Chapter Text
The heat in the air had been unbearable this whole week, making Dazai want to skip his extra layers of bandages and clothes altogether and just lounge under the air conditioner with a watermelon ice lolly. As it was, walking back home from a rather boring school group project, Dazai felt like melting into a puddle on the sidewalk. Death by heat stroke, his gravestone would read. Odasaku would most possibly laugh at his dramatics.
Huffing in the humid night air and tugging up his bag, the thought of swinging by at Odasaku’s apartment spurred him to pick up his pace. Maybe Ango might be there too, what with those two trying and failing to keep their relationship a secret. Dazai did remember seeing them sneaking in a kiss at work last week, promptly gasping with glee for the blackmail material he had gotten hold of. Ango would have a sure fit if he knew.
In his hurry to get to their usual haunt and poke fun at his friends (and escape this heat), he had overlooked the dark alley he was just crossing, caught completely off guard when a hand shot out of the dark to grab his arm and haul him backwards. Yelping at the sudden unexpected action, Dazai immediately swung his bag at the offender. The grip on his arm loosened just a bit, but the person didn’t let go.
That person pulled Dazai into the alley, intent on not letting his prey go, and had shoved Dazai against the rough alley wall. Despite the situation spiralling out of his hands, Dazai found himself mentally calm and resigned for whatever was to happen: hopefully a swift end to his rather sorry life.
Turning around a bit to look at his attacker, Dazai mentally contemplated the pros and cons of fighting back; the thug was quite menacingly tall and looming, also that gun in his hand was not helping the situation.
“Look, I have nothing against your murderous intentions, but it would be quite unwise to kill me here.” Dazai tried keeping his tone conversational, a hard feat to manage for someone in his position. Failed at it spectacularly too, because his voice came out strained.
“Shut it, kid. You’re in the wrong neighbourhood to talk like this.” The thug laughed, shoving Dazai into the wall and smacking the barrel of the gun on his temple. Ah, so this was it, dying in an alleyway by the hands of a nameless idiot. Death goals.
The goon was searching his pockets now, (robbery was something Dazai could sympathize with), when a sharp and heavy voice addressed the both of them,“What’s going on here?”
His attacker must not have been expecting to be walked in on, it seems, because he cursed and immediately let go of Dazai to face the new person.
Slightly put out at the prospect of no inevitable demise to be inflicted on his person, Dazai turned around to look at the enfolding scene, one hand going up to rub at his bruised temple. The entrance of the alleyway was blocked by a kid, standing well out of the light for Dazai to see properly. But even in the dark, Dazai could tell that this new person held some sway in how things went around here, if the goon sweating besides him was any tell.
“Boss.” Oh, this was something new. A kid holding reign over grown adults? Laughable, really. Before Dazai could think of throwing in his own two cents that no one asked for, the new kid walked out from the shadows and Dazai’s breath caught.
Even in the low light, the glints of copper and tempered fire engulfed his vision. Dazai felt warmth creep over his face, his mind already predicting his doom by this person’s hand even if he did play his cards right.
“I caught this one strolling in our turf, boss.” The thug, that Dazai had forgotten all about, spoke in his defense.
The ‘boss’ glanced at Dazai, narrowed eyes accessing his form, gaze landing on the bandages covering his wrists and neck, before he met his eyes. Dazai knew he painted a rather pathetic picture of weakness, feeling his cheeks warming up (it was the summer heat, nothing else). That boy must have seen something on Dazai’s face then, because a small smile appeared on his own. Dazai thought it was a rather poor attempt at trying to appear harmless. He could see the knife strapped on the boy's side.
“Did you honestly take him as a threat? Are you stupid?” He spoke in a low voice. The goon spluttered at the mocking reprimand. Dazai on the other hand, didn't even mind the indirect jab at his lacking physical prowess, deciding to stay quiet as long as this person kept talking. He had a nice voice.
“What's your name kid?” The person had turned his full attention towards Dazai now, dismissing his subordinate with a wave of his hand.
