi,” the giant bellowed.
‘Nishi’ was the much shorter figure who somehow had the larger presence. The woman wore sarashi wrapping across her otherwise bare chest, hakama pants, and a sleeveless jacket that designated her as some sort of captain. If that didn’t allow her the proper respect, the spiked iron club she wielded certainly did. What would typically be her most remarkable feature—the dragon inked around her left arm—was at present the most ordinary, as Toshio had seen well over a hundred tattoos just by waiting in the mansion’s lobby.
“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Nishi said with a sigh as she took a seat at the table. She sat across from Toshio and gave him a look-over from top to bottom. She let out a grunt after she was done. “Tanjiro, huh? Too clever-lookin’ to be a shipwright. Hell, too clever for your own good, I’d wager. Daisuke—you know how I feel about clever men, don’tcha?”
“You don’t like ‘em none,” Daisuke said as if this was a routine response.
“W-well then, you lot are in luck,” Shibuya said with a nervous chuckle, “that there’s actually Inspec—I mean, er, Counselor Toshio-san. He’s something of a professional matchmaker, you see,” Shibuya said before Toshio could reply. “My boy Tanji is right here!”
Tanjiro had shrunk in his seat so low that he was easy to miss. It didn’t help that his features were plain and his personality was muted—which was a nicer way of saying that he was meek. This came out through his voice by way of a mumble.
“It’s...nice to meet you. I am eager to meet with Keiko-san. I hope she feels likewise,” Tanjiro said while bowing his head low. It was more a display of fear than respect—and the difference didn’t go unnoticed by the foul-mouthed yakuza.
“Sure don’t look eager to me, but hell—maybe somethin’ under your obi sash is tellin’ a different story,” Nishi grinned. “But what gives? We already had a meeting scheduled for next month. Why are you tryin’ to push up the wedding date? You shipbuilders better not be thinkin’ of using my Kei-chan to get a loan!”
Shibuya assured her that it had nothing to do with business, and that business, in fact, had been booming. He went on at length about recent dealings he had done and boats he had finished, embellishing all the details as usual. Daisuke, the bald giant, had long since zoned out while Nishi’s stare remained fixated on Tanjiro.
Needless to say, Tanjiro was extremely uncomfortable.
“You look as firm as fresh tofu to me,” Nishi said, interrupting Shibuya’s story. “We yakuza deal with threats all the time—and no one gets threatened more than Keiko does. Every man and woman in our family would die for her if we had to. Hell, we’d cut a finger off if one of our enemies so much as laid a finger on her.”
She pulled out a knife from behind her sash and lunged over the table faster than Tanjiro could react—though Toshio was another story. The ninja let his instincts and training take over, which at this point were one and the same. He grabbed Nishi’s outstretched wrist and twisted it, forcing the blade to fall onto the table and for the yakuza to let out a loud groan.
“Erh! Damn it—get your hands off my arm!”
The dining hall went quiet as everyone’s attention was drawn to their table. From Toshio’s count there were just over a dozen yakuza ready to jump in at any moment. Considering that Nishi was their captain, one command in their direction was going to make matters dire and fast.
Luckily for Toshio and the shipbuilders, the future bride had arrived.
“Oh my, I see Nishi-chan has started the fun without me! Please, everyone, settle down and return to your seats~”
Keiko had a regal sort of elegance that Toshio had not witnessed even after years in the Imperial Palace. Perhaps it was amplified in contrast to Nishi and the other yakuza, but she looked as delicate and as charming as the blossoms inked across her cheek and down her neck. Only members of the head family bore facial tattoos; there was no hiding what she was under a kimono.
Speaking of which, her kimono was an ivory shade of white, all silk, with elaborate embroidering of pink cherry blossoms across the sleeves. The sleeves themselves were long enough to drape across the carpet, making her approach akin to a swan gliding across a pond. The ripples across the water in this case were psychological: everyone stood straighter, even Tanjiro, who had turned a shade purple. The poor fellow hadn’t taken a breath since Nishi tried to stab him.
