Chapter 7: A Strategic Reorientation
(AN: Okay, welcome to what is basically Arc 2 of this story. This chapter fought me tooth and nail to get written, and I hope you like the result. Thank you to Siatru for beta reading this chapter.)
I woke up feeling exhausted, never an ideal start to the day. Every muscle in my arms, shoulders, and chest felt strained, like I had tried repeatedly to lift an overly heavy object, and my eyes felt as if they'd been glued shut. I recognized the feeling from my long-ago days of suffering through the Imperial aerial mage training program, where each day we were compelled to exert our magical abilities to the very knife's edge of collapse, day after day. The feeling of complete mana depletion also reminded me of that insane zealot of an orb development researcher, Dr. Schugel. The anger at the memory of that man's crazed eyes and scorn for safety features proved adequate fuel to pry my eyes open in the desperate attempt to escape. You're safe, I tried to reassure myself, you're not in the testing division anymore. You're... huh?
I could be wrong, but I was fairly certain I'd fallen asleep on one of the couches in the basement hideout, an admittedly uncomfortable place to sleep but far better than many other places I'd slept. But, judging by the sunlight flooding through a grimy window above me, I wasn't in a sub-basement any more. No... No, no, no! I remembered the last time I'd gone to sleep and awoken elsewhere – had I somehow died again in my sleep? Had I somehow been injured during the struggle and not noticed due to shock, or had artillery once again rained down and destroyed my world? Had Being X stolen my soul and forced it into yet another horrible situation just as my life in Shinjuku started to improve?
Fortunately, as the sudden adrenaline rush of pure horror filled my limbs with new energy, I recognized the room as Naoto and Ohgi's studio apartment, and indeed saw Naoto himself sitting at the table, munching on crackers. He had been staring off into space, no doubt weighing the options ahead for our group, but as I began to stir he blinked and looked over at me.
"Ah, Tanya. Good to see that you're finally up – I was beginning to wonder if you'd sleep all day!" Naoto's usually genial charm was present, but in a much lesser degree, and none of his usual energy was evident in his voice. He sounded worn out and dry, and from across the room I could smell the pungent reek of cigarette smoke. "How about you wash yourself and join me for a snack? I've got some things I'd like to go over with you."
I looked down at myself, and winced. My hands and wrists were reddish brown with blood from last night's mission, and I could feel the material of my sweatshirt tugging against my skin where the crusting dried blood had glued it to my forearm. Altogether, an unprofessional state to be seen in by a superior, particularly without the excuse of being at the front lines to mitigate the awkward situation. Idly, I wondered if this request for a sudden meeting with an undefined agenda was some sideways punishment for my slovenly behavior, but that seemed out of character for the slick managerial style of Kozuki Naoto's leadership. More likely he was giving me time to fully wake up before getting down to whichever brass tacks needed handling at the present, and had graciously suggested washing myself so I would have something to do as I shook off the cobwebs.
I nodded and responded with a chipper "Absolutely!" and sprang to my feet, or at least attempted to do so. My affirmation came out as more of a croak then a chirp, and I had to lean on the floor as I hauled myself up. I feel weak... What's happening to me? Instinctively, I ran through the usual equations for my enhancement package, but nothing happened. No familiar strength returned to my arms, and the absence of my typically enhanced reflexes was so unexpected I nearly tripped over my own feet as I made my unsteady way towards the kitchen sink.
I overdid it last night, that's the only explanation. I thought as I pushed the footstool Ohgi had brought home after my first week in the apartment in front of the sink. And then I didn't eat when I returned... I must be completely out of energy. I'd experienced something like this before, after the first time I'd activated the Type-95 and had nearly died from the sudden and uncontrolled elevation gain. My initial reasoning for trying to throttle that cursed orb in the crib had been my near-death experience on the testing field, coupled with my near total mana depletion after I'd managed to land safely back on earth. Only the intervention of Being X himself, his alleged "blessing", and his catspaw Schugel had forced that damned orb into existence despite the funding cuts to the development project my report had prompted. Another example of that bastard thinking that social laws and values don't apply to him. He had the power, so he did what he wanted. My legs quivered as I mounted the stool, but I gritted my teeth and forced them to steady as I turned on the sink. Thankfully, the water was working today, and after only a few halting spurts the ice cold water flowed freely from the tap. I wonder if the "Holy Britannian Empire" really was founded with his approval? They seem to have the same value system, after all. Do what you want, who cares what it costs everybody else.
