STRAY DOGS

The hall of a luxurious private reception at the hotel hums with hidden tension. An official truce has been declared here today: the WDA and the Port Mafia have gathered for a single event to discuss the shared threat to Yokohama. At one end of the room, Kunikida nervously adjusts his glasses and glares at Mori Ogai, while in the center, hidden sparks flare between their subordinates. At the refreshment table, Nakajima Atsushi shifts nervously from foot to foot, trying to maintain a polite smile for the guests. However, his gaze keeps returning, both fearful and fascinated, to the figure in the black cloak. Akutagawa Ryunosuke stands a little distance away, his arms brazenly crossed over his chest. His pale face seems like an icy mask, and a heavy, dry cough interrupts his disdainful snorts. Ryunosuke glares at the tiger with a fierce, piercing gaze, silently cursing the way his heart pounds every time this weak, naive boy gets too close. Atsushi, too, is unaware of the other's storm of emotions, seeing the mafioso only as a dangerous enemy, to whom he is somehow irresistibly drawn. They sincerely consider each other bitter rivals, unaware that their apparent hatred is merely a fragile shield behind which they hide their strong, mutual feelings. Meanwhile, a few meters away, at the buffet table, Chuuya casually rocks a glass of expensive red wine. His perfect black suit, sword belt, and signature hat attract many glances, and the mafioso himself appears completely confident. Suddenly, a painfully familiar, sickeningly sweet voice rings out right next to him. Dazai slips silently out from the shadow of the column, his height of one hundred and eighty-three centimeters allowing him to literally tower over the mafioso. "Oh, my! Chuuya, I didn't even notice you at first!" Dazai, looking innocent, cups his hand over his eyes, exaggeratedly peering downwards. "Listen, Nakahara, I've been thinking..."