Chapter Text
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The sight that he was met with as Chuuya perched himself on a rooftop, lens carefully held over his eye, was one that elicited an unsettling sensation in his stomach. A window – roughly forty metres away and devoid of glass or any general defensive cover – let moonlight creep into a dim lit, concrete covered room. And the subject of interest in this room, the very subject that Mori had sent him to pursue - but not engage with at any cost, was submerged in a vat of translucent blue liquid. Its hunched over form, coupled with its jet-black skin, made most of its featured indistinguishable from this distance and lighting. Yet, the only feature that he could see made him shudder; it was at first something he glanced over, as he was tinkering with his monocular’s resolution. But when the lens came into focus, he saw the raw pink tissue stick out from the blue fluid, emerge as a round peak from the black mass of the body... a brain... the structure of which was startlingly similar to a human’s.
He wanted to get closer and take a few pictures, but his boss’ words over the phone had been resoundingly clear; “Stay as far away as you can. Do not risk being discovered, and should you be – do not implicate the Port Mafia into the situation.”
This was important, whatever it was. He was used to Mori giving half-truths and obscuring facts that were revealed in ‘due time’ as Mori would call it; he often felt like he was diving in blind into most of his fights, but... this time he truly felt like he had stepped onto unholy ground. What exactly was going on here? Was this related to his current mission at all – given that he was in Kamino ward and nowhere fucking close to Musutafu. Did the doctor expect just the two of them to deal with territories all over Japan now?
He let out a near silent sigh as he pushed a gloved palm into his eyes. He stood up, assured he was covered in the shadow of the building behind him – in Yokohama the night was enough to serve as a shroud, but all these cities he was frequenting in this mission had nauseating light pollution in common with each other. With sleep deprivation, came nausea. And with nausea, came the insane urge to retch as Chuuya walked his way through the city centre packed full of neon lights and blindingly white LED billboards. Once he was nestled between a large enough number of pedestrians to obscure himself, he pulled his phone out and to his ear – number already dialled.
“Boss.” Chuuya grunted out as he dug the pads of his fingertips into his sore temple.
“Chuuya-kun! I’m glad to be getting a mission report, I was on tenterhooks all evening.”
The boy moved the phone slightly away from his ear, wincing as pain flared inside his head. He felt a bit shaky as well, and well shit, of course he was going to feel like this when Mori had basically sentenced him to an unending cycle of sleepless days and nights. “I followed what you said – to not go too close.” He bit his lip as he did a cursory glance of his surroundings and luckily no suspicious characters cropped up.
“Mhm, good. Still... I want you to remain vigilant, don’t get followed back.”
“Understood. As for the data I collected, I had eyes on the resident of the building. Unsure on the sex, or even if it was human. It was like- like...” He swallowed dryly, walking into the train station and boarding one of the trains that left every few minutes in the direction of Musutafu.
He heard a lilting hum on the other side of the call; “You don’t sound so good Chuuya-kun, have I pushed you too hard?”
“I’m fine, boss. Just... would appreciate a chance to sleep here and there.”
Mori let out a chuckle, “I know how you teenagers are, always searching for a time and a place to sleep. Well, rest assured that you and Osamu won’t be getting any missions from me for a while. Ah but let’s finish discussing this assignment.”
Knowing Mori’s weasel like nature, he doubted that the boss would uphold this promise of a break. Though he was too tired to feel anything but a sense of relief as he sunk into a free seat on the empty train carriage. “It was dormant, likely due to the controlled clinical environment it was in – some sort of container filled with an unknown substance. And appearance wise, what I could glean was black or perhaps a dark navy body – muscular build - and an exposed section of brain.”
“Good. This confirms the eyewitness account I have sitting on my desk here. I think that will be all.”
“...That’s it?” Chuuya’s attention is drawn to an automated lady’s voice play out a message as the train approached Tatooin station. He hefted up his body and lifted himself off the ground and out of the carriage, letting his ability drift him towards the apartment a few streets away. “I don’t get it; is this related to mine and the mackerel’s mission or not?”
“Now, now, Chuuya-kun, I can understand your impatience... but it is a worker’s imperative to carry out their duties, not to prod at the management.” He heard a sigh, as well as the shuffling of some papers, and could only assume that whatever this side quest was about, it had Mori in a tizzy.
“Right... sorry.”