“I believe it's you that's the kid here, chibikko.” That boy was quite short and, well, Dazai never could control his tongue in the face of such devastating beauty.
The redhead looked taken aback for a moment, (and oh ,were those eyes blue), before that smile slipped off his face, replaced by a sneer.
“I'm seventeen, if you must know, you bastard.” It was Dazai’s turn to be surprised now. Unbelievable, the chibi, older than him? Dazai himself was only a month shy of seventeen. “Just go home. It’s past your bedtime.”
“But it's you that needs to sleep, otherwise you’d be forever cursed with shortness.” Dazai drawled, knowing that he was really asking for a punch here. The kid looked irritated before, but now he was outright scowling, and before Dazai could even smile awkwardly over ruined first meetings, he found himself pinned up to the wall again, albeit not as harshly as the first time.
“You're damn well lucky I'm not in the mood to kill anyone today.” This was definitely a warning, spoken low in his ear and Dazai tried and failed at suppressing a shiver. The boy snickered.
Those eyes were blue, sparkling with amusement and arrogance, and Dazai found himself not minding this treatment, or the condensing heat looming between them. He could easily get lost just looking in that ocean, and with the way the boy was smirking, it seemed he was well aware of his own charm.
As it was, one does have revelations bestowed upon them at the strangest of times, and Dazai found, encaged and enraptured by the boy in front of him, that he would very easily offer himself to be killed by such a person (not that he would put up any protest to getting killed by just about anyone. Except Mori).
A loud noise; and the echo of a fired bullet, had the boy looking over his shoulder, his eyes fixed in the darkness down the alley, as if he could see what was in there.
“Leave now, it's not safe to be outside tonight.” He spoke in a low voice, his gaze still trained at the looming darkness. And without glancing back a Dazai, he turned away and stalked into the very shadows he came out of.
Dazai felt disoriented for a second, sliding down against the alley wall. He felt pleasantly warm, (and not because of the heat in the air),and not in a bad way either. Another gunshot rang in the air, jolting him out of his thoughts, halting all words forming in his mind for another time.
For now, he needed to go home.
Standing up haltingly, he hadn't realized until now that his legs felt like jelly. He picked up his bag that he had thrown at his attacker, uselessly dusted himself and ran his hand through his hair. Dazai, in his defense, only turned around once to glare at the darkness where the red-headed beauty had vanished into, before he himself walked out of the alley, the fire still burning a steady picture in his mind’s eye.
His heart was thudding loudly in its cage, unsure and confused of what to make of this fated encounter.
The mansion’s ballroom was abuzz this evening, a formal get together for the town’s upper elites, hosted by the respected Mori Ougai. Dazai had been busy because of this, having to socialize with faceless, nameless people and listening to praises of how he had grown so much since the last time he had been forced to make a public appearance three years ago.
A polite smile here, a raised glass there, he tried not to let his irritation and tiredness show. This was a special event after all, in support of all the patrons and advocates that funded Mori Ougai’s hospitals and medical campaigns.
Dazai knew first hand that these funds were only half spent for their original purposes, most of it being used in operating the illegal activities running behind the shadows of the clinics and operating rooms.
He also knew that most of these patrons attending the event today were also aware of this fact, and that they endorsed it all willingly. Most of the people in this room were hiding some form of yakuza affiliation under their dress suits. The only exception was Dazai, the odd one out, but they didn’t need to know that. Mori had made sure that no one knew of Dazai’s uninterest in his father's ‘business’ that he would be inheriting someday.
The champagne flute in his hand had been emptied twice now, knowing that he would need the buzz to survive this crowd.
He listlessly glanced at his wrist watch, cursing lowly over the fact that he still had to attend to this affair for at least the next hour before he could excuse himself. He could spy Mori standing on the other end of the room, standing near a balcony entrance, the very picture of a man who knew how to wring out money from anyone, surrounded by a crowd of ‘well-wishers’.
Dazai saw another man walk towards him, uselessly wondering where Elise must be now. He would easily bet his entire gaming system to say that she had found herself another besotted admirer to spend the evening with behind locked doors, never the one to make public appearances because of her status. Mori would not be pleased if he heard about it.
