2025-08-25: Hell's Intersection
- Cutscene: Hell's Intersection
- Cast: Tsubasa Seki's family, Hanzou, Etsuko, and Kiyoshi Seki, and Daichi Furudate
- Where: Sendai
- OOC Date: 2025-08-25
- IC Date: Sunday, July 01 2012
- Summary: The Sekis -- minus Tsubasa, naturally -- attend an evening ball to further Hanzou's career. There, he meets the property developer, Daichi Furudate, who in turn finds himself reminded of his old victim... Tsubasa. Hanzou reveals just how deep the violence in his family runs, on the car trip back.
- Content warning: Domestic violence, transphobia/misgendering
The International Forum of Business Innovation is holding their evening ball outside of the city, in a gorgeous function hall nestled into Sendai; you'd never have guessed that this whole building is new, with the rustic charm it deliberately cultivates. The bullet train cuts that trip from four hours to an hour and a half, and car hire takes care of the rest.
(The fact that it isn't a convenient hop and skip away is the point. When you're rich enough, jumping is no issue. ... these days, the Seki family is more than well-off enough to fly out, but Hanzou happens to be a massive fan of the bullet train.)
All the biggest names in business are here, American and European and Chinese faces just as populous as the Japanese people milling about. Etsuko Seki, in a gorgeous, sparkling black sequin dress, wears a well-practiced smile as she rests at Hanzou Seki's arm. If there's something dull in her blue eyes, it doesn't reflect in her neatly-pinned brown hair or her perfect makeup. Kiyoshi Seki has his father's brown eyes and almost all of his height; a new graduate from school, he wears a suit just like his father's, glasses just like his father's, and dark brown hair kept in a neat clip just like his father's. Hanzou Seki looks more harried than either his wife or his son, as if he's been working a thirty hour day, but of course he's allowed to wear the strain on his face. It proves how hard he works.
One of those faces, greeting the Sekis, is familiarly Japanese. Daichi Furudate is much shorter than Hanzou -- shorter than the average man, even -- with a square face and black hair tied back in a ponytail; he's ended up beside Hanzou, chatting about their shared life in the Greater Tokyo Area. "So," he exclaims, "you work for Kimpara Electronics? Fantastic products. Your phones are really top of the line." He doesn't have a woman on his arm -- he's between divorces -- but he makes up with it by filling up the room with himself. Naturally, that body language has made Hanzou decide he hates him; he doesn't like challengers. (The feeling's mutual.)
"I'm afraid I can't say I've heard much of Furudate Development Industries," Hanzou sighs, in turn, with (feigned) deep regret. "Unless -- oh, were you the magnate buying up property in those wretched places like Yongen-Jaya?"
"That's me," Daichi smiles, magnanimously. "Those... older areas, shall we say... have a lot of hidden potential, and these days, I'm able to obtain licences to redevelop much easier." After he set the local politician Kenta Nakajima up to go to prison for embezzlement, there were far fewer voices in City Hall categorically opposed to his vision. It's too bad that Kenta grew up in Yongen-Jaya, and cared too much about the soul of the community to be bought; even his principles might have been fine to work around, if only he hadn't taken such an active role in subverting him. He made himself into the obvious fall guy, Daichi thinks, as he smiles brightly and declares: "It won't be long before I'm able to announce my plans to revitalise the area to the world! Haha, of course, I expect some pushback from people stuck in the past, reluctant to knock down the fossils presently built there... but I have people for that."
"And people to obtain the buildings from those wretches to begin with, I suppose," Hanzou ventures, with no empathy at all. "You really ought to buy up this property I've been compelled to rent down in Hirasaka, that whole block of flats would look much better as a convenience store..."
"Ah... did you lose a bet?" Daichi wonders, sympathetically. "You don't seem like a man who'd settle for a poor rental..."
"Oh, it's not for me," Hanzou grouses, compelled to prove that his suffering is far deeper than settling. "It's for that no-good daughter of mine. Apparently, that girl's stubbornness is protected by law, these days, so they practically forced me to find alternate lodgings for her at gunpoint. You can't even raise your children honest any more..."
"Oh, the Seki girl?" Daichi recognises 'her', and when Hanzou looks over to him, he shrugs, and explains: "I have close ties to City Hall, so of course I heard about it. I'm surprised to hear she's already in an apartment of her own, though?"
