Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It all started when Chuuya’s stargazing was rudely interrupted by his associates dumping someone at his feet.

                It wasn’t per se abnormal behaviour. Many people who crossed the Sheep were dragged in front of him to either beg, bargain or threaten in the rarest cases. The state in which they left the dilapidated building – ruffled, crippled or in a bag (or more, depending on the individual) – solely depended on Chuuya’s temper and how they chose to appease it.

                The action itself might not have been unusual, but the context was: this kid was not a street rat who stole from the wrong people. He wasn’t a Mafioso who got too far into their territory.

                No.

                He was a kid, barely the same age as him, dressed all too well to be from the slums: He was wearing a blue button up shirt with a really high collar, a pair of black skinny jeans and an old style haori that honestly looked like someone decided to put a calm, sunny day on a material. It was in light shades of blue, gray and white, and it seemed to be breathing along with its wearer.

                Chuuya’s eyes wondered over the material before he focused on the boy wearing it. His right eye was covered by a mop of brown hair, while his left eye was an intricate whiskey, studying him back.

                Their eyes locked for a moment before the boy bowed his head in respect.

                Despite the demure motion, Chuuya couldn’t scratch the feeling that this was a challenge, a game he didn’t know he was playing but which he already lost.

                “Who’s this?” he asked as he approached the kneeling boy and his associates holding him down.

                “We don’t know.” Shirase said. “He just popped up and asked to see the King of Sheep.” his hand sunk into the chocolate locks and pulled his head up so Chuuya could properly stare into the boy’s eyes. “He was awfully bold about it too.”

                The boy chuckled. “I’m sorry if I’m taking out of the King of Sheep’s precious time, I just thought I might have some information that would benefit him.”

                Chuuya was irrationally irked by that action, by those words, by the boy’s mere presence, that he walked towards him with purpose. Shirase and Ryuunosuke took some wise steps back to be out of the range of action, while also blocking any possible way out.

                The kick in his chest was milder than he would have usually given, but something inside him didn’t want to break the kid quite yet.

                Still, the teen fell to the ground with a mighty hiss and curled up into himself, cradling his chest. Chuuya clicked his tongue, amusement slipping in his voice.

                “You’re quite weak for someone who hopes to sell me information.”
                “I guess that a place that puts emphasis on physical strength doesn’t care much for intelligence, does it?”

                This time, the boy made no effort to conceal his smugness, and Chuuya made no effort to hold back. He slammed his foot into the boy’s chest harder than absolutely necessary and the boy collapsed under his foot with a hiss. Chuuya didn’t use his ability as he fully dug his knee into the boy’s chest, fingers gripping the chin with delicate precision and wrenching his face upwards.

                It was that moment he noticed that the right eye was slightly paler than the left one.

                “You better start talking before I crush you.” he managed through gritted teeth.

                “I will” the boy smiled, and it was an innocent smile, one that put Chuuya on defensive in an instant. “I just need to speak to you in private.”

                “Huh!” Shirase exclaimed, taking a step forward. “Like we’re that stupid.”

                Chuuya looked up at the silver haired teen, glaring for the interruption, but his attention was taken away when the teen grasped his chin and pulled it down so they were staring at each other once again. Black biker gloves ran down his arms and into the depths of his sleeves, and pale, cold fingers tapped his chin in a way he’d call patronising.      

                “Arahabaki.” was all the boy whispered.

                It was all Chuuya needed.

                He didn’t even look at his companions as he let out a growl, barely contained, from the bottom of his throat.

                “Leave.”

~O~

                Ranpo was going to change the bed in the clinic. It was lumpy and uncomfortable, and he didn’t like it. And if he had to spend any more time in there, he would surely get back problems, and he really wasn’t all that fond of that.

                “Mori-saaaan!” he whined. “Can you stop thinking so loudly, it makes my head hurt!”

                The man rose his head from the papers he was busy going over  and regarded the teen with a tired look.

                “You’re welcome to help me go through them if you’d like.”

                “Nah. They’re boring. It’s all the same thing, no weapons, no money, little brats sending planes crashing from the sky.” he opened his eyes and sucked a little on a lollipop. “Actually, the last one might be interesting, but I’m not really in the mood for it right now. I’m booored!”

                Mori chuckled. Ranpo clicked his tongue at his antics, but the man never really complained about his childish behaviour nowadays.

                “Can’t you go talk to Yosano if you’re so bored?”

                “Nah. She’ll just try to stab me again and I’m not really all that fond of living limbless until he gets over her moods and puts me back together.”

                The man hid a smile and went back to his papers.

                “Oi, doctor, don’t ignore me!” Ranpo whined again, sitting up and kicking his legs. Despite him being nineteen years old, he never saw the logic in acting like a grownup and the doctor made no action towards correcting that behaviour.

                “Fine then.” Mori looked at him. “Why don’t you go investigating in Suribachi City? I heard there are some interesting rumours that might be worth checking out.”

                “You mean the rumours that the old boss awakened?” Ranpo cocked his head. “They’re fake. It must’ve been some trick of light or something, maybe a rogue ability user.” he popped a cherry gum bubble.

                “Yes, they are.” the man clicked his pen and returned to the paperwork. “But some of them are dangerously close to the truth, you might find some entertainment seeking the seed that sprouted this poisonous vines.” crimson eyes pinned the green ones through slit eyelids. “Also, I heard they opened a new candy shop in that area. It might be worth checking out.”

~O~

                If there was one thing that Dazai thought the Hunting Dogs training did right, it was his uncanny ability to just tell when government officials, or, more specifically, Special Ability Department officials were nearby.

                His nap was abruptly interrupted by the familiar dread returning to his body, and Natsume-sensei napping on his chest felt the same by the way his head stretched up in the sky, as if sniffing trouble.

                The cat let out a small hiss, bumped his wet nose on Dazai’s forehead and then dashed out the open window.

                Fukuzawa looked up from his papers, then at Dazai with a worried look on his face, seconds before three knocks sealed his fate.

                Three knocks, the staccato of a death bell before the door opened.                       

                Yamada was as pristine as ever, freshly packed and ironed to be delivered on everyone’s doorstep, the millennial death in form of a tax collector.

                The boy kept his face neutral, because sneering could put the man in a bad mood.

                 “I’m sorry to interrupt” he said in his bland voice that revealed that he couldn’t have cared less if they were in the middle of a ritualic sacrifice, he would have still barged in and demand the virgin goat to stop bleeding while he delivered his report. “But we have a situation we think you might be able to help us with.”

                Dazai looked at Fukuzawa and was greeted with the little emotion that managed to breach through his professional façade, an internal feeling they both shared whenever the man was any closer than a state away from them.

                “What seems to be the problem?”

                “Remember the god Arahabaki?”

                Well, that was certainly a way to start the morning. Dazai got up, half to assert the dominance he did not currently possess and half to attempt to steal Fukuzawa’s coffee. His father mentor took a sip out of the coffee and placed it on the further side of the desk.             

                Dazai climbed on the desk, making himself comfortable over all the paperwork Fukuzawa was working on. He crossed his legs and stared at the tax collector of death, waiting for him to continue delivering the news of Armageddon in a voice blander than the colour beige.

                “There have recently been some sightings of him lately” the man said. “We’re worried that it might represent a problem in the near future. We’d like you to look into it and give us all the information you can.”

                “You really think I can stop a god?” Dazai leaned forward, resting his chin on his knee.

                “I know you can.” the man said. It’s on my file, Dazai felt a bitter taste fill his mouth at the thought. “And if you somehow can’t, I’m afraid we’ll have to send the Hunting Dogs here to take care of it.”

                Despite Dazai’s amazing people skills, he could not, for the life of him, guess if this was a threat or a mere delivery of information. Still, that didn’t stop his skin from crawling as he remembered the inhuman beings that were the Hunting Dogs. How he could have ended up as one of them had he been less fortunate.

                Fukuzawa’s hand was placed over his, the man rubbing his knuckles in a familiar and calming gesture. 

                “Fine.” Dazai said. “I’ll start scouting as soon as I can.” he got up and headed for the window because Yamada was currently near the door. “But you can’t storm in without telling me first.”

                “Of course” the man nodded in a way that felt really patronising. “We’ll let you know if we make any major decisions.”

                The boy nodded and left the office, door slamming behind him. Fukuzawa stared at the man in silence. From the corner of his eye he noticed the tabby cat blink at him before walking along  the window sill, most likely after the teen.

                “Anything else, Yamada-san?”

~O~

                Chuuya was pretty sure the mystery boy was an actor or something, if only for the natural, dramatic and completely unnecessary way he was lounging on the window sill. The moon was shining silver behind him, covering his haori in a calm, cold light, while the black jeans and gloves helped him blend into the shadows.

                “Why would I trust you?” Chuuya asked as he took a step forward. If the boy was going to try and assert dominance by taking over his furniture, Chuuya might as well step into his personal space. There was something erringly familiar about him, something he couldn’t quite place his finger on. Easier to push him out the window too. “Why would you want to help me?”

                “First!” he pointed a finger upwards. “I’m currently being paid by a third party” He smiled, in a way that he knew it pissed Chuuya off. “Secondly, it’s also in the direct interest of the Port Mafia.”

                “Pffft. Like I need your help to deal with those weaklings!” Chuuya rolled his eyes and turned back. “You have half a minute to convince me not rip you apart.”

                “Fair.” the boy said. He leaned his head back, exposing his supple throat in a way that made Chuuya think he was posing for a renaissance painting. Not that it wouldn’t have looked good, but the redhead thought this was not the moment to look ethereal, like some fainting damsel. “The Port Mafia is currently going through a change in leadership. Their former boss died a year ago, and there are still people not happy with the current heir.” He looked at Chuuya and stood up, feet balancing on the rotten wood and the redhead made note to move in case it broke under him. “You see, I happen to know from sure sources that Mori Ogai most likely killed the former boss. And now that former boss just resurfaced as a ghost.”

