Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Despite his lifelong obsession with music, now that Dazai was actually in the industry, he found it to be incredibly boring. It was everything that he had expected it to be, and that was a problem.

Dazai didn’t want the flashing lights of paparazzi, or drunken parties full of celebrities. He didn’t want the scheming money-grabbers or the overly selfish artists. He wanted music. And he wanted it to be pure. But of course that’s not what he got, because the world isn't so perfect. He knew that going into this, but that didn’t mean it didn’t disappoint him.

He sat at his computer, idly watching random Youtube videos during his “break” that had just reached its fourth hour. He took a bite out of his can of crab, looking over a list of popular singers that his stupid boss wanted him to collaborate with when a video in the queue automatically played.

It was a video of a performance at a club. A lone teenager stood on the stage as he played guitar along to a track. The ginger-haired boy began to sing along. It was clearly an original song, incredibly low production quality, but still well written.

He dropped the list of celebrities to the floor, standing as he paused the video. He knew who it was he wanted to collaborate with. And he would get his way, even if he had to exercise his reputation as the boss’s favourite to get it.

He made his way to the boss’s office with confidence, head held high as he passed by other workers of all sorts, none of whom he cared to learn the names of. He’ll learn their names when they become important.

“Mori,” he called his boss by name as he burst into his office without a knock. “I figured out my collab.”

“Dazai-kun,” Mori sighed, a hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration as he closed his book. “How many times is it now that I’ve told you to knock first?”

Dazai ignores the statement, repeating himself. “I figured out my collab.”

Mori nodded. “Excellent. Who do you have in mind?”

Dazai doesn’t answer, simply playing the video on his phone for the boss to hear.

Mori nodded again. Dazai wondered if it was some kind of tick. It was a funny thought, Mori sitting there all day, nodding along as he read his books or whatever it was he did.

“And how do you expect to get a random kind from a Youtube video to collaborate with you?” Mori asked him, smiling.

“Why, boss,” Dazai emphasized the title with sarcasm, matching Mori’s smile. “I’ll simply use all the amazing tricks you’ve taught me!”

—-

“Kashimura Chuuya if you don’t get your dumb little butt down here right now, I swear to the almighty Christ, I will return you to your devil brethren!”

Chuuya sat in his room, packing up his old electric guitar as he ignored his father’s yelling. He could hear the laughs of his younger half-siblings from outside his door as his father yelled over his failed exam, but he just went through the door and shot them the finger as he went to leave through the back exit.

He narrowly avoided running into his father as he ducked through the various halls of their huge house to leave. As always, Shirase and his other friends were waiting outside the door, each one horsing off in their own way.

“‘Sup,” he called to them, his guitar case slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, dude.” Shirase gave him a light punch in the arm as the group of five began to move along, heading to their favourite club. “Playing again today?”

“Yep, alone as always.” He chuckled nervously, avoiding their broken promise that they would all play together. They had all promised it so long ago, but he was the only one to actually learn an instrument.

“We’ll be up there with you one day, Chuuya! Don’t you worry about it,” Yuan encouraged him. She tied her short pink hair back into a bun as they walked in the evening heat.

“Duh. You better.” Chuuya smiled, slapping her on the back. She responded in kind, yet with much more force.

“Ouch!” He laughed, speeding up his walking pace as they kept going.

They finally reached the club. The loud music blasted in his ears, strobing lights meeting his eyes as they entered. It really was his favourite place in the world.

He and his friends went their various ways, with Chuuya scheduled to be the next to perform that night. Just as he was about to start setting up, he felt a tap on his back. He turned to see an older man in a fancy suit and long coat and a boy around his age in a solid black suit. His arms and neck were covered in bandages, but somehow that’s not what stood out to Chuuya.

The first thing Chuuya noticed about him was the plethora of things he had on his face. A solid black cloth mask covering his mouth and nose; large, round gold framed wire-rimmed glasses; fluffy bangs that reached past his eyebrows and covered his whole forehead; and finally, a set of wireless earbuds that he wore even though there was already music playing in the club.

The earbuds were what bothered him most of all. It was just disrespectful to the band that was playing on the stage.

“What’s up?” he asked the older man, deciding to ignore the freak of a teen that was behind him.

The man held out a hand for a shake, which Chuuya took. “My name is Hirotsu Ryuurou. I’m a manager at Port Records, and this here is Dazai Osamu-kun, one of our esteemed producers.”

The boy smiled at him, at least he assumed from the way his cheeks rose from under his mask. “Hii!” he said with pep as he waved.

All Chuuya gave him was a nod as he turned back to Hirotsu. “Nice to meet you. I’m Nakahara Chuuya.”

Just as Hirotsu got ready to continue, Dazai cut him off. “Wanna collaborate with me?”

Chuuya had no clue how, but everything this “Dazai” did managed to piss him off. He replied, “It’s rude to cut off your elders.”

“And like you respect yours? Are kids even allowed in this club?” Dazai asked, his voice annoyingly cheerful.

“That’s-” Chuuya groaned. This kid was giving him a damn headache. “How old even are you?”

“I’m fifteen, good sir.”

“Dammit,” Chuuya sighed. They were the same age. Luckily for him, before Dazai could open his god-awful mouth again, Hirotsu stepped in.

“As Dazai-kun said, we at Port Records want to work with you as an artist. If you choose to sign with us, your first song will be a collaboration with Dazai-kun.”

Chuuya thought for a moment. As much as he hated the guy, he could manage one song. And all leading up to the career of his dreams? Port Records was a huge company, and it produced basically every big artist in the country. He’d be an absolute fool to not take it.

His buddies would support him, right?

Yeah. Totally.

“I’m up for it.”

Hirotsu nodded, taking out his phone. “We will have to get permission from your guardian, but once that’s through, we’re ready to sign you.”

Chuuya couldn’t help but laugh at that. Dazai piped up, “Is something funny?”

Chuuya shook his head at him. “My dad’s a real character. It’d be hard to convince him.”

“We can guarantee that won’t be a problem,” Hirotsu responded. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” he stepped aside to take a phone call.

Dazai made one more glance at Chuuya before following Hirotsu to the corner of the club. Chuuya sighed, but for once with joy. Though he knew it was probably a scam, he’d finally get his dream.

—-

All it took was a day, and he had already made it from his home state of Texas to California. Somehow his father agreed to let him go, and it wasn’t even the professional Hirotsu who convinced him– it was that slime they called Dazai.

Now he sat next to the earlier mentioned slime in a recording studio that stank of crab after getting a rundown of the company’s rules and stuff from the boss, Mori. Right now, he was supposed to be writing out what he wanted for their collab song as Dazai did whatever it was he was doing on the computer.

“Does it always smell like shellfish in here?” Chuuya asked, trying to get Dazai to look away from his computer. Even here, he wore the mask and headphones. It was absurd.

As expected, Dazai didn’t hear him. Chuuya called to him again, louder. “Hey crab boy. Crab fish dude bro. Idiot fish guy. Butthole full of seafood. Dumb shrecking mackerel.”

Finally, he got a response from Dazai. “Now that doesn’t even make sense.”

“It got you to listen though,” he smirked. “The mask I can kind of understand, but do you ever take off the stupid earbuds?”

Dazai looked him dead in the eyes, a snarky grin (he assumed) breaking out on his face. “No.”

That really rubbed Chuuya the wrong way. “Why not? Your brain can’t handle a little silence?”

“Not anymore then your body can handle a growth spurt,” Dazai shot back without any hesitation.

Chuuya shot out of his seat, yelling. “I’m fifteen, I’m still growing!”

“Are you sure about that?” Dazai laughed, once again with the stupid mask-covered grin.

“You shut up, you waste of bandages!” He shouts, sitting down. “At least I’m not a stupid mackerel.”

Dazai played off of his anger with ease, “I’d rather a mackerel than a slug any day.”

“Slug!” Chuuya exclaimed. “Now you’re the one making no sense!”

“True enough. You’re more of a dog. A little chihuahua that likes to bark really loud. Like this, ‘yap yapyap yap yap yap-’”

Just as Chuuya was about to respond with another shout, Hirotsu knocked on their door. “Watch the noise, boys.”

The two stopped, staring at each other before groaning and returning to their respective tasks.

—-

Dazai knew he was strange. He knew because it’s what he’s been told his whole life.

He knew that normal kids didn’t need earplugs every time they went outside. He knew that normal kids didn’t feel sick at every smell they encountered. He knew that normal kids didn’t have to chew gum after every meal to get the tastes of whatever they ate out of their mouth, lest they rip out their own tongue in disgust.

He knew he wasn’t normal.

On top of that, he always knew that the concept of a musician with sensory issues was redundant. But everything else about him also was, so why not add a cherry on top? He knew he was an oxymoron in nature- an enigma to those around him. But in his eyes, he was simply normal. He was Dazai.

To him, everyone else were the weird ones. How could they tolerate the sickening scents of perfumes and colognes? How could they manage to live without the taste of mint blocking off everything else? How could they manage without something to protect their ears from the piercing screeches of everything around them?

But any time he asked, he would just be told to not be so overdramatic about it. As if that was possible.

Music was all he had growing up. It raised him, in a way. Now all he wanted was to pay back all the songs that saved him with songs of equal caliber.

He had sensory issues. That was a fact.

He cursed fate for giving him music as his only safe haven.

The same thing he relied on could so easily be weaponized against him.

And he hated it.

He hated it all.

He hated himself.

But he still had a job to do. So he picked himself up off of his bathroom floor and covered his hate with bandages.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Chuuya had been so excited to continue working at the studio that he got there two hours early. He sat awkwardly in the lobby, having no idea what to do with himself. After twenty minutes of doom scrolling on his instagram, he decided to explore the building a bit, since he had only really been to the boss’s office and the studio.

He made his way across the floors, taking everything in and introducing himself to a lot of the people he didn’t know. It was amazing to him how kind everyone was.

Somewhere along the way, he found a huge open space with a bunch of tables in front of a wall-sized glass window that showed a view of the city. He couldn’t help but stare in awe as he gazed at the view– eyes glued to the sunrise.

“Boy,” the voice of a woman called from behind him. “Might I ask who you are?”

He turned around, “I’m Chuuya.” He introduced himself like usual, but froze when he realized who he was talking to.

The woman laughed, “I’m Ozaki Kouyou. I assume you’re new?”

Chuuya’s eyes widened in shock and admiration, “You’re Ozaki Kouyou? You’re one of my favourite singers, like, ever!”

Kouyou smiled, “I’m glad to hear it. Now, you are new, correct?”

Chuuya nodded, filled with a strange sense of excitement as he stood face to face with Kouyou, who he had looked up to his whole life.

“Come, sit.” She gestured to one of the tables that was set with a teapot, cups, and small pastries.

Chuuya nodded in response, taking a seat across from her as she poured him a cup of tea. “Now, boy,” she continued to speak. “Tell me about your current project, if you have any.”

“Um,” Chuuya started, nervous. “The boss has me working with Dazai on a single right now.”

“Ah, the infamous Dazai-kun,” Kouyou chuckled. “I assume the two of you don’t get along?”

“Why do you assume?” he asked, curious.

Kouyou thought to herself, before replying, “You seem like a straight-forward young man. Honest, to put it simply. Dazai-kun is rather the opposite. He loves to get a rise out of others, especially when it distracts from himself.”

“Oh,” Chuuya took a sip of the tea, copying Kouyou’s movements so he did it right.

“It’s best to just ignore him when he gets like that,” she advises. “Though he may be stubborn, I trust you can manage, right?” She looked to him for confirmation.

“Yes ma’am.” He grinned, still euphoric about getting to not only meet but converse with one of his greatest heroes.

She grimaces a bit at that, however. “I am far too young to be called ma’am.”

Chuuya panics a bit, not sure what to do. “Um, sorry, ma’am.”

“You did it again.” She looks at him with curiosity. “Is it some sort of habit?”

He nodded, face flushed with embarrassment. “My father used to punish me if I didn’t treat my elders with respect.”

“I see,” she takes a moment to think, which Chuuya realised that she often did. He liked that about her, she tried to think before saying anything. It was a good change of pace after dealing with that idiot mackerel Dazai all of yesterday.

Finally, she gave him a nod. “I will let it pass, however you will address me as ‘Kouyou-san’ from now on, not ‘ma’am’.”

“Okay, Kouyou-san.” He smiled, glad to have the problem fixed.

Kouyou checked the time, “Now, you should go get ready to start your work with Dazai-kun. I wish you the best of luck, and if you ever need any advice,” she hands him a business card after writing something on the back. “That’s my personal cell number. Don’t hesitate to give me a call if you need any assistance.”

Chuuya took the card, “Thank you so much, Kouyou-san.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” she smiled. “I look forward to seeing what you accomplish in the future.”

—-

“You need to breathe!” Dazai groaned in frustration from behind his computer as Akutagawa, his trainee, stood in the booth. “How many times do I have to tell you? Breathe before you sing!”

“It’s not as easy as you make it seem, Dazai-san,” Akutagawa responded, face as dead and lifeless as ever. “May you demonstrate what it is you mean?”

