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“Definitely not!”
The two teenage boys yelled in unison above the din of the party hall, the disbelief in their voices making Mori’s lips curl beneath his interwoven fingers.
“I’m not asking you two for my sake, you know?” he said simply. “Elise-chan is the one who wanted to hear you two sing karaoke together. We don’t want to disappoint her, do we?”
Dazai and Chuuya stared at him, trying to come up with some counter-argument for Mori’s demand, but Mori knew no matter how much they tried, they could not refuse when Elise was in the equation. So, he leaned back onto his chair and watched them end up gaping soundlessly like two fish trapped in a glass bowl.
Driving the final nail into the coffin, he said, “Consider this a competition- a part of the evaluation for the position of an executive.”
“How does that even make sense?” Dazai protested.
“It will let me know if you two have the essential skills for the position. As an executive, you will have to boost the morale of your subordinates, coordinate with other officers, and be confident in your ability to sway a whole crowd. This is the perfect opportunity to show those skills off, don’t you think?”
“But-”
“Now get on the stage. I expect you two to give a fine demonstration of what teamwork and trust looks like to the rest of the mafia.”
With no room for further discussion in Mori’s razor sharp smile, Dazai and Chuuya were left side-eyeing each other in dread.
A few seconds passed in a deadlock, but Dazai was the first to give up with a long sigh.
“Whatever, let’s get this ordeal over with.”
Chuuya looked at him incredulously, like he was shocked that he gave up so soon. But knowing he was outnumbered, he too shook his head in resignation. “Hey bandage-bastard,” he grumbled, “If you do something weird on stage, I won’t hesitate to punch you on the face.”
Dazai shot him a condescending look. “Keep dreaming, Chuuya.”
—
At the end of the year, the Port Mafia held their annual organization-wide party under the guise of ‘commemorating the efforts of the mafiosos’. But behind the bullet-proof, reinforced glass windows of the large banquet hall and the flowing red curtains that framed them, the so-called ‘year-end party’ was an occasion for the top Mafia officials to gather intelligence, make connections, target suspects, and obtain leads for upcoming or ongoing missions. It was extremely important as it was also the time when the five top executives and the boss could gather, other than the official executive meetings. As such, the year-end party pretty much defined the agenda of the next year.
Having so many mafiosos in one room was a threat to their security, but Mori started the preparations well in advance to cover all bases. The hall spanned the entirety of one of the topmost floors of the headquarters, just five levels below the boss’s office. It was extremely well guarded, with multiple ability users and armed mafiosos patrolling the gate and the premises to ensure utmost safety. Of course, Mori generously compensated those who couldn’t attend the party due to duties, but having most of the members in one giant hall required multiple sources of entertainment to prevent them from getting riled up due to the drinks and end up trying to kill each other.
So, apart from the buffet, Mori had entertainment stations built on various corners of the hall. A grazing table with the most decadent delicacies the masterchef could conceive, a cocktail mixing bar where alcohol, ice, smoke and fire reigned in a dazzling display of skills by expert bartenders, a private smoking lounge with books- where those who preferred the quiet could sit and indulge in some alone-time, and a spacious karaoke room- with a stage in the center accompanied by blaring spotlights and an on-stage live band to accompany the singer in case they wanted to perform something more acoustic.
And yet, even with all the inviting entertainment stations, the tensions were steadily rising in many corners of the hall, thanks to the incidents that occurred during the Dragon Head’s Conflict earlier that year and the friction caused by them. Doubt, suspicion, grudges, defection- they all reeked in the air.
But Mori had an idea for the perfect distraction.
—
Loosening his tie and tossing his hair back, Chuuya got up on the stage. The glaring spotlight followed him, just like the eyes of the crowd as they cheered on. The drummer had already started an energetic beat, getting everyone jumping on the balls of their feet in sheer anticipation.
On-stage, Chuuya felt pretty confident. He was never the one to shirk away from heading the mob. Instead, the bigger his audience, the more motivated he felt to give nothing but his very best to impress them.
He liked the attention.
With a crash of the cymbal, another spotlight appeared, shining on the person who lazily climbed the opposite end of the stage and made his way towards the center. Gritting his teeth, Chuuya watched the bane of his life approach him.
Dazai removed his black coat- the one gifted by the boss- with an effortless shrug of his shoulders and casually threw it in the direction of the many hands that reached towards him in the crowd. He then grabbed a blue mic from its stand, his brown eyes fixed on Chuuya’s face.
Each and every one of his actions were graceful, and yet, laced with an air of detached boredom- as if he wanted to get over with everything and return home soon. How could someone be this much of a dead fish in front of such a zealous crowd? It was yet another one of the million mysteries about Dazai that Chuuya could never understand.
The mafia erupted in cheers once again, buzzing with wild excitement to the strumming of the electric guitar.
