Chapter Text
Chuuya came back when Mori sent him a text, saying that Dazai needed to be picked up. That was unusual in itself. Ordinarily, Dazai would disappear for a couple days.
Chuuya wasn’t stupid; he knew that Dazai was getting more than a slap on the wrist. He knew that Dazai was desperately trying to keep him from knowing how bad it was. And he hated that he went along with it. Hated that he let Dazai keep taking the falls for him. He hated Mori, for forcing him to have some sick kind of control over his partner. Hated Mori for forcing him to hand that control right over to him, to do what he wanted with. To control Dazai like some kind of doll. He hated it.
But, as always, Dazai was right. Chuuya had people he needed to protect. Mori had even casually mentioned Kouyou one time. Chuuya left work that day from the gym, his knuckles bloody. So Chuuya swallowed down the bitter feeling in his throat, and closed the door in his mind to what was happening.
He thought that was the only way he could manage.
He knocked on the door to Mori's infirmary, a room off of his office but still connected to the main hallway, dreading what he would see.
There was no response. Chuuya knocked again. Nothing.
Deciding he really didn’t give a fuck if he was interrupting something, he shouldered the door open. Immediately, his eyes were drawn to red. Red, red, red, red—
“What the fuck?!”
There was blood splattered over the floor, trails of it running towards—was that a drain? And, of course, Dazai was covered in red, too. Chuuya couldn’t help thinking of corruption looking at his partner curled in the center of the room, blood smearing his face, fresh streaks smeared across his chin. His bandages were wrapped all the way around his face, covering both of his eyes.
Chuuya ran forward, dropping to his knees beside Dazai. “Dazai! Dazai, come on, you stupid mackerel, wake up!”
Dazai stiffened in his grasp, and Chuuya cringed. “I didn’t mean that,” he breathed, “You don’t have to wake up.” His stomach twisted as Dazai relaxed slightly.
Commands had been a trial-and-error process. He and Dazai had had to have a long discussion—one that Dazai had managed to escape multiple times before Chuuya had managed to duct tape him to a sofa—about what constituted a command. Dazai had said intention was important, but Chuuya was still struggling to differentiate what he wanted to happen from forcing it to happen. Dazai had teased him that he didn’t have the brains to get the difference; Chuuya had thrown him into a wall.
“Damn it, mackerel.” He gathered Dazai up in his arms. Dazai winced as Chuuya no doubt pulled on his wounds. “I'm going to kill him,” Chuuya growled, his fury overtaking his horror now that he had Dazai safe in his arms.
Dazai stiffened, putting a shaky hand up to pull on Chuuya's shirt. He opened his mouth, something garbled coming out, then closed it, apparently opting to shake his head wearily.
“Dazai- OW!” Chuuya shouted, nearly dropping Dazai as the bandaged bastard pinched him, hard. “The fuck was that for?!”
Dazai shook his head again, rather frantically, and Chuuya cursed. “Fine,” he said, turning around stiffly. “Let’s just- go home.”
Dazai tried not to wince as Chuuya carried him, covered in a coat, through the mafia building. He tried not to hide his face in Chuuya's shoulder, telling himself that the reason was that he didn’t want to appear weak. But he knew the real reason; he was scared of the being that held his leash. It was times like this that his instincts got the better of him, when he was too exhausted to hide his weakness behind a mask of strength, making him dread the god that dwelt inside his chibi, despite knowing his chibi was safe.
He was, right?
Dazai recoiled at the thought, of course the chibi was safe. He must be weaker than he imagined if he was doubting his dog.
“Get a car,” Chuuya ordered someone gruffly.
Dazai's injuries twinged as they walked, each bump feeling as though it were reopening every cut along his arms. At least he wouldn’t need to worry about biting his tongue, he thought hysterically.
“You don’t need a tongue to do your duties.”
Searing pain, repeated every couple days as his tongue grew back, over and over and over until his tongue had lost sensation. It had taken years to regain those nerves.
He shook his head slightly as Chuuya jostled him, bending down before sitting. A car door shut, and they were moving.
