Chapter Text
If anyone had told Dazai that a month after meeting him he was giving that annoying brat his personal phone number, he would have ignored them entirely. The idea seems appalling even now as he watched the first text roll in with a light ‘ding!’
Nakahara Chuuya | 1:09pm
Fuck you
“So eloquent,” Dazai scoffs at Chuuya, who is already glaring at him when he looks up, “What if I had given you Mori’s number instead? Imagine if you had sent that message to him thinking it was me?”
It had been a struggle to get Chuuya a phone. For the record, it wasn’t the fact that money had been an issue (they both got paid very handsomely after all, a measly payment like this looked like dropping pennies to the ground now), but it was that Chuuya had limited knowledge of how to use one it seems.
“I doubt even you would pull something like that,” Chuuya snarks back.
The two know that Dazai would likely do just that but nothing would come out of it. Mori would have made a comment about the text to catch Chuuya off-guard and then either Chuuya would back out with his head down, or bark and threaten like a poorly trained guard dog.
It’s predictable and boring, no matter how fun Chuuya’s reactions were in the moment.
“Also, did you need to record your voice to send that message? Are you so old you need to use speech-to-text to type out a simple message?” Dazai raises an eyebrow in his direction and gestures to the keyboard on Chuuya’s phone, “Don’t tell me you're that new to technology.”
“Of course not! This is so stupid,” Chuuya taps at the screen in annoyance as he opens up Dazai’s contact information, the simple grey picture with a white ‘OD’ matching the label of his name, “Why can’t I just walk to Kouyou’s office to see her?”
“Don’t be dense. Kouyou is an executive. She’s always busy and can’t drop everything to have tea with you or whatever,” Dazai responds simply as he watches Chuuya tap around on the screen for a moment, only for him to look up to glare at Dazai.
“Well, I know that!” Chuuya mumbles, “Don’t even like tea anyway.”
Dazai didn’t even get the chance to mock Chuuya’s childish behaviour even further before a bright flash caught him off guard. Blinking spots from his vision, he was surprised to see Chuuya holding up his phone. He asks, “Did you and your peabrain finally figure out the camera function?”
“I needed a photo for your contact,” Chuuya states rather calmly as he customizes Dazai’s contact, “It’s blurry, but I can tell it’s you.”
“You have four contacts,” Dazai says completely deadpan, “I doubt you’re going to text Mori thinking he’s me, and I trust you can tell the difference even without a contact photo.”
Which, to be fair, as much as he complains otherwise, Dazai knew that Chuuya was quite competent. He was the King of the Sheep less than a few months ago after all.
The Sheep were a gang of kids all under the age of twenty that took Suribachi city as their territory with Chuuya as their appointed leader. Looking back on it Dazai is convinced that the Sheep were filled with people who believed brute force was the only answer (it’s likely the reason, if not one of the reasons, that Chuuya is as fierce as he currently is anyway).
They all lacked the careful planning or the forethought of going against the Port Mafia and the GSS. The Sheep were only able to get so far because of the man sitting beside Dazai, but without him? Nothing but rebellious school dropouts.
“Are you going to pick one or what?” Chuuya frowns at him. He had picked a cyborg character that was all attack and defence with no stamina or agility stats. A very Chuuya-like choice. (Dazai ignores the fact that Chuuya is very agile.)
“It’s called counter-picking, mutt. But I guess you never really spent time carefully planning and always punching,” Dazai waves a hand flippantly and selects a character.
It’s an overly feminine character with bright pink hair that makes Chuuya frown. He carefully studies Chuuya’s gaze, watching as his eyes move away from the pop-up that lists the abilities of Dazai’s character.
Unsurprisingly, the battle was won, and not even in a fiery ball of glory. Chuuya had picked up a mystery item and misused it. That was a little funny, Dazai had to admit.
Playing with Chuuya was easier than playing with Elise, but that’s also what made it more boring at times. Sure, he got the satisfaction of hearing Chuuya’s barks of anger, but there was no strategy to button-smashing and simply guessing the uses of the items he picks up.
“You…” Chuuya growls loudly while unscrewing the cap of some cheap soda pop bottle to sip at it. It didn’t matter how much money Chuuya earned from his first job as a mafioso, he always went back to some cheap convenience store just outside of the Suribachi crater and stockpiled junk food.
His small apartment reflected that very clearly with the dirty clothes tossed every which way, blankets covering the couch because he had yet to get used to a mattress, chip bags and soda pop bottles overflowing from the garbage can.
Dazai rolls his eyes merely in response as he eats a small handful of chips. He hadn’t even wanted anything when Chuuya dragged him to the run-down store, but the incessant look he received from Chuuya made him grab the first thing he liked. He wasn’t going to say anything if he was insisting on paying.
“You should have known half of my abilities wouldn’t affect you if you hit ZL and B at the same time. It said it in the corner when I selected my character, but I guess you can’t read,” Dazai scoffs, finding amusement in the way Chuuya nearly spits out his drink to insult him.
“I was distracted,” Chuuya says, setting the bottle down onto a crumpled-up sheet with four names and their corresponding phone number. It had been written by Kouyou judging by the neat script and careful penmanship labelling her own number, Mori’s, Dazai’s and Hirotsu’s, which Chuuya had put into his phone as soon as he learned how to create a contact– ten minutes ago.
“Don’t tell me you’re turning into one of those brats who can’t look away from their devices for ten minutes,” Dazai huffs petulantly, “You got it only two days ago.”
Chuuya retaliates with a scowl and a kick in his direction that easily misses, “I don’t give a flying fuck about the damn phone!”
In the back of his mind, Dazai wonders if Chuuya could go five minutes without swearing but he figures it’s a job for Kouyou, whenever she finishes shifting around her schedule to make room for training Chuuya. “Right, right, so then why didn’t you care when my character’s weaknesses were displayed on the screen?”
“I just couldn’t hit the command in time!” Chuuya barks.
To no one’s surprise, this starts another round of insults that escalated quickly into throwing whatever was close at hand. Dazai nearly trips over a lazily-tossed and inside-out sweater that was laying on the ground as he ducks behind the couch to avoid the onslaught of throw pillows that began to rain down on him. Reaching behind him, he grabs from the top of the pile of dirty clothes that have gathered up, and he tosses a white shirt at him in retaliation.
