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The plan had not involved Mori’s death.
It had not involved Mori’s death if only for the reason that having Mori around made getting Yokohama back on its feet easier. Mori could die when things had settled down again, but before that point the Mafia, unfortunately, needed its Boss.
Except that wasn’t what was happening. Mori was dying of wounds from their final stand against those who wanted the Book. There was an off-chance that he would survive, but no one wanted to be too optimistic. They couldn’t be caught off guard if the worst happened.
Dazai found Chuuya sitting on top of Rimbaud’s grave the day after he heard the news. It was a strangely disrespectful thing to do to a gravestone, but Dazai found it kind of amusing and very Chuuya. Chuuya probably hadn’t known better when he was fifteen, and now that he did he probably hadn’t changed this particular routine because as influential as Rimbaud’s words had been, as understandable as some of his motives might have been, he’d still tried to kill Chuuya. He’d still seen him first and foremost as the Arahabaki right up until the end. That was hard to forget.
He wondered what brought Chuuya here. Was it that he wanted time to reflect on what he’d do if Mori died? Did he want to be reminded of his humanity in a way that didn’t involve finding something dangerous to do? Or — and this was very unlikely — was he trying to figure out if Mori could be buried here too? That would be amusing.
“Trying to make this place a cemetery for people who only wanted to use you?” Dazai called out.
Chuuya turned and glared at him. “Why are you here?”
“Just checking in on my partner,” Dazai said, coming to stand next to him. Even sitting on top of the grave, Chuuya was barely taller than Dazai.
Chuuya took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was weird, the sort of relationship they had now. Not quote partners but not quite enemies. They knew each other even more now than they had before, had less animosity towards each other, and still were strangers in some ways towards each other.
“Won’t be much more of that,” Chuuya said. “Partners.”
“What do you mean?” Dazai asked. “If Mori dies then…” Then they could actually get close without Chuuya risking himself as a traitor. Unless… “Chuuya, who would take over for Mori if he died?”
“That’s Mafia business,” Chuuya said.
“It’s Agency business too, since our truce technically hasn’t ended,” Dazai pointed out. “Why did you come here?”
“I needed some time alone,” Chuuya said, “but some asshole decided to ruin it for me anyway.”
Dazai smirked. “I’m not just any asshole.”
“You’re the one who pisses me off the most,” Chuuya said.
Dazai laughed. “What an honor!”
Chuuya scoffed. “Bastard.”
There was a moment of silence in which Dazai wanted to ask the obvious question: who would take over if Mori died? But he was afraid of the answer.
Not just afraid — he knew the answer. He wasn’t stupid. He just didn’t want it to be true.
“For once I don’t need to deal with your plans,” Chuuya said. “I have my own.”
“What does that mean?” Dazai asked.
“You’ll see.”
“Is it a plan Mori told you to put into action?”
“Nope,” Chuuya said. “He doesn’t know.”
“What is it?” Dazai was burning to know.
Chuuya jumped off the grave and straightened up. “I know you’ve figured out that if Mori dies I’m one of the first in line to take his place.”
Dazai had figured, but something about that twisted his stomach. “Is that what you want?”
“Since when has what I wanted mattered?” Chuuya asked. He turned and started walking away. “For once I’m doing something that’s my own choice.”
“And what is that?” Dazai asked.
Chuuya didn’t answer.
Dazai rushed forward and grabbed his wrist. Chuuya turned but didn’t quite pull away. Instead, he raised an eyebrow.
“Worried about me, Dazai?”
Dazai had put off thinking about what it would be like between the two of them after everything was over, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have expectations. Their relationship just disappearing wasn’t one of them, no matter how afraid he was of getting close. They’d had to trust each other even more now than when they were younger.
If Chuuya became the new Boss…
He wouldn’t. Mori wouldn’t die. Dazai knew he was being naive, but he never let himself be naive. Maybe this time the worst wouldn’t happen.
“Chuuya,” Dazai said, swallowing. “What if I wanted to get closer to you?”
Chuuya looked almost sad. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
The sadness turned to surprise. Then Chuuya tugged on Dazai’s bolo tie, pulling him down, and pressed their lips together.
Dazai was shocked both at the fact that Chuuya kissed him and at how normal it felt. He wanted more when Chuuya pulled away.
“That doesn’t change my plan,” Chuuya said, “but we’ll see what happens after that. Really think about it.”
Then he turned and walked away.
Dazai didn’t follow until he was sure Chuuya was long gone. Those words bothered him deeply. The plan, whatever it was, sounded like something Dazai wouldn’t want Chuuya to go through with. Chuuya’s kiss felt like a goodbye. Dazai got the impression he wouldn’t have done it if he thought he’d have another chance to have this conversation.
That too bothered him. He didn’t get much time to think about it, though.
The next day, Mori died.
*
Sunrise painted the buildings of Yokohama in brilliant shades of purple, red, orange, and yellow. The city was mostly silent save for the sound of the few cars driving around early in the morning, and the distant rumble of trains. Slowly, the city would wake up and life would start as normal for the first time in a long time.
It was like a rebirth of sorts, the start of this new day marking the start of a new era of peace.
Chuuya walked down not-completely-lit roads away from Mafia headquarters. The ache hadn’t yet left his bones. He was supposed to be resting from his last use of Corruption, because the end of the conflict had required everything those defending Yokohama had to give, but then Mori had died. They were only two days into sorting out the mess left behind and Chuuya was already sneaking out.
Well, he’d been sneaking out before Mori’s death too, but no one could blame him. Even injured, he was restless. There was a lot going on.
Right now wasn’t just restlessness. Right now he had a plan.
He was conflicted. He knew he was needed here. The Port Mafia was left without a leader and Chuuya was the next in line to take the position. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it, wasn’t confident that he was good enough after what had happened last time. This problem that he’d slipped away from headquarters to deal with was almost a good enough justification for causing a huge delay in the Port Mafia’s recovery. He’d planned to do this even if Mori hadn’t died, so carrying on with the plan felt right.
Not that it was something he wanted to do. Both options were things he wasn’t completely sure about, and what he was doing now was actually the worst of the two. It was also the thing that would cause the most trouble if he didn’t attempt to do something about it.
Chuuya made sure that his path wasn’t tracked. He knew exactly how to avoid cameras and it was early enough that there weren’t any witnesses. He was sure the person he was going to meet knew how to be just as thorough.
He ended up standing in front of a bookstore and his lips quirked into a smile at the irony. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.
The door opened and a voice said, “come in. Do be sure to close the door behind you.”
“Wouldn’t want anyone listening, would we,” Chuuya said, but he did as he was told. Once the door clicked shut, he raised his head to look at his surroundings.
The bookshop was small and full of old, probably rare and expensive books. It was tempting to get lost in reading the spines, but Chuuya turned his attention towards the figure sitting in an armchair tucked in one of the alcoves of books.
“You look tired.”
Agatha Christie looked like a character out of one of Poe’s books (and Chuuya knew too well what those characters were like.) The image of her in the armchair, a teacup perched on her knee, impeccably dressed and looking completely unconcerned with the world, was enough to make Chuuya feel like he’d stepped out of reality for a moment.
She looked so British in the most old-fashioned sense of the word.
Chuuya ignored the mocking tone of her voice. “You look well,” he said in a similarly mocking voice. She hadn’t let her hands get too dirty during the war.
Until now.
Agatha Christie’s greatest talent wasn’t in combat or in the use of her Ability, though she was dangerous in both of those respects. Her greatest talent was similar to Dostoyevsky and Dazai and Mori — manipulation, moving pieces on a chessboard until the result was to her liking.
And without the Book, Agatha needed to rethink her strategy. Chuuya knew that. He also knew that in terms of bargaining chips, there were very few things that could even come close to the value of the Book. Nothing could ever carry the same weight, but certain types of hard to get knowledge could be beneficial to anyone looking to remain a threat.
Agatha knew of one thing, and Chuuya knew it too. They only needed to make the agreement a formal one. Chuuya had received an invitation from Agatha the first day he was recovering. It had somehow made its way to his bedside table without anyone else noticing, including himself, which was enough to let him know how serious the situation was.
