Chapter Text
The story starts with a child who's a vessel for a god.
Sometimes life is just like that.
So - Chuuya is way too young to see what he has seen and do what he has done. It doesn't matter in this case, not in the slightest. It never matters in their worlds.
One of his first memories - when he reaches back in time - is of an unfamiliar man, blue eyes and blond hair, and a painful smile on his face. Chuuya doesn't know what the smile was for and why he looked at him like it mattered. Maybe he was just a good man, his conscience says sometimes although he doesn't quite believe in good people. Not in this life, anyway. Maybe another one will do the trick.
It's evening in his memory as he watches the sunset from way up in the air; far away from people and the loudness of the city. He's been like this once - valuing moments of quiet, away from all the children screaming around him, when he wasn't yet a leader of anybody. He'd run away where they couldn't follow, find his escape up, up in the sky, only birds as his companions. It was easy and it was wonderful, and that was the only place where the troubles really couldn't reach him.
He doesn't hear the man appear; it's a dream anyway so it probably doesn't matter. But when he turns around he's there, with his sad smile and blue ocean eyes that you can't really forget.
"You're not a hollow. Are you dead?" the man asks him in a confused voice and Chuuya tilts his head before laughing. People are stupid, he decides, adults are idiots; but there shouldn't be anybody in the air that high, dressed in a black kimono taken from the era long forgotten.
"I don't think so" Chuuya replies with a cheery voice, because there's no way he's not dreaming, so it's not really important. To that, the man looks at him like he was trying to solve a very hard mathematical problem in which something just doesn't add up. "I'm Chuuya. Chuuya Nakahara; soon to be the leader of an organisation called the Sheep" he smiles because really, they have nothing on him, he could crush all of them in the spark of light, without even blinking. He's the strongest, so it's only rational he'd be the one they should follow and Tsuguro can argue cry it all he wants, there's no coming back.
"Kira Izuru, lieutenant of the third division in Soul Society under captain Gin Ichimaru" the man replies after a moment, his voice smelling like military and order as he bows ever so lightly. It takes him a second to realise what he's been saying and only then adds: "I've been only appointed recently and--" he murmurs only to blush even more and sigh.
"I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about" Chuuya replies with honesty. "But I'll spare your life as long as you decide not to step on our territory. Tell your captain, that this part of the city belongs to the Sheep and he better not try to start anything, or you’re gonna all end up dead."
There is no terror or fear on the man's - Kira's - face, there's just a slight smile as he nods. It's gonna be only later when Chuuya will learn to recognise this smile as something people would show to a child who talks too much, those who don't believe in his power. It's even later when he'll learn to relish in their screams of pain. For now, he just shrugs and comes back to watching the sunset.
Weird as it is, he can enjoy his dream.
…
They say Chuuya has an imaginary friend. Well, they used to say it before he punched the idea out of their minds and stopped talking about Kira completely. It's not that he had a particular reason to talk about him, anyway, their meetings always almost ominous.
He’s eleven (or so he thinks, his age is not quite clear, still) when Tsuguro dies. It's a dumb one; they didn't notice a very obvious trap and had a small bomb blown up in their face. If Tsuguro wasn't such an idiot and didn't decide to come first, Chuuya would be the leading one and - given his powers - would most likely survive the explosion. But Tsuguro insisted and then blew up, and there wasn't even much left of him for an actual burial, so instead they blew up a building in his honour.
There were screaming from this one and Chuuya felt almost relieved; the anger he had felt quieting down and the pavement beneath his feet finally stopped cracking.
They are safe after that, he makes sure they're safe and checks every lock twice, pays even closer attention to every entrance blocked by the guardian. They can fights, they are The Sheep, not some children who cannot deal with the world. He won't let anyone defeat them if that's the last thing he does.
Nobody blames them anyway; the media coverage focuses on bigger, more dangerous groups; a bunch of stray children doesn't grab anyone's attention. They don't need to be known, not just yet, and even if Chuuya wants to scream from the top of his lungs, he keeps silent among the others. Instead, he flies way too high - his body almost shivering with cold - and screams up there at the loss of his brother. There's nothing he can do; nothing to bring him back and even the crater created by his powers doesn't help all that much.
