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The face paint seems a bit over the top to him. At least until they get to Tokyo. Not like he isn’t excited to go, but it’s still all so new to him. Chuuya insisted that they must have the whole experience. And man, he sure as hell won’t argue with the redhead. He doesn’t mind it, so why bother. If the other wants to have it, he will too. He can’t help that he’s curious as well.
Chuuya comes out of their shared bedroom with a backpack full of the essentials. They have to prepare for potentially not being sober enough to travel back. It’s the weekend anyway, not like they will be missed by anyone (Chuuya specifically told Mori that he might not be as available as he usually is). They both checked beforehand what they wanted to bring, and the redhead made sure nothing is missing at least three times in the past hour. Such fuss over things they could easily come back for, the city is a twenty-minute train ride, for God’s sake! Dazai finds it all so unnecessary.
“I really hope everything’s here,” Chuuya said, the worry evident on his face. Dazai goes up to him and cups his cheeks, pecking him on the lips.
“With your anxious pacing all day and yesterday, I’d be pretty surprised if you forgot something.”
“But — ” he starts again and gets cut off by another peck, bringing a rosy tint to his complexion.
“You worry too much, we can always come up with something, you know it,” Dazai tries to reassure his partner. “Shall we go?”
Chuuya answers with a resigned sigh, giving in. So far, surprisingly, the trust he has in Dazai hasn’t failed him. He takes his partner’s hand, leading them to the door of the apartment. His keys miss the lock once. Anxiety builds with excitement in his veins. The adrenaline in his system is confusing his brain beyond words.
The walk to the car is silent. Dazai is being oddly quiet. He is bold enough, though, to grab Chuuya’s hand. PDA is not something they do often. Feeling like the public doesn’t need to know for their relationship to be valid, they decided to not make a show out of it. Thus, it’s incredibly rare that either of them shows any form of affection on the open street. Chuuya smiles, squeezing his partner’s hand back.
When they get to the car, the air seems tense. Not overwhelming, but still heavy. They get into the vehicle like a routine carefully built up over the years of basically living together. Chuuya is the driver — for reasons unneeded of specifying — and Dazai sits in the passenger seat, not allowed in front of the wheel. Just the normal stuff.
The start of the engine is painfully slow, only making the wait all the more insufferable. Not much is said for most of the ride.
“Do your co-workers know you’re coming?” Chuuya asks out of the blue to ease the brunette.
“I’m not exactly out to them. It never came up, and I didn’t see the point in bringing it up myself,” he answers truthfully. If they asked, he would tell them without hesitation. Maybe not the being-in-a-relationship-with-a-mafia-executive part, but he still would. “Does anyone from the mafia?”
“I didn’t specifically tell them, but I wouldn’t be surprised to see some people. Honestly, I think Mori can guess for himself, it’s not like I’m trying to hide it.” Chuuya chuckles, pulling up to the sidewalk. Dazai looks confused for a second by that. “I doubt we’d find any parking spots further in,” he explains after seeing Dazai’s expression. He gets an ‘ah’ in return. They get out of the car, the brunette stretching his long limbs.
On the sidewalk, they spot other people walking toward the inner parts of the city. By the estimated distance, they assume it should take twenty – thirty minutes to arrive on foot. Chuuya grabs the backpack and slings it over his shoulders.
A sea of colors appear down the busy roads, the sunshine saturating it to the point of comfortable nausea. It looks like an abstract garden at the peak of blooming spring. Loud music echoes from the walls of buildings, inviting them in.
Anxiety builds in Dazai's stomach, taken aback by the sight. He gently takes Chuuya's hand again. He knows he can do this with the other's help.
The redhead gives a reassuring squeeze to his hand, smiling softly. He gives a pull, which finally takes Dazai out of his trance. The brunette gulps, nodding after a deep breath. Yeah, he can do this. They can do this.
The confidence in Chuuya's steps amazes him. The click of his shoes, the upturned chin, and the straight posture radiate a kind of authority that is fairly unneeded at this moment, but who is he to judge? He loves that in him.
