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Chuuya stared at his records. April 29. The day he was born.
It wasn’t the day that Rimbaud reached out for Arahabaki and Arahabaki merged with its human vessel instead. It was the date his actual human body was born, seventeen years ago.
He’d known that date before he received these documents, but didn’t know what it meant. When he woke up after having been freed by Rimbaud, he had a bracelet on his wrist with identifying information: his name, his identification number, his date of birth, his gender, and what he’d assumed was the code for the experiment. He kept that bracelet even after he cut it off. There was a lot of information on it, but not enough.
The records confirmed that April 29th was the day someone had given birth to him. He didn’t suddenly exist when he was seven. Before he lost his memories and before he became an experiment, he was meant to be a human child. He never got to be a kid or to have any of the things most kids had.
He’d been responsible for so much from the time he could remember. Even before that, those scientists had been trying to make him responsible for housing a god.
Did they anticipate that he’d end up with a personality? That he’d have his own thoughts and wants and emotions? That they’d be dealing with an actual person? He didn’t know.
He knew what he was going to do now, though. Feeling numb, he hid the records away so no one else would find them and decided on his next step: as a birthday present to himself, he was determined to give himself the only bit of closure he could get.
He couldn’t talk to the government. He couldn’t go to the facility because it had been destroyed. But he could try to find the missing half of the story of his escape: Verlaine.
If the man was really dead, then at least Chuuya would have tried. If not, then Chuuya would have someone living to ask about the experiments, to find out more than what the files would give. They didn’t have everything, and nothing was better than information from someone who had lived the experience during that time.
For the first time since he’d joined the mafia, he passed on his duties to someone else. For a few days it would be fine, he reasoned to himself. He’d do this one selfish thing.
What he didn’t expect was, upon leaving his apartment to go to the airport, Dazai standing in opposite his door with a blank expression on his face.
“I’m going with you.”
*
”I didn’t expect to find you here on a day meant for celebration.”
Chuuya was sitting on Rimbaud’s headstone, facing the sea. He had felt someone else coming and was ready to attack if they attacked first. He relaxed a bit on hearing Dazai’s voice but was still on guard. He didn’t know what to make of Dazai these days. If Dazai had been mysterious as his partner, he was a stranger as someone on the other side.
“I didn’t expect you to show up here either ,” Chuuya said, “or to remember what day it is.”
“Do you do this every year on your birthday?” Dazai asked.
“And what if I do? It’s none of your business.” Chuuya stared out at the sunlight glittering in the surface of the sea.
“This is the first year we’ve seen each other since I left,” Dazai said. “Am I the only one who remembered what day it is?”
Chuuya tensed. His mixed feelings about his birthday meant that sometimes he was grateful it existed and that sometimes he didn’t want people to know. He was and wasn’t attached to it. The feeling changed year to year.
This year he wasn’t attached but he thought he should be. Maybe it was using Corruption again, having to work with the government, being called by his government ID — all of those things chipping away at the identity he’d worked so hard for. It brought him back to those pictures of himself in the lab, in a tank, to other pictures from the experiments.
Fighting against that were the words of the two people who were there who set him free.
Their words defended Chuuya’s humanity when Chuuya himself couldn’t. It was ironic given that they’d come to Japan for the Arahabaki without any regard for the human being used as its vessel. Even years later Rimbaud had been looking to use Arahabaki. He was so close to killing Chuuya, like he was nothing more than an object. A monster. Something whose consciousness was not human enough to make a difference.
Rimbuad realized he was wrong, in his last moments, and told Chuuya so. Chuuya respected that Rimbaud would go to such lengths to remember what had happened with his partner, Verlaine, but he couldn’t accept that Rimbaud would disregard who Chuuya had become as a person for it. That was why he had to die, and it was only then that he seemed to find respect for Chuuya as a human boy.
These thoughts all plagued Chuuya today to the point where he couldn’t think of anything to say out loud to Rimbaud’s grave. He had so much to work through but it was impossible to know where to start. He was glad that he hadn’t been able to, though, because then Dazai would’ve overheard and...those were the sort of things Chuuya wanted to choose to tell Dazai.
Dazai now walked past him to sit with his legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. Chuuya watched him, noticing that he was leaning back rather than forward, sitting more securely on the ground rather than perched exactly on the edge. Another reminder that things had changed, and not in a bad way no matter how much Chuuya’s anger sometimes wanted him to feel otherwise.
*
Chuuya didn’t bother arguing with Dazai. He let Dazai come if only because he didn’t have time to deal with the consequences of not letting him come. He was surprised Mori was allowing them both time off — then again, Mori probably wanted Dazai to watch him anyway, to make sure one half of Double Black didn’t end up missing depending on what he found.
Before they left the airport in France upon arrival, though, was a different story.
Chuuya shoved Dazai into one of the bathrooms. There were a few people in there, but it was better than nothing.
“Don’t you dare screw this up for me,” he hissed. “Don’t do anything to fuck up the mission. Listen to my plans, and keep your mouth shut when we meet this guy unless I tell you not to.”
“So demanding for a dog,” Dazai said. Chuuya expected him to look cold but his expression was just...guarded. “I would never do anything to mess with your mission.”
“Yeah, right.” Chuuya took a step back. “We don’t get a second chance with this.”
“I know,” Dazai said. “That’s why you need someone to make sure you get out of it in one piece.”
Chuuya stared at him. Before he could say anything, Dazai brushed past him, out of the bathroom and back into the terminal.
He followed, wondering what that even meant. Dazai didn’t have a better plan. He didn’t have a plan at all, in theory. He was just along for the ride.
