Chapter 99

Epilogue Dazai was walking through the Mafia building’s underground passage: a long, dreary, white hall with nothing more than fluorescent lights and the occasional fire extinguisher. Its sole purpose was for evacuating in case of an enemy attack. He was on crutches because of an injury to his left leg. Walking by his side was Mori, wearing a white laboratory coat, along with a small child holding a doll. “…Which is why I am giving this to you as your next job,” said Mori. “Uh-huh… So this kid is a skill user?” Dazai asked. “Hey, kid. Show me your skill,” he demanded. But the child, who appeared to be around five or six years old, didn’t so much as glance in Dazai’s direction, instead continuing to quietly look ahead, doll in hand. “I told you already. This child still cannot use the skill at will. That’s why I don’t even know exactly what that skill is,” Mori said as he patted the child’s head. “This little one apparently hurt another child at an associate’s hospital, so I decided to take the tyke under my wing. I hear the kid didn’t even lift a finger, and yet the other child was severely injured. In any case, I want you to figure out what this skill actually does. Shouldn’t be much risk for you, Dazai, since you can always nullify it.” Dazai got right in the small child’s face and stared. “Kyuusaku!” the child suddenly shouted cheerfully. “Hee-hee-hee! I’m Kyuusaku! Come on, let’s pway! Let’s pway!” “Yeah, yeah. When you’re older,” Dazai replied indifferently. Two sets of footsteps from a pair of shadows echoed down that same hallway. “…Anyway, that should give you a general idea of what we’re going to discuss at the meeting,” said one of the shadowy figures—a tall woman wearing a kimono with her flaming-scarlet hair tied into a bun. “Any questions, young man?” “Could you not call me ‘young man’?” the other figure—Chuuya—asked. “Anyway, I actually do have a question, ma’am. Why are you bringing me with you to the meeting?” “Could you not call me ‘ma’am,’ either, then? I’m not that old yet.” The kimono-clad woman glared at him. “I am bringing you so you can learn. We are meeting with an individual from one of the Mafia’s front organizations. He’s a CEO from a trading company Mori recently acquired. Every cup of tea served, every pause in the conversation sways the outcome of a negotiation. You need to learn that you can no longer solve your problems by smashing someone’s head in.” “Uh-huh…” Chuuya scratched his head, seemingly unconvinced. “But do you really think having me there is a good idea? What if I do something to piss the guy off?” “We can deal with that when it happens.” The woman covered her mouth with her sleeve and laughed gracefully. “If something that trivial is enough to ruin things, then you might as well tackle the issue with full force.” “If you say so…,” Chuuya replied with a troubled expression. Another voice came down the hallway from the opposite direction. “Hey, Mori. Is this kid a boy or girl?” “Now that you mention it, I still haven’t asked… I suppose I can check their files later.” Another voice came down the hallway from the opposite direction. “By the way, young man, I don’t remember you having a black hat yesterday. Where did you get it?” “Oh, this? Well…” The two young men’s voices crossed paths on that day, at that time, in that hallway. It was nothing out of the ordinary—not an event that would ever go down in history or even be worth remembering. “…Ah!!” “Ahhh! You’ve got some nerve bein’ here!” Their shouting filled the hallway as the two adults watched in utter astonishment. “Chuuya! Why do you think I had you join the Mafia?!” Dazai yelled furiously as he rounded on Chuuya. “You’re supposed to be my dog! If I say my foot is itchy, you scratch it! If I say I want to eat soba, you go threaten a soba shop owner into coming here! If I say I want to see a play, you get on that stage and you start acting! That’s your job! And what do you do instead? You join Kouyou’s unit and head straight to the top! It’s smooth sailing for you from here, huh?! You’re still young! You should be fighting your way up from the bottom of the heap like the filthy dog you are!” “Says the weasel pullin’ the strings behind the scenes! I chose to join the Mafia on my own, and I’m never gonna be your lackey, much less your dog! I don’t give a shit what you’re schemin’!” Chuuya snapped back as if not to be outdone. “And ya know what? I did a little investigatin’, and I found out that someone poured their drink on the arcade stick I was usin’ so the buttons would stick! Which means none of that game even counted!” “Excuse me? Sounds like someone’s a sore loser. Do you have any proof it was me? Or maybe you heard I’ve been passing out weekly ‘Chuuya’s a Sore Loser’ newsletters and simply wanted to help me write a piece for the upcoming issue?” “I’d rather die than help y— Wait. Hold on. Is that why everyone was smirking at me on my first day?!” The two teenagers noisily traded barbs while the adults sighed and shook their heads. “Boss, are you sure it was a good idea to have both of them in the same organization?” the woman in the kimono asked Mori. “I am, Kouyou.” He smiled. “It only works with both of them here.” Mori looked at the hat Chuuya was holding: a black porkpie, the gift Mori had given him the day he officially joined the Mafia. “What’s the hat for?” A few days earlier, Chuuya was staring at a hat in Mori’s top-floor office at Mafia HQ. “It signifies your acceptance into the Mafia,” Mori explained with a smile as he