The next morning, the irritating sound of rapid-fire doorbell ringing jerks Chuuya out of his dreams. He 's always been a light sleeper, so he slides out of bed, and slips into a yukata in no time before stumbling through the apartment, yawning and half-tripping over his pair of pants that he left on the floor last night.

He expects another unpleasant visit from Dazai, considering his ominous promise about

helping Chuuya with his little problem,

perhaps Kouyou with another job for him, but who he definitely doesn 't expect to see is '

'Guys? ' Chuuya says, holding open the door because

Yuan, Shirase, and Luca are standing in front of him.

'What are you ' '

'Told you we were at the right door, ' Yuan tells the other two with a click of her tongue. 'I got 'em wrapped around my finger nice and tight. ' Turning to Chuuya, her face lights up into a mischievous grin. 'So that 's where you 've been hiding all this time! '

'I wasn 't

hiding

, ' Chuuya huffs as his friends push past him and into the apartment, heads whipping this way and that as they take it all in.

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket ' not that damn mafia suit, Shirase lets out a low whistle. 'If I had a place like this, I 'd be hiding, too. '

'Again:

not

hiding. '

'Yeah, yeah, I 'm just glad we found you, ' Yuan calls over her shoulders as she inspects the inside of the fridge. 'I know you 're now mafia royalty and all, but

please,

Chuuya, checking in every once in a while to let us know that you haven 't been murdered would be much appreciated. '

Chuuya 's not sure whether he 's grateful or not for Luca when doesn 't give him a chance to explain himself.

'So that 's your job? ' he asks with a humorless smirk. 'Living it up like the prince of Monaco? '

'And if yes, where can I sign up for that? ' Yuan takes a sip of orange juice that she must have found. 'Because God knows I 'm tired of playing errand girl for these boring, emotionless fucks. I deserve a penthouse like this, too. '

'First of all, ' Chuuya shoots Luca a glare, 'I

work.

Considering this is the damn mafia we 're talking about here, it shouldn 't come as a surprise that I do that

at night

, so forgive me for sleeping in. And second, ' he shrugs, 'I don 't see why you can 't live here. There 's more than enough space. '

He 'll have to figure out a way to find a reasonable explanation for having

literacy lessons,

but that 's a problem for another day.

Yuan 's brows shoot up. 'Oh? '

'Fuck knows, you 're probably safer here, ' Chuuya mutters wryly, '

considering someone here gave up essential mafia information first chance they fucking got. '

Hook. Line. And sinker.

Except that Luca doesn 't seem embarrassed or surprised. He simply looks angry

.

'The port mafia deserves to get disbanded! '

Chuuya massages his temple. 'Obviously, but ' '

'They offered

immunity!

To

all of us! '

'And it was a trap as plain as day! ' it rips out of Chuuya. 'Don 't you think I wanted to give up a few names and some information and be done with it? I wish it was that easy, but we have to be fucking patient here if we want to get anything done! '

'That 's easy for you to say, ' Luca snaps, waving his hand around himself, 'sitting here at the top of the castle just because you wh ' '

'All right, ' Yuan cuts in '

literally,

shoving a cup of orange juice towards Luca 's chest as if that will make him see reason somehow. 'How about we calm down a little? Chuuya 's right. This is the port mafia we 're talking about. We can 't just take 'em down in a matter of a few days. These things take time. Organizing. A plan. '

'Do we have that? ' Shirase asks, leaning against the kitchen island with his arms crossed. 'A plan? Because all I hear is Chuuya saying we have one, but not

what. '

Chuuya lets out a sigh, shoulders drooping as the magnitude of this looms over him like a dark, incoming tidal wave. There 's no escaping it. 'We keep our heads low until we have enough valuable information. We do our jobs. Do what they say. Get on the

inside.

And then ' ' He shrugs. 'We ruin the organization from within. '

He doesn 't mention that yesterday Dazai implied

this exact plan

' and that he didn 't seem to care too much about it either. Frankly, Dazai 's motives are too double-ended and complicated to worry about right now. They will require more than a few simple words to understand.

