Welcome to Japan
Outside the window, a gray sky hung low over the city.
Osaka had just entered the rainy season.
Fine strands of rain fell without end, and the whole city seemed submerged beneath a veil of pale steam.
Elena turned her eyes away from the window and looked across the table.
Hasegawa Ryo.
A man seated in a neat, colorless suit, his tie fastened with meticulous care.
His hair was combed back cleanly. His face was neither handsome nor ugly. He had the sort of utterly forgettable features you’d pass on the street and forget a second later.
Elena knew very well that was his greatest weapon.
“Has the Office of Cabinet Intelligence and Research gotten back to you?”
Ryo gave a slight nod.
“They contacted me yesterday. They said it’s under review.”
“It’s already been three days.”
“I’m aware.”
That was all he said.
At first, she’d found that sort of thing a little disorienting, but by now she had mostly gotten used to it.
“Hmm... what about Kageyamagumi’s movements? Can we verify anything else?”
“That’s difficult at the moment.”
Once again, Ryo answered without hesitation.
Elena waited calmly for his explanation.
“Contact with our source inside Kageyamagumi has increased too much lately. If we push harder here, they’ll cut us off. We don’t exactly have many assets that are actually functioning right now.”
After the Sterling affair, Japan had also seen a major thinning of personnel at every station.
And Ryo was the one keeping the Osaka gap filled, all by himself.
He was holding what little remained in both hands, knowing full well that if he lost it, it would never be recovered.
Elena understood perfectly well why he was being so defensive.
So she didn’t press him any more than necessary.
“...And there’s still no change in the information on Brannan’s last known location?”
“None. The latest information is from two weeks ago.”
Elena fell silent.
Her supervisor, Dave Hoffman, came to mind.
He’s a capable guy. If he’s alive, we bring him back.
Ryan Brannan.
An agent from SAC/SOG, the Special Operations Group.
He was the kind of man who usually handled only the hardest, most dangerous unofficial missions even within CIA Operations.
He had gone missing in Osaka while single-mindedly tracking the man headquarters was looking for: Eric Bowman.
The last thing he had left behind said Bowman was under the protection of the yakuza group known as Kageyamagumi. And that in the process of confirming it, he had inevitably clashed with the yakuza.
“What about Bowman?”
“We’re certain he’s still in Japan, and we’re checking his location.”
Elena looked out the window.
Rain traced thin, glistening lines down the glass.
“Can’t we move a little more on our end?”
“The Office of Cabinet Intelligence and Research is already watching this side. If I move any more, information about Brannan could reach the Japanese side as well.”
Ryo answered without leaving even the slightest opening.
And frustrating as it was, he was right.
The Brannan matter had never been coordinated with the Japanese side. It was, quite literally, an unofficial operation.
Finding him, and cleaning up after him, both had to be done entirely off the books.
If even the faintest trail was left behind, headquarters would wash its hands of the matter instantly.
“......”
A brief silence followed. Ryo made no attempt to fill it.
Elena wasn’t usually the type to do so either, but right now the quiet felt heavy.
It was like standing in front of a wall for days on end.
“...We can’t keep going like this. We need more pieces on the board.”
Ryo lifted his eyes for the first time.
“Do you have something?”
Elena didn’t answer.
A moment later, she rose from her seat.
“First, I need to request support from headquarters. And... there’s somewhere I can try contacting.”
She walked down the hallway, stopped in a corner, and took out her phone.
Then, scrolling through her contacts, her finger came to rest on one name.
[LEE]
A sigh slipped out of her.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
It felt thick and damp the moment I stepped off the plane at Kansai International Airport.
Seoul was plenty humid too, but since Japan was an island, the air here had a different kind of density to it.
Once I’d cleared immigration and come out into the terminal, there was no one waiting for me.
In Hong Kong, at least Marcus had been there. This time I had to move entirely on my own.
Right, I just go to Namba.
I pulled out my phone and checked the information I’d already looked up.
How to get from Kansai Airport to Namba Station. The Nankai Rapi:t.
I feel like I’m just on some tourist trip.
I snorted to myself and boarded the train.
Once it started moving, Osaka’s outskirts unfolded beyond the window, draped in a fine drizzle.
Two-story houses lined up in neat little streets.
Old wooden buildings stood beside brand-new-looking apartments.
Overall, everything felt quiet and tidy.
It’s definitely different from Hong Kong or Korea.
