Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was an uproar in the agency. You couldn’t distinguish any single voice amongst the cacophony. Everybody was screaming over each other, and Dazai felt like his ear drums might burst. 

There was an open envelope and letter discarded on the floor. The letter, which was crumpled and had a few rips at the edge, was being stepped on carelessly by the detectives. 

It read ‘I know who has the Book -Fyodor Dostoevsky’.

The worst part was he didn’t know if it was true or not. For all he knew it could be just one big bluff to make the detectives uncertain and wary, but that just didn’t make sense . What could Fyodor get out of bluffing something so obviously fake when he knew that there were two geniuses, one on the same level as him and another even smarter than him, in the ADA. So what in the world could he possibly get out of this?

Unless it wasn’t a bluff. He has no reason to give this to the Agency when all of their worries would be shot down by Dazai and Ranpo, so the only explanation would be that he knows. But, by the phrasing of the letter, it was evident that he didn’t know the complete truth, though he was definitely on the right track. In fact, he was dangerously close to the truth.

Fyodor was warning him. He was warning Dazai that he knew or, at the very least, he had a hunch. This was a warning telling him that he was coming for him. But that still leaves the question, why even bother warning him? Why was he purposely giving Dazai time to be ready for any attacks?

That was when it hit him.

He had played right into Fyodor’s trap.

He didn’t do this to warn him, he did this to confirm the truth. He wanted this reaction out of him, because now he knows that he was right about his little hunch. Because, unknowingly, fear had made its way into his face.

Oh no. He fucked up. He really fucked up. Dammit !

He immediately schooled his expression. Right now the most important thing was making sure that his colleagues didn’t suspect anything was up. And to do that, he had to get them to all calm down.

“Quiet!” He yelled, his voice ringing out through the noise. “You’re not going to make anything better by screaming at each other.” 

“Then what do you plan on doing, Dazai!?” Kunikida screamed back at him while gripping at his hair with so much force Dazai was surprised he still even had hair. “How could we possibly fix this situation? If he knows where the book is, he’s probably going to get it as we speak! We’re practically already doomed !”

“No, we’re not,” Dazai said, looking at Kunikida like he was an idiot. “He’s obviously bluffing!”

When the majority of the agency started looking at him like he was a madman, he sighed and decided to give them an explanation, because a certain someone refused to even say a word on the matter, instead deciding to suck on a lollipop. 

It seemed like his favourite hobby was to make Dazai do all the work when their colleagues couldn’t comprehend the situation. Usually, he wouldn’t mind, but in situations like this it was painfully obvious as to what was really happening. 

God, why couldn’t they just use their singular braincell shared amongst all of them for once ? Dazai knew they were completely incapable of connecting the dots and thinking logically, but he expected they could at least pick up on the actual motive for the peculiar scenario they had somehow found themselves stuck in. 

Dazai just hoped the other genius in the room hadn’t picked up on the ulterior motive to this… inconvenience.

He could practically hear the cogs in the detective's minds turning, despite not actually ever leading them to the solution.

“He has no reason to warn us about what is inevitable,” He started explaining finally. It really felt like he was talking to 5 year olds. “We aren’t even given a chance to try and stop him, as we don’t know the Books location. Logically, if he knew the location of the Book, he would waste no time in getting it, to make sure no one else could obtain it before he gets his hands on it. No, the reason he’s doing this is to make us panic over something pointless, something that isn’t even happening. His goal is to make us paranoid and stressed, and while we are worrying over something meaningless he is getting things done. After all, when people panic they do not think rationally.”

His colleagues all visibly started to calm down and relax once they had understood what Dazai was explaining to them. All of them except one.

He hoped he had made it sound convincing enough that that was the only reason for the letter. Unfortunately, despite how good he usually was at deceiving people—not even Ranpo could properly read him—he had let his mask slip. It had slipped for barely a second, but if someone was specifically looking at him or was unfathomably observant and smart, they would have noticed his slipup. The one time he made a slipup it had to be now of all times, hadn’t it? He thought with a sigh. 

At least he was sure that, much like Fyodor, he certainly hadn’t put together all the pieces. Damn the one person who actually could use their brain cells just so happen to be in the room. 

“Dazai,” Ranpo began cautiously, addressing the elephant in the room. Immediately, everyone turned their attention back to Dazai, but this time with the new addition of Ranpo. “You know something we don’t.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a fact. Dazai hadn’t let even a glimpse of uncertainty show on his face for the world to see, instead only showcasing a look of genuine confusement. But, in all honesty, he was inwardly panicking. He knew this was going to happen, that didn’t mean he was prepared for it, though. How did he always manage to get himself into these situations?

