Work Text:
Pianoman swept through the door of Old World, finally relaxing his shoulders once he'd sealed himself inside the security of the old brick billiard bar. His shift in posture allowed the bundle tucked against his chest to fall into the looser cradle of his arms. Looking down, he pushed a few flaps of fabric aside, finally deeming it safe enough to reveal the face of his coat’s contents to the world.
Lippmann, Albatross, and Iceman were already gathered around the counter at the back of the bar, chatting amongst themselves as they awaited a debriefing on the emergency meeting.
Lippmann was the first to give the new arrival a lingering look, and the glance turned into a double take.
“Pianoman…” Lippmann started. “Why do you have a baby?”
“Ohohoho,” Albatross guffawed.
Pianoman crossed the room with long strides. “This meeting needs to be kept with the utmost secrecy,” he began, tone warning.
“Wowoah.” Albatross made an…Albatross noise, lifting his sunglasses and leaning up over the bar counter to properly gape at the infant in Pianoman’s arms.
“I need your help,” the Flags leader appealed to his followers.
“I always assumed Lippmann would be the one to end up with this kind of surprise,” Iceman mused from his barstool. His face was flat, but there was clear interest in his eyes.
Pianoman narrowed his eyes a bit coldly. “Try to use your brains, everyone. It’s not mine, it’s… well, does it look familiar?”
Those gathered took in the curly red hair and pale pinkish skin, considering. It was true that the child didn’t share any obvious phenotypes with their leader.
Then, the bundle stirred, and a head turned to open bright blue eyes to its caretaker’s company.
“Chuuya?” Iceman, ever keen, figured it out first and managed to blurt his realization while Albatross was shocked into silence. A rare role reversal.
“He was hit with an ability?” Lippmann deduced through his surprise.
“Yes,” Pianoman confirmed, tone and expression serious.
Albatross arched back as he suddenly broke out into a gleeful cackle, clutching at his own waist. His other hand slapped the counter with a loud smack. “Hahahaha! Oh, well if it isn’t the almighty King of the Sheep, reduced to nothing but a babbling baby!” He dashed to round the counter, quickly moving in on the older man and child for a better look. Baby Chuuya hiccuped in surprise, spooked when a gaze and grin as sharp as a wolf’s loomed close to him.
“Joining the Flags was worth it just for the sight of that stupid look on his face!” Albatross exclaimed. “So priceless I could cry.” He mimed wiping away a tear as he looked back at his other two bewildered friends. “Wouldn’t you agree, Iceman?”
Iceman offered no response. He stared intently at the bundle, face impassive, or perhaps pinched by an unreadable emotion.
With a curious coo, Chuuya seemed to take notice of the braid at the back of Albatross’ head. He freed an arm from his wrappings to reach out and grasp hold of it, tugging.
“Hey!” Albatross’ balance faltered as he reached up and behind himself to swipe at the back of his own head. "Ow, you-" Now it was Pianoman and Lippmann’s turn to smile and laugh as he bowed back and squirmed.
After allowing the blonde to suffer for just a bit longer, Pianoman finally took pity on him. Deft pianist's fingers briefly battled against small but surprisingly strong ones to break him free.
“We should take him to Dazai,” Iceman advised.
“We can’t. He got hit with this while looking into his past, so Boss can’t find out,” Pianoman explained gravely, growing serious again.
Chuuya had been hit with some kind of age regression ability while out on a mission of personal stake with Pianoman. Though Pianoman had fought back the enemy user when they moved in to strike down the sudden baby on the floor, he’d also been forced to retreat before he could fully understand what had happened. And he wasn’t able to give chase because of Chuuya’s sudden helplessness. He couldn’t do much of anything in the field with Chuuya like this. So, he brought him to the safest place he knew of.
A mafia owned billiard bar.
Normally Pianoman would be the first one behind Albatross to express amusement at the situation, and at Chuuya’s expense.
The whole thing would be a lot funnier if his ass wasn’t also on the line.
“So he’s stuck like this?” Albatross suddenly stole Chuuya away, pulling the bundle from Pianoman’s arms before he could think of an argument against it.
Albatross' mouth formed an o as a look of dumb surprise crossed his face. “Oh wow, he’s not much heavier than my knife.” He scooped Chuuya out of his swaddle and sat the seat of his pants in his palm to demonstrate, weighing him consideringly as his other arm extended to offer the coat back.
A note of apprehension entered Pianoman's chest as his focus tunneled to Chuuya’s precarious position.
"Don't-" he started, grabbing his coat and moving to take Chuuya back. He was no expert on keeping things alive as opposed to killing them, but he definitely knew that wasn’t how you were supposed to hold a baby.
