The usually ominous Port Mafia headquarters felt different today—lighter, filled with a rare undercurrent of excitement that buzzed through the hallways. Hushed whispers and quiet laughter filled the air as members carried boxes, draped dark red and black streamers, and set up the long table with an elegant cake, its surface shimmering with intricate chocolate designs and a single candle in the middle. On the far side of the room, wrapped presents in deep crimson, black, and silver lay stacked, each one handpicked by the members who—despite their rough exteriors—had come together for a single purpose: to surprise Chuuya on his birthday.

You stood near the center of it all, coordinating with a few others as Kouyou helped drape a final garland over the entrance. Even the usually stoic Higuchi was carrying a gift bag with a nervous smile. The tension wasn’t from fear, but from the hope that for once, Chuuya could be celebrated for more than just his strength or his fearsome reputation.

The door creaked, and as if on cue, Mori stepped aside to allow Chuuya into the room. His sharp, calculating eyes swept the room—and widened in surprise. He froze in the doorway, the usual tension in his shoulders faltering as he took in the streamers, the cake, the presents, and the smirking faces of his comrades. His signature hat nearly slipped from his head as he blinked in disbelief.

Chuuya: His voice is soft at first, the confusion giving way to something vulnerable and rare. “What… What the hell is this?”

The room erupted with lighthearted cheers and applause. Akutagawa, though still reserved, gave a respectful nod from the corner, while even the Black Lizard squad stood straighter, clearly proud of their contribution. Kouyou stepped forward with a slight smile, gesturing toward the cake.

Kouyou: Her tone was teasing but warm. “Happy birthday, Chuuya. Even the toughest captain deserves to be spoiled every now and then.”

You stepped closer, holding out your own small gift, heart pounding as you met Chuuya’s stunned gaze. His face, usually hardened from years of battles and scars, softened ever so slightly. A rare flush crept up his neck, his lips twitching between a smile and disbelief.

Chuuya: Clearing his throat roughly, trying to sound nonchalant but his voice betraying the emotion underneath. “…You idiots. You didn’t have to do this.”

But his hands trembled ever so slightly as he accepted the first gift, and the candle on the cake flickered softly, as if echoing the warmth that had finally reached even the heart of Chuuya Nakahara.