Standing at the side, the rest of the agency had impossibly confused facial expressions. I swear, these people really lack brain cells, Dazai thought to himself.

At this point, he was just trying to distract himself from the inevitable. He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He would rather be in an endless void of black nothingness with just him and himself for the rest of his unsavoury existence. 

Unfortunately, the chances of that happening were extremely unlikely. He knew he would have to face this conversation one way or another. Dazai knew it would come out eventually. Whether it be the fact that he’s immortal or if it was something much like the situation he found himself in in that very moment.

He was trying so hard not to completely panic right now. As much as he knew it would happen eventually, that didn’t mean he actively wanted it to happen. He was content with life as it is, he didn’t want that to change. Surprisingly, he had actually made friends, something he never thought that he was even capable of. Even if they just ended up betraying him in the end or using him like everybody else, they had actually been kind to him. That was more than he could say about anyone else. An unbelievably short redhead with blue eyes so striking that when you look into them you could feel yourself swimming, sinking deeper and deeper, as if you were in a frosty yet calm ocean, popped into mind.

By now, he had accepted the fact that he was quite literally screwed. Or he was trying to, at least. But it was hard to come to terms with the fact that the people who he had been, dare he say, friends with, were almost definitely going to turn on him and try and use him just like everyone else. 

He, of course, was no stranger to this, but that didn’t mean that it still didn’t hurt. 

Dazai never really felt emotions very strongly anymore, and if he did, they were very faint. That usually meant that his faint emotions were equivalent to a human having an overwhelming amount of emotions. It was unlikely for him to feel things and it never failed to make him surprised. After all, why was he feeling things over stupid situations such as this one? It was idiotic and illogical. He wasn’t human, he didn’t deserve to feel the kind of things they did. Dazai would quite literally never be like them. He would never be human. Not like he would.

What was he doing!? He was thinking of everything he didn’t want to think about . What was wrong with him? Damnit ! 

“Whatever do you mean, Ranpo-san?” he replied innocently, fauxing confusion. He made sure to let none of his internal turmoil creep onto his face. He was being extra careful to make sure his face only held befuddlement.

“You know something we don’t,” Ranpo repeated. However, this time, he elaborated on the subject at hand “You know of something concerning the book or the situation that the rest of us are unaware of.”

Good. He wasn’t completely sure. That was better than nothing.

“How in the world did you come to that conclusion?” Dazai laughed. “I didn’t think you of all people were the type to make assumptions!”

“Quite the opposite actually,” He shot back, his vibrant emerald green eyes slightly peeking through his eyelashes. Oh boy, if he wasn’t in trouble before, he certainly was now. A fresh wave of apprehension flooded through him as Ranpo opened his mouth, continuing to speak. 

“Your body is tense, despite being in a position that looks like you are completely unbothered, you could most certainly jump up and make a run for it at any second. Your voice is ever so slightly strained and very much forced. And when you read the letter, if anyone had actually been paying attention, they would have noticed how your mask broke, even though it was for under a second. When it fell your voice hitched, you started picking at your bandages—one of your nervous habits—you were sweating ever so slightly, you went 4 shades paler, your eyes were wide and glazed over, indicating that you were deep in thought. Most importantly, your eyes had a glimmer of fear in them—an extremely rare expression to see on your face. And even though you may be able to put on masks better than any actors out there, your eyes give you away, for you still had fear in your eyes, and it hasn’t gone away, not even for a second since you have read that letter.”

Well, Dazai thought. Now is the time where I start planning on how to leave the continent, change my name and appearance, take on a new personality, and quite literally move under the ground. 

New fear unlocked! Being psychoanalysed like it was some sort of show and tell project.

He wanted to claw his insides out so badly . Heck, Ranpo knew him better than he knew himself . How had he had no idea that he picked at his bandages? He just did it subconsciously, and shit he was picking at his bandages again. How had he gotten so careless? He would have never made a mistake like this in the past. 

“I'm aware that you're not as smart as me—although you are close—and possibly, before you realised why Dostoevsky decided to send this letter to us, you may have been afraid that he had gotten his hands on the Book,” Ranpo began, explaining his thought process. 

“But that is most certainly not the case. You know Dostoevsky better than anyone here; you wouldn't have fallen for his tricks, not even for a second. Which means there was something else you were afraid of.”

Dazai felt himself gulp as he mentally prepared himself for what he already knew was coming. I might as well just kill myself right here right now.

“Tell me, Dazai. Do you know who has the Book?” He stated bluntly.

“You really expect ME to know where the Book is?” The lie slipped easily off his tongue naturally. “You can't be serious!”

“No, you don't know who has the Book,” Ranpo said, almost to himself.

