Not too long ago there stood and still stands, a great empire of crime and punishment. It took root in Tokyo, spreading as far as the United States, washing upon the shores of New York and reaching to the opposite shores of California. It continues to spread like a virus. Somewhere along that, my father was in the mix of things. The illegitment child that is myself. Who's my father you ask? Well...I'll save that later..in fact it may not even be of importance. My father was not exactly banging it out with the top heads of the ruthless syndicate that was the 36 Moons after all. Then again...I was never to sure of his status.

Anyway, my father, my proud and nobel daddy was the reason I'm here...but that goes without saying. He knocked up my mom, found out, turned tail and ran to New York. He came back when I was six to meet me. I remember feeling weird around this man who I never knew who my mother said was my father. He didn't look like the type of man to be anyone's father for obvious reasons. I even knew this as a kid. I toddled over to him the first time and looked up at this man. I was shy and I wasn't sure of what to do or say. So, I did what came natural and extended my arms up, wanting to be carried. My father looked at me as he gave a heavy, annoyed sighed as he leaned down and picked me up. He held me in his arms, balancing me as if he'd done this a million times though it was more then likely first...but then again maybe not. My father didn't say much of anything either to me or to my mother. He just held me for a while before putting me back down. My mother said something to him about seeing me more often. My dad gave a slight head bow before going into his pockets and taking out a roll of yen, shoving it in my mothers hand and leaving.

I wouldn't see him again for weeks.

And when he did come back, he always had something for me. Something for the right age though I had no idea how he would know what to get for a child he doesn't see very often. I grew to love my father. I would call him father, otosan...I would love his company and when he would show up. My mother said for me not to get so attached as I got older. I didn't know why since every two weeks, like clock work, my father would come see me. If he couldn't because of his job, he would call just to say good night to me. It was enough as I grew up. As I got older, I begin to talk to my father a little more. He no longer brought me toys and candies but he would bring me money. A teenage boy with all his hearts desires. My mother hated that my father spoiled me. She said his money was dirty. Though I never bothered to questioned where it came from...I was just happy I got it. Outside of school, I wore the latest stuff, some of it American bought because my father would travel back and forth between Tokyo and the states. I was the envy of all my friends when it came to having spending money. I would never have to scrimp and save up for a simple bowl of noodles. When I was old enough, I got my first car. Brand new, top of the line. I sped like crazy through Tokyo, picking up girls who loved me for everything I had and nothing I had to say. My mother hated it. She said I should study and try to get into Tokyo University, that was more important then designer clothes and fast cars and girls. Of course at sixteen, seventeen you're not thinking about anything else but getting laid.

When I was eighteen, my mother and I finally had it out. She said I was becoming good for nothing, a failure and I was embarrassing her. She had been down my throat for months about school and my curfew and the ways I spent my father's "dirty money." I finally snapped and said that if she was embarrassed by anyone it should be herself having a bastard son. She slapped me. The moment after she did, she covered her mouth in shock at her own actions. I turned around and grabbed my keys and my shoes as I ran out of there, getting into my car and speeding off into Tokyo. I wanted to find my father and see him. But it was no where near the time I would see him and I wouldn't even know where to look for him. Like I said, my father never spoke about anything, not even himself. All I knew about my father was that he was sensitive to light and he smoked like mad. I went to a friends house where we talked about everything my mother said to me. My best friend in the world was a guy named Miyabi. I called him Miya for short. Miya was one of the few people that stuck around me through it all. He was with me when I was putting sand in my pockets as a kid and he was there with me when I started getting money from my father. Money changed nothing between us. Miya didn't have a need for all that. He wasn't rich, but he wasn't dirt poor either...but he wasn't as well off as I was. His parents worked regular jobs...and he had both of them. My mother hardly worked in her department store job...my father was providing for us both. Though she kept claiming that money was dirty. I asked Miya about all of that. He looked at me, his hair short at the time, his brown eyes peering from underneath as he said,

"Joryu...what do you think your father does for a living?"

I shrugged, never really bothering to think about it, even when my mother was telling me my father's money was dirty. Miya sat up as he tucked his hair back and said,

"I heard...some rumors."

"About?"

"You know the yakuza here in Tokyo right?"