“Breathing?” Dazai laughed, exasperated. “You want me to show you how to breathe? Look, you inhale then exhale. Inhale, exhale.” He emphasized his breathing, sharp and as sarcastic as possible. “Is that too hard? Do you need someone else to breathe for you?”

“No, sir,” Akutagawa looked down in shame.

“Then do it yourself, you useless piece of crap!” Dazai yelled out, just as Chuuya walked in.

“Uh, everything alright in here?” Chuuya asked, looking around to see what was going on. Once he had it pretty much figured out, he went up to Dazai. “Who’s this guy?” he pointed to Akutagawa.

“My name is Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Dazai-san’s trainee,” he introduced himself.

“Did I say you could speak?” Dazai snapped at him, to which Akutagawa responded with a flinch.

Chuuya ignored Dazai, only addressing Akutagawa. “My name’s Nakahara Chuuya. Nice to meet you.”

Akutagawa nodded in response, earning him a glare from Dazai. “You’re dismissed. Next time, do better.”

Akutagawa responds with a quick, “Yes, Dazai-san,” as he rushes out of the room.

Once he was gone, Dazai went back to his computer, popping some gum into his mouth. Chuuya just sat and glared at him for a while.

Finally, he spoke up. “Can’t you be a little nicer? He’s just a kid.”

“He’s thirteen, only two years younger than us,” Dazai answers, not looking up from his computer. “At that age, I was already writing and producing songs for Mori himself.”

Chuuya scoffed, “Well you’re a damn freak of a genius, you can’t compare the kid to that. It might have been different for you, but thirteen is still way too young to be dealing with the expectations you’re giving him.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything of him if I knew he couldn’t handle it,” Dazai spits the words out, getting pissed off. “A slug like you doesn't understand anything about it. Mori chose me to train him. Not you. You haven’t even been here a week yet and still you think you can lecture me?”

He grimaced. “Yeah, this is just my second day, but I’m not gonna let you be such a jerk to anyone just because I’m new here. It doesn’t matter what he can or can’t handle, you could still stand to be a little nicer.”

Dazai stood up, closing his computer. “I have a meeting.”

And with that, he left, bursting out the door. It was so incredibly pathetic and disgusting of him to just leave like that. Chuuya felt his skin crawl as the door slammed behind him.

And now he was left with nothing to do.

His eyes immediately snaked their way to Dazai’s computer, and his equipment. The computer was definitely locked, but a second scan of the room brought him to a huge stand of CD’s.

It shocked him at first. He hadn’t seen a CD since he was a kid. But there were so many on the stand, and all homemade at that. He picked up a smaller case of them, labelled “Personal Demos.”

He popped the first one into the player. The tone started off incredibly light, lots of chimes and a glockenspiel highlighting a piano part. As the first verse started, he heard a voice that was most definitely Dazai’s. His voice was so soft, so warm; if someone told him that it was actually Dazai’s twin who had the same voice as him but was nicer, he wouldn’t hesitate to believe them. His voice was shockingly beautiful.

But the words definitely sounded like Dazai’s.

He didn’t know why. Contrary to Dazai’s usual… annoying speech patterns, the words were deep and melancholy.

“I can't avoid it anymore
I can't run from this beating heart
The path pre-paved for me
I never want to start”

For once, Chuuya could understand what Dazai was saying. He had felt that way so many times with all the expectations his father had put on him.

The song went on,

“Dread
Is all that I feel
Destroying all things real
And returning my grief back to me
Oh,
It's sickening
This gloomy air I breathe
Just to survive
How can I turn these rags to riches?”

Chuuya sat there for a long while, listening to the first CD. Once it finished, he put it back with the others, and left to find Dazai. Though annoying, now that Chuuya knew a bit more about who he really is, he felt the need to apologise.

He still thought that Dazai was a jerk for being so mean to Akutagawa, but now he understood why he acted that way. He was just teaching Akutagawa in the same way he was taught, even if it was wrong. He was just following what he knew.

After asking around for a bit, Chuuya finally found Dazai on the roof of the building. Dazai had replaced his usual earbuds with headphones, though his mask was still on.

“Pretty interesting ‘meeting,’” Chuuya called to him, walking to stand in front of him.

Dazai rolled his eyes. In the literal sense of the word. It was kind of funny.

“Ahh, it’s a slug. A really ugly, gross, stinky, ginger-”

“Hey!” Chuuya began to shout, but caught himself. Sighing, he went on. “Listen, I’m still pissed about the way you treated the kid, but I’m sorry for going off on you.I should have tried to see things from your point of view first.”

Dazai made no response, simply staring at him in what Chuuya assumed was shock.

“What?” Chuuya shrugged, “I can apologise. It’s not impossible for me.”

“Really?” Dazai immediately shifted his expression, probably trying to cover up his surprise. “I thought I heard that Leprechauns-”

“No.” Chuuya cut him off. “Just, no. I don’t wanna hear the end of that statement.”

Dazai laughed. A full, genuine laugh. Not one of his sarcastic, half laughs. A real one. It was weird and ugly, sounding almost like a pig, but it was still nice in its own way. Chuuya couldn’t help but join in.

Though Chuuya wasn’t entirely sure, he thought he heard a tiny muffled, “Thanks,” somewhere in the midst of Dazai’s laughter. He decided to not bring it up, and just keep laughing along.

He had only known Dazai for three days, but it felt like he had known him forever.

Dazai was different from all his other friends. Chuuya didn’t like him, at least not the way he typically carried himself. Dazai was strange, annoying, and from what he could gather, extremely closed off. Chuuya doubted they would ever get close.

But he was fun to be around.

And even though he wasn’t easy to understand, he was easy to trust. At least, for Chuuya he was.

Maybe it’s not such a bad thing that the mackerel decided to bring Chuuya into his little world.

—-

Mori entered Dazai’s personal studio, fully aware that Dazai wasn’t there.

He searched the room, checking over the CDs Dazai always kept for Demos. His eyes landed on one that wasn’t in its usual place.

He took the box, reading the title, “Personal Demos.”

It wasn’t uncommon for Mori to let himself into Dazai’s space, listening to demos and checking over his work with or without his permission. Due to the frequency of the occurrence, Mori had assumed he had already seen most of Dazai’s work.

This, however, he hadn’t yet seen.

So he started playing the first CD, then the next, until he heard all fifteen of them.

With each song, his smile grew wider and wider. He knew exactly what the songs meant to Dazai.

Even more so, he knew how much money he could get from these.

Chapter Text

After two weeks of work on the demo with Dazai, Chuuya really wanted a place where he could just sing for fun. So after a quick call from Kouyou, he managed to find a decently sized practice room to let loose in.

He connected his phone to the speakers, putting his favourite playlist on. Pacing around the room, he sang along in whatever styles he felt.

He went like that for over an hour until someone burst into the room. Chuuya froze, turning to see who it was.

“Damn, little hottie. Don’t stop for us.” The first to enter was a taller guy around his age with reddish hair that was obviously dyed and a bandage on his nose.

“Leave the guy alone,” said the next to enter. Chuuya initially assumed them to be a guy, considering their height and grunge style of dressing, but their voice was feathery and soft, definitely a girl’s.

“I’m Tachihara Michizou,” the first guy introduced himself with a wink. “What’s your name, princess?”

“Don’t call me that,” Chuuya growled at him, at which he laughed.

“I’m Akutagawa Gin, Michizou’s singing partner,” the girl introduced herself. “Ignore this idiot. He’s just…” she leaned closer to Chuuya, pointing to her head, “Not all there, y’know?”

Chuuya chuckled, “I can see that.” His mind flashed to the kid, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, from the other day. They must be siblings.

“So, you’re new here?” Tachihara asked.

“Yeah. I’m Chuuya.” He kept a distance, disconnecting his phone from the speaker.

“An aux?” Gin looked at the cord he was using to connect his phone to the speaker. “I haven’t seen one of those in ages.”

Chuuya shrugged. “My phone doesn’t do so well with bluetooth.”

“Why not just get a new one?” Tachihara asked, unpacking an electric bass.

“Wasn’t allowed to. My dad said I’d get a new one when I ‘learned to behave.’”

“That sucks.” Gin sensed the hesitation in Chuuya’s voice and changed the topic. “So, what have you been up to since you started?”

“Working on a single with Dazai.” Now this was a topic he was comfortable with. “I do all the writing and he produces it.”

“Dazai?” Tachihara laughed. “Tough break, man. Tough break.”

Something stirred in Chuuya at that, and he felt himself getting defensive. “What’s wrong with Dazai?”

“He’s… difficult.” Gin spoke with caution, sort of dancing around the topic.

Tachihara was not as polite as her. “Dude’s a damn monster to work with! He refuses to work unless it’s his way. He has no appreciation for the soul of a song, he just twists it into whatever he wants when he produces it.” That, to Chuuya, sounded nothing like Dazai, but Tachihara went on, “Gin and I have worked together with the guy once or twice, and it was the worst. I mean, the songs sold, but… it’s just not ours anymore.”

“That…” Chuuya thought, unsure of whether to state his opinion, but decided he may as well. “That sounds nothing like the Mackerel I know. I mean, sure he’s strict, but if you just explain what you want to do with the song, he’ll listen. And oftentimes, I find myself actually agreeing with him when he explains his thought process. He’s stubborn, but it’s not that hard to just talk things out.”

The two stared at him for a moment before Tachihara spoke up. “My God, I think the Dazai Osamu actually likes somebody.”

Chuuya tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“What do you think?” Tachihara laughed just as Gin slapped him over the head. “Ow!”

“What he means is,” she shot him a glare. “The guy has beef with everyone. No one knows why.”

Chuuya shrugged. “True enough. He’s annoying as hell, but I don’t actually have that much of a problem with him.” Which Chuuya hated to admit, but it was true.

“Oh, Dazai definitely likes him. Never thought I’d see the day,” Tachihara laughed.

“Is it really that hard to believe?” Chuuya asked.

Gin thought, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I get that you just met him, but you have to understand, the guy’s kind of a jerk. I mean, I owe him everything, he took me and my little brother, Ryuu in after we were left alone. But even then, I can tell he doesn’t actually like us.”

Despite how much Gin had said against him, Chuuya only heard one thing. “He took you guys in?”

Gin nodded. “Yeah. Our mom was a singer, but she got really ill and… you get the point.”

That, Chuuya could understand. Memories flashed through his mind, as she continued, “After she passed, he let us live with him even up to now. I consider myself close with him, but he still treats me as cold as ever.”

“Huh.” If Chuuya wasn’t shocked before, he is now. But, he liked it. The thought that as strange and idiotic as the mackerel was, he wasn’t actually as soulless as he made himself out to be. “Would never have guessed that. And I doubt that he doesn’t like you, he probably just doesn’t know how to talk with you guys.”

“Yeah, well, the guy isn’t exactly predictable, so it could go either way. For all we know, he could be some kind of alien that’s come to research humankind!” Tachihara, joked playing music through the speakers. Chuuya assumed it was a song the two had made together.

“Is this you two?” he asked, just for confirmation. “It’s good.”

“Thanks,” Tachihara smiled, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “You know, I think it’d probably be cool to do a collab with you sometime. That singing when we walked in: Damn!”

Chuuya pulled away, disgusted, which caused Gin to laugh. He checked the time, answering, “That'd be really cool, but I gotta go.”

“Wait!” Gin stopped him. “Let’s exchange numbers first.”

“Yeah, sure.” He handed her his phone, and she added him to a group chat with her and Tachihara. As soon as they were done, he left with a wave as the two started practicing.

—-

Chuuya knocked on the door to the studio before entering. One of Dazai’s many CDs were playing, Dazai himself seated in front of the computer as always. He had his knees to his chest, chewing on his nails as he stared at the screen. It was the first time Chuuya had seen him with his mask down.

“Hey, mackerel,” Chuuya called to him with a smirk. “So I finally get the privilege of seeing your face?”

No answer. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, considering how Dazai never took off his stupid earbuds. It was starting to really piss Chuuya off. “Hey, shellfish dump.”

Still no answer. Dazai didn’t even look at him.

Chuuya stormed forward, taking out one of Dazai’s earbuds to get his attention. “Hey, idiot!”

Dazai screamed, standing and lunging forward for the earbud, but Chuuya held it away from his grip.

“Give it back!” Dazai yelled, one hand held over his empty ear as he tried to reach for the earbud.

“I’ll give it back when you start actually listening to me! How come you never take off these damn earbuds?”

“I need them! Give it back, now!” Dazai was shrieking now, face red and angry. Chuuya paused when he saw that behind his glasses, Dazai’s eyes were filled with tears, his breaths ragged and short.

He was in pain.

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Chuuya let him take the earbud. “What, you have some condition where you’ll die if you’re not listening to music?”

Dazai went quickly to stop his CD player, answering Chuuya with a glare. He sat in the beanbag chair he kept in the corner of the room, refusing to look at Chuuya.

Chuuya frowned. “Don’t ignore me. Listen, I’m sorry for taking the earbud, but I just want an explanation as to why you never take them off.”

