Chapter Text
It wasn’t like Sigma had anywhere else to go after his casino had been destroyed and Dostoevsky defeated. He had been a part of the Decay of Angel. The terrorist group. The villains. Of course, he had no place among the heroes and he refused to surrender just to be locked in prison. He wouldn’t be able to stand being locked up ever again.
But that left him with only one choice - join the bad guys once again. Let himself be used, once again.
At least… at least he hoped he would have a semblance of freedom. His ability was useful. If he showed his worth maybe, whoever took him in, would show him the same kindness Fyodor had. Maybe they would let him do whatever he wanted as long as he was loyal.
Maybe they wouldn’t keep him under constant supervision.
Maybe he wouldn’t have too many guards watching his every move.
Maybe he would be able to leave his room.
Maybe he would have a choice whether to use his ability or not.
Maybe…
The more he thought about it, the bleaker his future seemed to look. Why would he lie to himself so? He never had any freedom. Even Fyodor had only been using him. He had always been and he would always be just a tool for others to use. The Port Mafia would be no different.
Yet here he was, awaiting a meeting with the boss.
After the war ended – and Sigma wasn’t hesitant about calling it a war, after all he had already lived through one and knew how it felt, others may chose a different word but for him it was a war – the government and criminal underground had been left in turmoil. With so many important people dead it would be a while until everything would go back to norm. However, the Mafia rose from ashes exceptionally quickly with a new leader at the top. This had only proven to Sigma that the Mafia was strong enough to use him and maybe protect him if not for his sake, then just to keep him alive and safe as a pawn.
“The boss will see you now,” said a man clad in a black suit.
Sigma took a deep breath in, let it out and entered the room, keeping a straight face. The time he had spent managing the casino taught him how to act confident, even when he felt as far from it as possible.
The room he entered was still under renovation. The new boss needed to mark his territory and that meant changing the style a little. Also, part of the building had been destroyed in one of the battles and the office still missed a few windows.
The boss sat at a desk stacked with literal mountains of paperwork, threatening to fall over and bury alive the tiny figure leaning over a report on the other side. Said figure, in a hat and black coat draped over his shoulders, looked up when Sigma entered the room and squinted his eyes at the intruder.
Sigma recognized him immediately. The figure was none other than Chuuya Nakahara, one of the irregular guests at the casino. He liked good and expensive wine – and after a few glasses any alcoholic drink would do, really – low bets made just for fun and even then he was still a sore loser. Always seemed aggressive, however, never caused any real trouble, though he tended to be rather protective over the casino staff, as if feeling more comradery between himself and them than other patrons.
The information Sigma had worked so hard to learn flashed in his memory and made him choose a certain approach accompanied by his professional smile on the spot.
“Chuuya Nakahara,” he greeted with a slight bow. “It’s so nice to meet you again. Had I known you were with the mafia this entire time, I would have canceled some of the debts a long time ago. Not that it matters now, with the casino fallen.”
“Oh!” Recognition finally dawned on the boss’ face. “You’re the casino owner! I think I have a report on you here, somewhere,” the man muttered and started rummaging through his mountain of papers. “I’m sorry, we’re still organizing everything. My men said you wanted to join the Mafia, forgive their mistake.”
“Mistake?” Now Sigma was just confused.
“Well, you’re a powerful person, aren’t you, Mr Casino Owner? I’m sorry, I’m forgetting your name…?”
It was a question, Sigma could deal with that, though confusion remained.
“My name is Sigma.”
“Thank you, Mr Sigma.” That seemed to stir some more memories in the boss. “Though I seem to remember paying off all of my debts. Anyway, what was the deal you wanted to propose? Collaboration, I mean.”
Sigma smiled. It was a confident smile behind which he trembled.
He could probably gamble, and it would work. The Mafia boss clearly believed Sigma still possessed some power, some influence. If he played his cards right, Sigma could make him believe that he was a valuable ally and get profits from the mafia – protection, money, maybe more.
However, the truth would come out sooner or later and then he would have to deal with the fallout, the Mafia and its boss’ anger.
This was one of the times when honesty was his best bet.
“I have no deal. I lost everything.” Sigma’s voice didn’t tremble but he felt stinging sensation in his eyes which he rapidly blinked away. “I really did come here looking for a job. I thought Mafia could use someone with my talents.”
