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Light danced around him, reflected from a thousand points: a private universe full of stars.
A fitting metaphor, Shibusawa thought. His collection was beautiful but useless. The glimmering crystals might just as well have been stars a million, million miles away. There was an endless void between himself and them.
He reached out his hand and brushed his fingertips against one of the stones. The void in this case was an emotional one, of course. The gems themselves were within easy reach. But what did it matter? Nothing about his collection delighted him. He was bored of it. Bored of everything. Completely, inescapably bored.
The feeling had haunted him for as long as he could remember, draining the color from the world. He’d long forgotten what it felt like to be happy, or sad, or even curious. He grew his collection out of habit, an empty game.
This particular gem, the one he was touching, had belonged to a young man he'd met in Europe. A stranger who had put up no resistance at all when his own ability approached him, murder in its eyes.
What would he do, Shibusawa mused, faced with his own ability? Would he fight? Why bother? Would he let it take him as it had taken so many others? Hm.
Contrary to people's expectations, he didn’t long for death. Shibusawa suspected that it would hardly be a reprieve. If anything, he felt certain that it would be even more dull and unsatisfying than life.
That was simply the nature of the world. Empty. Pointless.
With a heavy sigh, he stood up. Such speculation was meaningless. There was no escape.
Surrounded by monitors, Sigma sat in his office. His eyes flicked from screen to screen. Despite having an entire casino to watch, he could instantly tell if anything was wrong.
So far, today had held no surprises. The tables were full of the usual people, playing their usual games. Sigma knew each of them by name, knew their preferences in food and drink, knew what brought them to his business. His livelihood might rely on the thrill of risk, but Sigma himself was opposed to taking unnecessary chances. He made sure that he knew everything he needed to in order to keep things running as smoothly as possible.
Today, like most days, everything was in order.
Until it very much wasn't.
On the middle screen, someone Sigma had never seen before breezed through the entrance, waving aside the guards as if he owned the place.
Which he did not.
Sigma did.
But no one would know it from the way the man otherwise completely ignored the guards at their checkpoints. Nor from the way he casually walked up to a blackjack table, and took another player's seat and chips for his own.
This was a problem. It would have been a problem no matter who the person was. But Sigma recognized the man on the monitor. Although he had never seen him, he knew him by reputation. Everyone with ties to the underworld information industry knew this man. He was a natural disaster in human form. The surest evidence, some had said, of an uncaring universe.
The Pale Quilin. The Collector.
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko.
"Hit me."
The dealer gave him another card. One glance at his competitors was all Shibusawa needed. He could read their tells as easily as if they'd been playing with their hands shown to the world. And right now, it was obvious he should fold.
So he did.
Boring.
He'd been a fool to expect otherwise.
What was gambling, anyway, but an exercise in probability? Count the cards, note their discrepancies. Even if he'd been playing against expressionless robots it would have been all too simple.
Round after round played out exactly as he predicted, until he threw his cards down in disgust. "This is trifling entertainment. I have no need for your money, and your skills are even less interesting."
"Get the fuck out, then," one of the other players grumbled.
A sore loser, Shibusawa thought, rising from the table without even bothering to collect his chips.
Stay calm. The customers will pick up on it if you panic. Smile. Hurry, but appear unflustered.
It was hard. Sigma wanted nothing more than to break out into a run. What was Shibusawa, of all people, doing in his casino?
He remembered a conversation he'd had with Dostoyevsky; of course, he wasn't foolish enough to believe all of it. That man had plans within plans, and spreading misinformation--even to his allies--wasn't beyond him.
"He thinks he's the smartest one in the room," Dostoyevsky had said. "I suppose he's clever enough, but he lacks motivation. And motivation makes all the difference. A general with a great army but no ambition conquers nothing. So it was with God."
He'd looked at Sigma pointedly, as if he expected some kind of response.
Sigma had no idea what Dostoyevsky was talking about. "Ah, yes," he nodded. It was easiest to just agree.
