Chapter Text
Chuuya flung himself onto a bench as soon as he got out of the train station, emotionally and mentally exhausted.
What was he supposed to do now?
The question kept spinning around in his head. It wasn't as though they'd never fought before; their relationship had started incredibly rocky.
This felt different, though. Usually, they resolved their fights by telling the truth about what was really bothering them and working from there, as they all shared a tendency to hide things unnecessarily.
But Chuuya couldn't tell them anything now. Not a single drop of truth could spill from his lips as long as the Honmoon remained unsealed.
Restless, he pulled out his phone and finally started going through the files he'd found on Dazai.
Over the course of hundreds of years, Hunters had compiled information on especially dangerous and threatening demons that could complicate things for future Hunters. It had taken Chuuya hours of what was supposed to be solo practice time to find a single scrap of intel on Dazai.
Even then, he'd only recognized him from the sketch because of his patterns, which matched perfectly.
Supposedly, he'd been a real nuisance back in the day, with hundreds of casualties on his hands, due to him acting as a human envoy for demons for several years before eventually becoming one himself. He'd lived with this guy, Oda Sakunoske, for the majority of his life, having been adopted into Sakunoske's family, which consisted of street children he'd adopted and taken care of.
He sounded like Adam. Too bad his sort-of-son turned out to be a fishy bastard who fed on the souls of humans.
Unfortunately, that was all the information there was on Dazai, nothing about why he became a demon, or what had become of him after Sakunoske died, though Chuuya supposed that was all he could hope for.
As he reread Dazai's file for a fifth time, Chuuya began to wonder if it would be more productive to go and talk to Dazai himself to see if he'd thought more about Chuuya's offer.
After a few minutes of debating with himself, Chuuya braced himself and texted Dazai's number, which had mysteriously ended up in his phone after their meeting at the fan signing.
Want to meet?
Dazai's reply popped up almost instantly, as though he'd been waiting. Aww, does the slug miss me already? Is your life so dull as to need me to brighten it?
Chuuya scowled, already regretting his decision. Meet me at our usual spot. He hated that they had a usual spot. He especially hated that he enjoyed not having to specify the place, that Dazai would just know where to go.
Sighing, he stood up from the bench, cracked his limbs, and started to their usual meeting spot.
Dazai was already there when he arrived, leaning over the railing to a concerning degree.
"That's a fifty-foot drop, y'know," Chuuya commented as he stopped next to him.
"I know," Dazai sighed. "I wish it would do more than momentarily maim me."
"Why do you think like that?" Chuuya asked suddenly. "Why do you want to die so badly?"
"What, I don't look like the pinnacle of happiness and contentment?" Dazai teased, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense.
"Fine, don't tell me," Chuuya said, backing off and changing the subject. "I did some research on you, by the way."
"Really?" Dazai's eyebrows shot up. "I didn't think there was anything left of my human life to find."
"There wasn't a whole lot," Chuuya admitted. "But I do know that you were known as 'The Demon Prodigy' back in the day."
Dazai's face lit up. "I haven't been called that in decades! What else do you know? This is fun!"
Chuuya was aware that this was most likely a play to gauge how much Chuuya knew, but Dazai was right; it was kinda fun, so Chuuya kept going.
"How about you give me prompts and we'll see if I know it," Chuuya suggested. Hopefully, this would get Dazai to inadvertently tell him about anything he should be looking for info-wise.
"Hmmm, alright! How about… my birthday!" Dazai started.
Chuuya shook his head. "There wasn't anything too personal like that."
Dazai nodded thoughtfully. "I see… how about where I lived!"
"A smaller town down South. I can't quite remember the name," Chuuya guessed.
Dazai laughed. "Me neither! But you are right that it was down South."
"Yeah, you liked with that Sakunoske guy, right?" Chuuya said.
Dazai's smile froze on his face for a moment before returning to careful amity. "Yeah, I should've guessed that you would know that. I'm sure everyone in the area wrote about our simultaneous disappearance."
"Disappearance?" Chuuya's brow furrowed. "Didn't Sakunoske die just before you fully became a demon?"
Dazai's entire body went completely still, his face frozen in an unreadable expression. "What?"
"Yeah, he died just before you disappeared; some of the people in the area had a whole memorial for him, cause he was so great or something." Chuuya was incredibly confused by this. Had Dazai not remembered? Is that something that happened when you're a demon for too long?
