Fact: Aki doesn't know what she's doing half the time.
still_ciircee has written a fantastic Arashi mafia piece (READ IT, READ IT NOW), but after watching Baccano! and reading up on the prohibition, mafias and camorras and blood_opal's terrible, terrible enabling skills, w-well.
What about an Arashi mafia piece set in 1920s America?
1924: Manhattan, New York
"You sure this is the right place?" Nino asked again.
Aiba slapped Nino in the shoulder, ignoring the other man's grimace. "My mom's taken me here like billions of times for celebratory parties!"
"Not your dad?" Nino said, gingerly picking up a dusty feather boa from the display table. He promptly laid it back down when the old storekeeper arched a thick eyebrow in his direction.
"Nah," Aiba said with a shrug, "Dad's more into the distilling."
"Yeah, not much of a talker is he," said Nino distractedly.
As his best friend launched into a long (and boring) story of how his family started their new business, Nino allowed his eyes to roam around the store, avoiding the gaze of its grim-looking owner. They were standing in a costume shop - or what claimed to be a costume shop. The "costumes" were nothing but old, secondhand evening gowns with sequins hanging off by a thin thread, while the accessories laid covered by a layer of dust and mold. For a store that was supposed to be a cover from prying eyes, it screamed of shady operations. Or a scene from some gruesome zombie film.
"--anyway we should probably continue this inside," said Aiba, beaming.
"Sure," Nino said. The dust in that place was beginning to tickle his nose.
"So uh... is there a password or something?" Aiba asked the storekeeper.
Sometimes Nino wondered why his best friend was still alive; he had the survival instincts of a radish. He was ready to make a run for it when, to his surprise, the old man rolled his eyes. "No password 'cause I know you, idiot," the man said in a thick Italian accent. "You come with your mama since you were little."
"Thanks, Giovanni," said Aiba cheerfully.
"My name is Gianni," the storekeeper sighed, somewhat resigned. (Nino could very much relate.) He turned from the counter and slid a panel of the wall open. "Go on, stupid," Gianni said.
Despite the insult, Aiba flashed the Italian a huge smile, before yanking Nino through the hole and into...
... a large, spacious banquet hall.
Beneath bright chandeliers, patrons sat on cushioned seats, dining on tables covered with silky red cloth. Soothing music- jazz? -drifted through the hall, adding a classy atmosphere to the whole affair. It was hard, no, impossible to believe that a filthy costume shop was hiding such wonders in the back.
"So this is a speakeasy," Nino breathed.
"Owned by the Moretti family," Aiba said, quite pleased with Nino's reaction. "The boss's nephew likes it clean and pretty."
"I'll say," Nino said, staring at the clear crystals of the chandelier hanging above their heads. Vaguely, he wondered how much profit a beauty like that could rake in.
Aiba grinned and tugged Nino to an empty table. "So what do you want? Wine? Beer? Whiskey?"
"Whatever your family makes," Nino said, flopping down onto a chair.
"Whiskey it is," Aiba declared proudly. "Hey Ohno!"
A young Japanese waiter who looked about their age, maybe younger, approached their table. He had a confused sort of smile, and his eyes were hooded in sleep. The waiter uniform was also a terrible fit for him: the jacket was too broad for his shoulders and the pants, if not upheld by a belt, would have drooped past his hips.
"Haven't seen you in a while, Aiba," Ohno said. Cute, thought Nino. His Brooklyn accent was still tinged with an obvious Japanese lilt.
"Been helping the family restaurant," Aiba said with an exaggerated wink. "If you know what I mean."
Nino groaned, prompting Ohno to gaze at him curiously. "Friend of yours?" Ohno asked Aiba.
"My best friend, Ninomiya Kazunari," the taller man said, throwing an arm round Nino's shoulders. "We're thinking of opening a whole new boot-legging operation of our own!"
"Yeah well, best friend 'till he does something stupid," Nino corrected, earning a playful punch in return.
"Everyone here does stupid things," Ohno said, laughing quietly.
"Even you?" said Nino.
Ohno cocked his head to the side in contemplation. "Depends," he said then, still smiling. "Got someone you want out of the picture?"