“No, no. I believe I do owe you some explanation. For now, I believe I ought to clarify that yes, this is related to your mission. However, I do not see it being beneficial to give you more information at the moment. In fact, on this topic, I want you to keep the details of this mission from Dazai. I trust that you will obey that, yes?”
The redhead landed ontop of the mossy shingles that had lately become the welcome mat to his new home; the shoddy window in front of him being the front door. Tapping the passcode into the small screen hidden behind a loose brick, he heard the satisfying beep that smoothed over the headache of his.
The bed was so, so close.
“Yes, boss. You have my word.”
Mori let out an approving hum, and just like that, the call ended. Chuuya pulled on the window frame and slithered in, landing with a muffled thud (they had put an old, yellowed pillow there, lest the old woman had enhanced hearing for her age).
Shrugging off the clothes he had worn in the practical exam, he pulled the curtains close and headed towards the bathroom in his boxers. He mildly raised a brow as he walked past his partner, slumped over and fast asleep at the kitchen table with a carboard box in his lap. He’d see what that was about later.
The shower was quick and cold despite the middle-aged mother in him - as Dazai had dubbed that persona of his – wanting a warm bath with a glass of wine. But right now, his body was screaming for efficiency. He efficiently scrubbed his skin, efficiently brushed his teeth, efficiently slipped on some fresh clothes, and efficiently kicked the lousy fish awake.
“Fuck!” Dazai jolted as he felt something jab his side, falling to the floor. He blearily opened his eyes, hearing the switch flip and the light switch on. “Fuuuuck... Chuuya I was sleeping you dick.” The light bulb in the main area wasn’t all that bright, but it certainly did the job in waking him up.
Chuuya chuckled; he walked towards the table, where he had put the box of interest previously nestled in Dazai’s sleeping hold, fingers rummaging through the bottles until he found something suited to his tastes.
“I’m guessing the boss gave this?” He let out a hand for the lanky boy to get off the floor – still in his suit from the start of the day.
“Yeah, pretty neat, huh?”
“Yeah, yeah... at least that means he’ll uphold what he told me.”
Dazai let out a confused hum, hand searching for another bottle only to have it swatted away.
“You drank enough – I saw the empty whiskey bottle. Anyways, the boss said no more lousy side-quests for a while.”
A chipper grin revealed itself on the mackerel’s face, though it didn’t last long Chuuya kicked him into the bathroom to get showered.
By the time that he had stripped himself of his clothes and rinsed himself off, the lights were off, and a comfortable silence settled in the apartment. He trod on the wooden floorboards with his wet feet leaving damp footprints behind him. Towel round his waist and soaked hair plastered over his neck, the boy swung open the door to the bedroom carelessly at first, but then he noticed Chuuya’s still form on one side of the bed. Softening his actions, Dazai rummaged through the wardrobe for a random graphic t-shirt and a black pair of boxers. He made it a habit to not put on bandages straight after a shower – the residual dampness over his skin was hard to towel off fully. Mori had chastised him the last time he wrapped himself up in soggy bandages and got some cuts infected.
Leaving the bedroom with his laptop in tow, so not to disturb his partner’s much needed rest, he sat back at the wooden chair he was on before Chuuya had so kindly kicked him awake. The chair creaked as he drew his legs up and nestled his chin into knees that pushed into his ribs. The screen cast a glow over his pallid skin – he kept the laptop a few inches away on the table, wanting to avoid it getting wet from the water that dripped off the hair framing his face.
What was better than sleep? Well, Dazai had quite a few things in mind...
He started by picking up from double black’s first side quest from a month ago; just what exactly was the ‘League of Villains’?
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“Ahh thank you so much Nakamura-san!” Dazai accepted two envelopes with a sugary smile etched on his face. It was a lazy afternoon on a Tuesday, and the hatrack had forced him to keep up with the good boy pretences by volunteering to manage the shop whilst the old woman went to visit her equally old sister a few cities away. She had given him the key to the shop front, saying she might be staying overnight.
“I hope it’s good news!” The woman’s feeble voice rung out, and Dazai could only rub the back of his neck sheepishly – UA weren’t too practiced in the art of subtlety, were they? Given the large UA emblem on each padded envelope. But it also brought to attention that this apartment wasn’t going to be the greatest option in the future – their mail would be passing through their landlord’s more than vulnerable hands. He had to stop her from completing a transaction to a scammer on her phone the other day.
