Chapter Text
The day was grim and rainy. She didn’t have an umbrella, but unlike most people, it didn’t annoy her. Drenched in water, extreme heat, extreme cold, her body reacted to the uncomfortable weather. But nothing could change her mood.
She quickly walked down the sidewalk on her multi-errand trip. Today she was acting as the messenger boy for her gang, the Yokohama Association of Black Market Distributors. Their name was stupidly long and formal, but as a low-ranking member, there was nothing she could do about it. To herself, she referred to it as the acronym YYRGK.
Today’s job brought a change of scenery from her normal routine which was working in the small office of their main warehouse. Now she was able to view the streets of the more reprehensible parts of town during the day. She walked with an air of confidence; nobody knew she was a girl as had she cut her hair short and wore loose clothing. Although she was only twelve and quite small, she had a way of defending herself that would never fail in a street fight. And she could not feel fear.
She knocked on the side door of a warehouse coming up from an alleyway. There was a white sign on it written in red kanji. She had no idea what it said as she was completely illiterate in that writing system. After another knock the door opened.
“Oleander?” The gruff man asked. They had been expecting her.
She nodded, it was the boy’s name she had given herself. Then she stepped inside the dingy hallway.
The gruff man escorted her to the offices on the second floor. This was the operations center for a smuggling group YYRGK was planning on partnering with. The letter in her pleather briefcase contained the offer. The last couple of years had been hard for them and now they did not have the men to run their own supply lines and defend their territory, and expanding business was almost out of the question. But this group here had a legitimate business front, unlike YYRGK. Partnering with them would lead to expansion opportunities in the future. At least, that is what the boss said.
Oleander handed the letter to this organization’s boss with a slight bow and then stood as tall as her small frame would allow. He read over the letter once and then said “you will hear back from me by the end of this week.” She was dismissed.
Once back in the rain she turned her hood up to cover herself from the worsening downpour. When she was a child she liked watching the rain from indoors. She didn’t truly "like" anything now, it was hard to hold preferences without emotions, but she would still do things she used to enjoy, just to keep busy.
Her next stop was the final one. Oleander saved it for last because it was the riskiest, even if it was in the better part of town. She was to deliver a letter to the Port Mafia. They were the most powerful criminal organization in Yokohama. At one point in time, they had been one of the most powerful in all of Japan. But that changed some years ago as the organization had undergone some internal difficulties.
YYRGK had been frequently subcontracted by the Port in past years. In fact, doing business with them had been the reason why they were able to become as notable as they had been. But that was before she had been forced to join. A few years ago the Port Mafia’s former boss had become overly cruel and tyrannical. He started conflict after conflict and YYRGK did everything they could to stay out of unnecessary fighting in an attempt to not shed as much of their blood. That much Oleander was able to remember for she had been forced in a little over two years ago, amid all the criminal wars in Yokohama. They were so short-staffed, that even a ten-year-old was considered a good recruit (provided that the ten-year-old had valuable skills– which she did).
The five black skyscrapers ringing the middle of the city grew larger as she approached. Ominous things, sleek and modern in design and incredibly expensive. The headquarters represented their organization well. Oleander pushed past people on the crowded sidewalk. Half a year ago the tyrannical boss had died and a new, younger man took his place. “More calculating” were the words used by her boss. He hadn’t been mafia prior to his role as the leader of the biggest criminal organization in town, so YYRGK had wanted to wait and see how he would turn out. While the Port Mafia was nothing like it had been in the past, the new boss hadn’t been killed off, the organization had stopped the unnecessary wars, and they hadn’t crumbled or split into many factions.
The guards outside the buildings weren’t meant to look like actual guards and they were only there to stop large threats. If she wasn’t supposed to be here, she would be found out in the main lobby and killed or captured there, out of sight from the rest of the world.
Oleander walked through the front doors with ease, but stopped and looked around once she was in the lobby. From the black marble tile floors to the ornate moldings, the expansive room was a pinnacle example of wealth. And even though she had given up her emotions, the grandeur of it all was enough to pull at her brainstrings and make her stop and look around.
Towards the back of the lobby, near the elevators and large hallway going off into countless rooms, was a large mahogany reception desk.
“Oleander from Yokohama’s Association of Black Market Distributors here to deliver a letter of great importance to,” and she listed off the name of the man while flashing the badge all members of YYRGK had.
The receptionist seemed startled at her deadpan voice. Most people who heard it were. Nobody expects a robotic, monotone voice to come out of a twelve-year-old, especially when the child in question does not look unhappy. She tried to maintain a pleasant neutral expression at all times.
“Oh, yes here,” the receptionist replied and checked the badge in the system to verify its validity. She also had to give her fingerprints despite not wanting this organization to have records of her. Then the receptionist gave the instructions to the office. Oleander was not meeting with the boss, nor any of the five executives, nor even a sub-executive. It was some man whose duty was to filter out work that otherwise would go to a higher-up but wasn’t as important.
His office was on the thirty-third floor. Other than the one time she flew in an airplane, Oleander had never been this high up before. When the black marble elevators parted, the first thing she noticed was the large windows on the opposite wall. She immediately went to look out of them and observe the city from this high vantage point.
