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Chuuya felt like he was fifteen all over again, with the betrayal of the kids he was meant to protect as painful as the knife wound in his stomach.
Now Chuuya was eighteen. There was no knife wound, but he felt the familiar sense of accusation aimed his way, as if he was the one who’d betrayed everyone.
Chuuya hated feeling like he was untrustworthy, especially when he knew he wasn’t. He certainly wouldn't betray the Mafia, not when he’d made a promise to himself and the organization that he would give everything to it. It wasn’t his fault that his partner had left. He hadn’t seen that one coming.
He was called into a meeting with the other Executives two days after Dazai had gone missing. Mori had told Chuuya of Dazai’s betrayal over the phone, and had left him alone until now.
Chuuya wondered if it was some sort of test to see what he’d do when given the illusion of more personal freedom, the confidence that no one would be breathing down his neck to see how he dealt with his partner being gone.
That was about to change.
Chuuya knew as soon as he walked into the room and sat down. Everyone was already there despite him having arrived five minutes earlier than the time Mori had asked him to be there. And they all locked eyes on him.
It was irritating enough, having them stare at him like that, but it was even worse when he caught the smug look on the face of their newest Executive, Ace. Ace had gotten the position shortly before Dazai left and no one seemed to be a fan of him. Ace had something important, though, and that was money. Access to money and an Ability that was impressive in a horrifying way, as many of their Abilities were.
It was better to have Ace and his horrifying but impressive Ability in the Mafia than to have him opposing it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t annoying. He seemed to think he was better than everyone else, and Chuuya wanted nothing more than to prove how wrong that was.
Unfortunately, they weren’t here to talk about Ace’s shortcomings.
“As you know,” Mori said, “we have lost an Executive. Dazai-kun betrayed the Port Mafia. Our searches have yielded nothing, but we will keep looking. In the meantime…” Mori looked at Chuuya, meeting his eyes. “Chuuya-kun, you will be taking over Dazai-kun’s work. Proceed with it as you see fit.”
Chuuya had known he would end up with Dazai’s work in some way, shape, or form because that was always what happened. He always ended up dealing with Dazai’s shit.
“Why not let the person who takes his place do it?” Chuuya asked.
Mori smiled. “There will be no one taking his place.”
“What.” Chuuya couldn't stop the anger that laced his voice.
“I see no need to fill the position,” Mori said. “There is no one in the Port Mafia, as of now, that can offer as much to the Port Mafia as Dazai-kun had. Filling the position would be a waste.”
“But it’s okay if I’m saddled with doing his and my work?” Chuuya asked.
Kouyou looked like she wanted to tell him to shut up. Mori looked amused. Chuuya realized he was being a bit too combative.
“Is that a problem, Chuuya-kun?”
“No.”
Mori hadn’t stopped smiling. It was off-putting. “Great. Now, that ties in with the rest of what I would like to discuss during this meeting. Your role in the Mafia now that your partner is gone.”
Chuuya swallowed another protest. He hadn’t thought his role in the Mafia was subject to change. He didn’t want it to change.
“As you’ve noticed, I haven’t involved you in the search for Dazai-kun,” Mori said. “I understand that the loss of your partner can take some time to deal with. The partnership between you was strong, after all. But not strong enough to survive if one of you were to leave. Am I correct?”
“Yes,” Chuuya said. The question made him tense.
“Soukoku was the strongest partnership in Yokohama in terms of Ability users,” Mori continued. “As of now, no one beyond the Mafia knows that Dazai-kun is missing, save for the government. Our reputation remains unharmed. Even once this gets out, we can still say that we have the most powerful weapon in Yokohama. Soukoku, after all, did not succeed due to only one person. Am I right, Chuuya-kun?”
“Yes.” This all seemed obvious to him, but maybe it wasn’t to the other members of the room. He couldn’t block out the way they were all staring at him, scrutinizing him for any slip of emotion, anything that they could latch on to when he gave his answer. Dazai had often told him that he was too quick to react and not good enough at hiding things.
He was too easy to read. Right now that should have been a good thing, because he had nothing to hide. Except he felt extremely uneasy, and it made him anxious that he felt uneasy, because that meant that part of him did feel like there was something to hide. Mori must have known it before Chuuya had even acknowledged it, and was trying to draw it out.
