Chapter Text
The workday was barely over, but Masato felt like he needed to get out. Whatever little time he had for himself before duty called and his assistants breathed down his neck about what needed to be done, he was going to take it.
In between the party meetings, news of the dissolution of the two largest yakuza groups was finally making its rounds. It didn’t help either that he still had Bleach Japan to deal with, pleading for more political support like the pathetic beggars they’d been reduced to.
And then there was that specific incident within the last 24 hours. He could feel the frustration build up immediately just thinking about it. A simple order for Ishioda, sabotaged from afar. In hindsight, Masato knew it shouldn’t matter. The old man was still dead after all, and things were more or less going as they should.
Tendo Yosuke, Masato thought to himself. Through this act alone he knew he’d also have to tread even more carefully around Tendo from now on. He was as ambitious as the others vying for the top spot, but his cunning far outmatched the others — he wasn’t afraid to assert his authority towards Masato either during past meetings, something he found both admirable and intimidating.
He barely made it through the building lobby before deciding that the stress really was starting to get to him. Somehow, he felt like he was going to explode if he continued doing his job as usual. Mixed in with the frustration seemed to be something else. What was it? Regret?
No, Masato firmly told himself. Now was not the time to feel any conflict. What’s done is done, Masato tried convincing himself. Instead of going where he was supposed to for his next meeting, Masato took a detour towards the park outside the Metropolitan Building, as though on auto-pilot.
He just needed to get away from it for a while.
True, there was no reason in denying that Arakawa Masumi had tried to be a good father to him; that he had tried to give his only son the best he could since the day he was born, regardless of his condition. In fact, he had (and hated) to admit that he only had the life he did now because of him, starting with the day he’d agreed to take in Hiromi.
And yet, even if he’d been the kindest man alive or a doting father to them, at the end of the day, he was still a yakuza. Growing up, he’d see on the news what they were capable of. In the papers, the latest strings of crimes committed. Even when Arakawa insisted that not all of them were as bad as the public made them out to be, Masato knew there was a side to Arakawa he never showed them. Besides, he’d even heard the stories before; that his own father used to be a cold, ruthless killer in his youth. Masato could only imagine the unspeakable evils his father had committed both back then and once he’d become his patriarch. It made him sick to the stomach.
Heck, even dealing with the people he had to currently only proved that the things he found vile about them hadn’t changed at all despite their attempts to present a ‘cleaner’ image to the public in recent years. Yet, Masato knew he had little choice but to enlist their help if he wanted to make things happen. In truth, he was no better than them. Whatever past he tried to break away from never really left.
He buried his face in his hands. A loud scream would have followed if he’d been in private. Sure, a full-grown adult like him might not resort to such childish tactics to express their emotions, but he didn’t care. In fact, it’s all he wanted to do at this moment. Throwing a tantrum was the only thing he knew. Yet, all he could do here in public was sigh in frustration instead. How did things get this complicated?
Soon, his thoughts began to wander even further. Wandering off to wonder about a life that could have been.
For instance, he imagined how easier things might have been if they’d been honest about their feelings sooner. How different would things have been then? Perhaps both fathers would still be alive — but did that mean still being in his wheelchair? After all, there wouldn’t be any guarantee Hiromi’s father would have found a way for Masato’s condition to improve. Plus, would they have found any semblance of happiness in the outside world, with a life still directly tied to his father’s business?
No doubt, Ichiban would more than likely still be around too, happily accompanying the two of them almost everywhere they went in place of what Sawashiro does on occasion. Perhaps Masato would even have eventually cooled his disdain towards him, instead of continuing to let it grow and fester to the point he was now an active obstacle in his way.
His head was beginning to hurt from all the overthinking.
“Um, excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice caused Masato to jerk his head up, back to reality, to a man and next to him, a girl whom he could only assume to be his partner, who was looking at him with equal concern. “A- Are you alright, sir?”