“It’s not my fault you’re bad at the game!”
“You just cheat, how does that make it fun?!”
Shortly after that, he was shoved out of the dirty apartment with a heavy huff from Chuuya as he slams the door right in Dazai’s face, after dropping him to the floor like a wet cat (he even carried him by the back of his shirt like he was a cat too). “So temperamental,” Dazai clicks his tongue lightly as he shakes his head.
Chuuya was known for being short-fused (his fuse was probably just as tall as he was, he muses) but this past week he had been more like a coiled spring waiting to be sprung, wound too tightly with tension.
Damn Sheep, no manners for their space.
No matter, he decides as he turns on his heel, he can just mock Chuuya before the meeting tomorrow and during, and after, of course, because that’s where most of his entertainment came from.
Dazai drums his fingers against the table in irritation. Not much can catch him off guard, but he truly didn’t expect Chuuya to be late for the meeting, so now he had to deal with Kouyou and Mori’s leisurely chats as they watch the clock tick to the designated time. Colonel’s expression has yet to change as he skims over a book that is too worn down for Dazai to read the cover, and Ace is ‘fashionably’ late as he usually claims.
Dazai Osamu | 8:24am
Hurry up
Dazai Osamu | 8:30am
You’re as slow as a slug
Dazai Osamu | 8:38am
Seriously where are you
The swoosh sound of the text messages being sent off starts to annoy him by the time a soft ringing noise fills the room. The screen shows that Chuuya (his contact under the name Slug) was calling him.
“Do tell him to hurry,” Mori states with a sigh, waving a hand to dismiss Dazai from the room.
Pressing the button, Dazai puts the phone to his ear and hurriedly walks out, “Where are you?” He hisses softly as he shuts the door.
“What’s all the messages ‘bout?” Chuuya’s sleepy morning voice greets Dazai, and it almost sends him into a bout of irritation once more.
“ Uh, the meeting that Mori scheduled- Hello? Did you even get the email he sent last night?” Dazai demands, rather than asks.
The immediate cursing and shuffling heard from the other end of the line are his telltale that no, Chuuya did not read the email. “Couldn’t you have told me when you were here?!” Chuuya shouts angrily.
“You’re the one that shoved me out the door at three in the afternoon! Maybe if you hadn’t’ve kicked me out of your dirty place so early, I would have been there when he sent the email!” Dazai retorts with annoyance in his tone.
“You were the one- Ugh! Never mind!” Chuuya says as Dazai could hear his footsteps echo through the apartment.
“Also! I know your email notifications are on, so why the hell didn’t you get the email last night, huh?” Dazai demands sharply, “Or any of my messages asking where you’ve been? Trying to make me seem like a bad dog owner?”
“I’m not your damn dog! The bet was void because you cheated at the damn arcade!” Chuuya did not answer his other questions and simply hung up the phone before Dazai could poke at him more for it.
Luckily, Chuuya didn’t fool around when it came to meetings, and he also has an ability that can help him fly through the air. About seven minutes (no he wasn’t counting, shut up) pass and the elevator slides open. Chuuya stands there with a tired but irritated look in his eyes as he shoves his phone into the pocket of his tacky leather jacket.
“There you are! I’m thinking I should have you microchipped!” Dazai sighs and rolls his eyes with extra exaggeration. Well, he already did actually, Chuuya’s phone had a tracker in it, but like hell was he ever going to admit that to his face.
Chuuya bares his teeth in his direction and walks by, shoving his hands into his pockets, “What’s this damn thing about anyway?”
“Did you really not read the email?” Dazai raises an eyebrow at him as he catches up with his walking pace, “It’s about our positions in the Port Mafia. What, did you think you were going to get handed a gun and told to do whatever you please?”
Chuuya groans outwardly and tips his head back with boredom clear in his body language.
As he does this, Dazai takes a moment to look over the boy beside him with an analyzing gaze. He could tell Chuuya is not doing the best just based on his appearance, and the fact that he is wearing that same dirty sweatshirt Dazai had tripped over last night– did he have no clean clothes, or was he in that much of a rush?
When he opens the doors, Kouyou is looking disapprovingly at Chuuya’s appearance almost immediately while Mori places documents, “Ah, how nice of you to join us finally, Chuuya.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t aware there was a meeting today,” Chuuya responds, and instantly Dazai could see that while these words were true, they should not have been said.
“Oh, was there an issue with communication on your part?” Mori smiles sharply at him and turns his head to face Chuuya, “As far as I was aware, you now have access to an email, to which I ensured you were CC’d on. Did I perhaps write the wrong email address?”
Chuuya only blinks dumbly, and Dazai openly face palms, “Ah, I think our little Sheep over here has been struggling to adapt to technology. I’ll have him trained at the earliest convenience,” Why on earth Dazai decides to cover for him is something he doesn’t know and doesn’t want to think about again.
“Eh? What makes you- Ack!” Chuuya grimaces as Dazai slams his heel into the top of his beaten-up running shoe, “Ah, okay, yes, I think Dazai training me on how to better use my phone would be helpful.”
“Splendid,” Mori’s smile somehow got a little more deadly as the two fifteen year olds sit at the other side of the table, “Do not let this happen again.”
“Yes, sir,” Chuuya bows his head forward as he worries at his bottom lip subtly, “It won’t happen again, and I will make sure to take steps to avoid this in the future.
As Mori starts to speak about sections of the Port Mafia, Dazai keeps his focus on Chuuya out of pure curiosity. He wants to understand this brat and why he pretends to not have received the email or the texts, but he watches as Chuuya dismisses the notifications on his lock screen. Dazai watches as Chuuya’s eyes don't even skim over the words he had written as he dismisses them. He arrives at the email Mori sent and swipes it away without even reading it either.
“Now, Chuuya, I fear that your ability may be quite flashy in some cases,” Mori began, turning his head to Chuuya who rose his own head to look him in the eye, “and you are quite strong, which means I would prefer to keep you as a hidden blade.”
“What does that mean?” Chuuya’s eyebrow twitches at his words.
Kouyou visibly cringes behind her sleeve at Chuuya’s snippy nature, and the clear thought behind her eyes is that she must teach this boy etiquette as soon as possible. They were all just lucky Mori didn’t mention anything about his behaviour.
