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Double Black, Yokohama’s infamous duo that kept crime captive by an unseen fear. The most powerful partnership anyone had ever seen, which was brought to its knees when one of its members defected from the mafia and turned to the world of good. Double Black, split to black and white.
It’s the last battle the fearsome rivalry will ever have to fight, but Dazai isn’t there.
Chuuya didn’t have a choice, really. He was outnumbered, cornered, and time kept slipping between his fingers like sand. The use of Corruption was the only way to defeat the enemy; the only way to keep his beloved city safe. No one had to know Yokohama meant so much to Chuuya because it was the place where he grew up with his idiot of a partner.
Dazai arrives at the scene just in time to deactivate Corruption before Chuuya dies and he doesn’t get the chance to say goodbye. The ex-mafioso rests a broken and bleeding Chuuya against a slab of ruined concrete, the redhead just barely managing to get air in through ragged lungs. He struggles to keep his eyes open, and Dazai can tell it pains him to do so. There’s a gaping hole in Chuuya’s side, blood pooling at his feet, life streaming out of the once proud ability user like water.
There’s not enough time for lengthy goodbyes, Dazai knows. It’s just his luck that he doesn’t have the time to apologize for all of the horrible things he’s done to his old partner, and Chuuya doesn’t force him to. Dazai would never ask for forgiveness because he doesn’t deserve it, but he is sorry for his past now that he’s a better man. It’s just their luck that they’ll never have a chance to walk in the light together.
Dazai nods to Atsushi, who’s watching with bated breath, before heading off. The detective dispatches the rest of the enemy, letting their attacks land and tear his body apart, ignoring all of the plans and strategies his genius mind provides in an instant. It’s nice, he realizes. Not thinking for a moment, letting fate take him wherever it pleases without manipulating it to fit his own needs. It’s for a selfish reason, but doesn’t he have the right to be selfish after everything that’s happened?
When Dazai’s finished he returns to Chuuya once more, ignoring Atsushi’s startled cry of his name when he sees his mentor’s bloodied state. Dazai waves off his protegee’s concern and sits himself down next to Chuuya with a groan, and his ex-partner cracks open a brilliant blue eye to glare weakly at him.
“You’re an idiot,” he mutters and Dazai laughs, genuinely, even if it hurts more than just physically. How ironic it is that no matter how much time he spent trying to be a good man, his true happiness always comes in the face of death. I’m sorry, Odasaku, Dazai speaks in his mind to the man that had turned him onto a better path. It seems I couldn’t keep my promise, but you’d be happy for me regardless, wouldn’t you? I’m finally at peace, my void has been filled.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t regret leaving the mafia,” Dazai breaths out, giving himself one last look at his partner and realizing not for the first time how beautiful Chuuya truly is. Pity it will be the last time, he thinks, as he intertwines their hands together. Their palms slide into place as easily as breathing, and Dazai wonders why they never did this before. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t regret leaving you.”
Chuuya’s next breath catches in his throat as his irises swim with moisture, his tears starkly standing out against his pale skin matted with dirt and blood. Dazai’s heart lurches, and he wishes he has the strength to sit up and wipe them away. When he was younger he had always wondered what Chuuya would look like if he cried. He didn’t like it, after all.
“Bastard,” Chuuya chokes out, squeezing Dazai’s hand tighter. “You can’t just go and say shit like that. . . when I won’t be able to. . . do anything. . . about it. . .”
Chuuya’s voice is fading and Dazai knows they don’t have much time, but it still rips his heart down the middle when the light in his partner’s eyes, once so pronounced, fades into nothing and suddenly Dazai is alone in a world that was always too small for him. He’s alone, the one person who was always able to understand him achieving Dazai’s goal before Dazai himself.
“Goodnight, Chuuya,” Dazai whispers, letting his head fall sideways to rest against Chuuya’s own fiery red locks for the last time. Dazai smiles as he closes his eyes and embraces the darkness, because now he isn’t afraid. If he’s with Chuuya, he doesn’t care what happens.
Oh, what a fool he had been to throw this away, all those years ago. What a fool he had been, to take that leap into the light and not take the one person who deserved to be free more than anything with him. What a fool, to not even realize the feeling pulsing in his weakening heart was love and not hatred. What a fool, to not see that Chuuya felt the same ever since the very beginning.
If Dazai had one regret, it was that. All the times they could’ve had it all, but were instead blinded by a meaningless rage. All the dark nights they could’ve had someone to lean on, even if they insisted they were alone.
Yes, what a fool indeed.
Dazai feels himself fade into nothing, and then he’s gone.
When the agency finds them later, both with smiles playing on their lips and their hands intertwined, a moment of silence is given. Fukuzawa approaches slowly before crouching down, reaching out a hand to close Chuuya’s eyes. He then places his hand on top of Dazai’s messy hair that he never did learn to tame, and no one decides to point out the slight tremor that runs through the president’s fingers.
“Rest well,” Fukuzawa says as a farewell, and the other agency members bow their heads in respect and mourning. They had all lost more than a friend; they had lost a family member.
“As long as Nakahara is with him, that idiot Dazai will be just fine,” Yosano tries to say confidently, but the shake in her tone gives her away.
“Yeah. . . yeah, he’ll keep him in line. . .” Tanizaki says slowly, and Naomi nods her head from where she’s standing next to her brother.
A few minutes of overwhelming silence occur as Fukuzawa stands to his feet and steps back, and Atsushi is the only one able to speak.
