Mentoring junior operatives has always been part of the job of a Mafia Executive— or so you had been told (and almost believed), had you not pointed out that they never had any junior operatives until Dazai came along. That one had been a handful of trouble during his early days, but he'd quickly proven himself and risen the ranks, so to speak.

The memory crosses your mind once more as you make your way towards your office, the young Nakahara a fiery presence beside you. He has already ceased his grumbling after Dazai taunted him when you crossed paths earlier, but the way the soles of his shoes drag on the marble floor tell you how he still feels, and you admonish him for it with a level tone begetting respect for propriety and station.

What you get in return are wide eyes, blue like fire, piercing like a sword through your chest. Unbridled admiration, too, and a solemn promise to do better. "I understand, Ane-san. Thank you."

You realize right there and then how young he actually is, despite having lost everything to the madness and duplicity of this cruel yet beautiful world.

So you swear to yourself to protect that honesty and innocence, despite having lost all of yours a long time ago.

The deal was a bust— you had thought as much.

And would have said as much, too, had the Boss not put his foot down (literally) on sending your charge there for his first assignment, with only a handful of men under his command. Worry settles in like a pit in your stomach, growing insidiously as the hours pass and you have yet to hear from any of them.

Nakahara returns to the headquarters just as you are about to leave, thankfully looking not much worse for wear. There are only dull embers, however, where blazing fire should be, and he does not meet your gaze, hiding everything beneath the fedora on his head and messy bangs over his eyes.

The past still keeps him hostage, you observe bitterly, just as much as it still holds you close sometimes. You yourself have learned to deal with it over the years, learning lessons the hard way and losing more and more of yourself every time for them.

So you impart to him one such piece of wisdom, an adage that has kept you grounded and let you remain who you are, despite yourself: "Live not on the approval of others alone. Always carry your own pride in your heart."

His eyes come alive at that, just a little.

You do not know it yet, but your words will stay with him from that moment, growing alongside the inevitable darkness and corruption of the Mafia that have begun to take root in his mind and heart.

For all the grimness that defines your everyday life, there are lighter moments to cherish, too.

Nakahara still calls you "Ane-san" to this day and hour, even as he pours you both flutes of sparkling champagne to celebrate his promotion to Executive. You have already stopped admonishing him for a year, now; your charge has made himself very much clear on how much he greatly respects and admires you since Day One.

He has also endeared himself to you through those same months, and you feel immense pride at his growth. More than having proven himself as a capable mafioso, he has also developed his own remarkable brand of leadership, commanding much respect from those who have worked with and under him.

You raise your glass to him, the early sunset glinting off it like a newly-unearthed diamond in the rough. "To Chuuya-kun," you toast with a smile, "congratulations."

There's that boyish smile, once more. "Thank you, Ane-san."

You thank him, too, in your heart, as you clink your glasses together and drink to promising days ahead.

You don't mince your words tonight: "You truly are a fool."

Chuuya looks up, absolutely plastered and unashamed of it. He bites back his retort, however, because you are absolutely right. "I have told you that affection is a useless thing," you go on, more for yourself than for your heartbroken brother, because you, too, are angry, and wish nothing more than to wring that traitor's neck with his own bandages yourself.

The situation being as it is, however, you can do nothing but listen and comfort. Chuuya's partnership with Dazai is a most special one for its sheer unconventionality, and you cannot dare to fathom the depth of loss he feels right now.

You take a seat at the bar counter, leveling his pitiful gaze with your own, tranquil yet furious. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and you know very well how true it is. "You and I both, Ane-san," he had comforted you once, words of sympathy hiding much hurt within, and you'd blinked back your own tears, gathering him in a hug instead. You had both needed it.

So you now open your arms once more, cradling his broken form with your own. "You're a fool," you repeat, "but so is he. It is his loss." You say nothing more than that, and it's enough. This night will pass, and so will tomorrow, and the day after that.

But for now, Chuuya cries, and you do, too, inside. A broken heart heals with time, but not always.

"That girl under Akutagawa's care," Chuuya asks you during a lull in the meeting, "has she been eating well?"

You have only introduced Izumi Kyouka to him once, when she had first been inducted into the Mafia's ranks. You only kept to yourself how you see a little of him in her in some aspects, but he was the first to point that out, nonetheless. It wasn't long, however, before she was placed under the elder Akutagawa's direct command, regularly being dispatched on assassinations that kill her more than she kills her targets.

All of you in the Mafia share a common dullness in your eyes, like dark clouds blocking the sun. The earlier you join, the more tainted you are— or so you have been made to believe, the day the one you love has been taken from you and you have been cast into the abyss.

Now, as you look into Chuuya's eyes, aged and changed, yet still blue as fire, you realize there and then how much he has saved you as much as you have saved him, and how this kinship you have has allowed you to grow, too, alongside him.

Even now, you are still very proud of him— of this brother of yours, for being who he is, despite everything.

You smile before you know it. He gives you a questioning look, all serious and straightforward, and it makes you want to laugh, but you hold that in for reasons better kept to yourself.

"I wonder, too," you answer him for now. "Let us find out later."