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It'd been over a decade since the epidemic that wiped out a third of the earth's population, and the wars and political struggles that had risen in the following, chaotic years had down in for another half of what remained, if not more if one counted the death toll to disease and crime, the lack of modern medicine, the tainted environment and water in most urban areas and the general set back in civilization.

Mikado had been fifteen when it started. He was twenty-seven now. And like any of the survivors of the years between the end of the world and now... He was changed. One of the lucky ones to survive disease and war, right? Lucky... Survival came at a cost, and when the streets of Ikebukuro, once bustling with commerce and tourists, became a dead zone of gang warfare and violence, Mikado had been right in the middle of it. And powerless.

He'd learned just how powerless, painfully, and often. Until his hatred and anger had warped and tempered him into something cold and precise as a scalpel. He wasn't strong in the way the thugs and the fighters were, but amateurish inexperience could only last so long and Mikado was a fast learner. He rose to power on three things; his wits, his force of personality, and ruthlessness. Ambushing his enemies and using clever traps and guises to get him where brute strength couldn't, and using those connections that were drawn to his innate charisma to get him where only brute strength could. Even after disaster and damage, he had a certain ability to charm people with his personality, and those that followed him now were, by and large, either incredibly loyal or too useful to be rid of. In turn his mind and vision was too useful for even the less loyal followers to risk trying to be rid of, and so a balance was struck somewhere along the line. He'd lost the charming uncertainty and idealism but he'd gained a quiet, iron confidence that others were drawn to.

He had a game, a way to control the territory he'd wrested from lawlessness. Preventing fighting on the streets of the ruined city was impossible, but he could enforce it. Give it incentive. Only registered combatants would be suffered to be found fighting, and they could tear at each other as they wished, when they wished, wherever they wished. The incentive; tags given to everyone who registered, that could be ripped from a defeated opponent. They could be traded in for anything based on their number value. Better accommodations, whores, drugs, weapons, though guns were banned from the fights. The most skilled could, in theory, attempt for the specific poker hand of tags that would allow them to challenge the organization's mysterious and shadow'd leader, though none had ever reached that goal. In turn, anyone unregistered caught fighting would be summarily executed by the enforcers--unless the enforcers decided they were good looking enough to serve another purpose.

In that way, Ikebukuro stabilized a little. Non-combatants still feared the streets at night but thugs feared the enforcers more, and some semblance of life continuing grew a little, under the watchful laws of the lawless Dollars.

For Mikado this wasn't his end ambition but it was a start. But he hadn't expected, months ago, that one of the new combatants to register would have been Kida himself. The registration took place in the mansion the main members of Dollars called home, and with all registrations Mikado had been watching the newcomers put on their masks, his own in place before he revealed himself to meet them, explain the rules, and ask if they wanted to participate.

His heart had near stopped when he'd seen Kida. He almost hadn't recognized him, both their faces and voices had changed with age and trauma, and Mikado was sure Kida hadn't even had a remote moment of recognition when Mikado explained the purpose and perks of fighters. Mikado's own role in the world he'd created was the secretary to the shadowy and terrifying Dollar's boss, with none but the highest ranking aware that the quiet and no-nonsense, rather popular secretary-san was the shadowy Boss himself. That he dealt in everything from drugs to slavery and black market items, well, that was just a means of further acquiring power. Distasteful as it was, it was effective, and he left the more sadistic parts to those that most enjoyed it, usually.

But seeing Kida had shaken him, worried him in a way he wasn't aware he could still worry. Fighters died daily, defeat could mean anything from humiliation and rape to outright murder, anything was allowed in the laws of the game, but only within the game. A victor had complete freedom to deal with a loser as they saw fit, and after seeing Kida's face for the first time in years, Mikado had had his first nightmare in years; that same face dead and staring, lifeless and accusatory. For days afterwards he'd been grumpy and out of sorts, a state he couldn't afford to maintain.

Try as he might to put it from mind, he couldn't help but be drawn to Kida's progress in the fights. And Kida's presence brought with it other trouble. Members of a gang from a territory Mikado didn't control (not yet, but that was an eventual goal, they were strong enough to pose a problem for now though) had started showing up in Dollar's territory. They weren't registered fighters and they mostly respected the game's laws (those who didn't met bad ends, even rival gangs feared the consequences of violating Dollar's law) but they were still a concerning presence, trouble tracking Kida.

