Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Oda wakes up to the morning sun filtering in through his cracked curtains, and he winces slightly, pulling a hand up to shield his face from the offending light. His alarm is off to his side, blaring loudly and he blindly reaches for the device, slamming his hand onto the button. Only when the room falls silent does he sigh, pulling his blanket back. 

It’s a quiet morning, no one from the agency having come knocking on his door or causing a ruckus outside their dorms. If he finishes his morning routine in time he should be able to catch a ride with Kunikida, and with that he starts his day.

He washes his face, not bothering to shave the short hairs on his chin. He couldn’t even if he wanted to, he had yet to buy any new razors because they’d been busy with a case. Oda runs a hand through his hair, decides a shower isn’t worth missing his ride, and heads back out to his room. He slips on his shirt, and grabs a new pair of pants, pulling them on while making his way to the kitchen. 

The shelves are mostly barren, and Oda makes a mental note to go shopping for some basics later before grabbing a single slice of bread and pushing it into his worn down toaster. He watches the bread toast, a golden brown crisp burning into the food. When he deems it ready he pulls down the door and grabs it with a few napkins. A car honks from outside, and Oda doesn’t even have to look to know who that is. 

He makes it outside his door with two minutes to spare, fumbling with his keys and the door locks with a faint click. Kunikida is waiting by his car, jotting something down in his notebook. It snaps shut when he reaches the ground level.

“Good morning Kunikida,” he greets, and Kunikida huffs.

“Good morning to you as well, I swear you’re the only person in the agency that cares about being punctual.” Oda lets out a quiet laugh, and he pulls the passenger door open as the idealist gets into the driver’s seat. 

Kunikida was an interesting character. He’d never met someone like him before this job, someone so determined to stick to their ideals, a caring soul with a strict nature. He supposes neither of his former occupations would have someone like that in their ranks. The closest comparison would be Chuuya Nakahara, a determined, but short tempered individual. Oda scowls at the thought of the mafia, of a friend left behind. 

“Are you listening, Oda?” comes Kunikida’s voice, the man giving him a look and Ida shrugs.

“I apologize, our last case really kept me up. I’m still fairly tired,” he admits and Kunikida nods in agreement, both of them sporting similar eye bags from the case they had a few days before. Kunikida doesn’t comment on it, so he doesn’t either, and he pushes away the thought of his time in the mafia. 

It’s a new day, he doesn’t need such memories weighing him down. 

The car slows to a stop, and Kunikida puts the vehicle in park before taking the key out of ignition. They climb out of the car and walk in together, waving to the young lady from downstairs. The elevator is silent on the way up, a comfortable silence between them. 

“Do we have a new case?” he asks, and Kunikida pulls out his notebook, reciting what he must’ve written earlier. 

“It’s not really a case, just a job. There were reports of suspicious men near a warehouse by the docks. Supposedly a group of about 10 men were seen moving crates off a boat and then into trucks. I’d make the assumption it’s weapons or drugs, maybe some form of material wealth. The president tasked us to check it out before anything happens.” Oda hums.

“Sounds like a plan, when do we leave?”

“After checking into the office and making sure we aren’t needed elsewhere.” The elevator dings, and the old doors slide open. Oda swears the old thing is just going to break one day. The office is empty and Oda smiles when Kunikida grumbles something about how no one’s on time. They settle in, and a few minutes later other members begin to file in. 

Yosano is first, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands like it’s the only thing keeping her going, and she mutters a good morning. Next is Atsushi and Kyoka, Ranpo tagging along behind the two of them with far too much energy for this time of morning. He’s rambling about some candy like it’s the holy grail and Kyoka is listening with bright eyes. The siblings are next, and then Kenji, and the president must already be here because no one else walks through the door. 

The office is full, the entire office is relatively quiet, and Oda’s thankfully for calm mornings like these. Kunikida seems to finish whatever he had to do quickly, and he closes his computer a moment later with an accomplished sigh. He flips open his notebook and nods. 

“Right on schedule, get ready to leave Oda,” he says and Oda doesn’t bother to respond, only finishing up his report. He closes his device just as the president emerges from his office. Oda quite liked their boss, he was much more civil than the port mafia leader. That was to be expected, but the stern man before them was a much needed change of leadership. 

“Kunikida, are you busy?” he asks, and the idealist stands.

“Not particularly, we were about to check out that warehouse. Is there something you needed sir?” 

Oda doesn’t fully pay attention to their conversation, something about needing a witness for legal documents, and Kunikida agrees to stay, but Oda can feel the restlessness coming back. He stands up a moment later.

“I’ll go check out that warehouse and get back to you with what I find.” 

“Are you sure? I’m sure this won’t take very long.” Oda gives him a reassuring nod, and waves him off, grabbing his coat by the door having left it here the night before. He slips the tan jacket over his own clothing, and he debates for a moment about taking Kunikida’s car keys and decides it isn’t worth the lecture he’d get. a

The destination isn’t far, and he enjoys the walk it takes to get there, passing by people on their way to work, kids going to school, and friends walking together. It helps with the restlessness that making his fingers twitch and the constant buzz in the back of his head. 

It take about 20 minutes to arrive, and that time would have been even shorter had he taken the back alleys, but he didn’t mind. The old building towers over him, casting a dark shadow and he doesn’t even need to get closer to tell there’s people inside. His hand itches towards the gun tucked into his waistband in response, but he refrains from grabbing the weapon. 

He moves around the back wall, reaching a corner and looking around the side. Several large trucks sit there, and each other has guards, at least 3 or 4 per truck. They’re armed, and only then does Oda slide the gun out. 

He leaves them alone, backing up to an old, rusted door and he turns the handle, mildly surprised when it actually opens. He pushes the door open, and shuts it behind him with practiced ease.

“Just like old times,” he mutters. The warehouse has old storage containers and rotting piles of what used to be cargo, now just empty boxes left to rot. He gets behind some of them, peering out to look at the group in the center of the warehouse. No one’s moving, but they’re all armed and it’s definitely an organization if the insignia on their clothing means anything. 

They’re clearly waiting on someone, that much is obvious. Are they making a deal? Is this some kind of trade off and if it is, who’s the buyer? Oda gets his answer when a garage door from the other side of the warehouse opens and men wearing black suits all file in, also armed to the teeth. Definitely Port Mafia.

His heart stutters at the sight of familiar brown hair. 

Memories of the past assault his vision for a moment, unmistakable brown hair, bandages, nights at Lupin. He grimaces at how cruel fate can be. Osamu Dazai walks into the room, wearing the same attire he wore when Oda left. He looks the same besides the few inches he’s grown. It makes his chest ache.

Dazai stops in the middle of his men, he’s wearing a calm smile. Someone from the opposing group steps up.

“Where the hell is your boss?!” The individual is frustrated, clearly, but Dazai only cocks his head to the side in response. 

“Sorry the boss couldn’t make it,” comes his chillingly cold voice.

“You’ll be dealing with me instead.” 

Chapter Text

To say it was tense would be a massive understatement. Both groups have weapons ready and aimed at each other, and Dazai stands carefree in the middle, swaying slightly side to side like he was bored. The man steps up again, fists clenched. 

“We didn’t ask for some brat, we were told Mori Oguai would be attending.” Dazai cocks his head again, before scoffing. 

“If you really thought we’d send our boss out here for something like this, then you’re stupider than you look,” he mocks, and Oda thinks the man is going to yell, but then a figure wearing a hood emerges from fuck knows where. The first man backs up after he takes the stage, clearly he’s only a dog working for someone of higher rank. 

“You’re Osamu Dazai correct? The Demon Prodigy?” Dazai’s face slips back into a more neutral expression, clearly preferring the quieter man over his loud subordinate. 

“Yeah, that’s me. Can we get this done? I’ve got a bed at home calling my name.” 

“So you’ll hear our proposal then?” Dazai doesn’t have the decency to look even the least bit interested, he actually looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, which is probably true. Despite this he waves, signaling the hooded man to go on. 

“We’d like access to one of the Port Mafia’s trading routes. Our weapon stock has taken a hit due to one of our suppliers being taken out. 10% of what comes through would be fine.” The man speaks with confidence, like he genuinely thinks the Port Mafia would agree to this. Dazai has the audacity to yawn.

“Hm, nah, no deal. Though, a subordinate of mine bet that you’d ask for 20%, so he owes me some cash. That’s the only useful thing you have done this entire meeting.” Oda watches in real time as the hooded man gets upset, clearly thrown off by Dazai’s careless attitude and snide remarks. 

“Why would you not take the deal?!” Dazai gives him an unimpressed look as the man’s gift seems to flare up around him. He starts to sway again. 

“You should watch yourself. You may be a strong organization from where you come from, but here? We run this city’s underground, everything that happens comes through to me, and we don’t need to sink as low as to ally with such amateurs.” Dazai’s remarks only seem to drive the men farther up the wall, and Oda watches nervously as they all tense up, their ego damaged by the same person they called a brat not even 10 minutes before. 

Dazai smirks, and Oda suppresses a shiver at the sight. 

“Also, did you think we missed how you stole cargo from us ?” Dazai chuckles humorously, snapping his fingers, and the men around him being their weapons up fully.

“The only reason we met with you was to get the leader of your organization here, because you picked a fight you can’t win the moment you stole from us.” 

Oda perks up at the sound of tires screeching outside, the Port Mafia had back up, and this wasn’t a trade off, it was the annihilation of a foreign gifted organization. Oda curses.

“Your loss.” And just like that all hell breaks loose. The man’s gift springs to life and the sound of gunfire makes Oda wince at the volume. He should run, he really should, he’s anything, but bullet proof. He stands, but he catches sight of Dazai in all the chaos. A bullet clips his side, the thinner man’s body rocks to the side before he manages to find cover behind another shipping container. 

Oda’s moving before he can even think it through. Dazai had come for him that day, that day he’d fought Gide. Dazai had come despite the danger, and he’d helped him get out of the mafia. He wasn’t going to leave him here, he wasn’t going to abandon him again. Not this time. 

He sprints towards the container, dodging stray bullets and his gun remains unfired even as he moves through the area. Oda reaches the container, and he skids to a stop, his eyes finding Dazai. He curled up, head thrown back against the container behind him, and his breathing was labored. Blood is seeping into the bandages on his wrists, and the blood drips onto the concrete from a bullet in his leg. Despite this he isn’t pressing down on either wound, not that that surprises him. 

Oda kneels down next to him so suddenly Dazai startles, clearly not expecting anyone to be near him, and then Oda’s staring down the barrel of a gun. Dazai’s head is turned towards him, but his eye is hazy and unfocused, clearly not seeing straight. True to his word he looks tired, and Oda stills, raising his hands. Despite the weapon at point blank range he can’t help, but take note of how skinny he was, better than he used to be, but still far too light for his age.

He looks back up, meeting Dazai’s muddled gaze, and then something changes in Dazai’s eye, his eye widening slightly and the gun lowers. 

“Odasaku?” he rasps and god, no one’s called him

that in years. The tone of Dazai’s voice makes his heart stutter once more. 

“I-”

— A stray bullet comes flying towards them, ripping through the air, and it pierces Dazai’s skull, blood spraying across the rotten wood behind them —

Oda grabs the front of Dazai’s shirt and yanks him forward, pulling him out of the bullet's path and instead the bullet embeds itself into the pile of wood behind them. Dazai doesn’t even move from where he’s been pulled forward, leaning onto Oda’s chest. Oda curses at the sight of blood coating Dazai’s clothing and bandages. 

“I need to get you out of here,” he whispers, more to himself than anything. Oda shifts him, muttering an apology when Dazai groans in pain at being manhandled. He slips an arm around his back and then his other under Dazai’s legs, lifting him up with practiced ease, far too reminiscent of Dazai’s past attempts. Dazai’s head hits his rest, just under his shoulder, his eye lidded and his breaths still heavy. 

Oda runs, making his way towards the same door he came in from, and it takes him longer to do ao without access to his ability, but Dazai’s hand is resting just barely against his own, nullifying his gift. Once he reaches the door he kicks it open, no longer worried about being silent. 

On his way back towards the direction he came he quickly takes note of the other vans pulling up, and he catches sight of several high ranking port mafia members all rushing into the battle. He doesn’t look back after that, more worried about the blood still leaking from his friend’s wounds. 

“Stay with me Dazai,” he says, no begs because he can’t lose him, not after all this time apart. Not after leaving him there with Mori. 

Instead of staying on the streets like he did on the way here, he disappears down alleys, sprinting through the tight corridors and avoiding being spotted by anyone on the streets. The agency building comes into view and he darts out of the alley and into the street.

A car damn near hits them, honking its horn instead and Oda doesn’t bother to give the driver any sort of apology. The door is slammed open and he doesn’t bother with the slow elevator, instead running up the stairs so fast he nearly trips. Dazai groans after being jostled with each step, at least he’s still alive. 

Oda isn’t typically one to get panicked, he’s a calm individual, and yet the only times he’s ever really panicked in his life are all because of the very child he is holding in his arms. Had the situation not been nearly as dire he’d roll his eyes, instead he slams the ADA’s door open so hard that it smacks against the wall and he imagines that every member probably jumped at his sudden intrusion. 

