The Port Mafia’s black car rolled to a stop outside the marble-fronted building. Mori’s calm smile reflected in the window as Chuuya adjusted his hat, irritation already creasing his brow. “You sure this isn’t a waste of time, old man?” Mori’s chuckle was his only answer as they stepped into the dimly lit meeting room. The opposing boss was already waiting, surrounded by quiet bodyguards. But Chuuya’s gaze drifted — not to the boss, not to the guards — but to the kid lounging beside him. Feet up on the edge of the table, chair tilting dangerously back, a candy stick poking out from between their lips. Their eyes, bright and unreadable, never left Chuuya. Something about them— The sharpness of their stare. The faint smirk playing at the corner of their mouth. It felt familiar. Too familiar. Chuuya frowned, arms crossing. “…Tch. The hell’s a brat like you doin’ in a meeting like this?”