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It has been approximately a year since Chuuya Nakahara began affiliating himself with the Port Mafia, now an unextractable and foundational piece of the organization. During that same time frame, his partnership with the mafia’s one and only Angel of Death has transpired and continues reigning supreme.
The lethal duo consisting of Yosano Akiko -Mori’s prodigy and most prized asset- and himself -the vessel of the god of destruction, Arahabaki, as well as an aspiring and highly considerable candidate for the spot of youngest executive in the history of Port Mafia- have taken the Japanese underworld by storm since their first months of activity, rightfully cementing their terrifying reputation, which in turn gave them a fitting title.
The Divine Reapers.
The Angel’s ability to yank people from Charon’s claws by a hair as they near death from fatal injuries and heal them back to perfection couldn’t be more opposite from Chuuya’s power of ruination. However, his partner’s ability is a double-edged sword, since being restored back to health is a therapeutic miracle, until it isn’t. Being cured from falling into the depths of death isn’t always a blessing, not if it includes being tossed into more and worse torment.
Chuuya’s heard many stories revolving the Great War and, since joining the mafia, its head’s involvement in the whole ordeal. He knows the medical history of the soldiers and Yosano’s service as their wonderous healer.
No one was allowed to be dispatched due injuries with their beloved and benevolent Angel on their side. But the non-seizing fighting and endless woes of war can turn any human to despair and to seek someone to blame.
After the war was over, Yosano’s records paused, a three-year gap in her service under Mori, before she resumed working as a Port Mafia member. Soldiers were either eliminated or dispatched themselves through suicide.
Chuuya can see the ghosts of a bloody past long gone swirling in magenta eyes whenever they meet his. Chuuya can’t claim to wholly understand the other half of his partnership that well yet -or may never do so- but he knows betrayal and how one’s actions have contributed in it, even not purposefully.
Even so, he envies the pure nature of that power. His own isn’t meant for anything less than rotten business, especially not in this line of work.
Creation and catastrophe.
A conflicting pair that only Mori’s conniving mind could have conjured into reality. The two young mafiosi took up the dirty work of dealing with the Mafia’s enemies hands-on, interrogation and execution.
The two fight like a well-oiled machine, despite their out-of-work relationship continuing to be prickly. When the brawny part is over, Chuuya’s gravity manipulation serves as a great motivator through torturous methods to get the opponent to speak, while Yosano enhances the procedure by offering instant but brief relief to the interrogatee, before Chuuya -and Yosano, on a good day- resume the blows.
Despite being the finest executioners of their generation, Chuuya knows that neither of them particularly enjoy the process. Occasionally, when the pieces of shit deserve it, Chuuya finds some sick satisfaction in the sadistic process, but although left unsaid and however emotionless his partner attempts to remain during the act, he notices her discomfort: the twitch of an eye, the hold of a breath, her lips tightening into a thin downward line.
They never talk about it, hiding behind masks of professionalism as protection. Not that Chuuya is overeager to dissect what must be one twisted, fucked up mind -as if he is one to talk- but if this partnership’s going to last, maybe some walls should be torn down.
Something in the back of his mind nags him that he should know better after what happened with the Sheep, but even the deep cut his old friends left -literally and metaphorically- can’t change his core beliefs.
Chuuya sort of gave up on seeing stark-clear vulnerability from Yosano and vice-versa.
Until today, that is.
The two are sent after an ability user called Christiana Andersen, alias ‘Ursula’. Her ability -‘The Little Mermaid’- activates through hearing someone’s voice, causing it to make that same someone feel a pain like being pierced by a thousand blades. It leaves no mark, but without proper treatment it can lead to severe injuries or death.
Additionally, the ability activates by any sort of sound, not merely speech, but also groans, moans and every other vocal noise. Chuuya is by no means a quiet person -especially during a fight- but he clamps his mouth shut and makes a great effort to avoid making any type of noise with his throat or mouth as he and Yosano lunge themselves towards their target.
Despite their measures of cautiousness rendering her ability useless, the woman is enough of an adequate fighter to fend them off for a while, but in the end the two of them get on top of things anyway and manage to restrain her, after Chuuya knocks her unconscious with a gravity supplemented kick, making sure her ability can’t hurt them any longer.