"Oh, Albatross." Lippmann swooped in before he could, lifting Chuuya into the air by his underarms with a swing as he stepped away from the bar in a half spin. Chuuya smiled at the near toss, a new sound escaping him when he giggled.
His clothes had also shrunk with him when he transformed, even his shoes. It made for a rather adorable sight, such a small child in a collared white shirt and black slacks.
Lippmann crooned so sweetly it was almost mocking. “Aw, how precious. Don’t worry little Chuuya. Papa Pianoman will take good care of you, won't he?” His gaze flicked from the youngest child to the eldest man in the room.
A gasp. “What will you do if you have to raise him as your own?” The question escaped Albatross like a sudden realization, and he looked childishly scandalized as he braked from making grabby hands at Lippmann for another chance to manhandle Chuuya.
Pianoman carefully folded his coat before placing it on the counter. He crossed his arms. “First of all, it takes a village, and I am the chief here, so don’t think any of you would be off the hook. Second,” —he grimaced, but only with his eyes— “I’d rather bite the bullet and owe the Demon Prodigy a favor than attempt fatherhood.”
“Aw, really? I think you’d be a good dad, Pianoman,” offered Albatross. “You even help me with my math homework!”
“Don’t call encrypted blood money financial reports math homework.”
“It’s mafia math! And you’re our mafia dad!”
“Our founding father, if you will,” Lippmann contributed, Chuuya on his hip.
A warningly unamused smile appeared on Pianoman’s face. “Kindly refrain from such a nickname. I am nowhere near old enough for the title.”
“Okay big bro ,” teased Lippmann. He turned to Iceman. “Do you want to hold him?”
Iceman’s head gave a single, almost imperceptible shake. If one didn’t know any better, they’d say the idea made him nervous.
“I wanna hold him,” Albatross spoke up, reaching out again impatiently.
“I can see that,” Lippmann said gently.
He moved back towards the counter and eased Chuuya onto it so that he was sprawled out on his back. In that position the risk of dropping him was essentially eliminated. Chuuya smiled and giggled again, waving his arms.
“Here. Play with him like this,” Lippmann granted, and Albatross jumped at the opportunity.
“If not Dazai, then what’s the plan now?” Iceman addressed Pianoman, even as his gaze stayed with Chuuya.
Pianoman checked his watch. “I’ll debrief you all once Doc gets here.”
“You should just let Albatross entertain him,” Lippmann suggested. “He’s clownlike enough.”
Albatross took the jab in stride, even lighting up a bit more as he tickled a squeal out of Chuuya. “I have been learning how to juggle the billiard balls.”
“Don’t do that,” said Pianoman with a touch of exasperation. “You’ll end up giving the baby blunt force trauma.”
“Do you think you could kill someone using a baby as a weapon, Iceman?” Albatross wondered aloud as his hands idly played with tiny kicking feet.
“Would the baby need to survive?”
“Mm, yes. For the challenge.”
“Then yes.”
“How?”
“You see those eyes?” Iceman reached over and poked Chuuya’s nose, earning a big blue blink. His expression remained deadpan and his tone was dry, but those who knew him best could recognize his brand of teasing, and catch the glimmer in his dark eyes. “Lethal.”
“Killed with cuteness, huh?” Albatross lifted Chuuya into a sitting position at the counter edge, trying to catch his gaze for a stare down. “Even at your most innocent you are still quite formidable, my friend.”
“Alright, I’m here.” Everyone turned to the door as Doc clamored in with his medical bag, his ever present IV drip stand dragging in his other hand. Looking up, the scene the doctor was greeted with gave him pause. “You put the baby on the edge of a high bar counter?”
“Should I not have?” asked Albatross.
With a curious babble, Chuuya began to glow red. A loud crack resounded when the edge of the counter suddenly gave out from under him. Without thinking, Albatross moved to catch him in his arms.
A choked shout escaped him when he landed flat on his back on the ground, his head bouncing off the floor as an untold amount of pressure bore down on his ribs. “Fuck!”
The floor beneath him turned to sand. The moment he became submerged enough, he swam out from under the unbearable weight threatening to crush him with a desperate gasp.
Naturally, said weight immediately plunged beneath the surface in his absence.
“Chuuya!” Pianoman was on his knees in an instant, arms plunging into the deathtrap in a desperate grab.
“Albatross!”
“What are you doing?!”
“He’ll drown!”
Bubbling undulation appeared in the wood colored sand as Chuuya suddenly broke the surface again, lifted by a fountain of manipulated sand that was quickly hardened, taking the shape of an industrial looking concrete high chair. Tiny distressed hacking sounded, but Albatross’ psammokinesis was quick to extract any sand that had entered the baby’s system, clearing his airway again.
