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Chuuya rubbed his hands together, massaging his knuckles as he tried to get rid of the prickling sensation in the joints. The sudden cold snap that had wound through Yokohama in the past couple days had done murder for his nerve damage. It wasn't well known, the fact that on some days, his fingers swelled to the point of uselessness, or that his left knee couldn't hold his weight.
Most days he was fine. Mori knew, of course - he was the one the looked over all of the medicial information of anyone in the information. He had been lenient with Chuuya on several occasions when the flare-ups occurred. There had been times when Chuuya just couldn't do his job.
This deal had been in the works for months - a cease-fire of sorts between the Armed Detective Agency, the Special Abilities Division, and the Port Mafia. An official contract laid out in terms of what could and could not be allowed in the event of outside attack.
How strange they lived in a world where this was something that could be done. Then again, with the threats growing every year - the Hunting Dogs incident was what really forced the Special Abilities Division to meet at the table with the Port Mafia and Armed Detective Agency - there wasn't anything to be done but make a unified front against whomsoever would try to bash down their doors next. Or try to end the world. It was sad that it was a fifty-fifty chance on which it would be.
Chuuya had been Mori's stand-in on the few times that the Boss hadn't been able to make it due to other responsibilities, so no matter how much he wished he could lay on his couch with a cup of warm tea, a heating blanket, and a comfort movie, he was here.
Dressed in a charcoal gray three-piece suit, he was wearing his compression gloves today instead of his normal ones, to try and contain the swelling of his knuckles. Most people wouldn't notice the difference, and both were black, covering his entire hand. These just had faint copper lines along the palm for help with grip, and hugged the digits in a way that brought some measure of comfort to his aches. He was having issues gripping things today, but that was easy enough to hide - Tainted Sorrow could do wonders for him.
He kept to the edges of the crowd, and it was a crowd. What had started as a signing between the three agencies had become something that nearly every local politician had an opinion about. Chuuya's eyes had twitched when he had to play nice with politicians.
Especially when he knew most of their secrets. Perks of the job. Or… not, in some cases.
His eyes tracked those he knew across the floor - his own subordinates, all dressed in their very best, keeping together in bunches, as the Port Mafia is wont to do. Hirostu was the only outlier, engaged in what looked like pleasant conversation with one of the diplomats.
Chuuya would be suspicious, but it was Hirotsu. No one in the Mafia, not even Mori, crossed the old man. Chuuya had no idea why - for him, it was easy. The old man had practically raised him with Kouyou when he joined when he was sixteen, alongside Dazai. For others, he was the legend that lasted three separate Bosses and still retained respect.
His thoughts were brought back to the present when he shifted, and his leg decided to make its displeasure known. Inhaling sharply through his nose, Chuuya grabbed a glass of champagne and went to sit at one of the many circular tables set up around the room. He had the seating chart memorized - a practical habit he had picked up in the early years - and knew where he was supposed to sit during the dinner portion.
He had requested this seat in particular, as it kept his back to the wall and was placed one table over from the leaders, where Chuuya could protect Mori if anything went wrong. He was the only one there at the moment.
He sipped the champagne casually and kept a look out for any threats. His leg throbbed uncomfortably beneath the table. The centerpiece on the table was beautiful - the hatbox was a simple cream, and was filled with bouquets of yellow roses, yellow Peruvian lilies, white carnations, and accented with baby's breath.
A symbol of friendship, Kouyou had explained to him. He had never taking much stock in the meaning of flowers - they were either pretty and smelled good, or were pretty and could be used to kill someone.
Chuuya reached forward, drawing his knuckle across the edge of one of the petals, feeling the soft whisper against his skin.
"Is Chuuya not having a good time?"
Chuuya jumped, biting the inside of his lip in surprise.
How had he not tracked Dazai?
He sniffed instead, turning to the other man. "I'm surprised they let you in," he grumbled. "Poisoning the drinks?"
Dazai chuckled, sitting in the seat reserved for Kouyou - and Chuuya would not tell him. If he hadn't memorized the seating arrangements, Chuuya would not stand in the way of him getting a dressing down by their older sister figure.
"Maybe next time," he commented, looking at Chuuya.
Chuuya stared back. Even sitting wasn't helping the shudders wracking through his body. He hated these days - especially when he couldn't run and hide.
Dazai's eyes scrutinized him, and Chuuya sighed.
"Chuuya-" he began, his eyes trapped by the gloves that Chuuya was wearing.
"Dazai," an imperious voice snapped behind them. Chuuya huffed a laugh as Dazai whirled in his chair. Kouyou was standing, looking stunning in a dark blue furisode with a lavender obi, delicate lily flowers sewn around a swishing embroidered pond. She stared down at Dazai, her fan snapping in her hand. "That is my seat."
Dazai grinned widely, jumping out and holding the back like a gentlemen. "Just keeping it warm for you," he sang out.
Kouyou gave him a cool look and sat. "Your co-workers have been looking for you," she informed him.