The cold water was like a balm to my increasingly itchy skin, and the dried blood sluiced away down the drain. The rough soap stung the myriad irritations and sores left on my hands after hours of exposure to rotting blood, but the sting helped me ground myself in the moment almost as much as the bone-deep chill of the water. All too soon, my hands were clean, leaving me with no further excuses to dawdle, and so I turned off the water, hopped down from the stool, and joined Naoto at the table. He looked rather uncomfortable, for some reason, and didn't seem eager to start our conversation. Instead of saying anything, he just pushed the sleeve of crackers over to my side of the table. Out of courtesy, I took one and nibbled politely at it. Like a switch had been thrown, my belly made itself known and suddenly I could only think about how hungry I was, and how I had missed breakfast. Worse still, my stomach growled so loudly I was certain it was audible to Naoto, who thankfully merely raised an eyebrow and gestured at the crackers. Thankful, I took another, and another, mindlessly eating until I suddenly realized that half the sleeve was gone, there were crumbs all down my front, and that my enhancements had begun to work once again.
As I bit down into yet another cracker, Naoto chose that as his moment to speak up. "Tanya, I want to start off by saying you've been a huge help. I'm glad Ohgi found you and brought you here. I hope that you understand that we're all very impressed with what you've achieved these last few weeks -"
I nearly spewed crumbs across the table as his reserved tone sank in. I know this pattern! I was accustomed to sitting on the other side of the table, but I could recognize a disciplinary meeting when I was on the receiving end too. The vague compliments, the professional assurances... It's the softening up start of an HR meeting before the inevitable "but..."! I tried to marshal a defense, but I couldn't think of what I'd done to require official counseling. Is this because I acted without orders last night, and left Ohgi by himself? I had to take the initiative! I didn't have any means of communicating the evolving situation!
" - But I'd like to know where you want to go from here." Naoto continued, and my train of thought ground to a screeching halt. "As far as I can tell," he continued, seemingly unaware at how my panic sublimated into sudden confusion, "you're a great shot, and you've got a real knack for seeing opportunities and taking them." Wait, he's praising me for leaving Ohgi behind? That can't be right! "But yesterday, you also showed you could throw together a good plan, and get people on board with your ideas." Well, that's a relief... He's noticing that I have other competancies beyond just fighting! I'd known that Naoto was a good leader, but I'd been concerned that his warmongering tendencies would blind him to everything outside raw combat potential.
"And..." My heart sank in my chest. The way he'd enunciated that 'and', and the significant pause following it boded ill. "Ohgi and I have been talking, and we're worried that your abilities in the field might be impacted by how underweight you are." No! This isn't a disciplinary hearing! I'm going to get a medical discharge!
I began to muster a protest, flailing about for some way to convince him that I was fully capable despite my skin and bone appearance, but Naoto put up a hand, stopping my protest before it began. "I'm not saying you're doing a bad job or you're weak or whatever. I know your circumstances." He put his hand down and smiled at me. "I just want to point out that part of the haul you captured last night was a whole box of Britannian cash, so you can afford to buy plenty of food now from the black market." I had more or less forgotten about the money, as I had been certain it would be set aside for the operational needs of the cell. I hadn't realized that Naoto would let me use any of it for personal expenses. "So, here's my suggestion:" he continued. "I want you to take on more of the background work – talking with Inoue about supply questions, talking with Ohgi and I about potential strategies and targets, and all that kind of big picture stuff. At the same time, you can take the opportunity to eat as much as you'd like, and maybe work out with Tamaki and Nagata. Build up your muscle a bit, y'know? How does that sound?"
