Chapter Text
This must be the work of an ability, Chuuya thinks, looking at the image — rather, the person — before him, because it can’t be a dream. There’s no other explanation for why he would be here.
Staring evenly at him is a version of himself that Chuuya hasn’t seen — been, rather — in ten years, and all he can think about is how… hopeless his eighteen year old self looks. There are dark bags under his eyes, and his gaze looks vacant, far away. He reeks of alcohol, too, and there are bloodstains on his jacket and jeans.
The realization that he knows the exact day he must be meeting his past self on hits him like a truck.
It takes longer than it should for his past self to finally notice him, blinking wide, hazy blue eyes in Chuuya’s (the current one, anyway) direction. As soon as he does, he appears to sober up in an instant, his body jerking violently as if he’s been tased.
“… who are you?” He finally breathes, his voice little more than a trembling whisper, still staring with a fawn-like expression current-Chuuya was unaware he could make until right now. But, if current-Chuuya is correct on what day past-Chuuya must currently be experiencing, then it’s really no surprise why he’s acting this way; the normal, sober him from ten years ago would have immediately launched into an interrogation - most certainly an aggressive one, too - and likely would’ve assumed current-Chuuya to either be some kind of impostor, or the work of an ability user.
But he is clearly neither normal, nor sober, right now.
Keeping that in mind, current-Chuuya takes a breath, debating on how to respond. Finally, he answers:
“Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out already. Surely we’re not that dumb.”
Past-Chuuya takes a wobbly step back. For a split second, current-Chuuya fears that he’ll fall, and his paternal instinct nearly overwhelms him with the urge to rush forward and grab him, but then past-Chuuya rights himself, and the fear subsides.
“… you’re- me,” past-Chuuya finally says. The fawn-like expression on his face doesn’t change, his eyes only growing wider as he stares at current-Chuuya. “There’s- there’s no way, you can’t…”
He trails off, looking from left to right at their surroundings; current-Chuuya recognizes them as his living room, but the scenery must be wildly unfamiliar to his past self.
“This is wrong,” past-Chuuya confirms only a moment after current-Chuuya’s thought has finished. “I’m not supposed to be here right now, I- I’m supposed to be at the hospital right now, with- with my-”
Current-Chuuya’s expression softens as the teen confirms his initial suspicions, too. So I’m looking at myself from that night.
He hasn’t thought about that night in May of 1995 in this much detail in a very long time, but now… now, he remembers everything. Every panicked emotion, every thought, everything he did and everything he said to himself, too. Even now that he knows the outcome of that situation, it only barely numbs the pain.
“I shouldn’t be here,” past-Chuuya repeats, turning away from his current self and starting to wander aimlessly through the living room, as if he’s not really sure of what he’s doing (and perhaps he isn’t, current-Chuuya thinks, what with all of the alcohol he’s ingested). “I- I need to go back, to the hospital- what if they wake up without me, they’ll think I left, I- what if-”
His voice drops. “What if they don’t ever wake up?”
“They will, and they do,” current-Chuuya says, his own voice soft. “Trust me, I know.”
“You can’t know!”
Past-Chuuya whirls back around, his eyes blazing with anger now. “There’s no way you could possibly know that. You’re just an illusion trying to trick me!”
Current-Chuuya lets out a soft, dry laugh. “You know, I thought the same thing about you, when I first saw you a few minutes ago, so I get where you’re comin’ from, at least.” Past-Chuuya doesn’t budge, still bristling, hackles raised despite that look still on his face. “But, if you’d like, I can prove to you that I’m not an illusion, or a fake.”
“Then do it.”
Current-Chuuya sighs, looks away from his past self as he gathers the thoughts - and the courage - in his head to say what he needs to.
“About three weeks ago,” he finally starts, voice heavy, “you and that shitty mackerel Dazai got assigned to work a case from the Don. Low-ranking grunts were turning up dead in ways so gruesome, it still makes me - you - sick to think about sometimes, and we all needed to know why. So you two got assigned to the case, to get it solved as quickly as possible, and destroy the one responsible with extreme prejudice. Sounds right so far?”
Shock passes through past-Chuuya’s eyes, but still, he doesn’t waver. “Anyone could know that.”
“I’m aware of that. Just be patient for once in your damn life,” current-Chuuya mutters. “You didn’t think it’d be that dangerous or complicated at first, and neither did your partner.”
Current-Chuuya’s lips twist into a frown as he looks back up at his past self. “But the days wore on. By the end of week one, you’d seen more mangled bodies and bloated corpses pulled out of the river. Despite your efforts, the killer kept going, right under your nose, and the violence was escalating. Worst of all, you noticed Dazai starting to get rattled, too. By the second week, neither of you were sleeping. You kept going back to the crime scenes, with and without Dazai, wondering what you missed, where you might’ve gone wrong. Hell, you even went to Paul and Arthur for help, because you thought it might be the work of some assassin, but even they couldn’t help you.”