There was a simultaneous sag of relief from all of the adults in the bar.
“Thank fuck.” Albatross was breathless, looking up at it all from where he was still half submerged, gripping the hard section of the floor like a pool edge.
Tears welled up in Chuuya’s eyes, his face crumpling in frightened distress as he began to cry out.
Albatross chuckled, earning a glare from the room’s other occupants. “Wow, he really is just a baby. We should, we should probably get him turned back before he dies or something.”
Chuuya glowed again as his wailing grew, the strength of it shaking the windows of the bar. Pianoman grit his teeth, hands going to his ears as the men in the room were all crippled for a moment under the sonic assault against their ear drums.
Oh my, Lippmann mouthed, his words lost beneath the dominating shrieks. He looked around, but the rest of the Flags were also at a loss for what to do as the baby’s crying continued to threaten every glass object in the store.
A large but gentle hand settled over red curls.
“Look at me.” Iceman’s voice cut like a blade through the higher decibel sound.
Seemingly out of instinct, Chuuya got the message, hiccuping as he gave his attention to the one who had commanded it through his sobs.
Iceman came to stand before him, leaning a bit closer. Both of his hands came to cover his face, and when he pulled them away, he was smiling widely. He repeated the motion, a different expression revealed after the last one was hidden from view.
The store grew quiet as Chuuya’s wide eyes became transfixed. His screaming was replaced with curious noises as he reached out his hands towards whatever new face would replace the previous.
Albatross squinted dumbly. “Did I hit my head too hard, or is Iceman playing peekaboo with Chuuya?”
“Yes,” Lippmann replied, tone distracted as he too stared at the display in bafflement. These mimed expressions were by far the most exaggerated any of them had ever seen Iceman express. It was surreal.
Chuuya settled down, properly distracted and comforted as Iceman’s hand returned to petting his hair.
“I have a niece,” Iceman said by way of explanation. More news to those gathered. He looked down at Albatross. “And try to watch your language around the little one.”
“Oh please,” said Albatross as he finally rose from his own pit, lifted by a platform under his feet until he was standing on an all hardened floor again. “Chuuya is usually the most foul mouthed of us all.”
“Bring him over here.” Crisis having passed, Doc set his bag on one of the empty billiard tables. He began pulling out supplies and setting up for Chuuya’s checkup.
Pianoman had only had time to debrief Doc on his way over here, figuring he’d need the help of an at least part time caregiver. Doc might not abide by the hippocratic oath to a tee, but he was damn good to those he wanted to save.
Any information would help.
Iceman picked up Chuuya with practiced care and brought him over. The little one’s fingers dug into his shirt, clingy after the near death experience. He was forced to let go though as he was placed on the table to be inspected by Doc.
The first thing Doc did was remove Chuuya’s choker with a small frown and shake of his head. Pianoman hadn’t even thought of something so simple being a hazard.
Albatross was right. They needed to get Chuuya out of such a vulnerable state as soon as possible.
The checkup was swift. Perhaps unsurprisingly Iceman served as an excellent nurse, letting Chuuya keep hold of his finger and petting him whenever he got too fussy to cooperate.
Pianoman stood by and did his best to not look like he was hovering.
“If I had to guess I’d say he’s in one of the later stages of infancy. A bit less than a year old,” Doc reported when he was done. “Perfectly healthy, as well.”
A perfectly normal baby, having completely moved on from his near death experience as he mindlessly gnawed on his own hand.
Except for the fact that he still had the destructive power of god Arahabaki residing inside him, and seemingly very little control over any of it.
Pianoman watched him for a moment.
Pianoman trusted the Flags to prevail over any mission or deadly threat they were faced with. This was definitely an outlier. All the threat level worthy of their skills, but with a delicacy completely at odds with their specialty. He’d have to put his faith in them to handle even a situation this unpredictable and fragile, yet soft. Like he was asking them to cradle a bomb. He had no other choice, really.
“Alright then. Iceman and I will go out and dispatch the ability user that caused this.” He’d need backup, on the off chance he was babified as well. “The rest of you stay here and watch over Chuuya.”
“Why do we have to babysit?” complained Albatross of all people.
“It’s not like you were doing anything when I came in here. And Lippmann is the least likely to accidentally let a baby get killed.”
“Do you think getting photos with him would help me attract women?” Lippmann asked distractedly. He snapped his fingers at Chuuya to get his attention, phone out and camera poised as he attempted to arrange the child like an accessory.
Least likely. Pianoman had confidence in his associates. And Chuuya was durable, no matter what form he took.
“It’s an order. Don’t let Chuuya die before we get back. You can manage.”
