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Quick-melt cheese goes on top of the fried rice in his wok, followed by a pinch of salt, pepper, and scallions. His attention is divided between tossing the ingredients together and using gravity manipulation to control the vacuum cleaner on the floor and the sponge on his sink.
The arrival of the colder autumn breeze doesn’t freeze the enthusiastic rise of both business and troubles for the Port Mafia. His trip to the Continent tomorrow is due to this; a new responsibility laid upon his shoulders. He looks forward to it—quelling squabbles should make for a nice exercise. Ever since the mackerel’s face has stopped haunting the headquarters’ hallways, he’s been spending more time cooped up in his office, his fights relegated to delegating tasks and conquering mountains of paperwork.
Due to the open layout of his apartment, he can still watch the programs playing out on his television. A commercial for strawberry shortcake prompts him to pull up his phone to place an order for Elise, along with some wagashi for Ane-san and her squad.
Thanks to the multitasking afforded by his control over his ability, he’s able to shorten the time needed to accomplish all sorts of chores. Because he’s slated to be out of the country for at least six months, he wants to clean his place before leaving. His identity as a mafia executive, along with the propensity of various organizations enjoying spying on them, means that hiring a thoroughly-vetted cleaning service is more trouble than it’s worth.
Fried rice made of all the leftover ingredients in his fridge, a small lettuce salad topped with nuts and mangoes, a cup of coffee with a dash of milk. They float towards the dining table, as the broadcaster’s too-sunny voice floats snippets of morning news to his ears while he scrolls through his phone.
A terrorist group recruiting NEETs dissatisfied with society; one human trafficker caught, but refusing to name others in the same ring; a jewelry company postponing their exhibit due to the theft of their prized collection; the notice for a possible heatwave even during the beginning of autumn.
A heatwave doesn’t sound good, but the possibility of a clear day is excellent news. He plans on walking around to buy some things and enjoy the city before his 3-AM flight tomorrow.
With his actions decided, he goes through the remainder of his breakfast and cleaning up with terrifying efficiency.
By eleven, he’s already arranged a same-day courier for several purchases done on others’ behalf. He continues walking around the city, thankful that his preference for hats means that he has an extra shield against the blistering heat. Summer has already made way for autumn, but the warm temperatures linger like old blood that refuse to be scrubbed out of their torture rooms.
It’s not to the point that he’s going to melt into a puddle of sweat, but it’s far from ideal. Staying outside in this kind of situation is bound to cause some ill effects, so even if he’s on his day-off, he still sends a message to the squad handling the inspections at the docks today. A gentle reminder to stay alert, so their rivals couldn’t use distraction over the heat as an opening to steal their goods.
When he looks up again, it’s just in time to see someone imitate a wayward pendulum, his uncoordinated swaying bringing him close to toppling off the sidewalk. In a split-second, Chuuya is stabilizing the man via a hand to his forearm. Even with clothes separating them, it’s obvious that the man is overheated.
Eyebrows knitting, “Stay here.” He sits the man under the nearest shade, pressing down on his shoulders to keep him in place. A dazed look, like the heat has turned his thoughts into mush. With hopes that he can understand slow enunciation, “I’ll get you water.”
Chuuya wouldn’t claim to be an expert when it comes to healthcare, but he’s had plenty of experience dealing with kids who run around without care, as well as idiots who are prone to overheating because of their stupidly-stuffy outfits. He jogs towards the nearest convenience store, looks for a can of Pocari plus one cup of crushed ice.
He falls in line, glances at the tree outside and sees that the man is still slumped against the trunk dazedly. Beyond the tree, there are several tea shops clustered together, places that Ane-san likes to order from. It’d be troublesome if the man had fainted there and caused a commotion.
Speaking of trouble, the person ahead in the queue also smells like one brewing. Too fidgety, with his body curved forward in attention to the teenager in front.
Too much ostentatious jewelry, and she doesn’t seem to care that her money is practically spilling out from her purse. She’s complaining to the phone about the heat, the slow queue, the lack of luxury items in the store and the fact that her parents are against her relationship with a Hitoshi-kun, so she’s decided to run away. Slight inconveniences are equated to the end of the world, a level of melodrama that he hasn’t witnessed for nearly four years.
He’s the slightest bit amused, so he coughs and roughly shoves forward, swiftly cutting the line, much to the teenager’s dismay. As she scolds him for being shameless, he uses gravity manipulation to trip the would-be kidnapper over his own feet. The commotion prompts her to focus her phone on the fallen man, the desire to video the ‘funny incident’ effectively distracting her. With his face captured on video, he’d be dissuaded from moving forward with his plans.
