Chapter Text
His eyes burned as he ran, mind empty of thoughts except that he had to put one foot in front of another.
The city was soundless as it usually was at nights, providing cover for their night guardians to do their jobs.
It was also the best time for him to do his job.
But tonight was different. The air was sootier, drier, and hotter.
Destruction thrummed in the air, seeping into the very fabric of Yokohama’s nocturnal reality. Dust and grime layering over the full moon, making it seem almost blood red. The city’s normal citizens slept—or Dazai hoped they did, because it was especially violent tonight—in the safety of their houses, and the usual lurking residents of the night were quiet as well, as if they knew there was a stronger, more feral hunter in town.
Dazai never feared any of these.
So he ran, mind focused completely on the wreckage that was growing bigger as he neared his destination. With each step, he could feel the dirt sticking to his legs, even the standard-issue pants of his gakuran covering them. His face must be patched with dust and grime by now, sticking to his skin thanks to his sweat. His bangs were uncomfortable, pressed against his cheeks like wallpapers stuck on a wall, but he didn’t have time to care about any of that.
He had to get there soon, because Chuuya was—
Chuuya.
Lungs burning and breathing short, Dazai ignored the strained protests of his muscles, only allowing himself to stop completely as he spotted the two figures he was looking for.
In the darkness, he could make out their outlines almost overlapping each other, one taller than the other. Despite that height difference, they were similar silhouettes. The taller was holding the shorter up by the shorter’s neck, and Dazai’s heart leapt into his throat at the sight.
“Chuuya!”
The taller figure—Verlaine—turned around with a raised eyebrow. “Oh? If it isn’t Dazai-kun. How nice of you to join us.”
Dazai bit his lips and clenched his fists.
“Wouldn’t you say so, Chuuya?”
One night ago…
Settled quietly in the metal container, Dazai quietly hummed a tune to himself as he sorted through the papers he had kindly prepared for this particular client.
It had taken a good amount of thinking on how to deal with this specific individual. Mori-san had reported a break-in in the Port Mafia towers soon after that incident with Randou, and while he hadn’t recruited Dazai to investigate for him, Dazai had chosen to do so out of concern.
Natsume had accepted the brunet’s explanation with an amused smile that made Dazai’s cheeks burn—it was obvious he thought Dazai was doing it for Chuuya.
Well, Dazai couldn’t say that wasn’t the truth…because it was at least half-correct.
Sighing, he reached up with his fingers to rub tenderly at his temples. Everything was giving him a headache recently, and it was getting hard to concentrate on his work for extended periods of time. This had never happened before, perhaps he should—
The door to the shipping container opened. Dazai flinched, before collecting himself as quickly as possible, moulding his expression into one that of a polite smile. In his mental haze, he had missed the other approaching the container—it wouldn’t have happened for anyone, which spoke to just how good his opponent was.
“I thought you would’ve lived in a more…hospitable area, Dazai-kun,” Paul Verlaine commented breezily as he stepped into the container, boots clacking against the hard floor and the sound resonating in the space. His blue eyes scanned the area casually, but Dazai knew he was ready to act at any given moment. From the information he had collected, Verlaine was dangerous, even without his ability. However, he also had a fatal flaw, the same as Chuuya.
“Well, who knows if I actually live here,” he said, giving the papers in his hand a final pat to make sure they were all neatly aligned. “That aside, here is the information you asked for. It was a chore, you know, to collect all these,” he said flippantly.
Verlaine merely smiled in reply.
Dazai held out the papers.
The blond made no move to take them, still peering down at him with curiously amused blue eyes—his eyes were sky blue, while Chuuya’s were a darker shade of ocean blue, Dazai noted.
“I don’t have all day, you know, Monsieur,” he said, voice purposefully dry. This only seemed to tickle Verlaine more, as the blond cocked his head, fringe flowing to one side, smile widening.
“I wonder what it is about you…” he murmured, looking at Dazai from top to bottom, before meeting the brunet’s eyes again. “What is so special about you that makes you special?”
“You’re giving me too much credit,” Dazai snipped back, reminding himself to not grow impatient. “I am not anything special, I’m just me.” He shrugged. Verlaine hummed to himself thoughtfully, reaching out to take the papers from Dazai. The brunet watched with sharp eyes as the older male kept them safe in his pockets.
Dazai waited for the other to make another comment, taking extra care to not show just how tense he was. With a person like Verlaine, he couldn’t afford to let his guard down.
As expected, the next moment, his muscles contracted before he was consciously aware of it, as the blond assassin dashed forward, thrusting a blade at his carotid artery. But Dazai wouldn’t be Dazai if he hadn’t prepared for this. In response, Dazai slid his own blade from where he had hidden it in the sleeves of his dress shirt, pressing against Verlaine’s carotid artery even as his own back collided with the metal wall of the container.
His heart hammered in his chest, and it took a good amount of effort to steady it—even though someone as sharp as his opponent would have already caught onto his slip up. Verlaine smirked, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes.
“Do you honestly think you can kill me before I kill you?” This was accompanied by a gentle flick of Verlaine’s blade against Dazai’s skin, and the brunet offered him a saccharine smile in return, not in the least afraid of the looming threat.
“Please, I doubt you’ve forgotten just what my ability is,” Dazai replied, voice as sweet as his smile. “Also,” he continued, waving the blade around slightly, “I’ve made sure to coat this blade with poison~ Chuuya wouldn’t be able to handle this, which means that you wouldn’t be able to either.”
Verlaine, seemingly content with something, scoffed and released his grip on Dazai, retracting his blade in return. Dazai, seeing that there was no immediate threat to his life, returned his blade to its original position as well. The blond wasn’t actually serious about killing Dazai, it was clear from the fact that Dazai was alive—if Verlaine had wanted to do it, he would’ve been able to move faster. And even with Dazai’s preparation, as a sixteen year-old boy, he wouldn’t have been able to match the physical prowess of an experienced top assassin.
