The best victory is when the opponent surrenders of his own accord before there are any actual hostilities… it is best to win without fighting. Sun Tzu (~400 BC).
Nasake stumbled into her bedroom and collapsed onto the mattress, not bothering to shed the lightweight yukata and tabi she was wearing. July had thus far been a month rife with stress, pain and far more work than she could reasonably manage. She had not even had time to spend a meal with her little brother in ten whole days and had been forced to call Sawada Nana and ask her to babysit Lambo during the daytime over two weeks previously. Lambo seemed to be coping and she had attempted to compensate for her consistent absences by reading him a bedtime story every night, regardless of how exhausted she was. Lambo had behaved for her, but the state he had often been in when she collected him from the Sawada household made her budding maternal instincts scream and Nana-san's blithe obliviousness to the little boy's health made her wish there was someone –anyone– else she could trust with her mafia bratling.
Her problems had started in the first week of July when the Poison Scorpion had arrived in Namimori, giving barely enough notice for Nasake to warn the manager of her small toxic waste disposal business of the likelihood of needing to hire more people and set aside funds for overtime. A small health bulletin had been posted through peoples' doors, nothing fancy just a flyer asking people to report dangerous waste spillages in their area. A considerable number of birds had died and the drainage system had been partly contaminated but fortunately the hot weather meant that there was very little water moving, so the spillage had been contained. Fortunately the Mayor had been happy to subsidise the cleanup and the company had more than doubled in size in under a month, enabling Nasake to sanction the creation of specific protocols for poison cooking and have people specialise in its disposal.
Dealing with a potential health crisis at the same time as the end of the spring term had been hectic, forcing her to delegate a good chunk of her accounting to someone hired specially for the job. Nasake really hated delegating the financial oversight of her various businesses to a third party but she literally did not have the time to sift through all the expenses and income of the different companies to dig out the bad practice, mismanagement and poor choices made in the past financial year and hunt down the responsible parties and their accomplices. Hiring a chartered accountant was expensive and rather foolish considering she was herself qualified but the work needed doing as soon as possible and there were other things that needed her personal attention, so she would have to settle for going over someone else's notes and trusting their professionalism.
The main problem she had been dealing with during the bulk of the month of July was the overly ambitious Yakuza gumi Kyoya had administered a beatdown to a few weeks ago refusing to let things lie. The NDC had been quietly at odds with them for the past three weeks, fending off thugs and protecting their various interests all over town. Hibari Kyoya had been all over the place beating people up and ensuring the various businesses that paid the NDC protection money were actually being protected from those upsetting the natural order. Nasake had meanwhile recruited a classmate with a talent for hacking to locate, identify and plot out the movements of the overly ambitious local boss who was planning the takeover of Namimori.
As she lay on the mattress staring into space and running over all the information Sakura-san had dug up for her from various supposedly secure locations –there was a reason she kept the NDC accounts on a computer without an internet connection– An idea bloomed in Nasake's mind. It was ruthless, cruel, unusual and barely acceptable by the unwritten rules the Yaks played by, but it was permissible. Just. So long as she got Kyoya to go along with it. In fact, getting the violent teen to sanction her highly unorthodox plot would be the hardest part, as –if it worked– it would end the ongoing confrontation without any further violence on the part of the NDC. Of course it would also obligate the local boss attempting the invasion to commit suicide and quite possibly implicate the person further up the command structure who authorised the takeover attempt, but Nasake recognised that, although she would hold partial culpability for putting them in a culturally untenable situation, suicide –like murder– was the sole responsibility of the person committing it.
Helene Marshal would ordinarily never have considered this course of action for more than the time it took to dismiss it, but as Nasake she had been immersed in the murky world of the barely legal for almost every hour of the day for most of a month and wanted the situation over and done with. This would crush the attempted takeover without further harm to the people on the ground on both sides of the conflict and force the people in charge to take responsibility. It would probably give her nightmares afterwards, but that was the nature of the beast. Better to end it now before it spilled over into outfight gang warfare.
Groaning she rolled out of bed, Nasake staggered back down the hall to retrieve her Nami-phone. She needed to call Kyoya to set up a meeting to explain her idea to him and Tetsuya.
Ichii Naoto sat quietly in his office, contemplating his situation. He had been born the son of a well-placed Yakuza and, upon demonstrating loyalty, skill and intelligence, had been promoted within the ranks until he had been made the local boss for the area bordering Namimori. Wanting to prove his capability to his oyabun, Naoto had eventually turned his attention towards the town: there were a few minor local gumi but they all paid protection money to the newly established NDC. Ichii Naoto had nothing but scorn for men who allowed themselves to be cowed by an overly ambitious middle-schooler and had truly believed the takeover would be swift, painless and profitable.
Unfortunately he had been proved wrong on all fronts. The confrontation had been dragging on for almost a month, his men were being admitted to hospital on a daily basis and he was losing money in ways he hadn't realised existed. However he was committed now and to retreat would be to admit weakness and victory, however hard-won, would come eventually.
