Chapter Text
Mina made her way to Jezebel’s in the late hours of the evening, long after the sun finally stopped clawing at the world.
The bar looked healthier. Though it wasn’t exactly thriving. No lines out the door, or sudden bloom of attention that’d invite the wrong kind of scrutiny. Rather, it was a steadier flow. Simply more bodies than the last time she’d come.
That was Jezebel’s character, she supposed. Not bursting with people like a nightclub, but a more quiet and subdued little place. One that its regulars could come to rely on.
Mina found herself wondering, briefly, what customer retention even looked like for a bar.
Jezebel’s didn’t serve food. Not really, anyway. They did have a kitchen. But no meals to justify repetition the way a restaurant would. Surely people didn’t come as often as they did to a street cart, or a diner, or anywhere else a regular person could justify visiting multiple times a week.
Then again, perhaps that was her own bias speaking.
She had never found a restaurant worth visiting more than once. Not because they were all bad, but because novelty was more important to her. She could imagine, in theory, going back if a menu had enough variety to warrant it—if there were different combinations of flavors to sample.
But even then, eventually, she would tire of it. She’d tired herself of so many things now.
A post-work drink was heaven to some. Mina could understand the appeal in an abstract sort of way. A small surrender. A way to dull the edges of a day until it felt survivable. She had simply never enjoyed alcohol enough to indulge it. The buzz dulled her thinking, and she couldn’t afford dulled thinking now. Not anymore.
Not with the way her life was going. Or where it was going to go.
Jezebel’s, at least, was pleasant even without her need for libation. The lighting was low and warm. The music was soft enough to ignore, in favor of listening to idle gossip. The air carried the smell of polished wood and citrus, and not sweat or stale regrets.
It was funny now, how her appreciation had changed. Once upon a time, she wanted to be here too.
Just to be part of the crowd—when she still believed the crowd meant something.
Her second visit, the one where she’d revitalized their capital with a signed cheque, had left her wondering how she’d ever valued the idea of belonging to any of this. Perhaps her priorities had changed. Perhaps she’d grown out of it.
Or perhaps some part of her was still irritated about Infernus carding her on her birthday.
Strangely, she didn’t feel angry about it anymore. Not really.
Or maybe she still did. But it’d mellowed out into a dull dislike, so subtle that she didn’t even register it as anger anymore. A small stain of indignation she couldn’t be bothered to scrub out.
Whatever.
It didn’t matter now.
Jezebel’s hadn’t been failing because it couldn’t keep itself afloat. It was the fines from the Alchemy Bureau that had pushed it towards “hard times.” Otherwise, it had done well enough to survive, which was all Mina required.
She didn’t need it to flourish. Because that would draw attention. And while that may be useful in some circumstances, her recent encounter with an unwelcome pair of eyes on her little boutique was more attention than she was comfortable having.
Perhaps that was the source of its problems. Not staying quiet enough. Perhaps if Jezebel’s had remained less conspicuous, they’d fly just under the bureau’s radar, and not have to fork out obscene amounts of money for obscene permits.
Mina stepped inside and let the atmosphere settle over her.
✦ ✦ ✦
Infernus was there—at the counter. Fortunately. Mina had learned that Hank did employ other bartenders, so Infernus’ presence wasn’t a guarantee every night. And while she was still wrestling with whether or not she disliked him, she preferred known quantities over unknown ones.
She approached the counter.
Infernus looked up as she reached, and to Mina’s faint surprise, his expression warmed. He didn’t look inconvenienced, or wary that she was here.
He looked—if not pleased—then at least glad, that she was here.
“Evenin’ Mina,” he said, easily. “What can I get you?”
Mina placed a hand lightly on the counter. “Nothing for now.”
Infernus’s brows lifted slightly, and Mina continued before he could fill the silence.
“I may be expecting company,” she said. “Soon.”
His posture tightened almost imperceptibly. “What kind of company?”
“Nothing you need to worry about,” Mina replied calmly. “I have confidence they won’t start trouble.”
Infernus’s mouth twitched. “Well, pardon me. But the fact you feel the need to tell me says they might be trouble.”
