Fujiki Tomohisa walked briskly down the corridor, his head held high, the very picture of authority, poise and confidence. His position as the new Commissioner General of the NPA demanded it, and the gods were smiling down on him. The case was of the highest possible profile and it looked like the biggest challenge would be to keep it alive long enough to give himself a decent amount of media exposure.

  It was so easy; it was barely 11 a.m., and they had already caught track of the white van parked near the hotel. It had left around the time of the kidnapping. A stolen van most likely, but easy enough to follow. Kaori was the single most recognizable person in the entire country and the kidnapper was a foreigner. Thousands of inspectors, traffic cameras at every street corner, and a clearly identifiable vehicle.

  Any time now, one of his inspectors would report they had found the van and captured the man. By the afternoon, Kaori would be recovered and presented to her father, and tomorrow, they would probably proceed to the wedding, with him as the guest of honor…. maybe he could drag things on for a full week if Kaori was traumatized, perhaps even more if the court case turned into a media circus.

  But first, he needed to earn some brownies points with his benefactor, Oroshi. Life was interesting like that sometimes. Oroshi had removed the former Commissioner General, and sponsored his campaign. Against all odds, he was approved for the position. And now, less than a couple years later, he was here to rescue Oroshi’s wedding!

  He knocked on the door of Oroshi’s new apartment. Two men opened. They wore traditional clothes, complete with katanas at their sides.

  Oh right, Tomohisa thought, it was meant to be a traditional wedding ceremony. Some of Oroshi’s retinue would still be dressed accordingly.

  He stepped in. One of the men walked in front of him, leading him through the apartment. The other followed him silently. Tomohisa wasn’t very big on tradition and the procedure gave him a creeping sense of unease, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He was here to comfort Oroshi, reassure him and make a show of confidence. The poor man was crushed by the kidnapping, lord know what he was feeling right now!

  Oroshi was in a small salon. A multitude of screens and computers had been installed. He turned around, facing Tomohisa.

  “Ah, Tomohisa-kun, come in, have a seat.”

  Tomohisa bowed and sat down. Kun? This is how one addresses a junior, and while Oroshi’s social standing was high, calling the National Chief of Police “Kun” was… He was shocked by the lack of manners and respect, but after all, the man had been beaten up just a few hours ago, his wife kidnapped… surely he could overlook a small discourtesy.

  “So, what do you make of this case.” Oroshi asked.

  “It seems pretty straightforward. There was a white van was parked outside the hotel which left the area minutes before you called us. We tracked it with street cameras, it was close to Saitama Prefecture, then continued northwest through Gunma, and the last footage we have showed the van heading toward Niigata. We don’t have the current position, but the place is a dead end and I expect I’ll receive a location lock on the van within the hour. It belongs to an employee of the hotel. The employee has been detained, but doesn’t seem to know anything. Most likely the kidnapper stole the van.”

  “Very good job, Tomo-kun”

  “With all due respect, Matsuko-san, I feel uncomfortable being called Tomo-kun. It’s not proper.”

  Oroshi stepped next to him. “Tomo-kun” tried to stand up but got slammed back into the chair by a pair of powerful hands pressing down on his shoulders. The two men with katana were just behind him and he hadn’t even noticed! What the…

  Oroshi pointed a remote to one of the TV screens and Tomohisa watched in horror as he recognized the scene and most importantly, the main actor. Himself. He was handcuffed to a bed, naked. Above him, a dominatrix was brandishing a whip, screamed “Lick me, Tomo-kun.” The man on the screen—him—complied eagerly.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t like being called ‘Tomo-kun’, Tomo-kun.” Oroshi said, covering the man with a predatory gaze.

  Tomohisa sat there in disbelief. How? How was this happening? And why now?

  “Don’t worry, Tomo-kun. I very much appreciate a slave who knows his place.”

  “I… I’m not your slave! At most you can force me to resign, but so what? It’s not illegal to be into S&M.”

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  “Sure, you are my slave. Do you want me to show you another episode? How about the one from last week, when you beat up and raped a little girl? Was that also legal? I have it if you want.”

  Oroshi pointed his remote to the TV and Tomohisa watched in horror as the scene appeared on the screen.

