Chapter Text
The agency isn't doing great. Usually, after each successful mission, a small break or a celebration would be prepared. Emphasis on, "successful", because Dazai hadn't made it back.
The guy barely did anything in the first place, always lazing around and annoying almost all his coworkers. Just last week, he had hidden Kunikida's calculator in the president's office. It'd taken almost a day for the blonde man to find it, and he had choked Dazai at least three times the next day. Now, though, Kunikida stays silent, eyes glued to his bright computer screen.
A week ago, the brunet was "missioned" with buying Ranpo snacks for his very trusted snack safe with the Agency's funds. While buying, he had flirted with some ladies and managed to slide a few treats for free. Now, Ranpo sits on his desk, reminiscing and dozing off. He was running out of snacks. He'd need Dazai to do it again.
It doesn't take a genius to realize how quiet the agency becomes without its shining, bandaged man. Tanizaki tries to console Atsushi while the weretiger battles the thoughts of losing yet another father figure. Writing that letter had helped at least a little bit, but it was like pouring a cup of water to a wildfire; futile. He would never forget the phone call he got when Dazai was found, barely breathing and covered with blood. Atsushi tries not to think about the phone call or the dead silence in the agency and tries to bury himself in his pending work (some of which were left by the brunet himself). Hovering his fingertips above the letters of the keyboard, he continued where he had left off.
Work is never very fun, but learning new things has always been one of the things that amazed Atsushi no matter what age he was; a little boy in the orphanage learning about tigers' preys, or a young adult being taught how to write reports on his most recent missions. Thanks to Kunikida-san for that! Despite his cold demeanor, he was the who taught Atsushi how to use the damn computer, fulfilling the nickname he'd been given by Dazai: "Momikida". With a curve of his lips upwards to a soft smile, Atsushi works on his three-hour-long report. Through the sound of the keyboard tapping, he listens to a nearby conversation.
Has he sent a letter back yet?" Comes a question directed to Kunikida-san from a worried Tanizaki, to which the blond shakes his head, his glasses reflecting the computer light and refraining anyone from seeing behind them. Tanizaki lowers his head and plays with the long sleeves of his t-shirt. From opposite the room, a wet pop is heard as Ranpo pulls his apple-flavored lollipop out of his mouth.
"Don't expect anything so soon," he starts, twirling the shiny lollipop in his hand. "He's been seriously injured. His coma will easily last for more than a few weeks," he finishes and puts the lollipop back in its place. Upset about the news, yet thankful for the detective's answer and deduction, Tanizaki gives the older man a grateful, meek smile. Again, keyboard tapping, the distant sound of an old clock ticking, tustles of paper... An awkward silence creeps into the air again, and Tanizaki dies inside.
•°•°•°•°•°•
It's a quiet afternoon in Port Mafia. Sips of coffee and breathing echo throughout the boss's personal room, which stood massive compared to any other office in the building... and this weird video that Elise opened on Mori's personal computer. The boss listens to the video with a concerned smile as he watches Elise have the time of her life (without him). It's a video with an upbeat, low-quality and ear-bleeding song and an overweight guy with a red T-shirt dancing on what seems to be a port...? Kids were into these weird videos nowadays, according to what Chuuya had told when they were conversating over a few drinks. In any case, the Mafia is very busy with writing reports themselves. The Black Lizard is on alert, the bodyguards of executives never having the time to put down their weapon, and Kouyou drinking a cup of green tea whie actively pondering about what and where Chuuya could have been up to by now...
Without a doubt, Chuuya is held at the very heart of the Port Mafia. Not only because of his status as an executive, but also because of his sheer passion and soul as a hot-headed mafioso. Without him, the mafia loses almost half of its manpower; just like how without Dazai, it lost half of its planning potential. The Port Mafia could be seen as a family. Anyone from outside wouldn't get it, and only the ones who had found themselves a home would feel the warmth of a home, of loyalty and brotherhood. At the end of the day, it was a place for those who weren't good at living. For those who had lost their former meaning and desperately searching for a new one. For the many souls out there that looked for a home with loyalty, compassion, and companionship... Just as how wife is home to her husband, the Port Mafia was home to hundreds of members. Therefore, Chuuya's absence had alerted the entire organization, especially Kouyou.
The redhead wasn't injured anymore, at least not fatally, but the reason for him not appearing around as much anymore surprised the lot, while it confused the other part. There have been rumors going around, to which most deemed true: Chuuya-san has gone to visit a former executive who'd betrayed the Mafia four years ago. Someone who was his former partner, despite all the rivalry and fights.
Although it may have been seen as an act of treason, the event was actually met with understanding. Everyone knew how hard it was to have a partner (former or not) injured. This proves just how close the Mafia is, bound by blood and oaths.
As time passes, Chuuya finds himself nearby Dazai's hospital bed more and more often. Having lunch and quietly scrolling through poetry blogs with Dazai's distant presence eventually becomes one of the things he does daily.
Sitting there for hours, Chuuya has seen what the brunet is like in the agency. A new work report summarizing all the events that happened is sent at the start ig every week. It's not like he's gonma read these, right? He debates with himself while reading through the report, acknowledging how lazy his partner had become after his resignation from the mafia.
It's been a few uneventful weeks already. The letters usually state what needs to be done, even though Dazai wouldn't bother to do any of them.