“...They’re not earbuds,” Dazai muttered, still turned away from him.

Chuuya sighed, frustrated. “Then what are they?”

Dazai didn’t answer, so Chuuya went and sat on the floor next to him, leaning against the beanbag chair. “Come one, I won’t make fun of you. I just want to know what they are, and why you need them.”

Still no answer, so Chuuya went on. “I want to understand you, y’know? I mean, I talk to all these people who’ve known you for much longer than I have, and they all see you so much differently from the way I do. I want to know which ‘Dazai’ is the real one. I want to know who you actually are, behind all the fake personas you put out there,”

Dazai glanced at him, then turned to face the wall again, hiding his face.

“I had a little brother. Not including my half-siblings.” Chuuya’s voice dropped to a whisper. He didn’t know why he was telling Dazai this, but he felt like if he was asking for the real Dazai, he needed to share the real Chuuya.

“I grew up on the streets, just me, my mom, and my little brother. His name was Tsugurou, and he was three years younger than me. We didn’t have enough money for, well, anything. We’d go around to any soup kitchen we could find just to get fed.” Now Dazai was looking at him. Chuuya went on, “When I was ten, both Tsuguro and our mom got really, really sick. Obviously we couldn’t afford a doctor, so my mom decided to send us to live with our father.”

He took a deep breath, this was the hard part. “We had never met our father before, so we were really scared. He refused to take care of our mother, only me and Tsugurou under the condition that I did everything he asked of me without fail. And I did. It was probably the hardest thing I’d ever done though. He wanted me, as his oldest child, to follow in his footsteps as a doctor, but I was ten years old with absolutely no education. I could barely speak properly, nonetheless read. But knowing that I had to to protect Tsugurou, I did everything he told me to. By the time a year had passed, I surpassed the proper education level for my age and was several grade levels ahead.”

Dazai kept watching him with interest, so he finished his story. “But then, when he was eight years old, Tsuguro died. He had been sick for too long, nobody could save him. I was also told by one of my half-siblings that my mother had been dead for months, and my dad was keeping it a secret from me. I didn’t even get to go to the funeral. My dad refused to let me go to Tsugurou’s funeral as well, since I had an entrance exam for an elite private school on the day it was scheduled. I was hella pissed off, so I failed the test on purpose. And every test since. My dad started beating me to try and get me in line, but I still refused to listen to him. That was when I decided to go into music, like my mother had tried to before Tsugurou and I were born. I decided to follow in her footsteps to spite my dad.”

“So that’s why you sing,” Dazai said, his voice soft and choked. Chuuya hadn’t noticed that he had been crying.

Chuuya nodded in response, “Yup.”

Dazai thought to himself, then spoke, “They’re not earbuds. They’re earplugs. They block out loud sounds. I… To put it simply, I have sensory issues. Not just with sound, with other things too. That’s why I wear the mask to block out smells, and always chew gum to block out any other taste.”

“Why didn’t you just say that?” Chuuya asked in curiosity.

“No one will take me seriously as a musician if they know I have trouble with sounds. The whole thing is redundant. I mean, why decide to make music if the sound is painful?”

“I think it’s cool.” Chuuya spoke with honesty. “Even though sound is painful, you still love music enough to make a career out of it.”

Dazai shook his head. “It’s weird. Someone who can’t even listen to music without earplugs shouldn’t get to create it.”

“Don’t say that,” Chuuya furrowed his brows at him. “Anyone can make music, whether they have sensory issues or not. Music is something for everyone, it’s not a restricted luxury that only a few people get to have. You shouldn’t put yourself down like that.”

“Thanks,” Dazai smiled, and for the first time, Chuuya could actually see it without his mask in the way.

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Thanks for what? Talking some sense into you?”

“Yeah,” Dazai nodded. “Thanks for talking some sense into me.”

Chapter Text

Dazai knew that it was a dream.

But that didn’t mean that he could stop it.

Everything was loud and bright, overloading his senses until they went almost numb. The shining white walls of his old home filled his stomach with nausea; he remembered this dream. He’s had it before.

His brother was in front of a much younger version of him, calling him by his old name.

“Shuuji.” He practically yelled in his ear. “Clean my room for me.”

Dazai himself had been trying to finish a song, one he had been working on for the past month but still couldn’t nail down. He was frustrated with himself, and now here was his brother demanding unreasonable things from him. He was already overwhelmed, and all it took was his brother’s words for him to snap.

“No!” Dazai shouted. “I have more important things to do then clean up after you!”

But he kept on demanding it. “I guess you’re fine if I tell dad about your earplugs. You know he hates when you do stupid things like that, but if you’re so desperate for a punishment then…”

Dazai cried, screaming in response as his brother left to tell their dad, “No! Wait! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

He kept screaming right up to the moment he woke up, falling off his bed as he did. He was lucky that Ryuu and Gin were away for the weekend. Dazai brought himself to his knees, furiously wiping at his tears.

“Go away, go away, go away, go away!” he shouted until his voice hurt, scratching his arms until they bled. Everything felt way too loud, right down to the air conditioning. His head was pounding, his heart heavily pulsing like a low-quality machine

He almost mistook the knock as his door for that very same knocking heart in his chest.

The door opened without his interference as he scrambled to put on a jacket, hiding his scarred arms from whoever was coming.

“What the hell, mackerel? It’s three in the morning,” Chuuya walked in, barefoot and wearing dog-themed pyjama pants.

“Chuuya?” Dazai muttered out, confused as he tried to steady his still uneven breathing.

“Hm?” Chuuya thought, then caught on to his confusion. “Mori didn’t tell you? I’m in the apartment right next door.”

Dazai shook his head, hiding his face in his hands as Chuuya kept talking. “You good? It sounded like you had fallen or something.”

Dazai nodded, leaning against the side of his bed as Chuuya joined him on the floor.

“What, you fell out of bed?” Chuuya asked.

He responded again with a nod, still looking away from Chuuya.

“Hey,” Chuuya nudged him with his elbow. “You okay?”

Dazai hesitated, unsure of whether to answer honestly, but Chuuya caught on right away. “It’s fine, you don’t need to answer.”

They sat in silence for about ten minutes before Chuuya got tired of it.

“Do you think you’ll be able to go back to sleep?”

Dazai shook his head in response.

Chuuya stood up, stretching and helping Dazai up. “Let’s head to the studio. No point in sitting around.”

He grabbed one of Dazai’s sweaters and a pair of flip flops, throwing them on as they left. He didn’t ask for permission, but neither of them cared much about that.

It wasn’t a long walk to the studio, only about five minutes. There were little to no cars out, so the city was quiet. Quiet enough that Dazai wasn’t even bothered by his missing earplugs. What did bother him was the smell. Chuuya noticed right away, handing him a mask he had swiped from Dazai’s desk earlier.

“Here. I figured you might forget.”

Dazai nodded as a thank you, putting it on.

They kept walking until they reached the studio, sharing the bean bag chair as Chuuya selected some CDs for them to listen to.

Chuuya had started by putting on “Uta’s Songs” sung by Ado from the One Piece Film Red. The two listened in silence to the album through Dazai’s speaker set as they leaned on each other. Dazai could feel his eyes getting heavy with exhaustion, slowly falling asleep, until the fifth song in the album started playing.

He remembered the title, “Tot Musica.” It was one of his favourite moments from the film, but somehow he had missed a key part of the song.

The chorus was recorded twice, and both recordings were layered on top of each other to create a slight, barely noticeable but still important clash.

He wanted to try that.

And he knew the perfect song to try it in.

He shot out of his seat, turning off the song and getting his gear ready.

“What’s up, got an idea?” Chuuya asked, going to watch as he made notes on a doc to explain what he wanted to do.

“Whoa, that sounds awesome!” Chuuya exclaimed, helping Dazai finish setting up. “Let’s do it.”

—-

Half the day had passed, and Chuuya had gone out to grab lunch for the two of them, since Dazai still wasn’t talking. Meanwhile, Dazai was in the studio, refining what they had done. All they had left was the last bridge to record before being able to present their demo to Mori.

Speaking of the devil, Mori entered the studio just as Dazai had stopped to take a break.

“Hello, Dazai-kun. You haven’t come to visit me in quite a while.” He stood behind Dazai, looking at what he had just finished. “I trust you’ve been well.”

Dazai nodded, moving forward to create distance between them.

“May I hear the demo?” Mori asked, staring at him with the same old sickening smile.

Dazai shook his head, forcing his voice to speak. “It’s not ready yet.”

“When will it be ready?”

“Tomorrow, probably.”

“Then it should be fine for today.” Mori pushed him aside, playing what he and Chuuya had done so far. Dazai didn’t stop him, knowing that he would get his way regardless.

“This is excellent, Dazai-kun,” he stated as the song finished. Then his eyes fell on a CD case next to the shelf. Dazai watched in confusion as he walked over, picking it up and reading the label. “‘Personal Demos.’ Dazai-kun, what is this?”

Dazai felt his blood go cold, freezing in place as Mori waited for an answer.

His voice cracked as he spoke, “It’s just something from a long time ago. Nothing good.”

Mori’s face became stern and harsh, his voice sharpening as he responded, “I’ll decide what’s good. Remember that everything you write belongs to me. You don’t get to decide what to throw aside.”

Dazai nodded, standing in silence as Mori played the first CD. Little did Dazai know, Mori had already heard all the songs, and was merely acting things out in order to bend Dazai to his will.

Dazai heard his voice through the speakers, covering his ears to block out the harsh, ugly sound. Mori paid no mind to him, playing through the songs for about twenty minutes.

“Dazai-kun.”

He tensed as Mori spoke to him, “This will be your next project after you finish working with Chuuya. I expect every one of these CDs to become an album.”

Dazai nodded, voice tight in his throat as he responded, “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Mori smiled, “I’ll come back tomorrow to hear the finalized demo.”

Dazai stood there as Mori left, unsure of what to do with himself.

He didn’t want to write those albums. Everything in them- it was too painful for him to share. He didn’t want to feel weak anymore.

But he couldn’t go against Mori. Doing that meant being sent back to his family, and he couldn’t have that. He had to stay here in the studio. He had to keep making songs.

And there was only one way to protect that.

No matter how much it would hurt him.

—-

“No, you can’t take a breath there. It’s ruining the flow of the song!” Dazai said, getting frustrated as Chuuya failed to properly sing the bridge.

“It’s frickin’ impossible, mackerel. No one can sing something that long without taking a breath!” He took a drink of water, his throat all dried out from singing the same thing over and over again.

“Yes, it is possible! You just need to be more conservative in how you use your voice!”

“For the last damn time,” he sighed, crossing his arms. “I don’t know what that means! Unlike you, I wasn’t trained at all in singing!”

“Clearly!” Dazai yelled, moving into the booth so they could talk easier. “Just… You don’t have to be so loud for this part, so exchange that volume for longer breaths!”

Chuuya just stood there like an idiot, still having no clue what Dazai meant.

“You’re so stupid!” Dazai shouted in response, pissed at how he was essentially talking to a brick wall.

Chuuya rolled his eyes, “Well maybe I’d get it if you would just show me what to do instead of yelling it at me!”

“I can’t do that,” he groaned, going to leave the booth. “Just… just do it again. We’ll split the bridge. Pan it in two different parts. That might make up for it.”

“Why can’t you?” Chuuya’s demeanor changed to one of confusion. “I mean, can’t you sing?”

That made Dazai snap.

“No!” He shouted from the other side of the glass. “No, I can’t sing! I can’t sing for crap, even if I wanted to! You don’t understand how good you have it, you can just start singing whenever you want and it’ll sound good. But you still don’t work at all to make it better! It’s so stupid, so unfair!”

“What are you talking about?” Chuuya followed him out of the booth, still confused. “Why are you so upset?”

“Because I lost everything, you stupid slug!” Dazai turned to face him. Even with the mask blocking most of his face, Chuuya could see how devastated he was. “I lost everything I have to say, I lost everything I care about, I lost my own freaking voice! It’s not fair that you get to have all that when I don’t!”

“That doesn't clear anything up.” Chuuya sighed, sitting down.

Meanwhile Dazai was pacing around the room, rambling on and on. “It’s just… I used to have anything I could possibly want. Sure, it hurt because I had to go through crap to get it, but at least it was there! I could write any song I wanted when I wanted to, and if I didn’t like it, I could just toss it! And instead of getting idiots to sing it for me, I could just sing it myself! But-”

He shook his head, pacing even faster and Chuuya sat and listened. “I can’t sing anymore. Not after everything. I mean, my dad used to actually love me, and now I have to basically sell all my work to the devil just to stay away from his beatings! I keep on losing everything I care about, I couldn’t even protect my own voice from getting stolen.”

“You keep saying you lost your voice,” Chuuya finally spoke up. “What do you mean by that?”

