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Oda immediately clocked the knock at the door as ‘weird.’ The timing between each knock varied irregularly, as did the strength. The first hit was strong and loud, the second hardly audible, the closely spaced third and forth both somewhere in between.
Across the kitchen table, he and Ango exchanged a look. Ango, calculating as ever, nudged his chin to the bag he had left on the counter, which Oda knew held his gun.
It was late— later than they usually stayed up, but it was a rare occassion on which neither of them had to work the next day, so instead of meeting at Bar Lupin and going home before 11pm, Oda had offered to cook dinner. Dinner had turned to drinks and conversation.
Oda couldn’t think of anyone who might be knocking. It was too strong to be any of his orphans, who always knocked with little taps, and too weak to be the mafia or an assailant, who would have broken the door down by now if they had ill intentions.
With a nod, Oda stood to get the door, and Ango moved for the gun.
The kitchen was separated from the front door by the living room, which was small enough that Ango would still have an easy shot at the front foor from the kitchen.
As Oda touched the doorknob, his ability triggered.
Oda said aloud, “It’s Dazai-kun.”
He opened the door, aware of Ango dipping back into the kitchen to put his gun away.
“Hi!” Dazai exclaimed, leaning to the side to peek through the door as Oda opened it. This was as far as Flawless’ ability-vision had gotten, so when Oda opened the door fully, he was surprised to see Chuuya dangling unconscious at Dazai’s side.
The kids looked pretty bad, there was no way around that. Dazai’s face was bleeding above one eye, and both of them had blood smeared over their clothes, though Oda couldn’t be sure how much of it was theirs. Dazai had a death-grip on Chuuya’s waist, and Chuuya’s head hung limply against the crook of Dazai’s neck.
“Can we come— oh, shit.” Dazai tipped to the side, nearly spilling Chuuya to the ground, and Oda lurched to catch both of them. It took a bit of force for pry Chuuya from Dazai’s hands, but Oda muttered a few words of assurance, and Dazai let up enough for Oda to get Chuuya over his shoulder. With his free hand, he ushered Dazai inside and shut the door.
“What’s—” Ango stopped when he saw the state of the kids.
“Mission got a little rough.” Dazai shrugged. He was trying for humor but wasn’t smiling, which was how Oda knew things really were bad.
“I’ve got him,” Oda said when he noticed Dazai watching how he held Chuuya, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Dazai said, strained. Now that his hands were free, he had one pressed up to his side.
“Don’t lie.” Ango warned over his shoulder, hurrying to move the pillows from the couch to make space for Chuuya.
Dazai glanced in his direction, then back at Oda. When he saw that he wouldn’t get any help from Oda, he sighed and admitted. “I got stabbed.”
“What?” Oda dropped Chuuya gently as he could onto the couch. The kid didn’t have any sort of reaction.
“Lightly.”
“Stay with him,” Oda motioned between Ango and Chuuya, “Dazai-kun, come with me.”
As he pulled Dazai into the bathroom, Oda saw Ango crouch beside Chuuya, raising his hands uncertainly to check the teenager for injuries.
“Slug is fine,” Dazai said as Oda manuevered him to sit on the edge of the bathtub. “Just tired. He had to use Corruption. I don’t… It hurts him. But I don’t know how much of it is physical versus mental. He’s only done it once before, and not for very long. He slept afterwards last time, too. Not for so long, though.”
Oda listened as he opened his medicine cabinet. In the back of his mind, it struck him that Dazai must be scared, even if he’d never admit it. Oda himself had never seen the true form of Chuuya’s ability, but Dazai had described it after the first time the kid had used it. Drunk and tired, Dazai had rambled half-coherently about it for the better part of an hour. It had sounded bad enough back then, but this was clearly worse.
“Yeah?” Oda asked. He took out a wad of bandages and some sterile solution. “Show me your wound.”
Dazai eyed him for a moment, long enough that Oda thought he might refuse, then shed his button up so that he was wearing only his undershirt, which had been white at some point but was stained pinkish now. There was a big red patch along his side, and he lifted the hem there to reveal the cut.
“Alright,” Oda sat on the floor in front of him. He noticed Dazai’s posture was sagging a little more than it had been just moments earlier. “First, let’s stop the bleeding. Then we’ll get you cleaned up. I’ll give you a new shirt.”