At least, that was what he had believed until this afternoon, when his three-year-old son, his own boss' four-year-old daughter and said boss' lieutenant's two-year-old son had all been collected from the kindergarten the local gumi members' wives used by an unknown third party. Naoto had a sketch of the third party in front of him: she was traditionally dressed in geta and yukata with her red-brown hair up in a style indicating she was a single woman of marriageable age and had pale blue eyes. The yukata however had been telling, patterned with clouds and birds in a manner that strongly suggested a connection with Hibari Kyoya, the leader of the Namimori Middle Disciplinary Committee. A mere hour after the abduction had been discovered an impeccably formal and proper letter had been delivered to his boss from said Committee Leader explaining that the children were well and safe and would be returned as soon as the takeover attempt was terminated and all forces removed from Namimori, permanently. Included had been a picture of the three children sitting and eating together with the woman in the sketch.
Ichii Naoto had not received a letter but a traditionally wrapped parcel in a cloth with a sparrow superimposed on a cloud embroidered in one corner. In the parcel had been nothing save a piece of high-quality rice paper with his full name and rank written on it in red ink and a new and expensive tantō. The message implied was more than clear: while his supervisor would need to do no more than write a letter of apology, the return of his son would need to be bought in blood. His own blood.
Naoto knew enough about Hibari Kyoya to know that there was no way he could have come up with such a ruthlessly simple scheme; the teen tried to solve all his problems through the indiscriminate application of violence. The elegant effectiveness of this demand for capitulation suggested Hibari had as an advisor someone with a cunning mind and considerable diplomatic experience; someone the independent and vicious young man actually respected and listened to. That person was the one to fear: as he was now Hibari was just another thug, if a particularly gifted one. If however the boy internalised the lessons his advisor was teaching him he would become a truly dangerous player.
Sighing, the boss moved the gifts he had been sent to one side and laid out brush, ink and a pristine sheet of the highest quality paper he had. He had two letters to write before he wielded the new blade to atone for his failure in judgement: one apology to Hibari Kyoya and one letter of warning to his supervisor and whoever would be chosen as his successor. He had misjudged the situation in Namimori and would pay for it with his life; however he would do all he could to ensure no-one in the ninkyō dantai ever repeated the mistake.
Katayama Morito stood stiffly at the agreed meeting point with his underlings fanned out behind him. It was a meeting of three roads just outside Namimori, an old crossroads that the newer highways had caused to fall into disuse. Opposite him and gathered around the right-hand road was Hibari Kyoya, leader of the Namimori Middle Disciplinary Committee, his first lieutenant Kusakabe Tetsuya and a dozen of his underlings standing back at a safe distance. Hibari had arrived, had Kusakabe accept the letter from Katayama and read it twice. Then the teen had pulled out his phone and made a short call. That had been ten minutes ago and the atmosphere between the two groups was getting tense.
A distant clatter caught the career yakuza's attention and he turned to look down the left-hand fork in the road: something was coming.
As the vehicle cleared the corner Katayama was surprised to see an old-fashioned farm cart pulled by an incongruously high-quality horse coming towards them. Being well-aware that a properly trained horse made an excellent crowd control tool, the lieutenant signalled his men to spread out away from the road. As the cart came closer Katayama recognised the woman driving the vehicle as the one who had taken his son and his bosses daughter and been with them in the photograph. Still traditionally attired and made-up in a manner reminiscent of geisha, even a better photograph would not help him identify her conclusively as too many potentially distinguishing features were obscured. The woman gently guided the vehicle to a stop, alighted from her seat and minced smoothly around the back of the covered cart. Katayama held his breath.
He almost didn't recognise the impeccably dressed little imperial princess who alighted as his boss' daughter; Umiko was usually to be seen running around in western frilly skirts. She seemed perfectly alright however, her happy smile and cheery babbling indicated she had no idea she had ever been kidnapped. Two equally traditionally dressed little boys in miniature hakama with toy swords fastened to their obi followed the imperial princess; his own son and the son of the recently late Ichii Naoto. Both were as calm and happy as his boss' little girl, so he allowed his subordinates to take charge of the children while he addressed the young woman who he now realised was the architect of the scheme.
"Thank-you for your care of our children, madam."
"You may call me Nasake, Katayama-san," the young lady said with impeccable formality. "I assure you that the children never left my care and that not once were they exposed to Hibari-dono or any of his men. Please accept their clothing as a gift, in recompense for the inconvenience you and your boss have suffered."
"You are too generous, Nasake-san," Katayama countered, inwardly admiring the authority and power this slender girl radiated so effortlessly. It was obvious to him that she was far more dangerous than Hibari, though he might match her given a decade of training and growth. What then was someone so obviously capable doing pandering to the whims of a thug like him?
Nasake smiled, seeming to catch the direction of his thoughts from his expression. "Family is more important than power, Katayama-san; I'm sure you understand."
Katayama Morito understood perfectly. This demure incarnation of near-limitless power had adopted Hibari Kyoya as her protégé and woe betide any man fool enough to challenge the status quo.
"Of course, Nasake-san; I wish you and your success in all future endeavours." He was surprised to realise he actually meant it.
Yakuza terminology taken from Wkikpedia, so it may not be accurate.
In the period of time covered in this chapter Tsuna has met Bianchi, been forced to attend summer school and met Haru, but none of that is at all relevant to Helene so it won't be mentioned. She refers to herself as Nasake throughout this chapter as that is the role she has spent most of her time filling: her actions are almost exclusively as Hibari's subordinate, rather than as her own self. She is also starting to think of herself as Nasake rather than Helene, which is telling.