Mina’s gaze stayed level. “Technically,” she began, “any guest we’ve had the pleasure of meeting in the last week would qualify as trouble.”
Infernus scoffed.
“Take Dynamo, for example,” Mina added mildly.
Infernus shook his head. “Nah, big man doesn’t have the temperament for trouble. He could, but he don’t.”
“And my guest is much the same,” Mina said. “But they have a reputation for not being very friendly.”
Her eyes flicked briefly across the room—across the faces and postures of the other, otherwise ordinary patrons. “That may be off-putting,” she continued. “So I’m giving you notice. Please tolerate them until our business is concluded.”
Infernus looked unconvinced. “And after?”
“I have a feeling they won’t want to stay long,” Mina said. “Neither would I, if I were them.”
Infernus exhaled slowly, then nodded once. “Aight. Appreciate the heads up.”
He hesitated, then asked, “Anything I can do to… tide it over?”
Mina hummed.
“They might be amenable to a drink,” she said. “But that hinges on several… variables. I’m not certain it’s wise.”
She tilted her head slightly. “If you want to send something over, you’ll have to use your judgment. What to send. Whether to send anything at all.”
She kept her tone clean, and businesslike. “I’ll pay for it, so don’t worry about the tab.”
Infernus’s expression shifted, a flicker of interest crossing it. “Sounds like you’re givin’ me a challenge.”
Mina’s mouth twitched faintly. “Let’s call it discretion.”
Infernus nodded once more, slower this time. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
“That’s all I ask,” Mina said. “If all goes well, there won’t be a need for anything else.”
She turned slightly away from the bar, already preparing to move to her usual seat. She had taken just two steps from the counter, when Infernus called her back.
“Mina,” he said, voice raised just enough to catch her.
Mina paused and looked over her shoulder. Watching as he busied himself with wiping a glass. One that was undoubtedly already clean.
“What’d you think of that drink I sent you last time?” he asked.
Mina blinked.
He actually cared about what she thought? She hadn’t even paid for it.
Maybe he was testing her.
“It was wonderful,” Mina said, simply.
Infernus smiled—clearly pleased despite his usual cool demeanor.
Mina stepped back toward the counter, lowering her voice as if the compliment had to be delivered properly.
“Hank is lucky,” she added, “to have snagged you when he did.”
Infernus chuckled, a low sound. “I was takin’ a gamble on your tastes.” He nodded toward the glassware behind him. “Mostly, I just modified somethin’ folks around here already love.”
Mina’s gaze sharpened with genuine curiosity. “How did you get the chocolate into it?”
Infernus reached behind the counter and pulled down a bottle with practiced ease. The label was in French, a cream-colored paper written with dark script.
Crème de cacao. She read automatically.
Infernus held it up like proof. “This.”
“Chocolate liqueur,” Mina murmured, more to herself than him.
“Pretty much,” Infernus said. “Distilled sweetness. Don’t get to use it much.”
Mina’s brows lifted. “Why not?”
“New Yorkers don’t have sweet tastes,” he said with a faint shrug. “Not unless it’s dressed up. I get more requests for bitter. Clean. Strong.” He glanced down the bar. “Only time I really get to do sweet is when folks want Sidecars.”
Mina hummed, considering that as if it were a problem in need of fixing.
“It’s a shame,” she said. “Because it was really, really good.”
Infernus’s expression softened into something that looked, briefly, like pride. “Glad to hear it.”
Mina tilted her head. “Have you thought about adding it permanently to the menu?”
Infernus scoffed. “I think that about all my cocktails.”
He set the bottle down, tone more honest now than performative. “Just don’t know how popular it’d be. People come in wantin’ what they already know.”
Mina leaned against the counter. This was a matter of taste. “There isn’t a woman in the world who doesn’t like chocolate,” she said, with utter conviction.
Infernus laughed. “I ain’t been with enough women to know.” He looked amused, but not dismissive. “Sounds about right, though.”
A moment passed, and his eyes visibly flared behind his red shades. Mina knew that look.
“Maybe I’ll experiment,” he said. “Try it on a few regulars. After they’ve had their fill of their usual orders.”