He hadn’t been given a lot of time to make a choice, but he didn’t really need it. Ultimately, preventing further conflict was more important than anything else. It wouldn’t matter whether or not Chuuya became the new Mafia Boss if the city plunged into yet another gifted war.
Back when he was fifteen Chuuya gave his life to the Port Mafia. Mori told him that a true leader sacrificed everything for the greater good. Right now Chuuya took those words to heart. If he could prevent more bloodshed in the Mafia, because the Mafia would surely move against Agatha if she started anything, he would.
“I’m here to negotiate your offer,” he said.
“Oh?” Agatha took a sip of her tea. “And you understand what the offer is, based on what I’ve written?”
What Agatha had written wasn’t much at all and essentially boiled down to a location, a time, and the fact that Chuuya was in a position to make a deal that could save time and prevent further conflict. But Chuuya knew. It always came down to this.
Chuuya was a trump card in more ways than one, to more organizations than one.
“Yes,” he said. “I’ll come with you. I’ll submit to your testing back in Europe or wherever the fuck it is that you want to take me, but in exchange you have to leave the city. You, and everyone involved in your organization.”
“We stand to learn a lot of valuable information from you and your Ability,” Agatha said, “as well as from the experiments your government conducted that allowed your existence. How long would we get to keep you?”
“As long as you need to get all the information you want,” Chuuya said. “If I hear anything about you starting shit in Yokohama I’ll escape.”
“What makes you think you’ll be able to?” Agatha asked.
“Do you really want to try me?”
Agatha sighed and set down her teacup. “Fine. There is not much else we can gain from this country. I trust you haven’t told anyone about this meeting.”
“Not a single person.” Which was massively stupid, he was sure.
By not leaving a trace, he’d ensured that no one would be able to come after him for at least a few weeks. By then he hoped the second part of his plan would have worked: he didn’t plan on just allowing himself to be a prisoner of Agatha’s organization. It was a huge gamble, though. He couldn’t guarantee that he’d be able to do anything once he was there, but having a goal in mind was better than nothing at all.
He’d wanted to leave a note or find some way to explain where he’d gone, but he didn’t think he could do that without Agatha somehow finding out and the whole plan being ruined. She had almost caused Yokohama’s destruction before. He couldn’t underestimate her. He had to play her game by her rules until he was certain he could win.
Agatha looked him over and Chuuya felt a sudden change in the air of the room. He knew other people were there. Agatha kept her eyes on his face, searching for any break in his resolve.
He stared back.
“It seems we have a deal,” Agatha said. “I will, of course, be making sure that you held up your end of the bargain before departing, but it seems that you haven’t tried anything yet.”
A set of hands roughly grabbed Chuuya from behind and it took a lot of effort to suppress his instinct to get out of the hold. Something pinched the skin of his neck and a flood of exhaustion washed over him.
The last thing he saw was the shelves upon shelves of books. None of which, he thought with a sense of satisfaction, were the book that Agatha wanted.
Then he slipped into unconsciousness.
*
Dazai hated politics.
Politics were the thing that kept him from slitting Mori’s throat the moment he found out just how responsible for Odasaku’s death Mori was. Politics made it necessary to keep contact with both the government and the Mafia for the sake of the safety of the city. Politics were part of the reason why countless times, Dazai couldn’t take the easiest option available to him. (Another part was him trying to be a good man, but sometimes it was easier to blame something else.)
Right now politics were the reason why he was being dragged into something he didn’t want to be, even though he’d thought that after defeating those who wanted the Book, politics was something he’d no longer have to deal with.
That was all it was that was keeping Dazai in this room and making him listen to the words coming out of Ango’s mouth. Politics, and nothing more.
The Agency had apparently become ground zero for cleaning up the mess left behind by this war. None of them were really thrilled with it, but neither the Mafia nor the government could be trusted as neutral parties. And in the case of the Mafia…
“The Mafia hasn’t chosen a new Boss,” Ango said.
“We are two days without a new Mafia Boss and internal conflict is starting to break out,” Kouyou said. She’d been invited to this meeting too as the sort of unofficial interim leader of the Port Mafia.
Some were under the belief that Kouyou should be the new Boss. Dazai was tentatively one of them, because out of the options available Kouyou could be the most ruthless. Kouyou didn’t inspire loyalty, however, given that she was once a traitor herself, and in an organization like the Mafia that was crucial.
As a result the Mafia was undecided. Last time Mori had been incapacitated, Chuuya had taken over as interim leader for a short while with no success, which was part of why leadership hadn’t automatically been transferred to him. That and…
“Chuuya-kun is missing,” Kouyou continued, “and given that many factions of the Port Mafia were loyal to him, this poses many problems.”
Dazai hated that he was having this conversation. He thought back to Chuuya’s words about carrying out a plan that was his own. He hadn’t expected that plan to be disappearing after Mori’s death. Unless that wasn’t part of his plan. He couldn’t speculate on that, though. He could only work with what he knew.
“It only poses a problem if Chuuya is the Boss of the Port Mafia,” Dazai said. “Think of it as starting a new era. The only reason there is so much conflict is because you haven’t made a decision. The moment you decide to be a leader and act like one, it’ll be easier to gain control of those factions of the Mafia. The last time I checked, the Mafia wasn’t a democracy.”
Kouyou narrowed her eyes. It sounded simple, but they both knew it wasn’t that simple. Dazai just didn’t want to be involved in Mafia business anymore than he had to be.
“Or,” he said with a smile, “you can just let it fall apart.”
Everyone in the room knew that this wasn’t an option either. Even past his hatred for what the Mafia had helped shape him into, Dazai knew that it played an important role in the city that couldn’t be played by the Agency or the government. The Mafia regulated organized crime, and if all crime was regulated by the Mafia then crime in the city could be as under control or out of control as the Mafia saw fit. That was why the government needed to have a somewhat functional relationship with them.
“Let’s not waste time on nonsense,” Kouyou said.
“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Dazai asked. “Become leader of the Port Mafia. Send someone to find Chuuya. Done.”
“The government would like Nakahara-kun to become the Mafia Boss,” Ango said quietly.
Dazai turned to stare at him. “What?” Then he turned to Kouyou. “And you’ll listen to him?”
“What made you think that I would want to lead the Mafia?” Kouyou asked. “Chuuya-kun promised everything he has to our organization. He’s given everything he can give short of his life, and everyone can see how dedicated he is. That is the kind of leader the Mafia needs. I can lead and do it well, but I don’t have that dedication.”
She was right. As good of a leader as Kouyou would be — and she was good at leading — she had never been as dedicated to the Mafia and never would be. Dazai was sure that if she believed she could make a life outside of the Mafia, she would have, and it was only her belief that she couldn’t have a good life otherwise that kept her there.
“And why do you want him to lead the Mafia?” Dazai asked, turning to Ango. “I’m sure it’s not for the same reason.”
“A similar reason,” Ango said. “Nakahara-kun inspires loyalty in those following him, so there is less likely to be conflict under his leadership. While he isn’t the best at negotiating or planning, he has people on his side who are that could advise him.”
Dazai frowned. That wasn’t the only reason. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t like Chuuya would be more sympathetic than Kouyou to what the government wanted, because he wouldn’t be. He hated the government. Chuuya had more of a relationship with Ango than Kouyou did, but that was one person, and it was a grudging relationship at best.
He wondered if it had to do with Chuuya not being able to disappear so easily. As the Boss of the Mafia, Chuuya wouldn’t really go anywhere. His position would be known at all times, which made him incredibly easy to keep track of. Maybe even to use him, to test him. The government could be very underhanded. After everything, they wouldn’t want to lose one of their most successful experiments.
It made him feel sick.
The thing was, no matter the motive behind it, Dazai couldn’t really argue that Chuuya was pretty much the best option the Mafia had at this point. But the repulsion he’d felt when he first considered the idea was only worse now and it made him want to convince everyone that Chuuya was the wrong choice.
It was selfish.
Chuuya would hate him.
“So you want me to help you find him,” Dazai said. “What if I do and he doesn’t want to be the Mafia Boss?”
It seemed like neither of them had considered that, which left a bad taste in Dazai’s mouth. Chuuya’s whole life seemed to consist of people not considering what Chuuya wanted, including Chuuya himself.
