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There’s nothing to regret in his plans, because they’re all made to exacting standards. Each step is well-calculated, with allowances made for minute changes based on the involved party’s behavior. Dostoevsky is a formidable enemy, made even more difficult with the addition of Chuuya in the mix.
But, it’s nothing that he can’t defeat. With all the cards in his hands, it’s impossible to lose to a rat and a shorty, truly a matched pair with tacky tastes in hats.
“Not that they could wear their hats now,” he snickers, spinning on his heels as he practically bounces on his way out of Meursault. It’s such a shame that he can’t stay in the observation room for too long,
But even that is within his calculations—he has prepared a tiny television that fits on his palm, small enough that could be hidden inside a bag of potato chips. He really should have hidden it inside one, so he’d have something to munch on while he’s watching a chibi flail and drown like some tiny fish without fins.
Of course, there’s no way Chuuya would actually die from such a thing. If he’s a chibi that could be ended so easily, then Dazai wouldn’t have to spend every day of the past seven years thinking of how to kill him.
The important thing is to stall Dostoevsky, best if he could lock him in a desperate situation where he’d have to use his Ability and give him relevant data. If the process involves making Chuuya appear like a wet dog, then that’s even better.
A little bit behind him, Sigma makes a face before cautiously saying, “They don’t seem to be wanting to wear anything now.”
A part of him wants to tease him again—those who are pure like Atsushi-kun give truly funny reactions—but Sigma’s words cause him to pause.
Then, he inspects the live surveillance feed, before his gaze turns dark.
Right there on the tiny screen, he sees something very appalling.
It’s futile effort, but Dostoevsky still tries to lessen his weight by shrugging off his clothes. It’s a normal tactic to avoid having to lug along waterlogged clothes. It’s just that, Dostoevsky does that while in an enclosed space with Chuuya, the two of them floating quite close to each other.
The Russian demon’s paleness is already enough to make his eyes hurt, but that’s not the worst part of it. Oh no, the worst part is that Chuuya’s instinct-driven mind has apparently seen Dostoevsky’s actions, then decide that the best course of action is to copy him.
Chuuya starts his undressing with his coat, shrugging it off and chucking it to the bottom of the room. He kicks off his shoes like he’s sending underwater missiles: full of intent and snarls.
Because he’s an idiot chibikko who has the propensity to make Dazai’s blood boil, he doesn’t stop there. He also lifts his shirt, but finds that there’s not enough space to stretch his arms upward. In his stupidity, he ends up literally ripping his shirt off, causing Dazai’s nose to throb as if he’s been whipped by them through the screen.
“Chuuya, you idiot slug,” he says darkly, turning on his heel and marching back to the area where the two are contained.
Sigma sounds confused, like he’s already thought that he could predict his next set of words, before realizing that he still has a long way to go. “Huh? You’re not going to say something about how you’re forcing them to take a bath?”
“If they want to awaken my anger, then they should be prepared to face the consequences,” he retorts, continuing to march down the hallways.
This time, Sigma just lets out one big, “Huh???”
“I have no interest in men,” he clarifies, because this is a very important point. “And I’m even less interested in dogs. But now, I’m forced to see my dog get naked with a rat! What if he gets bitten and ends up spreading weird diseases?!”
“HUH???”
“A change of plans is necessary,” he declares, before filching out a key from his inner pocket. It’s a special override code to stop the flooding inside the containment room. There are other ways he can defeat Dostoevsky, ones that don’t involve him spending time in an enclosed space with a wet and naked slug.
“Since when did you have a key?!”
He makes a dismissive gesture. “It doesn’t matter. Come help me pull up that slug in a bit.”
“He looks like he’s going to tear you apart the moment you’re nearby,” is a very cautious response.
“I’m counting on him to bite me.” It’d be disgusting to have a dog cling to him, but it’s better than the alternative. “And then my blood would nullify the Ability controlling him, so we’d have one more chip on our hands.”
“You’re counting on him to switch to our side?”
“I’m counting on him to recognize his master, as all dogs should,” he says, then turns the key into the lock.
Within the next second, Chuuya barrels into him, mouth harsh as he bites his neck. It doesn’t take long for Chuuya’s entire body to twitch, awakening from the long dream of being a vampire, and then he’s roaring, “Why the hell am I naked! What the fuck did you do to me, oi!”
“You’re the one who wanted to take a bath with a rat,” he replies with a pat to the other’s wet back. As expected of a slug, his skin is so sticky that Dazai’s palms have no other choice but to stay there, holding him close. “You have to take responsibility and make it up to me for forcing me to witness such an atrocity.”
There’s a squeak and a loud facepalming sound from behind him, but that’s swallowed up by the way Chuuya yells at him, completely and truly awake.
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end