It was something Dazai would have done — find Chuuya’s weaknesses that Chuuya tried not to acknowledge, pull them out and use them against him. Chuuya wondered if Dazai had learned that from Mori or if this was just something that came naturally to people like the two of them.
With Kouyou, Chuuya could understand her concern, if that’s what it could be called. He knew, even without talking to her, that she didn’t want him to leave. Perhaps that was why they hadn’t talked. She hadn’t wanted to make the mistake of pushing him away. Or maybe he was reading too much into it, and Mori had simply ordered her not to. Kouyou hated following his orders when it came to her subordinates but there were situations where she would.
This was a very bad situation.
“Of course,” Mori continued, “you will never be able to reach your full potential now that Dazai-kun is gone.”
The words felt like a slap to the face. Chuuya opened his mouth to protest, but then Mori added, “yet you became an Executive on your own merits. I would like you to remain an Executive.”
The way he said it made it sound like there was a possibility that Chuuya might not want to be an Executive. Which didn’t make sense, unless…
The purpose of this meeting wasn’t to tell him that he was keeping his job.
“Did Dazai-kun ever talk to you about leaving?”
“No.”
“Never? I was under the impression that you two know a lot about each other.”
“Not that much, apparently.”
“I see.”
Mori sounded unconvinced, but because of his questioning Chuuya was having a realization that shouldn’t have bothered him in these circumstances, but was. He and Dazai hadn’t known each other as well as they could have. They’d been forced together at fifteen, they’d understood each other in ways no one else would, but having an actual conversation with Dazai outside of work was almost impossible. The few times they managed it, when not on a mission or arguing or playing games, Chuuya hadn’t gotten the impression that Dazai wanted to leave.
He’d gotten the impression that it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered to Dazai in the Mafia, especially recently. The hope that Chuuya had seen when they first met, that the Mafia would give his life some meaning, was gone.
In a way it made sense that Dazai would leave. What else was there?
What had been the final push?
Mimic had been defeated. Mori had gotten the permit he’d been wanting.
“Unfortunately, Dazai-kun’s friend was killed in the process of defeating Mimic,” Mori said. “Oda Sakunosuke. You’ve met him, right?”
If seeing him from a distance and calling him a scrub over radio communication counted as meeting him then yes, he had. “Yes.”
“It amazes me, how fond of the man Dazai-kun was,” Mori said. “He was a handyman, no one of importance. I wonder if Dazai-kun told him that he wanted to leave.”
Had Oda known? Had Oda been the final push? Chuuya didn’t have all the details but it sounded that way.
Sometimes Chuuya was fine not knowing a lot about Dazai. They were just work partners, after all. Other times Chuuya resented not knowing more, because they were partners. Right now he wished he’d known. But if he had known, this meeting would be very different.
It still stung.
He didn’t want to think about it too much. Not here, anyway, with everyone looking at him.
“I am not going to force you into a partnership with someone else,” Mori said. “It would be useless, considering the special nature of yours and Dazai-kun’s partnership. Soukoku cannot be recreated with someone else. Are you okay working on your own, Chuuya-kun?”
“Yes.” Chuuya was certain that he could. He already did a lot on his own. He was no strategist like Dazai, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t come up with strategies at all.
“Good,” Mori said with a look that made Chuuya feel like this would be put to the test very soon. “Let us not waste time, then. You’re free to go.”
Chuuya wanted to stand up and get out as fast as possible, but instead he waited for Mori to stand. He didn’t want anything to give away how unsettled he felt. He needed to learn how to hide his emotions more, especially if he would be working alone.
As he was walking down the hall he heard a voice say, “You can’t expect us to believe that you haven’t at least thought of going after him.”
Chuuya turned around. Ace was standing there, eyes narrowed. At least he was being up-front, but he didn’t really have the right to be asking anything.
“I don’t give a shit whether you believe me or not,” Chuuya said.
“But you won’t deny it,” Ace said.
“Fuck off.” Chuuya turned away and began walking.
“I’ll be watching you,” Ace called after him.