Shirase scoffs, shaking his head. 'Yeah, because that 's so easy. '

Chuuya 's glare snaps to him. 'Do you have another idea? ' Silence.

No. '

Yeah, didn't think so. '

It 's enough for now. For Shirase and Yuan, at least. Luca 's still silently brooding and glowering daggers at the floor as if it personally offends him. Chuuya has a hunch that he knows the reason behind that scowl ' even if it doesn 't make sense to him. Not anymore. He nods at his other two friends. 'Could you guys give us a moment? '

Yuan makes a face that says more than a thousand words before she grabs Shirase 's wrist. 'C 'mon, let 's take a tour and look at the... the bathroom. Bet Chuuya has a crazy bathtub. '

As soon as they 're out of sight, Luca jerks his chin at Chuuya. '

What?

'

'They 'll keep an extra eye on you and the other sheep who, y 'know, didn 't pass the test. I just wanted to give you a heads up. Be careful of what you say or do around here. '

Luca nods bitterly. 'Right. Did

he

tell you to warn me? '

'What 's your problem? ' Chuuya finally snaps. 'And I mean your actual problem? Because I 'm doing what I can here, and all you 're doing is shit on me as if it was my idea to join the mafia! '

'It was! '

'Shirase needed our help! This was our only option! '

'You

married

that guy, Chuuya! Married him! What else are you doing for him, huh? Spreading your legs for that stupid, ridiculous plan of yours?! Opening your ' '

'

Fuck you. '

His fists ache with the need to be used, but ' even though Luca 's being an ass right now, Chuuya knows that, deep down, he 's being worried in an overprotective, brutish kind of way, so instead of punching him, he turns around, stomps to the kitchen island, and starts reorganizing the knives with a bit more vigor than needed. 'I did what I had to do, and if you 'd just get your head out of your ass for a moment, you 'd realize that. '

And god knows, Luca is the last person to have the right to complain about what Chuuya does and does not do with his body ' even if he is doing none of these things because Dazai 's courtesy is a disguise. Chuuya is well aware of that.

'What 's that? '

Browse, tugging into a frown, Chuuya turns to look at him. 'Hah? '

'This. ' Luca 's in front of him before he can put some distance between them, tugging at his yukata not too gently and revealing a patch of his bare shoulder and '

The ink that 's hiding underneath.

'This! You let them give you a fucking tattoo? '

'What, should I have said no? ' Chuuya presses out a tight-lipped smile. 'Because that would have gone well, right?! '

'God, you 're so

blind.

You think you 're playing them, but ' look at you. Tattooed.

Married. '

The word rolls over Luca 's tongue like an insult. 'Probably serving the mafia boss in bed, too. And you still think we have a chance somehow? You sold us to them, Chuuya. Sold us out like some cheap mafia slaves, and now we have to be their puppets, or else we 'll get killed or worse. That 's the only thing that you did. '

Chuuya doesn 't have time to reply because Luca is already gone, rushing off to god knows where and leaving Chuuya in a heavy, riveting silence that wraps around his bones like chains and

squeezes.

There is a plan.

They can pull it off.

Somehow.

Sure, it won 't be easy or comfortable, but Chuuya didn 't simply sell out his friends.

Right?

Right?

After a few moments, he hears the footsteps of his friends slowly approach; Yuan 's the first to appear, offering him a crooked smile. 'Lover 's spat? '

'Fuck off, ' he murmurs and rests his face against his hands on the counter.

They stopped being lovers the moment Chuuya found out that Luca had a girlfriend that he had kept a secret for three months.

'Sorry, couldn 't help myself, ' Yuan 's voice apologizes before she bumps shoulders with him. 'Don 't worry. He 'll get over it. You know, how he gets sometimes. '

'Whatever. I don 't care. '

'Sure, you don 't. '

'I

don 't. '

'So about me moving in here. Were you serious about that? '

Lifting his head, Chuuya smiles weakly. The sheep might hate him for what he did to them by agreeing to the alliance with the mafia, but, hey, at least he 's still got Yuan on his side.

