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When Chuuya had first joined the Sheep, Arahabaki wasn’t quite so loud. He could sleep around others without waking up thrashing. It was maybe when he was 12? That he started sleeping away from them. He’d go to other alleys, other rooms, other anything to get away from them. They called him their king- what kind of king wakes up sweating down his back because of a god giving him nightmares ?
It made him feel pathetic, to the point where he would stave off sleeping as long as he could. Caffeine, pinching, forcing himself to stay upright. But he could only go two or three days at a time. Sleep was fitful. It was just another luxury someone like Chuuya couldn’t afford.
One of the younger Sheep told him about two Port Mafia agents in Suribachi. “They’re looking for the old Port Mafia boss,” the kid said, “and I think Arahabaki.”
Fuck . The last thing he needed was the Port Mafia finding Arahabaki.
The older one appeared to be more of an assistant- so he flew at the younger one, smashed him into the wall, and realized- this kid looked 14 or 15.
“Really scraping the bottom of the barrel, huh?” He asked. “You’ve got an option. Die now, or die after giving me the information I want.”
“Kill me now, then,” the kid said, laying his head back against the rubble.
“Sheesh,” Chuuya muttered. “Suicidal punk.”
“You’re a punk too, you know,” he retorted.
Chuuya’s eye twitched. His height was one of the things he hated most. He blamed it on his gravity quirk- however that would work. “Tell me about this… Arahabaki you’re looking for,” he said carefully.
“Arahabaki?” The kid said. His eyes seemed to glow. “Oh, interesting. So that’s the target?”
Target? “You’ve heard about it?”
“Nope,” the kid said, popping the ‘p.’ “Never.”
Chuuya kicked him. “Don’t get cocky. I’ve got a trump card.”
“Ooh! Are you the king of the Sheep? Nakahara Chuuya? ” Chuuya’s heart dropped. He’d hoped they didn’t know his name. “Manipulator of gravity?” Or his Ability.
“I’m not their king!” he snarled.
Unfortunately, he spent too much time looking at the suicidal kid and not enough being aware of the old man behind him.
Chuuya dodged at the last moment, but the old man glowed purple- Chuuya was at a disadvantage. He didn’t know the old man’s Ability, or the kid’s- assuming the kid had one. “Is that all you’ve got?” He taunted from the roof.
“Careful,” the kid says from the rubble. He hasn’t gotten up. “He controls the gravity of everything he touches.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” the man said.
Chuuya grit his teeth and flew forward. The man crackled- was his Ability something to do with lightning?- and dodged Chuuya’s first kick, but not the second. Chuuya landed another couple of hits, and put his foot on the man’s chest. “Give it up, Grandpa,” he crowed.
The man smiled. “It’s over for you.”
Chuuya frowned. “You’re on the ground.”
A second too late, he remembered the useless kid, and turned, but there was already an icy palm on the exposed part of his neck-
and Arahabaki was silent.
The second he felt the boy’s hand, sure, his Ability was vacuumed away- but Arahabaki was quiet.
“I nullify Abilities,” the boy said, and Chuuya- didn’t know what to think.
“Oh?” He said, trying not to sound caught off-guard. Judging from the boy’s expression, he wasn’t very successful.
Then the ground blew up.
They blackmailed Chuuya into helping them. He wasn’t going to fight it too hard- if his case “partner” could quiet Arahabaki, he would work with him. The creepy-as-fuck Port Mafia leader, ‘Mori’ apparently, plainly admitted to killing the old boss- probably as a display of power more than trust. He wanted Chuuya to be afraid of him- well, it wasn’t going to work. He didn’t need to be afraid of anyone if he had Arahabaki.
Except the nullifier, he supposed, but the kid was suicidal anyway- pragmatically, he wouldn’t be an issue for long.
That night, he slept quietly, but not peacefully. It was for the best, really- the last thing he needed was the Port Mafia kid knowing that sometimes, Chuuya wakes up screaming.
Dazai was his name. He was hopping along the fence. “We’re talking to a survivor,” he said, still perched on the railing.
“Survivor implies casualties,” Chuuya said.
“Yes,” he said simply. “Members of the Port Mafia. Not that you care.”
“So you care about everyone’s life except your own?” Chuuya asked.
Dazai apparently didn’t feel like answering that- he kept humming for maybe ten seconds before the house they were headed towards exploded. Dazai looked… emotionless. If anything, annoyed, like this inconvenienced him. “Well,” he said. “I guess we aren’t getting an interview there.”
“They might’ve survived the blast,” Chuuya snapped. “Move your ass!”
Dazai sighed and followed him.
He knew Dazai was suicidal, but Chuuya didn’t expect him to stand completely still, blank-faced, when the squad of men fired at the two of them. Somehow, he didn’t get hit- this seemed to make him extremely bitter, since he leaned down, and in the most sincere voice Chuuya had ever heard him, asked, “Do you want me to end you quickly?”
“Yes,” the man croaked.