                Chuuya would have to admit that he was intrigued.

                “What does this have to do with Arahabaki?”

                “Simple. You see, with the current strife in the Port Mafia, they will be divided. Chances are, their attention will be on anyone but you, as long as you don’t issue any challenges. This will allow us easier access on their turf, as well as more mobility. Now, my employer is terribly interested in the matter of Arahabaki, so here’s my offer:” he leaned forward, keeping himself hanging above Chuuya like a particular specimen strung up for dissection. “I’ll help you however I can with Arahabaki. In exchange, you must keep a lower profile. Not necessarily hold back, but not mess with the mafia quite as much. If you do that, you’ll have my unattended support.”
                The redhead rose his eyebrows. “And why would I need your help? So far, what you told me is not really priceless information, I could’ve done much better without you, and you’ve only taken my time.”

                It was the first time he seemed to have put the boy in some kind of a problem. Chuuya chuckled. Overdramatic little bitch who thought too high of himself.

                “I’ll be nice because you entertained me and give you five minutes to leave our turf before I let the others do what they wish with you.” he walked.

                The boy remained silent and Chuuya’s hand was inches from the knob when a cold, clear voice, untainted by smugness or superiority ran in the empty room.

                “The number on the back of your neck is A5158.”

                The number fell like a death sentence and Chuuya stopped, frozen in the spot. Blood was pumping in his veins loud enough to deafen him, yet the boy’s voice still rang clear.

                “Your name isn’t Chuuya Nakahara. It’s a name you took because you can’t remember your own. A name you took because you don’t have a name of your own.”

                Chuuya slowly turned around, eyes latching onto the ethereal figure standing in the windowsill. The moon was framing him, his shadow pitch black, edges melting in the sky behind him, but whiskey, cat like eyes pierced his being.

                “Do you really think you’re strong enough to tame a god?”

                The boy didn’t wait for an answer. He took a step backwards and fell out of the window, the haori leaving a trembling trail behind.

~O~

                “Ouch, ouch ouch!” Ranpo wailed like he was currently being murdered. Yosano rolled her eyes. Any murdering wouldn’t happen until later.

                “Quit whining!” she stuck her twizzers into his flesh once again. “It’s your fault for throwing hands with a fifteen year old.”

                “He looked smaller” Ranpo whispered under his breath.

                Yosano didn’t even dignify him with a glare as she started sewing him shut. Seeing as the damage was too extensive, she headed for  the scalpel. “What happened to him?” she asked as she ruffled through the bag of sterile tools. Despite his very good perception, Ranpo was incredibly distracted when explaining his deduction skills. Which was fortunate when one was going to get their throat slit.

                “I don’t know.” he grumbled, and wow, wasn’t that a first. “He wasn’t there when we woke up. There were no dragging marks on the ground, nor more steps. I’d suggest someone maybe floated him away, but it doesn’t seem likely.”

                “Hmmm” Yosano muttered as she ripped the paper. “What about the police? Did they decide to get involved?”

                “Not them.” he grumbled. “The Special Ability Department.”

                That got a risen eyebrow out of Yosano. “Oh?” she cocked her head. “How’s that?”

                “Well, I put all that time into planning a beautiful murder and Dazai ain’t working on it!” he hit the bed and kicked his legs in the air and the woman’s interest suddenly deflated.

                “Dazai? the kid you’ve been low key stalking for a year or so?”

                “It’s called information gathering, thank you very much!” he crossed his arms and looked away.

                Yosano stabbed him in the neck.

                The shocked expression on his face was priceless, but the woman decided to be nice this time and make the healing painless.

                Dazai Osamu, or Tsuahima Shuuji, as it was on the police reports, seemed to be pretty much of an enigma, which was why Ranpo was so interested in him. His name appeared on some Special Ability Department files as a possible recruit for the hunting dogs. That in itself hadn’t been all that unusual. What was unusual was how his name popped up later in some police reports. It didn’t help that it was about solving a murder Ranpo had taken a care in planning.

                Since then, her colleague had taken a special interest in figuring out the boy and the woman sent a silent prayer to him, who most likely didn’t even know he was the Port Mafia heir’s pet project.

                “That was rude.” Ranpo grumbled as he sat up completely straight, like a sugar addicted vampire. The woman rolled his eyes. “But yes, because he’s not on the case, that means that the Special Ability Department needs him for something more important. And the only thing that checks the bill is the sudden appearance of an escaped eldritch god.”

                Why did people keep creating gods? Were they hoping for miracles? For more benevolent beings to pray to?

                “So?” she asked as she pocketed the scalpel. “What are you going to do right now?”

                Ranpo shrugged. “Wait and see what happens I guess.”

                The woman rose her eyebrows in vague amusement. “Bored already?”

                “Yup!”

~O~

                Consciousness returned to Chuuya in bits and pieces. At first it was buzzling with shapes and sounds, spinning around his head. He blinked awake, trying to ward away the hangover like feeling that was lingering in the centre of his head.

                “Oi, Chuuya! Chibi! Slug!” a familiar and annoying voice pierced through his hearing and he finally managed to focus on the person in front of him.

                Whiskey eyes sent his heart racing.

                “Oi. Where the fuck am I?”

                The boy opened his mouth, but something seemed to freeze him for a fraction of a second and he threw himself to the side. Grey glowing red tendrils impaled themselves into the place Dazai had stood, and Chuuya didn’t know if he should glare at the kid or at the teen.            

                “Chuuya!” Ryunosuke yelled as he stepped into the room. “I wasn’t sure if the intruder kidnapped you or not. Are you all right?”

                “Yeah.” he dusted his clothes and stood up on trembling legs. “Plain peachy.”

                The boy was slowly getting on his own legs and Chuuya kept him in his periphery as he looked at the younger boy. “Thank you for your help, Ryu” he cracked his spine. “But I need to interrogate this asshole here, please leave.”

                “But he tried to kidnap you!”

                “Akutagawa!”

                The boy flinched back before scoffing and turning heel, not before throwing the Cloud boy a glare for days. The boy pulled his tongue out at him and the motion was enough for Chuuya to get the upper hand and slam him into the ground. He straddled his hips to keep him in place and punched him in the chest to keep him on the ground.

                “Aaagh!” he tried to fight it, but, while he was tall, he was also lanky and thin, so the redhead had him in the weight department.      

                For The Tainted Sorrow vanished the moment Chuuya grabbed him by the neck.

                “So you have a nullifying ability.” The boy above said as he surrendered the throat to pinning his glove cladded arms onto the ground. “Doesn’t matter, I can still kill you without it. So you’d better talk.”

                The boy looked around for a few moments before all the fight drained for him and he looked at Chuuya at the closest thing the boy could imagine to surrender.

                “Fine. Ask.”

                “How do you know so much about me? about Arahabaki?”

                “My employer…AAaagh!” he yelped when Chuuya pressed himself harder onto him. It appears that skin contact was all it was needed for the ability to be nullified.

                “Don’t lie to me.”

                “I’m not!” he cried and it seemed to be the first genuine emotion on his face. Something close to real fear and Chuuya felt the surging wave of satisfaction when the boy seemed to come to terms with his place. “I was given some files. They told me that Arahabaki had resurfaced and that I had to stop it. Your information was in that file.” he swallowed. “If you let me help you, I can get you those files.”

                “What makes you think I’ll let you live in the first place?”

                The boy pursed his lips and looked away. Chuuya could feel his pulse as it was running at great speeds under him. He started clenching and unclenching his hands and Chuuya eased the pressure in his arms a little. “You went and drew attention of the Port Mafia.” he grumbled and there was a little cute wrinkle above his nose. “Now they’ll have their eyes on you, maybe even try and forcefully recruit you.”

                “I do what I want on my turf.” Chuuya growled before grabbing his chin so he could stare into the other’s eyes. “Now, I’ll ask again, because I somehow feel like you’re worth more than the dirt under my boots.” he squeezed his neck. “How can you make yourself of use?”

                “I can convince my employer to give you the files on Arahabaki.” he said, and his pulse was steady under Chuuya’s fingers.

                “I’m pretty sure I can get the same result by sending them some of your fingers.”
                The boy scoffed. “Yeah, you still don’t know who hired me. And even if you did, I’m not important enough for them to waste blackmail material on me.”

                Chuuya felt anger bloom in his chest and he stuck his hand into the boy’s hair before he pulled his throat exposed. The brown locks were surprisingly fluffy to the touch. “So I can only get that you’re a doll? That your sole purpose here is to deliver exposition?” the redhead grabbed a glass shard from the ground and placed it on the pale neck.

                The pulse started picking up speed.

                Chuuya leaned forward. “Tell me, if I kill you right now, will they just send another pretty mouthpiece in your place? another doll to try and convince me to work for a cause I do not know?”

                The boy’s nostrils flared. “I’m not a doll.” he mumbled, low and defeated.

                Chuuya couldn’t hold it in. He let out a laugh, loud and hollow, filing the empty room. The boy winced a little and the redhead tossed the shard aside before placing his hand in his pockets. The boy made no move to throw the other off his hips. “Look how we’ll do this: You will help me with all the information you have and also hand me the files you have. In exchange, I will allow you to walk through Suribachi without fear of being gutted on the spot.” the boy didn’t make any attempt to move nor push him off of him. His eyes seemed a little bit distant, gazing at something beyond Chuuya’s perception. He grabbed his chin and dug his fingers into the soft skin until the boy winced. “But remember, if you do anything to annoy me, to make me question your usefulness, I will kill you.”

                The boy wrenched his head out of the grip and looked away. Chuuya grabbed it again, to keep him in place. “Oh, I'm sorry did we go a little fast for you? Does princess need to rest his legs for bit? Some tea? Hot towels? Get over yourself you fucking bastard or I'll strangle you with that sheet you're wearing. Some of us have to live by doing more than just licking boots."

