Chapter Text
Memories...
What are memories...?
They’re…intricate tapestries of the past, unique to all individuals, weaving a narrative of our collective experiences. They hold the deepest pits of misery to the soaring heights of bliss. Some linger as haunting specters, casting shadows that refuse to allow even a glimmer of light through. Terrifying realities where ignorance is the only drug to escape, burying memories deep down and pretending that they never happened in the first place. But the shame and regret remain, even if faint. Unsightly blemishes of actions taken, or secrets kept, forever hidden from prying eyes. Who knows what would happen if the illusion were shattered (one could imagine, the repercussions are too horrible to face). At the end of the day, these memories shape the very essence of being, testaments to the human experience.
Just as he who despises himself, running from his past, haunted by the consequences that he brought on himself. He recoils at the memory of his misdeeds, burdened by a deep-rooted hatred for himself over past transgressions. Alas, the past is unchangeable.
But the him that had erred was already gone. He had reflected, repented, and grieved for his wrongdoings. Wasn’t it okay for him to finally look towards the light and start living as a human, rather than a ghost of his own mind?
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Wasn’t it...?
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In the middle of the night, long after the city’s bustling activity and workday had ceased, there stood a cluster of five black buildings in the heart of Yokohama. Among these structures, the main building loomed prominently above the other four, as though keeping a vigilant watch over the entire city. No civilian with any sense of self-preservation dared to venture close to these ominous structures, well aware of the dark reputation that shrouded them.
Instead, they averted their gazes and walked on, the structures fading into the back of their minds like the passing clouds in the sky. Yet, the impossibility of ignoring these towering edifices was apparent, the sheer height of the buildings demanded attention, a visible warning of the consequences awaiting anyone who dare disrupt its forbidden domain or the people that dwelled within it. It was a known secret amongst all civilians, a silent understanding of the unspoken dangers that await within those forbidding walls.
When night falls, residents in the vicinity of the building swiftly lock their doors and windows. Such weak precautions would do nothing to protect them in the face of actual danger, but the fragile sense of self-security was the only thing citizens could provide for themselves. The activities within its walls are infamous for their brutality and anarchy. Despite the flagrant violations of the law they committed each day, the government remained powerless to intervene, the organization already as essential to the city as the roads and the skyline. It was one of the largest in Japan, and its presence in Yokohama was a widely-known fact. Moreover, the pervasive fear it held extended beyond the city limits, whispers of the organization's reach and informants scattered throughout different regions of Japan keeping the populace on edge.
The infamous organization is known as the Port Mafia, shrouded in secrecy to the extent that even the identity of its leader remains a mystery. However, the little scraps of information that were known about him shaped him out to be a man of formidable presence. Draped in a black trench coat, adorned with a simple but sleek suit, he cut a striking figure. His most distinctive feature, however, were the bandages concealing his right eye, a veiled reminder of the battles he’d led and survived through. Known by the moniker Demon Prodigy, he commanded respect and fear in equal measure.
That very figure emerged from the building, his hands casually tucked into his pockets as he strolled forward with an air of undeniable authority. Trailing behind him are two women attired in sharp suits, their presence mirroring his own sophistication. His eyes held nothing within them, a dark abyss.
A sleek vehicle glided to a halt beside them, and the suited driver swiftly stepped out to open the door for his patrons. With a fluid grace, the figure slid into the back passenger seat, while the women accompanying him took their places in the driver’s and front passenger’s seat. Without delay, the car purred to life, seamlessly merging into the flow of the night.
Silence enveloped the interior of the car, any inclination towards conversation restrained.
The occupants, aware of their boss's aversion to meaningless chatter, maintained a hushed composure throughout the journey. Seated in the back, their leader remains a study in stillness. His expression, an impenetrable mask, revealed nothing of the thoughts that churn beneath the surface. He held his features in a stoic blankness, appearing impervious to any provocation.
The car made it onto the highway, orange streetlights lighting up the path ahead in perfect homogeny.
Amongst the many obnoxiously bright and showy billboards placed alongside the highway, a particular one stood out to the man in question. It featured a figure with ginger hair and piercing blue eyes. The boss’s usual demeanor was betrayed by the slight raise of his eyebrow, a minuscule crack in his inscrutable facade. A flicker of recognition danced in his eyes. The face seared into his memory was one that refused to be forgotten.
The car came to a standstill amidst gridlocked traffic, giving his eyes an excuse to linger on the billboard. The face on the advertisement remained unblinking, yet he still recognized the newfound maturity that was present in it. The familiar smile that once graced that face, unchanged through the years, elicited a sense of quiet melancholy in the man.
"Gin," he uttered, addressing the woman seated beside the driver.
"Yes, sir?" she answered. If the slight tilt of her voice hadn’t given away her curiosity, it was the slight furrow of her eyebrows that made it clear. However, the man's attention remained fixed beyond her, his gaze intent on the figure depicted on the poster.
"That man, who is he?"
