Nakahara Chuuya gazes down at the casket, a dark look in his eyes. Inside the coffin, Mori Ougai rests like he is taking an afternoon nap—how unlikely.
The death itself isn't too much of a surprise. The man was putting too much on his shoulders—the stress was bound to get to him eventually. But it is the timing of his death...that alone sets alarm bells off in his head.
"Shouldn't you be in mourning?"
Chuuya sighs at Kouyou's lilting voice.
"You know very well that while I do respect the Boss, I'm not exactly in the celebratory mood."
"Oh, really? Even if you are next in line to lead the Port Mafia?"
"No," Chuuya mumbles. "There's something wrong here and I intend to find out what."
Both the Mafia Executives, war hardened and cynical, stay for the rest of the funeral. Inside, Chuuya's insides roil in guilt and anticipation.
Plans for retribution brew within him should he find the perpetrator for this travesty.
But for now, he mourns.
