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Yosano hated the Port Mafia.
She hated being trapped by the Port Mafia, forced to hide in their underground network of tunnels. She hated having to interact with Mori, of all people, and of course once he’d gotten her truly angry he’d left and told Nakahara to babysit them.
Nakahara was leaning against the one exit to this particular room, face half-shadowed by his hat. His arms were crossed over his chest and he looked somewhat at ease, though Yosano was sure that could change in an instant. Tanizaki and Kenji were talking to each other in low voices, having decided that leaving Yosano alone was for the best right now.
Yosano didn’t want to go with Mori and she didn’t believe that Fukuzawa had said that she could. She trusted Fukuzawa with her life — he and Ranpo were the ones who had taken her away from Mori in the first place. He wouldn’t do that just to hand her back. That Mori lied meant that he, personally, wanted her to join.
She paced, trying to figure out what would happen next. Everything outside of this room was dangerous. As much as it bothered her, the Port Mafia really was the safest place for them. That didn’t stop her from feeling trapped, from trying to find a way out, any other way that they could be safe.
Nakahara hadn’t seen the argument Yosano had with Mori, but he was an Executive. There was a chance that if she talked to him, she’d figure out more about their situation and would be able to find a way out of it. She didn’t know much about him other than the brief times they’d previously met and what Dazai had to say. It was surreal to think that he was Dazai’s old partner.
Maybe that worked to her advantage.
She took a deep breath and walked over. “Nakahara, how long are we supposed to be in here?”
“Until the Boss thinks it’s safe to move you,” Nakahara said in a bored voice. She could tell, though, that he’d tensed slightly.
“And what qualifies as being safe?” Yosano asked. “I don’t think anything out there will change unless we do something about.”
“You don’t have faith in your people that are out there?” Nakahara asked. “Or do you think they’re dead?”
Yosano gritted her teeth. “They aren’t dead.”
“But they are outnumbered. That’s why you’re safer here.”
She couldn’t argue that.
“Boss said that in exchange for us saving you, we get to take one of you as a member,” Nakahara added. It was hard to tell what his expression was, but he was keeping his voice purposefully even. “You want the Agency to get out of that deal.”
Yosano forced herself to remain calm. They’d talked about it. Of course they would have — the Executives needed to know something like that, didn’t they? They needed to know who they might be working with.
“Did he?” she asked, ignoring his second statement. “And did he ask your opinion of who should be exchanged?”
“He thinks you’re the most useful,” Nakahara said. He shifted so that part of his face was no longer hidden by shadow, probably so he could see her better as well.
“And do you think that?”
“You hate him,” Nakahara said. “You look like you wanna kill him. The only thing keeping you from doing it is the threat to the Agency, I’m sure.”
“He’s a disgusting man,” Yosano snapped. “How could you like him?” She found her emotions getting away from her. “How old were you when you ended up in the Mafia?”
“Fifteen,” Nakahara said. “Around the same time as Dazai.”
Yosano wasn’t sure if that was younger than she thought or older than she thought. She hadn’t really considered it. “I was twelve.”
Nakahara frowned. “You were in the Mafia?”
“This was before the Mafia,” Yosano said. “I’m not surprised he didn’t tell you. He wants to make himself look good. But he took me when I was a little girl and brought me into the middle of a war, where I was forced to heal men over and over again so that they couldn’t die.” Her hands balled into fists. “He used me until I felt like I was resigning people to hell instead of healing them. Physical wounds may heal but mental ones don’t. I as good as killed those men anyway. They called me the Angel of Death.”
Nakahara had tensed even more, but he didn’t look like he pitied her. That was good because she didn’t want his pity. She wanted to shake the foundation of what he knew about his Boss so that maybe he might help them.
Dazai had described him as stupidly loyal. Loyal to a fault. Yosano wondered if that loyalty came out of ignorance or not.
“If you ended up at the Mafia,” Nakahara said after a moment, “you’d end up doing the same thing.”
“And that doesn’t bother you? That he could run you ragged by having me heal you over and over?” If appealing to Nakahara’s sense of sympathy for others hadn’t worked, maybe appealing to his self-preservation would. “That he could send you into the worst situations and bring you back from injuries you should be dead from, over and over until your mind can’t take it?”