“If it comes to that, we’ll rethink our plans,” Ango said. Dazai knew they wouldn’t and he also knew Chuuya would agree to it if that was what he thought was best for the Mafia. “You know him best.”
That also left a bad taste in Dazai’s mouth, that after everything he was the one who knew Chuuya best. He’d left years ago, had never wanted to get too close to Chuuya in the first place for reasons he hated thinking about, and none of that mattered because in the end he was still the one who knew Chuuya in a way no one else did.
He was the one Chuuya had said goodbye to. The one Chuuya had kissed.
He sighed and looked up at Ango and Kouyou. “Show me everything you know.”
*
Chuuya would never disappear when he was needed most. Dazai knew that.
The problem was, he could find no signs of a struggle. Chuuya’s apartment was completely neat, almost a bit too clean. His office was similarly tidy. No one had seen anything out of the ordinary and there was no footage of Chuuya fighting anyone anywhere.
In fact, there was no footage of Chuuya at all after his talk with Dazai.
That was suspicious. Whoever had taken Chuuya had been very thorough in erasing all of their tracks. It was like Chuuya had ceased to exist just after the final conflict. Dazai knew he was still recovering from Corruption and had only been out to visit Rimbaud’s grave, so it wasn’t like there would have been much security camera footage anyway, but still.
Dazai had absolutely nothing to go off, and his knowledge of Chuuya wasn’t providing any possible leads.
Two more days passed as Dazai exhausted searching anywhere he knew Chuuya might be. Favorite bars, old hangouts, Suribachi City itself (which was almost impossible to search alone, but word got around quickly that Dazai was searching for someone), and nothing turned up. It bothered him more than it should have.
Chuuya wasn’t dead, though. He couldn’t be, Dazai was sure of it. Chuuya wouldn’t die without putting up a very dramatic fight. He wouldn’t just disappear.
It was rare that Dazai couldn’t find an explanation for something or even begin to figure out a problem, but he felt completely stuck here. Things weren’t ever easy with Chuuya, which was entertaining up until it wasn’t, like now. It was one of the things Dazai both liked and hated about him. There was something nice in Chuuya being unpredictable, but it also caused problems.
There was the other factor in this, which Dazai wasn’t considering. He’d been thinking of things in terms of Chuuya being taken, even though Chuuya had told him that he had a plan. This all could be the result of something Chuuya himself had done, but Dazai didn’t think it was that simple. Someone else had to be involved. Chuuya wouldn’t make himself disappear for his own sake.
The Port Mafia couldn’t go on without a Boss much longer either. It had been five days already, almost a full week. Two weeks would be pushing it and beyond that, Dazai got the feeling the organization would dissolve into chaos. Kouyou would either need to commit to leadership or find another solution, and the government would have to live with whatever that solution was.
And Chuuya…
What role would Chuuya play in that case?
*
Twelve days after Chuuya disappeared, the government received a notice from overseas.
The following day, Kouyou received a call from an unknown number. It was evening and when she answered, a familiar voice said, “Ane-san, I’m home.”
Two hours later, a meeting was held between the Agency, the Port Mafia, and the government at Agency headquarters.
Dazai had spent the last few days trying to figure out how to prevent complete chaos if Chuuya didn’t come back, which was looking more and more likely. His focus shifted from trying to find Chuuya (although he was still looking) to preventing a disaster. The last thing the city needed was another conflict.
The relief he felt at Chuuya’s return was quickly followed by something else. Anger? Irritation? Confusion? A combination of many different emotions that he couldn’t put a name to? He didn’t understand why Chuuya had left and come back as if nothing had happened. The meeting was just as much to figure out what had happened as it was to find a way to move forward.
Dazai was the first one in the room, accompanied by Fukuzawa and Kunikida. Ango had been sent as the lone representative of the government, just like last time. The last to arrive were Kouyou and Chuuya.
As Chuuya’s eyes swept around the room, Dazai could tell immediately that something was off. Chuuya looked exhausted and the layers he dressed himself in seemed more like a shield than a style choice. And his eyes, when they met Dazai’s, looked hollow.
Before Dazai could focus too long on it, Ango cleared his throat.
“We’ve received reports from Europe that the Order of the Clocktower has been destroyed,” he said. “I wasn’t aware that we were trying to start another war with the West.”
“Think of it as a continuation of this one,” Chuuya said, his voice cold. “And now it’s over.”
Dazai frowned. “Wait...is that where you went? To destroy the Order of the Clocktower?” He was aware that some of those Ability users, including Agatha Christie herself, were still alive, but Dostoyevsky was the most dangerous threat despite his organization being used by Agatha’s. Dostoyevsky was the one who wanted the Book to completely erase Ability users.
The Order may have also wanted the Book, but not for the same reasons.
“You think leaving a loose end like that wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass?” Chuuya asked, looking from Dazai to Ango.
“Taking action by yourself could have had disastrous results,” Ango said.
“I’m the only one who could’ve done it,” Chuuya said.
Ango started to say something but Dazai interrupted. “What did you actually do?”
“I took care of it,” Chuuya said.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning exactly that.”
“We can talk about the technicalities of Chuuya-kun’s destruction of the Order later,” Kouyou said. She looked at Chuuya. “The reason why we needed to find you in the first place was because the Mafia needs a leader.”
Chuuya didn’t have a big reaction, but Dazai could read the subtle signs of what he was thinking in the tightness of his jaw and the tensing of his entire body. His gaze shifted just to the right of Kouyou, a habit Chuuya fell into when lying that he sometimes didn’t remember to correct, like right now. It told Dazai all he needed to know.
“I’ve barely set foot in Yokohama,” Chuuya said. “Surely an interim leader —”
“The stability of the city is in question,” Ango said. “If you wait, more conflict might break out within or outside of the Mafia.”
“It’s been two weeks. An interim leader isn’t a wise idea,” Kouyou added, “not with everything that happened. The capacity for further change in the organization is non-existent.”
“That’s how it is,” Chuuya said quietly. He seemed to be wrestling with himself. “Fine. I’ll start immediately.”
Dazai stared across the table at Chuuya, daring him to break eye contact. Chuuya stared right back, his mouth set in a thin line of determination. The rest of the room seemed to disappear.
“Hang on,” Dazai said. “I never agreed that Chuuya was the best option.”
“Given that you’re not in the Mafia, your opinion is not required,” Kouyou said.
Dazai ignored her. “The Mafia needs a strong leader right now.”
“Are you saying I’m not?” Chuuya asked, his voice holding a dangerous edge.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Dazai adopted a detached, clinical tone. “You’ve always been more prone to giving into your emotions than most. You form attachments that can be used against you. You aren’t willing to lose people.”
“I care about people,” Chuuya said. “Is that your problem? Let’s not forget which of us has been a leader of an organization before.”
“And let’s not forget which one of us was overthrown as a leader for an organization.”
Chuuya’s eyes narrowed. It was clear he was trying not to react strongly, because that would just cement Dazai’s argument that he wasn’t meant to be leader. “People in the Port Mafia trust me. They respect me. I have enough power and influence that if a conflict broke out I wouldn’t be overthrown. I know how the Mafia works both internally and in relation to other organizations. I’m willing to do what it takes to ensure the Mafia’s success.”
“Like disappearing overseas without a word to anyone when you were needed most? Not a very smart move for the leader of the most powerful organization in Yokohama,” Dazai said.
“I wasn’t leader yet,” Chuuya said, “and that’s why I did it at that point.”
“You aren’t ready. That is why you asked Kouyou to be interim Boss. You —”
“I am willing to do what it takes,” Chuuya snapped, his voice rising slightly. “What’s your problem? Don’t tell me you’re concerned about the wellbeing of the city — you can’t believe that it’s gonna fall apart just because I become the Mafia Boss. And you’re certainly not concerned about the wellbeing of the Mafia. I’m sure you’d be happy to watch it all go to shit if it wouldn’t affect anything else. So why the fuck does it matter to you?”
Dazai felt like he’d been punched in the stomach but he didn’t let it show on his face. This was miles from their last conversation that had ended with a kiss. Chuuya seemed miles away from being that person who had kissed him. His brain scrambled for a response. “This kind of emotional outburst is exactly what the Mafia can’t have.”
“You don’t get to say what the Mafia needs or doesn’t need anymore,” Chuuya said.
