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The moment Dazai stepped backwards off the edge of the building, something shifted.
A hand grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him away from the edge. He stumbled and opened his eyes.
It wasn’t Atsushi or Kyouka or Akutagawa. None of them were there, even though Dazai was sure they’d been there seconds before. He both remembered them and didn’t remember them being there and other memories came to the surface. Different memories that didn’t reflect the actions he’d taken, but he must have taken those actions to be remembering them now.
He knew what that meant.
Chuuya had let go of him and was watching him warily. Dazai felt anger rush through him more strongly than he’d felt any emotion that didn’t have to do with Odasaku. Chuuya has deviated from the plan.
It had been years since Chuuya was this unpredictable, so Dazai didn’t take him into account. Now he saw that he should have. He should have remembered that Chuuya wasn’t the sort of person to let things happen that he didn’t want to happen. He’d fight against it.
Dazai had hoped that by this point Chuuya would hate him enough to let him die, but something had gone wrong. Chuuya hadn’t just stopped hating him for no reason and it wasn’t anything Dazai was responsible for.
He pulled back his fist and punched Chuuya in the face. Chuuya grabbed his wrist before he could attack a second time, his grip tight enough to bruise.
“What the fuck did you do?” Dazai snarled.
Chuuya looked at him with eyes that somehow looked dark. “What I have to.”
Dazai struggled in his grip, but Chuuya pulled him close and smashed their heads together.
Pain exploded in Dazai’s skull, and then he passed out.
*
Dazai woke up on a couch with his head throbbing. The lights were off which prevented him from taking in his surroundings, but he knew without looking where he’d be. Chuuya’s apartment.
“You can go and kill yourself again if you want but I’m sure you know by now that it wouldn’t do shit.”
Dazai sat up, one hand on his head. He realized the bandages covering one eye had been removed. He was still angry, so angry that he wanted to strangle his former partner. “Where’s the Book, Chuuya?”
“Officially you’re dead,” Chuuya continued as if he didn’t hear him. “I’ve taken over as Boss to clean up the mess you made.”
“Clean up?” Dazai never liked to show his hand, and he’d become so good at hiding his emotions that he barely felt them, but now he was on borrowed time. He wasn’t supposed to be alive right now, talking to Chuuya. He was supposed to be dead so Odasaku could live and the universe could go on…There was barely concealed panic in his voice.
Chuuya noticed it too, because he looked at Dazai with narrowed eyes.”I’d fucking kill you if it wasn’t what you wanted after the shit you pulled. Playing with our lives like that — it’s only right that someone takes back some control.”
Dazai would have lunged at him if he could, would have tried to get the information out of Chuuya while making him regret he ever took it, but Chuuya was physically stronger than him. Even if Dazai managed to damage him physically, Chuuya was strong mentally, too. If he didn’t want someone to know something, they wouldn’t know. Both of these things were part of why Dazai had no problem playing with Chuuya’s life.
He should’ve known that Chuuya, if he found out about the Book, wouldn’t be able to stand it given his past. Chuuya resented Dazai as it was for keeping him on a tight leash, for holding him hostage with information that in another universe he would’ve had already.
Dazai wondered if Chuuya had gained that information, too, after having found the Book. He didn’t know when Chuuya had figured out Dazai’s plan and changed it, or how he’d come across it in the first place. Had it been a mistake? Had it been suspicion that led him to investigate? Had Dazai really become so sloppy in his last days that he left a hole in his defenses where Chuuya could sneak through?
Probably. Chuuya hadn’t been a big factor in this universe except as someone Dazai could use for any of his needs. He saw the difference starkly between this universe’s Chuuya and most of the others — this Chuuya was flat, withdrawn except for flashes of anger that surfaced mostly because of Dazai. He used to enjoy so much and now he took joy in very little. The fire in his eyes was all but gone.
If Chuuya was tired, Dazai was exhausted. This was cruelty, keeping him here after he’d given up everything...stepping in at the last moment and changing his carefully crafted plans as if he hadn’t sacrificed his entire life to make it happen, and surely Chuuya knew that.
“Chuuya,” Dazai said sharply.
Chuuya shook his head. “I’m going to sleep. Do whatever you want. There’s no changing it now.”
A coldness washed over Dazai. “Leaving me here alone when you don’t know what I’ll do to punish you for this? Sleep well, Chuuya.”
“I will.”
Chuuya disappeared down the hall and Dazai heard the door shut.