Dostoyevsky laughed--perhaps Sigma should have argued?--and continued. "He's dangerous, of course. Places no value on life. I see that expression you're trying to hide, Sigma. You believe that I'm a sociopath and can't fathom how someone could be worse."
It was irritating how Dostoyevsky could see through his practiced poker face. Sigma inclined his head in a slight bow. "My apologies. But that strikes me as an odd thing to criticize, considering our line of work."
"So you see no value in a human life?"
"That's not--"
"I release sinners from their suffering," Dostoyevsky stated, quiet but firm. "I do not slaughter them like animals. Indeed, some of them I care for so very much that I ensure they have a blessing before the end. A revelation."
What Sigma had taken away from the conversation--apart from the knowledge that he would never understand Dostoyevsky--was that Shibusawa was smart and ruthless, but had no aspirations. Everything else that he knew was mere data. Shibusawa's height. His hair color. A few garbled voice samples. Blurry surveillance photos.
None of it pointed to a man who'd come to a casino for fun.
Trying to swallow his fear, Sigma approached the table Shibusawa was currently occupying. He put on his best Annoyed Manager face. "Sir, you have entered the premises without proper authorization. Allow me to escort you back to security so we can rectify this matter."
Shibusawa didn't acknowledge him. He was staring at the spinning roulette wheel, his face completely blank.
"Sir."
The other guests glanced between themselves.
If this continued, it would start to make the customers nervous. Sigma cleared his throat. "Shibusawa, sir."
He'd been hoping that to avoid using Shibusawa's name out on the floor. The last thing he wanted was anyone recognizing it and panicking. But the man was being ridiculously stubborn.
Finally, Shibusawa turned towards him. "Oh. You were speaking to me."
"Yes," Sigma answered, more forcefully than he'd planned. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but--"
"It's no inconvenience. I bypassed security because it was the only way I'd get through, after all. Surely you know that much," Shibusawa smiled.
Not here, not here, not here .
Sigma forced a smile of his own. "Of course, sir. Could I convince you to have this conversation in a more private area?"
Shibusawa stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. "Of course. I'm not here to threaten your business or frighten your customers."
"I appreciate that. Then may I show you to one of our VIP rooms? Surely that better suits someone of your... status."
Shibusawa's plastic smile widened. "Ah, an invitation. I like that."
"My apologies again, sir." Extending an olive branch, he added, "Perhaps I overreacted."
"Oh no, definitely not." Shibusawa laughed without a trace of joy. "There is no overreacting when it comes to me."
How insufferable. Sigma's careful smile thinned. He hadn't been prepared for how thoroughly smug Shibusawa was acting. But he'd dealt with difficult customers time and time again. He could do this. "Since you seem to understand the position you've put me in, does that mean I can expect your cooperation?"
"Of course. I wouldn't dream of making a scene in such a well-run establishment."
Was Shibusawa mocking him? It was impossible to tell. His expression remained the same: aloof, with a veneer of faux amusement. "Thank you."
"You're quite welcome."
It took everything Sigma had not to scream.
As Sigma led him through the casino, Shibusawa noted that they were avoiding the busiest areas. That only made sense, of course. He was a very dangerous criminal. Sigma was only being cautious.
How dull.
Frankly, he'd expected more from a man whose existence was surrounded by questions. Shibusawa knew that Sigma had simply appeared one day, as if from thin air, and been given this casino. Obviously Dostoyevsky or one of his cronies was behind that mystery, and Shibusawa didn't care to learn more. What interested him was why this man, in particular?
What could he do, Shibusawa wondered, that had made those with the power to achieve anything choose him?
Maybe Sigma was dangerous, underneath his fake customer service smile. Maybe he was unhinged. It was possible, although only very slightly so, that he had an ability even stronger than Shibusawa's own.
Someone like that should be interesting.
In an effort to catch Sigma off his guard, Shibusawa leaned closer. "I know who you are. You're an associate of the Demon."
Sigma's eyes narrowed but he didn't break his stride. "And so are you."
"Yes. But unlike you, I am not beholden to him."