“Understood.” The others agreed with the proper severity.
Pianoman exchanged a nod of understanding with Iceman before grabbing his coat and sweeping out.
“You come over here too,” Doc said to Albatross once it was babysitters only. “I need to check you for a concussion.”
He ran through a quick examination procedure while Lippmann continued to bother Chuuya in the background.
“You’re alright,” he cleared at last. Then he reached up and swatted the back of Albatross’ sore dome.
“Ow!”
“That’s for almost killing Chuuya.”
Albatross rubbed his head, indignant. “Let’s see how you manage. You may be a doctor, but it’s harder than it looks. I’m used to killing things a lot less defenseless than this. Can’t fault me for making a mistake or two along the way.”
“It can’t be as daunting as it might seem,” said Lippmann as he scrolled through his camera roll. “All we have to do is keep him happy until the ability is canceled.”
“Keep Chuuya happy huh?” Albatross crouched so that he was level with Chuuya's gaze, hands gripping the edge of the billiard table. “That should be a lot easier than it would be normally, actually.”
“Okay, now I need you to take pictures of us both.” Lippmann handed his phone off to Albatross before picking Chuuya back up. Back to chest, he propped the baby so that he sat in the fold of his arms. Lippmann's smile was winning and perhaps a touch shit-eating.
Albatross chuckled to himself as he snapped a few photos. “He’s not smiling,” he said, amused. “Scratch that, even as a baby he’s a grump.”
An idea occurred to him. “Wait, let's try this.” He pulled his sunglasses out of his hair and came forward, attempting to balance them on Chuuya’s tiny head and button nose. In a fit of irritation, Chuuya slapped them out of his hands.
The glasses flew across the room and pierced the wall like a spear, causing radial cracks to appear in the brick.
Albatross laughed, but there was a vindictive glint in his eyes and a set to his teeth within his smile. “You’ll pay for that when you’re back to normal. And the hair pulling. I’m gonna give you a run, neighbor.”
Lippmann surrendered Chuuya to the billiard table again, determining it to be a better candidate than his own body for the next thing broken by Chuuya’s superstrength.
“He’s irritated by you two messing with him.” Doc spoke up, finished packing his medical bag. “I would be too. He’s not a toy.”
“What he needs is a toy,” Albatross decided, knowledgeably wagging a finger as he made his way back to the counter.
“I don’t think you’ll find…” Doc trailed off as Albatross rifled through the bar.
A jigger, a cocktail strainer, a wooden muddler. All tossed onto the counter as apparently worthy candidates.
A wing corkscrew. “Oh, I loved these as a kid!” Albatross flapped the pointed metal arms as he smiled almost proudly. “They almost look like people. They even make for pretty sick action figures when you stab stuff with them.”
“That's too sharp.” Doc shut him down.
“Something tells me we shouldn't be trying to replicate your childhood,” Lippmann added.
Albatross trotted back with an armful of bartender tools. “Is this good?” he checked with their honorary pediatrician.
“Take whatever risks you want.” Doc tapped out of his attempts to be the responsible adult, already exhausted. “If you kill him, Pianoman will kill you.”
Albatross dumped the utensils onto the table with a clatter that more than won over the baby’s attention. Chuuya crawled over, curious.
He made a happy sound as he shoved a handle in his mouth, starting to play all on his own.
The babysitters looked on proudly. They were already killing it. Figuratively speaking.
Lippmann’s smile was dangerously soft. “It’s so easy to make him smile, like this.”
Chuuya made a noise that wasn’t exactly happy as the muddler dipped in his grip, causing him to club himself in the face.
“Oop, you jinxed it.”
“He’s fine,” Lippmann claimed, picking up a toy and engaging with him in an attempt to soothe.
Albatross laughed. “I don’t know whether to hope he remembers this or not.”
“His brain isn’t developed enough to store proper memories,” said Doc.
“Yeah, but this is an ability.”
“At most he’ll have some hazy impressions of what has transpired,” Doc assured.
“Do you think, if we left it alone, he'd stay this way?” Lippmann asked suddenly. “Like if we plopped him on a doorstep, would he grow up normally from there?”
“What brought this on?” Doc asked.
Lippmann pressed his lips together.
“He and Pianoman were working off of my lead. I asked a friend of mine to inspect the government’s military-related sources for clues on Chuuya’s origins. Of course, all research materials related to the Arahabaki Project are top secret or destroyed by now. But from what she gave me I was able to find a possible lead in a military unit's false body-donation recruitment effort. Their human experimentation cover.” His pretty face creased, brows drawing in. “The closer we get, the more gruesome things start to look. Especially considering how young he must have been.”
