Chapter Text
“I'm going to kill him.”
Dazai lamely looked up at him from his spot on the couch, blinking in confusion he attempted to process the words. “What?” he finally croaked.
Chuuya kept his fury contained, knowing Dazai would only be scared if he – if Arahabaki, the ‘god that owned him’ – sounded mad when he was so out of it. “I'm going to fucking kill Mori.”
Dazai scrunched his eyebrows. “Kill… the Boss?” he repeated slowly.
Chuuya wasn’t annoyed at Dazai's achingly slow mind. It wasn’t his fault, after all.
In the last couple months, Dazai had shattered. That was the only way to describe it. Chuuya didn’t know he could break this badly. He had long since moved on from the illusion that Dazai was this unshakeable, unbreakable demon prodigy. Dazai was not invincible, he could be as vulnerable as any human – and, recently, more so than most. But he hadn’t ever thought he would see him falling apart like this. He couldn’t even function properly half the time, slipping up more and more frequently, feeding into a cycle of mistakes and punishments and more mistakes.
“No,” Dazai mumbled, shaking his head. “Can’t… can’t kill him. Odasaku…”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Chuuya snapped. Dazai stared at him blankly. “I don’t care what fucking debt you have to him. Mori deserves none of it.”
Dazai shook his head, face twisting into anxiety. “Can’t – can’t kill him.”
“You can’t stop me, mackerel.”
Dazai started to pull on the blanket that wrapped around his cold body in agitation. “But, he’ll hurt… people – Kouyou.”
“He won’t if he’s dead,” Chuuya asserted.
“I can’t kill him, chibi,” Dazai whispered. “I cannot.”
Chuuya scoffed. “You aren’t the one that’ll kill him. I am going to kill him.”
Dazai shook his head again. “I’d have to try and – and stop…” He trailed off, losing his train of thought, blinking slowly at the wall. He clearly was still feeling the effects of whatever Mori had done to him.
Dazai had been unconscious when Chuuya had gotten there, his body frigid under Chuuya's fingers. Chuuya had carted him home before checking him over, panicking at the blackness covering parts of his partner’s body. After frantically looking up how to treat frostbite, he had drawn a warm bath and dumped Dazai into it. Dazai, most concerningly, did not so much as startle.
Chuuya was unbelievably relieved, once again, that Dazai was a kitsune, and could heal from most anything, since the severity of it on his hands and feet would have required amputation. Well, according to the internet, anyways. Mori would probably know, he thought in disgust.
It had taken about thirty minutes of Chuuya redrawing the bath to keep the water hovering at 105o for Dazai to stir, a faint huff of breath leaving his mouth. Chuuya kept him in the water for another thirty minutes, then had dried him off – worrying the entire time at how pliant Dazai was being, as though he had been drugged, but drugs didn’t work on the bandaged bastard, which might be why Mori had fucking frozen him – and wrapped him in warm blankets, depositing him, gently, on the couch.
“…what?” Dazai managed after a minute.
Chuuya sighed, sitting next to his partner and leaning Dazai against himself. Dazai tensed at first, but gradually relaxed against Chuuya, shifting his weight onto him.
“I'm going to kill him, whether you want me to or not, Dazai,” Chuuya muttered.
Dazai mumbled something, coughed, then said, “Don’t wanna fight Chuuya.”
“You aren’t going to fight me,” Chuuya returned.
“Have… to,” Dazai breathed.
“Why?”
“Promised Odasaku.”
“Promised to be tortured by someone? That sounds like a shitty promise.”
Dazai growled.
Chuuya sighed. “Just try and sleep, mackerel.”
Dazai coughed, but listened.
Chuuya took out his phone; he had some things to check, after all.
“Dazai,” Chuuya said, and Dazai was already dreading whatever conversation his chibi was about to try and have with him. He had the same tone when he so rudely duct taped him to a sofa and forced him to talk about feelings and other ridiculous things.
“Slug,” Dazai said cooly.
It was the morning after Mori had dunked him in water and then stuck him in a walk-in freezer – who knew the port mafia even had one? Dazai wouldn’t be surprised if Mori had had it built just for this little experiment – and left him to freeze to almost-death.
Chuuya regarded him for a moment. Dazai fidgeted. “Mori is a bastard,” Chuuya finally said.
Dazai raised an eyebrow. “It took you this long to notice?”
Chuuya rolled his eyes. “Ane-san is a capable leader.”
Dazai squinted at him. “What's your point?”
“You hate Mori, and I hate Mori.”
“Yes?”
“I'm going to kill Mori.”
Dazai blinked. Then he laughed, a strained release of air. “That’s very funny.”
Chuuya didn’t laugh.
“You,” Dazai started, his feeble laugh dying out. “—you're serious. You want to kill Mori-san.” Dazai pretended not to notice his voice shaking slightly.