There was a difference between Chuuya’s snark and Dazai’s usual snippiness, in the way that Dazai knew he could get away with it because Mori didn’t hold anything over his head, but Chuuya on the other hand was still working towards something the boss had.
“It means that we want to be as precise as a scalpel, rather than as brutal as a chainsaw– no matter how both methods lead to death,” Mori says, as if it is a simple fact.
“You street Sheep are numerous wanted children too, so no doubt that your face is easily recognizable in the districts closer to Suribachi,” Colonel’s gruff voice follows, and Chuuya flinches back ever so slightly as if he forgot he was there (or maybe it was the mention of the Sheep again).
“Yes, he is absolutely correct. This means I want you to stay a few steps away from major conflict for a while, so I’m putting you in charge of the jewel trade and smuggling. You will be stationed in the northern port, far enough away from Suribachi that no one will recognize you.”
“Not to mention our lack of a Skilled Business Permit would mean we have to keep our abilities under wraps to avoid investigation,” Kouyou tacks on, and receives a nod of acknowledgement from Mori.
Chuuya looks distant as he nods to his words, and responds with a simple, “Yes, boss.”
Dazai visibly holds back a scoff as Mori hands off Dazai’s current position to the street kid who huffs in response as he takes the file, “So, I take it I’m gonna be placed within the counterfeit and black market area?”
“Precisely,” Mori nods, seeming quite amused by the fact that Dazai had already expected this, “As well as ensuring we get our payment from the businesses we’re protecting.”
Sighing, Dazai plucks the file filled with documents from Mori’s hand and frowns, “This is a mess,” He says as he looks at the first page.
“And that is exactly why I need it to be done,” Mori says.
The door then slams open with dramatic flair and Chuuya flinches once more while there’s a form of annoyance that flicks across everyone’s face. Ace walks in with as much drama as possible, flicking tacky platinum hair as he moves in such a way that even Mori can not hide the twitch of annoyance on his face.
“Ah, Ace, how kind of you to join us,” Mori says as he rests his chin on folded hands, “I take it you were caught up in the casinos? That must be the reason you were so late to this mandatory meeting, no?”
Dazai didn’t bother to pay attention to whatever was going on with the executive as he kept watch on Chuuya out of the corner of his eye. Secretly, he pulls out his phone and unlocks it with a swipe of his thumb, then messages Chuuya.
Osamu Dazai | 9:23 am
Arcade after?
Osamu Dazai | 9:23 am
I’m bored
Just like the others, the second Chuuya turns on his phone, he dismisses the notifications simply without even reading them.
Osamu Dazai | 9:25 am
Hey, don’t ignore your master
Osamu Dazai | 9:26 am
Fineee , if you don’t wanna go then we can just play at your place
This time, the notifications catch Chuuya’s attention and he squints, then leans over to whisper to Dazai, “What do you want?” He hisses softly.
“Can’t you read? I asked about the arcade, you brainless slug,” Dazai hisses back, then straightens up under Kouyou’s scrutinizing glare.
Instead of responding verbally, Chuuya sighs and shakes his head.
Dazai’s shoulders slumped and he held back the urge to whine dramatically and try to challenge him to a bet he knew Chuuya would lose again, but there seemed to be something wrong on a more personal level now. There had been something wrong ever since last night. He can see in his eyes that there is a limited spark of life left. This surprises Dazai a bit as he thinks about how Chuuya was the leader of the sheep, filled with spite and arrogance.
Oh.
Emotions aren’t foreign to Dazai, he’s not a machine, but this? He doesn’t know how to respond to this.
Well, he shouldn’t be surprised– Chuuya was disgustingly human after all, it makes sense he wasn’t feeling himself after having been stabbed by Shirase only a few– actually it wasn’t even a few months ago, it happened at the end of June, two and a half weeks ago.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the weight on Chuuya’s shoulders, not from expectation nor from a crown, but loneliness was the reason his body slumped forward ever so slightly. Dazai never thought about the fact that Chuuya would actively want to be around people who only use him for his ability and treat him like a shield, but he supposes that Chuuya must’ve found comfort in being wanted.
Kouyou also notices the increased gravity Chuuya’s body seems to hold, and maybe that was a hint of pity Dazai saw in her cherry eyes for a flicker of a second, but it was cleverly disguised by a poised mask of perfection, “If I may, Nakahara,” She began, her mouth hiding behind her sleeve.
“Eurgh… Just, Chuuya, please,” He responds, looking a little uncomfortable by being addressed in such a formal manner, “Calling me by my last name just doesn’t feel right.”
“Very well, Chuuya,” Kouyou repeats, although can barely hide her distaste for the lack of formality towards the young boy, “The Sheep had access to numerous weapons and guns stolen from the Port Mafia if I remember the reports correctly. Where have they gone off to?”
There. Right there. Chuuya’s shoulders sink a little more as Dazai turns his head to look at him.
“Ah, if I had to guess, most of them must have been traded to the GSS when the deal was made by Sheep’s council,” Chuuya rubs the bridge of his nose, then frowns at the feeling of his unwashed skin, “I have information on their warehouses, but I don’t know if they would have sent the cargo elsewhere within this span of time.”
“I’ll instruct the Colonel and his men to deal with the GSS properly. My guess is that after Dazai’s little stunt with The Silver Oracle, the GSS ran with their tails in between their legs and abandoned all ties to The Sheep,” Mori says with a grim smile as Chuuya side-eyes Dazai in annoyance.
“I’ll have it done,” Colonel nodded stiffly.
Shortly after that, and a check-in with Ace about the Yokohama casinos that he monitors, Mori dismisses the meeting with a wave of his hand. Colonel and Ace are the first to leave to fulfil their instructed tasks, meanwhile, Kouyou lingers with Mori and Dazai drags Chuuya out by the arm.
“You’re sulking so much- say, when’s the last time you had a shower?” Dazai asks, scrunching up his nose as he pinches a lock of Chuuya’s greasy hair between his fingers.
“Fuck off !” Chuuya swats at him until he lets go, “I just didn’t have time to shower, because someone didn’t tell me about the meeting Mori scheduled!”