He stumbles into the room, eyes scanning over the startled and worried faces of his coworkers, before they land on Yosano. He pants, trying to catch his breath, and he cradles Dazai in his arms as if he were a porcelain doll that would shatter if handled too roughly. Some voice in the back of his head reminds him Dazai’s had worse injuries than this, and that just makes him feel even more ill.

“Help him, please,” he rasps, still out of breath. Yosano’s startled expression quickly morphs into something far more defensive. 

“Is that-?” she cuts herself off, and Oda’s aware of her past with Mori, with the Port Mafia. He feels bad for dropping this on her so suddenly, and despite how selfish it is, his worry for Dazai far outweighs what he feels about anything else right now. 

“Yes, but-” He doesn’t get the chance to speak, Kunikida rushing forward.

“Why the hell do you have him? The Port Mafia could think we’re attempting to start something by kidnapping a Mafia Executive!” exclaims his partner, and Oda looks from him to Yosano, the hole in his gut growing by the minute. 

“I know, please, I wasn’t going to get him to a hospital in time. Yosano, I can treat his wounds, but he needs a blood transfusion. He’s bleeding out, please ,” he begs, he doesn’t want Dazai to die, he can’t lose another kid. He looks down at Dazai’s pale face, and suddenly all he can hear is his shallow breaths, and all he can feel is his shaking limbs. 

Why did he bring him here? He should’ve known they’d never help him, they have no reason to. To them he’s a monster, someone who kills without a second thought, an enemy. They don’t see the child who hates spicy food and who enjoys reading, the kid he helped raise, his friend. 

A hand on him brings him back to the present, and Oda looks up. Yosano has a worried look in her eyes now, her hand on his shoulder.

“Get him into my infirmary, now,” she orders, and he does so without another word. He moves into her space and lays him down on one of the cots, brushing the bangs out of his face. Only moments later does Yosano join him in the space, pulling on a pair of gloves. 

He stands off to the side, waiting for any instruction as she gets what she needs for a transfusion, also grabbing several other things to treat his wounds. 

“Where was he shot?”

“Stomach and then his leg.” She nods, and deposits the materials onto a small metal table, and she pulls off her white coat, tossing it off to the side without much thought. 

“Can you take his shirt off? And what’s with the bandages, is he injured elsewhere?” And Oda had been expecting that question, and yet he still hadn’t come up with an answer. He doesn’t wish to reveal something so personal to her, that wouldn’t boad well for anyone in this room. 

“It’s personal to him, just cut away in the spots you need to reach. Refrain from removing them as much as possible,” he says, trying to sound stern, so she wouldn’t argue back, but he falters under her scrutiny. She just stares at him for a moment, clearly suspicious of his answer and he just stares back, not willing to elaborate on the horrors etched into his friend’s skin. 

“Fine,” she settles on, and Oda sighs as the usually stubborn woman begins to disinfect her tools. Oda works on pulling the heavy black coat from his shoulders, and he drapes it across the back of his chair. He pulls off his jacket next, grimacing at the blood staining his now revealed dress shirt. He doesn’t take off the shirt, only unbuttoning the front. 

Yosano then swats him away, and she listens to Oda tapping his foot incessantly the entire time she works. She knows of Dazai Osamu, Mori’s right hand man and Port Mafia Executive, also known as the Demon Prodigy. Someone like that being affiliated with Oda just didn't seem to match. He was a kind soul, and a skilled marksman. A good man, even if he had a somewhat shady past as a hitman long before ever joining the ADA.

She doesn’t get how these two can know each other, it’s obvious they do, his worry for this monster was telling enough. Even while he was passed out this man sent shivers down her spine, so she worked quickly and added even more bandages to his abdomen to hopefully stop the bleeding entirely. 

The shot on his leg was only a graze on his lower calf, it was stitched back up with no real problem and bandaged too. The entire operation lasted maybe half an hour, but his pale complexion stuck throughout the entire thing. The last thing Yosano did was hook up and IV to a blood bag, and Oda watched the small tube fill with blood as it slowly pumped into him. 

He been anxious the entire time, his hands shaking, but now that it’s over and Dazai’s okay, he feels like he could just about fall over. Oda buries his face in his hands, letting out a weary sigh. 

“You have an explanation to give,” comes Yosano’s voice and he looks up at her, nodding wordlessly. He pushes himself off the seat, and he bows.

“Thank you.” 

She doesn’t answer him.

—

Oda finds himself in the bathroom, Yosano having gone back to the office and he believes they’re all gathering in the conference room. He rubs at his skin, washing Dazai’s blood away. The entire situation is so familiar it makes his stomach churn with guilt. 

All the nights spent patching up Dazai after missions, or after other incidents. Even Chuuya winded up at his home injured and exhausted, both of them far too young for the work they did. Oda remembers washing away their blood, those children’s blood. 

Guilt gnaws at his gut, and he leans back after drying his hands, running a hand through his hair. How many times has Dazai been injured since he’d left? How many times did he wind up alone and bleeding instead of getting help from anyone? How many times had his wish to die almost come true since Oda left him there?

That’s what he did, plain and simple. He left that child there because Dazai refused to leave, no matter what he said. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to leave with Oda, the boy had been scared, scared of what someone like Mori would do. That man made his blood boil, the mere thought of him made his trigger finger itch. 

That doctor had sunk his teeth into Dazai and never let go, an undying leech that wouldn’t budge no matter how much you pulled. Dazai had told him to leave, to do something better with his life now that he had the chance. Oda did just that, and he left Dazai; he'd never regretted anything more. 

Oda looks up at the mirror, stares at the bags under his eyes and the mess that is his hair. He pushes the strands back into their normal spots, all of them falling back into place. He might as well look better before revealing he was once a mafia member. 

Oda looks away from the mirror, and walks out of the bathroom, and back across the hall. The office is empty besides Kunikida, the man stands there with his arms crossed and stern look on his face. 

“How is he?” Oda hadn’t expected the question, he’d genuinely expected to be ignored, especially by Kunikida. He supposes he shouldn’t be too surprised, Kunikida wouldn't do that. 

“Uh, Yosano said he’d be fine with some rest and time to heal.”

“That’s good, we’re in the conference room. You can join us when you’re ready.” He’s given a choice, and Oda doesn’t see the point in putting it off.

“I’m ready now.” They walk across the room and into the conference room, where everyone’s gathered. He doesn’t look to long at anyone, too afraid of what he might see despite knowing none of them would hold this against him, not one person in this room was that cruel. 

“I’m sorry about this, I know he’s an enemy, but he’s also an old friend.” Fukuzawa raises a hand, and Oda stills, watching the president.

“We are not upset, though, some people only know the half truth of the reason for this,” he says and Oda nods. Fukuzawa always knew of his affiliation with the mafia, but he’d only said it didn’t matter anymore and that was the end of that conversation. It never came up again and Oda had been grateful. 

“I was once a mafia member, a low ranked one. The man I was carrying, he was once my friend, but due to certain circumstances I had to leave him behind. I met him at a young age, only 15 and despite our difference in ranks he seemed to take a liking to me.” Oda finds himself fighting off a smile at the memory, and he sighs instead.

“I know of his crimes and I understand if you do not wish to associate yourself with him, I just ask for you to remain peaceful with him, even when he wakes. I regret never sharing this with you, but I had been trying to leave that behind me and felt bringing it up may only start conflict within us.” 

He looks around at them all, and not one of them looks upset, and most of them look thoughtful. Atsushi leans up in his chair, smiling nervously. 

“So… he’s your friend? Is he the one you mentioned a while back, your smart friend?” he asks, clearly trying to alleviate the tension in the room. Oda nods.

“Did you know him, Kyoka?” 

“I had only seen him a handful of times, he worked under Mori unlike myself.”  

“What was the mafia like?” asks Kenji.

“My job was easier, though we often complained about our jobs together, he and my other friend had the more interesting of the two jobs.” Oda’s brows furrow. 

“Are you all not upset?” Kunikida pushes his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose.

“There’s really no reason to be, afterall we welcomed Kyoka despite her former affiliation with the mafia. While I wish you would have told me, I ultimately don’t mind.” Oda is grateful for the type of man Kunikida is, and he nods.

The only one who seems to be tense is Yosano, and she’s staring at him, observing his every move.

“I can’t help but feel like there’s more to the story than just that,” she prods. Oda doesn’t respond to her for a moment.

“And if there is?”

“Maybe you should share it.” 

Oda only looks down at the blood still staining his clothes, remembering Dazai’s troubles, his fight with Gide, Mori, his orphans. He scowls.

“I’d prefer not to.” 

Chapter Text

Oda stands in the door of the infirmary, staring at the now empty cot and the IV left discarded on the floor. He’s a fucking moron. Dazai clearly would’ve left the moment he woke up, why did he think leaving him alone would be smart? Oda grumbles  and shuts the door, making his way back to the main office.

Kunikida stares at him for a moment when he walks in, before the other pinches the bridge of his nose.

“He’s not in there, is he?” Oda just scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.

“You can’t be serious.” Oda is only able to offer him a wordless shrug.

“Should he be walking around? You said he was shot right?” asks Atsushi, and the concern in the boy’s features makes Oda happy. He’s always been a sweet boy, he’s glad he doesn’t seem to automatically dislike Dazai. 

“Probably not, but that doesn’t tend to stop him. He’s a bit difficult, and probably used to it.” The answer seems to make Atsushi unnerved, the boy squirming in his seat. 

“Why not use your gift on him, Yosano?” A valid question from Kunikida, and Oda goes to answer it, but Yosano beats him to it. 

“He has a gift too,” comes her curt response, an air of coldness to her words. He imagines if one wasn’t used to the feeling of Dazai’s gift, they’d be disturbed at first touch. He remembers the feeling of the power he’d had for as long as he remembered being forcefully stopped the first time. Like a part of him was stripped away. He never liked describing it like that though, and once he got used to it it was almost a comforting feeling. 

“He does. He can nullify any gift, no matter the type, as long as there’s skin to skin contact.”

“What? There’s actually gifts like that?” mutters Junichiro. Dazai has what one might call a rare gift. As far as he knows there’s never even been a gift similar to it. 

“It makes anyone who has a gift nothing more than a normal person when facing him then,” mumbles Kunikida, writing that down in his notebook before snapping it shut once more. 

“Couple that with the fact he’s kills without much thought, he sounds lovely , ” says Yosano and Oda eyes her.

“There’s a saying in the Port Mafia: ‘the greatest misfortune for Dazai’s enemies is that they are Dazai’s enemies.’ People say he was practically born to be in the mafia,” he explains, and Yosano just looks away. Ranpo pops the gum he’s been chewing on, and hops off the desk.

“You’re definitely helping us getting to like him more,” he remarks, and Oda just shrugs. Having all the information out there would be a better idea than keeping anything hidden.

“Well, if you aren’t willing to get to know someone because of what you see at first glance, then why even interact at all? A person like him only shows what he wants people to see at first glance, and what he shows isn’t all that he is.” He’s met with a thoughtful silence, and Kunikida sighs. 

“Okay get back to work, all of you. Oda, tell me about what happened before you came here.” Oda nods, and follows Kunikida back to his desk. 

He hopes he can speak to him again. 

—

Dazai drags himself through the back alleys near the Armed Detective Agency, his pant leg gripped in his fist. He eyes the blood stain and the tear from the bullet and grunts. He just bought these pants too!

“What a pain,” he mourns, sighing after and he continues limping, slipping his phone out of his pocket. He assumes whatever else went down at the warehouse is over now, so hopefully Hirotsu picks up. He leans against the wall, rubbing his sore stomach as the phone rings. 

“Hello Dazai.” Dazai smiles and brings the phone up to his face. 

“Hey Hirotsu, sorry I disappeared, but I need a ride.” He hears the older man sigh on the other side of the line.

“I’m unavailable at the time, but I can send someone who’s close by.”

“Works for me, and tell them it’s to the slug’s apartment.” Hirotsu chuckles.

“Okay Dazai, I’m glad you’re alright. Chuuya nearly threw a table when we came back without you.”

“Oh he’s so dramatic.” Hirotsu laughs again, before uttering a quiet goodbye and the line goes dead. He snaps the phone shut and slips it back into his pocket. The mafia has plenty of people who lurk around, so he’s not surprised when a black car with tinted windows pulls up a moment later and he opens the back door, sliding onto the cool leather seat.

He leans his head against the glass, watching the buildings pass by and now that he’s in someplace familiar he lets the reality of the situation settle in. That was Oda. He hasn’t seen the man in years, and the first thing Odasaku does when they meet again is drag him into enemy territory, so he won’t die. He clearly hasn’t changed in their time apart.

He wonders briefly why people can’t just let him die. That woman had no reason to treat him, and yet, here he is, alive. What a pain in the ass. 

Dazai knew Oda worked for the ADA, he’s known for years, how could he not? He avoiding that organization like the plague, turning down missions that could have them potentially interfering. Speaking of interference, he has no idea why Oda was even at the scene of that meeting. 