Dazai's paralyzed expression melted off his face as quickly as it had come. "Oh, yeah. I remember seeing the monument, yeah," Dazai laughed, but it sounded forced.
Chuuya was very concerned now, but decided to let Dazai distract him. If there was anything he'd learned from Adam, it was that if someone didn't want to talk, that was that.
"And just over there—" Dazai was pointing out the seafood place he'd eaten at the night before when he suddenly ducked, pulling Chuuya down with him.
"What the fuck—" Chuuya was cut off when a dark blur passed over right where their heads had been only seconds earlier.
The demon snarled, turning to face them after it realized it had missed.
"Go home," Dazai commanded, his silly demeanor falling away like a discarded mask.
The demon didn't respond, only narrowed its eyes and swiped at them with its claws.
Dazai sighed. "Well, you're a disobedient one, aren't you?"
Chuuya summoned his katana, shifting into a fighting stance. "Why are we being attacked? Aren't you like, the general of all the demons?"
Dazai shot him an unimpressed look. "This one seems to have been dropped on the head."
"Huh. Do you—" Chuuya felt the air get knocked out of him as Dazai pushed him aside suddenly. He turned to look at him, anger and shock overriding his system when he saw another demon that had launched itself right at him.
Had Dazai not pushed him, he would be dead.
Chuuya stared at Dazai, pulse pounding. Dazai stared back, seeming unable to break his gaze.
Why had Dazai saved him? It would've been much easier on him to simply let him die. Hell, that was what he'd been sent there to do!
"Thanks," Chuuya said, his voice hoarse as Dazai offered a hand—a real offer this time—to help him up.
"You… you help the Hunter!" One of the demons screeched, reminding Chuuya of their current situation.
Dazai eyed the demons thoughtfully. "I'll take that one, you take the other? If you can handle it, that is."
Chuuya barked a laugh. "Oh, you're on."
Chuuya charged at his demon, going straight in with an attack, missing the demon's chest by inches.
Dazai seemed to prefer playing with his, dodging and spinning to avoid its attacks, all while taunting it.
Chuuya finally managed to kill his demon and turned to brag about it to Dazai when he was hit with a sharp pain in his abdomen.
"Daz—ughrk," Chuuya dropped to his knees, looking down to see a small, bladed hand through his stomach.
Dazai's head whipped around, his eyes widening when he saw the scene in front of him. He swiftly cut off the demon's head and rushed over to Chuuya, killing whatever had stabbed him in the process.
Chuuya's brain filled with fog as the pain increased. Dazai had blood on his hands and seemed to be frantically trying to stop the bleeding.
Was that his blood on Dazai's shirt or Dazai's own?
"Are you hurt?" Chuuya slurred, trying to move his hand to point at Dazai's shirt, where blood had stained it.
Dazai looked at him in disbelief, shaking his head.
"I'm tired," Chuuya let his head loll to the side. "Ima take a sleep, no, it's nap. Yes, that's the right word."
The last thing Chuuya heard was Dazai frantically shouting his name before everything went dark.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
Dazai scooped Chuuya's limp (not lifeless) body into his arms, making sure he was secure before disappearing in a puff of red smoke, reappearing at the front door of his apartment.
"Doc!" He screamed as he collapsed through the entrance. All the flags were immediately by his side, looking for a Dazai-screaming level threat.
"Isn't that Chuuya Nakahara? The leader of The Sheep?" Albatross asked, confusion evident on his face.
"Dazai, what happened?" Lippman asked calmly, though he was clearly freaking out as well.
"Fix him!" Dazai yelled, ignoring everyone else as Doc burst into the room.
Doc didn't ask questions, simply took Chuuya and nodded, whisking him away to the in-house hospital they had in case of emergency.
"Dazai," Piano Man said insistently. "What. Happened."
Dazai shook his head, trying to focus on his breathing. It was too much like last time, too parallel.
"Let's get you sat down," Lippman suggested, ushering him onto the couch. "You can tell us whenever you feel ready, Dazai, but you must tell us. You've brought an enemy directly into our home with no explanation whatsoever, asking us to help him. I hope you can understand our concern."
Dazai nodded numbly, fending off the memories.
"Let's leave him be," He vaguely heard Piano Man whisper. Everything sounded like he was underwater.
Dazai tucked his legs to his chest, trying to distract himself, think of anything—anything else.
But the memories came.
Dazai remembered when he met Odasaku.
