Chapter Text
⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹
"You could look up from your phone once in a while, you know?" Dazai let the voice pass over his head as he continued with his game of flappy bird, only for an elbow to dig into his side, hard, causing his phone to clatter onto the wooden bar table he was leaning on.
"Chuuyaaa, I was just about to beat my high score!" He swivelled his stool around to face the boy, taking note of the new tailored suit he was wearing – a deep navy to complement his blue eyes and ginger hair – in lieu of his usual three piece and hat... it looked expensive. Exactly what a freshly graduated kid would stupidly splurge on for their first job interview.
"I don't give a fuck about your high score; you're meant to be keeping up appearances with me. We're already at a disadvantage with our age, don't make things any worse." Chuuya impatiently slammed his glass of whisky on the table, missing the coaster and causing some to spill out.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk... Chuuya should know better than to make a mess at the boss' favourite bar." Dazai wrapped his fingers around the boy's new suit jacket sleeve and pulled it down onto the table, wiping away the few drops of condensation and whiskey. Chuuya let out a muffled scream of shock and anger from the back of his throat, firmly pulling his arm away from Dazai’s weak clasp and earning a weak laugh from the other. He never understood why Dazai liked to mess with him like that. In his annoyance, he threw off his jacket and hurled it towards Dazai"s face, causing his partner to lose his balance and fall backwards.
He waited for the bandaged freak to stand back up, before downing his glass and pulling the boy by his tie; "Listen, I know you don't care for a promotion seeing as you're already the boss’ pet, but I want to be an executive. Seeing as everyone here has decided to lump us together, I can't get a good rep by the execs here unless you behave. Got it?" Chuuya tightened his grip on the other to drive the message home.
Dazai lazily raised his fingers into a salute, before going "got it captain, I'll be in tip top shape." Resulting in a tired sigh from the red head as he let go.
"So," Dazai cleared his throat and loosened his taught tie, "why are you trying so hard to be an executive already? You've only been here for a couple of months; do you really think Mori will promote you already?"
It didn't escape Dazai how his words elicited a flush of embarrassment from his partner, "It's been in the air for quite some time now, he's been looking for a new exec and if it isn't me, it's going to be you, shitty mackerel." Chuuya looked away, before taking a seat in a position that would let him view the rest of the bar. A few people he recognised in passing were seated at some luxurious sofas, smoking and discussing current affairs. Most were immersed in Mori's private gaming room, fitted with casino games and elegant card tables inlaid with mother of pearl that glimmered all the way to the boys. Whilst the adult mafiosos were fine with the two fifteen-year-olds drinking, apparently gambling was off limits ever since Dazai caused a ruckus by emptying out everyone's pockets in one game. Mori himself wasn't anywhere to be found.
"Say..." Chuuya whispered, turning to find Dazai himself scanning the room, "where's the boss? He's the one who put this whole thing together for new year's anyways..."
At once, the building went silent as the bell-like ringing timbre of crystal glass echoed; Mori emerged with Elise in tow, a pleasured smirk on his face. Chuuya swore he felt Dazai flinch next to him for a second, before his attention went back to the man at the centre of the room.
"My, my, I do apologise for being so unfashionably late – you see a black cat crossed my path, how unlucky." At once, the room fell into practiced laughter, but Chuuya could feel the tension in the air as everyone stood still for their boss. "Nevertheless, I took a different path to ward off any bad luck for the new year. Speaking of, please, enjoy tonight – it's on me."
The crowd clapped and dispersed, and a natural air of chatter swelled up causing Chuuya to relax – though not for long as Dazai leapt off beside him and strolled towards the direction of the boss. Chuuya took a momentary glance at his soiled suit jacket on the floor, before abandoning it and trailing after the other boy.
"Hey-" Chuuya reached out to Dazai’s wrist, stopping when he noticed the tremors traversing through the boy's fingers. He chose to silently walk behind him instead. Mori was sat at a booth with a few mafiosos, including Kouyou – the executive who had been mentoring him since his first day. She glanced up to them both and excused herself, so did the others. Chuuya swore her gaze was one of concern when roved over at his direction. He wondered what this meant.