Mere meters away from the marching people, he finally feels his heart's rhythm pick up at a comfortable, excited speed. Staring in complete awe at the crowd, Dazai finally doesn’t need to be dragged.
Dazai finally decides that the parade is a positive experience. They’ve been there for about three hours by the point they decided to have a break, laughing along with the people. Chuuya even convinced Dazai to let a random stranger put face paint on him when some of them stopped to take a break in a nearby park. It didn’t take much convincing, the girl was so excited she basically radiated the sunshine itself. The real selling point was when her girlfriend emerged with a full face of intricate designs in vibrant paint and a fair amount of glitter stuck to her clothes.
The shade of the tree they sit under provides a safe haven from the gross hotness of the mid-June day. Chuuya is quietly leaning against him, watching every individual, also resting with their friends, family, and partners, with great interest. Not having to explain anything to anyone feels good. He didn’t know he could have that.
Drowsiness is creeping up on him, making his eyelids heavy. That’s when he hears footsteps approaching them and a body lowering next to his other side.
“Fancy seeing you here, Dazai,” says the familiar voice. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was even before the person spoke.
“I’d like to say it’s surprising that you’re here, but that would mean I didn’t predict this.”
He opens his eyes, glancing at Ranpo. From his other side, Chuuya stares dumbfounded. Understandable reaction considering the situation, but he must not be alert considering his silence.
“I actually saw Yosano earlier, but her reaction probably wouldn’t be pleasant. She thinks she’s the only one here from the agency.”
“Is the president just adopting queer children at this point?” He thought falling into the conversation would be more awkward and slow, but this version is certainly more appealing.
“No, he ‘adopted’ you when you were twenty,” Ranpo answers with a cheeky grin.
“Excuse me for interrupting, but what the actual fuck?” Chuuya turns to his partner in search of any kind of answer.
“Hello, mister fancy hat, don’t mind me, just having a little chat with your boyfriend,” the detective offers not at all helpfully.
“I can see that, but what prompted i — ”
He is cut off by Dazai pecking him on the lips. Chuuya’s face turns red, gently pushing the taller one away.
“You worry too much, Shorty. I predicted this. So did Ranpo.”
“Wow, you talk so highly of his intelligence that I’m gonna start thinking you have a crush on him,” he smirks, not caring that the other detective can also hear the conversation.
Dazai makes a gagging sound, to which Ranpo nudges him.
“Ew, never. No offense, though.”
“None was taken, the feeling’s mutual.” Despite the teasing, the two geniuses start giggling, further confusing the poor redhead. “Also, who am I to butt in a relationship, I have manners unlike you.”
“You know damn well you don’t, you child,” Dazai says between giggles.
Ranpo pouts at him, crossing his arms to amplify his feelings of annoyance. Chuuya visibly relaxes at the familiarity between the two, seemingly putting away his worries for a while.
The idle moment is broken by one of the girls from before (the one with the painted face) approaching them. Worry is written all over her features. Her fidgeting hand almost immediately alerts the three men.
“Hey, what’s up?” Chuuya asks her, being the best at communication.
“I just wanted to ask if some of my friends and I could join you guys? There’s this creepy guy who started making homophobic comments at the entrance. My girlfriend handled it well for a while, but…” she stammers out. In the distance, the man is joined by some others his age, harassing the small group of girls.
“Of course, please do, actually, I will — ”
Dazai grabs Chuuya’s wrists and gives him a serious glance.
“Yes, join us!” he tries giving the most reassuring smile he can muster up. “And not now, Chuuya. We don’t wanna get in trouble in public. You know that,” he whispers to his partner, pulling him back down to the grass.
She sighs in relief, signaling to her friends that they could come over to the big tree. They swiftly get their things and hurry to the safety of being in a bigger group.
All of them bow deeply as a way to show their respect and gratitude.
It seems that the man doesn’t want to continue harassing them when he sees the new group contains men. Typical pig. Cowering away when he can no longer do things without consequences.
Dazai watches carefully as he takes out a phone. He glances back to the group occasionally while having the call. That raises all the red flags for the brunette.
