روايات وقصص ضمن Yakuza Japanese Frog Tattoo

I mused, popping a piece of bread in my mouth. “You, a tattoo? Good girl Sophia with permanent ink, I can’t picture it..” He teased me and I couldn’t help but smile. “I resent that statement.” I scoffed, throwing a hand over my heart in mock offence. Jasper’s smile widened, “What would you get?” He leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. “The elements; air, fire, earth and water and a crescent moon with a shadow.” The image had been playing in my head for a while.

He spoke in an emotionless tone making Summer go quite. "Fine. I am forgiving you." She held the strips of her bag. "But you have to buy me lunch today and I not not letting you go easily." She told him making him smile. He nodded. "I will buy you whatever you want to eat." "Okay then... let's go." She started walking while this time he was walking beside her matching their foot steps. "Alex won't bully you now. Do you have that tattoo? Where is it on your body?" Every Yakuza member would get a tattoo either on neck or shoulder or hand to indicate their organization. The tattoo were different for every rank and as he was the next in line, his tattoo was just like his father.

Andreas introduces me, and this is where they turn around. The Eastern scents now made sense to me; they’re Japanese. The older male steps forward; he looks perfectly polished in an expensive suit, but I can sense a danger about him even as he tries to hide his tattoos: the slicked-back salt and pepper hair, the scars on the side of his face and knuckles. This man is Yakuza; I can tell by the way he tries to shoulder the weapons strapped to him. “Fenriz Vega, it is a pleasure to meet you finally.” He says in perfect English with a faint Kanto accent and steps forward with his arm outstretched. “Tsukishima Kaen.”

I wanted to caress that ink on his bicep and his sinewy forearms. “Join me.” I licked my lips and swallowed hard. My gaze dropped to what was peeking through his boxers—his tattoo. I moved forward so he could sink in behind me. “The tattoo you have there is interesting.” “It’s inked out of fun.” “What does it mean?” I knew it was written in Japanese. “Keizoku w* chikara nari. Something like, don’t give up.” “I like it.” “Thanks. You’re killing me, you know,” he said with a groan as he joined me. He settled himself in, stretching his legs out on either side of me. He then wrapped his arms around me.

Andreas introduces me, and this is where they turn around. The Eastern scents now made sense to me; they’re Japanese. The older male steps forward; he looks perfectly polished in an expensive suit, but I can sense a danger about him even as he tries to hide his tattoos: the slicked-back salt and pepper hair, the scars on the side of his face and knuckles. This man is Yakuza; I can tell by the way he tries to shoulder the weapons strapped to him. “Fenriz Vega, it is a pleasure to meet you finally.” He says in perfect English with a faint Kanto accent and steps forward with his arm outstretched. “Kaen Tsukishima.”

His chest was covered in beautiful tattoo’s, a dragon on one side and a wolf on the other. He smiled, seeing me appreciate his art. "Are you staring at my abs or at my tattoo’s’, he joked. "They represent me, my wolf side and my human side. My family is originally from Japan, so that’s why I chose the dragon," he said sounding more serious than normally. They really were beautiful. "I have always wanted to get one, but I didn’t have the time or money." I told Kenzo. "When everything settles down I’ll take you to get one, my treat," he said.

“Faces, tattoos, jewelry?” She shook her head helplessly. “Only… when the man grabbed me, I saw his hand. Here.” She tapped the back of her own. “A black mark. Like a symbol…four sharp lines, kind of square, crossing like a crooked gate. Could’ve been… a character? I only saw it for a second before I—” Vincenzo leaned over. “Yakuza?” he muttered, cutting her off. “You’re telling me these bastards are—”

Esmeray held her forearm up, examining the intricate tattoo that adorned her skin. The tattoo depicted a majestic wolf, its eyes fierce and determined, surrounded by swirling patterns that seemed to dance with a life of their own. The lines were bold and precise, giving the impression of strength and resilience. “This tattoo is so unique,” Esmeray remarked, tracing her fingers over the contours of the design. “I’ve always felt a connection to it, but I never knew why.”

It’s the most beautifully haunting mess I’ve ever had the chance to witness, to breathe in and feel up close. Just before I got to my locker, he sent me a picture of himself, half-naked with droplets of water traveling down his cut abdomen. He has two small tattoos—two lines of script at the top of his right pectoral muscle. One is in Arabic and the other is in Japanese. I don’t understand the first, but the second is a saying in Japanese that literally translates to ‘I want mine.’ Yeah I can read Japanese, I took classes cause I really loved watching anime. And I really didn't understand what the meaning of his tattoo meant.

We spend the next hour looking for any slip up the attacker must have made, luckily that fucker wasn’t as smart as we thought him to be. I easily caught sight of a tattoo on his left arm. A gang tattoo… “Zoom into that” I ordered. Fred quickly obeys my instruction and zooms in closer to the guy’s left arm. I was quick to recognize that symbol,It was basically hard not to. I was left dumbfounded because this was the last mafia gang I’d expect that from.