He bites his lip, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment. Seeing him, hearing him, feeling his ability again, it was all too much. Not to mention he already has Mori breathing down his neck, he didn’t need to be spotted in enemy territory. His stomach aches, and he sighs. He probably should’ve stayed put in that bed, but he did not feel like dealing with any of them. 

The car slows to a stop, and his eyes flutter open again. The car door is opened for him, a nameless nobody greets him, and he doesn’t bother with responding, not right now while his head was pounding and all he wanted to do was see Chuuya.

The lobby is mostly empty save for a few people here and there, so the elevator comes fast and the small space is thankfully empty. The silence of the elevator is filled with the quiet music playing from the speaker above him until a ding rings through the space and the doors slide open. Much better than that very old elevator at the agency. 

They live on this floor alone, sharing a very nice penthouse together that Chuuya took the liberty to pay for, so he reaches their door and fumbles around for his key. And of course, all his pockets are empty. 

“Why can’t this be easy,” he mutters before tapping on the door repeatedly. He’s met with several curses and a loud demand to ‘go away.’ How charming.

“Chuuyaaa, lemme in,” he whines, and it’s like a flip is switched because Chuuya makes it to the door in record time and it flies open seconds later. Chuuya’s clearly been home for a while because he’s lost most of his accessories, just in his white dress shirt and his pants, his hat and jacket nowhere to be seen.

“Are you fucking stupid? Stop losing your keys and stop going missing,” he gripes and Dazai just smiles at him before walking past him, and the redhead sputters behind him. How cute. The door slams and Dazai just drops his coat onto the floor before throwing himself onto the couch with a long sigh. 

Chuuya follows him into the room, and he can practically predict every word of the lecture he’s about to get, but when it’s silent he turn over, and he finds Chuuya holding the coat he deposited. He’s staring at a particularly large blood stain.

“Sorry about that slug,” he mutters and Chuuya looks up, glaring at him, but there’s no real heat behind it.

“Where are you hurt?”

“It’s fine Chibi, someone already treated it,” he says, sitting up and Chuuya is watching him, clearly not believing his statement.

“It’s true! In fact, I’ve had a pretty odd day myself,” he admits and Chuuya rolls his eyes, but he drops the coat back onto the floor and joins him on the couch. Dazai doesn’t move his leg away when their thighs touch.

“What happened?” 

—

Chuuya sits there for a moment, seemingly trying to take all of it in, and Dazai watches his expression change everytime a new thought occurs to him, he smiles when his face scrunches up. 

“So Oda really saved you? And then the ADA didn’t take advantage of having Mori’s right hand man?” 

Dazai shrugs.

“I doubt Oda would’ve let that happen,” he pauses for a moment, “they also don’t seem like that type of people to do that.” 

“I’ve known he worked there for a while, but I hadn’t expected to be helped once I figured out where I ended up.” Dazai lets his hand run over the bandages the doctor put on him, picking at the edges of the material. 

“With your reputation I certainly wouldn’t have risked helping you.”

“Chuuya’s so mean!” he wails, and Chuuya pushes him away when he leans onto him. 

“We should keep this quiet,” he says seriously and Chuuya just rolls his eyes at the statement.

“Obviously Dazai, I’m not that stupid.”

“But you’re so short I just figured your brain would be as small as you are!” Dazai moves out of the way at Chuuya’s attempt to grab him, and he crosses his legs, tapping his index finger on his thigh.

He wonders briefly if anyone saw him there, or nearby. He certainly hopes not, Mori would have his head if he didn’t come up with a proper excuse. Would the mafia attack the agency if they found out? He certainly hopes not, they have proven themselves to be valuable assets in the past, and Oda would be put at risk.

“Do you regret not going with him?” Dazai prides himself on rarely, if ever, being caught off guard, but somehow Chuuya always manages to do it. He doesn’t answer though. It was common knowledge between Dazai’s close friend’s that Oda was a topic not to be breached at the wrong time. 

He does regret it though, a part of him wishes he had left with Oda, and asked Chuuya to come with them. All three of them would have escaped Mori’s clutches. He remembers denying Oda, how his face fell for just a moment, but he nodded, understanding why. Dazai had never been more grateful. 

He rubs his exposed eye with annoyance, his headache not giving him the thought process to be able to decipher those feelings right now. 

“If you get another chance maybe you should go.”

“Don’t say that slug, I would prefer not leaving you behind.” Chuuya ignores the name this time and they both go quiet for a moment.

“By the way you owe me money, they asked for 10%.” Chuuya shoves the bandaged man onto the floor.

Chapter Text

Dazai leans down, grabbing his coat off the floor and dusting it off. The blood stains had long since been cleaned, and he hadn’t bothered to hand it up after coming home last night. He’s quiet as he gets dressed, not wishing to wake up Chuuya who’s still asleep on the couch, snoring. They’d passed out there the evening before after drinking enough to sedate a moose. 

He winces as the action of pulling his coat on tugs at his stomach and the stitches there, it’s healed a bit more, but it’d take longer than a week. Dazai’s phone vibrates and he snatches it off the counter as he walks by, one look at the name makes him scowl and he shuts it without a second thought. 

After a quick ride in the elevator downstairs he makes it to the lobby, and waves at Hirotsu, the man waiting by the entrance with an unlit cigarette in hand. 

“Good evening Dazai,” he greets and Dazai smiles at him.

“To you as well, Hirotsu.” The older man holds the door open for him, and they walk towards the black limousine side by side.

“Is Chuuya not joining you?”

“Nah, he’s sleeping in.”

“Did you at least tell him where you’d be?” 

“Nope, if he asks, just tell him I’m visiting an old friend.” Hirotsu doesn’t ask for him to elaborate, simply nodding and heading to the driver's side of the car. Dazai gets into the passengers, the door shutting behind him. They do not discuss the topic anymore on the way out of mafia territory, instead settling on the topic of recent missions. 

The drive feels much longer than it should, and Dazai wonders briefly if Hirotsu has figured out what he’s up too yet. He hadn’t told the older man where he was going, only giving him the address to a small convenience store a few blocks from the ADA. In the event he does get spotted he can simply say he was here for the bandages, he needed some new ones anyways.

The car stops and Dazai pushes thw door open, but a hand gently grabs his wrist.

“Dazai.”

“Yes?”

“Please be careful. If the boss knew what you were up to here…” his voice trails off, but the rest doesn’t need to be said. He supposed he should've known Hirotsu would figure it out.

“Figured me out, hm?”

“If I can figure it out, I assure you he can as well.” Dazai grits his teeth, and nods. 

“Thank you Hirotsu, will you pick me up later?” The older man releases his arm and nods, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket. Dazai watches him flip open his lighter, the ignition flicking and a flame ignites mere inches from his face. 

“I’ll wait here for you,” comes his easy reply and Dazai nods, a smile pulls at his probably chapped lips. 

“I’ll get you a new pack on the way back.” With that he shuts the door, fixing his coat back onto his shoulders before stepping onto the sidewalk. The streets are busy, likely because it’s nearing noon, prime lunch time for most. He slides by a group of 5 and into an alley, checking around corners for anyone. A mere informant wouldn’t be such a huge loss to the Port Mafia, he could easily take them out like they never even existed. 

Dazai doesn’t run into anyone, so he arrives right across the street from the fairly small building. Much different from the skyscrapers that make up the Port Mafia, though it seems fitting for such a small team of gifted detectives. Dazai crosses the street, narrowly avoiding a car that he decides is not worth flipping off. He may want to die, but right now he also wants to see Oda. 

A small bell rings when he pushes the door open, and it takes him into a small hallway, a door just off to his left and then further down is a sign that reads “stairs”. Hm, quaint. 

Dazai turns when a young lady steps through the door on his left. 

“Oh hello, welcome to the building!” She has a cheery voice and is wearing a waitress uniform. He looks over his shoulder and takes note of the booths he sees, a cafe then. He smiles at her.

“Good afternoon young lady, would you happen to know what floor the Armed Detective Agency is on?” He’s pretty sure he remembers, but he also doesn’t know if he’s right. Doesn’t hurt to ask. 

“Oh of course! They’re on the third floor, this floor is home to the cafe, the second is a law firm and the fourth floor is just shared storage,” she says, confirming that he was in fact correct, and he reaches forward, taking her hand within his and his smile grows as she turns bright red.

“Thank you for your help, you are quite beautiful, you know that?” He lets her hand drop as she becomes a sputtering mess, and he waves her off before prying the door to the stairs open again. No way in hell he’s getting onto that elevator again, that does not sound like a pleasant death. 

The trip to the third floor is short lived and the familiar door to the infirmary is seen first, he walks by it without a second thought. The next door he sees he opens without care or thought, and he’s greeted by the sight of a completely empty office. 

It’s an older building, but it has an almost cozy feeling to it, it’s rather odd. He’s not really used to such a place. The Port Mafia building often feels cold, and like he’s being watched, the only other place like this is his home with Chuuya and formerly Lupin. 

There’s a collection of desks in the larger part of the room, all the tables are littered with work and papers. There’s one that is almost unnervingly neat, another one has candy across the top, along with scattered papers. He approaches it, and picks up one of the candies. 

He already knows the names of everyone who works here. Honestly, he probably knows more about each of them than they do about each other. When Oda had first shown up again, he’d done digging on every single member of the Armed Detective Agency, even the new ones as they joined. Call him paranoid, but he wasn’t going to simply leave Oda to possibly be betrayed once more. 

The door opens and his head whips to the right of him. 

“Huh, I hadn’t expected to see you again!” Dazai blinks at the shorter man in the doorway. He recognizes this one. Ranpo Edogawa. Dazai takes in his appearance, dropping his guard at the lack of a weapon. He knows this one doesn’t prove much of a threat anyway. He leaves his own weapon untouched and cocks his head. 

The detective marches in, using his foot to shut the door behind him. He’s got an armful of snacks ranging from candy to pastries and a few other things he doesn’t even begin to recognize. He walks by Dazai without a care in the world, Dazai smiles at that. One thing he does know about him is that he has unrivaled intelligence that even most local stations around Yokohama admire. He’s their most important detective. 

Dazai turns to him as he sits down.

“Ranpo Edogawa, correct?” he asks, and the detective grins, slamming his hand down on the desk in an almost childlike manner.

“The one and only! And you are Osamu Dazai? Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia?” 

“That’s me.” Ranpo grins, and moves his candy aside with a push, before pulling a stack of folders out from a drawer. Dazai leans on the edge of his desk and crosses his arms.

“Before we move on, I just have to say what I’ve heard about you is quite impressive.” He doesn’t often compliment people, most don’t deserve it, but he’s heard far too much about him to let it go unsaid. 

“I’m the best detective amongst the dimwits here,” he says, and he flips one of the folders open, before closing it and then opening another. They appear to be case files. 

“I hear you’re not too bad yourself, so, how about a game?” He holds up one of the files and he’s grinning, and Dazai smirks. He grabs the file.

“Sounds fun.” 

—

Oda found himself staring outside the window of the cafe, watching the cars pass on the street. His coworkers were still debating about some movie, not entirely sure of what they were really discussing. He’d tuned them out a few minutes ago. 

The office was still on edge, some anticipating an attack on the office despite reassuring them all several times that Dazai wouldn’t do that. He can’t blame them for their paranoia, the two organizations have a long standing conflict between them that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

“You okay Oda?” He turns his head away, and stops under the curious glances of his friends. The one’s not on cases had come down for lunch, but he supposes he might’ve gotten a little lost in thought. He doesn’t get the chance to answer because the young waitress returns to the room, only she’s bright red and has a dopey grin on her face. 

“Did something happen?” questions Kunikida, and she stops abruptly and smiles sheepishly at them. 

“I apologize for leaving, but there was a handsome young man who complimented me. He was looking for your floor actually. Is he a new client?” Oda’s brows furrow. They didn’t have any meetings scheduled today, and they weren’t taking walk in’s right now.

“Did they give their name?”

“He didn’t, but he had on a black suit and bandages over his eye. I assume it’s an injury?” The entire cafe falls silent, not even one person daring to speak and Oda swears they all stopped breathing too. Then it happens fast, all of them trying to get out of the two booth’s they took up. The Demon Prodigy is in their office, Ranpo is in the office, Fukuzawa is out of office. 

They reach their floor in record time, most out of breath, but Kunikida slams the door open. Oda winces at how much that door has been slammed open recently. Kunikida goes to yell, but he seems to choke on his words at the sight before them.

The Demon Prodigy is sitting on the edge of Ranpo’s desk, his legs just barely bumping into Ranpo’s side as the detective is standing up, holding what appears to be a case file. Neither of them even acknowledge that they entered the room, Oda sighs. 

“So who’s the murderer, Demon Prodigy?” Dazai scoffs into the quiet room and Oda can’t see his face, the bandages on his right eye obscuring his expressions. 

“It’s obviously the postman, he’s the only one who had contact with every single victim that was abducted and then killed. He used his van to kidnap the victims because over time they eventually came to know him and would meet him when he stopped by, a rather stupid thing to do in a world like this. Gimme something harder!” he whines.

Ranpo only accepts his challenge and begins to dig through a whole other box of cold cases. Yosano doesn’t wait though, she steps up front, pushing Atsushi back behind her. 