Dazai leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re right, Chuuya.”
Chuuya glared at him until Kouyou spoke. “There is a lot of work to be done,” she said. “We should get going.”
“Perhaps we should discuss —” Ango started, but Dazai stood and threw his hands up before he could finish the sentence.
“Not my problem!” He called out in a sing-song voice, and he sauntered out of the room.
As he left the building he briefly entertained the idea of going straight to Mafia headquarters. Chuuya would get quite the surprise when he got back, but ultimately it seemed like too much too soon.
This was a strange, difficult situation. They’d been learning to trust each other again. It was easy to trust each other with their lives — they’d been doing so since they met. Thoughts and emotions were a different story. As open as Chuuya was, he kept personal things close to his chest and there were many surprising things that Dazai didn’t understand about Chuuya.
They were both trying to balance how much the other learned, not wanting to give too much away while not getting enough. It was the sort of thing Dazai had always done, only giving away as much as he needed to and barely even that, while he learned more and more about the other person. Now he realized Chuuya was doing that to him.
It made sense. They hadn’t been partners for a long time and after the first betrayal Chuuya wouldn’t be so open so easily. It still stung.
This was important, which meant Chuuya wouldn’t share it with Dazai. He wouldn’t share it with anyone, especially not now that he was the Mafia Boss.
Somehow that made Dazai feel worried. It was none of his business and yet…
It was Chuuya.
*
Asking him to go to the Port Mafia headquarters itself was asking a lot. Dazai had only been back there once since he defected, to find out who had a bounty on Atsushi’s head. It hadn’t been fun and he didn’t really want to do it again, even if he wasn’t a prisoner, but a few days after the meeting at the Agency he was doing exactly that.
It wasn’t just Mori that made it hard to go back. Mori was gone now and still, there was everything else. Going back into that building would remind Dazai of his former life and of all the things he was trying not to be. It would also remind him how easy it was to go back. By involving himself in Mafia affairs he was letting himself get sucked into that world again, and even if he believed in himself now, one often didn’t realize they were on a slippery slope until they were already falling.
He didn’t want to fall.
He wasn’t doing this for Chuuya’s sake, he told himself as he made his way through the building. It was night time and he was taking a gamble that Chuuya would be in the office, because there was a lot of work to do and Chuuya was a workaholic.
He knew the Mafia headquarters in and out, enough that he was able to slip past any guards that were there. Not that Chuuya needed them. It was less well guarded than normal, probably because the Port Mafia had lost a lot of people during the war and right now things were still unsettled. That just made Dazai’s job easier.
Dazai was doing this for the sake of the city. Yokohama couldn’t have a Mafia Boss who wasn’t up to task and for all that Dazai wanted the Port Mafia to disappear, his reasons were selfish — he wanted his past to disappear at times with it. Chuuya had been partially right when he said that Dazai didn’t care about what happened to the Mafia. But no one could deny the twisted benefit the Mafia brought to Yokohama.
Part of him also wanted to know what had happened overseas. The way Chuuya looked in that meeting unsettled him and he needed to know why that was.
Walking through the stained-glass hallway on the top floor of headquarters brought with it a lot of memories, which Dazai struggled to sort into “good” and “bad.” His worst memories were bloody, the assassination of the old Boss, the amount of blood he’d get on his own hands, the things he saw while managing the criminal underworld and fighting other organizations, Odasaku...none of them took place here.
This was where he’d first seen Chuuya after they both joined the Mafia. Dazai had known he’d joined and was waiting for Mori to tell him that Chuuya was his new subordinate, but instead Chuuya appeared in this hallway with Kouyou, very much not his subordinate. This was where they had their first shouting match as official members of the Mafia. And now Chuuya was the one behind the door leading to the Boss’s office instead of Mori. He was a completely different man than Mori was and as much as Dazai hated Mori...the Mafia had been successful under him.
People like Mori and Dazai were the ones suited to a position like Mafia Boss. What would a man like Chuuya do?
The doors were unguarded and Dazai suspected they would be unlocked. Mori always had guards in front of the door so it didn’t particularly matter if it was locked or not, and a lock was only so strong. There were no guards now. Dazai hoped he was right.
He walked up to the doors and pushed...and the doors gave way.
“I didn’t know the Port Mafia’s finances were so dire that they can’t even afford locks now,” Dazai called out as he slipped through the doors.
Something crashed into him and he slammed against the wall.
“Chuuya, nice to know you’re as lively as ever.”
He saw spots but once his vision cleared he was looking down at Chuuya, whose knife pressed against his throat. Before Dazai could say anything, Chuuya scoffed and stepped back, turning away and walking towards his desk.
What an insult.
“You don’t think I’m a threat? Chuuya!” Dazai cried.
“If you killed me you’d also be dead,” Chuuya said. He leaned against the desk and folded his arms over his chest, looking unimpressed. “Come here to tell me how bad I am at my job?”
“I haven’t seen you do it,” Dazai said, unpeeling himself from the wall and stopping a few feet away from Chuuya. The distance felt awkward. “Thought that I’d check in, see how everything is going, make contact as a member of the Agency for our continued truce.”
“Contact, huh?” Chuuya gestured to the door. “Well, you did it, so you can leave.”
“I also wanted to check on the status of the Mafia,” Dazai said.
“Cut the shit,” Chuuya snapped, and Dazai was surprised at the sudden sharpness in his voice. “Why are you actually here?”
Dazai considered his next move. Chuuya appreciated directness and honesty, which were two things Dazai didn’t often give him. “I want to know what happened overseas.”
“The Agency isn’t exactly a global organization,” Chuuya said.
“No, but we did play a huge part in a global Ability war,” Dazai said. “Given that you said what happened over there was a continuation of said war, we have the right to know about it.”
“And you do,” Chuuya said. “I went and destroyed the Order of the Clocktower.”
“And took so long to do it?” Dazai raised an eyebrow. “Even without Corruption you could be a lot faster, Chuuya. Who have you told? Anyone in the Mafia? The government? Does anyone get the details of what really happened?”
“There are no details,” Chuuya said.
“Or,” Dazai continued, “did Chuuya take a little vacation and cover it up by saying it took him that long to destroy an organization?” His voice turned more serious. “Do you know how much time and resources were spent looking for you because you vanished without a trace? And you just came back and said it was no big deal — you can see why we all want to know why, right?”
Chuuya stared at him, and then he laughed. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
Dazai had a sinking feeling. He knew where Chuuya was going before Chuuya said a word.
“You — one of the Port Mafia’s Executives, rumored to be next in line for the position of Mafia Boss, one of the most important strategists of the Port Mafia, disappeared without a trace and reappeared like nothing ever went wrong,” Chuuya said, “and you want to use that kind of argument to get me to explain shit? When you never explained a thing. You probably wouldn’t explain it if I asked now.”
“I think you know why,” Dazai said. Chuuya had to know about Odasaku. He had to know about Mimic. He could put the pieces together even if Dazai only left hints, could read between the lines beyond the facts of “Mori got Odasaku killed and I couldn’t save him” because he always knew.
“Do I?” Chuuya stared at him with cold eyes.
“Yes.” Chuuya knew the facts, at least, even if he didn’t know the emotional impact behind Odasaku’s words and how Dazai had been trying to live them ever since.
“Bastard,” Chuuya muttered. “You’re such a — you know what? Fine. Since you’re so damn curious. I let myself get captured by Agatha Christie.”
Dazai blinked. “What?” If anyone did the getting-captured-on-purpose plan it was Dazai himself. Chuuya usually didn’t go for that kind of thing.
“Christie was still in Yokohama,” Chuuya said. “I wanted to know why the Order was so involved in the first place and what that would mean in the future. They’re a dangerous organization. Apparently you looked over that loose end.”
“Forgive me if I was stretched too thin to think about it at the time,” Dazai said. It had been on his mind. He’d shelved the issue for later, when things had settled down.
“I had some thoughts about the Order and I wanted to see if they were right, and I also didn’t want them fucking with Yokohama anymore,” Chuuya said, “because even if their resources were all...dead...that didn’t mean they wouldn’t do something again. So I let her capture me and take me back to the Order and got some info and destroyed them from the inside.”
That was a lot to take in. “What did you do with that info?”