Except he wasn’t. Had he done something Chuuya didn’t know about? Did he know something Chuuya didn’t know? Was something bad going to happen to him? Was it a trap? Why couldn’t Dazai just tell him that?
It put Chuuya on edge. Only later he would realize that Dazai wasn’t talking about external threats at all.
But at that moment, in that airport, all Chuuya could think about was losing the chance to talk to Verlaine because of some trap, or a fight caused by Verlaine himself, and how pissed off it would make him.
*
Chuuya slid off the headstone, deciding that he might as well go sit next to Dazai and see what he wanted rather than ignoring him. He allowed his legs to dangle over the edge as well. Dazai stared out at the sea, looking thoughtful.
“You don’t come to visit him every year on your birthday, do you,” he said.
“Nope,” Chuuya said. “And?”
“It’s been a hard year, hasn’t it,” Dazai said.
“I don’t know what you —”
“Remember when we found Verlaine,” Dazai interrupted, turning towards him, “on your birthday? That was the worst birthday present you gave yourself and it wasn’t like the rest of the year had been easy.”
“So what? What’s that got to do with now? Why do you even care?” Chuuya felt like he was being way too defensive, but it was hard to stop. Dazai hadn’t been around. Dazai shouldn’t have been able to read him anymore.
“What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t?”
Chuuya turned to glare at him. “The partner you’ve always been. A fucking terrible one. Not that we’re partners anymore.”
Dazai’s gaze turned briefly cold before he closed his eyes and sighed. “You’re right.”
Chuuya’s mouth dropped open.
“But I’m a better partner to Kunikida-kun.”
“Good for him,” Chuuya said. “I don’t give a shit how good of a partner you are to him. It has nothing to do with me.”
“But Chuuya.” Dazai opened his eyes. “Have I only been a terrible partner?”
Chuuya was about to say yes, but he stopped himself. No, there were times when Dazai had been the partner he needed. Those were very rare times, so rare that Chuuya almost forgot about them, but when reminded he remembered them clearly. They couldn’t make up for everything else, but that they existed at all was better than if they never had.
“Not all the time, but that doesn’t mean that overall you weren’t terrible,” Chuuya said.
“Right. Here’s the thing.” Dazai picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it over the edge of the cliff. “I didn’t really know how to be a good...no one was ever, to me…” He sighed. “I pushed you because I didn’t know.”
“Did you come here to tell me why you were an ass as if I don’t already know?” Chuuya asked.
“No.” Dazai smiled. “I lied when I said I didn’t think I’d find you here. I came to tell you Happy Birthday, of course!”
Chuuya glared at him.
“I also…” Dazai looked out over the water again. “I’ve become a better person whether you believe it or not. A better partner. And I know we’re not partners anymore but at the same time, we are. Part time partners.”
Chuuya scoffed. “Part time partners.”
“We’ll end up working together again,” Dazai said. “We make a good team, a different sort of team than I do with Kunikida-kun. We’re both good teams, but which one works best depends on the situation. And sometimes the situation will require the two of us.”
Chuuya narrowed his eyes. Dazai, with all his planning, could make it so that they never worked together again. That was what he thought Dazai wanted, and yet Dazai had not made an effort to do that. He was the one pulling Chuuya into his plans, and maybe that was the only good choice, but maybe there was more to it. Dazai wouldn’t have come to see Chuuya here, right now, if he truly couldn’t stand him.
“I can be a better partner now,” Dazai said, turning to Chuuya. “So I want to try. Starting now. I came here because I knew it was bothering you, everything that’s been going on.”
Chuuya didn’t know what to say to that. Dazai was here, and Chuuya couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t bothered by everything that was happening. He was sitting here, after all, trying to get comfort from the words of a dead man. No matter how many times he thought of those words, there was always something else to make him doubt them.
“What, are you here to tell me I’m human?” Chuuya asked.
“No. I’m here to tell you that whatever else you may think you are, and however I might have felt about you, good or bad, you’ve always been Nakahara Chuuya to me.”
Chuuya looked at Dazai, who’s expression was perhaps the most open he’d seen it. He clearly believed what he was saying like it was a fact, because it was a fact to him.
Chuuya felt his eyes burn. He quickly looked away. “Thanks. I...thanks.”
Dazai hummed. “If you want I can leave, or I can stay.”
“You won’t just leave?” Chuuya asked.
“Don’t sound so shocked,” Dazai muttered. Then, louder, “but of course being graced with my amazing self is the best thing anyone could ask for!”
“Don’t make me push you off the cliff.” Chuuya leaned back, resting his weight on his hands and tilting his head up to face the warm sun. “Sit with me awhile.”
“And?”
“And that’s it,” Chuuya said. “That’s what I was doing anyway. It’s nice doing it with someone else.”
DazI nodded. Chuuya was sure he could appreciate the peace of this place. They both knew what had happened here the first time Chuuya had come — he’d been stabbed by the Sheep, manipulated into joining the Mafia by Dazai. So much had changed since then. Chuuya did not think of this as a bad place and he didn’t think of Dazai as bad company.
His thoughts about the past and more recent events drifted to Dazai’s words. He was grateful. Like in the hours after they’d confronted Verlaine, Dazai now was providing him with something to take the focus off his past and what had been done to him, what other people tried to make him. Dazai countered those thoughts by reminding Chuuya of who he was today.
On his birthday.
Chuuya realized that Dazai’s version of a present was being there when Chuuya needed him and, for once, being what Chuuya needed.