                The boy threw him a condescending smirk, but it felt more like a reaction than anything genuine, anger still dwelling underneath. “A bastard? Definitely. A bootlicker? Never”

                Chuuya huffed. “We’ll see.” He stood up but didn’t move, forcing the boy to drag himself from between his legs. “Be here at eight tomorrow.” he said as he approached the door. “Don’t be late, doll. You won’t like the consequences.”

                The boy scoffed. “Dazai.”

                “What?”

                “My name is Dazai” said the boy before he slammed the door.

Chapter Text

~O~

                Fukuzawa knocked softly on the door and waited to be let in. Dazai didn’t answer, so the man said in a soft voice “I’m coming in” before opening the door. Usually, he would have let Dazai sulk in peace and come to him in the morning or whenever he felt ready. But most of Dazai’s problems didn’t involve eldritch gods, the Port Mafia or interaction with the person he could stand the least in the world, so give him some slack for being worried.

                Dazai had his back turned towards him and breathing evenly. The man sat on the bed and leaned on the wall.

                “I know you’re awake, Dazai.”

                The boy groaned and shifted back and Fukuzawa knew he was right to come. Dazai’s right eye and hands were covered in bandages. While the boy didn’t like showing his skin, he usually let it breathe in their home. Using bandages was his alternative of a safe blanket, and he didn’t use them unless he had some things that were on his mind.

                He had been unnaturally distant at the dinner table. Hell, Dazai didn’t even try to hide it, which was really saying something.

                “What happened?”

                “The negotiations went well.” Dazai huffed. “I managed to make contact with A5158 and we made a deal. He agreed to let me be part of the investigation.”

                “Dazai.”

                “I’m just frustrated, all right!” he sat up and crossed his arms. “Like, I knew I had to save his life from the Port Mafia, after he attacked them just to spite me, I’m sure, and I didn’t really expect any manners from a street rat like him, but….” he crossed his arms.

                “Some gratitude would’ve been nice?” Fukuzawa tried.

                “It’s not even that!” he breathed and gestured at the air. The man placed a hand on his hair and pulled him onto his lap. “He just….” all the energy drained out of him in a beat. “He told me some things that were true and I didn’t really want to think about those things in a while.”

                The man threaded his hands through his hair and waited for the boy to finish.

                “I hate Yamada” he spoke in a quiet voice. “I hate the Special Ability Department. I hate the spoiled kid who thinks he’s tough shit and I hate No Longer Human.”

                “Dazai.” the man sighed.

                “I hate it.”

                “It’s a part of you.”

                “It’s a disease. It’s not even useful in the first place. All I can do is make everyone else human.” he was trembling now. “It just…. it isn’t fair!” he sat up. “If I had a completely useless ability they would have left me alone. If I had some really powerful ability to grant the level of bullshit surveillance on me. But I’m….”

                Fukuzawa pushed him back into his lap and massaged his scalp. Dazai started to tremble, but there was still tension in his frame.

                “I know this isn’t fair. And Yamada is not my favourite person either. I can’t say anything about A5158, because I haven’t met him yet, but I can tell you this: you will do good. You are going to get through this. You are really smart, you know.”
                “I know, I’m  prodigy.” he grumbled.

                Fukuzawa sighed. “You are a child. A bright child, but still a child. Don’t hold yourself to the same standards the Special Ability Department holds you. You don’t want to live with that kind of pressure.”

                The tension seemed to leave his frame and the boy closed his eyes.

                “You’ll get through this, Dazai.”

                “I know.” he said, voice hazy.

                Fukuzawa trailed his fingers through the fluffy locks until both his breath and his heart were in sink.

                There was small scratching at the door and the man looked up. The cat Dazai had gotten so very fond of, to the point of calling it Sensei slithered in. It jumped on the bed and under she sleeping boy’s arm and started purring.

                Fukuzawa smiled and gave it a scratch behind the ears before he tucked the boy in and went to sleep himself.

~O~

                Chuuya felt some deep seated satisfaction to see Dazai arrive there a few minutes earlier the next day. Ryunosuke looked especially sullen for being the one to guide him, but he had been antsy and annoying the previous day by commenting on how he didn’t trust the guy, so Chuuya made him be the guide as punishment. Seeing the small coughs leaving his chest made the seeds of guilt bloom inside the redhead, but he only nodded that the other was free to go.

                Dazai looked more or less the same as the other day, but Chuuya noticed that the blue shirt had been swapped for a black one, and the skin tight jeans for some normal, loose ones. The redhead didn’t know what to make of the change in attire, but he supposed that someone who didn’t grow up on the street was allowed to change his clothing as often as he liked.

                “So you can follow orders.” Chuuya said. Dazai threw him a smile. It wasn’t as smug, but it was still annoying in a way that the redhead couldn’t really point out.

                “Kinda hard not to when you constantly threaten to kill me” the boy said in a very nonchalant way. “Makes me wonder how good of a leader you are when you needed that, when I willingly offered my help in the first place.”

                Chuuya gritted his teeth before he kicked at his head. Dazai ducked under him and jumped back, putting distance between them while keeping the smug smile on his face.         

                “Anyway.” the boy talked as he lifted his arms in mock surrender. “We’d better get going before the Port Mafia gets involved.”

                “I told you, those weaklings got nothing on me.” Chuuya scoffed.

                “Maybe, but their intervention will surely be annoying at best, don’t you think?”

                The redhead was fuming, but didn’t really have a comeback. “Then make yourself useful and tell me what you know already.” he crossed his arms and glare the fear of god into the other boy. The gods obviously meant nothing for a heathen like him, for he didn’t seem affected.

                “Well” he turned his back on the redhead and started walking. “There has been an explosion around here last week. There are survivors. Rando-san is an executive for the Port Mafia and someone who supports Mori’s rise to power. We’ll have to interrogate him.” he turned back. “Can you keep the violence back until I at least try to talk to him into giving us the information?”

                Chuuya rolled his eyes. “You better make it quick or I’ll just go ahead.”

                “Fair.” the boy huffed.

                Chuuya couldn’t really point out what was pissing him off about the kid, only that something did. Maybe it was the nonchalant, cat-like way he moved, maybe it was the air of complete carefreeness around him when he was technically a hostage, but, truth be told, Chuuya only wanted to throttle him to the ground.

                Some part of him felt regret for not doing it the day before, when the boy had actually been defenceless and splayed out under him, but those thoughts also went into unpleasant directions, so he tried to ignore them.

                Which was hard when Dazai was standing right there.

                A huge, western mansion came into view and then an explosion. Dazai didn’t quite flinch, but he did pull back and Chuuya scoffed before charging in.

~O~

                If Dazai had to admit one thing, it was that Chuuya was fast. In the few seconds it had taken the taller boy to reach the place of the shootings, everyone was dead or almost dead on the ground. Dazai felt a headache incoming and he made sure to groan in the most annoying way possible.

                A small vein popped on the redhead’s forehead and Dazai counted it as a victory.

                “We could have interrogate them!” he whined as he skipped a few steps forward.

                “Well, they’re dead now!” Chuuya said in a very pissed tone, as if he wasn’t the one to kill them. Dazai opened his mouth to argue, but groans came from the ground and both boys looked in that direction.

                One man was shot, laid on the ground and in pain.

                “Oi!” Chuuya marched towards him. “Do you know anything of Arahabaki?”

                “Fuck off, shrimp!”

                Even Dazai winced at the crack the man’s ribs made under the redhead’s sneaker.

                Chuuya walked away grumbling and Dazai kneeled near the fallen soldier. While he held no sympathy for someone like him, actually, he barely held any sympathy at all, there was a big, trained, Fukuzawa sounding part of him that knew that he couldn’t just let the man like that.

                “You’re in pain, aren’t you?” Dazai sat cross-legged as he picked up a fallen gun. It was small, fit for his hand, and it felt familiar between his fingers. Fukuzawa was never a fan of guns, but the Department had made him learn to use one, since his ability was not combative. “You’re gonna take about an hour to die, with those injuries. It will be painful.” he checked the magazine. “But I can help you, if you want me to. I can make it quick.”

                “Y…ye…es” the man choked and the boy nodded.

                The skull cracked under the bullet and the teen closed the man’s eyes before he stood up. He shoved the gun in his belt, under the haori and turned to look at Chuuya. The redhead was looking at him like Dazai had just landed from the moon. Dazai smiled. “What, was the chibi so cruel to let the man bleed to death?”

                “Fuck off, doll!” Chuuya spit and turned heel, marching towards the mansion.

                Dazai sighed and made sure not to have any visceral reaction to the new title he had acquired. He didn’t like it, but he was constantly called worse. I’ll just have to learn and take it as a compliment he nodded to himself and followed.

                The mansion would’ve been really pretty had it still been one single piece. Right now, it was nothing but a wreck, half a beautiful building that would never be whole again. The man they were searching for was in the middle of the room. He was facing the fireplace, long fingers ghosting over ancient novels before chucking them into the fire.

                Chuuya looked at him and nodded towards the man. Dazai sighed and took a step forward.

                “Randou-san.” he said. The man turned to face them, a faraway look in his eyes before he pulled his scarf closer.

                “It’s weird to have visitors. You must be the king of Sheep.” he nodded towards Chuuya before his eyes glazed over Dazai. He squinted for a moment, as if trying to remember where he knew the boy from, but gave up. All his focus returned on the redhead. “Any particular reason you came to visit?”

                “Tell us about Arahabaki.” Chuuya said.

                “Ah, that’s right.” the man nodded. “Why would I?”

                Dazai stepped forward. “Because then we’ll tell Mori that you’re a spy.”

                Chuuya’s head whipped in his direction, but Dazai didn’t look at him. The man rose an amused eyebrow. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean. I’m nothing but loyal to the Port Mafia.”