In the tense pause that followed, Aiba cut in to give Ohno their orders, which Ohno obediently took to the bar at the far end of the hall. Once the waiter was out of earshot, Aiba waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Nino. "Is Ohno cute or is Ohno cute?" he said.
"Up until the murder joke," Nino snorted.
Aiba laughed. "That's Ohno Satoshi for you," he chuckled. "Likes to scare people to see their reactions. His sister married a capo of the Moretti family, so the boss lets him work here part-time."
"So he's not a hired assassin?"
"What?" said Aiba incredulously. "Ohno wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Right," said Nino.
And the Aiba family wouldn't be producing moonshine for one of the most powerful mafias in America.
1922: Manhattan, New York
"Get this, Harry," the cop guffawed, "Ol' Bruno here says he was attacked by a monster."
"Yeah, Joe? What'd he look like?" said his partner, grinning. "Hairy, red eyes, answers to Big Foot?"
The distraught middle-aged man, Bruno, shook his head wildly. "No joke, no joke! I saw it, I swear! It came out of nowhere and sliced my buddy to shreds. Poor Elmo didn't even have time to scream! La vedova nera! La vedova nera!!"
"Hey!" Joe roared, jerking Bruno up by the collar. "You going for insults now, big guy!?"
"That means 'black widow' in Italian."
Instantly, the cop dropped Bruno and saluted, his partner hastily following suit. "Sir! You're back early, Sir!"
The superintendent raised a thin eyebrow at the two, before he beckoned to the terrified Italian. "Bruno, was it? Follow me, please. We'll continue this discussion in my office. And Sho," he added as an afterthought. "Some coffee would be nice."
The young officer beside him threw a smart salute. "Right away, Sir."
"As you were," the superintendent told Harry and Joe as he walked away, Bruno trailing like a cowed shadow behind him.
"... thought the black widow was just an urban legend, Harry?" said the cop.
"Beats me," said his partner.
1922: Brooklyn, New York
Ohno held up the shirt and examined it at arm's length. It was plain-looking; grey, with a simple pattern on the sleeves to break the dull colour. "I like it," he finally concluded.
Mina gave him an affectionate shove. "Oh please," she said with a tinkling laugh. "You like everything."
"Yeah," said Ohno, grinning. He folded the shirt up neatly and tossed it into his suitcase, a disorganized packing system his mother would later come in to reset for him.
Leaning over, Mina gave her little brother a peck on the cheek. "I wish you had accepted the offer to move in with us."
"No you don't," Ohno said, touching his cheek. "At least, your husband sure wouldn't."
Mina smiled. "Can't argue with that."
They sat side by side on the bed for a few minutes in comfortable silence.
"Did you ever find a roommate?" Mina asked after a while.
"Yeah," said Ohno. "Rookie officer, actually."
Mina whipped her head round so fast, Ohno was sure he heard a distinct crack. "You're staying with a cop?" she gasped, sounding like she was about to hyperventilate any second.
"Funny guy," Ohno continued. "Thinks the Volstead Act is the second coming of Christ."
"You..." Mina flailed, trying to find the right words. She looked so comical, Ohno had to bite his lip to hold back a laugh. "What's wrong with you? I mean, you're not exactly known for... for... for clean..." More flailing. "... I mean, the last time you came home, your whole face--!!"
"I like challenges," Ohno said. "Makes me feel alive."
"It's all fun and games until you end up in Alcatraz with your pants down and a man's finger up your ass," Mina said sharply.
"Can I quote you on that?" Ohno said, amused.
"Shut up," said Mina. "To think I defended you when Jun called you a lunatic."
"Jun was the one who hired me," Ohno pointed out.
"Well you're both crazy!" Mina snapped. Hopping off the bed, she stormed out of the room.
"Thanks again for the shirt," Ohno called after her.
I may or may not have written a timeline.
GOOD NIGHT. *curls under covers in shame*
[I LIED; edit, because this needs to be recorded somewhere]
OTAKU-SENSEI: LAUNCHING.
