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Chuuya approached closer towards their new capture, currently held captive in a prison cell and tied with restraints, making sure they don’t get out.
He didn’t often interfere with Mori’s plans because it's the boss's rules and most of the time it would be the lower rankings like the grunts to deal with them.
This one, however, was a different case.
I can’t fucking believe he got himself captured like this.
He stood in front of the hooded person who was sitting on a chair in the middle of the cell. There was barely any sort of movement, it was almost like they had caught a lifeless man instead.
Chuuya frowned, using his ability to take the sack off his head.
His deep purple eyes gaze into his. His chapped lips slightly apart from each other turned into an amused smile or some sort of satisfaction.
“You’ve got a lot of fucking explaining to do, Dostoyevsky.”
The smile was dripping with false innocence, “You’re not wrong. What do I have the pleasure of being graced with your presence instead, Nakahara Chuuya?”
He felt himself cringe a little.
“Fuck off with that act already. What the hell are you doing here and why did you let yourself get captured?” Chuuya firmly asked, getting straight to the point.
“What do you mean, Chuuya?”
That look and the way he said his name.
He always hated that look.
He hated how little he was compared to Fyodor when it came to his true intentions.
“We both know what I mean. You wouldn’t let yourself get captured so easily unless you are looking for something.”
“You still know me so well, solnyshko. I’m flattered.”
“Answer the question.”
Fyodor relaxed his posture and grinned, “What if I just wanted you instead? Could I have not been my reason? I have missed my Chuuya for quite some time now.”
“If you wanted to see me you could’ve done that many other times than now. Cut the small talk already, Fyodor. I’m not falling for your manipulation.”
“So cold. Why don’t you come over here and I’ll warm you up?”
There was a suggestive tone in his voice and Chuuya knew fully well what he was implying. “No thanks, not when you’re wearing those clothes either and look like you’ve bathed in a week or slept.”
“Oh? So you’ll be willing to do it with me if I’m out of these clothes? But they already will be off when we’re—”
“Fuck off, you know that’s not what I meant,” Chuuya growled back.
Fyodor chuckled and stared at him with a weird look in his eyes, “I think this is the first time we’ve held up a conversation for this long. Have I said that you look beautiful after all these years, Chuuya?”
He hated how his cheeks would flare up from his words.
“Have I said how ugly you’ve become over the years?”
“Ah, thank you, Chuuya.”
The words, ‘I still hate you’ lingered on the tip of his tongue.
“That fight after Lovecraft. I want to talk about that.”
“Ah, yes, I remember that. What would you like me to answer?”
Chuuya opened his mouth, ready for the words, ‘do you still mean what you said?’ to come falling out but instead was interrupted by the sounds of footsteps coming towards them.
Fuck!
Why does this have to happen now?
“Executive Chuuya-kun! I didn’t expect you to be down here!”
He hid his disappointment from Fyodor and fixed up his posture, clearing his throat. His attention focused on one of the newer executives, Ace.
What does this bastard want?
“Ace,” he acknowledged with a bored expression.
“Don’t give me the sad look! You should be excited to see me!”
If punching you in the face right now then that’s excitement.
Chuuya ignored his reply and looked at the Russian behind him in the corner of his eyes, “I take it you’ll be dealing with the trash today?”
“Yes. The boss has agreed to let me deal with the trash. I must wonder, have you already started to chat with this trash?” Ace asked, turning his attention to Fyodor who only gave him a darkened stare.
“Just wanted to see if we could negotiate anything with him.”
“Thank you for the talk, I was delighted to meet you, Nakahara Chuuya,” Fyodor interjected with a smirk on his lips while Chuuya shot a glare at him.
Ace laughed, “Oh? But you must have things better to do than to deal with this person. He’ll be dealt with by me.”
“Then I’ll leave the rest up to you.”
Chuuya took a step past the other executive before being stopped by Ace’s hand on his shoulder.
“What the hell do you want now?”
“You know, Chuuya-kun, I noticed you wear a collar.”
He glared at him. This was what he stopped him for? A piece of his fashion?
What kind of shit is he coming up with now?
“Good to know you have eyes. So?”
Ace pouted, getting into Chuuya’s privacy and tilted his chin up with a finger, “Don’t be so cold, Chuuya-kun. You could easily replace your collar with one of my precious ones instead. You could even work under me.”
