In Japan, a lineage of families maintained traditions centered on martial discipline, ritual loyalty, and secrecy, with the dragon serving as a profound symbol of ancestral strength and purity. These customs, quietly passed down through rural communities, eventually traveled across the Pacific. By the early 20th century, these values had found expression in groups like the Gen’yōsha and the Kokuryūkai, the latter founded by Uchida Ryōhei. These societies were known for their strict internal codes, disciplined training, and covert alliances, leaving an underground legacy that would continue to shape generations.
Following the outbreak of World War II, this legacy found an unexpected new home in the United States. Many Japanese Americans were unjustly imprisoned in internment camps, including the one at Manzanar. Within the confines of the camp, a group aof young men and women, rooted in their shared heritage and a need for solidarity, formed the Manzanar Kuroryūkai, a group that adopted the "Black Dragon" name as a symbol of their unity and resilience. Though their activities were often born of desperation, they forged an unbreakable code of loyalty that was paramount for survival.
After the war, the internment camps closed, and a new generation of Japanese Americans, bearing the deep scars and lessons of their experience, dispersed. Many of the Manzanar Kuroryūkai and their descendants formed street-level crews in California, carrying with them the code of loyalty and solidarity forged in the camps. A number of these individuals eventually moved to Los Santos, where they established themselves within a small but rapidly growing enclave in Little Tokyo. This community, born from a shared history of displacement and survival, was mostly quiet on the surface but always keenly aware of its surroundings.
It was into this world that Yumiko Nakamura was born. She grew up with an implicit understanding of the community's hidden rules, spending her time around shops and back offices where complex deals were made with a simple nod or a knowing glance. Her world was not one of overt violence, but of silent observation and strategic thinking. She learned to read people and situations—what they desired, what they concealed, and what they valued above all else. This upbringing instilled in her a profound sense of discipline and a quiet understanding of power, teaching her to listen more than talk and to keep things close to the vest.
An old photograph, discovered in an archive labeled "LS Historical Society: 1942–49", depicts a building with a dragon mural painted above the doorway. The mural's artist is unknown, and the piece is absent from all city records. Given the mural’s style and the community’s reverence for the dragon symbol, it is speculated to have been a gathering place for the second-generation Japanese Americans of the area—a landmark of their shared culture, history, and resilience.