                “Yes, but you did work for the Special Ability Department.” he said and took a step forward. “Do you really think the new boss of the Port Mafia will appreciate finding out that one of his executives used to work for the people who are currently trying to take him down from power.” the boy took another step back, but Chuuya caught his arm and held him back.

                Dazai clicked his tongue in annoyance.

                Rando studied them once again, eyes roving this time over Dazai before he chucked another book into the fire.

                “Then I guess I’m willing to negotiate.”

~O~

                Ranpo didn’t know why he was summoned to the main office, but he didn’t like it. He felt like it would very much ruin his evening plans, which currently were doing nothing, buying candy and maybe annoying Yosano.

                Mori was sitting at his desk, with that ever pleasant smile that foretold that Ranpo’s week would soon get really unfortunate.

                “ ’sup?” he said, as he entered, threw himself on the chair and stole one of the candies Elise had left all over the table.

                “Well,” Mori said, clasping his hands. “It appears that the former boss, who was supposed to be dead, is very much not dead at the moment.” Mori nodded.

                Ranpo pulled the candy out of his mouth. “Didn’t we settle this like, yesterday?”

                “We didn’t know until today that it wasn’t an illusion ability.” Mori said. “Since you were in charge of dealing with it, I’d kindly ask you to make sure he stays dead this time.”

                Mori had a very nice way of wording his orders. It almost made you think that refusal was an option.

                “But I don’t wannaaaaaa!” Ranpo whined nonetheless. Mori sighed and the teen knew he was most likely thinking of the most plausible way of inflicting harm without any actual harm on the world’s greatest detective.

                “Would you do it for a reward?”

                Ranpo let out a hmmm. “What reward?”

                Mori tapped his lip and Elise broke a crayon in the background. “What about that boy, Dazai? you two seem like you’d get along.”

                An actual smile crawled its way onto the teens face.

                It wasn’t pleasant.

~O~

                Chuuya felt his anger boiling and rising towards the edge when his loss was rang in the wide space in the rain of electronic sounds.

                “I won again!” Dazai claimed with a ditzy smile before he fell back into a smug expression. “Is the chibi convinced that he can’t win yet?”

                “Shut up! again!” Chuuya yelled, attracting the momentary attention of the people around them, before they realised that the two teens weren’t the most interesting thing in the arena.

                “No matter how many times we try, I’ll still win. I’m pretty good with my hands” Chuuya glared harder. “If you insist on wasting my time, we might as well make a bet on it.”
                “Bring it on!” Chuuya yelled, ready to win. He could do this. He was good at video games, had always been and wasn’t going to let some wet behind the ears weird shady cloud dealer defeat him on his turf.

                Dazai placed his chin on his hands, and he really looked like an overly sweet china doll ready to rip your head off in a moment. Damn horror movies and their very suggestive imagery.

                “If I win, you’ll have to help me find Arahabaki on my terms. Since I’m obviously smarter and working like this is only an impediment at this moment.”

                “Hey?!”

                “If you win” he continued, unperturbed. “You have the right to demand any one thing from me. And I’ll obey.”

                Chuuya leaned back into the chair, suspicious. “I don’t trust you.”

                “Finally, a smart decision.”

                The redhead gritted his teeth. “You know what I could make you do, right?” he smiled. “You sure your spoiled, rich ass could handle it?”

                “I won’t have to” Dazai twirled the glowy stick he had yet to break between his fingers. “Because I’ll win.”

                “Bring it on!”

                The reason they had gotten here in the first place? Easy.

                Dazai claimed that he knew who the culprit was and skipped over a fence and ran in the streets. Chuuya didn’t know if he meant to escape him or just piss him off, because the sheet bastard only showed a superior smile when Chuuya caught up to him.

                One thing lead to another, and they eventually ended up at the arcade, since the little bitch must surely be lying and Chuuya wanted to get back at him without breaking his precious little ribs.

                Dazai won once again, to his dismay and perpetual anger, and the smug smile on his face was enough to want Chuuya to just smother him on the spot.

                “You mad?” Dazai tilted his head.

                “No.” he grumbled and threw himself back on the chair.

“Why do you keep your hands in your pockets?” Dazai asked. Chuuya growled and didn’t answer. The taller teen let out a desperate sigh. “What’s your favourite colour then?!”

Chuuya felt something flare inside of him, caught off guard. “Why do you care?!” he sputtered. A familiar flash of silver caught his eye and he suddenly ducked behind the game machine. “Shut up for a second.” he growled.

                “Hm?” Dazai turned back and the sudden motion of his goddamn haori must have caught Shirase’s eye.

                “Chuuya!” his friend approached and squinted at Dazai before he focused on the redhead. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

                “Why, what happened?”

                “Some of the young ones have been kidnapped.” Shirase said. “We need you to go and rescue them.”

                “Must be the mafia you pissed off” Dazai mumbled.

                “Shut it!” Chuuya yelled at him before settling on his fellow Sheep. “I’ll settle it.”

                Dazai, like the little shit he was, chimed in at that moment. “Have you heard any rumours on Arahabaki?”

                Shirase and Yuan squinted at him a little harder. “Just answer him.” Chuuya sighed.

                “Yeah. That he’s around or something, reviving people.”

                “What about older rumours? what’s the oldest?”

                Chuuya squinted at Dazai himself. The other has said he had a file, so why was he asking for information…?

                “About eight years ago, with the founding of Suribachi city.” Yuan answered. “At the end of the great war I think.”

                “Hmmm” Dazai nodded in a cryptic way that really made Chuuya want to slam his pretty little head onto the console.

                “What’s the deal with him?” Shirase asked. “I know you said you were testing him out for a possible recruit, but you can’t make any decisions without the council, you know that.” Dazai turned towards him, his single revealed eye sparkling with untamed malice.  Shirase shuddered and tried to hide it before turning towards Chuuya again. “Really now, I know you’re the strongest. And we all rely on your strength to protect us. But you don’t have the best judgement there is, and with your excessive aggressiveness and all that….”

                Dazai, the little shit, actually chuckled. Chuuya growled at him, but there wasn’t much he could do with the way the boy smiled like an angel.

                “I know.” he hissed. “I don’t need you to remind me.”

                “Great then, they were taken from near the river…”

                “The river?!” the redhead snapped. “You went to get booze, didn’t you? that’s practically mafia territory, did you want to get kidnapped?!”

                “Chuuya, wait a second!” Shirase raised his hands in the air. Yuan latched herself onto his arm and pulled him into a half hug. “We need to keep our reputation.” Shirase went on. “If we don’t do that, if we don’t retaliate, then we’ll be a laughing stock and we’ll be gone in a week!” the teen got closer and placed his hands on his shoulders. “Think of the little ones, Chuuya! you’re our only defence wall. You’re the strongest, you have to protect us.”

                The air was thick with tension. Chuuya’s heart was beating a mile a minute, yet his fingers were cold and numb in his pockets.

                In the midst of lights and sounds, there was a deafening silence between them, like a blanket a child pulled over their ears so they wouldn’t hear the storm outside.

                That silence got shattered by a voice Chuuya would never dare call relieving.

                “Technically he doesn’t.” Dazai spoke, not having moved from his place on the chair.    

                The colours stopped being blurry and materialised into shapes and the sounds came back all at once.

                “What do you know?!” Shirase all but barked.

                Dazai shrugged. “It’s his ability to use, not yours, right?” Despite the smile on his face, Dazai’s eyes were dead and cold. Like a fish, or a china doll that could never quite replace a real human. “He’s choosing to help you, but what right do you have to demand anything of him.” he stood up, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Choice is something very important, Chuuya. Don’t let anyone take it away from you.”

                “What is he talking about?” Yuan asked, her fingers digging deeper into his arm. Chuuya didn’t look at her, only kept glaring at Dazai who was slowly walking away from them.

                “Doesn’t matter!” Shirase cut off whatever Dazai was going to say. “I know Arahabaki is important to you, but these are our friends we’re talking about.” The silver haired boy forcefully shifted Chuuya from looking at Dazai towards him. “You can look for a rumour later, but we can never bring them back if the Mafia will kill them!”

                “He’s right.” Dazai said.

                “You shu…. wait, what?!” Shirase stopped mid sentence. Dazai blinked like a cat who had no idea who broke the vase and took a sip of the smoothie that had magically materialised into his hands.

                “He’s right. Your friends need your help right now.” he gestured with the drink. “And after you purposefully angered the Port Mafia, it’s kinda your fault they got caught in the first place.”

                “Weren’t you saying it’s my power to use?” Chuuya growled and this time it was both Shirase and Yuan who held him back. What the fuck was this guy’s deal?

                “Yes. It is. Ain’t moral dilemmas fun?!” Dazai smiled again and headed towards the exit.

                “Wait, where do you think you’re going?!” Chuuya pushed the other two away and chased after the slightly taller teen. Dazai was hella fast and was really good at dodging multiple people in a crowded space.

                Natural light hit them for a moment and the sounds stopped when Chuuya finally grabbed Dazai’s wrist. The leather of his gloves was soft and worn under his fingers and the redhead wondered how it felt underneath.

                “Where do you think you’re going?” he growled and applied pressure on the thin wrist.

                The door opened and closed behind him and Chuuya knew that Yuan and Shirase had followed them out.

                “To look for Arahabaki.” Dazai wrenched his arm out of his with a motion that lacked so much grace it was anything but planned. The smile on his face was as unwavering as ever. “After all, it’s not like I need your help anymore.” one whiskey eye stabbed into his with an intensity Chuuya would only ever associate to bloodlust. “I know who Arahabaki is.”

                Blood and bone froze beneath his flesh and Chuuya felt all the air leave his lungs at once. Dazai only smiled pleasantly, an unnatural smile that wasn’t meant to reach the light.

                “I won the bet, didn’t I? Now, you have to listen to me when it comes to the investigation, and, right now, I’m telling you that your help is no longer necessary.” He turned around and started walking away.