Without asking, Dazai took a seat in front of the boss, leaving Chuuya to awkwardly stand beside him. "Chuuya-kun, please take a seat." - to which Chuuya obliged in relief, so he was wanted in this impromptu meeting. "I hope both of you have been keeping well," Mori spoke out in a breathy exhale, a mannerism that Chuuya had grown used to, despite the way that voice raised the hair on the nape of his neck.
"We have, boss." the red head spoke up, noticing the lack of response from his partner, as well as the concerning way Dazai’s eye ate up any light, leaving a pit of darkness that bore into the boss. Mori simply chuckled at the pleasantries, ignoring the mystifying presence of the small boy clad in black.
"It seems Osamu-kun has figured out what brings you two here," at once, a shadow cast over Mori's smile, warping into something far ominous and omnipotent, "I have a mission for you both – sorry to sully the new year's cheer."
"Not at all, boss." Chuuya piped up, feeling as if his voice would help a little to stop the presence of Mori Ougai from eating him whole.
Elise chirped a tune whilst she pulled out a manilla folder from a briefcase and sprawled its contents on the table. Whilst Mori was sorting out the documents with the girl, Chuuya took the opportunity to place his hand underneath the table, on the bony one next to him. He physically relaxed as No Longer Human suppressed the dull heat in his veins, a feeling which should have felt uncomfortable, but he had grown to cherish it. Similarly, he knew that Dazai’s frigid core had learnt to recognise the buzz of For the Tainted Sorrow, so he watched expectantly as the twinkle in his partner's unbandaged eye, and his shit eating grin returned.
"Hmm Mori has made me dress up only to assign me a mission, whatever will I dooo?" Dazai theatrically flailed about, as Chuuya sat back to not get hit in the face by his hands.
"Perhaps this is a mission you might find interesting Osamu-kun, take a look now." Mori's eyes glinted with humour, he pointed out a few articles and newspaper clippings, one caught Dazai’s eye.
"’All Might to begin a teaching career’ hmm, how interesting indeed.” Chuuya’s eyes roved over the headline Dazai read aloud, confused as to why quirk users piqued the interest of the Port Mafia. He was well aware of the existence of such people, seeing as he managed the branch of the mafia that dealt with international trade of gemstones. Everyplace except Yokohama seemed to be packed with these people, he had interacted with them during his missions abroad. Chuuya felt more familiar with the quirk society outside of Japan, it seemed Mori was careful not to let him out of Yokohama, unless it was to the port of another nation. He had done some basic research into society in the vicinity of Yokohama in the event of any mingling with the law regarding his citizenship. All Might was the nation’s hero – no he was considered the greatest hero in the rest of the world too. But it seemed the only place his influence did not reach was Yokohama. Just as Yokohama seemed to stick out like a sore thumb compared to the rest of the country.
“Yes, Osamu-kun, how interesting. You’ll be even more interested to know that my intel tells me that he may very well be looking for, or has even taken, a protege. Whilst this should not concern the mafia the slightest, let me give you both a little history lesson.” Mori shuffled around a few more papers, bringing a picture of a newborn that glowed gold into view. Dazai groaned, as if he had seen this picture quite a few times already – and signalled at a passing waiter for a glass of whiskey on the rocks.
“Now, despite Dazai having some information on this already, let me start with the first person to have a quirk – some two hundred years ago, a child was born in China with the power to emanate light. It was from then; did people suddenly develop powers until majority of the population across the globe did. People became accustomed to this phenomenon and dubbed their powers ‘quirks’. Unlike quirks, abilities have been recorded to have been around far longer, and our supernatural abilities are precisely as described – supernatural. Despite preceding quirks, there is no scientific basis for abilities, they do not relate to each other, and so cannot be passed down. They break a fundamental discovery by Antoine Lavoisier – that ‘energy cannot be created nor destroyed’.”
