Chapter Text
Late March / Early April - At the Apartment
Sunday Morning - 1:54 am
Dazai unlocked the door for Chuuya as the girl still wouldn’t let go. Chuuya followed in behind him as he turned on the lights. The small girl barely stirred as Chuuya carefully kicked off his shoes by the door. Dazai just walked into the house, not caring about his shoes, despite how many times Chuuya has told him to take them off.
The hallway leads out to the living room, with the kitchen and dining room to the left. It’s a fairly large apartment, but nothing fancy. Dazai’s coats are thrown on the coach, and papers are left on the table.
“Go set her in the guest room. I’ll see if you have any medication that a child can have.” Dazai headed down the hall to the master bedroom, the door drifting closed behind him.
Chuuya nodded, ignoring how his arm throbbed slightly as he carried the small girl to the spare room. The room was dark, but he didn’t bother turning on the lights. The spare room wasn’t used often, mainly for Dazai when he came over and was too drunk to sleep in the master bedroom. When Chuuya tried to set the girl down onto the guest bed, she refused to let go. If anything, her grip tightened. He paused.
“Uh- it’s-... it’s okay…” He awkwardly rubs the girl's back briefly. “You’re alright….You’re uh, You’re safe.”
He tries again, gently lowering her to the bed and carefully sliding his arms out from under her. She immediately clings closer to him, her fingure curl, gripping his shirt tightly, her breath hitched, and she let out a small panicked noise. It wasn’t a loud noise; it was more of a heartbreaking, quiet whimper. Chuuya stops.
This isn’t working.
He adjusts his grip, making sure he won’t drop her as he stands up straight again. Chuuya starts to head to the master bedroom, but is met with Dazai in the hallway.
“You don’t have any medication safe for children. For now, we observe her. If the fever worsens overnight, we’ll reassess.”
“Uh, Mackerel?” Chuuya paused, unsure of what to do. “Dazai, she won’t let go.”
Dazai looks at the girl, at how tightly she’s holding onto Chuuya even while being half-conscious with a fever.
“Forcing separation right now would probably make her condition worse.”
“Okay. Cool. Great. Awesome. Now what?”
“We have to clean her wounds before they get infected.”
“And how do we do that when she’s attached to me?”
“We work around it. Sit.”
Chuuya sat on the edge of the spare bed while Dazai disappeared back into the master bedroom. The girl had her face tucked into the crook of his neck; he could feel her slightly labored breathing and the warmth of the fever.
When Dazai reappeared, his hands were full with whatever he could grab that he thought was important. On the bed, he set down some cotton balls, a thermometer, some clean towels, antiseptic, a washcloth, a glass of water, and a first aid kit- where did he get that? He looks at the girl, who has made no move to let go.
“Do you think you can get her to drink some water, Chibi? She’s dehydrated.”
“Uh- maybe?” Chuuya adjusts his grip again, she was concerningly light. She immediately tensed. “Whoa, hey….hey, it’s okay….. I’m not letting go. Okay?” Chuuya awkwardly rubs the girl’s back again, not knowing how else to calm her down. “Can you do me a favor?.... I just need you to take a couple of sips of water. I’ll be here the entire time…. I won’t let go, uh, if you don’t want me to..”
The girl barely moves. Not good.
“Chuuya.”
“I know. I- I know. I’m trying.” Chuuya lets out a short sigh. “Okay… Um, let’s try it this way…. I’m going to move you, okay? I’m not- I won’t let go, but I need you to try to drink some water… Okay?” Chuuya proceeds to gently shift her to sit up against his chest. She starts to panic; her breath hitching and not letting go of his shirt. “Hey- hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m just adjusting, just like I said.”
Dazai watches this as it unfolds. He notes how she looks to be younger than five. Although with how small she is from malnutrition, it’s hard to say exactly how old she is. He watches as she relaxes as Chuuya talks her down. This was not going to be easy.
“Hey,” Dazai’s voice doesn’t really ‘soften’, but it loses its edge, some semblance of trying to be gentle. Then, he kneels. Chuuya blinks. *Since when is Dazai good with kids?* “Here’s what I’m going to do: First, we need you to drink some water. I’m going to hold out a glass for my… friend to take, and he’s going to hold it up for you to drink. Then, I need to get your temperature, so I’m going to run this,” he holds the thermometer up to show, “Across your forehead. It’ll be cold, and it’ll tell me exactly what I need to know so we can help. Okay?”
