The current Port Mafia boss was still the same old man Mori Ōgai had once pushed out of power in the original history. He lacked Mori's sly charm, but as one of Yokohama's "Three Kings," his rule was absolute. His orders were law, and his vision for the Mafia was one of raw violence — driving fear and blood into the city's veins.
And today, his orders were simple: wipe out a rival group, no witnesses.
Which meant that, in theory, there was no reason for the Mafia to spare an ordinary driver… or the quiet man called Zhongli, who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
---
The basement had been safe for a short while, but it was a dead end. Zhongli knew it.
Even though the driver protested, Zhongli took him and Tiaoye Caiju to the ground floor. They'd barely stepped out before stray gunfire whipped past — the air trembling with each shot.
Zhongli's expression didn't change. A golden shimmer rippled out from his hand, forming the Jade Shield. Bullets thudded against it, falling to the floor without so much as a spark.
The driver cowered behind him, trembling. Tiaoye Caiju, on the other hand, tilted his head, "looking" in the shield's direction.
He'd expected earthen walls or stone spears — like what surveillance footage had shown Zhongli using before. But this… this shield appeared from nothing, harder than steel, swallowing all force from the bullets as if the air itself had turned solid.
"Mr. Zhongli's abilities are truly… versatile," Caiju said sincerely.
Zhongli didn't answer — Port Mafia gunmen had spotted them. Shots rang out again, but Caiju's blade flashed, scattering the incoming fire.
"It's rude to aim at my guest," Caiju said with a smile, his blade leveled at the nearest gunman.
His ability, Tears of a Thousand Gold, allowed his body to scatter into particles — perfect for chaotic close-range fights. But the enemy had ability-users too, and while Caiju could even the odds, he couldn't guarantee victory.
Zhongli took the chance to pull the driver back, heading toward a section of wall blasted open earlier.
"No one's guarding here. Kawashima-san, run. Don't stop. Don't look back," Zhongli instructed.
The driver's grip on Zhongli's wrist was tight, voice shaking. "No! You're coming with me!"
Zhongli's gaze softened, but his tone stayed firm. "You misunderstand. I won't act recklessly — but Mr. Jono signed a contract with me. Until that contract is broken, I keep my word… even if it means ensuring he receives a proper funeral."
Kawashima reluctantly let go, muttering a promise for Zhongli to stay safe before running for his life.
---
As soon as the driver vanished, Zhongli turned back toward the fight. Several stone ridges erupted from the ground.
"…Better to be precise," he murmured, and clenched his hand.
The resonance burst was silent — but devastating. Every enemy within its range collapsed, blood on their lips. Caiju, spared as an ally, only flinched as a drop of blood slid from his ear, his sharp hearing having taken the brunt.
"Another form?" he whispered.
The survivors shouted to retreat, but Zhongli simply said, "Mr. Tiaoye, shall we return to the basement?"
Caiju chuckled. "You really do honor your contracts, Mr. Zhongli."
---
Later, Zhongli returned the body as promised. His colleague, He Yao, was pale after hearing Kawashima's account.
"…Contract or not, you should've run," He Yao scolded, jabbing a prosthetic limb into place on the corpse.
"I keep my word," Zhongli replied simply.
When He Yao pleaded with him to be more careful — especially for Chuuya's sake — Zhongli's eyes softened. "Yes. I'll be mindful."
Then he excused himself early. "Mr. Jono settled the account today. I need to buy supplies for Chuuya before the shops close."
---
A small Port Mafia squad waited in the shadows.
"Our orders are clear," the captain said. "The ability-user isn't here. We take the boy and leave. Do not harm him."
One man frowned. "Why so careful?"
"…You didn't see him fight," the captain said quietly. "Trust me — you don't want to."
---
Chuuya Nakahara sat on the sofa under the lamplight, sounding out hiragana in a children's picture book. Zhongli had told him to keep the lights on while reading at night.
He turned a page — and froze.
A second later, the door exploded inward. Men in black suits poured in, guns raised.
"Take him."
Hands grabbed Chuuya's wrist roughly.
"…Pain," the boy muttered, looking up at them with a sharp glare. "You… bullying Chuuya?"
They ignored him, dragging him forward. The sting of their grip made something settle in Chuuya's mind.
The light in the room dimmed — then his body flared with a deep crimson glow.
"Sir said… bully Chuuya, I fight."
The men hesitated, caught between disbelief and an instinctive fear of whatever they'd just awakened.