Chuuya had stayed for so long that the bruises and injuries the other had were starting to heal.
°•°•°•°
Ah, the sweet embrace of nothingness, Dazai thinks. He'd always wondered what it would feel like to drift between life and death. Though, if he had to admit, he wouldn't have expected it to come crashing down on him like this.
Time felt irrelevant where he was. Was it moving forward, backward, or sideways? Did it even matter? Probably not. If he wakes up, he'll have to deal with Kunikida yelling about deadlines again. If he doesn't, well, that might just solve his rent problem.
There's something he's been hearing lately. A voice... faint. It sounded earnest. Whoever it was must not have lost hope in his reawakening. Much to their despair, he thinks every time he hears the buzz of the voice. He's had only one chance to make his brain quiet, and they were ruining it.
Though, deep down, he'd recognize the soothing tone of that voice anywhere. He's been around the owner of it for so long that it was basically etched into his brain. Chuuya, the only one who had come to visit him every day. Dazai had heard other sounds, too, but they were always so constant that the frequencies had become but irrelevant background noises; sometimes not even existing.
He sighed in annoyance. On one hand, he had missed his daily dose of annoying Kunikida, but on the other hand if he woke up now, he'd have to deal with a certain ginger partner who stood shorter than an 8th grader and somehow wore the worst fashion trends ever. How do you mess up fashion in Port Mafia?
"Just... a few more hours," the brunet said to himself, sighing as he let the darkness embrace his naked cold body. "Better enjoy peace while it lasts."
The first thing that Dazai became aware of was the hospital room bathed in an unnatural glow from the fluorescent lights overhead, the kind that seemed to leech the life out of everything. The faint hum of machinery filled the silence, interrupted by the occasional shuffle of footsteps outside the door. The room was set to an average heat, which felt like blankets on Dazai's cold body. There was the acrid smell of disinfectants lingering in the air they traveled through his nose and filled his lungs with unwanted scent. He blinked a few times, his vision sharpening to reveal the tangle of medical machinery connected to him— tubes, wires, and drips.
"Ugh, what is this? A modern art installation?" He grumbled, his voice dry and scratchy.
He tilted his head to the side and froze.
There, slumped in an uncomfortable-looking chair was none other than Chuuya. His head rested idly on his chest. Under his chest, his arms were folded neatly, rising and falling with each breath.
For a moment, Dazai simply watched his partner rest. A strange feeling surrounded his heart. It felt almost illegal to see him this way—with his usual fiery demeanor being replaced by an oddly peaceful expression. A smirk tugged at his lips as his eyes wandered on the other's state.
His hair was an absolute mess. He looked like his hair had never seen a comb in days. His jacket was on the floor, and his foot rested on top of it mercilessly, while his shirt was so wrinkled that it looked like a sphynx. The quirky little tie was so out of place that it looked like it was trying to escape the rest of the outfit. Despite all, his gloves were as shiny and tidy as ever.
Dazai scoffed. "You just couldn't stay away, could you, Chuuya?"
If the shorter didn't look so tired, Dazai would have started him awake by loudly calling for his name. But he had a good heart.
Lying still in a boring room such as this was not Dazai's style. He got so bored of sleeping, and he's been doing that for what? 2, 3 days? No one could keep Dazai stuck in a place that he didn't want to be held, not even the damn hospital that tried so hard to keep him alive!
With the precision of someone who's used to removing restraints, though these were more medical rather than handcuffs, Dazai began detaching the machinery off of himself.
He began by removing his oxygen mask and continued with doing the same on the electrodes on his chest. To the loss of frequency, the machine beeped furiously in protest.
He winced and paused to glance at Chuuya, who stirred but didn't wake up. With a sigh and a surpassed snicker, he moved onto the IV. The sharp sting, as he pulled it out carefully, made him grimace, and he quickly pressed a hand to the stem to stop the bleeding.
Dazai swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet hitting the cold tile floor but still seated. The world spun for just a moment, and he steadied himself by gripping the bedframe. His legs felt sluggish but functional. Dazai inspected the floor under, glancing at his unused legs, and began hyping himself on to stand again.
Right before he could slide off the bed onto his feet, he was stopped by the sound of a sighing snore that came from the sleeping frame belonging to Chuuya behind him. Dazai let his lips curl up into a pleasant and thankful smile.
"Thank you, Chuuya, for staying by my side, truly," He whispered, getting on his feet with the support from the bed. "But I have somewhere much more interesting to be."
•°•°•°•
The soft rays of sunshine lighting up the room were what awakened Chuuya from his nap. His blue eyes fluttered open to see the white ceiling up above. They were stuck to the flickering fluorescent lights overhead until his mind cleared bit by bit.
Right. Hospital, visiting Dazai, falling asleep. He must have been really tired to fall asleep on him like that.
There is an annoying mosquito buzzing by his ear. Chuuya grits his teeth at being unable to smack it away due to how sore his muscles were. As minutes pass by, Chuuya realizes that the sound of the mosquito is actually the flatline alert echoing from the heart monitor.
"Huh—?!" Chuuya jumps off of the uncomfortable chair and steadies himself by the handles as his blue eyes dart all across the room. From the blinds on the window to the IV hanger near it. Then beneath the IV hanger to see the hospital bed. Completely empty and just as messy.
Silence.
One, two, three...
"DAZAI—!"