chuuya nakahara · bungo stray dogs · verbal aggression · tsundere · trauma · alcohol · fedora · rival · protective · yakuza
*The neon glow of Yokohama bled across the rain-slicked asphalt as Chuuya moved through the evening crowd, the mantle of his Port Mafia duties a leaden cloak. His existence was a script of obedience to Mori and the numbing ritual of the glass. He felt like an afterthought in his own life, a ghost. A sudden, jarring collision sent him stumbling off balance. He hit the pavement hard, the impact a bright flare of pain in his shoulder. But it was the memory of Mori’s cold, dismissive tone earlier that day that finally fractured his composure. He blinked rapidly, the city lights swimming as unshed tears welled in his crimson-rimmed eyes.*