He stood up, ignoring the wave of dizziness that accompanied the motion. He needed to find that Book — that was the only way of changing anything. He needed to know what Chuuya had altered and how badly his plan had been ruined and whether or not he could fix it. He had to be able to fix it.
It seemed stupid to look around Chuuya’s apartment for something so important, but he decided to do it anyway. Maybe he’d pop up at the office and tell everyone he was alive again just to see how they’d take it, tell them that Chuuya tried to kill him and therefore was a traitor and that they should do whatever they wanted to him.
Chuuya was the only one who knew where the Book was at this point, though, so as long as Dazai couldn’t find it he needed Chuuya alive. Maybe he could bribe Chuuya with something. His records? He needed more information.
His thoughts were firing off faster than he could process them and his entire body felt weird, like he was falling off the building he’d meant to earlier that day. Someone else might have called it panic, but Dazai didn’t want to admit such a thing. It was just...it had to work. He didn’t endure the look of anger in Oda’s eyes when Dazai called him Odasaku for nothing. He hadn’t put himself through the pain of being considered a complete stranger and the worst kind of person by the only one who was kind to his younger self in all other realities for this to fail.
He would tear Chuuya’s apartment to pieces if he had to, and then Chuuya himself.
*
It started when Dazai got closer to Atsushi.
Dazai had always been close to Atsushi in the sense that he was Atsushi’s mentor. ‘Mentor’ to Dazai meant hurting the kid until he was completely obedient and harnessing that hurt so that Atsushi could become a killer. He was one of the Port Mafia’s greatest assets, but Dazai hadn’t been treating him as a confidant until recently.
Chuuya wasn’t jealous. He’d long since stopped feeling anything towards Dazai other than anger and resentment, and exhaustion. Something about this change made him uneasy, though. He felt like Dazai was planning something big and as always hadn’t told him, so he went looking.
It was easy to look now that Dazai seemed to be more exhausted than usual. He slipped past Dazai’s notice more easily now because Dazai’s focus was elsewhere. Years ago he might have done things like remind Dazai to eat or sleep, but now he just let Dazai work to his breaking point.
That was how he found the Book.
First he found notes that Dazai made about the Book. Details about what the Book could do, how it could alter reality, how it contained multiple universes that Dazai somehow remembered, and how in all of them one man died. A good man. Oda Sakunosuke. The only man who had been kind to a young Dazai in almost every universe, and the one person this Dazai wanted to save.
Chuuya couldn’t tell how long Dazai had the book for. A long time, it seemed, Dazai had been manipulating everyone for years for the sake of this one man and it pissed Chuuya off. Dazai had never met Oda in this universe, had never personally been treated well by this Oda. Chuuya was tempted to kill this Oda just to spite Dazai, but something stopped him.
As terrible as it was for Dazai to have made everyone miserable for the sake of this man, Dazai hadn’t spared himself either. This was the most...caring...Chuuya had ever seen Dazai towards anything. He’d never thought Dazai to be the self-sacrificing type. He only thought that Dazai was an idiot overworking himself to avoid whatever shit he didn’t want to deal with in his idle time. Chuuya could relate to that. But Dazai took it to its extreme, and took everyone down with him, and...it was fucked up, but part of Chuuya could admire that dedication. Part of him wondered if he’d do the same.
So he made his own plan. He ripped a page out of the Book and started writing. He wrote that Dazai told Atsushi about the Book before his “death” and that Akutagawa and Kyouka never found out about it, but that the three of them still met and that Atsushi would tell them in vaguer terms what Dazai wanted. He wrote that Dazai still went to the bar to see Oda, that pretty much everything remained the same except that only Atsushi found out about the Book from Dazai this time.
After that, Chuuya wrote that he would give the government the Book to safekeep, and that they would take it without Chuuya having to explain what it did. They wouldn’t know what it did, but Chuuya would tell them that it was Dazai’s and that they should research it and keep it highly secured, because anything so prized by Dazai was likely powerful even though he didn’t know how. It took some convincing, especially because in exchange, Chuuya asked for his own records. At first he thought that he might not be believed at this stage, that writing “the government takes it without me needing to explain what it does” was too flimsy to work but after some arguing one of the government agents, some guy wearing glasses, touched the Book and seemed convinced just by that alone. Chuuya decided that this guy would be his point of contact if he ever needed to talk to anyone from the government again. He hoped he wouldn’t.
Only he, Dazai, and Atsushi knew about the Book, so the universe would remain stable.