“I hope so too. And I hope your sister feels better soon Nakamura-san, please don’t hesitate to call myself or Chuuya if you need to stay for longer. You can trust us with the shop!” He watched pleasantly as the woman hobbled out of the store with an assured expression on her face.
The ring of the shop door’s bell was the only sound in the empty building. The black-haired boy waited a few moments, tugging on the oversized olive sweater he was wearing that conveniently covered up the bandages that usually could be seen at his wrists and neck. Now that he was slowly integrating a day-time student personality into this city, he decided to permanently omit any bandages from the neck up during daylight hours. Of course, it took a bit of time to adjust. But he expedited the process by spending a few of their initial missions under the moonlit, significantly dimmer sky to reconfigure that darn sensitive right eye of his. Now, all he had to do was to train himself to keep it uncovered through school hours. Intense, sunny-skied, school hours.
He dug his phone out of his pocket just as a jingle at the front door announced the arrival of a customer. Though No Longer Human had sensed when the person was a few metres further away – scuttling over his skin in an uncomfortable way that he had been pushing to the back of his mind since the start of this mission (he had to chase that down with Mori when he had the time). It was a middle aged, balding man of an average build – eyes slowly roving over shelves of old tomes before settling on a locked glass display of some jewellery sitting on one of the dusty shelves.
Dazai simply kept the man in his peripheral as he typed out a message to his partner, informing him of the envelopes he had received. Chuuya had been frequenting a library on the other side of town – quite popular as a study spot among students. It was something that the bandaged boy often poked fun at him for; the vessel of Arahabaki cowering at the thought of high school education. He had repeatedly assured the mafioso that he didn’t have to bother with all this extra reading, only to be met by vague insults and reminders that he couldn’t speak on the topic with his fancy title of ‘Demon Prodigy’.
“Hey kid,” the boy tucked his phone away, eyes darting up with an illusion of a sparkle, “I’d like to buy the necklace over there, can you grab it for me?”
“Sure, thing sir.” Dazai walked round the counter, swinging a keyring round his finger – a few little keys clattering against each other. He unlocked the glass display case and picked up one of the pieces of jewellery to put into the hands of the inquisitive man.
A muted ping buzzed in the pocket of his trousers – good, Chuuya must be heading back soon.
He went back to the counter, waiting for the customer to inevitably decide to buy the thing. He had noticed since the balding man had first laid eyes on the thing – a nervous tick in the way he fiddled with his fingers initially seemed as if he was thinking of pocketing something and running. But no, the mafioso had read the stranger like a book within seconds – the cheap suit, the faint smell of liquor... the silver band on his left ring finger, and a few other tells that told him everything. The necklace was a gift to mull over a domestic dispute.
“I’ll take it.”
The boy wrapped the item in a thin sheet of tissue, his sleeve rode up his arm in the process and the odd look that the guy gave didn’t go missed. He ignored the look and put away the money given in an old register, really missing how no one in Yokohama gave a flying fuck about his bandages.
The man left and soon after, Chuuya walked up from behind him – having opted to enter through the upstairs window.
“Quiet day today, huh?” the hatrack had already changed into a cotton vest and loose pyjama bottoms, irking Dazai to no end.
“Are you planning on taking a nap whilst I slave away, serving customers?”
A confused frown slipped onto Chuuya’s face as he scanned the shop floor and found it to be devoid of any customers. “The fuck are you talking about, fish face? ‘slaving away’ my ass.” He took a seat on the edge of the wood counter and smiled at his partner’s pouting face.
“Plus,” he picked up one of the envelopes – the one with his name on it – from a shelf under the counter, “it’s nearly five, we can close shop then.”
“The grandma said sevennnn...” Dazai leant against the counter, head resting in his palms. It had been just over a week since the entrance exam, and he was yet to treat himself to a good night of sleep.
Chuuya had called his poor health decisions utter idiocracy. Dazai chose not to comment.
“So? What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.”
“Spoken like a true mafia type. I thought we were keeping up with our ‘good boys’ image, no?”
He felt a smack on the back of his head and whined, though the moment of contact satiated something bubbling under his skin – For the Tainted Sorrow was powerful enough to tend to his ability’s cravings in one brief touch. He was sure Chuuya had felt that spike in No Longer Human too, because the boy eyed him with mild concern.