“So what, you pity him now?” challenged Albatross. He glowered a bit, disapproving. “Nah, forget that, I want Chuuya back. He can only keep up with me the way he is.”
“I’m not actually suggesting we give him away. That would be impossible for a hundred different reasons,” Lippmann defended. His gaze settled back on the clueless innocence they were talking over, voice growing soft again. “I’m just talking.”
“Fufu, not to mention the godly wrath you would face if he ever learned of the old life you took the liberty of saving him from.”
“Haha yeah. Baby or not, he’d find his way back here in a few years just to break his foot off in your ass for trying it.”
“Language, Albatross.”
“This is impossible!”
His complaint was well timed, considering Chuuya was already growing upset again. And even in the face of his brand new choking-hazard-free toy collection. Needy bastard.
"Again already?"
“Babies get cranky when their needs aren’t met. So let’s just figure it out.”
“There’s really only a couple things he could need. Maybe he’s hungry?”
Food. A good call. Albatross returned to digging around the bar, this time for something edible. He returned to Chuuya, offering up his find.
Chuuya shook his head, recoiling.
“You don’t like olives? What if I mashed them up, like a bird?”
Chuuya shook his head again, getting angrier. And then it hit them.
“Oooh, that’s-” Albatross’ face twisted. “He doesn’t smell good anymore.”
“And why are you looking at me?”
Gun, knife, syringe. A deadly standoff broke out in an instant.
“You're a doctor, you're supposed to deal with gross shit!” Albatross accused, leaning away from the needle between his eyes.
Doc gripped the wrist wielding the kukri knife at his throat. “And you're a mafioso. Is baby poop really worse than blood and entrails?”
“I don’t clean those, though. I just spill them.”
“Let’s all behave rationally about this,” said Lippmann, like he wasn’t aiming both of his machine pistols at the other two.
Chuuya demanded their attention again by crying. Or perhaps crying wasn’t the right word, considering it was all vocals and no tears. They were forced to retract their weapons to brace themselves as he bathed in red again and screeched .
So much for keeping him happy.
Lippmann curled away as if he could physically shoulder against the onslaught. Albatross truthfully had treated his own ears to worse, between the blaring speakers he hosted parties with and his own voicebox. Doc struggled with the fact that he couldn’t confidently tranquilize an infant without seriously harming it. He’d have to resort to non-poisonous methods.
“Peekaboo!”
Chuuya screamed louder.
“It’s creepy when you do it,” Albatross informed him. Hands still over his ears, he turned to his other friend and continued to shout. “Lippmann, buddy, have I got a role for you! Single mom. To an alien. Pianoman just walked out on you guys, and now you have to stop your kid from sounding the alarm for an enemy space fleet to come and blow up the moon. Action!”
“You know I don’t do big budget sci fi! Only true cinema!”
Miraculously, Chuuya’s screaming was interrupted without intervention. Less miraculously, at least in his case, he’d begun floating away into the air as his gravity was nullified.
“Lippmann, your space baby!”
It was Doc who reached out to grab him.
“Wait, don’t touch him!” Albatross backhanded his bony wrist as he suddenly remembered his lesson from earlier.
Lippmann stepped forward, raising his hands delicately as if about to conduct a symphony. As gently as he could manage, he lassoed Chuuya’s ankle with the strings of his ability, attaching him to the billiards table like a party balloon.
Gingerly, he moved to stand below Chuuya and put out his hands to catch him in case he fell. Hopefully Chuuya wouldn’t, say, gain a weight of several tons next and break Lippmann’s arms before going clean through the floor.
Lippmann took a centering breath. “Listen to me,” he said to his comrades, still gazing up at the balloon baby. “We are the Flags. The Port Mafia’s most promising young elite, next in line for executive chairs. We can excel under any circumstance and handle any mission with level headed grace. Agreed?”
“Yeah,” Albatross grinned widely as Doc chuckled at the impromptu motivational speech.
“Alright.” As well as an amazing speaker, Lippmann was a master deal broker. “Now, rock paper scissors for who has to change him.”
Pianoman led the way back to the site of babyfication. It was a government facility chiefly responsible for information storage.
Chuuya’s phone rang in his pocket on the way, and he checked to make sure it was no one important. The call was from ‘Mackerel’, and Pianoman had heard enough of Chuuya’s rants to know who that was.
Pianoman had his own feelings on his young upstart rival, but none of them mattered at the moment. He'd already determined he didn't need him.
If you killed an ability user, their ability ceased to exist from this world. Seemed as clean a solution as any.
When Pianoman and Chuuya had broken in earlier, they'd been found out discreetly. Likely tripped some kind of silent alarm.
