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Even Chuuya himself wasn’t sure when exactly he started dropping by Shoko’s apartment after his missions.
At first, it was something practical, he knew where she lived, she knew where he lived, and they’ve known each other since they were seventeen, both of them being close to Dazai, and her having a healing-focused Ability, too.
Legally, he doesn’t even think that Shoko has a medical license of her own, sure he knows the story she crafted to tell her family when leaving Tokyo, that she’s ’pursuing a program at a highly selective medical school in Yokohama’, but he’s still kind of terrified of her, in a way.
But it still beats dealing with Mori’s smug face at two in the goddamn morning, though, so that was a plus.
In reality Shoko’s impromptu graduation from her Tokyo high school and some string pulling that led her directly to Yokohama, wishing to escape the burdens that came with Tokyo’s own division of Ability Users, that was the actual reason as to why she was here in the first place.
But it’s still not like he’s complaining, hell no…!
Now… where was he?
Right now he’s sitting cross-legged on Shoko’s kitchen counter, her kitchen’s pretty spacious, so it’s not like he’s complaining by any means, he thinks that it’s because of some old connections as to why she’s got such a nice apartment to live, as she’s not getting her hands dirty in any mafia money, it seems.
While he’s cross-legged on her kitchen counter, Shoko’s currently patching up his shoulder, a nasty bullet getting in the way of his skin, and she’s seemingly both concentrated and exhausted at the same time.
He thinks that it’s only because she’s been too busy awake for three business days straight.
Agency woes, must be…
“You smell like smoke.” Shoko tells him offhandedly.
He raises an eyebrow at Shoko’s comment.
“Says the one who used to smoke.” he replies back at her, amused.
“I used to smoke. Past tense, and second of all, it was mainly due to the stress that came with being a part of the Tokyo division of Ability Users in general, as a teenager.” Shoko replied back to Chuuya, still amused.
“Shit, damn…” Chuuya said in return.
“Anyway, my smoke smells classy, so you have it at that.” Chuuya added to his words, softly jabbing an accusatory finger in Shoko's direction.
“Sure.” Shoko quietly snorted at him.
The lights of Shoko’s apartment were dim, on her living room TV some late-night animal documentary softly played, serving as background noise for the two of them.
There was some random takeout on her kitchen table, Chinese food to be more precise, and neither of them had touched it yet.
Weirdly enough, this all felt somewhat domestic of sorts, normal, even.
Chuuya watches Shoko tie off his bandages with such a quick precision, clearly something she’s mastered from prior experience.
He wonders how many times did teenage Shoko ever have to patch up her ragtag group of friends back in her high school days in Tokyo.
Everything else about Shoko, at least physically, looked half-dead.
“D’ya ever sleep, Sho?” he asks her, curiously, tentatively.
“You think med students get sleep?” Shoko asked back at him.
“You never went to med school in the first place.” Chuuya replies back at her, chuckling.
“It’s a weird habit, gotta keep my story up somehow.” Shoko explained to him, casually, as she finally leaned back.
“Don’t try to reopen that wound, okay?” she tells Chuuya, as she slightly stretches her arms.
“No promises.” he says back.
“God, you Port Mafia people are exhausting…” Shoko sighs.
“Yeah, right.” Chuuya replies back at her.
Then, for a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet around them a comforting presence, of sorts.
A second later, Shoko’s phone buzzed from the counter, effectively breaking the silence between them.
Shoko glanced at her phone screen and immediately sighed once again.
Chuuya caught the caller ID name anyway.
Dazai.
Of course.
“Oh,” he said slowly. “That guy again.”
Shoko grabbed her phone before it could ring a second time. “Unfortunately, it seems.”
“He botherin’ you?” Chuuya asked her, genuinely this time.
“He’s been asking me if chloroform expires.” Shoko tells him with a shrug.
Chuuya can’t help but make a face at that. “Should I be concerned…? Or…”
“Probably.” Shoko replies to him with another shrug.
At Shoko’s words, Chuuya barked out a laugh before he could stop himself.
Shoko smiled at that, a tired, small and soft expression on her face.
And it hit Chuuya unexpectedly hard.
So hard that he felt his face start to heat up, great…