“That is not my fault!” Dazai snaps back in offence as pulls his hand away from Chuuya’s vicious swat, “You’re the one who didn’t read Mori’s email! I saw you remove it from your lock screen during the meeting!”
Chuuya growls and storms past him with a wave of his hand, “You still could have told me!”
“I did! I sent you numerous text messages!” Dazai walks after him with a snarl, then grabs his arm to turn him to face him, “Don’t act like I didn’t try to help you. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Chuuya’s expression shifts minimally but enough for Dazai to catch, “Fine, I guess you did try to help in your own fish-brained way,” He hesitates as his thumb brushes over the screen of his phone, “But you could’ve called me sooner.”
Dazai irks his face in irritation and looks away, “At least I tried to help you, you pathetic mutt! I could’ve left you high and dry like The Sheep did!”
See, as someone who had grown up being so careful about what he says, he’s even shocked at the words as they leave his mouth, and maybe he should have probably thought more about what he was going to say. But, no matter, the words were out now.
And yet he regrets them as he watches the look of shock and hurt dawn on Chuuya’s already pale expression.
Without another word, Chuuya turns on his heel and walks toward the elevator on his own, and he isn’t stopped by Dazai this time.
Osamu Dazai | 4:02pm
So, no arcade?
Osamu Dazai | 4:50pm
Look it just came out wrong
Osamu Dazai | 4:51pm
If you’re still mad why don’t we hash this out over a game of Streetfighter?
Osamu Dazai | 7:23pm
Slug?
Ten minutes after Dazai sends the last text message he begins to get a bad feeling about Chuuya’s radio silence. He didn't know much in the three months he had known the boy, but he was confident about his knowledge of Chuuya’s reactions to things. Anger– it was always anger. Never once had it been avoidance like this, and even if it had been once or twice, it was always ignored the next day in favour of doing work.
But he feels he might have gone too far now he realizes as he presses the call button. Dazai is convinced it was going to go to voicemail, but he’s pleasantly surprised when a gravelly morning voice greets him once again.
“Eh…?”
“Hey, are you trying to make me think you’re dead?!” Dazai snips as he makes his way out of his own barren apartment, “You were given the phone for communication purposes! So, communicate with it!”
“I was asleep!” Chuuya growls bitterly after clearing his throat, “And I shouldn’t have to respond to your damn beck and call!”
“Yes, you should! You’re my loyal dog!” Dazai finds himself getting angrier as he storms down the stairs of the complex and out the door, “If I whistle, you come running!”
Chuuya groans angrily, and Dazai could hear the loud ‘poof’ of Chuuya throwing the phone into the blankets, “Again with this dog shit? Give it up already, the jokes’ve gotten old!”
“Is your door unlocked? We’re going to the arcade until you get all that anger out of your tiny body.” Dazai crosses the street with a few short hops, the evening air feeling nice through his button-up as his heavy black jacket was left on the back of his door at home.
“Are you– ugh…” Chuuya grumbles and shuffles around slightly from where he was sleeping, “God, you’re so annoying. I already told you I didn’t wanna go out…”
“Like I ever listen. Get in the shower, I’ll be there in ten.” Dazai didn’t wait to listen to Chuuya’s whining as he hung up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants.
The fifteen year old is actually pleasantly surprised when he opens the door and hears the low hiss of the shower from behind the bathroom door. He was expecting Chuuya to be bundled up in his bed (the couch), but instead, he was wrong.
Stepping over the piles of dirtied clothing, Dazai winces and nudges a path through the hallway with his feet, “Kouyou would burn this apartment if she knew her future protege was living like this,” He whispers to himself as he makes his way to Chuuya’s room.
The room was completely dark save for a sliver of sunset creeping through the slit in between the curtains. Chuuya’s mattress is only covered by dirtied clothing and there were so many empty cups as well as many soda pop bottles piled up on the bedside tables.
Dazai didn’t know whether Chuuya normally lived like this or if this was a new development with transitioning to the mafia.
“God, you’re so fucking nosy,” Chuuya huffs from behind him. He’s wearing grey sweatpants with rips in the knees, and a wrinkled blue towel over his bare shoulders, which Dazai pointedly does not look at longer than he has to.
“Can you go two sentences without swearing?” Dazai retorts with less snark than he wants, “Your place is a disaster.”
“You’re startin’ to sound like Kouyou,” Chuuya retorts as he walks past Dazai to open a drawer.
Dazai can easily see the supply of clothing he has is mostly inside out on the floor and overflowing from the dirty hamper in the corner, despite the fact he has a perfectly working washing machine and dryer hidden behind a door in the bathroom. He wonders if Chuuya doesn’t know how to use it either, but seeing as how there is so much trash scattered everywhere, he thinks that Chuuya just doesn’t have the time or energy to do anything.
He watches Chuuya pull out a slightly ripped and stretched-out black hoodie, which he throws his biker jacket over and then turns to Dazai with a raised eyebrow.
“What?” He asks.
“You know it’s like twenty-eight degrees out right?” Dazai gestures to his own outfit (which lacks the jacket and tie), then to Chuuya’s, “You’ll roast alive in all black, and a jacket to top it all off.”
“My laundry is all dirty– wait, since when do you give a damn?” Chuuya sneers at him.
(Fair point, when did he start giving a damn about what Chuuya did? It was his own fault if he passed out from the heat.)
The arcade was fine? It wasn’t grand, it also wasn’t boring either, at least, not until the end.
Chuuya is gazing fondly at a claw machine when Dazai walks over with his plastic cup of tokens. Inside there were little stuffed animals with coloured ribbons tied around their necks– frankly, Dazai thought the machine looked more Easter themed despite it being July, with the stuffed animals being bunnies, lambs, ducks and such.
“Don’t tell me you sleep with stuffed toys. What are you, a little kid?” Dazai clicks his tongue in dismissal as he looks at how the toys are packed together. It’s clearly rigged just by the way things are so tightly piled and pressed together (he predicted it would take at least five good plays to at least wiggle one of them free, which was about twenty-five tokens down the drain in his eyes).
“Of course not,” Chuuya rolls his eyes and plays with the tokens in his pocket as he thinks, “Yuan always tried to get one of the pink bunnies from this machine every time she got some money. I was just remembering how determined she was one day.”