"I've washed my hands of the brat," Hanzou says, his tone closing off. "It's her mother that let her become such a hooligan, in any case. I can't believe she let her take up lockpicking." Etsuko doesn't say a single word in her defence, her smile screwed on tightly as she looks down.
"Of course," Daichi validates him, "you'd want to cut a troublesome girl like that loose." He hasn't thought of 'Tsubaki' for at least a year, now, but hearing what became of 'her'... well, it's as he said.
He has people.
"I suppose," Daichi goes on, still quite sympathetic, "that means she's on her own these days. Except for... the law, you said?"
"Oh, most officers are good, upstanding people. It's just the one who was handling her parole -- Officer Shimizu, she's called, she's completely brought the girl's story. I've put in complaint after complaint, yet somehow she keeps darkening my doorstop!" Hanzou throws up a hand in disgust, annoyed that she still has her job after all his anger. Most people listen to him, these days; it's just plain aggravating to find his words falling on deaf ears, when it comes to his child's parole officer.
So it's just that one woman looking out for 'her', Daichi notes, with vague interest. If 'Tsubaki' is that isolated... "I truly hope she stops troubling you soon." Daichi, of course, is also the sort of personality people listen to; a few sly enquiries, when he gets home, will certainly be obliged by the people around him.
The night goes on, and Hanzou's in a better mood as an American man speaks with him. Hanzou's English is naturally quite solid, and he's passed his skills to his son, despite Tsubasa never quite getting the hang of it. (Another disappointment.)
"I'd be interested to see Kimpara Electronics move into the digital space," Merrick Adams says, with his own woman on his arm; Mrs. Adams has little she may add to the conversation. "I understand you're under consideration to lead that initiative...? You're quite the dark horse, Mr. Seki; they say you were just another salaryman until quite recently. What's the secret behind all your sudden success?" He laughs, musically. "Don't tell me you killed someone!"
Hanzou, obligingly, does not tell him. "Haha," he smiles, instead. "It's nothing like that. I simply received the opportunity to prove myself to the company," and he elects not to mention the chain of events which made him catch the other executives' attention, after he treated his 'daughter' the way he did in court. (It would be difficult for him to localise even if he wanted to -- after all, they demoted him in disgrace before he ever received the proper accolades for his work.) "I was fortunate to be able to bring my ideas to the executive's table, and fortunately, they've been recognised. Of course, the company has made no decisions on that matter as yet... but if you'd really like to see me in the role, why not tell Mr. Kimpara the same thing?"
"Perhaps I ought to," Merrick supposes, lifting his glass -- and using it to indicate another circle of men in suits nearby. "By the way, that's your very own heir, isn't it?"
"Oh, yes," Hanzou says, still smiling. "He's studying for his entrance exams. He's going to become a doctor, you know."
"Entrance exams... weren't they a while ago? Your boy's not getting cold feet, is he?" Merrick laughs, again, good-naturedly.
"Yes." Hanzou's smile grows more fixed, disregarding the nervous squeeze of Etsuko's fingers on his arm. "In order to properly represent the family, he's elected to devote his life to study for a year, you see."
"Ah, is that so? It would be a terrible embarrassment if he somehow didn't make it in, I suppose..." Merrick's own wife's fingers on his arm serve something of a different purpose, as she glances up to him and shakes her head, just so. "Oh," he adds, a touch more quickly, because he was just reminded of a social misstep. "But something like that would never happen to your boy! Ah, in any case, about the next predicted quarter..."
The hour is much later, by the time all the Sekis in good standing have piled into the fancy car they've hired out. Hanzou is driving; he quite likes to drive, though Tokyo's roads are horrid for it. (It's that sense of untouchable control.) He's always had an affection for vehicles, and there's part of him which still regrets not following his dreams and becoming a train driver. It's fine, of course; he has very intricate models. They'll do.
"... and I've made a lot of important connections," Hanzou's been dominating the conversation since they left, driving down streets which are far emptier than back home. "I only wish I could say my record was spotless."