Dazai just nodded silently. He grimaced a little when when Oda pressed the sterile solution to his side, but didn’t flinch out of the way.
“Here,” Oda took Dazai’s hand and pushed it up against the wound, forcing him to hold the sterile solution himself. “Hold pressure there.”
Then he stood to wet a facecloth under the sink and began to wipe the blood and grime off Dazai’s face. There was so much of it, it was hard to tell where it was coming from. Dazai’s hair was curling at the ends where it was wet with blood and sticking to his face. Oda found one of Sakura’s hairties on the counter and used it to tie Dazai’s bangs into a little ponytail that stuck straight into the air, and Dazai didn’t say anything about it.
As he cleaned, Oda uncovered small scars on his cheek and around his eye, where bandages usually covered, but they were healing nicely and would completely disappear in time. Oda would know.
A nasty bruise was starting to form on Dazai’s forehead, surrounding a two-inch long gash, which Oda noted as the source of all the blood. It wasn’t too deep, but headwounds bled heavily, and by the looks of it, this injury had been caused by blunt force, not a blade. He’d have to check Dazai for a concussion.
Dazai was drooping more and more. He’d gone completely silent, and his eyelids kept drooping.
The adrenaline was wearing off, Oda realized. The kid had been running on fumes alone, it seemed, and now that he was safe, he was shutting down.
“You with me, kiddo?” Oda asked quietly.
Dazai nodded wordlessly, and Oda began to clean up his torso. Gently, he nudged Dazai’s hand away from the wound and began cleaning around that, too.
Seeing it more clearly now, the injury really was only a light stabbing, if there ever was one. The blade had grazed him, not punctured, and the cut was not particularly deep. Stitches would make it heal prettier, but the bleeding had already stopped, so they weren’t necessary.
“It’ll scar if I don’t stitch it.” Oda told him, letting the question remain implied.
Dazai shrugged, his eyes almost fully shut by now. “Will it make me look cool?”
Oda let himself smile just a little. “Sure, kid.”
“Hmm.” Dazai tried to force his eyes open. “What’s one more scar, right?”
Oda butterfly-bandaged it and used medical tape to set a square of gauze over it, then he patted Dazai on the shoulder. “You’ll live.”
“Pity.” Dazai murmured.
Oda pushed himself to his feet. “Stay here. I’ll get you a clean shirt.”
Then his ability triggered. A flash of bright red, loud crashing, Ango thrown against a wall and dropping to the floor—
“Chuuya.” Was all Oda said, and Dazai was on his feet and darting out the door with incredible speed for someone so heavily injured and clearly exhausted.
The red glow had already begun to take over Chuuya by the time Dazai got to him and grabbed his exposed wrist. Chuuya was blinkng awake, seemingly completely unaware of what was happening. Oda breathed a sigh of relief from the bathroom doorway.
“Mackrel.” Chuuya’s voice was rough with strain and so quiet, Oda could hardly hear him.
“We’re at Odasaku’s house,” Dazai supplied. Even though he had been steadily losing energy since he got through the front door, Dazai managed a cheeky smile for Chuuya. “Go to sleep, chibi!” He poked Chuuya’s nose, making his friend groan, but that was the last sound Chuuya made before drifting off again.
“Ango-kun,” Oda called lightly, “can you find a shirt for Dazai-kun in my room?”
Ango glanced at the kids and nodded quickly, then slipped out without a word.
As Oda began searching around the living room, he spared occasional glances at Dazai and Chuuya, as if to be sure they were still there. Dazai had propped his arms up on the couch, still holding Chuuya’s wrist loosely with one hand, and put his head on top of his arms. His eyes were nearly closed, but through the tiniest slits he left open, he was watching Chuuya breathe.
“Here,” Oda found what he was looking for— his penlight. He moved to crouch next to where Dazai had sat himself down on the floor. “Look at me.”
“I’m asleep.” Dazai informed him.
“Kid,” Oda said, “if you have a concussion, I need to know before you fall asleep.”
“Too late.”
“C’mon. Open your eyes.”
Dazai heaved a breath, then pried his eyes open and lifted his head just enough to turn to face Oda, who held up the penlight for him.
“Follow it with your eyes.” He began to move it side to side. Dazai’s eyes tracked its movement without problem. “Okay. I’ll use the light now.”
“Ugh.”
