2025-09-06: Like a Cardboard Dragon
- Cutscene: Day's End
- Cast: Baengnyong NPCs Kang Min-ho, Kim Heesoon, and Cheolje
- Where: Hirasaka Ward
- OOC Date: 2025-09-06
- IC Date: Thursday, July 7th 2012
- Summary: In another part of Hirasaka, two members of the Baengnyong furrow their eyebrows and anxieties about their organisation, before a senior member steps in.
- Content warning: Misgendering
It's a quiet end to a particularly stressful day in Hirasaka. Kang Min-ho, a Zainichi Korean man in his late forties, yawns and stretches as he ambles towards the deck chair he's got on the front porch of his little apartment. Min-ho has his dark hair in the undercut style. He delivered his report. As is often the case, the report itself is the lack of a report -- nothing happened. It's starting to get really boring, and he felt his blood boiling for something... more. His scar itches, and he doesn't resist the urge to scratch it. It's hard to believe he took a bullet and lived to tell the tale about it, only five years ago, in a firefight against the Tien Tao Lien. Now those were the days.
A small kei truck, once white in colour, now marred with a permanent coat of dust and grime, pulls up. Another man, older than him, comes out; his salt and pepper hair is buzzed short in the number two style, his skin wrinkled and leathery, with too much time in the sun. Moles dot his face. "Haah? You're taking a load off already, Min-ho? Slacker," he grins.
"Yaa, Heesoon-nim!" Min-ho calls heartily, laughing. "I'm done, man, I got nothing else to do. Like the rest of the week."
The two were long-term members of the Baengnyong -- officially, a small company that handles accounting and other such tax work, also owned by the same hand that owns the Cardboard Dragon card and book store. But those in the know, know, that the Baengnyong is one of the crime groups that dwell in Sumaru City. Though small, and unable to get into a direct confrontation with groups like the Tien Tao Lien, they were expert information gatherers, and knew how to surgically strike when it would count.
... at least, that's how Min-ho remembered it. The last year's been... weird.
Heesoon lights up a cigarette after he locks his truck up, leaning against the side of the driver side door. "That so? Guess that's not surprising at all. There hasn't been a lot of action..."
"I heard the young miss got hit," Min-ho grouses. "Got stalked by the cops."
Heesoon's face darkens a bit. "Yeah. Don't know what the fuck she's thinking. The old boss would've had that fucker kneecapped and put in concrete shoes before he got anywhere even close to her. Kids, man..."
"That's cold. But still, why're we still just sitting around like it's business like usual? Don't the new boss got any respect for us? People're talkin', man. I've heard what they say over at Mahjong Velvet, man. New boss ain't got skin in the game at all. They're laughing at us."
His conversation partner frowns and walks over, just so his more talkative companion will lower his voice. "You'd best make sure no one's listening, Min-ho. You've got loose lips."
"I'm tellin' you how it is! I miss the action, man. What's become of us? We just snoop and listen and be friendly and say hi to all the neighbourhood watches," Min-ho grouses. "I even had to deal with a new kid from out of town the young miss is cozy with. Wears this beanie all the time, stays in one of the safehouses. What're we, a fuckin' charity now?"
The older man doesn't answer right away, and only takes a longer drag of his cigarette. "Min-ho... it's fine if you wanna get this off your chest in front of me, I don't care, but don't you forget what disrespect gets you in the Baengnyong."
Min-ho doesn't look deterred in the slightest. "Do you think the Baengnyong still exists as we know it?"
"We've got to respect what Park-nim wishes. She pulled you out of the fire thirty years ago. They were profiling us then too. Did you already forget about that?"
"Yeah, and I owe her my life for that," Min-ho grimaces, taking a moment to grab a fan and start waving it at his face. Damn, it's still so hot in July... "But if you ask me..."
"But Yeo-nim is still employing us. She even gave us more money than when Park-nim was running the show. Aren't you forgetting that?"
The topic of money definitely slams Min-ho like bricks to the face, and he relents into his chair. "I've got a bad feeling, man. We're all too idle. We're pretending like we can just live like normal people? They're all laughing at how the show's being run now... no one's gonna fear us anymore."
"It's different now, Min-ho. You must've noticed it. The police are cracking down on us harder than ever before. Sumaru's always been loose, but they care even less now. The era of the eighties has long been over, if you haven't noticed it."
"I--"
Then Min-ho pauses, and then suddenly stands ram-rod stiff and at attention. Heesoon blinks, and turns, then when he realises just who's there, he, too, tosses his cigarette to the ground. "Cheolje-nim!"
'Cheolje' is a man nearly sixty years in age, but you might not even recognise it from how strongly built he is. Broad-shouldered, with stern countenance and sharp features on his face, he's gracefully aging towards his sixth decade. He's dressed in a silver suit with a red shirt underneath. There's a long scarf draped over his shoulders as well. His facial hair is well-kept, and his graying hair is carefully and tastefully tucked back. He is still handsome, ruggedly so -- a silver fox as he heads towards his later years.