It sounded glorious. If I was reading this situation correctly, Naoto was offering me the managerial post I'd been dreaming of since I first joined this cell far earlier than I could have dreamed. If I started planning out operations with him and Ohgi to fulfill his father's strategic objectives, or if I began to help Inoue with expanding the cell's logistical base and reach, I'd be far too valuable to risk falling into enemy hands, and thus safe from front-line assignments. Plus, if I had enough money to buy my own food, I wouldn't need to work any more odd jobs to feed myself, so I would have enough time and energy to begin training this body back into something close to what I'd been like before a damned Republican shell had blown me back into Being X's hands. In fact, it sounded too good to be true.
Is this another test? I wondered, feeling unaccountably weary at the thought. Is he still doubting my commitment to the cause? Or is he seeing if I'm some kind of spy, who would jump at the idea of access to more information about what Lord Stadtfeld is planning? I was relieved I could, for once, easily discard my concerns. I'd given him no cause to doubt my reliability, and I'd proven my willingness to kill to further the cause of the cell. And the cell was currently far too small to justify inserting an agent to gather intelligence, so the whole idea that I was a planted spy would be laughable, especially considering the Britannian tendency of shooting any number that looked rebellious and only determining guilt after the fact.
I still felt myself waffling, though. Nothing this good came without major strings attached, in my experience, and I couldn't help but try and figure out what those strings were before I agreed. After all, when I'd thought I'd been assigned to a training squad, I discovered that the training squad also were the guinea pigs for prototype orbs. When command had picked up and implemented my rapid response mage battalion idea, I'd ended up stuck with the task of getting the whole concept to work. Even when I'd manage to knock Dacia out of the war in a month, my only reward had been deployment back to the Rhine Front, where I'd... where's my arm where's my face run out of luck.
Naoto interrupted my trip down memory lane with a deliberate cough. "Honestly, there's another way you could help the cell: if you gain a bit of weight, you'll look just like a Britannian. You're the only one of us who doesn't look obviously Japanese, but you're too skinny to pass as a Brit civilian right now." I don't know exactly what expression I made in response to that, but Naoto hastily began talking again, this time in a soothing tone, as if I'd pulled a gun on him. "Look, I know you hate Britannians, but just think about it, Tanya! You'll be able to infiltrate the Concession with ease! None of them would think a cute little girl is actually an agent of the Resistance! Remember your idea about selling drugs to the Britannians? Having an agent who can pass as Britannian and who looks so harmless would make that whole plan far simpler!"
At the "cute little girl" line, my hands had begun to ball into fists, but I took in a deep breath, relaxed them, and thought about the whole idea rationally. While my memories being dolled up for the Propaganda Bureau, with Visha enthusiastically cooing over me, were humiliating, they'd already proven useful when convincing Ohgi to give me a weapon. Ignoring the prickling in the corners of my eyes again as I started to cry again, dammit, why?! I looked back up at Naoto, nodded, and smiled.
"I'm eager to help the cell in whichever way you think is best." I began, but Naoto interrupted me for the second time. "No, that's not what I meant." He paused, seemingly going over his words, and began again. "I think you have the best understanding of what you are capable of, and you are intelligent enough to understand what we are trying to do. Hell, you basically made Tamaki reconsider why he's fighting Britannia in about three sentences. I want you to tell me where you think you'll do the most good, and I'll put you there." I had? When? When I'd insulted him? Wait, is he giving me the freedom to choose my own assignment?!
I had never had that kind of freedom before. In my corporate first life, I had been a cog in a machine, turning as I was directed to by those higher up. In my military second life, I had similarly been a small part of a far greater whole, my desires immaterial to the far away staff officers deciding where I was to go and what I was to do based on their own understanding of vast and intricate strategic plans. The only time I'd been given any degree of freedom to execute my orders as I'd seen fit had been with the creation of the 203rd , but it had been made clear to me from the beginning that my handling of that task would be under constant review. But now, I had found myself employed by what I was coming to understand was essentially a start-up operating in a hostile environment. That meant that there was no safety net in place, no appealing to higher authority or relying upon reserves of personnel or supplies, but that also meant that Naoto was free to operate his cell as he wished, as long as he carried out his backer's objectives. And so he'd decided to pass that freedom on to me...