Chuuya wipes a bead of sweat that makes its way down his forehead, the strain of keeping himself from cussing the bitch out or clapping back her words with a smart retort having exhausted him more than the fight itself.
“I’ll call a car to move her to headquarters.” Chuuya says as he presses the number on his burner phone and brings it to his ear. “Let’s get out of-“
A loud thump and a clatter echo through the ruins of the building’s floor and Chuuya turns to find his partner writhing down on the floor, her machete fallen next to her. “Bob cut!”
He falls on his knees next to her. He can’t see any external wounds or blood, but the woman beside him keeps convulsing in pain. Then he remembers that sometime during the fight he heard a grunt, but he assumed it came from Ursula, since Yosano kept fighting as maliciously and elegant as ever, so he swallowed his urge to call out to her last minute -reminding himself of the danger of such an action- and went on.
Apparently, he was wrong. She must have kept fighting through the searing pain, her body only giving out after the mission was complete. “You idiot, you should have said something!” He yells, cursing her admirable competence and dangerous stubbornness.
She barely manages to hiss a single word through her gritted teeth. “H-H…hospital.”
Chuuya -understanding that this isn’t the best time for hypocritical reprimands of recklessness- scoots closer and attempts to pick her up. Yosano folds in two, a scream of pain emitting from her lips. Chuuya cringes, not knowing if it’s the ability or the way he’s grabbing her that’s causing the reaction.
He scoops her up in his arms, her entire frame trembling. Something shimmery on the floor catches his eye and he spots the golden butterfly pin Yosano never takes off. Driven by its importance for her, Chuuya sighs and picks it up in his gloved hand, placing the ornament back on the side of her head.
The gesture draws a relieved sigh from the purple-haired girl, even through the excruciating pain. The floor’s exits are all blocked from the roof giving out during the fight, so Chuuya uses his ability to make big chunks of cement float in the form of a path that leads upwards and to the roof.
He uses the makeshift steps to carry them both out of the building and from there he leaps from one building to the other, heading for the Port Mafia base. He makes the call for someone to go back for the hostage, but doesn’t stay around for the car to escort them. It will be too late by then.
Due to her critical condition, Chuuya goes to the first person that comes to mind, which happens to be the underground medic he trusts the most in and outside the mafia.
“Will she be alright, Doc?”
Doc scans through Yosano’s examination results and lightly taps the IV fluid container. “We’re lucky you brought her to me as soon as you did or she might not have lived to tell the tale.”
Chuuya nods at his friend, watching his partner’s now stabilized breathing, a serene expression on her face. “The pain has a time limit, depending on the intensity of your voice and how long the user heard it for.” Talk about overpowered. “Thankfully, Yosano-san received a small blow, if what you told me is true. The ability keeps affecting the victim after the user is out of commission, but it’s over now and the damage, painful as it was, is mended and she’s out of danger. She just needs rest.”
“I knew I could count on your crazy genius.” Chuuya replies, earning one of Doc’s characteristically unsettling smiles, which Chuuya is used to not misunderstanding by now.
“When she comes to, you are free to take her home. I’d advise she stays at yours for tonight. She’ll be safer with you than in any Port Mafia owned clinic. Boss has already consented.” Doc informs and removes the anesthesia mask from Yosano’s face.
“Is he here?”
“He’s on his way. You can wait for him outside while I prepare this one for discharge.”
Chuuya hums and heads outside to the waiting area. A few minutes later, Mori enters the hallway, followed by two bodyguards and Elise nowhere in sight. As if Mori read his thoughts, he offers an unasked explanation. “I didn’t want to cause my Elise-chan distress by bringing her here. She’s quite fond of Akiko, you see.”
“Understood, Boss.” Chuuya answers with a respectful bow.
“No need to be so formal, young man.” Says the leader of the Port Mafia, placing a hand on Chuuya’s shoulder in a friendly manner that brings more tension to it rather than decrease it. “Now, tell me everything.”
Chuuya gives him a description of the events prior, including Yosano’s injury on the field, keeping it short and brief, leaving the acute details for the written report he’ll submit at a later date.
“A job well executed, as usual. I do not need to highlight to you, however, how much more preferred it would have been to bring the Angel straight to me, if fatally injured.” Mori’s voice has a dangerous edge to it and Chuuya resists to gulp.
