The Untold Origins of The Port Mafia

❀ The Two Fukus ❀

The afternoon sun beats down, exacting its heat out on everyone unlucky enough to be in Yokohama during this unusually hot spring. The animals are smarter than the people though, they always have been. Two cranes take advantage of the shallow river. The water is cool and they wonder why the foolish human man chooses to sit under the cherry blossom tree, wearing a scarf of all things, instead of partaking in the cool clear water. But they are, at the same time, glad to have it to themselves.

The man's white hair ruffles in the cool breeze as he waits for his companion. In his hand, there's a cup of sake. Above him, a lone Sakura petal begins its descent, it lands gracefully in his cup before miraculously splitting into four.

The man isn't worried though, for it was the slash of a sword he knows very well which caused the petal to break so strangely.

"Rather a dangerous way to apologise for being late, Genichirou," he says, gazing regretfully at the ruined petal, cut so cleanly it looks hardly natural anymore.

"Heh, it's what you get for drinking without me." the younger man teases to no avail.

The older, still as calm and cool as ever, ignores the comment. "Don't you have chief instructor work?"

"I'm cutting." the younger says casually, shrugging as he sits down beside the older.

"Again?" The word, a simple question carries hints of judgement and disappointment. But, ever respectful, the older makes no more comment on the matter, passing Ouchi the bottle he'd poured his own drink from.

Ouchi takes a thoughtful swig, sighing at the relief of the cold liquid on his tongue.

"Oh? You found some real nice sake, given the times and all."

It's the older man's turn to shrug, "I had some connections at work." he explains, brushing off the compliment.

"Work? You? The man so quiet they called him a "wood-sword jizou"?" Ouchi raises an incredulous eyebrow. He's teasing again, clearly impressed. "You've done well, I see."

"You as well. To think that the out-of-control little hoodlum . . . would turn out to be such a success." the man reflects quietly, thinking fondly of days past.

"Yeah." Ouchi agrees, his voice an uncharacteristic sort of quiet.

'How did we get here?' they wonder, the thought filling the silence even as neither man speaks.

As one might predict, if you knew both men, it's Ouchi who breaks the silence first, but he still doesn't meet the older man's eyes. "I've been offered a position."

He doesn't clarify, but he hardly needs to, his tone carrying the weight of the message for him. And the older man knows, he just knows.

"You . . . you're going to the front?" the lone swordsman's voice strains with the realisation. He knows what this means, he hopes he is wrong. He knows he is not.

"Yes. . . . To Tokoyami Island, a hard place. Many of my pupils went M.I.A. there. . . . I have a bad feeling." It's the first time Ouchi has confessed his feelings about the posting aloud. The man beside him is the only one he'd dare confess them to.

The older meets him with sympathetic eyes. "You think you may die there?"

"No, even worse," Ouchi admits, "I fear I may come back . . . a different man."

He's met with understanding eyes, but understanding isn't enough.

"Fukuzawa," he says suddenly, "will you come with me?"

Fukuzawa's eyes widen, this request wasn't expected. Surely the younger knows how Fukuzawa feels about war.

"What?"