Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 203: Boy in the Thorns (6)

Dragon Raja 3

At Narita Airport, in the immigration hall, an elderly man with white hair approached the counter where Ayakouji Kaoru sat and handed over his passport. “Good afternoon.”

Kaoru opened the passport to the photo page and suddenly felt her heart race. She immediately looked up at the old man. She was twenty-six years old and had worked in immigration for six years, seeing a daily parade of foreign visitors. She had witnessed the charm of French romantics, the passion of Italian men, and the melancholy of Latin lovers. Handsome men from all over the world had bombarded her with their looks until she had become indifferent to male beauty. Whether a man was handsome or ugly no longer mattered to her; as long as the person matched their photo, she didn’t care. But upon seeing this old man, she suddenly felt her old infatuation stir back to life.

The man wore a checkered coat, and his old white shirt had the scent of sunshine. A purple scarf was tucked into his collar, and a pair of tortoiseshell glasses rested on his nose. He smiled faintly. There was something in him that combined the warmth of Merino wool, the ruggedness of Canadian red pine, and the fierceness of Scottish whisky—like a masterfully crafted violin, inexplicably moving.

“Is this your first time in Japan?” Kaoru asked, her voice flustered.

“Oh no, this is my second visit. The last time I entered through Tokyo and also visited Kagoshima and Hakone,” the man said.

“But I don’t see any record of you entering Japan in your passport.”

“In 1945, I came as part of the occupation forces aboard a U.S. Navy cruiser,” the man said, handing over his retired officer’s ID. “At the time, Japan’s customs office was in ruins.”

“Oh, I see,” Kaoru glanced at the ID, finding it hard to believe that this scholarly man had once been a military officer, and a high-ranking one at that, in the U.S. Navy.

Suddenly, the sounds of screeching brakes, gasps, and hurried footsteps filled the hall. Kaoru glanced at the surveillance screen and was startled to see that over a dozen black Mercedes had blocked the road outside. Men in black suits swarmed into the arrivals hall from different entrances. Each man had a suspicious bulge at his waist, concealed under their jackets—whether they carried short swords or guns, she couldn’t tell. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder, forming a wall and blocking all exits. Anyone trying to enter or leave was immediately deterred by their cold, murderous glares.

Kaoru realized what was happening—these men were yakuza, and they had locked down the airport! She quickly reached for the direct line to the airport security.

“Send help immediately! There are many of them, and they’re all armed! Call the police! Hurry—”

But the line suddenly went dead. Trembling, Kaoru looked up. Standing in front of her was an elderly man. The severed phone cord dangled from his hand. He placed it calmly on the counter.

“Apologies for the trouble. There’s no need to make that call,” the man said.

Both of his hands were tattooed with two cobras, each entwined around his fingers with their five heads coiled, each head adorned with fiery crowns. They were representations of the “Nāga” from Buddhist mythology—serpentine beings with immense power. In Cambodia, a five-headed Nāga symbolized a demon.

“Forgive our intrusion,” the man said, retracting his hands into his sleeves.

“This is the Japanese Customs office… You can’t just do as you please here!” Kaoru warned cautiously.

“This will all be over soon. Please, continue your work without concern,” the man said, turning to the trembling security guards and bowing deeply. “Please remain calm. We won’t cause any trouble.”

The elder scanned the waiting travelers, clearly searching for someone. Who could possibly warrant such “courtesy” from the yakuza, with the entire entrance to the country blocked? Was it a family traitor? A rival gang boss? Would they be taken away quietly or executed on the spot?

The hall was dead silent, filled only with the sound of heavy breathing and beating hearts.

“This gentleman says you may continue working,” the elder said calmly to Kaoru, still standing at her counter. “My passport is still in your hand.”

Kaoru stared at this composed old man, wondering if he understood the gravity of the situation. Even if he had once been an officer in the U.S. Navy, did he not realize how dangerous these heavily armed yakuza could be?

The stamp for “Entry Approved” hit the page. As Kaoru handed back his passport, she whispered, “Leave quickly!” Letting one more traveler go was saving one more life. She assumed the man was a retired military officer, perhaps naive about the brutal violence of Japan’s yakuza, hence his outward display of calm courage. While it had the charm of a gentleman’s conduct, it was rather old-fashioned.

Their encounter was fleeting, and as she handed the passport back, she quickly memorized the old man’s name: Hilbert Jean Anjou. He looked every bit the dignified British gentleman but had a distinctly romantic French name.

“Is that Principal Anjou?” A voice came from behind Anjou, trembling slightly.

“Are you the one who’s here to greet me?” Anjou calmly slid his passport into its holder.

The man, clearly nervous, stepped forward and grabbed Anjou’s suitcase, bowing deeply. “I am Hasegawa Yutaka of the Inuyama clan, here to welcome the Principal to Japan! Apologies for not recognizing you sooner; I deserve punishment! I never expected you to look so youthful!”

“Look youthful? I actually think I feel pretty young,” Anjou said, glancing at Hasegawa’s men. “What’s with all the people? Do you think this is impressive?”

“Tokyo has been unstable recently, so I brought extra men for your protection, Principal,” Hasegawa said, bowing so deeply that he never rose. “Please forgive this offense!”

“If anyone posed a threat to my safety, these men would just be target practice for them,” Anjou remarked, tying a folding knife to his wrist as he pulled it from his luggage. “Hasegawa Yutaka, right? I think I remember the name. What year were you in?”

A flush of honor colored Hasegawa’s face, and he straightened his back proudly. “I entered in 1955, graduated in precision mechanics, and had the great fortune of attending your lectures!”

“Oh, now I remember. You had a baby face back then.”

“Yes! But age has changed my face, unlike you, who has remained ageless.”

“And you’re still hanging around with the yakuza at your age? Shameful,” Anjou said, shaking his head in disapproval, as if disappointed by his student’s life choices.

He pulled a brilliant red rose from his pocket and placed it on Kaoru’s counter. “I heard from your accent that you’re from Kagoshima? It’s a lovely place, full of kind and beautiful girls. I hope next time I enter Japan, it’ll be another sweet girl like you welcoming me.”

Series Navigation

<< Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 202: Boy in the Thorns (5)Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 204: Boy in the Thorns (7) >>