Mina’s gaze drifted across the room. “How particular are they? The regulars.”
“Most of ’em are relaxed,” Infernus said. “They’re here for the place as much as the drink.” Then, he leaned in. “Though, when I make somethin’ for somebody, call me crazy but I think I take it more serious than they do. Half the time, they don’t even notice the work.”
Mina’s felt her lips go tight. She sighed softly.
“That’s a shame, really. A drink that unique, it’s a special thing. It has to be made with care.”
Infernus nodded once, firmly. “Exactly.”
Mina looked at him, and for once her praise for the man wasn’t laced with anything else.
“You’re an artist, Infernus,” she said. “If nothing else, I recognize how much work you put in. And I don’t even drink.”
Infernus blinked. “You don’t?”
Mina’s expression didn’t change. “Not for the buzz.”
He stared at her. “I had you pegged for a drinker,” Infernus said. “Good way to relax.”
Mina’s gaze narrowed slightly. “If only. The taste always puts me off.” She drummed her fingers once on the counter. “And the dullness, of being drunk. I’d rather chase new thrills.”
A pause.
“Besides,” Mina added, her tone relaxing, “I don’t think I have time to relax anymore.”
Infernus’s expression shifted. He wanted to disagree. “Everyone deserves a chance to relax,” he said. “Don’t matter who they are.”
He gestured around the bar, with its warm lights and low music. “When you come to Jezebel’s, you can let loose a little. That’s what we’re here for.”
Mina felt what might have been a warmth in her chest. An unexpected one, given what she was. It was endearing, and dangerous too. Comfort offered freely always came with strings, even when the giver never intended to tie them.
She kept her face neutral.
“Thank you,” Mina said quietly. “Truly. Hopefully my guest will feel the same way.”
Infernus grimaced faintly at the reminder, but didn’t argue. Mina drummed her fingers on the counter again.
“If you’re ever in the market for a new suit,” she said, “drop by my shop. I’ll make you one. Free of charge.”
Infernus’s eyebrows rose. He cupped his chin. “Do I get to choose the style?”
Mina looked him over, giving him an honest appraisal. Even with her conflicted feelings about the man. When it came to matters of fashion, everyone was the same to her. “Someone like you would look fine in anything,” she said. “Well, as long as it’s not just rags.”
Infernus chuckled. “Damn straight.” He tipped his head toward the room. “Good luck with your meeting.”
Mina nodded once and stepped away, drifting toward her usual spot with her parasol by her side.
She hadn’t expected to find common ground with a bartender, but it was welcome all the same. There was something quietly reassuring about it—proof that she wasn’t the only person in New York who cared about professionalism. About the careful, almost obsessive art of making something uniquely for one person and doing it right.
Halfway to her table, she slowed.
Common ground.
She turned back to the bar.
Infernus looked up again, brows lifting.
“Fern,” Mina said, voice lowered just enough to make it private. “I’ll need something very specific for our guest tonight.”
✦ ✦ ✦
Mina settled into her usual seat, Infernus’ care package on the table before her. Her guest hadn’t arrived yet, and so she waited by listening to the bustle around her.
Jezebel’s had its own rhythm in the late evening. Quiet enough that a person could hear individual conversations if they knew how to listen. At the same time, it was busy enough for people to not notice they were being listened to.
Mina kept her posture relaxed, her parasol leaning neatly against the table before her, her attention split between several things.
Her plans, her guest, and how they’d all fit together.
It was these rumors around her, these half-truths traded between people who thought they were harmless chatter, that she had to thank for today’s meeting. And also her own diligence.
The knowledge she’d leveraged of other cultures, she didn’t obtain through noble curiosity alone. That itself, came from hunger.
Once upon a time, she had hoped to visit these places. To see their cities, their markets and temples. Their streets.
Most importantly, their fashion. The way a society dressed itself outside of America.
She had studied extensively, if only so she could learn how to make clothes that resonated with people who hadn’t spent their whole lives in New York. So that her work would feel studied, and inevitable when they finally wore them.
At least on this very night, she’d gotten a chance to live that dream.
Before long, the front door to Jezebel’s swung open.