I swallowed hard, trying to force the uncomfortable lump in the back of my throat down, and scrubbed vaguely at my eyes. I had begun to wonder if I had developed an allergy to dust or something, because recently I just kept tearing up during seemingly every conversation and it was because you were alone and hungry for so long that any kindness seems foreign very inconvenient and quite annoying.
"Thank you very much, sir. I appreciate your confidence in me." I was proud at how smoothly and professional that had come out, with only a minimum of the hoarse scratchyness of hay fever marring the delivery. I need to keep my cool! My mind whirred at the implications of what he was offering. I can't show too much enthusiasm or he'll doubt my ability to remain competent while self-directed! "If you don't mind, I would like to speak with Inoue and Ohgi first, so I can get a better understanding of how the cell operates, before I commit to any specific project or role."
Naoto smiled and nodded, the exhaustion I'd noticed stamped on his face seeming to fade into... relief? Was he worried I'd be offended by a promotion? That didn't make any sense – it was a rare employee who was opposed to climbing the totem pole, and I was certain I'd clearly signaled my desire to advance in the organization. Perhaps he was concerned that I might immediately let my new freedom go to my head and start issuing demands? I could understand that – some people always tried to take a mile for any inch given and felt no scruples about biting the hand that fed them. Fortunately, as an experienced corporate operator, I understood the importance of being loyal to patrons. He knew exactly the coin to buy my favor, I marveled at the savvy Naoto had just displayed. Certainly not an Alexander, perhaps more a Caesar on the rise? He's given me enough rope to hang myself, while also putting me deeply in his debt. He's giving me an opportunity to prove myself while keeping me firmly under his thumb. I had, of course, no ambitions of challenging Naoto for control of the group, as among other reasons I had no relationship to Lord Stadtfeld, but he didn't know that, and I could only admire the way he had dealt with a potential internal rival.
"Fine with me!" Naoto pushed off the table and stood, and I hastily made to drop the crackers and stand up as well, only for him to wave me back down. "No need. It's my mother's weekly day off today, and I'm meeting her for dinner." He walked towards the door, snagging his coat from the peg it hung by as went. "Ohgi will be back shortly, so he can take you over to the hideout if you want. Inoue should be coming in tonight to update our inventory, so you'll have an opportunity to talk with her as well if you'd like."
The implicit message was loud and clear. I wouldn't be allowed to sit on my laurels – Naoto had given me operational freedom, and he expected to see dividends quickly. "Understood! I'll get right on that." I chirped a reply, smiling coolly to try and express both my pleasure at my new assignment and my professional capacity. Naoto frowned slightly at that for some reason, but shook his head and left rather than raise whatever concern he had. Must be late for his dinner meeting.
As I waited for Ohgi to show up, I sat and thought about what I could bring to the organization, and what the organization actually needed to further progress towards the goal, namely seizing de facto power over Area 11 by supporting Lord Statdfeld's political goals with Naoto's armed force. Truthfully, we were a long way away from fulfilling that lofty ambition, or my lesser personal ambition of holding a well compensated yet safe position in the Stadtfeld organization. As far as I knew, the total extent of the organization was six men and women in a bunker, seven if you counted Kallen, without any significant resources at our disposal to buy or bribe help.
A humble beginning to be sure, but we also had the advantage of being internally united, without any factions trying to challenge Naoto for leadership, and we were independent of any larger organization, meaning we were free to pursue our own goals. And since every other armed group in Shinjuku is hostile towards us already, we had an absolute abundance of targets
Our challenges could be broadly broken down into three mutually reinforcing issues: Lack of funding and supplies, lack of personnel, and lack of notoriety or public relations.
Without expanding our resource base and establishing more revenue streams, we would be unable to supply, arm, and train new recruits, conduct missions outside of Shinjuku, or pay bribes for information or assistance. I could help with this by negotiating with potential suppliers for better rates, scouting Shinjuku for opportunities to raid other organizations for their assets, or by attempting to find a way into the Concession.
However, our ability to establish new revenue sources would be dubious at best until we acquired more manpower. Our present numbers barely allowed for small hit and run missions, and the loss of even a single member would severely impact our organizational efficacy. In order for the Kozuki organization to survive, to say nothing of meeting our objectives, we needed to expand. I didn't think I'd be the best recruiter, considering my obvious mixed heritage and age, but if I encouraged other cell members to find likely candidates and bring them to me, I was sure that the personnel management skills I'd built up in my past two lives would help me sort the wheat from the chaff.