It had been raining, and he hated being wet. Dazai had tucked himself into a corner with an overhang, hoping to find some refuge from the ruthless tempest.
His hopes were dashed as a nearby cart rolled past him, splashing him with dirty water.
Dazai wanted to cry. Now he was alone, hungry, and wet.
Suddenly, a pair of boots stopped as they neared him. Dazai sniffled and looked up to see a kind-looking man with brown hair and blue eyes.
Dazai scrunched into himself, thinking he was about to be dragged out of his hiding spot and forced to go elsewhere.
"Hey there, buddy," The man crouched down to his eye level. "Whatcha doing out here in all this rain?"
Dazai flinched away, covering his face in case the man hit him.
The man frowned at his reaction and shuffled back. Dazai allowed himself to relax a bit once he was out of attack range.
"I'm not gonna hurt you." The man's voice was soothing and soft, like a blanket. "Can you tell me your name?"
"Osamu," Dazai murmured, his voice barely audible. "Osamu Dazai."
"Alright, do you know where your parents are?" The man asked gently.
Dazai shook his head. He hadn't seen them in at least a year.
The man frowned, but not in a mean way. "Do you have a place to stay?"
Dazai shook his head again, tensing as the man inched a bit closer.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. I won't get closer if you don't want me to," The man put his hands out in a placating gesture.
Dazai frowned but nodded.
"Would you like to come stay with me? I run an orphanage of sorts, and you would be well-fed." The man asked as he backed away slightly.
Dazai considered this. As long as the man was who he said he was, Dazai would be under a roof with a steady supply of food. He would also be surrounded by other children, which scared him a bit, but it would ultimately be good protection.
In what he would later consider a very rash decision, Dazai nodded quickly, standing up to follow the man as he beckoned him into the rain.
"Ah, sorry, I don't have any food with me," The man said apologetically. "But Ango just got some, so we should have plenty for you once we get there.
Dazai nodded again, making sure to stay a safe distance behind the man so he could bolt if this turned ugly.
They eventually arrived at a large but worn house with warm light filtering through the windows and laughter sweetening the air.
Dazai allowed himself to relax slightly. This was definitely some sort of orphanage or group home at least.
"Oh, I almost forgot to mention," The man turned to him. "I am Oda Sakunoske."
Dazai's head snapped to him. He'd only been half-listening, transfixed by the sound of whatever ruckus the other children were making inside.
"Odasaku?" He tried nervously, hoping he'd heard right.
The man—Odasaku?—chuckled. "Sure, we can go with that.
Dazai allowed himself a small smile as he was led into the house.
Maybe this could be home.
Dazai remembered the first time he heard Mori's voice.
It had been several years since Odasaku had taken him in; he'd just passed his fourteenth year.
They hadn't been doing well. A bout of sickness was spreading through their town, and a few of the younger kids had taken ill. They couldn't afford the medicine, even with Ango, Odasaku, and Dazai (as the eldest) working.
To make matters worse, Odasaku had begun to get targeted by a few violent groups he'd angered in his younger days. Apparently, one of them had recognized him while he was out, and now they were all fighting for his head.
Dazai stared into a pond as he passed it, wishing there was something, anything, he could do to help.
But in the end, he could never help the people who mattered.
You are nothing on your own. Weak, pathetic; you aren't enough. But I can help you be enough.
Dazai gasped, his hand flying to his head at the sound of the voice. There was no one around who had just spoken to him?
Hello? He thought, focusing on the words in his head. Who are you?
You may call me Mori. I have a proposition for you.
I've been taught not to take deals from strangers.
Well, this one might strike your fancy.
What do you want?
I could make you strong enough to fix all your problems: money, sickness, violence, everything.
And in return?
I want you to run some… errands for me.
Dazai was no fool. He had recognized the name Mori immediately. The Demon King, Lord of Nightmares, and Doctor of Death.
Odasaku would tell him to walk away, to forget all about it and stick to the light.
Odasaku hadn't had to frisk bodies for coin and clothing. Odasaku had never had to choose between saving a parent or a sibling.
Dazai knew exactly what he was getting himself into; he was desperate.
It was worth it to save Odasaku.
I'll do it, He told Mori, squaring his shoulders, though there was no one there to see him.
Excellent.
Dazai remembered taking his first life.
He stared at the body, formerly a Hunter associate. He had been in his mid twenties, maybe, with dark hair and hopeful eyes.
There was blood on his shirt from where it had splattered when he'd stabbed the man.
