Mid-August, 2012
"God-fucking-dammit. Does nobody have a cold beer right now?"
The blazing August sun beat down on the port city of Yokohama, and it was as if the heat was seeping into Chuuya's very bones and melting away his insides. He leaned against the side of an old brick building, sweat beads rolling unceremoniously down his cheeks and gathering underneath his chin. The rest of the Sheep were out terrorizing shop owners in hopes of getting some free food out of it, but Chuuya hadn't had any luck with the drinks. Alcohol was hard to come by in this part of the slums and even when he did find some, it wasn't more than half a can and well-protected by some junkie or another.
Chuuya looked down at the large box of food near his feet with narrowed eyes. He'd sort of hoped he wouldn't have had to do any work on his seventeenth birthday, but the Sheep had had other plans.
It had been almost a year since Chuuya had become a member of the Sheep. It's not like he had much of a choice—he didn't have anywhere else to go—but it was nice to have friends and people he could trust. That, and it was a lot easier to keep yourself alive when you had other people to help keep you alive too.
Chuuya let out a short sigh, frowning and breathing in the thick, hot air of August slum hell that scratched at his throat and left raw, dry stinging behind.
"Chuuya!"
When Chuuya's eyes snapped open he saw a head of silvery hair and soon enough, he could see all of Shirase running toward him; it looked like most of the rest of the Sheep were in tow. "Did you get the food?" he shouted.
That was when Chuuya noticed the sour, empty feeling twisting in his stomach and grinned, pushing himself off the building side and jogging to meet him and the rest halfway with the box in hand. "'Course. This is all ours."
Everyone crowded around Chuuya to peer down into the box and the gleam in their eyes said enough about their hunger. Besides, it wasn't often they got as much food—fresh food—as what they saw in front of them. This was a real treat.
"How the hell'd you get all this?" Shirase looked up at Chuuya with arched brows and a slightly complacent quirk of his lips, as if he were the one who'd retrieved the feast.
Chuuya shrugged, though there was a proud set to his shoulders when he gave an answering grin. "It was nothing fancy. I found a new food joint about a mile from here. It's a pretty wasteful lot up there."
Yuan had a wide, smug smile on her face as she stared up at him with big eyes. "That's our Chuuya!"
Shirase looked around at the rest of the Sheep with a glint in his eye and a wide, almost-wolfish smile. "Well, what are we waiting for?"
It only took about fifteen more minutes for them to meet up with the few scattered members of their party, and the next hour or so was spent gorging on the food Chuuya grabbed and a few liters of lukewarm beer a few of the others had scrounged up. They'd found a spot in the shade, luckily, so none of them were getting singed by the merciless sun, and the steady rhythm of Chuuya's life beat onward.
"—don't know what we'd do without our scrappy little rascal," Shirase was saying, waving his beer around as he threw an arm around Chuuya. "Starve, probably."
"Probably," was Chuuya's cheeky reply, to which Shirase only laughed and poked him in the shoulder.
"You're a good errand boy, Chuuya," he grinned, continuing to blab about Chuuya's value to the gang. Chuuya listened with his usual grin, arms crossed as he leaned back against a metal dumpster.
When they were all together like this, Chuuya didn't find himself saying much. He sat back and watched, nodded along and added a few comments here and there, but nothing of substance. He always felt... strange around them. Out of place. Like he didn't belong with them. It had been that way since he'd joined—there was the Sheep, and then there was Chuuya.
Even with Shirase and Yuan, his closest friends, he felt that way. They all put him on a shiny pedestal anyway, and so he watched them from afar.
The day quickly wasted away and by the time the sun was almost set, the Sheep had been there for hours talking and laughing like little kids. More than half were tipsy and Shirase was nearing blackout drunk when he suddenly stood up, swaying slightly, and began shouting. "We should do something to show the pompous assholes 'round here that we're not second-class citizens! That they underestimate us!"
His words were slurred and even Chuuya was having a hard time understanding him (which was impressive because he'd dealt with drunk Shirase the most out of everyone in the Sheep) but the jeering response from the rest made all that meaningless.
Chuuya wasn't among the rest, though. He had enough sense to know that this was a bad idea.
"Let's go ransack some rich bitches and remind them who we are!"