Yokohama spread out before her; a sprawling city as far as the eye could see, she was facing the opposite direction of the ocean although a part of it could be seen when she turned her head. There were other skyscrapers around, some about the same level as she. But the Port Mafia’s black towers stood higher than any building in the city. She looked up and wondered what the view was from the roof.
“I’d probably be close enough to the storm clouds to control the electricity inside them.” She spoke in a low voice to herself.
“That would depend on how far of a range your special ability has. These clouds aren’t as low as they seem,” came an oddly bleak boy’s voice.
Oleander wasn’t surprised as surprise was an emotion. But there was a certain shockedness to what was going through her mind at that moment. She hadn’t seen anyone else in the hall as she exited the elevators. She hadn’t seen anything other than the view. She turned.
Near the same wall as the elevators rested a couple of beige chairs. On one of them sat a boy only a little older than she. He was wearing his Sunday best: an expensive-looking combination of a white button-down, black pants, a black tie, black dress shoes, and an oversized black coat.
A Mafia member. She thought. Although she hadn’t met anyone near her age in this line of work, there were plenty of gangs that accepted children and teens as their members. Or sometimes they used random “street urchins” for easy one-off tasks. But the Port Mafia didn’t let just any kid join, they wouldn’t have grown so successful if that was the case. This boy must be a special ability user, just like her. But stranger than it was to meet someone else her age here was the fact that the boy’s right eye was covered by a white bandage that wrapped around his face, disappearing underneath his mop of dark brown hair. On the opposite cheek was another small bandage and more bandages peaked out from underneath his collar and cuffs.
“Hello,” she said politely. Manners were important in situations such as this.
“For whom are you here?” he asked. His voice was how Oleander imagined a dead person would speak if reanimated.
She gave the name.
The boy pointed to his left. “First door on the right.”
She approached his spot to see down the hallway. There was only one door.
“Do you work for him?” she asked. This might be a good chance at a business connection if YYRGK was going to be dealing with this man for the time being.
The boy didn’t speak at first. He just kept looking at her with his one uncovered eye. His expression was mostly blank but his dark eye held a bit of contempt and envy in it. The girl stared back with an entirely emotionless face.
“No. I don’t work for anyone in the Port Mafia. I’m not a mafioso.”
“Oh," was all she said, not expecting that answer.
She was about to turn to walk to the office, but nothing about this boy was adding up. Why was he here in the Mafia’s headquarters if he wasn’t a member? Why did everything about him seem so dead? Why was he wrapped in bandages like a mummy?
“Are you okay?” Oleander asked. She pointed to her right eye, suggesting that was the wound about which she was inquiring.
A look of shock passed in the boy’s eye and then went away. “Not in the slightest. But nothing is out of the ordinary for me if that’s what you meant.”
Even though she did not have emotions anymore, she knew that others being hurt or in trouble was not a good thing. “Will you be out here after I’m done with my meeting?”
The boy looked at her quizzically. “Maybe, if you’re not there long.”
She nodded and went on her way. The meeting wasn’t short, but quicker than she had expected. She had thought she would need to speak for YYRGK more and answer all sorts of questions. But everything was accepted. Not even thirty minutes later she was back out into the hallway with a new form that officialized YYRGK as a subcontractor for the Port Mafia. They were to start off using their warehouses, now abandoned after all the slow business, to store the Mafia’s contraband goods. There were a lot of other things in the form explaining details. She would have to read it to understand it all. The man had talked too fast for her to catch everything.
The beige chair was empty. Oleander glanced around as she approached the elevators. There was no one in sight. It didn’t make sense. She hadn’t been gone for half an hour. Wherever the strange boy had disappeared to, she wished him well.
The elevator doors opened on the ground floor to a bustling lobby, unlike the way it had been when she came up. She walked slowly and deliberately having learned that people did not pay attention to you if you made yourself look as if you belonged. It was a technique she called "hiding in plain sight".
Outside the rain had stopped. After walking a couple of blocks, Oleander pulled out her briefcase and read over the form to familiarize herself with it. She would have to explain it to the boss upon return. Fortunately, it was typed in hiragana with bits of katakana in it and only the occasional kanji character. She could read this.
There was only one part of the form that mentioned something she didn’t remember being discussed at all in the meeting. It was tacked on at the end, like an afterthought or a piece of new information. The small clause had to do with making sure that in no way was YYRGK going to associate with any of the Port Mafia’s current enemy groups such as Gilhart Security Service (GSS) and the others.
Of course, it’s a new addition; they probably just now refigured out who their enemies are after all those battles stopped. One group in particular stood out. “The Sheep”.
She had heard of them. The Sheep was an entire group consisting of children and teenagers. Almost like a vigilante organization, working outside the law, not with it, but wanting to help people. They tried to protect people against gangs, looting, and human trafficking. She had wanted to join them, if only temporarily. Surely there were special ability users in the group, and she could train with them and learn to control her own?
Oleander stuffed the papers back into the briefcase again. Sprinkles of raindrops were falling from the sky once more. She began walking back to her headquarters again, the tiniest bit of an emotion seeping out of her before she squashed it back down. A desire.
If The Sheep rescued people who had been human trafficked, couldn’t they save her?