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Chuuya has never really been one to spend his day off of work with a kid from an enemy organization. No one probably is, logically, because even crossing paths with one of them in public would cause a ruckus, a hassle to deal with on a day off.
And yet here he is, looking at hats in a millinery store with Miyazawa Kenji from the Agency.
Though, Chuuya doesn’t mind, because—
“What about this one, Nakahara-san? I think it’d fit you!”
—this boy is literally a reincarnation of the sun. A ray of sunshine. Equivalent to the new eye-straining LED light that Mori-san bought last week for his office (though Kenji is anything but eye-straining). Hell, he can put the sun’s job to an end if he wanted to.
Kenji is holding a fedora not so different from the pork pie hat he’s wearing now, but with a navy hatband, with a smile on his face that holds no ill-intent.
(Something Chuuya hasn’t seen in a while.)
He inspects the hat. “I don’t know… it’s a nice hat, but blue isn’t my color, ya know?” he says, almost feeling guilty for turning him down before Kenji responds.
“I don’t think so, Nakahara-san! I think you’d look cool with any color!” he exclaims and practically glows . The compliment makes Chuuya smile back at him without realizing — everything the kid says makes him smile because all the words he says come straight from the heart — since he’s really just that pure-hearted.
“Don’t flatter me, kid,” Chuuya ruffles his hair before standing up from his crouching position.
He buys the hat anyway.
Kenji waits behind him while Chuuya pays for the hat, humming a song.
“Wanna grab gyudon next, Kenji-kun?” Chuuya asks after they walk out of the store. Kenji beams at the offer, nodding briefly. “I’d like that! It’d be my treat, too!”
“Nah, you don’t have to,” Chuuya insists. “My treat. As always.”
(Sometimes Chuuya thinks he shouldn’t be all chummy like this — sharing facts of their favourite animals, and buying hats and eating gyudon together — with Kenji. He’s a good kid, in contrast to what he is, a mafioso with a criminal record possibly longer than his life span, and a murderer who had been on the villain's side since he was Kenji’s age. It’s a blessing that the Agency found him before the mafia could, or else, Chuuya doubts that he’d be this happy.
He’d thank Dazai for it if he wasn’t such a pain in the ass.)
“It’s delicious as always, isn’t it, Nakahara-san?” Kenji says while chewing, the smell of the gyudon lingering in their senses.
“Yeah,” Chuuya responds, “they’re generous with their meat too, but that’s probably because they like you.”
Kenji stills for a moment and Chuuya wonders if he said something wrong, before he gives him another one of his signature smiles. “Maybe, but I think you also play a role in that,” he states.
Chuuya gives him a questioning look. It’s laughable. He, an executive from a feared mafia organization, liked by the people?
Kenji hums. Chuuya realizes that he’d said that out loud. “Perhaps most people don’t appreciate you as much as I do, but I think you’re a good person!”
His eyes widen. Is this kid for real? “But I’ve killed many people?”
The boy hums again while he thinks of a reply, idly playing with his chopsticks. “Dazai-san has too,” he pauses briefly. “And Kyouka-chan, and Atsushi-san, but they’re good people! Nakahara-san too, for bringing me back my hat that day, for buying hats with me, and for treating me gyudon even though I’ve offered to pay each time, and eating together with me. You could’ve opened fire when we met that time, but you didn’t! You would have if you were a bad person, so that’s why I think you’re a good person,” he continues, and Chuuya feels a bitter smile tug on his lips and laughs , a little melancholic.
(Because it is laughable. He can’t be compared to Dazai, who, even though has a shitty personality that doesn’t match his pretty face and has taken many lives, changed his line of work for the better. Chuuya’s reason to kill isn’t as good, if not at all, and he’s pretty sure that he’s not a good person either.)
“You’re ridiculous,” he breaths, “Aren’t you being a little too optimistic?”
Kenji finds himself laughing too, light and airy. “Probably, but that’s what I think,” the boy states matter-of-factly, “plus, you’ve helped me make decisions more than you think, thanks to your advice!”
Chuuya grins back at him. He’s ridiculous , he finds himself thinking again, but isn’t particularly bothered by the fact anymore. “‘Kay, listen here, kid,” he utters to get the other’s attention, “If you want to repay me for the things I’ve helped you with, promise me that you’ll stay alive, at least until you’re my age.”
Kenji grins so brightly that the corners of his eyes wrinkle as if Chuuya had said the greatest thing ever.
“Sure, Nakahara-san,”
(“Chuuya-san, may I ask something?” Akutagawa speaks up when they stumble upon each other in the elevator. Chuuya blinks. He usually doesn’t start the conversation. “Sure, go ahead.”
Akutagawa averts his eyes to the floor before looking back at him. “Where do you spend your day when we’re not working?”
“Oh,” the syllable escapes his mouth uninvitedly. “Did Boss ask anything about it?”