The answering shouts could have deafened Chuuya had he not been used to it. He stood near Shirase with the slightest indication of a frown on his lips. This couldn't possibly end well and as much as Chuuya did want to remind the people who had it easy that they couldn't mess with people like them, he didn't want the Sheep to put themselves in danger. What would happen if those rich people decided to get them all locked up?
But Shirase was already leading the way and did Chuuya have a choice? Not really. That was how things were, most of the time.
No one actually knew what Shirase had in mind when he said he wanted to 'show the pompous assholes' until the Sheep found themselves standing in front of a tall, shiny building with glass doors, and the words Port Mafia Modeling stuck to the fronts.
Shirase turned to face the gang. "We're going to go in here and show these knuckleheads who we are! We're going to remind them that they can't step on people like us, that they're no bigger than we are!"
The Sheep jeered and yelled, throwing fists in the air and shouting things like "let's show them!" and "the rich can die!" while Chuuya stood in the middle of it all, wondering what the best course of action was. Part of him wanted to join in, but the other part knew that this would end badly and he needed to stop it before that happened.
For better or worse, he didn't get the chance.
Shirase slammed his beer bottle into one of the glass doors, accompanied by a thick punch, and the glass fractured. It didn't take long for Shirase and a few helpers to break the door completely and suddenly, the Sheep came flooding into the building like a sea of chaos. Chuuya somehow got washed up in it thanks to his indecision, and now he was watching as everyone set to work destroying everything.
To be fair, it was a pretty nice place to be wreaking havoc on. There was a plush sitting area to the left, and the counter to the right was full of breakable things. No one wanted to touch the electric fireplace, but Chuuya watched Yuan and her cousin throw a large decorative bowl up at the chandelier, which came down with a crash and shot tiny glass jewels everywhere. Chuuya watched Shirase trip on one and face plant into the white leather couch, and snorted.
He would have kept laughing if he didn't catch sight of an unfamiliar head of blonde hair and a pair of unfamiliar brown eyes from past the lobby and around the corner, peeking out from behind the wall.
Shit. The place isn't empty.
Chuuya had no idea why someone was still at their office after sundown, but that didn't matter because they were in deep, deep shit.
"Hey! Hey, we gotta go! Shirase! Shirase, we—"
No one was listening. The Sheep were wholly unleashing themselves on the place and Chuuya couldn't get Shirase's attention from where he stood on top of the mantel, waving around a piece of the shattered chandelier. The sounds of shouting and breaking of countless things continued to assault Chuuya's ears and he couldn't figure out how to get them out of this mess and—
The woman was gone.
God fucking dammit.
Chuuya ran a gloved hand through his hair, letting out a long, hard sigh. What the hell was he supposed to do now that she'd seen them? The Sheep weren't a huge gang, but enough people knew about them that it wouldn't be too difficult for someone to round them up and toss them in jail.
With a grunt, Chuuya shoved his way toward Shirase and gripped his wrist, tugging him down from the mantle. "We need to go," Chuuya hissed. "Now."
Shirase's furrowed brows were the only sign of his confusion. "What do you mean? C'mon, Chuuya, this is great!"
"Not anymore. Someone saw us." Chuuya jabbed a finger toward the place the woman had been hiding a few moments ago. "There are gonna be cops here any second. We need to go." He spoke each word with as much hostile clarity as he could, but Shirase's glazed eyes told him he wasn't hearing any of it.
Chuuya was about to beat the words into his skull when the sudden sound of police sirens and flashing red and blue lights made everyone pause.
"Shit," Chuuya muttered under his breath.
People were getting out of the cars—there were four of them, Chuuya saw—and approaching the building with guns pointed straight at them. "Put your hands above your heads, all of you! Don't move or we will shoot!"
"There won't be any need for that."
That was when Chuuya caught sight of another man, clearly not a cop, standing in front of what used to be the building doors. He stepped into the lobby with a crinkled-eye smile, staring right at Chuuya with eyes that may have been a rich plum color—he couldn't tell.
"Hello! You must be the Sheep, yes? You've made quick work of my lobby. I'm almost impressed." The man held his hands with his palms facing the intruders as if to show that he meant no harm. "I must say, I wish we were meeting under different circumstances." He sighed forlornly, shaking his head as everyone else stared at him. After a few moments of piercing silence, Mori twisted to the police and waved a hand toward the Sheep. "Take them."
