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Chuuya Nakahara prided himself on being many things—strong, loyal, competent, unshakeable. But above all else, he was obedient. Not in the submissive, spineless way people liked to imagine when they saw him standing beside Dazai. No—his obedience was the kind forged through blood, duty, and the unspoken contract between him and Mori Ougai.
Mori had saved him. Raised him. Given him purpose.
Chuuya never acted against his orders.
He never even thought about it.
Well… almost never.
There was one day—one humiliating, infernal day—when he genuinely considered rebellion. It was so ironically stupid that even years later, he would rather die than let Dazai find out.
That day was Port Mafia Members Health Check Day.
The Port Mafia headquarters had an atmosphere that morning that could only be described as funereal. People whispered in the hallways, shuffled reluctantly to and from appointments, and avoided eye contact with the white-coated staff.
Some members even looked as though they were on death row.
Chuuya strode through the hall with his usual confidence, long coat snapping with each step. He didn’t have time for whatever ridiculous protocol Mori had dreamed up this time.
Then he saw the sign taped to the door of the medical wing.
MANDATORY ANNUAL HEALTH CHECK — ATTENDANCE REQUIRED
By Order of Boss Mori Ougai
He froze mid-step.
“…You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
A passing Executive, Hirotsu, patted his shoulder sympathetically.
“Best to get it over with, Nakahara-kun.”
From inside, somebody screamed.
Chuuya’s eye twitched. “Why the hell does a medical exam sound like torture?”
“Well,” Hirotsu said. “Most members find the needles… troubling.”
Chuuya scoffed. “They’re grown adults. It’s just a shot.”
And then the scream changed pitch—a deep, guttural roar.
“…IS THAT A HORSE SYRINGE?!”
Chuuya stared.
Hirotsu nodded solemnly.
Chuuya took a slow step back.
“No,” he said decisively. “Nope. I’m not doing this.”
He tried to walk away.
He truly did.
But behind him came a soft cough.
“Ah, Chuuya-kun,” a familiar voice said, polite and chilling at the same time. “Trying to leave?”
Chuuya stiffened.
Of course.
Of course Mori Ougai would appear exactly when defiance began to curl in his chest.
Chuuya turned around slowly. “…Boss.”
Mori smiled—warm, doctorly, and utterly merciless. Elise giggled by his side, swinging her legs.
“You weren’t about to skip your checkup, were you?” Mori asked.
Chuuya cleared his throat. “Well—Boss—I’m perfectly healthy. More than healthy. I’m basically Arahabaki condensed into a human body. I don’t need—”
“Everyone needs a checkup,” Mori cut in gently.
“I don’t—!”
“It’s an order, Chuuya-kun.”
There it was.
The iron door slamming shut.
Chuuya felt every muscle in his body coil with frustration. For the first time in his life, he seriously—dangerously—considered defying Mori.
“C’mon, Boss, look at me. I fight monsters on Thursdays. A little anaemia won’t kill me.”
Mori pushed up his glasses. “Let’s not wait to find out.”
Behind him, a doctor quietly prepared an absolutely enormous syringe. Chuuya’s eyes widened.
“That thing is not going anywhere near me.”
Mori tilted his head. “Are you acting against my orders, Chuuya-kun?”
Chuuya opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
This was it. The one moment in his entire life where a tiny voice whispered:
Just run. Run now. Disobey. You can beat all of them.
He clenched his fists.
Mori smiled knowingly.
Chuuya exhaled slowly. “…Fine.”
The moment Chuuya sat on the examination bed, every muscle in his body locked.
The doctor approached with the syringe.
Chuuya’s soul left his body.
“Don’t look so tense,” the doctor said. “It’s only a simple blood draw.”
“That’s not a simple syringe! That thing could take down a horse!”
“It’s standard Port Mafia equipment.”
“That makes it WORSE!”
The doctor sighed and looked him in the eye. “…We use stronger needles because your body is… unusually durable.”
Chuuya blinked.
“—Oh.”
“But this one—” The doctor lifted a different, even thicker needle. “This one is for ability users with reinforced vascular tissue.”
Chuuya stared at it.
Then at the door.
Then back at the needle.
He made a split-second decision.
“I’m leaving.”
He slid off the table.
The doctor panicked. “N–Nakahara-san, you can’t! Boss said—”
“I don’t give a damn what Mori said! Nobody’s stabbing me with that demon spike!”
He reached for the door.
Mori cleared his throat from the hallway.
Chuuya froze.
“Chuuya-kun,” Mori called pleasantly, “come back inside.”
Chuuya shut his eyes.
Death would be preferable.
He walked back in.
As if the humiliation weren’t enough, one person just had to be there.
Dazai leaned against the doorway, grinning with the delight of a man who had just found his new favourite blackmail story.
“Well, well, Chuuya~,” he sing-songed. “Having trouble with a little needle?”
Chuuya snapped.
“SHUT UP! I’M NOT SCARED!”
Dazai raised a brow. “I never said you were. Your trembling hands are saying it for me.”
“I’LL KILL YOU!”
Mori lifted a hand. “No killing in the medical wing.”
Chuuya glared at both of them, cheeks burning.
Dazai smirked. “If you want, Chuuya, I can hold your hand.”
“OVER MY DEAD BODY!”
“Oh? That can be arranged.”
Chuuya launched a scalpel at him.
The doctor cowered behind a tray.
Mori sipped tea.
In the end, it wasn’t Mori or the doctor or fear of punishment that defeated him.
It was the simple, shameful truth:
He couldn’t disobey.
No matter how he tried, no matter how his instincts screamed, Chuuya Nakahara was loyal—to a fault.
So he sat still—rigid as stone—while the needle pierced his arm.
He didn’t flinch.
(He absolutely did, but only three people saw it, and two of them were sworn to secrecy.)
The doctor looked at the vial. “Done.”
Chuuya slowly opened his eyes. “Already?”
“Yes. You survived.”
Dazai clapped.
“Good job, little Chuuya! I’m so proud of you.”
Chuuya nearly threw a biohazard bin at him.
When he exited the medical wing, Chuuya felt exhausted—physically, mentally, spiritually. He’d fought madmen, monsters, entire military forces…
Nothing compared to that.
Hirotsu approached him again.
“How did it go?”
Chuuya stared straight ahead. “If you tell anyone what you heard, I’ll dump you into the bay.”
“…I see,” Hirotsu answered politely. “I heard nothing.”
Chuuya marched off.
Dazai skipped behind him, humming,
“So~ you almost disobeyed Mori today?”
Chuuya paused.
“Dazai.”
“Yes?”
“If you say one word about it to anyone…”
“Yes~?”
“I’ll revive you from the dead just to kill you again.”
Dazai smiled innocently.
“My lips are sealed.”
They both knew he was lying.
But still, Chuuya never disobeyed Mori’s orders.
Not once.
Except for that one day—
the day he almost chose mutiny over a needle.
And honestly?
Nobody could blame him.