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“Dazai!”
Sigma rushes over to the crime scene, beads of sweat building on her brow and heart beating wildly. As soon as Fukuzawa reported there was an urgent situation involving Dazai, Sigma didn’t waste another second to get there. It was almost pathetic, really, just how many nonsensical possibilities ran through her head before actually reaching the scene.
Thankfully, Dazai was conscious and… mostly unharmed. The police on the scene explained that Dazai was not the victim by any means, nor had he attempted some crazy suicidal nonsense in the heat of the moment. Instead, the perpetrator landed a number on him before Dazai could successfully manage to nullify their ability. Still, his forehead was coated in blood– presumably from a failed gunshot– and multiple wounds were visible along his arms and torso. Sigma released a shaky breath.
“Dazai,” she repeated, to which he finally turned his head. He responded with a nonchalant grin, as if there weren't a massive wound overhead. “You’re hurt. What’s the situation? Has the criminal been handled?”
“You’re worrying an awful lot for a former criminal,” Dazai says, answering none of the previous questions. Sigma raises a doubtful brow.
“And you’re interfering an awful lot for another.”
Dazai chuckles. “Fair enough,” he says, shrugging and brushing down the sleeves of his button-up. “The criminal attempted an armed kidnapping, but he’s been subdued and taken into custody. We won’t have to worry about him anymore.”
“Hm,” Sigma huffs. It was typical for Dazai to leave out the details and play off the situation like it was nothing. Still… after the authorities left the scene and the other Armed Detective Agency members took their liberties to clean up the rest, Dazai was completely unattended. They likely knew this was the usual for him; the man was coated head to toe in bandage wrapping, after all. He’d scared the agency members enough times with almost-deaths and suicide attempts. “And your injuries?”
“Huh, these? Oh, these are nothing,” Dazai twists around in place, showing off just how much of ‘nothing’ there was. A gash over his breastbone, a bloodied tear in his vest, a slash over his back. “Most of the blood probably isn't even mine. I’ll have to wash my coat, though… this old thing has definitely seen better days.”
“Enough,” Sigma commanded, shutting Dazai up instantly. “We’re done here, right?”
Dazai tilts his head in questioning. “Yeah.”
“Then,” Sigma hesitates, but only briefly. It’s a word she’s struggled to use since she was recruited, since she was given a space to call it thus. “Let's go home, okay?”
Dazai smiles. A real, full smile.
“Yeah. Let’s go home.”
____________
Over time, Sigma began to incorporate herself into Dazai’s space. Rather than making an investment in an agency-provided dormitory, she remained with Dazai in his dormitory. She did purchase her own futon, and she spent additional funds on clothes and supplies for hygiene, but most everything else was shared between the two of them. Each plate and glass in the cupboard, every rag and towel folded in the closet. They even want grocery shopping on numerous occasions, coordinating their meals for the mornings and evenings.
Nonetheless, she almost felt embarrassed to call this a home. They were basically only roommates, given she barely had the funds to afford their lodgings over basic human resources. This was an arrangement solely out of convenience, and Dazai was just being cordial.
Although ‘cordial’ wasn't exactly Dazai’s style, more often than not.
“Sigmaaa!” Dazai called from the room over, waving his hands around in the seat. Sigma was preoccupied with fetching medical supplies from the cabinet, piling up her arms with anything that looked useful: cotton gauze, patches, another roll of wound closure. But in truth, she wasn't particularly well-versed with first aid, no less multiple open gashes across the body. “Have you found anything? If you take any longer, I may as well bleed out and die!”
“Be quiet,” Sigma spat, trying to withhold the bile in her throat. She couldn't understand how all of the Agency members turned a blind eye to Dazai’s unconventional tendencies. It struck a certain fear within her. She had lost quite enough already. “I found some supplies, but not much. Be honest, if I weren't here, who would take care of you?”
Dazai merely makes a hm sound at this, beaming in a way that makes the corners of his eyelids crease. “Good question. I suppose I am lucky to have you here, yeah?”
“Save your sweet talk, I won’t always be here. You should learn to take care of yourself better,” Sigma says, unrolling the bandaging and failing miserably at repressing her embarrassment. Doesn’t he know that if he says things like that, she might actually get used to this?
Instead of retorting, though, Sigma shakes her head and presses a slip of gauze to his forehead, applying modicums of pressure to the wound. She knew this much: first halt the bleeding, then clean up the excess, then make sure it’s completely protected so there are no casualties. It seemed simple enough, but the process felt strained and unnatural. Especially when Dazai looked up at her with an expression of wonder.
Gently, she swipes at the remaining clots, attentive to whether or not Dazai flinches or expresses a semblance of pain. The bullet just barely scraped his head, so it could have been far worse, but she couldn't help but overthink the possibilities all over again.