***

After his friends leave ' Yuan promising to be back soon with a bag of her things ' no one else bothers Chuuya for the rest of the day. Not even Kouyou. Whether it 's down to the fact that Dazai discovered that he can 't read and doesn 't believe he 's competent enough to do any work anymore, or whether his status as Dazai 's weird not-really-husband grants him long weekends, Chuuya isn 't sure. He does use the time he has to plot, though.

If Dazai is going to meet him every step of the day, then Chuuya 's simply going to have to plan smarter. Sure, right now, he 's probably no match for Dazai, but he has learned a lesson or two while living on the streets and being the leader of the sheep. He 'll make do.

One of the things that makes the port mafia so powerful is that they have

some

sort of agreement with the state, or else they wouldn 't be able to operate so freely and on such a large scale without any blowback whatsoever. Before Dazai 's ascension, Chuuya heard of special tasks forces created specifically for organized crime organizations, cartels, and gangs, but afterwards ' it 's like the entire city gave up because it knew it 'd be a fruitless task. They 've only been cornering smaller groups ever since.

The port mafia is untouchable. Even that detective agency that makes an appearance every now and then seems to have made peace with its existence.

A shame really, Chuuya thinks, to let this beast dig its claws so deep into Yokohama.

Be that as it may, if Dazai has secured the mafia ties with the politicians and the military, all the sheep have to do is to cut them. Not an easy task, sure, but not impossible either.

Chuuya does some exploring, too. First in the penthouse, where he finds nothing of value except some dusty books and a few black coats and suits in the back of a closet. Then of the tower. Most of the Mafiosi he encounters still act like he 's been touched by the plague, lowering their gazes and refusing to look him in the eye, which doesn 't make him feel very welcome but does make his tour pass by without any interruptions. He finds the board rooms where Kouyou took him to that meeting with Ace and the brothers, hoping to see Karma again.

It 's people like the young servant that he needs to befriend. Not significant enough to be noticed by anyone, but deep enough in the mafia 's nest to know their way around. Plus, Chuuya 's pretty sure Karma would love a shot at kicking this place 's ass. Everyone in a collar would.

Karma is not there, though. The hallways are eerily deserted. When one of the doors to the rooms does open, it 's just a middle-aged man in a plain suit carrying a small suitcase. Pretending to wait for the elevator, Chuuya doesn 't get any questioning glances as the man passes him.

Then the elevators doors slide open, though, and '

Yup, that 's Dazai standing in front of him, along with another person, long dark hair tied into a chic ponytail, wearing a fitted, charcoal-grey suit.

Chuuya 's face flattens.

'Oh, hey, Chuuya, ' Dazai says brightly, stepping outside, 'beautiful day to take a walk indoors, right? '

'Yes, my favorite things are the dark, colorless walls everywhere. ' The moment he tries to shove past the two of them, Dazai 's hang grabs the collar of his leather jacket, though, effortlessly tugging him back like he 's a fucking child being reprimanded by his mother. 'You can 't expect me to stay scooped up in that apartment the entire time, ' Chuuya mutters and shoots him a glare.

Dazai tilts his head before looking at his silent shadow. 'Gin-chan, did I say that Chuuya here wasn 't allowed to leave? '

'No, ' the Gin person says. 'You didn 't. '

'Wonderful. Then it 's not just me who must have missed something. ' Chuuya opens his mouth to argue, but Dazai stops him yet again, shaking his head and tsk-ing. 'The next bullet point on my to-do list was you anyway, so, ' he pushes him forward ever so slightly, then finally lets go, 'walk with us. ' When Chuuya does, albeit with a dubious scowl, Dazai motions to Gin. 'By the way, Chuuya, this is Gin. They 're my secretary. Gin, this is my lovely husband, Nakahara Chuuya, although you might also know him as the king of the sheep or the guy that 's been causing us trouble the last few years. '

Gin 's nod is small and polite. Their words not so much. 'I thought you 'd be... taller. '

'What 's that supposed to mean? '

'That you use big words for such a small man, ' Dazai provides.