Dazai nearly let himself relax, but he knew Ranpo. He knew that he wouldn't be letting Dazai go that easily.

Then Ranpo's eyes were blown wide, and Dazai knew he had figured a part of the truth out.

“You have the Book.”

It felt as if the world froze just to make the atmosphere tenser. You couldn't hear the usually busy street outside, the birds refused to make a noise, the wind refused to continue rustling the trees.

It was terrible.

Dazai goes pale for a second as his mask drops but he quickly covers it up with his facade. Hurriedly, he denies Ranpo’s accusations. No one else but Ranpo notices Dazai’s slip up, but Ranpo was quick to confront him about it.

“You do know where the Book is,” Ranpo said with his eyes open and wide. The rest of the ADA stood behind the pair as they gawked disbelievingly.

Dazai lets his ‘happy-go-lucky’ facade drop as he switches to his demon prodigy persona, glaring at Ranpo saying, “No, I don’t.”

He had a glare on his face that would make people who could destroy planets shrink back in fear. It felt as if the temperature in the room had dropped to subzero temperatures. He had been well known in the mafia for being intimidating, and there was good reason behind it.

The Agency started slowly backing away, having never seen this side of Dazai before firsthand. 

That was a logical decision. Anyone who knew Dazai in the past would know that if he started giving you that look then you don’t approach him no matter what. For once, they were actually thinking logically and were trying to flee. The same couldn’t be said about the one person who was supposed to be the oh-so-great-detective. No, the other genius in the ADA approached Dazai, completely unfazed by his sudden mood swing. Ranpo, who knew Dazai wouldn’t hurt them, refused to back away. Instead, he continued advancing on Dazai. 

“Where is the book!?” Ranpo demanded. “You need to give it to us! Before Dostoevsky can get his hands on it! We can save so many lives! Stop so many wars!”

At this, the ADA started regaining their composure and joining in with telling Dazai about everyone they could help. Atsushi was going on about all the people they could save who had grown up like him. Kunikida was talking about all of their enemies that they could have defeated so easily if Dazai had just given it to them. Yosano was saying how many lives they could save from death. Kyouka was ranting about everything that he could have prevented from happening to her when she was younger if he had just used the goddamn Book .

They didn’t understand. They would never understand. Why had he ever expected them to try and understand? Why had he hoped that they wouldn’t be like everyone else? Why was he even trying to be optimistic? His life was quite literally destroyed.

He could probably move to America and start up a life there. That was quite far away from everyone else and Dazai had experience with hiding while on the run for years. Albeit, he had never tried hiding from a genius. Even if Dazai stopped restraining himself in his intelligence—to not stick out so much and at least try and act like a normal human being—that didn’t change the fact that the person who he was running away from was the best detective in the world. Dazai was smarter if he allowed himself to be, much, much smarter. But it would still be a pain in the ass to hide from him until he eventually passes away. Especially since he knew Dazai was related to the Book in some way. He already believed that Dazai had the Book, which was way too close to the truth. Then again, he had done it before. He had done it many times before. That didn’t mean it didn’t suck, though. 

He remembered how lonely it got. He remembered how many close calls there were. He remembered how he just wished there was someone to lean on in those times.

Ugh, why was he thinking about that now!? That was centuries ago! So why is he still hung up over it?

He started covering his ears, the ADA completely oblivious to this fact, too busy screaming over each other, trying to get their points across. The noise was so overwhelmingly loud .

Maybe in another situation Dazai would have found this rather amusing, but Dazai knew this was certainly not the time to joke around. Right now, they were really getting on his nerves.

He was trying to stop himself from lashing out, but they were just so loud .

Until Dazai had enough.

“QUIET!” Dazai screamed at them, deciding he had had enough of the noise. The detectives immediately stopped talking. They never saw Dazai like this. He would usually either be calm or make one big joke out of it to lift up their spirits. Currently, he was the polar opposite of what he usually acted like. The silence was deafening. You could hear a pin drop and it would be the loudest sound in the room. No one dared to move a muscle, afraid of the brunet who had closed his eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

“I refuse to give you the Book, and that’s final .” He spoke quietly, voice laced with venom. 

Quickly, he pushed past the agency, who were still afraid to move, and headed out the door swiftly. 

