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Dazai was bouncing down the halls, on his way to annoy Chuuya like usual now that their work hours were over.
Dazai had been forced to wait extra long to be able to bug his dog, as Mori had called Chuuya to his office for a private talk. About what, Dazai didn’t know. Honestly, he probably didn’t want to either. Mori never had good ideas.
Dazai just hoped Chuuya wouldn’t be getting chewed out too harshly, or he’d be in no mood to tolerate Dazai’s quips and would jump straight into the throwing-Dazai-out-of-the-window portion of the evening.
Dazai threw open the door to Chuuya’s room, fully expecting some kind of loud cursing or shrieking, followed by something getting thrown at him—if he was lucky it would be a pillow; Chuuya’s dumbbells if not.
But alas, nothing came. Strange.
Dazai cocked his head as he trudged further into the room, glancing around for any sign of the chibi. He should’ve been here by now. Mori wouldn’t have kept him for longer than an hour at this time of evening. It would cut into his evening shopping time with Elise, which was something Mori would never jeopardize.
Dazai shut the door behind him; if Chuuya was changing or something and would walk out any minute, he didn’t want anyone walking by to see.
He glanced to his right; the kitchen and sitting area were completely empty, no chibi there. Alright, how about the bedroom?
Dazai made his way to the bedroom door, nudging it open when he realized that it hadn’t been fully shut.
Odd. Something about this wasn’t right. This was not normal chibi behavior.
Dazai stepped into the room, giving his surroundings a once-over. Chuuya didn’t seem to be in here either, but Dazai had the feeling he was close. If Chuuya were around to annoy, he would’ve made sure to say something aggravating like my chibi senses are tingling.
He took another step into the room, foot catching on something. He leaned down to see Chuuya’s hat, along with his inner and outer jacket. His belt was a few feet away.
They were all wadded up, like he had just taken them all off at once and dropped them unceremoniously on the floor. Again, strange, as Chuuya always made sure his ridiculously nice clothes were well cared-for. Especially his hat.
Then he heard it; the sound of water spraying, coming from the bathroom.
So, chibi was in the shower? Well, Dazai supposed he could still annoy his dog a little bit, though it would be tricky if Chuuya couldn’t see his face.
He made his way over to the bathroom, again noting that the door wasn’t fully shut. Still, he knocked loud enough to be heard over the shower.
“Chuuya~ what gives?” He huffed exaggeratedly. “I thought dogs didn’t like baths?”
But he received no response. The shower didn’t turn off, nor did it sound like he moved at all. But surely he’d heard Dazai, right? Dazai had annoyed him like this plenty of times before to know that it should have worked.
Dazai frowned, nudging the door open a little further.
“Don’t tell me you passed out in the shower?”
Dazai wouldn’t put it past him. Chuuya did reckless things all the time. But surely he was too short to hit his head on the shower head, right? Not even Dazai reached that height yet.
But again, he received no response. Not even a huff or tch that he would usually drag out from the chibi.
Well, dignity be damned. If Chuuya had passed out in the shower, then there was a chance he could be drowning. And there was absolutely no chance Dazai was letting Chuuya die before him!
So, Dazai pushed the door the rest of the way open, marching over to the shower and ripping back the curtain to reveal-
Chuuya. Still in his pants and undershirt. Not passed out. Just sitting on the floor of the shower, staring at the wall numbly as the water drenched him and his clothes.
And the chibi looked like hell.
His hair was matted and wet, his clothes were soaked, it looked like he had tried to undress but had given up halfway through. His skin was red and prickled, some drops of blood seeping down the drain—from where, Dazai wasn’t sure. But there was a scrubber a couple inches from Chuuya’s hand, where he must have dropped it.
Whatever the chibi had been trying to scrub off, he surely must have gotten all of it, along with plenty of skin.
Dazai stood there for a few moments, blinking as he took in the sight of an utterly wrecked Chuuya. What had happened? What had done this to him?
Who had done this to him?
Dazai reached over and shut the water off before the chibi could drench himself any further. He hissed as he was splashed with ice fucking cold water. At least that finally seemed to get a reaction out of Chuuya, who blinked for what must’ve been the first time since Dazai’s arrival.
“Hey there, chibi.” Dazai huffed, fisting his hands on his hips. “Miss me?”
Chuuya’s gaze slowly lifted up from the wall and up towards Dazai’s face. It took an excruciatingly long time before their eyes met, and once they had Chuuya flinched away like he’d been burned.
Chuuya. Flinched.
Dazai felt a dark shadow of ice cold anger cloud over him.
Who. What. Where. That was all he needed, and he’d take them out. He’d make sure they never saw the light of day again-
“Dazai.”
Dazai blinked, refocusing on Chuuya—his voice had been so small, so weak—as the chibi slowly lifted his gaze back up.
Chuuya bit his bottom lip, which Dazai could now see was trembling.
“Please,” and Chuuya never begged. “Make it stop.”