“Hey ladies, I think it would be best if we finished our rest and went back,” he warns with a charming smile to sell it. “I think he is calling for backup.”
The girls peek at him, jittery.
Ranpo offers to accompany them on the way back to the parade. Dazai would do the same if it weren’t for the fact that he knows his partner like the back of his hand. The mafioso will not go down without a fight. And even if he knows they will most definitely win, he doesn’t wish for a public scene.
The pigs start nearing their spot after a few of his buddies arrived.
“I trust you will try handling it without getting into legal trouble? I have no desire to defend you when Kunikida questions you about it.”
“Don’t worry Ranpo, I have my ways with people,” Dazai beams at his coworker who narrows his eyes as a response.
When the rest of the group is out of sight, one of the assholes taps Chuuya’s shoulder, who lightly punches him. You can’t blame him, it was building up for the past ten minutes. A sharp glare is sent his way and Dazai is already sighing. This is not the mafia’s main territory. Trouble is building up by the minute.
“Hey, who the hell do you think you are?! Do you know me? I’m feared by many in this area, show some respect!” the meathead screams in Chuuya’s face, who just continues glaring in an ice-cold manner.
“Oh no, I’m so scared. Who are you? A lower ranking leader in some C category gang in the district?”
“Chuuya, stop, the president won’t get me out of trouble!” Dazai whisper-yells.
“But Mori will .” The redhead looks at his partner with pleading eyes.
Oh fuck it, what does he have to lose?
“Huh?! C category? Oi, you talk a lot of shit for some dainty little fairy, don’t you think? It takes me a mere press of the call button to have you beaten up by our strongest members!”
Dazai laughs out loud, manically.
“Not only are you admitting to doing illegal activities to a detective, but you called a trained martial artist dainty? Oh, this will be so entertaining to watch!”
“You skinny fucker, shut up!” another member shouts.
“Oi, shrimp, we should get going, I don’t want things to get nasty! These are my good clothes,” Dazai whines. He also winks, letting his partner know that they can finish this later.
“Y’know what, we’ll let you go out of generosity… we can deal with it later,” the leader says, whispering the last part to his comrades.
Chuuya reluctantly backs up. But not before signing a throat-slitting motion to the group of men.
In the sunset, they calmly walk alongside the dissipating crowd. After the earlier incident, they thought they wouldn’t be able to enjoy it any longer. They’re glad life could prove them wrong. Being alongside people like themselves felt amazing. Going to a bar after the post-parade euphoria felt like the right choice. Earlier, they met up with Ranpo and the girls who joined them. The little group decided to start walking to one of the better bars in the area, led by the ray-of-sunshine girl, whose name they learned is Satomi.
The walk is calm, even without any liquor in their system, the little group giggles on the streets of Tokyo without a care in the world. On the way, Rika, Satomi’s girlfriend, explains that the two of them frequent this one particular bar and are great friends with the owner. Which seems promising, so the three boys easily agreed.
The place is in a hidden, small street. Not busy at all, only a few people lingering here and there. Going in, it’s inviting. All of them feel relaxed when entering. Satomi leads them to a bigger table in a corner, bouncing excitedly.
The waiter comes to them and asks for their orders. Everything’s going peacefully. At least that’s what Satomi and Rika think.
Dazai and Ranpo predict everything when the subject is even just mentioned. And Chuuya just knows Dazai enough to know that the assholes from before could emerge at any moment now. The brunette didn’t share any clues as to when, though, so the ginger is visibly faking a slight part of his happiness.
With the drinks arriving, everyone loosens up a bit. Chuuya and Dazai will search for a hotel nearby, there’s no way in hell Chuuya’s driving tonight. Who cares anyway? His paycheck allows it.
Two drinks in, Dazai whispers to his partner that he estimates the bastards arriving in about ten minutes. Ranpo verifies the statement, preparing himself to have fun degrading idiots if it comes to that.