Even this surface level sniffing around Chuuya’s past had already brought them in conflict with decent level security. Trespassing was an offense rarely forgiven, the security guards serving as executioners without a judge or jury.
The entire facility would be on higher alert after the break in, but Pianoman couldn’t wait for a better opening. He had to get Chuuya back soon, before his absence became noticeable. By any means necessary.
They’d make their own opening. Iceman could always accurately determine the best time to strike.
“That one has an ability.”
Pianoman nodded as he examined the face of a confident perimeter guard dog. “That’s the one.”
The guard was still on patrol, his strength as an ability user likely meant to ward off any remaining aspirational infiltrators.
With a hand signal from the assassin, both mafiosi made their move when their target turned a corner.
The guard's steps and even reach for his weapon were halted by Iceman’s quick work. Knifepoint escalated to gunpoint in a blink as the assassin stole his own gun out from under him.
Before the guard could assess the situation enough to engage the threat in front of him, shining metal wires were looped around his neck like a lasso from behind.
Iceman’s new gun, more posturing threat than weapon likely to be deployed, covered Pianoman from the front as the assassin kept watch.
Pianoman stepped closer to the frozen guard to speak into his ear.
“I advise against calling for your comrades. You could try, but you wouldn’t get past the first syllable. Because,” he manually pulled the strings tighter, enough for the guard to feel razor thin wire dig into the skin of his neck, “all it takes is one movement from me, and your head will be rolling along the floor.”
“So you’re the same group from earlier.”
Pianoman hummed, a note of acknowledgement. “And you’re the same user,” he said. “Attacking an innocent child? A mere baby? How shameful.” Pianoman’s faux scandalized tone was many things at once: mocking, chilling, vicious. Just a bit angry, if you listened closely enough.
Security guards weren’t as hardened as high level soldiers or mafiosos. This man could be the only ability user among their staff. The information they guarded here was only valuable in the right hands, and they protected it for a paycheck, not out of personal stake. Because really, how many people would be willing to lay down their lives for some dusty old documents?
All this to say this one wouldn’t be difficult to persuade.
The amount of medical corporations and then records the Flags would have to sift through to find the right ones would be abundant. As plentiful as the grains of sand on a beach. They'd need a new lead, without mafia resources to back them up.
“I don't need you alive to undo your curse. But if you can get me something, I see no reason you can’t walk away from this unscathed.”
It appeared the guard was smart. He knew when he was cornered. "Alright,” he grit. “I can get you what you want."
“Perfect.” Pianoman smiled cruelly. “And your ability?”
“My ability is called Baby Formula. It works on a time limit. The solution to a randomly assigned complex equation is the number of hours your partner will remain an infant.”
Pianoman met Iceman’s eyes.
“It’s a good thing you always help out with math homework.”
Iceman lit a cigarette on their way back to the bar. “So that was papa bear.”
“You’re very teasing today, Mr. Peekaboo,” Pianoman replied easily.
Iceman shrugged. He blew smoke as they walked. “Still, you’re rather soft for him,” he observed.
“I’ve nearly removed his head from his shoulders on three separate occasions.”
Iceman cracked a smirk. “That’s practically your version of a hug.”
“...Hm,” was Pianoman’s only defense after a half second of silence. He returned his gaze forward, and the two fell back into silence as he started to think just a bit too hard about something meant to be laughed off.
Chuuya. The fallen King of the Sheep. He was a former enemy organization leader aiming to become one of the Port Mafia's elite. More than worthy of scrutiny, and a more than worthy threat should his loyalty ever waver.
He was a time bomb capable of blowing the entire Port Mafia wide open with the strength of his ability alone.
Pianoman had been assigned by the boss to monitor that threat. Keep him close.
If it ever looked like Chuuya would betray the mafia, Pianoman was to report it to the boss. Or if the situation called for it and the opportunity presented itself, dispatch the boy himself.
He’d taken an approach to his assignment that the boss may or may not have counted on. In inviting Chuuya to join the association, he’d made an effort to provide Chuuya a home within the mafia. A family.
Founded under the old boss, the Flags were meant to provide a sense of camaraderie. Pianoman had established them to preserve the values that had been lost under their previous leader's delusions.
Chuuya's friendship with the Flags was genuine, nevermind any mandates from the boss.
Thus, Pianoman had had no qualms about helping Chuuya look into the very past he was supposed to be hiding from him. And there had been no hesitation in sharing that secret betrayal with the rest of the Flags.
Loyalty to the flag came first, but it would also serve as the gateway for Chuuya's loyalty to the larger organization it flew under.
Kill them with kindness?
Defuse them with affection, or at least, the closest the mafia got to it?