“Suiting that the fox can only whimper now.”
Chuuya didn’t say a thing. Dazai was simultaneously grateful that whoever was driving wouldn’t know how pathetic Dazai was, and feeling increasingly anxious. Without Chuuya's voice grounding him he kept drifting, confusing the past with the present.
“What do you think you're looking at?
Nothing, he desperately tried to say, but his tongue wasn’t working. Nothing, I wasn’t –
“Looking at me with those lustful eyes, who do you think you are, you fox?
A delicate hand grasped his face far more tightly than they looked they could; there would undoubtedly be indents from her nails.
“We have a mission in a few days, apparently we’ve got to get rid of some new gang that’s selling on our land,” Chuuya's voice filtered through, and Dazai focused on it, relief flooding his veins as the ghosts shied away. “It’s gonna be way too easy, what's the point of sending us? From their patterns they’re just a bunch of dense shits. I bet Gin could take them all on alone and not break a fucking sweat, and she’s still in training.”
Dazai soaked up his partner’s words, his shoulders untensing slowly.
It was okay. His chibi was here. He would keep him safe.
Dazai must have dissociated, because the next thing he knew he was sitting on something hard and cold. Before he could panic, Chuuya's voice spoke, “We’re back at my apartment, in the bathroom.”
Dazai nodded, suppressing a wince as Chuuya peeled his shirt from his skin.
“Damn it Dazai, why didn’t-” Chuuya cut himself off, pausing in his ministrations as he took a deep breath. “This better not fucking happen again, asshole.”
Just call me to pick you up; don’t deal with this on your own.
Dazai shrugged slightly, then yelped when Chuuya roughly yanked his pants off.
‘My, Chuuya, take me to dinner first,’ Dazai attempted to say, but, of course, it came out as gargled noises.
“Don’t look at me like that, you bandaged bastard.”
Dazai chuckled slightly, lifting a heavy arm to point at his bandaged eyes.
I can’t look at anything, stupid chibi.
“Yeah, what's up with that? Some new fashion statement? One eye wasn’t enough, you had to go for two?”
Dazai huffed a laugh. Chuuya had gotten up, stepping around Dazai to presumably turn the shower on.
“Also, your voice is even more shit than usual.”
What happened? Why can’t you speak?
Dazai stiffened. He really didn’t want to answer that.
“Dazai?”
He shrugged his shoulders, turning his head away from Chuuya's voice.
“I can still kick you out. I don’t give a shit if you're naked in the hallway; it won’t be my problem.”
I'm not letting this go.
Dazai sighed through his nose. Then beckoned Chuuya to come closer. When his footsteps stopped, Dazai opened his mouth.
“… Gaping at me doesn’t answer my question,” Chuuya growled. “Just spit it out—I mean," he backtracked. Dazai flinched as he felt the brush of a retracted command. “Sorry, I didn’t- shit.”
Dazai took a shuddering breath, trying to keep his mind present. With a shaky hand, he pointed in his mouth.
He could practically feel Chuuya's confusion as he bent over.
He could practically feel Chuuya freeze.
“That bastard,” Chuuya snarled.
Dazai closed his mouth, shrugging again, trying not to let the embarrassment show on what of his face wasn’t wrapped in gauze.
“But- but he cut out your damn tongue, how are you so calm about this?!”
Dazai flinched, his heart fluttering as his instincts whispered of angry masters. But he held his ground. This was Chuuya, not some faceless god.
Chuuya must have realized that he had scared Dazai, as he softened his voice considerably; the consideration sat like acid in Dazai's throat. “It’s something to do with being a kitsune, isn’t it?”
Dazai nodded, holding up a finger, trying to tell Chuuya that he would be ok in a day. His tongue would have grown back, benefit of not being a human like his little chibi. He would be fine. He had to be.
“Sure, why not, you freaky fuck,” Chuuya grumbled. There was some shifting. “I'm going to help you into the shower now,” he warned.
