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Going on missions with Chuuya was equal parts familiar and foreign.
The banter was the same, with both recycling the same nicknames they always had, but there was a distinct bitter undertone now. Occasionally one or the other would make a comment or a tease that fell flat, and Dazai hated it. Had he expected to pick back up on their dynamic like nothing had happened? No, he wasn’t an idiot. But this new state of affairs that meant that some mundane comment could set off an awkward silence was enough to make Dazai want to claw his eyes out.
Much like it was now.
There had been a rogue group of Ability users that had mistakenly thought that the aftermath of the Guild’s attack on Yokohama was the perfect time to make a move. Had been, because the newly minted tentative alliance between the Port Mafia and the Agency meant that almost the entire group had been wiped out relatively quickly.
Just one member remained, and while their Ability was bothersome, it was hardly destructive enough to warrant both Dazai and Chuuya personally overseeing the mission to bring them in. Truly, only Dazai needed to be there. The mark was a shapeshifter, and thus No Longer Human would be necessary in ensuring that the correct person was brought in. Dazai had even suggested to the President that this job could be completed solo, but for some reason Mori had insisted that Chuuya tag along as backup.
For all he thought that was wholly unnecessary, Dazai could clearly see the advantages of having Chuuya with him. The shapeshifter had fled, so while Dazai was reasonably confident they weren’t especially combative, he didn’t know that for certain. And he knew that he didn’t come anywhere near Chuuya in terms of physical ability. On top of that, there were very few people this shapeshifter would know to use against Chuuya. While his past with the Sheep and the Flags was something of an open secret within the Mafia, Dazai would guess that very few outside of it would know. And even in the event that that did actually happen, and the mark tried to impersonate someone from Chuuya’s past, Dazai was confident it wouldn’t have the intended effect.
The general perception of Chuuya from those outside of the Mafia was one of his best assets, and one Dazai was sure he didn’t even know about. Almost all of the opponents Chuuya faced had heard of his physical prowess, that was a given, but there was also a widely spread understanding that he was the ‘strong one’ and Dazai was the ‘smart one’. This wasn’t untrue, but it did give a slightly skewed impression of their dynamic. It had— on multiple occasions— led to opponents vastly underestimating Chuuya’s actual intellect. An often fatal mistake.
All that to say that Chuuya was likely the best choice for backup on this mission. Even impersonating Dazai himself wouldn’t help the shapeshifter, as Chuuya likely wouldn’t hesitate to pummel him. He’d probably even enjoy himself.
But logically knowing that a decision was sound was entirely different from agreeing with or liking said decision. Especially at the current moment, where an offhand comment from Dazai had brought about an excruciating silence. He didn’t even remember what he had said.
Dazai opened his mouth to— to what? Apologize? Make small talk?
It didn’t matter anyway, as Chuuya spoke up before he had the chance.
“We should split up.” Chuuya said, without even looking at Dazai. And then he walked down an offshoot hallway without waiting for an answer. There were upwards of ten reasons Dazai could think of off the top of his head for why splitting up was a bad idea, but he wasn’t about to chase after Chuuya to tell him that. Chuuya was the dog, not him. It wasn’t like Chuuya was in any danger, he was the one who was supposed to protect Dazai after all.
Oh well. Dazai wasn’t going to complain about time to think without the oppressive silence that permeated his recent interactions with Chuuya.
The building he’d tracked the shapeshifter to was in decently good repair, which was far better than most of the abandoned structures he usually found himself in on these sorts of jobs. It was like the small time criminals wholeheartedly believed that a more run down warehouse was somehow better at hiding them. It was a pleasant change of pace to not have to worry about this building crumbling around them if Chuuya ended up needing to use his ability.
A downside to the building’s relative newness was that all the walls were still fully intact, making it necessary to actually search the whole building. And it was not a small structure. Dazai supposed that a pro to splitting up could be that the shapeshifter may grow bold and spontaneously decide to try and take Dazai out now that he was alone. That would certainly save them time.
Dazai also knew that this particular building was a hotspot for any number of random civilians. Dumb school aged kids trying to be cool, small time criminals also trying to be cool, and drug addicts. The shapeshifter would have no trouble blending in. When he and Chuuya had first arrived, there had been a trio of teens, but it was no trouble for Chuuya to tell them to get lost. And it had been even easier for Dazai to brush up against each of them in some way as they scrambled to listen.
