Work Text:
The Port Mafia base hides many secrets.
The five, soaring black pillars that tower over Yokohama somewhat eerily absolutely are to Mori’s liking, but it takes time to discover what exactly is the mysterious image needed for. Naturally, the answer seems kind of obvious — certain matters handled within the mafia require a suitable cover — but the man currently riding the elevator searches for something different.
It might not be a great idea to visit all the prisoners of his predecessor (especially given that it wasn’t that long since his unfortunate death), yet after two days of constant searching through the mafia archives, he had to meet the purpose of his investigation in person.
The elevator doors jingle when they open, revealing an ugly, raw concrete corridor, illuminated by nothing more but a few negligently installed light bulbs.
“Ew,” Elise complains when Mori steps forward. The little girl trails behind him with a grimace of disgust. “Did we really have to come down here?”
The man chuckles lightly, heading towards the massive door at the end of the hallway. As expected of a prison, it’s protected by a series of safety locks that he obviously breaks through. A couple months of researching the mafia’s security systems proves to be very worth it.
There aren’t many men guarding the cells. From what he knows, this location has had only one permanent resident for a very long time.
“Gross!” his ability yells, covering her nose and mouth with her hand. The solitary guard in the back of the passageway instantly stiffens, although they can’t see him that well. The lighting in the actual cells is even worse than in the previous corridor, but the reason for Elise’s rather rackety reaction is the smell. Whoever was in charge of this place certainly did not devote enough time to cleaning.
Mori just sighs. It’s indeed unpleasant, but he had seen — and smelled — worse. He takes another few steps further, towards the end of the passage and motions to the lone man.
“You’re dismissed,” he says in his usual tone. The guard looks rather young; he gives an anxious glance towards the cell in front of him, but the newly appointed boss just smiles. “Don’t worry, I can deal with this just fine.”
Elise is right behind his back, and although she may not seem cooperative, Mori is certain that she can provide enough protection. If not — he always has a few scalpels hidden under his very practical lab coat.
The guard leaves after the short reassurance. His step is quite stiff, but in the end, they’re finally alone; just as Mori wanted.
Before arriving here, he sort of wondered whether it wouldn’t be necessary to bring Dazai with him. According to the archive, the person that he currently faced was an extremely powerful ability user; the boy’s skill could be very useful to hold the prisoner in check.
Nevertheless, as soon as he sees the figure in front of him, he instantly dismisses the thought. As far as he is concerned, use of abilities requires some physical and mental strength.
The person trapped in the cell is far from a state in which that would be possible. Slowly but surely, Mori approaches the door to unlock it with a heavy key that he found among the former boss’ many personal possessions.
The sound of metal clattering against metal causes a pair of eyes to raise up at him. A slight shiver runs down his spine; it’s not a usual occurrence, but the dullness in the red irises is a very good reason for it.
It’s undoubtedly a woman, just like the documents said. Long, dirty and matted hair falls on her shoulders and the concrete floor, definitely not cut for a long time. The old rags that she uses as clothing doesn’t give away much save for how skinny and bruised all of her limbs are.
Mori feels safe. To some extent. Not only is Elise right behind his back, not only is the woman undeniably too weak to even stand up — a pair of heavy, rusty chains wraps itself around her ankles and wrists, making it too hard for her to maneuver her limbs. As he watches, she doesn’t even budge; he can’t guess whether it is because of lack of strength or her current position. Probably both, combined.
“Well,” he begins, after clearing his throat. “We haven’t met before.”
It sounds stupid. If there’s anything he’s very good at, it’s speaking — there’s no use in belittling his own abilities, and the skill to manipulate words is one of those that Mori is particularly proud of. Hence the discreet wince after the short sentence escapes his mouth.
Logically speaking, he isn’t in danger. In terms of intuition, he feels like it’s best to run away from the woman, and that’s what causes so much hesitation.
As he’s about to open his mouth once again (Elise isn’t of much support, unfortunately), a weak and somewhat rough voice interrupts him.
“What do you want?” the woman says sharply, or at least with the intention to sound sharply. In reality, despite the nice timbre to it, her tone comes out very hoarse. She might not have spoken for weeks, or even months.
“I’d like to talk,” he shrugs nonchalantly, reaching out to the bunch of keys in his pocket. “In civilized conditions.”
He has to uncuff her to do that, but at first, it’s better to be careful. He certainly doesn’t want to provoke her.
For some reason, a pang of guilt hits him at the thought. Almost as if it was about a feral animal, not an actual, living person. A victim of his predecessor’s rule. If he treated her in such a way, would he make any difference?
In his head, it does sound stupid. He doesn’t usually have difficulty with seeing people as something else than humans. Moreover, they mostly contribute to it themselves.
With this woman, Mori is hesitant.
“Talk?” she snorts, and although it’s mean, it’s nice to see that she still has the ability to mock him. “About what? Who even are you?”
The length of the questions must have put a lot of strain on her throat, because she coughs a bit after that. The sound is alarming — instantly activates his doctor’s instincts and the urge to drag her to the infirmary right now — but Mori doesn’t budge, preparing a suitable answer in his head.