“No,” Akutagawa answers, blunt. “It’s just that I usually run into the weretiger when I go out, so I was wondering where I can go without him getting in my sight.”
Ahhh. Chuuya has spotted Akutagawa and Nakajima together sometimes, but neither of them looked content with each other. But he can’t tell him that he’d been spending his time and money eating gyudon with a member of the Agency because, well, it just doesn’t sound right.
“Nothing special, really, I usually go to the millinery store, eat lunch and spend the rest of the day inside,” he says instead, making Akutagawa nod with a disappointed look on his face.
Chuuya isn’t a liar. He just told him half of the truth.)
Chuuya knocks on one of the doors to Mori’s office, entering shortly after being approved by the bodyguards. It’s not rare for Mori to call him in his office on the weekends, but it’s been enough time of him not doing so for Chuuya to only expect hat-shopping with Kenji to pass the time.
Chuuya greets as the doors close behind him, but he’s cut off by a cry. “Good afternoon, Boss—”
“Rintaro, you liar! Stupid!” Elise cries, sulking at the corner of the office. Mori tries to calm her down, smiling apologetically and muttering “sorry”s, while Chuuya stands there.
Chaos. Absolute chaos.
“Ahh, Chuuya-kun! My savior!” Mori exclaims right after he spots him, gesturing him to come closer.
Chuuya does as he’s told. “Is there something you need my help with, Boss?” he asks, doing his best to keep a straight face at the mess before him.
“Ah, yes! You see, the other day, I promised Elise-chan that I’ll take her out to a stroll in the city today, but—”
“Rintaro is a liar!” Elise shouts, and Mori apologizes again. He glances at the paper documents on his table and back at Chuuya, hinting that he can’t keep his promise to Elise because of work. “So, can you do it in my stead?”
Chuuya sighs. He finds himself nodding anyway.
Elise cheers at that, grinning with her pearl white teeth exposed. “Can Elise pick your outfit?” she asks. “Sure,” he replies, uninterested. They’d probably go get cakes and buy dresses like they did last time this happened, and an outfit change would be refreshing once in a while.
Elise drags his hand outside of the office, leaving a devastated Mori behind. Chuuya leans at the wall of his office as he watches her choose a suit for him, which ended up being the black blazer and white button-up he wore last time.
“This hat looks good too!” she exclaims while holding the hat he bought last week; a black fedora with a navy hatband. “It’s different from the lame one you’re wearing right now!”
Ouch . Kids these days really don’t filter what they say.
(“Chuuya-san, look what I found!” Elise chimes, flailing around a blue ribbon that she probably picked up from the floor.
“Uh, that’s cool, I guess?” Chuuya utters, crouching down to take a look at the ribbon. She definitely picked it up from the floor, though it’s not covered in grime. “You should probably throw that away, Elise.”
Elise shakes her head. “Turn around,” she demands, and Chuuya does so reluctantly. “What’re you—” he murmurs, before being cut off by mutters of “ow”s when he feels Elise yank his hair.
“What the hell?!” he accidentally yells, followed by instant regret. He’ll get in trouble if Mori finds out that he made Elise cry, but the kid is smiling ear to ear .
Chuuya blinks, looking to his side where his hair had been neatly tied with the ribbon.
“I- what?”
Elise beams. “It looks great on you!” she chimes and drags his hand. “Let’s go get cakes!”
Chuuya follows her with a Look. Kids are weird.)
(“Chuuya-kun, your hair looks beautiful. Would you be interested in borrowing one of my kimonos-”
“Thanks, Ane-san, but no.” he runs for his life.)
“Aahh, what a lovely day it is!” Dazai bubbles, throwing his bandaged arms in the air. “The weather is nice too! How wonderful it would be if such a fine day were to be my last!”
Kenji nods with a joyous look on his face while Atsushi laughs awkwardly, stops, freezes when he realizes what Kenji agreed to, and starts chuckling nervously. Kunikida uses all the strength he has left to not yell at Dazai and make a scene in public for being, well, himself, while they’re still working.
“You look kinda stiff there, Kunikida- kuuuun , cheer up a bit!” Dazai sneers, jabbing said man on the sides. He receives five jabs in response.
“Don’t be too laid back, Dazai! We’re still working!” Kunikida ends up yelling at him anyway, making Dazai pout in a cry that is anything but genuine.
Dazai sighs exasperatedly, and Atsushi wonders how someone can go through all five stages of grief after being in the happiest mood only five minutes before. “Still, as great of a day it is today, nothing interesting has happened yet! It would be a shame if one of my suicide methods happens to work tomorrow!”
Uh, what . Atsushi can’t keep up with Dazai at all. He glances at Kunikida, who’s trying his best, and Kenji, who has stopped in his tracks while staring at an ice cream stall across the street.
Atsushi tilts his head to the side in question. “Is there something wrong, Kenji-kun?”