Dazai grinned, “I should dumb that down for Chuuya – his processing speed coincidentally aligns with the pace of a slug.” The bandaged boy ignored the shouts from his fiery partner and continued, “What Mori-san is saying is that whilst quirks may have scientific explanations for their existence, meaning logical conditions to fulfil, as well as limitations, abilities don’t. For example, a quirk that produces fire relies on the oxygen in the environment, as well as a fuel that the body produces from taking in energy from food. A closed system of energy is maintained. An ability that produces fire is much more literal, fire is produced outside the boundaries of science, there is no need of oxygen, nor a fuel, the fire itself exists outside of a system of energy that the rest of the universe is confined to.”
“Scary isn’t it,” Mori chimed in, as Chuuya sat there, trying to process the information, “ability users are on an entirely different plane of existence, perhaps that is why we are so few. Ah, let me continue where I left off. As quirks became the majority, unlike ability users, quirk users became able to live freely. Us, on the other hand, had past experiences of discrimination, take for example the Salem Witch Trials of 1692 – the collective experiences of the victims kindled the start of the North American association, The Guild, as we know it today. In our own nation, we have had similar histories of prejudice, so our people hid out of necessity. Those who were powerful enough, evaded the government and set up territories through governing isolated settlements. This is how the Port Mafia came to be. Whilst we are known for our ruthlessness and supernatural aids, most of the grunt work is from common people lower down.”
“Moriiii, how much longer are you planning to keep us hereeee? Some of us only came at the promise of booze and cards you know!” The boy flopped over, his glass of whiskey long emptied and his upper body sprawled over important documents.
“Dazai let the boss speak!” Chuuya kicked the other in the shin as he looked back to the boss sheepishly.
“It’s alright Chuuya-kun, Osamu-kun has a predisposition to throwing tantrums, I’m afraid even all my medical knowledge cannot curve this. Ah but, I don’t plan to keep you two for much longer, let me continue. Do you see the people in this room? Many oversee various warehouses and treasuries in the country, and they have reported a startling increase in quirk related activities interfering with their work. It seems now that the number one hero is teetering on retirement and taking time out to be a mentor, quirk users who call themselves villains are getting cocky and moving in on not only hero territory, but ours. I want you both to stifle this, pose as students in the day and resume your identities as mafiosos in the night.”
“Boss, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the need for the first part of the plan? I don’t see the relevance of being a school kid, better to lie low at a base in the day.”
“I’m sure Osamu-kun can explain.” Mori and Chuuya fixed their gazes on the dark-haired boy, as he rose his head from the table and sighed.
“If we join UA, we can easily gather information on the pro heroes too, we’re garnering attention from both the villains and the heroes, we need to draw both away from us. Tell me, boss, how much of ‘quirk related activity’ you mentioned is coming solely from villains?”
“How astute of you Dazai, yes – a significant amount of interference is coming from pro heroes, they seem to be following trails of villain organisations. Just last week we had a shipment delay due to a stop and search at a Musutafu port after a villain attack occurred at a beach a few miles away”
“Chuuya is right though, it would be better to lie low in the day, we could split up at night – I could gather intel on heroes, he could on villain organisations.” The boy’s blue eyes widened at Dazai’s statement. He didn’t know his partner was capable of siding with him.
“This is where I’ll really make your year Osamu-kun,” Mori brought his fingers together, interlocking them underneath his chin in his signature pose, “listen closely, the both of you...”
⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹
Dazai felt the familiar heat of For the Tainted Sorrow press against him, a hand moved his own arm to snake around something. He blinked, before groaning as reality set in. He was drunk out of his mind as he stumbled out of the Port Mafia gathering, his body firmly cemented against Chuuya, his arm slung over the boy’s shoulder and likewise, Chuuya had an arm securely around Dazai’s midriff.
“Chibiii...” Dazai managed to moan out in an exhale, before tripping on nothing. Said boy of short stature promptly ignored his drunk partner and made quick work of propping him on the back of his motorcycle.
“If you fall off, I’m not stopping to pick you up.” Dazai managed to mutter out a slight protest at Chuuya’s decision before dropping his head on the shoulder in front of him. The red head grimaced as the stench of booze wafted by his face, inciting him to start his bike and speed off into the night. The sun was about to rise soon, and he only had a few hours to sober up the waste of bandages behind him, before they caught a ride to Musutafu.