“Nothing,” Chuuya said. “I have it for the future if it’s needed, but they’re gone.”
“You...Chuuya…” There were so many questions on the tip of Dazai’s tongue. He had wanted to know — they had all wanted to know exactly what the Order did as an organization beyond allowing other organizations to carry out its dirty work. If Dostoyevsky had actually ended up with the Book, somehow it likely would’ve fallen into Christie’s hands. But without any of those other organizations, Dazai thought that the Order would fade into the background before trying anything else.
They were powerful. They had powerful Ability users, a powerful network, intelligence that was pretty much unrivaled, but their resources had been drained during this war and ultimately everything had been primarily driven by Dostoyevsky. He didn’t allow himself to be a puppet for the Order in any way, even if they were trying to use him.
“That’s your answer,” Chuuya said. “And this conversation is over. I have shit to do.”
“Chuuya —”
“Don’t make me throw you out myself,” Chuuya said. He would. Dazai saw it in his eyes. He was at the end of his patience. Admitting he’d been captured had made Chuuya incredibly tense, and he clearly hadn’t wanted to admit it, because Dazai could use that information.
“I’ll talk to you later then,” Dazai said, deciding not to escalate things now over a few questions. He briefly thought of jokingly asking for a kiss goodbye just to remind Chuuya of what had happened, but thought better of it. He could see why that sort of thing would not be on Chuuya’s mind at all now. Instead, he mockingly bowed and turned, walking out the doors.
As he made his way out of the building thoughts about the Order and Christie gave way to thoughts about how Chuuya’s answer to why he’d been overseas long enough to cause concern was that he’d allowed himself to get captured. If he’d allowed himself to get captured, why did Christie want to capture him in the first place?
The Order had powerful Ability users. From what little Dazai heard, it seemed like they also weaponized Ability users, thought they didn’t know enough to confirm the extent. The Rats were more obviously active in that area. The Order more successfully kept their activities hidden, which was probably why Chuuya had resorted to getting captured in order to gain information. Dazai would have, too, if he’d been in Chuuya’s position.
But that plan would only work if the Order gained something from having Chuuya captured. Was it information? Why had it taken Chuuya so long to escape? Had it taken him that long to find out what he wanted? Was it something else?
Dazai’s stomach churned. Weaponized Abilities. Experiments. Chuuya was a living, breathing result of a government project to weaponize Abilities. Dazai didn’t want to take this thought to its conclusion, so he pushed it aside. If he ignored it, it would go away. Even if it was true he was probably over-worrying. Chuuya would be fine. He was always fine.
He had to be fine, if he wanted to function as the new Mafia Boss. He had to know that he would be fine, otherwise he wouldn’t have taken the role.
Dazai convinced himself that he’d gotten what he wanted from that conversation and that now the only thing he had to do was put out any fires the Mafia didn’t catch. He would stay in his corner with the Agency. Chuuya wouldn’t feature in his life anymore. They could both move forward. The war was truly over.
*
Dazai knew that meetings between the Agency and the Mafia were a feature of their truce before the war ended, but he hadn’t expected those things to carry over after. Apparently Chuuya actually did want to keep lines of communication open with unofficial Ability-user organizations in Yokohama, especially the Agency.
And while Chuuya probably wanted Fukuzawa to be his point of contact, what he got...was Dazai.
This was Dazai’s own fault. There was a joint meeting between the two organizations about a month after Chuuya became Boss. Dazai let his curiosity get the best of him, because ignoring Chuuya’s existence for a month had been surprisingly hard when his thoughts turned to Chuuya with a surprising frequency. It was not only because Chuuya was the Mafia Boss. There were other, also obvious reasons that Dazai would rather not think about. He couldn’t ignore them if he tried. And he was trying.
A few people from both sides attended the meeting, held in the same park where the Agency and the Mafia first met to discuss working together. Dazai and Kunikida stood with Fukuzawa. Chuuya was flanked by Akutagawa and Kouyou. Things were tense this time around too because no one knew what to expect. Dazai figured Chuuya would have gotten the Mafia together more or less and things would be going fine.
And things with the Mafia were going fine. Chuuya, however…
Chuuya didn’t look any better than he had the first time they saw each other. He looked even more exhausted.
Dazai had been pushing the concept of Chuuya being captured by Agatha Christie out of his mind and clinging to the part where Chuuya had let himself be captured on purpose. What happened after that, Dazai didn’t want to know. But looking at Chuuya now, he wasn’t sure if that was the case.
It was frustrating. Seeing Chuuya tugged at something inside him hard enough that he was actually distracted from the content of the meeting. Chuuya and Fukuzawa were talking and Dazai tried to focus, but at the tip of his tongue was the question “what’s wrong with you?”
This feeling would be called concern if it was directed at anyone else, but Dazai had tried for so long not to feel concern over Chuuya. When he was in the Mafia, feeling concern over his partner would have been dangerous. That concern would have interfered with his plans, which often required Chuuya to be sent in dangerous situations alone. That concern would have interfered with how many times Dazai ordered the use of Corruption. And he was sure that Mori would have used that against him, just like he used Odasaku against him.
Chuuya and Fukuzawa were talking about having occasional meetings to discuss the state of all things related to Ability users in the city. Dazai focused on that instead. In theory, both organizations could just send a representative like they had in the past — Atsushi and Akutagawa were used to delivering messages for the Agency and Mafia. Chuuya was a more hands-on sort of person, though, and he wanted to be part of those meetings.
Dazai was grateful for the peace of the city right now and the general respect Chuuya had garnered among those in the Mafia. With their reduced numbers, the Mafia wasn’t as big of a threat as they had been and they needed time to pull themselves together again. Chuuya was clearly finding his feet, so being thrown into another conflict would have been a bit of a disaster. They needed to rebuild.
But it seemed like Chuuya needed something to bring the light back into his eyes. He needed something to give him that familiar energy that was now lacking. Chuuya was so much in every way and now he seemed almost like someone else. Like Dazai, maybe, on his worst days back when they were younger. Not ruthless but rather tired enough that he already felt half dead.
The meeting ended. Akutagawa had already disappeared. Kouyou waited until Chuuya turned to leave.
Dazai almost called out to him, but it would be strange for an Agency member to care about the Mafia Boss. It was strange of Dazai to care so much about Chuuya that it distracted him from everything else, especially after their attempt to get close to each other had dissolved into almost nothing. He really had changed and right now he wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
Caring more was easier when it came to caring about other members of the Agency. Dazai still found it hard not to push his feelings away, or to push those in the Agency away, because getting close was a scary thing and he had more to lose when he allowed himself to get closer. But they were part of his new life. They offered the sort of caring and support Dazai hadn’t seen back in the Mafia. The closest he’d gotten to that was Odasaku.
Chuuya was part of his old life. Dazai had him in a different category of people, saw him in a different way. Even though they understood each other better than anyone else could understand them, there was still a distance that they both kept. If they hadn’t been in the Mafia maybe things would have been different, and maybe Dazai would have allowed himself to risk getting closer to people sooner, but that wasn’t the case. Mori had cultivated the worst in them so that they could be the best weapons, and Dazai and Chuuya’s relationship suffered as a result.
It was that deep understanding and their linked past as partners that kept Dazai from being able to disregard Chuuya completely all this time. It was Chuuya himself — Dazai had been drawn to the amount of life in him back then, and that hadn’t changed because Chuuya kept fighting so hard to keep that amount of life in himself, to be human and to truly live. It was so the opposite of what Dazai had been doing that it fascinated him, and sometimes even rubbed off on him. Chuuya had been the first person to make him want to try living before the Mafia took that away from him.
He didn’t call out and he regretted it, but he promised himself that he would be at every meeting from now on. He needed to see Chuuya.
He needed to know that Chuuya would be okay, even if he didn’t want to admit why.
*
All of their meetings took place on neutral ground, in a conference room repurposed for this meeting. The conference room was in an abandoned building, so no one would come across them.
Each time they met, Dazai hoped that Chuuya would look better, and every time he was disappointed. He wondered if anyone else noticed. Kouyou probably noticed. Akutagawa probably did too. There was nothing either of them could do other than suggest that Chuuya take a break, and Chuuya wouldn’t listen to either one of them.
