Bonus 3 - Grudge; Part 3

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AN: Here is the new chapter, I apologise for not being able to update sooner. 🙁 I hope you will like this chapter since from now things will start to hook up and get more serious. Enjoy! 😊

A decisive, much expectating day had finally arrived. Sun rolled up the firmament, stood in one place and clung there, persistent in its shine. Like on every normal day it behaved, conscious or maybe not, of how different that day would be for a specific circle of men.

Indispensable preparations were being held in the Port Mafia's main building. Orders were made in every corner, every bark connected with the other, forming a buzzy feeling analogous to the one in a hive full of bees. 

How could it not be any less, since they were preparing to wipe out a group of few, though dangerous, mercenaries? The attack was supposed to be in an hour, so they had to make an ambush far away from the HQ and finish it as effectively as possible.

Was it to be expected or not, everybody was not as tense as they would be in their fealty to die in action. The mission was like no other before - it was led by two strongest members in the Organization.

Tractability should not be one of the traits in the life they led, but nobody could resist being pulled and embraced with hope. Hope that maybe, they would not die.

Monitoring the work, Hirotsu smoked a cigarette of his favorite flavor. Stong, refreshing, filling his lungs with lulling, gratifying warmth. No warmth could replace it, not a woolen cloak in the snow, not a fireplace in the middle of the night.

Sagged eyes stared into a pile of boxes in the corner, shaded, unperceived in all that fuss. How many times he wanted to just move aside in the shadows, take a breath and put all the worries away. Today especially.

Sickening wrenchings in the gut were never shrugged off as inexplicable, fictitious children of his overzealously vigilant mind. If anyone was as old and versed as him, they would know how just simple listening to their own hunches was a key for survival.

And today, his hunch was telling him something was going to happen. Out of question was letting the Boss know - he knew how badly he handles disagreements in his own ways. He couldn't change anything and it gave him some sort of abnegation. However, it didn't mean he wasn't dreading of what will be, making him think too much.

He hated it. Sometimes he envied people who didn't have such a hunch. To be at peace, to allow themselves to hope, even if they will be doomed - like the majority of people around him were.

Exhaling the last wisp of smoke, he extinguished the cigarette. So many times he had grinded it against the pavement that he didn't think about the action. He just did it. 

Weird what habits can do to a man.

.

.

.


Inquietude taking the better of him, Chuuya's heart drummed uncomfortably against his chest. He paced around, repeatedly sitting on the sofa to calm, then standing up since he couldn't ease the tension even when his body stilled.

Coughing and rubbing his chest with his fingers, twisting the material of the shirt, Chuuya moved over his desk and lifted, for maybe the tenth time since the morning, the paper he, Kyouka and Atsushi had inspected a few days ago.

People required for the mission: 

Nakajima Atsushi and Nakahara Chuuya. 

A long, almost indignant sigh was let out, a hand over his eyes. The other one clenching the paper, creasing, before fully crumpling it and tossing it at the least corner of the room with a wrathful snarl. 

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