The girl doesn’t make any outward reaction, but then slowly nods slightly. Dazai then hands the cup of water to Chuuya, as he said he would. Chuuya carefully brings the cup to the child's mouth, tilting it slowly. The feverish child takes a couple of small sips before turning her head away. Chuuya lowers the cup, looking at Dazai, a silent, *Now what??*
“I’m going to run this across your forehead now, okay? It’ll be cold.” Dazai slowly puts the thermometer to her forehead; she inhales sharply. He drags it across her forehead and waits for the reading. Beep. Beep. Beep. The thermometer beeps softly, and Dazai stills slightly. Chuuya sees that.
“What? How bad is it?”
“37.4°C. Not good, but not catastrophic. We should clean her injuries now. If we leave the wounds untreated, the fever could spike.”
"Okay..." Chuuya looked down at her, his expression unreadable. "This is probably gonna sting."
He glanced up at Dazai. "...How do you tell a kid something's going to hurt without making them panic?"
Dazai blinked. "I usually start with, 'This won't hurt.'"
Chuuya shot him a flat look. "...You're an awful person."
"I know."
“God, you’re unbearable-”
“You’re the one who sticks around.”
“And I regret it everyday.”
The girl’s grip tightens on Chuuya’s coat.
"Okay..." Chuuya sighed quietly, shifting his attention away from Dazai’s bullshit and back to the girl. "I'm gonna clean your arm now."
Nothing.
"...I know."
Another pause.
"I know you don't know me… But if we don't clean this, it's gonna hurt worse later."
He shifts her against his chest, trying to ease her arm out without trying to pry her off. The girl’s grip tightens more before she realized he’s not letting go.
Dazai watched quietly, his expression unreadable. His eyes, however, tracked every small movement—the tightening of her fingers, the hitch in her breathing, the way she relaxed only when Chuuya stopped moving.
The moment that the cotton ball touched her arm, she recoiled, letting out a soft whimper and burying face into his neck.
“Sorry-...... Sorry…” Chuuya pauses before trying again, awkwardly trying to clean her scrapes.
Dazai sighs, long and annoyed. It’s hard to tell if he’s actually annoyed. “Give it to me.”
“What- Why?”
“Because you keep hesitating every time she flinches. Just hand it over, I’ll do it.”
Dazai takes the cotton ball from Chuuya’s hand. Chuuya watched him clean the cuts with surprising gentleness.
“...You’re weirdly good at this…”
“I’ve had practice.”
Chuuya’s gaze falls on the bandages covering his partner's arms and neck. “Right… Practice.”
Dazai doesn’t say anything else.
Chuuya exhales once, slow. “....she’s asleep.”
“And?”
“So be quiet you bastard.”
"You know... you've been rubbing her back for the last five minutes.” Despite his teasing, Dazai’s voice did lower slightly.
Chuuya rolls his eyes, ignoring the comment. He slowly turns, planning on laying her on the spare bed. She clings closer, having woken up.
“Right….” He just accepts his fate and started trying to at least get a little comfortable. “Okay… Okay… you’re.. Okay. We’ll just lay like this…” Chuuya leans against the headboard, awkwardly rubbing the girl’s back again. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what, Chuuuuuyaaaa~?”
“You know exactly how you’re looking at me, you piece of shit-”
Dazai gasps dramatically, “Swearing in front of an innocent child?! Chuuya! How could you?”
“Just shut up so the poor kid can sleep!”
.
.
.
Sunday Morning - 11:29 am
Chuuya woke up with a stiff neck and a throbbing arm.
For one very confusing second, he couldn't remember why he'd fallen asleep sitting upright.
Then, he felt a weight curled against his chest.
When he looked down, the girl was still asleep. Her grip on him had loosened, but she hadn’t let go completely.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty. You look like hell.” Chuuya looked up to find Dazai sitting at the opposite end of the bed, with a cup of black coffee.
“Gee, thanks.” Chuuya winces as he tries to move. His body screamed at him. “Have you been up all night?”
“Someone needed to make sure everyone was breathing. Sleep is for the weak.”
Chuuya did a mental checklist; His arm was asleep where she was laying, his other arm was throbbing from the bullet graze, his neck was stiff, he had to pee, and the girl- the girl still felt really warm against his skin.
“I checked her temperature an hour ago, it didn’t get any worse. But it’s not getting better.”
“That’s… good… right?” Chuuya shifts slightly, the girl lets out a small noise, not waking fully. “Okay… so what now? Do we wait.. Or?”
“We should give her some more water and check her temperature again. I’ve been doing it every hour.”
“So… wake her up?”
Chuuya hesitates for a second, eyes flicking down to the girl like he’s weighing something Dazai already decided for him.