                “Then what the hell was that bullshit speech about choice?!” he yelled, not caring about who was there to hear him.

                Dazai turned towards him. Despite facing each other, their eyes wouldn’t meet. “I told you, Chibi. You shouldn’t let anyone take it away from you.”

                And, just like that, the blue haori vanished behind a building.

~O~

                Dazai felt…. dirty. Well, that wasn’t really the right word, was it? He was mostly disappointed with himself for pulling the same thing Yamada would. Unfortunately, his logical brain kept insisting that it was the best possible option for the both of them at the moment, so there wasn’t really much the boy could do.

                Just because no one had beaten his brain before that didn’t mean that Dazai himself was any more capable of the task.

                The look on Chuuya’s face though…. Dazai shook his head. No, it’s not worth it. As rude as the redhead had been, the brunette had enjoyed his company. Had enjoyed having someone his age to banter with, and even if they were stuck together, it had been pretty fun.

                Dazai knew that logically, their connection would end the moment he finished his job on Arahabaki, but he had….. it had been nice to hope. It wasn’t a feeling he had all that often.

                The task at hand suddenly returned to his head and he let out a groan as he pulled out his phone and formed the number.

                [Shuuji?] Yamada seemed surprised, and that was a small victory. [You don’t usually call me, did anything happen?]

                “Yeah.”

                [Did you find Arahabaki?]

                Yes.

                “No.” Dazai said. “But I did find out who’s pretending to be him and who’s impersonating the former Boss.”

                “That’s great” came a third voice and Dazai felt his blood freeze in his veins for a second. The boy slowly turned around to face an old man with a monocle, with multiple men with guns on the waiting. “Would you mind coming with us to clear this?”

                “I’ll need backup.” Dazai whispered in the phone.

                [Dully noted] was all Yamada said before static filled his hearing. Dazai glared at his phone and pocketed it before turning towards the Port Mafia.

                “I’m afraid you have me mistaken.” he said, eyes darting left and right for a way out. The man sighed.

                “Kid, if you come with us quietly, there will be no need for violence.”

                Dazai pretended to think of it before he darted on one of the smaller alleys. Shouts came from behind him, but the boy paid them no mind as he kept running, letting his body take over for a second, muscle memory guiding him on known paths.

                Unfortunately, especially in a district where nothing was made to last, architecture changed.

                Dazai found himself trapped in a dead alley, with the pretentious monocle man walking in. “You really are troublesome, you know?” he cocked his head. He looked so much like a grandpa, not even annoyed at the teen’s escape attempt.

                “I’ve been told.” Dazai took a step backwards and his spine hit the wall.

                A spot of orange fell into the yard. Dazai locked eyes with Natsume sensei for a few seconds, and a nod of tacit understanding passed between them before the cat jumped over the fence.

                Dazai ran towards a wall and pushed himself over the same fence and started running again.

                His breath was getting cut, but the adrenaline was enough to keep him going. The cat was nothing but a flash of orange in the wind, but Dazai was confident he could keep it in sight.

                Like few times before in his life, Dazai was wrong.

                Another dead end, but this time, the arrival of his pursuer was noted by a trashcan slamming into the bricks near his head.

                “You are persistent, I must admit.” the man panted. “And I’m no longer young.” He pulled out a gun.

                “Don’t” Dazai whispered as the man was closing in.

                The barrel didn’t press to his forehead like in the movies. No, a hand sneaked around his throat and slammed him into the wall.

                “Please!” he choked. The man didn’t seem impressed as he used his other hand to search his pockets.

                Dazai tried to kick at him and scratch at his arm, but to no avail. A small, stinky cloth was pressed to his nose and the boy kicked a few more times.

                “Relax” the man said in a voice that had no right to soothe Dazai as well as it did. “It will not hurt for long.”

                Dazai had enough awareness to spot the lie before darkness claimed him.

~O~

                Darkness receded with a smooth touch, almost like a soft caress along his back. He blinked awake, trying to make his mind spin the right way. He wasn’t unfamiliar with being drugged, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.

                “Finally awake, Doll?” he heard the familiar and hatted voice and turned on his back with a groan.

                “I can’t believe you skipped over the opportunity to call me Sleeping Beauty.” Dazai laid his head on the pillow. The world was still spinning and he wouldn’t stand up until he knew he could.

                Chuuya rose an unimpressed eyebrow, but his lips twitched in amusement. He didn’t say Dazai wasn’t beautiful, so the brunette counted it as a win.

                “What happened?” he croaked. His throat was dry. Chuuya frowned, the light disappearing from his face.

                “I decided to save your very ungrateful ass from being kidnapped.” he grabbed a water bottle. “I’m pretty sure the pretentious asshole hates me right now.”

                That was the moment Dazai noticed where he was. The room was small and dark, with a couch and some improvised first aid kit on the table. The table was wood, stained with darkened blood, and looked sturdy enough to hold someone trashing on it. Dazai was laid on a ratty couch, with his haori balled up under his head as a pillow.

                “That’s very sweet of you, Chuuya!” Dazai smiled a fake smile and stretched for the bottle. Chuuya clicked his tongue and pulled it out of reach. The brunette glared and lunged after it.

                Unfortunately, he miscalculated, the drug still running in his system and he collapsed on the dusty floor. Chuuya chuckled. “You’ll have to do something more than that to get this.” he popped the lid open and took a sip.

                “May heaps the King of Sheep wants me to beg?” Dazai growled as he tried to make rhyme or reason of his legs. It was still a work in progress, for his nerves most likely went drinking while he was asleep.

                “Can’t say I’m opposed to that.” Chuuya chuckled.

                Calm down, Dazai finally got his limbs to figure out where up and down were, and how to move when Chuuya splashed the rest of the water onto his face. Dazai yelped and didn’t see, but felt how the shorter boy dashed onto  him and rolled them onto the ground.

                He tried to fight it, but Chuuya had an advantage when it came to fighting a currently disabled opponent, so Dazai found himself, for the second time in as many days, straddled by the redhead. Chuuya squeezed his hands to his body, and Dazai was too weak to move.

                “Usually, I’d be oh so willing to play with you.” he said, trying not to be too bothered by the wet hair sticking to his face “but I’m really not in the best mood to argue, so why don’t you tell me what you want?”

                “You cheated.” he said.

                “What?”

                “The arcade game. You cheated” he leaned forward, pressing his hands on both sides of Dazai’s head. “I talked to the manager, and the controls were busted. Apparently, someone poured juice on them.” Dazai blinked. Chuuya smirked and leaned forward, his breath hot on Dazai’s face. “You know, if you cheated, that means I won, so I’m totally entitled to hold my end of the bargain.”

                Dazai was too dizzy to properly process the words, but he still felt fear curse through him. He looked away, for he didn’t want his currently lax face to betray any of his emotions. Chuuya cupped his cheek and brought his face up, more tender than the last time. A finger swiped over his face, pushing the wet hair away from his eyes, and whiskey met. “But, as much as I’d love to make you do something you hate to pay you back for the arcade, I’m not that much of an asshole.” he straightened his back. “But I can’t let you come with me for Arahabaki, because you’ll surely sabotage it, and I can’t let you loose either, because it’s either the mafia or you’ll sabotage me again.”

                “Seems like you’re in a twist here.” Dazai smirked.

                “Nah, not really.” Chuuya smirked a self satisfied smirk and yelled without taking his eyes off the brunette. “Ryuunosuke! Shirase!”

                The door opened and Dazai turned to see two people walking in. He already recognised them from the different times they had met, but, even if he didn’t know them all that well, the blush on Ryunosuke’s face when he took in the sight of them was adorable.

                Shirase shook his head and looked away as he muttered something and Dazai used his amazing lip reading and context reading skills to realise that he was saying something along the lines of ‘get a room.’

                Dazai sighed and looked at the boy above him who had finally decided to get off of him. “So I guess you’re leaving me here until you find Arahabaki?” he didn’t make an effort to get up. He still didn’t trust his legs.

                “Yup!” Chuuya nodded then, towards the other two. “Try not to break anything if he tried to escape. Bruises and crotch kicks are fair game tho.”

                Shirase rolled his eyes while Ryunosuke nodded and straightened his back, like a little soldier toy on a shelf, polishing its armour for the inspection.

                “What if you can’t find it tonight?” Dazai asked. Fukuzawa will get worried if I don’t return or call.

                Chuuya chuckled. “Then I guess that lie of you joining us will become true one way or the other.”

                Dazai glared at the redhead as the door slammed shut behind him.

~O~

                Fukuzawa sighed as he placed the plate of curry in the fridge in case Dazai somehow returned at a later hour, even though the former assassin knew it was unlikely. He hadn’t called in the whole day, nor messaged, and the man had a deep pit in his stomach at what could happen.

                His phone was also turned off, so Fuukuzawa knew he couldn’t call him.

                Be safe.

                Yamada also wasn’t answering, and that made him even sicker. Wouldn’t be able to sleep that night anyway, so he placed his sword on his hip and walked out.

                Weather he met a mugger or his stray kid, he would find a way to release his energy.

Chapter Text

Dazai was panting as he finally reached the abandoned place. His physical shape was decent enough, but he was not yet fully awake. The drug wasn’t as potent as when he had woken up, but it was still running and the boy allowed himself to curse as he walked past the doors. The slivers of sunrise were swallowed by the wood.

                He had spent the last few hours playing cards with his two guards. Shirase had obviously not trusted him, but thankfully, Ryunosuke had forgotten that he was a prisoner the moment he had gotten really involved in the game. It had taken the better part of an hour to get the other two riled up against each other in a game of Uno and for him to slip out the window.

                Dazai entered the grand opening and found Chuuya pinning Rimbaud to the ground while yelling how he discovered that he was the one faking the apparition of the Old Boss and Arahabaki.

                Dazai would not admit to being impressed.