“Isn’t that the pink-haired girl that clung to your arm like a koala?” Dazai says with a tilt of his head, remembering the two Sheep members that came in during the day of their bet.
Chuuya makes a ‘tch’ noise as he turns away, “Yeah, that’s her. She loved cute things, although couldn’t afford them.”
“So, why was she in the Sheep?” He asks lamely, not really expecting Chuuya to answer, but entertaining the thought anyway.
“Foster system, like a handful of the kids there. She dropped out of high school between her first and second year to drink and party, but she got mixed up in the wrong crowd and couldn’t get out,” He sighs, his eyes glazed over with memories, “She joined around a year ago, and quickly took a place on the council due to being able to read and write fluently.”
“Huh, unfortunate,” Dazai responds apathetically as he wanders over to a shooting game. In the back of his mind, he wondered if Chuuya memorized the backgrounds of all the Sheep members, because he seemed to have an insane memory when it came to other people. (But for some reason Chuuya couldn’t remember to open or read his text messages, that was something he found odd.) “So, this council, was it just made up of people who could read and write?”
Chuuya blinks, then looks at Dazai like he said something stupid, “Well yeah, but the council was built up of the older members who also had different skills. Shirase could hotwire cars, and he knew how to work with metals– which meant he was good at appraising things of value.”
Sliding three tokens into the game, Dazai holds up the plastic pistol, the weight and bulk feeling wrong in his hands, “Let me guess, the parental figure was a mechanic?”
“Yeah, his father was a god-awful man,” Chuuya sighs, “He was a drunkard for reference, a bad one.”
It was small, tiny even, but Dazai could see the tiny bit of weight come off of Chuuya’s shoulders as he spoke about the Sheep. Against his own apathy, he continues to ask questions, “So, I wanna hear more about the council. Did you hold a place on it?”
“I was, but I still don’t understand why I wasn’t included in the vote,” Chuuya admits softly.
“It was a vote of no confidence. It usually occurs when a leader is no longer supported by their followers,” Dazai’s response is very script-like, as if he were reading off a page from a book, “That’s how tyrannical leaders lose their positions and gives the people a bit of their own voices as well.”
Chuuya tilts his head a little, damp bangs brushing at his freckled cheeks, “Oh, guess that does make a little sense. But I still wasn’t even informed of the vote in the first place, can you explain that?”
“Sounds like a very unorganized-organized group of kids,” Dazai rolls his eyes as he guns down the numerous poorly animated zombies in the arcade game, “You weren’t even given a pretend trial to state your case, how sad.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Chuuya grumbles sarcastically while counting the tickets he and Dazai had won, “Stabbed with rat poison and shot at. What a lovely way to go.”
Dazai hums, tilting his head back, “It would be a nice way to go. Poison to numb the pain of the knife as you slowly bleed out,” Then, that makes him realize something odd about the day Chuuya was officially declared a lamb for the slaughter.
“Hey, Chuuya?”
He looks up and blinks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What?”
“When you were so close to death, because of Shirase, what did you feel?” Dazai turns to him, his eyes lacking the reflection of the lights from the arcade.
“What did I feel?” Chuuya gawks, eyes narrowing, “The nerve you have… I felt awful! Did you think I was all sunshine and rainbows because I got stabbed by one of my closest friends?”
Dazai’s eyes narrow in response, “Have you been stabbed before?”
“Yeah…? What kind of guessing game is this, eh?!” Chuuya growls, beginning to get fed up with Dazai’s incessant questioning.
“Walk me through the proper procedures of dealing with a stab wound, with the knife still in your body,” Dazai leans close to Chuuya, his gaze analytical, “I’m testing yours and the Sheep’s medical knowledge.”
“Well, you don’t remove the knife until you absolutely need to,” Chuuya begins with a confused mumble.
There. Dazai’s eyes sparkle minimally with the knowledge he gained from that one sentence, not even bothering to listen to Chuuya as he spoke about how to properly care for an injury.
If Chuuya knew he wasn’t supposed to take a knife out of a stab wound, then why did he pull Shirase’s blade from his stomach if he knew he was too far to get help? It couldn’t have been because the blade was rubbed with poison, he knew the poison was in his veins already.
“So, you wanted to die?” Dazai whispers, smirking at the revelation, “The big bad ram finally had his moment of weakness where he wondered if the world would be better without him?”
Chuuya begins to growl almost instantly, and Dazai knows he hit a nail dead on, “I’m not like you, I don’t want to die.”
“But did you want to live?”
Dazai’s own question kept him up quite late as he thought about the fact that Chuuya truly did feel nothing but hopeless during that moment. He wonders how he feels now, all of his memories of his friends, their likes, dislikes, goals and dreams, they were all essentially useless in his mind and taking up space for more things.
Then again, knowing Chuuya, he would fight to remember them. He likely has a journal written somewhere with all of their preferences and things he wants to say to them all stashed away somewhere. Dazai scoffs at the thought.
Then, his phone begins to ring softly, interrupting his staring contest with the ceiling. The repetitive ring annoyed him as he blindly reaches around the blankets until he feels it in his hand.
“Eh? It’s three in the morning,” Dazai says as he clicks the button to answer it. He doesn’t need to check the caller ID, only one person with his number would have the gall to call him at this time of night, “Don’t tell me my dog is starting to get separation anxiety!”
“Shut up,” Chuuya groans from the other end, but unlike the other times his voice isn’t thick with sleep and instead he sounds wide awake, “I need you to explain what you meant earlier.”
“You’re going to have to be specific,” Dazai prods, despite knowing exactly the phrase Chuuya was referencing. It has been bouncing all around in his head for the past few hours as well.
“God, don’t make me spell it out for you. What did you mean when you asked me if I wanted to live? I said I didn’t want to die,” Chuuya asks– well, more like demands.
Dazai chuckles bitterly, “Gosh, my dog is so slow these days, maybe I should trade him out for something a little smarter.”
Chuuya huffs, “Get to the point, you piece of shit.”
“I guess I’ll spell it out for you,” Dazai sighs in an almost exaggerated manner, “wanting to die and not wanting to live are two completely different things, I hope you realize that.”