The officers immediately flooded into the building—there were a lot more than Chuuya had thought there were—and began hauling everyone out into cars. When Chuuya felt large hands grab his arms he quickly flipped himself over and kicked the cop who'd grabbed him square in the nose, but with one down two more appeared and restrained him too quickly for Chuuya to prevent. It wasn't long before he was being driven away in the back of a cop car with handcuffs around his wrists and a deep scowl etched into his face.
This was, to put it lightly, a huge fuck-up.
Spending the night of his seventeenth birthday in a jail cell was not what Chuuya had planned. He was sharing it with a Sheep member he rarely spoke to—Chuuya couldn't even pin down his name—and spent the entire night sweating like a pig on the amazingly uncomfortable cots they were given. Only when he heard footsteps approaching their cell hours later did he prop himself up on his elbows with bleary, narrowed eyes and find an officer accompanying the man from earlier, who was smiling at him. He wasn't wearing the fancy pajamas Chuuya had last seen him in, though. The bedtime attire had been forgone for a sharp, clean-cut black suit. He looked slightly more intimidating now.
"Nakahara Chuuya. That's you, is it not?"
Chuuya's brows furrowed. "Yeah. Why?"
The man smiled, and something about it was very unsettling to Chuuya. "It's a pleasure. I'm Mori Ougai, the CEO of Port Mafia Modeling; I'd like you to come with me. We have a lot to discuss."
Chuuya opened his mouth to ask what the fuck the man—Mori—thought he was going to get out of Chuuya when the words registered and he snapped it shut.
I'm Mori Ougai, the CEO of Port Mafia Modeling.
Chuuya didn't even get the chance to curse at his shit luck when two burly guards tossed open his cell door and wrapped his arms up in theirs, hauling him through the hallways like some worthless sack.
They dumped him unceremoniously on the floor in the lobby, and then they left.
"Come. Just this way."
Chuuya followed Mori outside, where a sleek black car waited for them. The driver opened the door for Mori first, and Chuuya second, and it was so fancy on the inside that Chuuya could hardly believe a car like this even existed at all; shiny and polished and neater than anything. His hackles were thrown up even higher.
Chuuya had no idea where Mori was taking him—or why Mori was taking him, for that matter—but he was certainly surprised when the fancy black car they were riding in stopped in front of a bustling coffee shop; Uzumaki Cafe, the sign read. The driver moved to open the door for Mori, but he waved her off and she opened Chuuya's door instead. The sun was low in the sky and still insisted on beating down on Chuuya incessantly as always. He squinted.
"This way, Chuuya."
Mori was already walking into the shop and Chuuya had no choice but to chase after him, despite every bone in his body screaming that this was bad, that this man was dangerous, that—"
"Will this table do?"
Chuuya blinked and found Mori already seated at a small, two-person table near the window at the front of the shop. Gathering that he didn't have much of a say, Chuuya sat himself down opposite Mori and leaned back in his chair with a frown. "Why did you bring me here?"
Mori arched a brow. "You sound distrusting."
"The Sheep broke into your company building and trashed your lobby."
Mori's amused smile wasn't comforting. "Of course. But you didn't trash anything yourself, did you?"
Chuuya's eyes widened slightly. "How do you know that?"
"It wasn't hard to see. Do you need me to explain it to you?" He spoke like he was talking to a child. Chuuya didn't like it.
"No. Why did you bring me here?" he repeated, trying his damn hardest to keep the anger out of his voice.
Mori leaned back in his chair as well and hummed, but to Chuuya's endless irritation, he didn't answer the question. Instead, he waved to a waitress and ordered himself a chai latte. "Do you want anything?" He looked over at Chuuya with a small smile. "Don't worry about paying. I'll take care of it."
Chuuya fought the urge to shout at Mori and bit the inside of his cheek so hard that the coppery taste of blood leaked into his mouth. "No." That was all he managed to say and the words probably sounded just as bitter to Mori as they did to Chuuya.
"Suit yourself. Just the chai, then," Mori gave the waitress a smile and waved her off. Turning his stark gaze back to Chuuya, he folded his hands in front of him and narrowed his eyes. "Has anyone ever told you how unique you look, Chuuya?"
Of all the things he expected Mori to say, complimenting—complimenting?—his looks weren't on the list.