He rushed down the stairs, eager to get away from his ex-coworkers. He could hear them calling out his name behind him. They were angry. They were so angry. They were screaming for him to get back. But they didn’t understand. It couldn’t . It couldn’t be used again. It didn’t want to go back to what had happened so many times before. They didn’t understand. It wasn’t human. It would never be human. No matter how badly it wanted to, it was impossible. It had tried writing it down so many times in ink on its skin. It never worked. It didn’t matter how many times it wrote it down, the ink would just fade away. It had tried that with killing itself too. The Book could never cease to exist though. Unless it was a trade… a million lives for practically what humans viewed as a god…

No! It refused to do that to the people it had grown to… care for. Plus, it was only a theory; it didn’t want to end up accidentally killing everyone. It could never stop existing. It could never be human. Why had it ever kidded itself into thinking it was human even for a second? What a load of bullshit.

It had been walking out of the cafe hurriedly, eager to get away from the building. The detectives weren’t trying to follow Dazai, which wasn’t very smart, but it sure was grateful for that right now. It had just gotten out of the exit and started to take a few steps onto the street when it sensed someone behind it. Dazai had always been good for sensing when someone was nearby.

As soon as it realises, it turns its head around to see whoever its assailant was. Dazai turned around to find none other than Fyodor Dostoevsky holding a gun and about to shoot him. Of course Fyodor would be here, what did I expect? Dazai wasn’t able to call for help, though. It had realised too late. If it didn’t hold itself back then Dazai would quite literally know absolutely everything. But it had to limit itself because if it didn’t then humans would start to catch on really quickly of what Dazai really was. Plus, you also had to factor in that no conscious being should ever obtain that much knowledge. It would drive anyone, even itself, insane. Dazai may not want to live, but it wasn't going to torture itself as punishment for doing so. It was even a stretch to have an IQ of over 200. It wasn’t even sure what its real IQ even was. To be fair, IQ wasn't a good measure of intelligence. Humans were always so focused on one thing, one specific set of requirements that they ceased to care about anything else. Sometimes, Dazai wondered if things would be different if it had decided to make decisions about life. Maybe then...

Before Dazai got the chance to call out for some sort of backup, a gunshot rang in the air and immense pain erupted on its chest. It had experienced worse pain in its time posing as a human. In its original form, Dazai couldn’t feel pain. I mean, it was a book, and books weren’t able to get hurt. It had experienced being tortured to the point where any actual person would have died long ago. That didn’t change the fact that Dazai hated pain. Why did living things have to experience pain? Obviously, it knew why. Dazai knew every living creature back to front and why and how they function. But that didn’t mean that it wanted to experience it.

It wasn’t surprising that Fyodor had been listening in on their conversation. Of course Fyodor had set up some sort of listening device. It was so obvious , why didn't it think of it? How did it think Fyodor would know Dazai's reaction to the letter? Geez, it really needed to allow itself to be smarter. Usually it wasn’t THIS incompetent, though!

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! What is WRONG with me today!?

It might not actually be human, but it had taken the form of one. And, in order to fit in and stay under the radar, it designed itself to act like any other person. That included their normal body functions. So, if anyone were to ask Dazai why it was about to pass out, that would be its answer. 

Why on the one day he wished the streets were busy, they were completely deserted? Oh, Fyodor probably did something, didn’t he? Yeah, definitely.

Despite knowing that there were security cameras outside of the building, it found little to no comfort in that fact. 

If anything, Chuuya would be the first to realise its absence, not the agency. Dazai had a tendency to lockpick his front door and sneak into his house uninvited. Most of the time it was spontaneous and random, but Dazai made it its personal mission to come every single Friday. It had started during their mafia days, and had stopped since Dazai had fled to the side of good. Ever since they reunited, though, Dazai had made sure to continue the strange tradition. It had never missed a single day in the duo's entire life. Thankfully, today just so happened to be Friday! Which meant that Chuuya would immediately notice something was wrong.

The problem with that was that Dazai tended to sneak into his house at… questionable hours of the night, so Chuuya would only start thinking something was wrong when it was way too late. Then, Chuuya would convince himself that he could find Dazai without any help, and attempt to look for it for hours until he inevitably gave up. After that, he would ring up everyone in the mafia who knew Dazai personally, find nothing, stress and panic until the sun rose, come to his senses in the morning, and head out to inform the ADA that Dazai had gone missing.

That was what it thought to itself as a cloth filled with chloroform covered its mouth and nose, allowing no room to breathe. It found itself staring into Fyodor's eyes in its last moments of consciousness. They were a vibrant purple filled with malice, glimmering in the light. The world quickly faded to black darkness, an endless void swallowing it whole.

A shame Dazai knew darkness all too well.

Chapter Text

Chuuya wasn’t one to panic.

If anything, he was usually one of the calm ones in stressful situations, despite how many people might believe otherwise. The world could be preparing for war and he would remain calm and collected. So, when he panics, everyone who knows him would be already ready to get killed by a nuclear bomb.