“No, they’re not. Both of them are literally wanting to die, but one is phrased differently!” Despite it being so late in the night, Chuuya clearly has no desire to keep his voice down, “I told you I didn’t want to die when I got stabbed.”
Shaking his head, Dazai looks at the phone with annoyance, “You’re not looking at the bigger picture, and it’s a little sad but I suppose someone as short as you can only see so much of it.”
“Lay off about my size, asshole!”
“You’re the one who called me! Why couldn’t this have been a crisis you have over text or something?” Dazai huffs.
Chuuya moves around, and Dazai can hear the echo of his own voice, making him realize he’s on speaker, “I knew you were more likely to ignore me if I sent a text, and I wanted answers!”
“I could’ve been asleep! Hell, maybe I was asleep and you woke me up!” Dazai whines petulantly, sitting up to ruffle his messy brown hair.
Chuuya snorts, “You don’t sleep. You literally asked me the other day if you could run an energy drink through a coffee maker because you were so annoyed at your insomnia. Also, how did that taste? Like a liquid heart attack, I assume?”
“God awful, next question.”
Dazai’s a little relieved to hear the bark of laughter from the other line and finds his lips twitching upwards with it.
“That’s nasty! Ugh!” Chuuya makes a mock gagging noise between chuckles, “Did you end up getting some sleep? You looked more awake at the meeting than on Saturday.”
Dazai frowns instantly. Chuuya was paying attention? He thought he hid his exhaustion quite well (save for the complaining about his insomnia, but he kept that to the end of their hangout so Chuuya wouldn’t say anything), so this was surprising to hear, “Yeah, I got some sleep after you so rudely threw me out of your apartment.”
“Good,” Chuuya sounds… happy, about that? What on earth? “I was going to drag you to get sleep meds one of these days, but then again, I’d have to monitor them 24/7, and that doesn’t sound like a chore I want to do.”
Dazai can’t help but huff as Chuuya says this, “Go to bed, Mori has a task for us at ten in the morning.”
There was a little surprised noise from the other end, and he wondered if Chuuya hadn’t read that email either. This definitely couldn’t become a reoccurring issue, Mori would lose his patience with Chuuya dangerously quick.
“He sent the email this afternoon, how did you not see it? Or are you just pretending not to see it because you don’t want to work?” Dazai knew that Chuuya wasn’t that kind of person, but he was still very confused.
“I’m still getting used to this damn phone, I don’t know what each little beep and ring means yet,” It sounds so sincere that Dazai really has no choice but to believe his words, it’s so unnaturally vulnerable for him.
“I’ll help you go over it before the meeting. Set an alarm for the morning, we can’t have you sleeping in again.” Dazai sighs, his voice oddly soft (Looking back on it, he blames the exhaustion).
“This thing has an alarm?”
Dazai presses his palm against his forehead in annoyance. He didn’t even realize that he had been Chuuya’s personal alarm both times.
“Ugh, I’ll call you…”
Sleep never came easy to Dazai, so waking up just a touch earlier just to call Chuuya was a bit difficult, but with the irritating ringing of his alarm mimicking his ringtone, it was the first thing to come into his mind.
Rolling onto his side with a dramatic groan, he kicks the tangled sheets away from his feet as he blindly reaches for the phone. His fingers run across the plastic surface of his black case and he eagerly grabs it, desperate to stop the incessant ringing.
He winces and shuts his eyes at the bright light of his screen. After a moment, he’s able to read the numbers. It’s 7:32 in the morning…
God dammit. Why did he decide to wake up at this time?
Well, if he has to be up, so does Chuuya, Dazai decides as he taps until he gets to the contact labelled ‘Slug’ and starts the call.
“Fuck off,” Is the drawn-out growl that greets him once the call connects.
“Get up.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Go away.”
“I’m already outside your door.”
“What?!”
Dazai laughs. He wasn’t, he was still lying on his bed, but the sound of Chuuya floundering around to sit up hurriedly was just too funny to ignore.
Knowing Chuuya, he was probably sprawled out across his couch like a starfish right now, “I hate you,” Chuuya groans.
“I can’t believe the dog hates its master! I should take you to obedience training!” Dazai grins at the irritated grumbles that follow, “Get up, we’re heading to the office and I’m going to show you how to use your phone before Mori gets irritated.”
Even now, Dazai struggles to watch Chuuya fumble with the device, after almost half an hour of teaching him, “No, the contact list- what, why did you- ughhhh!”
“What do you mean ‘contact list’?!”
By now, it was around 8:30 am and the two boys were nearly killing each other in the office. There were three cups of empty coffee from the cheap self-serve down in the lobby, and the bagels and breakfast sandwiches had already been devoured, leaving crumbs all over the table.
“Boys!”
Both Chuuya and Dazai’s heads snap toward the doorway to see an irritated Kouyou standing there with a scowl. “Ah, Kouyou! Finally, someone else in this room who is sensible! ”
“Ex-fucking-cuse me?!”
“Keep your voices down,” Kouyou hisses, rubbing the bridge of her nose, “The entire floor can hear your bickering. Stop tormenting each other– and Chuuya? Must you swear every other sentence?”
Chuuya looks away in embarrassment while Dazai chuckles, and unfortunately, that’s enough for Kouyou to turn her sharp gaze toward him.
“As for you, Dazai. Honestly, is tormenting him necessary? It’s like poking a stick at a wasp’s nest!” Kouyou scolds, her hands on her hips.
“Come on,” Dazai whines, drawing out the syllables, “I wasn’t tormenting him, I was teaching him how to use modern technology!”
Chuuya at least has the decency to look sheepish under Kouyou’s scolding, and frankly, Dazai is surprised that Chuuya didn’t immediately disregard her– you know, because the Sheep were a gang of children that essentially said ‘screw all authority, we’re doing this ourselves’. “Sorry, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” Kouyou looks genuinely offended and Dazai snorts at Chuuya’s innocently surprised look, “I’m only nineteen!”
To be fair, if Dazai didn’t know Kouyou was only four years older than the teens he would’ve been surprised as well, but now he got to enjoy Chuuya’s flustered floundering as he struggles to apologize.
“I- Uh, sorry? You just look so refined and elegant, for your age?”