After paying, he returns to the man suffering from mild heatstroke outside. “Today’s weather forecast is very sunny, so make sure you’re prepared for the rest of the day.” Without waiting for his thanks, he waves a hand in a short goodbye after handing the plastic bag to the stranger.
His feet weave a leisurely path around several boutiques, ending with his wrist becoming a rack for several paper bags of new ties and shirts. Suppressing squabbles overseas should be done in style, as someone who’d go there to represent the mafia. He should buy a pair of stylish shoes, but that could wait till after a late lunch.
Because of the hour, the family restaurant isn’t too crowded. He relaxes in his booth as he waits for his order of gyudon, vegetable tempura and tonkotsu ramen. All traditional foods, since he’d be gone for several months. In the middle of checking emails—there’s a mildly chastising message from Ane-san, telling him to stop worrying about work today—the voices from the neighboring table float to his ear.
Squinting, he thinks about how one of the voices is rather familiar.
“—I’ve already seen the engagement ring hidden by Kiyoshi, but when I mentioned it to him, he was all…”
“Is he cheating?! If he’s cheating on you, I ought to slap him!”
He tries not to eavesdrop, even if it proves a bit difficult given his excellent hearing and the fact that the restaurant is a tad empty. When his order finally arrives, it’s just in time to see two women walking out, an obviously-tense one supported by her friend. Her face is familiar, but he can’t quite pinpoint the specifics. Given the contents of her prior conversation, she might have reminded him of a certain womanizer who likes to go through women faster than he changes underwear?
…Urgh. Thinking of unpleasant people will only dull one’s appetite. To dispel those thoughts, he shakes his head and heartily digs in to his lunch.
With Ane-san’s gentle reminder still fresh in his mind, he opts to not check his emails while eating. Instead, he watches several videos made by first-time pet owners; his lifestyle doesn’t afford him enough time to devote to raising a dog, so he lives vicariously through others’ experiences. He bookmarks a movie to watch over dinner, one that promises a lot of emotional subplots.
After an hour, he rubs his full stomach and leaves a generous tip. He intends to continue shopping and walking around, but his phone gives him a reminder about needing to check something from one of his bank vaults. Checking his watch, he has time before the bank closes today.
Given that it’s nearing closing time, the queues stretch from a teller’s window all the way to the door. A lot of salarymen, several housewives who would shop for dinner’s ingredients after withdrawing money. A group of what seems to be first-time workers nervously checking if they have all the documents needed to open an account. A hunched-back elderly man breaks away from the queue, slowly patting at his pockets as if to search for his missing card.
One of the reasons he’s chosen to open an account here is because of how low-key it is, while also being near his usual haunts. It’s not a bank where one would expect to find a high-level mafioso, or as he’s known on public websites: one of the Vice Presidents for the Mori Corporation.
Ever since Dazai’s flouncing off and the inexplicable explosion of his car, he’s been hiding some of his precious hats and some emergency funds in the form of gold ingots, spreading them across several banks’ vaults. He’s certain that the mackerel would come swimming back to his space to irritate the shit out of him, so he’s preempting any accident from happening to his things.
Thankfully, it seems that the bastard is too busy doing whatever he’s doing to threaten his things. This vault is in good condition, and he walks out in satisfaction. He’s just-about thinking that today is quite auspicious for him, since it’s very stress-free, but he has to bite back such thoughts almost-immediately.
Moments after he’s walked out of the vault area and towards the bank’s main hall, a hoarse voice is projected onto a loudspeaker: “Everyone on the floor, this is a robbery!”
While he prefers simple methods to solve problems, it doesn’t mean that he’s totally averse to a slow, careful methodology. He narrows his eyes, mind spinning to assess the situation. He slowly sinks to his knees, placing five paper bags on the floor with a light crinkling sound that’s swallowed up by the nervous chatter and tearful sobs for mercy.
Yokohama MetroBank has recently acquired two rural banks under its umbrella, but it’s still at the bottom-tier of financial institutions in the region. With under twenty branches nationwide after the merger, it’s preposterous to expect a lot of money to be stolen from here. Plus, out of all its branches, they’ve chosen the one that’s near a busy shopping street. Too many cons compared to the pros—unless they’re specifically targeting him.
But his face is known to the public, both in his legal identity, and as the mafia’s vanguard. If they’re gunning for him, they’d have acknowledged his presence already. If they’re here for the sake of greed… as the only non-brunet in the whole bank, coupled with how he’s dressed in trendy clothes and carrying purchases from expensive brands, he should have been their primary target.
