CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Lean on me

In early 1994, Saigo was nearly kicked out of the yakuza. Instead, he got promoted. Although he was doing well, Saigo was not well liked by everyone in the Yokosuka-ikka faction of the Inagawa-kai. Hishiyama knew Saigo’s weakness: Saigo was once again addicted to meth — and the more money Saigo made, the more meth he bought.

He soon reached the point where it began altering his behavior and his work performance. He would skip executive board meetings because he was too high to attend. He’d stay up for days on end without sleeping. He’d become violently angry at little or no provocation. He began hallucinating. At one point, he smashed his car into a dividing wall on the highway, convinced that a rival yakuza member was in the trunk of the car shooting at him while another yakuza was on the top of the car trying to break into the vehicle.

Saigo’s father and mother didn’t know what to do. Saigo’s father wasn’t concerned just for the welfare of his son; he was concerned for the welfare of the entire Saigo-gumi, which now totaled over fifty people.

Over time, Mr Saigo had come to see his son’s crew as members of one large corporate family — his family — and he was practically the human resource chief, branch manager, and accounting department. He was doing the books for the group, keeping account of the income and expenses. Saigo was spending money on meth at an alarming rate. He’d deny it, but his father wasn’t a fool. He knew where the money was going, and he knew what his son was doing with it. Saigo was becoming unreliable and unpredictable.

His father knew that talking to Hishiyama and asking for help wouldn’t help. Hishiyama was jealous of his son, and would use Saigo’s meth addiction to get him kicked out. Plus, Hishiyama also had a meth problem. The notion of Hishiyama looking after his son was worse than a blind man leading another blind man.

So Mr Saigo kept thinking about how to handle the problem, and he thought perhaps he should talk to Coach. Of the yakuza Mr Saigo had met in his life, Coach struck him as one of the few who really followed the principles of ninkyodo (the humanitarian way).

Coach and Saigo’s father were only two years apart in age. They had first met at a barbecue that Coach held on the outskirts of Tokyo, and they had hit it off immediately. As time went on, they would see each other at extravagant dinner parties sponsored by the Inagawa-kai. The two began exchanging gifts twice a year, as Japanese ritual dictated: O-seibo towards the end of the year, and O-chugen in the summer.

Sometimes, the Yamaguchi-gumi would send to the Inagawa-kai headquarters a few hundred pounds of fatty, marbled, melt-in-your-mouth-delicious Kobe beef — the finest beef in the world. Coach would pack a few pounds in ice, call up Saigo, and tell him to bring it to his father.

The Inagawa-kai was also heavily invested in the sake-maker Koshinokanbai. As an honorarium, the sake-maker would send crates to the major Inagawa-kai offices. Coach didn’t drink; neither did Saigo, but Saigo’s father did. So when the sake arrived, Coach would call up Saigo, and Saigo would always protest, “But I don’t drink.”

“Neither do I, stupid. But your dad drinks. Give it to him.”

Saigo’s father would always write a formal thank-you letter whenever Coach sent him and his wife something. Coach was impressed by this politeness, and would often ask Saigo how his father had ended up with a no-good son like him.

After consulting with Josephine, Mr Saigo wrote a very formal letter to Coach. He asked him to “take my son as your own son” and to please beat some sense into him. He told Coach that his son was constantly shooting up meth and they could not get him to stop. He had become paranoid, violent, unreliable, and lazy. Saigo was a slave to the drugs, and he could kill himself or someone else if he didn’t stop. He needed to be straightened out, and taught honor and respect. Most of all, he needed to never touch drugs again.

Coach was upset. He’d call Saigo every day and ask him if he was shooting up.

Saigo would lie. He kept lying until, one day, he told Coach the truth.

Coach roared at him over the phone, cursing Saigo furiously. He ordered Saigo to come to his office immediately, and hung up. Then he called back two minutes later.

Saigo picked up the phone. Coach was still pissed off, but less so. He told Saigo to stay in his office. Coach would come to him. He didn’t want Saigo driving a car or even moving while he was still high.

Saigo put away his needles and supply, and scrambled to put on a suit. He went to the third floor and waited behind his desk. It felt like hours passed.

He didn’t remember Coach entering the room; all he remembered was being slapped across the face and waking up.

Coach was standing in front of the desk, looking down at Saigo, his eyes hidden behind his usual sunglasses. He couldn’t understand why Saigo didn’t just quit meth. “Hishiyama must be telling you to quit.”