Nakahara smiled. “He already has.”
Yosano stared at him. “What?”
“And I fully expect him to again. I’ll gladly do it. You’re trying to convince me to turn against him but if I do, that’ll fuck up everything else,” Nakahara said. His expression hardened. “I’m not going to let the Mafia be ruined just for that reason.”
Yosano didn’t want to panic but she could feel it creeping in. Apparently Nakahara didn’t have a sense of self-preservation to appeal to. This wasn’t working. It was backfiring. She’d told Nakahara that information about herself and it was backfiring.
“For what it’s worth,” Nakahara said, “I told him that we should take the kid who does the illusion shit instead.”
Yosano felt a sense of whiplash. “What?”
“I was told to,” Nakahara said, “and I guess that was the right choice.”
Told? “By who?”
“Who else?” Nakahara’s expression twisted. “Dazai.”
Yosano didn’t know why she was surprised Dazai was also contacting people in the Mafia, but she was. “Dazai.”
“He knew you’d known Mori before, right?” Nakahara said. “He wouldn’t make anyone who left go back. That would be hypocritical of him and he’s trying to be a better man.” The words were slightly mocking, though there was a strange undercurrent of another emotion behind them. And his next words held no mockery at all. “You never would’ve felt like a doctor if the Agency hadn’t taken you in. Before, you felt like a tool. A weapon. Only good for your Ability.”
Yosano’s breath caught. “What?”
“The way you described yourself back then, you don’t look like that person now,” Nakahara said. “I’ve seen the way Dazai looks too. I hate to admit it, but the Agency...is good for people.”
“Then you should —”
“I know you only came to talk to me to try to manipulate me into letting you go or helping you,” Nakahara said. “It’s not gonna work.”
“But you listened to Dazai.”
“I don’t know why.” He sounded like someone who knew exactly why and didn’t want to admit it.
“Right.” Yosano turned, about to walk away when Nakahara’s words echoed in her head. You felt like a tool. A weapon. Only good for your Ability. She hadn’t used those words to describe herself but they were true. She felt like he understood because not everyone would have been able to make that conclusion even having listened to her talk about her past.
This went beyond trying to manipulate him. Now, she was genuinely curious, so she turned around and said, “Mori uses you as a weapon.”
Surprise briefly crossed Nakahara’s face before he narrowed his eyes. “I use myself as a weapon.”
“It doesn’t bother you?”
“I was made to be a weapon,” Nakahara said. No emotion was attached to those words.
Yosano stared at him.
“I came from a government facility,” Nakahara said in the same detached way, “joined a street gang when I escaped and then joined the Mafia. I’m good at it and it lets me protect what I care about.”
Yosano knew about artificial Ability users given that they’d just encountered some, but to hear that Nakahara was one, and from the same place as them...it was a lot to take in. It didn’t really matter but suddenly a lot of things made sense. She didn’t know Nakahara well but suddenly she felt like she could understand him more than most.
“You feel like a weapon,” she realized.
Nakahara was still trying to look unaffected but his fists had curled at his side and his eyes were dark.
“That’s why you understood how I felt,” Yosano continued.
“Your point?” Nakahara’s words were clipped.
“I don’t have one,” Yosano said. “I just haven’t met many people who understand because they...understand.”
Nakahara sighed, exhaling some of the tension away. “Even...if it felt like a relief,” he said, “it doesn’t benefit either of us.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“Having one of the only people who understands you be in an organization on the opposite side isn’t really a benefit.”
“The Port Mafia talk to the Agency all the time,” Yosano said. “I wouldn’t discount it.” The idea of talking to the Mafia more than she had to would have made her skin crawl a few hours ago. Now she was reminded that the Port Mafia was full of people. It wasn’t just Mori.
Nakahara laughed. “Fraternizing with the enemy, huh? Maybe I’ll keep it in mind.”
Yosano nodded. “I will too.”
She turned to leave but Nakahara’s voice stopped her again. “We never finished that fight, you know.”
Yosano turned around, raising an eyebrow. “You want me to kill you?”
Nakahara’s eyes flashed and he grinned. “I’m always looking for a real challenge.” He tilted his chin up. “If you can actually make me feel like my life’s in danger.”
Yosano answered with a grin of her own. “Oh, I promise you, I will.”