<p><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">| Chuuya sighed and leaned back after finally finishing his weekly report. He had taken in additional missions to his usual smuggling management. Last night there had been an annoying altercation between him and a so-called supplier. </span></p>
<p><em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial-ItalicMT';">| Honestly, who the hell is still dumb enough to double-cross the Port Mafia? Especially a singular individual—Must not have been from around here.</span></em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';"> Chuuya thought as he opened a bottle of champagne freshly imported from Bordeaux. Watching as the clear, fizzling alcohol poured into the glass, he wondered what he was drinking to. The mafioso did drink after a hard day’s or week’s work, but that was usually sake or whiskey. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">| </span><em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial-ItalicMT';">Maybe today I was just craving something more fancy.</span></em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';"> The ginger shrugged to himself while taking a sip of the expensive liquor. Sapphire blue eyes scanned the outside of his apartment window. The city he grew up in and loved despite where and how he worked, despite everything he’s been through—everything he was </span><em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial-ItalicMT';">put through. </span></em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';"> Put through because of Da—no. Chuuya took another sip, he was not about to ruin a perfect afternoon by thinking about him. Instead, his mind drifted off into the past night. </span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">| A week ago, the executive was to negotiate a deal for weapon supply (their usual supplier couldn’t provide this month’s shipment as they were still recovering from the guild attack) Usually this would be negotiated by, well, a negotiator and a few grunts. However, the PM was also recovering from a few losses as well. The exchange was going smoothly and the executive might even have considered keeping this dealer as a fallback supplier in case a disaster cutting off their weaponry should arise again. The smuggler had come with 5 other members, both to carry the sample goods and for defense.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">| </span><em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial-ItalicMT';">Not that they could have done anything if an altercation were to break out. </span></em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">Chuuya thought while their expert examined the goods. He walked over to the expert to ask about it.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">| “Seems good, albeit lower quality than our usual.” The ginger sighed at those words, that was bound to happen, the mafia bought the highest quality of smuggled weapons, so no substitute could really match them. Although the cheaply made firearms increased the risk of backfire, this seemed to suffice for now—it had to. The grunts loaded the crate into the cart and started driving off to one of the mafia’s weapon’s storages.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">| 5 days later, the weapons did just that at the testing grounds. Some of the newbies were training in firearms when a pistol backfired so hard it just straight up fell apart. The kid had shrapnel everywhere but thanks to his safety goggles, his eyes were saved. Higuchi examined the gun to find out the problem in hopes of preventing further accidents when she discovered it: </span><em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial-ItalicMT';">There was a tracker in the gun</span></em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">| And now, Chuuya was back at the extraction point to reap some sweet, sweet vengeance. The executive had volunteered for this job because again, they were short-staffed, and he didn’t want to send Akutagawa. The kid needed a break alright? Normally, the black lizard would suffice in this situation, but they needed prisoners, not bodies. The gravity manipulator had finished incapacitating the bastards when he heard the clacking of heels fleeing the scene. The mafioso signaled for the grunts to load up the prisoners into the truck while he pursued the other person.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">| </span><em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial-ItalicMT';">Dammit, did they have backup?</span></em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';"> He cursed to himself, how had they overlooked this? It would make sense for the smugglers to have someone on standby in case the deal went wrong, that way they could contact backup or prepare for raids. Chuuya activated his ability and a red glow encased his body. Attaching himself to the wall of a nearby building, he caught a glimpse of the target and—…no, she couldn’t be a part of them. Who he assumed to be a backup agent appeared to be a young woman, her clothes weren't bright but it was terrible if she was meant to hide under the cover of the night. Most importantly, </span><em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial-ItalicMT';">her shoes. </span></em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">They were heels, if she meant to be a lookout, heels would be the last thing she wore. While the ginger has seen a few people capable of fighting in heels, none of them stumbled as badly as this woman was. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">| </span><em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial-ItalicMT';">Must be a lost civilian. </span></em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">Chuuya shook his head and went to regroup with his subordinates.</span></p>
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<p><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">| While thinking about the encounter was just Chuuya attempting to forget the mackerel by letting his mind drift to the most recent events. One thing did bug him about that woman. He saw her somewhere. The mafioso was sure of it. Locked deep inside his memory, years ago before he was even an executive, when he was still partners with Daz—…</span><em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial-ItalicMT';">him. </span></em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">At this point, he was too bothered by the nagging feeling at the back of his mind so he downed his glass and got to searching for </span><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">those files. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">|</span><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';"> When the gravity manipulator was around 16, the mackerel had nonchalantly brought him into one of the places where mafia records were kept and casually handed him a binder containing all high-profile targets, those with ties to the military and such that were taken out during the last boss’s reign of terror. The taller boy had plopped it into Chuuya’s hands, opened to a random page, and told him it would be his gift for being ‘such a good dog’. At that point the ginger had roundhouse kicked him out of the room. He contemplated throwing the binder at his partner as well but instead kept it. In his free time he read a lot about these people. Even though it was all professional listing, it was interesting to find out about who these people were, what they did, and how they died. Chuuya eventually found the book but frowned when he realized it was halfway charred.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';">| </span><em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial-ItalicMT';">Right,</span></em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';"> he thought </span><em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial-ItalicMT';">I burned it.</span></em><span style="font-size: 16.00px;font-family: 'Arial';"> After Dazai had left the PM, Chuuya burned everything he ever gave him but couldn’t go through at the end. Now he was flipping through the heated and singed pages praying the one he was looking for was still salvageable. Finally, he stopped on the profile he was looking for. Sure enough, she looked just like him: Shigeo Hirai. A government detective who came dangerously close to finding top-secret plans and maps of the mafia’s routes, bases, and cooperators. A truly dangerous detective. The mafia bombed his car with his wife and 12-year-old daughter in it. None of them survived. Next to him was another page, the profile was all but ashes and Chuuya could barely make out the picture of the woman—at least that’s what he thought it was. In a clearer part of the page read the name: Kiku Hirai. The rest of the page was illegible. That woman and Hirai looked almost identical, could they be somehow related? Was she his sister? No, she’s far too young for that. His daughter then? But she was said to have died in the hospital. Maybe he had other relatives? The profiles go into detail on the lives and relations of the people, but that part seemed to also be charred. Chuuya cursed his past self while replacing the charred binder in its hiding place. </span></p>
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Honestly idk yet (from ao3)
FanfictionThe ADA helps an uncannily familiar woman find her brother
