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When Chuuya is eight years old, he is caught in an exploding building.
He is caught, yes. He has nothing to do with said explosion. He does not know what he’s doing in this building, or why it’s exploding. All he knows is it has nothing to do with him. He certainly wasn’t in that lab when it exploded, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing everybody would just leave him alone-
No. He has nothing to do with it, and it has nothing to do with him. He walks away, unscathed, as the gaping hole in the ground quickly fills with bloody corpses. He doesn’t spare them another look.
After all, he has nothing to do with them.
Yokohama is a cold city in the winter. It doesn’t snow much, but it rains, constantly, and Chuuya finds himself soaked to the bone, threadbare red shirt sticking to his skin. His ribs are visible through the flimsy material. He is ten, almost eleven, and alone. There was a pink-haired girl, voice too peppy for the slums, and a boy with pinched eyebrows, too cocky for his own good, who tried to pick him up a few months ago. He had heard them talking about their previous friends, who they had left in the mud. He swiftly turned them down. The boy tried to punch him. It was laughably easy to shove him into the ground.
He doesn’t think he’ll ever see them again.
“I don’t have any money, idiots! Isn’t that rather obvious at this point?” Somebody yells nearby. Chuuya ignores it. He doesn’t care. It’s only worth it if they have money.
“Come on, you must have something! You sound like your mommy and daddy work cushy jobs and live in a mansion. Spare us a dollar, please. Just a dollar.” He can hear the smirk in the second voice. The guy definitely has a knife in his hand, Chuuya’ll bet his next meal on it.
“I’ll have you know my parents are dead , and I just got kicked out of school. Good luck getting money from me!” The first guy is back, and sounding way too confident for somebody in his situation. Chuuya’s stomach twists. He may only be ten, but he can fight, he knows he can. It has something to do with the exploding building, he’s sure of it, not that he’ll ever admit it. Besides, orphans make his heart lurch. Maybe it has something to do with how he is one. He doesn’t know.
“Oh? Your parents are dead, are they? Poor baby, no parents and no money. In that case, maybe we’ll just kill you, and take whatever’s on your body. How’s that sound, huh?” A third guy says with a laugh. They must be thinking, this is too easy. Like taking candy from a baby.
Chuuya’s had enough.
“Shut your mouth and follow me,” he says quietly as he approaches the group. The boy, who looks not a day older than fourteen, stares at him in disbelief. Chuuya tugs on his sleeve one time before walking away. The boy gives the men one more look, swings his gaze back to Chuuya, and breaks into a run.
“Kid, what do you think you’re doing?” The boy asks, voice loud and brash and uncaring. Jesus. How has he lived to be this old?
“Saving your life?” He snaps back. “Now shut up and just follow me, silently .”
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing, pipsqueak?” The guys shout. Chuuya’s pace just quickens. Beside him, the boy’s does too.
Still, they’re a pair of kids, and the men are tall. They’re staring them down within a few minutes, smirking and smiling. Chuuya is unimpressed.
“C’mon, we’re all friends here!” one of them says, “Let’s do this nicely, shall we?”
“Or we just beat the shit out of them-” the next one adds, “-like this!”
He swings a punch at the boy. Chuuya swiftly kicks him in the shin, and the strike has a lot more impact than should be possible. He ignores it. The man goes flying, crashing into a wall ten feet away. The next, snarling, brings his arm down, knife in hand. Chuuya deftly grabs the knife and throws it - with unnerving and strange accuracy - into his stomach. The final man, staring at him in shock, drops his knife. Chuuya grabs it in one moment and kicks the body away the next.
“...what the fuck.”
Oh, yeah. He’d forgotten that boy was still there.
“You’re welcome,” he says quickly, already backing away. “If I were you, I’d stay pretty fucking far away. The slums aren’t a place for former richies to walk around, flaunting their foolishness for everyone to take advantage of. You’re lucky I’m a nice person.”
“Wait-”
He slips into the shadows before breaking into a run.
He really, really hopes the boy takes his advice.
Time passes by. Spring comes, and Chuuya turns eleven. He stays in the slums, stealing whatever food he can and fighting anyone who tries to take it from him. It’s exhausting, but it’s survival, and he can’t afford to be picky. Spring turns into summer, and the weather blossoms beautifully, although rain still pours from the sky, keeping his skin perpetually wet. Summer flies by in a daze of sweat, makeshift soccer games and hunger. It dwindles away and in walks autumn, bringing crisp breezes, pretty leaves and schoolchildren chattering away with their mothers. He’s not jealous. He’s not jealous at all.
When winter finally rolls around, Chuuya sees the boy again.
He’s sitting on a bucket, mindlessly eating a hotdog he’d been able to buy from the vendor a few blocks away. He hasn’t had one in ages, and it’s delicious, the perfect warm treat he’d been looking for. There are snowflakes in his hair. He’s surprised it’s snowing, but not upset. It’s very pretty, in his mind.
The boy’s loud voice and sharp tone is unmistakable, though. “There he is!” He shouts, running over. There’s an old man wearing a yukata and a girl with a butterfly clip trailing behind him.
“I finally found you,” he says, breathing heavily.
“I’m surprised you’re not dead,” Chuuya replies.
“My name’s Ranpo. Ranpo Edogawa.”
“No offense, but I don’t really give a shit.”
“Blunt. I like your attitude.”
“Ranpo, is this the boy you described to me?” The old man says. He and the girl have finally caught up. Chuuya’s eyes linger on her curiously. There’s something about her, her posture, her eyes. He instantly wants to know more.
The boy - Ranpo, Chuuya supposes - nods quickly. “Yep! Strength like you wouldn’t believe. It’s gotta be an ability, I’m telling you.”
He stiffens. Oh. Is that what this is about? Abilities? No. No, he’s getting the fuck out of here. He did not sign up for this.
“Look, I don’t know what you’ve imagined up, but I don’t have an ability.” His tone is gruff. So what? These assholes deserve it, for springing such a situation on him. “I don’t, okay? I’m just a normal guy. So stay away, please and fucking thank you.”
Ranpo opens his mouth to protest. Chuuya is ready to bolt when the man says-
“Okay.”
“Huh?”
“Alright. If you say you don’t have an ability, then you don’t have one. It makes no difference to me,” he says. “My name is Fukuzawa Yukichi. Ability or not, I’ve come to give you an offer.”
Just then, the girl’s eyes sparkle . It sounds cliche, Chuuya knows, but he doesn’t know how else to describe it. One moment, she seems vacant, barely even there. The next, it’s as though her soul came back to life. She shoots him a soft smile. It keeps him in place, staring at this man with a strangely kind voice and a boy who - despite his annoying personality - he doesn’t want to see dead.
“What offer, exactly?”
Ranpo’s lips curl into a smile. The girl nods approvingly.
“A job.”
The Armed Detective Agency, he later learns. The kind of place that supports you, according to Ranpo. The kind of place that saves you, according to Yosano. The kind of place that protects people, according to Fukuzawa.
Chuuya loves it immediately.
He has no belongings to move into the dorms. The bed is more comfortable than he’s used to, and his first night is a sleepless one. It’s okay. It’s still better than shivering underneath a garage door, rain pelting his skin all night.
The next day, Ranpo wakes him up bright and early (not that he’d been sleeping). Apparently, there’s a bomb somewhere in the office, and Chuuya’s the only one who can stop it. He finds it easily, but there’s no time to disarm it. The choice is simple, easy. His life isn’t worth much, anyways.
When it doesn’t go off, he blinks in surprise. Curls away from it. Ranpo breaks into loud, raucous laughter and slaps his shoulder. Yosano bites back a smile. Fukuzawa emerges from the office, a rare look of pride on his face. Chuuya passed, apparently. He’s now a full-fledged detective.
A few tears slip down his cheeks. He doesn’t wipe them away.
Chuuya’s never really had a family before. He doesn’t remember anything before the exploding building, and afterwards, he just lived on his own, surviving off of scraps. But the Armed Detective Agency?
Well, they’re quickly becoming his family.
Of course, there’s Ranpo, loud and confident and always right. While Fukuzawa and Yosano agree with his every statement, Chuuya isn’t afraid to disagree, leading to many, many arguments (most of which he loses). Still, it’s fun, and he knows Ranpo enjoys them, too. There once came a time where Chuuya was surprised he was still living, and honestly, he still feels that way, sometimes. But they’re only four years apart, and he’s always wanted an older brother. Ranpo fills the position perfectly.