The late-night gelidity must have nipped away at something, because Dazai no longer looked piss drunk. Chuuya pulled him by the elbow and into his penthouse (perks of being a highly positioned mafioso) and pushed him onto his sofa.
“That plan that Mori gave us... how likely is it that it will be successful?”
Dazai rubbed his eyes and yawned out of his stupor, “it’ll be successful, don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, well what about me! You already predicted we’d get this task didn’t you! I bet you’ve already gotten someone to cover for you whilst we’re gone, I would’ve appreciated a heads up – how am I supposed to get someone to cover for the entire fucking car dealership expo I was meant to infiltrate this month?! As well as the horse race today, the meeting with the CEO of that tech corporation tomorrow, the fucking opening ceremony of the new mines the week after!” Chuuya let out an exasperated sigh, before slouching into the empty space next to Dazai.
“You don’t need to,” Dazai got up, and began to amble around the penthouse, taking notice of the door to the wine cellar, “I’ll go to Musutafu today and set up base, it makes sense since I'm the most disadvantaged in getting into UA, seeing as it requires physical skills which I lack. I’ll scout around for intel and mark out territories, aaand get information on the entrance exam.” The boy grabbed a bottle of Portuguese port that swiftly got snatched up by his partner, who annoyingly deemed Dazai to be over the alcohol limit for the day.
“You deal with the situation on your end, say your cutesy little goodbyes, and meet me a week before the exam – I'll try to drill as much as I can on the written assessment in that slow brain of yours.”
Chuuya brushed that remark aside, not in the mood for bickering, “Sounds great and all, but how can I trust you not to kill yourself by the time I come round?”
“You can’t.” Dazai offered the teen a toothy grin, before snatching the bottle back.
The red head frowned, before reluctantly bringing a corkscrew and two glasses to the coffee table he originally dumped Dazai by. It didn’t take long for the shitty mackerel to make himself at home, he had sprawled over the couch and was on his third glass whilst writing up the start of a potential yearlong mission report. Chuuya, himself, was dialling contacts to secure his responsibilities in good hands after his planned departure in a month or so’s time.
The sun had risen before both of them knew it, and it wasn’t long before Dazai was due a one stop ride outside the borders of the enigmatic city of Yokohama. He had kept a stash of his own stuff in Chuuya’s place after his old place got bombed a month ago, and whilst he did end up renting out a new apartment, most days he was either not sleeping at all, or bunking at the chibi’s, much to the hothead’s dismay. Though Dazai did feel as if the slug grew to accept his unfaltering presence in his penthouse.
As he left the building, with a briefcase containing a modest collection of equipment that would barely sustain a fifteen-year-old about to go live on his own, the boy smiled to himself as he caught eye of his driver.
“Hirotsuuuu! What a pleasure to have you see me out of Yokohama!”
“All the more pleasure to serve you, Dazai-san.” The older man gently nodded his head in a greeting, before stepping on the pedal. As usual, his superior lacked the initiative to buckle his seatbelt, so the man made sure not to take any fast turns, lest the boy impulsively throw himself out of the car.
“Has Nakahara-san decided not to join us today?”
“Hmm? Oh, that hatrack, yup! He’s busy with things he deems more important than meee, can you believe it? Ah, but I was so generous to let him stay a little while longer.”
The ride was quiet, Hirotsu played the usual sombre classical pieces he did whenever driving around the city, except this time the city was in his rearview mirror, and the Port Mafia’s dark towers slowly faded from view. Just as signs of Musutafu became prominent, the elderly man took a turn into a gas station. He stopped in the corner of an empty carpark and turned to face the boy clad in black who stared passively out the window.
“The boss asked me to give you these.” to which Hirotsu handed the boy a wallet, which he slipped in his pocket, as well as a phone which had an encrypted number on.
Upon understanding that this was the end of the interaction between them, Dazai muttered a small ‘thank you’ before getting out of the car. As soon as he did, the car slunk away, its wheels churning grit in the direction back to Yokohama.