Dazai was both relieved and horrified to learn that he felt nothing. Not a single emotion sparked in his brain.
He supposed it was Mori's fault. He was sixteen now, and the Demon King had been slowly introducing him to more and more violence, to the point where he was no longer affected by it.
"Exhilarating, isn't it?" Verlaine appeared at his side, his blank expression similar to Dazai's own. "Taking a life."
"Mn," Dazai agreed numbly.
Ah, there was the emotion. A thick, soupy dread was building in his stomach, making his hands tremble and his eyes water.
Verlaine had been placed in charge of overseeing Dazai's training as a demon associate.
He'd first noticed the marks that were now spreading over his hands on his fifteenth birthday. After confronting Mori about it, he learned that because of his deal with Mori, he would assume the marks of a demon because of his constant exposure to them.
Thankfully, they were easily covered with some makeup he'd 'borrowed' from a courtesan, and Ango and Odasaku hadn't noticed.
You've done very well, Mori aplauded in his head.
Dazai didn't feel as though he'd done well at all.
Dazai remembered killing a Hunter.
It was midday, though no one was around due to the massive influx of demons Mori had sent into town to distract the other Hunters.
This one was injured and couldn't come.
The Hunter lounged on the couch, bouncing their leg aggressively and fidgeting with a bit of the bandage on their arm, which was broken.
Dazai had seen to that.
His body count was in the hundreds now, having been around three years since he took his first life.
He didn't feel anything when he killed anymore.
He didn't think he could feel at all.
He approached the Hunter silently, counting his footsteps to keep him focused.
The Hunter died quietly, with a knife to the skull.
Dazai focused on his breathing as he carefully stripped the Hunter of all their weapons to give to Mori later.
He frowned, noticing a faint glow from the Hunter's chest. What was that? Was there some kind of weapon under their jacket?
He leaned closer to inspect it and was hit with a sudden wave of hunger and the scent of something—he didn't know what—delicious.
Instinct told Dazai to open his mouth. As he did, a stream of bright light flowed into it, blinding in its luminance.
It was delicious, filling up the ache he'd felt growing in his chest for years. He slurped the soul from the Hunter hungrily, devouring every last bit of it.
"Dazai?"
Dazai froze, his primal urges subsiding as he realized where he was, what he was doing, and who was behind him.
"Dazai, what…" Dazai turned slowly to see Odasaku slowly walking towards him. He gasped when he saw the body and the fragments of soul around Dazai's mouth.
"What have you done?" He whispered, obviously horrified.
"Odasaku," Dazai tried to keep his voice level. "I promise I can explain."
"Dazai, what is this?" Odasaku pressed, angry lines of concern appearing on his face.
"Odasaku," Dazai said again. "Please, let's go home, and I will tell you everything."
Odasaku shook his head, stumbling back. "You're not Dazai."
Dazai felt the breath leave his lungs as the accusation hit him. He'd been prepared for yelling, shouting, abandonment, but not this.
"Odasaku," It seemed to be all Dazai could say, and his voice cracked as his caregiver backed further away.
"Stay back," Odasaku pulled out the small knife Dazai had gifted him a few years back when they were first starting to have problems with Odasaku's enemies.
Dazai tried to take a step forward, putting his hands out the same way he'd seen Odasaku do so many times.
Odasaku leveled the knife at him. "What have you done with Dazai, demon!"
Dazai took a shuddering breath, trying to control the panic that threatened to consume him.
"It's me, I promise," Dazai pleaded, "Odasaku, it's me."
Odasaku shook his head. "Dazai hates blood. Dazai may not have perfect morals, but he wouldn't do this. Now what have you done with him!"
Dazai tried to take another step forward, but Odasaku bolted, throwing the knife at him before running down the stairs.
Dazai collapsed to the floor, a numb ache spreading through him as the gravity of his situation hit.
Why and how had he consumed that Hunter's soul? Mori had told him he would only look like a demon due to his exposure to them, not turn into one.
Mori had lied.
Rage blurred Dazai's vision. How could he have let himself be lied to like that? Was he stupid? How could he not have known?
All of his anger, panic, betrayal, and desperation pooled into a deep exhaustion in the pit of his stomach.
Dazai was so, so tired. He just wanted to curl up with Odasaku and Ango and the other children, like he used to when he was a child, and fall asleep to their heartbeats.
But that wasn't an option anymore.