OTAKU-SENSEI: [rises slowly from desk]
OTAKU-SENSEI: [makes helicopter noises as he travels past my seat]
AKI: [cracks up]
OTAKU-SENSEI: You're always laughing at me. Why is that?
What about an Arashi mafia piece set in 1920s America?
1924: Manhattan, New York
"You sure this is the right place?" Nino asked again.
Aiba slapped Nino in the shoulder, ignoring the other man's grimace. "My mom's taken me here like billions of times for celebratory parties!"
"Not your dad?" Nino said, gingerly picking up a dusty feather boa from the display table. He promptly laid it back down when the old storekeeper arched a thick eyebrow in his direction.
"Nah," Aiba said with a shrug, "Dad's more into the distilling."
"Yeah, not much of a talker is he," said Nino distractedly.
As his best friend launched into a long (and boring) story of how his family started their new business, Nino allowed his eyes to roam around the store, avoiding the gaze of its grim-looking owner. They were standing in a costume shop - or what claimed to be a costume shop. The "costumes" were nothing but old, secondhand evening gowns with sequins hanging off by a thin thread, while the accessories laid covered by a layer of dust and mold. For a store that was supposed to be a cover from prying eyes, it screamed of shady operations. Or a scene from some gruesome zombie film.
"--anyway we should probably continue this inside," said Aiba, beaming.
"Sure," Nino said. The dust in that place was beginning to tickle his nose.
"So uh... is there a password or something?" Aiba asked the storekeeper.
Sometimes Nino wondered why his best friend was still alive; he had the survival instincts of a radish. He was ready to make a run for it when, to his surprise, the old man rolled his eyes. "No password 'cause I know you, idiot," the man said in a thick Italian accent. "You come with your mama since you were little."
"Thanks, Giovanni," said Aiba cheerfully.
"My name is Gianni," the storekeeper sighed, somewhat resigned. (Nino could very much relate.) He turned from the counter and slid a panel of the wall open. "Go on, stupid," Gianni said.
Despite the insult, Aiba flashed the Italian a huge smile, before yanking Nino through the hole and into...
... a large, spacious banquet hall.
Beneath bright chandeliers, patrons sat on cushioned seats, dining on tables covered with silky red cloth. Soothing music- jazz? -drifted through the hall, adding a classy atmosphere to the whole affair. It was hard, no, impossible to believe that a filthy costume shop was hiding such wonders in the back.
"So this is a speakeasy," Nino breathed.
"Owned by the Moretti family," Aiba said, quite pleased with Nino's reaction. "The boss's nephew likes it clean and pretty."
"I'll say," Nino said, staring at the clear crystals of the chandelier hanging above their heads. Vaguely, he wondered how much profit a beauty like that could rake in.
Aiba grinned and tugged Nino to an empty table. "So what do you want? Wine? Beer? Whiskey?"
"Whatever your family makes," Nino said, flopping down onto a chair.
"Whiskey it is," Aiba declared proudly. "Hey Ohno!"
A young Japanese waiter who looked about their age, maybe younger, approached their table. He had a confused sort of smile, and his eyes were hooded in sleep. The waiter uniform was also a terrible fit for him: the jacket was too broad for his shoulders and the pants, if not upheld by a belt, would have drooped past his hips.
"Haven't seen you in a while, Aiba," Ohno said. Cute, thought Nino. His Brooklyn accent was still tinged with an obvious Japanese lilt.
"Been helping the family restaurant," Aiba said with an exaggerated wink. "If you know what I mean."
Nino groaned, prompting Ohno to gaze at him curiously. "Friend of yours?" Ohno asked Aiba.
"My best friend, Ninomiya Kazunari," the taller man said, throwing an arm round Nino's shoulders. "We're thinking of opening a whole new boot-legging operation of our own!"
"Yeah well, best friend 'till he does something stupid," Nino corrected, earning a playful punch in return.
"Everyone here does stupid things," Ohno said, laughing quietly.
"Even you?" said Nino.
Ohno cocked his head to the side in contemplation. "Depends," he said then, still smiling. "Got someone you want out of the picture?"