A tall woman stepped in, with a kind of presence that commanded the space. Regal, sharp-faced, hair black as charcoal. Her posture perfectly aligned as though her spine had never once bent for anyone.
Her kimono was equally black, but not in a flat way. In the low lights of Jezebel’s, it carried a faint lavender undertone, like bruised twilight. The embroidery was fine and delicate; pine needles, bamboo stalks and gently budding plum blossoms.
Mina eyed the pattern, she knew it well.
It was after all, her own work.
The woman paused just inside the entrance, letting her eyes sweep across the room. Despite the late hour of the evening, her gaze carried a sharpness that defied any sense of fatigue.
She wasn’t searching for danger, exactly. Merely, cataloguing her surroundings. A habit that undoubtedly came with her station.
Mina saw Infernus watching too.
His face held the briefest look of recognition. A creasing of skin around his shades, the slightest hint of surprise. He’d understood now why Mina sought to warn him.
He looked to her, and Mina nodded once. And with that, he went back to his work, though his posture didn’t fully relax.
The woman’s eyes landed on Mina now. And she padded over.
Mina rose as she approached. She neither bowed nor fawned, but inclined her head a precise degree forward. A restrained politeness and nothing more.
“ヤマトさん,Yamato-san” Mina said. “お会いできて光栄です.Thank you for meeting me.”
Yamato halted for the smallest moment. So brief that most people wouldn’t have noticed. Her neutral scowl giving nothing away.
“あなたがリクエストしました.You requested it.”
“やった,I did,” Mina confirmed.
She gestured to the seat across from her. Yamato sat first. And only then did Mina follow suit.
For a moment, Yamato’s gaze dropped to the table setting. Porcelain. Simple, and elegant. And not to be mistaken for an accident. Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of disbelief crossing her expression before it was smoothed away.
Mina moved first. She reached across the table and lifted the bottle of sake. She poured for Yamato, careful not to overfill her cup.
“イゼベルを見つけるのは難しかったですか？Was Jezebel’s difficult to find?” Mina asked.
“問題ありません,No trouble,” Yamato replied. Then, after a pause that was almost pointed, she added, “しかし、この街はひどい臭いがする.But this city smells terrible.”
Mina’s mouth twitched faintly in agreement. “それはあります.It does.”
She set the bottle down. “アメリカ人の街路衛生には改善の余地がある.The Americans leave something to be desired, in the hygiene of their streets.”
A brief silence settled between them. Then Yamato moved. She poured for Mina, adjusting the sleeve of her kimono with practiced care before she tipped the bottle. The fabric flowed smoothly over her pale wrists.
Mina watched the way it sat. Then they lifted their cups.
Mina paused just long enough to let Yamato go first. Then she rotated the porcelain cup slightly in her fingers and drank as well. Cold, cloudy sake.
Yamato watched her. When their shared drink was done, they both set their cups quietly back on the table. Mirroring each other as they rested their hands on polished wood, one hand over the over.
“上手に着ていますね.You wear it well.” Mina said, eyeing her handiwork.
“よくできています.It is well made.” Yamato responded. Almost reflexively. And then her eyes sharpened, almost accusingly. “あなたが目視だけでそのような測定ができたことに驚きました.I am surprised you were able to achieve such measurements by sight.”
“開発には長い時間がかかった,It took much time to develop,” Mina replied. “そして多くの間違い.And many mistakes.”
Yamato’s gaze held on her a moment longer. “そのような規律を身につけるには何年もかかったに違いない.Such discipline must have taken years.”
Mina nodded once. “若い頃から.Since I was young.”
She let that statement sit for while, then she continued. “滞在中は快適に過ごせるはずです.It should keep you comfortable for your stay.”
Yamato’s fingers smoothed over her sleeves. “思慮深いです.It is thoughtful.”
Mina inclined her head slightly. “ニューヨークの感想はいかがですか？How are you finding New York?”
“混沌とした,Chaotic,” Yamato said. “ギャングは数多く存在する。それぞれ勢力や忠誠心は異なる。彼らの間の忠誠心は非常に移ろいやすいようだ。There are many gangs. Each with varying power, and allegiances. Loyalty seems very fickle between them.”
