Chapter Text
Chuuya stared out the car window, watching the city lights illuminated by the contrast of the night sky, passing by as they turned into small streaks of color before his eyes. He felt a sense of urgency as he rapidly approached the Port Mafia headquarters for the first time in about a week. Holding his phone in his hand, he felt the urge to just call Mori now instead of waiting for whatever urgent news the boss had to deliver in person. But he waited. He waited for what felt like an eternity as he flew across the continent, was driven back to HQ, and was escorted honestly not quick enough to his boss’s office.
Watching as the giant doors of Mori’s office slowly opened, revealing the raven-haired man dressed in a bright red scarf, Chuuya felt like his gut was going to sink through him. It was not often that Chuuya was called to Mori’s office alone. Yes, he did go alone whenever he had to turn in a report, but when it came to information so important as Mori was making this out to be, he was never alone.
Chuuya’s eyes searched the room for a bandaged brunet, and that seemed to make Mori’s already pensive expression sag. If Chuuya’s guts didn’t already feel like they were gone, they would be obliterated by now. Chuuya’s expression darkened as he looked at his boss, the man he swore allegiance to. Elise seemed to be pouting in a corner, her back turned to the two as she crossed her arms. Chuuya didn’t even want to know. The room fell into a tense silence as Chuuya was hesitant to speak, waiting to see what Mori would say.
Eventually, Chuuya decides to speak up…
“What did you need to tel-”
“Dazai has betrayed the Mafia.” … just to be cut off.
…
Oh.
Oh.
Chuuya felt like a deer in headlights, stranded on a highway with no one to turn to. Not even the man he had trusted with his life for three years. Three goddamn years. Chuuya prayed that this was just some vile prank and that Mori was picking a page out of Dazai’s book. Fuck, even thinking his name hurts. Why? Why? Why does this hurt so bad? Why does he suddenly care about Dazai? Dazai fucking Osamu? Chuuya would laugh if he didn’t already want to cry. Fuck. Am I seriously going to cry over someone like Dazai?
Chuuya was confused. So confused. Why was it that as soon as Chuuya lost someone, he suddenly cares. Why. God fucking dammit, WHY?!
“Chuuya…? Chuuya?” Mori looks at him with a stern expression, no sign of worry or comfort.
Chuuya blinks as he looks up at his boss. He feels something slide down the side of his face. He brings his finger up to his cheek, dabbing the spot with his hand. It’s wet. He’s crying.
Chuuya scoffs, staring blankly into nothing in particular. He asks with a quiet voice, “…what?”
That night, no one knew exactly where the Mafia executive went. Well, not exactly no one. Only two people.
Chuuya carried the bottle in his hand, holding onto it like it was going to leave him and never return. Ironic isn’t it? He walked through the dimly lit streets of Yokohama, drunk off his ass. He’s normally quite loud when he’s drunk, but tonight is… different. Everything is different. And Chuuya hates it.
A loud crash sounds through the street as Chuuya looks down at the ground. The remnants of the bottle he just threw seem to taunt him as he stares at his pitiful reflection in the glass. Fuck. He stumbles to the wall, catching himself as he slides down, sitting on the pavement. Everything hurts. Don’t ask him where it hurts because he doesn’t know. It just hurts.
His head rolls to his shoulder, too tired to keep it up. The shattered glass sits on the pavement, reminding him awfully a lot of himself right now. Shattered. Broken. His eyelids feel heavy as he struggles to keep them open.
As a pair of legs dressed in beige sauntered over to him, he strangely felt no need to jump up and defend himself. He just knew that everything was going to be okay. It wasn't even his own intuition that reassured him, but rather an all-too-familiar voice that reeked of a certain fishy bastard.
As the figure picked him up off the ground, Chuuya caught sight of two familiar brown eyes as he drifted off to sleep.
Chuuya felt strangely well-rested before a searing headache ruined his mood. What seemed to ruin his mood even more was the fact that he just woke up in a bed, if you can even call it that, he does not recognize. He sat up on the mattress that looked like it had been thrown randomly in the middle of the room, clinging to the thin blanket that barely gave him enough warmth. He looked around the small, undecorated room, confusion filling his head. His eyes catch a glimpse of… hair? Brown, fluffy hair. Chuuya’s eyes widened. There’s someone else in the bed.
OH. MY. GOD. HOW MUCH DID I DRINK LAST NIGHT??????
Chuuya’s face goes red as he stares at the body, unable to see their face as they’re turned away from him. There’s something familiar about them, even from this angle. Chuuya slowly gets up, trying to see the mystery person’s face. But his movement was apparently not sneaky enough as the figure starts to shuffle, turning over to face him and- oh my god.
Blue eyes meet brown as Chuuya stares at… Dazai.
Wait. DAZAI?!
Chuuya was seconds away from murdering the man sitting in front of him. It was… weird, to say the least. Dazai was… different. For one, he seemed to be missing the bandage that usually covers his right eye. Chuuya could tell there was something very off about him. He’s used to Dazai practically radiating edgy energy but this? This was different. Dazai’s eyes didn’t just look dead, they were… empty. What happened?
Chuuya remembers the unfortunate news he learned yesterday as he stares at Dazai. His glare hardens as he tries to search for any answers in those soulless eyes. Why? Chuuya wanted to ask him but he knew he would get no answer. Well, he was partially correct. Chuuya had no reason to ask him because Dazai told Chuuya himself.