"I see you two have a lot of time to gossip."
"Y-yes, my apologies," Heesoon turns sharp as a post as he tilts forty-five degrees forward. "I'll get the rest of the shipments sorted, sir. My apologies." He quickly enters his truck and starts it up, before driving off. Cheolje watches him with a quiet, but steely gaze, then looks towards Min-ho, who if he didn't swear was already sweating buckets certainly is now.
Then, he carefully draws a carton of cigarettes and taps one out from the bottom. In seconds, Min-ho's already sprung up to light his cigarette up.
"Heesoon's got a good head on his shoulders. I hope you do, too."
"M-my apologies, Cheolje-nim..." Min-ho stammers.
"It's not the Baengnyong way to sow disrespect behind people's backs."
"I-I understand! Please, I'll mend my ways, not a word of this to Park-nim's back!" But not Yeo-nim, Cheolje notes. Even in a panic, the one that actually holds power is still clear to him.
"Well. You've already done a good job today. And don't forget, Myunghon-nim did keep their word and resolved that punk Kaneshiro's threats, didn't they?" Cheolje speaks slowly, savouring the first moments of his one and only cigarette per day. "Tell Taeyun that I'm looking forward to her birthday next week. You're doing something special for that, right?"
"Y-yes, sir... we're planning a small trip out to Karuizawa. Our son lives there."
"Hmm." Cheolje has a little smirk on his face. "Give my regards to him, then."
Feeling awkward as he is already, Min-ho bows again and says, "Y-yes, sir. If you'll excuse me," as he gets up from his little porch chair, unlocks his door, and steps in to excuse himself. Cheolje frowns quietly at this little demonstration, and takes a longer drag from his cigarette. This was the only method that they ever knew in their lives -- enforcing discipline and obedience through a strong sense of fear and seniority. It's always been this way... they've lived very difficult lives from the shambles that Japan has gone through in the sixties, when they were first born, when their parents had very little and had been exposed through some of the worst atrocities Cheolje cared to remember.
The establishment of the Baengnyong has been one out of necessity -- many of them have been denied work and even residence from plenty of other places. Back then, Sumaru has had an even more dangerous reputation as a port city whose crime rates exceeded that of the Minato Ward in Tokyo... and with it had come even more of a necessity for its ethnic minorities to band together. With so much 'legitimate' employment out of reach, they have been forced to turn to crime.
Then, the miraculous boom of the eighties came. It was in this era that he met the one Min-ho only called 'Park' -- the way they called Ji-yoon. And the rest... is history.
But there's an undeniable growing sense of unease. Min-ho isn't the only one voicing such concerns. Other members of the Baengnyong have expressed such unease from largely only being asked to gather information -- and not in the high-risk manners that they're used to either. No, they'd largely turned to community service and rumour-gathering. It isn't unusual for Sumaru, and Cheolje himself understands the true importance of gathering rumours...
But the burden might be too much for one so young. There's a generational gap there that might not be the easiest to overcome. And speaking of So-young--
"Hmm."
Another text. Uncle! She's taking the train to the Cardboard Dragon again today, huh?
Heh... that wily woman, Ji-yoon. Whatever could you be thinking? She's never been forthright about anything she does, even at the best of times. And from what he's gathered second-hand, it turns out her 'hunch' is correct -- albeit in a very dangerous, roundabout manner. But she can't conceal the truth about their lives forever. He can only be the 'Uncle' that does 'Uncle' things for only so long.
Unlike Min-ho, it doesn't surprise Cheolje that Myunghon would choose to associate with those more their age, like that boy, Shinjiro, who he's only seen at a distance, but can tell the weight he's carrying. The 'fixer', Shinobu, who's a deft hand around Hirasaka. Sato-san's young prodigy Kazama... now that's taking him quite a ways back. That strange blonde woman that he saw climb up the Cardboard Dragon. That mysterious attendant who Myunghon seems to know from earlier years, and the lovely lady with the dance outfit... and others, he's certain.
He can't see it with his own two eyes, the world these youngers have to deal with.
It's all pretty... extreme, from what Ji-yoon's told him second-hand. He has made the choice to believe her, long ago, even if he blinks and the Dark Hour passes by him. And now Ji-yoon's given the responsibility to her two daughters -- or one daughter and one child. Was that how he should refer to them? Cheolje's still not sure what that's about... but he hasn't sat down to have a talk with them about it either.
The Baengnyong, the White Dragon, has fought tooth and nail to survive in the storms of Sumaru up until now.
Now it's time for the new generation to find their way, to become extreme. To become Kiwami.
To become like... a Cardboard Dragon.