Cynthia has had enough. She likes him, but the bad vibes and explosive energy he brings to her life is something she isn’t prepared to cope with. She knows he is suffering so she doesn’t want to wound him any more but she doesn’t want to confront him directly. The next time she goes to work, she takes all her things and gives notice on the apartment. She leaves a note that says simply. “This isn’t working.” Furyo has plenty of money but not speaking the language is going to make renting an apartment difficult. When he returns from being out for he day the land lord and some workmen are putting all his things out on the street. He is able to fit most of it in the car but the cool stuff and any thing of value is already missing. The dogs are missing and the wind has turned violent. He has to walk down the street to salvage any paperwork or pictures of family left before it gets ruined by thunder and lightning. Furyo still doesn’t know the city well and ends up driving until he comes to the waterfront and passes out in the parking lot of a commercial building over looking the abandoned fort on Odaiba island.
The next day he makes his way back to Shibuya and doesn’t feel like spending money. Every thing he has is a couple thousand yen, not enough to rent a place or even do much drinking. Feeling let down and defeated he parks the car and walks around aimlessly. He needs a job and to learn some Japanese. He is lucky for the fact most tourist areas have names in American characters beside kanji. Making finding things similar if you can remember the names in Japanese. Shibuya is like any major city. Skyscrapers, high-rises and bars full of the happy and wealthy. He is neither but his streetwise nature makes finding new friends easier but in this weather its not the joyous nights of partying he expected. Every one here looks kind of down, drinking away their own suffering, walking fast with umbrellas and wondering what the fuck this American is doing with no umbrella walking down the street like a hoodlum. Coming to a bar with a decent view of the city. He points to several drinks and sits there thinking about kicking out the window and jumping from the 10th story.
He is alone in a sea of spoken Japanese. He hears some English coming from Australian tourists who take one look at him and move their seat. “Like that huh?” He thinks. He falls asleep and is woken up by the police. The owners must be Yakuza because they joined up several tables and placed every food item and empty drink on the menu in front of him. The police are screaming about money with a bill for 300,000 yen. Roughly 3,000 American. Furyo doesn’t have it, and even if he did he wouldn’t tolerate being extorted. He pretends to smile and reach in his pocket to pay, shoving the police and snide owner out of the way only to run into an elevator that won’t open. He dives past them again and this time a nightstick catches him in the teeth, chipping them. Spitting blood and fighting like a rabid animal he makes it to a door he can smash though the glass into a stairwell. Feeling too drunk to outrun cops he begins leaping down each flight of five stairs until he gets to metal door that leads to the dumpsters. Down there waiting are 7 Yakuza’s with knives who didn’t plan on doing any talking.
Furyo is stabbed 72 times in the chest and arms only to fall into the cops as they come running. The Yakuza smile at the cops and pile into some waiting luxury cars and the police let them go. Furyo isn’t done fighting but as he tries to breathe he feels his lung collapsing. Feeling pink bubbles coming out of his shirt he starts to panic as the world starts spinning. He hears screams of the police over radios and hears an ambulance coming. The blue and yellow swirling light makes him dizzy. He sees the cops disgusted faces leering at him as he loses the battle to sleep. He doesn’t feel like he died. Doesn’t know how much time passed or how bad his injuries are. All he knows is his bones feel uncomfortable and his dreams are of endless suffering. He thinks of the cat he saved and the hell priest. When he awakens its to a Buddhist monk praying over him and a smiling nurse in a medical mask changing his bandages.
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The nurse walks out and comes back in with the police. One of them speaks English but Furyo refuses to tell them any thing. A stoic doctor comes in asking about his living arrangements in perfect English and lets him know they will have to kick him out if he doesn’t have a way to pay. Furyo doesn’t mind as his first thought is of his car parked in Shibuya probably being towed. He is released to the street but at least they called him a taxi. His clothes were cut off him in the ER so he is walking around in a white gown open to the breeze. Furyo must have a demon on his shoulder from this misfortune streak. The cabby doesn’t speak English but understands Shibuya. When Furyo starts to recognize the famous spots he dashes out of the taxi with out paying at the first opportunity. The cabby isn’t going to let this fly and chases after him. Coming to his car as the guy tries to strangle him from behind, Furyo spins and two pieces the poor guy, leaving him snoring face down in the street.
Furyo knows this will be a bad deal. The cabby will certainly call the police and the hospital will know his name and identity. By a stroke of luck he finds his way back to the first abandoned house he slept in his first few nights in the country. Its damp inside and he wonders what happened to the mother dog and her puppies. He falls asleep shivering and wakes up to an old couple bringing him a blanket and smiling. They feed him a big meal of traditional grilled meat. He feels so blessed by their kindness but in the but in the back of his mind he feels like they are ghosts. They don’t speak English but smile and talk to each other jokingly. When he wakes up he feels the soft blanket and feels like he has been fed a large meal. Walking though the house he finds pictures of the couple from his dream and the stained bed where they must have died, left rotting for months. He feels a reverence for their spirits, he lights incense and leaves an offering.
Furyo has one plan for the day. Find the owner of the bar who extorted him with his Yakuza friends and kill them all. Parking in the exact same space and walking around until he found the bar, he comes out the elevator to find the place is totally empty. The furniture, fixtures and even the bar has been removed. Nothing there but bare cement pillars and black marble walls. Furyo screams “FUCK!” He isn’t alone, from an adjacent room come the 7 Yakuza who stabbed him wearing the Noh mask of enraged yase-otoko and kawazu phantoms. He remembers each face, joined with a new man wearing an alligator skin suit and wearing 5 thousand dollar Italian sunglasses who is the only one smiling. Furyo isn’t here to make friends so he pulls a knife from his waist band and rushes forward to go to work. They are separated by about 20 feet and before he can take 3 steps, he is staring down the barrels of a firing squad. Each of the 7 Yakuza pulls a pistol, more men rush out of back with submachine guns.
The man in Italian sunglasses raises his hands in surrender and says. “Hear me out, our guy in the hospital said you refused to talk to police. We respect that and after some digging we found out a little bit about you… American. We control this area, so we won’t apologize for what happened but to soften the blow we will make it up to you.” The owner is roughly brought out and thrown down on his knees. The owner is squinting at the gun and hysterically pleading for his life in Japanese. The man in the sunglasses hands Furyo his own nickel plated 45 and says. “Welcome to the family.” Furyo cocks back the slide, causing the owner to clasp his hands in prayer shrieking. Furyo places the gun in the back of his waste band and begins beating the man until he is sure he will be permanently disfigured. Breaking his jaw, knocking out all his teeth and digging one of his eyes out. The Yakuza are a mixture of laughs and groans. The man in sunglasses puts his hand on Furyo’s shoulder. “I think he learned his lesson. Let me buy you dinner.”