Oda clicked on the light and pointed it at his face. His pupils shrank accordingly.
A few more seconds, and Oda was satisfied.
“Does anything hurt?” He asked, tucking the light into his pocket.
Dazai shrugged. “A little.”
“Do you want a painkiller?”
“No,” He put his head back down on his arms, “my tolerance is too high, so it won’t work on me. Do I have to hold Slug’s hand all night?”
Oda glanced at Dazai’s hand, which had indeed shifted from Chuuya’s wrist to his hand.
But before he could answer, Ango reappeared with a shirt for Dazai, who demanded that they both turn around so he could change or else they were both creeps for watching.
“He’ll probably sleep for a while,” Dazai said once he’d changed. The shirt hung off Dazai’s shorter and thinner frame loosely, and it made him look so young, Oda felt his heart clench. But Dazai didn’t seem to notice. “He probably won’t activate his ability again.”
“If you think so,” Ango said, a bit tense.
“I think it’s time you go to bed, too, kiddo,” Oda patted Dazai’s shoulder as he pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll get you some blankets. Take your shoes off.”
Dazai hummed his agreement and started tugging at his shoelaces. For the first time, Oda noticed he was wearing sneakers, not dress shoes. That was good, Oda thought. They were more age appropriate and the soles had better traction, so he’d be able to fight and run with easier mobility. They were safer. But Oda also noticed they looked to be the same brand as Chuuya’s.
Oda turned back into the hallway to find some spare blankets.
His intention was to put one over Chuuya and send Dazai into the spare room with a second. There was a little commotion from the living room, and he heard both kids’ voices exchanging hushed whispers as the couch creaked, presumably because Chuuya was moving around. He couldn’t hear much of it, though he did hear a quick exchange of:
Chuuya’s groggy voice: “What the—”
“Shut the fuck up.” Dazai now, but his voice was playful instead of irritated. “Go back to sleep.”
And that was the end of it. Charming little exchange, but it seemed to be normal for the two of them, so Oda didn’t think there was any real tension between them. Probably Dazai had just moved around a little too much and woken up Chuuya.
When Oda began to round the corner, though, he saw that Dazai had climbed over his friend and slotted himself into the space between Chuuya and the back of the couch, half on top of him, and that both of them had their eyes shut. He’d taken Chuuya’s shoes off, too, and both pairs were lined up neatly in front of the couch.
Oda listened for a moment. Both were breathing steadily and rhythmically. He slipped back into the kitchen soundlessly.
“The kids knocked out.” Oda said.
Ango pushed his glasses up his nose. “Chuuya-kun might—”
“Dazai-kun is touching him,” Oda said with a shake of his head, “so he’ll be fine. Or, we’ll be fine, really.”
Ango glanced in their direction, even though they were obscured from view by the doorway, and Oda knew he was curious about what Oda meant by 'touching.' The relationship between the two was strange, definitely, and neither Oda nor Ango ever pretended to understand it. Dazai liked to complain about his partner to the two of them, but the drunker he got, the more those complaints started to sound fond and playful.
“Nakahara-san’s ability…” Oda felt a little lost, looking for the right words, “…is really strong, isn’t it?” He remembered his vision of the future, short as it had been.
The words felt too lackluster to capture what he meant, but Ango nodded all the same.
“It’s been said that the only way to combat Chuuya is with Dazai’s ability.” Ango pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses, “Aside from that, he’s unstoppable.”
“He’s sixteen.”
Ango met his eyes, paused a long moment, then nodded. “I know.” The words were heavy.
Another second passed, then Ango asked, “What did you see?”
Oda just looked at him.
“Dazai-kun came running out of the bathroom just as Nakahara-san was waking up. I saw his ability beginning to activate, as I saw Dazai’s cancel it. What did you see that he had to prevent?”
Just in case, Oda glanced back to the doorway leading to the living room, but it was dead silent, save for the soft, steady sounds of the kids breathing. When he was satisfied they really were asleep, he said, “It was fast. Confusing. Just… a flash of red, like an explosion of some kind.”
Ango nodded, sensing there was more.
“Tossed the furniture around, made the foundation shake. Threw you into a wall. Didn’t look like you were going to get up.” Oda looked at the table.
Ango was silent for a long moment.
“Well,” He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Thank you.” He set his glasses on the table between them.