Following her boss's gaze out of the window, her own eyes settled on the figure displayed on the advertisement. A perplexed frown etched itself on her features as she recognized the familiar face — "Nakahara Chuuya, known by the stage name Baki, a renowned rockstar and sought-after model." She relayed this information to her boss, in addition to information about the individual's widespread popularity not only in Yokohama but across borders. Despite her familiarity with Baki's prominence and ubiquitous presence in various media, her boss was the last person who she thought the celebrity would catch the attention of.
The man fell into a brief silence, his attention consumed by the figure on the poster before he finally spoke without tearing his gaze away, "It's my first time seeing this ‘Baki’ person."
Gin blinked in disbelief. With how far-reaching Baki’s influence over media had been in recent times, it’d take more effort for a person not to encounter any sight of him. Even she, who had only a minimal interest in entertainers like him, had begun seeing and learning about him everywhere she looked. Though Gin supposed this was just another thing her boss was an exception to, given his detachment from matters concerning the public sphere and the media frenzy that often surrounded such personalities.
"Would you like me to conduct a background check on him?" she offered.
The man's response was delayed, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he averted his gaze. Fingers deftly loosened his necktie. With a final fleeting glance towards the poster, a sense of knowing flickering in his eyes, he uttered, "Don't bother, I already know everything about him."
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The shrill sound of his phone ringing pierced the room’s stillness, jolting Chuuya awake. His eyes fluttered open, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead as he sat up on the edge of the bed. Gasping for breath, he blinked away the remnants of the dream still playing on the back of his eyelids. The insistent ringing continued echoing in the room in a bid to catch his attention, but the grim visions of his dream clung to his mind like a second skin. Just like every other day like this, his thoughts were clouded and foggy, the low ringing in his ears muting out the rest of the world.
Coherency was painfully slow in returning to him, but when it did, it had him fumbling to locate the device on his bedside table. Chuuya noted the caller ID flashing his manager's name. With the shake of his head and a deep breath, he gave a hesitant tap on the call button.
"Hello?" His voice was rough from just waking up.
Chuuya's manager's exasperated voice crackled through the speaker. ["I’ve been spending the whole time trying to get ahold of you, don’t tell me you only just woke up."]
Before Chuuya could offer a defense, his manager interrupted brusquely, ["You know what, it doesn’t matter. Go change quickly. You have a photoshoot in 15 minutes. Go!"]
Startled by the sudden urgency, Chuuya sprang to his feet, slamming his wardrobe open to find some clothes to wear. his voice rising in frustration as he exclaimed,
"Why didn't you mention today's photoshoot earlier!?"
["I told you yesterday, but it looks were too preoccupied to notice, you fool!"]
As Chuuya's attempts to interject were met with further chastising, his manager's tone turned more forceful. ["Less talk, more action. Get ready and head to ADA in 15 minutes. Be there promptly!"]
Flustered and not given any time to process what was happening, Chuuya's agitation grew as his manager’s nagging continued. But just as abruptly as it had begun, the call ended, with a brief warning to Chuuya about the consequences of missing his next shoot.
"Sigma!" he growled out before heading to the bathroom to prepare for the impromptu photoshoot.
Sigma tapped his foot impatiently, his gaze flickering to his watch as he noted Chuuya's delayed arrival. A resigned shake of his head betrayed his exasperation. However, his irritation dissipated momentarily as he detected the approaching sound of familiar leather dress shoes, signaling Chuuya's belated entrance.
"You're late," Sigma admonished, his tone tinged with reproach as he fixed his gaze on Chuuya, who stood before him, still catching his breath.
Chuuya took off the black out sunglasses and face mask he was wearing. "I know," he conceded between breaths, straightening up with a determined expression. "But I'm here now."
Sigma's scrutinizing gaze lingered on Chuuya before he began to walk, Chuuya falling into step behind him. "You may be here now, but punctuality is crucial, Chuuya. Every moment counts," Sigma emphasized as he glanced sideways at his companion.
Sigma’s wise words were met with an unimpressed expression from his subordinate, "You're starting to sound like Kunikida. Why don’t you write that down in a book or something?" Chuuya snickered.
Sigma regarded Chuuya with frustration, serious as he responded, "You know I’m not joking around here, Chuuya. I don’t say all of this just to get on your nerves," As they entered the elevator, Sigma continued, "If you want your career to continue on its current pace, you need adhere to your schedule and practice some professionalism."
Already far too used to Sigma's constant lectures, Chuuya rolled his eyes and leaned back against the elevator wall. "Relax. I have never done anything that bad, my reputation is perfectly fine."
Sigma turned to face Chuuya, locking eyes with him, disapproval radiating from every pore on his body. "Do you need a reminder of the little escapade you and Albatross went one last year, when you got intoxicated beyond belief during you bar-hopping adventure and beat one of the other patrons within an inch of their life?" he recounted.