stood facing Chuuya. “Whoever recruits a new member into the organization usually looks after them as well. It’s custom to gift the new recruit with something they can wear as a symbol of that bond. I gave Dazai his black overcoat, and I’m giving you this.” “It’s pretty old, eh?” Chuuya flipped the black hat over and examined it closely. “I don’t hate it, but…Dazai’s coat is brand-new. Why’d I get something from a thrift shop? Budget cuts?” “That didn’t come from any thrift shop,” Mori replied with a wry smirk. “It belonged to Randou.” Chuuya stared wide-eyed at the Port Mafia leader. He then held the hat more properly and gave it another look. “I had most of his belongings burned, but I made sure to examine everything at least once before doing so,” Mori, now seated at his desk, admitted. “It seems he started looking into his last spy mission two months before his death. His memories must have gradually started returning. Furthermore, he kept records of his investigation—the secret facility he snuck into, information on his partner’s whereabouts, and data on the being known as Arahabaki that the military was researching.” Chuuya stared hard at Mori in an attempt to get a read on him, but Mori’s smirk didn’t fade. It was as if a fog was hiding what lay within the depths of his mind. He continued: “Randou wasn’t able to get close to the truth, but he did learn a few insights. Apparently, the military facility he infiltrated was researching how to combine skills with living beings. That is, they were researching artificial skills.” “‘Artificial skills’…for the military?” “That’s not all. Arahabaki is merely the name witnesses of the explosion gave it eight years ago. Naturally, it had another name at the research facility: Prototype A2-5-8.” Chuuya’s eyes widened. After observing his reaction for a few moments, Mori opened his desk drawer and took out a manila envelope. “These are Randou’s records.” Mori held out the envelope to show Chuuya. “There are various other interesting details written in here as well.” “The truth…is in there…” Chuuya unconsciously reached out for them. “What Arahabaki really is—what I really am…” But right as his fingers were about to touch the envelope, Mori swiftly pulled it away. Chuuya looked at him with a dubious glare. “Sorry, but these once belonged to a man who betrayed the organization,” Mori explained with his usual smile. “We would usually burn these under normal circumstances. Therefore, I cannot simply show them to anyone. These documents are for executives’ eyes only.” Chuuya quietly stared at him, not moving a muscle. Several brief, condensed seconds of silence filled the space between them. “So I gotta keep producing good results until I’m promoted to an executive, and then you’ll show me them… That’s what you’re sayin’, huh?” said Chuuya. “All precautions to make sure I don’t betray the organization?” “I’m not worried about that.” Mori had a professorial smile on his face. “There’s something you should be worried about, though.” “What’s that?” “Dazai. Both of you are extremely gifted. In my eyes, you’re more or less equally matched. As my direct subordinate and right-hand man, however, Dazai is most likely next in line to become an executive. Which is why I have to wonder: ‘What’s going to happen if he receives access to these documents before you?’ Don’t you think he might memorize the documents and then burn them so that he can force you into doing whatever he wants?” Chuuya’s face instantly turned pale. He knew he would have to go through hell to get the information out of Dazai if that ever happened. “Only a diamond can polish a diamond.” Mori smirked with evident satisfaction. “The well-being of this organization depends on your joint effort. I want to prove that we can outdo the previous leader without relying on violence, fear, and murder.” Chuuya’s feelings at that moment were indescribable. “I…,” he began, straining his teenage voice. He softly placed a hand on his still aching wound. “I was the leader of the Sheep, but all I did was enable their dependency on me and make things harder for them. I’m not completely against joining the Mafia and taking orders from you, but I need you to tell me this one thing first: What does it mean to be a leader?” Mori’s smile vanished inside the young man’s serious gaze. Mori closed his eyes, then opened them again. At last, he spoke earnestly, sincerely—a side of him he had never shown anyone. “A leader is simultaneously at the top of an organization and still a slave to it as a whole,” he answered. “You need to be willing to get your hands dirty to keep the organization afloat and thriving. A leader develops their subordinates and places them wherever they best fit and disposes of them if necessary. I will gladly perform the most heinous acts for the sake of this organization. That’s what it means to be a leader. I do it all for…” Mori turned his gaze to the collection of buildings and streets out the window. “I do it all for the organization and the protection of this beloved city.” Chuuya listened with clear eyes. His expression was pure as a newborn baby. “And that’s…what I was missing,” he said. Chuuya faced forward, got on one knee, and lowered his head. Then, in the dignified, sharp voice of a general, he added: “I dedicate my blood—my everything—to you, boss. I will protect this organization you slave over and work myself to the bone in order to decimate its enemies. Those who oppose the Port Mafia will learn firsthand how ruthless gravity can be.”