“Yeah, don’t know why it's doing that. Ah let’s push that aside for now and open these letters.” Dazai picked up his as well, tearing it open and watching with a dumb expression as a hockey puck looking thing fell onto the desk.
Chuuya’s gaze lingered for a moment longer, before his attention was drawn to a staticky projection taking over the space between him and the mackerel. He let out an amused expression at the image of All Might that had popped up.
“I am here! And not just as a Pro Hero, but as a new teacher for UA!” All Might coughed, adding to the unserious element of the announcement. Honestly, a letter would have been fine.
“Dazai Osamu – you scored 10 villain points, which unfortunately is not enough to pass... however, the practical exam is not just graded on taking down robots! There is a second point system – rescue points – in which you earned 50.”
A montage of footage from the exam played, ending with a shot of Dazai pulling the wires of the 0 pointer – Chuuya snickered.
“And therefore... your total comes to a whopping 60 points... you pass!”
Dazai ignored the full-blown laughter coming from the slug besides him at the low villain points and focused on getting the stupid video message done with.
“Congratulations, my boy! UA is happy to have you!”
The projection ceased just as several police cars skidded past the shop front, their sirens filling the air. Chuuya let out a low whistle, “That’s what we get for the neighbourhood we live in.”
The bandaged teen simply shrugged, walking over to the entrance and flipping over a sign to show the shop was closed. He stepped out, only going as far as the curb to see what the commotion was about; the police cars blocked up the end of the road as a few officers pointed their guns at two men kneeling on the ground. One of them had a mohawk and the other one had a rodentlike snout - ‘gross’.
This wasn't his idea of prime-time entertainment. He sniffed, then turned around and locked the door behind him. Chuuya was already halfway through his results message, and Dazai only had to hear the number ‘70’ to understand the cocky grin his partner was casting.
“I told you to be a well-polished carrot.”
“And I was. The guy told me I got fourth, that not low enough for you? Or you just jealous, with your meagre 10 points?”
Dazai let out a sulky noise of protest, stomping past the redhead and up the stairs. “I got 50 rescue points!”
A shout travelled up to the first floor, “Doesn’t count for someone who’s blood is mafia black!”
The boy opened his mouth to cuss – the words ‘suck my dick’ remaining in his throat as he heard a knock outside. He turned his head over his shoulder and saw Chuuya deciding to take care of whatever person that landed on their doorstep, incapable of reading a closed sign. He leisurely walked back down the stairs and stared from behind the counter as his partner unlocked the door to a very familiar figure.
“What can I help you with, officer?” Chuuya kept his tone calm and complacent as a man, whom he recognised from that fake warehouse siege a month ago, held out his police badge with a puzzled expression on his face.
“I’m police detective Naomasa Tsukauchi, I’d like to speak to Ms Nakamura – we’re acquainted from a riot a year ago in these parts. Given her advanced age, I thought to check up and see if she’s doing alright with all the commotion outside...” He peered past Chuuya’s shoulder, hoping to spot the old woman; he had bought some candy he knew she had a weakness for.
Chuuya offered up a polite smile, inviting the officer inside (it felt awkward to keep himself propped against the doorway like some kind of bouncer) and motioning the man to follow him to the impressive vintage wooden counter at the back.
“Hey, do you wanna go get some water for the detective?”
Dazai’s eyes widened in slight surprise to have himself involved in the interaction, he shrugged and turned to fetch a glass.
Tsukauchi shyly tapped the rim of his hat, deciding to take it off since he was now indoors.
“Nakamura-san is currently visiting relatives, so we’re looking after the shop in the meantime. We’re her tenants – I'm Chuuya Nakahara, and this one-” he nudged Dazai forwards as he walked in with a glass of ice water, “is Dazai Osamu.”
“Ah, it’s a pleasure to meet you Nakahara-san, Dazai-san. It's nice to know that Ms Nakamura isn’t alone. We officers make it a thing to check on her, as the oldest resident in this neighbourhood, from time to time. Especially with what’s happening outside.”
Dazai let out a small frown as he handed the glass over to the tall man clad in the same tan trench coat as that night. He made sure not to let their fingers graze each other; the few centimetres between their hands were enough for him to feel the latent buzz of a quirk. What was also worth noting, was that the detective didn’t show any signs of feeling his ability, meaning even with quirk users it was only detectable by touch.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly is happening outside?”