Then there’s Yosano, or Akiko, as he’s come to call her. The more time passes, the more she seems to unfurl, blooming like the prettiest flower in the garden. She’s smart, opinionated and strong - not to mention slightly bloodthirsty, which does scare him sometimes. Chuuya doesn’t know the full story of what happened, but he knows she only joined a few months before him, after a rather traumatizing series of events. Still, he loves her more than life itself, and he knows he would take a bullet for her.
Finally, there’s Fukuzawa, the boss himself. He doesn’t talk much, and when he does, it’s with few words, but Chuuya knows how much he cares. In his mind, Fukuzawa is a model man, compassionate and strong all in one. Chuuya wants to be just like him one day.
Time ticks by, and he grows up. By the time he’s twelve, he knows how to shoot a gun, hit a target with devastating accuracy. At thirteen, he knows multiple types of martial arts, and can hold his own against Fukuzawa himself. Every year, on his birthday, Fukuzawa asks him if he’d like to learn to control his ability. Every year, Chuuya denies its very existence.
He’s just turned fourteen when Kunikida Doppo shows up.
He’s the same age as Chuuya, although the two couldn’t be more different. Chuuya has never stepped foot in a school, while Kunikida has a perfect attendance record. Chuuya couldn’t give a shit about the rules, while Kunikida needs them like he needs air to breathe. Chuuya works full-time, while Kunikida only comes after school to get martial arts lessons and work the occasional job.
Still, he finds the boy to be pretty good company.
They do have one thing in common, though: Kunikida’s an orphan. Father was military, and died in the Great War, and his mother killed herself shortly after. It’s because of his father that he cares so much about discipline and rules, and because of the Great War that he wants to save people. Chuuya admires him for it. He only has two goals in life: survive, and protect his family.
Akiko makes a joke about how they’re all orphans. “Fukuzawa’s collecting us like pokemon,” she whispers, eyes glittering. They all erupt into laughter.
Things are going well. Life is going well.
He should have known better than to expect it to last.
Something goes awry on a mission with Akiko.
He doesn’t know if they got outdated information, or if somebody spotted them and warned the gang, but when they reach the warehouse for the raid, it’s already been booby-trapped. He manages to avoid them, but Akiko’s hip brushes against a crate, and all hell breaks loose.
A knife is dragged to her throat. Somebody starts to scream. Only later does he realize it’s him.
He doesn’t even know what he’s doing, but he feels lighter than ever before, and the ground cracks with every step. People fall to the ground like dominoes with a single touch. The man holding Akiko drops her quickly. Chuuya punches him once. His skull caves in, glassy eyes staring up at the ceiling forevermore.
It’s an ability, Fukuzawa tells him. For the Tainted Sorrow. Chuuya wants to scream, to shout, to cry. He doesn’t. He knows Fukuzawa is right.
The next day, he joins Kunikida for lessons. Luckily, All Men Are Created Equal activates, and he doesn’t lose control, not once. Nothing like the exploding building happens. He thanks his lucky stars. It feels strange, to let his full power out instead of holding back. He’s spent so long denying it that accepting it is almost worse.
Once again, Ranpo was right. He grits his teeth. He’ll have to add it to the tally.
Shit.
He turns fifteen. Ranpo is nineteen, and Akiko is eighteen, and Kunikida is still fourteen. He’s hit a milestone he didn’t think he would make. They celebrate with a small party and a chocolate cake.
Little does he know that this year, he’ll make the acquaintance of the most infuriating person he’ll ever meet.
The very person who will one day end his life.
The first time they meet - that fateful day in the arcade - will remain in his memory for years to come.
But mostly, he’ll just remember how annoyingly good Dazai was.
“Hey, Ed Sheeran. Fancy a game?”
And oh, is that a way to start a conversation.
“...what the fuck did you just call me?”
Dazai grins, and he can see all his teeth. “Ed Sheeran. Unless there’s another name you go by?”
Chuuya scowls. “You fucking asshole.”
“Ah, actually, my name is Dazai. Dazai Osamu. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” They pull up a stool and sit down beside him. “You are? Name, please, or I’ll just keep calling you Ed Sheeran. Oh! Maybe I could add some variety, call you ginger, or chibi, or hatrack? You’ve certainly got quite the ugly one on your hair at the moment.”
Chuuya… doesn’t even know what to say in response. First of all, his hat is not ugly! In fact, it’s a gift given to him from Fukuzawa himself, and he’d rather jump into the river than lose it. Secondly, what the fuck? Who does this guy think they are, walking over and just insulting him non-stop?
“If it’ll shut you up, my name’s Chuuya.” He mutters. “Now go away. I’m trying to play without weird fucking bandage mummies bothering me.”
Instead of looking insulted, he just looks delighted. “Oh? You noticed my bandages? Fashionable, aren’t they? I love wearing them.”
“No, they’re hideous, what is wrong with you?”
“Me? At least I’m not wearing the most atrocious hat of all time! Besides, what on earth are you wearing? Like, why is your jacket cropped? You look ridiculous.”
“Are you insane? You’re dressed like the emo son of Batman! Wrapped in bandages! How the fuck are you gonna call my sense of fashion bad?”
“There’s only one way to solve this,” Dazai says seriously. “You know what it is.”
“No, I fucking don’t!” Chuuya is getting sick and tired of this guy’s shit.
They grin. “I challenge you to a round of arcade games. First to three wins.”
Oh, they’re on.
Dazai wins the first round, then the second, and finally the third. Chuuya immediately demands a rematch. Dazai refuses, at least until he suggests betting.
By the end of the day, Chuuya stumbles home, red-faced and sweaty, with eighty-eight loses and one win. And considerably less money in his pocket, as well as the loss of his right shoe, half of his left eyebrow and the names of his first seventeen children.
All in all, a relatively productive day, he thinks.
“You what ?” Kunikida asks, shocked. His glasses almost fly off his face with how quickly he rounds the corner.
“Met the most annoying bastard ever at the arcade,” Chuuya mutters. He slumps over his desk, still missing a shoe. “The asshole called me Ed Sheeran, then proceeded to absolutely destroy me in video games. Like, what a fucking piece of shit.”
“Or you just suck more than you think you do,” Ranpo says with a smirk.
“I’m going to agree with Ranpo on this one.” Yosano pats him on the shoulder. “You’re lame, Chuuya.”
“Hey! You guys are supposed to be on my side!” He protests. “Not that it matters, anyways. Tomorrow, I’m going to go back, and I’m going to be the one winning, not them.”
“Oh? Tomorrow?” Yosano’s tone is amused.
“Yeah, tomorrow. What about it?”
“I just find it funny you’re already planning dates with this guy you’ve met once.”
Color flames into his cheeks. “What! Who said anything about a date? I just wanna beat him, that’s all!”
“Mhm, if you say so.”
Chuuya goes back to the arcade every day that week.
He doesn’t win a single match.
Somehow, though, in between Dazai’s gloating insults and their friendly banter, he finds he doesn’t really mind.
The weeks fly by, and Chuuya makes it a point to go to the arcade almost every day. Dazai is always there, sitting at one of the machines with a shit-eating grin and a nickname on the tip of his tongue.
(“Maybe I should start calling you slug,” they muse, still beating Chuuya without paying the game any attention.
“Slug? What the fuck? Where did that even come from?”
“You know, because you’re short, and slow, and stupid. I think it fits rather nicely, don’t you?”
“Oh, you rotten bastard. If I’m a slug, then you’re- you’re a mackerel, with your stupid eyes always looking like that!” His ears are going red, but he ignores it. He can’t let Dazai win, not again.)
Soon, it’s been over a month, and if he didn’t hate the guy’s guts, Chuuya would almost call them… friends.
Not that he wants to be their friend. What a stupid idea.
But he can’t deny it; there’s something familiar about Dazai, something so comfortable about spending time with them, he doesn’t quite feel with anybody else. He feels like he knows him, like sitting in this arcade is something he should be doing, always and forevermore. Like no matter what happens, or what decisions they take, these games at the arcade will always exist. It’s reassuring. It’s the most trusting Chuuya’s ever felt in his entire life.
…he probably shouldn’t be feeling this about a guy he barely knows, should he?
“Wanna go get ice cream?”
“Huh?”
“I said,” Dazai rolls his eyes like Chuuya’s the stupidest person they’ve ever met, “wanna go get ice cream? The arcade’s closing soon, but I don’t wanna go home.”
His heart leaps. An interaction? With Dazai?? Outside the arcade??? He’ll never admit it, but he’d been waiting for this. “Sure,” he replies, as nonchalant as he can be.
Dazai grins, a big smile that splits across his face. “Okay,” he jumps off the table and grabs Chuuya’s sleeve. “Okay, follow me.”