Oda searched his face, watching the lines of tension. “Their assignment must have been very dangerous.”
The tension tightened just a bit in Ango’s face as he nodded.
“You knew about it,” Oda surmised. “Didn’t you.”
Ango rubbed his eyes. “I was aware, yes. But they’ve been on much more dangerous assignments, and everyone in the mafia believes them to be capable of more. I had no reason to think something like this would happen.”
Oda nodded.
“Nakahara-san is the strongest ability user in the Port Mafia,” Ango shrugged, “but I’ve never heard of anyone stronger outside the mafia, either. And Dazai-kun’s ability is paramount. They’re strong apart, but together, they’re a powerhouse. They can take on any enemy, ability-user or not.”
“You make it sound like they’re weapons of mass destruction.”
Ango sat back. “Oda-kun. They are.”
“They’re children.”
“They won’t be forever.” Ango glanced over his shoulder as if he expected them to be there waiting for him, then he looked back at Oda and sighed, “I know it sounds callous and unempathetic, but that is how people see it.”
“People?”
“The mafia, the public, the government, I don’t know. People.”
“The government.” Oda arched his eyebrows.
“Their work isn’t exactly subtle, Oda-kun. I’m certain the government is aware of… well, if not of who they are, then what they are.” Ango took out a fabric wipe from his pocket and began cleaning his glasses. Oda left it unspoken that if the government ever did decide they wanted to stop Chuuya and Dazai, it would be by executing them. He was sure Ango already knew, and it wouldn’t help anyone to dwell on it.
Ango stood. “I should to be going. It’s late.”
“You can stay in the spare bedroom, if you want. Dazai-kun and Chuuya-san took the couch.”
Ango put his glasses back on. “Thank you, but I prefer my own bed.”
“I’ll walk you out, then.”
They walked as quietly as possible through the living room so as not to wake Dazai and Chuuya up, but just looking at them, Oda thought it would probably take a small monsoon to make either of them react. Oda opened the door, and Ango stepped through to leave.
“You know,” Ango turned around, “at the mafia, they’re starting to call the two of them by one name.”
Oda shook his head, “I haven’t heard it.”
“Double Black.”
Oda woke up with the sunrise, as he did every morning. The late night made him more groggy than usual, but it was nothing a cup of tea couldn’t fix.
In his haste, he forgot about the two teenage mafiosos on his couch until he was walking past them and happened to glance down at the couch. Chuuya had drool in the corner of his mouth, and Dazai had started snoring softly.
In the kitchen, Oda fllled the kettle and put on the burner. Yellow morning light was beginning to creep through the windows, so he sat at the table and read a book until the kettle began to whistle, then made himself a mug of black tea.
The sun moved higher into the sky, and the light traveled further across the room.
Flawless gave him a heads up when Dazai was going to wake up, so Oda moved to lean against the doorframe between the kitchen and the living room.
Dazai stirred. He blinked a few times to remember where he was, then glanced beside him and saw Chuuya, still asleep. Without any thought, he brushed Chuuya’s hair out of his face. Sharing the couch like that, they were already very close, but this gesture put Dazai’s nose only a few centimeters from Chuuya’s.
“I can put on a pot of coffee when you want any.” Oda called, and Dazai jolted a little, pulling away from his friend.
“Odasaku!” He exclaimed, then quieted down again when Chuuya twitched in his sleep. Still, he scooted a little bit to put some distance between them. “Don’t sneak up on me, Odasaku, I almost shoved Slug onto the floor.”
“Hmm.” Oda glanced from him to Chuuya. “I saw that, by the way.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Oda tapped his temple. “I saw it twice.”
With a scowl, Dazai complained, “Watching us sleep makes you sound like a pervert, Odasaku.”
Oda didn’t outwardly react to that, even if the words made his stomach twist with revulsion. A part of him wanted to ask why Dazai’s brain went there so quickly, why that thought even crossed his mind at all. Instead, he said, “Let me know when you’ll want breakfast.”
“Hmm,” Dazai put his head back down on the couch. “Maybe soon.” His fingers were still in Chuuya’s hair, but Oda didn’t think he noticed.
Feeling a bit like he was intruding on them, Oda went back to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and put on the rice cooker, anyway.