Chuuya was pretty sure he was just sitting there, blinking dumbly, because Mori chuckled a bit and leaned back in his chair again. "I've never seen anyone with hair like yours. And your eyes," something in Mori's own eyes gleamed with something Chuuya couldn't place, "are quite the sight to behold. With a little training, you could become a fantastic model."
Another shock to his system. Chuuya felt his spine go rigid as he began to catch on. Why Mori brought him here, why he brought just him.
Apparently, Mori saw the understanding dawn on his face, because his smile widened and he spoke again. "I want you to join Port Mafia Modeling, Chuuya."
Chuuya rocketed up from his chair, uncaring of the stares he received from the other customers. "What the fuck," he hissed. "What kind of twisted offer is that?"
Mori looked completely complacent. "I'm not sure what you mean. I'm offering you a job, the means to make a living for yourself, residential arrangements should you want them."
"You're asking me to abandon the Sheep." Not a question.
Mori shrugged. "I don't believe I ever said that."
Chuuya paused for a moment before his scowl deepened—which he didn't even think was possible at this point. "What do you want."
Again, not a question.
Mori seemed to know what he meant. He chuckled darkly. "You don't have to accept my offer, you know. But it's certainly worth noting that your Sheep did break into my agency building and wreak havoc on my lobby. And making your friends more... comfortable in their current homes wouldn't be a problem at all."
Chuuya began shaking his head. "That's fucked up."
"Maybe." Mori shrugged.
It was just then that the waitress came back with the latte Mori had ordered. "A chai latte," she bobbed her head. "Please enjoy."
Mori smiled as she left before turning back to face Chuuya. Still smiling. "Well, it sounds like you have a big decision to make. Would you like some time to think about it?"
"No," Chuuya snapped. "I'll join your fucking agency. But you have to leave the Sheep alone. For good." Of course he didn't want to be a model. But he wanted to betray his friends and keep them locked up in cells even less, so this was the best of two bad options. His lips were pressed in a tight line and he could still taste blood in his mouth.
Mori's smile widened as he leaned forward and propped his chin up on his folded hands. He reminded Chuuya of what a mafia boss might look like. "Excellent."
***
"What the hell?"
Chuuya sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Listen, Shirase—"
"No, you listen, Chuuya. You're supposed to be one of us! What happened to never abandoning your own, huh?" It was obvious that Shirase was livid. His eyes were wide and the familiar spark of anger lit his gaze as he stared Chuuya down with his mouth agape.
Underneath that, though, he was hurt. And it didn't sit well with Chuuya to know that that was his fault, but looking around at the cell Shirase was still in was enough confirmation that he'd made the right decision. The Sheep could believe he betrayed them—which he absolutely didn't—but Chuuya knew he was protecting them and maybe, eventually, they'd realize that.
He wanted to strangle Mori for making him keep a gag on his threat, though.
"I am one of you, Shirase, I just got caught up in a—"
"You know what? I don't wanna hear it. I don't need excuses. The Sheep needed you and you betrayed us. You can live with that for the rest of your life but I don't want to sit here and listen to you try to defend yourself. You betrayed us," he repeated, and now Shirase was standing right up against the bars that separated him and Chuuya with anger distorting his face.
Chuuya's mouth was twisted into a scowl and he shook his head. Even if he couldn't explain exactly what happened, he could at least tell Shirase that he was doing this to protect him and the Sheep.
"I never betrayed anyone. I did this for all of you, so you would—"
"But you didn't, did you?" Shirase shook his head, lips curled back in a snarl. "You got sick of hanging with the low lives, so you found yourself a shiny new job full of pompous assholes to make you feel better about yourself. That's it, isn't it?"
"Who the hell do you take me for? I couldn't give two shits about this job," Chuuya hissed. "But maybe if you hadn't stormed the building like an idiot, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"So it's my fault? What the hell do—"
"It's not your fault. But I'm not doing this for myself, I'm doing it for you all and—"
"Oh, shut up. Save your sob story for someone who cares." Shirase turned around, shaking his head, and sat on his cot with a childish huff. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the wall to his left, refusing to meet Chuuya's gaze.
"Fine," Chuuya practically spat. "But when you get out of this cell, remember this conversation and think about why."
It surprised him when he turned on his heel and began walking back down the hallway. If he were his usual self, Chuuya would've gone at it for another hour, shouting and pointing fingers and whatever else it took, because if he was anything, Chuuya was loyal to the people he cared about.