The redhead slapped his hand away forcefully.
“Remember who’s been an executive longer. Don’t think I don't know what your ability is capable of. You can shove that fucking idea up your ass.”
Fyodor’s expression changed in the duration of their conversation and Chuuya found a little satisfaction in that.
“I’m so sad. You would make fine jewels to keep, Chuuya.”
Chuuya brushed past him without another word. He didn’t realise the whole time he had been talking to Ace, that his hands were kept clenched and tight. He questioned his loyalty to the Port Mafia.
He barely made an effort in taking the executive position while Chuuya had gone through plenty of shit for the position.
Ace turned to the problem at hand, offended by Chuuya's abrupt departure.
He’ll deal with Nakahara Chuuya later.
“Now… Fyodor-kun—”
His breath suddenly felt like it was sliced off just looking in his direction. The dark demeanour radiating out of Fyodor was least but unsettling.
“What are you smiling about?” He nervously asked, startled by his smile.
Fyodor only chuckled at Ace's question, looking him dead in the eyes, “Nothing at all… although I have just decided…”
Perhaps a change of the original plan would make life more easier for the both of them.
“...I don’t feel so bad that I have to kill you.”
- - -
“There was something here that I wanted back again,”
“something more beautiful and meaningful.”
Chuuya stared at the reflection from his cup of tea.
Why does he have to be here now?
Can’t you see I’ve moved on?
Still…
He hated how he could make his heart stutter without trying.
“Is there something wrong, Lad?”
His thoughts fade away from Kouyou’s voice.
He met her eyes and lowered his head back down, “It’s nothing. Is there a reason for calling me on short notice?”
“Just a meeting with Mori and Ace.”
He grimaced, “You don’t like him as well?
“How could anyone? The first to flee to safety during the Guild incident, it’s pathetic, his loyalty is another story that I’m not welcome to talk about,” she replied, taking a small sip from her cup.
“He hasn’t done much for an executive. He just pisses me off,” Chuuya said, crossing his arms and leaning against the back of his seat.
Kouyou chuckled over her sleeve, “I guess that’s something we can agree on.”
That wasn’t the only thing bugging Chuuya’s mind.
“Not to mention…” he mumbles quietly.
“Fyodor Dostoyevsky?”
“You know as well?”
“We’ve all been informed, lad. Ace personally said so himself that he’ll deal with him during our meeting. How could someone like him possibly deal with something like Dostoyevsky?”
Chuuya went back to Fyodor’s words during their previous encounter.
It was obvious that wine also came from him that he found in his apartment after the dragon incident. With that, that means Fyodor took him back from the bar as well.
How did he find him? He had no idea.
The note as well.
Just what is he up to?
And why do I have no clue about it?
He thought he understood someone like Fyodor but he had changed too much. Chuuya was confused the more he thought about it. Everything he had done so far, he didn’t understand.
“What if I just wanted you instead? Could I have not been my reason? I have missed my Chuuya for quite some time now.”
His gloved hands curled into fists.
I don’t understand you anymore, Fedya.
“Kouyou-san!”
One of Kouyou’s women burst through the door, out of breath with a frantic look, “Something has happened! The boss requests for both of you immediately to his office.”
Kouyou sighed, “How rude to whatever has happened to interrupt our tea break. Let’s continue this another time, lad.”
Chuuya followed suit, standing up from his seat. “Of course, Ane-san.”
- - -
“You called us Boss?” Chuuya asked while Mori was busy playing around with Elise. At this point, he didn’t know if this was an emergency or a way to cause havoc in the Port Mafia.
Mori stopped what he was doing and propped his chin on the palm of his hand, “That right, I received some information about our dear executive, Ace.”
Kouyou looked at him displeased with his name being mentioned, “What happened to him? Couldn’t handle a job?”
“This may require some background information before I tell you what happened. Our executive has decided to take Fyodor Dostoyevsky out of his cell.”
Chuuya growled, of course, he had to let him out. I didn’t get my fucking questions answered by him yet.
“He what?” She said in a louder tone and then quietened down, “of course he did.”
“As you both know, Ace’s loyalty to the Port Mafia has been… questioned and unanswered. The man may be good at gambling and bribing, however, keeping secrets isn’t exactly his strong point.”