He goes out, wonders around the dangerous city way too late at night, and someone threatens him; or maybe just says something in his direction, Chuuya isn't sure - so he crushes his arm and then breaks his neck. What he doesn't expect is for something - someone - to come out of the body; a spirit looking straight at him.
"You-- what happened?" the spirit asks but before Chuuya has a moment to answer, a familiar figure from his dreams appears out of nowhere. He doesn't pay much attention to Nakahara, his gaze focused on the man as he takes out his sword and says something that sounds comforting before pressing the hilt to the man's forehead.
The spirit disappears and Chuuya isn't sure what to think.
"What the fuck did you just do?" he asks in a demanding, angry voice. Kira Izuru - he remembers now - turns around and looks down at him, shock quickly turning into disapproval.
"It's you" ha states like he was just remembering something, too. "You're just a child, you shouldn't be killing people" he says slowly, in a patronising voice. Chuuya swings his fist, but the man quickly steps back from his reach, as if it was nothing. To that, Nakahara launches himself towards him with a full impact, the gravity swirling around him.
He misses, obviously, flies into the wall instead; the building takes more damage than he does.
"Calm down" the man sighs, still unharmed, but looks at him somehow curious. "Humans shouldn't posses reiatsu like that" he says and Chuuya isn't sure if he's saying that to him or just murmurs under his nose.
"What are you?" Nakahara asks, his voice demanding with a tremble of anger, threatening as much as an eleven year old might be. "You shouldn't even exist, you're someone from a dream" he screams. The blonde man smiles at him in response.
"I'm a shinigami" he says and Chuuya snickers. He looks at him a bit cautious; the man is thin and doesn't look very threatening, the kimono he's wearing slightly too big, the badge on his arm skewed to the right in an almost sad manner. There's nothing threatening about him; pale face and sad eyes, a fringe covering half of his face. He looks worried, bothered by something almost, the edge of fear and anxiety behind blue eyes.
"You don't look like a god" Nakahara answers, not because he's impolite (he is) but because.. "I saw one. They're huge and monstrous, and cause destruction all over the place. I kick them sometimes, but they're hard to fight. You're not one of them."
Kira - Chuuya refuses to call him anything else - looks at him with a new wonder in his eyes.
"You-- kicked a hollow?" he asks. Nakahara scoffs once again - hollow, what an idiotic name - but shrugs eventually.
"Didn't you?" It's not a big deal. Or maybe it is - but that's the first time he's met someone who can actually see the goddamn thing. Sometimes he thinks people can feel them, the presence of sadness, the powerful thing around them. Never see them, though.
Kira chuckles to this, a small smile appearing on his lips. It makes him look a bit younger, Chuuya thinks. And less godly, maybe; should gods (if he really is one?) look like they've just finished having a depressive episode? Not like it's any of his business. Not like he cares all too much.
"Well. If you have any tips 'bout fighting those things, that could be useful. Most of the people think I'm crazy when I start talking 'bout them, makes life real annoying, you know? Not like I care 'bout other people all that much but" Chuuya gestures around him, a rather undefined space. "Neighbourhood's nice."
Being responsible, Kira should probably keep the kid away from a danger like that. Should say something about leaving the job to them, letting them deal with whatever appears, give a contact number. And maybe he would, but there's something weirdly familiar in the way too light eyes, in the smile so sure of himself. He cannot pinpoint what it is exactly, but he's almost sure that none of his efforts would do any good in a situation like that. Besides, the kid just killed a man with his bare hands, not even a trace of sweat on his forehead, not even a trace of care in his posture. So instead, he talks. Break the mask, don't let them attack, always go from above. Swords are useful.
Chuuya wonders for a second, thanks him with a nod of his head.
"Gotta go now. Need to get myself a sword, I suppose."
….
It's when the Sheep die that he sees Kira again. He runs towards them as soon as the twilight hits the horizon, as soon as he's left on his own in the new Mafia quarters. He runs over to the old base; bodies in almost natural positions; wouldn't guess they were dead if he didn't know. Someone took them by surprise, they didn't even realise they were dying. Looks almost neat.
There's no ghosts around and maybe he's almost grateful, because he's still not sure if he could survive the betrayal in their eyes. He has to survive not being able to apologise.