Saigo didn’t flinch. Saigo wasn’t going to listen to Hishiyama. He was a junkie, too. What junkie would listen to another junkie? Coach hadn’t been aware of Hishiyama’s addiction. He was flummoxed.

“So you’re blaming Hishiyama?” Coach asked.

“No,” Saigo said. “I’m saying that if you told me to quit, I’d quit. But I’m not going to quit when a meth-head tells me to.”

Coach took a seat and ordered Saigo to call Hishiyama into the office. When Hishiyama finally arrived, Coach told him he wouldn’t kick him out, but he was setting a bad example. Therefore, Hishiyama wasn’t doing his job as an oyabun.

Coach motioned to Saigo as he stood up, and tapped Hishiyama on the shoulder. “From today, he’s directly under my control.”

And with that, the Saigo-gumi was directly under Coach, not Hishiyama, which meant that Saigo and Hishiyama were now on an equal footing. However, in layman’s terms, both Hishiyama and Saigo were managing directors under Coach, but they had not been adopted as members of his family. (They were not his kobun.)

On the morning of March 28, 1994, a few weeks after Saigo’s promotion, Coach called Saigo and ordered him to attend the board meeting that day. Hishiyama was going to make a motion to have him banished. He claimed Saigo was using meth, and that was grounds for dismissal. He had to go, or he’d be fired.

Saigo was as high as a kite. He was coming off a one-week meth binge, and hadn’t slept since March 21. He’d barely eaten anything either. He politely declined the “invitation,” and told Coach that Hishiyama was a meth-head who should fire himself, too.

Coach wouldn’t take no for an answer. This was a serious problem, and he could not miss this meeting.

Saigo thanked Coach for his concern and told him he’d be there. Saigo looked at the clock. It was 11.00 am, and the meeting was at 5.00 pm. He stripped off his pajamas, managed to shave, and put on his suit. Then he crawled back into bed. Fuck the meeting, and fuck Hishiyama. He was going to lie in bed until he felt better, then get some more meth, and get moving later. Board meetings were a waste of time. Saigo turned off the light.

At 3.00 pm, Saigo heard a loud knock on his bedroom door.

“Go away,” he yelled.

“Hey, open the fucking door.”

The door was shaking and rattling. Saigo had locked it. It felt like an earthquake was shaking the building. Suddenly there was an explosion as the door was kicked open.

It was the end. He thought the devil had come for him.

Saigo felt a flashlight shining on his face. He looked up, and was blinded by the incandescent fireball inches from his nose. The blankets were stripped from the bed, and he heard the loud, deep, and slightly nasal voice of Coach.

“Get up. We’re going to the meeting.”

Saigo couldn’t make out any faces. He was in a daze. He looked up and tried to focus his eyes. Looming in his vision, like the harvest moon on a Japanese autumn night, was Coach’s angry face. Even in the dark, he was wearing his sunglasses.

Saigo wondered if he was hallucinating. He wasn’t even sure it was Coach.

Coach was so close he was practically breathing in Saigo’s face. Saigo saw his own sunken and pasty white visage distorted on the surface of Coach’s sunglasses. He felt like he was out of his body, staring at some ghost of who he used to be.

Coach slapped him in the face and ordered him to get out of bed.

Saigo refused. He felt like he couldn’t move.

Coach took off his sunglasses and turned on a lamp next to the futon. He grabbed Saigo’s face by the jowls with one hand, and made him turn to look him in the eyes. “Are you on meth?”

Saigo knew Coach knew the answer.

“You stupid fuck,” Coach said as he grabbed Saigo’s arm and pulled him off the futon. He kicked him in the ribs, dragged Saigo to the wall, and pulled him up against it until Saigo was half-sitting up.

“Did you hear what I said? I asked you, ‘Are you on meth?’ Well, are you?”

Saigo began to answer yes, but before he could finish, Coach punched him in the stomach and slapped him in the face. Sometimes, Saigo was too honest for his own good. “The answer today is not: ‘Yes, I’m on meth,’” Coach said. “The answer is: ‘My high blood pressure is acting up.’”

Coach laid out the plan. They were going to the meeting. He was going to tell everyone about Saigo’s high blood pressure, and Saigo was going to say he wasn’t feeling well. They would get though the meeting, and Coach would straighten Saigo out, because Coach had promised Saigo’s dad he would get through the meeting.