Chuuya was getting impatient with the vague information they’ve been given so far, “Where are you getting at with this, Boss?”
“A ship of some sorts owned by Ace. I have planted a tracker in case anything were to happen. I have been informed that the ship’s tracker has disappeared.”
“He left?”
Mori boredly fiddled with his scalpel, “Ace most likely departed from Yokohama Ports a while ago, confirmed by some members that were watching.”
“Fyodor Dostoyevsky has escaped and most likely survived,” Kouyou concluded as she wasn’t fazed with the outcome.
“Who the hell let him out?”
Chuuya might have been talking to him but he didn’t remember letting him out.
“He’s the only one with the keys to the cells and requested to deal with Fyodor Dostoyevsky himself,” Kouyou responded, “I did tell you myself, Mori, he was no good to the Port Mafia. He let out Fyodor Dostoyevsky for the sake of his own benefit.”
“He’s stolen information about the Port Mafia executives and all ability users in this building.”
Chuuya and Kouyou stared at him, “What?”
“I’ve been having a suspicion that Ace had been collecting information about the Port Mafia’s abilities. Leading Fyodor to steal those documents. He mustn’t have gotten far from here. I’d like you two to start some search parties to look for him. I wouldn’t want that information being spread around.”
They both bowed their heads.
“Of course.”
- - -
Chuuya stood at the ports, the ship Ace kept to himself, having departed an hour ago. He was slowly figuring out what Fyodor’s plan was. The Russian took it as his opportunity for an escape and burned the evidence by burning the ship itself.
“That fucking bastard.”
He was not surprised by Fyodor's execution of this and Ace falling for his game of chess but he couldn’t believe he fell for it as well.
Chuuya stared aimlessly at the clear blue waters.
The breeze of nostalgia blew past him and the sound of faint laughter replayed in his head. The sky faded from light orange to purple as the sun slowly set for the day.
“Orange and purple look nice together, don’t you think?”
His thoughts were immediately interrupted by a call. He took his phone out of his pocket and answered it after the second ring.
“Did something happen over there—”
“Solnyshko, it’s me.”
Chuuya’s expression shifted to a frown.
“How did you get my number, bastard?”
“The documents are quite handy. Even got your number on here. How… revolting.”
“You planned all of this, your fake ability and then killing Ace. Didn’t you?” Chuuya asked, wanting to hear it from Fyodor.
“Maybe so. Worked to my plans anyway.”
The redhead bit his bottom lip, what was he supposed to do now? And why was the very thing on his mind not related to anything with what the Boss's orders were?
“Something’s on your mind, Chuuya. Why don’t you tell me?”
Bastard.
“You said you missed me. Where are you?” He asked in a softer tone.
There was a short pause.
“Why don’t you try to find me first, Chuuya?”
“You—”
“I wasn’t lying if that was what you’re concerned about,” he assured him, “do you know how hard it was not to rip off that man’s hands after he put his filthy hands on your face, Chuuya?”
“What the hell are you up to with those documents, Fyodor?”
“I think you know what, Chuuya.”
There was that line again and Chuuya had about enough of that, “You keep saying that but I don’t! I don’t know shit about you, Dostoyevsky!”
“As much as I would love to keep talking about him and how I wanted to kill him, I will have to cut this short.”
“Don’t fucking leave!”
“I can’t wait to see you again in person, dorogoy moy,” he continued to talk over Chuuya’s protests.
“Oi, answer some questions—”
“It will be very soon till we meet paths again. I will be looking forward to it.”
“Fyodor. Stop ignoring me—”
“Don’t miss me too much, moy solnyshko. I’m coming back for you and I promise to answer your questions.”
And then the line was cut off.
Chuuya gritted his teeth and snapped his phone close. He can’t believe he used to see this guy regularly and went out with him for 2 years.
“Chuuya-san! There was nothing! Where should we go now?”
Chuuya looked over to his subordinates, calling him out and finished checking the warehouses for any sort of clue to where Fyodor went off to.
“Don’t worry. I’ll sort it out with the Boss.”
The redhead executive glanced one last time at the ocean.
He hated looking at the ocean.
It reminded him too much of him.
Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Fedya.