Authoress Notes: Crossposted from AO3. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter One
Today is no different than most days. Chuuya supposes it's become of a routine, but that would mean that this is something he's grown comfortable doing. It's not. He would never, but unfortunately, the mafia doesn't take kindly to those who are weak of heart, so Chuuya has to kill or be killed -no other way around it.
Today, though, they are up against some aspiring organization who thought they can take on the Port Mafia. Ha. Chuuya pities both their stupidity and guts.
Chuuya dodges a bullet to the brain, and grabs to break the shooter's neck. He doesn't wait to see the soul mark visible on the man's neck to turn grey. Similar to what will happen to the soul mark of that person who bears this man's words – who's now dead.
For every life he takes, he destroys two lives. He hates every minute of it.
But he dives deeper into the fray, kills another man, and fights on. Does that make him a monster? Chuuya supposes that right now is not the time to debate regarding his moralities.
The enemy organization has 50 men, and the mafia sent out only 30 goons in retaliation. They didn't even realize that it's a losing battle because the mafia didn't even deem them that much of a threat and only sent a small fraction from the hundreds of goons they have at their discretion.
And he was among of those goons.
He punches another enemy, but then he turns to see a gun pointed at the back of his comrade - one that Chuuya never bothered to know the name of. The said man notices it too late, and the enemy fires before instincts kicked in.
There was no dodging the shot, he guesses the man is aware of that as well, closing his eyes and bracing himself for the impact.
Except, the bullet doesn't hit its target.
Instead, it stays suspended in the air before Chuuya flicked his hand away, making it drop to the ground. Both men blink in shock, jaws dropping.
Tch. Normally he's not a fan of using his ability, trying to prove himself formidable even without his gift, but he's not about to stand by and let his comrades die. Luckily, the mafia goon had more brain and grabbed the other's gun before he shoots them in the head. Blood splatters everywhere, including on Chuuya's person - and most unfortunately, his gloves.
"Thank you for saving my life, Nakahara-sama!" The goon whose name he doesn't know still thanks, and runs off to join the fight.
Chuuya Nakahara is a goon in name only. He's the understudy of Ozaki Kouyou, and even the others know he's destined to rise up the ranks of the organization.
"Ugh, I ruined my gloves!" He complains later when the fight is over, grumbling. Their squad leader just laughs good naturedly and tells him to just remove them and Chuuya scoffs back because he can't.
Lest they see the words tattoed over his left hand, the words his soul mate first spoke to him.
"Suit yourself, Nakahara," The man tells him, and turns to give out orders to the goons scattered in the alley.
The man has a, "It's my pleasure, my friend spoke highly of you," on his forearm, which he was always proud to show off: it meant his soulmate was within their circle, and there would be no complications - or so he said.
The man hasn't met her yet. This man doesn't understand.
So Chuuya grits his teeth and keeps his bloodied gloves on until he's back in the base and inside the safe comfort his room provides - where no one is privy to his words but his own self.
There is no room for soulmates here in the Port Mafia. He disposes of the ruined gloves and pulls on a new pair.
"Germophobe much, Chuuya-kun?"
Turns out he's not alone like he initially thought. There was only ever one person who's got the nerve to sneak into his quarters.
The shitty bandages jerk, Dazai.
Chuuya stiffens, not in fear of what this man is capable of but the possibility of him seeing his soul mark, to see his words there.
But Chuuya's already wearing his gloves, so instead he scowls and sidekicks him - which the other dodges, of course. He's not feared amongst the mafia for nothing.
"What do you want now, Dazai?" He snaps back, as if the mere mention of Osamu Dazai's name didn't terrify those who knew of the man who owns the name.
"Mori-sama wants us to train together starting today! He says we're going to be partners, what a pain, ne, Chuuya." Dazai explains with a small smile, one that doesn't quite reach his uncovered eye - fake.
"Ha? I have no need for a partner that's a bastard like you." Chuuya replies, confused. What would Mori-sama gain from partnering them two? It's not like Dazai could help him that much. Dazai, on the the other hand, wouldn't even need his help at all.
"I'm not happy about this either, Chuuya," The man tells him, making a face. Chuuya ignores the small twinge in his chest.
"Because that means I'll see your annoying face more!"
His eye twitches and he turns around to kick the other.
"Tch. Who's more annoying, jerk!"
When he meets up with Kouyou that night, she smiles behind her handheld fan, mirth in her eyes. He slides past her, grabbing his own cup of sake, unamused.
Kouyou was the one who found him, and had been more than just a mentor to him in his time in the mafia. He holds her in high regard, and it's his respect for her that's stopping him from hitting her because how dare she agree to something as ridiculous as this – ?
That, and he would never hit a lady unless the situation calls for it. Chuuya has propriety, after all.
"Of course you'd think this is interesting…" he mutters, scowling. It was times like these he couldn't tell what in the world Kouyou saw in Dazai that would make him a perfect partner for him. Who was he kidding? The universe made them soul mates, for fucks' sake.
"It's about time you put your abilities to good use, Chuuya-kun. Mori-sama is correct, I think Dazai-kun is a perfect match for you." She tells him, the implication hidden in a light, teasing tone. He was Kouyou's understudy for a reason, and the mafia doesn't like wasting resources.
"That's bullshit."
Kouyou regards him, eyes gleaming with worry. "I hope Dazai could be a good influence to you…" she trails of. "...despite his reputation."
And Chuuya really doesn't know the implication of her words. He doesn't reply. They both enjoy the sake in relative silence, bathing in the moonlight that streams from the window. Chuuya doesn't tell her that he's destined for him, probably will never do, and he dreads of what is to come.