“Well don’t say it as a question!” Dazai laughs loudly as Kouyou’s glare gets worse. Chuuya swings at him and he ducks out of the way, continuing to cackle without a care.
Kouyou sighs, hiding her mouth behind her silk sleeve, “We’ll work on it with your etiquette. Speaking of, I will send you an email when I get the chance to discuss your lessons.”
“Why not just tell me as soon as you know?” Chuuya asks.
Dazai blinks. There was the aversion to his email again. Kouyou seems to catch onto it as well as she leans forward into the doorway ever so slightly, “We are both working quite frequently, Chuuya. With me being an Executive, and you beginning work on the jewel trade, it will be nearly impossible to get into contact.”
“Yeah, you make a fair point, but this whole technology thing is annoyin’ as hell,” Chuuya says as he leans back in the desk chair, gesturing to his phone. It has a very thick red case on it and a plastic cover on the screen– Dazai had baby-proofed it essentially because, with someone as temperamental as Chuuya is, it’s mandatory.
While yes, they did make quite a bit from petty delivery and protection missions (at least compared to a regular teen's income), they did not have a lot of money to be throwing away new phones like trash.
“I apologize for that, but it is a mandatory requirement for any job in Yokohama now,” Kouyou sighs in exasperation, “It doesn’t matter whether it’s employment in the Port Mafia or even a fast food profession, you need to understand technology as well as emails.”
Dazai wasn’t listening to Chuuya’s incessant whining about the technology anymore. Now he really had his attention. At first, he had just assumed that Chuuya was struggling with his phone due to how brutal his honesty was last night, but as he led Chuuya through his phone earlier he realized it wasn’t the technology that was the problem.
“Chuuya,” Dazai spoke, his eyes widening behind his bandages as he pulled out his phone, “I want to run a test on you.”
This also catches Kouyou’s interest, but Chuuya just seems annoyed, “Is this another test about medical knowledge? Because I swear to fucking god, I’m not your lab rat-”
“No, something else,” Dazai replies as he moves over to a supply cabinet in the back of the conference room. He digs around until he picks out the coloured markers used for highlighting and underlining, “This one is more like a game.”
Dazai listens to the sound of Kouyou’s traditional geta footwear as she steps closer, and the rustle of Chuuya’s tacky biker jacket while he writes on the paper. He can tell Chuuya is weary of this test, and to be fair, he has every right to be.
“I want you… To list off the colours of these words.”
Dazai turns the sheet towards Chuuya and points to the writing. He wrote the names of numerous colours, but he had mixed the corresponding colours and words (so the word blue was pink, red was green, like that).
“This is stupid!” Chuuya irks, furrowing his brow.
Kouyou, on the other hand, seems to have caught on at least a little, “Do the test, Chuuya.”
“Wha- ugh. Fine,” Chuuya leans forward to look at the sheet, as Dazai points at each word with a pen, “Just the colour of the word? Okay,”
He passes with flying colours, not even stuttering in the slightest. Listing off each colour with minimal issue, he starts with the word ‘red’ and then goes down the list of repeating words until he ends with ‘blue’.
Dazai’s eyes widen again, as do Kouyou’s as Dazai continues to point at words, “Well, well, well…” He murmurs while Chuuya lists them off.
“What!?” Chuuya snaps back at him, crossing his arms after pushing the sheet of coloured words away from him.
It was a difficult test, not in the sense that it was hard, but in the way that it would have caused at least anyone to slip up at least once if they weren’t to turn that portion of their brain off– the part that reads the words unconsciously.
There was a hint of glee in Dazai’s eyes, he can feel it, that annoying little sparkle as he gains another hint to their riddle.
Chuuya growls like a rabid dog, “Get that stupid look off your face!”
“Awww~ why?”
“Because, fuck you that’s why!”
Kouyou rubs the bridge of her nose again, and the issue seems so much bigger than Dazai had once assumed, “Language, Chuuya. You are not a street kid anymore.”
“It’s Dazai’s fault!” Chuuya barks, then freezes up slightly as he sees the door slowly open.
Mori himself steps into the room, a slight irk to his brow as the room goes dead silent, “Well, I see everyone is having an eventful morning. But, I would appreciate it very much if you two didn’t cause a disruption. Our lovely workers are slaving over their desks to get their reports done, and you two are screaming at each other like seagulls.”
Dazai doesn’t think he’s ever been compared to a seagull before. The audacity of this man. “But Mori,” He whines, drawing out the name of his boss, “How else will I get it into this little lamb’s thick skull?”
“You motherf-”
“Enough. Boys, here is your assignment,” Mori sighs as he presses a file to the polished table, “This should not take you both more than a few hours. I want the report sent to me by ten tomorrow evening, sharp.”
“Yes, boss.”
Mori smiles, and a shiver rolls up Dazai’s spine, “Excellent. Read it on your way. Hirotsu is waiting for you both down in the main lobby.”
Nothing more is said as Mori takes his leave, and Kouyou steps out in a brush of silky fabrics. Chuuya is blankly staring at the file, while Dazai begins to realize how much of a problem this is.
When it comes to a job, Chuuya is quite efficient even if he wants to kill everything that moves, but Dazai supposes his bloodlust will die down soon enough. The assignment was quite simple, it was just a protection job and payment for a measly mechanic shop that got robbed frequently.
Hirotsu was driving silently in the front, as Dazai scanned the document for any and all details until he paused, and the motion must have been quite a bit more noticeable than he intended because Chuuya tilts his head in his direction. “Mm? What?”
“Nothing,” Dazai responds as his fingers skim past the name of the shop and address. The location was about a fifteen-minute drive from Suribachi City, which meant Chuuya would surely recognize the place, and the name of the owner– Kawakami Shirase. This must have been Shirase’s father.
Slowly, Hirotsu pulls onto a road that makes Chuuya perk up ever so slightly and look around. To be fair, Dazai would have been confused as well if he hadn’t read where they were going (not many places this far south can really afford mafia protection after all). “Where are we…?”
“A place called Kawakami Mechanics, sound familiar?” Dazai tries to keep his voice steady and monotone but is unable to hide his curiosity as Chuuya’s eyes are lit with flames of fury.
“That dickhead is hiring the mafia to protect him? God fucking dammit!” Chuuya yells, his voice echoing in the car, “I’ll kill him, I swear!”