Dazai stood up. Chuuya wasn’t sure what he expected, but Dazai fired one shot- and another, and another, and another-
“Stop it!” Chuuya said, pushing the gun away- touching Dazai in the process, and he held on to Dazai’s sleeve, relief washing over him when Arahabaki went silent again. “He’s dead already!”
“So he is,” Dazai said, and he dropped the empty gun on the ground. He looked at his sleeve and quirked an eyebrow. “Hanging in there?”
Chuuya let go hastily. “Let’s just go, jackass.”
Arahabaki seemed angrier than usual at being purposely quieted.
The very last thing Chuuya expected from himself was to disclose the fact that he was Arahabaki to Dazai, of all people.
“You’re more of a host, Nakahara,” Rando had said.
Chuuya stared up at the ceiling, Mori’s hat in his hands. He fiddled with the edge. He hadn’t slept the night before- forced himself to stay awake, because it was easier to ignore Arahabaki when he wasn’t unconscious. But the day had been exhausting, and Chuuya was at his limit.
“Port Mafia members tend to be able to afford their own apartments and such,” Mori said. “You can just stay with Dazai for now.” Dazai hadn’t looked happy about it.
“I can’t commit suicide if he’s there,” Dazai said.
Mori smiled. “Hm. How unfortunate.”
His eyes drifted closed.
It felt like thirty seconds later when he shouted out, panting, sweat pouring down his back. His ears were ringing and Arahabaki was so, so angry- why why are you doing this please stop
Chuuya’s hands were trembling and he stood up, resolved to find Dazai- he would rather be embarrassed than deal with the worst nightmares he’s had in a while. He tapped on Dazai’s door, which Dazai had explicitly told him not to go into, but Chuuya doubted Dazai could be angrier than Arahabaki. The lack of sleep combined with Arahabaki’s anger was giving him a splitting headache.
There was no answer, so Chuuya pushed it open slowly, and immediately panicked.
“What the fuck !” He shouted, bolting across the room to Dazai’s bed. Dazai was crumpled against it, and Chuuya could see the belt he had around his neck and attached to the top of the bed frame. His face was flushed red, almost purple.
Chuuya undid the belt as quickly as he could, letting Dazai down. Dazai started coughing, and his face slowly turned back to a normal color.
Chuuya had been holding onto his arm again, but this time, Dazai didn’t point it out. He inhaled deeply and glared at Chuuya. “I told you not to come in here, dog.”
“I’m not your dog,” Chuuya snapped. “Seriously, man? What the fuck would I tell Mori? ‘Sorry about that, Dazai killed himself!’”
Dazai scowled. “I wasn’t going to die.”
“What if I hadn’t gotten up?” Chuuya demanded, ignoring him completely.
“Speaking of, why are you in here?” Now Dazai decided to tap Chuuya’s hand. “Did you miss me?”
Chuuya clenched his jaw. “I… need… well, I want- I mean-” He cut himself off. Dazai had a shit-eating grin. “Stop laughing at me!”
“Does my dog want to sleep on the bed with me?” Dazai asked sweetly.
Chuuya glared at him. “Well- kind of?”
Dazai blinked. “What, are you cold?”
“N-no,” Chuuya stuttered, and now he was the one whose face was bright red. “I- you know Arahabaki.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of it,” Dazai said.
“Shut up, asshole. He- it gives me nightmares.”
Dazai isn’t an idiot. “So you want me… to nullify a god.”
“You already can,” Chuuya said desperately, “when we first met- I was so shocked, because- that was the first time ever that it was silent! Not just quiet! So- I-”
Dazai glanced at his bed post. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t interrupted my pseudo-suicide.”
“Pseudo-?”
“I just pretend I’m hanging myself,” Dazai said. “Staves off the urge.”
“That is the weirdest shit I’ve ever heard.”
“Coming from the kid who wants me to sleep with him.”
“Don’t phrase it like that!” Chuuya still hadn’t let go of Dazai’s arm, and Dazai hadn’t made him.
“Say the magic word,” Dazai said.
“Fucking shithead!” Chuuya growled.
“That’s two words and neither of them are right.” Dazai grinned. “Come on, Chibi.”
“Chi-?”
“Just say the magic word!”
Chuuya let his head drop. “I… please.”
“No.”
“Piece of-!”
“Kidding,” Dazai said. “You look like shit. I would feel a little bit bad if I actually said no. Have you seen your eyebags lately?”
“I avoid looking in mirrors,” Chuuya says.
“If I looked like you, I would, too.” Dazai snorts. “Come on, Chibi , it’s our bedtime.” He plopped down on his bed and lifted up the blanket, patting the space next to him with a douchey smile. But he was still holding Chuuya’s wrist.
Chuuya got in and laid down. He felt awkward, but Dazai didn’t seem to care that much.
“Seriously, Dazai,” Chuuya said quietly. “Thank you.”
“You can thank me when I cure those nasty eyebags of yours,” Dazai says, and he closes his eyes, still holding Chuuya’s wrist.
Chuuya breathed out evenly. “Yeah. Okay.”
It’s the first night in his entire life that he sleeps without the nightmares.