“Yes.”
“No,” Dazai said immediately.
“Why not?” Chuuya challenged.
Dazai rolled his eye, hiking up his mask. It had really been falling apart recently. “He’ll kill your subordinates?”
“Not if he’s dead,” Chuuya countered.
Dazai sighed. His slug really was slow sometimes. “Okay, then his subordinates will kill your subordinates. He doesn’t make empty threats.”
“Which is why I’ll kill his subordinates, too.”
Dazai barked out a harsh laugh. “Chibi, you aren’t capable of killing allies like that.”
Chuuya's eyes flashed. “I am, when need be.”
I am, for you.
Dazai didn’t know how to respond to that.
Chuuya leaned forward. “And if they're trying to kill other members of the Port Mafia, then they aren’t allies, anyways.” Chuuya paused. “You're my partner, alright? I’ll kill anyone I need to to keep you safe.”
“I don’t need your protection,” Dazai tried to snap, but the effect was somewhat diminished as he hunched in on himself. Why was chibi going on his insanity arc? Nothing out of the ordinary had happened recently, had there? Regardless, it really was poor timing. Dazai was having a hard enough time readjusting to the constant punishments that he hadn’t had to deal with for three hundred years without talking Chuuya down from whatever ledge he was on.
“You fucking do, dipshit,” Chuuya snapped right back. “He froze you like a fucking popsicle yesterday.”
Dazai hummed. “Oh, is that what happened?”
“Don’t play dumb, you bastard,” Chuuya snarled. Dazai had to hold back a flinch, fixing a glower on his face.
“I don’t need your pity protection,” Dazai repeated firmly. Chuuya didn’t look appeased. “Just because you own my soul—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Chuuya snarled. The speed with which Dazai shut his mouth almost made him think that Chuuya had slipped up and given him a command, which hadn’t happened in a couple months. “You can’t keep using that against me. If I fucking kill Mori, then you will have your soul. Nobody would fucking own it. Why don’t you want that?”
Dazai scoffed, resisting the urge to fold into himself, to make himself smaller and protect himself. It’s just Chuuya, he reminded himself. Just Chuuya. “It won’t work, slug.”
“Why not?”
“It just won’t, okay?!” Dazai snapped, wrapping his arms tighter around himself.
Chuuya regarded him with disgustingly soft eyes, then, in a similarly soft voice, said, “It has to do with what you promised Odasaku, doesn’t it?”
Dazai flinched. “I think I'm done.” He stood up.
“Fine, I’ll just kill him without your fucking help.”
Dazai turned around, sure that if he was in his fox form, his hackles would be raised. As it was, he could only scowl. “You can’t kill him!”
“Why not?!” Chuuya had finally raised his voice. He glowed red as he stood up challengingly. “You keep saying I can’t, but what's stopping me?! I have a plan for keeping my people safe! All that’s left is your stupid fucking mental block!”
Dazai twitched, his eye going cold. “I have good reasons I can’t kill him, or let you kill him. A dog shouldn’t question its master.”
Chuuya sneered. “Pick a side, bastard. Do I own you, or do you own me?”
“Pick a side, bastard. Do I own you, or do you own me?”
Chuuya knew he’d went too far as Dazai's expression hardened. But he didn’t care. He’d been tiptoeing for years now, damn it, trying to ignore all that his partner was going through. He’d tried everything else, but Mori wouldn’t even let him take the punishments! They were partners, that had to count for something!
He tried to take a steadying breath. “Dazai, we can’t keep doing this. Something goes wrong, and then you come back a couple days later, incoherent or unconscious or crying. It can’t keep going this way.”
“You were the one that wanted me to call you each time,” Dazai said defensively. “I never asked you to care.”
“You're the one who brought me into the mafia, so tough fucking luck,” Chuuya returned.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have, then,” Dazai sneered in a tone aiming to wound. “Maybe I should have just let your little gang kill you.”
Chuuya bit his tongue, trying to keep his temper. He had known Dazai would do this, would needle him in an attempt to avoid actually fucking talking about his problems. So he reigned it in. “I'm not letting this go until you explain.”
“Then make me,” Dazai hissed, his dark eye glinting. Chuuya scoffed, but Dazai continued, “Come on, just make me, tell me to, and I will!” Dazai spread his arms, smirking at him, his hands trembling ever so faintly. “I’ll do anything you want, come on. Don’t you want to? Don’t you just love having someone who has to do whatever you say—”
Chuuya slammed a fist into a table, the sound making Dazai shut up as he flinched, hard, his eye zeroing in on Chuuya's fist. “You really want me to force you to do something?” Chuuya asked in a low voice. He took a step forward, and Dazai cringed, scrambling backwards. He kept walking forward until Dazai backed into a wall, sliding down it with a soft thump. Chuuya stopped. Dazai was trembling violently, staring up at Chuuya with unmistakable fear.