He didn’t know what he was going to do with Dazai. Part of him wanted Dazai to suffer for messing up all their lives, and part of him wanted Dazai to learn to live for something other than the sake of one man who didn’t give a shit about him in this world. He was furious, but his job ever since he joined the Mafia had been to protect Dazai, and he hated failure. So this, in a way, was his job too.
It was...a lot. He was the Mafia Boss now and Dazai was in his apartment. Chuuya resigned himself to the possibility that Dazai would die anyway, but at least right now he had the option not to because only three people knew about the Book and no one had to die as a result. He resigned himself to not caring because caring had hurt too much in the past, and these days it was just about doing what needed to be done and not thinking too hard about feelings. But his feelings were stronger now than they had been in a long time, and there were a lot of them vying for his attention. Conflicting feelings.
Feelings that reminded him of when he was sixteen and wanted certain things for himself and Dazai and foolishly thought that they could have them and be happy. If Dazai had taken control of this world before to make everyone miserable, maybe Chuuya could take control back to give them something better.
It was selfish, because he was tired of feeling like shit and he wasn’t even sure if he cared about Dazai’s feelings. But he realized that part of his numbness over the years was because he was numbing himself to failing his job. Dazai had destroyed himself more and more and Chuuya was never able to stop him or save him. He wasn’t able to be a good partner.
Now maybe it could be different. Selfish or not, for once it was his choice. For once Dazai wasn’t the only one who had a say.
Before going to the rooftop, Chuuya burned the page he’d used to change reality. Everything from now on would be a choice on both of their parts. That was something he’d allow Dazai if only because he hated when Dazai hadn’t allowed it for him.
*
Sometimes, if Dazai thought about it, he missed the way Chuuya’s eyes would sparkle when he smiled, or how they lit up with excitement at the thrill of a fight, or when they looked so clear that Dazai could see every emotion and thought of Chuuya’s that Chuuya didn’t bother to hide because he trusted Dazai.
That trust eroded over the years until it was almost entirely one-sided. Dazai trusted that Chuuya would do his job because Chuuya was loyal and he had things he could use against him. Chuuya didn’t trust Dazai with anything.
Now Dazai stared down into Chuuya’s eyes. There was no light there, no emotions that Dazai could see, only a flat grey that seemed to see nothing.
Dazai had seen that look more often than not in Chuuya’s eyes in the past four years, ever since Dazai became the boss. It seemed to be his default. It was frustrating now, though, because Chuuya had done something so drastic, something so against the nothingness that he presented to the world, that he knew something else was there but Chuuya wasn’t showing it.
“What are you doing?” Chuuya asked.
Dazai was straddling Chuuya, pinning him to the bed, having woken him up when he couldn’t stand not knowing what was going on anymore. He gripped the knife he was holding to Chuuya’s throat tighter, pressing a little harder to draw blood. Chuuya didn’t so much as wince.
“All of my hard work,” Dazai said. He sounded calm, but his voice was cold. “Did Chuuya forget? I can slit your throat right here and take my place again as the Boss. Even better, what pleasure it would give me to have you captured and tortured in the Mafia dungeons. I can even gain some valuable information.”
“We both know I’d never tell you where the Book is,” Chuuya said, “and there’s no other information that you care about.”
“No? Why did you do it, then?” Dazai allowed the knife to bite even deeper into the skin. Chuuya looked like he was almost okay with dying.
“I don’t think you give a shit,” he said. “What you want to know is whether or not that Oda guy is alive —” Dazai’s eyes widened. “ — yeah, I’ve read your notes. He is. The only people who know about the Book are me, you, and Atsushi. I made sure of that.”
Dazai stared at him, a wave of relief washing over him. The knowledge that for now the universe was stable, and that Oda was still alive, was more comforting than it should have been. With the relief came tiredness — he’s been working so hard just so that it could be taken from his hands at the last moment, and he was still grasping at anything he could to regain control, just for there to be no need for him to be in control at all. He wasn’t in control and the universe was still stable and Odasaku was still alive.
He felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
“I knew it,” Chuuya hissed. “That’s all you ever gave a damn about. You don’t care about anything except that guy, and for what? He’s not your friend. Maybe in another universe he was and maybe you remember it but so what? What’s so good about him that you’d destroy the lives of countless other people and your own life to make sure he’s happy? Did you ever think for a second about that?”
Dazai felt like there was static in his thoughts. He shook his head.
