Yakuza Stories Novels & Stories

“I know. It’s mildly horrible. But there are new details coming out about Maddy’s supposed affair with William Callahan. If the media is intent on reporting that as fact with no more proof than they have, then I don’t feel too guilty for misleading them.” “They’re vultures. All they want is to feed off of the misfortune of others. To make a profit off of someone else’s misery. I say lie away,” Jake said, his expression fierce. “Anyway, I just need to cultivate a convincing story and send it using one of my alternate email accounts.” “That’s why I pay you so much.” “For my evil genius?”

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 run my hand through my hair, pulling slightly on the ponytail. "Let's not panic yet. Tell your girl to approach with caution while I dig up more information. If we play our cards well enough, we won't even have to kill him ourselves. The Yakuza are known for taking out their trash… Permanently." "Let me know when you know more." "Yes, Boss."

Succumbing to the humor of the situation, they both laughed. As the laughter settled, Ryu and Yuka found themselves diving into a delightful exchange of amusing and embarrassing stories. The conversation flowed endlessly. With each story shared, their initial awkwardness melted away, replaced by a warm and genuine connection. It was like they stumbled upon a hidden treasure chest filled with laughter and understanding, forming a bond that was equal parts comforting and thrilling.

I stand over him, breathing hard, as four Yakuza soldiers come rushing over from the bar with guns leveled. I stare at them and show my teeth. Their leader, a man named Bob Tanaka, shakes his head. "You're a fucking mess, Khazan." "If you had left a gun like I wanted, this would've been cleaner." "Guns are loud. Look at my carpet! What a goddamn mess." "I need to wash my hands." "Yeah, yeah." Bob waves me away. "Go take care of yourself. Ah, what a fucking wreck." He barks orders in Japanese to his soldiers as I return to the back room.

It’s infuriating, how my body reacts to the sound of him. “Tell me about this supplier.” “It’s the Yakuza,” Marco sounds confident. The yakuza? Isn’t that like the Japan version of Italian mafias. A harsh, barking laugh comes from Renzo. “You want us to believe you have links to the Yakuza? You?” “What about that?” Marco’s words thrum with frustration. “You couldn’t get the info on the arsons, you spineless mofo.” Oh, that’s Renzo. Things are really getting pretty heated. This is the time I should probably take my leave.

I most likely had better chances of dying from a thunder strike while standing at the balcony of my own apartment than being attacked by Chinese Triad. After that I peacefully concluded that there was nothing to be scared about. Moreover… those articles could be used as a great base for my novel! Game creators and writers use Yakuza or Triads in their stories all the time, and they were all still alive… or at least I hoped so. “How about creating my Troy’s family background on this… Wang Hiro?” the more I thought about it the more I was excited. More than that, I finally knew what I was going to write in my next chapter.

A few short moments later, there was the sound of several gunshots and screams, and all was then quiet. Find your way out of your cage. And if you can’t find an exit, make one. ‘Easy for you to say.’ Ren thought to himself. [1] Yakuza: Yakuza is also known as gokudo, and they are members of traditional organised criminal syndicates in Japan

"Boss, I have the investigation on the Yakuza oyabun, and you won't believe it if I tell you, so I'm leaving you the photos," said Massimo, my most trusted man. I took the folder from his hands, and inside were the movements of the man I was doing business with: Hiroshi Yagami. He played the role of the oyabun of the largest Asian mafia, one that had taken root in California during the diaspora of the Second World War. Like many others, including the Camorra itself that I currently led, they had claimed territory and established themselves until the place became their home.

[The Yakuza] They walked into a small, smoky Izakaya (bar). It was quiet. A few old men were drinking sake. Behind the counter stood a man with no pinky finger on his left hand. He was cleaning a knife. Goro. An Old School Yakuza boss. One of the few who refused to work for the Syndicate. Sebastian walked up to the bar. He placed a specific coin on the counter. A Sterling Corp commemorative coin. Goro looked at the coin. Then at Sebastian. "You are supposed to be a ghost, Mr. Sterling."