Her tone remained flat as she spoke. But her contempt was clear.
“一般兵士は最も強い者に従う。The common soldier follows whoever is strongest,” Yamato continued, “あるいは、より多く支払った方。ここでは、お金と力は同じ意味を持つ。or whoever pays more. Here, money and strength are the same.”
Mina listened, eyes steady.
“それ以上の忠誠心という概念は存在しないようだ。There does not seem to be any idea of loyalty beyond that,” Yamato finished.
Mina’s gaze narrowed thoughtfully. “アメリカ人は忠誠心を育むのが難しいと感じているのかもしれない。Perhaps Americans find loyalty harder to inspire,” she said. “彼らはエゴと金銭に慣れている。They’re more accustomed to ego, and cash.”
Yamato took another sip.
“不快な,Distasteful,” she said simply. “名誉は私たちを結びつける。名誉がなければ社会は機能しない。Honor binds us. Without it, society cannot function.”
She stared firmly ahead. Not at Mina, but in the distance. To nowhere in particular.
“今の状態だと、常に「見栄を張って」いなければならない。The way it is now, having to constantly posture.” Yamato set her cup down. “まるで過去の勝利を全く覚えていないかのようだ。常に繰り返し思い出させる必要がある。As if they have no recollection of past victories. Always needing constant reminders.”
Mina’s mouth twitched faintly.
“私たちは単に運が悪いだけなのかもしれない。Perhaps we are simply unlucky,” she said. “もし私たちの声がもっと低くて髪が短かったら、すべてもっと楽だったかもしれない。Maybe if we had deeper voices and shorter hair, this would all be easier.”
Yamato’s eyes narrowed a fraction—then, unexpectedly, she gave a small nod.
“多分,Perhaps,” she said.
A long silence followed. Mina felt no need to rush. In fact, she was grateful for it. The stillness settled between them like a shared language, and Mina suspected Yamato was grateful too. Not every empty space had to be stuffed with conversation.
Yamato lifted her cup and took another measured sip.
“ほとんどの人は高価なお酒で私を感心させようとする,Most people try to impress me with expensive alcohol,” Yamato said, her tone neutral.
“私は試した,I tried,” Mina replied, her gaze sliding briefly to the bottle of sake between them. “ニューヨークで見つけた中でこれが一番良い。This is the best I could find in New York.” She tilted her cup slightly. “少なくとも冷たいし、コクもある。At least it’s cold. And full-bodied.”
Yamato watched the bar, where Infernus moved behind the counter with practiced ease.
“驚いています、I am surprised,” she remarked, “イシアンのバーテンダーは冷たい飲み物を作ることができる.that the Ixian bartender is capable of making cold drinks”
Mina’s mouth curved slightly. “彼も最近は私を驚かせている。私が思っていた以上に、彼には多くの魅力がある。He has surprised me too, as of late. There is more to him than I gave credit for.”
Yamato’s gaze then returned to Mina. “あなたには私も驚きました。You have surprised me as well.”
Mina didn’t react. And Yamato’s gaze held steady. “日本語を学ぶのは難しかったですか？Was it difficult to learn Japanese?”
“いいえ,No,” Mina replied. “私がそれが必要だと決めた後では、そうはならなかった。Not after I decided I needed it.”
Yamato’s head tilted slightly. “あなたはそれをビジネスのために学んだのですか？You learned it for business…?”
Mina nodded. “全く異なる人生のために。For a very different life.”
A brief glint flickered across Yamato’s sharp face.
“どんな人生？What sort of life?” Yamato asked.
Mina paused, measuring how much truth she could afford.
“海外展開を予定していたのですが、I was going to expand overseas,” she said finally. “日本は最高級の絹を産出する国の一つだ。Japan has some of the finest silk.”
Her fingers rested lightly on the porcelain cup, rotating it a fraction without thinking. “私はその資質を尊重できると思った,I thought I could honor that quality,” Mina continued, “私のスキルで。with my skill.”
Yamato watched her carefully, an idle hand grazing over the hems of her sleeves. “何が間違っていたのでしょうか?What went wrong?”