The man looked hesitant to answer, so Dazai extended his faux frown to elicit a sympathetic response.
“Ah well we can’t really give the full details... two men were apprehended for transporting illegal substances. Please don’t be worried though!” he set the now half-empty cup down with a quiet thud, “I came in to reassure the fact that everything is being sorted and the men are being arrested as we speak.”
Chuuya took over, noticing the air of reluctance which Dazai was encroaching on by preparing to open a line of questioning. “I’d like to extend my thanks to yourself and your coworkers on the police force for the work you’ve done in keeping this city safe.”
“You’re very welcome, though I admit this neighbourhood specifically has been shaping up due to some of our finest pros – notably Eraserhead. I’ll, uhh... leave this box of sweets here, I got them for Ms Nakamura.”
“We’ll be sure to keep them safe for her,” the blue-eyed boy walked the detective out with a crinkling smile, “thank you again!”
The bell rung and Chuuya visibly deflated as he locked the door. So much for some peace and quiet.
He whipped his head round to Dazai with a furious glare, “Read the room, idiot.”
Dazai chuckled as he picked up the glass and wiped the ring of condensation left behind with his sleeve. “I was busy reading his quirk – I think I can tell with emitter types when they have it switched on, if there aren’t any physical tells.”
“Oh?” the mafioso raised a brow as he followed the black-haired boy upstairs, “And can you tell what the quirk does?”
The glass was dropped into a growing pile of dishes in the kitchen sink (there was some political tension over the chores in the apartment) and Dazai rummaged through the fridge for any canned crab – he sighed and closed the fridge door, coming up empty handed.
“Vaguely... the sensations differ person to person. But I don’t have anything to cross-reference No Longer Human’s data with. Maybe when we go to UA... there should be a range of quirks in the room with us.” He absently thought back to the blonde boy from the practical exam – nullifying his quirk felt like swallowing down popping candy.
Chuuya had a bored look on his face – honestly, his brain was mush from his daily studying sessions. His partner’s words were coming in one ear, and out the other. This was something Dazai took great offense to, letting out a petulant whine. For the Tainted Sorrow was like an itch in his veins, apparently it wasn’t just Dazai’s ability wanting to take over the wheel.
“I’m gonna take a nap, and I’m not in the mood for cooking or shitty takeout tonight. Let’s get dinner in a few hours.”
He crashed onto the bed, kicking off his slippers and laying on top of the covers to shake off the heat emanating from underneath his skin. His bandaged partner followed in pursuit, annoyingly tugging on the duvet to slide underneath.
He groaned out, eyes closed, “How can you not be melting right now?”
“That’s just your ability speaking, thank you very much. I’ll have you know its March; not exactly boiling out, is it?”
Chuuya blindly kicked his leg behind him, his heel twisting into the brittle-boned shithead, “Shut up.”
“Owww... Chuuyaaa~ no need to be so mean. Look, I’ll make it better; I’m extra chilly today.”
The redhead felt a cold, outstretched hand land onto his side – making contact with skin that peeked out from his cotton tank. The prerequisite touch let coolness flood over him – sedating not only his ability but Arahabaki as well. He let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding in and craned his neck to look at Dazai’s mellowed out expression.
“You must have been pretty cold, didn’t take long for everything to cancel out, huh?”
“Mhmm...” Dazai had shut both his eyes at this point, he had a feeling that sleep deprivation was a contributing factor in No Longer Human’s flare up.
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A full month had passed since the duo had been notified on their admittance into the most competitive hero course in the country. Their rather uneventful March was spent recuperating from the onslaught of missions Mori had sent them on at the start of coming to Musutafu, and a large part of the month was utilised by Chuuya to try and wean his partner off cigarettes. Though with Mori’s gifts, Chuuya had failed to make much progress on that front.
Now that UA was in their grasp, they had begun to raise their guard and proceed with the mission at hand.
“Whataya make of this, oh chibi dearest?” Dazai twirled around in his new uniform; well-fitting, teal trousers were held up by a dark belt and a baggy grey blazer enshrouded everything above the waist. He kept his red tie slender and long in the same style as his one as a mafioso. His partner’s eyes narrowed at the usual places – his wrists, neck, and ankles.
“The trousers are long enough to cover the ones on your legs... but the neck ones are too obvious. Also, the sleeves could be longer.” Dazai followed his partner’s gaze to the bandages that went halfway up his palms, a bit further than his blazer and shirt sleeves.
