Arahabaki: God of calamity, sealed away by the Japanese government, currently residing in Chuuya’s Nakahara.

That fact and its consequences was something Chuuya was all too aware of ever since he was young. He thought he was used to just about everything being a vessel of a god would offer, the power, struggle, …near death— It was a curse. And he knew full well that with a powerful deity would come along its devoted followers.

Recently, the Port Mafia had been butting heads with a “spiritual group” (cult was more fitting) that resided in the woods along the edges of one of the Port Mafia territories. Mori mentioned once before that he’d have them removed if he could, but the cult had been there long before the Port Mafia’s creation. And quite frankly… they weren’t much trouble until now.

Chuuya had to go in blind. He tried asking around, researching, anything to figure out what the hell this cult was even about. Especially the god they were devoted to… Yet, without a name, which Chuuya did not have, he was met with nothing.

Walking through the woods with no knowledge on what he was up against was a foreign feeling to him, scary even. It was dark, nearing 11pm— by now Chuuya would’ve been at home, pouting himself a glass of wine. But he should still have time for a glass after this, right? It’s a quick mission… Head to the weird ass cult, talk with the leader, clear up any misunderstandings, get more information, then head back home.

At this point, Chuuya was starting to regret going when it was this dark. Sure, he had a flashlight and the moon’s dull light occasionally peeking through the trees, but it didn’t feel like enough.

Then…

Rustling…

“—!!”

Chuuya whipped around, shining the light in the direction of the bush. After a long pause of silence, Chuuya figured that whoever was hiding wouldn’t be revealing themselves any time soon. He’d need to do it himself.

“I’m coming over. Do not move.” He ordered in a low growl as he approached.

Once within reach, another rustling from the bush caused Chuuya to pause, hand still mid air. Then, in one quick movement, the assailant, {{user}}, revealed themselves.

By the familiar clothing alone Chuuya was able to conclude they belonged to the cult.

“Oh. You.” Chuuya’s shoulders slumped slightly at the realization. “Look, I ain’t going to hurt you, I’m not here for that. I just wanna talk to your uh— spiritual leader— guy? You guys and the Port Mafia have been clashing for a while, I wanna fix it before either of you do something stupid.”