Chapter Text
"I want to use one of your warehouses in the Tsurumi Ward." You fold your hands together, resting them your lap. "If that's alright with you, Mori."
Accommodations of the Port Mafia were generous to say the least. The meeting held in the main tower, high windows overseeing all of Yokohama and the deep orange skies casting a warm, delicate glow, seated on red velvet cushioned chairs costing a politician's salary, and to top it off: Nana-Tsu-Mori Pinot Noir 1999 shipped directly from a wine vault from Hong Kong. A carefully curated atmosphere all while you hold documents that weigh heavily on the man before you. A fact that you savour as he stares at you with unreadability, all an accomplishment not to take lightly.
"You're a smart person, Dear [Last-name]. You realize that is our most frequently utilized warehouse in that particular port. We can't just cease operations there to house a mere negotiation."
Your eyes crinkle slightly, your conviction unmoved. "Of course, of course. Your operations will be delayed, clients and contractors would be quite bothered, as well as the risk of the two parties starting a war on the Port Mafia's territory. Unfortunately negatives and all the rest will still remain in the outcome if you refuse."
The young girl, Elise, remains unbothered by the rising tension and sharpened gazes exchanged. Kicking her feet back forth, laying on her stomach as she quietly hummed to herself, grabbing her black crayon to finish the outline of your coat.
You continue your counter. "And I’d still rather to house the negotiations in the main warehouse. You see, the main reason the Commission was hired to mediate the two parties was in fear of their conflict drawing the Mafia's attention. You're aware of how close both YDP Logistics and the Sakai Group operate to your grounds, I believe having them in your turf will do good in avoiding the kicking and screaming that would do you trouble."
Mori's gloved hand takes the request paper you hold out to him. Printed from the Commission's online dropbox, sent from a Chief Operating Officer of YDP Logistics detailing the disagreement over disrupted shipping lanes. Being on the verge of clashing, he asks for interference in hopes of a peaceful agreement for a substantial fee.
"If a little war were to arise due to lack of a proper intervention then that would greatly affect Yokohama's trade. Many of YDP Logistics’ partners own several major lines as well as handling cargo distribution in many foreign locations. With the Sakai Group against them it would affect their partnerships and resources which in turn affects Yokohama's economy."
"Well we wouldn't want that to happen. Do we?" His mouth curves upward, pursed, obligatory. "I'll cut off operations then, for a short period of time although."
"We can work with that. As long as it's a mutual agreement." You glance to the clock held on the adjacent wall, already starting to sit up as if a cue was called. "I've kept for some time haven't I? We're both busy people, I'll be taking my leave now." You pick up your briefcase from the floor and documents on the round table between you two "I'll send someone for further details."
Mori watches you with half-lidded eyes.
He is fully aware of your competence. Despite his eye for those with vigour and a character beyond the greater mass, your contrast and similarity towards himself makes him careful. More than he would like to say.
Your wit intrigues him, your methods conflict, your values align in an abstract collage.
To say you were on equal footing would be too easy, false even. If he were an easier man he'd the agreeable with any request you made. Thankfully, to him, he was not.
Playing the long game meant he had a hand in the relationship you two share, where he had a farce of an upper hand.
Elise perks up, seeing you're now departing from the boring meeting. "Bye, [Name]!!! Don't get lost on your out!"
You flinch at the sound of your first name, as well as the reminder of your first time in the Port Mafia headquarters. Winding hallways leading nowhere and incomprehensable rooms of no use for what? A headache and one misdirected assassin?
The blonde girl smiles as you return a wave, going back to colouring her drawing. It was rudimentary, depicting you, drawn to match your likeness to the best of her ability, standing before a scribbled crowd with flashing lights and a background only a child could comprehend. It was evident which she cared more for.
Standing outside the door by yourself (Mori's staff was dismissed due to the privacy of your meeting), you let your shoulders drop. Your face relaxing the tension of keeping an imposing face. It was a long, tiresome day.