Chuuya was running himself ragged because he was running from something. Dazai was sure of it.
There had been periods like this when they were teenagers that Dazai ignored or couldn’t bring himself to care about. Chuuya worked hard all the time, but there were periods where he’d work himself to complete exhaustion, foregoing things like food and sleep and socializing, and Dazai never asked why. He kind of knew because it didn’t take a genius to figure it out, but still.
It occurred to Dazai around their third meeting that Chuuya didn’t have anyone to talk to. He was friendly with a lot of people, but especially now as the Boss he couldn’t show weakness. Even if he was inclined to talk to someone, he couldn’t be completely honest with them. They didn’t know about his past. The only ones who had known were Rimbaud, who was dead, Mori, who was also dead and who Chuuya never would’ve talked to about it anyway, and Dazai, who had left.
Dazai kept telling himself that it wasn’t his place, that he wasn’t obligated to help Chuuya even if he was the only person who knew everything about him. That didn’t stop him from wanting to, and it was a lot harder to tell himself not to want it. Dazai had spent so many years trying to push logic over emotions that he was tired, and with the Agency his emotions tended to break through more often than not.
It was the fourth meeting that pushed Dazai over the edge.
Chuuya was going over which smaller Ability organizations (mostly gangs) the Mafia was tracking, and how they were going to deal with them, when he forgot one of their names and then completely forgot where he’d been in talking about the organizations in the first place.
Dazai watched as Chuuya struggled with trying to remember, realized he couldn’t, and then hissed, “damn it.” He looked like he was seconds away from losing it, though in what way Dazai couldn’t tell.
Dazai cleared his throat and said, “I think we’ve gotten all we need to know, right?” Kunikida had already given the Agency’s report.
“But —” Kunikida started.
Dazai shot him a look. “I think it’s time we go back.”
Kunikida realized that Dazai, for whatever reason, was completely serious. He sighed and closed his notebook, standing up. “Until next time, then.”
Chuuya seemed to pull himself together. “I’ll let you know.” He inclined his head.
Kunikida left the room, followed by Atsushi and Akutagawa. Dazai pretended to go after them but stopped at the door, so when Chuuya attempted to brush past him, Dazai was able to grab his wrist.
“Let go,” Chuuya hissed. The others still weren’t far away.
Dazai’s grip on his wrist tightened. “We need to talk.”
“We don’t need to do anything,” Chuuya snapped. “You need to let go before I throw you out the fucking window.”
“I’d rather jump out windows on my own, thanks,” Dazai said. “Even if I let you go, I’m following you.”
“No, you’re not. I’m going to work.”
“I’ll follow you there, so maybe you should go to your apartment.”
“You are not following me to my fucking apartment.”
Dazai hummed. “Even if I don’t, I know where you live so I’ll just break in. As good as your security is, I’m better.”
Chuuya glared at him. “Why?”
“Why am I better than your security, or why am I following you?” Dazai asked.
“Why won’t you fucking let go?”
“Why are you letting me not let go?”
They both knew Chuuya could get out of Dazai’s grip if he really wanted to. Chuuya blinked, as if it had been a lapse in judgement, almost as if he’d forgotten he could. Maybe he had. That was what Dazai was so concerned about.
“You’re not fit to do your job,” Dazai said.
Chuuya yanked his wrist out of Dazai’s grip this time. “Not this shit again.” He turned and started walking away.
True to his word, Dazai followed.
Chuuya ignored him as they made their way out of the building. He started in the direction of Mafia headquarters, but when it became clear that Dazai really was following him, he switched to going towards his apartment instead. They both knew that the only way Chuuya could get Dazai to stop following him was to incapacitate him, but hurting Dazai when there was a truce was a bad idea.
Not that Dazai would tell anyone, but Chuuya didn’t need to know that.
Dazai was sure that regardless of what he would do or not do, the thought had crossed Chuuya’s mind.
Chuuya still lived in the same place as when they were teenagers. He probably could’ve moved elsewhere, probably should’ve moved because he was the Mafia Boss now, but he’d always been less paranoid than Dazai and Mori. The only people who knew where it was were the people he trusted in the Mafia and it was a really nice apartment. It was probably nicer now that he wasn’t a teenager.
Once they got there, Chuuya attempted to slam the door in Dazai’s face. Dazai anticipated this and shoved his foot in-between the door and the doorframe. He winced when the door slammed into it, but didn’t move.
Chuuya glared at him. “Really?”
“Really.”
“I’m not feeding you or anything,” Chuuya said, opening the door and stepping back.
“I wouldn’t want to eat your cooking anyway,” Dazai said with a smile, closing the door behind him and toeing off his shoes.
Chuuya scoffed and went into the kitchen, which was spotless. Too spotless. Dazai wasn’t sure why he didn’t like it.
He still couldn’t figure it out while he watched Chuuya stare at the fridge with a small frown on his face, like he couldn’t decide what he wanted from it. It was around dinner time, so presumably dinner, but eventually he sighed and said, “I’m gonna take a shower.”
Dazai watched as he went down the hallway to his room. He waited until he heard the bathroom door open and close and the sound of water running from the shower. Then he turned to Chuuya’s cabinets, because he was kind of hungry.
Except when he opened them, there wasn’t much there. It was like Chuuya hadn’t gone grocery shopping in awhile. Even the fridge, when Dazai opened it, was pretty empty. There was a container of rice, some milk, and a few leftover things from convenience stores, but nothing he could use to make a proper meal. This looked more like his own fridge when he couldn’t be bothered to take care of himself.
Chuuya always had food. He always took care of himself. Dazai didn’t understand. Was this the product of overwork? Did he eat at headquarters? Did he even come back to his apartment that often?
Dazai took out the container of rice and scooped some into a bowl, which he heated up. He ate it plain, which wasn’t a great meal but got the job done. When he finished he heard the shower turn off, and a few moments later the door to the bathroom opened. He could hear Chuuya walk into his bedroom and wondered if he’d come back out.
He placed the bowl in the sink and leaned against the counter, waiting. He didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes later Chuuya came back out.
He looked tempted to turn around as soon as he saw Dazai, but instead he walked into the kitchen. “You’re still here.”
“Why don’t you have any food?” Dazai asked.
“If you’re hungry you can fuck off to your own place,” Chuuya snapped.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Dazai said. “Besides, what makes you think I have food?”
“The Agency has food,” Chuuya said.
“And you always have food,” Dazai said. “So why not now?”
“You don’t know what I always have,” Chuuya said. “It’s been years. I’ve been busy.”
“I can see that.” Dazai made a show of looking him up and down. It was more obvious now than when he’d been out. Chuuya’s clothes had been impeccable, which distracted from his actual physical appearance.
If someone were to notice anything, they’d have to notice the dark circles under his eyes, the way his face looked a bit too thin, his somewhat chapped lips. That was the only hint.
Now Chuuya was still kind of dressed in layers. He had a t-shirt on, but he was wearing a sweater over it. He had on long pajama pants. The hat was gone, at least.
Chuuya narrowed his eyes.
“I don’t think it’s just you being the new Boss,” Dazai said. “I know the pressure would affect you. You’ve always held yourself to a higher standard and you always want to do well. You want to be useful.”
Chuuya hands curled into fists.
“You’ve always struggled with that,” Dazai said. “I don’t think this is just about that, though.”
“Oh?” There was a dangerous edge to Chuuya’s voice.
“You were captured,” Dazai said, “and disappeared, and before you even became Boss you were off.”
“And?”
“You never told me what it meant,” Dazai said, “when you said you were captured.”
“It’s self explanatory.” Chuuya folded his arms over his chest.
“Chuuya.”
“What? You can’t force me to talk about it.”
“That means there’s something to force you to talk about,” Dazai said.
Chuuya looked very, very pissed off, but there was a flash of something else there before it disappeared. Fear that he’d been found out.
Unexpectedly, Dazai felt a wave of fear too. He didn’t want there to be anything to find out.
“And if I told you, what would you do?” Chuuya asked. “There’s nothing you could do. The situation is resolved. I’ll get over it.”
He turned to walk to his room, clearly wanting the discussion to be over. Dazai followed. He didn’t know what else to do.
He expected Chuuya to slam the door in his face, but Chuuya didn’t. He just took off his sweater and tossed it aside. Maybe it was because Dazai stayed in the hallway and didn’t actually try to enter.
