Chapter 86: “The Death of Otake Shinobu”

Who else could Aiko’s teacher be?
Of course, it could only be Otake Shinobu.

But how could Otake Shinobu have suddenly passed away?
They had just attended the celebration banquet for Mother not long ago.

Aiko cried until her eyes were swollen.
Seiko held the little girl in her arms, soothing her for a long time before Aiko finally calmed down.

“Aiko, who was on the phone just now?”

Seiko wiped the tears on Aiko’s cheeks with her sleeve and asked.

“D-Director… Omori,” Aiko hiccupped.

“Omori Ryo?”

“Mmh…”

Seiko looked at Saori. Saori immediately understood, rose from her seat, and went out to call Omori back.

A few minutes later, Saori returned, her lips twitching in amusement.

“Omori Ryo says the one who passed away was Ms. Otake Shinobu’s husband, Hattori Seiji—not Ms. Otake Shinobu herself.”

“Eh?!”

Aiko jerked her head up, eyes round with shock.
Seiko could only look at her sister helplessly.

Flustered by her sister’s stare, Aiko promptly buried herself back into Seiko’s skirt like a tiny ostrich trying to hide from the world.

Even though the one who passed away wasn’t Otake Shinobu herself, they had recently worked together and achieved great results. Bubble Witch naturally needed to send someone to the funeral. As Aiko’s master, Otake Shinobu’s family affairs were also something the Yamagami household could not treat lightly—so Omori Ryo had notified them in advance.

“Since she’s Aiko’s master, she definitely has to attend the funeral. She may even need to wear a black badge.”

Yamagami Nobuo, set in his old-fashioned ways, said this without hesitation when Seiko brought Aiko to him in the garden.

Traditional Japanese funerals commonly used three types of “mourning badges”—black, white, and red.
Red was for friends and distant relatives; white for collateral relatives.
Black was for one’s closest family, like children.

Influenced by Confucian thought, the old generation still saw the master-apprentice bond—once formalized through ceremony—as nearly identical to the relationship between parent and child.
“Master teaches the Way and the craft,” meaning they impart not only skills, but values and life philosophy.
The apprentice, in turn, owed absolute obedience.
The master owed lifelong responsibility.

Of course, this strict relationship had mostly disappeared in modern society, but to someone of Yamagami Nobuo’s age, it still carried weight.

“But the problem is, Ms. Otake and her husband live in Kawagoe City,” Seiko pointed out.

Kawagoe City lay southwest of Saitama, separated from Urawa by Omiya.
That wasn’t Yamagami-gumi territory—it belonged to the Takada-gumi.

And although yakuza groups didn’t necessarily kill each other on sight, the Takada-gumi and Yamagami-gumi had only just called a truce.
On top of that, Seiko and Aiko were the granddaughters of the Yamagami-gumi leader.

“That’s exactly why you must go, unless you intend to give up your position.”

Yamagami Nobuo frowned.

The more dangerous the situation, the more one must not show weakness—that was the typical yakuza mindset.
Lose your momentum, and not only your enemies, but even your own men would begin questioning your ability.

Sometimes, Seiko felt utterly helpless dealing with this kind of single-track thinking.

Naturally, she could not say she’d hand over leadership.
For the sake of the business empire she had just begun building—and for her and Aiko’s lives—she could not step back.

So instead of debating whether to go, they discussed how to go.

“Either go secretly, or go openly and with dignity. But go, you must,” Yamagami Nobuo said.

Seiko thought for a moment, then made her decision.

“Since we’re going, then openly. It’s impossible for Aiko to avoid being seen at a funeral anyway.”

The public might not know Aiko’s background, but the Takada-gumi certainly did.
And on their turf, who could guarantee there were no spies among the attendees?

Since hiding was impossible, they might as well go boldly.

“Good,” Yamagami Nobuo nodded.
“I’ll call Takada Yamakiyo to inform him.”

He dialed the Takada-gumi boss and explained that his granddaughters would be heading to Kawagoe.

“Fine. Let them come.”

Takada Yamakiyo’s voice was cold and curt.
He didn’t even offer a polite phrase.
Yamagami Nobuo clicked his tongue in irritation.

“What kind of attitude is that, you bastard?!”

“I said they could come, didn’t I?! Isn’t that enough, you old fossil?!”

“What, are you planning to block two children from attending a funeral? Is that all your Takada-gumi is capable of?!”

“When did I say I’d block them?!”

“Then what’s with that tone?! You got a problem with me?!”

“What if I do, huh?! You decrepit ghost!”

“Decrepit?! You’re barely younger than me, you idiot!”

Seiko silently pulled Aiko close and covered her ears so the child wouldn’t be contaminated by this vulgar duel of elderly profanity.

The two old men hurled insults at each other for a good while before finally hanging up.

“Takada Yamakiyo agreed. But even if he personally agreed, that doesn’t guarantee his subordinates won’t have their own ideas. Bring more people for protection.”

Yamagami Nobuo instructed sternly.

“Understood.”

Seiko nodded and planned to bring all three of the Kisaragi sisters—Sakura, Aoi, and Tsubaki.

Thinking of them, Seiko asked:

“Grandpa, do you have any compact handguns left?”

Currently, Saori only had the single gun Seiko had given her—far too shabby for three people to train with in rotation.

Yamagami Nobuo didn’t question her. He thought for a moment.

“There should be two Tokarevs left, but they’re old—older than you. If you need better ones, I can have the boys pick up some nearly-new Makarovs on the next Soviet run.”

“The Soviet run” referred to their smuggling route to the Soviet Union.

“Alright. Buy five Makarovs for me first.” Seiko raised five fingers.
“Business with the Soviets is that good lately? I thought our smuggling was mostly Southeast Asia.”

“The Soviet trade is extremely profitable right now—far better than Southeast Asia. That Gorbachev fellow has started a nationwide alcohol prohibition. Breweries aren’t selling, distilleries are shut down, vineyards bulldozed. You can make a fortune smuggling anything in now. Soviet officers are even willing to trade guns directly.”

Yamagami Nobuo shook his head in bewilderment.

“Such a massive industry, shut down just like that? What about tax revenue? What about all the unemployed? Isn’t the Soviet government afraid of chaos breaking out?”