“I know you aren’t going to forgive me,” A very hoarse voice sounds out, “But… at least hear me out.”
Chuuya looks at him, surprised by his forwardness, before nodding.
Dazai went on to explain a lot. His upbringing in the mafia, his experiences working directly under Mori, and how he really became the ‘Demon Prodigy’. Dazai spared him the details of exactly what Mori did to ‘train’ him, and Chuuya was glad for it. He wasn’t completely oblivious to how terrifying Mori could be. He talked about how because of this persona, the thing Mori molded him into, he never found true comfort with anyone. Well… except for two people.
Most people were quick to distance themselves from him out of fear, out of fear for daring to touch Mori’s pet, out of fear of the Demon Prodigy. So when he finally found a person who didn’t see the Demon Prodigy walking through those bar doors, who instead saw Dazai Osamu for who he was, he knew he had to hold on to that person.
Chuuya heard stories of friends. Friends that would drink together, complain, or talk about work. Friends that meant the world to Dazai.
Dazai asked him if he knew about the Mafia’s recently acquired permit. Chuuya was confused by the question but nodded. He then asked if he knew how they got it. Chuuya reluctantly shook his head at that. He had been sent out on a mission before they got it, and he was too busy to ask how. He had no reason to.
Dazai went on to explain the conflict with Mimic and how they were bringing up a lot of trouble, especially with the government. The government really wanted Mimic gone and they entrusted it to the Port Mafia in exchange for the permit. Chuuya didn’t see where this was going.
Dazai explained Gide, the leader of Mimic’s, ability, and then his friend Oda. Chuuya listened as Dazai described Oda Sakunosuke, or Odasaku as Dazai calls him. He was an incredibly skilled individual but refused to kill. He took care of orphans and had an ability that sounded like an exact copy of Gide’s. Oh. Chuuya knew where this was going.
Dazai sat in silence for a minute before continuing.
“Mori knew how much Odasaku meant to me. And he also knew that sending him to kill Gide would get the job done, but kill him in the process.”
“But I thought he refused to kill?” Chuuya questions, clinging onto whatever hope that this wasn’t going where he thought. Dazai’s silence did nothing to reassure him.
“Those kids meant a lot to Odasaku,” Dazai says quietly. Meant. Oh god. Chuuya felt like he was going to throw up.
“I couldn’t stop him…” Dazai mumbles, his voice shaking as he seems to stare at his hand, “He spent his last moments telling me to join the light, save the orphans. He said that since I saw no difference between light and dark, I should be a good man. It would at least make my life a little more beautiful.”
Chuuya felt sick. He didn’t even know this man and yet… he understood where Dazai was coming from. After actually learning the truth of Dazai’s relationship with the mafia, and then how much Oda meant to him because of it, he felt like he understood Dazai on a whole different level.
Chuuya suddenly remembers a comment Dazai made when describing how his reputation affected him.
“You said you were never able to find true comfort with anyone except for two people,” Chuuya recalls, quickly grabbing Dazai’s attention, “You said Oda was one of them, and so I’m guessing the other is that friend of yours? That Ango guy?”
Dazai’s expression turns sour at the mention of Ango. “No. If Ango was included in that statement I would’ve said ‘three’. Ango turned out to be a traitor and I’m honestly not surprised. There’s no point getting angry over it because I was bound to lose everything anyway,” Dazai enunciates that last statement as if he’s trying to convince himself.
Chuuya tried not to comment on the fact that Dazai is also a traitor now. “Then… who is the other person?”
Dazai didn’t answer that question. He just looked at Chuuya. Because Chuuya knew the answer to that.
Dazai sighs, “I’m sorry… for leaving you.”
Chuuya is caught off guard by the apology, “What do you mean?”
This was then Dazai’s turn to be surprised, “What do you mean ‘what do I mean’? I left you without saying a word! I blew up your car!”
“You blew up my car?!” Chuuya groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, “We’re gonna talk about that later. But right now, we’re talking about this. You came back, you explained, and you apologized. And admittedly, you didn’t need to do any of that! You were getting out of an abusive environment that you probably wouldn’t have gathered the guts to leave if your friend didn’t spend his last dying wish to make you. So no, do not apologize.”
“But aren’t you at least hurt? I mean, I dragged you into the mafia just to leave!”
“Yes, I am a little hurt about that. No, I’m very hurt. But I also understand that you needed to get out of there, and I am not going to hold you back.”
Dazai scoffs, “Look at that, Chibi being all mature.”
“Shut it, asshole. If you really want to make it up to me, take me with you.”
Dazai freezes. He looks back up at Chuuya, his eyes wide as he tries to understand what he just said. “...What?” He asks, hesitantly. His voice shakes, as Chuuya scoffs to himself. He’s caught the Dazai Osamu off guard.
“Take me with you,” Chuuya repeats, sounding a lot more confident this time.
“No… Chuuya, this is my burden,” Dazai looks at him worryingly.
Chuuya chuckles, “Like that’s gonna stop me. The second I started trusting you, it became my burden as well. So let me share it.”
Dazai, for the first time during this entire morning, smiled. And it was genuine. He tried to ignore the warm feeling that filled his stomach at the sight of Dazai actually smiling. Chuuya watched as the brunet held out his hand, some headache medicine resting in his palms. Chuuya smirked as he took the pills. Neither of them commented on the way their hands seemed to linger at the small contact. They didn’t need to.