And Mikado was tracking them. He knew, after a few weeks of his underlings keeping tabs, that the gang was after Kida, and so he kept watch himself or through an underling.

So when Kida found himself being backed into a corner by the thugs of that group Mikado had been watching, Mikado happened to be there. If Mikado were an enforcer he'd have dealt with them ruthlessly, but he was only the Dollar's "secretary" and so he made a note of each face before he darted out of the shadow of one doorway, grabbed Kida's arm with a shouted "This way!" and ran.

No one knew the streets and back alleys like Mikado did, like he'd made a point to, and but still he kept them navigating the maze of abandoned and derelict buildings for twenty minutes to be safe, before coming to a stop in one mostly intact old apartment building, a little winded, letting go of Kida to glance cautiously out a broken window. The streets were empty, there wasn't a sound or feeling of anyone but the two of them.

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[Honestly the smart move is to go to Fate and demand compensation for breaking the rules. At this point Mikado will have to contact them anyway, with subtle threats and posturing. He'll leave that to his best negotiator. The smartest move is to allow Kida to be used as a bargaining chip eventually, to gain some control from Fate if Kida's that important.]

[But Mikado's already decided not to hand Kida over, which limits his options a bit but doesn't change the fact that he has to confront Fate anyway. Not to do so would be a weakness inviting other vultures to Ikebukuro.]

[He grimaces, showing a face he shows no one; stress and a headache growing, he pinches the bridge of his nose, looking tired at the thought.]

Ahh... I don't know what you've done Masaomi, but this really is a problem. Well, it's better to know they won't quit at least.

[He doesn't ask why since Kida still isn't offering it. He'd rather not push the conversation into something ugly, and he has other ways of investigating if Kida won't tell him directly.]

I wish our reunion could be a little more joyous.

If it's that big a problem, I can disappear. It's not that hard.

[It is that hard, though. Izaya's not going to let him hide out with him now, not when he's been found once. It's too big a risk, and getting him his medicine is already a bigger favor than Kida expected to get. He can't ask for more than that.

Still, it's better than making an enemy of Mikado. The thought bothers him, deeply, even though it's been so long -- at this point, they ought to be strangers. It shouldn't matter if this is someone he knows. But he doesn't want to fight him...

He'll have to in the end though, won't he? If he wants to use Dollars to reclaim Lucky Hearts. What a messed-up turn of events. He starts to rub at his cheek as he thinks, then stops himself -- he can't afford to ruin the makeup that makes his skin look clear an unmarked. That would identify him as fast as an ID card.]

Edited 2013-11-22 11:07 (UTC)

[Mikado notes the start and stop. What was that about...? He shakes his head though, waving a hand to dismiss Kida's idea.]

Please don't.

[He wanted to say something else but it's that simple request that comes out instead. Anything that springs to mind to follow it up with just sounds like excuses, so he leaves the honesty as it is, uneasy with that much openness but unable to retract it. They really should be nothing but strangers but he still feels drawn to Kida's charisma as if over a decade hadn't happened between their last meeting and now.]

Then deal with Fate and his lackeys. If you want the problem to go away, I'll leave and they'll follow. That's all there is to it.

[He stands with a huff, moving as if to walk out. He remembers the way. It shouldn't be a problem if he just leaves now, right? There isn't any more information he can give right now.]

You haven't brought a problem Dollars can't deal with.

[Mikado stands as well, fascinated by the arrogance and confidence. So this is the real Kida? Interesting.]

At any rate, I'll see you out. But now that we've met again, we should have a drink some time.

[He says it amiably as he joins Kida at the door and walks out to the hall with him, escorting him out as promised. It'd be bad for Kida to be caught unattended and unauthorized in the halls, after all.]

[He heads on home after that, giving Mikado's offer only a vague "sure". This whole thing is going to make it harder to advance, he's sure of it. He wishes he hadn't been noticed, and that Mikado wasn't here. If they met again, it should have been something they could celebrate properly. This way is just... unfair.

Kind of unfair in the same way that getting out of the shower and hearing someone unexpected in his living room is unfair. Yet this is exactly what happens a mere week later. Kida's only got his pyjama pants on when he hears movement -- no shirt, and none of the makeup he usually puts on. What he does have is his pistol. So when he kicks open the door with gun in hand, anyone with decent knowledge of gangs would be able to tell who he is in an instant.