"I'm sure he'd say otherwise."
Shibusawa laughed, because it was appropriate. "He always has had far too high an opinion of himself. I find him useful, if somewhat distasteful."
"Useful?" Sigma snorted. "He answers to no one. If he is useful to you, it's because he wants to be, because he's using you."
Ah. There was a trace of personality at last. Shibusawa pressed further: "What a cruel thing to say about a friend."
"He isn't my friend."
"Do you have any friends?" Shibusawa asked. "That's not a question with judgment intended, mind you. I don't have any. Most people are so boring."
"I have my work."
"So no, then."
Sigma kept walking, silent.
He was doing, in Shibusawa's opinion, a good job of not rising to the bait. He'd scowled a little, huffed quietly, but for the most part remained calm. It might have been admirable, if Shibusawa ever admired anyone else. "Does our mutual associate come here often?"
"He's not welcome here. His presence is too disruptive."
Shibusawa's smile widened. "That is true. One of his better traits, I'd say."
They'd made it to the back of the casino; as Sigma unlocked the door to the VIP rooms, he scowled.
Now that they were well away from the rest of the customers, Sigma immediately dropped his polite facade. Shibusawa was taunting him, that much was obvious, and he wasn't going to smile through it if he didn't have to. "Did Dostoyevsky send you here?"
Shibusawa looked irritated. "Send me? I told you, I do not answer to your Rat. I do not answer to anyone."
If he wasn't there on Dostoyevsky's behalf, then why was he there?
Like he could read Sigma's mind--and maybe he could--Shibusawa added, "I'm here for personal reasons. Enjoyment. Like everyone else, I assume."
Sigma wasn't sure if he believed that. "You?"
"Yes. They say winning big is an incomparable thrill. Even losing can bring out the most extreme emotions. I am interested in that, as much as I am interested in anything."
Dostoyevsky had mentioned something to that effect once, hadn't he? That the Pale Quilin had turned ennui into an art form.
It still didn't make sense. Tatsuhiko Shibusawa did not come to your place of business for fun. The only records of him showing up anywhere were followed by disaster and death. "Why?"
Shibusawa tilted his head sideways and frowned. "Are you even listening? I just answered that question. I'm a customer. My regular pastimes bore me. I thought I'd try something new. And the Demon spoke quite highly of your establishment."
That was an obvious lie. Dostoyevsky spoke highly of nothing but himself.
Regardless, maybe Shibusawa really was there to gamble. And if he wasn't... well... Sigma wasn't sure that there was anything he could do about it. Would the anti-ability guns work against someone who commanded more than one ability? He didn't want to find out. Stronger forces than his had tried to stop Shibusawa, and they'd all failed.
All he could do was play along and hope for the best.
Sigma seemed unconvinced. Shibusawa could see the wheels in his mind turning. He couldn't fault the man for worrying; Shibusawa knew his own reputation. But it was irritating to keep repeating himself. "If you know anything about me, you should know that rampant destruction gives me no pleasure."
"That's true," Sigma nodded thoughtfully. "And yet I still don't understand what excitement someone like you could find in a place like this."
"Probably none. And yet, hope springs eternal, or why else would your customers keep coming back?"
"To be blunt, you're not a typical customer."
"Indeed. But I am still human, am I not?"
Sigma's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't know. Reports paint you as more of a natural disaster than a human being."
"Reports rarely show the entire truth. Consider this. I have not always been a monster. There was a time, long ago, when I was a mere man with an ability. I was not born with a beautiful collection."
Frowning, Sigma fell silent.
Shibusawa sensed an opening and pushed at it. "Perhaps we're both monsters. It's been a long time since you were a mere man with an ability as well. Am I wrong?"
Sigma tensed.
Shibusawa smiled; so easy to manipulate. But there was more to him than being a simple casino owner. He was a member of a clandestine group of terrorists, and though it was clear Sigma didn't think he was Shibusawa's equal in terms of raw power, that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous.
