Soukoku One-Shots

Sour Champagne Pt. 1

Dark Era

The ballroom was beautiful.

Even Chuuya could appreciate the finery despite his immense desire to be anywhere else. The wealthy flocked around like hawks, drinking champagne and laughing falsely with each other. Each one looked shinier than the last, Chuuya thought as his eyes bounced from person to person. They were all covered in exquisite jewels of all kinds, all of which glittered even more brightly under the dripping glass chandelier.

Of course, his eyes immediately zeroed in on Dazai. He stood near one of the tables closer to the eastern wall, chatting with a few young ladies in long gowns. His stare looked dark even from where Chuuya stood, and his smile dripped with false interest. The tall, handsome young businessman he was supposed to be, Chuuya supposed, all intimidating stares and low, honeyed words.

Chuuya, in contrast, looked like no such thing. Kouyou had draped him in all the fine jewelry she could find, even going so far as to pin gold things in his hair. One of the fancy pins was a communication earpiece, of course, but he and Dazai both knew they didn't need them and his head was itchy.

Chuuya picked up a glass of champagne on his way through the ballroom, still feeling slightly disoriented by being further from the ground than he was used to. The heels weren't as uncomfortable as he'd expected, and his dress pants covered them well, but he was still thoroughly offended that he needed them at all.

"I won't be able to see you!" Dazai insisted, kicking his feet back and forth on Chuuya's counter.

"Fuck you, you'll be able to see me just fine!" Chuuya snapped.

But then they'd called Kouyou, and she told Chuuya very gently that the heels would be crucial to the success of the mission. He vowed to never forget that betrayal.

"Ah, hello, sir." Chuuya approached the distinguished man speaking to a circle of other distinguished men.

Almost immediately, the man's face spread into a wide grin, and he reached out to pat Chuuya's back a few times. "Kashimura, my good fellow!" he exclaimed, as loud and boisterous as his description listed. "I was hoping I'd see your face tonight. You're even more striking than that Mori Corp fellow said you'd be; you must be very popular with the women," he was saying, wagging his brows. "It's wonderful to finally meet you!"

Chuuya gave him what he hoped was a placid smile, but he feared it might've been slightly peeved. "It's a pleasure, Mishima."

"I must introduce you! Friends, this is the good Kashimura, one of Mori Corp's finest. Kashimura, here are my dear friends..."

While Mishima droned on about each of the men surrounding him and their many boorish accomplishments, Chuuya nodded along and listened to none of it. He kept his attention trained instead on Dazai, still a ways away across the ballroom and chatting now with a circle of young men and women in sharp suits. Things are on track.

"Mishima has told us much about you and the company, Kashimura. You seem very accomplished, it's a pleasure to meet you," one of the men was saying, and Chuuya shook his outstretched hand distractedly.

"Of course, the pleasure is mine," he replied. He then meant to strike up a conversation on their own business endeavors (not the illegal ones, of course, which have been a thorn in the Port Mafia's side for quite some time now) when noise through his earpiece caught his attention.

Heavy breathing. Shallow, choked gasps echoing in Chuuya's ears, an unfamiliar sound that could only be Dazai.

He looked toward his idiot of a partner and attempted to shoot him a deadly glare, but paused when he saw Dazai hunched over, gripping an empty glass and leaning against one of the nearby tables as people flurried about him.