In order to recruit beyond the social circles of per-existing members, and in order to open up potential funding sources like donations from sympathizers, the Kozuki group needed more recognition, or at least notoriety. Our implicit goal was to serve as the red right hand and attack dogs for the Stadtfeld organization, improving the lives of the Japanese by usurping de facto power from the current Britannian administration, a goal that required us to be a feared element that the average Britannian knew existed. After some thought, I considered that the successful insurgencies of my first life had constructive elements as well as destructive tendencies – from religious extremists to fascist militias to dead-ender communist groups hiding in jungles and caves, all successful irregular forces offered something beyond the war to potential recruits. By contrast, the fools who had tried to take Arene from us had no goal, nothing to offer the people of their city, other than a momentary opportunity to take revenge on an occupying power. I remembered exactly how well that had ended for them.
As I began to consider how to deal with the Gordian knot these overlapping issues represented, Ohgi finally showed up, dripping with enough rain water to flatten his pompadour out completely. I desperately wanted to say it was a dramatic improvement, but it just made him look like a drowned man.
"Ah, good, you're finally here!" Before he'd even closed the door to the studio behind him, I was already up and moving. I didn't own a raincoat, but at least the rain would ideally wash the worst of the filth from my borrowed sweatshirt, and I had found a mostly intact umbrella while scavenging a weak ago. "Let's get over to the basement. I need to see what we've currently got stocked up, and what we need."
Ohgi looked unhappy at the prospect of going back out so soon, but after I pointed out that he was already soaked he gave in. Soon, we were heading through the rain-slicked streets of Shinjuku, carefully avoiding the many flooded areas and dodging around potholes.
The collapse of any kind of civic infrastructure in Shinjuku beyond impromptu repairs made by whoever cared enough to work had led to the effective destruction of the drain system in the Ghetto. Any storm drains that hadn't been destroyed during the combat or collapsed from neglect were jammed with accumulated rubble and trash, and flooded whenever any substantial quantity of rain fell. Worse yet were the old subway tunnels, many of which served as shelter for large numbers of Japanese refugees, particularly those newly forced into Shinjuku from areas annexed into the Concession. The broken tunnels were almost constantly wet, and some of the lower areas fully flooded during monsoon season, driving many out into the streets in search of alternative shelter and causing many of those who stuck it out below ground to catch pneumonia. Aside from the harsh winter months, the monsoon period was easily the worst time to be stuck in Shinjuku.
I considered this as Ohgi and I did our best to avoid the filthier puddles, where the corpses of drowned rats floated and the patinas of oil shimmered. I knew that some combat groups in the world I'd once lived in had conducted urban renewal programs and other civic improvements to buy the love of the local population and to burnish their credentials as the guardians of the common man, and I wondered if we could co-opt that strategy for our own purposes. Organizing whoever was willing to work would give us an excuse to talk to lots of people who were demonstrably interested in improving life in the Ghetto, and acquiring construction equipment would give us an excuse to haul large loads of materials around, which could make smuggling operations more practical as well. Further, if we could make contacts in the local construction firms, that could be a source of specialized labor, particularly people who have experience with demolitions and explosives, which might make it easier to produce material for bombs. Plus, we would actually be improving the lives of the people of Shinjuku, which would improve the group's PR and would reflect well on me.
I wondered idly if the group had ever considered that sort of public outreach as a recruiting tactic before. I wonder what recruiting tactics they've tried at all, considering how small the organization is. I looked up at the man stoically walking a pace ahead of me, doing his best to ignore the wind blowing the rain into our faces. Naoto said I should speak to Inoue and Ohgi, and referenced strategy and logistics when outlining potential ways I could assist the group. If Inoue is the logistics officer, is Ohgi in charge of planning? If so, he'd probably have a handle on recruitment efforts, if only in a supervisory role.