Chuuya felt horrible, seeing that completely glazed, terrified eye. He had only meant to remind Dazai that he never wanted someone to control him, but he seemed to have just sent the other into a panic attack. He crouched down in front of Dazai; Dazai whimpered, trying to shove himself further back into the wall.
“Dazai,” he called, his throat tight.
“Y-yes,” Dazai managed through his heavy breathing.
Chuuya swallowed. “Can you name five things you can see?”
Dazai looked confused, but complied. “M-Master,” he panted, and Chuuya cringed. He had really fucked up. “C-couch, carpet.” He looked around. “B-box, window.”
“Great. Four things you can feel?”
“W-wood, hair…” Dazai felt around with one hand, his single eye still watching Chuuya closely, squinting, as though trying to fit something together. “Clothes, my leg.”
“Good job. Three things you can hear?”
“Your voice,” Dazai whispered. “My voice… c-cars…?” He blinked, looking around.
“You there?” Chuuya murmured, drawing Dazai's eye to his own.
Dazai nodded slightly, still seeming disoriented. “What… what happened?”
“You had a panic attack.”
Dazai huffed slightly, rolling his eye. “I can tell that much,” he said, a bit softer than usual. Chuuya waited as he stared at nothing, his hands fidgeting in a familiar pattern that Chuuya recognized as him trying to self-soothe. After a few minutes, he scowled. “Right, because you made me have one,” he bit out.
Chuuya cringed. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Then what did you mean to do?” Dazai asked; it would have been an angry demand, if it didn’t sound so damn tired.
“You were being fucking stupid, so I thought I would prove a point.” Saying it out loud made it sound even dumber than he had realized it was, and he scowled, sitting back and looking away. “Sorry.”
“I'm never dumb.”
Chuuya raised an eyebrow. “Asking me to give you a command is a good idea?”
Dazai shrugged slightly. “You were being ridiculous.”
“No, I was asking you about why you don’t want me to kill Mori.”
“As I said, being ridiculous.”
Chuuya gave him an unimpressed stare. Finally, he sighed, pushing himself up and holding a hand out to Dazai. “Come on, mackerel.”
“What, not going to continue your interrogation?” Dazai asked suspiciously, defiantly – not because of lingering panic, no, of course not, the anxiety totally wasn’t still swirling in the back of his mind telling him to run run run – ignoring Chuuya's hand in favor of pushing himself up the wall.
“Nope.”
Dazai felt his shoulders drop in sheer relief. That crisis averted, at least. Now he just had to hide his lingering panic and squirrel himself away into his room and hide all effects from Mori's punishments in the future. He was going to miss Chuuya taking care of him, but clearly it had to be done.
“Just gonna do it myself.”
Apparently not. “Chuuya, no—”
“Dazai, I have no intention of forcing you to do anything. You fucking know that. But you can’t force me to do anything, either.” Chuuya glared at him, arms crossed. “And if you aren’t willing to tell me why we can’t kill the bastard, then I'm just going to do it alone.”
Dazai gaped at him. Chuuya just shrugged, turning away and making his way to the living room. “No, Chuuya, you can’t— you can’t just do that,” he stammered, following him.
Chuuya hummed, plopping down onto the sofa and opening his laptop.
“Chuuya, don’t do this to me,” Dazai said, standing awkwardly in front of Chuuya.
Chuuya ignored him.
“Chuuya.”
Nothing.
“Chibi.
“Slug.
“Hatrack.”
Nothing.
Dazai sighed. “You're a real pain, you know that?”
Chuuya ignored him.
Dazai pouted. “I don’t know why it bothers you so much.”
Chuuya typed something.
Dazai huffed an aggrieved breath, plopping himself down onto one of the chairs. “If I tell you, will you drop this?”
“No, but I will consider it,” Chuuya answered, not looking up from the computer as he clicked away.
Dazai scowled. “You're such a persistent dog.”
“Not a dog,” Chuuya hummed. Dazai sighed, annoyed that Chuuya wasn’t rising to any of Dazai's bait.
“It’s not fair that I have to tell you something,” he pouted, curling his legs into his chair.
Chuuya looked up, considering him. “After the incident with Verlaine, I've gotten flashes of my past.”
Dazai eye widened. “What?”
Chuuya nodded, pushing his laptop to the side. “It’s mostly been kinda numb? I think they kept me doped up real good most of the time, so nothing really hurt. There are a couple where I'm not high out of my mind, and those fucking suck.”
Dazai stared.
“There,” Chuuya said. “I've told you something. Your turn.”
“That was mean,” Dazai whined. “I never agreed to this trade.”
Chuuya shrugged, pulling his laptop closer again.
“Fine!” Dazai said, reaching over to snatch the laptop. Chuuya dodged, holding it out of his reach.
“Start talking.”