NAKAMURA YAKUZA

Donnie's POV

"NAKAMURA BAR," I read out slowly, my eyes fixed on the neon sign. It had been twenty-five minutes of aimless wandering along the streets of Tokyo. The language barrier was a major hurdle; only a handful of people I met spoke English. I encountered a few tourists along the way and decided to blend in by buying a Nikon camera – I was pretty sure I'd overpaid for it.

With my mother being Mexican, I wasn't fluent in Mandarin, and my features didn't scream Chinese either. I looked more like a younger version of Chicarito, the soccer player who'd once played for Manchester United. Born in Mexico, I'd always identified as Mexican. A TV show had once mentioned the tense relations between Japan and China, so I decided to play it safe – for the duration of my unfortunate journey, I'd be Mexican.

I pushed open the door to Nakamura Bar, and a warm glow of golden light spilled out onto the sidewalk. The bar was a tiny, intimate space, with a beautifully crafted wooden counter that shone like polished mahogany. The air was thick with the scent of whiskey and smoke, and the soft hum of jazz music floated through the air. A few patrons sat at the counter, nursing their drinks and chatting in hushed tones. I took a seat on a barstool, trying to blend in and gather my thoughts.

"What you want?" the bartender asked, a woman with a pixie cut and an infectious smile.

"Umm, get me the strongest drink you've got," I replied with a smile, grateful she could speak English, even if it wasn't perfect.

"You... American?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Yeah, beautiful. Name's Donnie, like Trump. Can I be the president of your heart?" I said, flashing my best smile. She laughed, and I felt a spark of confidence.

"When you come... Tokyo?" she asked, handing me a drink.

"Today," I replied, grinning. Yeah, that's it, man. Keep her talking. Women loved it when I grinned. I'd been teased since college about how I made girls crazy.

"Alone?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

I hesitated for a split second before answering, "Nope, Chica." Why the heck did I spit it out? I almost kicked myself.

"With girlfriend?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

I recovered quickly. "Nah, my little sister." Technically, Charlee was like a sister to me, so there was no lie there.

The bartender eyed me suspiciously. "You look like China."

I chuckled. "Nope, I'm American, I told ya. My name's Donnie, Donald Garcia. What's yours?" Garcia was Jordan's last name, but hey, we were basically familia.

This woman before me seemed to dislike the Chinese, judging by the way she frowned when she mentioned China. I made a mental note to keep up the Mexican-American act.

"My name's Akira Nakamura," she replied, leaning in close enough that I could see her cleavage. I was a goner. I fell deeply in love that second, and Celine Dion's "I Drove All Night" started playing in my head. I imagined our wedding, with Charlee singing the wedding march, Jordan in his best man suit, Ava as chief bridesmaid, and Ben as the priest. I pictured myself about to kiss my beautiful bride, Akira, right here in this very bar.

But my romantic reverie was short-lived. Something heavy landed on my face, sending me flying to the ground. I looked up from my comfortable position on the floor to see a massive fist hurtling toward my face at an alarming speed.

I rolled out of the way just in time and sprang into a Chinese flip, landing awkwardly on my feet. That's when I saw him - a six-foot-seven Japanese giant staring down at me with a menacing glare. I felt like David facing Goliath, minus the slingshot.

I steeled myself and threw a punch at the giant, wincing at the pain that shot through my knuckles. The whole bar fell silent, with all eyes on us.

"Watashi no mono o ubaou to suru no yo, kono kitanai chūgokujin" Goliath spat on my face.

"Yeah, that's right, pendejo, you ain't nothing but a loser" I yelled, knowing none of the patrons could understand me. I was wrong. Goliath squinted his eyes dangerously at me, making me understand he could understand English, or maybe his instincts, like mine, had told him I had just insulted him.

He pulled out a long, slim, beautiful sword that I had only seen in Japanese movies, mostly portrayed by other Asians living in America, and the Mortal Kombat games I had played on my Xbox and PlayStation. Several of the patrons followed suit, and I suddenly found myself surrounded by men wielding katanas.

"Shit." I cussed, slowly easing myself into my kung fu pose, which my grandpa Wong Dai Fang had taught me one summer in Beijing.

"Kōgeki shi, chūgokujin no otoko o kirikizande, sono bubun o buta ni ataemasu." ,Goliath screamed, and out of nowhere, these men attacked me all at once. From every direction, the swords came all at once. I dodged, kicked, and basically defended myself using a barstool. I smashed it on one man's head, watching him fall to the ground, then picked up another and swung it in the air, jumping to the top of the bar table. A sword came flying toward my crotch and narrowly missed me.

"Lady, who the hell are these men?" I shouted at Akira, my voice hoarse from the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I fought off another attacker, wrenching his sword from his grasp and using it to deflect the slashing blades.

"The big man... my husband, Hiro Nakamura!" Akira yelled back, her voice trembling with fear.

I dodged another katana, its blade whispering past my ear. "You're married? And you didn't think to mention it?" I snarled, my anger and fear boiling over.

"Yes, he's yakuza! His men are yakuza!" Akira cried out, her eyes wide with terror.

I swore loudly, desperately fighting to stay alive. "Shit! Shit, I'm screwed!" That woman had set me up, and now I was paying the price. The yakuza closed in, their blades slicing through the air with deadly precision. I could hear their labored breathing, their grunts of effort as they tried to take me down.

This was it. This was how I'd die. Alone, tired, and betrayed. Ava's face flashed through my mind, and I knew I'd never see her again.

Just as all hope seemed lost, I saw her. A figure, standing in the shadows, watching the chaos unfold. Our eyes met, and for a moment, time froze.

She strode in, a vision in pink - hair, eyes, leather jacket, and tight pants that seemed molded to her curves. Her heels clicked on the floor, a confident cadence that commanded attention. The men, who had been hell-bent on killing me, lowered their weapons, their eyes fixed on Charlee. Even Goliath seemed entranced.

As much as I was furious with her, I'd never been happier to see Charlee. She spoke in Japanese, her words rapid and authoritative, and tossed Goliath a bag that I suspected contained a hefty sum of money. The men released me, and Goliath smiled, his expression transformed.

"Thanks, boss," he said in perfect American English. "We handled him just fine, like you told us to. Can I get an autograph for the kids?"

Charlee smirked at me, then turned to Goliath. "Sure, Hiro. I told you he'd fall for Akira in a minute."

Goliath chuckled. "You were right, boss."

I stood there, stunned, trying to process what was happening. "Jesus, Charlotte Leslie McIntyre-Saunders, what the hell did you do?"

Charlee turned to me, a triumphant glint in her eye. "Just proved a point, Donaldson Rafael Wong. Now, are you going to admit I won, or should I leave you behind with these gentlemen to complete what they started?"

It hit me like a ton of bricks - Charlee had set me up. "Just get me out of here, Charlee," I growled, "I'll get back at you someday, I promise."

Charlee's laughter echoed through the room. "I don't hear the magical words, so I'm leaving," she said, sauntering away.

I panicked. "Wait, Charlee!" I yelled.

She turned, a triumphant smirk still plastered on her face. "What, Donnie?"

I seethed inwardly, but I knew I had to swallow my pride. "You win, Charlee. I lose."

Charlee's laughter was music to her own ears, but nails on a chalkboard to mine. Without warning, she grabbed my hand, just as she had before.

The next thing I knew, I was puking on the floor of my bedroom in Sao Paulo. As I gathered myself, Charlee's

laughter still echoed in my ears. I swore at her again, already planning my payback.