“I asked if I looked fashionable, jackass.” he threw off his blazer, it landed as a heap on the floor, “Would you rather everyone gets the special view?” pale fingers pried the cotton wrappings on his neck. His scars were out on display – the most obvious one extending round his neck; a particularly bad rope burn that had ended up staying as a white band. A few others warranting equal concern were the white and pink strokes over his carotids and sluggishly bleeding abrasions from his habit of scratching his throat.
Chuuya stared at the exposed skin indiscriminately, an unbothered expression on his face. Of course, back when he first saw Dazai unbandaged, he had to take a few steadying breaths. He supposed that hero society was a lot more sheltered, and would raise more questions than he had, so the bandages would have to stay on.
“I guess the scars are more distracting that the bandaging. That reminds me... are you sure you want to keep your eye uncovered?”
The black-haired boy rewrapped his neck and took a seat on the bed as Chuuya finished changing into his uniform. Surprisingly, the ginger locks didn’t clash that badly with the atrocious colours of the uniform. “I’m a bit more used to it. Mori said using it more fix the problem entirely. Plus, there’s no reasonable explanation I can give the school for covering up a ‘healthy’ eye.”
The slug had paused whilst zipping up his fly, eyes a fraction wider.
“What’s that look for?”
“You can fix it?”
“What? My eye?”
“Yes! Your blind fucking eyeball!”
Dazai jabbed a finger underneath his eye, sticking his tongue out, “My eye is fine, idiot. It’s my brain that’s been a teensie bit scratched up.” Sure, to a stranger, there would be nothing amiss with his appearance – both his eyes responded to light in a normal way, and tracked objects fine. It’s just that his brain didn’t process the data from the right one that well – he mostly saw things as colours blobs.
“I have no idea what that means...” there was a hint of irritation in his voice at the fact that Dazai kept so many things hidden, simple things... things like why he didn’t eat much, or who gave him the scars that stood out from the self-inflicted ones. When he was part of the Sheep, kids were recruited based on all those pitiable qualities – they would share every detail with contempt, spitting out the names of their abusers. Chuuya was no idiot, he knew the answers to his questions all traced back to Mori, but why Dazai was still so unwilling to speak on the matter... all he could do was toe the boundaries, not overstep.
“Maybe you ought to focus on the time, its nearly eight hehe.”
The bandaged boy swung himself off the bed and slid on a black backpack he had packed the night before; the contents being a few textbooks and notebooks, the bare minimum of stationery required for lessons, and his trusty laptop.
The unruly mafioso behind him grumbled, picking up the discarded blazer on the floor and slapping it over Dazai’s head. It alleviated his annoyances just a little.
They chose to leave using tradional methods (the front door) so their landlord could get in one last ‘good luck’. The walk was pleasant, with their path up the hill surrounded by pink blossoms. Chuuya would have rather explored the roads with his bike, unfortunately the law would say otherwise. He decided to keep it in a storage unit for any overnight missions outside of the city.
When they had arrived at the overwhelmingly tall glass building, Dazai latched onto one of the nylon straps on his partner’s bag. They had received instructions via email the day before and found out they were placed in the same homeroom class, 1-A. Not that good at navigating new places, he let the hatrack (though he wasn’t sure that nickname would last with his new outfit) lead him through a few corridors and a set of stairs till they stood in front of a massive door.
“You’re not even half the size of the door, ahaha.” The boy let out a laugh which was cut short by an elbow jab. The door swung open to reveal that most of their new classmates were already there and seated, idly chatting with those next to them. A few pair of eyes settled on them, polite greetings and short introductions followed... other than that, they were largely ignored until they sat at their pre-assigned seats – for more intimate introductions by those who sat in their immediate vicinities. Dazai found great enjoyment in the seat he was assigned; it was a few rows away from the front and a window seat perfect for dozing off to the view of the sea in the distance. Though the only downside was that his right side was to the rest of the class, so his near-blind eye was the one, stupidly, with the better vantage point.
He turned his head to the right to find where Chuuya was sitting, but his vision was obscured by the great black plume of feathers that made up a bird’s head. The boy appeared human from the neck down, and had his eyes closed and arms crossed in casual contemplation. Barely, he could see trademark orange hair at the other side of the classroom, on the backrow. He bet his partner was similarly rejoicing in his seat, at not having to tend to Dazai’s whims during class.