The teenager let out a comically drawn-out sigh, before making his way into a shabby convenience store attached to the gas station. Even though he was only in the fringe between Yokohama and the outside world, he already felt the difference; strange sensations buzzed around him, not painful but alien. He followed one such sensation on his way down an aisle, only to find the source – a person with a weasel’s head. ‘Wow,’ he thought to himself, ‘quirks certainly are weird as fuck.’
He wondered to himself what would happen should the two collide? That guy’s quirk seemed to be a mutation type, thus permanent, something he had read about in the papers Mori had handed him. Not wanting to draw any attention from the law just yet, he nimbly skirted past the guy and went to the back of the store to look at the refrigerated section – lo and behold, several cans of crab meat found their way in Dazai’s basket. He ignored the voice in his head that said he didn’t even have a place to stay yet, let alone a fridge, and if he carried around that crab as his sustenance, he was sure to get botulism and die. Ah but that last thought was quite the motivator, so he grabbed another can.
The till was manned by a shabby looking middle-aged guy busy watching a horse race on his phone, fist tightly clenched. Dazai chuckled before placing his cans next to the guy, before tapping on the Perspex divider to get the cashier’s attention.
“You placed your bet on that Thoroughbred in the lead, didn’t you?” Dazai grinned ear to ear as the cashier nodded, with a gruff cough, “well, I would have gone with that Grey Arabian one, in the back.”
The man laughed hoarsely, whilst scanning the barcode of one of the cans and slamming it down, causing Dazai to frown at the newly dented rim. “Kid don’t get tangled up in adult business. Whatcha know about betting in the first place?”
“Hmm, granted I’m not that knowledgeable on horses, I suppose I’ll stay out of it.”
The cashier laughed once more, unleashing a spittle of saliva on the screen.
“That’s ¥5,276.” The guy bagged up the cans before sliding them across the table.
“Ah, can you add two packs of Marlboro to the bill.”
The guy rose his brow to the request of the young customer in front of him, “As if I’m gonna give a shrimp like you cigs. How old are you?”
“It doesn’t really matter how old I am, I asked you because I know you’re gonna pass them over.” Dazai grinned once more, as he pointed down at the man’s phone. The man followed the direction of his finger to find the grey horse that the kid had predicted to win in the lead, the one he had betted on shrieked, thrashing on the floor.
“Ahhh that poor horse seems to have shattered its leg, shame, it’ll have to be put down. It would have won as well...”
The cashier looked back up, a bead of sweat rolled down his stubbled cheek, providing an insatiable itch. The boy in front of him fixed one deep dark black eye into his own, contrasting with the kid’s deathly pallor and innocent smile. The older man instinctually swallowed, before turning around and grabbing two packs of cigarettes.
“That’ll be ¥6302...”
“Thought so, hehe!” The kid clapped his hands and then dug around in one of his many coat pockets to pull out a wallet, from which he pulled out a black card. Dazai mumbled to himself in childish glee, “Oooh, Mori gave me such a lovely new year’s gift, better make the best of it!”
The man sighed a breath of relief as the automated chime fitted at the entrance of the shop rung out. The boy left, taking his plastic bag of canned crab and cigarettes. The automatic doors closed. He went back to his horse race.
⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹
Dazai grumbled, tapping aggressively on the phone Mori gave him as if that would make the map on it load any faster. It was midday of the first day of the year, and stupidly the boy hadn’t accounted for the fact that taxis would be scarce today. His wrists ached already from carrying a briefcase and a bag of groceries, he also considered the fact that he hadn’t slept in the past thirty hours. Alas, he had no choice but to walk his way towards the city of Musutafu. An hour of walking in the cold led him to the seaside that the quirk-filled city was known for. It sparkled weakly under the bleak sun, nothing compared to the choppy black waters of Yokohama, that glistened red with blood and moonlight.