He made a face, and sighed, shooting an unreadable glance to Chuuya as he wandered off into the crowds.
"Thanks," Chuuya grimaced after the brunette was out of earshot.
She smiled at him, warmly. "Bad day?" she whispered, holding her fan in front of her face.
Chuuya sighed, and nodded. "Any other day, and I wouldn't be here," he confessed, honestly. It was Kouyou, he wouldn't lie to her.
She gripped his shoulder lightly. "You're only needed for the dinner. Can you make it the next hour or so?"
Chuuya dipped his head in a silent thanks, taking another sip of champagne. "I'll have to, won't I?"
Twenty minutes later, and Chuuya was leaning against the sink in the bathroom. Although it was a public place, he was using his Ability to keep the door closed so that he could have a moment to just try and breathe through the pain. It had spiked when he had tried to eat the chicken on his plate, his fork clattering to the group. Thankfully, only Kouyou and the lieutenants of the Black Lizard had noticed. Smiling at their looks of worry, he had excused him, trying to hide the trembling in his frame.
He leaned forward enough that the he could feel the coolness radiating off the porcelain.
Sharp daggers raced along his spine, hunching him further, the movement causing him to grunt and slide to his knees.
Shit, bad day, he thought woozily. He fumbled in his pocket for his nerve relaxants, the bottle sliding out of his hand and rolling across the floor.
"What are these?" Dazai asked, the open door behind him as he leaned over and lifted up the bottle. Chuuya hadn't even realized his Ability had been deactivated, he was too focused on breathing.
The brunette's gaze shifted from the pills to Chuuya's crumpled form. "Chibi?" There was hint of disbelief coloring his voice. "Did you get… attacked?"
Chuuya winced as laughing caused his body to spasm in ways that were not pleasant. "Not…" he grunted. "Not tonight. Give me those."
Dazai hurriedly passed them over. He turned, seeing the door still open behind him, and shut it swiftly. He knelt in front of Chuuya, eyes bright with unasked questions.
Chuuya fumbled with cap of the bottle, cursed, and managed to get it open, dry swallowing two of the pills. It would take a while before they took effect - he only hadn't taken them prior to this gala because they made him so sleepy. At this point, he'd have to go out there for the rest of the dinner and call a taxi, picking up his bike at some other time.
"If you weren't attacked, what was that?" Dazai wanted to know, his patience wearing thin.
Chuuya twisted, leaning against the wall next to the sink. He'd probably burn these clothes, but for now he didn't care that he was curled up on the floor of a public bathroom, with Dazai of all people. He shut his eyes, focusing on his breathing as he waited for the worst of the pain to wash over him.
It took several minutes, and he was glad Dazai was sitting in front of the door, blocking it from being opened. There was another bathroom on the second floor that people could use. He just needed a few minutes.
When he could move without his bones shrieking at him, he opened his eyes. "It's…," he began, but how could he explain that it was his own Ability that did this? The constant density shift between weightless and normal gravity had destroyed his bones and nerves. "It's nothing, Dazai. Don't worry about it."
Dazai raised an eyebrow. "Nothing," he repeated, incredulously. "Because nothing causes you to curl up and take pills on the bathroom floor."
Chuuya shook his head, grunting with the effort it took to get up. "Guess so," he replied. Dazai stood as well. Chuuya tried to move around him, but the taller man remained steadfast, blocking the only exit.
"Dazai, move," Chuuya growled.
"What was that?"
Chuuya pinched his nose, taking in one long breath. He was so tired, and even with the medication, his pain was spiking in ways that were getting worse with each breath. "It's called nerve damage, okay?" he finally snapped. "Now can you get the fuck out of the way."
Dazai's eyes widened, just the slightest bit. "Why does chibi have nerve damage?"
Chuuya let out a noise, it could have been laughter, it could have been distress. "It won't get in the way of whatever mad plan you have next, so why the fuck do you want to know?"
Dazai frowned at that, clearly not knowing how to answer.
Chuuya scoffed. "Is there a reason you're here?"
Dazai pointed at his gloves. "You haven't worn a single pair of gloves that weren't of the same brand and style since you started wearing them. These are different."
Chuuya held up his hand, showing off the copper grips. "That's the reason? Easy enough. These are compression gloves."
"Your nerve damage… is in your hands?"
"God, I wish," Chuuya let out before realizing it - and he did. Life would be easier if it wasn't his entire body.
"What do you normally do for it?"
"You're really not letting this go, are you?"
Dazai's grin was tired, but real. "Nope."
Chuuya sighed, not wanting to deal with this, but seeing no other way out it. "Heating blankets, tea, sleep, can I leave now? If you've not forgotten, we're here on a fucking job, not to sit around gossiping in the toilet."
He was honestly astonished that Dazai let him through. He returned to his table, conversed with Kouyou and Hirotsu, and at the very first minute that he could, he left, calling for a taxi.
He shouldn't have been surprised that Dazai had beaten him home, broken into his apartment, and was boiling water for chamomile tea.