"Eggs, rice, fruits—takoyaki?" Your eyes narrow at your grocery list, the scribbled, different pen colour writing evidently not an original item.
Passing by a street food stand, spotting fresh takoyaki being picked off the pan, you could only sigh as you pull out your wallet.
You trek down the sidewalk with your trolley cart wheeling behind, a gift from your neighbour as a housewarming gift in your first apartment.
The grocery store you frequent is only a few blocks down, having been a regular ever since you first moved out. A castaway glance building among the bustling streets of Yokohama, being smaller than the other market stores on the street.
The glass doors slide open with a chime, the cashier greeting you by name and the old lady who owned the store waving to you after taking off her reading glasses.
You roam the produce aisle for vegetables, bakery for bread, frozen foods for pre-made ribs, and so on and so forth.
You check off the second last item on your list, walking toward the front for the sack of rice you need. Looking for your preferred brand, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to a peculiar man near you. Choppy white hair with black strands, a tie and suspenders, and looking at the shelves with the focus of mother deciding a favourite child. Looking between two differently sized rice sacks as if picking one would offend the other.
”Are you alright?” You couldn’t help but ask. You didn't want to just stare at him as he picked up one sack then dropped it for the other then continue such motion.
”Ah-yeah! I’m fine! I’m just—uh, deciding.” He laughs nervously, realizing how ridiculous he must have looked.
“Is this your first time doing groceries?”
”Hah, is it obvious?” He scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I just got my pay check and I have been meaning to buy some things…” He looked at his own list. "I've gotten almost everything without trouble, but I'm stumped on... Well I don't know how but..."
“Don’t be embarrassed. I understand that this kinda stuff can be daunting.” You pick a sack off the shelf. “If you have a small household or live by yourself, just 5kg is enough. I recommend this brand, it’s cheap and good quality for its price.”
His eyes light up as you provided him a sales pitch. ”Oh, I was eyeing this one earlier! I guess all I needed was a second opinion.” He pauses for a moment. “Um, this is just standard white rice, right?”
You nod in response. “Yeah, you looking for something different?”
”Well, I’m just also looking for the type of rice you—make, chazuke with.”
You blink. “Does that dish not use rice?”
”I actually wanted to try making it with the short-grained kind. I had this really good chazuke at a restaurant, it didn’t taste a lot like one’s I’ve had before so I asked if they did anything different then usual chazuke and the recommended it." He seemed to be fondly recalling the taste as he told you of the memory.
You immediately yank a sack from the bottom shelf and hold it out to him, a satisfied smile on your face. "This brand is pretty well known. It's a trial size and therefore should be enough for you and several dishes of chazuke."
His eyes seem to grow brighter. “Ah, thank you so much!" He takes the bag and stacks it on top of the previous one, drooling at the thought of his favourite dish before remembering you. "Ah, I hope I wasn't much of a bother for you after all—"
"No! Of course not!" You reassure as you wave him off. "I'd feel worse if I was left to imagine you leaving the store and finding yourself unsatisfied with your own food once you come home. I'd find it it's my job to appease others. I really don't mind."
"If you really say so—I mean! Just, thank you again!" He bows, clutching the rice sacks in a tight hug.
The sight makes you chuckle slightly, endeared by his character. "You're welcome then. Say, if you're done with your own shopping why don't we pay together? If that's alright with you?"
He instantly stands back up straight, nodding before picking up his own shopping bag he had set down on the floor.
~
"You work for the Armed Detective Agency, Atsushi?"
"You sound so surprised." He tilts his head. "Do you—wait do I seem like an odd one out?"
You shake your head. "No, no! I didn't think of that! Well, maybe... Your normalcy sticks out like a sore thumb.."
Atsushi raises his eyebrows at the unexpected comment.
He didn't see himself as that outlandish even in the sense you spoke of. He wasn't a maniac, a genius, or a work freak (it was admirable, but much of a goal). He was capable to an extent, dedicated to getting his tasks done, and he was also very eccentric—thank you very much—which made him fit right into the agency.