“You must be Tanjiro-san,” she bowed. “And you are his father, yes? Thank you for joining with us today, Shibuya-san.”
“T-the honor is mine, princess!” the boatbuilder said, stumbling to his feet and bowing several times over. He pulled his son to his feet afterwards, forcing him to bow as well. “You must forgive Tanji, milady, he’s simply stunned by your beauty. I know I sure am!”
Keiko gave a polite laugh before the attention shifted towards Toshio. The ninja bowed and introduced himself—lying, of course.
“Oh, that is simply wondrous, Counselor Toshio-san,” Keiko said with a smile. “With this interview forming about so suddenly, I was concerned that there was some issue. But with your expertise, my worries are at ease.”
“Your words are very kind, Lady Keiko. If I may ask, where is your father, Yamagata-sama, and his fiancée? Sh...Shiroyama-san, I believe her name was?” Toshio asked with a look of puzzlement, playing dumb. He noted that upon saying the demon’s name, all three of the yakuza flinched.
“They...they are busy, I’m afraid,” Keiko said in an apologetic tone. “But in a way, I think this is better: Tanjiro-san and I may get to know each other in a more relaxed atmosphere.”
Shibuya and Toshio exchanged glances. Surrounded by a dozen muscled street thugs inside a dining hall that rivaled the Emperor’s own was hardly a casual get together. The one at most unease was Tanjiro, who barely looked up from his tea cup. He had every right to be nervous—but he was going to ruin Toshio’s plans to get to Shiroyama if he kept this up.
“Lady Keiko, perhaps we should begin this interview with you and Tanjiro asking questions of one another. Learning about the other’s experiences is a crucial part of the marriage process.”
Though Toshio knew little of courtship and even less of marriage, he sounded professional and so Keiko began with the questioning. They were easy questions, for the most part, but Tanjiro was so indecisive that one would think he was amid a brutal interrogation.
“Red—er, I mean, orange. Yes, orange is my favorite color,” he stuttered. His answer was followed by an awkward silence as Keiko waited for an elaboration that never came. Tanjiro’s answers were brief and quick, making what Toshio had hoped to be a spirited conversation into a disaster.
“Now then, Tanjiro, do you have questions for—ahCHOO!” Toshio sneezed once again. The ninja had gotten sick while buried beneath the capsized Tekkōsen for over an hour. Compared to the fear and despair Toshio had felt back then, an awkward interview was nothing. His sickness had given him an idea, however. “My apologies, Lady Keiko. If you would excuse me, I need a moment of fresh air.”
“Oh, I’ll go with you, Counselor Toshio-san,” said Tanjiro with an eager smile. It was obvious that he wanted to escape—which was going to ruin Toshio’s attempt to sneak around the mansion, locate Shiroyama, and put a kunai through her back. The ninja-turned-matchmaker held back a grimace.
Instead of espionage and subterfuge, Toshio was going to have to contend with matters far outside his expertise.
“I feel so trapped in there...Keiko-san, she’s pretty, but...she belongs to a different world than I do, you know? It doesn’t help that everyone in there is a thug, a trained killer, or both! If you didn’t stop that crazed woman when you did—I would be dead right now!”
Tanjiro voiced his grievances as Toshio paced about in an alley just across from the yakuza’s mansion. The groom was getting cold feet, a stomach full of butterflies, and whatever other idioms were appropriate for a man who wanted anything else than to go back inside and face his fears. Toshio had to remind Tanjiro that he had fears of another sort—and summoned the Heartless Hound to do so.
“Ouch!” Tanjiro shouted as Toshio slammed him against the wall. The ninja twisted one of the shipbuilder’s arms backwards and used his elbow to drive a sharp pressure into Tanjiro’s ribs. If he didn’t try to struggle or breathe too deeply he’d be fine. Unfortunately for him, he did both.