"You're just a bunch of kids" Kira says from around the corner. His eyes seem darker and he himself somehow more tired, his posture hunched, his head looking down. That's someone who had it rough, Chuuya thinks, someone who got dragged through mud. Metaphorical or not.
"And what do you care? Weren't yours" he asks and there's anger in his voice. It's not like any of them have ever cared; adults that did nothing or gods that were just passerbys. Just looking, without even doing anything, cleaning the mess and causing the distruction. What's the point of them, anyway?
Kira doesn't answer, looks at him instead. His eyes feel heavy, almost like he understands. Chuuya doubts he does but blaming someone is easier.
"They were mine, though" he murmurs after a moment and doesn't break. Breaking wouldn't help now anyway, they should've just hid before he could come back. Should've listened to him and ran when they still had a chance, as fast and far as they could, from this cursed neighbourhood, from this awful city, from the mafia that Chuuya has pledged his loyalty to.
It's not like he can change it now, he thinks, only do better. Not fail the next ones that decide to trust him.
"You should give them an honourable burial" Kira says from the corner and for a second, Nakahara wants to burst out laughing. He doesn't. He just stares at the collection of bodies frozen in their everyday position. Yuki still looks like she was reading a book, half-slouched on the armchair, Shirase laying on the couch like he was sleeping. Almost peaceful. If it wasn't for the smell of death, if it wasn't for the literal soul reaper standing next to him, maybe he'd have chosen to believe in that fantasy.
There's no time for tears, so instead he rolls up his sleeves and carries the bodies outside.
There are places that would take your dead without questions; he knows them all, used them all before.
It stinks of death and alcohol, the smoke too heavy in the air. Beside the counter, a man looks at him with a bored expression, his eyes almost blurry, a bottle of sake on his desk.
"No luck for you today, eh?" he smiles to him sadly, almost pitiful. Chuuya wonders if that's how you describe the death of the closest thing you had to a family; cannot think about much else to call it. He shrugs and doesn't look up, bodies pilling behind, up in the air. It must be morbid, a true parade of the death. Yet, he cannot bring himself to care; people in this city have learnt long ago not to ask any questions.
"Something quick and quiet. Proper, though. They deserve a proper one" he murmurs.
"Anyone else coming?" the man asks. Chuuya only shakes his head in response and lets the man do his job; a quick prayer to nothingness, a passage or poem, unimportant words that he won't remember the next morning. Doesn't plan to remember the next morning. When he grabs the sake from the counter, tha man doesn't even protest, just looks like him like he knew. Beside him, he can feel the presence of Kira, quiet and sad, and smelling like death.
It's quick and quiet, the bodies turning into nothingness. It stinks but it’s only appropriate; this isn’t supposed to be nice. This isn’t supposed to make anyone feel better; it’s his last duty, the last thing he can do for all of them. Chuuya doesn't collect the ashes; doesn't believe in the whole to remember someone bullshit. If he could ever forget it would be a miracle. He only adjusts the woollen bracelet on his hand and leaves his old life behind.
Or maybe, that's what he'd love to. He breaks a moment after leaving the tiny building, falls down on the ground and doesn't make a sound, just lets the tears stream down his face. When he finally moves, Kira's still there, just sitting next to him, quiet and not godly at all.
"Don’t you have a better place to be? Comie back to your wonderful captain or some other bullshit?" The man doesn't smile in return.
"It can wait" he answers simply and Chuuya doesn't ask. It isn't all that important. "I lost my squad, too. Almost half of them. I led them right into a trap, thought I had everything under control. A menos cut right through us and if it wasn't for the captain--" he doesn't finish. Nakahara just nods, understands completely.
And so they sit still.
….
He comes back to an empty room through the window, expecting nothing and no one to see him. He's wrong, obviously.
Dazai grins at him from his bed, but there's a threat behind his smile, a threat in his eyes. Chuuya recognises it immediately; he's been living in this world for way too long not to get it.