“I seem to recall you have an ability,” the boss answered raking through the paperwork with his eyes, as if still hoping to find the report on Sigma to seem more professional.
Despite his own stress, Sigma felt for the other man. Managing a casino had been an enormous responsibility, extremely challenging. Sigma could only imagine how much worse being the boss of the Mafia must be. Yet the new boss seemed to belong behind that desk, as if he was always meant to sit there. Even now he didn’t really look overwhelmed, just overworked. After all it couldn’t be easy to raise an organization from the rumble.
“Yes, I can get the information I desire most in exchange for information the other person desires through touch.”
The boss thought this through. Sigma could see the possibilities flashing behind his eyes. How useful that ability could be for the mafia. How dangerous if they allowed Sigma too much valuable information. The boss was weighing pros and cons and Sigma could do nothing but await his judgment.
“You were working for Dostoevsky,” the man remembered.
“Yes.”
“That asshole. From what I know he either brainwashed or manipulated all of his followers. Which one were you?”
Sigma didn’t expect such bluntness. He had been used to sweet words hiding poison, underhanded moves, manipulation. The new boss was clearly something different.
“Used.”
He couldn’t say more. It still hurt, though by now, being used was simply part of his life. And he was about to willingly let himself go back to that state once again.
“Did he have somebody else running the casino with you?”
“No, it was mine. I worked hard to keep it going.”
“Hmm, you did a great job in that case. You seem to have extraordinary organization skills.”
“I worked hard,” Sigma repeated, his heart beating fast in his chest.
“Well, I definitely have a lot to organize now and there are still people in the Mafia who would rather see somebody else in this chair and are planning to overthrow me. I cannot spend the whole day looking through some papers. I could hire you for management. Not an executive position, mind you. More like a personal assistant.”
It meant the boss was going to keep an eye on him. That he would be under close observation again. Controlled again. By nobody else than the boss himself. It wasn’t perfect but… it was nothing else than what Sigma had expected. Still, he had to ask:
“What about my ability?”
“Too dangerous, I’m sorry. I would rather not use it, unless absolutely necessary. I hope, that’s fine with you.”
“Of course.”
“So, are you ready to start working now? Or do you have something else to do? I really could use some help with all of this.”
Sigma summoned a smile.
“That’s not a problem. I can start right away.”
The boss smiled, a brilliant wide smile that seemed so honest. Sigma desperately wanted to believe that the man was actually happy to have him here and not just to use him.
Chuuya Nakahara had been a terrible gambler. Maybe, Sigma let himself think, the smile wasn’t malicious or fake. Maybe he was just glad.
“Great! I will leave you to it. I need to take care of some stuff. My people are right outside the door, if you need anything.”
Watching, Sigma heard. Keeping an eye on you, they are your guards.
“I trust you with these,” the boss continued. “It’s just some reports on recent events, nothing you already don’t know if you were involved, but they still need to be read carefully in case I missed something. There shouldn’t be any delicate information here but if you prove trustful, I can let you do more.”
“ You can count on me,” Sigma assured.
The boss leaped from behind the desk, as if he was waiting for this moment the entire day. On his way to the door he stopped to pat Sigma on the arm.
“Thanks,” he said gracing his new employee with that brilliant smile again. In a second he was gone.
Sigma set to work.
*
It was late at night, when the boss finally returned. His steps slow and heavy, betraying how tired he was. More than that, he seemed surprised to see Sigma still in his office.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m working, you hired me,” Sigma reminded.
The boss’ eyes rested on stacks of paper, now organized, with sticky notes marking most important – in Sigma’s opinion – details. In the middle of the desk Sigma left a notebook with most of his notes, his writing neat and careful in case boss wanted to take an easy route and just read a summary.
“It looks to me like you’re done.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you go back home then?”
“I didn’t...” Sigma stopped himself.
I didn’t think I would be allowed, he had almost said. He was working for the Mafia now, he was their property.
(He knew that’s not how things worked for most people, but that’s how they had always worked for him. He had no reason to believe it would be any different.)