“Listen here. You’d rather every yakuza in Hyuga be your enemy than me. You and your father promised me a meeting with Shiroyama. I’m going to get to her one way or another—whether it’s here and now or on your wedding day. More than just your father’s company is at stake here, Tanjiro!”
Toshio released Tanjiro but not before another slam against the wall. The boatbuilder slid down and collapsed, gasping at the side of his stomach in pain. The shinobi hadn’t wanted to resort to measures like this, but was left with no choice if he was to fulfill his duty.
“Are...are all naval inspectors like this?” Tanjiro groaned in pain.
“I take my job very seriously. Now then,” Toshio said, cupping his chin and going deep into thought, “I believe I have an idea to salvage this marriage interview. Though time will tell if it’s a good one.”
■■■■
“Going on a date was such a wonderous idea, Tanji-kun! Oh, may I call you that? I’ve just been aching to stretch my legs. Where is it you plan on taking me?”
The idea of a social outing across the city was a hit with Keiko, who turned out to be eager to escape the confines of the yakuza mansion. This was apparently called a ‘date’—a term Toshio was unfamiliar with, but was apparently an integral part of modern courtship. It was also a logistical disaster for the yakuza bodyguards, Nishi and Daisuke, who were supposed to protect their princess from any and all danger.
“Kuso—you’re squishing me, you idiot!” Nishi said in a harsh whisper as the two squeezed through a side alley. The yakuza were tailing the future newlyweds and being as subtle as bush warblers at the start of spring. Luckily, Tanjiro and Keiko were too occupied to pay them any notice.
“Well, I, er, was thinking of visiting Asakusa Shrine. We could pay our respects to our ancestors,” Tanjiro replied. Keiko didn’t appear too thrilled, however, and dragged her feet as she trailed Tanjiro up towards the temple district. Her reluctance had come to a surprise to Toshio.
Taking Keiko out to visit the shrine had been his idea, afterall. “I don’t understand. A partner who prays, observes and respects the spirits is very appealing. A spiritual congregation is therefore ideal for a date, is it not?”
Toshio continued to doubt himself as he stalked the couple. The crowd parted for them in a mixture of reverence and fear—one look at Keiko’s face was enough to send more than a few passerbys running. Those who didn’t flee let out sighs of relief when the yakuza princess passed them by. If Keiko noticed this, she paid it no mind; Tanjiro, on the other hand, was even more self-conscious than before.
The shrine itself was immense, especially with the new additions added to it at the turn of the Golden Age. It was a single floor and most of it was contained in a single room, yet that only made it appear more grand. During the summer it was an open-air shrine: the walls were removed while a hundred giant red columns remained to serve as the foundation.
Toshio was hiding behind one such column after making certain preparations, watching the two pray at one of the many stations. It had become clear that neither of them was particularly religious: their chanting was more than offkey, it was a garbled mess. But no monk would correct the daughter of Yamagata-sama; the bald holymen simply smiled and pretended not to be terrified.
Their interest quickly waned until Keiko spotted the stall for charms they were selling. A souvenir for good luck and other blessings was very popular among girls—both young and old—and that wasn’t the only thing in shrines that held a magical sort of appeal.
“Fortunes! Oh, I haven’t gotten mine told in ages! Come on, Tanji-kun~”
For a fee, shrine goers could stick their hand in a large wooden box filled with strips of paper. They weren’t shugenja talismans, of course, but on them were fortunes written by either the spirits themselves or shrine maidens during their off hours. Regardless, they inspired excitement in many including the yakuza princess.
Toshio had made preparations in advance, procuring, reading, and discarding as many less-than-favorable fortunes as possible. The romantic ones in particular he had made sure to place on top. His plan was foolproof...until it wasn’t.
“I hear that the trick is,” Tanjiro said, “that you have to get the ones on the bottom. That’s where they keep the best fortunes!”
Toshio wanted to strangle him. Keiko went an arm’s length deep into the box, pulling out a pair of slips for her and Tanjiro. They read them both at once, and it turned out they got a duplicate.
“You will find true love and happiness once you begin searching elsewhere.”