The man greeted Dazai and introduced himself as Fukuda Kaito and Dazai immediately recognized him as a local dignitary who wasn't that much of a big noise as he made himself to be. They made some small talk about Mori’s ‘innovative brilliance’ before the topic shifted to Dazai’s academic progress in school.
“My eldest daughter, Haruki” the man began, “She's around your age.” Ah. Dazai downed half the champagne in one go, cursing himself for not having steered the conversation in another direction.
“She attends the same school as you,” Fukuda sounded hopeful, “Perhaps you know of her?” Dazai did, in fact, know of her. Just like he knew every other student that was enrolled in his school. He was aware of everyone, could recall everything, right down to their assigned seats and family occupations and distinctions in class.
So, no, in a way he did not know who that girl was, nor could he bring himself to care.
“I'm afraid not, sir.” A polite smile played on his lips. “I find myself too preoccupied with pages to familiarize myself with faces.” It wasn't a lie, per say, he really was too busy with his studies and his self deprecating thoughts to even spare trying to befriend anyone from school.
“Ah, yes.” the man nodded sagely. “But she speaks so much of you, I naturally assumed you two were acquainted. She told me all about how you won the national debate award this term and...” Dazai’s attention was tapering from the conversation now, too used to having people sing high praises of him. His eyes absently strayed over his side, catching sight of Hirotsu carrying a plate of eatables out of the hall. He realized only now, that he hadn’t eaten anything for the past six or so hours.
Breakfast had been a hurried affair, with Elise glaring at him from the other end of the table, angry at him for having eaten the last piece of her red velvet cake. She acted like such a child sometimes, spoiled as she was, and Dazai was always acting out of his way to irritate her into another tantrum. She had barred him from the kitchen after that.
He looked back at the man besides him, who was still busy talking about his daughter’s hobbies. Dazai didn't remember when the topic had been changed. His stomach grumbled a little, as if suddenly aware of its hunger.
“I’m sorry, Fukuda-san.” Dazai cut in the one-sided conversation. “But it’s seems that I’m needed elsewhere for now. Good evening.” Hastily making his escape from the room, he downed the rest of his glass and made his way down the hallway leading to the east door of the kitchen.
The kitchen was buzzing with servants and hired waiters milling around, busy carrying trays laden with drinks and food to and fro. Those who passed him only greeted him before resuming their work, but no one stopped and asked to offer their service, too used to Dazai meaninglessly wandering the rooms and doing his work himself (He really did hate having others baby him).
He passed an open oven to reach the next counter, the hot air escaping from it reminding him of a warm night and copper curls and azure. Scoffing lightly at the unwanted memory, he stuffed his mouth with a mozzarella stick and chewed, mentally chastising himself for not having gotten that boy’s name in the very least.
He had struck out the possibility of that boy attending his school immediately and the most he could predict was that his gang affiliation meant that he was on the police’s wanted list. He could also predict that the boy was dangerous, very dangerous. And hot. He should probably check the police watch list once more.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dazai saw Hirotsu come to stand beside him, who silently offered him a plate of chicken wings and fries. “Aww, Hirotsu, wherever would I be without you?” Dazai asked with a thankful smile, knowing that it was true. Besides Hirotsu, no one in this household had ever spared him more than a moment to hear his thoughts or mothered him into eating on a proper schedule.
Hirotsu chuckled good naturedly, the grey of his hair glinting in the low hanging white LED lights. “Master was asking about your absence from the room just now.” he informed Dazai, who continued munching on his fries with a scowl. “I told him that you had been eagerly whisked away by a rather determined lady.”
“Like Mori would actually buy that.” Dazai speculated that Mori must have been feeling generous and had just let this lie slide. Hirotsu gave no answer.
“I believe that's my que to disappear for the night?” He asked again, knowing that the crowd was going to turn to their real business in an hour or two. He wasn’t keen on being here to see that.
“Good night, Dazai-san.” Hirotsu bowed his head once and then turned around to take his leave, walking up to the servants to snap orders.