Not many people knew this, but singing was actually one of Chuuya’s unexpected strengths. Since he didn’t exactly have the opportunity to show it off in his line of work, all the time spent cultivating this talent while taking showers was boxed in, to never see the light of day.
But here he was.
He did not know if Dazai had any similar musical talent- and in all honesty, that seemed extremely unlikely, as Chuuya doubted Dazai could do something as normal as sing- but that bastard always had a way of surprising Chuuya with a trick up his sleeve, even when he thought that he had gotten used to his antics.
All he could do now was to wait and see, but at least this time, he was fairly confident about his preparation for the challenge. Added with the fact that he was always more than ready for an opportunity to smite that smug smirk off Dazai’s wretched face.
He took a deep breath, his palms digging into the red, gem-studded mic in his hand, and switched it on to sing as the lyrics flashed on the screen behind the crowd.
“A golden but treacherous sunset,
Make sure that you slash through…”
Dazai wasn’t looking at the screen, choosing instead to grin wickedly at the mafisos gathered in the audience. The words flashed blue, indicating his turn, and Chuuya wanted to grab him by his hair and point his face towards the screen. However, even without looking, Dazai didn’t miss a beat, picking up right where Chuuya left.
“This bothersome, entwining sweat,
The machine shouts as if singing anew-”
Well, that wasn’t a bad start. No one had ever heard the Demon Prodigy sing before, and as the masses rallied behind him, Chuuya hated to admit that he was surprisingly… decent at it. Dazai’s voice was much softer than his, meaning he’d be a good complement for the duet. But more importantly, it would also mean that Chuuya’s presence in that performance would be much more noticeable than Dazai’s.
Chuuya grinned. Soon, and maybe for the first time in his life, Dazai was going to get a taste of how it felt like to lose.
“Blow up louder,” they sang together, Chuuya taking up the next verse alone, “The silent fairy is sittin’ above.”
“Blow up louder,” their voices echoed, and Dazai continued, his piercing light brown gaze trained on Chuuya, “Your payment will be pieces of broken love.”
Chuuya glared back at him, his face heating up (probably due to the stage lights), and butting heads metaphorically, they delved into the chorus.
“Ah, the morning sun rises,
Shining between the slabs!
If you truly believe, this meaningful dream
Will change into something new…”
Chuuya whipped his head at Dazai as the latter ended his verse with a vicious growl that drew more cheers from the mafiosos. He grit his teeth with a realization as the drums pounded in the background. He might have more presence, but if Dazai managed to get the crowd more fired up than he did, the scales would tip to his side.
And that would be unacceptable.
–
Dazai had one weakness, and it was that he could never back away from a challenge that involved Chuuya. And with the stakes this high, there was no way he was not going to get an edge over him. Dazai would do anything- anything - for the opportunity to order around Chuuya like his own personal maid, even if it meant that he needed to do something as dumb as sing karaoke with him to climb to the executive position.
The crowd was chanting ‘ hey, hey, hey, hey- ’ as Chuuya started the second stanza.
“There are no travelers anymore,
Every day that I live is like deja vu-”
He sent a steel sharp glance to his side, indicating Dazai’s turn. But Dazai had already used the moment before to sneak up behind him and bump his back to Chuuya’s, making the shorter boy almost lose his balance on stage.
“It's like a shooting release,” Dazai sang with a shit-eating grin as Chuuya turned back with a murderous look. “When the machine finally leaps through.”
“Fairyride-” Chuuya gripped Dazai’s collar in a flash of indignation, the lyrics sounding more like a threat as he lowered his voice, “Accelerate; the little fairy likes to break in…”
Run before I break your skull , was what he meant.
“Fairyride-” Dazai shouted and pointed behind Chuuya, prying himself out of his grip as he whipped around to see what it was. “But it was unable to shed un-wipe-able tears.”
“Ah, the morning sun rises,” The two of them growled their frustration into their mics. “Breaking through the dark! If you feel it, you'll be able to see- That tomorrow carries a spark…”
Their voices melded in perfect synchronization, like a well oiled-machine working in tandem to absolutely eviscerate its surroundings. Beads of sweat were running down their foreheads as the powerful lights blared upon them, casting stark shadows on the stage. The crowd was completely captured, all the tensions forgotten, replaced by curiosity. Who’d come out of it as the victor when neither refused to back down?
“Ah, the morning sun rises,
Over the horizon!
If you believe, that light with meaning
Will change into something new!”
They lowered their voices a pitch and automatically huddled closer for the next stanza. Dazai swiped the back of his palm over his forehead to wipe off the sweat trickling down his face and caught Chuuya staring at him. He gave him a sly smile as he sang with him.
“Ah, there's something we can see, for sure...”
