Chapter Text
The night Dazai left was a chaotic night for many, Mori was furious but also oddly unnerved. Rival gangs quickly became braver, challenging territory lines. Akutagawa was paranoid, waiting for his mentor to strike with yet another grueling lesson on the importance of vigilance. Q in a similar state of mind.
Chuuya however remained reserved, admiring the setting sun only walking outside as a loud jumpy bang rang out. the freshly eighteen executive was met by the painful sight of his red bugatti veyron blown to scrap. He knew who did it immediately, the assholes name ran in his head like a battle cry. Dazai fucking osamu. Chuuya walked home that night, it was warm not with a breeze no but almost a suffocating muggy warm. he closed the door to his penthouse behind him, popping open a bottle of his more luxury wines.. a petrus 1889. it smelled of black plum and other such flavours to him however when tasted combined with the bitter and rich taste of truffle he so adored. Chuuya drowned in the wine before eventually dozing off to the familiar hum of planes above.
A week had passed since dazai had left the mafia, as desperate as it sounded chuuya had tried checking the places dazai frequented: the lupin bar, the arcade plus some stupid crab seafood restaurant he raved on about. He was sure that the demon prodigy was dead- you couldn't just leave the mafia. that isn't how it works. Dazai was dead.. and chuuya was glad. Not out of a childish grudge or the hurt of the sudden unexplained exit. It was the fact dazai betrayed the mafia, the mafia was practically a family to Chuuya. They where his family.
Every once in a while chestnut hair would cause his head to turn, or a bandaged eye made him stop in his stride but every time chuuya was met by a resident of Yokohama and not the mackerel. He was glad in a way- the years that followed Chuuya thrived in, enemy gangs were crushed under his polished boot, promotions shot his way but best of all..the silence.
Those four years where some of the best days of Chuuya's life.
Kyouka, the raven haired girl dragged in an unconscious form along with some mafiosos towards the dungeon dimly lit mafia dungeons. Chuuya turned his head at the sight of chestnut hair, only stopping when catching a glimpse of a bandage. He had done this dance before but never with an alternative ending this time though...
Dazai was alive..Chuuya felt a headache coming on already