“What the hell is happening.” It’s framed as a question, but her tone says otherwise. Ranpo and Dazai finally acknowledge them though, both finally turning to the group. Oda stares at his face, the color is back in his skin and his eye is wide with childlike curiosity. There’s no blood staining his skin, or his clothing, and he looks okay. He’s alive and he came back. 

It’s so odd to see him again. Oda meets his gaze though, and he watches Dazai’s face light up when their gazes meet. 

“Hello there!” he greets, his tone light like he’s known everyone in the room for years. He takes the piece of candy Ranpo hands him and unwraps it, tossing the wrapper off to the side and pops it into his mouth. Oda can see everyone's unease, probably caught off guard by not only his sudden visit, but the fact he’s right near Ranpo, Ranpo who really can’t defend himself if he’s in a bind. Not to mention the overly friendly demeanor. Oda takes this moment to step up.

“Dazai,” he calls, and Dazai meets his eyes again, the smile on his lips curling up more, as if he really can’t help himself from smiling. The sight alone makes Oda unbelievably happy. 

“Odasaku!” he exclaims, hopping off the desk and ignoring Ranpo’s protest. ‘Odasaku’, just another thing he isn’t used to anymore. Oda goes to approach him, but his partner reaches out, settling a hand onto his shoulder and he looks worried. 

“It’s fine, he won’t do anything. Trust me.” Dazai waits a few feet from them, and Oda’s glad he didn’t just rush up, he’s not sure how the other’s would react. Atsushi has a hand on Kyoka’s shoulder, and Yosano is staring him down, but her nails are digging into her arms. He feels bad for her, he understands her past, and he knows Dazai has many of Mori’s mannerisms that he developed from being around him for so long. 

He shakes his head and turns back to Dazai.

“It’s been so long, time really does fly, hm?” 

“I didn’t think you’d last this long, I’m glad to see you alive,” he says, and Dazai sighs longingly. 

“I’ve moved on from simple suicide Odasaku, my goal in life now is to find a beautiful woman to commit suicide with me!” Of course it is, he’s not even surprised at this point. Dazai had always reveled in the idea of suicide, and his attempts ranged from half assed to genuine, Oda had his fair share of both. 

“Suicide…?” whispers Atsushi, and Dazai leans to the side to be able to peer around Oda.

“Yes! Suicide is my passion, I live to die a painless death that doesn’t burden another soul.” Oda just shrugs at Atsushi’s concerned expression. Dazai gets closer this time, leaning into his space in a way he doesn’t do with most people, and he grabs at Oda’s sleeve, loosely holding the fabric in his grip. He’s not usually so touchy with people, but Oda’s glad he still trusts him enough to get so close. 

He seems to be taking in the appearances of the other members, his eye trained on their key features before moving onto the next, analyzing them all. He wonders if Dazai even knows he’s doing it, or if it’s just natural at this point. Only when his eye’s land on Yosano does the room suddenly feel off. Dazai’s eye locks onto her, and she does the same. He hadn’t realized how similar they acted, and his hate for Mori grows even more. 

“Did you get that from your time under Mori?” he asks, but what’s odd is that it’s not a question meant to antagonize like Oda had feared, he sounds like he’s genuinely asking and Oda can tell the difference throws Yosano off for a moment. Dazai still seems to lack certain social cues. She seems to falter before steeling herself, and Oda can tell already that this isn’t going to go well. 

“What’s it to you? Going to go bark to your master about me or someone else here?” she snaps, and Oda feels Dazai bristle against his side. Shit.

“He is not my master,” he says and each word has an air of coldness to it. Oda feels the need to shiver, and Yosano only seems to get more defensive at the sudden hostility. It’s like two cats staring each other down, both ready to fight once one goes too far, he hopes they can stop before that happens.

Then like the flip of a switch Dazai sighs dramatically, and their stare off is cut short.

“I should probably thank you for saving me, but I really wouldn’t have minded dying. I’m so conflicted!” he whines, and Oda tenses his muscles so they won’t shift from how much Dazai is leaning into his side. Kunikida deems it his turn to talk and steps up.

“Why are you here?” he asks and Dazai shrugs. 

“I simply came to see an old friend, and have a chat with him, nothing more.” Oda hums and looks over at him.

“How is Chuuya?” This seems to get a reaction out of him, and Dazai leans away from him.

“You wouldn’t believe it Oda, he hasn’t grown an inch since you last saw him. He’s so short and he’s completely given up on trying to say he’s still growing!” He tries to use his hands to make a basic gesture to his height, but Oda can tell he’s exaggerating. Oda chuckles at the thought of them next to each other now, especially since Dazai had grown, even if only a little bit. 

“What did you wish to talk about Dazai?” he asks, and Dazai points to the door.

“Preferably in private,” he says and Kunikida and Yosano instantly step in.

“Like hell you’re talking to him alone.” Dazai looks at her again, but doesn’t say anything.

“I agree, anything that needs to be said can be said right here,” adds Kunikida. Dazai’s glaring at both of them now, looking more frustrated than genuinely mad. 

“I won’t do anything.” Yosano scoffs.

“Sure you won’t.”

The room falls silent, and the younger members seem to be extremely wary of the tension rapidly growing, Oda leans off the desk behind him with the intent of stepping in. Dazai clicks his tongue.

“It was nice seeing you Odasaku,” he says with a dejected tone that makes Oda feel ill. 

“That’s it? You’re leaving just because we won’t let you trot out of here with one of our own?” challenges Yosano and Oda catches her eye, but she ignores him. Dazai stills for a moment. 

“I thought that man’s ‘right hand man’ would be more troublesome.” Oda steps partly in front of Dazai who still hasn’t uttered a word. 

“Yosano,” he says, trying to put a stop to this before Dazai decides to stop being silent. 

“What Oda? Does he even know the kind of man he works for? How can you be so quick to trust him after all this time? You know Mori has it out for this entire agency, he could have sent him here,” she hisses, and Oda hates this. He hates that two people he knows were both tortured by the same man, and now they’re at each other's throats. 

“Well sorry not everyone had an easy way out of the mafia like you did Doctor.” Oda closes his eyes and rubs his temples.

“You’re like the spitting image of him.” He looks up at her, and Oda grabs his shoulder, trying to deter him from responding without using genuine force. 

“Stop it. Both of you,” he warns, and despite Dazai being cut off from whatever insult he was going to say, they still hold each other’s gaze. Kunikida seems to decide that this is the end of this little feud and he steps in between them, his tall frame blocking their view of each other. Oda thanks him wordlessly and the idealist nods. 

Dazai’s hair is covering his face, but his lips are pressed into a thin line, and Oda puts an arm around his shoulders, leading him towards the exit.

“Let’s go talk, old friend.” The door is opened, and he takes great care in making sure it doesn’t slam closed behind him, the hinges were already on their last legs. Dazai stands there for a moment before sighing and it’s like he deflated, his shoulders instantly sagging. Even though he’s grown, that coat still looks like it’s swallowing him whole. 

“I’m sorry for that,” he amends, and Dazai just shrugs miserably.

“Mori was an ass to her as well, I don’t blame her for the hostility,” he admits and Dazai leans against the wall, picking at the edge of his bandages.

“Do you like it here Oda?” Oda pauses, not expecting such a question. Dazai is looking at him, his features are relaxed and he’s just standing there, patiently waiting for an answer. Oda nods without hesitation.

“Yes, I like it here.” He expects Dazai to ask why, try to pry a more in depth answer out of him, to understand why he likes such a place, but instead Dazai just smiles. There’s an air of sadness to it that makes his chest ache. 

“Good, I’m happy for you,” he says, and it’s genuine, Oda could always tell his words apart. Oda stares at him.

“Well, Hirotsu is waiting for me, and I’ve clearly overstayed my welcome, so I’ll be going now.” 

“Hold on a minute, Dazai.” The bandaged man doesn’t get a chance to react before he grabs him, pulling him into a hug. He’s tense at first, but it doesn’t take long for him to let himself be hugged.

Oda has mercy and releases him long before he really wanted to, and Dazai chuckles. 

“You really should eat more Dazai.”

“Ah, forever a mother hen,” he jokes.

“For you? Always.” Dazai snorts and turns on his heels, heading back towards the stairs. 

“Feel free to stop by my dorm if you need a friend,” he calls, and Dazai just waves, before disappearing down the stairwell. 

—

Dazai finds himself back at the convenience store, but he stops for a moment. That’s not the car he came in. A shiver runs down his spine and his eyes dart around, looking for anything suspicious and then someone steps next to him. 

“The boss wants to see you.” It’s just a low level mafioso, but the words cause panic to spark in his gut. Was Hirotsu okay? Where did he go? He knows what Mori is capable of, and Hirotsu was far too loyal to deny a summon even if it meant his own safety. Dazai grinds his teeth together, but he nods and heads straight towards the car. 

The man opens the door and he slides inside.

He thinks now that he should’ve stayed home. 

Chapter Text

The entire ride to the Port Mafia headquarters was filled with Dazai going over scenario after scenario in his head. He knows he’s been ignoring his messages and calls from Mori, but there’s no way he’s already been found out. He wasn’t that careless, especially if it meant giving Mori another thing to hold over his head.

He walks through the long, dim hallways of the building and he wishes he’d stayed at the Agency longer, or he wishes he would have hugged Oda back since this might be the last time he ever sees him. The man who retrieved him follows close behind, likely assigned to make sure Dazai didn’t run off, he really hates his boss. 

The elevator ride is where they depart ways, and only when the doors close does Dazai let out the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. A meeting with Mori, one on one, he hadn’t had one of those in weeks. He definitely didn’t miss them either. 

The elevator doors slide open and he steps out, his eye widening at the sight of Hirotsu down the hall and he picks up his pace. The older man looks up from his book, and he leans off the wall.

“You’re okay?” he mutters with disbelief, and his suspicion of Mori only grows at this revelation. Hirotsu hums.

“He asked why you had asked for a ride outside of mafia territory. I simply explained that you did not share that information with me. Also, when you plan on doing something possibly treasonous, don’t ignore your boss beforehand.” Hirotsu flicks his forehead lightly, and Dazai rubs the spot where the skin stung ever so slightly. 

“Sorry about that old man. Did he seem upset while you were there?”

“Not particularly, it seemed more like he knew something. He had been smiling the entire time. Elise wasn’t any more assuring than he was.” He bites his tongue, and eyes the doors into Mori’s office. 

“This is annoying.”

“Indeed.” Hirotsu puts his book under his arm and Dazai reaches into his back pocket, tossing over the pack of cigarettes and he catches it, tucking the small box into his own pocket. 

“I’ll be by the car, be careful.” Dazai doesn’t wait any longer, pushing the heavy doors open, and they creak loudly. What he does hate, is when the door’s click behind him.

“Good evening Dazai.” Dazai only eyes Mori, the man sitting behind his desk, seemingly writing something down. He doesn’t greet him back. The doctor looks up from his work, and Dazai just stares at him unimpressed.

“You’ve certainly been a hassle recently. First you vanish during a mission and then ignore my messages? Has something been going on that I should be aware of, Osamu?” His tone is sharp, and anyone that had a lower rank would have shrunken under the scrutiny of that gaze. The use of his name make’s his eye involuntarily twitch under the bandages. He wasn’t on a first name basis with anyone, and Mori knew that. 

“I got injured on the mission, I didn’t feel like giving you a reason to treat me. As for ignoring you, I’m supposed to have a week off after missions where I get injured,” he says into the silent room, and it echoes slightly. Mori crosses his hands together, a smile just barely hidden by the action. 

“Are you sure, Dazai? Nothing else?” Dazai just rolls his eyes.

“What else do you want to hear? I took care of my own injuries with Chuuya’s help. I could have come to you, but your methods of removing bullets often leave someone in more pain than they started with, not logical by any means, but I suppose one can’t stop a sadist’s tendencies.” He wasn’t exaggerating either, Mori didn’t use any type of medication with his surgeries, and he reveled in watching his patients squirm under his tools. Such a cruel way for a doctor to use their knowledge. 

Mori doesn’t respond to his jab with words, but his smile quickly changes into a frown, and the man stands up suddenly, his chair scratching against the floor. 

“A member says they drove you out of non-mafia territory, and then an informant spotted you and Hirotsu near the Armed Detective Agency.” Dazai crosses his arms and cocks his head to the side, feigning confusion.

“The Agency? I knew I was near it, but I stopped at a small convenience store for some fantastic on sale bandages! Then I was going to buy some cheap wine to swap out Chuuya’s and sell them, but they were out. My plan was foiled, but I already developed another one that involves that horrendous hat.” Mori stares at him, not a sliver of emotion on his face, and Dazai stares back, eyes lidded like he was bored.

“You’re on a mission, Hirotsu will accompany you and you leave tonight.” Dazai scowls. 

“Where is it?”

“France, it will last a few days, but I expect it will be done before a week passes. Are we clear?” Dazai doesn’t answer, and he turns to leave, but a hand settles on his shoulder and he goes rigid. It’s not the same feeling as Hirotsu gently grabbing his wrist or Oda putting an arm around him, this feels like death itself is touching him, all the coldness from Mori’s hand seeping deep into his bones. He suppresses a shiver. 