"Well as normal as it can get with that agency."
"How am I supposed to take that?"
Your smile remains unchanged, knowing. "Interpret it how you will."
The two of you continue to stroll down your shared path. Having gotten to know one other to a comfortable degree.
"It's a wonder how the agency brought such a sweet boy into their ranks." You think to yourself. "Probably due to some tragedy—oh poor Atsushi, shame he isn't one of the Commission. Some of them could learn a thing or two on first impressions."
"[Name] been real kind,” the thought passes through in his head. “Going out of their way to help me and all. They're a breath of fresh air after this past week. Maybe things are really starting to look up!"
You stop in your tracks as you stand in front of the subway entrance.
"I'll be taking the train on my way back home. Remember! The grocery store has afternoon discounts on Tuesdays and Fridays and buy yourself a reusable bag. Plastic isn't at all the way to go."
You pat him on the head absentmindedly, ruffling his white hair, almost swearing you saw his hanging belt strap perk up just a little to the contact.
Before you could go down, you turn back around, rummaging in your pocket and pulling out a white card. "Oh, before I go, have my business—personal matters—acquaintance number card. If you need help with anything else related to errands."
Atsushi stares at the card then to your keen expression, not able to bring himself to refuse. "Ah, thank you, [Name]! I'll be sure to take care of it."
Watching you leave, he smiles to himself. "Maybe I don't have to resort to Dazai or Kunikida's inane advice in my errands anymore."
The clouds part further in the already clear sky, the sun's rays brightening as they fall upon the streets of Yokohama. A glimmer appearing in Atsushi's eyes along with the warmth that sunlight brings.
The sky fades to a soft pink and yellow, buildings passing by in a blur. There is a shared exhaustion shared between those on the transit, especially late into the day after a long day has worked you. The train car is kept at a minimal volume—a sign of respect to those teetering on the edge. The train clattering on the track along with the sound of a man's business call in aloof conversation, two middle schoolers whispering about gossip only the youth can relate to, and a man muttering to himself at a decibel only you can pick up.
He sits beside you, glued to his notebook without a glance to the empty seats. You feared he'd break his pen at speed he was jotting down—well—you couldn't really tell what it was.
If he was journalling to vent his frustrations then unfortunately he'd need a different method in winding down. His brows remain furrowed and he keeps an intense glare that stays unchanging.
Crack
His ball point pen splinters from pressure, ink splattering over his notebook pages as well as staining his hands and clothes. It seemed to snap him out of his irritation fuelled daze. Unbothered from such a natural occurrence, he methodically takes a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the mess.
Focus drawn away from his book, he finally notices you. Seeing how close you are both seated, as well as the pen ink having splattered onto you as well. A splotch on your cheek and new stain on your blouse, though you've already pulled out a napkin to clean yourself (to the best of your ability).
He stares at you. "Sh— Ah, my apologies."
You wipe the last smudge off your face. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."
"Hm."
There was a silence left after your small exchange. The man awkwardly closed his book, cleaning his glasses and setting them back onto his face. That was it he supposed. To sit quietly until his stop.
"That seemed like an expensive pen." You spoke up, attempting to make conversation.
"Yes, well it costs just a bit more than the usual office pen. I have several more at home so it's all right." Unfortunately he broke all his extras that were on his person.
"You don't seem all that alright."
He promptly adjusts his glasses. "It'd be rude to just air out my..." He tries to find the right words. "Frustrations to a stranger."
"Go ahead, surprise me." You encouraged. "I'm a good listener."
"To put it simply—my coworker is a moron." His brows furrow immediately at the thought, his previous agitation seeping back in. "His antics put me behind my schedule by an hour. An hour." He emphasizes it thrice. "An hour."
"An hour." You repeat, trying to sound surprised.
"He spent our mission... Sightseeing." It'd be impolite to tell a stranger about a coworker's suicidal tendencies, he thinks. "It was inefficient, and on top of that he simply dropped onto his desk to take a nap rather than even starting his report and then immediately left once he woke up without a hint of shame."