The rice was just about ready by the time there was commotion again in the living room. Oda didn’t want to be eavesdropping, but the walls were thin enough that he could hear it every time Chuuya or Dazai so much as shifted around.
“Are you awake?” Dazai was half-whispering.
“Obviously.”
“How can you be so rude to me first thing in the morning?”
“Get off—” Chuuya’s groggy voice snapped, “Why were you sleeping with me, anyway? Isn’t there somewhere else you could have gone?”
“You almost killed us last night,” Dazai’s voice says. “I think.” And maybe that wasn’t an exaggeration, but it wasn’t as if Dazai had any real way of knowing that, so Oda still thought it was a little mean.
“What?” Chuuya sounded a bit more alert now.
“Odasaku had a vision, so I had time to stop you. But he said I had to nullify your ability until you woke up and could control it, so I had to sleep here.”
Oda stopped short. The goddamn kid was throwing him under the bus.
“You smell bad.” Dazai’s voice said, cheerful now.
Chuuya countered with, “Yeah? You have blood in your hair, asshole.”
They started bickering back and forth, and Oda sighed. He’d been witness to their squabbles a couple times before, though usually only in passing when he was assigned to drive Dazai somewhere or make a delivery. Sometimes they were genuinely mean to each other, and it was always a fine line between joking and not.
“Hey,” Oda poked his head out of the kitchen, “knock it off.”
The kids twisted around to look at him. They were both still tucked together on the couch. Dazai still had Sakura’s hairtie holding his bangs out of his face, and it made him look very childish and young.
“Oda-san—”
“Odasaku, I’m going to use your shower.” Dazai announced.
“Go for it.” Oda nodded, and Dazai stuck his tongue out at Chuuya before climbing over him and slinking into the bathroom. Oda glanced at Chuuya. “There’s another shower in the bedroom. You can use that one.”
Chuuya sat up straight and bowed his head. “Thank you, Oda-san. Sorry to burden you.”
“Don’t worry about it, Chuuya-san.” Oda gestured to the clothes he’d left on the back of the couch. “Those are for you. They won’t fit, but they’re better than nothing.”
Chuuya took the clothes. “You don’t have to call me that. You’re older; it’s weird.” Then he went into the bathroom to clean up.
Oda propped his hands up on his hips and sighed.
Once clean and fed, Dazai insisted it was time for the two of them to go.
“We haven’t checked in with anyone since last night,” He reasoned as he tied his shoelaces, “Mori-san will be upset if we wait too long.”
Oda thought Chuuya looked like he could use another few hours of rest, but Chuuya himself was already agreeing and putting his own shoes on.
“Afterwards, we can go to the arcade. I got a token for three free games, and it expires soon.” Dazai finished with his laces first and bounced to the front door. “See you later, Odasaku! Thanks for the sleepover!”
“You should ask Mori-san to take a look at your side while you’re there.” Oda said pointedly, and Dazai groaned.
“Odasaku is such a mother hen. Hurry up, Chuuya.” He slipped out the door and started into the street.
“His side?” Chuuya asked, a little stiff. It was clear to Oda that Chuuya wasn’t totally comfortable with him, which Oda could understand. From what Dazai had said about him, Chuuya hadn’t had the best luck with adults.
“Got nicked. He should be fine, if he keeps it clean.” Oda told him, using a bit of a gentler tone than he did with Dazai.
Chuuya nodded, “I’ll make sure.” He said it like he was shouldering a burden.
“Thank you, Chuuya-kun.”
Chuuya started to follow Dazai out the door, then stopped abruptly and turned to look at Oda.
“Did you really make Dazai sleep on the couch with me?”
Oda looked at him. There was something sharp and critical in his eyes, and Oda knew he would see through any lie he tried to tell, so he told the truth: “No.”
Chuuya nodded. “I figured.” Then: “I’ll have Dazai get these clothes back to you, so don’t let him forget.”
Anything else Oda might have said to him was interrupted by Dazai shouting, “Chuu-chan!!”
Chuuya whirled on him immediately. “Don’t fucking call me that, dipshit!”
Dazai laughed and began running off, and Chuuya gave Oda a final, quick bow of his head before taking off after him at a sprint.
Oda watched them leave, Chuuya shouting curses and Dazai laughing maniacally. A small smile tugged at his lips.
Double Black, he thought. Maybe they were Double Black in combat, but for now, they just looked like kids.