There were very few things that could get Chuuya so panicked. He himself would never have thought he would be panicking over Dazai of all people. He hated him! He was his enemy! But they also used to be partners, and when the bastard didn’t show up at his house even though it was Friday night—a routine that had started when they were fifteen—Chuuya immediately knew something was wrong.

Dazai was a creature of habit. He wouldn’t miss breaking into his house for the world. Yet he had. The only time the mackerel had done that was after he had fled the Port Mafia. Chuuya had sat there, staring at the door every Friday night for a month before he had eventually given up. However, once they saw each other again, it was like the habit kicked in for Dazai again. 

The first Friday after seeing that familiar, annoying face for the first time in so long, Dazai had shown up at his house. How he knew where he lived, seeing as he had moved twice since he had left the mafia, he didn’t know. On that first night, when Chuuya arrived back at his home to see Dazai laying on his bed, he felt anger bubbling up and simmering just below the surface. He didn’t say anything, though. If Dazai wanted to speak, let him do it. Chuuya wasn’t going to do this for him.

After ten minutes of awkward silence with nothing but short glances shared between them, Dazai opened his mouth. Chuuya had been expecting many things. A taunt, a joke, an accusation, he didn’t know.

An apology was the last thing he thought would come out of that pretty disgusting mouth.

He was surprised, shocked even. Dazai hadn’t ever apologised to him before, especially not sincerely. Hell, he hadn’t apologised to anyone before, as far as Chuuya was aware. Yet he still did. For him. Him.

It didn’t stop there, though. The stream of words kept coming out of his mouth, and Chuuya couldn’t even get a word in. Dazai kept explaining to the very last detail. 

Friday nights were when they were the most vulnerable with each other. It was a ritual, a tradition. It seemed that that hadn’t stopped, despite the time, despite the distance. Chuuya knew for a fact that had it been any other night that Dazai decided to walk back into his house like he owned the place, Dazai would have just deflected. 

But that wasn’t what happened, for it was a Friday night.

He spoke of a friend called Odasaku, who Chuuya was sure he had met before, albeit a long time ago. The man who didn’t kill. He was quite the topic back in the day.

Dazai told his ex-partner about how they were friends until the very last minute, the very last second, the very last moment. He told a story of three friends in a bar. Of friendship, and hope, and tragedy, and loss. He told Chuuya everything without any prompting. At the end, he was talking about Mori and how he just had to leave. Odasaku and his last words. Dazai had said that he knew that if he were to tell Chuuya then he would have come with him. That night, Chuuya had vehemently denied it, claiming to always be loyal to the Boss. But he knew that, had he been asked on the day, in the moment, he would have easily accepted. Where the blue mackerel goes, his slug follows.

It was how it worked.

All Chuuya could do after Dazai eventually stopped speaking was approach. He moved next to Dazai, making his movements slower, giving him plenty of time to move away. But he didn’t. So Chuuya wrapped his arms around him.

With their dynamic, their interactions had always been sharp quips, small hits, and endless quarrelling. On a Friday, though? Fridays were sacred to them, and what happened in the room, stayed in the room. It never left.

Once Dazai had gone, Chuuya reflected. He was looking happier. Sure, Chuuya knew that a lot of it was an act, but it didn’t change the fact. The mackerel still may not be truly comfortable, but it was an improvement from the Port Mafia. He was more expressive, more lively, more there. He was alive. Maybe Chuuya had once held it against the bandage wasting machine for leaving, but deep down, he agreed it was for the best. Odasaku really did a good job in getting Dazai to leave back then. He wasn’t even sure if Dazai had ever realised how much he had truly changed for the better.

Admittedly, it was better this way.

After that night, their Friday get-togethers had started again. Every Friday night, Chuuya awaited the mop of brown hair to be found somewhere in his house. It was expected, it was routine.

Dazai didn’t break routine without a good reason.

For whatever reason, Chuuya just knew something was wrong. He had always had pretty sharp instincts, Ane-san would always praise him for that. But he convinced himself that he was fretting over nothing. Stupid! Why did I do that? I wasted precious time in finding him!

Stupidly, he had told himself that if the asshole didn’t show up in half an hour, then he would go out and track him down himself. But then he told himself that Dazai was too smart to allow something horrible to happen to himself. Right…?

So, half an hour stretched into an hour. Then two hours. When it hit the three hour mark, Chuuya had millions of scenarios in his brain of what had happened to his ex-partner. What if he had decided to leave Yokohama for good? What if he had just forgotten? What if he had succeeded in killing himself? No. Get a grip, Chuuya. Stop imagining worst case scenarios. But what if… No! No imaging that!