Dazai, unsurprisingly, gets the biggest size with the most disgusting combo of flavors imaginable: bubblegum, cotton candy and birthday cake all rolled into one. Chuuya, like a normal, sane person, gets moose tracks, and enjoys every bite of it. Dazai, somehow, manages to finish his entire thing, making it look not disgusting (an impressive feat). They eat it on the pier. The sun sets in the background. It’s incredibly peaceful.
But, of course, Chuuya is not a lucky person - not at all. And there’s a small part of him that’s afraid of the future. Afraid of ruining this thing he has going on, and losing one of the best things going for him right now.
If there’s any gods out there, I’m asking you for only one thing.
Please don’t ruin this for me.
It turns out, asking the gods is one of the worst things he could have done.
Arahabaki will tell you as much.
He starts running into Dazai everywhere .
On a trip to the grocery store? He sticks his head down the produce aisle and oh, look, there’s an annoyingly tall brunette with suspiciously familiar bandaged arms. Before he can run away, Dazai’s turned around with a smile, and an arm slung over his shoulder.
“Chuu-ya, my little slug, what a surprise!” He sings gleefully. “What might you be doing here, all on your lonesome?”
He shrugs his way out of their grip, glowering. “Picking up groceries, obviously. What the fuck else?”
“I, personally, am just taking a leisurely stroll here, but to each their own, I suppose.”
“There’s something wrong with you. Who the hell goes for walks in a grocery store ?”
“Me, obviously! Who else?”
At the library, Chuuya can often find Dazai standing in front of the assistance desk, gesticulating wildly with a book in his hand, arguing loudly with the woman behind it. She’s short, elderly and hard of hearing, but seems to have no problem countering every single one of their arguments. Dazai’s grin is massive.
“Oi, mackerel, what are you doing?” Chruuys grabs his arm, mutters an apology to the woman, and drags them aside. “Literally what were you trying to achieve? Don’t play dumb, I know you aren’t trying to take out that book.”
“Just having some light conversation,” they chuckle. “Lighten up, would you? She enjoys it, you can see it in her eyes.”
And damn, he hates that they’re right, that the next time he comes in, Dazai’s there again, talking to the old lady, and she’s fighting back a smile. Still, he’s stubborn and refuses to admit his faults, so he drags Dazai away again, and they launch into an argument about whether Shakespeare was a dickhead or not. (“He totally was,” Dazai argues, “Just listen to the way he talks about women!” “...or he was gay,” Chuuya counters, “Have you even heard his sonnets? It’s blatantly obvious!”)
Sometimes, he’ll even run into him on jobs. This is when he panics: it’s slightly irrational, he knows, but still. He’d like to keep Dazai separate from the rest of his life, at least for now. Finding out that your friend is an ability user and a detective working one of the most dangerous jobs in Yokohama is a shock, one he’d like to postpone for now. So every time he’s out with Kunikida, patrolling the docks or searching for missing people, he scans the crowd for a familiar brunette wrapped in bandages. And every time he sees them (which is more often than not), he turns away.
Then, before he can even realize it, it’s been six months since that first day in the arcade, and he feels almost closer to Dazai than his family.
Well, fuck.
Dazai never meant to get this close.
Really, he didn’t. Swears it on his life… okay, maybe not their life, because that’s pretty much worthless, but Hirotsu’s life, then. Or Ane-san’s. It just started out as a regular job. They swear.
“It’s just a simple job, Dazai. Can I trust you to complete this without attempting to kill yourself?” Mori had asked.
“No,” he’d replied. “Why would you ever think that would be possible?”
A sigh. Then, “Fine. Would you like to make a deal, then?”
“...what kind of deal?”
“If you succeed in shadowing the young Armed Detective Agency boy for more than six months, I’ll give you something that will allow you to die peacefully.”
“Really?”
“I never break a promise, Dazai. Now, do we have a deal?”
He never should have said yes.
But he did, and there’s no changing the past. He walked into that arcade six months ago full of bolster and confidence, only to take one look at the angelic redhead and crumble to pieces. Chuuya is loud, and angry, and short and violent, but he’s beautiful, and Dazai could watch him for days. They’re not human, and (excluding Odasaku) he’s never formed a real human connection before. They had thought, rather naively, that they could get through this job without any remorse.
Clearly, they were wrong.
“Well, what do you want to do about it?” Kouyou’s lips are pursed as she pours the tea delicately.
“I don’t know!” He cries out, draping himself across the table. “You know I’ve never had to deal with stuff like this, I don’t know how to handle it!”
She sighs. “You’re overreacting. Do you care about this boy?”
“Well, obviously, or else I wouldn’t be sitting here!” They snap.
“Tone, young man. Now, do you care about him as a friend? As somebody to go for advice? Or as something more?”
Now, it’s Dazai’s turn to purse his lips. “Why does that even matter?”
“It doesn’t, I simply want to know.”
“Hey!”
“What would you like me to do about this?” She asks again. “You’ve come for advice. What would you like me to tell you? That you should completely ignore everything Mori tells you and run off into the sunset with this boy? That you should forget about him, and drown your heartbreak in attempted suicide? Would you like me to speak to Mori about this?”
They slump back into their chair, an air of defeat in the action. “No. I don’t know. I don’t want to stop talking to him, Ane-san. But I know Mori would never let it happen. Maybe I should just wait for Mori to give me his special mixture, and I can kill myself. Then I won’t have to deal with this.”
“Maybe you should.”
“You’re supposed to be helping me here, not telling me to kill myself!”
“Would it stop you?”
“...”
“That’s what I thought.”
He stands up with a huff, the chair scraping against the floor loudly. “This is going nowhere. I’m going to go see Chuuya. For potentially the last time.”
She snorts. “You’re being melodramatic.”
“It’s not drama, it’s young love!”
“Okay. Keep telling yourself that.”
They give her the finger, walking away. Usually, he wouldn’t even swear in front of her in fear of her wrath, but she’ll give them a pass today. After all, it is the last time they’ll ever see Chuuya.
By tomorrow, they’ll have Mori’s death mixture. By tomorrow, Chuuya will have forgotten all about them.
He never should have said yes.
“Took you long enough,” Chuuya scowls, dropping down onto a red stool. “I was about to leave.”
“Sorry,” they reply. There’s not a hint of remorse in Dazai’s voice.
Chuuya frowns. He sounds strangely hollow. Sometimes, it’s true, Dazai gets into a strange sort of funk that he doesn’t really understand. He tries his best to support him, but it’s confusing, and he’s seen what lies beneath those bandages. He knows Dazai is a troubled person. He just hopes he’s doing enough.
This feels different, though. Dazai feels… subdued. Defeated. Like he’s given up.
It scares him.
“Dazai? What’s going on, are you-”
“Ah, Dazai. Just the person I was looking for.”
The new voice isn’t one Chuuya has ever heard before. Dazai has, though, if the way their posture stiffens and their breath stops harshly is any indication. Their hands begin to shake. Chuuya wants to grab them and calm them down.
“Mori.” He whispers quietly. “Did you really need to do this here?”
The man smiles, an eerie, cold shark-like thing. It reminds him of Dazai’s fakest smile. “It has been six months. I never break a promise, remember?”
“Who the fuck are you?” He interrupts. Like hell he’s gonna sit here and watch Dazai pull more and more inwards as this guy’s smile gets bigger and bigger.
Only this backfires- sort of. The man turns toward Chuuya, and annoyingly, his smile does get bigger. “You must be Chuuya,” he says, voice slimy and snaky and makes his skin crawl.
“How do you know my name? Dazai, what’s this guy’s deal?”
“The red hair is accurate… hm, I did think you’d be taller, though. Well dressed, other than that strange hat. You weren’t exaggerating, were you, Dazai?”
The boy in question draws their shoulders in even tighter. He’s gone completely silent. Usually, Chuuya would be at his side, trying to help him out, but this guy is creeping him out. He knows too much about him, and from what it sounds like, Dazai is the one who told me.
“Oh, my dearest apologies, Chuuya! I seem to have forgotten to introduce myself,” he continues. “My name is Mori Ougai. I run Mori Corporation, and Dazai here is my son.” He smiles sweetly. “You might know me better as the boss of the Port Mafia, though.”
Oh .
And, oh, Chuuya’s heard a lot about this man. Fukuzawa’s old partner, and the man who ruined Akiko’s life. He doesn’t really care how much good he’s done for the city, or what part of some agreement he holds up at the moment. Akiko is his sister, and he stands up for his family.