'Well, then I 'm not surprised you 're so tall, ' Chuuya shoots back, 'with that ginormous ego that you have to store in your body. Where are we going anyways? I thought you never leave your office. '

'Hmm, the never-ending assassination attempts do make it a nuisance to leave my fortress of solitude, ' Dazai agrees as they cross the orbicular hall, the sky outside the windows drenched in hues of orange and lilac. 'They tried again just a few hours ago. '

Chuuya 's eyes snap to him. 'Really? ' Maybe he won 't even have to do that much work himself.

'No, ' Dazai replies, 'that was a lie. No one has been brave enough since the last attempt two months ago. I 'm getting bored waiting, to be honest. However, back to your question, our destination is this. ' As if on cue, they come to a halt in front of a plain black door. 'The central control surveillance room. '

Chuuya watches him fish out his key card, but Dazai physically blocks the room with a silly grin when the door is open. 'Gin-chan, why don 't you stay here with Chuuya? Get to know each other? '

'Okay, ' Gin says, even if the mildly pained expression on their face mirrors Chuuya 's. 'So ' how do you like it here? '

Seeing the inside of the surveillance room would have probably been more valuable information. Gin is Dazai 's secretary, though; they probably know

all

about this whole place. So Chuuya decides to play along this time.

'I 've had better jobs, ' he jokes and makes a show of glancing around curiously before looking back at Gin. 'I gotta say, I expected more blood and violence than, you know, all this business stuff. '

'I did too when I first started working here. It 's been a quiet few months, but I 'm sure you 'll get your, uh, blood and violence soon. '

Chuuya lets out a nervous chuckle. 'That 's ' reassuring. ' And then because he sees an opening to pry some information out of them: 'When did you join? '

'A little more than a year ago. '

'Can I ask why? '

Gin 's mouth twitches, and they offer him a distant smile. 'Dazai-san offered me a job. I had nothing else. So I said yes. ' He doesn 't expect them to return the question. 'Why did you? '

He didn 't have a choice.

Except that he did.

It would have been a difficult task, but Chuuya and the sheep could have gotten Shirase out of that prison if they had tried hard enough. At least, that 's what Luca and Shirase seem to think.

But this opportunity to ruin the mafia, to get all the information that it holds...

It was a once-in-a-life-time-chance.

'I wanted to save a friend. '

Folding their hands behind their back, Gin 's eyes slowly travel around the hallway. 'It 's not that bad here, ' they say. 'This place isn 't a cruise trip, but you get used to it. '

The door of the surveillance room opens before Chuuya can respond, and Dazai steps out. He scans both of them for what, Chuuya doesn 't know, then he starts walking. 'Gin, you 're free for tonight. Have fun poking people 's butts. '

At the frown that appears on his face, Gin explains, 'I like to spar in my free time. '

'Oh, hey, me too. ' Ignoring the way Dazai 's gaze lands on him, Chuuya offers them an inviting smile. 'You have a gym here, right? Maybe I could join you for a session someday. '

Gin 's spine straightens as they consider this idea. 'You have to know that I won 't go easy on you just because you 're married to Dazai. '

Above him, Dazai snorts.

'Oh, yeah? ' Chuuya finds a spark of challenge blossoming inside his chest ' a feeling that he hasn 't felt for some time now and a feeling that he has missed. 'Bring it on. I won 't go easy on you either. '

The elevator doors slide shut.

'This space is too small for all the competitiveness inside, ' Dazai grumbles

.

He

grumbles.

The boss of the mafia himself.

'Like you don 't turn into a caveman when we spar, ' Gin retorts easily with something of a grin as Chuuya turns to give Dazai a disbelieving look.