“I-” Dazai stopped pacing, looking at Chuuya. Chuuya had shared his story with Dazai, so it was only fair that Dazai did the same. “I used to be able to sing. I loved it. But then my brother… He did a lot of crappy things to me. He blackmailed me, forcing me to do whatever he wanted or else he’d tell our dad about my sensory issues. After one point, I snapped at him and refused to clean his room after he threatened me for it. So he told our dad, who got upset about me being ‘overdramatic’ and ‘childish’ and I wound up getting beat. I couldn’t sing anymore after that.”

A silence fell over the room as Dazai finally calmed down, sitting next to Chuuya on the beanbag chair.

“That sucks,” Chuuya said. “You shouldn’t have had to go through all that.”

Dazai shrugged. “But I did. Saying that I didn’t deserve it or that it sucked won’t ever change that. Nothing can change the past.”

“But you can change the future, right?” Chuuya asked, thinking to himself. “Sure, you can’t go back in time, but you can’t stop from going forward in time either. That means that every second that passes is farther and farther away from those times. You can’t change it, but it’s slowly leaving you whether you realise it or not.”

“What?” Dazai looked at him, confused.

Chuuya hesitated, then spoke. “Before my mom and I were separated, she told me and Tsugurou something. Humans are naturally strong, even if we don’t realise it. Our hearts grow and move on all on their own, it’s just that sometimes our brains don’t want to join them. That’s why the past still hurts even if it was a long time ago. Our brains don’t want to move on, because it feels like a loss of control; but if you let that fear go, then you’ll understand that your past doesn’t matter because you still have a future. And you can shape that future to be whatever you want it to. It’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it.”

Dazai looked down, processing what Chuuya had said. “How can you be so sure?”

Chuuya smiled at him. “Because I’ve tried it, and it works. After mom and Tsugurou died, I felt stuck in my own sorrow. I felt alone, empty, numb. But I remembered what mom said, and decided to make a path for myself through music. Now I’m here. Isn’t that proof enough?”

Dazai nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right. But it’s still hard.”

“I never said it wasn’t,” Chuuya stood up. “But I can promise that it’s worth it. Now, come on. I’m gonna try that bridge again.”

Dazai stood up after him, his heart now lighter with the faintest feeling of hope as he joked, “I guess leprechauns do have their own wisdoms.”

Chapter Text

Dazai hates kids. That’s something that everyone knows. Kids are loud, dirty, unreasonably stupid, and to re-emphasize the worst of it: LOUD.

And yet, Mori found it really funny to put him of all people in charge of today’s “Little Voices” day camp the studio did once a month.

At least it wasn’t a big turnout this month, with most kids having started school already. Plus, Chuuya agreed to help him out, so he figured he could dump most of the work on the slug.

Dazai listened as Chuuya had the kids introduce themselves, the one with red hair going first.

“My name is Kouda Aya, and I’m four years old. I really like the rock singer, Bram Stoker. Oh! And my favourite colour is blue.” She was a jumpy kid, her eyes darting all around the room as she struggled to stay in place.

Next was a child with two-toned hair and heterochromatic eyes, much like Chuuya’s. Dazai couldn’t tell whether they were a girl or boy, and honestly he didn’t care.

The child spoke, clutching to their disgustingly scuffed up doll. “My name is Yumeo Kyuusaku. You can call me Kyuu. I’m Six years old and my favourite colour is, uhh…” The child thought for a minute, holding out his “uh” without stopping. At least Dazai knew the kid had breath support. “Purple and pink and yellow and-”

“Okay,” Chuuya cut him off. “Next.”

The next girl was wearing a kimono, with dark hair in matching pigtails. “My name is Izumi Kyouka. I’m seven years old, and my favourite colour is the colour of Tofu.”

Quick and concise, Dazai liked that. The last girl he already knew; Mori’s daughter, Elise.

She smiled, adjusting her blonde hair. “My name is Ougai Elise. I’m seven and my favourite colour is red.”

Chuuya went last, introducing both Dazai and himself. “My name’s Nakahara Chuuya, I’m fifteen, and my favourite colour is also red. That’s Dazai Osamu, you can call him mackerel. He’s fifteen and likes blue.”

“Wait,” Dazai perked up. “How the hell did you know that?”

Chuuya just stares back at him. “Dude. Literally everything in your apartment is blue.”

At that, the youngest one- Aya- started singing “A Decade in Blue” by Eiffel 65 under her breath. How she knew a song that old, he had no clue.

Chuuya chuckled at that, joining in softly, which caused Aya to smile.

Dazai stood up, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention. "So, what song do you want to sing?"

There was a loud barrage of answers in response. Luckily, thanks to Chuuya they were all able to settle on “Let It Go” from Frozen. So, basically what Dazai had already expected.

Chuuya did most of the work, Dazai sitting back as he taught them the basics. As far as Dazai could tell, Elise had the most potential. As expected of Mori's daughter, she was probably already taking lessons from some big-name professional.

Aya was an alto. Usually you can’t tell someone’s vocal range when they’re young due to their constantly growing bodies, but he was shocked to hear just how low Aya could sing at the age of only four. He knew for sure that her range would only grow in the future.

He liked Kyouka for how simple she was, but her singing wasn’t all that. She was so shy that he could barely hear her.

Finally, Kyuusaku. This kid he liked the least of them all. They were extremely loud, belting everything. It was sloppy, like how you would expect a kid to sing. Chuuya had to keep stopping them to adjust the way they sang so they wouldn’t strain their voice, but nothing he did stopped Kyuu from shouting out every note.

Eventually Dazai pulled Kyuusaku aside, bringing them to a separate room to talk with them. “Hey kid, you’re gonna hurt your voice if you keep on straining it like that.”

“But it doesn’t hurt at all!” Kyuu exclaimed, their attention focused on their creepy-ahh doll instead of on Dazai.

Dazai ran through any reason he could use to convince the kid to tone it down, finally settling on one. As much as he hated it, it was the only one that would work.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” he lied,” I used to sing the same way, constantly straining my voice. But it hurt me, and now I can’t sing anymore. Like, at all. Do you want that to happen to you?”

Kyuu shook their head, sad. “No. I like singing.”

Dazai nodded. “Good. Now why don’t we work together to find a better way for you to sing?”

Kyuu nodded with Dazai, “Yeah!” As Dazai turned on the keyboard in the room so he could work with Kyuu, Kyuu asked him a question.

“Are you sad cause you can’t sing?”

Dazai paused, deciding to actually be honest this time. “Yeah. Not being able to sing makes me sad.”

Kyuusaku took a second to process this, then declared, “I’m not gonna sing!”

“What?” Dazai turned to them. “What do you mean, you’re not gonna sing? I thought you liked it.”

“I do,” Kyuu responded. “But I won’t, because you can’t. I don’t wanna make you sad.”

Dazai laughed, “You singing won’t make me sad. Don’t worry about that.”

Kyuu pouted in response. “I won’t sing unless you sing with me!”

“I can’t do that.” Dazai shook his head, sitting down on the keyboard bench. “I hurt my voice, remember?”

“I don’t care! I’m only gonna sing if you sing.” Kyuu stood their ground, refusing to back down on this. Dazai should have let the slug deal with them instead.

His mind flashed back to Chuuya’s words, "...you can’t go back in time, but you can’t stop from going forward in time either." “..if you let that fear go, then you’ll understand that your past doesn’t matter…”

No harm in trying, right?

“Alright,” Dazai sighed. “I’ll try. Is that enough?”

“Yep,” Kyuusaku nodded, now excited as Dazai played a chord on the piano.

“Your breathing is already solid, so we’re gonna start with just holding out one note for as long as we can.” He demonstrated, singing a soft C as best as he could. It was shaky, raspy, and ugly; so much so that he could feel his skin crawling at the sound, but Kyuu stared in awe at him until he finished.

He tried to shake off the sick feeling in his stomach as he continued. “Now the two of us together.”

Kyuu followed along as instructed, already starting to sound better as they tried to match the sound of Dazai’s voice. “Was that better?” he asked once they finished holding out the note.

“Yes, it was,” Dazai replied. “Now let’s try starting soft and getting louder as we go.”

They tried it, but towards the end, Kyuu wound up straining their voice again. Dazai thought for a moment to think of an exercise to help them.

“When you sing, it should be as natural as speaking. Your throat should feel roughly the same. So if I say ‘do re mi,’ it should feel the same way as when I sing,” this time he sang the words, “do re mi.”

“Oh, yeah it does sound the same,” Kyuu said, understanding. “So I should sing it like this?” They sang in the same way Dazai had.

“Yes, that’s it!” Dazai exclaimed, giving him a high five. “Let’s do a few more exercises, alright?”

“Okay!”

—-

Once their time with the kids had ended, they brought them down to the parking lot, waiting for their parents to pick them up. Kyouka was the first to leave, giving everyone brief hugs before she went off with her parents. Soon after, Mori’s personal assistant came for Elise, her doing the same as Kyouka did before leaving.

Aya’s dad came to pick her up in his police car about a half hour late, but Aya paid no mind as she gave Chuuya, Dazai and Kyuu a goodbye and a wave as she hurried to her dad. It was kind of sweet to see how excited she was to see him.

That was when Dazai and Chuuya started to worry.

An hour had passed since Aya left, and Kyuusaku’s parents still hadn’t come. The sun was starting to set, so Dazai called Mori.

“Mori,” he said as soon as the boss picked up. “Kyuu’s still here.”

Meanwhile, Chuuya was with Kyuu a little ways away, keeping the kid distracted.

Mori questioned him, “What do you mean he’s still here? Their parents should have come by now.”

“They didn’t.”

There was a brief pause before Mori spoke again, “I’ll give his parents a call. Stay where you are.”

Dazai stared at his phone after Mori hung up, waiting for him to call back. About twenty minutes later, his phone finally buzzed, signalling a call from Mori.

“Nothing,” Mori sighed. “I’ve been trying to reach them this whole time, but no one’s answered. I called the local police station, and they’re looking into it. For now, can you take care of Kyuu until either their parents call me or the police figure something out? And try not to let them know about all this, they’re only six.”

“Yes, sir,” Dazai nodded out of habit, even though he knew Mori wouldn’t be able to see. “I’ll tell Chuuya, and Ryuu and Gin too since Kyuu will be staying with us.”

“Good,” Mori let out another sigh, this time out of relief. “I’ll keep you updated. Good job today.”

And with that, the call was over. Dazai took a minute to breathe, then went to Kyuu and Chuuya as they played a hand game.

“Hey! Guess what, Kyuu?” Dazai kept his voice joyful so as to not worry the kid.

“What?” they asked, a smile on their face despite the situation.

Dazai kept up the act, “My boss got a call from your parents, and they said you can have a sleepover with me because you did so well today!”

Kyuu’s smile widened, clinging onto Dazai as he exclaimed happily. Chuuya gave Dazai a confused look as he picked up Kyuu, carrying him toward their apartment complex. Luckily for Dazai, Chuuya caught on enough to not say anything in front of Kyuu.

They walked at a somewhat brisk pace, Kyuu holding onto Dazai as he looked around the city. Finally they made it to the apartment, Chuuya having to fish out Dazai’s keys from his pocket so he could keep holding Kyuu.

They were met with a very confused Gin as they entered. “You’re late, I was getting worried,” she sighed, deciding to not say anything about Kyuu.

“Sorry, we went a little overtime,” Chuuya chuckled, going into the kitchen with her as Dazai took care of Kyuu.

He took Kyuu to his room. Luckily, they had all eaten dinner as a group earlier, and Kyuu was already sleepy. He sat Kyuu down on his bed, looking around for something small enough the kid could sleep in.

“I have my pjs,” Kyuu yawned. “They’re in my backpack.” They opened their small backpack, taking out a pair of pyjamas and an extra change of clothes.

Why the hell was that in there?

No one sends their kid to a day camp with extra clothes and pyjamas; the whole point is to pick them up before the day ends.

Unless…

He would figure that out after Kyuu was asleep. Right now he just had to make sure the kid was alright.

“Perfect!” He clapped his hands together, keeping the facade going, “I guess it’s time for bed then!”

Kyuu nodded, changing into the pjs with Dazai’s help and conking out soon after.

Dazai left the room, meeting Chuuya, Gin and Ryuu in the kitchen. They all looked to him for an explanation, which he gave as best as he could.

“The kid’s parents are unreachable. Mori informed the police, so Kyuu will be staying here until we figure out what happened. But…”

“But what?” Chuuya asked, a look of extreme worry on his face.

“Kyuu had pyjamas and a change of clothes in his backpack. That’s not normal.”

“What?” Gin yelled, earning her a glare from Ryuu, who motioned to Dazai’s room, where Kyuu was asleep. “Sorry,” she shook her head, speaking quieter now. “Are you saying that their parents meant to leave them?”

“I don’t know,” Dazai sighed. “I need to call Mori to let him know, but for now just try and keep the kid from knowing that. We don’t want them panicking until we have solid information.”

“I think the change of clothes is solid enough. No point in lying,” Ryuunosuke said, both his voice and expression equally blank.

“Even so,” Chuuya explained. “It’ll just be worse if they panic. Let’s at least find their parents before we tell him anything.”