He can’t say to his own employer that despite his loyalty to him and admiration of his impeccable running of the organization, he doesn’t trust him or feel good about leaving an exposed Yosano alone with him.
“It was an emergency, sir. I had to go for the fastest and most possibly available option.” He says matter-of-factly, his voice and gaze unwavering.
Something dark ripples in pools of purple that seem to suck Chuuya’s life force out of him. As if the gods decided to spare him, Doc's head peeks out from the door at that very moment to slice through the eerily thick tension. “She’s ready to go. Though, Chuuya, I think you should be warned…”
-
After a moment between Yosano and Mori in the infirmary, which unsurprisingly didn’t last long due to the woman’s state, Chuuya hauled her and himself into a Port Mafia owned car that Mori called for them and instructed the driver to get them to one of his spare apartments.
Chuuya never doubted Doc’s medical skills, but he sure curses them and himself for relying on them now. Doc’s small ‘surprise’ as he called it, is that Yosano -healthy as a horse- is still under the influence of anesthesia, albeit aware and very much awake.
He said that on the bright side, it will take her mind of any residual pain she might have felt from the ability and her injuries otherwise. The downside is that Chuuya is now forced to deal with a very lively and chatty Yosano, a version of her he is totally unacquainted with.
“Why is your hair so much prettier and softer than mine? No fair!” Yosano pouts as she twirls a few strands that fall on Chuuya’s temple around her finger.
Chuuya’s cheeks heat up the slightest bit at the praise, but that’s not enough to dissipate his exasperation with the situation mainly and her partly. “Please stop touching my hair.” He says through gritted teeth.
“Why not?” She whines, her pout intensifying. “It’s not like I’ll shave it off and make me a wig out of it.”
Chuuya shakes that horrifying statement off and defensively pats his hair. “I’m just not a fan of people touching me.”
“But we’re partners.” She counters, her face a mix of pleading and confused.
“Partners, eh? You barely speak to me out of work for almost a year now, but drawing the line at non-consensual touching is crazy.” Chuuya replies sarcastically, unintentionally letting some genuine hurt lace his tone.
“A year. Been that long, huh?” She murmurs as if she just registered that information. “So you want to talk more?”
“Not while you’re like this, I don’t.” Chuuya huffs and points his finger up and down her frame.
“What do you mean like this?” Yosano asks, offended and wounded. “Am I ugly?” Her gloved hands start patting her cheeks and fiddling with her hair and clothes self-consciously.
“What? No!” Chuuya defends and buries his face into his hands. “You’re just acting exaggerated and out of character, because of the anesthesia. You’re not being you right now! For gods’ sake, if it wasn’t for fucking Ursula-“
“You fucked Ursula? Like the Sea Witch?” Yosano asks in bemusement, highly impressed.
“Not the animated character, the one who did this” He motions up and down erratically at her. “to you. She used that despicable ‘The Little Mermaid’ ability on-“
“Why do you hate the Little Mermaid?” Yosano questions, her voice wobbly and her eyes tearing up. “Ariel is so cute and wonderful.”
Chuuya’s right eye starts twitching nervously and he takes a deep breath. “Ariel is lovely. I’m talking about the attack against your life. You know, the one from a couple of hours ago?”
Yosano’s head tilts to the side and her eyebrows farrow in confoundment. Chuuya loudly groans in response, his head falling back into the seat. “You’ll understand everything tomorrow. Just- stay calm for now. Relax.” He implores her, tired of her shenanigans.
Too bad that Yosano is not up with the program.
Not even two minutes later, Chuuya feels a weight on his lap and when he opens his eyes he is met with Yosano’s tights-clad legs spread along the entire backseat. She looks at him with a testing look -a raised eyebrow with a challenging smile- her arms crossed in front of her chest.
He rolls his eyes, taking her legs and all but shoving them off of him and restricting her into her side in the back of the car. Thank the gods the driver can’t see or hear any of this go down, or the mortification would kill Chuuya on the spot, if Yosano doesn’t demolish his neurotic system first.
“Can you not? You’re an adult. Act like it and cut it with the bratty attitude!”
Yosano blows a raspberry -hopefully in resignation- at Chuuya’s chastising outburst and clicks her tongue. “This wouldn’t be happening if you were paying attention.”