Alright, he was done waiting around doing nothing. He picked himself up from where he was sitting in front of the door at the entrance of his house, and he made his way to his motorbike. He would find that idiot himself. That damned mackerel was probably laughing at Chuuya’s panicked state behind his back right now, that smug bastard. 

But… Chuuya couldn’t help but worry. Dazai may be an asshole, but he honestly didn’t think that he would pull something like this. It was out of character. As much as he tried to hide it, Chuuya could tell that he liked their late night break-ins. It was when they could be truly vulnerable with each other. Dazai wouldn’t just not come, that was extremely bitchy, even for him.

So, on that note, Chuuya whipped his phone out of his pocket and started scrolling through his contact list. Unsurprisingly, the person who he wanted to get a hold of was nearly at the top.

The ring flooded his ears and repeated a total of three times before a posh, elegant voice came through on the other side.

“Hello?” A feminine voice inquired, probably wondering who would be calling her at this hour.

“Hi Ane-san, it’s Chuuya,” he started politely. He hated interrupting whatever she was doing right now, but Chuuya really needed her. “I was wondering if you have seen or heard from Dazai by any chance? I’m looking for him.”

“No, I haven’t. Did he not go to yours tonight?” Ane-san had always known about their late night meetings. She was apprehensive at first, but after some time, she stopped worrying and accepted it. It's not like her opinion would be able to change anything anyway.

“No,” He replied anxiously. “Ane-san, I’m worried. The damn mackerel hasn’t ever missed a single one of our meetings, excluding when he ran off. What if something bad happened to him? What if he left me again? What if-”

“Chuuya,” Ane-san cut off. “He’ll be fine; he’s Dazai, after all. He knows how to take care of himself. We’ll call everyone who knows him and if he’s unaccounted for then we’ll search for him, or go to his coworkers.”

“Alright,” Chuuya sighed to himself. Ane-san had always been the logical one, that’s what he loved about her. She always knew how to calm him down.

“So what should we do now?” He asked.

“I’ll call Hirotsu and Mori, you can call the Akutugawa’s and anyone else you find.”

“Okay.”

They both bid their farewells and almost immediately after he hung up, he started scrolling through his contacts, desperately looking for anyone who would know where he could be. 

No one had seen him.

Everyone hadn’t seen him for the past 24 hours. The sun was currently at the highest point in the sky the next day.

Chuuya wasn’t one to panic, but he was panicking.

What if something had happened to him? He was no idiot; he would never forget about this. It was important to both of them. A tradition. If he had just been busy, then he would have said so. Whether it be a text, a call, a note, or even one of his stupid pranks, he would always give Chuuya something to let him know that Dazai was alright.

But he hadn’t.

And that was how he found himself standing in front of the Armed Detective Agency building.

It struck midday, as he finally knocked on the door to the office, since he had been searching all over Yokohama for the mackerel. He just couldn’t shake off the deep feeling of dread. He was just being paranoid and anxious, he knew that. But he just couldn’t help it, what if something terrible happened-

The door in front of him swung open, revealing none other than one Kunikida Doppo.

He was wearing his usual getup, but it was wrinkled and unironed. Weird. His hair was still tied up, but it was obviously dirty and unbrushed, almost as if he had neglected showering and getting properly ready today. There were faint bags under his eyes that were slightly orange, as if he had tried to cover them up with makeup that wasn’t his shade and he had no clue how to apply it.

Something was off.

Kunikida was well known for being the on task, organised one. So why would today be any different?

Unless something happened, a voice whispered in the back of his mind.

“Nakahara-san!” Kunikida exclaims, obviously not expecting a mafia executive to show up at their doorstep. He had half a mind to mutter Chuuya, correcting the detective, but he thought better of it. That wasn't important right now. “What brings you here? Does the Port Mafia want anything?”

Ah, a bit suspicious of him then.

“I’m not here on mafia business,” Chuuya replies with an air of confidence, not explaining any further. Kunikida stares at him for a second, evidently anticipating the executive to say more, before realising that he wasn’t letting up. With a slight cough, Kunikida steps aside, allowing Chuuya to make his way inside the office.

The majority of the Armed Detective Agency was in the room, bar the Tanizaki twins and Fukuzawa himself.

The majority were being productive and doing their work at their desks, excluding Kenji and Kyouka, who were playing some type of card game on the couch, and Ranpo, who was eating candy at his desk while a pile of paperwork sat untouched in front of him.

Dazai’s desk was empty.

Chuuya coughed into his hand, alerting everyone in the room of his presence.

“Chuuya-san?” Kyouka muttered, more to herself than anything, at seeing him in the agency.

“Have you guys seen Dazai around?” Chuuya asks rather than acknowledging what Kyouka said, seeing as it was probably more of a slip of the tongue out of surprise than anything.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t whatever this is.