"Hey, Ohgi," I began, raising my voice slightly over the wind and taking a quick look around to see if there was anybody nearby to overhear. Fortunately, the rain had swept the people of Shinjuku from its streets as effortlessly as it had swept the garbage into the clogged gutters, and nobody else was foolish enough to be outside at the moment. "Can I ask you a question?"
Fortunately, Ohgi slowed down so I didn't have to try and keep up with him while holding a conversation. He looked miserable, but smiled encouragingly at me. "What do you want to know, Tanya?"
"How do we find people?" I tried to keep the question as general as possible, just in case the unmaintained streets had ears.
Ohgi sighed and shivered theatrically. "Well, Tanya, that's a pretty broad question, isn't it?" He muttered his response, stooping as a particularly strong gust threw the rain at us with renewed energy. "But considering what Naoto said he was going to talk to you about, I'm guessing you mean targets for your next attack, right?"
Figures that the sadist would immediately jump to the next battle. Honestly, if Ohgi was in charge of planning, it was miraculous the group hadn't been mired in constant running battles yet.
"I was actually thinking about recruiting." I decided to throw caution to the winds and stop beating around the bush. If Ohgi was willing to talk about my budding war on the yakuza in the open air, I could talk about recruitment. Plus, I was getting cold enough that I urgently wanted a distraction from the water running down my spine. "What recruitment operations are we currently running? I know you and Naoto go way back, but you can't recruit an army with social connections alone."
Ohgi grunted noncommittally, before sighing again. "We're not currently running any recruitment operations, Tanya. What you see is what we've got."
No way! Nobody's recruiting for this group at all? "But, what happens if someone dies? Or what happens if we need a mission that requires more than six people? Why aren't we recruiting?!" I tried to keep my tone politely professional, but a crack of anger came through on the last sentence. I just couldn't understand why the organization had neglected such a crucial function of any successful enterprise.
Ohgi winced. "Well, Tanya... None of us are professional rebels, you know? This cell just kind of... happened, once Naoto got back from Britannia. He had all kinds of ideas, and enough money and guns to get us started, but..." He winced again and swallowed. "Well, after we reached out to our old friends and acquaintances we thought would be interested, we didn't really have any idea where to go from there. You can't exactly publicly recruit for an anti-Britannian rebel group, you see?"
I processed the information I'd gotten from Ohgi as we continued to make our way through Shinjuku. I had known the group was green when I'd first joined up, but I hadn't realized how inexperienced they really were. Looking back, I could see lots of things that should have clued me in to how new this cell was, including the way Naoto had carelessly revealed sensitive information and explosives in front of me, and how easy it had been to take down Tamaki.
I had fundamentally misunderstood a key aspect of my employment, and I was rapidly beginning to suspect that Naoto and Ohgi had also misunderstood the same thing I had. I hadn't really been on-boarded as an intern or an entry-level employee like I had suspected. Instead, I'd almost been hired on as something of an outside consultant, someone with valuable experience that could be used to improve the core experience of the group, given adequate time, resources, and freedom. I hadn't recognized that, because I was under the impression that the group was more established than it actually was. Naoto hadn't recognized that, because he hadn't expected someone of my physical age to contribute much to the group beyond another body to throw at problems.
Thankfully, in light of my recent achievements, Naoto had reconsidered my role and granted me the freedom I needed to really improve my new cell. I had earned sufficient respect from at the very least my supervisor and hopefully the rest of my comrades as well to propose alterations to the strategy of the group; now I would have to follow up by improving the operations necessary to make those strategies something other than idle dreams
Inoue was already waiting for us in the thankfully dry sub-basement. Ohgi huddled near the generator, stretching his hands over the chugging machine in the hopes of warming them up just slightly, while I went to the lounge area to join Inoue, doing my best to ignore the wet chill of my clothes as I did so. Unfortunately, I couldn't convince her to start talking about the important matters of logistics until she had plopped a Britannian Army ration in front of me and acquiesced to her demand that I eat. I considered refusing, seeing how it would be difficult to maintain my professional poise with a mouthful of rehydrated spaghetti, but I remembered Naoto's exhortation to eat more so I would appear Britannian and gave in. The growling of my stomach had no impact on my decision making process, of course, but the chemically heated food did take the edge off the cold nicely.