                “Seems that I arrived in time.” he said, walking in with a slow clap of his hands, because there needed to be some way for him to regain the attention. Chuuya’s head snapped in his direction and glared at him, choking Rimbaud a little harder.

                “What the hell are you doing here?”

                “Couldn’t miss the great finale, could I?” he tilted his head with a smile. “But come on now, keep monologuing, it’s certainly interesting.”

                Chuuya clicked his tongue and returned to the man who was patiently waiting for their squabble to end.

                “Why do you want Arahabaki so bad?” Chuuya growled.

                “You wouldn’t understand.” the man responded.

                Dazai yawned violently. “Really now, can we skip over the generic stuff? it’s almost six and I haven’t had my breakfast yet?”

                Chuuya was close to popping a vein. “Then why the hell won’t you answer?!”

                “Gladly!” Dazai chirped before taking a few steps forward till the middle of the room where the sun filtered through rotten wood boards. He cleared his throat and fell into a pose.

                “First of all, we need some exposition.” he cracked his knuckles then spread his thin fingers into jazz hands. “It all started eight years ago, before Suribachi city even existed. Actually, the very night Suribachi City came into being.” Chuuya was looking at him and the glare was gone from his face, replaced by frown framed curiosity. “Two foreign spies, named Arthur Rimbaud and Paul Verlaine, which were, at the time, on the side of the Special Ability Department, decided to betray their allies and release the God of Fire and Chaos, Arahabaki itself.” Dazai waited the mandatory dramatic silence, then continued. “That attempt didn’t work all that well, for we all know that eldritch gods are cranky when woken from their slumber, and it blew a huge ass hole into the ground. Verlaine got obliterated on the spot. Rimbaud was thought to do the same, but it’s only oh so fortunate that his ability: Illuminations allowed him to survive it. He changed his name to Rando and made a way for himself here, in Japan, waiting for the day Arahabaki would be in place so he could try and awaken his sweetheart” Dazai placed a hand on his chest and mimed fainting.

                “Quite an interesting story, Dazai-kun.” Rando said. “And I’d really love to let you leave this place after I’m done, but, unfortunately, I cannot risk being betrayed to the Port Mafia.”
                “What makes you think you’re going anywhere?!” Chuuya yelled.

                Dazai could spot the activation of the ability a few seconds before it happened, but he didn’t have enough time to reach the two. 

~O~

                Rimbaud’s corpse was surprisingly handsome as it lay in the dust. Chuuya’s beating didn’t appear to affect more than the interior, and the redhead himself was sitting down near Dazai, not talking. Dazai himself was pressing on the shallow wound on his chest, wondering how pissed Yamada will be or if they’ll do anything to him while he was unconscious.

                Probably something you’ll recover from and not be too inconveniencing but is still a power play. Like and extra limb or something.

                Dazai closed his eyes. He’d sleep only a little and then call Fukuzawa to pick him up. He was going to get scolded, but if that meant he got to lay down and cuddle Natsume-sensei, so be it.

                “How deep is that wound?” Chuuya asked, not looking at him. Dazai pressed his hand onto his chest. The blood was no longer flowing.

                “Really shallow. I’ll only need a few stitches.” He looked at the redhead, who was still avoiding his eyes. “How are you? pretty earth shattering revelation you had right there.”

                “Like you’d know.” Chuuya spit. Dazai blinked and closed his eyes once again.

                “Suit yourself, I was just trying to be nice.”

                Chuuya huffed. There was movement. Chuuya must be leaving, Dazai sighed, right before a hot hand crawled up his chest.

                “Hey?!” his eyes snapped open and he tried to pull away from the hand.

                “You’re a liar.” Chuuya growled without any real bite in it and looked at his wound. “Something tells me you’d be willing to bleed to death here if it was somehow dramatic enough and then you’d come to haunt me as a ghost, wailing about how I let you perish or some bullshit.”

                Chuuya’s hands crawled higher and Dazai did not blush. No, his heart rate did not go up, he was too well trained for that, it didn’t!

                “Like I’d allow my ghost to be spotted in your vicinity.” he sucked in a breath and slapped the hand away. “Stop it, that tickles!”    

                That had been a great mistake, for Chuuya looked him in the eyes one second and started tickling him for real.

                “Not fair!” Dazai spit after a few minutes of completely unwarranted assault and one of trying to regain his breath. Chuuya was grinning like a maniac. He leaned in again and Dazai prepared for round number two, but the redhead only pulled his slipping haori tighter around his shoulders.

                “Thanks.” Dazai muttered. He waited a few seconds before that moral compass Fukuzawa had tried so hard to beat into him came to the surface and he told the boy. “They are using you, you know?”

                “Hm?”

                “The Sheep.” Dazai sighed. “They are using you for your power. They don’t care about you and they don’t respect you as a leader. They still put rules on you and force you to fix their mistakes.”

                “It’s called taking care of the people you care about.” the redhead hissed.

                “Not when they expect you to handle the consequences.” Dazai sighed. “Letting people use you will not make them care about you. It will make them want to abuse that power.”

                “Like you know anything!” Chuuya spit. “You may have the luxury to real friends and people who care about you for nothing else. But that’s a rare thing here, and you have no right to blame me for surviving!”

                Dazai’s fists clenched and he wanted to spit. Because Dazai did understand. He remembered all those people who asked him for information and then sold his name for a bigger price. He remembered sitting next to Yamada in the back of the car as they passed the countless homeless people who were going to die because they didn’t have the luxury of being born something barely human. He remembered the long nights, both under a normal sky and under a blank, emotionless ceiling where he wondered if there was anyone who was going to look at the kid he was and see more than a resource…

                But you got Fukuzawa. What right do you have to preach?

                “I hope then you don’t end up regretting it.”

                There was silence for a few minutes, a few minutes in which Chuuya didn’t move.

                “Can you stand?” Chuuya asked.

                “Of course.” Dazai scoffed and was immediately proven wrong by his tired body, who was apparently an ungrateful toddler who demanded its nap. Suffice to say, his less than graceful fall was broken not by a prince, but by a surprisingly buff dwarf.

                “You said?” Chuuya said, not making any move to neither push not keep Dazai in place.

                “I can walk. Just not at the moment.” Dazai remained stubborn. Chuuya sighed and pulled his hand over his shoulder before hauling him up.

                Dazai felt the doom from before they got out of the rundown building, but the sight of the twenty something armed mafia men was to be expected. Chuuya tensed and gently dropped Dazai onto the ground before stepping forward.

                Their guns raised the more he was walking forward.

                “You Port Mafia have some guts to be here.” he growled and Dazai gulped as he realised that, whatever was going to happen, it was not going to be anything good.

                “Aw contraire!” said a chirpy voice from behind Dazai just as he was hauled to his feet and a gun was pressed to his temple. “You have the guts to be here, after killing so many of our people and now an executive.” Dazai could feel the smile in the man’s voice. The hand was crossed over his stomach, keeping him upright and pressing lightly on his wound. A finger suddenly stabbed through the skin and Dazai keeled over with a gasp.

                “Let him go and I’ll maybe let some of you live.” the boy threatened.

                “Tsk tsk tsk.” the man behind him shook his head. “Can you do that faster than I can shoot him?” the gun connected to his skull, sending white light before his eyes. Chuuya didn’t answer, only glared. “Now, you might want to sit tight and listen if you want to save that little gang of yours.”

                A hateful glare contorted Chuuya’s pretty featured. “Who the fuck….”

                The gun clicked once again and the redhead turned silent. “That’s better” the man pulled Dazai fully to his chest and the teen tried to control his heartbeat. It was one of the exercises he had done a lot in the past and he hoped it would help him just as much now. “You see, while you were busy finding out former boss, we took an interest in the Sheep. And what an interest that was. You have one really great ability user, you know? we want to keep him, the kid’s talented. They are in our custody now. So, for less bright brains out there, I’m giving you a choice: let them die or join us and work for the Port Mafia.”

                It was all said in a terribly chirpy voice and Dazai felt sick. Chuuya was obviously angry, but also paralysed in place. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything while Dazai was hostage.

                The brunette ignored the small flutter in his chest that someone didn’t want him dead for once and allowed his mind to work in the overdrive.

                The solution arrived faster than he would have imagined.

                Careful not to alert his captor, his hand sneaked to the gun stashed in his belt.

~O~

                Chuuya’s teeth were grinded to the point of breaking. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like the feeling of hopelessness in his chest, he didn’t like that his friends had gotten kidnapped.

                What do I do?

                He didn’t like the man’s smirk as he held Dazai as a shield. He really wanted to let Arahabaki loose, but that asshole was right. Dazai would die before he got to make a move.

                A shot rang in the still air, echoing in the distance. Chuuya’s eyes snapped in Dazai’s direction and he saw the limp body hit the ground.

                No.

                The Port Mafia man had taken a step back.

                No, no, no….

                The haori covered the ground, and it wasn’t moving.

                No, not him, not the sheep, no…

                Chuuya’s blood had started to boil, familiar anger taking over him. A long lost voice he had started to despise took shelter in the depth of his heart, fire crawling over his limbs at once.

                Fire and pain and sorrow…

                Make them pay.

                The man had opened his mouth to say something, but Chuuya didn’t hear it. He could only hear his own blood boiling in his veins and an ancient voice chanting a hymn he never heard yet he sang without a hitch.

                Oh grantors of dark disgrace….

                The air felt cold on his fingertips.

                Do not wake me again.

~O~

                If Dazai was to describe the massive force of nature that the redhead had become, he could only call it beautiful.

                So much chaos, so much pain, so much sorrow…

                So much emotion he oh so craved given life and shape, being given the power of destruction.

                Dazai was breathless.

                The people were dying. Mafia men in black coats were screaming, getting shattered by flying rocks and absorbed into black holes.

                Dazai was disconnected from the world, from his realm, stuck in the same dimension the being that had been the boy was now ruling over. Truly a god. A god of chaos, of storms.