Ryuunosuke gave a reluctant nod as Dazai left again to call Mori. He could hear the Akutagawa siblings going to their respective rooms as he spoke with Mori, explaining the backpack situation. Once he was done, he met Chuuya on the couch, sitting on the other end of it.

“So?” Chuuya asked. “Anything?”

“Nada,” Dazai responded with a shake of his head. “For now, we just have to keep an eye on him.”

“Alright,” Chuuya sighed. “I can’t believe someone would just… leave like that.”

“I can,” Dazai picked at his nails as he spoke. “There’s some terrible people out there. If someone can beat their kid and exploit them, then they can certainly leave them.”

Chuuya nodded, “Yeah. I know.”

“I mean, your dad left your mom and brother to die,” Dazai went on. “Mine almost killed me. How is it so hard to believe that someone would leave their kid behind?”

“Wait, rewind,” Chuuya sat up, looking at him. “I know your dad beat you, but almost killed? What the hell?”

“Yep.” Dazai lifted the edge of his shirt, showing a small, circular scar in his side.

“That’s a bullet wound.” Chuuya’s voice dropped to a whisper as he stared at it in absolute shock.

“I…” Dazai explained. “I tried to run away one night, after my dad beat me for the first time. He mistook me for a robber and shot me. But he never apologised, just blamed me for trying to leave.”

Chuuya was furious at that. “What the-” he used a word that will not be written here, “kind of dad would shoot their child, then pin the blame on them?”

“Mine, apparently.” Dazai stood up, looking at the clock. “You should go, it’s late.”

Chuuya stood, shaking his head. “You don’t just drop a bomb like that and then tell me to leave!”

“I’m tired,” Dazai avoided eye contact, taking off his mask since he was home anyways. “Please?”

Chuuya looked at him for a moment before reluctantly agreeing. “Okay. Goodnight.”

He saw himself out, leaving Dazai alone in the living room for a few moments before he went to his room, laying next to Kyuu on the bed and falling asleep.

—-

“It’s time,” Chuuya smiled, standing in front of Dazai’s computer in their studio as Kyuu, Kouyou, Hirotsu, Tachihara, the Akutagawas, Elise and Mori huddled around them for support.

Two months had passed since Kyuu moved in with Dazai and the Akutagawa’s. They had managed to reach Kyuusaku’s parents, but they refused to return for him, so now Mori was his legal guardian just like he was for Dazai and the Akutagawas. The group of them moved into a small house about a week ago, Chuuya joining them to fill the space.

And now they were ready to release Dazai and Chuuya’s single, “On the Lake.”

They watched as the premier timer ran out, everyone cheering(except for Dazai and Ryuunosuke, of course) in celebration as it was officially posted.

They had no idea how it would be received, but Mori had loved the song, so they didn’t doubt that it would do well.

Chapter Text

“On the Lake,” it’s original title; “湖上” or “Kojou.”

Written and sung in Japanese, Chuuya’s first language.

The lyrics go:

“ポッカリ月が出ましたら、
舟を浮べて出掛けましょう。
波はヒタヒタ打つでしょう、
風も少しはあるでしょう。

沖に出たらば暗いでしょう、
櫂（かい）から滴垂（したた）る水の音（ね）は
昵懇（ちか）しいものに聞こえましょう、
――あなたの言葉の杜切（とぎ）れ間を。

月は聴き耳立てるでしょう、
すこしは降りても来るでしょう、
われら接唇（くちづけ）する時に
月は頭上にあるでしょう。

あなたはなおも、語るでしょう、
よしないことや拗言（すねごと）や、
洩（も）らさず私は聴くでしょう、
――けれど漕（こ）ぐ手はやめないで。

ポッカリ月が出ましたら、
舟を浮べて出掛けましょう、
波はヒタヒタ打つでしょう、
風も少しはあるでしょう”

“When the crisp moon ventures out,
We’ll climb into the little boat.
The waves will lap in gentle sets,
With breezes also joining us.

The water will be draped in darkness
And the sound of dripping oars –
Between the pauses in your voice –
Will be an intimate of ours.

The moon will listen in on us,
And will even dip a bit,
Will be just above our heads
When we begin to kiss.

And you’ll begin to talk again,
You’ll pout and chatter on –
I’ll listen without a drop of sound,
My hands rowing faithfully along.

When the crisp moon ventures out,
We’ll climb into the little boat.
The waves will lap in gentle sets,
With breezes also joining us.”

This is the song that took the world by storm, making global charts and sustaining its place among the top forty even a year after it was released.

Written by Nakahara Chuuya, and produced by Dazai Osamu.

This was how Chuuya gained his fame.

Ever since its release, Chuuya formed a band with five others, called “The Flags.” Iceman on drums, Pianoman on keys, Lippman on bass, Doc and Albatross on guitars, and Chuuya singing. The group was an instant hit with their first album, “Young Bloods.”

Dazai, on the other hand, had no new works to be found.

No news was given of him or his current projects. Fans have begun speculating his death. But nothing was confirmed.

—-

“I see the princess has finally heeded our call,” Tachihara joked, leaning against his amp as Chuuya and the rest of The Flags walked in.

“I promised you a collab, didn’t I?” Chuuya smiled, giving him a fist bump before punching him in the arm. “And don’t call me princess.”

Tachihara just laughed, going to greet the others. Albatross came up behind Chuuya.

“Princess, huh?” he chuckled. “I should steal that.”

“You better not,” Chuuya glared at him. “But I will say that I prefer it to ‘Edo Sheeran.’”

Albatross laughed again, unpacking his guitar. Gin arrived next, greeting Chuuya with a hug.

“What’s up, it’s been years!”

“We live together,” he pointed out, watching as everyone set up their instruments. The Flags would play as the band, with Chuuya, Gin and Tachihara doing a trio for vocals.

“I know that,” she smiled. “But this is our first time seeing each other at work since ‘On the Lake.’”

“True enough.”

Lippman clapped his hands together, getting everyone’s attention. “So, as planned, we’re gonna start by practicing some songs together before we write anything. Does anyone have suggestions?”

“We should do one song from The Flags and one from The Black Lizards,” Doc suggested, to which everyone agreed.

They decided on “Old World” by The Flags and “Falling Camelia” by The Black Lizards.

It was easy for them to find a solid groove together, they were professionals after all. That plus the fact that Chuuya was used to singing with Gin and Tachihara during their monthly karaoke parties made things even better.

Soon enough, their practice was over and everyone went their various ways. Gin and Tachihara had planned to go out for lunch (they keep swearing that they’re not a couple, but let’s be honest: they’re at least in the talking stage) so Chuuya went back home for the day.

He went straight to the living room, kicking off his shoes and flopping on the couch.

“Kyuu?” Dazai called from the kitchen.

“Nope,” Chuuya yelled back. “It’s the slug.”

“Oh,” Dazai emerged from the kitchen, still in his pyjamas. He yawned, a mug of coffee in his hand as he sat next to Chuuya. “Kyuu’s having a playdate with Elise. I thought they had come back early.”

“Huh,” Chuuya thought. “You just woke up?”

“Yep,” Dazai nodded. “I’m taking the day off.”

“More like the month. You haven’t been to work in forever, are you good?”

“I’m fine.” Dazai leaned back on the couch. “Kyuu is a tough kid to watch after.”

“You know Ryuu, Gin and I are here to help.” Chuuya looked at Dazai, meeting his eyes. He wasn’t wearing his glasses or mask, not even his earplugs. He looked so different without them. He looked… exhausted. “We all moved in together so we could support each other.”

“I know,” Dazai looked away. “It’s just… I worry about the kid. You know they throw tantrums when I’m not around. They latched onto me for some stupid reason.”

“Kyuu trusts you,” Chuuya sighed. “That’s a good thing, but they need to learn to trust the rest of us too. You won’t be by their side forever.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Dazai scoffed.

Chuuya waited a moment, thinking, then spoke again. “Come on. I know you, mackerel. Tell me the real reason why you’re not working.”

Dazai didn’t answer, staring at the ceiling.

After five minutes, he stood up. “I’m gonna pick up Kyuu.”

“Alright,” Chuuya stayed on the couch, watching him leave.

He turned on the TV, checking the news. Once again, they were talking about the rumors behind Dazai’s “disappearance.” The whole world thought he was dead at this point. And, he couldn’t blame them. One of the biggest music producers just stops releasing anything for a whole year? If he hadn’t known the mackerel personally, he would assume the same.

But he did know the mackerel. At least, he thought he did. He thought they were getting close, but ever since that night when Dazai showed Chuuya his bullet wound, he just closed off.

And Chuuya had no idea why.

Everytime he tried to confront Dazai about it, he would make some excuse to leave. Just like he had done today.

It sucked.

But there was nothing Chuuya could do about it. So he kept waiting for Dazai to open up to him on his own.

—-

Dazai sat across from Mori in his living room, watching Kyuu and Elise play with dolls together.

“So,” Mori started up a conversation. “How are those albums coming along?”

“They’re not,” Dazai refused to look at him, eyes focused on watching the kids. “I’ve been trying, but I keep getting stuck.”

“That’s not good,” Mori frowned. “I was hoping that we’d be able to release one soon, at least to quash all the rumors that have been going around.”

Dazai let out a bitter laugh, “That’s all you care about, isn’t it? Releasing albums, quashing rumours, making money; I was an idiot to take you up on your offer back then.”

“So you would prefer to go back to your father?”

Dazai froze. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Even so,” Mori took a sip of his coffee. “You only had two choices. You made the right one. I might expect a lot from you, and I know I tend to push you to your limit, but I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Dazai nodded, solemn. “I know. It’s just… It’s hard. I don’t want to write those albums. It hurts to remember everything from back then.”

“I know,” Mori gave him a small smile, “That’s why I’m pushing you to do it. It’ll hurt, but it’s the next step for you to move on. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll try my best.”

Chapter Text

If you live with someone long enough, you’ll begin to learn some things about them that you didn’t know before.

That applied to Chuuya and Dazai as well.

So far, Chuuya had learned the following things about him:

-He usually won’t wear his mask or earplugs at home, though there are occasions where he does.

-He hates socks. The only way he could stand to wear them is if he’s wearing shoes as well.

-He’s very picky about what he eats, and even for his favourite foods, he won’t eat that much of it.

-He’s autistic. That one, he had a feeling about before, but he had confirmed it through Gin.

-His CD collection in the studio is nothing compared to his collection at home. When they moved, there was a spare room, so he took all of his CDs, cassettes, and vinyls out of storage to fill the room with them.

All of these things, he didn’t mind at all. What he did mind was…

The bandages. At first, Dazai had told him that it was another one of his sensory things, but he knew now that it was a lie.

He knew from the way Dazai would change them at the strangest times. Chuuya would catch him in the middle of the night, sitting in the bathroom as he put on fresh ones.

He knew from the way Dazai would tense at any touch of them. Chuuya could tell it wasn’t touch aversion. It was pain.

He knew from the random blades and lighters he would find in the smallest corners.

He knew from where he stood right now, catching Dazai as he held a lighter over his wrist to burn it.

—-

Two more weeks had passed since he last talked with Mori about the albums, and he still had nothing to show for it.

He had built instrumentals, written lyrics, even had a name for the album.

But there were no vocals.

He couldn’t sing.

No matter how many times he got in front of the microphone, played the tracks, and attempted to sing along, it would always end with him running to the bathroom to throw up.

Or worse.

Just like now.

He wasn’t stupid enough to bring any blades to the studio. He knew how that would look. But he was well aware that a lot of the workers smoked. It wouldn’t be unbelievable if someone’s lighter went missing for a couple of hours.

So he swiped Hirotsu’s light out of his pocket, holding it to his wrist as he sat on the floor of his studio’s bathroom.

He had never been caught before. He knew how to hide it; always lock the door, always listen around, never do too much unless you plan to end it or know for sure that you’ll be alone for hours.

This was his first mishap.

He hadn’t expected anyone to come in this late, so he left the door open.

And now Chuuya was right in front of him.

The two locked eyes for a moment, breaking it as Chuuya steadily walked forward and took the lighter from him.

He didn’t say anything about it. Just stuck it in his pocket as he pulled Dazai up from where he sat.

He forced Dazai’s wrist to the sink, letting water flow over the burn for about twelve minutes. Dazai could feel Chuuya’s eyes tracing over the scars that littered his arm.

Chuuya carefully applied medical cream over the burn, wrapping it in bandages.

Then he left.

He went back to the main area of the studio, the studio they hadn’t shared in what felt like a century, and sat on the old bean bag chair.

Dazai waited a moment, then followed him, playing it off. “What, did the slug miss me? So much so he came running like a little puppy to his old studio?”

Chuuya glared at him, shaking his head in frustration. “You idiot.”

“Hey, I’m not lying,” Dazai laughed. “You’re like a little doggy. Always yap yapping as you follow people around.”

“Why the hell would you do that?”

He paused. Dazai knew Chuuya would bring it up eventually, but he assumed that Chuuya would wait for the impact of the moment to die down first. That’s what he usually did.

But today was different, for whatever reason.