He’d really like to smash his skull in.
“You bastard,” he hisses, venom dripping from every word. “One day, I promise you, I will kill you. Got that clear?”
Mori’s smile widens. He swears he hasn’t dropped it for a second since arriving here. “I’m looking forward to it, Chuuya. You’re a strong, promising boy. That’s why I had Dazai look after you, after all.”
Wait.
What?
“What do you mean, ‘look after’ me?” he says slowly.
“Well, the Port Mafia likes to keep tabs on people of importance, and Dazai is a brand-new member, although already invaluable. So I assigned him the job of befriending you, and staying close to you, so the Port Mafia could watch over the Armed Detective Agency. Unfortunately, you didn’t utter a single word about your job, so that was rather fruitless, but I still got intel on you, and what sort of jobs the Agency is taking.” He places a hand on Dazai’s forearm. Chuuya tries to ignore the way they tense up.
“This whole thing… was a lie,” he whispers. “You fucking lied to me. For six months. You were never my friend.”
Silence.
“Well? Is that what happened?” He wants him to say no. He wants him to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness, to cry that he didn’t mean to, that he cares about Chuuya now, that he cares so much it hurts-
“Yeah. That’s what happened.” Dazai’s voice is quiet, but assured. “You were nothing but a means to an end. Thanks for getting me to my sweet and painless end.”
And he can’t- can’t be there anymore. He can’t be standing in front of him, listening to the sound of his life falling apart, as Mori watches on with cruel eyes. He does what he knows how to do best-
-he runs.
He runs, and he runs, and he runs. He turns down back alleys until he finds one that’s empty. He looks up at the sky - cloudless, sunny, perfect - and lets out a scream, angry and raw and painful. His fist pounds into the wall, over and over and over. His knuckles are bleeding. It drips onto his shoes. He doesn’t care.
The wall is fractured beyond repair. He doesn’t care.
His fingers are shaking as he pulls his phone from his pocket. He doesn’t know what to do. All he knows is he can’t do it alone.
“Chuuya? I thought you were out, what’s going on?” Akiko answers. He can hear Kunikida yelling in the background. Tears spring to his eyes.
“I-” Oh, god, it’s hard to speak without crying. “Akiko, I messed up.”
“I’m on my way.” Already, he can hear her moving. “Where are you?”
Ten minutes later, she barrels down the alley, dropping to the ground as soon as she spots him. He lets himself fall into her embrace, lets himself go for the first time in a long, long time - and cries. The tears fall like rivers, ever flowing and not stopping. His body shakes with every sob. He hasn’t felt this sad in a long, long time.
Well, it’s understandable, he supposes. A half of his life is gone, and he won’t ever get it back.
Dazai stays in that arcade.
Mori leaves almost moments after Chuuya, with whispers of praise and promise. They don’t hear any of it. They stay sitting on that stool, watching the children laugh and play games. He knows, deep within his heart, that this will be their last time in the arcade. He doesn’t deserve to come back. Not tomorrow, not ever.
Eventually, the arcade comes to a close. He picks himself up and heads back to their apartment. There’s nobody waiting for him there.
It’s hard.
Chuuya avoids the arcade like the plague. He also avoids ice cream, and fish of all types, canned crab and bandages. Ranpo looks sincere for the first time ever, and says he’s sorry, that he should have seen it. Chuuya just tells him that it’s not his fault to watch over people whose names he doesn’t even know. Akiko takes him out for ramen every friday, and she forces all of them (even Fukuzawa) to participate in family movie night every saturday. Kunikida mutters his apologies, then proceeds to treat him like a bomb that might go off at any moment. When asked about it, he just says, “You went through a breakup! I’m trying to give you space- I don’t know how to function properly!”
(Chuuya finds it ridiculous. They weren’t even dating, for gods’ sake! “We were just friends,” he protests. Akiko nods like she doesn’t really believe him. He doesn’t know what more he can say to convince them.)
But, with time, it gets easier to manage. He hasn’t seen Dazai since that fateful day, and he doesn’t think he ever will again. He keeps the memories lined up in glass bottles, surrounded with the smell of friendship and the sea. At night, he pulls them out, and watches them on replay. No matter how much he tries, he can’t make himself hate them. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to.
He goes on jobs. He saves people’s lives. He messes up Kunikida’s schedule. He gets dismembered by Akiko too often for his comfort. He engages in debates with Ranpo, which he always loses.
He manages to think of Dazai less. He manages to push the pain down. It’s good. Life is good.
That is, until he sees him again.
It started off as just a normal raid.
Now, Fukuzawa has been telling them for years to stay away from the Port Mafia. They’re too small of an organization, he says, without enough manpower to fight them. So they take the smaller jobs, the ones that don’t have any connection to the Mafia.
It’s not their fault, really, that this one happened the way it did. It’s a week after Chuuya’s sixteenth birthday, he’s tired, and Ranpo is on strike until Chuuya buys him a donut he supposedly owes him. It’s not their fault, really, that they failed to realize this particular gang was under Port Mafia rule.
Or, more specifically, that they had an ability user with them.
Chuuya doesn’t know who he is. He looks young, younger than him and Kunikida, that’s for sure. His black hair is cut in the weirdest hairstyle he’s ever seen (and before you say something about hypocrisy, Akiko wouldn’t let him walk around with a bad haircut, so it’s all the same length, braided to the side) and dyed white at the tips.
Plus, he’s really fucking strong.
Not as strong as Chuuya - obviously, he doesn’t think anybody could beat him in a fight anymore, not even Fukuzawa - but pretty damn strong, still. He took them by surprise, managing to knock Kunikida into the wall before Chuuya had him pinned to the ground.
“Well,” he starts, “I didn’t think that-”
“Really, Akutagawa, you couldn’t last a little bit longer?” A disappointed, loud, familiar voice says from behind him.
Chuuya spins around faster than light. And of course - they’re standing there, looking painfully bored, and also painfully okay and Chuuya’s breathing is quickening and he doesn’t know what to do-
“I got one of them down!” The boy- Akutagawa- argues.
Dazai sighs. “It’s okay. I didn’t expect you to beat Chuuya, anyways. He’s too strong for a weakling like you.”
Okay, he can’t take it anymore. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Hmm?” Dazai bats his eyelashes innocently. “Oh, Chuuya. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
Kunikida watches the scene, frowning. “Dazai? Isn’t that the guy who-” His eyes widen. “Oh.”
“Don’t play fucking dumb,” Chuuya snaps, “You came here on purpose. You fucking asshole, you couldn’t just leave me alone, could you?”
“Whyever would I want to give up the chance to torment my favorite little slug? You wound me, hatrack.”
“No. No! You know what? I don’t even need to be here. We finished the raid. Fukuzawa said to stay away from you fucking mafia creeps. Come on Kunikida, we’re going.” He grabs his friend’s wrist and drags him away, every stomp of his foot making a small crater in the ground. He’s always been worse at controlling his ability when his emotions are strong.
“Bye-bye, Chuu-ya! I’ll see you around!” Dazai says cheerfully. Chuuya ignores the shaking of his hands and keeps on walking.
He really fucking hates his life.
It becomes impossible to avoid them. Again. Only this time, Chuuya wants him to stay far, far away.
Another gang raid? Oh, well, the Port Mafia actually overtook them last week. That’s why he’s sitting in the rafters, playing nintendo switch with irritating callousness. A missing person? Yeah, sorry, that was actually the Port Mafia’s doing- or, if not, one of our enemies, and they actually took them out before the Agency could get there. That’s why he’s there, smiling gleefully as he shoots a bullet into his subordinate’s leg. A robbery? Oh, he actually organized that, because he was bored, and he figured it would be funny. That’s why he’s sitting here, counting his money with greedy eyes. Akutagawa is with him ninety-five percent of the time. Sometimes, they’ll be with an old man, complete with the gray hair and monocle. Sometimes, it’s a young kid, face covered by a mask and daggers in their hands. Rarely, it’s a loud, boisterous man dressed up like a scientist, weirdly obsessed with lemons. Even less often, it’s a child, with split-toned hair, strange-looking eyes and a bloody voodoo doll. Chuuya’s sick and tired of seeing them everywhere . He just wants to be left alone.
Sometimes, he lets himself imagine there’s a reason for it. Sometimes, he lets himself hope that Dazai does it because he misses him. Maybe, just maybe, he wants to go back to being friends. It’ll never happen, of course, because Chuuya doesn’t trust them anymore, but still. A boy can hope, can’t he?
