Chapter Text
“Chuuya!”
Chuuya whipped his head around to the voice, snarling.
“Hah?! Wha-” he cut himself off, noticing the large debris hurling his way. He flipped around in the air, his ability aiding him, and landed his feet on the scrap of metal. He launched himself off of it, sending him forward and the debri flying right back onto the ground where it landed with a loud clang. Dazai, who had been standing a few feet away, coughed and swatted at the dust that rose up.
Once the dust cloud subsided, Dazai straightened out his coat and Chuuya landed on the grass next to him. The two nodded at each other, turning their backs to each other. Simultaneously, they took off, each sprinting towards their target.
Some, unfortunately strong, men had been attacking both the detective agency and the mafia. The two men were making their final attack and the old Soukoku team agreed to work together once more to fight back. The fight had been going well so far. The enemies had started wearing down; anyone could tell they were tired.
Activating his ability once more, Chuuya leaped off the ground in one swift motion. He lifted his leg and swung it down on his target’s head. The man groaned and stumbled back, his head beginning to bleed. He raised his fists and gazed at Chuuya who raised an eyebrow.
“What? You still got it in ya to pick a fight, four eyes? I’m surprised” Chuuya taunted. The man, not wearing glasses but instead with a second set of eyes his ability opened, stayed silent. He lunged forward, swinging an arm at the redhead. Chuuya jumped back. The man kept swinging and Chuuya kept dodging.
“This is fun, four eyes! Let’s keep this up!”
A few more swings and the man stumbled forward, barely able to keep himself upright.
“Aw, tired already?” Chuuya hummed, sending one last kick to the man’s head and knocking him out.
Chuuya was about to make another comment when he heard Dazai yell. He nearly snapped his neck turning around. He saw Dazai on the ground, clutching his torso in pain, the remaining enemy standing above him, hands ready for another attack.
Panic ran through Chuuya’s veins and before he knew it he was sprinting towards the two. He lurched forward, sending a punch into the man’s face. He heard a crack. The man fell to the ground and Chuuya stepped forward.
This specific person, Mura, had an annoying ability to deal with. It let him summon rocks from his palms and send them out as projectiles. They could range from as small as a grain of sand to as large as a human head. Chuuya needed him gone.
He started peeling his gloves off, almost getting to the second glove. He stopped immediately when he felt Dazai’s hand on his ankle. Chuuya spit to the side, annoyed.
“Tch, bastard. Fine. I won’t use Corruption. At least let me teach him a lesson.”
Dazai’s hand slipped off of Chuuya’s ankle and he took it as a sign to attack Mura once again. He stomped his head into the ground and held his foot there, ever so slightly pushing his heel into Mura’s teeth. The man groaned underneath.
Chuuya took out his gun and cocked it, shooting twice in the leg. The man screamed out, although muffled by Chuuya’s shoe. He lifted his foot, turning the gun around and hitting Mura in the forehead with the barrel. He fell unconscious.
Chuuya scoffed at the man. Took him long enough. They had been at this fight for the past 20 minutes. Chuuya was worn down himself; and he normally has an inhumane amount of stamina.
He turned to Dazai who was trying to stand up. He stumbled and Chuuya ran to catch him, “Woah, woah. Don’t get up without my help, dumbass. You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine, Chuuya,” Dazai croaked. He winced up against Chuuya’s arms and tried to free himself.
“Nope, nope. Let me treat you first. Then you can go back to the agency.”
Dazai began to resist again but Chuuya didn’t let him.
“I’m not giving you a choice.”
“Fine.”
The two were in a private medical room of the mafia. Dazai sat on the bed while Chuuya searched through the drawers. Dazai’s coat was draped over the chair in the corner, Chuuya’s was just on the floor by his own feet.
“Take your shirt off.”
“Chuuya, it’s fine-”
“Take it off.”
Dazai sighed, reluctantly peeling his vest and shirt off over his head. His torso was wrapped in bandages, up to his neck. They covered mostly the top half of his torso, leaving his belly button down to the waistline exposed. Chuuya walked over and set some tools and a roll of fresh bandages on the bed beside Dazai. He gently grabbed the end of the bandage and lifted it, starting to peel it up.
