Chapter Text
The river wind carried the smell of salt and distant rain.
Atsushi Nakajima leaned against the railing long after the city had quieted. Yokohama’s lights danced across the dark water below, breaking apart with each shift of the current.
He watched them without really seeing.
The mission played on repeat in his mind.
The dock workers running.
The confusion on the faces of the other Mafia members.
The unasked question that followed him back here.
Why?
Atsushi didn’t know the full answer yet. He just felt something twist inside him when he imagined civilians caught in a firefight meant for criminals.
The Port Mafia had taught him to push away thoughts like that. Hesitation was seen as weakness. Mercy was a risk.
Still, that feeling lingered.
The tiger inside him stirred uneasily beneath his skin.
He stepped away from the railing.
The wind tugged at his coat as he walked back toward the city.
The next few weeks passed like others in the Mafia. Missions, reports, and quiet hallways that faintly smelled of gun oil and polished floors.
But something had changed.
Atsushi noticed it in little ways.
Some members watched him with a mix of curiosity and caution.
His orders became a bit more specific.
“Handle the target. Avoid unnecessary complications.”
It didn’t feel like punishment.
But it was close enough to a warning.
One night after a mission, Atsushi returned to headquarters later than usual. The building was mostly empty, lights dimmed for night.
He stepped into the kitchen and froze.
Kyoka was there again.
Kyoka Izumi sat at the table with a cup of tea, staring blankly at nothing.
“You’re late,” she said, not looking up.
Atsushi blinked. “You’re still awake.”
“I finished my mission early.”
He washed his hands at the sink. The water ran red for a moment before clearing.
This time, Kyoka watched him.
“You didn’t eliminate the witnesses at the harbor.”
Atsushi paused.
Word traveled fast in the Mafia.
“…No,” he admitted.
Kyoka’s expression didn’t change.
“Why?”
Atsushi searched for the right words.
“I don’t know.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
But it felt impossible to explain the uncomfortable weight in his chest.
Kyoka seemed to accept the answer anyway. She reached into a small bag beside her and pulled out a wrapped rice ball.
She slid it across the table toward him.
Atsushi stared at it.
“You keep doing that,” he said.
“You keep forgetting to eat,” she replied.
He sat down slowly.
They ate in silence for a few minutes.
Finally, Kyoka spoke again.
“The Mafia won’t like that you hesitated.”
“I didn’t hesitate.”
“You changed the order.”
That was technically true.
Atsushi looked down at the table.
“…Do you ever think about leaving?” he asked softly.
Kyoka’s eyes lifted.
The question hung in the air between them like fragile glass.
“No,” she said after a moment.
Her voice was calm.
Yet something about it felt too rehearsed.
Atsushi nodded.
Neither of them spoke again.
The change came faster than Atsushi expected.
Another mission. Another harbor warehouse. Another group of criminals who had crossed the Mafia.
But this time, something went wrong.
Gunfire erupted before Atsushi even entered the building.
When he kicked open the door, chaos had already taken over.
Two Mafia members were pinned behind crates.
The smugglers had heavier weapons than expected.
And scattered across the floor—
Terrified civilians.
Dock workers again.
The tiger surfaced instantly.
White fur rippled across Atsushi’s arms as he moved.
Bullets sparked against metal containers while he tore through the smugglers like a storm.
Claws ripped guns from hands.
One man slammed into a wall hard enough to crack the concrete.
Within moments, the attackers were neutralized.
But the damage was already done.
One dock worker lay on the ground clutching his side, blood spreading across his shirt.
Atsushi knelt beside him.
“…Stay still.”
The man stared up at him with wide, terrified eyes.
“Y-You’re one of them…”
Atsushi froze.
The words stung more than they should have.
Behind him, the remaining Mafia members regrouped.
“Good work,” one of them said.
But Atsushi barely heard it.
His gaze remained on the injured civilian.
For the first time since joining the Mafia…
He felt something dangerously close to shame.
The next day, Atsushi received a different kind of order.
Not a mission.
A meeting.
He stood in a quiet office inside the Port Mafia headquarters, waiting.
The man across the desk flipped through a report.
“You’re very effective,” the officer said eventually.
Atsushi remained silent.
“However… there are concerns.”
The report closed with a soft thud.
“You seem reluctant to follow certain orders.”
“I completed the mission.”
“Yes.”
The man leaned back in his chair.
“But the Mafia values loyalty more than efficiency.”
Atsushi met his gaze.
“What are you saying?”
The officer studied him for a moment.
Then he sighed.
“I’m saying you’re at a crossroads, Nakajima.”
Atsushi’s chest tightened.
“Some members believe your… moral hesitation… will eventually become a problem.”
“And you?”
“I believe you’re still useful.”
There it was again.
Useful.
The officer stood and walked toward the window.
“You have a choice.”
Atsushi didn’t like how that sounded.
“You can continue serving the Port Mafia exactly as ordered.”
The man turned.
“Or you can leave.”
Atsushi blinked.
“…Leave?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not how the Mafia works.”
“Normally, no.”
The officer’s gaze sharpened.
“But eliminating a highly capable ability user requires resources. Resources we’d prefer to use elsewhere.”
Atsushi understood immediately.
They weren’t offering freedom out of kindness.
They simply didn’t think he was worth the trouble.
“If you stay,” the officer continued, “you follow every order without question.”
“And if I leave?”
“You disappear.”
A long silence followed.
Atsushi thought about the harbor.
About the injured dock worker.
About Kyoka quietly handing him food in an empty kitchen.
He thought about the tiger inside him.
About how it felt to use that power only for destruction.
Slowly, he exhaled.
“…I’ll leave.”
The officer nodded once.
“Very well.”
And just like that…
Atsushi Nakajima stopped being a member of the Port Mafia.
Life outside the Mafia felt strangely quiet.
For weeks, Atsushi wandered Yokohama without a clear direction.
He avoided familiar streets.
Avoided places where Mafia members might recognize him.
Eventually, he found work.
Small jobs. Errands. Anything that didn’t involve violence.
But the city had a way of drawing ability users together.
It happened on an ordinary afternoon.
Atsushi had just finished delivering documents for a local office when he heard raised voices nearby.
A tall man with glasses was arguing with someone inside a café.
“…I refuse to tolerate this level of irresponsibility!”
Atsushi glanced inside.
The man looked like he was about to explode.
Across from him sat a detective chewing snacks with total indifference.
Ranpo Edogawa.
“…You’re loud,” Ranpo said lazily.
“And you’re impossible!”
Atsushi was about to walk away when the door suddenly opened.
The angry man stepped outside.
His sharp gaze fell on Atsushi immediately.
Doppo Kunikida frowned slightly.
“…You’re an ability user.”
Atsushi froze.
Years in the Mafia had taught him that look.
Recognition.
Calculation.
He tensed instinctively.
Kunikida noticed.
“…Relax,” he said.
“I’m not here to fight you.”
Atsushi hesitated.
“Then… why are you staring at me?”
Kunikida adjusted his glasses.
“Because you look like someone who needs a job.”
Atsushi blinked.
“…What?”
Inside the café, Ranpo spoke without looking up.
“Yeah, we could use him.”
Kunikida groaned.
“You can’t just decide that!”
Ranpo popped another snack into his mouth.
“Sure I can.”
Atsushi stared at them both, completely confused.
That was the first time he heard the name:
The Armed Detective Agency.
And without realizing it…
Atsushi Nakajima had just taken the first step toward a life that would eventually lead him to a very strange man floating in a river.