Chuuya didn’t respond. He knew everyone would be watching him, especially after this meeting. Ace watching him was the least of his problems.
As he made his way back to his apartment he thought about the meeting — what he’d been asked and what he’d been told. It was clear Mori was looking for his reactions to certain questions and certain bits of information, and that was probably more important than anything Chuuya had said out loud. He couldn’t tell if Mori trusted him or if he didn’t, or if he was trying to prove something to the other two.
He realized two things.
The first was that not once had Mori talked about the possibility of Dazai being dead, either by his own hand or by the Mafia killing when he was found. And Chuuya found that to be somewhat of a relief.
The second was that he still had Dazai’s number in his phone.
*
It took two days for Kouyou to ask to see him.
“How are you feeling?” She asked once she got him settled with a cup of tea.
How was he feeling? Tired, because he’d taken on Dazai’s workload and was in the process of rearranging both his subordinates and Dazai’s subordinates to account for the shift in leadership. On edge, because aside from Ace watching him, Mori was too and was probably planning to put him to the test on a solo mission very soon. Confused, because he couldn’t get the idea of Dazai not dying out of his head and he didn’t know why. Even more confusing was how strongly he reacted against the idea of Dazai dying. Dazai had always said he got too attached to things for his own good.
Frustrated, because he had wanted to delete Dazai’s number and couldn’t bring himself to do it. He would never leave the Mafia, and yet he couldn’t press a single button that would erase the final link to Dazai. There was no good reason for it.
“Fine,” he said to Kouyou.
Kouyou narrowed her eyes. “You do not look fine.”
“What do I look like?” Chuuya asked, irritated. It probably wasn’t a good idea to be impolite to Kouyou right now, but he was tired and he didn’t want to have this talk. If he was honest with Kouyou, she wouldn’t like what he had to say.
Kouyou studied him for a moment. “It is good that he left. You can continue to grow as an Executive without distractions. His carelessness would have hurt you in the end.”
“Yeah.” As if it already hadn’t. As if it wasn’t hurting him right now. Could this be called carelessness? Did it hurt? He didn’t know.
The silence between them was awkward. Sometimes things were like this, when they didn’t agree on something. They were both stubborn, yet Kouyou insisted on meeting each time. And Chuuya insisted on not talking. Even though he had no proof of this, he felt like his words wouldn’t be listened to, not truly. Chuuya would say things and Kouyou would immediately tell him how he could fix whatever problem he had, and her words would be like he hadn’t spoken at all.
It was better not to say anything. Especially now.
So he finished his tea, thanked her for it, and left feeling more tired than when he’d gotten there despite not doing anything.
*
One division Chuuya took over was Black Lizard.
Previously Black Lizard’s leader, Hirotsu, had been under Dazai’s command. The two apparently went back to Dazai’s initial time in the Mafia. Now Chuuya had to take over and it felt weird, being the boss of a man probably three times his age.
Black Lizard, for now, also included Akutagawa.
Chuuya and Akutagawa hadn’t spoken often and they’d barely met. Akutagawa was’t involved in a lot of the missions Chuuya went on with Dazai. It was like Dazai had been keeping him completely separate, and maybe that was the truth. The few times Chuuya had seen Akutagawa, he’d looked angry. At him, at the world, he wasn’t sure.
It was even worse now.
The first meeting Chuuya had with Black Lizard, Akutagawa wasn’t even there. Hirotsu introduced him to the other two members: Tachihara and Gin, Akutagawa’s sister. Chuuya was impressed with their skills. Tachihara was talented with guns and Gin with a knife. She could sneak up on almost anyone and she was fast.
“Akutagawa-kun has only recently joined us,” Hirotsu said when Chuuya asked. He hadn’t thought Dazai would let Akutagawa join while training him.
“How’s that going?” Chuuya asked.
Hirotsu seemed to be very deliberately keeping any expressions off his face. “It is going.”
The next day Chuuya met Akutagawa.
It was after Chuuya had gone on a mission with Black Lizard to deal with some trouble near the port. Mostly, it was a mission for Chuuya to see how they worked, since he wouldn’t be going out with them all the time. He was meant to keep track of them, to assign them as he saw fit, and his own outings would be alone for the most part.