The topic of the Port Mafia becomes a strained one within the Armed Detective Agency. Akiko won’t mention them, or even acknowledge them, unless it’s just the two of them drinking wine in her apartment, shouting about how much they despise Mori Ougai. Ranpo doesn’t seem to really care about them (like most things), and Kunikida won’t stop looking at Chuuya like a bomb about to go off. (Seriously, how fragile does he think he is?)
The next two years are hard. Things are a lot less lighthearted, and violent jobs become more and more common. They all buckle down in trying to find new members. Their searches are fruitless. Chuuya turns seventeen. They celebrate with an outing to the bowling alley. There’s a guy who looks suspiciously like Akutagawa loitering outside. Fukuzawa hires a new clerk, Haruno Kirako. Dazai tries to bomb the Armed Detective Agency. Chuuya turns eighteen. Radio silence from the Port Mafia for an entire week.
Then the rumors come flooding in.
Dazai Osamu has gone missing.
Their hands are stained with blood.
It won’t come off.
He should have known something like this would happen.
But, foolishly, they’d hoped Odasaku would be different. Hoped that those nights spent at Bar Lupin would never end. That his friend would stay, unlike everybody else. But clearly, they should have learned his lesson with Chuuya.
Nobody ever stays.
This is his fault. He should have done more. They should have protected him. He should have noticed, should have seen what Mori was planning so they could have stopped it. But instead, he just stood there, listening to him speak with that cruel, cruel smile, as he ruined the only other relationship that had ever mattered to him.
There is a funeral. Nobody shows up but him. Ango’s not even here, but then again, Dazai always knew he was a coward. The grave sits in a nice place, underneath a shaded tree. They sit next to it for hours.
Oda told him to be a good person.
Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to change.
Chuuya isn’t worried. At all. He definitely doesn’t care. At all.
It’s just that. Well.
Three days after Dazai is declared dead, a woman sweeps into the Armed Detective Agency. Her hair is the most stunning color he’s ever seen, and she radiates elegance without even trying. Her name is Kouyou, Ranpo says. She’s a Port Mafia Executive.
She wants to know where Dazai is.
“Why the fuck would we know?” Chuuya frowns. “I’m not his fucking keeper. We’re literally enemies.”
She purses her lips. “I’ve known Dazai for many, many years. Five, if we’re being specific. In those five years, I have watched him be lied to, cheated on, and manipulated by the adults surrounding him. He has the worst trust in people I have ever seen; and yet, there are- were two people in this world who he trusted.” She looks him dead in the eye, and his mouth shuts involuntarily. “One of them is dead, and the other one is you, lad. So don’t stand there and tell me you were his enemy, because he most certainly was not yours.”
And if that doesn’t knock the wind straight out of his chest, he doesn’t know what will.
“If you have anything- even just a rumor about his location-” her voice cracks slightly. For such a composed woman, she seems almost… desperate. “-please tell me. Here’s my number.” She hands him a slip of paper. “I know you are angry. But he does not deserve this. I do not deserve this.”
Then she is gone, sweeping out of the office in a blur of pink. He swallows thickly.
She is right. Chuuya was never their enemy.
But he doesn’t know if he can believe her. After all, how could those months of lies have been anything other than cruelty? His heart can’t take another crack, or it will shatter.
Dazai. I hate you. Please be alright.
As always, though, time goes on. He almost resents it. A month goes by without a word, not even a sighting. He calls Kouyou almost every day. She and Chuuya get surprisingly close, and it’s not been three months before she’s over for tea several times a week. In the wake of Dazai’s absence, the Port Mafia falls further and further away. (“It was always him,” Kouyou tells him. “He’d always investigate which cases you had taken, and infiltrate them. An obsession, Oda called it.”) It explains a lot. Also adds to Kouyou’s argument, that Dazai wasn’t just pretending for all those months. Every time he becomes the topic of conversation, Chuuya turns it away. He just- isn’t ready for that right now. He’s not quite sure he’ll ever be.
Six months later, another mafia member pays him a visit. Not one he really expected.
But here Akutagawa stands, completely soaked in the rain, on the dorm steps. He looks a bit like a drowned cat, Chuuya muses. He asks him if he’d like to come in. The young boy is wordless, but nods.
“So, what are you doing here?” He asks.
Akutagawa, a heavy blanket draped over his shoulder, coughs. “I wanted to see what you were like when you’re not fighting. What it is about you that’s so good.”
…alright, now he’s confused. “What?”
“Dazai always said you were the ideal to strive for. Strong, smart, talented… he wanted me to be just like you. I wanted to see what it is about you that made such an impact on him. Why he tried so hard to mold me after you.” His hands begin to shake. “I just- I don’t know what to do, now that he’s gone. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be.”
Oh, jesus. Even after he’s disappeared, they’re still dumping their problems on Chuuya.
“Look, kid… this might be a bit harsh, but Dazai’s a fucking idiot. And I’m not perfect. If I were you, I’d try to just- forget everything he said. But that’s harder than said.”
Tears spring to Akutagawa’s eyes. Oh, god, Chuuya isn’t equipped for this. But he pulls him in for a tentative hug, and that’s when the waterworks burst.
“I’m sorry,” he hiccups, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. We’re enemies. I- I don’t know why I’m so emotional.”
“Don’t be sorry. Dazai’s a real asshole, isn’t he?”
Soon enough, Akutagawa accompanies Kouyou on her visits. Chuuya hates to admit it, but the kid is growing on him. He turns nineteen. There are still no new Agency members. Kunikida quits his job as a teacher to work full-time at the Agency. Akutagawa introduces Chuuya to Gin, his quiet but thoughtful sister. They remind him of himself, living in the slums all those years ago. He beats Ranpo at chess for the first time, although he suspects he let him win. Akiko drunkenly announces her crush on Kouyou to him.
He turns twenty. It’s now been five years since he met Dazai. He spends the night drinking and crying. It’s okay. He’s okay, now.
But soon enough, his life will be turned upside-down again. Really, why can he not just live in peace?
A month after his twentieth birthday, Dazai turns up on the Agency’s doorstep.
Chuuya just cannot catch a break.
It’s Akiko who opens the door. She begins to laugh, before calling him over. “Just look who’s here,” she says, although Chuuya can’t tell if it’s a good thing or a bad one.
He really, really wasn’t expecting this.
“Hi, slug,” he says with a grin. “Long time no see, huh?”
He looks… different. Older. Time has served them well, Chuuya thinks. They’re even taller now, which irritates him, but they aren’t as skinny anymore, which makes him happier than he should be. Instead of the Mafia black getup, his coat is a pale tan, and he’s even wearing a bolo tie over a striped shirt. They look healthier. They look happier.
But Chuuya isn’t ready to do this. “What the fuck,” he says, and tries to slam the door shut. Dazai, the annoying prick, holds it open with his foot.
“Just hang on a sec, would you?” He grumbles. “I’ve got a meeting with Fukuzawa. I wouldn’t just show up unannounced! Who do you think I am, a barbarian?”
He glares at them. “Maybe. What if I did?”
Suddenly, there are loud footsteps, and Fukuzawa shows up. “Dazai,” he says, bowing his head in respect. “Please, come in.”
“Fukuzawa! Pleasure to meet you after all these years. Taneda has told me so much about you.”
He nods. “Follow me into my office. We’ll discuss in there.”
Chuuya watches numbly as the man he’s thought of as a father for nearly his entire life brings the boy who he loves and hates and loves and hates into his office for a cordial cup of tea. It’s surreal, that’s what it is.
“What the actual fuck.”
As it turns out, Dazai’s looking for a job. At the Armed Detective Agency.
Chuuya wants to laugh out loud.
“You can’t be serious,” he accuses. “You can’t really be considering this!”
Fukuzawa gives him a look, then- a look he doesn’t want to unpack, because it’s sympathetic and caring and guilty and fatherly, and he doesn’t think he can take that right now. But then, Fukuzawa’s arms are wrapping around him, and he’s hugging Chuuya, and oh god, he thinks he might cry.
“No matter what happens, you are my son, Chuuya,” he says quietly. “You always will be. And you are allowed to feel upset. You are allowed to show emotions. But this is the Armed Detective Agency, and we do not turn our backs on those who need our aid.”
And Chuuya feels like screaming, because once again, Fukuzawa is right.
When Dazai shows up on his first day at work, he’s late.
“You’re late,” Kunikida says. His eyebrow is twitching, but he hasn’t started yelling yet, which Chuuya considers a good thing. Ranpo is staring at them curiously, and Yosano is already on her feet, firing question after question. He can feel Dazai’s gaze on him the entire time. He keeps his eyes resolutely on his computer.