“Mori put me on a new project, finally,” Dazai avoided the question. “I’m collaborating with someone from another record company. The A-something-records.”

“Agency Records?” Chuuya asked. “That’s a rather small company, but they still have big hits.”

“Don’t care. Whoever it is probably has bad taste, like everyone else.”

“Me included?” Chuuya raised an eyebrow.

“Course not, Slugs have no taste at all.”

“That’s not true,” Chuuya punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Slugs have excellent taste, they use it to navigate.”

“I refuse to ever believe that,” Dazai scoffed. “Slugs don’t taste.”

“Whatever,” Chuuya rolled his eyes. “Anyways, are you really fine with another collab?”

“Yeah, why?”

Chuuya shrugged, “I dunno. I thought you didn’t like them. You know, not counting our collab.”

Dazai shrugged back at him. “I guess I’m more willing to try things now.”

“That’s good.” Chuuya’s phone buzzed with a text from Kouyou. “Sorry, gotta go.”

“Bye, slug.” Dazai waved as Chuuya left.

His eye fell to the bandages Chuuya had wrapped over his wrist earlier.

He hoped that Chuuya wouldn’t bring it up again.

—-

Chuuya met Kouyou inside her office, sitting at the chair across from her as she finished something on her computer.

"Just a moment, I just have to send this email." She took another minute, typing quicker than Chuuya could process before finally looking at him. “Alright. I want to start off by commending you for all the amazing work you’ve done this year. You’ve accelerated faster than I’ve ever seen before.”

“Thank you, Kouyou-san.” He couldn’t help but let a smile slip past, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as Kouyou went on.

“And because you’ve grown so much, the boss and I have come up with a special project for you.” She called someone in as Chuuya turned to see who entered.

It was a tall man- european- with blonde hair tied in a side ponytail and a small braid circling it. He wore an odd looking hat; black with a brown belt and a chain hanging off the side.

He smiled at Chuuya, “It’s nice to finally meet you. I wanted to visit you back home a long time ago, but father has me swamped with work every second of the day.”

Chuuya blinked, dumbfounded. “What?”

The man looked to Kouyou, “You haven’t told him anything?” Kouyou shook her head in response, her reading glasses low on her nose as she scanned over some documents.

The man cleared his throat, straightening his posture. Chuuya guessed that it was to hide his embarrassment. “Well, my name is Paul Verlaine. I’m your brother.”

Chuuya stared at him for a moment, then spoke. “You’re european. You look nothing like any of my family. I already know you’re not from my mom’s side, and my dad was pure blooded Japanese. If you really are my ‘brother’, explain that.”

Verlaine sighed. “Your father had an adopted brother who was from France. I’m his son.”

“Then you’re not my brother. You’re my cousin.”

“My father passed away before I was born.” His face fell, gazing outside the window as he explained to Chuuya. “Your father adopted me and raised me. Just before you were returned to father, I was employed by him and sent to work at one of his hospitals not too far from here.”

Chuuya tensed, clenching his fists as he bit back, “Don’t say ‘returned’ as if I belonged to him.”

“Sorry,” Verlaine raised a hand in his defense. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry about what happened to your mom. I…”

Chuuya listened, an eyebrow raised in scepticism as Verlaine continued, “I know more than anyone how terrible father can be.”

Chuuya looked away, watching the clock and controlling his breathing until a full minute passed. He met eyes with Kouyou, pointing at Verlaine. “Is there a reason he’s here?”

Kouyou nodded, “Yes. The boss wants you two to collaborate on a double sided single. The A-side will be composed and arranged by Verlaine, with Chuuya singing, and the B-side will be the opposite.”

Chuuya shook his head right away. “I don’t think I can do it.”

Verlaine put a hand on his shoulder, at which Chuuya instantly pulled away. “Just try, at least? I know you probably dislike me simply because I work with father, but…”

“Aren’t you a doctor?” Chuuya bit back. “What are you even going to do? Write a medical paper instead of an actual song?”

“I can assure that Verlaine is a certified artist here,” Kouyou intervened. “He was the composer for Arthur Rimbaud before his unfortunate passing.”

“That guy?” Chuuya thought, then shrugged. “I never was a big fan of him.”

Verlaine sighed, “But it’s proof that I can compose. So please?”

Kouyou met eyes with Chuuya once more, urging him to take the offer.

He let his fists unclench, body relaxing as he gave in. “Fine. I will try.”

—-

Dazai knew from the moment he stepped into Agency Records that it was nothing like Port Records. Everything from the way people dressed, the lighting of the rooms, and the soft smell of pastries and other sweets told him this. Staff sat relaxed in lounge chairs, laughing and discussing various topics as some others stood and went over work. There was a public workspace right after passing the secretary; small but homey, and only half filled. Out of twelve desks, only five were being used.

One of the people working there looked up at him, nodding and nudging the arm of the man next to him.

He was the one Dazai would be working with.

Dazai had done some basic research of the man on the car ride here. His name was Oda Sakunosuke, publishing under the name “Odasaku.” His works were rather interesting. They never feature his own voice, either featuring other singers, vocaloids or even being pure instrumentals. Despite this, he was still popular, mostly among younger teens.

His works often featured basic progressions and catchy beats, yet the melodies would never once repeat. There was no chorus or bridge- every verse was completely new and unique with both melodies and words.

It was weird.

The man introduced himself, but Dazai wasn’t listening. They went to the desk as Oda showed him the sheet music for the demo he already had. Dazai was supposed to refine it, then sing it. He hoped the deal would fall through before that happened.

“Is everything alright?” Oda asked him, eyes seemingly piercing his soul.

Dazai nodded, locked onto the sheet music. “Yeah. It’s a little basic, but some counter melodies here and there should fix that. And you want more focus on words than sound, right?”

Oda just stared at him for a moment before completely disregarding what Dazai had said. “I meant with you. Excuse me if I’m overstepping, but you seem… off.”

Dazai had nothing to say to that. So he kept rambling about the sheet music Oda had provided.

This “Odasaku” was definitely interesting.

Chapter Text

For the first week, Chuuya and Verlaine didn’t meet together much. This wasn’t simply because the two were busy, or that they had other plans. Chuuya actively avoided being near Verlaine. And Verlaine knew that. Which was why he made an even bigger effort to get close to him.

So naturally, Verlaine invited Chuuya out to lunch. Everyday. Several times a day.

On the last day of the week, Chuuya finally folded and agreed to it.

So now Chuuya was sitting in the passenger seat of Verlaines car, a small but reliable Camry, as they went to a Cuban restaurant that Verlaine insisted on.

“Are you fine if I play some music?” Verlaine asked, one hand hovering over his phone as they waited at a red light.

“Yeah, sure.” Chuuya himself, didn’t care or even pay attention to Verlaine, more focused on full comboing Fire Dance on Project Sekai.

Verlaine played one of Rimbaud’s last songs. Honestly, it was boring. Slow, melancholic, too heavy on the past.

“This song…” Verlaine spoke. “It took us years to get it through the publishing process.”

“I can see why.” Chuuya frowned, losing his combo. “This sucks-”

“But it meant a lot to us.” Verlaine ignored his comment. “So we never gave up.”

Chuuya didn’t say anything, restarting the level.

Verlaine looked at him, expecting a response. When he didn’t get one, he sighed and continued. “The two of us wrote that song together in our youth, just before we started dating. We wanted nothing more for it to be finished, but nothing ever felt like enough to express what we wanted to convey. I’m sure you can understand that.”

Chuuya kept ignoring him, focused on the game.

“Father is in the hospital.”

“When isn’t he?” Chuuya finally commented, scoffing.

Verlaine kept his eyes on the road, “He’s in the hospital as a patient.”

A thick silence fell over the two of them. Chuuya was unsure of how to react. On one hand, his father was sick. On the other, the man who had caused him so much suffering was finally getting what he deserved.

“It’s okay,” Verlaine reassured him. “I’m not exactly sure how to feel about it, myself.”

“What’s he in for?” Chuuya questioned him, putting his phone away.

“Overwork.” Verlaine pulled into the plaza where the restaurant was, finding a space to park in. Once he had fully parked, he explained, “After you left, he drowned himself in work. Took no break days. Yesterday, he finally collapsed.”

“Oh,” Chuuya finally met his eyes as his own began to fill with tears. “So it’s my fault, then.”

“No!” Verlaine panicked, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault. He never did know how to communicate, especially when it comes to feelings. It’s true that he did all of that because he felt guilty, but you didn’t cause anything. That was his fault, not yours.”

“But if I hadn’t left, then-”

“No,” Verlaine shook his head. “He was already over exerting himself before you left. He would have wound up in the same place either way.

Chuuya gave a slow nod, looking down again.

“Come on.” Verlaine got out of the car, motioning for Chuuya to do the same. “Let’s eat.”

—-

“So when’s the deadline?” Dazai asked as Oda lit a cigar. The two were taking a break after spending the whole morning refining the song.

“Whenever we’re done, I guess.” He responded, leaning against the railing of the roof.

Dazai was shocked. “There’s no deadline?”

“The president never gives us any.” Oda shrugged. “Deadlines cause a big rush, which reduces work quality. Obviously, we don’t want to spend too long on our work, but we don’t usually get deadines.”

“Huh.” Dazai looked up at the clouds that passed by. They seemed so bright, so full of life. It was so different from how he felt. “That would be a nice change of pace.”

“What’s Port Records like?”

Dazai thought, his foot beginning to tap at a constant beat as he tried to find a good answer. “It’s kind of a hell hole.”

Oda tilted his head to the side. “How so?”

“Everyone’s always trying to impress the boss, but nothing impresses him. Except for a few, obviously. Like me, Chuuya, and Kouyou.” He began fidgeting with his hands as well. “But once you impress him, he’ll keep pushing you until you can’t anymore.”

“Is what he’s doing to you?” Oda asked. A simple, genuine question. But to Dazai it was a living, breathing minefield.

His instincts told him to say no, to deny what was happening. But instead, he paused before saying, “Yeah.”

Oda didn’t look at him, eyes on the horizon as he finished his cigar.

“You should switch record labels.”

Dazai almost laughed at that. “As if I could. If I leave Port Records, Mori will give my location to my father.”

“Is that the only reason you’re there?”

Dazai’s mind flashed to Kyuu. To Ryuunosuke and Gin. To Chuuya.

“No,” he shook his head. “I have friends there. I don’t want to leave them.”

“Then bring them with you,” Oda shrugged as if the answer was obvious. “Our president was close friends with your boss. He can get it done.”

Dazai didn’t know what to say, so he just stood there with a blank expression on his face. Like an idiot.

“You can sleep on it. The offer won’t leave.”

He nodded. “Yeah, sure. I’ll sleep on it.”

—-

“Hey.”

Chuuya greeted Dazai as soon as he got home.

“‘Sup, slug,” he nodded in return, making himself a cup of tea. “How’s your work going?”

Honestly, the question shocked Chuuya. It seemed like Dazai was finally starting to be normal again. He was actually wearing something decent instead of the same old cat pyjamas. And talking. Without snapping.

He smiled, answering, “It’s going great. I’m doing a new collab.”

“With who?” Dazai handed him a mug of tea.

“Some guy who’s apparently my brother.”

Dazai choked on his drink, coughing as he set the mug down. “What?”

“His name is Verlaine. Apparently he’s my cousin, but my dad adopted him when his dad died. I never got to see him cause he was working pretty close to here, at one of my dad’s hospitals.”

“Hm,” Dazai finished his tea. “Be careful.”

“Apparently my dad’s in the hospital as well,” Chuuya added, too distracted by his racing thoughts to process Dazai’s warning. “I have no idea what to feel.”

“He hurt you,” Dazai’s eyes narrowed, expression darkening. “You don’t have to feel anything.”

“Then why is it that I do?” Chuuya paced around the kitchen island, circling it over and over again. “He hurt me, he let my mom and brother die. I hate his-” (Insert word of your choice here) “- guts! So why do I feel so sad! I shouldn’t be worrying about him, but I do!”

“Hell if I know,” Dazai shrugged.

“You’re really not helping!” Chuuya was practically screaming now. Dazai stopped him as he went to loop around the kitchen island again.

“How about you start by calming down?” he suggested, a slight hint of worry betraying him. “Nothing will get solved if you’re panicking.”

Chuuya nodded, going over to the couch to sit down. The Akutagawas were both still at work, and Kyuusaku was in their room playing with Elise. Dazai followed Chuuya to the couch, Kyuu and Elise both coming out of the room.

“Chuuya!” Kyuusaku squealed in delight, hugging him and sitting next to him. Elise joined them on Chuuya’s other side. Dazai sat next to Kyuu, in the corner of the couch.

“Can we watch Precure?” Elise asked, one hand already on the remote.

Dazai looked at Chuuya, signaling for him to answer. “Yeah, that’s fine. Which one?”

She thought, debating quietly with Kyuu before answering, "You and Idol!"

Chuuya laughed, "The new one, huh? Is it cause you two like Kotoko-chan?"

They nodded in delight at the mention of the name, smiling as the played the show from it's first episode for what was probably the third time this month.