■■■■
“Dates include visiting establishments for food and beverages,” Toshio observed. After finishing with the shrine, Tanjiro and Keiko headed to a decidedly poorer part of Jijinto towards the docks. The slums were a questionable place for a yakuza princess to visit, but she had asked Tanjiro to take her to his favorite place to eat.
That place turned out to be The Canary, an izakaya that was as seedy as they came. It also had an annoyingly squeaky floor that made overhearing their conversation difficult. The two of them took seats at the bar; while Tanjiro appeared at ease, Keiko struggled to even sit atop the raised bar stool.
“Hey, Tanji! What’s this? Brought a girl with..you…” the bartender’s greeting ended as his body went numb. The glass he had been cleaning fell and shattered, though even still his stare remained on Keiko’s face. He blinked twice as if that would dispel the illusion, but the reality of the yakuza princess could not be denied.
He gulped and asked, “W-what would you like, milady?”
The atmosphere returned once the awkward introductions were over. Toshio looked over his saké-stained menu—which consisted of illustrations only, as most of the patrons here were illiterate—and sighed. This was not a place to impress a person of Keiko’s status. Even more concerning were her yakuza companions.
“Nishi and Daisuke...I haven’t seen either of them since we left the shrine. Something feels wrong.”
The ninja’s hunches were rarely wrong, and this one was no exception: the door to the izakaya was forced open revealing a scarred and bare-chested figure. He was nearly as tan as Toshio was (without makeup) and smelled of the sea, which meant he was probably a sailor.
But right now he was nothing but a nuisance. He darted right towards the bar, pushing himself between Tanjiro and Keiko. “Not ‘ery day we get such a cutie at The Canary, ay Eguchi? What’s say I buys you a drink and you keep me company tonight? Sure to be more fun than hangin’ with this loser!”
“Urusai! Leave us be, you two-bit hoodlum! Do you have any idea who I am?” Keiko asked, rightfully upset.
“Oh, I’ve got plenty of ideas about you. Unless your boyfriend over here is thinkin’ of fightin’ for ya—fat chance of that! I know a wimp when I see one!”
While Toshio’s first instinct was to jump in there, his second was to consider the scene itself: it seemed almost eerily contrived. That was to say, the sailor was acting upon someone else’s order. That someone else stood at the izakaya’s front entrance with her arms crossed and a smug look on her face.
“Nishi. This is your doing, isn’t it?”
Tanjiro may have worked with sailors all his life, but he was an engineer who worked with quills and parchment instead of anchors and oars. He was the most valuable employee at Shibuya & Sons, but he’d be the last you’d bet on in a fight. Perhaps the worst was that he knew it, too, and hesitated instead of defending Keiko.
Because of all the drama, The Canary had gone silent. It made the single set of squeaking footsteps from the backroom all the louder. A tall, young man in a martial artist’s uniform emerged with his hands up and behind his head, completely oblivious to everything going on.
“Whoo-wee, sure did need that piss break! Really oughta consider cleanin’ up back there one of these weeks, Eguchi, startin’ to smell like a…” the young man lingered on the vowel as he took in the scene at the counter. His look of surprise quickly became a boyish grin.
He cracked his knuckles and asked, “This fellow botherin’ ya, Tan-kun?”
When Tanjiro said that he was, a fistfight broke out and ended after the first bloody nose. It turned out that the thug wasn’t getting paid enough to get beaten up by a trained fighter. He got out of The Canary fast, getting bottles thrown at him from the other patrons as he ran.
Hatch—the streetfighter—was cheered by all as a hero, and was offered a round of drinks from the barkeep. The young man was tempted by the offer but ultimately refused. Tanjiro—his close friend, as it turned out—pleaded with him to stay. Hatch gave him a grin and a wink and said he’d best be on his way.
He walked out with a confident swagger that impressed even Toshio. There was something familiar about him, too, though try as he might the ninja couldn’t recall. Regardless, he had stolen whatever glory Tanjiro could’ve had, but at least Nishi’s attempt at sabotaging the date was thwarted.
