The Slips

Leaving the bridge's groaning iron frame behind feels like stepping away from a roaring engine. The continuous rumble of the civilian commute dissolves, swallowed by the dense, bleak tenements of Sakae-chō.

Walking along the riverbank, Yuuki and Kitou watch barges carrying goods, or people plying the downstream lane. Descending the slope, they head toward a pier akin to a public-transport station.

When the fog ends the reliability of gas-powered vehicles and isolates the town, people soon realize how important, yet fragile, the old world's convenience of interconnectivity truly is.

To prioritize the ability to quickly distribute resources, the council makes the rivers the main arteries the entire populace depends on for survival. It is one of the first major undertakings people take as a collective as they try to recover from the shock of the many tragedies following the fog.

“Hey, Kitou-san, why don’t we go back and report this for now? Let’s think this through. We really could do with some more muscle to help us,” Yuuki asks warily, already expecting a turn-down.

He and Kitou line up for a flatboat that stops at the landing to let passengers disembark while it waits for the next ones.

“…I’m really low on stamina to handle the internal bickering and politics right now.” She steps aside to let an old man pass through, smiling to appreciate the gesture. She nods and returns his smile. “Do you wanna keep dragging yourself through the mud? Especially when we’re this close.”

“I feel more like you’re the one who keeps dragging me with you.” He sighs, ducking his head to avoid the boat’s awning, accepting that he’s in for the ride until the end. “You said you're low on stamina, but you've sure got a lot of it to keep headbutting with the chief.”

In front of him, Kitou squeezes through the narrow rows of low benches. “I’ll take the heat. And just like you said, I am the one who keeps dragging you so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“It’s not like I’m against resolving this case.” He sits next to her as the empty spots fill quickly. “I’m with you, but... we’ve been following this trail for four months. I can see you’re growing more and more hot-headed; I feel you’re losing it.”

Kitou stares into the water to her right; a brief silence passes before she murmurs, “You know how back then, some would say, 'life is work, work is life' 'cause lots of people did work like crazy?”

The flatboat is pushed away from the pier and begins downriver.

“They stuck it out of a sense of responsibility to society, though doubted whether their bone-breaking work even mattered... a cog gone and drop dead won’t change much. If they vanish, everything will still work normally as always.”

She puts both hands into her pockets. Yuuki knows a kiseru pipe is in one of them.

Slight creaking noises of the boat’s timber can be heard as it glides along the stream. Other people’s voices, the swish, and the water's ripples somewhat muffle Kitou’s voice.

Yuuki thinks that might be a good thing that others can’t hear her. When she’s like this, he prefers privacy over the conversation.

“Now plenty of things that used to be taken for granted are considered luxuries. We can be an inch away from total chaos and extinction, so people still work hard, but now... every effort matters.”

She lets out an ironic smile before continuing.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? Everything is reduced to rock bottom, and suddenly everything people do has meaning. Everybody has to pitch in just to survive.”

“Is that what’s driving you crazy? This whole case of someone stealing the power?”

“People work their asses off for things that would have been a morsel back then, and yet there are some assholes out there who dare to steal, siphoning the power line that could’ve made life a bit easier for many…”

She keeps her voice in check, but suppressed anger brims at the edge.

“I’ll find who, end it, and if I can, I’ll rip the answer to why out of them with my own bare hands!”

Yuuki doesn’t respond. Are you sure guilt also isn’t getting mixed up in it? The interjection pops in his mind, but he won’t voice it. It’s all the answer he needs.

Nothing good will come of pressing further, so he decides to keep following her obediently, as he always does.

Over the heads of the people around him, and through the awning, he sees the many movements and lives packed so densely it is as if the town's social life is being injected with new vigor to combat its complete sense of isolation.

But he is alone.

Kitou is the only person he knows from before the apocalypse who is still alive, and as far as he knows, he is the same for her. He is unsure what their relationship truly is. It is definitely not one of camaraderie.

A captive who keeps getting pulled around by his captor? That certainly feels like the case, considering their circumstances.

Like a loyal dog, he whines now and then but ultimately bends to his master’s wishes. The matter gnaws on his mind and soul, inciting the idea of revolt. That thought has sat in his mind for so long, yet he still follows.