The gun is his gun, his baby, a white high-end revolver, white laquered handle with Lucky Hearts red and black stylized card suits logo and his nickname in bright red down the barrel. The tattoos are equally obvious. The flashy heart artwork on his left cheek and the more elaborate coins-and-cards-and-other-such-things piece that covers from the small of his back all the way up to cup his shoulders, visible from the front. The rest of his body is thinner than it should be and riddled with the scars that brought him success and the ones that marked his fall from it.

It was all done as a statement, at the time. Nearly a decade ago, when he was just seriously getting his name out there. He'd wanted people to know who he was. He'd wanted every corrupt piece of shit he told off to be keenly aware of exactly who was stepping over his beaten body to advance. Lucky was a brand as much as a person, and Kida'd spent his whole life under that name telling other people to go talk a long walk of a short pier, publicly and with great force. He'd made his personality into a weapon, his presence into a banner -- and now that flag is on display whether he likes it or not.

Whoever he's aiming his gun at had best be prepared to get shot, because Kida's coming out looking murderously frustrated and ready to go. He's just also incredibly damp, with a towel around his shoulders and only his pyjama pants on.]

[Things have been busy for Mikado for the last week. Sending his negotiator to Fate and his information gathering to other areas has left him with more headache than answers. Fate's vague about why they want Kida and even more insistent on bargaining for him than Mikado expected. If Kida were anyone else... But the way the group seems to so badly want Masaomi is intriguing, and makes Mikado determined not to hand him over. There's something valuable here, at least for Fate, and it might be a threat to Dollars but until Mikado knows more he doesn't intend to change his mind about betraying his word to Kida.]

[But he does want to visit him and talk. Maybe have an actual drink together. He hadn't planned on it being a serious visit, after all their last talk was serious enough, and some things are better done gradually. He'd intended to invite Kida out to a bar and start to re-establish a rapport with him, feel him out a bit. What he'd found at Kida's apartment, instead, had been a pair of hooded figures with weapons preparing to barge in, or perhaps preparing an ambush for Kida when he came out.]

[Either way, there were only two of them. Mikado wasn't a powerful fighter even now but he had surprise and experience on his side and he wasn't so weak as he used to be. A modified stun gun took both hoodlums out without a fuss. They hadn't expected an attack from his direction, which led Mikado to believe they were amateurs or stupid.]

[What remained to be seen was if they were Fate, random hoodlums, or hired criminals. Which meant duct taping the unconscious men's feet and hands and mouths and dragging them into the apartment (lock easily by-passed with some skill at breaking and entering). Some amount of commotion was inevitable and he was kneeling to check the pockets of one of the men (their weapons scooted far to the side out of any possible reach) when Kida burst into the living room, wet and half naked and waving a gun.]

[It was hard to say what was most noticeable first--the flashy, iconic weapon, the tattoos that declared Kida's identity like a waving flag, the fact that he was missing a shirt and was gaunt beneath his muscles... The look in Kida's eyes that said he was ready to kill. Of course the water still clinging to Kida's skin and plastering his hair down was a different kind of notable.]

Ah.

[The soft noise is like a gentle sigh, as everything clicks neatly into place. No other noise needed, not an exclamation of shock, but a murmur of comprehension. Things make much more sense, in this context.]

[Mikado had frozen at Kida's entrance, roll of duct tape pushed up his arm, his tie in his mouth to keep it from falling across the body of the unconscious man whose shirt coat pocket he was reaching into.]

[He breathes out after a split second, spits out his tie and slowly lifts his hand from the other man's pocket, revealing his hand to be empty, and sits back on his heels, not standing or making any other moves at all in the face of the gun being waved around.]

[Actually, he focuses on that gun again, brows drawing together in a troubled expression that looks less threatened and more like vague consternation.]

Edited 2013-11-22 12:23 (UTC)

[He's visibly surprised to see Mikado. The shock that crosses his face isn't suppressed at all. But it also doesn't make him lower his gun from where reflex made it stop -- pointed right between Mikado's eyes. Of course, the very last person he wanted to know who he was had to walk in at the worst possible moment. He strongly considers firing. He doubts even Mikado can dodge bullets at this kind of range. There's only about ten feet between them.

But the look on his old friend's face is obvious, too. Is he really not afraid right now? Is he really going to make the comment he is obviously about to make?

It's the realization of how ridiculous that is that makes him sigh and lower his weapon after a few slow, silent breaths.]

Don't even start with me. You want me to follow the rules, you don't ambush me in my apartment.