“You better not have lied to me, think of the consequences.” As if the words weren’t enough, Mori pulls out a lighter, flicking the ignition. Dazai bites his tongue, it’s Hirotsu’s lighter. 

“I’m not lying, stop being paranoid, Boss.” Mori doesn’t move, and there’s growing tension that threatens to snap, but then he flicks the lighter shut. 

“Give this back to Hirotsu, and tell Chuuya I might stop by for dinner tonight, after you leave.” Dazai swallows, another threat. Clever bastard. 

“Is that all?” he manages, and Mori hums. Dazai doesn’t stand there a moment longer and he stops in front of the door, waiting for that click to echo into the space, and when he does he’s already out the door and walking down the hall. He’s fully aware he’s biting his lip, probably too hard and that it’ll crack under the pressure, but he’s not sure what to do. Two threats to two people he cares about, why is he even surprised Mori would play that card instead of just punishing him.

He shouldn’t be surprised, not after everything with Oda, and yet as he walks it feels like the walls are shrinking in on him, trying to catch him and keep him from making sure Chuuya denies that dinner, and that Hirotsu gets on that plane with him in time. 

He reaches the elevator and jams the button, the door’s don’t slide open so he keeps pressing it and pressing it. 

“Dazai?” He jolts, and turns around. Kouyou is standing there, her brows furrowed and he lets out a heavy breath, his eyes searching around for a threat that he knows isn’t there.

“Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” he mutters, and she stands next to him without another word. 

“Have you spoken to Chuuya today?” he asks, aware of how disheveled he sounds, he just hopes she won’t mention it. 

“Yes, he came in for a cup of tea with me, and then he said he was going to go home. Did something happen between you two?” Dazai sighs, rubbing his eye. God he was tired.

“No, I was just wondering is all.” 

—

Kouyou pats his head before walking off in another direction after they step out of the elevator, and he waves before heading towards the exit. As expected, he sees Hirotsu waiting by the car that’s already running. 

“How was your meeting?” he asks and Dazai just shrugs, and he climbs into the passenger seat, and Hirotsu doesn’t ask anything else, pulling away from the street. Dazai leans his head against the glass, letting his eyes slip shut. The glass is grounding and he runs over the events in his head. 

If he really was planning on going back, he’d have to be far more careful than he was today. 

Chapter Text

HEY GUYS

Sorry it’s been so long, a good year since i last updated this. I’ll be honest I had no intention of finishing it, but seeing all the comments about finishing it made me want to continue.

I’m not going to continue it right away, i tried to but i hate this fic now that i’ve reread it, SO i’m going to be rewriting it. I know this isn’t exactly what you guys wanted to hear, but i will be finishing it and i’ll be rewriting every chapter before doing so :)

I have three rewritten already and I’m in the middle of the 4th chapter. I’ll post them once I’m done with chapter 5 and then post an announcement saying i’ve posted all 5 of them and keep doing that as i rewrite.

I’m not changing the story, not in big ways at least. I’ve added more interactions, details to scenes I felt were rushed, etc etc so each chapter has something new even if it’s small :)

Thank you for all the comments and the hits and you’re all the best 😭 i’m glad i’ll be able to continue this fic in a newer fashion :)

Love you guys, can’t wait to finish this!

- Ham :)

if you have any questions feel free to ask in the comments!

twt: hammy1o1 with a gojo PFP

insta: hammy_1o2 with a zoro PFP

Chapter Text

Dazai sits on the bench a few feet from where Hirotsu had dropped him off. It’s raining, not hard, but enough to soak through all his layers and leave him shivering. Hirotsu had asked if he wanted a ride home, but he hadn’t, Chuuya wasn’t at home right now and he didn’t wish to be there without him. It just felt too empty. 

He probably could’ve stayed with Hirotsu or Kouyou, they’d never turned him away before, but he just didn’t wish to. His body was fatigued from lack of sleep, and he’s pretty sure he’s sick, or if it was just a minor cold it was definitely going to be worse because of the rain.

The Port Mafia headquarters towers over him, and cars drive by, the water they splash just barely missing his shoes. He could call someone, but who? Who’d actually answer at this time in the morning? Dazai slips his phone out of his pocket, water droplets roll off the smooth surface. He dials the only number he really put effort into remembering. 

It rings. Once. Twice. The line clicks.

“Hello?” Dazai huffs out a quiet laugh, of course he’d keep his mafia phone. 

“Can you pick me up?” 

—

Oda hadn’t been expecting his old cell phone to start ringing out of the blue, he also hadn’t expected Dazai to be on the other side of the line. He hadn’t seen Dazai since he came to the agency, and he couldn’t help, but get worried. Then this call comes and he’s stumbling out the door still buttoning his shirt. 

It’s pouring, and Oda makes his way down to Kunikida’s dorm. It’s nearing 1 am, so hopefully the man is asleep. He crouches down, and fiddles with the door lock. He’s into the apartment in 30 seconds. Kunikida keeps all his things for work right near his front door, so his keys are easy to spot, and he snatches them off the counter. He'd apologize and explain later, but right now he had more important things to do than deal with a lecture. 

He pauses in the doorway, glancing back at the umbrella by the door. He grabs it on his way out.

Dazai had very vaguely described where he was, but it sounded like he was near the mafia headquarters, so that’s where Oda headed. There wasn’t any traffic, only the occasional car, but unlike him everyone else was probably trying to stay out of the rain. 

He knows this is probably stupid. He’s ignoring the ‘what ifs’ of the situation in favor of driving faster. He doesn’t let himself think about what the consequences of him being spotted here are. He doesn’t think about the fact Dazai might not even be here anymore. He’d sounded out of it, he could’ve called Oda on a whim and then wandered off, wouldn’t be the first time. 

When he reaches the location of where his friend should be, he scowls at not being able to find the man. He’s not on any of the benches outside, or on the steps, maybe he really did wander off? Even then this rain has only gotten heavier since Dazai had called him, he could hear the rain on his side so he had to have been outside. Maybe he went inside? 

— A quiet knock on the passenger window, a dark figure is by the window, they crouch down, a familiar face coming into view —

Oda sighs and unlocks the door before Dazai can even knock on the window. 

“Get in,” he calls, and he seems to hesitate before pulling the door handle and he gets into the car. Oda just stares at him, and Dazai stares back like he’s not the definition of a wet cat right now. 

“You’re soaked,” he says, and Dazai just smiles. He looks tired.

“How observant Odasaku.” Oda hums, and now he wonders how he plans on drying Kunikida’s car seat. Maybe it’ll dry before work, if not then he supposes he’s in for a lecture.

Oda pulls off, and starts the drive back to his apartment. Dazai has been uncharacteristically silent since he got into the car, but every time Oda looks over Dazai’s already looking at him, so eventually he stops, just keeping his eyes on the road. The last thing they need to do is get into an accident. 

The trip back goes by much smoother than the trip there, and he actually makes sure to go the speed limit. He goes through several things he’ll need to do once they get back. Dazai’s soaked to the bone, he’ll need a change of clothes. He can sleep on the couch, so he’ll need to get an extra blanket and a pillow from his room. Food seems futile, so he’ll make some tea to warm him up. 

Seems easy enough. 

—-

He and Dazai squeeze under the umbrella and make their way up the staircase. Dazai seems intrigued by the space, looking at the door’s and scanning for Oda’s name. 

“You guys shouldn’t have your names on the door’s.”

“Yeah I said the same thing,” he mutters and Dazai snickers, but he moves towards Oda’s dorm anyway. Oda decides to leave Kunikida’s umbrella by his door, and his keys in his car. The idealist would probably have his head for this. When he rounds the corner he sees his door left ajar, and Dazai nowhere in sight. 

With a sigh he pushes it open, pulling his jacket off his shoulder. Dazai is just sort of standing there, but his long coat is nowhere to be seen.

“I put my coat in your bathtub,” he says, like he could simply read Oda’s thoughts. The man smiles at him, but he’s shaking ever so slightly. 

“I’ll get you some clothes, and I probably have some bandages somewhere.” With that Oda walks by him and goes into his small room, flicking the light on and he digs through his drawers for any old clothing that might fit the thin man waiting in his kitchen. He settles on an old long sleeve shirt and a pair of sweats, trying to give him clothes that’ll cover his skin because he knows he doesn’t have enough bandages on hand for him. 

Oda walks out and Dazai’s gone, the bathroom light is on though, and he pushes the door open to see Dazai peeling off the wet bandages, fresh rolls sitting on top of the toilet. 

“Here, you can use the towel to dry off, I’ll make some tea.” Dazai doesn’t respond, so he shuts the door and makes his way to the kitchen. He’d gone shopping, so he opens his cabinet and pulls out the new container of tea. Next is the electric kettle, and he waits there while it begins to boil, two cups on the counter behind him. 

The door cracks open, and Dazai pads into the kitchen with new bandages on his neck and over his eye. The shirt and pants are too big for his thin frame, but they’re better than wearing wet clothes, and he looks a little silly, it makes Oda grin. Dazai narrows his eyes at him.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” 

“It’s not my fault these are so big,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and Oda just shakes his head. Dazai moves fully into the kitchen now, and he hops up onto the counter. Now that he’s in the light Oda can see him better, and he’s sporting some heavy eye bags, but his cheeks are also flushed. 

“Dazai?”

He hums.

“Are you sick?” There’s a moment of silence, before Dazai shrugs miserably.

“Probably? It’s just a cold though.” 

“Yeah a cold you made worse by sitting in the rain.” Dazai has the nerve to stick his tongue out like a brat, and Oda rolls his eyes. 

“Go lay down, I’ll bring the tea in.” Dazai seems to decide arguing isn’t going to get him anywhere, so he leaves without any trouble. 

When the tea is finally done, he picks up the two steaming glasses and exits the kitchen. Dazai is on his couch, and he seems to have made himself comfortable with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his legs stretching across most of the couch, so Oda settles down on the chair across from him. 

The tea is placed down, Oda takes his, Dazai’s remains untouched. 

“What happened?” he asks, and Dazai just shrugs, sniffling after.

“Mission, didn’t have a key to my place. Also didn’t want to be at home alone.” Oda watches him with a thoughtful expression, and sighs.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

“Nope, just didn’t know where to go,” he admits quietly, and he’s started picking at the frayed edges of the old blanket he’s using. Oda watches the repeated motion, before he rubs his face. This wouldn’t be the first time something like this happened.

“Are you working tomorrow Dazai?” 

“Not that I know of.”

“Good, then you’ll stay here, and you’re going to sleep.” Dazai’s lack of protest means he really doesn’t mind staying here, and Oda stands to grab a pillow from his bedroom, emerging a few moments later, and thankfully Dazai hasn’t moved.

“You said you didn’t want to be home alone, do you live with someone else?” Dazai leans up so he can push the pillow behind him, and Dazai chuckles.

“I live with Chuuya,” he says, and Oda blinks back his surprise at the statement. He knew they were close, he just hadn’t expected them to be able to tolerate each other enough to live in an enclosed space together. 

“Well I’m glad you two are still close.”

“We’re dating, kinda. I don’t really know if you’d call it that,” he says quickly and no one would believe him if he said that he saw Osamu Dazai, embarrassed. Oda snorts, and Dazai glares at him, but his cheeks are still a light shade of pink and his eye holds no genuine anger. 

“It was only a matter of time.” Dazai rolls his eye and looks away, and Oda stands up, ruffling his hair.

“Get some sleep, Dazai.” Dazai grumbles something and rolls onto his side, pulling the blanket over himself and Oda huffs, but decides he won’t tease him.

Not right now at least.

—

The next morning Oda finds himself awake before Dazai, the younger man still fast asleep on the couch. He wakes while Oda is making breakfast, and if he’s annoyed by Oda’s coddling he never mentions it. As the day progresses they don’t do much, just sitting around the apartment with the TV on or a game of poker on the kitchen counter. 

By noon Dazai’s “cold” is now a fever, and he must’ve really felt like shit to have rolled over and gone to sleep without Oda even telling him too. Oda turned off the TV and picked up his laptop, finishing up some reports he hadn’t been able to finish the day before. He pauses mid sentence. 

He forgot to call in sick.

Oda stands up, and scours the room for his phone, where had he even left it? It’s not in this room, so he checks the kitchen next, then the bathroom, he doesn’t even get to his room before there’s a pounding on his door. He resigns himself to his fate and makes his way to the door before Kunikida can kick it in. 

“Sorry I didn’t call in, I was busy,” he says before Kunikida can even get one word out and the blonde glares at him. Atsushi is behind him, and the boy waves, clearly meant to be the buffer here.

“You never forget to call in, we only came by to make sure you were actually alive,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes. He hasn’t mentioned the wet seat of his car, so hopefully he didn’t notice.

“Well, I’m alive and well,” he says, and then Dazai coughs violently from his place on the couch, and a long silence stretches between them.

“Who’s that?” Oda debates closing the door and vacating the apartment from the window in the back, but he decides against it. Atsushi proved to be much faster than himself and a sick Dazai. 