Chuuya gives her a dead pan look and shakes his head. That comment can have two meanings. One is that Yosano sees this as a game and expects Chuuya to be on guard around her. The other is that she simply seeks his acknowledgment, aka, undivided attention. Both inquisitions are equally troublesome and childish and Chuuya is not having it.
Yosano sticks her face against the car window and an excited smile spreads on her face. “Let’s stop for a drink!”
“We’re not making any stops-“
She taps on the driver’s window and the moment it starts to descend she immediately makes her demand. “Park here, we’re going in there.”
“No, we’re for sure not, keep driving to the address I gave.”
“Don’t listen to him, make the stop-“
“You’re in no place to give orders! Listen to me-“
While the driver is conflicted between which powerful and dangerous ability user to choose to follow, Yosano takes matter into her own hands and opens the door. With the car still in motion, she attempts to jump off. Chuuya curses and signals the driver to stop and stay put.
Doc specifically instructed that Chuuya shouldn’t use his or any ability on Yosano, out of concern for the treatment’s smooth sailing progress. So unable to stop her by force, ability or body wise, Chuuya follows the purple-haired woman into the bar she uncovered.
Not too shabby, if you ask Chuuya. Purple velvet seats, couches and cushions are specked around the establishment, the bar and tables are made by lustrous brown wood and a huge collection of filthily expensive brands grace the wall behind the counter.
Yosano makes a bee-line for the bar, her ass clumsily landing on a seat, causing her black coat to fall. Chuuya rushes to her side in worry and levitates the coat back on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
No reaction of anguish comes from the girl, but instead a delighted giggle. “Gravity just wasn’t on my side. Maybe you could put in a good work for me since you’re such good pals.” She jokes with a wide grin.
“Haha. The Angel of Death makes jokes now? Too bad you didn’t go for a comedic career. They’d die laughing.” He rolls his eyes at her and takes the seat next to her.
“Don’t say that name. Not out here.” Yosano replies, steadying her head on the palm of her hand and exuding more seriousness than she has since they left the clinic. Chuuya side-eyes her, making a quick survey of the bar to make sure no one’s listening in or shows signs of recognition for the name, but he detects nothing.
Looking back at the girl next to him, he realizes she said that for herself. Chuuya awkwardly licks his lips and bows apologetically. “Okay, Yosano-san.”
That makes her dimmed smile shine a bit brighter and when she turns to order at the barkeep, the bubbly demeanor caused by the anesthesia effects is in full swing once more. “Yes, can you bring us a bottle of Beaujolais and hm- two glasses of Pinot Noir to start…”
Chuuya’s eyes widen a tad bit as he listens in on the order she’s placing. He’s seen Yosano drink during certain Port Mafia functions, wine specifically, but never thought that their tastes were so aligned. When the barkeep asks if there’s anything else, Chuuya finds himself covered by his partner and replies negatively.
Yosano resumes talking in a hyperactive manner, not always making sense, but Chuuya indulges her. It’s only for one night and even though the conversation isn’t of the most stimulating kind, he ends up having more fun with her smart quips and silly anecdotes than he thought he would.
Chuuya takes videos and pictures, planning to transfer them from the burner phone to his laptop at home. In some Yosano is aware she’s being recorded. In others she seems too absorbed to notice. Chuuya, exasperation aside, wants to remember her like this. It’s mostly for friendly blackmail, although he doubts that sober Yosano will be amused by it or perceive it as friendly.
Yosano holds her glass from its stem and her eyes follow the swirling movement of its contents. “Do you ever wish things were different?”
Chuuya downs his own glass and perceives her questioningly. “Different how?”
“That you were somewhere far away from under Mori’s scrutinizing eye. Away from all the blood and violence…”
The blood red liquid reflects on the magenta depths of her eyes, her gaze unmoving and refusing to face her partner. Chuuya doesn’t know if it’s the anesthesia fading or if it unlocked a new stage of grief in her, but he thinks that he shouldn’t take this rare showcase of openness lightly.
“Is that what you want?” That snaps Yosano from her trance and she meets his gaze, an easily missed twinkle in her eye. “If there was such a place, would you go?”
The question makes her pause, her free hand coming up to fiddle with her hair pin. “I’ve lived like this for too long…practically my whole life, to have the courage to escape. And no place that harbors monsters like myself exists…” She takes a large sip of wine, the rim of her glass stained with lipstick. “But if I did…would you come with?”