The marks had spread further, now covering his entire body, and he had no way to hide them. Odasaku had almost certainly made it home by now and was warning the others about him.
Maybe… maybe he could see them one last time.
Dazai dragged himself up off the floor, his limbs like boulders, and began to trudge his way home.
Dazai remembered everything falling apart.
He arrived at his home—well, now it was his former home, he supposed.
Immediately, he could tell something was off. There was no sound from anywhere around the house, and none of the lights were on.
All of that was accompanied by the tangy smell of cinnamon and lemon; dead souls.
Dazai barely had a thought loud enough to be heard over his panic as he burst through the doors, his heart pounding in his chest.
He stopped short as he took in the nauseating sight.
Four of the other children were dead at the entrance, their bodies barely cold.
From what he could tell through his numb, grief-induced haze, three of them had suffered stab wounds, and one had blunt-force trauma.
Dazai chanted their names under his breath like a lifeline, trying to hold on to any part of them.
He found the rest scattered throughout the house, all dead. Ango was nowhere to be seen, and Dazai was almost afraid to look.
Finally, he found Odasaku.
"Odasaku!" Dazai cried, rushing over to him. He was still breathing.
Dazai collapsed beside him, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he took Odasaku's pulse. He was still breathing. He was still breathing.
"Da..zai?"
Dazai gasped, his back going rigid. "Odasaku? Can you hear me? I'm so, so sorry."
Odasaku grunted, trying to prop himself up.
"No, Odasaku, you've been stabbed," Dazai reminded him, trying not to look at the gaping wound in Odasaku's stomach.
"I'm… sorry…" Odasaku said, sounding strained.
"No, Odasaku, it wasn't your fault," Dazai promised, wanting so badly to cry, to set his agonizing pain free.
"I'm sorry for doubting you. I'm sorry you had to do what you thought you needed to alone," Odasaku told him.
Dazai gasped. "Odasaku, that wasn't your fault either."
"I'm going to die," Odasaku continued. "I'm sorry for that, too. I should've been more careful. Ango went for help; go find him."
"Odasaku no, we'll get you to a doctor," Dazai pleaded.
"You'll be okay," Odasaku assured him, patting his hand. "Just promise me one thing."
Dazai let out an agonized dry sob. "Anything."
"No more killing. You deserve better than to have your potential boiled down to an ability to draw a knife across someone's throat. You deserve to live a happy and free life."
Dazai let himself fall apart, his eyes finally allowing tears to flow from them as Odasaku passed out again.
"No, no, no, no, no, no!" He screamed, desperately trying to wake Odasaku again.
He was losing blood too fast. Dazai wouldn't be able to save him.
There was only one option.
"Mori!" He shouted into the empty air.
Dazai. Is something wrong?
"Fix him! Help him!"
Dazai could practically hear Mori's calculating smile. And what will you do for me in return?
"Anything! I- I'll allow myself to become a demon, I'll come with you willingly!" Dazai offered desperately. Odasaku needed to survive.
Well then.
Dark red smoke enveloped Odasaku, spiriting him away like Dazai had seen it do to demons.
“Where is he?” Dazai demanded.
Safe.
Dazai wanted to scream, but refrained, instead focusing on finding Ango. They had decided on a safe house years ago when Odasaku started getting targeted.
It wasn't much, but it was a good hour's walk from their house. When Dazai reached it, he was distraught, angry, and sweaty.
"What happened?" He demanded, not bothering to announce his presence as he blew through the doors of the abandoned wherehouse they'd refurbished to be slightly more comfortable.
Ango started and spun around, aiming a knife at Dazai before relaxing. Thankfully, it was dark enough that Dazai's patterns were obscured.
"Dazai! Where have you been!" Ango rushed over to check him for injuries.
"I'm fine," Dazai said flatly. "What happened."
Ango pursed his lips. "I-I think I may have led them to us."
Dazai went rigid. "You did what."
Tears streamed down Ango's face as he looked at Dazai pleadingly. "Dazai, please, it was an accident."
"Leave," Dazai commanded.
"Dazai, I didn't mean to!" Ango protested.
"No, you don't understand. I am going to kill every single one of those gang members. You need to leave." Dazai explained tightly. He didn't need Ango getting caught in the crossfire.
Ango looked taken aback. "Dazai, what—" but Dazai was already out the door.
Dazai remembered the cold emptiness that filled him as he stood in the middle of a room full of bodies.
True to his word, every person associated with the gang that killed his family was dead.