It would be wonderful if he was. How long had it been since Shibusawa had felt truly endangered? He couldn't remember. Draconia rendered every threat toothless. Perhaps he would allow it to take Sigma as well, a glistening token of an atypical evening.
And if the unthinkable happened, and Sigma were to overpower him somehow... Well, what was death, anyway, but a dreary continuation of this thing called life?
It was the most interest he'd had felt for anything in years.
"How much do you know about me?" Sigma asked, voice flat.
"Why would I reveal my hand so early in the game?" Shibusawa answered, his smile widening.
"True. Then we're at a stalemate."
"Nonsense, I hold the upper hand. It's not that I don't know anything, it's simply that you don't know what I know."
Sigma rolled his eyes. "This isn't a game I care to play."
"Are we playing a game?" Shibusawa asked, feigning confusion. "But I see no cards, no dice."
"Don't act stupid," Sigma snapped back. "It doesn't suit you."
And wasn't that delightful? This one could be amusing, when pressed far enough. "Are you sure it's wise to speak to me so bluntly?"
"If my words are enough to incite you to violence, then you're far more emotional than anyone's realized."
Shibusawa couldn't remember the last time he'd had anything this close to fun. "That's a dangerous gamble that you're making."
"Yes. You've left me with very little option."
"Then let us make another," Shibusawa announced, grandly waving his arm.
"Another gamble?" Sigma asked, confused. "What for?"
"What do people usually gamble for?" Shibusawa replied, with a calculated smile.
"Money."
"Money? How dull. I have more than I could ever spend," Shibusawa yawned.
Just when he'd thought he was starting to understand how to handle Shibusawa, the man became more irritating than ever. Sigma scowled. "Stop toying with me."
Shibusawa bowed his head. "My apologies. I thought we were engaging in a mutually enjoyable back-and-forth."
"You thought wrong. What do you want, if you don't want money?"
"Higher stakes."
Alarms began to blare in Sigma's mind. "What do you mean by that?"
"Don't worry. I've no plans to threaten you or your precious casino. I'm only trying to keep myself entertained. I've destroyed enough buildings, and enough lives, to know there's no thrill in it."
"I suppose anything becomes boring with enough time," Sigma answered carefully.
"It does. Ah, it does," Shibusawa sighed. "Perhaps you're starting to understand me."
Shibusawa was dangerous, of that there was no doubt. He was calculating. Cold. But there was something else, too, something that Sigma hadn't expected. Something he didn't see in Dostoyevsky and his associates. Something that he did understand.
There was a kernel of honesty to Shibusawa's words, wrapped in the drama and condescension.
Pieces clicked into place.
The man was bored. He had, by his own admission, no friends. He'd said, again and again, that he was here to entertain himself. Sigma had assumed at least some of those statements were lies, exaggerations meant to catch him off his guard.
But what purpose would that serve? If Shibusawa wanted anything material from the casino, he'd have it already, soaked in blood. That was how he operated. The fact that the casino--and Sigma himself--was still standing was testament that whatever Shibusawa wanted, it couldn't be taken with force.
And maybe that wasn't so different from many of Sigma's other patrons. He prided himself on catering to flawed, needy humans. How many of his treasured customers suffered in the same way, desperate for an escape? Desperate for someone to smile and listen? Desperate for companionship, no matter how fleeting?
With that revelation, Shibusawa felt much easier to deal with. Sigma didn't have to play his cards quite so close to his chest. Whatever was at stake here, it probably wasn't his life or his livelihood.
"Perhaps I am," he answered.
"Good," Shibusawa nodded. "I would like to understand you, as well, Mister Manager."
"Is that what you meant by raised stakes? You want information about me?"
"Hmm. Do I?" For once, it didn't sound like a taunt. It sounded like Shibusawa wasn't sure. "No, I don't think that's it."
If Sigma's guess was right, if Shibusawa really was seeking companionship, it seemed like he hadn't realized it yet himself. No wonder the man was perpetually unsatisfied, reaching out without an inkling as to what he was looking for.