Why?

He keeps the question but never seeks an answer.

As they get deeper into the district, the river slows down and fans out into a wide basin. Here, an inland harbor was built as a terminus where all flatboats or barges stop and dock.

The wharves can be seen lining the far side, forming a semicircle. The gangi looks exactly like a stone-tiered amphitheater, with angled slipways cutting through the stone steps like aisles in a stadium.

The flatboat slowly glides into a pier near the point of the wharves’ semicircle. As it comes alongside, the harbor's full-motion cacophony comes into view.

At the lower landing step, some people can be seen unloading cargo from the barges, with the much heavier crates being steadily lifted using wooden cranes.

Coordinated work also happens around one of the capstans mounted at the top of a ramp, where several people lean their whole body weight into the bars, pushing around the vertical drum in a continuous circle and winding the taut hemp rope connected to the boat’s cradle.

Many simply call the place the crescent, or the slips, either for its most striking image or its function.

“So, how’re we gonna do this?” Yuuki asks, adjusting his hat to block the dark smoke billowing from a nearby charcoal wagon’s boiler.

He and Kitou blend in among the busy workers as they survey the area. The alleyway now lies close ahead, and the blue metal door is around the corner. “We go in as potential buyers?”

“There must be spotters watching that narrow alleyway. If someone’s approaching, they’ll know,” Kitou sighs, a hint of frustration showing. “There really is no other way in, not even a damn window.”

“I see, you plan on sneaking in from the start… I guess you don’t even want to consider the idea of talking our way in…”

Yuuki looks toward the late afternoon sky. He wonders whether she is impatient or just trying to be efficient.

“It won’t be long before the evening rush starts,” he notes. “Maybe the commotion will give us a chance to sneak in? Or we can wait until it gets dark and quiet.”

“…let’s wait.”

Her acquiescence surprises him a little, as he expected another sharp objection. He supposes that, despite her behavior, she maintains enough control and self-restraint in a critical situation.

Part of him wants to believe the years haven’t completely corroded her acumen as a former detective.

At the same time, the same mixed feelings he's always had about that part of her identity endure, a constant source of internal conflict for him.

Overhead, a long, looping arc of gas lamps hisses and sputters, casting a warm, trembling orange glow over the oily, grimy ground. The sky has darkened, its remaining daylight shifting toward the horizon.

Not long after the evening chimes roll out, droves of adult workers gradually leave, snaking their way out of the crescent, while groups of young apprentices end their shifts a few hours earlier.

The few individual movements left behind the throng's tail contrast with what the place looked like just a few minutes ago. The seemingly abrupt shift from hectic hustle to near-hush is quite unsettling.

They both keep their heads down, staying inconspicuous as they watch for an opening.

When they decide to wait longer before approaching, someone comes out of the alley and briskly makes his way across, carrying a small wooden crate.

Kitou signals Yuuki to follow her. They shadow the person as he heads toward the wharf.

From a distance, the man can be seen making his way toward a flatboat moored on the lower step. He gets on, sets the crate down under the weather tarp covering the open hull, and heads back toward the dark alley.

“Do we go after him? Or—”

“Stay here, keep watch if that guy’s returning.”

With haste, Kitou carefully starts to jump down toward the pier. Yuuki takes a position one tier below the uppermost step to conceal himself, keeping his line of sight level with the harbor ground. He glances back and sees her just on board, beginning her search.

Not long after he starts to feel things are going smoothly, movements can be seen coming out of the alley. It is not just one now, but several people beelining straight toward them.

Shit, something’s off.

He turns back to warn her, but doesn't get two steps in before he falters.

On the flatboat, Kitou is sprawled out, with a gas-masked figure standing right near her. They look down at her motionless body before turning to face him.

A rush of dread paralyzes him. He tries to snap out of it quickly, forcing his body to move.

But before he can act, something flashes.

Something smothers his mouth and nose from behind. His consciousness slips away faster before he can react.

There’s a brief sensation like falling from a great height; bits of his mind scatter like vapor. An alien sense of separation seeps in, then swallows him completely into pitch black.