'

You

spar? '

'Your lack of faith in me wounds me, ' Dazai holds a hand over his chest. 'I can feel my brittle heart breaking into two. Right there. '

'Like I said, ' Chuuya huffs, 'I was under the assumption you never leave the top floors, especially to go to the gym. '

Gin steps forward when the elevator comes to a halt, but they pause and offer Chuuya an awkward smile before leaving. 'I 'd like to take you up on that offer someday. '

'Yeah. ' Chuuya would like to give them his number or something like that except that he '

'Yes, yes, I 'll give you each other 's contacts later, ' Dazai cuts in, 'so you can become gym besties. Don 't worry. Chuuya and I have urgent plans for now, though. '

Gin steps out, disappearing from view behind metallic, stale doors, and Chuuya is once again left alone with Dazai, biting his cheek to stop himself from showing too much excitement over something as simple as a gym and sparring. And the opportunity to get closer to Dazai 's secretary, of course.

'You 're making friends, ' Dazai comments. 'Good for you. '

Chuuya 's smile evaporates as quickly as it appeared. 'I 'm just trying to make life worth living in this shithole. '

'Good for you, Chuuya. Good for you. '

The ride to the penthouse is silent. A small part of him is aware that so far, Dazai has been nothing but extremely decent to him, now going even as far as teaching him how to write and read without way less dramatics than Chuuya anticipated,

but.

Hating Dazai and everything he stands for is not only easy, but it 's also a safety precaution to stay afloat in the shark cage that is the mafia. Hating Dazai is the anchor that will keep Chuuya from diving too far without a way back up. It 's necessary.

Inside, Dazai starts unpacking his bag at the same round table in the living room. Before he joins him, Chuuya makes himself a fresh cup of coffee and grabs some granola bars lying around in the fridge.

Dazai 's not holding any dictionaries or exercise books when Chuuya comes back, though. Instead, it 's the files that Kouyou gave him on his first day.

'You 're going to teach me with mafia information? ' he asks with a dubious frown as he sits down across from him.

'No, first I 'm going to tell you everything that is on here so you can memorize it for now.

Then

I 'm going to teach you. '

'Oh. That 's ' smart. '

Dazai 's only response is a mocking twitch of the lips before he dives into the subject matter. A lot of what he tells him are things that Chuuya has already heard from Kouyou ' she 's to be involved in any decision he makes, several numbers to call when he can 't reach her, legal matters such as carrying weapons outside ' but the logistics for overseeing the transport of the black market goods are a handful, and Chuuya finds himself suddenly desperately relieved.

He 's sure he would have come up with

something

before the mission, but it probably would have been half as correct as everything he 's hearing from Dazai right now. There are a few dozen precautions and regulations that he has to pay attention to, five other people he has to stay in contact with during the entire process ' one of them being a name that he recognizes: Albatross ' and some of the goods they 'll be transporting are pretty fragile. Translation: if he 's not careful enough, he could blow up an entire city block ' and Chuuya never wants to do that again.

As for the

teaching

part '

Dazai is surprisingly patient. He starts out by explaining and showing him the different syllabic scripts, even giving him a few tips on how to quickly memorize some of the signs. Then Dazai lets him learn the Hiragana chart.

Does Chuuya 's pride feel wounded as he sits there and learns about the most basic steps of the Japanese language that most children can rattle off in their sleep? Yeah. But does he also recognize that his own attempts at learning the language were laughable now that he has someone who can actually read and write to teach him? Unfortunately.

At least, Dazai 's presence is bothering enough to make Chuuya focus really, really hard so that after a few hours, he has both the Hiragana and the Katakana charts mastered to a T.

'Someone is eager to be a good pupil, ' Dazai comments when Chuuya finishes scribbling down the last sign on the paper.