The room seemed to drop a few degrees as a tense atmosphere filled the room, suffocating its occupants.

“Okay, what’s with the sudden change in mood?” Chuuya continued speaking as he realised no one was planning on answering his first question.

They were all boring varying degrees of negative emotions on their faces.

Well that can’t be good, Chuuya thought, feeling the room's tension start to rub off on him, anxiety boring into his bones.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the doctor or Kunikida replying first, but the tiger instead.

“Dazai-san, he…” Atsushi started just to trail off. Problem was, Chuuya couldn’t tell if he stopped from not being able to phrase it or not wanting to say it at all.

“There was an argument yesterday in the agency,” Yosano started when Atsushi still wasn’t continuing.

“An argument?” he parroted back. That couldn’t mean anything even remotely good. “What about?”

“We… We received a letter yesterday,” Kunikida joined in on the conversations in lieu of responding to what Chuuya had initially asked. This was just getting stranger and stranger. What could a letter have to do with this? Still, the roundabout conversation only seemed to be making the pit in his gut grow, not settling his anxiety the slightest bit.

Couldn’t they just get to the point already? There was a missing person to look for. Their colleague to look for!

“And what did the letter entail?” Chuuya huffed, feeling his patience start to wither and chip away.

“It said Dostoevsky had the Book and we all panicked and got into an argument about what to do and Dazai-san told us all to be quiet because we weren’t going anywhere with the conversation and explained how if Dostoevsky really did have it then he wouldn’t warn us and he would have done something already, but Ranpo-san said that while that is true, Dazai-san knew something the rest of us did and did some weird psychoanalysis-type thing and then said that Dazai-san had the Book?” Atsushi blurted out, the words coming out of his mouth like a dam had burst. 

“I don’t really know how it came to that, but then he just kind of went, like, cold? I guess? And he went on the defensive and glared at us, which was really weird by the way, seeing someone who’s usually so cheerful being so… um, yeah. And we all got into an argument and we were all bugging Dazai-san—which we really shouldn’t have done—and then he just kind of, like, snapped? And he screamed at us to be quiet and he admitted to having the Book but said he refused to give it to us? And, uh, then he left. And we haven’t seen him since.”

Chuuya felt as if he had been plunged under ice cold water with the top frozen over and he couldn’t break the surface.

Woah, there was a lot to unpack there. First and foremost, Dazai fucking Osamu has the Book ? The thought seemed so preposterous that Chuuya blanched just thinking about it. 

Secondly, they didn’t experience Dazai, they experienced the Demon Prodigy. He must have been extremely stressed if he slipped back into that cold, calculating persona in front of the ADA of all people. 

That also raised the question of where the hell did he go when he left ?

Oh and, don’t forget, the fucking Book. Let’s circle back to that, shall we?

“Okay,” Chuuya breathed out. He can do this. For Dazai. “Okay. Do any of you have any idea where he could have possibly gone once he left?”

“Why?” Yosano asked, more curious rather than suspicious. “Did you two have plans or something?”

“Something like that,” he responded vaguely. “Somethings wrong. I know it, and I trust my gut feeling.”

At this, the detectives frowned. While it was a bit weird that they hadn’t heard even a whisper of his presence since he left yesterday, they probably chalked it up to the moron being not ready to face them.

“And what exactly do you propose we do?” Ranpo said, finally speaking up and participating in the damn conversation. He said it like he didn’t already know what Chuuya was just about to ask.

“I know for a fact that you have security cameras here,” Chuuya responded matter-of-factly. “We’re going to be watching them”

It wasn’t a question, and they seemed to pick up on this fact.

So that was how they all found themselves crammed around one of the many monitors in the office. On the screen, there was CCTV footage pulled up from yesterday at the time the argument roughly took place. With the detectives and Chuuya all bunched up trying to look at a small screen, it was a bit cramped and uncomfortable being so close to who was once an enemy organisation, but they made it work.

After waiting around for a few minutes looking through a camera pointed at the front entrance of the building, Ranpo put the video on double the speed. Seeing as they were now watching the camera footage in double the time, they didn’t have to wait long before a certain brunette walked out of the building and onto the streets. 

When Chuuya heard about what had happened with Dazai’s coworkers, he imagined Dazai expressing many different emotions on his face, but this? This was… unusual. Eyes that had taken so long, and so much hard work to get that glimmer, that shine back in them, were back to being a blank, endless void, dead to the world. So much time and effort gone, just like that. 

When Chuuya had seen Dazai again, it didn’t matter how much progress he had made, those eyes were still devoid of light, still utterly hollow. 