"He sounds like a headache of a coworker. I can sympathize."
Never could you be disappointed in your subordinates, you chose them well and you aren't one to doubt your own judgement. It was more so the vexation of the inconveniences that are caused by their conflicting ways of thinking.
"One of my coworkers displays such unprofessionalism that it's evident being fired doesn't once cross her mind. Can you imagine the smell of tobacco and smoke soiling into your own office just because of one person's smoking habits? Takes hours for the smell to be expelled. " You go on with a smile. "She's rudely blunt, disagreeable to her own boss, calling clients and their mother's guinea pigs without a hint of dignity for them, truly just plain senseless when you meet her. It's horrible for business."
"You look oddly fond about it."
"Well, I doubt anybody else would keep her employed. She's already found her place in the workplace, it'd be too different with her gone."
The sun light dims, sinking into the sea as he takes in your words. "You must trust her a lot."
You nod in response. "Do you? Your coworker."
His expression shifts, the tension in his posture relaxing subtly. "I suppose I do." The blonde answers slowly. "I would rather him to be better though. He often goes against my ideals, irrationally, though..."
He seems to be on the brink of a realization, until he stops and turns to you. How ill-mannered to not tell you his name.
"Forgive me, I haven't introduced myself." He adjusts his glasses. "I'm Kunikida Doppo."
"[Name]. Nice to meet you, Kunikida."
"It was— You're a pleasant person to talk to."
You unload the last of your groceries from your trolley bag, setting them on the marble counter. All is put away except for the takoyaki you had brought, now cold after such a long day.
No warm meal has been cooked for you, no person present welcoming you back with open arms. It was too quiet.
Maybe you should consider in buying a pet. Maybe a cat to come and brush against your legs or a dog to run up to the door and bark happily as you entered. Ah, domestic life.
Knock knock.
The door abruptly opens, slamming into the wall as a chipper man comes inside humming a tune.
You approach him, closing the door behind him, grabbing the lobe of his ear to bring him down.
"Didn't I tell you to stop slamming the door. You're gonna leave a dent in our walls and scratch our doorknob."
He yelps from your harsh tugging. "OW, OW! I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY!" You could only scoff disappointedly.
Once you finally let him go his hand flies to the side of his head to soothe the pain you inflicted. Cursing under his breath as he kicks his shoes off and slumps onto the couch.
You sigh, sitting down beside him. "So, how was work?"
He huffs in response, grabbing the remote, surfing through channels. "You joking? The day you're off and I'm put in charge everybody decides to put in requests on the same day. You said it was gonna be easy after the YDP Logistics and Sakai Group warehouse location deal, but noo—it was the worst work." His eyes dull. "Finances."
... "Pfft—"
"I dare you."
"No, no, no, it's just that was what I was referring to as easy."
"Mhm, and I'm Japan's prime minister with a 90% of voters in the nation. You can't be serious, man."
"Do you think I'm a liar?"
"And a cheat." He adds without a pause.
"Y-you—!" You let out a prolonged gasp. "You really think of me in such a way, An Lee?" His eyes narrow at your quivering expression, sadly unamused to your displeasure. "Hah... What happened to the little kid who always laughed at me??"
"I probably laughed at you for different reasons. Besides, why would I want to laugh when you dumped a whole workload on me today? I wasn't at all prepared for this type of work. Could have at least been more specific."
"Believe me. When you're boss, the you will prefer the more boring tasks. It comes with experience."
An Lee frowns, averting his gaze to the tv, having set down the remote without paying any mind to the show that was on.
"Don't say stuff like that."
You don’t respond to his question. “I brought takoyaki for you.” You say, glancing at him. “It’s on the counter.”
An Lee remains silent for while. “Thanks. [Name].”
“What’s family for?”
MINI INSIGHT (opinion on [Name])
Mori : "We are both servants to Yokohama. We consider each other colleagues only because of one man. Though at the core of our relationship I believe our only shared opinion of each other is... detestation for lack of a better word."