“…Yeah,” Dazai says quietly, before Chuuya can talk himself out of it. “Gently.”
Chuuya shifts carefully, trying not to disturb her grip as he reaches for the glass on the bedside table.
She doesn’t let go.
“…Just keep her like that,” Dazai adds after a beat. “She’ll react less if she doesn’t feel a full separation.”
“Hey….” Chuuya gently shakes her, “Hey… come on, wake up please….”
Her eyes flutter open, glassy and fever stricken. Chuuya’s stomach turns at the sight of her. He holds a glass of cool water for her to drink. The girl barely drinks any. Chuuya lowers the glass slightly.
“…That’s not enough.”
“I know,” Dazai replies. “But it’s something.”
Dazai watches the girl for a moment longer. His eyes flick briefly to the empty space between each sip she should be taking. Then away.
Chuuya tries again later that night—he doesn’t say it out loud, just adjusts her position, offers water again.
She doesn’t take it.
The cup doesn’t change anything.
Neither does his voice.
.
.
.
Monday night - 9:01 pm
By the time the light outside the window fades fully, nothing has changed.
Except the number of attempts.
And the number of failures.
The apartment feels quieter than it should. Not peaceful—just strained, like the walls are holding their breath.
The fever gets worse.
It starts in small ways Chuuya almost misses. A sharper tremor in her breathing. The way her skin feels hotter even through the blanket. The way she stops responding even to his voice entirely, like it’s slipping further out of reach.
She throws up water.
Chuuya freezes for half a second before carefully pulling her upright, one hand steady at her back.
“Hey—hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”
She doesn’t answer. She barely even reacts.
The glass gets set aside without finishing.
She refuses to eat.
Chuuya tries anyway—small amounts, patient at first, then quieter each time. The spoon never gets far. Dazai watches once, then doesn’t comment. Just writes something down.
She won’t talk. That part isn’t new. But it feels heavier now, like silence is becoming less of a condition and more of a state.
Dazai starts keeping notes. At first it’s just a pen and scrap paper. Then it becomes organized.
Temperature. Time. Amount of water taken. How long she sleeps before shifting again.
He writes without hesitation, without frustration, without pause—like he’s separating emotion from outcome. Like if he tracks it closely enough, it will make sense.
“38.1,” Dazai murmurs at one point, not looking up. “It’s climbing again.”
Chuuya’s jaw tightens. “We’re doing everything right.”
Dazai flips the page. “I know.”
That’s the problem.
He’s becoming frighteningly methodical. Not because he doesn’t care.
Because he does.
And Chuuya can tell the difference now. The quiet way Dazai stops reacting is worse than any joke he could’ve made.
Chuuya becomes increasingly frustrated because nothing he does helps. He adjusts her position again anyway.
Then again. Then stops himself mid-motion, fingers curling slightly like he’s holding back something useless.
“…Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
Dazai doesn’t look up.
“Language.”
“Shut up.”
A pause.
“…She’s not getting better.”
“I know.”
Another pause.
This time, neither of them adds anything after it.
.
.
.
Tuesday Morning - 2:34 am
“Chuuya.”
“...”
“Chuuya.”
“...”
“Chuuya!”
Chuuya wakes with a jolt. He finds Dazai standing over him.
“Fever went up. 39.8°C Any higher and we risk organ failure.”
“Wha- Why are you so calm about that?! Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?! What do we do?”
Dazai’s expression doesn’t change. “I didn’t wake you because it was still climbing slowly. I needed to know if it would stabilize on its own.”
A beat.
“It didn’t.”
“Okay- so what do we do about it?!”
“Ice bath. Despite the name, it needs to be lukewarm. If it’s too warm, it does nothing, too cold, she can go into shock.”
Chuuya stand, knees popping as he quickly heads to the bathroom. He was already halfway to the bathroom before his brain caught up with his body.
The bathroom light flicked on, painfully bright against the dark apartment. White tile. White sink. White tub.
Everything looked so... normal. Like Chuuya wasn’t holding a small girl with a fever.
Dazai followed close behind, immediately turning on the faucet. Water splashed loudly into the empty tub, echoing off the walls. His hand slipped beneath the stream, adjusting the handle a fraction.
Warmer.
Then colder.
Then warmer again.
His fingers stayed beneath the water, testing it over and over.
Chuuya didn't answer right away.
He just stared. Not at Dazai. Not at the tub.
At the water.
It poured endlessly from the faucet like it had all the time in the world. Like they did.
"...You're sure about this?"
The question came out quieter than he meant it to.