Dazai nodded tiredly, repressing a flinch as hands – hands, hands grabbing him, pulling him, hurting – helped him stand on wobbly feet. He followed Chuuya blindly, stepping over where Chuuya said was the lip of the shower. Warm water washed over his skin and he focused on the stinging from his cuts.
“How’s the water?”
Dazai would have rolled his eyes if he could, instead settling for mockingly moving his hand as though it were speaking. Fortunately, the message seemed to have gotten across as Chuuya growled, “Fuck off, I'm just being a decent partner.”
Dazai held up his other hand, it too moving as though it were speaking.
“Last time I help you. Maybe I’ll just turn the water to cold and then leave you here.”
Dazai only started to open and close his mouth as well, calling his chibi’s bluff.
“FUCK OFF!”
Dinner passed rather uneventfully.
“Stop flicking food at me, you skinny-ass fuck!” Chuuya screeched as Dazai threw another piece of unappealing food at Chuuya. Judging from his scream of rage, Dazai had hit the mark. Dazai cackled. Really, it was the chibi’s own fault; making so much noise made it far too easy to aim at him, even blind.
Getting ready for bed also passed calmly.
“Stop staring at me while I’m fucking naked! And how are you managing to stare directly at me?! I thought you were blind you piece of shit!”
Dazai hummed approvingly, holding a hand to his chin in consideration as he stared unseeingly at where Chuuya was changing. Dazai let out a screech when a pillow hit him in the face.
Sleeping… that was a little more difficult.
“I'm sorry,” he pleaded, “I'm sorry, please forgive me, please, please master—”
Ş̸̺͔͈̦̹̥̹̝̭͍͌͌̄̋͠h̷̨͈͍̯̟̞̻̗̳͎̿̄̍͗͒͜ǫ̷̢̠͔̜̭̗̩̳̩̘̟̊͘r̸̛̘̟̪̲̰͉̖̰̱̃͂̉̐̎͒͂̈́̔̋̈́̽̂͌͜o̶̮̎ slapped his hands away from where they were grasping at his hakama. “I ordered you not to offend our guest, and you stared at her like some lecherous pig!”
“I didn’t, I—” Shuuji grunted as Ş̸̺͔͈̦̹̥̹̝̭͍͌͌̄̋͠h̷̨͈͍̯̟̞̻̗̳͎̿̄̍͗͒͜ǫ̷̢̠͔̜̭̗̩̳̩̘̟̊͘r̸̛̘̟̪̲̰͉̖̰̱̃͂̉̐̎͒͂̈́̔̋̈́̽̂͌͜o̶̮̎ kicked him.
“Are you saying you know better than the Goddess of Wisdom herself?! You insolent brat!”
Shuuji curled in on himself as Ş̸̺͔͈̦̹̥̹̝̭͍͌͌̄̋͠h̷̨͈͍̯̟̞̻̗̳͎̿̄̍͗͒͜ǫ̷̢̠͔̜̭̗̩̳̩̘̟̊͘r̸̛̘̟̪̲̰͉̖̰̱̃͂̉̐̎͒͂̈́̔̋̈́̽̂͌͜o̶̮̎ continued to kick him. He really had messed up this time. He had just glanced up at her, just for a moment, out of curiosity. He hadn’t expected her to be looking directly back at him.
“I'm sorry,” he begged, sobbing. “Please, I'm sorry, never again, I won’t – I didn’t mean to, I'm sorry master, please.”
“Lies!” his master thundered, the air around them turning staticky as his anger seeped into the space around him. His master took a deep breath. “You have embarrassed me for the last time.”
Shuuji’s gut churned, dread curling around his soul. It was always so much worse when Ş̸̺͔͈̦̹̥̹̝̭͍͌͌̄̋͠h̷̨͈͍̯̟̞̻̗̳͎̿̄̍͗͒͜ǫ̷̢̠͔̜̭̗̩̳̩̘̟̊͘r̸̛̘̟̪̲̰͉̖̰̱̃͂̉̐̎͒͂̈́̔̋̈́̽̂͌͜o̶̮̎ was calm like this.