Despite their disparity in power, Sigma realized that he just might hold the upper hand. "No?" he asked. "Then what is it that you want?"
"From you? Nothing."
Sigma hid his smile. "Then you have no reason to be here. Go home."
"No."
"I can't force you, but if there's nothing you want from me, why are you wasting your time, Collector?"
Shibusawa's eyes narrowed. "You've changed your tune rather abruptly."
"Does it no longer please you? A pity."
Sharp eyes stared at him, searching, he knew, for a tell. But Sigma wasn't bluffing. He was increasingly certain that he did understand why Shibusawa was there, and was determined to make the most of it.
"It intrigues me," Shibusawa answered slowly. "You've grown confident. Comfortable."
"I have."
"I suppose someone in your position is intimately familiar with risky situations."
Sigma snorted. "The house is never at risk. Losing a small portion of the bank is hardly catastrophic. To us, it's a business, not a game. Personally, I despise gambling. The whims of chance are something I prefer to avoid."
"A casino manager who doesn't like chance! Delightful!" Shibusawa laughed. "I find myself growing somewhat fond of you. You keep surprising me, which isn't an easy thing."
"I aim to please."
"Oh, so you do this for all your customers?"
"Not to this degree."
"So I am getting the VIP treatment."
"Of course."
"If you're hoping to soften me up, you'll be disappointed," Shibusawa answered. "I plan on playing to win."
"As do I," Sigma smiled, wide and genuine. Despite everything, he was starting to enjoy himself.
"Excellent. Very well then. We will play poker. If you lose, you will forfeit nothing; you represent the house, after all. But if you win, I will grant you a wish."
"A wish? You're mocking me."
"I'm not. What better name for a treasure such as this, than a wish?" He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small, glistening stone.
It was red and finely cut, but the truly amazing thing about it was that it glowed with its own inner light. Sigma had never seen anything like it, but he was certain that he knew what it was. The gem was part of Shibusawa's collection. A crystallized ability. "That's--"
"Yes. This is pure potential." Shibusawa turned the gem over in his hands. "Well, in theory. In actual fact, this one is nothing but a simple fire-controlling ability. Quite useful to the person who once possessed it, I'm sure, but nearly useless to myself. You needn't accept this one, by the way. I've plenty more. I brought this one to display my sincerity."
"It doesn't sound as if losing one of your trove will bother you very much."
"Bother me?" Shibusawa murmured. "It may. I might find that the old saying is true. That you don't know what you have until it's gone."
"Then it's not much of a gamble for you, either, is it?"
Shibusawa smiled thinly and shrugged. "As much as anything ever is."
"For someone looking for a thrill, you don't seem to be trying very hard."
"Ha! Bolder and bolder. I wonder if you're hiding something up your sleeve."
"Only a fool would show his hand now," Sigma answered, smugly.
"I'm very good at reading people," Shibusawa announced. "You needn't be a fool, merely human."
"If you're that good," Sigma shot back, "Then you'd know if I was hiding an ace, wouldn't you?"
"Perhaps I know, and I don't want you to know that I know."
Sigma snorted out a laugh. "You're too proud for that."
Shibusawa opened his mouth and then shut it again, staring intently at Sigma. "You're goading me. You must have some very sharp claws to back up your words."
"I have no claws. I am not a dragon, like you. Just a man."
"I'm not so sure of that."
"Believe me," Sigma said, with a warm smile, "If I was as powerful as you, I wouldn't have allowed you to put one foot in this building. I'm a poor human, playing chess with Death itself, clinging to a faint hope."
"Chess? I get enough of that with the Demon. I thought we were going to play poker?"
"Is there any point? I doubt I can beat you."
"Giving up already? How dull."
"You said it yourself, you're very good at reading people."
"Curiouser and curiouser," Shibusawa said softly. "Most people would gladly kill for an opportunity such as this. And yet you're sheathing your claws before we've even started. As if you offered to play chess with Death and then refused to set up the board."
"My hope is gone. You've extinguished it."
"Liar. I can see it still, in your eyes."