  “Stop! Stop! You have made your point. What do you want?”

  “Oh, but I’m just getting started. Don’t you think it is rude to interrupt your betters, Tomo-kun? I have a lot of videos, but you will appreciate this one very much.”

  The screen now showed a university amphitheater. The camera panned across the room and stopped on the middle row, focusing on a young Japanese lady. She was looking intently at her nails.

  Tomohisa let out a gasp: “Tomeka!”

  “Such a shame. You spend all that money for a good university, and all she does is look at her nails. This won’t do.”

  Suddenly a red cross-hair symbol appeared on the screen and lazily moved in from the side to rest steadily over the young woman’s face.

  Tomohisa was a nervous wreck. “Please, please, yes, I am your slave. Just tell me what you want.”

  “I’m pleased to see you are a reasonable man, Tomo-kun. I expected nothing less when I appointed you to head the NPA. Don’t worry, as long as you serve me well, nothing untoward will happen to our lovely Tomeka here.” Oroshi explained with a soft, calming voice. He was inspecting Tomohisa with a critical gaze, as an artist would, looking at a promising-yet-unfinished painting.

  Too bad there is no time, Oroshi thought. There is so much more to be done here, but this will have to do for now.

  “Now, you might be thinking about betraying me later on. This would be an incredibly bad idea.”

  One of the guards drew his katana and in one fluid motion, he placed it a hair-width from Tomohisa’s throat. The blade did not touch. Tomohisa held his breath, trembling. Oroshi placed his hand on the man’s arm and slowly lifted his sleeve. Tomohisa paled as he watched the man’s tattooed arm, a demon face with a katana blade.

  Tomo-kun knew he was looking at a yakuza enforcer, an executioner. A high ranking one. He looked at Oroshi in understanding. For Oroshi to give orders to such a man, he had to be…

  Oroshi smiled. The executioner withdrew his blade with a smooth motion and stepped away without a sound, as if he hadn’t been here at all.

  “Kneel” Oroshi said, his voice soft but firm.

  Tomohisa complied immediately.

  “You will manage the police on my behalf in the coming days. You will follow the tracks of the white van and concentrate your forces in the area surrounding Niigata and Akita.”

  “But I was already doing that.” Tomohisa protested!

  “Yes, but that’s only because you are an incompetent idiot. I want you to continue being an incompetent idiot. The white van was stolen by one of my men and driven up north to lay a trail for the police. This evening, you will find the van and it will be empty. You will coordinate with my men on the progress of the operation; they will lay tracks and clues that you can chase to your heart’s content with your inspectors. Reassign any inspector who expresses disagreement or follows any clues other than the ones provided by my men.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Call me Master.”

  “Yes, Master.” Tomohisa was groveling as best he could.

  “Good. You will appoint the men I designate to the crisis coordination office. They will report to me directly and will have any access and budget they deem necessary. Are we clear?”

  “Yes Master.”

  “Excellent. You may kiss my shoe” Oroshi said, placing his boot on Tomohisa’s hands.

  Tomohisa looked with disgust and pain at the shoe crushing his hands, not daring to move. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t even die—that wouldn’t protect his daughter; it would condemn her. He kissed the shoe.

  Oroshi glanced at his watch. He had broken the man in less than 10 minutes, but of course, most of the work and the preparation had been done in advance. It takes years of preparation to achieve “overnight success,” Oroshi reminded himself. His work had paid off as it should, but it wouldn’t do for him to grow complacent.

  “You will coordinate with Ojitani-san. He will provide you with the press releases and information that you can report to Daisuke. If you need instructions, ask him. Here is a secure phone I will use to contact you. Now, clean yourself up, there is a bathroom in the next room and a grooming kit. I want you back to looking in charge and competent.”

  Tomohisa stood up and headed to the bathroom. Oroshi stopped him with a word:

  “Don’t worry. Everything will work out fine. As long as you obey me, you will come out of this looking like a hero, and your political career is all but assured. Money, power, slaves and mistresses… I will make all your desires come true, so keep your chin up, I do not mistreat my creatures… as long as they remain faithful.”