Chuuya 's eyes flicker up, and he lets a muffled huff. 'That 's because I want to be as quickly done with this as possible. '

'You do realize that it will still take months? Years, even? '

'I know you think of me as some poor street rat, but I 'm not entirely dumb. '

'Chuuya, children get taught to speak over the years in school. Why ' '

'I 'm not a fucking child, though, ' Chuuya snaps. 'I 'm an adult, so I can learn faster than that. '

'You 're certainly not acting like one. ' Dazai leans forward ever so slightly and taps his finger against the surface of the table. 'It will take you one year to properly master reading and writing. At best. '

'I can do it in half of that time. '

Dazai raises a brow. 'You think so? '

'

Yes.

In fact, I know it. '

It 's clear that Dazai doesn 't believe him. Chuuya doesn 't particularly care because in the end, as long as he manages to learn it, it won 't matter who believed in him or not, but ' and it 's a big

but

' he 's never been strong enough to back down from a challenge when he sees one. Right now, the glazed glimmer in Dazai 's eyes is fuel to the flames of petty competitiveness inside Chuuya 's chest.

Chuuya cocks his head. 'Wanna bet? '

Dazai 's amusement seems to grow exponentially. 'And what could you possibly offer me? '

That is a good question. Chuuya is empty-handed right now. However '

'What do you want? ' he asks simply because clearly, there is something that Dazai still needs from him even though the sheep are all but ruined and under his control. They are not dead, though. And that means more than any words could.

Dazai considers the question for several drawn-out moments of thick silence. 'The sheep, ' he eventually announces. 'You 're going to let them go. '

Chuuya stares at him. 'What? '

'I don 't care whether your little lambs stay alive, but they leave the mafia, you stay here, everyone is happy. '

'I 'm not fucking betting on that, ' Chuuya snaps.

'Not that sure of yourself anymore, huh? '

His hands curl into fists on the table, and Chuuya barely avoids letting his ability loose, turning this silly table into a comet and crushing this soulless bastard under it. (Part of him does wonder, though, what would happen if he just killed Dazai right here and right now.) '

When

I win, ' he growls out, then, 'what will

I

get? '

'I won 't touch the sheep, ' Dazai says with a shrug and leans back in the chair, folding his fingers together like confidence incarnated. '

Ever

. '

'

Deal

, ' it bursts out of Chuuya before he can even properly think about the chances of

not

winning ' probably because there can be no such chances. It 's about his family. Chuuya will make sure they 're safe and by his side, even if that means working himself stupid and beating a decade worth of knowledge into his brains in six months. 'You, ' he says, 'and no one else in the mafia either. '

'I guess that can be arranged. '

'You better. ' Chuuya lets out a tired breath, feeling a sharp, merciless headache forming in the back of his head. 'Or I 'll snap your fucking neck and eat it alive. '

Dazai makes a face. There is something so morbidly honest about the grossed-out expression twisting on his lips that if Chuuya didn 't loathe him so much, he 'd laugh. 'Christ, Chuuya. Do you kiss people with a mouth like that? '

'Ha, ha, ' Chuuya sneers. '

Fuck you. '

***

The next day, Kouyou sends for him. Chuuya expects the two soundless young girl in red kimonos to take him to her office that she let him see for exactly one second on his first day, but instead he ends up in the backseat of a car with a driver that is as chatty as his two escorts. Despite the unpleasant ending of his last and only mission so far, Chuuya 's glad to get out, to do something, gain experience. He spends the entire ride drumming his fingers on his thigh, wondering what exactly his job will be.

He certainly doesn 't expect it to be a brothel in Koganecho, one of the city districts you go to when you need something that you won 't get lawfully. It 's a hotbed for illegal activity so Chuuya 's been here a couple of times himself when the sheep were involved in a conflict that couldn 't be simply resolved with brute force, but he always stayed away from the mafia affiliated shops.

The car door opens, and for a moment, Chuuya considers staying inside. What 's the worst that can happen? He gets

fired?

They try to kill him?

No.

They will use the sheep.