He had nothing left to live for, no one to hold on to. Odasaku was safe, but he'd broken his promise, and Odasaku would surely hate him now. Ango was safe as well, but somewhere Dazai couldn't get to.
Everyone else was dead.
This was his fault. If only he'd been faster, if only he'd been more careful about leaving the house, if only he hadn't let Odasaku follow him, if only he hadn't devoured that soul, if only—
Dazai stopped himself. If onlys wouldn't help anyone.
What would help them was getting rid of the biggest threat they faced.
Himself.
Dazai took the knife Odasaku had thrown at him earlier, his eyes moving reverently over the polished handle and sharp blade.
It was rather poetic, Dazai thought as he positioned the knife against his rib cage.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, he pushed it in.
Dazai remembered waking up.
Wait. Hadn't he died? How was he awake? Was this some sort of afterlife?
"I am disappointed, Dazai."
No. That voice. He'd escaped him.
Dazai forced himself to perceive what was happening. He was in a sort of doctor's room, surrounded by blinding white—he hated that color.
The man in front of him made his blood turn cold. It was his old doctor.
"You're dead!" He yelled, trying to sit up unsuccessfully. He seemed to be strapped down to the cot.
Dazai thrashed, trying not to remember the hospital stay.
"Calm down. Your old doctor is very much dead. Interesting that I would appear to you as him." The man said with a calm smile fixed to his face.
"Mori?" Dazai asked, even more confused and angry now.
The man—Mori—nodded. "Rather unfortunate that you tried to go behind my back and break our deal."
"Why am I alive?" Dazai demanded.
"You're a demon now, and therefore incapable of dying unless I kill you," Mori informed him.
Dazai felt as though he was drowning. He was totally and completely alone, devoid of anything that could make him want to prolong this life.
And yet, he couldn't die.
Dazai was no fool; he knew Mori saw great potential in him. He wouldn't let such an asset go easily.
"What about Odasaku? What happened to him?" Dazai asked, almost afraid of the answer.
"He is safe. For now. That all depends on you."
Oh, what had Dazai done?
"Can I see him?" He tried.
Mori shook his head. "You've proven I cannot trust you, Dazai. But know this. One toe out of line, and Oda Sakunoske suffers."
Suffers. Not dies, suffers. Dazai felt his body go numb. He might have been able to live with himself if Mori had killed Odasaku; after all, it had been a miracle he survived in the first place. But Dazai would tear himself or anyone else to pieces before he was the cause of Odasaku's suffering.
"Okay," He heard himself saying. "I'll cooperate with you."
"Good, good." Mori smiled. "I'm sure we'll have great fun."
Dazai had never felt so alone.
Over the decades, Dazai learned to deflect, to put on a happy face, and toy with others for any semblance of emotion.
He learned to pout and plot, to deceive and discern, to play pretend and act the part of the psychopathic vessel of death Mori wanted him to be.
It had been centuries since he'd felt a real emotion.
Until he met Chuuya.
"Dazai."
Dazai turned to see Chuuya standing behind him. He felt a rush of relief. He'd been stuck in this maze for hours.
"Chuuya!" Oops, that was more excitement than he'd meant to express. "Do you know how to get out of here?"
Chuuya gave him a side eye, and Dazai was about to insist they'd be better off together, no matter if he was annoying, when Chuuya spoke.
"Why would I go anywhere with you?" He sneered. "You've done nothing but lie to me. Don't try it again. I know you sent that demon after us."
"What—Chuuya, no, I wouldn't—" Dazai tried desperately, confusion and hurt overwhelming him. It had been hundreds of years since he'd felt anything this potent.
"You're an asshole," Chuuya growled at him. "You prance around, playing with people like dolls, then discarding them when you're done—you think that's funny!?"
"Chuuya, I promise—"
"You're sick," Chuua snarled. Dazai felt his whole body go still at those words.
Sick.
The maze walls started closing in. He was trapped, and Chuuya was still there, yelling at him. "You couldn't even save me! Did you even care!?"
"Please stop," Dazai pleaded as the thorn bushes began to prick his skin.
Then he was awake.
"Dazai!"
The shout made him jerk upright, instincts automatically pinning whoever had woken him to the wall.
He looked over at the perpetrator, his eyes wild and alert. A startled-looking Albatross stared back at him, his hands raised in surrender.
"What's wrong?" Dazai asked flatly, letting him go.
"Chuuya's awake."