Dazai could barely find his own voice through all his questions and rising anger.
“What?” Dazai muttered, barely restraining his taste for vengeance; he had to make sure his dog was okay first. “Make what stop?”
Chuuya’s eyes became teary, and Dazai just about forgot how to breathe. Chuuya was crying.
His voice was somehow even weaker, broken.
“Help me.”
-
Dazai had gotten Chuuya out of the tub, and through a painstaking process of assuring the chibi that he wasn’t going to hurt him, that he was safe, Dazai managed to get him to change out of his wet clothes and into something dry.
Now Chuuya was huddled up in his bed, knees pressed to his chest and hiding his face behind them. Dazai couldn’t very well pry his face away and force him to talk—he of all people knew that being forced into opening up usually just made it worse—so instead he was propped up behind Chuuya, rubbing his hair with a towel and occasionally running his fingers through it to soothe Chuuya.
Chuuya, who was now full-on sobbing. Wet, gut wrenching sobs, most of which Chuuya ended up choking on. If he kept this up, Dazai feared he soon wouldn’t be able to properly breathe.
But he had to take this slow. For some reason, Chuuya flinched whenever he moved too fast, so if he was going to stand any chance at calming him down, he’d have to do it this way, despite not really knowing what the hell he was doing.
“Chibi,” and Dazai was maybe a little startled that Chuuya didn’t immediately hit, throw or yell anything at the nickname he claimed to detest. “What happened? I don’t need details, just the gist.”
Dazai shuffled a little until he was sitting more or less in front of Chuuya, looking at his forehead.
“You came to me because you trust me, right?” Dazai licked his lips, scooting slightly closer to Chuuya while still giving the hatrack some space. “You came to me because I can keep you safe, right?”
And then Chuuya finally lifted his head from his knees, propping his chin on his knees and biting his trembling lip as he met Dazai’s eyes. Dazai did his best to keep his expression soft and inviting—it was the one mask he never was good at wearing, but Chuuya looked like he needed it.
And for some inexplicable reason, Dazai wanted to give Chuuya everything he wanted; everything in the world.
“I’ll make it stop.” Dazai muttered, not daring to break eye contact between them. He felt that the trust in this situation was fragile at best, and he didn’t want to be the one to break it. “Just trust me, and tell me so I can help.”
He half expected Chuuya to go back to hiding and sobbing; to turn away from him and reject his help.
But then Chuuya lowered his knees and scooted forward towards Dazai, until they were closer than they usually dared.
“Promise?”
Chuuya’s tone was apprehensive, his voice thick and weak.
Dazai set his jaw.
“I promise.”
-
Dazai was filled with a cold anger, more severe and calculating than he had ever been. He was almost exhilarated with the level he was burning at.
Mori had requested to not be disturbed, but Dazai no longer had any intention of listening to that monster’s orders.
Today was the day his reign came to an end.
With Chuuya safely hidden away at the Lupin Bar with his trusted friends Odasaku and Ango, Dazai could confront the boss—Mori should be back from shopping by now.
Dazai had also instructed his young apprentice Akutagawa to take a few things to Chuuya for his comfort, since Dazai himself could not. He would have asked Ane-san, but she was out of town on official Port Mafia business.
Dazai found himself sighing. It was a shame, as Ane-san was likely the one person who was more qualified than Dazai to comfort and stay with Chuuya in this trying time.
Alas, Akutagawa would do. It would be hard to mess up grabbing the things he had listed and stuffing them into a duffel bag to take to Chuuya.
Dazai made it to the door of Mori’s office. He glanced briefly at the guards standing on either side, but Dazai wasn’t worried about these imbeciles getting involved.
Dazai didn’t bother knocking on the door, instead swinging it right open. Mori would just have to deal with it—these would be his final moments regardless of how happy about it he was.
Mori perked up at Dazai’s arrival, clicking his tongue and shaking his head slightly upon seeing who it was.
So unguarded, unbothered. I’ll teach you today.
As soon as the door was shut, Dazai stepped carefully across the room.
“Chuuya and I had an interesting conversation earlier.”
There was no point in beating around the bush. He wanted this to be quick.
Mori straightened up in his chair, setting his pen down and folding his hands calmly over his desk.
“Is that anger I hear, Dazai-kun?”
Mori cocked an eyebrow, but for once Dazai didn’t bother with a quip of his own in response. Instead, he merely regarded Mori, noting his movements in silence.
“So that’s how it is, hm?” Mori sighed, shaking his head as if Dazai was a child throwing a tantrum. “Did you come for details?”
Mori sent a cold smile to Dazai, though it didn’t serve to intimidate him as he had intended.
“It was exhilarating.”
And Dazai’s entire body was seemingly doused in ice water, as the anger within him became so cold and brittle that he feared it was close to breaking.
Patience.
“His frame is sort of small, but I made it work.” Mori shrugged nonchalantly, as if this was a casual, lighthearted conversation.