And when Kunikida seats them beside him, he can’t stand it. The cafe downstairs is quiet, and empty. He stays there the whole morning.
“I was wondering if I’d find you here,” Dazai says, dropping onto the stool beside him.
Chuuya just scowls. He supposes coming to the arcade wasn’t one of his best decisions, but after the shitty day he’s had, he couldn’t really help it. “Yeah, well, you did. Congratu-fucking-lations.”
“For what it’s worth, I really am sorry.”
“Yeah, I don’t really give a shit.” Lies .
“Did Ane-san ever tell you what I was really thinking during those six months?”
“Kouyou?” He’s surprised, although he doesn’t know why. “You know, she’s been looking for you.”
“I know,” they say, and Chuuya can hear the guilt in his voice. “I need to visit her soon. But I’m not talking about her right now. I’m talking about us.”
“She may have said some stuff. Not that I believed any of it.”
“Ah.” he shifts slightly, and Chuuya can hear the sound of scratching bandages. It’s uncomfortably familiar. “I’m not surprised. I don’t expect you to forgive me.” He pauses. “At least, not yet.”
Chuuya scowls. “You fucking lied to me. For six months . I thought you were my best friend.”
“I was your best friend. Did you have anybody else?”
He grits his teeth. “You’re a real fucking asshole, you know that?”
“I do. And it’s because of that that I’m sorry. I know you don’t believe me, but I really did care about you, Chuuya. You don’t have to do anything with that information. I’d just like you to know.”
Before he can answer, they stand up, dusting the invisible dust from his coat. “I’ll let you win this game, Chuuya.” Then he’s gone, sweeping away like he always does.
Chuuya doesn’t move for a while. He doesn’t know if he can.
Slowly, with shaking fingers, he pulls his phone out of his pocket.
“Hi, Kouyou. I’ve got some news.”
“And it took you this long to contact me why?” She asks with pursed lips, hands on her hips.
Dazai smiles sheepishly. “I was taking some time off. Some time to work on myself, you know? Finally took that vacation Mori was always advocating for.” He snickers. “Serves him right. I finally gave him what he wanted, only it backfired on him horribly.”
She studies them carefully. “You look happier. Please tell me, lad, that you’re happier.”
His fake smile turns into something softer, then. “I am. Don’t worry about me, Ane-san. In fact, I haven’t even tried to kill myself in two whole weeks! Isn’t that a record?”
To Chuuya’s surprise (although he doesn’t know why), she pulls them into a tight hug. “You scared me, you foolish boy,” she whispers. “Do this again and I’ll kill you. Do I make myself clear?”
Dazai’s arms tighten around her. “Crystal clear.”
His reunion with Akutagawa is… messier.
“I don’t wanna do this!” They whine, putting up resistance against Chuuya, except it’s failing, because they’re still just as weak as they were two years ago, and he has no idea what it was they were doing for all this time that would give them absolutely zero extra strength.
“Well, you have to. He had a mental breakdown after you left, did you know that? Showed up on my doorstep and everything. You dump all your fucking problems on me,” he huffs. “Besides, I know Gin is just itching to threaten you. I’d let them, if I were you, they need to get it out of their system.”
Dazai scowls. “This sucks.”
When they reach the Akutagawa’s apartment, they’re met by Gin, who smashes Dazai in the face with the spoon they’re using to make pasta. After the initial violence, though, Dazai and Akutagawa manage to have a peaceful, civil conversation (albeit guided by Chuuya), where the former apologizes, and the latter accepts (even though Chuuya tells him he doesn’t need to accept it). They leave with a box of cookies, a thank you from Akutagawa, and a threat from Gin. Nothing less than what Chuuya expected.
Now, Dazai’s mended every bridge he wanted to fix.
Well, other than Chuuya’s.
He’s not sure that one will come as fast.
A month before Chuuya’s twenty-first birthday, Kunikida shows up with a new recruit.
His name is Tanizaki Junichirou, and he comes as a package deal with his sister, Naomi. Tanizaki is kind, friendly, although slightly nervous. Naomi is loud, funny and rather blunt. Chuuya takes a liking to them immediately. Their presence brightens up the Agency. They’ve come a long way from the small group they once were. It makes him happy, and somewhat proud.
As Kunikida takes more time off to work with Tanizaki, mission partners get shifted around a bit. This, unfortunately, leaves Chuuya working with Dazai more often than he’d like. Although working with them is annoyingly less awful than he’d expected. Dazai, if you ignore his late entrances, suicide attempts and irritating personality, is a really, really good worker.
(He also finds himself missing their irritating personality more and more. It’s an inconvenient situation, really, it is.)
More than that, though, Chuuya can tell how much he’s really changed. How hard he works to prove that he’s a better person. He knows Dazai won’t ever be satisfied. He knows they’ll always think there’s more they can be doing, more they could be proving. He also knows, though, that he’ll be satisfied with it. He’ll always be satisfied. Dazai is a part of him, as much as anything - or anybody - else.
On his twenty-first birthday, Dazai gets him a nintendo switch console. Loaded up with all the old games they used to play. His eyes well up with tears.
It’s a start.
It’s two months after his reconciliation with Dazai that it happens.
It was supposed to be a simple job, really. He finds that all big things happen on supposedly simple jobs. Maybe it’s a sign that nothing is ever really that simple. But they underestimated the enemy, and Naomi disappeared, from under their noses.
It’s going really, really bad.
“I can’t just stand here and wait!” Tanizaki snarls, trying to rip himself out of Chuuya’s arms. “If she’s hurt, I can’t leave her! She’s my sister!”
“Rushing into things won’t help, Tanizaki.” Dazai says quietly. “We need more information. I’ll call Ranpo over.”
And they called him, speaking as quickly as possible, but Tanizaki is surprisingly strong when it comes to his sister, and Chuuya’s hands slip. The phone hits the ground with a clatter. He and Dazai lock eyes, and then they’re running, following the boy as he rushes into danger.
They really, really should have known better. Maybe then, none of this would have happened.
Chuuya doesn’t know what to do. But he can see the blade at Naomi’s neck, the knife held behind the man’s back as Tanizaki rushes him with a yell. He’s reminded of the incident, all those years ago, only it had been Akiko then, and he’d demolished them all. He doesn’t quite know how he’ll get out of this.
The strength erupts like a volcano. Nothing, and then suddenly, everything.
There’s always been more to his ability than just gravity. He’s known, ever since he first used it, ever since he first blew up that building. He’s always been too scared to acknowledge it, to scared to consider the possibility that maybe - just maybe - he might be a killer.
But now?
Now, he has no choice.
The god rips his body from him by force. Blood runs down his arms, crystallizing into symbols carved into his skin. His body is on fire. There is molten lava in his veins, threatening to implode beneath the skin. He is hurting. He is hurting and he is hurting others and he will hurt somebody he loves and oh god Dazai-
A breath of cool air. It all disappears in a moment.
Corruption, Fukuzawa calls it later. Chuuya finds the name fitting.
He and Dazai have fallen into a sort of rhythm. As much as he dislikes it, the Corruption incident has cemented all trust he might have had. They still have problems to work through, but Chuuya knows he’d take a bullet for him.
(All along, he always would have.)
Time passes, and Corruption becomes more and more commonplace, and with Akiko’s healing, it’s almost painless. The Agency gets a new member, a boy named Kenji with a sunshine smile and straw-colored hair. Chuuya takes him under his wing immediately. He and Dazai are healing. It’s going well. Akutagawa, Kouyou and Gin are over every sunday for dinner. Things are going well.
He thinks - for the first time in his life - everything might turn out alright.
Chuuya first meets Atsushi by the river.
He’s zooming by on his motorcycle (gifted by Kouyou, who else would have the style and money to get him such an amazing gift), looking for the idiot that is Dazai, since Kunikida called him in a huff to say the bastard ran away again. He’s scanning the river for a pair of legs, maybe some bandaged arms, or greasy brown hair, when he spots them, being hauled out of the water by a scrawny kid with silver hair and ragged clothes. Rolling his eyes, he parks the motorcycle, heading down, only to run into Kunikida midway and have the screaming increase tenfold.
As it turns out, Atsushi is the tiger they’ve been hunting all week. They get offered a place at the Agency immediately, which they accept hungrily. Chuuya watches in amusement as they drag Dazai out of a barrel. He watches their entrance exam with less amusement. He’s reminded of himself, only eleven, clutching the bomb tightly, like he was worth more dead than alive. His heart hurts at the thought. He hopes the Agency will give them a family, and a reason to live.