They called it an express train, and sure enough, Namba came up fast.
After exiting the station, I pulled out my phone and opened Google Maps.
Ebisu Bridge
I marked the destination and started walking, more or less blindly following the route.
Honestly, I didn’t even really need the navigation.
...Everyone seems to be walking in the same direction.
As I crossed streets and passed through shopping arcades, the crowds only got thicker.
People with umbrellas because of the rain, tour groups in plastic rain capes, locals too.
Before I knew it, the streets were packed so tightly that I was almost being pushed along.
“Whoa...”
And then, beyond the shopping streets, a flashy entertainment district suddenly burst into view.
On both sides of the road, bizarrely extravagant signs were crammed together shoulder to shoulder.
LED billboards flashed nonstop, and tourists swarmed everywhere.
It was, for lack of a better word, stupidly noisy.
Korean, Chinese, and English all mixed together, with Japanese touts weaving through the noise.
The light from the signs smeared across the rainwater pooled on the pavement like streaks of paint.
Yeah, this is the place.
The moment I followed the map and turned left, the buildings abruptly ended and the view opened up, revealing a bridge ahead.
And beyond it, I saw—
“Wow...”
An enormous signboard.
Against a blue background, a man was running with both arms spread wide.
Beneath it, a narrow river flowed quietly by.
So that’s the Glico sign.
It was the famous billboard I’d seen in photos a dozen times.
Every railing on the bridge had people clinging to it, taking pictures.
I found the stairs leading down to the riverbank, dodging tourists posing with their arms outstretched.
“Phew. Now this is better.”
Across the river in the distance, I could see a giant crab sign.
And nearby along the waterfront were all sorts of ramen shops, cafés, and skewer stands.
I watched the scenery for a moment before checking my phone again.
Local guide. Haruka.
The only information I’d been given was the meeting place, the time, and that name.
There’d been no description of what she looked like.
Well, I’ll figure it out somehow.
After waiting there for quite a while, I spotted someone lingering nearby and glancing around.
She looked to be a woman in her early thirties, holding an umbrella.
Her hair fell to her shoulders, tied back, and she wore a linen jacket with a tote bag slung over one arm.
She had the sort of look you’d expect from a local Japanese woman you might see anywhere around here.
She seemed like someone waiting for another person.
She’d even made eye contact with me several times.
Could it be?
I stared at her a little pointedly. Maybe too pointedly.
She was looking at me too. Our eyes met again.
Yeah, I think that’s her.
She kept glancing over at me, tilting her head in confusion.
It wasn’t like we were at some secondhand transaction meetup, so what the hell was this situation?
Eventually, I couldn’t wait any longer and walked over first.
“Excuse me, are you...?”
The woman flinched and looked at me.
Her large, clear eyes, lined with distinct double eyelids, swept over my face.
“Ah... um, are you... Mr. Lee?”
“Yeah.”
For a moment, silence.
Haruka let out a soft breath, then looked away first.
She seemed a little awkward too.
“U-um... should I take you to the lodging first? It’s a bit complicated around here.”
Her Korean had a peculiar accent.
It sat somewhere between Korean and Japanese.
“This way, please.”
Haruka stepped off briskly, umbrella in hand.
As I followed behind her, I barely managed to keep from laughing out loud.
This is way different from Hong Kong.
Where Marcus had been unfriendly, this one just felt clumsy—extremely clumsy.
I could see what he’d meant when he’d said she was awkward.
At least this person definitely isn’t a CIA agent.
Once we moved a little beyond Dotonbori’s shopping streets, the atmosphere changed completely.
The tourists thinned out little by little, and the signs and noise faded with them.
Narrow alleys crowded with old apartment buildings and houses.
Only the glow from streetlights and vending machines lit the lanes, making the neighborhood feel oddly quiet.
We turned down a narrow one-way alley and went deeper in.
“......”
Haruka barely spoke at all while we walked.
Every so often she simply glanced back to make sure I was still following.
When we finally reached the front of a shabby four-story apartment building, she spoke up.
“It’s here.”
It was an old building with no lobby and no elevator.
We climbed the stairs and stopped in front of room 302.
There was no digital lock, just an old-fashioned key lock.
Click—
Once I’d gone inside, set down my bag, and caught my breath, I took in the place.
It was a tiny one-room apartment, just big enough for one person to live in.
“Oh, and this...”
Haruka took something out of her bag.
A small metal key. It looked like a coin locker key.