"Naoto told me to tell you everything I can about how the cell's logistics work, so fell free to ask questions. Although, to be honest, there's lots of stuff I'm kind of unclear about myself... Most of our money comes from Naoto, who gets it from his father." Inoue had begun to brief me on the supply-side of our operations, starting with our revenue sources, of which we had essentially one. "I'm not exactly sure how that process works, but Naoto just hands me an envelope of money each month. Aside from that, we get some funding by selling goods we steal from Britannian owned warehouses and occasionally from the more isolated noble manors." As she went on, Ohgi joined me on the couch with his own packaged ration, but kept quiet as Inoue continued. "Most of these exchanges are cashless – we trade valuables or useful materials for weapons, ammunition, medical supplies, rations, so on and so forth."
I nodded. From my experience, most of the local Shinjuku economy was barter-based, and it made sense that the more pedestrian black market trades would follow suit. "What does the black market look like? Is it mostly independent sellers with informal connections to groups like yours? Or is it mostly gang representatives? Is there some kind of central venue, or is it more distributed."
"It's a pretty mixed bag." Inoue had begun to smile, and I wondered if she'd been eager for someone to talk shop with. "It really depends on what you're selling, and what you're trying to buy. Thanks to the Britannians," she grimaced, as did Ohgi, the default response to any mention of our hated conquerors, "even stuff you wouldn't think would be on the black market is, since they collect their 'taxes' as often as they send soldiers to patrol here. So, you've got lots of independents selling food, blankets, clothes, lightbulbs, hand tools, you name it, and they tend to sell out of their houses, or backrooms or whatever." She made a cutting gesture with one hand, as if setting that demographic aside.
"Then you've got slightly larger players who trade more specific, valuable items. Lots of them are around our size, less than ten people, and they tend to be dedicated to a specific type of item. Vehicle parts, medical supplies, medicine, computer parts, burner phones, that sort of thing. Usually valuable, usually portable, and something you'd probably get shot for if the Brits finding you selling it."
I nodded understandingly at that. Those were the bread and butter of groups like our own, and it was understandable that the Britannians heavily discouraged their sale to Elevens like ourselves. "And how do these small, independent operators sell their goods?"
"Well, that depends. Some of them have little hideouts like our basement." Inoue gestured at the bare cement walls, particularly the armory shelves. "There's a couple of loose groups that have banded together to hold periodic exchanges in a few of the more abandoned subway stations – the ones that are flooded half the year. They usually charge a small fee to enter, and usually apply a tax to sales made in their markets, which go towards bribing the Britannians to stay away from those areas. Oh yeah, those markets pretty much exclusively deal in Brit cash or valuables."
That raised an interesting point regarding the corruptibility of the local Britannian garrison, but Inoue was on a roll and I didn't want to divert her onto a tangent, so I just signaled for her to keep going.
The gray eyed woman nodded, and continued. "Above that, and you're getting into the lower end gangs, which is about as high as we've ever traded. They control the local weapons trade, and if you want to buy firearms and ammunition here in Shinjuku, you can't escape dealing with the gangs. Same goes for hard drugs, good medicine, explosives, and people."
That raised all kinds of questions, starting from 'can you be more specific about which gangs are involved in what?' to 'people?', and I decided to start with the most obvious one.
Inoue sighed. "Yes, people. The Britannians aren't the only slavers around in Shinjuku, I'm afraid. The gangs deal in kidnapping and ransom collection, and they sell people who they aren't paid for quickly enough to whoever wants to buy them, or put them to work in some of the more, ah... extreme entertainment areas catering to Britannians." She winced as she talked about the last bit, and I could understand why. Nobody wanted to talk to a child about human trafficking, after all.
That said, Naoto had clearly approached me as an adult capable of making my own choices, and if I backslid now when it would be convenient, he likely would lose faith in my ability to stand on my own two feet once Ohgi inevitably reported back to him. Time to nip this in the bud.
"Inoue, my mother was a prostitute." I began, choosing my words with care. "I know how she paid our rent and bought our food. I know what a brothel is. I'm fortunate that she cared enough about me to tell me which streets I should avoid at all costs, and the kind of men I should run from. You don't need to censor yourself around me."