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Pushing open a door to his left, Dazai lets his eyes sweep across the space behind it. This would be the latest in a long line of empty rooms, and as such he wasn’t expecting much.
His only consolation is that the group of thugs within look far more surprised than he is. But that does him very little good when faced with the upwards of fifteen guns now pointed at him.
This is humiliating, and even more so because his own gun isn’t drawn. Dazai hadn’t even brought a gun, but Chuuya had shoved one into his hands when they’d first arrived, meaning that this was grounds for Chuuya to gloat later if he found out. That thought was far more terrifying than anything the lowlifes in front of him could ever hope to accomplish. It was also more than enough motivation to resolve this quickly, and without any sort of injury. His coworkers at the Agency would have a field day if they knew that all it took to temporarily disable his self-destructive tendencies was the mere idea of proving Chuuya right.
One of the idiots in front of him was clearly barking some sort of order at him, but Dazai couldn’t be bothered to listen. He’d put money he didn’t have on the fact that they were asking who he was, how he knew where they were, and any number of other questions that presumed that they were important enough to be on Dazai’s radar. His thoughts were better used formulating an exit strategy, which wouldn’t be too hard given that none of the group had the foresight to just shoot him and be done with it. That coupled with the way all of the men in front of him were looking to each other for orders, and not to any central leader.
Fortunately, Dazai doesn’t end up needing any plan at all. Unfortunately, it would appear he wasn’t going to be able to keep this from Chuuya.
While none of these thugs had recognized Dazai, they clearly knew who Chuuya was. All the falling over they did trying to exit the room did most of the work for the gravity manipulator, and Dazai was sure this extremely one-sided fight would be over very soon. None of the shots fired even came close to hitting Chuuya, and the man never even had to activate his ability. It was disappointing all told. Chuuya wasn’t even really trying it appeared, making the entire situation even more of a waste.
By the time he was done, Dazai had found a nice wall to lean against. Letting his head thunk behind him, Dazai looked directly at the overhead light, idly hoping for it to blind him so he’d never have to see such an underwhelming performance ever again. Or at least that’s what he’d be saying once the hatrack threw some sort of insult at him for doing nothing. It would be hilarious.
“Dazai? We still have a job to do, let’s go.”
..
What? No quip? No insulting nickname? No gloating? There wasn’t anything in his voice to suggest that he was angry with Dazai in this particular moment, but he couldn’t help wondering if Chuuya was still upset from his comment earlier.
Dazai tore his eyes away from the light, trying to blink the spots from his vision away as quickly as possible. He even went so far as to rub his eyes. Every aspect of Chuuya’s body language displayed the utmost neutrality and professionalism, which was so unlike him it was almost enough for Dazai to look for signs of a fever. Chuuya’s temper could flare, but most of the time he was relatively calm, especially now that they were older. But calm and neutral were very different.
Maybe the slug had finally had enough, and decided to treat Dazai like any other coworker. The thought made him uncomfortable, like rubbing the wrong way on velvet. Or touching velvet at all. But if that’s what Chuuya wanted, Dazai wasn’t going to cry for his attention like some whiny kid. If it was a reaction Chuuya was looking for, he wasn’t going to get one at all.
So he just went about his task, brushing his hand against all of the now unconscious thugs briefly. He doubted any of them were the shapeshifter, but there was no harm in being thorough, and prolonging the amount of time before he had to awkwardly walk alongside Chuuya again.
By the time he was done, Chuuya was already in the hallway, walking forward. Dazai idly noted that he was walking weirdly. Not in a way that would suggest an injury, and it was subtle enough that were Dazai anyone else, he likely wouldn’t notice. He just couldn’t help but remember that Chuuya had always put slightly more weight on his left leg, the entire time Dazai had known him. He’d never asked about it, but it did imply a very old injury, barely noticeable. At the time, he’d filed it away in a mental list of possible weaknesses to exploit if Chuuya ever genuinely tried to kill him. He told himself that he hadn’t seen Chuuya in four years, and it wasn’t odd that an injury that was likely almost a decade old at this point would no longer leave any visible evidence.