In front of him, was an empty seat – someone yet to arrive – and the seat in front of that one held a familiar face; the blonde near-terrorist. He could deal with that. Twisting his torso and gripping the back of his chair, he plastered on a big, toothy grin for the black-haired girl sitting behind him.
“Hiya! I’m Dazai Osamu, what might your name be?” He absently processed the chatter on the other side of the class – Chuuya was integrating well.
“Hello,” Momo gave a soft smile, fingers timidly tugged on her buttoned shirt cuffs, though her posture and facial expressions exuded a measured confidence, “I’m Yaoyorozu Momo, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I don’t recall seeing you at the entrance exam... which of the practical exam grounds were you assigned to?”
“Oh, I didn’t go to the entrance exam. Myself and Todoroki-kun got in through recommendations, as well as two other people in class 1-B.” She vaguely gestured towards the still figure sitting at the desk next to her, who gave a curt nod and remained silent.
“Wow, that must mean you’ve got a killer quirk!”
Yaoyorozu let out a nervous chuckle at the compliment, her gaze briefly flitting towards the boy’s bandages which masked his neck. She didn’t want to be rude, so she fixed her gaze on his face – the twinkling coffee eyes and a mirthful smile.
“Not really... I can create things using the lipids in my body, but I need to know the molecular structures of any item I want to materialise.”
His eyes lit up at the impressive quirk, “I’m sure with a bit of studying you’ll have quite the arsenal of items at your disposal.”
“Yes, I’ll work hard! What about you, Dazai-kun? What’s your quirk?”
He opened his mouth to reply, when all of a sudden, a voice erupted from the front of the class. He whipped his head around with a bemused expression.
“Take your feet off the desk, now!” A tall, robust guy was standing adjacent to the spiky-haired blonde.
His hair was a discreet shade of blue – contrasting with the garish head of green that just entered the class, frozen at the doorway. He recognised both newcomers; from the distinct voice of the blue-haired kid, he was the one who stood up in the exam hall, and the green-haired boy was the one Chuuya was yapping about on that day of the exam. Given the way the green-haired boy reacted, he deduced that he must know at least one of the boys involved in the commotion.
“Huhhh?!”
It was the punkish tone of the blonde boy.
“It’s the first day, and you’re already disrespecting this academy by scuffing school property, you cretin!”
“You’re kidding me, right!? Your old school put a stick up your ass, or were you born with it?”
Dazai couldn’t help but let out a laugh... he could feel Chuuya’s eyes burning holes into the back of his head all the way from the other side of the class. He stifled his laugher, not wanting to get himself involved. Damn, the whole class was in tense silence – did no one like having a bit of fun?
Pretty soon, the conversation at the front turned towards the short green one as the tall guy, who introduced himself loudly as ‘Iida’ walked over and practically worshipped the skittering kid like some kind of second coming.
The green-hair boy sweated out of anxiousness, taking a few steps back, “My n-name's Midoriya.” His hands raised in a placating gesture to ward off the intensity coming his way.
“You realised there was more to the practical exam, didn’t you? You must be very perceptive. And I completely misjudged you, didn’t I? As a student, I believe you are far superior than me.”
Dazai leant back on his chair, focus turning to the window, ‘this Iida character has both the bark and the submissive nature of a dog – if he weren’t so compelled to follow authority figures and silly rules, he may have made a good pet... better than Chuuya’.
He heard the ruffle of feathers as his neighbour roused from his ponderings.
“There are quite the characters in this class.”
Dazai grinned at his own reflection in the window and turned round to see the bird boy in the same position as earlier, except his eyes were now slightly open.
“Agreed. I’m Dazai, and you?”
“Tokoyami Fumikage.” Youch... his parents certainly wanted an emo son when naming him, didn’t they?
Tokoyami closed his eyes again, leaving Dazai in an awkward silence. Guess this guy was the silent, brooding type. An exchange of pleasantries wouldn’t have gone amiss, but then again... what would he have done if the guy wanted to shake his hand? His ability wouldn’t have killed him, right? Or worse... make him into a normal person – he'd have to drop out of the hero course from the utter shock!