Now Inoue and Ohgi both looked uncomfortable, which I regretted, but it had to be done. "Tanya..." Inoue began in a soft voice, "I wasn't just talking about prostitution. I don't know if it's still happening, but... Well, at least for a few years after the conquest, some of the Britannian nobles would pay to watch dogs sicced on Japanese. Apparently, they'd take bets on how many minutes it would take before the dogs would tear out their throats." She trailed off, and Ohgi chimed in with the caveat "At least according to the rumors."
Well, that was... interesting, in a way. It's utterly disgusting. It's a waste of human resources and displays a contempt for our common humanity. I supposed it wasn't too much of a stretch from the infamous Coliseum Games of the Romans, but the idea of being savaged by dogs before a crowd of watching Britannian nobles... I didn't need a new reason to hate the Britannians, and I didn't want to get overly emotional. I was here to do a job, and I could rage at the utter depravity of the barbarians who had conquered us later.
"Tell me more about the gangs. Do different gangs specialize in different goods? Do they have any sort of united governing organization, or do they compete against each other?"
Inoue shook herself, and continued, her voice returning to its previous, confident timbre. "The gangs are in no way united. They frequently go to war with each other, usually over territory, but sometimes over the right to sell at different markets." She took a breath, and continued in a lecturing tone. I wondered if Ohgi was the only former teacher in our ranks. "Basically, there are a few pieces of common ground throughout Shinjuku where weekly meets are held – they're pay to enter, but they tend to be pretty safe, since nobody wants business disrupted. The gangs tend to work out who will get to sell what or where either by negotiating or fighting during the week before the market."
Ohgi looked up from his ration again. "They're usually a pretty well attended affair. Lots of Japanese, but lots of Britannians there too – soldiers and nobles usually, but you get a few corporate types every now and again."
Which led neatly into another useful discussion topic. "How corrupt are the Britannians here?" I asked. "Clearly there's some on the take, but how do you know which ones won't just shoot you and take the cash?"
Inoue nodded briskly. "Great question. That's always a risk, especially as you go higher up in the food chain." She began tapping on the table, presumably burning of stress as she continued. "If you can, approach soldiers from the homeland, not the other areas. They're more confident in their supremacy, so they'll take the bribes as their due and leave you alone. The ones drawn from other Number populations feel the need to prove their loyalty, so they're less willing to take a bribe – or pricier if they do."
"Approach the common Britannian soldiers, and be prepared to spend a great deal." A simple rule. "Makes sense. Anything else?"
"Check their uniforms." Ohgi had finished his food, and leaned in to the discussion. "Their bodies and posture too. If their uniforms look shabby, or if they're overweight or slouching, they're probably not worried about looking good or working hard. They're usually the ones willing to take a bit to look the other way."
That seemed like a decidedly risky assumption to make, and I took it with a grain of salt, remembering that the cell was almost as new to all this as I was. But, they're still alive and free, so they might be onto something. It did mesh with what I remembered from my time in the Imperial Army – most of the time, the more slovenly a soldier was, the less concerned with they were. On the other hand, if they had just signed up for the opportunity to kill with impunity, they'd be equally unconcerned with the niceties of military life and perfectly willing to murder.
After that, the meeting gradually wound down, until Inoue announced she had to get home to make dinner for her aged parents. I thanked her for her time, and reassured her that Ohgi and I would shut down the generator and lock up before we left. I took the opportunity to convince Ohgi to join me for a bit of target practice, and spent the next hour improving his accuracy with great results. He seemed somewhat bemused at being instructed by a biological child, inverting the relationship he was accustomed to, but to his credit he dutifully corrected his grip when prompted and stopped jerking the pistol up when he pulled the trigger.
After another wet walk back home, I found myself back under my blanket with a mind brimming with ideas. It was clear that the gangs had to go, but if they had that much traffic with Britannians someone would have to at least temporarily step into the market gap to prevent the Britannians from doing so themselves. Except for the human trafficking market segment, which would have to be torn out root and branch. On the plus side, freed slaves have always been an excellent source of rebellious fighters with nothing to lose.