Etsuko recognises the ice drop in his voice; her hands fold, on her lap, clasping each other tightly. Behind them, Kiyoshi tries to steer the conversation back: "Father, you were amazing out there. Your record has got to be --"
"It ISN'T," his voice spikes up, as his foot presses down on the accelerator. The dark streets start whipping by, nauseatingly quickly, as Etsuko's back stiffens against her seat and her hands clasp tighter around each other. Kiyoshi leans forward in alarm, to try and get a glimpse of the speedometer; it's far above the speed limit now. The trees to either side of the road blur, and both wife and son are far too aware of how easily the car could wrap around any one of those beautiful decorations, at this speed. (Would he kill them all to cope with his overwhelming feelings? That the answer is not immediately a 'no' is the horror clutching both of them, as Etsuko submits and Kiyoshi feels he must do something.)
More terrifying still is the way Hanzou turns his head, to snap at his son: "You embarrassed me! You and that brat!" He knows a gesture like that will terrify them; equally, he knows the next stretch of road is flat and straight. For all he appears out of control, he was quite deliberate in choosing this moment of their journey to punish them.
"Wh-- what did I do now?!" Kiyoshi barks, his eyes widening in alarm. He's not unused to his father's accusations, he's been weathering them increasingly ever since Tsubasa left, but it's still so blindsiding to be told that he's to blame. Desperately, with no time to think his words through, he pleads: "Father, the road -- slow down!"
"You think you can call the shots?!" Hanzou snaps, as his foot grinds against the floor of the car. Cutting down his son's efforts helps to quell the insecurities seething under Hanzou's own skin; he's far too satisfied to blame Kiyoshi. "Here!"
And all at once he lifts his foot and slams it on the brakes. Everyone inside jerks forward, all too violently, as Kiyoshi's knees and cheek alike slam into the back of a chair pushed back for Hanzou's comfort rather than his. Etsuko shrieks, covering her face with her hands, as the car stops dead in the middle of the road.
Kiyoshi lifts his hand to his lips, and finds he's bitten them, a smear of red blood on his pale fingers. He hides the evidence quickly, dropping his hand back down. "I-I'm sorry," his voice shakes, as he sits back in his seat. "I -- was rude. Just, please..."
"Everyone's noticed your hesitation, boy," Hanzou's voice lowers from fire to ice again, as he urges the car forward at a normal clip, leaving the threat of another rampage to implication.
"I only want to achieve a perfect score," Kiyoshi whines, much like his younger sibling tended to, only to quickly add: "I--I'm sorry it's taking so long, father."
"See that you achieve it," Hanzou says, still cold. "If, for whatever reason, you fail..."
Etsuko's sobs interrupt him, though surely she didn't mean to. "Dear, don't talk to the children that way!" She wails, because it's been a long trip, and it's too easy to think about it now her little helpers have worn off. (She can't carry them with her; what would everyone say if they caught her?) "W-what happened to our family? Oh, little Tsubaki-chan, too -- the hospital must have led you wrong, dear, I spoke to her, she said she was attacked --"
"That's enough," Hanzou says, cold tone filling her with dread.
He forcibly drops the subject... but she knows, just from the way he says it, that he won't forget. And she's the expert in her own relative safety: when he sends Kiyoshi out of the car to go and take care of their tickets, hidden by the tinted glass, he reaches over and drives Etsuko's face into the glovebox with a hand at the back of her head.
"I told you not to stress me out with talk of that little reject. It's bad enough my colleagues still see the stain on my reputation." He makes no reference to the fact that he volunteered all that information about Tsubasa to Daichi; in his mind, the blame is always on someone else, and his actions are always justified.
It isn't the first time he's hurt his wife; it won't be the last. It's rarely seen by the children, who each struggle under the assumption that they're bearing the greatest burden of his rage.
... he was always like this.
She attends to her makeup before she gets out of the car; she smiles, pleasantly, as the bullet train ushers them home, making all the right noises as Hanzou enthuses about the vehicle's design. She's the first one to step into the unassailable fortress of their bedroom, holes in its walls carefully and thoughtfully plastered by her own hand over the years. She makes a beeline for the nightstand, pulls out the drawer, pulls out a bottle of pills.
"Never mind that," she tells herself, like a mantra, as she shakes a few of the tranquilisers into her hand and swallows them dry. Like a magic spell, she assures herself: "Never mind that, never mind that..."
... and Hanzou's traffic violation, caught by speeding cameras, quietly disappears soon after the police realise who he is.