He leant against the glass, closing his eyes in concentration. The bubbling chatter in the room had overtaken his senses, making him briefly forget about No Longer Human’s apparent sensitivity with quirks. He focused on the sensations around him; he could feel a twinge of that popping candy sensation from the explosion quirk two seats in front of him, and something heavy and dark from his right side (an emo quirk for an emo boy, mummy and daddy were right to name him what they did). The sensation behind him was a bit more muddled, and he deduced it was due to the complex nature of Yaoyorozu’s quirk. That Todoroki fella’s quirk was also creating a weird sensation on his skin that made him think that the quirk was temperature related.
Something tugged behind his eyes, an intense feeling that stood out from the mix of quirks in the room. It was almost... almost like how nullifying Corruption would inundate his senses. Not nearly as strong, but similar in his ferocity. He blinked his lashes open, finding Midoriya had remained stood in the doorway. Iida was still there, and now a girl with round brown hair framing her face had shown up as well. She had rosy cheeks like a cockatiel’s and was breathlessly recounting how Midoriya had taken down the 0 pointer.
He swallowed dryly, trying to think of how he was going to sit through orientation with possibly a few hundred more overwhelming sensations of quirks. Walking through the general public wasn’t that bad – even though 80% of the world’s population had quirks, only around 1-15% had powerful enough ones to bite back against No Longer Human’s field. The percentage was on the higher end here in Japan compared to the ports of other countries he visited, purely because of the immense hero culture that drew hordes in.
The high-pitched squeak of the brown-haired girl snapped him back to reality.
“I wonder what our teachers are like. I can’t wait to meet everybody!” She seemed sweet and naive in the way she tugged at the straps of her backpack in eager anticipation.
Illusions of any fun and games were shattered the moment a slug-looking thing slid up behind her – it was an eyesore of a neon yellow sleeping bag with a scruffy man inside whom Dazai recognised from his gruff voice.
“If you’re just here to make friends, then you can pack up your stuff now.”
The whole class, including the ever so nonchalant Tokoyami, looked over with bewildered expressions slapped over their faces.
“Welcome to UA’s hero course.”
Aizawa stood up with a weary, yet stern face, “It took eight seconds before you all shut up. That’s not gonna work. Time is precious.” he stepped out of the atrocious sleeping bag he had donned, “Rational students would understand that.”
The class remained in a stupor from the impromptu lecture and Dazai wanted to slap himself with how stupid these people were. It seemed Aizawa had realised the lingering confusion in the classroom, stepping up and introducing himself; “Hello. I’m Aizawa Shouta. Your teacher.”
The succint introduction drew out confused remarks and over-dramatic gasps from several members of the class - “What?!”, “He’s our teacher?”, “But he looks so worn out!”.
The man looked like he was on his last legs, with his shaggy black hair and eyebags darker than the other side of the moon. The mafioso wondered if the pro would recognise him any time soon, but it seemed unlikely with how the burning cafe incident was nearly three months ago, and the only identifying marker – his bandages – were obscured that day by a hoodie. Even if the man did recognise him, he didn’t show it on his face.
“Right, let's get to it,” Aizawa cut through the chatter with his monotone voice, “put these on and get outside.”
The whole class visibly cringed as their freshly introduced teacher pulled out clothes from his sleeping bag. They all had the same question in their heads; just how clean was that sleeping bag of his?
Dazai turned to look past Tokoyami, to the back corner of the room; Chuuya was already looking at him with a knowing gaze. He sighed, as he turned back to assess the p.e uniform that was being held up in the doorway. A short-sleeved top blue top with red and white detailing.
The uniform code, Dazai had learnt through some research on forums online, was quite lax. Students were allowed to style their uniform to an appropriate degree, and even disregard the brown shoes entirely. Piercings and dyed hair were allowed as well. The only other clothing he expected to wear around other people, was the costume being designed as per his wishes. The UA hero course had sent a form to all the hero-course students a few weeks ago, in which they could supply information like measurements and designs for their hero costumes. The boy had aptly chosen modest clothing that would cover his bandages and draw away attention.
Apparently, the measurements he gave weren’t just used for the costume, but also for a stupid tracksuit emblazoned with the letters ‘U’ and ‘A’. The short sleeves were going to let everyone see the true extent of his dedication to mummify himself.
Head lolling to the side of the window again, he let the thought go. It was fine, people were bound to notice the bandages soon enough. The girl behind him had noticed his bandaged neck – though she was nice enough not to give him any grief for it.
A more important thought popped into his head; what the fuck happened to orientation?