“Dazai, he’s sick.” Kunikida just grumbles, seemingly unsurprised by this turn of events. Atsushi pokes his head in.

“Is he okay?” 

“He has a fever. Am I needed, or can I call out from work for today?” Kunikida crosses his arm and taps his fingers across the front of his book. 

“You aren’t needed for anything specific, just call in the next time you plan on housing a Port Mafia executive,” mutters Kunikida. He glances back at Dazai, the younger man still asleep on the couch with his back to them, and then an idea hits him. 

“Are you both on lunch?” he asks.

“Yes, why do you ask?” 

“Can you watch him for me? I need to run to the store for some things for him, if it’s not a problem.” They seem to stumble over their words for a moment, and Oda brushes past them before grabbing his coat and nodding.

“Oda-!” 

“Thank you, and lock the door after you go in.” Atsushi sputters, and Oda is quick to disappear leaving them both in the doorway gaping. 

—

Kunikida has his eyes glued to the journal in front of him, trying to avoid staring at the man they were tasked to watch. True to Oda’s words, he was in fact sick. His labored breaths and the red hue to his cheeks gave that away early on, but Kunikida couldn’t find it within himself to truly care about the fact this man was sick. 

He doesn’t typically doubt his partner’s judgment, but that’s not the case this time. He understands they may have once known each other, but the entire situation feels so off. Why did his supposed best friend just now decide to come back into his life? Was it some kind of guilt because Oda saved him? Or was it all some plan to get info on the Agency?

Possible unhonorable attention aside, the man himself just felt odd. When they met him, he seemed almost fake in a way, and the overly happy facade was off putting in a way he couldn’t name. Yosano felt the same way he did, she could pick up on it too. Did Oda? Or was he blinded by his own emotions from a long lost friend? 

Something about Osamu Dazai almost didn’t seem human. 

Kunikida has been in the Agency a long time, and he’d never felt so unnerved because of one person, the only other person who came close was during a meeting with the Port Mafia. Ougai Mori was the only one who came close, in fact, there was an uncanny resemblance between the two of them, he imagines that’s why Yosano was so put off by him. 

Kunikida sighs, closing his notebook and sitting it on the floor beside him. Atsushi was in front of him, clearly nervous about the situation, but was much worse at hiding it. He kept his eyes glued onto the executive, unlike Kunikida who made sure to keep his gaze elsewhere. He wonders if Atsushi’s instincts make him uncomfortable around the man the same way his do.

A tense silence stretches between them, that is until Dazai’s hand twitches so violently and suddenly that Atsushi actually jumps and Kunikida barely stops himself from doing the same. He’s looking up now, watching for any other movements. Dazai’s fingers continue to twitch every few seconds, and his brows are now furrowed, jaw tight. It appears even the Demon Prodigy gets nightmares. 

The thought of that makes him think back to how old Oda had claimed he was when they met. Fifteen was an awfully young age for the mafia, he wonders what this man went through, the teacher in him wishes to know what would drive a child to join such an organization. 

“What do we do?” He looks up, an eyebrow rasied, and Atsushi is looking between him and Dazai, his brows knit together with worry. 

“We ignore it,” he bites out, and Atsushi doesn’t seem particularly happy with this answer, but he nods anyway. Minutes pass by and Dazai seems to only get more restless, and yet, he remains dead silent besides his breathing. Atsushi seems to grow more troubled, and Kunikida is trying his best to keep his mind off it.

Kunikida,” presses Atsushi, and Kunikida meets his eyes. He grumbles something, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before standing. He steps towards the man, and takes note of the blanket he mostly pushed off. He reaches out to pull it back up, but apparently he’s done something, because Osamu Dazai’s eye snaps open, and he sucks in a sharp breath before his eye finds Kunikida. 

They stare at each other for a moment, his hand still hovering over the blanket, and Dazai’s body now as rigid as a wall. He raises his hands, but in the blink of an eye the barrel of a gun is pointed at him, and Atsushi jumps up, while Kunikida tenses this time. 

Dazai doesn’t utter so much as a word, but he does sit up, forcing his body up into a sitting position, not so much as looking away for a second. 

“We didn’t mean to startle you,” comes Atsushi’s panic ridden voice, and Dazai snaps his gaze over to him, his grip on the gun only tightening in response. 

“Where is Oda?” comes Dazai’s cold, yet raspy voice, and Kunikida nearly shudders at the abhorrent lack of emotion on his features. 

“He went to the store to buy you some things that he didn’t specify, but I would assume medicine and maybe something to eat,” he says, and Dazai looks back at him, tearing his gaze away from Atsushi. 

“Why were you about to touch me then?” 

“I was going to put the blanket back on you, then maybe wake up. You seemed distressed.” Dazai only narrows his gaze at the explanation, clearly skeptical. 

“We didn’t mean to scare you, really. We’re sorry, and we don’t want to hurt you,” comes Atsushi, his voice so sincere it seems to surprise the executive, his eye widening slightly. There’s another moment of silence before the gun slowly lowers, but he keeps it grasped in his hand. Kunikida finds himself letting out a deep breath, his shoulders slumping. 

Dazai continues to watch them like a hawk, but Kunikida decides he wants to retreat to his spot on the floor, and so he does. 

“Are you feeling any better?” asks Atsushi, trying to relieve some of the growing tension. Dazai eyes them both after the question, seemingly thinking something over, before he shrugs miserably.

“I feel fine,” he says, clearly lying, but Kunikida has no right to call him out on it. 

Dazai in turn finds himself going over every detail he knows about these two, and he knows that both of them might be able to kill him easily. The weretiger would have more trouble since his ability would be useless, but Doppo Kunikida was a capable individual even without his gift, it made his skin crawl with unease. 

Kunikida was certainly an odd character, but he was clearly someone Odasauke trusted, which Dazai didn’t quite understand. How could he trust these people so easily? Trust had always been a touchy subject, he’d been betrayed so many times he just decided to stop trusting. 

He only truly trusts three people in this world, Chuuya, Oda and Hirotsu, everyone else proved they didn’t deserve his trust, or they broke it. Maybe if he meets them again he can understand, but for right now he would be keeping this gun gripped tightly in his hand. 

He just hopes they wouldn’t do anything, the last thing he needs is to die by the hands of someone in the Agency. He wouldn’t mind the dying part, especially if they made it interesting, but if the Port Mafia found out they’d probably start some kind of war, and that would mean Oda would be at risk, same with Chuuya. That did not seem optimal. 

He can feel their gazes, especially the idealist’s, the weretiger seems much more shy. He imagines his grip on the gun is making them both uncomfortable, but he’d be just as uncomfortable if he didn’t have the gun. Without this he’d have no protection, so in his hand it shall stay. 

“We aren’t going to hurt you,” says the weretiger, and Dazai cocks his head, confused at what he’s trying to do by making false reassurances. 

“We don’t hurt people unless they give us a reason.” That’s a nice thought isn’t it? Having that choice, but killing is automatically the easier option for him, it always has been. Why deal with a suspect instead of taking them out instead? He doesn’t quite understand the aspects of good and bad, he probably never will. 

Dazai clicks on the gun's safety, and Atsushi smiles at the action, and Kunikida just seems to watch him with a skeptical xpression, like he can’t quite figure him out. 

Good. 

There’s a brief moment of silence before the door to Oda’s apartment opens and Oda sticks his head in.

“Oh, you’re awake,” he says, closing the door behind him. Dazai’s entire mood seems to shift, his features lighting up just as the sight of Oda, Kunikida’s not sure how to feel his sudden mood changes. 

“Oda!” he exclaims, the gun is now no longer in his hands, and it’s apparently been tucked back into the place he had it hidden before. Oda walks over with a bag in hand, and Kunikida watches him ruffle Dazai’s hair before he sits down on the other side of the couch. 

“Thank you for watching him, you can stay if you want,” he offers before he pulls a can of crab out of the bag and holds it out to Dazai. The bandaged man just stares at it. 

“Eat.” Dazai crosses his arms.

“Don’t wanna.”

“You need to eat something, it’ll help you get better,” he says.

“I can go longer without food,” grumbles Dazai.

“You shouldn’t have too,” 

"Well I do, and a normal human can on average go three weeks without food, I ate two days ago in Italy. You know they have the best pasta, you should really come with me next time."

"Don't change the subject." Dazai huffs in defeat, and Kunikida watches them go back and forth, his interest peaked at this point. Their interaction is just amusing at this point, and Dazai folds first, sighing dramatically and snatching the can from Oda’s hand. 

While Dazai works on opening it, Oda turns to them.

“Would you like something to eat? I have some things in the kitchen.” Kunikida raises his hand and shakes his head.

“We picked something up before coming here, don’t worry about it.” Oda nods and Dazai hums.

"Canned crab is truly the best food Odasaku, you really should eat this more."

"If I want crab, I'll get it from the market."

"So expensive! I would rather just buy canned crab and be done!"

"Aren't you rich?" he mutters and Dazai just shrugs.

“That’s such a hassle! I’d rather make Chuuya do it.” Kunikida takes note of the name, they were all familiar with the gravity user. 

“Chuuya’s his partner,” supplies Oda, and Kunikida wonders why they’ve never seen the two together despite having worked with the Port Mafia on several occasions. Atsushi asks something beside him, striking up a conversation between him and Oda, and Kunikida sighs, letting out a deep breath. He’s too tense for this. 

Somehow, Atsushi drags him into the conversation, and they settle into something that resembles normal chatting, Dazai finds himself enjoying it more than he thought he would. 

Chapter Text

Dazai is staring at him like he bought canned chicken instead of crab, completely and utterly offended. 

“That’s a terrible idea, I always thought you were smarter than that Oda,” he says, crossing his arms and Oda gives him an unimpressed look.

“You need to see a doctor.”

“No, I don’t. I’ll go home, and Chuuya will be back in a few days and it’ll be fine. I'm not going back there.” Oda narrows his eyes at him, Dazai does the same right back. There’s a nagging voice in the back of his head that saying Dazai isn’t being difficult just to be difficult.

“Why don’t you want to go back?” He doubts he’ll get a real answer, but Dazai tears his eyes away from him after the question. 

“You know why,” he mutters, voice full of disdain. Oda stops himself from scowling, he really hates that man. Despite Mori’s interference in Dazai’s personal life, Mori knowing Dazai was sick wouldn’t go over well for Dazai either. He’s stuck between a rock in a hard place.

His fever’s only gotten worse the past few days, and Oda could only call home from work for ‘personal reasons’ for so long. 

“You won’t get caught,” he says, and Dazai rolls his eyes.

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“My ability can help, we’ll take a cab there and you can stay low. You know the basic patterns for the mafia’s partrols don’t you? It’ll be just like old times,” he says, trying to find some middle ground here, because if Dazai doesn’t want to do something he often gets away with not doing it. 

“We’ll go inside and Yosano can look you over.”

“I do not want to see that woman.” Oda pauses, caught off guard by the sudden change in his tone, such hostility to one of his coworkers, it’s weird to know someone on the other side of the hostility. 

“You two would probably get along if you just talked,” he reasons, and Dazai only scoffs. 

“The only thing we have in common is our history with Mori, and even if we did talk all she would ever see is the boss.”

“That’s not true.” Dazai rubs a hand over his face.

“I feel more like him than myself most days Oda,” he mutters, and that pit in Oda’s chest grows just a bit larger. He reaches out and places a hand on Dazai’s leg.

“You’re not him,” is all he says, and Dazai just looks at him, not really giving any clues to how he feels about what Oda said. Dazai just moves his leg, Oda’s hand falling off, and he stands, a slight wobble in his legs.

“Let’s just go, most of the informants aren’t around at this time,” he says and Oda grits his teeth as Dazai exits the apartment. 

—

The trip to the ADA is silent between them, the only noise being Dazai’s heavy breathing and the driver’s occasional chatter. He hopes he’s not too sick, the symptoms all point to pneumonia, or something similar to it. He just hopes he didn’t wait too long to take him in. 

Yosano would know what to do, the only problem would be making her actually want to treat him. 

The car jerks to a stop, the driver apologizing after Dazai curses loudly at the sudden movement, jostling him out of the restless sleep he’d fallen into. Oda helps him out of the car, and both of him find themselves looking around for anyone. 

Oda pays the man, and he drives off just as they enter the front door. It’s later in the day, the cafe only has a few people sitting in the booths, and the office would probably start clearing out soon enough. Hopefully they  won’t run into anyone. 

Dazai lingers at the bottom of the stairs, and Oda offers his arm. Dazai grabs on his sleeve, leaning heavily into his side. He’s warm, way too warm. The trip up the stairs goes faster than he anticipated, since Dazai started whining half way so Oda resigned to his fate and picked him up. 

He sits him down at the top of the stairs as gently as he can. They walk by the office door, and to the infirmary. Dazai’s still kinda wobbly, so Oda opens the door for him, but he seems to freeze in the doorway. 

The bandaged man’s eye is glazed over, and he drags his gaze around the room, settling on what appears to be Yosano’s lab coat. His eye narrows before his face seems to go pale, and his eye widens. 

“Where-?” he mumbles, and Oda stops him from turning around, setting two hands on his shoulders. 