And lo and behold! Their predictions are never wrong. Rika gets in front of Satomi to shield her when her eyes land on the opening door and the man walking through it. A grin comes up Dazai’s face, getting ready to hop out of his seat. Chuuya is already standing up. He points in the direction of the leader in a way that challenges him to a battle. The gang notices them immediately too.
“Oh, look who’s here! Mister detective and the dainty martial artist !” he says sarcastically.
“Oi, let’s go then if you want to do it so badly. Now. Outside. It’s dark and this isn’t a busy street. There’s an alleyway just a few steps away. Us two and your entire gang.” Chuuya clenches his fist and speaks in a voice that demands respect.
“Hey, are you crazy?” Satomi asks, panicked. Dazai smiles at her. He shows her an ‘OK’ sign to put an end to her worries.
“Okay.” The group leader smirks. “Someone has to knock you off that high horse, lad.”
Chuuya almost charges at him then and there, his partner grabbing his wrist before he can do it. He also gets up, pushing the gang members to get out of the bar. The nearby alley is fortunately wide enough for the fight. It’s also a trap. It’s a dead end. But it’s not a trap for them. Oh, no, it serves so the C category gang overestimates their strength. Let them have a little ego boost before it’s ultimately knocked down.
“Oh no, we have little caged birds,” he croons, getting the other five members in line. “Well, it was your idea, so you can’t exactly complain about it. We will show you to not underestimate us, you sick people.” He looks at Dazai. “And being a detective isn’t an excuse to get out of legal trouble. Your boss won’t get you out of this one.” At last, he smirks.
“Mine won’t…” The brunette then points at Chuuya. “But his will.”
“Oh, so you asked him? Did you call him from my phone?” The redhead turns to him casually, not caring about the building tension.
“Yeah, he even said we should dedicate a punch to him! Finally, one thing I can respect him for!” Dazai clasps his hands together in excitement.
“Who the hell would do that for you, huh? The mafia?” One of the members jokes. Oh, the poor soul. Is he in for a big surprise! Dazai smiles at him eerily.
“Say… how much do you buffoons actually know about the underworld of the greater Tokyo area?” he asks, the smile evolving into a cheeky grin.
They look at him confused, then answer with what’s etched into the head of even the most amateur thief. The Port Mafia controls basically all of it. Nobody dares go against them, and that is thanks to a former partnership that earned the mafia the respect and fear of every organization under the sun.
“They did their homework,” Chuuya admits with a straight face, nodding in approval.
“But not good enough!” Dazai whines. The redhead can only roll his eyes. “But you idiots are right, Double Black was pretty dangerous!”
“What are you getting at, punk?!”
“You don’t want to be the reason for it to return.” The grin he sports gets accompanied by hollow, dark eyes full of bloodlust. “I don’t think we properly introduced ourselves. My name is Dazai Osamu. Former and youngest Port Mafia executive. And this,” he points at Chuuya, “is my ex-coworker, Nakahara Chuuya, current Port Mafia executive. And my ex-boss gave me explicit permission to destroy your lives without there being any problems in my files.”
Half of the men cower. The other half of them are hoping he’s kidding.
“You’re bluffing.” One of them looks at them suspiciously. He quickly takes out a gun and points it at Dazai.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” the brunette warns.
The trigger is pulled in a millisecond. A loud bang echoes through the hollow streets.
A red glow is all they see before they realize that an angry ginger is glaring daggers at them while the bullet is floating a mere inch away from his palm.
“I didn’t want to use my ability. That’s unfair. But if you really have a death wish, you should’ve just said so earlier, you motherfucker…” In a swift motion, he kicks all six to the wall. Two of them cough up blood. The other four are near to passing out. “Now, if you excuse us…” He takes Dazai’s hands, stepping on the pile of men.
The brunette leans down to kiss his cheek, slowly starting to pepper his face with kisses. After a good minute of taunting the unconscious bodies, they walk back to the bar, entering with a serene aura around them.
The girls look amazed, asking them millions of questions before they excuse themselves for the night and search for the nearest hotel with a decent rating. Poor souls don’t need to know anything about what happened out there.