In the tense pause that followed, Aiba cut in to give Ohno their orders, which Ohno obediently took to the bar at the far end of the hall. Once the waiter was out of earshot, Aiba waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Nino. "Is Ohno cute or is Ohno cute?" he said.
"Up until the murder joke," Nino snorted.
Aiba laughed. "That's Ohno Satoshi for you," he chuckled. "Likes to scare people to see their reactions. His sister married a capo of the Moretti family, so the boss lets him work here part-time."
"So he's not a hired assassin?"
"What?" said Aiba incredulously. "Ohno wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Right," said Nino.
And the Aiba family wouldn't be producing moonshine for one of the most powerful mafias in America.
1922: Manhattan, New York
"Get this, Harry," the cop guffawed, "Ol' Bruno here says he was attacked by a monster."
"Yeah, Joe? What'd he look like?" said his partner, grinning. "Hairy, red eyes, answers to Big Foot?"
The distraught middle-aged man, Bruno, shook his head wildly. "No joke, no joke! I saw it, I swear! It came out of nowhere and sliced my buddy to shreds. Poor Elmo didn't even have time to scream! La vedova nera! La vedova nera!!"
"Hey!" Joe roared, jerking Bruno up by the collar. "You going for insults now, big guy!?"
"That means 'black widow' in Italian."
Instantly, the cop dropped Bruno and saluted, his partner hastily following suit. "Sir! You're back early, Sir!"
The superintendent raised a thin eyebrow at the two, before he beckoned to the terrified Italian. "Bruno, was it? Follow me, please. We'll continue this discussion in my office. And Sho," he added as an afterthought. "Some coffee would be nice."
The young officer beside him threw a smart salute. "Right away, Sir."
"As you were," the superintendent told Harry and Joe as he walked away, Bruno trailing like a cowed shadow behind him.
"... thought the black widow was just an urban legend, Harry?" said the cop.
"Beats me," said his partner.
1922: Brooklyn, New York
Ohno held up the shirt and examined it at arm's length. It was plain-looking; grey, with a simple pattern on the sleeves to break the dull colour. "I like it," he finally concluded.
Mina gave him an affectionate shove. "Oh please," she said with a tinkling laugh. "You like everything."
"Yeah," said Ohno, grinning. He folded the shirt up neatly and tossed it into his suitcase, a disorganized packing system his mother would later come in to reset for him.
Leaning over, Mina gave her little brother a peck on the cheek. "I wish you had accepted the offer to move in with us."
"No you don't," Ohno said, touching his cheek. "At least, your husband sure wouldn't."
Mina smiled. "Can't argue with that."
They sat side by side on the bed for a few minutes in comfortable silence.
"Did you ever find a roommate?" Mina asked after a while.
"Yeah," said Ohno. "Rookie officer, actually."
Mina whipped her head round so fast, Ohno was sure he heard a distinct crack. "You're staying with a cop?" she gasped, sounding like she was about to hyperventilate any second.
"Funny guy," Ohno continued. "Thinks the Volstead Act is the second coming of Christ."
"You..." Mina flailed, trying to find the right words. She looked so comical, Ohno had to bite his lip to hold back a laugh. "What's wrong with you? I mean, you're not exactly known for... for... for clean..." More flailing. "... I mean, the last time you came home, your whole face--!!"
"I like challenges," Ohno said. "Makes me feel alive."
"It's all fun and games until you end up in Alcatraz with your pants down and a man's finger up your ass," Mina said sharply.
"Can I quote you on that?" Ohno said, amused.
"Shut up," said Mina. "To think I defended you when Jun called you a lunatic."
"Jun was the one who hired me," Ohno pointed out.
"Well you're both crazy!" Mina snapped. Hopping off the bed, she stormed out of the room.
"Thanks again for the shirt," Ohno called after her.
I may or may not have written a timeline.
GOOD NIGHT. *curls under covers in shame*
[I LIED; edit, because this needs to be recorded somewhere]
OTAKU-SENSEI: LAUNCHING.
OTAKU-SENSEI: [rises slowly from desk]
OTAKU-SENSEI: [makes helicopter noises as he travels past my seat]
AKI: [cracks up]
OTAKU-SENSEI: You're always laughing at me. Why is that?