They let the show run for a while before leaving the room at Dazai’s request.

"What's up, mackerel?"

Dazai thought, fingers tapping restlessly on the kitchen counter. "I was offered a job at Agency Records. And I was also told that I can bring my friends along too."

Chuuya paused in shock. "Don't tell me you're actually considering it."

Dazai shrugged, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. "I…I don't know. It feels like it'd be better for me. A smaller space, more personal style. Less stress for deadlines and stuff."

"But still," Chuuya started getting upset. "Everything you have is here, with us. You can't expect us all to follow you and your little whim."

"Agency Records feels safer," Dazai reasoned with him. "The president there has a connection that can get us transferred with no struggle."

"Even so." Chuuya shook his head. "Just because it's easy doesn't mean everyone will be willing to do it."

Dazai didn't say anything, nodding as he stared at the floor.

"I'll bring it up with Kouyou-san, okay?"
Chuuya tried to cheer him up. "I can't promise I'll go with you, but I can promise that I'll consider it."

"Okay," Dazai nodded again, this time more firmly. "Thank you."

Chapter Text

“Chuuya.”

Kouyou looked up from her computer, “Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise.”

“What do you mean?” He sat on the couch in her office.

“You’re visiting me on your off day.” She laughed, “I’ll have to watch out for flying pigs on my way home.”

He laughed, “Sure. Sure.”

“Now, what’s wrong, boy?” She put her pen down, taking off her reading glasses.

He hesitated, then finally spoke. “Dazai is thinking of switching labels. He wants me and the others to go with him.”

“Switching, really?” Her eyes widened in surprise, stacking some of the papers she had been working through. “Good for him. That boy deserves a better life than what’s here.”

“But,” he fiddled with his hands. “I don’t know if I want to go with him. But I don’t want to be separated from him.”

She sighed. “Listen, boy. I won’t stop you from going. You, Dazai, Gin, all of you deserve better than what’s here. Believe me, I know how terrible this record company can be. The older you get, the worse it’ll get. I think it would be better if you left with him.”

“But,” he held back tears. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Boy, no.” She stood, going to sit beside him. “Don’t you dare subject yourself to a terrible future because of me. We can stay in contact, even when you leave.”

“I don’t want to leave.” He shook his head. “I finally have a home. How am I supposed to leave it all behind?”

“I know how you feel. But believe me when I say this company isn’t your home, it’s the people you stay with in that house. If they leave, you’d best go with them.”

“But-”

“‘Home’ is not a location.”

He paused, taking it in. “Okay.” He nodded, “But I’m still gonna think about it.”

—-

It's been a week, and still Chuuya had no answer for Dazai.

He understood why Dazai needed and deserved to leave. But he still felt so…attached. Port Records was the first home he ever had. And though what Kouyou said was true- home is about the people you're with, not where you are- there were so many people in Port Records that matter to him. Not just Dazai, Gin, Ryuu and Kyuusaku. There was the Flags; Lippman, Pianoman, Albatross, Iceman and Doc. There was Tachihara, Higuchi, Hirotsu and Kaji. His family was so much bigger than just his house.

Even Verlaine now.

He couldn't leave them behind.

"The beach again?"

Dazai came up from behind him, joining him on the stone wall that separated the grass and sand.

"I don't come here that often," Chuuya scoffed, rolling his eyes as he leaned back to see Dazai. He looked happy.

"Yes you do." Dazai laughed, a rare sound that seemed to become more common lately. "You come here every time you need to think. Not that anything will help for you. I can practically see the smoke coming out of your head."

"Shut up. It's your fault."

"Oh." His face died, turning into one of caution as he asked, "So, you haven't decided yet?"

He shook his head. "I have a family here. I don't know if I can leave it."

“That-” Dazai stopped himself, forcing out a solemn nod. “I understand.”

“But you don’t like it.”

“I don’t need to.” He smiled, “You deserve better. Take Ryuu, Gin and Kyuu with you.”

“What about you?” Dazai stood, “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I’ll be fine. I have the Flags, remember? Besides, we still have the house.”

“Right.” Dazai helped him up, and they started walking home. “We still have the house. You still have the Flags.”

“No one’s gonna be left alone.”

Dazai nodded, smiling for real this time. “Right. I’ll tell the others then.”

—-

“I’m not switching labels.”

Dazai had already convinced Ryuunosuke and Kyuusaku, the two he thought he would struggle with. Never did he imagine that Gin would be the one to refuse.

“C’mon, Gin. You’ll still see Tachihara-”

“It won’t be the same!” She shouted from her room, where she had locked herself in to block out Dazai. “He’s my partner!”

“I know he’s your boyfriend.” He rolled his eyes, sighing in frustration. “But switching labels won’t change that.”

“That’s not what I mean! We’ve been singing together since we were twelve!” She finally opened the door. “I wanna keep singing with him.”

He thought for a moment, thinking of the time he spent working with Chuuya. If he had been told to switch labels during that time, while they were partners like Gin and Tachihara are, then he’d refuse just like she is. He gave in. “Alright, you can stay with Port Records. But you’re not leaving this house, got it?”

She smiled, hugging him. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

—-

Chuuya had made a promise to Dazai.

He would stay at Port Records, but also stick by him. Their family wouldn’t change.

But he had to break that promise.

Dazai was happy at Agency Records. Chuuya couldn’t risk that, not with his deep connections to Port Records.

Gin was fine, since technically she was partnered with Port Records. Her contract didn’t tie her to the boss. He wasn’t in charge of her or what she did, he just got a cut of the money in exchange for supporting her.

But Chuuya’s contract was different.

He was bound to Port Records for another four years before it expired. And yes, he could easily cancel it and get out of the contract, but only if he was going to leave. In order to stay with Kouyou and the Flags, he needed that contract.

Additionally, he’s been getting more and more work from the boss as of late. He wasn’t dumb enough to ignore the clear signs going on there.

The more work the boss gave to Chuuya, more was expected of his behaviour. If he stayed near Dazai, then the boss would take advantage of that to get Dazai back.

Chuuya couldn’t let that happen. Not when Dazai finally found a place to be safe and happy. A place where he could stop…

He couldn’t risk hurting Dazai.

—-

“Hey, slug.”

Dazai knocked on the door to Chuuya’s room.

“Breakfast is ready.”

No answer.

He knocked again. And again. Repeatedly on and on until five minutes had passed. Then he opened the door.

To an empty room.

Chapter Text

C&E Essay: What Influenced Chuuya Nakahara’s Rise as One of the Most Important Japanese Poets?

Chuuya Nakahara- born as Chuuya Kashimura- was a poet in the Showa era, Japan. Born to a wealthy family, he was expected to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a doctor, but instead dedicated his life to poetry and the Dadaist movement. What led this wealthy heir, who was often regarded as a child prodigy and a genius, to throw it all away for the sake of a much harder life as a poet? It was the abuse he faced from his parents, the deaths of his loved ones, and influences of the Dadaist movement that led Nakahara to dedicate his life to poetry.

The first thing that led Nakahara to become a poet was the strict rules and abuse he faced from his parents growing up. Nakahara was their first child after six years of trying to have kids, which led them not only to have extreme expectations of him, but also to be incredibly overprotective. He was not allowed to spend much time with his friends, and was strictly forbidden from interacting with children of other classes. This led him to find solace in poetry, his only outlet to express how he felt. Additionally, the punishments of his parents were extreme. “His punishments for minor offences included burning his feet with cigarette embers and making him sleep out in the barn in the cold winter nights” (Nath). This led Nakahara to act out against his parents, openly rebelling against their expectations. The rest of his life reflected this as he was infamous for starting drunken bar fights. He was also known as a rather violent individual, a notable example being his bitter relationship with the author Osamu Dazai, who despised him ever since Nakahara began to openly bully him. Nakahara even broke into his house as he was asleep to ridicule him. Another moment that defines this was his encounter with another author, Ango Sakaguchi. Nakahara, as he was drunk, attempted to start a fight with Sakaguchi. However, after realising the extreme difference in height between the two, he resorted to throwing fake punches from a meter away before sitting back down and leaving the man alone. It is said that in his youth, after purposely failing one of his yearly exams at school, he invited a friend over as he paraded around his room, tearing up his answer sheet and cheering. This deeply humiliated his father, who sent him away to Kyoto to live alone as he finished his education. It was there that he encountered the people who would most influence his future as a poet.

Another main cause that brought Nakahara to poetry were the deaths of his loved ones. The first of these was the death of his younger brother, Tsuguro. Nakahara was only eight at the time, and since he was isolated from other children growing up, the death of his brother severely impacted him. It was his brother’s death that led to Nakahara writing his first poems in elementary school. It was during this time that he also began submitting his works to local magazines and newspapers, though he faced a lot of rejections throughout the course of his life. Much later in his life, the death of his firstborn son, Fumiya, threw him into a deep grief that would last until the end of his life. It was this death that inspired what is perhaps his most famous poem, “Spring will come again.” In this poem, he details how despite the returning of the seasons, particularly spring, his son would never return. This comparison of two things that are usually constant in one’s life truly shows how pained he was at the loss of his firstborn. This can be seen in all his poems written following the death of his son. He often writes of a dull sorrow and deep-set despair that caused feelings of hopelessness in the poet’s life.

Finally, the influences of the Dadaist movement shaped Nakahara’s writing style to be unique. The poets who most influenced him were Japanese poet Shinkichi Takahashi and the French poets Paul Verlaine and Arthur Rimbaud (it should also be mentioned that he made a hobby of translating the poems of these two from French to Japanese, earning him the nickname “Japanese Rimbaud”). The influences of Verlaine and Rimbaud went past his poetry, and was evident everywhere from the way he dressed to what he studied in school. He even dropped out of the preparatory course he was taking to study French literature, without his parents’ consent. His writing style can be clearly defined by the breaking of traditional Japanese Haiku and Tanka through constant variations in the usual counts. This gave his works a certain music-like quality that led many of his works to be adapted into songs. As a clearer sign of Dadaist influence, his works also possess many elaborate metaphors that seem confusing until given further thought. A notable example for this is his work titled “A Bone” where the opening verse states:

Look at this, it’s my bone,
a tip of bone torn from its flesh,
filthy, filled up with woes,
it’s the days of our lives
sticking out, a blunt bone
bleached by the rain. (Nakahara)

Though this seems confusing at first, a deeper look at the poem, put into the context of Nakahara’s life, will reveal its meaning. The bone represents the person he has become, as he stands in a third person view of his own life. The poem describes a separation between the personality he expresses for others and the person he really is. He also shares his hatred for this fake personality as he goes on to call it “stupid” and question its validity.

Nakahara died in October, 1937 at the young age of thirty after completing more than 350 works. Ironically, it was the same disease that killed his son which also killed him. Nakahara faced many challenges throughout his life, starting as a wealthy child prodigy and ending as a grief-stricken poet. The clearest causes of this change were his parents’ strict rules and abuse, the deaths of his loved ones and the influences of the Dadaist movement.

Chapter Text

"-and this is the break room." Odasaku- that's the nickname Kyuusaku had given Oda when they met- had just finished giving Dazai and Ryuu a tour of the agency. It was, after all, their first official day there. "Any questions?"

"Yes." At least Ryuunosuke was focused. All Dazai could think about was that damned empty room…

Ryuu asked, "Why are you poor?"

Oda stood in shock for a moment. “Pardon?”

“You have like, three recording studios and one is more of a break room. And your editing space is communal. Communal. How the hell do you expect to get anything done?”

“Teamwork, associative efforts, and communication.” Odasaku gave him a straight answer, causing Dazai to burst into a fit of laughter.

Both Odasaku and Ryuunosuke turned to him, confused. Odasaku asked, “Is something funny?”

Dazai shook his head, forcing himself to stop. He shouldn’t be laughing. Not now. Not in this place.

“It’s nothing.”

Odasaku said a few more words which he did not care to listen to, before splitting off to do some paperwork. Meanwhile Ryuunosuke went to answer a phone call, probably from Gin.

He caught the eye of a blonde girl around Ryuu’s age. Her hazel eyes had been watching Ryuu the whole time they were there.

“What’s with you?” He asked her, smirking slightly as he adjusted his mask. He loved Agency Records already, but he had to talk to that Yo-something about the disgusting air fresheners they used. Even more, the reason why a record company had a doctor on site was lost on him.

“N-nothing!” the girl stuttered, grabbing some papers and rushing off. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that his little Ryuu had an admirer.

A crashing sound from his right shocked him, but at least solved his questions about the doctor.

“Ranpo-kun!” The doctor, Yo-whatever came rushing out of her office to the boy who had fallen off his desk. “How many times have I told you to be more careful?”

“Sorry, Aki-kun.” The boy, Ranpo, followed the doctor to her office, blood coming from the side of his arms where he had crashed into a window.

It certainly was a lively place.

Well, since his work didn’t start until the afternoon, he may as well find something to do.

He found a bench just outside the building, pulling out his phone. His finger hovered over the call button by Chuuya’s contact. Of course, he had tried calling before, but every time he’d get hung up on.