“If you have to stay go sleep on the couch,” Chuuya said. “There’s no way in hell you’re sleeping in here.”
“As if I would want to,” Dazai scoffed. He felt weird leaving the room, though. Something in him wanted to stay. “We’re not done.”
“Oh yes, we are.” Chuuya walked over and gave Dazai one last glare before shutting the door.
“I’ll be in the living room if you need me!” Dazai called out. He knew that Chuuya would do his best to ensure that he didn’t need Dazai, but Dazai wanted him to know that he wasn’t leaving. It was probably the easiest out that Dazai had been given, but he wouldn’t take it. He’d told himself that he wouldn’t.
It was hard, though, now that Chuuya wasn’t here. It was quiet, giving him too much time to think, and he had a feeling the quiet wouldn’t last.
He didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to make sure he was there when Chuuya woke up, but he also didn’t want to risk having any nightmares of his own.
Dazai’s most common nightmare was about Odasaku. Most of his nightmares involved violence and blood in one way or another, though often he wasn’t the one hurt. He was hurting other people, or people he cared about were getting brutally injured or killed in front of him.
There were nightmares where Mori was the one doing the killing or hurting, and other times they were faceless enemies. With Odasaku, it often switched between Mori and Gide. Those were horrible, but the worst were when Dazai was the one killing people himself.
Then there were the other nightmares that hurt in a different way. They were less vivid in what he saw, but just as vivid in the emotions they left behind. They were about people leaving him. Sometimes it was the ghost of his parents, whom he barely remembered, rejecting him. Other times it was people from the Agency.
If anyone ever talked to him after any of those nightmares, he felt like he’d fall apart. It had happened before, and while talking to people who could help him was ultimately a good thing, in the moment it felt miserable.
Dazai didn’t like to sleep around other people as a result. Even if he was alone, he had trouble convincing himself to sleep at times as well. He was getting better about it, but right now he felt like he shouldn’t sleep. The last thing he needed to happen in Chuuya’s apartment was a nightmare.
He wasn’t here for Chuuya to deal with his problems. Chuuya wouldn’t be surprised — Dazai had sleeping problems in the Mafia too — but still, Dazai was here for a different reason and a nightmare would just distract from it.
So he played on his phone. He made coffee. Time seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly. He bugged Kunikida with random, stupid questions that were meant to annoy him while keeping them both awake as he drank his coffee.
And he listened.
The few times that he and Chuuya slept together, it seemed like Chuuya was a quiet sleeper. Even when he woke up from nightmares, the only things Dazai noticed were the initial jerk of the bed from Chuuya waking up, the sound of Chuuya breathing too fast, and if there wasn’t enough space between them, the shaking.
He wondered if it was something Chuuya had learned on the streets, to be quiet at his most vulnerable to not attract attention. He wasn’t allowed to be vulnerable there. Maybe that was it.
These were all things Dazai wouldn’t notice from the kitchen, even if he remained completely silent. He’d have to be sitting outside the door, or he’d have to be in Chuuya’s bed. Neither of those things happened.
So he waited.
Morning came without him hearing a thing. Chuuya got up, got dressed, took one look at Dazai in the kitchen and walked straight for the door.
“See you tonight!” Dazai called after him.
Chuuya flipped him off and left.
Dazai questioned what he was doing as he went to the door a few minutes after Chuuya had gone. He left his coat on the couch, a reminder to come back, and headed off to the Agency.
*
Chuuya came back late the next night looking exhausted, but it was the type of exhausted caused by too much paperwork and dealing with people and not enough coffee. Dazai tried to insist that Chuuya eat dinner, but Chuuya muttered something about how Dazai of all people couldn’t give him health advice and went to his room. Dazai managed to sleep that night, though it was restless.
The third night was much the same. Chuuya came back late and went straight to his room and Dazai wondered if he was doing it on purpose. That night he slept on the couch and woke up shaking from a nightmare. Chuuya didn’t hear him, just like he couldn’t hear Chuuya, but for once he wished that he wasn’t alone.
“You look like shit,” Chuuya said the next morning.
“Have you looked in the mirror?” Dazai asked. He’d made coffee in the hopes that Chuuya would take him up on it, but Chuuya didn’t.
He headed for the door instead.
“I had a nightmare,” Dazai said suddenly, hoping that his own honesty would spark something in Chuuya.
Chuuya paused and turned around, clearly surprised. Dazai had never said anything like that. He looked like he didn’t know what to say.
Finally he said, “Just knock on my door next time” and opened the door, stepping out and shutting it behind him.
Dazai stared at the closed door. “Really?”
Did Chuuya know how hypocritical that advise was? Was he pretending that everything was okay?
The fourth night was actually an evening. Chuuya came back and took off his shoes and coat without a word to Dazai, who had arrived as soon as his own work was done. Dazai noticed immediately that something was wrong. Chuuya seemed to be working on autopilot.
He got up and slowly walked over. “Chuuya?”
Chuuya turned to him. Dazai didn’t like the somewhat dazed look on his face, or the way he seemed to be looking straight through Dazai.
“Let me make you something,” Dazai said. He started to reach out to grab Chuuya and steer him towards the kitchen and then decided against it. “Follow me.”
To his surprise, Chuuya did.
Dazai looked through Chuuya’s cabinets to try to find something he could make for them, but there wasn’t much. He found leftover rice, which he heated up and served in two bowls. The silence was making him uncomfortable. When he turned around to hand Chuuya his bowl, Chuuya was staring at a spot on the counter.
“Eat,” Dazai said, pushing the bowl into his field of vision.
Chuuya blinked and picked up his chopsticks slowly, like he didn’t know quite how to make his hand work. He poked at the rice with a slight frown.
Dazai watched him take a couple of bites before he began stirring the rice. He’d eaten some himself, but now he was distracted by Chuuya.
Finally Chuuya looked up. “This tastes bland as shit.” His words were halting.
“You don’t have anything,” Dazai said. “Not my fault.”
Chuuya pushed the bowl away. Dazai wanted to insist that he eat more but he knew he wouldn’t really get anywhere.
“What happened?” He asked. “You were…” Chuuya hadn’t been present at all when he came back. It still felt like he was only halfway there.
“Found an old hideout of the Rats to clean out,” Chuuya said. “There was some stuff in there.”
Dazai could imagine what kind of stuff would do this to Chuuya. “Medical stuff? Stuff used to...study...Ability users?”
“That’s what they were doing,” Chuuya said. “Experiment is the word you want. I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now.”
“You let yourself get captured to destroy the Order,” Dazai said, “but there had to be a reason for them to take you in the first place.”
Chuuya stood up. “Congrats on your detective work. I’m going to sleep.”
Dazai was tempted to stop him. He clearly was doing worse today than on the other days, and Dazai didn’t think this was the first time it had happened. And it wouldn’t be the last time.
He needed to stop going in the field so often. He definitely needed to deligate anything to do with the Rats or the Order to someone else.
He cleared up the bowls and realized that he hadn’t heard the door to Chuuya’s room shut. He’d probably forgotten to close it given his state of mind. He wasn’t going to tell him, though. If Chuuya was sleeping with the door open, whether on purpose or not, it benefitted Dazai.
After he thought Chuuya had fallen asleep, Dazai went into the hallway and sat down beside Chuuya’s door, just out of sight. Younger him would’ve thought he was stupid, but if it was stupid then it was worth it.
And he waited.
He didn’t know how long it had been, but at some point he heard the sound of rustling. He stood up, prepared to be yelled at if Chuuya was awake for invading his privacy, and looked through the door.
Chuuya was tossing and turning. He was definitely asleep, and Dazai froze for a second, wondering if he should wake him up. When faced with the decision he didn’t actually know. When was it appropriate to step in?
A sound like a whimper and then a gasp pulled Dazai out of his thoughts and he went over to Chuuya’s bedside.
Chuuya was tangled in the blankets. A sheen of sweat had broken out over his skin and he seemed like he was fighting something. Dazai reached out and shook him gently by the shoulder.
“Chuuya?”
Chuuya’s eyes snapped open. For a second it seemed like he was shocked he was awake. Then he pushed Dazai back and snarled, “get the fuck away from me.”