His tone and expression darken as further shock unfolds on his past self’s face:
“That’s when it happened, three days ago from tonight. You and Dazai were pouring over every iota of evidence, trying to find anything that made sense, that you might’ve missed, but nothing turned up… at least, not for you. Dazai got a call right in the middle of your conversation, and-“
Current-Chuuya swallows something bitter in the back of his throat. Even now that he knows the full story of what happened that night, he can’t stop the old feelings from welling up inside of him.
“You’d never seen a look like that on Dazai’s face before. Before you could ask him what was going on, he was gone, taking off into the night. You got pissed, and screamed something after him. Do you remember?”
Past-Chuuya stares right through current-Chuuya. They both know he does. They both know this is killing him.
“You said: Well, fuck you, then, you stupid bastard! And then you shut the door.”
Acid turns current-Chuuya’s stomach.
“And that’s the last time you, or anybody else from the Port Mafia, saw him.”
“Keep going,” past-Chuuya whispers. “Keep going. You’re not done yet. That was three days ago. You’re not done until you get to tonight.”
Current-Chuuya shoots past-Chuuya a sad look that he doesn’t see, because he’s still not looking at him, he’s looking through him, past him, at something neither of them can truly see.
He continues:
“You didn’t think anything of it until Mori called you an hour later. He said that Dazai and two of his friends - Oda Sakunosuke, and Sakaguchi Ango - were all missing, as well as five orphans Oda had taken in in secret after the Dragon’s Head Conflict two years prior. Nobody knew where they’d gone, and nobody could contact them, either. When he sent men to scope out the restaurant where the kids had been kept, all they found was the shop owner mauled to death, and too much blood to mean anything good.”
Past-Chuuya’s hands curl and clench into fists, and his breathing gets harsher. Still, current-Chuuya pushes on:
“For three long hours, you, Mori, and everyone else thought they were all dead. You started wondering where Dazai’s body could be, if it would be found with the others, if you’d be pulling it in parts or in one whole piece out of the Yokohama bay, and if he’d have a smile on his face when you did, ‘cause he’d finally gotten what he wanted, after all. You thought- you hoped that if his face was still intact, he’d be smiling, because you didn’t know if you’d be able to take seeing his face twisted in fear like so many of the others you’d already seen. On top of all of that, you had to make peace with the fact that the last words you ever said to him were just- nothing. Meaningless words, screamed in anger into the night. Even if he hadn’t heard them, you had, and that’s what mattered.”
Current-Chuuya pauses, letting the words sink in for both of them.
“And then your fucking car exploded. That’s when you knew: not only was that bastard alive, but he’d- he was gone. He left, and didn’t even have the balls to tell you that he had, or why. You were angry, angrier than you’ve ever been, and so you went to Mori, expecting something - anything - to happen, expecting for him to tell you to hunt him down, hunt them all down for being traitors, but… he didn’t. He didn’t tell you to do anything, except to stand down. To leave him be.”
“I got so drunk,” past-Chuuya says in a watery laugh. “I was mad at everybody.”
“And you had the right to,” current-Chuuya says. “You had the right to tonight, too.”
Past-Chuuya laughs, then sniffs, swaying on his feet. “Keep going.”
Current-Chuuya swallows, his throat growing dry as he realizes where this leaves him in the story.
“And so that brings us to tonight. Three days after all of that. Everyone knew that- Dazai, Oda, and Sakaguchi had to have fought the original killer - the Yokohama Mob Killer - but nobody knew what’d happened to him, if he was still in the country, or even still alive. After Dazai left, the killings didn’t start again, so… everyone assumed the bastard had skipped town when his plan to kill him failed.”
Past-Chuuya’s eyes grow vacant again as current-Chuuya continues: “And then, today, everyone learned the truth.”
“I thought they were dead,” past-Chuuya whispers. “When I walked into the pool hall, I- there was so much blood.”
“I know,” current-Chuuya whispers back.
“I held ‘Tross while we waited for the medical transport van, I- I thought he was gonna die in my arms.”
“I know.”
“I- I-”
Past-Chuuya wipes furiously at his eyes, then says through clenched teeth: “This- this is all my fault. It’s all my fault, I- never should’ve taken that damn case. That- that Mob Killer bastard came back, and when he couldn’t find Dazai, he went after me, and when he couldn’t find me, he- he went after my friends, my family.”
He cries out in anguish: “They wouldn’t have been targeted if it wasn’t for me!”
Without thinking, current-Chuuya closes the distance between the two of them and settles his hand on past-Chuuya’s shoulder, squeezing firmly.
“Hey, kid, listen to me,” he says, voice soft yet steady, “Even if that were true, even if this is your fault, that doesn’t matter, alright? You’re the reason they’re still alive.”