“We can say I’m in charge now,” he admits, spinning the bunch of keys on his finger. Her eyes widen noticeably, but not that much, as if she was trying to be discreet about it. “Surely, you must’ve noticed the decreased security around here,” he attempts to persuade her.
Instead, the woman raises an eyebrow.
“There have been many men who came down here and tried to sway me with similar words,” she sneers. “Regardless of whether I believed them or not, they never had any good intentions.”
The way she accentuates the word seems weird. As if she was somewhat challenging towards him; and Mori’s intentions are anything but crystal clear. The conversation is starting to get more and more difficult, and he starts to regret that he didn’t analyze all its possible courses beforehand. Maybe that way, he would know how to respond.
After giving it some thought, the new boss kneels next to her and pulls out a key from his pocket. His clothes will definitely get dirty on the disgusting stone floor, but he has no choice.
Her reaction is instant; she attempts to back away from him, visibly terrified of his touch. Despite talking back confidently just a few seconds ago, the sheer fear in her eyes tells him more than enough about what she experienced here.
He stops what he’s doing and raises his hands slightly up, showing her the key.
“I can promise you one thing,” he mutters, looking at her with a bit of difficulty because of his hair falling into his face. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She’s shaking as he unlocks the chains around her ankles with the key; they’re very outdated and clatter loudly as they fall to the ground, revealing large, bruised patches of skin.
The methods used by the old boss were very cruel, as he could observe. And rather primitive at that.
He briefly wonders whether her ankles aren’t injured because of being kept in place by such heavy constraints, but ultimately, all of his actions are interrupted by a whisper.
“And why should I believe you?” she breathes out, looking at him.
Her left eye has been covered by a part of her hair, but coming this close, Mori realizes why.
A big, purplish-yellow bruise wickedly adorns the left side of her face. Surely, it couldn’t have been a fresh one, but that didn’t mean it was made very long ago either. The sight itself is quite gruesome, not to mention the dried blood that he can see on her skin as well.
Among that is a pair of cherry red irises, glaring at him fiercely, with distrust and resentment.
Again, a shiver runs down his spine.
“I have an offer for you,” Mori finally explains, in hopes that the actual truth will finally satisfy her. “An offer that you can accept or decline. But I’d like to make it when you’re in a better state.”
He reaches out for the chains on her wrists, and surprisingly, she lets him put the key in its rightful place, although her gaze doesn’t leave him. They’re even closer now — he has to bend down slightly, now feeling the unpleasant scent of her clothes. Or rags; they shouldn’t be called clothes.
The cuffs click softly as he unlocks them.
“What’s your name?” she whispers, almost straight into his ear as he slides the metal off her equally as bruised arms, wincing at the sight. “I take it you already know mine.”
He does, in fact. The archives had it, but he couldn’t bring himself to call her by her name in his head.
“Ougai Mori,” he introduces himself quietly.
She hasn’t heard of him before; at least judging by her expression after he speaks. Her red eyes mellow in acknowledgement, and he gives himself a few more seconds to stare. Even so thoroughly beaten up, she is a very beautiful woman. Although he did not come all this way down here to admire her beauty, it would be foolish not to admit it.
Mori had never been one to stop and appreciate someone’s appearance. Naturally, he could point out the features that he found particularly attractive, but usually, it was nothing more than satisfying his own sense of aesthetics. That was how he used to explain it, at least, regardless of it concerning men or women.
Now, the woman whom the documents named Kouyou Ozaki, sits in front of him, dangerously close. She’s freed from the heavy restraints and assured that he doesn’t intend to hurt her, but his intentions aren’t exactly clear either. It would be fully understandable if she lunged at him right now; he’s vulnerable, and all he does is stare.
A quiet thud pulls him out from the stream of unusual thoughts; Kouyou falls onto his chest like a lifeless doll, and Mori catches her, instinctively.
“What are you staring at?” Elise complains loudly, now levitating a few centimeters above the dirty floor, surrounded by a dim purple glow. “She was about to punch you, you know? I should have let her!” The ability crosses her arms on her chest and Mori just chuckles in embarrassment.
Did he really not notice anything?
“What would I do without you, Elise-chan?” He smiles apologetically at her, in hopes to humor the little girl quickly and take care of the woman in his arms. “How did you notice?” he asks innocently, wondering how to transport Kouyou to the infirmary.
“She literally raised her hand…” the ability rolls her eyes at him with a sigh. “She probably wouldn’t do much anyway.”
Exactly.
As she lies limp in his arms, she looks even more defenseless than when chained.
In this position, a whole palette of bruises and scars reveals itself underneath the rags she’s dressed in; as the woman slowly lets out breath by breath, he decides that she needs help immediately.
Mori gently slips his arm under her knees, keeping the other one on her back. Elise raises an eyebrow at him, but they have no time to waste; he gets up and walks out of the cell.
With Kouyou Ozaki in his arms, he hurries to the mafia infirmary, feeling his heartbeat suddenly speed up.