Chuuya Nakahara

For someone who could crush steel — or literally anything — with a flick of his fingers, Chuuya Nakahara was surprisingly easy to fluster.

Maybe that’s why you liked working with him — the way his temper caught like a struck match, burned bright, then died in a sigh of smoke. The way he cursed the world under his breath yet always walked on the side nearest the traffic, as if guarding you without meaning to

He could tear through missions like they were choreography — sharp, fluid, every motion precise and practiced.

But put a stack of reports in front of him, and he’d crumble.

The pen twitched between his fingers like it wanted out; his scowl deepened with every stroke that bled crooked across the page.

"These damn reports.."

he muttered, tapping the pen against the desk,

"oughta come with hazard pay."

The words weren’t angry — just tired, the kind of frustration that made his hair fall into his eyes as he leaned back, sighing, shoulders loosening only when your quiet laugh broke through the paper’s tyranny

Evening bled down the spine of Yokohama — slow, viscous, as though the sky had forgotten how to let go. Outside the Starbucks, the air remained damp. It was rich with the mingled scents of coffee, asphalt, and rain. The door swung shut behind you with a soft hiss, cutting off the hum of grinders and murmured laughter inside

You followed Chuuya across the parking lot, your shoes whispering through shallow puddles that caught the streetlights in trembling pieces. His coat flared a bit with each step, catching the city’s dim glow — amber to indigo, breathing soft below. He didn’t speak, just glanced back once, the tilt of his hat shadowing the quiet curve of a smirk.

Steam rose from the cup in his hand — pale against the cooling dark.

You followed in his wake, your shadow swallowed by his. The cofee's steam ghosted from the paper cup between your palms, curling into the chill before it vanished — much like every thought you meant to speak.

When you reached his car, Chuuya turned, hand outstretched.

For the keys.

Wait, keys?

When you just.. stared at him — confused as ever, Chuuya could only just frown.

“You lost the car keys?”

His tone went from suspicion to heartbreak in real time — like watching a building collapse in slow motion

Temporarily misplaced, you'd say.

There's a difference.

He sighed — long, theatrical, the kind that echoed down alleyways and probably startled pigeons.

“Unbelievable. I can't trust ya' with jackshit."

Chuuya spoke — the grip on his Starbucks cup tightening, cardboard creasing beneath his gloved hand

"You ever think about takin' responsibility, or is forgettin' my stuff your new hobby? Hell, at this rate, you'll have me losin' my fuckin' sanity next.

That was the rhythm of your partnership — you provoked, he complained, and somewhere between the two of you, Yokohama managed to survive another day.

You were halfway through arguing over who should retrace their steps when something brushed your ankle — soft, hesitant.

You looked down

Two soft brown eyes blinked up at you from a mudstreaked bundle of fur

...A puppy?

It was small — impossibly so. Mud clung to its fur like soot, its tail a trembling

You froze. Chuuya blinked beside you, the last syllable of whatever insult he’d been preparing dying somewhere in his throat.

"What the hell—"

The puppy whined — just once, a pitiful little sound from a pitiful thing. You crouched, cofee cup shifting in your grip, as the creature toddled forward and pressed its damp nose against your boot.

you murmured something about on how sad and cute it was, softening instantly. Chuuya stared down at you

"Don’t even think about it."

Chuuya’s warning came too fast — reflexive, like a man who read your mind.

"We are not bringing that thing home."

You looked up at him, lips curving.. you havent said anything about bringing it home

"You were thinkin’ it. I just know it. Telepathy type shi"

He sighed, crouching beside you despite himself, one gloved hand braced on his knee, the other still holding his own coffee. The puppy looked up at him with watery eyes — tail thumping weakly against wet concrete.

"... Huh, it really is a poor thing."

You didn’t laugh, not right away. But when Chuuya muttered something about 'heartless timing' and handed you his coffee so he could slip off his coat — carefully wrapping the puppy inside

And in the blink of an eye, the city’s bruised light was left behind. Now, you were both inside Chuuya’s penthouse, the faint scent of wet fur and shampoo lingering like a stubborn perfume. The puppy shook itself once, scattering droplets that glimmered in the lamplight, ans Chuuya crouched beside it, blowdryer murmuring low against the damped fur. His coat lay abandoned somewhere in the hallway, and his usual sharp attire replaced by a soft cotton shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and tensed forearms

His gaze flicked up from the puppy, catching yours with a spark of mischief beneath the exhaustion.

"We ain't keepin' em."

he muttered, voice low and rough around the edges, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him with a twitch of a grin. The words were sharp, but his eyes lingered on the pup a moment too long, warm and soft. Something you barely saw from hum

"I’ll slap it on some stupid pet adoption app or somethin'..."

Chuuya added, rolling his eyes like the thought itself was a chore

A few days passed. Of course, there was no adoption post — not a single listing, not even a hint of one.

Today, Chuuya finally returned from the store, arriving later than expected

The door clicked open before you could even blink. Chuuya stepped inside, the faint scuff of his shoes against the floor announcing him like a herald of minor mischief. He kicked them off casually, one after the other, leaving them in a neat heap by the entrance, before the rich scent of the city and his perfume clung briefly to his coat as he crossed into the living room

There you were, sprawled on the couch, eyes half lidded as the TV flickered in the dim light, the puppy curled beside you, nose twitching in sleep.

Then, Chuuya puts the bags on the floor. You barely had time to register his arrival before your gaze landed on the contents. Expensive dog food, gourmet treats that smelled almost sinful, squeaky toys, and... of all things..... a couple of tiny, ridiculous little outfits. For the puppy. You hadn’t even expected him to buy anything for the dog.

But anyway, the puppy’s ears perked like lightning, tail whipping back and forth in pure, uncontainable excitement. Quickly running to the man,

Chuuya crouched slightly, scooping up the ecstatic pup as it pawed at the bags. He rifled through one with a flourish, producing a tiny, absurd little outfit and holding it up like a trophy

"I found some pretty cool clothes for this lil’ guy,"

he said, grin tugging at his lips.

"Think it’ll fit? ...Well, I guess we’ll just have to find out."