The same blank look that had earned the suicidal maniac his nickname. It was rather fitting, Chuuya thought. His eyes resembled that of a fish, a blue mackerel. That didn’t mean he wanted them to look like that, though.

Chuuya had promised himself he would work tirelessly to bring them that light back that he had worked so hard to see back in their mafia days. 

He had done it before, and he could do it again. 

And he did. 

And now it was ruined.

Like they said, it could be hard to gain something, yet so, so easy to lose it.

The world worked in cruel, cruel ways.

On the camera, Dazai almost looked resigned. To the events that had just occurred, to his situation, to the world, to everything.

It unsettled Chuuya.

It frightened him.

The mackerel walked out of the building quickly, as if he was trying to run away from all of his problems, as if he knew he could never truly escape them, no matter how far he ran, no matter for how long, they would always chase him and drag him down.

It seemed as if nothing was going to happen for a second. Keyword being it seemed. They were just about to flip to the next camera that was positioned far further down the road where the agency couldn’t be seen when Dazai stopped moving.

While the footage didn’t have any noise or any way to pick up sound, it was painfully clear what had happened. Dazai’s back arched as momentum pulled his body forward as he met the hard concrete. The force had him falling over and propelled to the ground, leaving his back in full view. 

Vaguely, he heard the tiger mutter something about some sound and how that must have been what he heard. Chuuya wasn't really sure, nothing else was really registering right now, his eyes were zeroed in on his ex-partner.

There was a gaping hole in his back. 

Way too quickly, blood started seeping out of the wound at a rapid pace, seeming as if the blood was trying to escape Dazai’s body itself. It made him sick to think about. 

Now, Chuuya was far from a stranger to gore. In fact, if you forced him to watch the most horrific of movies, he could assure you that he has seen worse in real life. He had been the cause of worse things in real life; he had single-handedly killed hundreds. 

But this was different.

This was his partner ( ex-partner, a part of his mind whispered).

Seeing him suffer any sort of injury at any capacity always managed to make him sick, for Dazai should never have to experience pain of any sort. Chuuya just wanted to wrap him up and hide him from the rest of the world to keep him safe-

And what the hell was he thinking!?

It was just a damn bullet wound, shitty Dazai has faced far worse, Chuuya has seen the asshole cope with far worse and not even bat an eye about it. There was no reason to be worried about this.

What was worrying, though, was when another figure walked onto frame. A very recognisable figure.

Fyodor Dostoevsky.

He lifted Dazai up like he was a damn sack of potatoes. It made Chuuya’s blood boil to think about. Dazai was a person, not an object to be carelessly toyed around with, he was so much more than that!

But there was nothing he could do about it. Chuuya had to keep on reminding himself that ‘it’s useless getting wound up now, this has already happened’.  

Chuuya was rendered useless. 

It felt as if shackles were bound to his wrists, getting tighter and tighter as he tried to remove them. They weighed down his hands, his body, his mind, and he could almost feel himself giving in to blind panic. He couldn’t do that when Arahabaki was right there, and he had to keep the shackles on that rather than himself. 

He couldn’t let panic blind him. It wasn’t like it would help with a single damn this, after all.

Still, Chuuya couldn’t help but feel that he could have done more in some way, in any way as his partner was dragged away into an unlicensed van.

And despite having already seen what they needed to see, what they had intended to find out, the footage kept on playing. Nothing was happening anymore, yet it still wasn’t being paused. It was already too late to save him at the time this video was taken mere minutes after the event had occurred. Chuuya couldn’t do anything about it now. Guilt churned in his veins, in his blood, in every single cell in his body, feeling like he could have done more. Logically, he knew that that wasn’t true, but his thoughts still wandered unrestrained without knowing any repercussions.

Chuuya knew what Dostoevsky being there meant. Chuuya was pretty sure on some level they all knew what it meant, what it implied. He knew, but he wasn’t going to be the one to say it. Saying it aloud made it real, he didn’t want to make this real. But it already was. That was true in the way Dazai wasn’t standing with them right now, the way his presence was completely absent.

He knew he should pause the CCTV footage. It was over, he had found the answers he was looking for.

But nobody else made to move, so Chuuya didn’t either. They all stood there in one big silent clump, knowing they should do something, anything. Still, they remained glued to the spot.

Eventually, a finger slowly moved through the air onto the pause button, drawing everyone's gaze away from the screen and onto the person who first moved.

Glowing green eyes on full display, Ranpo stared at the screen while his finger remained hovering in the air just above the pause button. He stayed like that for an unmeasured amount of time before opening his mouth, voicing all of their thoughts.

“Dostoevsky’s after the book.”