Chuuya freezes at the question. Or is it a proposition? Either way, is he ready to let himself suspended to fate and luck, with no place to belong? Port Mafia isn’t perfect by any means, but it offers stability. It gave him opportunity for power and unexpected bonds. As long as he sacrifices his loyalty to it, he’s accepted and respected. Where else would he find this good a deal?
“If a place exists that can as much as tolerate me and my crimes, they’ll definitely accept you too.”
Chuuya’s head spins fast enough to cause a whiplash, taken aback by Yosano’s intuitiveness. He’s either too much of an open book or the two share more similarities than he let himself believe. Two underdogs, raised to power for their malevolent contribution -horrific means for a “good” end goal- to the underworld’s machinations and seeking a way out. He feels exposed, but so is she. It’s only fair Yosano picks up as much as she put down, letting Chuuya in on her inner most hopes.
Chuuya can’t help the laugh that bubbles from his chest, something about Yosano’s words reassuring the crippling doubts about his own morality and corruption. His eyes sting and he quickly wipes the incoming tears away. Yosano smiles back at him with half-lidded eyes, fatigued from alcohol.
They chat a bit more -mostly intelligible stuff on Yosano’s end- when a booming and lively songs sounds through the speakers and Yosano giddily slips off the stool to dance. Her hips sway to the rhythm back and forth, while her hands move freely around her and above her head. She has a blinding and unrestrained smile, her face totally unburdened and dances as light as a feather.
Chuuya feels weightless by vicariously watching her, without his gravity manipulation doing the job for him. He wishes he could stay in this one moment, pocket this feeling away and keep it for all time.
Yosano spins around with her eyes closed, causing her to accidentally bump into a random man, a part of her glass’ contents spilling on his shirt and the floor. In her daze and non-fully aware state, she apologizes through insistent giggling, which expectedly doesn’t go well with him or his company.
The man is taller than both of them and he approaches Yosano with aggressive intention, while she merely stares at him with a lopsided smirk. “You little-“
“Hey,” Chuuya rushes to get in between them, his hands in a shielding motion towards both sides. “We don’t want any trouble here.”
Look at me, trying to avoid conflict. This is wrong on so many levels.
The man growls and cracks his knuckles. “Tell your bitch not to start shit she can’t finish.”
Chuuya’s eyebrows scrunch in anger, his hands bawling into fists. “She’s not mine or anyone else’s bitch for that matter. Say one more derogatory or slimy thing about my partner and see if you live long enough to regret it.”
The man and his pals burst into mocking laughter, spit droplets flying everywhere. “Big words coming from the squirt. I don’t know who should be scaring me more! The midget or the little woman-“
He never gets to finish the demeaning sentence, as Yosano’s black stiletto heel makes contact with his face, piercing through his eyeball. The kick was supported by Yosano holding onto Chuuya’s hands and him hurling her up in the air, towards the bastard’s ugly mug.
She pulls her heel out and with Chuuya’s help manages a semi-graceful landing, while the man screams in agony, covering his eyeball. He isn’t successful in containing the streams of blood that squirt out of the wound.
The rest of the men stare in horror, but stupidly insist on vengefully taking on the duo. Yosano looks at Chuuya decisively and rests one hand on the small of his back, while the other encloses around his. “Let’s give them a dance lesson.”
Chuuya -fired up by his itch for a fight- smiles back at her, all teeth and malice. “We’re going to fuck them up.”
They both turn to face the guy that’s closing in on them, with his fist already raised and ready to strike. Chuuya dips Yosano at the exact moment the punch is thrown and uses the hand that’s not holding her to squeeze the guy’s arm impossibly tight, until he hears the sound of his shuttering bone.
He cries out and takes back his arm, clutching it uselessly as he falls to sit on the ground. A third guy ambushes them from the side, but Yosano catches on fast. She twirls Chuuya around and Chuuya lets his leg fly up mid-turn, high enough to make impact and crack the man’s neck.
The man, being physically less muscly and shorter than his peers, all but flies across the small distance to the bar and gets knocked against the stools, gasping for air through his now broken throat.
Chuuya whoops as he folds Yosano into him and then back out. Yosano chuckles and connects their hands once more, dancing in the middle of their opponents’ pained bodies. The next guy is exceptionally big, seething with rage at being humiliated by the incompetence of his friends.