Damn. He was soft for him.
The offensive team returned to Old World to find the designated babysitters seated around a table playing cards.
Their charge was nowhere in sight when Pianoman looked around. He paused, waiting for them to acknowledge him and explain themselves. When they simply continued their game, his patience ran out quickly.
“Where is the baby?” he demanded aggressively.
“Fufufu, now you really do sound like a frazzled single father.”
“You owe us for this, understand? Have you ever had to deal with a flying, poopy baby?”
“Even his shit was Zero G.”
“We’re supposed to be watching over him, baby or teen,” said Pianoman. “Boss’ orders, remember?”
“Mm," rebutted Lippmann, "I’m pretty sure you were the only one he directly ordered.”
Pianoman turned a cold look on Lippmann that had them tensed for conflict in an instant.
Doc’s dry wit interceded. “Don’t let poor Chuuya see his parents fight. Don’t you know that’s bad for development?”
The worst part was they probably were great parents, comparatively. They hadn't experimented on him even once.
“See us? Where is he?”
“He's napping,” Albatross reported. “Babies do that a lot. He got cranky.”
“And for the record,” added Lippmann, “when Boss tells you to ‘take care’ of someone, this is not what he usually means.”
Under the direction of his pointed finger, Pianoman strode to the back of the room. He discovered Chuuya tucked away under the bar, asleep in a beverage tub stuffed with dish towels that was serving as a bassinet. The strap of Lippmann’s fine leather belt was acting as an anchor, presumably to keep him from floating away in his sleep. He was also blanketed by Albatross’ signature vest, tiny fists balled into the fur on the hood. Pianoman lifted it slightly to discover a fashioned diaper made from almost elaborately wrapped and folded gauze.
All in all, Pianoman was impressed.
The Flags truly could handle any mission.
Chuuya stirred, his limbs wiggling in a clumsy attempt at stretching as he yawned. His eyes opened, and at the sight of Pianoman, he gave him this…this smile.
It could melt the heart of Satan himself.
A delighted coo. “Baba.”
“Oh my God he just called you dad!”
Pianoman hid the way his heart stuttered, hopefully effectively as he snorted, his amused smile strained. “He did not.”
“He totally did!” Albatross was going to run with this.
Chuuya reached out for the man he’d imprinted on. “Baba!”
An uproar of laughter from Albatross, but somehow Pianoman didn’t really hear it.
He had never in his life had someone look at him the way his infantized friend was right now.
A gentle, almost mesmerized expression overtook his features as he reached out to meet Chuuya’s hands with one of his own, letting him grasp hold of his fingers.
He really was getting soft.
Chuuya’s smile began to glow in the literal sense as he was wrapped in the familiar red aura of his ability again.
It was different this time. The towels didn’t sink under his weight, nor did he drift up against Lippmann’s belt. He was just glowing.
Gravitational waves began rolling off of him, the change able to be felt by the entire room.
Pianoman prickled and frowned slightly, pulling back. He stepped away, sensing it likely wasn’t healthy or safe to approach that red aura.
“Baba?”
“You’re okay, Chuuya,” Pianoman soothed before he could stop himself.
Having come over to the bar to witness the show, Albatross now squinted over his shoulder. “Yo, what if he just, detonates?”
“What?”
“He’s been glowing for a straight minute now.”
All attention turned back to the baby.
Babies and bombs were fragile in different senses. Both created delicate situations that needed to be handled with care. However, the solutions to those two situation types were wildly different.
If Chuuya was, in fact, about to literally explode, no amount of kindness or affection could stop it. He may have just become a timebomb in the most literal sense.
In the case of a two for one…
“The equation,” said Iceman.
Pianoman pulled a folded paper from his pocket, and raised a preemptive halting hand. “Don’t ask.”
After examining the numbers again he checked his watch. “I think it’s just time for him to turn back.”
“Did you carry the two?” Iceman intoned.
“He’ll just turn back on his own?” asked Doc.
“Evidently.”
“And if that’s not it then I guess we’ll all just die, huh?” said Albatross.
The question fell from his mouth easily, but realization dawned on the collective slowly.
Arahabaki’s blast radius from almost nine years ago…the crater left in its wake...
Five of the most dangerous men in Yokohama fell into a defensive formation against an infant.
An abundance of weightless, heatless light spheres filled the room. At the same time, a thick wall of sand rose from the floor to divide the store in two, hardening into a solid blast shield.
Albatross thumped his back against the barrier like he was taking cover in a trench. He looked up at the ceiling, face pinching into something wistful. “I love you guys, you know?”
Pianoman resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “No one is dying, Albatross, this is just a precaution.”