Maybe that was the moment when he subconsciously realized that maybe, those people didn't really care about him.
Mori was waiting in the lobby when he stormed in. "Oh? Done so soon?"
"Let's go," Chuuya all but growled and slammed open the doors. Immediately, the familiar sounds of car engines and horns filled his ears, and somehow, that combined with the breeze that ticked his cheeks and ruffled his hair made the tension in his muscles relax, if only slightly. At least this was familiar.
Mori already had a car waiting for them outside; a different one than the car he'd ridden in when Mori took him to the coffee shop earlier that morning. By now the sun was high in the sky and causing heat illusions on the roads. The car ride was short and smooth; after the driver had parked, he opened Chuuya's door and helped him out of the car with a gracious smile.
Chuuya wasn't sure what to make of it.
"Come with me. I'll have someone show you to one of our company-owned apartments so you can bathe and get a bite to eat. One of our models will be showing you around the building at two-thirty, so you have until then to do as you please. We can discuss your living arrangements after the tour." Chuuya stared at the all-too-familiar glass doors that opened on their own as Mori walked into the building. He paused and turned around with a quirked brow, but quickly seemed to deduce why Chuuya looked so stunned.
The doors looked brand-new, and from what he could see of the lobby through the glass, it was like nothing had happened. There was no trace of the Sheep anywhere.
"Ah. We have a very fine clean-up staff," Mori smiled for a moment before turning on his heel and waving. "Come, Chuuya. You have a busy day ahead of you."
If Chuuya was being honest with himself, he didn't feel anywhere close to ready for a tour. He was tired, angry, drained—the list could go on and on. He didn't have the energy to put up with anyone and definitely didn't have the energy to wander an entire modeling agency and listen to one of Mori's employees babble about who-knows-what.
Chuuya supposed he was also one of Mori's employees now.
Just as he'd thought, the lobby looked completely unruffled. Furniture was just the way it had been last night (before it had all been destroyed), as were rugs, bowls, the chandelier. All of it looked as shiny and brand-new as it had when Chuuya first saw it.
He hadn't taken the time last night to genuinely look around, but now he was seeing everything he hadn't then. The grand marble staircase was one of them. There was white marble everywhere; even the front desk was a fat slab of it. It was a very big lobby, but Chuuya didn't think there were a lot of things in it. There was a lot of open space and he could certainly appreciate that over many of the stuffy buildings he'd had to sit in. This was a welcome change.
"Unfortunately, I have to attend a brief meeting, so we won't be seeing each other. Your things should already be in the apartment and I'll have Kouyou show you there now." He waved to a woman near the front desk, who finished up what she was doing and made her leisurely way over.
Her hair was a reddish color, but much softer and pinker than the blazing copper that Chuuya's was and pinned back in an elegant bun. She wore a large hairpiece on one side of her face, while the other had bangs that covered one of her eyes. From what Chuuya could see, though, her eyes were a deep scarlet color, and she wore a very expensive-looking kimono with a large bow tied in the front.
Something about the way she was looking him up and down with such a sharp gaze made Chuuya shift his weight on either foot, uncomfortable being at the mercy of such a merciless stare.
"Kouyou, this is our newest model recruit. Chuuya, this is Kouyou, one of our executives—they're five of the most important people in the company. Be respectful."
The woman, Kouyou, smiled politely. "It's nice to meet you, Chuuya."
Chuuya furrowed his brows slightly. "Yeah. You too."
Mori chuckled. "You two have fun. Chuuya, let someone know if you need anything at all; they'll be happy to help." With that, he turned on his heel and left up the marble staircase. The sound of his heels on the smooth surface echoed throughout the lobby.
Kouyou's smile was still there when she turned to look down at Chuuya again. It wasn't a large smile, nor did it feel like a very happy one, but it was curt and polite enough. "Let's go." Her voice was thick and rich; Chuuya thought it suited her.
She led them down a large, open corridor to the left, which was lined with stained glass windows of varying abstract designs.
"Have you ever been a model before, Chuuya?"
The question wasn't sudden, per se, but Chuuya hadn't expected Kouyou to say anything to him so her question surprised him. She looked amused by that.
"No, I haven't." He frowned.
"And how do you feel about the company so far?"