“Dazai, you’re sick. We’re at the Armed Detective Agency. You’re fine,” he reassures, and he locks his eyes with the younger man’s. He hopes he can be at least a little grounding. 

“Let’s lay down,” he says, and he leads Dazai i to the room, and Dazai seems to take note of the cot, falling down onto it with absolutely no grace. His face is stuffed into the pillow, and he’s already gone limp, so Oda pulls off the coat Dazai insisted to wear, tossing onto another cot a few feet away. 

He doesn’t say anything before he leaves, not wishing to wake his friend up. Oda pushes the office door open, and sees Kenji right by the door, probably about to leave. The boy smiles brightly at him. 

“Oda!” he exclaims, and Oda smiles at him. At the announcement of his name, Kunikida’s head pops up from his desk.

“You’re finally back then hm? You certainly chose a late hour to return,” he says and Oda walks further in. A few people are already gone, only Yosano, Kunikida and Ranpo are here. 

“Welcome back,” calls Yosano, and Ranpo seems to be in his own world, reading a case file with a large mass of candies around him. Kunikida leans back in his chair.

“It’s good to have you back, I assume your problem is dealt with?” Oda had asked Kunikida and Atsushi to keep this under wraps. The last thing he needed was the wrong person hearing that the Port Mafia’s Demon Prodigy was here. 

“Not really,” he admits, and Kunikida’s brows furrow. Only then does Ranpo look up from his folder, a grin on his face.

“I didn’t think you’d actually bring him here,” he says, and Oda should’ve guessed Ranpo would know, he sighs and turns to Yosano. 

“Can I speak with you? In the hall?” he asks and she recognizes the shift in his tone, standing up without a word and they leave the room together. She crosses her arms and leans back on the wall behind her.

“What is it?” Oda closes the door behind him, and lets out a weary sigh. This was not going to be fun. 

“I’ve been gone because Dazai got sick and I’ve been taking care of him,” he says, because there is no point in putting it off. Her face changes, from shock to an exasperated look. 

“And what does that man have to do with me?” she asks, unnerved. He feels bad, but she’s the only one with medical knowledge. She’s the doctor, not him or Kunikida or the president. 

“He’s got a bad fever and,” he pauses, scratching the back of his head.

“He’s in your infirmary.” 

“ What.”

“He’s got a bad fever, and a bad cough. He barely has energy, he didn’t even fight me very much on

me bringing him here. Look, I just want to make sure he’s not going to get worse , maybe get him some antibiotics. I’m sorry for not asking beforehand, I’m just… worried,” he admits, lowering his head. She doesn’t utter a word, glaring at him like she wants to cut him up, which is fair. 

“Yosano. I know you have a history with Mori-"

"But you actually don't know, stop acting like you do." Oda stops talking for his own well-being. She stalks past him, and opens the door to her room, her eyes finding Dazai’s form and she sneers, but she walks in anyway.

"You don't understand what it's like to work under that man, you may have worked for the mafia, but you said it yourself, you were nothing more than an errand boy. You've brought someone who's basically a fucking copy of him into my infirmary, and you claim to know what it's like working for that monster. I want to chop you up so bad," she spits, digging around under her desk, her hands are shaking. Oda closes the door quietly behind him, and runs a hand over his face. 

He can’t blame her for her hostility, he never will, that’s just cruel. He understands where she's coming from, but all he wants is to make sure he’s okay. 

“I do know,” he says, and he does. He’s seen countless times what working under Mori has done to Dazai, to Mori’s other subordinates. He himself was a victim to Mori’s schemes, if not for Dazai he would’ve died that day by Gide’s hands. He may not have ever truly been a target in Mori’s eyes, but he’s seen plenty of people who were. 

“You and him are similar, Yosano. I know you know it. You’re observant, always have been. I know you saw the scars on his stomach, I know you know he doesn’t eat and sleep enough.” Oda shifts his weight, unsure of what to do with Yosano’s silence.

"The first time it happened he didn't- no he wouldn't admit Mori had done it. He had come to my apartment at the ripe age of 15, he was injured.

Figured it was from a mission, he always came back from those hurt, but some of those cuts were too damn perfect,” he says, sighing heavily. 

“I’ve said too much already. I know you see Mori in him, but I know you also recognize the signs that he’s just another one of Mori’s victims. You see yourself in that blank stare.” Oda moves to Dazai’s cot and sits down on the seat there, watching the rise and fall of his chest. 

“Please just make sure he’s okay, that’s all I ask.” He bows his head, as the silence stretches across the room. He doesn’t know what else he can say, he was already risking it by saying so much there. He’s surprised he still has his tongue. 

After a few moments her heels click against the ground, and she’s made her way over, stopping next to him. She’s not looking at him though, her eyes are lingering on Dazai’s limp form. Then she turns to him, and smacks him lightly with the clipboard in her hand. 

“You owe me for this,” she says, and Oda finds himself relaxing at her words, smiling. 

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to get you the best sake I can find.” She hums.

“I’m holding you to that.” 

Chapter Text

Yosano sits at her desk in the infirmary, organizing her files, and reading over them. Her eyes move across the paper, but she doesn’t register anything she reads, her eyes constantly drifting over to her unexpected guest. Oda was needed which let the two of them together, and she couldn't help but be paranoid of him.

Regardless of what Oda had implied, he was still actively working for the Port Mafia, even if he wasn’t doing good there. He still worked under Mori, and Mori had a way of getting what he wanted through any means necessary. He could get information on them from Dazai without even knowing, or Mori could manipulate him. She had no idea what their relationship was, how much damage the man had done to Dazai, it was risky to let him in here.

The bandages catch her attention again, layers of cloth wrapped around every inch of visible skin besides his hands and face, excluding his bandaged eye. She can’t help but wonder what’s hidden under them. ‘Some of those cuts were too damn perfect.’ She grimaces, shoving the folder on her desk with more force than she needed.

“Upset about something?” A lesser woman would have jumped out of their skin, but she steels herself, and turns around to look at him. He’s grinning lazily at her, but she can tell he’s uncomfortable, the same way she is.

“Was just in thought,” she answers, and he looks away from her, his eyes scanning the room.

“Where’s Odasaku?” he asks, voice gruff and she stands up, grabbing a plastic cup off the counter.

“He went out for lunch, I was put on watch duty.” She places the cup under the faucet, filling it to the top before pulling back.

“That’s awfully kind of you since I swore you hated me.” She scoffs, putting the cup down on the small table next to his bed. He’s watching her every move, his eye alert and his body is tense.

“Still not a huge fan,” she retorts and he lets out a breathy chuckle. Yosano leaves him, sitting back down in her chair. Dazai forces himself up with a grunt before taking the cup into his own hands, he rubs his thumbs along the sides observing the liquid.

“I didn’t poison it, you can stop looking at it like it’s going to kill you.” Dazai hums, but he still doesn’t drink it. Instead he looks up to meet her eyes.

“What can I say, being a Port Mafia Executive makes you paranoid.” She doesn’t even work for Mori anymore and her thoughts are still plagued by ‘what ifs’ doing something as simple as going to the store, so she understands where he’s coming from.

“Well, Oda wouldn’t be very happy with me if I attempted to kill you.” Dazai just huffs, finally taking a sip of the water.

“You’re right about that, Odasaku wouldn’t be particularly fond of that.” She leans back in her chair, arms crossed and Dazai finishes the water, setting the cup back down on the table.

“Why do you call him that? Odasaku?”

“Nickname.” She figures she won’t get anything else about it due to the short answer, so she sighs.

“How are you feeling?” Dazai doesn’t answer her right away, his fingers now picking at the edge of his bandages absentmindedly, he seems to be mulling over whatever answers he’s come up with in his head. She wonders if he’s thrown off by her change in demeanor.

“…Shitty,” he admits like the word was forced from his lips without consent.

“I’m surprised you actually told me.” He just shrugs.

“Doesn’t do any good to lie to a doctor.” There’s a double meaning to those words that makes her suppress a shiver, the phantom feeling of that man’s hands on her shoulders, the faint whisper of his demands echoing in her head.

“That’s true,” she agrees weakly.

“Has he always been that way with you?” she finds herself asking.

“Long as I’ve known him.” The room settles into a sullen silence.

“How’d he find you?”

“Tried to kill myself, he was the doctor. You?”

“Drafted, he wanted my ability for the war.” Dazai hums, leaning back against the wall.

“Your gift really is impressive, to heal any injury? I’m just glad I wasn’t a victim of it, Oda says it’s quite painful.” A smile finds her face, and she laughs.

“Your gift too, I’ve never heard of a nullification gift.” Dazai just shrugs, clearly unsure of what to do with her words.

“We got unlucky, huh?” he says after a moment, and she frowns, brushing the hair out of her face. When she looks back up Dazai’s wearing a somber smile.

“It would seem so.” Yosano leans down, and unlocks a cabinet, the metal door creaking open and she fishes out a bottle of wine. She grabs two more of the disposable plastic cups and Dazai laughs behind her.

“Giving your patient alcohol? How naughty.” She rolls her eyes, and doesn’t give him a response.

She hands him a cup, and he takes it from her hands. She pours them both some of the wine and Dazai pouts.

“Pouring me less than you?” he whines, and she scoffs.

“You’re the one who brought up me giving my patient alcohol.” Dazai lets out a chuckle, and takes a sip from his cup anyways, before humming.

“You like wine? I could bring a good bottle?”

“And why would you do that?” She asks, and he shrugs.

“Peace offering?” She raises an eyebrow and he just grins at her.

“Chuuya Nakahara, he collects wine. Gets the good shit too, and I say that as someone who doesn’t usually drink wine. I can probably steal you a bottle.” He says this with a wink, and Yosano sits down at the end of his bed, crossing her legs.

“You have yourself a deal, I accept your peace offering.” He waves his hands in the air briefly before raising his cup. She snorts, but lofts her own too.

“Fuck Mori,” she says, and the bandaged man only laughs in response. He knocks his cup against hers, the sound echoing in the silence of the room.

Chapter Text

Due to something I will be doing soon I won’t have an update for you guys until maybe December or late November! 

The next chapter is already being done, but I highly doubt it’ll be finished by the time I leave, sorry for the wait!

Thanks for all the kudos and comments on the last chapter, I’m glad you guys stick around even with my bad schedule :,) 

Love you guys!

-Ham :)

Unrelated, but if you have twitter go vote for zoro ;) 

https://x.com/izukuscrybaby/status/1722071618363556067?s=46&t=ONCs6jvReQw8DR016uhv0w

Chapter Text

Dazai tugs his black jacket over his shoulders, rolling his shoulders under the comfortable weight. The worst of his sickness was gone, now only a dull ache in his bones remained. He felt full of energy for the first time in a long time, and with that he slips out of the infirmary without so much as a noise. 

The door doesn’t even click shut behind him, and he disappears down the stairwell, avoiding the elevator. Last thing he wants to do right now is run into anyone. What he wants is to eat, and they have a cafe downstairs that seems like the best option. He skips the last step, landing with a quiet thud and the waitress startles at his sudden appearance. The high pitched yelp that escapes her lips grates on his ears, but he smiles. 

“So sorry,” he says quickly, tilting his head down before briskly walking by her and into the small cafe. It’s a cozy place, just like Ida had said when he briefly spoke of how the ADA often ate lunch there. Quiet music plays from the aged speakers, and the booth’s leather sinks under him as he slides in. There’s small cracks across the fabric from years of use, he absentmindedly picks at them while he waits. 

The young woman he’d startled walks over, a slight tint to her cheeks; likely from her mishap outside.

“Welcome, it’s good to see you’re back on your feet?” He blinks back the surprise of her knowing he was sick, shoves asay the unease that follows the surprise in turn for his best smile. 

“I’m feeling much better,” he says, and she brightens up, before fetching a small notepad from her apron.

“Can I get you anything?” 

“Surprise me,” he tells her, having not bothered to look at the menu. She nods, before walking back to the counter and he sinks into his seat, his eye falling shut. Yosano had mentioned that Oda wasn’t in the office right now, him and the one with glasses having left to work on a new case. Had the older man been here he would’ve much preferred his company than sitting alone. 

A bored sigh escapes his lips before he can stop it. 

“Is something wrong?” comes a voice in front of him, and he nearly jolts, instead he goes rigid, his eye snapping open and he feels his heart plummet at the sight of the Armed Detective Agency’s Boss. Shivers break out across his skin, and he fumbles over his thoughts. Mori’s smooth voice echoes in his head.

He asked you something. Respond. 

He blinks, and shakes his head. So much for responding. The older man watches him for a moment, light blue eyes boring into him before a smile breaks across his face.

“I apologize for startling you. Dazai is your name right?” He swallows thickly, and nods again. 

Speak.

Dazai clears his throat.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he manages, and he imagines the smile on his face looks all sorts of wrong to this clearly perceptive man in front of him. If it does he doesn’t mention it. Instead, the tension is broken by the young woman approaching, a cup of tea in her hands along with a pastry he doesn’t recognize.

“Good evening Fukuzawa,” she greets, voice cheerful and the man nods at her in response. She sets his order down, but Dazai can’t tear his eyes away from Fukuzawa. 