It was true; as their conversation continued, his hope had done nothing but grow. There wasn't any reason for him to admit it, though. "If you say so."
Shibusawa hummed thoughtfully, still staring. "You're most interesting when you're backed into a corner."
"I suppose even a cornered rat will fight, hope or no."
"Are you fighting now?" Shibusawa asked, brows arched.
There was something new in Shibusawa's voice. Something close to enjoyment, happiness. And why wouldn't there be? Wasn't he getting what he wanted? Someone to engage with, someone who understood? Something different, challenging, maybe even risky?
If Sigma could make the dragon leave satisfied, then what would happen? Would they be allies? Or even more unlikely: friends?
Sigma simply smiled, and finally dealt the cards.
The game itself was worthless. Shibusawa had expected as much. Sigma was a more skilled player than the fools out on the floor, but he was no match for the fact that Shibusawa remembered things too easily, inferred things too well. Even if he played with his eyes closed, Sigma's breath and the noise of his movements would give him away just the same.
And yet.
And yet. Shibusawa wasn't bored. "What is this?" he asked, softly.
"Poker," Sigma answered, voice flat. "You're doing very well for not knowing the game."
"Are you teasing me?"
Sigma glanced up from his hand and shrugged. "I was answering your question."
A small thrill ran down Shibusawa's spine, and he had to pause for a moment, nearly overcome. What was it about this man that effected him so? He'd done very little out of the ordinary. He hadn't displayed great power or cunning. He was simply... enjoyable. "Who are you really, Mister Manager? Surely I've earned some information by now."
Sigma shrugged and answered honestly. "I don't know."
"So it's true that you have no memories?"
Of course, Shibusawa already knew the basics. He'd done his homework. "They start three years ago. Before that, nothing."
The man sounded a little sad about that, and Shibusawa, in an uncharacteristic bout of empathy, felt like comforting him. "Don't worry. The past isn't real. It's a figment of one's imagination. Who's to say that what one thought was happiness in the past truly was happiness? In my opinion, you are blessed, not having to deal with such questions."
"I can see why you get along with Dostoyevsky," Sigma answered dryly.
His effort seemed to have fallen flat. "I don't get along with him. I find him unbearable. But annoyance is the strongest thing I've felt in years, so... well, I suppose in that way, I don't mind him. I can see why you dislike him, though. You're not the philosophical type, are you?"
"I have a business to run. I have no time for anything that's not facts and figures."
"I daresay you're happier for it. Philosophy is merely a way to justify one's misery to the universe."
"Then we should stop discussing it."
Shibusawa thought that had sounded rather impressive, but Sigma again was unimpressed. He sighed, softly, not sure why it mattered to him at all. "Agreed."
Sigma had been right; his skills didn't stand a chance against Shibusawa. The man's intellect and memory were far, far too good. But the conversation had become enjoyable enough, and if Shibusawa had been honest, nothing much was at stake. Sigma didn't care about winning a "wish;" he doubted there was any ability in the world that could set his life right again.
As they talked, his eyes drifted to Shibusawa's hands. They were as pale and thin as the rest of him, and just as delicate. But they moved with a confidence that Sigma only saw in professionals.
Shibusawa noticed his focus. "I'm not cheating."
"I know. It's a professional habit, not suspicion. You're quite dexterous."
"I do some sewing from time to time. Perhaps it's thanks to that."
Sigma couldn't hide his surprise. "Sewing?"
"Clothing and such. Some embroidery."
"I didn't expect the Collector to have such a wholesome hobby," he laughed. "How interesting."
"You're teasing me again."
"I'm not. It's just..." Sigma's voice trailed off. He couldn't quite explain it even to himself. "You're not like I expected you to be."
"Did you expect someone brutal and uncultured?"
"I think I did."
"A man with no desires," Shibusawa announced loftily, "Has no reason to be brutal. And a man with all the time in the world has no reason to be uncultured."