                Dazai never believed in God, but he now understood why people bowed their faith to such a being.

                Chuuya was dying.

                That stray thought took over his brain, making all the sounds return at once, painfully aware of the chaos going on.

                The boy pushed himself to his feet and walked forward. The wind wasn’t touching him, but the screams were enough to make him want to stop.

                He went forward.

                Chuuya was feral. He was dangerous, he was strong, he was a beast let out in the wild, willing to destroy everything to test its fangs.

                Taming a beast with force was impossible. Taming a god was nearly impossible. Dazai didn’t have the strength. He didn’t have the power, no human had the power to look onto pure chaos and do anything but bow to its greatness.

                Good thing Dazai wasn’t human.

                Good thing that his abomination never relayed on strength.

                He ran towards the small, red mass of anger and stretched his hand. His fingers touched the hot, glowing red skin for a second, a shiver, a feather of lightning going through their bodies at the same time….

                And then silence.

                Silence in a field of carnage.

                A heavy breathing body resting on his chest.

~O~

                Consciousness came with pain. It came with a white light above his head and with the septic scent in his nostrils.

                It came with a cold hand quieting the rage inside his brain with a soft caress on his cheek.

                “It’s all right, Chuuya” said Dazai in a voice too soft for it to belong to him. “It’s all right to wake up. It’s all right to stay asleep.”

                Chuuya fought the lead pouring over his being and cracked an eye open. Dazai was staring at him with wide, sad eyes. His gloves were gone, but white gauze crawled from his wrists up to his nose. He was wearing a hospital yukata and looked really washed out in all the white.

                “What happened?” He asked. His voice was ragged and his throat ached. Chuuya tried to sit and felt pain flare all throughout his body in a second.

                “Don’t move.” Dazai ordered in the same soft voice from before. He brought a water bottle to his lips and it felt like heaven on his tongue. “I’ll explain everything in a sec…”

                A door slammed open and there were steps coming inside. Dazai tensed minutely and, a second later, a man appeared behind him. He was huge, towering over the two of them. His glasses reflected light, not allowing anyone to see his eyes.

                “Nakahara Chuuya, right? Shuuji tells me this is how you like to be called.” Chuuya blinked and Dazai avoided his eyes. “We were quite surprised that he managed to retrieve you this quickly, but I guess there’s one thing he’s good at.”

                Dazai gritted his teeth but didn’t react. Chuuya felt his heart stop beating for a few seconds as he looked at the two of them.

                “Wha…. who are you? what’s happening?!”

                Dazai handed him the bottle and Chuuya felt like throwing it back at his head, had the boy not looked like a kicked puppy at the moment.

                The man sighed, like Chuuya wanting to know his own whereabouts was stepping over a line or something.

                “We are the Special Ability Department. We deal with ability users and try to limit the negative impact they have on the world around us.” he looked over a file. “We were initially going to lock you up for testing after the massacre you caused, but Shuuji here vouched for you.”

                “Not a bootlicker my ass.” Chuuya hissed, but the other ignored him. A smile cracked over the agent’s ass, but it was gone before the redhead could make sure it was anything but a fleeting thought.

                “It’s only fair.” Dazai said and the man placed his hand on his neck. The gesture was almost fatherly, or would have been, had the boy not stiffened for a moment. But he didn’t stop talking. “The Port Mafia had taken his friends prisoner and was threatening to kill them. Chibi only acted in his own and his family’s best interest.”

                The man moved his hand a little, his finger rubbing over some spot on the other’s neck. Chuuya wasn’t all that good at body language, but he was willing to bet that Dazai had goosebumps under the bandages.

                “If that’s true…” The man peered at Chuuya through his glasses, because he might not trust Dazai, but he trusted the man even less and he really doubted that saying he went into an incontrollable murder spree was a good idea. “Then we are willing to offer you a deal: we will put our resources towards rescuing your friends and retrieving them as unharmed as possible. In exchange, you’ll have to come to our facility for some tests, as well as to get all the shots and necessary. After we make sure that you can use your ability and are not a hazard to society, we will try to reintegrate you into it, or, if you want, you can choose to work for us in the long run.”

                “What if I refuse?” he glared at the man.

                “Then we won’t have a reason to rescue a bunch of orphans from the Port Mafia, and if you put up any more resistance, we’ll be forced to lock you up until you are no longer a threat.”

                The whole time he spoke, his hand hadn’t left Dazai’s neck, nor the boy had looked up from where he was staring over Chuuya’s shoulder. It was as if the boy was trying to become invisible, which was really unusual for the usually flamboyant teen.

                “Your answer, Nakahara?”

                Chuuya huffed and looked away. “Is that even a choice?” he glared at the man, trying to put all of his murder intent into one look. “Get my friends back.”

~O~

                Gin’s hand was cold in his. Ryunosuke was following the trail of kids, trying to keep up with them, but there was no loyalty when one ran for their lives. Gin was doing her best to drag him after her, but his poor lungs were not on his side.

                Chuuya was gone. He hadn’t come for them. He was supposed to protect them, but he didn’t. The men in the suits told them that he had made a deal to protect them, but since when did the King of Sheep need anyone else’s help?

                Ryunosuke felt anger surge through him and he wanted to punch something. He wanted to scream and yell, but the air was too rough, too cold and every step was another hit to his lungs.

                “It’ll be okay.” he whispered to Gin every time she stopped to look at him, to make sure that he was fine, letting the Sheep get more and more further from them. He was too tired to use Rashoumon, he couldn’t protect them. And neither could Chuuya.

                “I really doubt that.” A voice said and the two of them whipped around to look at the man leaning over the wall. He was eating a lollipop and the boy’s mouth watered at the sight, but he forced his eyes to focus on the man as he pushed his little sister behind him.

                The man was wearing a weird attire. Actually, calling him a man would be too much, he didn’t appear to be even twenty. He was wearing a pair of dark green pants and knee length socks with just a sliver of pale skin showing. A white, short sleeve shirt with a dark green bow tie and a detective styled hat. His skin was clear and healthy, showing a person who had never been hungry.

                He was the man who had locked them up and came to taunt them when they were taken.

                “What do you want?” Ryunosuke hissed.

                “To offer you a job.”
                “Why would I ever work for the Port Mafia?!”

                The teen tapped his lips, as if looking for an answer. “Well, first of all, we can ensure that both you and your sister have a place to sleep and food on the table daily. Second, we can make you get stronger. Chuuya had promised to protect you, but he didn’t. Do you really want to keep depending on people who, as you’ve already seen, have abandoned you without a thought?”

                The Sheep were gone. Ryunosuke hadn’t noticed them going.

                “You can die like the rest of the dogs if you’re not interested.” The teen turned and walked away. The boy was left staring after him, feet cold, belly aching, throat filled with nails that kept him from breathing. Gin wasn’t meeting his eyes, but she squeezed his hand.

                I trust you.

                The thin material was soft under this grime coated fingers.

                “Wait.” he said.

                The teen turned with a smile Ryunosuke should have known could only mean problems.

~O~

                “Why can’t I come too?!” Dazai hissed as he stomped his way after Yamada, and Fukuzawa rubbed his temples, feeling the incoming headache that was his adopted son not getting his way.

                “Easy put, Shuuji.” Yamada said in his drab tone. “I don’t like you.”

                Dazai stopped, mouth hanging open. He gaped like a fish for a few seconds before he squared up and tried again. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

                Yamada sighed. “Unless you want to return and allow us to finish our experiments on No Longer Human, I will not allow you to come.” he looked at some papers. “A5158 will be well taken care of, and, if he wants to leave, he will when we deem it necessary. What is not necessary, however, is your presence at the facility.”

                “I don’t trust you.” Dazai narrowed his eyes.

                “That sounds like a you problem.”

                Dazai took a deep breath, regaining his composure before he laser focused on the former assassin and turned towards him. Fukuzawa killed the instinct to grab his sword, because Dazai rarely qualified as a physical threat.

                “Fukuzawa-donooooo”

                Shit, the honorifics.

                “Can you please go with them?” he asked and stood on the tips of his toes, to reach his height. “Please?”

                Fukuzawa sighed. “And leave you alone here? After you just got into the eye of the Port Mafia?”

                “Only a few weeks! I’ll be fine! I’ll solve all the paperwork and be extra careful, but please…”

                Despite the usual whine in his tone, the plead was genuine. Dazai really was worried about the redhead, which was unusual. Despite Fukuzawa’s best efforts, the teen had a really low level of empathy towards other people. To see him so worked up about it….

                “Fine.” Fukuzawa said. “Only for a few days to make sure that he’s all right. Don’t break anything while I’m away.”

                Dazai nodded then fell into a waist deep bow. It was unnecessary, but Fukuzawa patted his head nonetheless.

~O~

                Chuuya had never been a patient person and he never liked being one. He hated the way his blood slowly boiled in his veins, the way his steps rang on the white tile as he followed the man in front of him. He wanted to fight, to move, to prove his discomfort to the world, but the silver haired man’s warning still rang clear in his head.

                “Don’t cause a ruckus” he had said, and some deep, intrinsical part of Chuuya knew that he should listen. The man was walking besides him at the moment, ease in his posture but suspicion in his eyes.

                The man with the glasses before him, the one who had given him the ultimatum and who kept calling Dazai Shuuji was walking in front of him. Chuuya gulped, but didn’t comment as he followed. He hated this facility. It was familiar, although he couldn’t remember ever seeing it. It was familiar the way a nightmare was, the dread slowly creeping into his body, yet he couldn’t point a reason why.

                Arahabaki was also slowly simmering inside of him, craving fire, destruction, wielding his muscles to move and tear the building apart. Destroying this horrible affront to human beings before it got to destroy him again.

                “All right.” the man stopped in front of a room and opened it. “This is where you’ll live for your time here. We’ll give you a schedule with the tests as well as the meal and free time you are allowed. If anything happens, you can call us.” The man’s hands clenched around the clipboard he was holding, and Chuuya noticed a small, half moon shaped scar on his hand.