There was a numbered tag attached to it.
“I was told to pass this along.”
“Hmm, do you know what it opens?”
“I don’t. I was just handed it.”
She set the key down on the table and stepped back a pace.
Her expression said she had nothing more to explain.
“I see...”
I picked up the key.
There had been a few other things included with the information about the meeting place.
Come to think of it, one of them had probably been an address and a number, out of nowhere.
“Do you need anything else today?”
“No, I think I’m fine for now.”
“Then I’ll be going... I’ll contact you tomorrow morning.”
Haruka picked up her bag again and headed for the door.
Then she stopped for a moment in front of it and looked back.
“Um, do you speak Japanese?”
“Not at all.”
Silence.
“...I see.”
With that answer, she lowered her head slightly.
Then she opened the door and left.
Bang.
I rolled the key around in my hand and looked out the window for a moment.
For now, I’d better check this first.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
An alley on the north side of the Dotonbori River, heading toward Nipponbashi.
Once I was just one block away from the entertainment district, the scenery grew visibly older.
It was a stretch lined with old appliance discount shops.
Many of the shutters were down, and faded advertisements were pasted all over the place.
“...Is it this way?”
When I looked closer, I found a coin locker tucked into a narrow gap between buildings.
It didn’t seem to be used often. There was quite a bit of dust, and the keyhole had even started to rust.
I matched the number and inserted the key.
Click.
When I opened the door, I saw a few things inside.
I took them out one by one.
An old foldable phone and charger, an envelope full of cash, and a coin purse.
A zip bag held a travel toothbrush and toothpaste, and beside it was a folded tourist map.
...What is this?
As I looked through everything, a laugh suddenly escaped me. They even packed toothpaste with a sightseeing map.
The person in charge here seemed pretty meticulous. A world of difference from Marcus.
Below that was a document envelope in A4 size.
After a quick glance around, I opened it.
The first document was information on a missing person.
A Canadian freelance photographer. Male.
A single photo was attached.
He was standing in the street with a camera in hand, and at a glance it was obvious he wasn’t of ordinary build.
He was nearly 190 centimeters tall, with broad shoulders and a thick neck. His short brown hair was trimmed close, and a scruffy beard shadowed his jaw as if he hadn’t shaved in a while.
The faint lines at the corners of his eyes suggested he was in his early forties.
Even with a camera in his hand, there was something different about his posture.
His back was straight, his shoulders open—he was clearly someone who had spent a long time training or working out at a serious level.
The last confirmed sighting was in the Naniwa-ku area.
The date was about a month ago. After that, contact was lost.
That was everything.
So this is him.
This, too, had been included in the information I’d received beforehand.
My job was to find one man in Osaka.
I looked at the photo again.
He was listed as a photographer, but his build and posture told a different story.
At a glance, he was obviously a CIA operative. A very capable one, too—someone who worked directly in the field.
“Hmm...”
After checking the second document, I clicked my tongue softly.
This one was information on the yakuza organization.
Kageyamagumi.
An affiliate directly under the Yamaguchi-gumi, with its base in Osaka’s Minami district.
I’d heard of the Yamaguchi-gumi before, even through the news. It was Japan’s largest yakuza syndicate.
Boss Kageyama Toru. Fifty-eight years old.
The photo showed a short, wiry man.
His hair was cut short and almost silver-white. His face was deeply lined with age, but there wasn’t a hint of disarray in it.
He was described as a seasoned veteran who had controlled Minami for more than thirty years.
Turning the page, I found another man.
Miyake Shinji. Forty-three. Deputy leader and action chief.
He was large, solidly built, and above all, his silhouette stood out.
His body was so clearly honed that the lines of his muscle showed through. And on his face was a distinct slash scar.
A warning note in red caught my eye.
Swordsmanship master. Classified even within the Yamaguchi-gumi as an extremely dangerous individual.
I set the papers down.
“Ha. So after triads, it’s yakuza, huh...”
A dry laugh slipped out before I could stop it.
My life had gotten pretty fantastic over the last few months, hadn’t it?
I gathered the documents, put them back into the envelope, and packed up the rest of the items too.
Just as I was about to take the tourist map, I noticed a sticky note attached to it.
When I checked it, I found a single line written in neat handwriting.
[Welcome to Japan.]
It was obviously meant as a friendly greeting, but for some reason it felt strangely ominous.
Something about it told me this was going to be no less troublesome than Hong Kong.