“Thanks, Pianoman. You always know just what to say,” said Albatross, like he was genuinely relieved. “I never told you this, but you’re the best father I ever had.”
Pianoman really did roll his eyes then, a murderous smile barely tempered as Doc and Lippmann giggled at his expense. “Alright, maybe someone is dying.”
Albatross grinned.
The group waited patiently in silence for some kind of signal, loud boom or otherwise. Eventually…
Retching.
“Ugh, olives?” Chuuya’s voice came from the other side of the blast barrier.
Albatross gasped excitedly, spinning and opening a window in the sand wall. “Chuuya!”
“What the fuck…” Chuuya squinted in confusion as the sand wall crashed down in a massive splash, and the floating lights blipped out of existence. He looked like he’d just staggered out of the beverage tub, and was still trying to get his bearings.
They’d neglected to redress him in his babified clothes, so those had possibly stayed shrunken elsewhere. They were likely ruined anyway, if the improvised diaper was any indication.
At least the gauze held, Albatross’ vest serving as extra cover as he held it against his hips like Adam’s fig leaf.
Pianoman kept a neutral, nothing expression as he removed his coat and offered it at arm’s length.
Best to ease Chuuya back into this. Just because the bar hadn’t been blown to hell yet didn’t mean it still couldn’t be.
Chuuya seemed to be catching up, eyes still narrowed. He looked like he was running over the files of his mind, trying to determine what had happened and if he should be mortified about it. For his reaction, he seemed to be caught between lashing out angrily as he normally would, or expressing some kind of…gratitude and appreciation the way someone more well adjusted might. The limbo made him uncharacteristically awkward.
“Thanks,” he said eventually, accepting the garment just as Pianoman was getting tired of holding it out. Pianoman wondered if the word was for the coat, or the entire ordeal. He wasn’t about to ask. He felt it would somehow make the weirdness of the last few hours suddenly much more real.
“You and I were on a mission,” he reported plainly as black fabric was pulled shut to engulf Chuuya nearly down to his ankles. “You were hit with an age regression ability and turned into a baby, so I brought you here to wait out the effects.”
He didn't apologize. Chuuya wouldn't appreciate any sign of pity.
“Yeah… I think I… got it.” Chuuya Nakahara was blushing.
“So I’m your favorite uncle, right?” Albatross asked, gleefully ruining the fragile illusion of privacy the other men had the sense to give him.
Leave it to the bird to have the tact of a bumbling horse.
But at the same time, his antics seemed to break the spell in a positive way. Chuuya became his familiar self again as he attacked.
Albatross dodged Chuuya’s lunge with a laugh.
“They grow up so fast!” he cackled with a second evasive maneuver. Lippmann gracefully sidestepped the ruckus as Chuuya crashed into a billiard table like a penned bull.
Chuuya moved into projectile attacks just as Albatross turned back from his escape, seemingly with another tease on the tip of his tongue. The balled up fabric of his vest unfurled when it collided with his face, blinding him as he tripped with a squawk. Chuuya pounced with all the grace of a confused bat as he too tripped on the hem of Pianoman’s coat.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Pianoman decided, hands on his hips. The chaos continued. “I said enough!”
The two youngest Flags froze under the reprimand, tangled together on the floor.
“Sorry d-” Albatross cut off under the look Pianoman shot him.
“Whatever,” Chuuya huffed, shoving off and getting to his feet. Albatross continued to chuckle to himself as he sat up and pulled his vest back on.
Chuuya took a moment to look around at all of them, posture defensive. Just as his blush was beginning to rise again under their silent gazes, he spun away and stalked towards the door.
The rest of the Flags stayed in their group, standing in the middle of the bar.
One hand on the knob, Chuuya turned back to glare at them all. He looked like a particularly menacing tyke, swamped in the cloak of Pianoman’s oversized coat. “What, waiting for me to leave so you can all gossip like schoolgirls?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Lippmann smiled. “You should get changed. I can show you my pictures later.” He waved his phone.
Chuuya glared at the device like he wanted to smash it to pieces against the wall. But while he was hotheaded, he wasn’t stupid or suicidal. “I’m sure you will, bastard.”
Pianoman resisted the urge to tell him to take care. It would come off as mocking right now, and besides, Chuuya was more than capable of taking care now that he’d been restored to full strength.
Pianoman blamed the relief that came with that on his own softness.
The bar rattled one last time as Chuuya slammed the door shut behind him.
Everyone waited silently for a bit in his absence.
Forty five seconds was usually a safe bet. Pianoman turned back to the group.
“We secured a new lead on Chuuya’s origins. I’ll tell him this past outing was a bust, but really…” He smiled. “We now have enough information to begin Operation: Anniversary.”