To tease him to make him lose control, Dazai hooked his thumb under Chuuya’s choker and pulled him even closer, “There’s something we have that can’t be taken-'' He grinned as Chuuya’s face flushed red with anger.
Chuuya swatted him off, his eyes darting below to his feet, as if he suddenly found the spots of light dancing around on the stage quite interesting.
“Some things we say might sound like nonsense,” the redhead muttered the verse with him, “For sure, but-”
Chuuya looked up at him again, his blue eyes blazing and Dazai felt a prickle of jealousy at his spirit that never seemed to give up, no matter how much he tried to break it. “But it’s something only we can understand and-”
“-and so there is meaning behind everything…” Dazai joined him, his voice earnest admiration as he felt a sudden spark of understanding flow between them in that moment. It was a difficult pill to swallow, but he knew that no matter how much they berated each other, they did not mean it. Well, maybe to an extent, yes- but in the end, their true intentions always showed through. Dazai had never betrayed Chuuya no matter how many opportunities he had to kill him and Chuuya kept his temper at check, reining in before he went too far. And Dazai knew exactly how far he could go when he was genuinely angry.
When they worked together, there was no room for doubt or mistrust. Despite the fact that working with Chuuya was akin to prancing in a garden with a giant, out-of-control lawnmower on loose, Dazai knew he could rely on Chuuya till the very end.
Halfway through, his eyes widened as he realized that he had started genuinely meaning the lines he was singing. He spun, his back facing Chuuya so that he would not get to notice his clouded face, and stretched the verse to hit the high note to cover up the sudden rush of adrenaline, his voice serrating with the stress he put on his vocal cords for doing so.
When Dazai turned around, the guitarist had already taken the front stage for the interlude, giving Chuuya space to stroll towards the side of the stage and pluck a water bottle from one of the attendants with a brief nod of gratitude. Instead of keeping the mic aside and using his hands like a civilized human being, he twisted the bottle cap open with his teeth.
As Dazai watched on with a mask of disgust, Chuuya poured the water all over his face and hair until the bottle was completely empty.
The crowd went wild as Chuuya strode around the stage, waving and pointing at the audience, and inciting them even more with shouts of encouragement.
He sure is popular, Dazai thought.
Droplets of water flew from the tips of his red hair as he shook his head, sparkling as they caught the stage lights in mid-air. Dazai found himself unable to rip his eyes away from the spectacle that Chuuya was. Fascinating. Breathtaking. Incredible.
When the other boy shot a glance in his direction, Dazai morphed his face into a sneer, mouthing ‘you look just like a wet dog’ .
Glowering, Chuuya pulled up a gloved middle finger at him and readied his mic. And any attempt by Dazai to try to humiliate him on the stage evaporated as Chuuya hit a high note.
There had been quite a few times when Chuuya managed to do the impossible- to surprise Dazai by surpassing his wildest expectations. At such times, all Dazai was able to do was to just stand back and watch his partner in awe- be it his immense fighting prowess, his unspeakable might and dark beauty as Arahabaki, or hearing him unleash the sheer power in his voice.
Almost as if redefining what a vocalist could do,Chuuya’s deep growl thinned into a pointed scream in the end, and Dazai instantly knew he had lost the challenge. But just for a moment, any feelings of jealousy or hate he harbored towards Chuuya vanished without a trace- replaced only by wonder, and a grudging bit of reverence.
—
Kouyou leaned towards the person sitting next to her.
“You only smile like that when your plan is proceeding unspeakably well.”
Mori turned towards his prized executive, and shared the smile with her.
“You read me like a book, Kouyou.”
“I’ve observed you for many years. It’d be a shame if I couldn’t tell that much,” Kouyou hid a light chuckle with her sleeve.
Mori looked back at the two boys on the stage, singing like their lives depended on it. “This little experiment of mine is finally about to reach its devastating potential,” he said, lacing his fingers together. “My two diamonds are shaping each other to be the perfect weapon for the Port Mafia to take over the entirety of Yokohama. No matter how this competition ends, I see this as an absolute win.”
“Ah, the morning sun rises,
Over the horizon!
If you believe, that light with meaning
Will change into something new, yeah…”
Chuuya stretched his high note and Dazai complemented him perfectly with his lower one. With the bang of the drums and the electric guitar’s final few strums, the song ended, and both Dazai and Chuuya stood panting on the stage, their shirts sticking to their bodies and faces flushed. The two of them raised their hands and took a swift bow to an applause louder than any that Mori had heard.
As expected from Double Black, the most feared and respected duo in Yokohama’s history. They had proven themselves to be Mori’s best strategy ever.
Watching Chuuya pump a triumphant fist in the air, the boss of the Port Mafia grinned, a clear victor- apart from himself- in his mind.
“The real competition, however, has just begun.”
—