Chuuya winks at Yosano and she shoots him a thumbs up, as the shorter part of the duo raises her into a board lift above his head and lunges her straight towards the incoming giant. The man tries to run away and turns his back on Yosano, making it easy for her to effectively grasp onto his back like a maniacal koala.
He helplessly tries to shake her off, with no rate of success. She wraps her arm around the man’s fat neck and strangles him, drowning every and any protest, all of it dying in his throat. She doesn’t let go until his complexion goes ghostly white and his eyes have travelled at the back of his head.
Eventually, she releases her hold and simultaneously jumps off him and onto the counter, in order not to fall along with the guy’s unconscious limbs, that meet the cold floor with a thud. The two mafiosi look around for any other challengers, but everyone has pretty much cowered into any corner they could find.
Chuuya offers his hand to help Yosano get down from the bar and the two bow theatrically to their victims and audience alike. They leave a huge tip for the poor soul of a bartender that got terrorized for no valid reason and they speed-walk out of there in between fits of laughter.
-
The driver had fallen asleep during their bar fighting adventure, but was kind -or scared- enough to drop them off at their initial destination. Chuuya thanked him and dragged a heavily sleepy Yosano out of the car and all the way up to the apartment.
Chuuya is strong, so carrying her is no problem, but her leaning her entire body onto his side with the height difference they’re sporting makes the trip rather uncomfortable. He rids both of them of their shoes and lets Yosano rest on the couch while he grabs night clothes for the both of them.
He instructs her to change in the living room, while he does so in his bedroom. When he comes back, after making sure Yosano’s decent, they both sit on the couch and scour the television channels for anything worthwhile watching, before they drift off to sleep.
Chuuya stops at a channel broadcasting some type of medical crime drama, which seems to catch Yosano’s eye. Then, he texts Doc that they’re home safe and proceeds to check his inbox for any new messages or emails.
Meanwhile, he reminisces the events of this emotional day. Things turned out to be more complicated than what they bargained for in this mission, but as much as the anesthesia part mentally drained Chuuya, he also can’t help but be a little glad for it.
Tomorrow, when Yosano wakes up devoid of any alcohol or anesthesia in her system, she’ll still have their memories from today in the back of her mind. And despite all evidence before today claiming otherwise, Chuuya knows that the Yosano he spent tonight with inside the car and in the bar is not an anesthesia-induced illusion, but a part of Yosano struggling to come to the surface.
Both of them came closer to knowing each other tonight, more so than any other time this entire year. The seeds for a blossoming camaraderie have already been planted and expecting to bloom, or might already have and are merely waiting for dedicated care.
Yosano stirs and murmurs something that Chuuya doesn’t catch. He hums in acknowledgement, prodding her to repeat herself. She doesn’t speak up again, but Chuuya feels a tag on his t-shirt and instinctively turns towards her.
He is met with long black lashes brushing his cheeks, purple strands framing a moonlit face and a pair of soft lips pressing against his. Chuuya blinks, takes a shaky breath against the mouth that’s kissing him and in that miniscule moment -before he gets any chance to react in any sort of way- all of it is gone. Yosano pulls back, her face too far away, staring back at a dumbfounded Chuuya with haziness. “Merry Christmas, Chuuya.”
Chuuya stays stunned for a few seconds as he faces her sweet smile, his face burning up and his blue eyes as wide as plates. “You- You idiot! It’s July! And there isn’t- There’s no mistletoe here! What-“
While Chuuya’s brain short-circuits, Yosano’s lights go out and she passes out cold on her partner’s lap, leaving Chuuya with zero explanation and in a panic. “Fuck, Akiko.” Chuuya bemoans and slides a hand down his face to hide his reddened complexion and distract himself from the tingling her lips left on his, as well as the beating of his heart from Yosano uttering his name like that.
He dares to look down at his sleeping partner, strands of hair endearingly sticking out every which way, including some getting in her slightly opened mouth. He carefully removes them and tucks a chunk of it behind her ear, her butterfly pin glistening under the summer full moon, whose light invades through the window. He brings the sheet further up to cover her fully and moves himself into a comfortable sleeping position on the couch.
One big question-mark this woman is.
But Chuuya’s determined to shed light to every mystery surrounding her through this partnership.
However long it takes.
-