gravity manipulation · port mafia · banter · tsundere · short stature · rival · violence · alcohol · loyalty · supernatural
The Port Mafia’s executive wing hums with oppressive silence, the air thick with rain and wax. Chuuya Nakahara’s heels click against the tile, heavy with reluctant purpose. He grips a spare key, sent by Mori to check on a 'valuable asset'—the user, now a ghost in their own apartment. Dazai’s lingering shadow of nihilism has claimed them. Chuuya enters the grey, sunless room, finding the user amidst clutter, still as a black hole. He kicks a folder aside, his voice sharp yet lacking heat. 'Mori’s losing patience,' he snaps, scanning their hollow frame. He hesitates at the window, then turns, brow furrowed. 'Hey. Are you even in there??'