You Are Already Dead – The Yakuza Citadel
The building, pieced together from all sorts of containers and construction materials, evoked the image of a medieval castle. Massive battlements stretched out to either side.
Have they already rallied their forces?
A vague unease gnawed at me as we approached, and a man climbed up onto the battlements. Dressed sharply in a black suit with a katana at his waist, he glared at us with his fierce, bulging eyes.
"Whoa?! Uncle!!!"
Squinting to make out the man, Ritka rolled down the car window, poked her head out, and shouted with a beaming smile.
Hearing her voice, the man whipped his head around, his face twisting in shock.
"Miss!!! You're safe!"
"Yeah! Can I come in?!"
"Of course! You lot, open the gate right now! It's the boss's daughter!"
I shot Ritka a baffled look, and she grinned ear to ear.
"It's Ryota, the guy who used to bodyguard me when I was little. Hehe."
Unlike the game, it seemed a force had already formed in Kyoto.
Though it looks like Ritka's family has swallowed up most of it.
With pounding hearts, we passed through the battlements and entered the city. The sight that greeted us was residents going about their tasks in a surprisingly orderly atmosphere. There had to be over a hundred at a glance.
Including families and internal staff... maybe around 300? 400?
A stark contrast to Tokyo's sparse numbers.
As I drove slowly, taking in the sights, a massive Japanese-style mansion came into view at the end of the road where Ryota's motorcycle led us. It was the Kanzaki family safehouse from the game—Kyoto's hub.
I killed the engine and stepped out. Word must have spread via radio, because a huge swarm of yakuza poured out, taking up positions.
"We of the former Kanzaki faction, come to pay our respects to Lady Ritka Kanzaki!!!"
The yakuza shouted in unison from their bizarre stances, centered around Ryota. Even in this era, their discipline was impressive.
Ritka, giggling with delight, greeted each member one by one as we advanced. From the center of the group emerged a burly middle-aged man and a woman in an elegant kimono.
"Ritka!"
The middle-aged woman hurried over in quick steps and enveloped Ritka in a tight hug.
"Mom!"
"Sniff! My girl. You're not hurt anywhere? Sob."
Her eyes welling up, she stroked Ritka's body repeatedly. She had to be Ritka's mother.
"Yeah. I told you. Sniff! Big bro helped a ton."
Overcome with emotion, Ritka sniffled and introduced me.
Through the tearful mother-daughter reunion, the middle-aged man extended a massive hand for a shake.
"I've heard all about you. I'm Kanzaki Masato, Ritka's father. Kazuma-kun?"
"Yes. Nice to meet you, Masato-san. Yamamoto Kazuma."
A grin escaped me at the firm grip clamping down. His way of greeting another man, I supposed.
General or not.
I applied just enough pressure, like handling glass, and Masato's face flushed red as his hand trembled.
Confirming his reaction, I released first with a warm smile and bowed my head.
She was an NPC, sure, but Ritka's father—and over fifty to boot. That alone warranted respect.
Masato rubbed his numb hand, clearly stunned by my grip strength, then chuckled and patted my shoulder.
"You've got some real power there. I like a man who can back it up."
In this ruined world, raw strength was paramount. Masato, who knew that best, seemed thoroughly impressed by what he'd briefly sensed.
Glancing at him, I saw Ritka approaching, still cradled in the kimono-clad woman's arms.
"Big bro, this is my mom."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Kanzaki Sumire, Ritka's mother. On behalf of the Kanzaki family, thank you for protecting her all the way here."
I smiled at Sumire's polite words and replied.
"Ritka was so reliable, I actually leaned on her more. Please, no need for formalities."
Her eyes sparkled for a moment at my words. My natural yobiste, the way Ritka called me, our glances and vibe—Sumire, with her seasoned insight, had likely pieced it together.
Masato and Sumire don't seem pissed at all.
Kind of disappointing. If Masato had shown even a hint of displeasure, it would've been prime mother-daughter rice bowl territory...
Even as a middle-aged woman, a heroine's mom was in a league of her own. Sumire's refined beauty and poise, paired with those prominent breasts peeking from her elegant kimono, were awfully tempting.