[It's not that Mikado doesn't think Kida might fire, he recognizes the readiness and the will to immediately. He even notes the way Kida considers it after the shock. He would do the same, in Kida's place. After all it's an unbelievable kind of situation Kida's in.]

[But the fact of the matter is that Mikado isn't afraid of death or pain any more. He lost those things a long time ago, to the point that he's reached an almost uncanny, supernatural calmness in any situation. He doesn't seek out his own destruction, far from it, he's learned to be fairly cautious; but it remains a fact that the only fear he has of death is unfinished business left behind.]

[He's glad Kida doesn't shoot him, but he doesn't show any particular fear or elation or relief when Kida lowers the gun, no reaction at all except to frown deeper as he gets to his feet.]

Guns are against the rules. [He says it anyway, a little stern.] Try not to be caught outside with it--though I suppose you wouldn't carry that one around anyway.

...Ah, that's right. Pardon the intrusion, but I wasn't sure if there'd be more in here. And I needed somewhere to put them; since they were outside waiting to be guests I thought you wouldn't mind me inviting them in. Sorry for not knocking.

You're not pardoned.

[It comes out as a snap, and he doesn't try to stop it. As far as he knows, this is effectively Game Over for him. There's no way Mikado won't tell his boss about this, and no way Dollars won't have the sense to protect itself by getting rid of him. Mikado's pleasantness right now is clearly just part of his front, or whatever craziness lets him look down the barrel of a gun without a flinch.]

And I do mind! You should've just taken them home with you, not-- barged in where you don't belong!

[Part of him wants to gun down everyone else in the room. Another part of him is tempted to turn the gun on himself and just be done with this whole thing. In the end though, he just sits heavily on the back of his ratty, sagging couch and lets the tension (and the fight) drain out of his body all at once.]

...Shit.

[Mikado stands there and watches Kida go through the gauntlet of emotions, his frustration and anger and eventual defeat. Despair to nothing more than an idea, and Mikado's not surprised. Aren't emotions some of the most powerful things? More potent than drugs and more devastating than weapons. He sits down quietly across from Kida, looking up into Kida's face with no hint of gloating or triumph, no look of superiority or guile or predatory intent either, no attempts at cajolery, just a quiet sort of study of Kida.]

I was inconsiderate. Sorry.

[It seems sincere.]

They should be out cold for hours, there's no chance they could be faking unconsciousness right now. You don't have to worry that they might know who you are, but I can move them back to the hall until I'm ready to deal with them. I'll be easier to talk without clutter around.

[He stands again, places a hand on Kida's shoulder briefly and goes to drag the men out, it doesn't take long.]

[Kida keeps his eyes on the wall, refusing to look directly at Mikado while he watches him or while he talks. It doesn't matter what face he puts on, anyway. He's had the same cool calmness this whole time, so that touch could as easily be a threat as a comfort.

By the time Mikado comes back, he's gotten up and gone to get himself a glass of water. He stands leaning against the kitchen counter, staring out the window through the small gap in the curtains. From the outside, it's impossible to see anything inside -- you'd have to press your face against the glass, and this is the fourth story. But from the inside it's just enough to see a bit of grey sky, the roof of the convenience store across the street that still operates as a family business in defiance of the decline of society, and people moving on the streets below. It's a corner apartment -- he wanted to be able to see who was coming. It's pretty pricey despite being a run-down mess on the inside due to the location, but it was worth it.

He's wondering if he's going to come back here at all, after tonight. But he can turn fear and despair into numbness when he has to, so his face is empty of anything emotive at all. He's shut it down, and there's no sign of the nervous but animated person Mikado remembers in it. Not even the confident, flashy person that Lucky should be.]

[Mikado comes back in, stops to examine Kida's back and the way he stands staring out the window a little. His profile looks like someone who's lost his will and Mikado feels a sort of sadness at it, despite himself.]

...Masaomi.

[He runs a hand through his own hair, a nervous gesture that he has to stop and marvel at. Nervous gestures... Such a nostalgic thing. He walks back to the ratty couch and sits down, reclining and nonthreatening, not lounged, but his usual unassuming, self-contained way.]

I think, it's fairly easy to read what you're thinking right now. Well, I can say it was a shock to see your tattoos. ["A shock" says the man who barely blinked.] But things make a lot more sense now.

In any case, I don't know if you'll believe me, but at the moment I have no intention of telling anyone who you are.