“Of course not.” Chuuya laughed bitterly. “It destroyed me, you know, to not be able to help you. My partner. It felt like we’d gone from having something that could’ve been good to just...I don’t know...watching you die while you made me hate you. And it wasn’t necessary.”
“Don’t say that,” Dazai said. He’d spent his whole life doing this. It had to be necessary. That was why Odasaku was alive.
“It wasn’t necessary,” Chuuya repeated, louder. “Your fucking plan, ruining your life, ruining our lives —”
“Shut up —”
“He seems like a nice guy, and he didn’t ask for any of this. You were saving him because he’s a good man. If he knew...did you ever think that he’d probably hate you for it?”
“Shut up!” It came out as almost a shriek, scraping Dazai’s throat. He yanked the knife up and brought it back down again, driving it into the mattress beside Chuuya’s head.
Chuuya looked up at him, expressionless. Dazai recognized himself in that, retreating from the reality of things and leaving a cold nothingness behind that made everything easier to deal with even as it also left him lifeless. Blood was staining the sheets, some because Dazai had caught Chuuya’s cheek when stabbing the mattress, leaving a gash, and another from the wound on Chuuya’s neck. Neither of them were anything Chuuya couldn’t fix himself, but they easily could have been a lot more damaging, if not deadly.
Dazai gasped for air, feeling sick at his own outburst. He tried to scramble back, but Chuuya suddenly grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him close.
“Listen to me,” he said. Dazai tried to pull away but Chuuya held fast. “Listen to me.”
Dazai stopped moving.
“You don’t have to control everything,” Chuuya said. “You certainly don’t have the right to destroy everyone around you and your own life for the sake of someone else because you decided it was a good idea. You’re not a fucking god. You need to learn how to live for yourself.”
“You know I never wanted to live,” Dazai said.
“You never tried,” Chuuya snapped. “How long has this shit been going on? How long has it been everything to you? You never tried to find another reason to live even if there were possibilities staring right at you in the fucking face.”
Dazai’s breath caught at the spark of anger in Chuuya’s voice now. “Why do you care, Chuuya? Is it because you hate being left behind?” He knew that would hurt. He still had his knowledge of Chuuya to fight back with.
“Fuck you,” Chuuya hissed. “Yeah, you know what? I hate being left behind by people I care about. I fucking hate it.” He took a shaky breath. “I should hate you. Maybe I do. But when we first met there was a part of you that I liked, probably for the same reason why in those other worlds that guy was friends with you. It’s been so fucking long that I feel like I’ve forgotten what that part was, but I know it exists...I want to see that part of you again.”
This time Chuuya let the emotions show on his face. Anger, longing. His gaze bore into Dazai’s so intensely that Dazai felt dizzy with it. Suddenly, his arms gave out and he fell to the side.
He felt Chuuya shift and realized after a moment that they were both facing each other now. Chuuya’s pillows were soft, his bed warm. He was so tired. He hadn’t realized how tired until he’d stopped having things to do. Or rather, until Chuuya took everything out of his hands.
“I hate you,” he said quietly. His throat was tight and his eyes burned. He didn’t know what to feel except for lost, and he hated it.
“I hate you too,” Chuuya said. Dazai tried to ignore the blood drying against Chuuya’s skin. “Now we’re even.”
“What am I supposed to do?” The words slipped out without him wanting them to, and his voice was softer than it ever had been.
Something must have shown on his face, because Chuuya’s expression softened slightly, and Dazai remembered the way Chuuya would look at him when they were sixteen, like he actually cared whether Dazai was okay or not. Like he wanted Dazai to be okay.
“Nothing,” Chuuya said, “except what you want to. I’m just tired of watching you kill yourself.”
What did Dazai want that wasn’t related to trying to preserve this universe for Oda? What did he want for himself? He’d never asked these questions before.
“You should sleep,” Chuuya added. “You look exhausted.”
Sleep did sound good. So did not waking up. He knew he would, though, and he was too exhausted to try to find another way to die right now. Maybe sometime between falling asleep and waking up he’d figure out what he wanted, or maybe Chuuya would rethink his decision and kill him instead.
This was the first time where he felt like he truly could fall asleep. His mind was already becoming blank because there was nothing else to do, no plans to complete, no manipulations to be made. He’d tied everything up and Chuuya had undone it and set everything in motion again in a different way. If he trusted Chuuya with this, he wouldn’t need to exhaust himself trying to bend the world to his whim. And if he just let go…
He could rest. So that’s what he did.