Toshio believed that the outing still had a chance of ending on a high note, at least until Keiko lost her appetite and wanted to visit somewhere else. That somewhere being the very last place Tanjiro would want her to be.
“The place you work, Shibuya & Sons—it’s nearby, isn’t it? I would love to see the ships you’ve built, Tanji-kun!”
■■■■
“It’s...this is...this is why I didn’t want you to come here,” Tanjiro said in a defeated sigh. No amount of protesting had been able to stop Keiko from visiting the shipwright’s place of business. The yakuza princess had marched down to the docks filled with excitement of sailing upon Tanjiro’s largest and most magnificent ship yet: the Tekkōsen.
What Keiko found within the warehouse, however, were only the remains of her. The Tekkōsen’s corpse had been dragged in by a fleet of fishing boats, the crew working desperately to salvage her remains like buzzards atop carrion. Oars, masts, iron plating and anchors—what could be reclaimed had to be if Shibuya & Sons were ever going to set sail again.
“I’ve never seen such a horrendous wreck. Please tell me you weren’t onboard when it capsized!” Keiko said, her hands up against her lips. It wasn’t a good sight, especially when considering that with this marriage, her yakuza family and Shibuya & Sons would essentially be business partners.
Nishi said as much when she arrived, though much more crudely.
“Well if this ain’t a proper fuck-up, I don’t know what is. You guys aren’t fit to build a damn raft—much less a ship!” she yelled, causing the crewmembers to pause and hang their heads in shame. “The Yamagata-gumi can’t be associated with losers like you! Bunch of mindless, prickless sons of—wuUAH!”
Tanjiro snapped, shoving the yakuza off the pier. She fell with a splash and flailed about madly as if she couldn’t swim. Turned out she could—she was simply furious. Keiko had to stand between her and Tanjiro to spare the young man his life. Only after a hundred threats and a thousand curses did Nishi storm off, drenched in saltwater.
“I’m...I’m sorry, Keiko-san. I don’t know what came over me...I just couldn’t stand it any more.”
The yakuza princess closed her eyes and smiled. “It’s okay, Tanji-kun...no, Tanjiro-san. You were defending your family’s honor. Samurai, yakuza, and even shipbuilders, it seems, are not so different after all. I’m happy to see you finally take pride in who you are.”
She reached out and gave Tanjiro a hug. The workers gave out hoots and hollers—as one would expect—while the future groom simply stood there in shock. Though it turned out he wasn’t to be a future groom any longer.
“I had a wonderful time today,” Keiko said as she ended the embrace. “But I think it’s time we parted. You have a lot of passion bundled inside you, Tanjiro-san, but I don’t think I’m the one to bring it out of you. Perhaps it’s selfish, but I do not wish for a husband who doesn’t love me above all others. I hope you understand.”
She bowed and said her goodbye, leaving a dejected Tanjiro at the edge of the pier. He stood like that for a while, watching her go. He wasn’t anxious but quite the opposite—he was at such ease that Toshio’s sudden appearance from out the shadows didn’t surprise him in the slightest.
“Well, I guess that’s it then. I’ve failed you, haven’t I, Inspector? I’ve made the yakuza my enemy and you’ll never get to Shiroyama now. Gomenasai.”
Toshio shook his head. The shinobi may have failed in what he had set out to do in Jijinto, but he had learned plenty during his time here: not just of his weaknesses, but of courtship, love and romance. Tanjiro’s own confusion and frustration throughout all this in many ways mirrored himself.
“You have done all that I’ve asked of you and more. Thank you for your cooperation throughout all this, Tanjiro...and my condolences about the marriage.”
The shipbuilder put on a grin to hide his pain and looked out towards the sea and the setting sun. “Inspector...it’s not easy. To love someone when you know that your love will never be returned...it’s tough.”
Toshio stared at Tanjiro for a long moment after that, considering his words before joining him as they watched the sun set beneath the Celestial Sea.
“Is that so?”