So, what the fuck is going on?
“Oh, this is the worst day,” grandpa’s voice rattles against his ears, hunched-back shaking. “To have lost my card and to encounter this bad luck…”
The robbers—six of them in total, seven if he counts the sole guard who seem to have been paid off in advance—aren’t paying attention to them, and are loudly harassing the tellers to give them money. Despite this lack of attention, nobody dares to escape, because the guns that they’ve brought out are very imposing.
“You shouldn’t go out on such a hot day, grandpa. What if you shriveled up?” He sniffs when the figure shakes again, like he’s one second away from vomiting towards the direction of his paper bags.
“Youngsters should be more polite to their elders.”
Another sniff; he refocuses on observing the whole situation.
After a few moments, something clicks in his mind. Before he can turn to the grandpa to get his cooperation, the robbers drag one of the tellers by the forearm, marching her towards the vaults.
“Oh fucking hell no! Leave my hats alone!” He leaps forward like a cheetah springing for a kill. Red wraps around him, and one sweeping kick embeds seven perpetrators against the wall, all conveniently lined up. He doesn’t let them groan in pain, squeezing them into silence using gravity. The old building shakes from the mini-earthquake, inciting several startled cries. Crimson drags the guns away from the robbers, and Chuuya barehandedly dismantles them so they couldn’t be used even if retrieved.
“Calm down,” he commands in the face of this chaos, and says words that would have Ane-san chuckling, “Someone call the police.”
Slipping away quickly is a trick he’s learned well. Before the police arrive, he’s on the next alley, deliberately swaying his bags to announce his presence to the grandpa who’s slipped away faster than him.
“Oh, it’s the rude youngster.”
“It’s the grandpa who smells strangely like the perfume of some broadcaster,” he returns, indifferent. It’s taken him some time to pinpoint the identity of the woman from lunchtime, remembering her from the morning forecast.
Raised eyebrows, “Perhaps grandpa is very handsome.”
He doesn’t bother quibbling about this delusional outlook. “What are you up to?” In this alley, there isn’t any surveillance, so things will remain between them.
“A beautiful lady is worried that her boyfriend is cheating on her.” Such a perfect disguise, that even if Chuuya knows his real identity, he’s still caught off-guard by the realistic wrinkles on his face. “Fortunately, her boyfriend loves her.”
“It’s just that he’s involved in a gang war.” He thinks back to the robbery just now. “Stealing from their enemy, then planting evidence on Port Mafia’s territory, and hoping that we’d take that enemy out for them.”
A smile too menacing on an elderly’s face, “They want to turn the mafia into their sheepdog.”
He’s too familiar with this man’s calculations, so he knows there’s more details that he doesn’t care to learn. He clicks his tongue, moves to leave. He can’t wait to be far away from this mackerel, especially since he seems to be preparing for a grand resurfacing.
Then, he’s struck by a thought. He turns back, full of amusement, “You’re worse than some melodramatic runaway teenager. Better scurry back to your safehouse before you shrivel from the heat.”
The bewildered look can’t be disguised, followed by the automatic disgust at seeing him amused. It’s a sight worth more than all his purchases today, and he thinks that it’s nice to see such a view before he leaves for a while.
In a good mood, he hums a song and orders a lot of seafood, before walking back home.
A 3-AM flight means an early bedtime and dinnertime.
Sunset streams into his open windows, the temperature settling to the usual autumn coolness. He transfers his dinner to plastic containers, anticipating leftovers. On the stove, he stirs honey into his warm milk.
The background news tells of the day’s events: the sudden heatwave; one known terrorist deciding to turn himself over, after witnessing human kindness; a human trafficker being caught due to a potential victim’s livestream; Channel 5’s broadcaster splitting up with her longtime boyfriend; a thwarted bank robbery; Mori Corporation expanding and buying two jewelry companies.
He floats all of his food, arranges them atop his coffee table. He switches to the movie he’s bookmarked earlier. As he’s making himself comfortable on his couch, he receives a call from Ane-san, asking him about his day.
“It’s a nice, peaceful ordinary day,” he replies, gazing at the sun embracing Yokohama’s skyline, the bay glittering beyond. Then, his gaze swings to the title screen for “The Boy and Dog, Part 1”. His lips curve up in anticipation of a good show. “But, I’m about to watch something extraordinary.”
An ordinary day filled with things both ordinary and extraordinary in their impact: this is his life in Yokohama, the city that he loves.
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end