Kenji doesn’t seem to hear him, but his face lights up more than it already has when he recognizes a familiar redhead patiently waiting for a blond six-year-old girl to choose what ice cream flavor to buy.
“Nakahara-san!” Kenji calls out to him, and Atsushi has never seen Dazai whip his head around so fast.
“Nakahara?” Kunikida questions. “As in, Nakahara Chuuya, the Port Mafia executive?”
His question is answered when the redhead turns in their direction and waves back at Kenji. It seems like another one of Kenji’s thing of randomly greeting people he had helped in the past to them until they realize that it’s Nakahara Chuuya, Port Mafia executive, waving back at Miyazawa Kenji from the Agency, babysitting a blond six-year-old girl, not wearing his very intimidating black coat nor his pork pie hat, with his hair tied with a blue ribbon. ( cutely , Dazai adds in his mind.)
No, no, Kenji is probably mistaken—
“Yo, Kenji…” Chuuya’s eyes glance at the men behind him. “-kun. Fancy seeing you here.”
Atsushi’s jaw drops on the floor. Dazai is frozen, color in his cheeks. Kunikida gulps while his hand reaches for his notebook. Kenji isn’t the slightest bit alarmed. Instead, he grins brightly.
“I couldn’t notice you at first, Nakahara-san! Is that the hat I picked out for you last week?” Kenji chimes cheerfully.
“Yeah, Elise told me to wear it,” Chuuya smiles and ruffles his hair, ignoring the presence of the Agency members behind him.
(Dazai only watches and thinks fondly: what a sight. Atsushi picks up his jaw only for it to drop again.)
Kunikida retracts his hand from his back pocket. “What have you been doing with Kenji-kun, Nakahara-kun?” he asks, voice stern, though it’s not like he’s skeptical of Chuuya or anything. Chuuya still eyes him as if perceiving him to be the dumbest person ever.
“Not what you think I’ve been doing, that’s for sure,” he shrugs. Kenji nods in approval.
Atsushi sighs in relief. It’s strange but fortunate that Dazai and Chuuya aren’t at each other’s necks as usual, though his mentor still has the gaze that only switches on whenever the redhead is at sight. The weretiger can’t quite put a finger on it, but Atsushi deduces that he might also have a similar gaze when he stares at Akutagawa before the latter could sense his presence and threaten to kill him.
Said gaze makes Chuuya’s breath hitch. Every time.
Though this time, he frowns (it still caught his breath; not that he’d admit that to himself), because there’s stop to thinking about him all the damn time if Dazai doesn’t stop looking at him like some lovesick high school girl. “The hell do you want, mackerel?” he says, instead of stop looking at me like that .
Dazai smiles until the corner of his eyes crinkle, the kind of smile that Chuuya recognizes as a switch to his teasing self. He releases a dramatic sigh, “Could it be that Chuuya has finally realized how bad his fashion sense was to turn to Elise-chan for advice?”
Ah. Atsushi thought too soon.
“Ah?! Who the hell do you think I am?” Chuuya retorts. The redhead frowns deeper, but it dissolves when Elise tugs his hand.
“Chuuya-san, there,” she points at a clothing store behind the Agency members. “Rintaro always buys me dresses from there. Can we go there, please?” she pleas, giving Chuuya the puppy eyes. The damn puppy eyes.
Chuuya narrows his eyes at her before sighing in defeat. A fight with Dazai can happen later (or never — he prefers the latter).
After he takes his time glaring at each Agency member standing before him (excluding Kenji, he offers him a friendly grin), he takes Elise’s hand and heads towards the clothing store.
(As he’s one step closer to passing Dazai, a brief image flashes in his mind; how it felt as if he walked past him when he left the mafia without a word, to walk out in the light while Chuuya remains shunned from it.
Except for this time, it’s slightly different.)
Dazai grabs his shoulder before he passes him.
(The sudden touch of his hand on his shoulder almost makes him flinch. It burns.)
He raises his eyebrows and glances at his side, where Dazai is already looking at him with an uncharacteristically genuine smile, and when he does, the former retracts his hand from his shoulder and walks away.
Chuuya was left with his mouth slightly agape, thinking: what the fuck.
(“I think Dazai-san is quite fond of you,” Kenji says out of nowhere. Chuuya chokes on his rice.
“Where the hell did that come from?!” he yells after a few coughs, accidentally attracting attention from the other customers. Chuuya bows in embarrassment before chugging down his green tea.
“Well, I’ve come to notice that you talk about Dazai-san a lot, and I learned from the romance novel Naomi-san lent me that people tend to talk about the people they love a lot, so-”
Chuuya spits out the drink.
“Nope,” he croaks. “None of that. No more Dazai. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Hmm,” Kenji hums, as if skeptical of the redhead’s peculiar behavior. “I know, let’s talk about that romance novel Naomi-san lent me!” Kenji clasps his hands together as a brilliant idea had formed in his head.
“Mm.”
“I’ve learned that denial is also a stage of-”
“ No. ”)