Not wanting to waste the opportunity of being so far away from home (if he could even call it that), Dazai sauntered around the promenade. Majority of the shops were closed to celebrate new year's, and yet the boy could sense how packed the place usually was. The trails quirks left behind were stronger than ever, his skin felt numb with the way the vibrations in the vast air seemed to at once rush towards him.
Feeling slightly nauseous, the dark-haired boy traversed past the beach and closer to the centre of the city. Along the way, he caught notice of a grimy looking area. It was clear; the way the streets there smelt saturated of dog piss and the streetlamps flickered despite the sun being out, the way broken glass and used needles crunched under his black loafers, the way smoke wafted out windows with their blinds firmly closed... he was in the red-light district. Elated, the boy skipped through the empty streets till he found a ‘for rent’ sign plastered on the window on top of an antiques shop, not too far from the streets of brothels but close enough to the more socially acceptable areas of the city too.
Taking a moment to plaster a smile, he walked into the building and towards an old woman with who idly mopped the floor. “You wouldn’t be the owner of this place, would you?”
The woman looked up, her eyes were soft edged from the way her eyelids sagged over them slightly, a warm smile emerged from the depths of her wrinkles, “Why yes, young boy, how can I help you?” Dazai stared at the flesh-coloured antennae that peeked out of her white curly hair.
“I’m interested in renting out the room you have upstairs.” His voice came out sluggish and quiet, which took himself by surprise, he must have been more tired than he thought.
The old woman looked him up and down, and Dazai realised that in a city where men could have weasel heads, and old women could have antennae, bandages on a teenager may possibly be considered as odd. “Please don’t be concerned, I'm not a delinquent or anything, I’ve come to this city to study at UA to become a hero.” Dazai offered an over-the-top smile, which soothed the woman somehow, making her put aside the mop.
He followed her to the back of the shop, taking note of the antiques displayed. They went behind a good, solid piece of dark stained wood carved into a counter, much like Mori’s desk. In the backroom lay dusty boxes and shelves of vases and paintings not on display, as well as a staircase on the left wall. The storeroom was marked at the entryway with a genkan, at which the woman promptly took her shoes off and slid into some slippers. Dazai took his shoes off too and followed her up the stairs.
“You see dear, I’ve become too frail to go upstairs. It’s got everything one might; a kitchenette, a bathroom, and a bedroom, and it’s fully furnished. It used to be my son’s, but he moved to America a long time ago. Sorry to say, I haven’t had the chance to dust it, but it’s quite cosy and the heating works well.”
“Are you kidding, grandma? I love it!” Dazai grinned, placing his belongings on a small circular table by the kitchen counter. “Out of curiosity, where do you sleep?”
The woman took no objection to her new name of grandma, instead smiling as she took a cloth out her pocket and wiped the banister of the stairs on her way down. “I have plenty of space downstairs, don’t you worry child. Though what is your name, I wonder?”
“My name is Dazai Osamu, it’s a pleasure to make your aquaintance, though I feel bad calling you grandma, what is my landlord’s name, pray tell?” Dazai put on a childish tone, earning a chuckle from the older woman.
“Dazai-kun, you have such an unusual name, how pretty. I am Nakamura Yoshiko.”
“Ahhh~ Nakamura-san, don't flatter me so much. May I ask the earliest convenience for you at which I can move in?”
The old lady laughed heartily once again, “You’re such a curious child, Dazai-kun, where are your parents?”
“My father sent me to live here myself, see the trip to UA from where I come from, in Kawasaki, would be too inconvenient. As such, he gave me a letter and some money to find my own lodgings close by.” He watched as the grandma’s face melted with happiness; it was obvious to see she had been living alone here for quite some time.
“Alright then dear.”
He went through the motions, giving her a neatly folded letter that Mori included in the wallet handed to him. He had read it over quickly on his walk to Musutafu already, if the information here matched up with the details Mori claimed he used when registering himself and the red hatrack to the entrance exam, it would make himself and Chuuya half siblings. Written to be from a city close to Yokohama – Kawasaki – and belonging to their sole guardian – Mori Ougai. It made him a little queasy.
With payment and the other details sorted, Dazai began his tenancy in the unusual city of Musutafu.