“Do you have a home? Did you live in the casino?” the boss asked instead. When he didn’t get an answer, he continued. “That’s alright. We went through a difficult period of time. Mafia has some empty quarters, we will find something for you and you can come back here tomorrow.”
The boss pulled out his cellphone. He made a few calls arranging a flat for Sigma in just a few minutes.
“Somebody will pick you up. I expect you back tomorrow. This wasn’t even half of the reports we need to go through. Thank you for your hard work.”
Another man in black suit came into the office. Sigma bowed to the boss and left the room.
*
As far as prison cells went – and Sigma had no reason to believe his flat was anything other than just that, a prison cell – his was quite nice. Spacious with comfortable furniture, double bed and even some clothes in the closet in case he needed a change. There were no guards at the door but Sigma had no doubt he was being observed, so he behaved and didn’t try to run away.
(It’s not like he had anywhere else to go.)
In the morning he took a shower and before he managed to do anything else – get breakfast, get dressed, brush his teeth – there was a knock on his door. In a bathrobe he unlocked it and was greeted with a mop of red hair and a tired smile.
“Sorry to bother you so early in the morning,” his boss greeted.
There were dark bags under his eyes and he looked as if he didn’t get a minute of rest the entire night. Sigma felt for him. To keep the casino running he rarely had any sleep himself. There had always been something to do, something to oversee, to approve, conflicts to put down, so much work all the time.
“There is an emergency meeting with the Detective Agency today, they just called,” the boss said letting himself into Sigma’s flat. “Normally I would send Hirotsu… or Akutagawa if I was feeling spiteful. But it seems to be something more official today. The new director will be present and they requested me specifically to be there. I thought I could use your help, as my assistant and all. I even brought you some clothes. Mafia black.”
In his hands was a hanger – black trousers, black waistcoat, black tie and white shirt.
“We need to look official. I will let you have some time to get dressed. Would you like some tea? I’m sure I had you cupboards stacked.”
Sigma accepted the clothes and headed for his bedroom while the boss busied himself making breakfast. It felt strange to have his superior doing something for him.
When he entered the kitchen again, all dressed, with hair tied high in a bun but tie undone and still in his hands, he was greeted with a smell of fresh green tea and… pancakes?
“Sit down, eat up. I need you alert during the meeting and a person can’t focus on an empty stomach.”
The man himself was munching on a piece of dry toast and sipping coffee. It didn’t help him to look less any tired at all.
Sigma accepted the meal and washed the dishes when he was done.
“I think we’re ready to go,” he said after putting everything away.
“Your tie,” his boss reminded.
He had left the thing on the table hoping the boss would forget.
Sigma was ashamed to say, he never learned how to make a tie. In his early day he wouldn’t even dream of wearing one. Later, he was too busy and it was more important that his clothes were easy to put on so he could get dressed fast and be ready in a matter of minutes.
Ties, he knew, were official. The way you tied one said a lot about what kind of person you are. There are multiple types of knots and if you mess them up – make the knot too tight or too loose – it shows how incompetent you are. Sigma always wore a tie. But it was one of the clip on ties – cleverly made one, that looked like a real thing, but still just a clip on. It was faster to put on.
The boss must have noticed the indecision on his face, even though Sigma hid it behind his usual mask of confidence.
“Come here, I’ll do it for you.”
The shorter man wrapped the black fabric around his neck, gently tucking it under his collar.
“I read your file,” he said quietly.
Sigma tried to show no emotion.
Of course, he knew what was in that file. He went through it – he went through all of the files – the day before. He was still amazed at how much information the mafia managed to gather about him. (It’s not like he was important, so why bother?) But they knew everything, literally everything . And now the boss knew it, too.
“It’s alright,” the man said. “I didn’t know how to tie my shoelaces until I was twelve. Shirase had to show me when he noticed I never use any shoes I couldn’t just slip into. Even now, I try to avoid them. It’s hard when you have nobody to teach you because everyone expects you already know stuff.”
The boss finished with his tie, pushed it under the waistcoat and smoothed the fabric.
“II will teach you how to do it on your own next time,” the man smiled and Sigma had to avert his eyes.
Only once before he met a person who could look right through him and Fyodor used it to his advantage. His boss’ gaze wasn’t manipulative or full of pity. He looked at Sigma with understanding and it hurt.