"Whoa! This is spicy, mister! Really spicy! What's your secret ingredient? Lava?!" Dazai gasped, chugging milk like his life depended on it.
"You really have to stop trying everything Oda likes," you sighed, taking some of his curry over rice. "Still, this is really good, mister!"
"Ha-ha-ha, ya think so? That's what Odasaku always has," The restaurant owner grinned, before turning in the direction where footsteps sounded from. "Hey, Odasaku, welcome back. How were the kids?"
"It was close, but I remain undefeated," Oda replied. "However, they predicted where I would grab on to, so they colored it in with crayons to make me slip. I was really worried for a second there. You said they'd be able to hold up a bank if there were ten of them, but I bet they'd be able to pull that off in two more years with their current numbers."
"Maybe I should recruit them..." Dazai smirked while wiping his sweat. "I heard all about it, Odasaku. You're raising five kids, huh? And not only that, they're orphans from the Dragon's Head Conflict."
Even if he'd tried to hide it, Dazai would've been able to figure it out with just half a day's worth of research. You raised an eyebrow at this information, looking the man up and down.
"Yeah," he nodded.
The children were orphans. They would have all died if Oda hadn't saved them. Two years ago, various syndicates, including the Port Mafia, were involved in a large-scale underground dispute known as the Dragon's Head Conflict. A certain skill user died, leaving behind five hundred billion yen's worth of dirty money, which led to a bloody, murderous frenzy that spread throughout the entire Kanto region. Most illegal armed organizations came close to extinction as a result.
The three of you also participated in the struggle. It was such a bloodbath that people would get attacked once every ten minutes just walking the streets. The result was countless scores of bodies.
The children on the second floor were kids who had nowhere to go after the incident was over.
"A Mafia member who refuses to kill, talented yet has no interest in advancing through the ranks, a man who's raising five orphans—Sakunosuke Oda," Dazai smirked. "You're a strange guy. You might be the strangest guy in the entire Mafia."
"Not as long as they have you, that much is for sure," you snorted.
Oda faced the restaurant owner once more and pulled out an envelope of bills from his coat pocket.
"Pops, this should be enough money for the kids for now."
"You sure this is okay, Odasaku?" There was a worried tone in the owner's voice as he wiped his fingers on his apron and accepted the envelope. "I mean, I know most of your earnings end up here... If it's all right, I can throw in some of my money, too."
"I really appreciate you letting us use your place, Pops. That, plus the curry here, is more than enough."
"Odasaku, do you seriously eat this spicy curry all the time?" Dazai asked as he took a sip of water. "It's so hot that my jaw's about to fall off."
"Dazai, L/N-Dono what are you both doing here anyway?" Oda asked.
"I have something I need to tell you about the case," you informed him.
"A lot of things came to light after we last talked, especially about the enemy," Dazai added.
The case in question was obvious enough, for Oda currently only had one he was working on. His eyes widened in realisation as he turned to the restaraunt owner.
"Pops, sorry to ask this, but could you give us some privacy?" Oda asked.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll be in the back getting things ready, so just holler if we get a customer," the owner nodded.
The owner seemed to have suspect the situation from Oda's expression alone, and he took off his apron before gleefully heading out the back door. Dazai ended up eating most of his curry while tirelessly downing his cup of water. During that time, Oda let himself into the kitchen, made some coffee, and poured the two of you a cup.
"Man, that was hot. Why does curry have to be that hot? Does it have something against mankind? More people would eat it if it were less spicy. This is negligence in food culture," Dazai groaned.
Oda thought about it for a moment before answering. "If more people ate it, then nobody would eat anything else, thus completely destroying food culture as we know it."
"Makes sense." Dazai nodded, seemingly convinced.
"So what was it you wanted to tell me?"
"I'll get straight to the point. It's a foreign crime syndicate," you explained while pouring Dazai another glass of water. "They've only been in Japan for a short while. They used to be a well-known European skilled crime syndicate, but an organization of skill users in Great Britain known as the Order of the Clock Tower drove them out of the continent, and they scurried away to Japan."
"They're a European criminal organization?" Oda gaped.
Europe was home to top-class skill users employed by both the government and various criminal organizations, and as a result, those skill users built an extremely elaborate and complex power structure throughout the continent. That was why such a strict surveillance system had been put in place to prevent such individuals from escaping to other countries.
When he asked you how they could have gotten here, Dazai tilted his head and replied, "Yeah, a crime syndicate of skill users shouldn't be able to illegally enter another country that easily. There has to be more to this than meets the eye. They might have a collaborator within Japan."
"But what did they come all the way to Japan for anyway?" Oda pressed.
"Beats me. The only way we'll know is if we ask them. We can guess, though. They escaped to a foreign land without a soul to rely on. This might sound snide, but they're dead broke. So maybe they're trying to make it big by stealing the Port Mafia's turf and smuggling route."
It was possible. There's only one thing that poor crime syndicates want: money, money, and more money. But there was just one thing bothering me. I started to open my mouth to express my concerns.
"Hold on. Hear me out until the end." Dazai stopped me as if he could read my mind. "I know what you want to say, Odasaku. They're way too skilled to just be a group of low-level criminals who joined forces, right? I thought the same thing. You almost never see a sniper and spotter operating in tandem around here, let alone so proficiently. Those were ex-military. According to the intel I received, the leader of their organization is a powerful skill user and soldier commanding a seasoned group of men. I should be getting more detailed information soon. Anyway, you can't underestimate these guys. If they systematically attack with such precise tactics, then even the Port Mafia might come tumbling down."