Past-Chuuya looks up at his current self with tears in his eyes, staining his cheeks, angry streams cutting paths through his freckles, “But they never would’ve had to be saved if it weren’t for me! They’re never gonna be the same again, and it’s my fault!”
Current-Chuuya bites down hard on his lower lip, before he says, “You’re right, they’re never gonna be the same again, but listen: that’s fine. It won’t be at first, no, it’ll be hard as hell. There’s gonna be nights where all of you are gonna wish you hadn’t shown up, and those nights won’t end for years.”
“Then what’s the point?” Past-Chuuya chokes out. “What’s the fucking point in saving them if all they’re gonna wanna do is die, just like he did?!”
“The point,” current-Chuuya says, taking hold of both of his past self’s shoulders now and looking at him evenly, “The point is that it doesn’t last forever.”
“Don’t quote some stupid self-help bullshit at me,” past-Chuuya growls.
“I’m not,” current-Chuuya murmurs. “Who do you think I am, exactly? If I’m you, but not the you from right now, then who must I be?”
“You- you’re- me, you’re me, but you’re older,” past-Chuuya says, his eyes trying desperately to focus on what’s in front of him, “So- you’re me, from- from the future?”
Current-Chuuya nods. “That’s how I knew who you were right away, what you were going through right now. And you know me - I mean, we’re the same person - I’m not gonna lie to somebody to make ‘em feel better or anything stupid like that. Right?”
Past-Chuuya nods shakily. “Right.”
“So you know that I’m not lying, then. Things change, they change a lot, from where you are now to where I am now.” Current-Chuuya lets out a little laugh. “They’re all married now, y’know.”
Past-Chuuya blinks. “To who?”
“To the only other people in the world who could ever put up with their bullshit every day.”
He thinks about it for a moment, then shakes his head. “No way. All five? Together?”
“Yeah, I know, it’s insane,” current-Chuuya sighs. “I dunno how much of this you’ll remember, but just in case you happen to remember anything, I’ll just tell you that the reception for that wedding’s gonna be a shitshow, so bring a change of clothes.”
“Married… wedding…” Past-Chuuya repeats, almost as if in a daze. “Y’know what, if that’s the craziest thing that happens in the future, I think I’ll be alright.”
You’re gonna wish it was, current-Chuuya thinks, and despite wanting to say it out loud, he keeps it in his head. “Well, you know what they say about what comes after marriage…”
A look of what can only be described as pure, unadulterated terror crosses past-Chuuya’s face. “You’re fuckin’ with me- they have kids? How many?”
“You’re better off not knowing,” current-Chuuya sighs. “Trust me on that one.”
Silence stretches between them for a moment. Then, cautiously, past-Chuuya asks:
“What about me? Do I get to be happy, too?”
From the way he says it, current-Chuuya can tell his past self isn’t expecting much, and yet… he still asks. There is still hope within him.
Current-Chuuya smiles. He turns the wedding ring on his finger with his opposite hand idly. “Yeah. Yeah, you do. You get to be happier than you ever thought you could be, kid.”
The fawn-like look returns to past-Chuuya’s face as he looks at his current self, eyes glassy. “Really?”
Current-Chuuya nods. They both stand in silence, before suddenly, past-Chuuya rushes forward, wrapping his arms around his current self in a crushing hug and burying his face in his chest. Current-Chuuya is only caught off-guard for a moment, before he smiles, wrapping his arms around his past self in return.
“When you get back to where you’re from,” current-Chuuya murmurs when his past self lets go of him a few seconds later, “If you remember this… make sure to give your Mori a hug, too. He needs it more than you know right now.”
Past-Chuuya blinks at him. “He won’t be upset?”
“Nah. He’ll probably cry, though.”
“Well… yeah, okay. I guess I can do that.”
Past-Chuuya looks over his shoulder, then sighs. They can both feel tug on their souls right now, climbing through their body and spreading, an inescapable urge. Whatever effect they’re both under must be ready to wear off.
“How long do I have to wait?” Past-Chuuya finally asks. “For it to get better, I mean.”
Current-Chuuya laughs. “Kid, you don’t wait for shit to get better. You go out there and you make it better.”
—
When Chuuya wakes up next to Albatross’s hospital bed, he finds that his boss hasn’t left the room; instead, he stands in the corner of it, the dark bags under his eyes telling a familiar story.
“Make sure to give your Mori a hug, too. He needs it more than you know right now.”
Though Chuuya doesn’t remember where the advice came from, or who might’ve said it to him, he listens anyway, wrapping his arms tight around Ougai - the mob boss who, for just one night, has returned to his roots as a doctor to save the lives of his friends - and hugging him.
They both pretend not to notice the cold teardrops that fall to the younger’s scalp.