Dazai panicked and leaned back, slapping Chuuya’s hand away. Chuuya reeled in surprise.
“Don’t take them off.”
“What…? Dazai, how am I supposed to treat you if you don’t take them off?”
“Don’t take them off,” Dazai turned his head, his shoulder turning with it. He grabbed his shirt and started turning it right side out again.
“Bastard. Why are you being so-...” Chuuya went silent. Suddenly everything clicked. The bandages. The secrets. The unknown past. And specifically the bump on his chest under the bandages.
“Osamu… Why… Why didn’t you tell me,” Chuuya’s voice was soft, quiet. His eyes had no anger, no remorse, only concern.
Dazai slipped his shirt and vest back on. He stood up and walked past Chuuya, putting his coat on.
“I have nothing to tell you.”
Dazai’s voice was monotone for the most part, but Chuuya could tell he was upset. Like he just discovered something he wasn’t ever supposed to.
“You never said anything… Why-”
“Because it’s the skeleton in the closet, Chuuya. And in this case I’m the skeleton,” Dazai snapped. He cleared his throat and opened the door, beginning to step out when Chuuya grabbed his wrist.
“Please, Osamu. At least talk to me about it.”
Dazai ripped his arm away and said nothing. He walked out and closed the door behind him. Chuuya stood in silence.
He scoffed and curled his lips in disgust, “Bastard. And I thought he trusted me.”
One knock, two knocks, three knocks, four knocks.
A calm voice, like a river, called out, “Come in.”
The knob jiggled and the door swung open, Chuuya stepping in and closing it behind him. Kouyou sat on one of the couches in the center of the room. Her legs were crossed and she held a book in her lap. She didn’t look up from it.
“What do you need, Chuuya?”
Chuuya tongued the inside of his cheek as he walked over. He sat on the couch opposite of Kouyou, leaning his head back onto the cushions.
“Does it have something to do with your mission?”
“More like who the mission was with.”
Kouyou closed her book and set it on the couch beside her. She looked up at Chuuya, “Vent all you want.”
“Stupid Dazai never tells me anything! Always keeping secrets! Never relying on me at all. I thought he trusted me,” Chuuya yelled out, sitting up as his hat fell off the back of the couch.
“Maybe he really does hate me,” his voice quieted and he looked at the coffee table in between the couches. Although he seemed to be looking at nothing then the table.
“Of course he doesn’t hate you, Chuuya. Hate is a strong word. I know the two of you bicker often and appear to dislike each other but there’s no hate at all.”
“I’ve known him since we were fifteen and he never told me he was-” Chuuya began to raise his voice again but quickly shut himself up. Was this really his place to tell Kouyou about Dazai? Has Dazai even told anyone else? Chuuya wasn’t even supposed to find out, of course it wasn’t his place to tell. Who knows what would happen to Dazai then.
“Nevermind. But he’s kept so many secrets from me, that bastard! We were partners. We were friends. I mean, it’s obvious it was one-sided but at least he could’ve told me about him more!”
Kouyou nodded gently, picking up a tea cup from the coffee table and closing her eyes, “Now, Chuuya, you have to think. How many secrets have you told him?”
The redhead stayed quiet.
“You never told him how you felt, right? You never told him about your nightmares right? How many of his secrets do you think you earned the right to know?”
Chuuya clicked his teeth, furrowing his brows, “But this thing was huge! I should've at least known that part about him!”
“If it’s that big maybe it’s for the better that he didn't tell you. Maybe telling could put him in danger, or weaken his mental state even more. Maybe he just wasn’t ready.”
Chuuya ran a gloved hand through his hair, thinking. Kouyou was absolutely right. He barely told Dazai anything himself, he didn’t deserve to know Dazai’s own secrets. Closing his eyes, he stood up. He grabbed his hat off the floor and started walking away.
“Thank you, Ane-san.”
Kouyou hummed, sipping her tea.