Dazai couldn’t help but be curious, “You’d kill his father after what Shirase did to you? Why is that?”
Chuuya just looks appalled now, “Uh, yeah! Doesn’t matter if I’m not exactly on good terms with Shirase, I don’t think he should suffer from abuse!”
Dazai finds Chuuya fascinating, he realizes. Personally, he would have let Shirase suffer the consequences of backstabbing him.
The cheap bell chimes as the two teens open the door, then there’s a chorus of gags from them as the scent of alcohol hits harder than a truck. Chuuya recovers quicker, but Dazai puts on a professional facade faster as a burly silver-haired man walks around the corner.
“Yeah?” He, who Dazai assumes is Kawakami, asks with a deep gravelly voice, “What’re you both, students?”
“Actually, no,” Dazai puts on his best act, while Chuuya grits his teeth and grinds them together, “We’re from the Port Mafia, to collect your protection payment.”
Kawakami scoffs, taking a drink from a can, “Right, right… I’m supposed to believe that two eighth graders are part of the mafia. Tch, what do you want?”
“You heard him, the payment for protecting this shitty business,” Chuuya snips, and Dazai has to take a breath to avoid glaring at Chuuya. He quickly regrets it though as the harsh scent of liquor and cigarette smoke assaults his lungs.
“Eh? I know you, you hung out with Buichiro… Him and that little gang,” Kawakami says, baring his ugly yellow teeth, “Ain’t you the reason he got shipped off to Yokosuka to work in that shitty car factory?”
Chuuya pulls his shoulders back, prepared for a fight, but Dazai whacks him with the arm with the file, “Mr. Shirase, if you please. The payment that you owe the Port Mafia is ever-growing, and soon we will begin to take our own action.” His voice is smooth, but the threat is present.
“I ain’t owe you shit-”
“Actually, you owe us about 8.5 million yen,” Dazai’s voice is more equivalent to a chirp as he reads the number off of a file. Roughly, this debt had accumulated because of the Sheep’s torment, so this was easily about five years' worth of protection this man had yet to pay off.
Kawakami looked a bit more hesitant now, glancing from Chuuya to Dazai.
“The boss ain’t gonna be happy if we return empty-handed,” Chuuya hums, and Dazai could tell a bit of slang returned to his voice due to hearing Shirase’s father speak similarly, “So, either you hand over the money, or I trash this entire place and leave you with nothing. Again.”
“I’m not giving you anything,” Kawakami snarls.
They ended up trashing the place.
Kawakami was stubborn and Chuuya was as tightly wound as a spring, so obviously this job wasn’t going to be easy, but the report was going to be much harder.
The two of them needed to get that money in, or else Kawakami Shirase was likely going to be taken out by a hit in a few weeks, or worse if he had to work off his debt with the Port Mafia. (Dazai hates how his mind wanders to Chuuya’s thoughts and feelings on the matter.)
Dazai is lying in bed, contemplating his life. You know, as one does at two in the morning. He thinks about how he got here, and now about how he was heavily procrastinating on the report that Mori demands to be done.
It was quite simple, to be honest. A mere; ‘No, the client did not hand over the money,’ and ‘Yes we caused a lot of property damage, and if anyone asks, the spray paint is not in the shape of a dick,’ written into more professional words onto a paper then handed to the boss.
But here’s Dazai’s problem– or rather, Chuuya’s problem that’s about to become his.
There was something he realized earlier that day with the little test. Well, he shouldn’t say that. He caught on numerous times that something was off about Chuuya, but with his barky dismissals, it was hard to keep track of until early this morning when Chuuya couldn’t seem to figure out his phone.
If Dazai described the app icon, Chuuya could locate it perfectly, but if he told Chuuya which app, it would only lead to confusion. At first, Dazai thought that maybe he was having issues with reading the white font written below each app, but then things just began to click together all too quickly.
It started with the speech-to-text, then the video game that displayed the character's weakness, and next were the emails and the texts that he still hasn’t responded to (Dazai confirms this by checking his messaging app again). At first, he merely assumed it was due to a lack of experience with technology, and that’s what he told everyone.
But then the test he made him do just proved it to him.
Chuuya couldn’t read.
‘What good is a mafioso that can’t read?!’ Dazai thinks as he ruffles his brown hair with anger. Well, he doesn’t think it’s anger, more like disbelief at the fact Chuuya is fifteen and illiterate!
He knew that some of the Sheep members had an education– Chuuya even mentioned Yuan going to high school! So, why the hell did no one think to look and see if Chuuya could read? There’s no way he slipped under the radar for this long… Did they just not care?
Or maybe did they use it to their advantage?
No, he’s giving them far too much credit now. There’s no way they would have thought that far ahead, they didn’t even ask Chuuya what he was doing teaming up with him, and there’s no way they would have even thought twice about building up a plan to counter the King of the Sheep.
He was a little curious about how Chuuya had gotten away with being unable to read for so long. He was clearly able to understand numbers for whatever reason, he proved it when they were in the convenience store to buy food and counted up their tokens for the arcade the other day. Maybe he could read a bit, but not a lot.
Dazai doesn’t know, and frankly, he wants to run tests on Chuuya like he’s a little lab rat. He wants to know what happened before he joined the Sheep, he wants to know why he fights to remember the people who betrayed him, everything, just so this man can stop being a mystery to him and he can have some predictability.
Ironically, he remembers inwardly complaining about how Chuuya was overly predictable just a few days ago. Well, to be fair, his reactions were very predictable except for some colourful curses sprinkled in here or there, and maybe one surprisingly sharp insult that catches Dazai a little bit off guard, but that’s it!
Chuuya is supposed to be predictable! It makes him easier for Dazai to understand and toy with, but instead, he goes around and tangles all his puppet strings like an over-excited dog and makes Dazai all confused.
Groaning, he rolls onto his side to pick at the frayed edges of his bandages. He truly has no idea what he was going to do for this report because no way in hell was he doing extra work to cover for Chuuya again. Dazai almost got in a lot of trouble covering for Chuuya and saying that he didn’t understand technology yet. He was not going to write two reports.
That damn slug can work it out on his own.
Dazai calls Kouyou at six in the morning to figure out what to do.