"It's rich and pretentious," was the immediate answer Chuuya gave her. He wrinkled his nose.
Kouyou eyed him up and down with that razor-sharp gaze of hers. As if she were peeling away every layer of Chuuya and seeing straight to his core. She hummed. "We'll have to do something about that attitude of yours. No one wants to work with a brat."
"Did you just call me a brat, you old hag?" Chuuya snapped before realizing that he was only proving her point and shut his mouth again, looking straight ahead again with a slight pink tint to his cheeks.
Kouyou arched a brow. "The temper, too."
It didn't take long for them to reach the residential building and find the apartment Mori had mentioned. Kouyou asked him questions about himself—nothing too prying, which Chuuya was grateful for—but he didn't ask anything about her because they quickly stopped in front of a door labeled A51. Kouyou pulled a keycard out from somewhere in her kimono (it was so big with so many layers that Chuuya couldn't tell where the pockets were, if there were any at all) and unlocked the room.
True to his word, Mori had Chuuya's things moved into the apartment and there was now a worn bag set near the door. Chuuya didn't own very much.
Kouyou didn't step into the room, though she did pull out another card; this one was white, unlike the golden one she'd used a moment ago. "You can use this to get into your room and a few other places in the facility meant only for employees. If you need access to a room you can't open with this card, ask the front desk," she explained curtly. "Be in the lobby by two-twenty-five, not a minute later. Once you finish with your tour, I'll be taking you up to sign your contract."
Chuuya frowned. "Why you?" Mori had said she was an executive—he wasn't quite sure what that was, but it sounded important and high-up. He couldn't help but wonder why she'd be bothering with the new recruit when she was probably already busy with her oh-so-glamorous workload.
"Mori seems to think that you would do well under my guidance. You can consider me your mentor." Kouyou eyed him warily before waving a hand. "Go wash up. You smell like a pig."
Chuuya immediately scowled. "Old hag," he muttered, but the quiet comment didn't escape Kouyou's ears and her lips curved upward into the slightest hint of a smile before Chuuya slammed the door and Kouyou turned on her heel to make her way back to her office.
The moment the door shut and Chuuya had his back to it, he started yelling. "God dammit!" Grinding his teeth, he grabbed the bowl of fruit on the glass dining table nearby and chucked it at the wall with a shout. The glass shattered but the fruit fell, unharmed, to the ground with a dull thump. Fists balled so tightly his knuckles were white, Chuuya slammed his hand down on the table as his vision swam in and out of red. "Fucking hell," he muttered, shaking his head.
Just yesterday he was stealing food for his friends—but they weren't his friends anymore, Chuuya figured—and now, he was staying in the nicest goddamn apartment he'd ever seen, about to sign his life away as a fucking model of all things. There were too many emotions twisting in his gut and he had no idea what to think.
So he didn't.
Chuuya made good use of the two hours he had until the tour. He spent one of them exploring the apartment, which was a lot bigger than he'd initially thought. The bedroom was huge and the bed was possibly the largest bed known to man (with a very soft mattress.) The kitchen wasn't incredibly large itself, but there was a lot of space and also a lot of fancy food in the fridge (which Chuuya gorged on while he conducted his investigations.)
The sitting area was simple, but a glance at the furniture and Chuuya knew one couch cushion was probably worth more than everything he owned combined. There was a large balcony that overlooked the bustling city streets below, fit with a table, chairs, and a fucking jacuzzi.
It was a damn nice place.
Once he'd used up half of his free time, Chuuya spent most of the rest in the shower, ridding himself of all the dirt and grime caking his skin and hair. After he'd cleaned and freshened up, he made his way into the bedroom and hoped there were spare clothes he could wear because he was certain Mori would throw him right back out of the facility if he made his first impression wearing the clothes sitting in a heap on the bathroom floor right now, smelling like dirt and grime and sweat.
When Chuuya opened the wardrobe, he didn't expect so many clothes.
They were all neatly hung and folded, piled gently on shelves with patient care. There wasn't a lot of color, which made Chuuya frown. He preferred to avoid plain black-and-white outfits if he could help it; just because he'd been in a gang for a year didn't mean he didn't have taste.
