Page 27 of Brutal Union
He follows my eye-line to Kenji and bends at the waist, showing the utmost respect to that disgusting man. Once he rises, he turns to me.
"Thought you might be hungry," he says, extending the wrapped cloth toward me.
I raise a brow, skeptically looking at the triangle shaped cloth. Nickel has been known to cook some of the worst food in all of Osaka, maybe in all of Japan . “Onigiri?”Rice balls?
“Spicy crab,” he replies, crouching slightly to offer it at eye level like he’s doing me a favor. “Fresh.”
I narrow my eyes and he exclaims. “Ah! Okasan made it.”
I accept it, turning it in my hand. “I am only taking this because your mom scares the shit out of me. You don’t usually bring snacks to all of the assassins stalking out their prey in your Onsen.”Japanese hot springs.
He chuckles, low and smooth. “Old habits die hard. Besides, I figured if you were going to kill him, I believed you would have already done it.”
I shrug, peeling back the paper. “Maybe I’m lazy.”
“Or maybe you’re waiting for Okasan to go to sleep so she doesn’t kill you for getting blood in the spring,” he says, standing again, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeve.
I take a bite, the spice exploding on my tongue coupled with the cooling effect of kewpie mayo and the freshly made furikake.Japanese seasoning blend. The flavors remind me of my mother, how diligent and patient she was with everything she did. If I said I wanted ramen, I had to wait twelve hours because even with the cooks, nannies, and maids, she still made every dinner from scratch. Everything she did was a labor of love, even her death.
He walks away before I can answer, slipping behind a screen wall and into the steam like a snake disappearing into grass. I watch as the dark-haired girl with subtle curves walks demurely out of the women’s changing room, her bare feet making the faintest sound against the smooth, wet stones. A white robe, soft and silken, clings lightly to her frame, patterned with pink, blue, and purple flowers that shift gently with each step she takes. The steam of the hot spring curls around her like a veil, catching in her hair—long, straight, midnight-black—now damp at the ends, sticking delicately to the curve of her collarbone.
Kenji licks his lips, practically foaming at the mouth at her appearance.
She feigns embarrassment tucking her chin into her left shoulder as the robe slips off her right shoulder.
“No need being shy, doll,” Kenji chuckles, one hand out as he beckons her closer. “I won’t bite too hard.”
She approaches the water’s edge, the robe slides lower, exposing a smooth line of skin and the faint trace of the slope of her breast, along with the outline of her curve. She kneels briefly at the edge of the spring, testing the heat with the tips of her fingers, then slides the robe off with an uncharacteristic level of confidence.
She smiles at Kenji, but almost like she was compelled to, her eyes dart in my direction and she takes a moment to make sure there is a figure standing there. The steam thickens around her as she shifts, arms gliding along the surface of the spring, causing a gentle ripple that distorts her reflection. Then, as if she'd forgotten something—or remembered exactly what she meant to—she turns her head slowly toward Kenji.
In overly formal Romaji, normally used by children to an elder, she turns to him, and pouts. “Sumimasen…,”Excuse me…,her voice barely audible over the burble of water and wind through cedar branches. “Ojisama, yuzu no ofuro ni shite moraeru kashira. Ohada ga… motto yawarakaku naru no.”Sir would you make it a yuzu bath? My skin would become much softer.
A request for an Yuzu bath, which would be a whole other part of the Onsen. Kenji smiles and replies in Romaji: “We wouldn’t want you not to be soft any longer.”
The girl giggles as Kenji kisses the crook of her neck, then rises slowly from the smoke, moving toward the reception area with sex fueled gusto. His guards fall in step behind him, one of them offering a robe he pointedly refuses. Moments later, they vanish through the curtains, leaving only the lingering scent of incense and ego.
After a beat, the girl glances in my direction. Then, with a lazy sway of her hips she makes her way toward the waterfall—nose pinched in annoyance, but her body language shows a lazy stroll, like we don’t have ten minutes before Kenji would normally summon her again, this time to aprivatespring.
“Taking my targets, are we Sho?” she questions, eyes narrowed as she emerges from steam, her naked body on display again, but I avert my gaze.
“I think we all know the Yakuza is mine to kill,” I respond, my eyes focused on the guard watching us from the door of the changing room.
“Are you averting your gaze? It’s not like this is your first time.” She mocks, fingertips running along the surface of the spring.
My eyes shift back to hers. “What type of man do you take me for Aoi?”
She crosses through the waterfall, her long black hair sticking to her body, as she clicks her tongue in a teasing way that would make me sweat if it wasn’t for the fact that my dick is permanently thinking about a certain, tied up, drooling, curvaceously murderous Russian princess.
“I take you for the animal you are.” Her fingertips run over the curve of my neck, a small smile on her lips. “The bloodthirsty killer. The sadistic lover. I know you, Sho.”
Before her fingers can interlock behind my neck, I grab her forearms. “Shame then, only the bloodthirsty killer is available, right now.”
Aoi scoffs, a girl of her considerable beauty has never been rejected before, but there is always a first time for everything. “Sho, don’t tell me--”
“It’s not official, but my girl would kill you, Aoi,” I smirk, crossing my arms over my chest.
Aoi chuckles, brushing a damp strand of hair behind her ear as the Tokyo humidity curls around us like silk. “You forget how bad I can be when someone threatens my territory.”
