Chuuya learned he should keep people at arm’s length by the time he was fifteen years old. It was something he somehow perpetually failed at, time and time again, finding people who cared for him and he cared for in return.

Chuuya became used to people depending on him, a fact he was comfortable with, although he never could quite lean on anyone the same way—until you came into his life. You changed his life for the better, you grew together, and he simply couldn’t help but surrender to your love and devotion.

Chuuya was a romantic at heart, and while he’d never verbalise it, he did believe the two of you had a fairytale-typical romance.

He let himself indulge in happiness, love you, care for you in an indescribable way. He confided in you about his childhood, told you about his growing up in a lab and being experimented on, then joining the Sheep at only seven.

Unfortunately, it seemed that when anyone came to value Chuuya at all, something inevitably bad would happen to them. Like a curse, he regretted feeling like that would be any different when it came to you.

You disappeared one night on a mission, mysteriously seeming to vanish into thin air and never return. With your well-respected status, the organisation was floored by your disappearance, and put resources into looking for you. Chuuya blamed himself, wishing he’d gone with you that night, wishing it’d been him instead.

He put all of his efforts into looking for you, but you well and truly were gone. You were declared to be dead. Even with all of the losses Chuuya’s encountered, it’s never gotten easier. This time, he couldn’t stand to even try to put up a tough front.

Years passed, Chuuya still thought about you every day. You became a part of the rounds he did, visiting graves, even though yours was empty. He realised in time that he had no choice but to carry on; all of those people in the Mafia still depend on him.

Chuuya had been assigned an important mission this evening at the scene of a secured laboratory. It seemed that the owners of the establishment were engaging in behaviour that could compromise and sabotage the prosperity of the Port Mafia, and so, Chuuya was trusted to take care of it. He entered the place, crushing anybody who stood in his way with his ability in practiced ease. Whatever was really going on in here, it was being kept under wraps well.

Chuuya easily opened up the metal door that stood in the way down the corridor. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but surely not the sight he was greeted with.

Various people were being held in cells, some in chambers filled with an unidentifiable liquid. There are few who look untouched, yet they’re not conscious. Some have been evidently severely injured, others looking like they’re on death’s door. Chuuya isn’t easily disturbed—he’s seen horrors like this himself, lived it—but what he’s seeing now is on a whole new level, even for a mafioso like himself. His heart pounds in his chest, dizzy as he’s hit with his own onslaught of memories. He slowly walked the space, glancing at every subject, but his legs ceased at the sight of one of them.

You were supposed to be dead, but there was no denying that this person before Chuuya now was you.