It sure gave him one.
Of course, though, with them, nothing’s simple. Akutagawa and Higuchi attack them the very next day, which comes to an immediate halt when Chuuya and Dazai show up. Still, Akutagawa can’t disobey direct orders, and while he does promise not to kill Atsushi, he can’t promise not to kidnap them. He can, however, tell them that the people who issued the reward aren’t evil at all, and that Atsushi will be in good hands.
Chuuya doesn’t trust that one bit.
Still, until the Port Mafia make their next move, there’s nothing they can do. So, they wait. Chuuya takes Atsushi out for ramen. They have a really, really good time.
Chuuya really likes them. He knows Dazai does, too.
Of course, life isn’t perfect, and they have another run-in with the Port mafia soon enough. A train gets hijacked and Akiko absolutely obliterates Kajii Motojiro (obviously). Atsushi, on the other hand… comes back with Kyouka Izumi, professional assassin and wanted by the law. Kunikida tells them she can’t stay. Nobody else says anything.
Chuuya doesn’t want to sit there and watch.
Of course, at the same time, Dazai goes missing. He doesn’t know what he should be doing. But everybody else seems to be paying attention to Atsushi and Kyouka, so it wouldn’t hurt to go looking for Dazai, would it?
First thing he does is call Akutagawa. He admits to not only knowing where they are, but having spoken to them not five minutes ago. He apologizes, says he didn’t want to disobey orders, but that he’s a much better alternative to others. Chuuya just sighs, rolls his eyes and hops on his motorcycle. Gin sneaks him inside, and it takes him ten minutes to find Dazai.
“This place is a maze,” he comments as he approaches them. “How the fuck did you spend five years in here?”
Dazai gives a half-shrug. “I didn’t. The key is to stay as far away as possible. The cargo container may have been cold, but at least it was far.”
Chuuya doesn’t laugh. He never does when Dazai talks about the Port Mafia.
It turns out they’re here for information. Akutagawa can’t tell them who issued the reward, but if he snoops, he’ll be able to find it. Chuuya just sighs again and the two of them creep down hallways. They’re a well-oiled team, he’ll admit. When they discover it’s the Guild of all organizations, he wants to scream. They’re infuriatingly strong. Why couldn’t it be a rich American capitalist who wasn’t the head of a powerful organization?
The two of them make it back to the Agency to find out that Atsushi had actually been kidnapped by Akutagawa of all people. Chuuya face-palms. He really needs to have a conversation with him later, doesn’t he?
Kyouka - who’s now on their side permanently - fills him in. Apparently, Akutagawa had been planning on letting Atsushi go, but the latter had just started off with a string of nonsensical insults, which led to a fight that was more akin to a sissy fight than a real one. They’re both sitting in the Agency’s infirmary right now, arms crossed and glaring at each other. Chuuya wants to laugh. It’s- it’s just so fitting, he thinks.
Well, at the end of the day, they’re all alright, and that’s what matters, isn’t it?
…for now.
Fitzgerald shows up the next day.
He brings with him a girl, Lucy Maud Montgomery. Not only that, but he also brings with him a deal, and a warning. This the beginning of something else, something bigger. Ever since Atsushi showed up, Yokohama has felt… different. More dangerous.
Something big is brewing. And Chuuya doesn’t think it’ll be good.
Chuuya is worried. Really, really worried.
The Guild is strong - he’d always known that. But strong enough to take out Atsushi, Kyouka, Kenji, Kunikida and Kouyou all at once? Atsushi and Kyouka had met up with Kouyou to discuss plans when the attack started, and before Akiko could show up and save them all, they’d been obliterated. His stomach roils. This is so much worse than he’d expected.
A hand places itself on his shoulder. “They’re going to be okay,” Dazai murmurs. “You know you don’t need to worry.”
He swallows thickly. “They will be today. But will we, as an organization?” He takes in a shuddering breath. “I don’t know if we’re going to survive this.”
The next day, Akutagawa stumbles into the Agency, with minor wounds. Something about blowing up the Guild’s ship, and taking out some key players. Akiko rushes him away. Chuuya curses Mori, not for the first time. The Agency goes into hiding. They split up into several groups. Chuuya sticks with Dazai and Atsushi, roaming the streets while the others protect their new location. They get a frantic call from Akiko, warning him about Naomi and Haruno’s abduction. When Tanizaki and Kunikida finally manage to save them, sending them off to Chuuya, Dazai and Atsushi, there’s an unwelcome guest at their side. Somebody he could have gone a lifetime without seeing again.
“Q,” Dazai says through gritted teeth. “What on earth is Mori playing at?”
It’s more stress, a few more battles and informational calls later when he gets called onto the battlefield again. The Port Mafia has suggested sending two subordinates out to collect Q from where they’re being held. Fukuzawa inquires as to who that is. Chuuya can almost hear Mori’s smirk as he utters his very own name.
How the fuck does he even know about Corruption?
He goes, naturally. So does Dazai. Their rhythm is safe, familiar, as they take out Steinbeck and Lovecraft. He ends up using Corruption. It’s painful, but it’s okay, because Dazai is here, and he trusts Dazai. He doesn’t even want to know what kind of weird eldritch horror Lovecraft is. They stumble home, battered and bruised. Dazai doesn’t leave him behind.
They never would.
Atsushi and Akutagawa beat Fitzgerald.
Obviously. Chuuya never had any doubts.
The two of them work incredibly together, just as Dazai said they would (if you ignore all the squabbling and petty insults). They remind him of the two of them. It’s refreshing.
Summer comes and goes. The city gets engulfed in fog. Dazai pretends to be a villain, but Chuuya’s known him for so long he can tell when he’s lying. He fights a dragon. And wins. Probably one of his proudest moments. Dazai saves his life, and he saves theirs. They lie in the rubble for hours. Atsushi and Akutagawa score another victory, and the fog is lifted.
Everything is as it should be.
Fyodor comes back, unsurprisingly. He kills a Port Mafia executive and poisons both Fukuzawa and Mori. Chuuya is full-on freaking out. If there was one person who he thought would never die, it was Fukuzawa. But here he is, lying unconscious in a hospital bed, with twenty-four hours left to live. He doesn’t know what to do.
“Just stay calm,” Dazai tells him. “Atsushi and Akutagawa will handle this one. You’ve fought hard enough. Just stay calm.”
He doesn’t want to stay here while his father is dying, but he doesn’t have much of a choice, he supposes. He decimates the Port Mafia as they try to fight back. Atsushi and Akutagawa come back with a victory. Fyodor goes to jail.
There’s a big celebration. But Chuuya doesn’t think they’re done.
Not yet.
Of course, he’s right. Things have barely settled down before Ranpo and Poe take on an especially strange case, which finishes with them being framed as terrorists.
Oh, and to make matters worse, Dazai is apparently in jail. Just great.
He’s not with Akiko or Kunikida or the others, the ones currently running for their lives from the scene of the crime. He’s not with Atsushi, wherever they are, and he’s not with Fukuzawa, who’s been rumored to have been arrested. He’s not with Ranpo, who’s been framed for the murder of Santoka Taneda.
He’s all by himself.
Actually, that’s not true. He’s with Kouyou, who he was able to reach after hours of frantic calling. She’s trying to connect him to Mori, who’s suddenly not available to pick up the phone, so Chuuya can get some backup and save his family.
He’s… scared. The Decay of Angels are strong. He doesn’t know if they’ll be able to survive this.
Then, finally, Mori returns his calls.
“You want my aid?” His voice is amused. “Funny. Fukuzawa just called to beg for the same thing.”
“Please,” he whispers. “Please. All I need is a helicopter. I’ll do whatever you want. I just need a helicopter.”
“Even join the Port Mafia? I have found my offense to be lacking.”
And, oh, Chuuya would rather shoot himself in the stomach than join the Port Mafia. But he’d rather his family be alive, and be his enemies, than remain a detective, all alone in the rubble.
A helicopter arrives in ten minutes. Kouyou tells him to be careful.
When he arrives, though, things are much worse than he thought. It’s not the Decay of Angels chasing down the detectives - it’s the Hunting Dogs. He’s only heard about them in passing before. They’re able to emerge with minimal injuries from his attack, and they barely get anywhere before a sword lodges itself in Kenji's stomach. Chuuya grabs him, fingers slick with sweat as he keeps him from falling out of the helicopter, but he doesn’t have enough hands to keep Kunikida from jumping out. The scream that rips from his throat at the sight of the explosion is almost inhuman.
There’s nothing they can do but go. He keeps the tears in. There’s no time to cry.
They get separated again.