Dazai's hands never stopped moving. "No."
Another adjustment. Another test. "But it's the only option we have left."
Silence. The only sound was rushing water.
For a second, Chuuya hated it.
Hated how ordinary it sounded.
How it didn't care.
How nothing outside this bathroom knew this girl was barely conscious.
Didn't know she could stop breathing.
Didn't know she might already be dying.
"...Ready."
Dazai stepped back.
The tub was filling steadily now, steam barely visible above the surface. Chuuya looked down at the girl in his arms. She felt frighteningly warm. Not just warm.
Hot.
Her skin burned through the soaked fabric of his shirt. Sweat clung to her forehead, damp strands of hair sticking to flushed skin. Even unconscious, tiny tremors kept running through her muscles.
Her breathing hadn't gotten any steadier. Still too fast. Still too shallow. Like every breath hurt.
"...I've got you." He wasn't sure if he was talking to her or himself.
Slowly—
Painfully slowly—
He knelt beside the tub.
One hand supported her shoulders. The other stayed firmly beneath her knees.
Every movement was careful. Fragile.
Like she might shatter.
Dazai was already beside him again, eyes locked on them. Watching everything.
Chuuya slowly starts to lower the girl into the tub.
“Her body’s going to react,” he says flatly. “Don’t let go.”
Chuuya clicks his tongue. “When do I ever?”
The second her leg touches the water, her entire body jolted. Every muscle locked at once. A sharp inhale caught in her throat before turning into a tiny, broken sound.
Not a scream. Not even close. Just—
A frightened little gasp.
Then, panic. Her hands moved before her mind did. Her fingers twisted violently into the front of Chuuya’s shirt. Knuckles white. Like if she let go—
He'd disappear.
Her breathing sped up even more. Tiny, desperate breaths. Her shoulders trembled violently.
"...Hey." Chuuya immediately shifted closer. "It's okay."
Another shake. Another frightened whimper.
She still hadn't opened her eyes. Didn't seem to know where she was. Or who she was holding onto. Her grip only tightened.
She didn't scream. That's worse. The thought hit Chuuya before he could stop it. God. He wished she'd scream.
"..."
Chuuya looked at Dazai. Dazai met his eyes. Neither of them spoke.
"..."
"...We have to."
Chuuya swallowed. His jaw tightened hard enough to ache.
"...I know."
He hated those words. Because they were true. He hated that Dazai was right. He hated that there wasn't another option. He hated that medicine wasn't working. Hated that calling an ambulance wasn't possible. Hated that the smartest man he knew had run out of ideas.
Then, slowly, without hesitation, he lowered himself into the water, fully clothed, hugging the girl to his chest. The second it reached her waist—She jerked violently. A strangled sob escaped her throat. Her nails dug through Chuuya's shirt and into his shoulder. Hard. He barely noticed.
"It's okay." Lie. "I've got you." Lie. "You're okay."
The biggest lie of all. She wasn't okay. She looked like she was fighting her own body.
Her heart still hammered beneath her ribs so violently Chuuya could almost feel it through her back.
Dazai crouched beside the tub. He watched her face. Checked her breathing. Counted. Timed. Calculated. His fingers brushed against the side of her neck. Still racing.
Too fast.
"...Temperature's dropping."
"Not fast enough."
"I know."
Another minute. Silence rushed in. Only broken by her uneven breathing.
"...Damn it..."
He whispered it so quietly even he barely heard himself.
Her forehead rested against his shoulder now. She was still burning. Still shaking. Still breathing too fast. He could feel every shaky inhale through his soaked shirt.
Dazai checked her pulse again. Then again. Then again. Every thirty seconds. Like maybe one of those times it'd finally slow.
"...Come on..."
His voice was quieter than before. He didn't realize he'd said it until Chuuya glanced toward him. Neither acknowledged it.
The water around them had already soaked completely through Chuuya's clothes. His sleeves clung heavily to his arms. His hat sat abandoned on the floor somewhere behind him.
Her grip loosened. For one horrifying second, Chuuya's heart stopped.
"Dazai—"
"I'm watching."
Then, her fingers tightened again. Not as hard. But enough. A breath neither of them realized they'd been holding escaped at the same time.
Chuuya looked down at the girl clinging to him with every ounce of strength she had left.
“This isn’t working.”
“I know.”
“Then what do we do, Dazai? We’re barely adults.”
A pause. “...I know.”
Silence. Dazai closes the notebook.
“Then what do we do?”
“We get help.”
“…From who?”
“Kouyou-san.”
“…Yeah.”
“And Odasaku.”