So he figured he’d try again.

—-

Another call from Dazai.

Chuuya had already lied to everyone at Port Records, including the boss, saying that he and Dazai had a massive argument, leading them to block each other. But he never actually got around to blocking Dazai.

“Your phone is ringing again.”

Chuuya rolled his eyes, “I can see that, Verlaine.” He let his phone ring until it ended, continuing his work.

“Dazai again?”

Chuuya shook his head, lying. “It was spam.”

Verlaine sighed, “Just call him back. You can’t just push him away because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” he replied. “I just can’t risk anything for him.”

“He can handle himself, he’s a mature kid.”

“Just leave it!” He snapped, rushing out of the room.

“Someone’s pissy,” Chuuya heard Verlaine mutter just as he left. But he ignored him, storming off to wherever he wound up.

And that happened to be Dazai’s old office.

It was still empty.

Of course he knew that ahead of time. The boss insisted on leaving everything of Dazai’s exactly as he left it. He really believed Dazai would come back. It was weird.

But he still went inside, finding his favourite bean bag chair in the corner to sit. He stared at Dazai’s contact, one finger hovering over the “block” button. The world seemed to spin around him, but he dismissed it.

“Chuuya?” Gin entered the room.

“Oh,” he turned to face her. “Hey.”

“Sorry, I was just…” She picked up a CD- Dazai’s favourite, Ado’s songs from the One Piece Film. “He left this here.”

“Okay.” He turned back to face the wall again. Dazai had so many posters he left up. At first, it was mostly for Dazai’s own releases, but now they were layered over with releases from Ryuu, Gin and himself.

“So, see you around.”

She left.

She was angry with him for leaving.

Of course she was.

—

He spent about twenty minutes (i.e. two hours) in Dazai’s old studio before finally returning to his workspace with Verlaine. He was still light headed, but some water would fix that.

But he paused when he heard speaking.

“...he’s been down since his old partner left…”

That was Verlaine’s voice.

“Make sure it stays that way.”

That…was his dad’s voice.

He didn’t need to know anything else.

He stormed into the room, immediately going for Verlaine’s contract that bound him to their double single.

“Chuuya, what are you doing?!” Verlaine shouted, but Chuuya had already ran it through the shredder.

“Get out of my studio.”

“Chuuya, let’s talk about this,” Verlaine begged. “Please.”

“Get out…” he grabbed a wire cutter that he usually used for restringing guitars, his hands shaking an unusual amount as he lifted them to threaten Verlaine, “...of my studio.”

“Chuuya, are you-”

He felt the world fall to the side before everything went dark.

—-

“Chuuya?”

Lippman sat beside his hospital bed, one hand over Chuuya’s wrist, and he woke up.

“What…the-” he cursed.

“You passed out.” Pianoman was standing near the door, the rest of the Flags scattered about the room.

Iceman came forward, frowning when Doc snatched away the case of cigars he had pulled out. “You were overworking yourself. When was the last time you slept?”

Overwork. Just like his father. He was just like his stupid father- leaving Dazai, ignoring Gin and Ryuu, and now overworking himself to this point.

“Hey,” Albatross spoke this time. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing,” he scowled. “I have to finish our set for the next concert-”

Pianoman stopped him. “The next concert isn’t happening.”

Chuuya froze. “What?”

The others looked at each other awkwardly, before Pianoman finally explained. “We…The Flags…we’re breaking up.”

“No.” Chuuya sat up, shaking his head. “We are not breaking up! You can’t decide this without me!”

“Sorry Chuuya,” Lippman frowned. “It’s too late, we already announced it.”

“But why?” His voice broke, but he refused to cry.

“Doc finally got into med school,” Iceman began explaining. “Albatross is pursuing a solo career, Lippman is going into acting, and both Pianoman and I are going to be teachers at a highschool not far from here.”

“So,” Chuuya felt tears swelling in his eyes. Dammit. “You’re just going to leave me?”

“This is best for you,” Doc avoided eye contact. “You already have so much going on with your own career, we can’t help but feel some blame for you collapsing.”

“That’s not true!” He shouted, but he knew it was useless. He leaned against the pillows of the hospital bed. “Just… stay in contact, okay?”

“Of course,” Lippman said with a smile.

But Chuuya knew not to trust such a promise; he himself had broken it, after all.

—-

“Well if it isn’t my favourite former trainee.” Dazai smiled, standing next to Kyoka’s desk.

He had been surprised to see her here at first, but was glad when he heard from that glasses dude- Kunibeeguts or something- that she was here for extra credit at her music oriented school.

“Dazai-san!” The girl visibly brightened. She was still quiet as she was when they first met, but she seemed much more open now. “How are the others?”

“Well,” he leaned on her desk. “I haven’t seen Aya at all since then, Elise is doing great as always, and…” He trailed off. She didn’t know about Kyuu yet.

“What?” she asked, curious. She reminded him of a rabbit.

He decided to go with the truth. “Kyuusaku was abandoned by their parents that day. I took them in, so they’ve been staying with me. They’re happy though.”

“Oh,” she frowned, obviously saddened by Kyuu’s situation. “I’m glad they’re alright.”

“I’ll bring them by sometime,” Dazai smiled before being pulled away by Kunibeeguts.

He was brought to the meeting room, where there was a young boy close to Ryuu’s age. He had a terrible haircut, but was fine otherwise.

Kunibeeguts spoke, “This is your trainee now. Treat him well, and don’t do anything to harm the Agency's good name.” Then the man left. It was clear that Dazai wasn’t trusted, but did he care? Never.

“Hello there,” he spoke to the boy. “What’s your name?”

“Atsushi. Nakajima Atsushi.”

Chapter Text

“Uh… where are we going again?” Atsushi asked, following as Dazai led them around the city.

“To the movie theatre!” Dazai spun around dramatically. “They’re showing the full Pitch Perfect trilogy, and I’m gonna watch all of them.”

“Huh.” Atsushi kept walking. “I didn’t take you as the type of guy to like that.”

Dazai gasped in shock. “Anyone who doesn’t like Pitch Perfect needs to be kidnapped and sacrificed to the Aztecan gods, right now!”

“I meant movie theatres.”

Dazai tilted his head, slightly confused. “Why wouldn’t I like movie theatres?”

Atsushi gestured to his earplugs, then mask. “I just figured it’d be a lot for you.”

“Oh.” Dazai explained, “I guess it would be if I didn’t have the mask or earplugs. But I do, so I can pretty much handle it. I like movie theatres.”

His mind flashed to when he first ran away. He hid in an abandoned movie theatre for months until Mori discovered his songs online and came looking for him. Every night, he would start up the projector and play the few movies they had, Pitch Perfect being his favourite of them.

They kept walking until they finally reached the theatre.

“Oh, popcorn!” Atsushi smiled, going to the counter to get some as soon as they purchased tickets. “Want some?”

Dazai grimaced, shaking his head. “I’ll live without it.”

“Okay, weirdo.” He got his popcorn, then they headed for the theatre.

"You're really gonna eat all of that?" Dazai questioned, eyeing his large popcorn bucket with disgust.

"Yes." He took a handful of popcorn, somehow fitting it all in his mouth. Horrifying.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't just witness that." They found their seats just as the movie started.

The opening scene played, and Dazai still remembered it like the back of his hand. Chloe running through the hall, the senior Bellas calling her and Aubrey slut bags; just as much fun as it was before.

Dazai recited the lines along with the movie, "Seriously, you girls are awesome….ly horrible. I hate you. Kill yourselves. Sisters before misters!" Atsushi stared at Dazai like he was a freak, and Dazai knew he was one so he didn't mind.

Finally the Bellas started their number, and he could practically feel Atsushi cringing. If only he knew what was next.

The chorus hit, and so did Aubrey's nausea.

Atsushi turned away in disgust. "What the hell is this?"

—-

Chuuya made his way to the boss’s office, just as he had been doing every other day since he got out of the hospital. He didn’t bother with knocking anymore, the boss knew to expect him.

This time he was cut off by Elise who was just leaving her dad's office. She had a sad look on her face, and Chuuya knew exactly what that meant. He didn't bother stopping to comfort her, he knew she could handle herself.

"Boss."

He entered the office taking a seat across from him. Mori had his head down on the table, a bottle of vodka next to him. No cup, just the completely drained bottle of liquor.

Chuuya knew it would be like this, of course. Mori saw Dazai as his real son, even if Dazai never saw it. And it was the same for Akutagawa, and eventually Kyuusaku. Having all three of them leave out of the blue took a huge toll on him. So now, Chuuya and Gin took turns visiting to make sure he didn't do anything stupid like…well, this.

He took the liquor bottle, tossing it away, then called Mori's personal assistant. Once he was safely guided back to his home, he sat down and started going through his paperwork. He was incredibly behind. Gin didn't know how to do most of the boss’s paperwork, but luckily Chuuya had learned from Dazai before he left. Anytime he didn't know how to do something, he just called Kouyou-san for assistance.

He was pretty resourceful when he wanted to be.

—-

"Man that was so good!" Dazai stretched as he and Atsushi left the theatre.

"That was horse****," Atsushi cursed.

"You cried at the end, you softy." Dazai poked his arm in the most annoying manner possible.

"I never said I didn't like it."

Dazai smirked, "See? You should trust me more often."

"I've known you for like, two weeks."

"But I've known your sister for a while now."

"Kyouka? You know her from one camp that happened, like, a year ago. And back then her parents hadn't even adopted me yet," Atsushi argued.

Dazai shrugged, "Tomato, potato."

"That's not how the phrase goes!"

Atsushi rambled on, but Dazai had already stopped paying attention. He was distracted by a flash of red hair in the store they had just passed.

He turned around, heading into the store before Atsushi could ask what he was doing.

“Slug!” He called out, trapping Chuuya in a corner before he could run off.

Chuuya turned, shocked, then glared at Dazai. “What do you want, stupid mackerel?”

“Oh, no.” Dazai ignored as Atsushi rushed to find him in the store. “No! You don’t get to be mad at me! I’m not the one who left!”

“Ever consider that I left for a reason!” Chuuya yelled. “I’m tired of your crap!”

“What crap?” Dazai pushed Atsushi back as he tried to talk to him. “I’ve never done anything wrong to you!”

“It’s not about me! It’s about what you do to yourself!” Chuuya grabbed Dazai’s wrist, making sure Dazai could see the fresh bandages on it. “I’m tired of it!”

“So am I!” Dazai was practically crying now. “That’s why I left Port Records!”

“Leaving a home that loves you isn’t gonna do crap for you!” Chuuya knew Dazai wouldn’t understand him. After all, he had no idea what had happened to Mori since he left. But he didn’t care. He was pissed off. “When will you realise that you are the problem!?”

Dazai didn’t respond to that, his face frozen in confusion and hurt.

Chuuya took the opportunity to run off, knocking into Atsushi as he did.

It totally wasn’t on purpose.

Chapter Text

“Chuuya-kun.”

Kouyou stood at the door to his office just as he returned from his shopping.

“What’s up, Kouyou-san?” He adjusted his hat.

She sighed, taking a seat in Chuuya’s office. “Don’t you think it’s high time you gave up on this whole stubborn streak and joined Dazai again?”

“Pardon?” He took a seat of his own, getting defensive.

“The Flags are gone. Verlaine is gone.” Kouyou explained, “You have no reason to stay here anymore.”

“Yes I do,” he fought back. “Mori. Gin. Tachihara.”

“All of whom you would still see after switching labels and going back home.”

“I’m not leaving.” He stormed out of his office.

He had been doing that quite often lately.

—-

Ranpo didn’t know Dazai very well.

Of course, there were many reasons for this.

He mostly worked alone due to his impeccable genius, whereas Dazai was new and still being trained under Oda.

There was also the boss’ decision about the two.

The boss knew how defensive Dazai is, and as a result, how delicate he could be. On the other hand, Ranpo with his combination of genius and autism was prone to accidentally offending people with his observations.

They couldn’t risk that with Dazai.

So they were kept separate for the time being.

But that didn’t mean Ranpo wasn’t intrigued by the other boy.

He already had him figured out.

He knew about his family, his relationships from Port Records, and about his self-harming habits.

And he knew right away when he returned from the movie theatre that he was about to reinstate those habits.

Ranpo is the genius of the Agency, the reason it exists. Because of that, he has an obligation to protect its members.

Which was why he had a plan to end this whole drama between Dazai and his ginger friend.

—-

Chuuya woke up in his trashed apartment, turning on the news first thing as he got ready for work.

“...Port Records is now left without a leader.”

What?

The news was covering Port Records, saying that Mori was forced out as boss.

Apparently someone had leaked a bunch of scandals he had been involved in.

He rushed to the office, skipping breakfast and his morning coffee, finding the boss’ office empty.

Completely empty.

It wasn’t a lie.

“Chuuya-kun.” Kouyou came up from behind him. “Come to my office. I’ll explain things.”

—-

Dazai recognised that contact. He just never thought he’d see it again.

—-
[Slug]: Hey, can we talk?
—-