"Oh, Chuuya, I thought I told you already. You shouldn't be just leaving without permission. You're my dog now, don't you remember?" he says, his voice almost cheery and Nakahara can feel his blood boil. Maybe if it wasn't for the past few hours, he'd let it slide. Maybe if it wasn't for the fact that he had to bury his friends, he'd just bite back with a stupid remark. Instead, he launches himself at Dazai with all his power and even if the tainted sorrow disappears once he touches him, he still manages to land a heavy punch into the other's stomach. He can hear the breath escaping Dazai's lungs, but before he can even smile to himself, he feels the man grabbing his wrists, turning him around like it didn't mean anything. Like he was nothing.
Dazai's breathing is heavy next to his ear, but his grip is strong enough for Chuuya to not be able to escape. He hates himself for it even more.
"I could kill you and they wouldn't even bat an eye. You really should be smarter about this" Dazai says and Chuuya can feel a knife on his throat. "You really are way too dependent on your ability, after all. Pathetic."
He gets kicked in the back and falls to the ground as Dazai lets him go. When he turns around, the smile has disappeared from the man's - the boy's, they're the same age - face.
"Don't worry. I'll let this go unnoticed, just thit one time. But remember where you belong, Chuuya" he says and disappears through the door.
This is the exact moment when Chuuya knows that he will forever hate Dazai Osamu.
…
Dazai isn't the best at martial arts in the mafia; fact wide known and not utterly disgraceful. He's supposed to be the mind, not the force and it's all easy as that. They spare anyway; Chuuya angry as ever. Angrier every time when Dazai somehow blocks him, every time when he cancels the tainted sorrow with a smile of amusement on his lips.
Chuuya tries gloves, obviously. The first time he does that, he throws Dazai into the nearest wall with ease and cannot help a smirk at how offended the other looks.
"You are not supposed to use that ability of yours. The whole point is that you depend on it too much. That's just miserable." He shrugs in an answer, because Dazai isn't wrong. Yet, the boy grimaces in pain and Chuuya cannot help the paint of satisfaction spreading across his veins. The more he learns about no longer human, the more he wants to be able to cancel it; even if that's only to fuck with the bastard a little bit more.
"You should be ready for surprises, you know. Speaking of relying on ability, you aren't gonna always be able to stop someone else’s" he grins in response and Dazai scrunches his nose. He isn't angry, not really - more disgusted. Or that's how he tries to look like and Chuuya wonders when he's going to learn all of those different expressions. It's funny, really. He wants to know Dazai inside out for the mere pleasure of making him angrier, for showing everyone that he's just a human, weak as all of them. Maybe a bit smarter than everyone else, but a whiny kid that only thinks he knows something, when in reality he's blinder than a toddler thrown into a thick fog.
He launches himself at Dazai once again, but this time the man manages to dodge, slide his fingers across Chuuya's wrists and cancel tainted sorrow completely. Nakahara moves to the right, goes for a kick instead. He succeeds and blocks Dazai's next move, knowing where he'll attack with the weirdest of intuitions. They don't make much progress afterwards, the kicks and punches thrown keep getting blocked and however Chuuya wishes for it, he cannot find an opening. Or maybe; whenever he thinks he's found one, Dazai blocks him anyway.
"You're so predictable" he hears finally and cannot help but grit his teeth. He wonders if that's Dazai's way of training him. He wonders if he wants to be trained by Dazai.
"You're not doing much better yourself, you know" he sighs instead. Without a warning, Dazai is a mere few centimetres away from him, a knife pressed to Chuuya's throat once again. He's about to say something but the voice catches in his throat, as Nakahara smiles, his own knife pressed gently against Dazai's ribcage, at the level of his heart. There's a moment of silence, before Dazai mutters:
"Come on, Chuuya. Push. We both know you want to do it." It's almost a whisper, for once drained of almost all mockery. "I killed your friends, after all. Don't you think I deserve death?"
Chuuya jumps away in an instant, his eyes wide open. He searches for some sign on Dazai's face, looks for a confirmation that it's another cruel, unfunny joke. Yet, Dazai looks almost sad. Almost pleading.
"You're fucked in the head" he says as he puts his knife back behind his belt. Everything lasts about a second and then the bastard is smiling again, as fake as he ever could. Nakahara feels like he's going to be sick. “If you want to die so badly, go hang yourself. You’ll do the world a favour.”
With that he turns around and leaves.