Act a little prickish, you bastards.
With their warm welcome, I entered the mansion. The interior was surprisingly tidy, clashing with the apocalyptic outside. This was why you needed a force.
Recalling my murim world days, I unpacked and stepped out to find one of the members waiting obsequiously.
"The oyabun invites you to dinner."
"Sure. Perfect timing—I'm starving."
I slipped into the casually displayed kimono and followed him. Cold sweat trickled visibly down the back of the leading underling's neck.
Can't have a yakuza outfit looking down on me.
Since facing Masato, I'd been exuding just enough intimidation for a normal person to handle.
Masato's impressive in his own way, though.
This underling was breaking a sweat and tensing up, yet that old man hadn't even registered it. No wonder he was the boss.
Slipping away.
"I'll leave you here."
The underling bowed and scurried off after escorting me. High enough in the ranks to guide me to the oyabun's quarters—he'd spread the word about me down the chain.
With a smirk, I opened the door and entered. Before me sat a simple four-person meal setup, with Masato striking a pose at the center.
Before I could question the lack of food despite the invitation, Masato spoke.
"You're here. The wife and Ritka will join us shortly, so take a seat."
He'd clearly arranged for some alone time with me.
I nodded and sat politely in the indicated spot.
"Once more, thanks for saving my daughter and escorting her to Kyoto."
True to yakuza values of loyalty and righteousness, his gratitude was sincere but measured. I bowed in return.
My mother-daughter dreams faded into the distance.
"As I said, Ritka helped me plenty."
Masato's eyebrow twitched at my continued natural yobiste. Not his imagination, then.
"Fine, let's skip that. Mind if I ask something?"
"Go ahead."
"What's your relationship with my daughter Ritka?"
He was her father, but an in-game NPC—and a normal human at that. No need to bow.
"We've gone as far as we can go."
Casually sipping from the prepared teacup, I watched Masato's eyes waver.
But he quickly composed himself, stroking his chin thoughtfully before sipping his own tea.
"Hmph..."
I'd gone pretty hard, but his calm reaction puzzled me.
No objections to me as Ritka's man, huh...
My handsome looks, that brief taste of my monstrous strength, the subtle menace I exuded—it must've scored high marks. And as Ritka's savior? Perfect.
We passed the time sipping tea in silence until Masato finally spoke.
"This is tricky... very tricky."
I gave him a questioning look, and after a moment's hesitation, he continued.
"Do you know the situation in Kyoto right now?"
I shot him a look like what kind of dogshit question is this for a guy who just arrived, and he cleared his throat before summarizing the current state.
From what Masato explained, Kyoto was in a ceasefire between the police and yakuza factions. After the zombie outbreak, both sides had carved out territories amid ongoing skirmishes, but the police had demanded a temporary peace.
"Satsu's bigwig—a young punk—has had his eye on Ritka since way back, so he pushed for a marriage alliance."
Once Ritka's survival became known through her prior contact with Sumire, they'd gone ahead with an arbitrary engagement, factoring in her potential return.
So that's why the forces merged so quick.
The story had gone off the rails since the player NPC died.
"Honestly, I hate the idea of handing Ritka over to Satsu. She seems to like you too... but the situation's gotten real messy."
"Just take out that guy, problem solved."
Masato blinked, stunned that a non-yakuza like me suggested killing him offhand.
"If we off him now, we'd be the instigators, obviously. Plus, plenty of his lackeys back the idea. It's not just him."
Fair point. To the police, Ritka was a card to shake up the yakuza.
Given her looks, they'd treat her like a trophy wife.
The thought soured my mood fast. Who the hell were these punks to demand my woman?
"I'll handle it. Just give me his details."
Masato's hand trembled at the killing intent leaking from me as I drained my teacup. He swallowed hard.
"You've got the confidence to back that up, I suppose. With Ritka really back, we can't hand her over anyway. I'll trust you once."
Sensing my otherworldly pressure, Masato wisely played along.
Fucking presumptuous dogs.
Unrefined murderous rage boiled up hot.
That day, Masato's little accident remained a secret between us men.