Akutagawa cornered him in one of the warehouses while he was taking stock of some of their imported weapons. Mori had suggested they do this, since the conflict they were sent to stop might have resulted in some of their weapons going missing.
Chuuya felt Akutagawa before he saw him — a change in the air that had him jump aside just as Akutagawa’s Ability buried itself in the wall he’d been standing next to.
He turned around, ready to fight, and saw Akutagawa glaring at him. He was thin and pale, but somehow cut an impressive figure. The sheer animosity in his expression did a lot to make him more intimidating as did his Ability, Rashomon, which made his black coat come alive.
He looked like the definition of violence. He looked like the product of Dazai’s worst days, of his worst attempts to feel something. Chuuya could easily see how Dazai shooting senselessly at a dead body translated into the teenager standing before him.
He was so, so different from his sister.
“You don’t want to try that,” Chuuya said. He was wary of another attack.
“Why don’t you leave?”
Akutagawa’s voice was rough and Chuuya couldn’t tell if it was a threat or an actual question.
“What?”
“He was your partner,” Akutagawa growled. “I refuse to work with another traitor.”
“You too, huh.” Chuuya laughed a little, more out of exhaustion than anything. “Dazai didn’t tell me for a reason.”
“Because you weren’t good enough,” Akutagawa said.
“No. What kind of shit did — never mind.” He didn’t need to know what Dazai had taught him. It wasn’t anything good. “I’m tired of everyone saying the same thing.”
“Why would you not be a traitor?” Akutagawa asked. If anything he sounded even more angry, like he couldn’t understand the idea of Chuuya staying. “You will lead us, and take advantage of us, only to toss us aside once you’ve made your choice. I won’t let that happen.”
Rashomon lashed out again and Chuuya dodged the next hit. Another attack made Chuuya realize that this was probably something Akutagawa had never been able to do to Dazai. Dazai would have just nullified the Ability the second it touched him.
He dodged yet another attack and jumped in the air, using his Ability to push himself a bit higher, before landing in front of Akutagawa. He pushed him against the wall, knife against his throat.
He could feel Rashomon poised to attack even though he couldn’t see it. That was the problem with not being able to nullify anything. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to nullify anything. He just needed Akutagawa to stop.
And if he put himself in danger, maybe Akutagawa would see how serious he was.
“You’re making a lot of assumptions for someone who’s never talked to me before,” Chuuya said in a low voice. “I’m not Dazai. Dazai doesn’t control me. He never has. I don’t know what shit he told you, but anyone who knows me should know that I’d never leave. So don’t you dare call me a traitor. That is the last thing I would do.”
He stepped back. His hand was gripping the knife too tightly, enough that he thought the handle might break. All of his frustration overwhelmed him in that moment. If anything, it made sense that Akutagawa didn’t trust him. More sense than it did for anyone else not to trust him, because Akutagawa didn’t know him. The others did.
Akutagawa looked back at him, expression hollow. Then he turned and walked out.
Chuuya took a deep, shaky breath. He knew he shouldn’t let it get under his skin, but being called a traitor...if anything, he was the one who was always betrayed. He didn’t know how he always got himself in these situations. He could relate to Akutagawa, not that Akutagawa would believe him right now.
Not that Chuuya would tell him, either. His problems were his alone. The only thing he needed was to be respected in his position. If people stopped questioning him, he could move on and think about work and not think about the part of himself that wouldn’t delete Dazai’s phone number, or the part of himself that still felt pain from the scar on his stomach long after it had healed.
Once he’d calmed down he left the warehouse and found Hirotsu and the others not too far away. Hirotsu turned to him, inclining his head slightly.
“What are your orders?”
Chuuya glanced at Akutagawa, who stood off to the side, waiting but no longer looking like he wanted to skewer Chuuya for simply existing. He looked like he might actually listen. And the others were looking at Chuuya like...well, like he was an Executive.
Ordinarily rank didn’t matter to Chuuya that much, but today it gave him relief. If they saw him as an Executive, if they accepted him as such, then they’d made the choice to believe that he was trustworthy enough to be their leader. Finally, someone trusted him.
Finally, he could start to trust himself.