Nails digging into his palm hard enough to draw blood, Chuuya forces himself to move. The building looks subtle from the outside, able to be overlooked if a passerby doesn 't know what they 're looking for, which speaks for the exclusivity of the club. Instead of taking him to the front entrance, the two girls guide Chuuya through a narrow alley and around, entering through some sort of backdoor. Inside, there 's soft, sensual music playing somewhere in the other room, but the corridor they 're in looks completely unassuming: a warderobe for jackets and coats, a service cart with a few empty dishes on it, three doors and a staircase.

'Ane-san is waiting for you upstairs, ' one of the girls says with a gentle push.

Chuuya looks over his shoulder even as he tentatively climbs the stairs, getting encouraging nods from both of them, before he disappears around the corner. There 's only one door upstairs and he knocks when he reaches it.

After a moment or two he hears Kouyou call, 'come in. '

Once again, Chuuya bites into an apple and tastes chicken. The office he enters looks more like a home. It 's vast, painted in flamingo-pink and greenish hues, has a lot of greenery in the corners, and a traditional in-built kitchen, and Kouyou herself is waiting for him on a velvet couch, a cup of tea in her hand.

'Sit with me, ' she says in greeting.

Chuuya does. He lets his fingers run over the soft material before meeting her gaze. Kouyou nods at the other set on the coffee table in front of them.

'Have some tea. '

'It 's not poisoned, is it? ' he jokes even as he picks up the tiny cup and the saucer that comes with it, trying to mimic the way Kouyou is holding it.

'We 're going to treat the subject poison later someday. '

Oh. They

will?

'Like this, ' she says then and leans over to correct the position of his fingers around the cup of tea ' right hand around the cup, left one supporting it. Her expression when she looks away doesn 't look much happier with him than before. 'It 's like teaching a donkey pirouettes. '

Chuuya 's mouth flattens. 'This is ridiculous. Why drink tea out of these tiny ass cups when there are perfectly bigger ones that would do the job? And

why

are we drinking tea instead of

working? '

'Do you know how most businessmen prefer to talk over arrangements? ' Kouyou asks him, clearly unimpressed by his little outburst. 'Over

tea.

Now I 'm sure you can imagine how likely someone is willing to listen to you when you can 't even do something as simple as holding up a teacup.

With a sigh of defeat, Chuuya mirrors Kouyou 's exact positioning of her hands, her posture, and even her expression: calm and collected but also like she high above everyone else.

'Good, ' she praises. 'Next: how attached are you to clothes? '

Chuuya

still

doesn 't understand what 's wrong with him. They are stylish, and even though he doesn 't like the mafia, they fit into the whole criminal vibe they have. But Kouyou thinks otherwise, so she makes him get up and drags him into a room that 's attached to her office. Every time Chuuya so much as opens his mouth to argue, she gives him this strange, cold look so that he ends up in a room getting dragged into a room full of clothes.

As Kouyou starts pushing dresses and suits aside, searching for something, Chuuya takes a look around. There are some of these vanity tables, too, and more velvet chairs. 'Are all these clothes just for you? '

'They 're for my subordinates. '

Not just mafia subordinates, but the people working here, too ' though, if he 's technical, those probably work for the mafia as well.

'Oh. ' Chuuya makes a little sound in the back of his throat. 'Are you going to make me ' '

'You 're not going to work here, ' Kouyou answers without even looking at him, though she finally pulls out a white silk shirt from the rack. 'I can arrange a few private lessons with one of my girls or boys if you would like, though. Dazai told me not to, but speaking from personal experience, it won 't do any harm to know your way around someone 's body. '

Chuuya presses out an awkward smile while his chest sags in relief. 'I think I 'm good. Thanks. ' And with good, he doesn 't mean that he is an expert at fucking ' he isn 't ' he just relies on a different kind of body language to make people do what he wants. Mainly: his fists. And he 's not planning to change that either.

At least, Kouyou accepts

that

without any objections. It takes her another few minutes of searching before she reemerges from the colorful labyrinth of clothes with several shirts, pants, and even a few accessories elegantly swung around her arm.