“Get up, vermin.”
He felt himself shoot up, his ribs – a couple must have broken under his master’s assault, they already hurt so badly – screaming in protest.
“I forbid you from healing for a month.”
Shuuji whimpered as he felt his magic instantly freeze, no longer mending his broken body. He cowered as Ş̸̺͔͈̦̹̥̹̝̭͍͌͌̄̋͠h̷̨͈͍̯̟̞̻̗̳͎̿̄̍͗͒͜ǫ̷̢̠͔̜̭̗̩̳̩̘̟̊͘r̸̛̘̟̪̲̰͉̖̰̱̃͂̉̐̎͒͂̈́̔̋̈́̽̂͌͜o̶̮̎ walked closer. There was no use pleading now. It would only make his punishment hurt more and last longer. A month wasn’t too long. He could handle it. He could.
“Look at me, fox,” his master commanded, and he had no choice but to obey. But instead of Ş̸̺͔͈̦̹̥̹̝̭͍͌͌̄̋͠h̷̨͈͍̯̟̞̻̗̳͎̿̄̍͗͒͜ǫ̷̢̠͔̜̭̗̩̳̩̘̟̊͘r̸̛̘̟̪̲̰͉̖̰̱̃͂̉̐̎͒͂̈́̔̋̈́̽̂͌͜o̶̮̎ ‘s tall stature and black hair, it was a short, red-haired man.
“Chuuya?”
Chuuya looked at him in disappointment.
“You will not look upon that which is above you again.”
“Y-yes, master,” he whispered, tears spilling over his cheeks.
“Such a tragic creature,” Chuuya murmured, rubbing a thumb over Shuuji’s cheek, making him shudder.
“Chuuya, please,” he breathed.
“This is for your own good.”
Shuuji screamed as his eyes were plucked out of his head, lightning searing through the wound afterwards. He felt as though face was melting, his flesh turning to goo as it burned, burned, burned—
“Dazai!”
Dazai screamed, jerking out of bed and clawing at his face. It was burning, he could feel it, he could feel it, he had to get away-
“Dazai, it’s okay! No one else is here!”
Dazai whimpered, shoving himself backwards until he hit a wall.
“P’se,” he gasped, his mouth not able to form the proper sounds, “p’se, I'm ‘orry, I'm ‘orry, p'se s’op, p’se—”
“I'm not going to hurt you, Dazai! Calm down!”
Dazai cried as he felt his limbs grow heavier, his arms falling to his sides and his breaths slowing until he felt like he was suffocating.
“Shit! I keep- damn it, you can do what you want, Dazai!” his master shouted at him.
Dazai sucked in a great lungful of air, tipping to his side and curling into a ball. Mad. He was mad at him. Why? What did he do this time? How was he supposed to apologize? He was already punished, he didn’t want more, he didn’t mean to, he swears, he hadn’t meant to, he really hadn’t, he just—
Someone grabbed his hand, and, recognizing the hand of the god that owned him, he let himself be maneuvered. His hand was placed against his god’s chest.
“Try to match my breathing, okay?”
Dazai nodded, trying to stifle his gasps and match his master’s steady rise and fall.
“Good, good job Dazai,” his master murmured, and Dazai's coiled form released slightly. He was being good. He wouldn’t be hurt. He was being good. His god was pleased with him.
A few minutes later, he was taking shaky breaths in rhythm with the other’s.
“Are you there, Dazai?”
Dazai nodded wearily. “’uuya?” he managed.
“Yeah, it’s me, mackerel. You're not there,” Chuuya assured him. Dazai nodded again, bone deep weariness taking over his body.
“’uuya,” he repeated, the hand against his partner’s chest bunching into his partner’s shirt. “’uuya ‘appy? ‘ot mad?”
There was a moment of silence. “Yeah,” Chuuya said, his voice sounding strangled. “Yeah, I'm… happy. Not mad.”
Dazai sighed, the edges of his awareness fraying. “Wit’ ’uuya… 's safe…”
He fell asleep before he could hear Chuuya's response.