Chuuya blinked in response, releasing a sigh before asserting, "It's not that big of an issue. The bastard was practically feeling up every person in sight. I was just tough enough to do what everyone else wanted to do."
"That’s not being ‘tough’, that’s just being brash. You have not idea the extent of the actions I took to shield you from the legal repercussions," Sigma argued, his gaze piercing as Chuuya nonchalantly feigned ignorance, choosing to dismiss the intensity of Sigma's scrutiny.
As the elevator doors slid open, they stepped out and proceeded to their destination in silence. As much as Sigma genuinely wanted to see Chuuya have a fulfilling career, and as much as Chuuya needed and appreciated the work his manager put into maintaining his schedule and career, the two of them had come to an impasse about this exact argument too many times to count already. Arguing anymore than this would be futile on both parties, and just lead to all their energy being drained away.
When they reached the sight of the shoot, a staff member approached and addressed them, "There you are, Chuuya-san. The makeup artist is already waiting for you."
Chuuya acknowledged her with a nod before making his way to the designated makeup room, Sigma walking off to discuss the details of the shoot with the other on-set staff. Upon opening the door, he was greeted by Lucy, who was meticulously organizing the makeup supplies on the table.
"Good mornin’ hon!" she cheerfully greeted him, gesturing for Chuuya to take a seat. However, she couldn't resist a playful tease, "You're runnin’ a bit late today, arent’cha."
Settling into the chair, Chuuya huffed a breath out, a pout playing on his lips. "Yeah, yeah, I know, Sigma already barked his head off all about it just now. I stayed up late last night, that’s all."
Lucy responded with a playful eyeroll, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Oh, come on, don’t try to play with me like that. You were probably texting that girly of yours all night long," she teased with a knowing smile.
Chuuya's expression went through a range of emotions until it finally settled onto something between conflicted and resigned. "Who told you about that?" he whispered under his breath, glancing from side to side to see if anyone was listening.
Lucy secured a hair clip onto Chuuya's hair to keep it away from his face, her focus now on her task. "Do you even need to ask? Sigma's always yappin’ about everythin’ to me," she looked in the mirror to ensure the clips were positioned correctly.
With a resigned sigh, Chuuya uttered, "Of course, it's Sigma... What am I going to do with that guy," shaking his head, exasperated and amused at Sigma's propensity for sharing his personal life.
"Can you really blame the guy? Exactly how many other managers did you steam drive through before landing on him? Now tell me already, how’re you two doin’?" Lucy clicked her tongue at the eyebags under his eyes, pumping some lotion from the bottle beside her and applying it to his face. His complexion was also a bit pale from the lack of sleep, just another thing she would need to fix up before the shoot.
Chuuya's features softened as he shared, "Yeah, fine. Yuan’s been doing good, said that the movie shooting is going well even if it is tiring. Though, with the time difference and all that, we always need to plan our conversations ahead. We’re both hoping that she’ll get back from Europe on time, but until then we’re just taking the days as they come,” For the first time that day, a genuine smile graced his face as he thought about his girlfriend.
Lucy picked up the foundation and brush, her movements practiced as she applied it evenly across his face. "You're such a thoughtful boyfriend," she commented, equal amounts of sarcasm and sincerity in her tone.
Chuuya's smile softened even further as he responded, "I appreciate that."
"And then we're done!" the photographer announced with a beaming smile, extending his hand towards Chuuya. "It has been a pleasure working with you, Baki!" he expressed warmly, appreciating the collaboration.
Chuuya reciprocated with a confidant smile, reaching out to shake the photographer's hand. "Likewise, thanks for the opportunity."
The photographer shook his head jovially. "Oh no, the pleasure is all mine! I’ve been a fan of yours for a good amount of time now. I’m really looking forward to your upcoming album."
"It's already in progress. Rest assured, there's more to come." Chuuya gave the photographer a playful wink.
"Then I’ll eagerly wait for its release. Cheers, Baki!" the photographer remarked, lightly clapping Chuuya’s back.
"Of course," Chuuya responded before noticing Sigma approaching.
"We need to head to your next appointment," Sigma informed him. Chuuya acknowledged Sigma with a nod. With a final farewell from Chuuya and Sigma to the rest of the present staff, the two started making their way out of the building.
As they walked in silence, Chuuya’s mind wandered over to Yuan, his concern for her bubbling up despite his earlier assurances to Lucy. He made a mental note to make sure she was taking the time to take care of herself amidst her hectic schedule. The studio’s doors opened, leading them outside where the bright sunlight momentarily blinded Chuuya, prompting him to shield his eyes with his hand.
"The weather is too hot these days," he muttered, the heat of the midday sun practically cooking his skin. He put on his sunglasses and face mask.
Sigma, engrossed in his phone, replied nonchalantly, "Well, it is the middle of June."
Chuuya hummed noncommittally. "The days have been blending together with how busy it’s gotten. “What’s the date again?"
Sigma paused momentarily, stowing his phone in his pocket before responding.
"June 19th."