"Does the boss know about this?" Oda checked. "I mean no disrespect, L/N-Dono."
"None taken," you hummed, waving his apology off.
"I told him," Dazai reluctantly replied. "He appointed me as commander of the front line and tasked me with devising a strategy for Mimic, so I immediately set up a few traps—simple mousetraps. I've got a feeling the enemy might make a move soon."
Mimic wasn't just going to steal some weapons and try to snipe the Port Mafia—only to then hang their hats up and go home. Dazai was right. They were going to strike again...and it was going to be big.
"This is a really basic question, but...," he said, then continued, "...shouldn't the government be cracking down on crime syndicates with skill users?"
There were more than a few people in the world with unusual powers, including Dazai, Oda and you. The type of skill differs per person, but some are highly dangerous. That was why the government established a special agency to constantly surveil these dangerous individuals in secret. Those government agents, too, are skill users, and highly capable ones at that.
"You mean the Home Affairs Ministry's Special Division for Unusual Powers, right?" Dazai cocked his head. "But see, they're a secret organization, so they don't really show their faces much. Besides, the Port Mafia is a powerful crime syndicate with skill users as well. I bet nothing would make that division happier than if the Mafia and Mimic took each other out."
Dazai had a point. If the Special Division for Unusual Powers was so obsessed with eradicating crime involving skill users, then they'd have to take out the Port Mafia first. You and Dazai had heard from Ango once before that although the Division was a government agency with experienced skill users, they had only a few elites within their ranks; that would make it difficult for them to take a massive organization such as the Port Mafia head-on and win unscathed. They would most certainly have casualties. Apparently, the Special Division for Unusual Powers was trying to avoid that at all costs, so they stuck to simply keeping an eye on the Port Mafia from a safe distance. Of course, they'd have to bestir themselves if there were a lot of civilian casualties as well.
Only one question remained, although difficult to ask.
"What about Ango?" Oda asked.
Dazai didn't immediately reply, sipping on his freshly brewed cup of coffee in silence. Even he needed time to prepare an answer.
"We're almost completely certain that Ango is the one who leaked the code to the armory," you muttered, taking the weight off your boyfriend's shoulders.
Then he glanced over at Oda as if he was trying to see his reaction. Oda didn't say a word.
"Everyone in the organization is issued a different passcode to avoid trouble. And—"
"The code Mimic used to open the armory matched the one given to Ango, right?"
He crossed his arms. The missing pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together in Oda's mind, you could deduce that much from his facial expressions. The pattern he saw, though, was one he wished he hadn't.
"Hey, Dazai," Oda took a seat by his side. "Is there any possibility that someone framed Ango and is pulling the strings from behind the scenes?"
"It's not out of the question. That's always a possibility," Dazai answered, but he didn't seem to believe the words coming out of his own mouth. "If someone in the Mafia was colluding with Mimic, then sure, it's possible. But I can't think of a single person who'd benefit from that."
"Sakaguchi-kun is someone that many people want dead, but Mimic wants information," you reminded. "For that, they'd only rely on the best of the best, not some half-assed newbie trying to match up to your friend."
Dazai shook his head. All you could do at that point was find Ango as soon as possible and ask him. Whether that would bring the results you hoped for was anyone's guess, though.
The Mafia's intelligence officer—Ango Sakaguchi. Why did he betray the syndicate?
During the battle of intelligence in the previous war of the syndicates, there were various barriers preventing members of enemy organizations from turning to the opposing side: money, the opposite sex, family, pride, a sense of belonging. From what you knew, if all of these barriers were cleared, then the enemy would most definitely defect. So what would've been Ango's reason to join Mimic?
Oda looked to Dazai in search of an answer. He was hanging his head, contemplating in silence. His expression was...
Dazai was...
"...Ha-ha-ha."
...laughing.
"At first, I just thought they were your average crime syndicate, but if they're good enough for Ango to join, then that means a little arm-twisting isn't gonna make them cry and say they're sorry," Dazai rambled. "Plus, Ango's no pushover as an enemy. He's no walk in the park. This is getting exciting. I bet they're gonna back me into a corner, then—"
"Dazai."
He paused when Oda called his name. He didn't have anything else to say, though; Oda simply said his name.
Nobody knew what Dazai was really thinking.
Not even you and his best friend, at least, not truly.
It's an unwritten rule in the Mafia to not stick your nose where it doesn't belong. One must never open the door to another's heart and try to judge them for the darkness tucked within. That was one nice thing about the Mafia.
But maybe, just maybe, that was the wrong approach—or at the very least, when it came to the man sitting next to you. Somebody probably should've tied him up, pried his chest open, and stuffed a vacuum cleaner inside. Then, as he screamed and cried until they needed to punch him to shut him up, they'd suck every last bit out of his chest and stamp it into the ground.
But in reality, such a vacuum didn't exist. Chests don't open up like that, and no one is capable of such feats. What we see is everything, and everything we see, we ignore. All we can do is stand before the deep ditch between us and others and keep silent.
"Well, we should get going," Dazai said before standing.
He offered you a hand, which you smiled and took.
"Dazai." He turned around when Oda called out to him. Rubbing his hands together, Oda looked down at the empty plate and coffee cup, then back up. "Are you thinking that way because—?"
Out of nowhere, Dazai's cell phone began to ring. He lightly bowed to me before placing the phone against his ear and answering. A few moments went by as he listened to whoever was on the other side, but soon enough, his lips suddenly twisted into a grin.
"All right."
He hung up, then faced the two of you once more before saying:
"We caught a mouse in our trap."