Dazai was surprised, but he stepped back. Chuuya scrambled up, fighting with the blankets, breathing hard enough that Dazai thought he might start hyperventilating. He wanted to step in, but Chuuya would probably attack.
Instead he said, “Chuuya, it’s me, Dazai.”
Chuuya stared at Dazai and Dazai realized that he didn’t seem all there. It was like earlier, like he was far away, looking at something else.
“We’re in your room,” Dazai continued. “You got annoyed that I was staying over, remember?”
Chuuya was shaking now. He put a hand over his mouth, looking sick. Dazai hoped he wouldn’t actually get sick.
“Let me help,” he continued. He thought of what might ground Chuuya. “No one can replicate my Ability. If you let me touch you, you’ll know it’s really me.”
After a moment of hesitation, Chuuya nodded.
Dazai went over slowly and touched Chuuya’s wrist. Chuuya didn’t move at all, and for a few minutes the only sound in the room was Chuuya’s ragged breathing.
Dazai didn’t move either, waiting. As he did his eyes were drawn to Chuuya’s arms and the shiver of Chuuya’s chest that he could see because his shirt hung loosely around him. His stomach turned when he realized the reason he was looking at them was because there were scars. Surgical scars.
Chuuya lowered his hand. “Thank you,” he said, clearly trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I’m fine.”
Dazai let go of him, feeling numb. “You’re not.”
“I’m —“
“After what happened you can’t sit here and tell me you’re fine,” Dazai said.
Chuuya gritted his teeth but didn’t say anything.
“What kind of deal did you make?” Dazai asked quietly.
“What?”
“You have scars.”
“So do you,” Chuuya snapped.
“Those are surgical scars, Chuuya,” Dazai said. “If you took off your shirt would there be more? Worse? You didn’t have them before.” He’d always known that this was the most likely answer, but having it confirmed was something else.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Chuuya said. “I’m fine.”
“You said you let yourself be captured by the Order,” Dazai said, “so that you could destroy them from the inside, but they wouldn’t capture you if they didn’t stand to gain something from it. They already had information about the Mafia, the government, and the Agency, and about the Book. They must have known you wouldn’t know where it was after we got it hidden again. Christie is not stupid.”
Chuuya glared at him. “Preventing the next in line to become Mafia Boss from actually becoming Mafia Boss isn’t enough?”
“It takes a lot to cage you,” Dazai said. “I think she wanted to know more about artificial Ability users, particularly ones with extremely powerful Abilities. How they managed to fuse such an Ability with a person without destroying the body, how the body adapted, how they might be able to recreate it. Am I right?”
Chuuya’s skin had become overly pale.
“You allowed her to experiment on you and she couldn’t resist,” Dazai said. “It probably took longer than you thought to escape, but at least in destroying the Order none of that information can be used. What were those two weeks like?”
“It’s over,” Chuuya said. He was gripping his blanket tightly, knuckles turning white. “That’s what matters.”
“Did it bring up any memories?”
“Fuck you,” Chuuya snapped. “It’s over. I have a job to do. I don’t regret doing it.”
Dazai believed that. Chuuya’s loyalty had always stuck even when it hurt. “Not regretting it doesn’t mean it didn’t affect you.”
“I’m fine,” Chuuya insisted. “Maybe I get some nightmares. That’s my own business. But I can work.”
Dazai almost laughed at how ridiculous that was. At the same time, he felt like Chuuya needed to know how concerning it was. He probably wouldn’t believe in Dazai’s genuine concern, but Dazai couldn’t turn it off.
Chuuya didn’t trust him, which was understandable, but now more than ever it hurt.
“You’re not okay. Can you really tell me that this hasn’t affected your work?”
Chuuya glared at him, but the way he wasn’t talking suggested that it had. He was probably clinging tooth and nail to his facade of being unaffected.
“You can be honest with me,” Dazai said. “I’m not going to tell anyone. And I won’t think you’re weak.”
“You’ll use it against me,” Chuuya snapped. “You argued so hard for me to not be the Mafia Boss, and anything I say will just become another reason why I shouldn’t.”
Dazai had messed up with that. “Chuuya...it was selfish of me.”
“You’re admitting that you were selfish?” Chuuya looked shocked. It almost hurt, but Dazai knew why it was surprising.
“Yeah, I am. I was wrong. I should’ve thought about what you wanted,” Dazai said. “You can make your own choices and it doesn’t matter what I, or anyone, thinks about how good they are or not. So I am sorry.”
Chuuya searched his face for a moment before sighing and running a hand through his hair. “There have been a few days where there’s hours that I don’t remember anything,” he said. “Sometimes things remind me of...what happened...and...if people knew, they’d think I was incompetant.”
That was a dangerous situation. Dazai frowned. “You’ve been putting yourself in the field?”
“Of course.”
“You realized you can delegate, right?” Chuuya had never been good at that, though, even as an Executive. He’d have to learn.
“I don’t want things to get fucked up,” Chuuya said.
“You should trust your subordinates,” Dazai said. “You’re not working alone for a reason. The Port Mafia doesn’t run just on the efforts of one person.”
“I need to learn to use people,” Chuuya muttered.
“Or work with them,” Dazai said. “Call it what you like. But it isn’t great for the Mafia Boss to be in the field all the time and it certainly isn’t great for you to be in the field if it reminds you of things that put you out of commission for hours. It doesn’t make you weak. It’s just something you need to learn to work around until you can work through it.”
“If I didn’t know better I’d mistake you for a therapist,” Chuuya said. “Do you take your own advice or is all this shit just empty words?”
“I’ve been better at it,” Dazai said. It was true. He had learned how to cope better and he was still learning. “Let me help you.”
“I don’t think someone from the Agency helping someone from the Mafia looks very good.”
That wasn’t a bad argument but… “There’s something between us.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. “We know each other inside and out. We understand certain things about each other that no one else would.” He paused. “Before you left, you kissed me.”
Chuuya was quiet for a moment as he took that in. Dazai’s heart felt like it was trying to break out of his chest.
“That sounds like more than helping,” Chuuya said after a moment. He brushed past Dazai to grab a pack of cigarettes and his lighter, and headed out onto his balcony.
Dazai followed, knowing that Chuuya wasn’t going to just let the subject drop. He wasn’t that kind of person. He watched as Chuuya lit the cigarette with shaky hands. He tended to smoke more when he was stressed and the habit hadn’t changed.
“You always acted like you never needed anyone,” Chuuya said after a moment, “least of all me. You acted like me needing people was wrong. “Partner” was a dirty word to you, but you use it pretty damn often these days.”
He did. At first he hadn’t known what it meant. It just came out like that, just like old times, but with less hatred. He hadn’t understood why there was less hatred when they were on opposite sides. Their antagonism seemed less dangerous.
Maybe it was because Dazai had learned what a good partnership could be.
“You’re not coming back to the Mafia,” Chuuya said.
“No,” Dazai said. “Never.”
“I’m not going to stop being the Mafia Boss,” Chuuya told him. “Doesn’t seem compatible with your plans of being a good guy.”
“The Agency operates in a grey area,” Dazai said, “and I live in a grey area even more. It isn’t straightforward. And you may be the Boss of the Mafia, but you aren’t strictly a bad person.”
“Strictly a bad person.” Chuuya laughed. “Only sometimes a bad person.”
“We’ve both been shitty people,” Dazai said. “You’re trying to do good for the Mafia, even if the Mafia isn’t a good organization. Grey area.”
Chuuya took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled smoke. He turned to Dazai, with the same expression he’d had when he was fifteen when he figured out that Dazai wanted to give living a chance. This time it was muted, more guarded, but still. “So you still want to give this thing between us a shot?”
Dazai wanted to express how much Chuuya meant to him. Comforting him had been a huge surprise to both of them. There had been a lot of confessing, though, and Dazai felt those words stick in his throat. It wasn’t such a simple thing to admit and he wasn’t even sure he could find the words to voice it out loud. It meant a lot.
“Is it such a bad idea?” he asked instead.
“The worst,” Chuuya said. “But I’m game.” The ghost of a grin crossed his face, and in that moment Dazai had a feeling Chuuya would be fine. It might take a while, but he would be. They both would.
Dazai grinned back. He was game too.