It was then that I started to put two and two together.

"Wait...are you telling me..."

"It's just some rumors I heard."

He shrugged, falling back against his chair. I saw exam books all over his table from where he was studying before I interrupted him. His parents didn't like me much so I snuck in through his window. He rested his chin on his hand as he said,

"I doubt it's true though."

I nodded in agreement.

I didn't leave it like that though. When I went back home, I had to speak with my mother. I told her to tell me where my father was coming from. Why he didn't stay home like everyone else's father and why he had so much money that he just tossed to me like it was candy. She wouldn't say a word. It wasn't until I said,

"I heard he was a yakuza."

Her eyes looked up in shock, never telling me anymore truth then now. It was true. My father was a yakuza. When he stopped by to see me after two weeks, he asked me how I was, patting my head as he sat down. I brought him something to drink as I set in front of him and sat down across from him, looking at this man that was a yakuza. What did he do in life that made him so wealthy...that was an easy answered question. I clasped my hands on my lap as I said,

"Otosan...I mean no disrespect...but...I have to ask you something."

He was going through his pockets, looking for something as he finally found his cigarettes. He took one out of the pack as he said,

"Go on."

"I heard...rumors...that you were a ya-...a yakuza."

I stuttered when I saw the edge of a tattoo brimming from the sleeve of his coat on his left wrist. I couldn't read what it said but I had a feeling it was true. He lit the cigarette as he stood up and said,

"Hai. I am. What you think I could afford your lifestyle at an honest man's salary?"

I was in shock. I looked up at him as he stood up.

"Why...then..?"

At a loss for words my father sat down again and spoke to me for the first time other then a few short sentences.

"You're old enough to know. You were not something I planned or something I wanted. I didn't marry your mom, I didn't even know her when I knocked her up by accident. I hardly knew her name."

He inhaled, the smoke coming out in clouds as he exhaled.

"She wanted to keep you. I said I didn't have time to be no one's daddy and I wasn't marrying her. She said she would keep it anyway. So, she had you when I was working. I was busy when you were little. So I hardly got to see you. So when things cooled down I came back and saw you. In Japan, this place is the safest haven. It's where little to nothing can go wrong for me."

"So..you really are a yakuza and your money is dirty."

"Don't you dare go sounding like a little bitch on me Joryu. Yes, my money is dirty, but that didn't stop you from accepting everything I bought ne?"

I nodded as I looked down at my hands.

"So...what do you do?"

"In the syndicate?"

I nodded. He exhaled again as he said,

"A little everything. Mostly kill for my oyabun."

My father was a murderer.

"I was an accident?"

He nodded, not even bothering to hide the truth from me anymore. I sighed as I said,

"Okay....so now that I know...does that mean you're not gonna come by anymore?"

"You'll miss me kid? Or just my money?"

"No..you're still the only father I know."

"Parents aren't everything they're suppost to be. I'm prime example of that."

I smoothed my hair back as I heard my mother coming in. She and my father begin to go back and forth, my father ignoring her until she said something and he would respond in his usual calm manner. Finally my mother looked at me and said,

"So your good for nothing father told you everything?"

I nodded. I turned back to my father as he went into his pockets again as he got his wallet out. He took out a card as he gave it to me and said,

"When your mother finally gives you the final blow, go here."

He tapped the cigarette against the card he had given me and then left.

And my mother and I did go to blows. I had enough of her bullshit, with her yelling at me, telling me I was turning out just like my father.

"You're gonna grow up to be a nothing like him!"

"That nothing has a pretty good life! Better then anything I go now!"

"He's a murderer! He was in jail his fifth time when he was your age!"

"I don't care! He's got everything and freedom right now and that's all that matters!"

"He isn't worth the ground he stands on Joryu!"

"Yeah but he was worth something when he was giving you money right? And obviously he was worth something for you to spread your legs to him like a whore!"

That did it. She slapped me once, twice as she shoved me, beating me as hard as she could. I shoved her off me as she fell to the ground. She started screaming and crying at me to get out of her house, that she never wanted to see me again. I packed up everything that had any kind of value in two minutes, hopped in my car and sped off towards the Roppongi District, my father's card in hand.