The Port Mafia offers refuge for Yosano, Kenji and Tanizaki, a fact Chuuya is more than grateful for - but it turns out Mori wants his price paid immediately, and he doesn’t even get to say goodbye before he’s dragged into a whirlwind of blood and death. He doesn’t keep track of time. Night and day are the same, at this point. He gets a call from Mori. Numbly, he heads off and kills another troublesome gang. He keeps his eyes peeled for news of the Armed Detective Agency.
He doesn’t hear anything.
Gin finds themselves in the hospital after a run-in with a Hunting Dog. In the small hour-long break he has, he visits them. Akutagawa is nowhere to be found. He asks them about the Agency. They don’t know anything, they say apologetically. It’s fine. It’s not their fault.
He feels like he’s drowning, and he doesn’t know how to get out.
A week in, he becomes sure Mori is purposefully hiding information from him. He sees nothing of the outside world. He keeps him in constant work, drenching himself in blood and exhaustively trying to tame the monster inside of him. He asks for a break. He’s denied. He asks for news. He’s denied. He asks to see Kouyou.
He’s denied.
And one day, when news finally comes - it’s not the kind he wanted to hear.
Not the kind at all.
“My brother has gone missing,” Gin says worriedly. “He said Dazai had a mission for him, but he never returned.”
Chuuya grits his teeth. “We’ll find him. Atsushi wouldn’t just leave him. We’ll find him, okay?”
They nod. Chuuya makes the acquaintance of Higuchi, who’s looking just as frantically. He calls Mori. The man has no more jobs for him. He frowns. It doesn’t make sense. There’s something wrong with this picture, isn’t there?
Ah.
He gets his answer soon enough. It comes in the form of hungry vampires, infectious diseases and old friends.
He doesn’t fight back as Gin approaches him, eyes gone dark and teeth sharp.
He doesn’t fight back as their teeth sink into his neck, pain blossoming beautifully on his skin.
He doesn’t fight back at all.
Chuuya had always known he’d break Dazai out of jail someday. It’s just such a Dazai thing to do, end up in prison with no way of escape save for a cheeky phone call to him. That’s why, when he’d heard they ended up in Meursault, he wasn’t surprised in the least. He was so sure there would come a time in this battle when he’d storm the place and free his other half.
He just didn’t think it would be happening while he’s a vampire, and certainly not while working for the other side.
His mind is blurry. He’s not in control of his body. He’s reminded of Corruption, in a way. Of looking at himself from an outsider’s perspective, of watching his body complete actions he hasn’t requested. It’s jarring.
He follows Fyodor down winding paths, dragging dead bodies behind him. He wonders where Dazai is. He wants nothing more than to knock this bastard out and run to them. He stays perfectly still.
He watches Fyodor put in code after code after code. He wonders what sort of plan Dazai has. He can picture them now, in this white prison jumpsuit, meandering through the halls in that calm, casual way of his. He’s sure they have a plan. After all, he always has a plan.
The code doesn’t work.
He spins around as the alarm blares loudly, complete with flashing lights and slamming doors. “Chuuya!” Fyodor yells, and he feels the familiar tug in his body, dragging him to the door, trying to keep it open. His mind resists, and he’s too slow. His punches do nothing against anti-ability metal.
They’re trapped.
He doesn’t know what Dazai is planning, but he’s sure this is a part of it. He’s sure it will turn out alright. After all, this is Dazai, isn’t it? He trusts him with his entire soul. His other half. The only person capable of saving him from himself. He won’t let him rot down here, all alone.
The water is rising. Chuuya’s always hated the water.
Just when he thinks it can’t get any worse, the intercom crackles to life, and Dazai’s amused voice cuts through the room. He spends a few minutes taunting Fyodor, which he’ll admit would be funny if he wasn’t currently treading water like his life depended on it (because it does). His mind is still disconnected from his body, and he’s finding it harder and harder to stay afloat.
Then Dazai turns his attention to Chuuya.
“I’m sorry for the way things have ended, Chuuya.” He says sorrowfully. “My own partner, my detective. I haven’t been the best towards you, have I? A liar and a betrayer since the age of fifteen. I’m just glad you decided to trust me again, even if it were a silly mistake. You really are the other half of my soul. In fact, I think there’s a chance I may even…” His voice dips slightly. Chuuya can’t hear anything. “Actually, never mind. What am I even talking about? Goodbye, Chuuya. I’ll see you in hell.”
…
And that’s it.
He can’t quite believe it.
But the water is rushing up, and there’s nothing he can do. His body-which-is-not-quite-his thrashes beneath the surface, and he finally slips under. His body is sinking, but all his mind can think about is Dazai. Dazai, Dazai, Dazai, who betrayed him.
Again.
He always knew he would die young. In his line of work, with an ability like his? It’s inevitable. He always thought it would come in a valiant battle, saving those he loves, at a time when everything is happy and stable. He always thought his death would save those around him. He always thought the blade that would befall him would be that of an enemy.
He just didn’t think it would be his partner on the other side of the gun, no emotion in their eyes as they pulled the trigger.
He’d always known Dazai was a fucking liar.
It’s never hurt more than right now.
He spends the next five minutes waiting.
Waiting, waiting, waiting. He sits in the control room, Sigma standing shell-shocked behind him, as he stares at the monitor, waiting for the inevitable spike of energy that would signify Corruption. They know it’s coming. They thought the whole plan out. Arahabaki wouldn’t let his vessel die so easily, especially not when he’s not even in control of his own body. The vampire blood would fight the god inside of him, and lose, and he would return to his normal state. Then Corruption would activate, and Fyodor would be dead but Chuuya would be alive, and Dazai would save him, and everything would be okay. He’s thought it all out. He’s run all the tests, all the logistics. Everything ends up with the two of them alive, okay, together. They’re sure of it.
…but now, it’s been two minutes, and he’s starting to worry.
“What, exactly, are we waiting for?” Sigma asks nervously.
“Chuuya,” they say simply, hiding the fear in their mind with a confident voice. “He’ll be here soon enough. I’ve made sure of it.”
“Wait- sorry, didn’t you kill him, like, two minutes ago? We just watched him drown.”
He takes a deep breath. “No, Sigma, I drowned the vampire version of him. It’s necessary for him to become himself again. I know what I’m talking about, okay?”
There must have been some evidence of their fear in their voice, because Sigma backs down immediately, muttering apologies. Dazai doesn’t move their gaze from the screen. Not for a moment.
Another minute passes. Then two.
And suddenly, it’s been five minutes, and Chuuya still isn’t here, and oh god, Dazai’s fucking scared.
“He’s not here,” they whisper. “He’s not here.”
“Dazai?” Sigma asks. It’s quiet, gentle. Dazai hates it.
“He’s not- not here,” he’s having trouble breathing. “He’s not here. He didn’t make it out. Oh god. No. No, no, no. No. I didn’t kill him. I- I didn’t kill him. I didn’t kill Chuuya. Not Chuuya. Never Chuuya.”
A memory flashes through their mind. He’s seventeen, and he’s cocky, and he believes he can rule the world. They’ve just pulled off the fourth reckless plan in a month, and Kouyou doesn’t trust it for a moment.
"One day, you're going to try an extremely dangerous and reckless plan, and for once, it will fail." Her voice is soft, yet stern. "It will fail, and somebody will die, and it will be all your fault."
"Is that a threat?" Dazai's eyes gleam with the promise of death.
"No," Kouyou says sadly. "It's a warning."
At the time, Dazai had found it funny. But now, he just wishes he had listened.
Chuuya is… dead. There’s no way he could survive this long underwater. They’ve gone and done it. He’s gone and ruined the single best thing in their life.
The tears begin slowly, but soon enough they fall like moon-tipped waterfalls, harsh and crashing and sticky against their skin. He cries for Odasaku, and he cries for Chuuya, and he cries for themselves. They cry and cry and cry.
He hadn’t meant it, when he said he’d see Chuuya in hell.
After all, why would Chuuya ever go to hell? He’s never killed anyone on purpose. He has the purest heart Dazai’s ever seen.
They don’t belong with him. They’re a liar, a betrayer, a murderer. They belong in the final ring of hell, where all the monsters go to lay rest.
He’s never going to see Chuuya again.
It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense. After all, how could Chuuya die first? They’re the suicidal one, not him. They’re the inhuman one, not him. God, Chuuya is so human it almost hurts. Nothing about this is fair. But, then again, life isn’t fair, is it?
It’s fitting, he supposes. Dogs are supposed to die before their masters, aren’t they?
It’s time to say goodbye.