The stranger looked unconvinced by his answer. Was it that obvious he was going through something? Nevertheless, appearances had to be kept up. Masato reassured the couple hovering over him with a forced, polite smile that he was perfectly fine; thanking them for their concern.
“I guess even politicians like Aoki-san must have their days, huh?” The man commented to his partner, unintentionally loud enough for Masato to hear.
“It seems so, doesn’t it?” the partner’s reply could also be heard. “Although you have to admit, he probably has it worse than most. I mean, you barely see any of the others put in as much work as he does these days!”
What would have come across as a compliment for any other person had the opposite effect on him. Masato leaned back on the bench, annoyed. They’d only asked him because they knew who he was. He knew that. If it were anyone else, like the average salaryman for example, the comments would have been very different. Nothing that would indicate genuine concern, at least.
But that was just the way things were here — nobody would have cared if he was an everyday person. It could have been worse. He knew because he’d been there. The looks of pity he knew were more meant for his caretakers, rather than himself, the not-so-subtle whispers that were easily overheard; it’s not an experience easily forgotten. In fact, those memories still managed to find their way back every now and then. Masato couldn’t help but find his nostalgia amusing; silly even.
“Sir? Ah sir, there you are! We’ve been looking all over for you!”
As expected , Masato thought to himself, slumping against the bench in defeat. Of course it would only be a matter of time before they found him. He should’ve expected much, given how much more ‘popular’ he’d gotten over the last few days; getting the breather he wanted for as long as he just did was truly a privilege at the moment. He could only imagine the mini panic he must have set through his office when they found out he’d disappeared for a bit.
“A- are you okay, sir?” The aide spoke, hurriedly making his way over to Masato. “Someone did mention seeing you in the lobby earlier, leaving in a hurry, you see. And we’ve got a schedule to keep up with. I’m afraid you’re fully booked today, sir, and we don’t have a lot of time for a break in between.”
“My apologies. I wasn’t feeling very well, so I decided to step out for some fresh air,” Masato admitted with a polite smile. “I wasn’t aware that so much time had actually passed.”
“Ah, in that case, would you like me to look into what we could cancel or reschedule, sir?” the aide replied, noting that his boss did look somewhat pale, but Masato merely dismissed the suggestion.
“No, don’t bother. I’m feeling better now. Besides, I can’t afford to skip out on what could be the most important decisions in my campaign now can I?” Masato forced a chuckle, buttoning up his suit jacket as he got back on his feet.
“Have there been any further calls or updates from Yokohama today?” Masato asked as they started to make their way back into the building.
“No, sir. We’ve got our team on-site, but there’s nothing new that the news hasn’t already reported for the day,” his aide replied. “Although…”
Masato stopped and glared at his aide. “Kume again? How many times has it been this week?!”
The aide fearfully nodded his head, all too aware that his boss’s patience was quickly wavering, and he was standing first in line to a potential outburst. “Y- Yes. He’s been quite insistent to get in touch with you, especially after his appearance at Hamakita Park. We’ve tried to tell him you were unavailable today, but that hasn’t stopped him from calling every hour or so.”
Masato let out an audible, irritated sigh. “Pay him no mind, for now. I’ll deal with him when the time comes,” he instructed in a pointed tone that slightly startled his aide, before taking the liberty to promptly walk ahead back to work.
After the whole mess with Ishioda, Masato could only hope that Sawashiro would get the message on what he was supposed to do, especially after the way Ichiban managed to steal the spotlight today. And yet, there was a feeling inside he couldn’t shake off. Even though he’d verbally agreed to the job, there was an air about him that told Masato the old man’s loyalty was wavering. For some reason, that moment of doubt was enough to fully sour his mood for the rest of the evening.
How many times had he sighed today? It didn’t matter. Masato let another one escape his lips, running a hand through his hair as he made his way to his next appointment. As he told Sawashiro earlier, everyone around him was useless; it was like he had to do everything himself.