Bastard.
“You have no idea of the power one feels when Arahabaki’s vessel is at your mercy.” Mori sighed flippantly, grinning once again. Dazai’s fists clenched at his sides; Chuuya was nothing but a vessel, a tool to this man—no, monster. “It’s a feeling unlike any other. I can understand why you are jealous.”
Dazai cocked his head, his voice dangerously calm.
“Jealous?”
“Perhaps next time I’ll share him with you, if that’s what’s got you so upset.” Mori winked— winked —at him. “It was quite the enthralling experience, to have a god on his knees begging you for mercy.”
And that was it. The brittle ice of Dazai’s anger snapped, suddenly burning so hot Dazai felt he might combust.
Before he even knew it, he was stomping over to Mori’s desk, pulling his gun from his waistband. Mori seemed almost unbothered, grin turning manic as he stood from the desk to face the gun leveled at his face head on.
“Possessive of your dog, much?” Mori cocked an eyebrow, shaking his head. “Or does the Port Mafia’s very own Demon Prodigy actually care about our convenient little tool?”
As soon as Dazai had stomped close enough, Mori knocked the gun from his hand.
“Don’t be childish, Dazai.”
That was part of the plan though.
“He’s not a tool.” Dazai spat, leaving the gun on the ground forgotten. “And he’s not yours.”
Dazai pulled his switchblade from his pocket and flicked it open quicker than Mori could react, slicing it across Mori’s neck in one smooth motion.
Dazai grabbed the hair on Mori’s scalp before he could fall, eye level with him as the light faded from his eyes.
“He’s mine.”
And then Dazai let go of the hair, dropping Mori’s limp body onto the desk to be assessed and dealt with later.
Dazai had thought about making his death worse, to drag it out and make it excruciatingly painful. But, the truth is, if Dazai were to make it long and painful, that would just give his death meaning. It would give Mori a final statement.
Mori’s death was meant to mean something; nothing for himself, though. His death was meant to give meaning to Dazai, not to himself or anyone else. Mori’s purpose was in his hands, and he only had one last purpose to fulfill.
Dazai wanted the statement of Mori’s death to be chosen by him, to serve only him. The statement in question? Don’t piss off Dazai, don’t mess with Chuuya, don’t cross either of them.
The fearsome Port Mafia boss hadn’t been afraid, and that had been his mistake. He shouldn’t have feared death, no; but Dazai, and what this betrayal was supposed to mean.
Dazai hadn’t particularly wanted to continue the tradition of putting a knife to the Port Mafia boss’s throat to take their position; he had thought that would’ve been giving Mori too much credit, and only living up to his traditions.
But instead, he decided to do it with a different intent. Whether or not he was put in charge of the mafia was irrelevant. Dazai was just trying to keep Chuuya safe. And now he could do that, by desecrating Mori’s most sacred tradition.
Dazai had now stripped Mori of everything he had ever had, everything he had built. It all belonged to Dazai now.
Dazai finally felt the dregs of his anger wash away as he watched Mori’s blood pool beneath his body and dribble over the edges of the desk. He calmly took the last step up to Mori’s desk, needing to be sure the deed was done.
He put two fingers against Mori’s pulse—or where Mori’s pulse would have been, if he were still alive.
Dazai smiled coldly to himself. Finally, the bastard was dead. His latest attempt at reassuring himself of his absolute dominance had been his last. It was his biggest mistake, that he didn’t even have time to come to regret.
Dazai stepped around the desk and faced the computer, already logged in as Mori had apparently been using it. Just some mission report he was reviewing with some odd findings; nothing immediately important.
Dazai minimized that tab and pulled up email, where he typed out a quick message to Kouyou. If he was going to make his big speech to the Port Mafia about his sudden promotion, he would need all of his executives there.
Besides, Kouyou was likely the person who could comfort Chuuya the most; it had never really been Dazai’s strong suit. He could eliminate the threat no problem, sure. But make Chuuya feel better? That was another story.
As soon as the email from “Mori” was sent, Dazai pushed himself back up and stepped away from the desk. He was covered in Mori’s blood, but no one would notice if he kept his coat buttoned up. At least not until the metallic smell started to stick.
He dusted off his shirt and coat, which he then buttoned. Then, he picked up his gun from the floor and tucked it back into his waistband, and wiped his knife on his pants and shoved it back into his pocket. With that, he set out from the office, making sure not to alert the guards of what had just happened.
“I’ll be coming back later.” He said, turning towards them. Immediately, they diverted eye contact. Mori might have been the boss, but the men had always been submitting to Dazai’s will more than his.
“Don’t let anyone see him.” Dazai commanded, causing the men to go rigid with tension. “The boss would still like some privacy until I return.”
The guards nodded hastily, though Dazai didn’t stick around to entertain that. He was already marching back down the hallway.
After all, with the threat eliminated, it was time to retrieve Chuuya and bring him back to where Dazai could finally keep him safe for good.