Sigma laughed again. He was having fun, far more so than he'd ever expected. Maybe he was too used to the other members of the Decay. Shibusawa had a similar flair for impressive-sounding statements, but they didn't feel weaponized. Not like Dostoyevsky's. And he was a little playful when he got going, but not in a malicious way, like Gogol.
It struck Sigma again how honest Shibusawa seemed; it was becoming increasingly difficult not to want to be just as honest in return.
"I wouldn't know," he sighed. "I have no time to myself and far too many desires."
"Do you? Like what?"
"Like keeping this place literally and figuratively afloat," Sigma answered. "Fulfilling whatever plans the Demon has for me."
"Those are other people's desires."
"Yes. I don't remember my own."
"We have that in common, then. It's been far too long since I remembered anything I truly wanted."
Sigma considered that. On the outside, Shibusawa couldn't be more different than himself. But they did share at least that much. A lack of direction, a lack of self.
Was that why he was doing this? Why he was attempting to offer companionship to someone who'd forgotten what it felt like?
Or was he searching, too?
This was the most fun Sigma had had in the past three years. He was certain of that. Playing pointless poker with one of the most dangerous men in the world.
He liked it.
The realization hit him hard. His position as casino manager wasn't one he'd chosen. He'd simply been assigned. Everything he did was decided by outside forces, and he'd swallowed his pride and performed his duties as best he could, because what other choice did he have? For all he knew, that was what he'd always done.
"We're both lost, aren't we?" he said quietly.
Shibusawa watched him for a moment before answering. "I wasn't expecting you to agree."
"I have nothing except this casino. Not even memories of who I was before. I keep myself busy, I reach out to those who need it. That's all I know how to do."
"Your cage is not as ornate as mine, but it is a sturdy cage nonetheless."
"It is."
"Have you only just noticed?" Shibusawa asked. Sigma wasn't sure if it was intended, but his voice sounded gentle.
"No. But I ignored it."
"You could free yourself at any time, you know."
"And then I would have less than nothing."
Shibusawa took the jewel back out from his pocket and spun it around in his hand thoughtfully. "You get used to it."
"I know. I have. I'm... I'm tired of it."
Shibusawa stared at him long and hard. Sigma was increasingly sure he could see right through him, right through his fear and his hope and the strange swirl of feelings that he'd only just realized he had.
"And what would you replace it with, if you could?" Shibusawa asked carefully.
Sigma lay his cards down and prepared for the biggest gamble of his life. His heart was pounding; maybe he'd misread the situation. Maybe he was wrong about Shibusawa. Still, he had to try. "This."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
Minutes passed in agonizing silence. And then Shibusawa laughed. It was a genuine laugh, quiet but warm, and the sound flooded the room and Sigma's brain alike. "How unusual a person you are, Mister Manager. What kind of person finds enjoyment in the jaws of a dragon?"
He didn't sound angry or unwilling, just confused. Sigma smiled, and took a deep breath. "Why else would someone willfully rest in the dragon's mouth, unless they wanted to be devoured?"
Shibusawa's eyes widened. "Are you flirting with me?"
"Do you like it?"
"I think I do."
Sigma reached his hand out across the table, brushing them against Shibusawa's. They were cold, almost startlingly so. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," he said softly. "You have a charming laugh."
"I... I see," Shibusawa murmured, his eyes still wide. "I don't believe I know this game very well."
When he'd arrived, Sigma had seen Shibusawa as predatory. But now, he looked almost fragile. Pale and thin, his cheeks growing red from the unexpected compliment.
Sigma didn't know how to play either, not really. But he smiled anyway. "It's a very old game. Easy to play, difficult to master."
"And you'll play it with me?"
"I will."
Shibusawa placed his hand firmly in Sigma's. "I could kill you. Or worse."
"Yes. I know."
"Do you trust me, then?"
"Not at all."
Shibusawa laughed again at that, clear and warm. "How is a casino manager, no, how is a member of that organization of yours, so honest?"
Because I see something inside of you that I understand. Because we're both lost and hurt and vulnerable.
Sigma smiled. "I can't give away all my secrets so easily."