“Dazai-san finally got his wish, huh?” he manages to say around the tears building in his eyes, but no one else shares his observation.
Double Black, Yokohama’s most devastating rivalry, partners in every aspect at last.
Four years later, Atsushi is walking down the street on his way to the agency when he suddenly bumps into someone. His phone nearly goes flying and he fumbles with it in his hands, finally managing to get it back into his pocket.
“Ah, I apologize-” Whatever Atsushi is going to say next dies in his throat as he stares at the child in front of him, and he can feel himself pale.
Honey hazel eyes scattered with flecks of gold, and a mop of messy brown hair that’s long enough to brush against the tops of his eyes. A skinny frame that seems much too frail, and looks like it’ll break at any second. The only thing missing is the bandages, but it couldn’t possibly be. . .?
“Dazai-san?” Atsushi quivers, and the child blinks up at him in wonder.
“Who’s Dazai?” the child wonders. “I’m-”
“Osamu!” a new voice calls, and Atsushi cranes his neck to see a small red headed child running towards them. His curly hair is shorter than someone else’s that Atsushi knew, only going down to the boy’s neck, but still unruly and wild. Deep azure irises gaze at the two of them curiously, and the boy comes to a stop next to his friend.
“Hi, I’m Chuuya!” the boy, Chuuya, grins up at him brilliantly. He tilts his head to the side curiously, and Atsushi is reminded of a cat. “What’s your name, mister?”
“Ah, I’m Atsushi,” the detective chuckles, focusing on the mini-Dazai child. “And you’re. . . Osamu?”
The other boy, Osamu, opens his mouth to speak, but Chuuya beats him to it once again. A flicker of annoyance washes over Osamu’s expression, and Atsushi has to suppress a snort.
“Yes, this is Osamu!” Chuuya says proudly, grabbing onto Osamu’s hand. A subtle pink blush blooms on the taller boy’s cheeks, and Atsushi has the oddest urge to coo. “He’s a little bit of a mess, but that’s why I’m here to help him! That’s what partner’s do!”
“Partners?” Atsushi repeats, puzzled by the word choice. Chuuya’s eyes light up and the small boy beams at him, nodding furiously.
“I’m Osamu’s partner, just like he’s mine!” Chuuya supplies helpfully, and if anything, Osamu’s blush grows darker. “As long as he’s mine and I’m his, I can protect him!”
“Stupid Chibi,” Osamu mumbles to himself, before looking at Atsushi intently. The weretiger feels himself squirm, but Osamu either doesn’t notice or acknowledge it.
“Ne, Atsushi-kun, don’t you think it’s time you move on?”
Atsushi freezes in place, his heartbeat pounding in his chest as blood roars past his ears. He never truly believed in reincarnation before, but the resemblance between Osamu and his old mentor is too obvious to ignore.
The two don’t seem to notice his distress once again, but this time it’s Chuuya who gazes at him with eyes far too wise for his young age.
“We’ll be fine as long as we have each other, so stop worrying about us,” Chuuya says confidently but before Atsushi can even think of a response, another voice comes into play.
“Osamu, Chuuya! If you want boba we have to go before the shop closes, darlings!” a woman calls out to the two boys, who blink as if coming out of trance and look back.
“Coming, mama!” Osamu yells back, before sparing Atsushi one last glance.
“You know,” Osamu says slowly, not breaking eye contact. “When someone’s mentor dies, it’s normal to cry. Just don’t hold onto that despair forever.”
It’s then that Atsushi notices the hot tears rolling down his skin, and he hurriedly wipes them away. He nods and gives them a shaky smile, which seems to satisfy them because Osamu and Chuuya both break into grins before bolting back towards Osamu’s mother, their hands never separating.
“Goodbye, Dazai-san,” Atsushi says to the empty air, brandishing a true smile and stuffing his hands into his pockets. He starts to make his way to the agency before Kunikida starts spam calling him, demanding his location.
Although he wasn’t proud of it, Atsushi had always harbored a peculiar type of guilt over his mentor’s death. The crushing feeling that he should have done something, anything to keep Dazai alive. He knew it wasn’t what the older man wanted, he knew Dazai was ready to accept his death with open arms.
Atsushi confided in Kunikida about the feeling, when it first started persisting. Atushi called it selfishness. Kunikida had called it a normal emotion, and sent him on his way with a half hug and, “don’t come into the office tomorrow, brat. If I see even a hair on your head in here I’ll personally suspend you myself.”
Kunikida didn’t mean to be as harsh as he was, which was evident by the wince that followed and the head pat Atsushi received. Although his peptalk and the time off did help, Atsushi was still kept up at night by invisible ghosts looming over his bed, reaching for his throat every time he closed his eyes to replay the moment that his mentor finally got what he wanted.
The weretiger’s sharp gaze focuses on the two boys once again as he’s about to turn a corner. They’re crowding around the woman Atsushi can only assume is Daz- Osamu’s mother, if the thick brown hair and soft eyes is anything to go by. Chuuya and Osamu are still linked by their hands as they talk animatedly about something, and Osamu barks out a laugh at something Chuuya says. With a jolt, Atsushi realizes it’s the only time he’s ever seen pure joy on Dazai’s face, even if the young boy is not his mentor exactly.
Atsushi smiles softly before shaking his head and walking away, but he can’t help but notice that his chest feels lighter than it has been in over four years.