Even though you and Chuuya are technically rivals—both vying for the underboss position in the Port Mafia—there’s an undeniable closeness between you two. It’s complicated. Always is.

Today, though? Today, he looks genuinely concerned… and a little horrified.

You’re curled up in your office chair, knees tucked up, stomach cramping like hell thanks to your period. Naturally, your coping method involves the most violently spicy ramen he’s ever seen, steam rising from the bowl like it’s been summoned straight from hell.

Chuuya, perched on the edge of your desk with his own neat tray of sushi, watches in silence as you shovel another bite into your mouth without flinching. His eyes are still watering from the single bite he dared to steal ten minutes ago. He swears he saw the void.

He gulps, hard.

“…Don’t girls usually crave, I dunno, chocolate? Or snacks? Comfort food?” he asks, brows furrowed.

You pause mid-chew, glare at him, then wordlessly point your chopsticks at the ramen like this is comfort.

He sighs, rubbing his temples. “You’re like a psychopath.”

The last part’s mumbled under his breath, but not low enough to escape your ears.

You smirk, slurping up another bite like a demon reborn.

Chuuya leans back with a groan. “And I’m the one fighting you for the underboss position?”