Mina didn’t hesitate. “私の婚約者は殺害されました。My fiancé was killed,” she said.
The words fell flat, not because they were untrue, but because Mina refused to glorify it. She’d mentioned it more times than she felt necessary in the past week, and it had long since tired her.
“そして、私のビジネスを繋げるという夢は、彼らと共に打ち砕かれた。And all my dreams of bridging my business were shattered with them.”
She almost finished her cup in one slow swallow and set it down.
A moment later, Yamato reached across the table and refilled it. The movement was graceful, and quiet.
Then, just as quietly. She spoke.
“謝罪します。I apologize.”
Mina’s gaze lifted to her. She nodded once.
“ありがとうThank you,” Mina said. “今、私は自分の道を切り開かなければならない。Now, I must find my own way.”
Yamato nodded back. Her expression shifting the slightest amount. Not pity. Perhaps, pride.
“良い,Good,” she said. “こうした取り組みは稀である。Initiative is rare.”
Another silence settled between them. Though this one did not feel like rest. Mina let it sit regardless.
“あなたも？And you?” Mina asked, after enough time had passed. “調子はいかがですか？How are things going for you?”
Yamato took a sip before she answered. “もっと良くできるはずだ。It could be better.” Her gaze stayed forward. Her posture remained perfect.
“毎日が挑戦です。Every day is a challenge,” Yamato continued. “そして私は、部下たちが従順になるように、口にするのもはばかられるようなことをしなければならない。And I must do… unspeakable things to ensure my men fall in line.”
Mina’s eyes narrowed slightly. “優秀な人材を見つけるのは難しい。Good help is hard to find.”
Yamato’s mouth tightened. “確かに。Indeed.” She glanced down at her cup, nearly empty now. Then, after a beat—almost reluctantly—she continued, “兄はいつも私よりも上手くそういった問題に対処していた。My brother always handled such matters better than I could.”
Her fingers tightened around the cup.
“彼がここにいたら、If he were here,” Yamato said, “私はこの臭い街に留まる必要はないだろう。I would not have to remain in this smelly city.”
Mina studied her for a moment. Then she spoke with a calm certainty.
“あなたは生き残るでしょう、You will survive,” Mina said. “容易ではないでしょう。しかし、あなたなら乗り越えられると信じています。It will not be easy. But I have faith you will endure.”
Yamato’s eyes flicked to Mina’s face, her gaze sharp as ever. One that Mina returned, for she had meant every word.
Yamato then set down her cup, with the same precision she’d maintained for the entire evening. Then she looked at Mina and asked, “兄弟姉妹はいますか？Do you have siblings?”
Mina didn’t blink. “いいえ。No.”
Something passed across Yamato’s face. So brief it could have been nothing.
“あなたは幸運です。You are lucky.”
Mina’s brows lifted slightly. “なぜ？Why?”
Yamato’s gaze lowered, as if the answer were unpleasant to hold.
“私は兄を愛していました。I loved my brother,” she said. “しかし、私は彼を羨ましくも思った。But I also envied him.”
Her fingers tightened faintly around the porcelain.
“彼が尊敬を集めるやり方,The way he commanded respect,” Yamato continued, voice steady despite the confession. “私にはできなかった。While I could not.”
She inhaled once, small and controlled.
“そして今、彼がいなくなってしまった,And now that he is gone,” Yamato said, “私は彼が残したものをかき集めるしかない。I am left to scrape together what he left behind.”
Mina watched her, a familiar sharpness creeping through her ribs.
“勝ち目はないようだ。There seems to be no winning,” Mina said quietly.
Yamato’s mouth tightened. “いいえ。No.”
Yamato finished the rest of her cup. And Mina reached across to refill it for her. The older woman didn’t move, instead staring at her reflection in the cloudy white sake.
Mina couldn’t begin to imagine what was passing through her mind in that moment. For the first time tonight, the threads of silence between them felt unbearable. She wanted to say something. Anything. But a part of her knew it wasn’t her place.
Then, almost softly, Yamato spoke again. “アメリカに来ること、それが彼の夢だった。命を懸ける価値のある土地。This was his dream, to come to America. A land worth dying for.”