If I believe that, then either I'm stupid or you're stupid.

[He continues to stare out the window, voice low and soft and tired. A lot of his identity and success was based around allowing himself to continue to be a soft, big-hearted, and open person. He knows that, and he knows that everywhere it helped him before, it's hurting him now. That person really wants to believe in Mikado. He really wants to be able to count him as a friend. Lucky had a lot of friends. Most of the best ones are dead now. Masaomi, on the other hand, only really had a handful, and he's either lost or lost touch with all of them but this one. He's alone and unused to being alone, and he'd very much like to feel like he can count on someone.

But he can't trust anyone. The risk is too big, to himself and to anyone that helps him. This is something he has to do alone, or so he keeps repeating to himself.]

I can't stop until I'm dead or back where I should be. That means letting me go might end in your boss dying so I can use your gang, and even if I can't do that, it means having that underhanded bastard breathing down your neck until he's got me in his grubby claws again. He'll tear Dollars down to get me if he has to. Either way, if you want Ikebukuro to stay at peace, your only option is getting rid of me.

[Mikado watches Kida, and he has to agree, that the smart move for Ikebukuro's safety, is to be rid of this problem. If he doesn't hand Kida over Fate will never stop pursuing Lucky, and Dollars will be caught in another gang's war.]

Ah...

[He closes his eyes and lets his head thunk back against the couch, thinking silently, and also aloud.]

It certainly would be stupid, to keep your secret. Fate won't stop until you can't threaten them, and your existence is really... Enough to stir up a war. Dollars has always survived cautiously, handing you over would be the most prudent. Even kicking you out would be fine.

[He puts a hand over his eyes.]

If you'd shot me of course you wouldn't have this problem. It would have been been the most prudent to kill me, and it was very stupid to leave a witness, don't you agree? Now that I know you want to take over the organization--well many people have had that goal, but I never thought until now that anyone seriously had a chance.

If you faced the leader in combat... I know he wouldn't be able to win. Well, not just going on your reputation, I know what he's capable of better than anyone.

....In the short term of things, it'd definitely be less trouble to hand you over. But I don't plan to. I actually think there's a possibility of using this situation well, but I can't say I know you well enough to be confident. Actually, it's a gamble even considering it, but will you hear me out?

In the end you might end up shooting me after all, though. But I want to tell you a secret first.

I really might still shoot you.

[His gun is on the counter, easily within reach. But he doesn't look like he's planning to grab it, at least not yet. For now, he just turns to finally look at Mikado and meet his eyes, with no real enthusiasm or threat in his own.]

But fine. Tell me your secret and we'll see.

The leader of Dollars.... Is me.

[Really there's no other way to say it.]

[He's not sure how to respond to that. It could be a good thing. Maybe this means Mikado is seriously going to be willing to work with him. In fact, that seems to be exactly what he's getting at...

But at the same time, fear bubbles back up in his stomach. This could all go so, so badly. At the least, he shouldn't be having this conversation so casually, half-naked in his kitchen. But there's nothing he can do about that part. All he can do is put his right hand down on his gun and turn it towards Mikado without actually picking it up, while his left brings his glass of water to his lips for another drink.]

Yeah? Then I could win right now, couldn't I?

That's a little tacky isn't it?

[Still not a hint of fear, not even nervousness. Is he really this overconfident and cocky? Or just that insane?]

I'm on a short deadline. I don't really have time to care about style.

[a pause, as he picks the gun up and aims]

You're crazy, aren't you? You don't react at all. Or are you that sure I won't do it?

Ah... I wish I could say I was one hundred percent confident you wouldn't shoot me. But I'm not. If I have to explain myself, it's simply that... Making a fuss about it won't change things. I learned that a long time ago.

Though I do think with reasonable certainty that you're just threatening me for your own peace of mind, I also don't think I should assume that means you aren't serious.

I ought to shoot you just for having an attitude like that. Making a fuss is human. It's how you survive and get things done. If you don't care about yourself, I don't see how you can care about anyone else. And if you just lie down and accept what's coming at you, you might as well be a moving corpse. That kind of thing... It just pisses me off.

I take some offense at the implication that my current attitude prevents me from accomplishing things.

I take offense at the fact that you sound like a shitty AI. And I'm the one with a gun pointed at your head, so you might want to consider getting desperate.

You aren't going to shoot me so stop being ridiculous.