“Do you mind if I join you? I haven’t gotten to speak to you yet.” The offer is innocent enough, but Dazai can’t help the dread that stays rooted into place, making his limbs tight and his throat painfully dry. This man knows Mori, and Mori knows this man. They used to work together, they don’t have very much contact now, but Dazai’s tired of being around people who know that man. 

“Feel free to,” he says instead of finding an excuse to leave, afterall, this man was likely much faster than him and a very skilled combatant. Dazai was still wary from the lingering effects of sickness, an empty stomach, and unarmed. He didn’t have much of a fighting chance if this man thought he was up to something. 

The president slips into the booth with ease, his shoulders relaxed and posture slightly hunched. He’s trying to appear unthreatening, it’s very obvious, and Dazai finds himself oddly interested in the act. Intimidation is what he’s used to, what he grew up with, what he deals with daily whether it be from Mori or the people he meets on missions. 

Another glass of tea is placed in front of them both, and Dazai looks down at his own glass and the stem rising from the scalding liquid.

“I apologize if I’m making you uncomfortable.” The words dig in like a knife, and he would’ve winced, but instead he tilts his head up and pulls on an easy smile. He doubts it’s very convincing. 

“You’re fine,” he says, and the president picks up his tea, inhaling before taking a sip of it, setting the cup back down with gentleness only a swordsman could have. 

“How are you feeling? I heard you were sick. I had intended to stop by, but I had to step out of the office most of your stay.” And what the hell is he supposed to say to that? 

“You didn’t need to visit me. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Still, Oda talks highly of you. It’s a shame it’s taken me so long to meet you.” Dazai wrings his fingers at the mention of Oda. A silence settles over them, and Dazai picks at his food, while Fukuzawa finishes his tea. He sets it down, the glass making a quiet clink into the empty restaurant.

“The Agency is a safe place. I came to join you to let you know you’re welcome to it anytime.” He feels a pang of something in his chest. An emotion he can’t quite place. 

“Why?” he says without thinking, and Fukuzawa cocks his head. 

“I don’t work for you. You don’t know me. I could have an ulterior motive. And why should I place my trust in what you say?” He would’ve said more, wanted to say more, but those eyes shut him up the moment he met them again.

Fukuzawa leans back in his seat, his hands resting on the table. 

“Oda trusts you, I believe that is enough evidence for me to do the same.” Dazai finds himself clenching and unclenching his fists. How do these people trust so easily? Even the ones like Yosano, she clearly didn’t fully trust him, even after his extended stay in her space, but she has clearly become much more open to the idea he’s not as bad as she thought.

And Ranpo, he’d begun talking to Dazai like he’d known him for years, like former acquaintances and then proceeded to play a game with him. The man in glasses and the weretiger too, watching him while he was sick and then sticking around even after Oda got back. 

Fukuzawa, ever oblivious to his inner conflict, slides out of the booth and Dazai follows him with his eye, watching his straighten out his clothing before turning back towards Dazai.

“Feel free to stop by my office anytime. Ranpo has mentioned your intellect, he’s almost praised it in a way, something odd for him to do. I’m sure we could enjoy a nice game of Go or chess if you were up to it.” 

Dazai finds himself once more fumbling over his words. 

“Uh- yeah,” he starts, “maybe I’ll do that.” 

—

Dazai had held true to his word and shown up the next day wondering if he’d gone too soon. Oda had encouraged it, and said he should get to know the President. He’d only gone after Oda’s insistence, and just as Fukuzawa said they’d sat down and played a few games of chess.

He’d won, of course he had, there was no surprise following the win, that was until Fukuzawa had praised him, told him he was smart, and Dazai didn’t want to decipher how that made him feel. He was used to criticism, this was certainly something new. 

It had only taken a few more random visits at the office between his own work days to become significantly more comfortable around the agency’s workers. They were so easy to talk to, so easy to feel relaxed around. While that had unnerved him at first, he quickly found himself enjoying the freedom and calm he got being there. The only other places he went that had that same sense was his own home and Lupin. 

He teased Kunikida, the man’s short temper being his downfall. The weretiger spoke to him as well, timid as he was at first, once he grew more comfortable he was as idiotic as everyone else at this place. Yosano has grown used to his presence, and she had thanked him for the wine he’d snuck into her wine cabinet. Some of the other members were still wary of him, that’s to be expected, but he doesn’t take any offense to it. 

He taps his fingers across Oda’s desk, reading through all his unread texts from the night before. He smiles when he hears Kunikida’s signature grunt of disdain. 

“Could you at least sit on a chair?” Dazai sticks his tongue out at him, and the man fumes. 

“Are you not working today?” That’s Kenji, the boy smiling brightly at him, the same way he always did. He doesn’t think he’s seen the kid not smiling. 

“Nope, I take a week off after overseas missions.” 

“What were you doing overseas?” asks Atsushi, looking up at him with wide eyes. He knew the kid’s background, he supposes a spontaneous trip overseas must be intriguing to him.

“That’s a secret, but I was in Italy!” 

“Italy? Where that massive shootout was?” comes Kunikida’s voice, and Dazai looks over at him, and his silence is as good as a confession, and the man grumbles something, but doesn’t ask anymore questions. The door smacks open seconds later, and several people jump as Ranpo steps inside, a determined grin on his face. 

Oda watches the detective march into the room, holding a case file and making a beeline to Dazai. 

“I have a murder case,” he announces and Dazai beams, his smile growing and he twists himself around on the edge of Oda’s desk, so he could face Ranpo. 

“You have my attention,” he says, and Oda’s noticed how these two have taken a significant liking to one another. Ranpo launches into a detailed explanation about the case out loud while Dazai flips through the photos, and papers in the file. It doesn’t take long for them to begin bouncing ideas off each other, it’s like they go into their own little world when they discuss cases, and their efficiency is outworldly.

Dazai makes a guess, a damn good one at that, and Ranpo grins, clapping his hands together before fishing a lollipop out of his mouth. 

“Bingo! That’s correct! Now I just need to get the proof, and then the case is closed. Wanna come to the crime scene?” Dazai lights up in a way Oda hasn’t seen in a very long time. 

“Sounds fun.” 

“Okay Ranpo, him solving cases in the office is completely different than bringing him to a crime scene. His a port mafia executive first of all, not to mention several other reasons it’s a bad idea.”

“Kunikida,” he interrupts, and the man stops, but he looks around before Oda can say anything, his eyes landing on the office door left ajar. While Kunikida buries his face in his hands, Oda lifts up a few papers to hide the smile on his face. 

Chapter Text

Dazai drags his eye across the surroundings, watching the blaring lights from emergency vehicles and listening to the chatter of people all forced to keep their distance by police tape. Ranpo takes the lead, walking through without care as he enjoys his 5th lollipop. Some officers glare at Ranpo for his nonchalance, while others greet him. One officer in particular seems relieved at the sight of him, an older man, and Ranpo grins. 

“Good evening Minoura!” exclaims Ranpo.

“Solved this one yet?” asks the detective, and Ranpo merely smirks, an answer without words that has the man sighing. Ranpo hands him the file they’d look at, now complied with the notes he and Ranpo had put in on their way here. The detective flips through it, skimming the passages before he closes it and tucks it under his arm. 

“You have evidence?”

“That’s why we’re here,” he explains, and at the mention of another person the man finally looks over at him, his eyes widening slightly. If he was a high ranking officer it’s no surprise that he recognizes Dazai. Dazai smiles and sticks out his hand, knowing the man was never going to actually shake it.

“Osamu Dazai, it’s a pleasure.” He’s met with silence, only getting a sharp glare in return, and he puts a hand on Ranpo’s shoulder, pulling him a few steps away from Dazai. Dazai just cocks his head, waiting. 

“Do you even know who that is?” he sputters, and Dazai laughs quietly. 

“I suppose I do have quite the reputation, hm?” The man bristles at his words just as Ranpo swats him off. 

“Of course I know who he is, I’m not an idiot!”

“If you know who he is then why’d you bring the Demon of the Port Mafia to my goddamn crime scene!?” Dazai cocks his head in amusement, a small smirk on his face as the two go back in forth. 

“He helped me on the case, so he’s helping! He’s a friend of Oda, you like Oda.”

“Ranpo-!” 

“Let’s go Dazai!” Dazai follows Ranpo, eyeing the investigator as he walks by, before refocusing on the scene. Ranpo’s studying a blood splatter when the man rejoins them, clearly still on edge. He and Ranpo begin discussing what they’d discussed earlier, going through the notes he and Ranpo had passed between each other at the office. 

Occasionally Minoura glamaces at him, tries to be subtle, but Dazai has noticed it every time. Eventually he just stares at him, and the investigator stops, the ground suddenly being more appealing. He’d laugh, but he doesn’t know how well it’d go over.

Dazai sees Ranpo move, goes to follow, but his body stills against his will. Goosebumps blossom across his skin, up his arms and down his back. The hair on his neck stands, and he turns sharply, his coat sleeve nearly slapping Ranpo in the face. 

The older detective whines, but Dazai doesn’t hear it, and doesn't care about whatever he’s saying either. He focused on the man in a suit on the other side of a fence, a phone pulled out, and he locks eyes with him. The other man  jolts.

“What’re you looking at Dazai?” He doesn’t hesitate to start running, not when that’s a Port Mafia agent, not when said agent looked to be taking photos. If Mori finds out he’s screwed. 

Dazai’s always considered himself rather agile, his own habits tend to take their toll on his physical health. Since his time at the agency, he’s had better sleep, eaten better and overall better health, so he hops the fence faster than he has in a longer time. His coat falls around his shoulders when he lands, and he takes off to his right. 

He knows these alley’s like the back of his hand, and he can hear the other running, can hear his panicked footsteps trying to find out where to run. 

He won’t get far. 

He slows to a walking pace when the sound of footsteps vanish, eyeing the trash cans and stray boxes littering the area. He looks over it all, and his eye lands on a shoe. It’s just barely peaking out from behind a few crates. It’s a dress shoe, far too nice to just be a shoe. 

A his lips twitch into a smile, and he steps over trash and other things, gets closer without so much as a noise. He can hear the man’s breathing, can hear him trying to muffle his panting. Dazai’s smile grows. 

He reaches behind his back, and grabs the hilt of the knife he carries, sliding it out. 

He hears the man’s breaths, is close enough to see him trembling. 

He plunges the knife into his throat before he can even react, blood splattering across the ground and the phone falls from his hands. Blood drips from his lips, a grugle forces itself out of this throat. Dazai twists the knife, the man’s head falls down, chin smacking against his chest. 

He crouches down, careful to avoid the blood, and picks up the phone. Chest tightening at the sight of the Boss’ number nearly typed in. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, snapping the device in half before throwing it in a nearby trash can. He reaches to his side and ripes the knife out of his throat, before wiping it clean on the guy’s dress shirt. It slides back into its sheath and he stands. 

He scoffs, before turning to go back the way he came. 

…

The man breathes out a sigh of relief, his breath shaky. The Demon of the Port Mafia walks off without another word after killing his partner. He swallows thickly around the lump in his throat, before looking down at the phone.

He hears his boss laugh through the speaker before the line goes dead. 

—

Dazai emerges from the shaded alleyway and is met with Ranpo and a cab. He’s tapping his foot impatiently, pouting as Dazai gets closer. 

“You can’t just run off during an investigation!” Dazai offers his best smile, can tell it doesn’t quite do the trick because of the less than subtle shift in Ranpo’s demeanor. He falls silent for a moment, and Dazai can see that green in his eyes peek out behind his glass before the older climbs into the cab without another word.

Dazai brushes himself off before sliding inside the vehicle next to him. 

“Did you finish up?” he asks, trying to avoid the topic of his disappearance. Ranpo huffs, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Nope.”

“Hm? Why not?”

“Cause I guessed pretty early on that you’re not supposed to be out here and someone you didn’t want to see saw you here.” Dazai keeps his face neutral, doesn’t give away the fear gripping his throat, choking him. 

“Is that so?” he asks instead, and Ranpo hums. He pulls another sweet from god knows where and pops it into his mouth. Dazai tries to focus on the sound of him chewing over the thoughts running wild in his head.

“Figured it’d be best we get away from the area. Minoura can finish it up anyways, I gave him all our notes!” Dazai doesn’t offer a response. Ranpo doesn’t ask for one. The car ride back is in silence until they pull up in front of the ADA. Dazai reaches for the handle, but a hand grabs the sleeve of his coat, and he stills. 

“I think you should stay away from the Agency for a while.” Dazai knows he should, but he wants to go back into that little office with chipping paint and warm laughs. He doesn’t want to return to the cold halls of the Port Mafia building, and he doesn't want to see Mori. He just wants to be with people who have shown no true hostility towards him ever since he began stopping by more. 

He wants to be around people who aren’t afraid of him. 

He nods anyways. 

Ranpo climbs out of the car before ducking his head back in. 

“See you Dazai.” He gives a lazy salute before the door slams shut and Dazai watches him go inside with a blank stare. 

Ranpo doesn’t tell anyone where he went, and he doesn’t mention the drop of blood he saw on the man’s shoes.