Saigo tried to stand up, but he couldn’t. The whole room was spinning. He felt nauseous. He needed some speed. He half-stood, put his back to the wall, slid back down, and ended up lying on his side. He couldn’t do anything. He wanted Coach to forget about him and to leave him alone.

Coach reiterated that Saigo had high blood pressure, so they’d get it fixed. He helped Saigo stand up, but Saigo found that he couldn’t manage to put one foot in front of the other without losing his balance.

Coach looped Saigo’s arm around his neck to support him. They walked to the car, where Coach’s soldiers were waiting. He had come in alone because he didn’t want anyone else knowing that Saigo was in such a sorry state. Luckily for Coach, he knew there was an easy fix for the problem so it wouldn’t happen again in the future — Saigo had to stop taking meth. So, for now, Saigo just had to get through the meeting.

The meeting was in a Western-style room at the Yokosuka-ikka headquarters. They arrived early. Coach sat Saigo down next to him. The rules of the Yokosuka-ikka were written in cursive script on a golden placard and on the wall next to the door. The Inagawa-kai emblem was displayed in a gigantic picture frame in gold and white. Other than the sofa and plush seats on the other side of the room, the room was rather spartan. The room was dominated by a long wooden table, buffed and polished so well that the faces of each member was dimly reflected on the surface. The table could seat up to twenty people. Everyone sat in leather-embossed high-backed chairs.

Coach sat towards the head of the table, along with Saigo, who had moved up in the pecking order for the day.

Before Hishiyama arrived, Coach announced that Saigo had high blood pressure. He had not taken his medication, so he would be leaving early. There were no immediate objections. Then there was a snicker from the back, and one of Hishiyama’s associates blurted out, “High blood pressure or just high? He looks high to me.”

Coach pounded his fist on the table. “Are you calling me a liar? Is someone else going to call me a goddamn liar?”

The heckler was silent. Coach explained that Saigo didn’t look healthy because he had high blood pressure. He didn’t exercise or eat right. He needed to, but so did everyone else. They were all lazy-ass yakuza, and they should all be in good-enough shape to fight. Coach motioned for Saigo to speak.

Saigo pushed himself up from his chair and stated, in a monotone voice, “I have high blood pressure. I’m feeling sick right now.”

Just then, Hishiyama arrived. Coach immediately asked him to get a car ready for Saigo, as he wasn’t feeling well.

Hishiyama was about to explain why when Coach cut him off. He told Hishiyama he knew there was talk about Saigo doing meth, but rumors were just rumors. Of course, they couldn’t just ignore them. If you’re doing something that makes people doubt you, you’re doing something wrong. They all knew it was unacceptable. Plus, if Saigo was really doing meth, due to the Yokosuka-ikka rules, anyone who sold or used the drugs deserved to be expelled. Thus he would be expelled. Foot soldier or gang boss — there were no exceptions.

Hishiyama could see where their conversation might lead.

“So I’m taking charge of Saigo-kun from this day forward. For the time being, Saigo-kun is my driver and my secretary and my responsibility.” It was a bit of a backhanded way of making Saigo’s promotion public, even if it wouldn’t be official for a couple more years.

Coach appointed Yamada as the acting head of Saigo-gumi. He had Saigo put in a car and taken back to his home. Saigo wasn’t present for the rest of the meeting, but Coach was. He made sure that Hishiyama didn’t have a moment to speak his mind.

Saigo woke up and tried to crawl out of his bed to the dresser where he kept his meth hidden in the bottom drawer, with a few syringes. There was no dresser in the room. He was surprised to find himself not in his own bed, but in a room he clearly recognized as in Coach’s house. He was sprawled across a futon, covered in blankets. He felt like hell. His head hurt, and his ears rang. He felt nauseous, cold, and thirsty. There were four glasses of water on a table next to the futon, and a note next to the glasses. He drank three glasses first.

He looked at the note, and recognized his father’s handwriting. It was neat, legible, evenly spaced, straight across, although the paper was unlined. He read the note several times, not wanting to believe it.

He had been disowned and kicked out by his parents. Coach was his father now. Saigo remembered vaguely what had happened at the meeting. He had agreed to be Coach’s driver from that point on.

Saigo started to absorb everything that had happened as he slumped back into sleep. He didn’t have much time to think about it, not until he woke up the next morning — when Coach threw the last cup of iced water into his face at 5.00 am and said, “Saigo! Get up. I’m going to play golf this morning, and you’re driving.”

Coach added a kick in the ass to emphasize that time was of the essence.