Once the wound was no longer oozing with assiduous crimson, Sigma swiftly fluttered towards the sink, coating a cloth with soap and warm water. When she returned, Dazai hadn't moved an inch from where he sat, pliant and awaiting Sigma’s service. Sigma was grateful for this. The lack of squirming made the process much easier, and it means Dazai had no objections to Sigma diverting her eyes every chance she was given.
With a freshly cleansed forehead, Sigma finalizes the process by wrapping the roll of bandaging over his head and fastening it. “There’s one down.”
“Much obliged! I can handle the rest on my own, then.”
“Can you really?” Sigma questions, meeting his eye. It was already a difficult venture from the street to the dormitory, having to suspend the man over her shoulder multiple times so he didn't topple over. He wasn't weak, but his body was frail and shivering at present. “I can’t imagine you'll be able to handle the injuries along this lower half very well.”
Dazai makes an inscrutable expression at this. He seemed almost… shy. But Sigma, being Sigma, loosely defines this as discomfort and backs away.
“I know that would require unwrapping your current bandages, though,” she says, much quieter than before. “If you’re not comfortable, I don’t plan to force you. I’m certainly not comfortable with exposing my chest to anyone.”
“It’s okay, Sigma,” Dazai replies kindly, guiding her hands towards his waist. Images float about her mind of her first night here, of softly exploring and new beginnings. “I’m okay with it. I would just prefer we only remove the ones necessary for the process, and fix them back in place afterward. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” Sigma says almost instantly. “Do… Do you want to remove them, or should I?”
“Start here,” Dazai answers in lieu of any affirmation. Sigma’s hands trail down his waist until her fingers curl just beneath his waistband, unfolding a clasp that causes the bandaging to loosen. The strips fall together in varied directions, unwinding in place until the sources of most blood are revealed. Her breath hitches at the expanse of skin, feeling almost like she’s intruding on something top-secret. Despite this, what she sees is unexpected– smooth, untouched skin, only lightly scarred and bruised. Testing the waters, Sigma presses her fingertips to the remains of scar tissue, to which Dazai finally flinches, just a little. She removes the hand just as quickly. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Dazai exhales. “You can touch me anywhere.”
Ah. Okay. That was a completely normal sentence.
“Do they still hurt?” Sigma begins with a few select lesions across his stomach, repeating the previous process. She places down the gauze and cleans up the blood as soothingly as possible, but Dazai’s breathing remains uneven. He can pretend the exposure is nothing all he wants, but his senses cannot lie. Even he knows that. “The old wounds, that is.”
“Heh, no. Your hands are just cold.”
“But that isn’t all there is to it,” she continues. She makes sure to keep her voice light, her touch consistent with her tone. “I’m… a little curious, if I may. You’ve always worn these bandages, but do you change them out? And how frequently?”
“That is for me to know and you to find out.”
“Find out? How?”
He only giggles at this, but Sigma doesn't mind this time around. At least it calmed his breathing, lowered his defenses. Sigma continues around his back, dipping her hands beneath the bandaging and deep cleaning the fresh scar over his spine. In her idleness, Sigma begins to hum a simple tune. It’s one she picked up from a radio station at the Armed Detective Agency, an andante that occupies her mind on occasion. The subdued melody flows throughout the room, entwining with the movements of her methodical fingers. When all of the wounds are covered, she returns to each individual clasp, ensuring that every strip returns to its original placement as promised.
“That should do for now. Just remember to–” Sigma trails off when she realizes Dazai is dozing. His eyes flutter open and shut, like the light overhead and the sound of Sigma’s voice are the only things keeping him tethered to the realm of consciousness. “Dazai?”
“Hm?”
Sigma sighs fondly. “Awake?”
“Mmm… yeah.” He interlocks his fingers and stretches them over his head, making a small ow sound on the comedown. “Head…”
“Is there anywhere I missed? Anything else I can do?”
Dazai looks up at her, matching their gazes as the kitchen light illuminates his pupils. It’s most likely for that reason that his eyes look like they’re sparkling. Then he taps his finger to his chin, once, twice, feigning some sort of deep thought that’s foreign to Sigma. “Ah, the only thing that could cure me now is a kiss, really.”
Silence.
Dazai flits his eyes away. “But I thank you for your efforts anyway. Well! It’s about time we get back to work, Atsushi is probably wondering where I–”
Just like that, Sigma leans forward, one hand in Dazai’s hair and presses her lips to his forehead.
It’s not a long-lasting kiss, nor could you feel it very easily with bandage wrapping and unkept bangs in the way, but it’s very clearly a kiss. And every second is memorable, their hearts beating in tandem before Sigma pulls away just far enough for their noses to be pressed together. Dazai, for his part, can feel the tingle of her soft lips even after she departs. Oh.
“How about that?” Sigma asks, openly flustered. “Feeling better?”
Dazai smiles, real and full. “It may require further experimentation,” he answers, extending his hand towards the slope of her neck. “But for now, yeah. Much better.”