“I thought you wanted to kill everyone important to Chuuya?” There was no point in beating around the bush. Verlaine had come to Yokohama to collect Chuuya, that much Dazai could deduce. What the brunet could not understand was why he held back at a golden opportunity to kill Dazai earlier. It wasn’t that Dazai wanted to die—but it was a very real possibility the brunet had to consider.
“Mm,” Verlaine hummed in agreement, turning with a swish of his jacket. He looked so much like Chuuya at that moment, with his hat, his hairstyle, and that stance.
Dazai pushed that thought away. This was not the time to get distracted.
“Someone had recruited me to keep you alive,” the blond revealed, waving his hand as he made his way out of the container.
Dazai couldn’t hold back his flinch this time. Immediately, every single morsel of warmth he had felt with the thought of Chuuya was swept away by a cold blizzard, freezing him to his core.
“A word of advice, Dazai-kun: you have a very difficult fan.” The older male turned back with a smile. “Be careful of rats running about.” With that, the assassin disappeared, leaving Dazai alone in the container once again.
Dazai, along with his throbbing and painful headache.
Filled with a sudden urge to scream, the brunet grimaced, taking in one deep breath, and out another. It wasn’t the time!
“I think you should be the one to heed my advice instead, Verlaine-san,” he said to no one, squeezing a smile onto his face, cheek muscles twitching at the strain as he tried to emulate an emotion he did not feel in the slightest. “You’re hunting in my territory, after all. I don’t like people intruding on my city.”
“And Chuuya is stronger than you think.”
In another area of Yokohama, Chuuya was being ambushed by his friends in a bar.
“So? Why did you guys call me here so suddenly?” Chuuya asked, eyeing the people in front of him. “Really, if it’s about my Port Mafia anniversary, I thought we only had to celebrate the first year? Isn’t that already over?”
Lippman smiled teasingly over his glass of red wine, narrowing his eyes at Chuuya in that elegant manner that made Chuuya oddly self-conscious. Beside him, Albatross cackled.
“Look at our youngest. He’s all grown up and making time for his lover that he no longer has time for his friends,” the wheelman shouted, as if wanting to declare that to the entire world—or maybe just the entire Old World.
“You—you idiot! Dazai’s not my lover!” he shrieked, feeling his face burn.
“Chuuya-kun,” Doc cut in with a mellow voice. “We didn’t say anything about Dazai-kun, did we?”
Ah, fuck. Chuuya groaned at his slip up.
“You’re so smitten it’s quite cute to watch you both,” Lippman teased.
Chuuya slammed his head against the bartop he was plopped against. “I want better friends,” he grumbled. The crowd laughed in return—well, most of them did, Iceman merely smirked, getting off his seat to nudge Chuuya with his elbow.
“Don’t worry, Chuuya. I’ve heard that Dazai-kun likes cat cafes. I can recommend a few places that serve good coffee.”
“Shut. Up,” Chuuya growled without any actual heat, most of which have actually gone and made their home on his face. His face was so hot it couldn’t get any hotter. “He likes the cats, not the actual coffee,” he made sure to add on, before realising that he was only giving the other members of the Flags more ammunition against him.
“Oh, does he?”
Chuuya groaned again, hoping his voice would drown out any of the upcoming teasing.
“Next, you’d be getting a pet together,” Piano Man suggested.
“That’d require them to live together~” Albatross chipped in.
Chuuya had been wrong earlier, his face could get hotter. Now, it just felt like burning coal. Snapping his head up, he looked at his glass of equally red pinot noir, eyebrows scrunched in concentration as he thought.
Living together with Dazai, hmmm…
“He’s actually considering it,” Lippman murmured, looking at Chuuya with wide eyes.
Wait—no, Chuuya was getting distracted! Forget about living with Dazai (for now), they weren’t even dating!
“We’re not dating!” he cut off Doc’s comment with a shout, glaring at his companion and daring him to continue his train of thought. Doc smirked, snapping his mouth shut and shrugging his shoulders.
“Anyway,” Chuuya continued, hoping he didn’t sound as flustered as he felt. “Why did all of you call me here? It can’t be to tease me about Dazai, right?”
Piano Man chuckled, reaching over to pat Chuuya on his shoulder. “We were just kidding,” he said to appease the redhead. “We did call you over for something else, but you’re the only one with a proper love life in the group, and we just want to make sure you’re doing okay with Dazai-kun.”
“Even if I’m in the mafia?” Chuuya asked, an eyebrow raised. They lived in the underworld, and Chuuya had, with how quickly he had risen through the ranks, made himself a lot of enemies. While Dazai also had his fair share of issues, he didn’t want to invite trouble to Dazai’s door.
“Even if you’re in the mafia,” Lippman confirmed, nodding his head. “But that’s something you can take your time to think about.” He smiled. “Now, we called you over to give you this, actually.” He held out an envelope for Chuuya, who took it in confusion.
“What’s this?”
“Open it,” Piano Man suggested. “It took us a good amount of time to get this,” he explained, “but we managed to do it in the end.”
Chuuya did so, and blinked at what he was seeing.
“This is…” His voice wavered as he tried to comprehend what he was looking at. It was a photo of a boy—of him in a plain yukata, with his hand being held by a lady who was smiling gently at the camera.
“We managed to snitch this from the information in the Boss’s file. Thought it might come in handy for you.” Piano Man shrugged. “This was supposed to be your anniversary present, but you were searching madly for Randou—Rimbaud. We haven't gotten the chance until now.”
“Better late than never, yeah?” Chuuya heard himself reply, eyes still glued onto the piece of paper, a sinking feeling in his stomach.