Mr. Do Nothing

In Which The Mafia Gets Into Some Trouble

June 15th, 12:45 PM

Yokohama, Port Mafia

The Boss had called it damage control.

The Port Mafia would just have to lay low for a couple of weeks. Less working in the day hours, more selectivity with clients. No bribing government officials in excess. It wasn't like this was the first time something like this had happened, apparently, and there were more than enough moving parts in the mafia to keep things running. So, the members that had been involved in the incident were more than willing to sit tight until everything blew over.

Until exactly what blew over -- well -- Akutagawa wasn't actually sure.

He also didn't really care. No one ever said it out loud, but the Port Mafia was getting pretty used to failure. The more senior members blamed it on Mori. Apparently, he ran the place a lot more gently than the old boss did, and had a bad habit of filling up the executive seats with literal children and twenty-somethings.

One particularly outspoken fellow was convinced of some sort of illicit relationship between him and the agency president, but the rest of them were too uncomfortably aware of the Boss' preferences to give that theory much credit.

As for the younger members, well, the majority blamed it on the Armed Detective Agency. It didn't always make a whole lot of sense, after all, there were all sorts of government bodies and lesser criminal conglomerates that were after the mafia's throat.

And at least the agency was often willing to team up when things got real bad. But perhaps all that did was make the mafia hyper-aware of just how hypercompetent those detectives were.

Some rookies would see a shadow on the wall and get all paranoid that the 'psycho doctor' was after them. Or hear a rumble in the night and swear up and down that it was a tiger.

Which was ridiculous of course, Akutagawa never head Jinko rumble. Not that loudly, anyway.

Either way, the point was, when Chuuya Nakahara stormed into his flat one day, swearing under his breath, Akutagawa didn't pay it much mind.

"The entire fuckin' shipment," The executive growled as he helped himself into the kitchenette, "Gone, straight up before we even arrived. God fucking dammit."

Chuuya, as it happened, was one of those twenty-something executives. Except unbeknownst to him, his foul temper and fouler mouth made him something of a mafia darling. Speaking ill of him was akin to a death sentence among the common grunts.

The Mafia was a loyal group. Even if the stacking losses were getting to some, they were in the minority. Most had already long decided that they were going to stick with the mafia through and through -- like one big family.

Akutagawa looked unhappily at the scruff marks Chuuya's shoes had left on the floor.

If they were a family, he supposed, then he was the child who stayed locked up in his room, dreading every interaction but alas, unable to escape them.

"Who the hell was it?" Chuuya went on, throwing open a cabinet and giving the bare contents a judgmental look, "I mean, it had ta' be someone right? No way those scoundrels would found us is someone didn't turn traitor."