Dazai fell in step behind Chuuya, lagging the slightest bit behind as he observed the gait of the man in front of him. Without even a glance back, Chuuya began to speak.
“This guy has a shapeshifting ability. Anyone in this building could be our target.”
Something about the way he was speaking just poked at Dazai’s subconscious. The phrase was innocuous, if a tad redundant considering they’d already had this conversation before they arrived. But there wasn’t anything about the words that should make Dazai feel this put off. Was it the use of ‘guy’? The gender of the mark had never been made clear to them, but referring to the mark as a guy wasn’t damning enough that Dazai would feel this wary.
His stride slowed even more, and it did not go unnoticed by the man in front of him. As subtly as he could, Dazai slipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew the object inside.
“You’re trailing behind, Dazai! C’mon hurry up!”
There was just something wrong. And he had a highly effective way to test his theory, a theory that was gaining traction by the second.
Raising his gun, he pressed it into ginger hair, clicking the safety off. It rang out, unnaturally loud in the silence of the night. The figure before him tensed, clearly not expecting this. For a moment, neither moved at all.
Tilting his head ever so slightly toward Dazai, “What do you think you are doing?”
Now that he was listening for it, it was so obvious. His diction was all wrong. The shapeshifter was putting his emphasis on all the wrong words, the sentences just weren’t flowing the same way Chuuya’s did. And the distinct lack of insulting names was another dead giveaway, were Dazai not such an idiot. Of course he hadn’t activated his ability in the fight with those thugs, the ability wasn’t his.
All Dazai needed was a confirmation, a verbal one. Sure he could touch the fake, but the thought made him sick to his stomach. He would just give the shapeshifter a length of metaphorical rope...
“That was truly a nice charade,” Lie, “but… Chuuya calls me Osamu when it’s just the two of us.”
...and let him hang.
The shapeshifter’s body language changes in an instant. Gone are any pretenses, and in a voice not even attempting to sound like the original, they hissed out “Huh, so you two are that close!” And with that, Dazai had all he needed.
Lowering the muzzle ever so slightly, Dazai shot the fake through the heart.
“Just kidding~”
He observes the still twitching figure, and allows himself to be momentarily relieved he decided to go for the heart and not the head. He’s not sure he’d take the sight of Chuuya’s— even fake Chuuya’s— brains splattered on the ground well.
“I would get sick if he ever called me by my first name! That was a rather pathetic excuse of an impersonation.”
That was all true, if not exactly in the way the shapeshifter would take it. Not that their opinion really mattered at this point, as they were busy thrashing and dying on the ground. Dazai is sure that Chuuya calling him by his first name would make him feel sick, but mostly because he couldn’t see it ever happening unless one or both of them were dying. Which was a thought that made him sick to his stomach. So really, he hadn’t lied at all.
He’s just wiping the blood from his cheek when the real Chuuya comes all but flying into the hall. He nearly crashes into a wall in his haste, which would make Dazai cry laughing in any other situation. But he isn’t much in a laughing mood anymore. In fact, he’d really just like to get back to his dorm at the Agency and sleep off all the weird thoughts he’d had tonight.
Unfortunately for him, Chuuya had found his talkative side while they were split up.
“What the fuck happened here mackerel? You hurt? Is that—? I don’t even want to know, let’s just call this in and get the hell out of here.” With that, Chuuya turned and began to walk back the way he’d come.
He was putting ever so slightly more weight on his left foot.
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During the walk out of the building, Chuuya didn’t attempt to make small talk, which Dazai was grateful for. It gave him a bit to gather his thoughts, and wrap his head around having to speak again.
Chuuya had even been kind enough to call it in for him, so they were free to leave. The chilly night air helped Dazai immensely, and he took in a deep breath just to savor the feeling.
“So. How’d you know it wasn’t me?”
Of course he would be curious about that, he’d seen the body after all.
Dazai’s thoughts raced. All things he couldn’t possibly say. They didn’t fight like you. They didn’t call me by the right names, or any names at all. They didn’t walk like you. They didn’t talk like you. I know you Chuuya, I see you Chuuya, how could a fake ever compare—
“They were way less annoying than you. A lot less yapping too!”
And this time, he’s met with an amused snort instead of an awkward silence.