                “Am I not free to walk out?”

                “Not yet.”

                The man in the green kimono – Fukuzawa – sighed, like he was awfully familiar with the agent’s mannerisms.

                The room was pretty plain. It had a bed, a table, a window and a chair.

                “You may request things to make it more welcoming if you so desire.” the man’s voice was bland, like flour, or like a brick in a brick wall, indistinguishable from the space surrounding it. Had he not been paying attention, he could have confused it for background noise.

                “All right.” Chuuya said, eyeing the escapes in case of emergency.

                “One piece of advice, Nakahara.” the man said and Chuuya turned to face him. “Try to behave yourself. Shuuji had been quite a drag to deal with when we met him, and it made our interactions sour. I hope the same doesn’t happen here.”

                Despite the polite way and the lack of tone, the boy still had the feeling that Dazai was a misbehaving cat that had to be put down, not an actual person. He gritted his teeth.

                “Noted.” Chuuya grumbled.

                The door closed behind him with a final click. The redhead collapsed on the bed, head pounding, trying not to think of all the people he had left behind.

~O~

                The mats in the gym were by far not soft enough to absorb his impact, but at least he wasn’t as sore as he was when he fell onto the concrete in Suribachi City. Chuuya took a few deep breaths and tried to stand up.

                “You’re fast, I’ll give you that. And strong. But you telegraph your moves three weeks in advance.” Fukuzawa said as he fell back into a stance. His sword was still hanging at his hip, not being touched once in the hour they had spent together.

                “It’s not my fault!” he yelled, but only got an amused smirk and a water bottle tossed at him as his response.

                Fukuzawa sat near him and took his own bottle. It was their second lesson since the man had offered to teach Chuuya how to defend himself without the use of his ability. Initially, Chuuya had scoffed at the idea, but he never realised how relieving physical activity was.

                He was too tired to yell anymore, and he felt sore in all the right places.

                The redhead frowned as he looked at the man. “Why don’t you teach Dazai this? like, he’s really good at dodging, but I’ve never seen him throw a punch, nor attempt to actively defend himself.” Granted, he had only spent two days with the other, but he got to pin him down enough times to see how he reacted.

                Fukuzawa sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, I love that kid.” he sighed. “And I don’t want any harm to happen to him. But…” he sighed and looked in his water bottle. “You met him. You know how he reacts, how he goes head first into battles because he’s sure his plans will save him. He’s brilliant and I trust him, but not enough to give him the means to break knee caps. If he can’t fight, he will not attempt to, and it will keep him a little bit safer. That’s why I only taught him how to dodge and the most basic self defence movements. I don’t want him to get into something he’s not prepared to deal with.”

                “Bless your foresight.” Came the familiar voice and the two turned to look at the man standing in the door of the gym. Yamada was as freshly ironed as ever. “Nakahara, if you will, you have some tests scheduled in half an hour. Please have some mercy on out doctors and take a shower.”

                “Does that mean I stink?!” Chuuya yelled after the man no longer in the room while Fukuzawa let out a chuckle.

~O~

                Chuuya took a deep breath and calmed his beating heart as the doctor cleaned his neck. Despite this being his third session, he was still uncomfortable being in such a vulnerable position. “It’s all right. You will need maybe two more, and then it’s over.” The doctor said in a kind, even voice that somehow barely managed to ease the boy’s heart.

                “You say it will be gone for good when this is over?” his voice wasn’t muffled by the matt he was laying on, but he would take that to how it shouldn’t be squeaky.

                “Yes. You have behaved yourself really well and, if this makes you feel more comfortable.”

                Yeah, not being treated like cattle would indeed make him feel more comfortable. The woman’s fingers ghosted over his neck, sending shivers. The tattoo was almost gone now, and there only needed to be some last details taken out.

                Chuuya breathed deeply and tried not to tense when the laser hit his skin.

~O~

                The room was boring, despite Chuuya’s numerous attempts to make it more homey. There was something deeply dead about it, like a corpse one could attempt to dress up as nice as it could. In the end, it was still dead, still rotting beneath all the perfumes one could drench it in.

                He was antsy. It had been a week since he had trained, because Fukuzawa had left. The man said that he needed to go back and make sure Dazai didn’t overthrow the government while he was away, and there had been a little too much pain in his smile for it to be fully a joke. The man had left and, despite how much Chuuya still trained and tried to remember all that he had been taught in the relatively short time, he didn’t like doing it without a teacher.

                Yamada told him that he would have to stay here for another month at most, but the redhead knew that he wouldn’t survive in a static, non threat environment for so long.

                Suddenly, an idea stroke him. He dashed towards the intercom in his room and dialled the number.

                [Yes?]

                “Is there anyone willing to teach me martial arts?”

~O~

[Fukuzawa-dono? Do you have a moment?]

[Yes. Is it about Chuuya?]

[Yes. He is vaccinated, has no cavities and mild chance of developing anaemia after age 40. We've taken enough samples to make tests on those so- how do you feel about a playmate for your little devil?]

[.....]

[.....]

[.....]

[sigh. All right, but can you stop calling Dazai a devil?]

[Am i wrong?]

~O~

                Yukimura would admit to being soft and a little bit sad to see the kid go. She had gotten used to him, to having someone interactive to talk to and train. He was really eager to learn and so alive when they sat. He had been nice company and the guard held no qualms about admitting to getting attached to him.

                Right now, he was going to leave. He had been in a surprising good mood lately, but there was some antsiness in his frame as he waited for the man who had come with him in the beginning to pick him up.

                Chuuya focused on two people arriving, and they were something to look at. Yukimura recognised Fukuzawa and his unusual style, but her eyes focused on the kid next to him. They were tall, thin and moved with the kind of airiness of someone not truly attached to the earth. The effect might have been given by the flowing blue haori around their frame, but the woman spotted the exact moment when Chuuya’s frame tensed and the hissed “Dazai.” left his throat.

                From what she had gathered, Dazai was nothing but a prick, a brat Chuuya didn’t seem all that aware that he was attached to and a general pain in the ass.

                The kid in front of her took a deep bow and gave her a charming smile.

                “Are you sure he’s…” he leaned towards Chuuya.

                The redhead was no longer there, already hissing and spitting as he lunged to deck the other.

                “Ah!” the boy dodged and stepped behind Fukuzawa, which proved ineffective, because the man didn’t particularly mean to make a nice shield.

                “Thanks for leaving me here for two months, bitch!” he yelled as he managed to grab and rip a few strands of hair.

                The boy shoved his fingers into Chuuya’s eyes and tried to run away. Chuuya kept chasing. Neither Yamada-san nor Fukuzawa-dono seemed to be reacting.

                “About the paperwork…” Yamada-san started.

                “AAaah” Dazai yelped as Chuuya caught him in a headlock and rubbed his knuckled on the fluffy looking locks.

                Kick him in the shin. Yukimura thought before she turned towards the samurai. “Aren’t you going to….”

                The man sighed. “He can escape at any time he wants.” he shook his head. “He’s probably enjoying it, to be honest. It’s his fault if he gets a concussion.” then, loud enough for the two feral cats to hear. “Dazai, help Chuuya pack his things.” he said, and followed Yamada-san to his office.

~O~

                “Anything to say?” Chuuya said as he packed the few shirts he had in the small backpack.

                “You have a window.” Dazai said. His voice was oddly blank as he was staring out of it, but the way he was gripping the window sill was too aggressive his usual demeanour.

                Chuuya clicked his tongue. “I don’t know why I expected more of a reaction.” He didn’t want the other to fawn over him or something, but this was unusually dulled for the usually flamboyant teen. “I was here for two months, you know.” he pulled the zip close with much more force than it was necessary.

                Dazai sighed. “Look, Chuuya, I know how you feel…”

                “No you don’t!” The redhead snapped, anger long forgotten over time returning. Despite the facility never doing anything to him that was horrible, he knew it happened. Despite Yamada’s reassurances, Chuuya had never closed his eyes without being ready to tear the building down at a moment’s notice.

                For the first time in a very long while, he had been scared. He had lost his friends, his home, his secrecy, all because this blue dressed bitch had decided to stomp into his life on the behalf of the government.

                “You don’t.” he threw the backpack across the room. “You’re a spoiled brat who lucked out in life, you know nothing!”

                Dazai sighed as he got up from the sill and approached him. There was something incredibly sad in his eyes as he stepped in front of Chuuya, but the redhead killed the sliver of guilt creeping in.

                It’s not like he could have focused on that, not when the haori fell and pooled around the other’s legs a second longer.

                “Dazai, wha….” Chuuya didn’t get to finish his sentence, for Dazai started unbuttoning his high collared shirt. The redhead felt heat slowly creeping to his face.

                What about the cameras? he wanted to ask, but his mouth was dry.

                Dazai sat down in front of him at the foot of the bed and lifted his hair. “No, Chuuya, I really do.” he sighed and his voice lacked emotion. There was scar tissue on the back of his neck. “You see, I was born a street rat. Yamada only took me in because of my ability.” Chuuya’s fingers ghosted over the surface, goosebumps raising on Dazai’s skin under his own. “I only got out because Fukuzawa was kind enough to do so. So I can safely say that I know what you mean. I know what you’re going through, so stop treating me like a mere brat.”

                The scar was rough, rougher than Chuuya’s. There were more scars on his skin, different, and varied, a map Chuuya would have wanted to explore had the half open shirt allowed him to go lower.

                “Oh.” was all he could say. “Okay then.”

                Dazai waited a few more moments before he got up and put his shirt back on. He picked up his haori and headed towards the door. “I’ll be waiting near Yamada’s office.”

                The boy moved excessively slow, like he was waiting for Chuuya to say something.

                The redhead watched the door open and close in front of him,  but, even if he knew what the other expected him to say, he remained mute.