Her idle hands worked at the hems of her sleeves. Little by little, until Mina could see the faintest line of red in the fabric. Among silver-grays and deep forest greens.
She knew it was there. She’d sewn it in herself.
“彼が決して支払うべきではなかった代償。A price he should not have paid,” Yamato whispered. “そして今、鏡を見るたびに、その代償を思い知らされる。And now, every time I look in the mirror, I am reminded of that cost.”
Even now, Mina could hear the edge of guilt creeping beneath Yamato’s voice. Shame, for even speaking at all about her grief. Mina didn’t answer immediately. She waited, and took a breath she did not need.
“私たちは自らの失敗の結果から逃れることはできない。We cannot outrun our failures.”
Yamato’s eyes flicked to her.
“むしろ、私たちが強くなるためには、Rather, I believe, that if we are to become strong,” Mina continued, “私たちは彼らと共存する方法を学ばなければならない。we must learn to live with them.”
She paused.
“彼らを手放す前に、彼らから学ぶこと。To learn from them, before letting them go.”
Yamato stared at her cup. And then she drank the whole thing.
Mina hesitated. And then, she followed suit.
Yamato let out a heavy sigh, staring at the bottom of her cup.
“手放すのが怖い。I am afraid to let it go.”
Her fingers held the cup too tightly.
“罪悪感を解放したら、I am afraid that if I release my guilt,” Yamato continued, “私はもっと冷酷さをなくすだろう。もっと危険さをなくすだろう。I will become less ruthless. Less dangerous.” She swallowed. “そして、誰かが私が眠っている間に喉を切り裂き、私の物語はそこで終わるだろう。And then someone will cut my throat in my sleep, and my story will end there.”
Yamato’s eyes lifted to Mina.
“あなたも同じように感じたことはありますか？Do you ever feel the same?”
“はい。ほぼ間違いなくそうです。Yes. Almost always.”
Yamato’s expression didn’t change, but something in her posture relaxed. The faintest bit of relief that she wasn’t alone.
Mina went on, voice low. “ほんの少しでも弱みを見せたら、命を落としてしまうのではないかと、常に恐れている。I am constantly afraid that if I show even the slightest hint of weakness, that my life will be forfeit.”
Yamato held her gaze. “その気持ちにどう対処しますか？How do you cope with that feeling?”
Mina’s mouth twitched faintly, humorless. “私は、自分が勝利する人生を夢見ている。I dream of a life where I’ve won.”
She lifted her cup and took a small drink, eyes still on Yamato.
“私は毎日そのことを考え、それを実現するために何をしなければならないかを考えています。I think about it every day, and what I must do to make it real,” Mina continued, “そして、それが実現するために私が何らかの苦しみを負わなければならないのなら、それも仕方がない。And if I must suffer in any way for that to happen, so be it.”
She glanced down at her cup, then back to Yamato.
“そして、私はできる限り勝利を見つけることを楽しんでいます。できる限り平和を見つけたいと思っています。And, I also relish in finding victories where I can. Peace, where I can.” Her gaze flicked briefly around Jezebel’s—warm light, low music.
Yamato watched her a long moment.
“それも役立ちます、It also helps,” Mina continued, “良い仲間を持つこと。to have good company.”
Yamato’s eyes lowered briefly, then she nodded once. “一人で物事に立ち向かわない方が良い。It is good not to face things alone.”
They drank together. Setting porcelain cups down on the tray between them.
Mina set hers down first, fingers resting lightly on the rim.
“ヤマトさん,Yamato,” Mina said, voice turning practical with smooth ease, “セブンス・ムーンは、独立した配給網を持つことで恩恵を受けるだろうか？Would the Seventh Moon benefit from an independent distribution network?”
The woman set her cup down. “カオリと呼んでください。Please, call me Kaori.”
Mina held her gaze a moment, then inclined her head slightly. “Kaori,” she said.
The woman closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath. “はい。それらは歓迎すべきものです。Yes. Those things would be welcome.” When she opened them again, they appeared more alert than before. “And what can the Seventh Moon do for you?”
Mina set her hands on the table. “Security.”
“For my operations in Brooklyn.”