It took nearly twenty minutes for Chuuya to decide what to wear. There were so many articles of clothing that looked exactly the same, but sometimes the fit was just slightly off or the buttons were just a bit darker. He eventually settled on a plain white button-down, left open at the collar and sleeves rolled up to his forearms, black slacks, and a shiny gold wristwatch he found in a drawer full of jewelry and other adornments.
Looking at himself in the mirror, Chuuya had to admit that luxury looked fine as fuck on him.
At this point, it was nearly two-fifteen and Chuuya figured he should head out. It would take a little while to find his way back to the lobby; he hadn't bothered to remember all the twists and turns he and Kouyou had taken to get here, so it was possible he'd get lost.
Not that Chuuya would admit that, of course.
By the time he got to the lobby, it was a few minutes past two-thirty and he was the only one there. If he remembered correctly, Mori told him that one of the company's models was going to be giving him the tour, but he was the only one standing in the foyer, arms crossed over his chest, and frowned. If this was such a big, important enterprise, shouldn't they have punctual employees?
Chuuya didn't see Kouyou or Mori anywhere, but then the front doors opened and a stern-looking woman in a sharp, clean-cut suit walked into the building, clipboard in hand, and began making her way toward the front desk.
She stopped when she saw Chuuya.
Her eyes were large and a warm, honeyed brown color and her hair was blonde and pinned back in a tidy bun. She looked around Chuuya's age and her lips were pressed into a tight line.
The woman from last night.
She was the one who called the cops and, Chuuya assumed, Mori. She'd been hiding near the staircase and he seemed to have been the only one to spot her.
The woman stared at Chuuya. Chuuya stared at the woman. Silence buzzed around them.
"You're with the Sheep." The woman had a deeper voice than he'd expected, but despite the nature of her words or the obvious surprise on her face, she sounded polite.
"Was," Chuuya corrected her after a moment. It felt strange saying it out loud. "I was with the Sheep."
The woman's brows furrowed. "And you're here?"
"Yeah. I'm getting signed this afternoon."
Her eyes widened. "What? But you—"
"Yeah, I know," he snapped, but she quickly closed her mouth and he felt a bit guilty. "It's a long story," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. His gloves felt hot and his hair was still wet and he was tired.
The woman nodded slowly, looking him up and down before extending her hand with only slight hesitation. "I'm Higuchi. It's nice to meet you, ah..."
"Chuuya," he corrected her quickly, shaking her hand and putting on a small smile. "Nakahara Chuuya."
"It's nice to meet you, Nakahara." The woman, Higuchi, seemed torn on whether to add something else—perhaps more curt pleasantries—but apparently decided against it and gave him a terse nod before continuing the business she'd meant to tend to in the first place.
At this point, it was nearly twenty minutes after Chuuya was supposed to have started his tour when the next person entered the lobby. He sauntered down the stairs with an easy grin, hands in his pockets as he hummed a light tune.
"Oh, you must be the newest recruit! Glad I caught you."
The stranger held up a hand in greeting and stopped until he was a few feet away from Chuuya, leaning against a chair and eyeing him up and down with glittering eyes.
He was tall. His hair, which looked impossibly soft in the gentle light of the chandelier, was wavy and a dark brown that almost matched the color of his eye. That, however, looked slightly reddish as it scanned Chuuya from head to toe. There was a gleam of something there Chuuya couldn't place, but he didn't like it.
The person's attire was simple; he wore black dress pants—with a slightly higher waist than Chuuya's—paired with a loose short-sleeved dress shirt tucked into them; it toed the line between khaki and brown and was left unbuttoned near the top similar to the way Chuuya's was.
But the thing Chuuya didn't understand about the stranger's attire were the bandages wrapped around his right eye, arms, neck, and the small portion of his exposed chest. They were crisp and nearly off-white, but not dirty as far as Chuuya could tell.
He was smiling with a slight smugness about him and stood up straight, extending his hand to Chuuya in a show of blatant dramatic formality. Chuuya shook it with narrowed eyes and was surprised to feel how cold the stranger's hands were, even through the gloves. His fingers were long and almost looked delicate as he let go of Chuuya's hand.
"I'll be the one giving you a tour of the facility this afternoon. Mori probably mentioned this, but I'm one of the models for PMM." The stranger's voice was lilting and melodic in a way Chuuya hadn't heard before. He wasn't sure whether to find it attractive or unsettling. "Dazai Osamu. It's a pleasure to meet you, Chuuya."