Dazai wondered if he should escape to his room and retire for the night, or get out of the premises altogether and wander the streets for a bit. He would have ended up sleeping in Odasaku’s apartment tonight, were it not for the fact that Odasaku had gone to Tokyo for three days on an errand. Ango himself was working a late shift tonight.
Stuffing his face with a handful of fries (height of sloppiness, but he couldn’t care less), he opened the nearest kitchen window and promptly vaulted out into the kitchen garden. None turned to see him take his leave.
The night club he ended up in was a bit crowded, and Dazai had entered it in hopes of not being recognized by the busy crowd.
The music was booming loudly but he was indifferent to the noise. People were dancing and talking in screams and laughter was bubbling from every corner. Dazai recalled Odasaku once saying, that this kind of happiness in a crowd is always infectious, Dazai had begged to differ. He had immediately made a beeline to the bar, intent on keeping the buzz running in his veins for the night.
The bartender hadn't asked him once if he was legal enough to be in this crowd, having nodded at him just once and sliding a whiskey in front of him. Maybe turning up to such casual crowd in a dress suit was the reason.
Someone bumped against him, and his drink sloshed in his hand. The group behind was being very loud, and Dazai sipped at his drink, hearing them talking excitedly about Japan's win in the FIFA tournament last night.
He decided to just lean back and watch the people have fun, feeling the suffocation from the evening creep out of his body and into his lungs and making his breathing turn shallow. His drink was refilled and he took a sip again, trying to wash away the unwelcome warmth creeping up his spine.
Someone walked in and sat down on the empty seat on his right. They were looking at him,Dazai realized, trying not to look up from his drink, realizing too late that something was wrong.
The person was talking to him now, and Dazai could hear the smile on his face. Dazai attempted to get out of his seat, wanting to walk outside into the open air to wash away this weird feeling, but the person on his right caught his wrist, and effortlessly pulled him back to his seat.
The bartender came around to ask if everything was alright, but the stranger cut in and assured him by saying something about him being here to pick up his friend and, god, Dazai needed to get out, now.
The person was still holding onto Dazai’s wrist, his grip too harsh and too hot. Dazai could feel his breathing turning shallower by the minute, his thoughts getting derailed as panic set in softly.
The person stood up now, till talking to the bartender, and lightly pulled Dazai up from his seat. Dazai turned around to face the bartender, hoping that he would see the panic in his eyes, but he had already moved on to another customer.
“Come on now, follow me quietly.” The person spoke in his ear, making Dazai's skin crawl from disgust. He tried to fight against the rough pull, but his body wasn't listening to his panicking mind.
The stranger had walking him out of the crowd now, pulling him into an empty hallway and Dazai could almost swear he saw faces in the darkness. He stopped walking altogether, and tried to release himself from the tight grip on his wrist.
The stranger, his eyes looked amused, turned around and tugged him forward. Dazai thought over how bad the night could play out if he were to just go with it, or make a run for it.
The door behind him swung open and the stranger's attention shifted to look over Dazai's shoulder.
Dazai closed his eyes and tried to speak, his speech garbling up. He knew there was no way out of this, not now where no one would recognize him.
The stranger was talking to the person who had exited the room behind Dazai, and his voice, if anything, sounded defensive.
There were a few more voices now, and someone must have stepped forward, because Dazai felt vertigo from being jerked back from the stranger's grip, the hands on his shoulders making him turn around and face the new person.
He saw blue, shining bright, like crystal, even in the low light, looking into his with a hint of annoyance. The relief Dazai felt sweeping in his blood made him tear up a bit, eyes closing as a tear slid down his face.
“Do you always have a penchant for getting in trouble?” The boy asked, and Dazai could taste the worry in his voice, moving forward to answer him by hiding his face in the boy's red hair. He really was short.
The red head sighed in frustration, moving to wrap one steady arm around Dazai's waist, and Dazai felt him turning to face the harasser that was standing cowering in silence.
Tiredness washed over him and he promptly blacked out after that feeling like no one could hurt him now that this boy was here.