Everything Kouyou does comes off elegantly, Chuuya thinks, watching her all but slide to one of the chairs to spread out her findings. Chuuya realizes that ' maybe learning a few things from her will actually come in handy. He is used to dealing with life in the quickest and most brutish way ' when you grow up on the streets, you don 't really have a choice ' but he can see the appeal of neat, opulent movements. It 's not only aesthetically pleasing but deceptive, and frankly, Chuuya is tired of wearing his emotions on his sleeve.

'Try these on, ' Kouyou orders.

Chuuya considers the sortiment ' it 's not that bad, plain but lavish, though he can 't help but pick at his leather coat a little sadly. It feels like cutting off an old friend. 'All of them? '

'Yes. I need to see them on you to properly judge whether they 're work-appropriate or not. '

'Fine. '

First is a sapphire-blue shirt that matches the color of his eyes. It 's not

bad

, but it 's too bright and too hard on the eyes, if you ask him. Kouyou must think the same because she shakes her head. They go through several shirts, trousers, and suits, some of them ending up on the pile that Chuuya will get to take home and others end up in the corner that Kouyou doesn 't deem worthy.

The last outfit he tries is the one that Chuuya instantly agrees to.

'This one, ' he says and glances down at himself. The mahogany shade of red reminds him of something, makes his brain

itch

with something that he can 't quite place right now, but it also looks good, especially paired with the tight, form-fitting pants hugging his legs. 'I want this one. '

Kouyou 's hum sounds oddly sarcastic, making Chuuya puzzled enough to frown but not really brave enough to question the woman about it. (It 's that look of hers. Terrifying.) 'You would have gotten either way. '

Chuuya 's scowl deepens as he looks at himself in the mirror. 'Well, it is pretty. '

'The boss thinks so, too. '

Chuuya finds himself faltering. The mention of Dazai makes him connect the dots, finally realizing what the color of his shirt reminded him of earlier. It 's the scarf. The shades are exactly the same.

***

The afternoon before the auction is supposed to take place, Dazai comes over again to continue the tattoo on his back. While he 's busy inking Chuuya, he also makes him recite the charts he learned. Considering how busy Chuuya is with his new tasks and how important the bet is, he feels almost grateful for it. He thanks Dazai by not snapping at him for a few hours.

When Dazai is finished, he rolls away on the chair and asks, 'do you know everything that you need for tomorrow? '

'Pretty sure I do. ' And then because Dazai gives him one of those looks. '

Yes.

I will not cost you millions of yen. Don 't you worry about that. '

'I 'm not concerned about the money. I would like my executives to stop thinking of you as an enemy within ranks, though, so that I can finally put you to use. '

There it is again. That mystic talk about Chuuya and whatever weird role Dazai wants him to play while refusing to tell him about it. Chuuya can 't say that he is a fan of it, especially when his own plans differ epically.

'Any rival organization that you need me to defeat or what? ' he mutters, only three percent serious.

Dazai, however, is for once. 'Mmm, quite a few, actually. '

'Hah?! '

'The mafia as you know it right now, ' Dazai theatrically waves his arm all around himself, 'is not going to last for much longer. It 's only the calm before the storm. '

'Then shouldn 't you be preparing for a fight? '

'I have been doing just that. ' Dazai gets to his feet and lazily stretches his arms over his head, revealing a patch of bare skin on his stomach when the end of his shirt rides up.

Chuuya drags his eyes up to shoot him a scowl that half-melts away because of the sleepy yawn interrupting. 'You 're so fucking weird. You know that? '

'I have heard that once or twice, yes. '

Mystifying and enigmatic don 't even begin to describe Dazai and all the riddles hidden in every word he utters.

'

Notwithstanding,

' Dazai says, 'be ready at eight in the morning. I 'll send someone to wake you up in case you cannot set an alarm clock. '

'I can read numbers, ' Chuuya snaps.

All Dazai does is shoot him a blinding smile and flick his fingers in a mock salute before sauntering out of the room.