Chapter Text
Act 1: The Rat, the Promising Captive, and the Ship
One week after taking off from his home without warning, Dazai had already found himself in quite a predicament.
Tightly bound rope dug into his wrists, leaving thick red marks that deepened as he twisted and squirmed against the mast of the expansive ship he was currently situated on—albeit against his will.
“Are we there yet?” Dazai whined, tossing his head back against the wood and pausing in his attempt to free himself from his constraints.
“I don’t think prisoners are supposed to talk,” one of the crewmates replied uneasily from his perch against the railing of the ship's starboard side. His split-dyed hair cascaded down around him, slightly disheveled from the wind.
“Let him, Sigma, it’s fine,” another man called down in a thick Russian accent from his place at the helm. From his position on the deck, Dazai could only see the top of his head and his lithe fingers that gripped tightly at the steering wheel.
Dazai slumped forward as far as the ropes allowed him to and exhaled theatrically. Three days of captivity had made him restless. His limbs were weak from lack of use, and his stomach turned in time with the evermoving sea.
The floorboards creaked under the weight of heavy boots stomping over towards Dazai. He lifted his head ever so slightly and peered up at the new figure through strands of dark hair that had fallen into his eyes. The man had a thick silver braid that rested on his shoulder, adorned with beads of various shapes and colors that matched the buttons on his long overcoat, and he tossed it carelessly over his shoulder as he bent down at the waist towards Dazai.
He reached out his hand and took a piece of Dazai’s hair, twisting it between his index finger and his thumb. Dazai stilled, keeping his eyes trained on the other’s. The pirate hummed, tilting his head to the side and offsetting the hat balanced on top.
“Would you like to play a game to figure out how long till we arrive?” he crooned. His eyes narrowed to slits, a bright, blinding smile flashing in Dazai’s face.
“Sure. What game?” Dazai asked, his curiosity outweighing the dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.
The man straightened his back out and dusted off his pinstripe pants. “A sword fight. Whoever knocks the other’s sword out of their hand first will be the winner.”
Dazai eyed the other carefully and fiddled with the rope. “What happens if I lose?”
“I get to behead you and mail it off to your father, of course!” The other replied gleefully. He clasped his hands together excitedly and skipped over to the brunet.
“Nikolai, we need him alive,” Sigma protested, crossing the space between the two of them quickly and moving to stand next to Nikolai. He folded his arms over his chest and peered down thoughtfully at Dazai.
“I don’t appreciate you all talking about my death right in front of me,” Dazai complained. “I would prefer to do the honors myself, anyway.”
“How much is he even worth?” Sigma directed the question at Nikolai, ignoring Dazai’s comment.
Nikolai turned towards him and grinned, swiping the tipping hat off of his head dramatically and leaning in towards the other. “Enough to buy us a nice, new, shiny ship. And whatever else Fyodor wishes to buy, as well.”
“Fyodor knows best,” Sigma grumbled bitterly, backing away from the silver haired man and turning sharply into one of the ship’s cabins. The door swung shut behind him, moving placidly back and forth before stopping with a gentle thud.
“He’s no fun,” Nikolai mumbled, his lips turning down into a pout.
Dazai opened his mouth to reply, but was abruptly cut off by a shrill honking resounding from over in the distance. The force of it caused the ship to rock back and forth, once calm waves now pushing harshly against the boat. Dazai pressed up against the mast he was tied to, craning his neck to decipher where the sound came from. This attempt proved to be futile, and only resulted in a sharp pain in Dazai’s neck from the strain. He looked back up at Nikolai, trying to gauge what was happening based on the man’s expression, but the pirate was just as bewildered as he was.
“Would you mind taking the helm for a moment, Nikolai? I would like to pay a little visit to our unexpected guests,” the man from behind the wheel from earlier—Fyodor—called down suavely. Understanding flashed through Nikolai’s eyes, and he sprinted up the wooden steps to the wheel. Fyodor passed by him on the stairs, taking long strides that caused his coat to fly up behind him.
Then bright red sails finally rolled into Dazai’s view, and Fyodor’s adamance to Nikolai to take his place began to make sense. Pirates . Their ship was massive, with a large bow and rather intimidating cannons that were visible even from far away. Vast nets hung from tall masts, and a young man dressed in all black was gripping onto it, his feet hooked in the holes.
When the ship passed by and made to circle around to the other side, Dazai caught a glimpse of the name of the boat printed in thick white letters on the stern. Arahabaki, the god of calamity and destruction. That alone was enough to send shivers running down Dazai’s spine.
People ran around frantically preparing the ship to anchor down next to Fyodor’s. Once both ships were within a foot distance from each other, a plank was dropped from Arahabaki onto the boat Dazai being held captive on. Sigma had now returned from down below, and was waiting restlessly next to Fyodor for the arrival of the visitors.
The crewmembers of the other ship watched them warily, keeping their hands close to the weapons attached to their belts that thumped against their legs as they walked across the deck. The one from earlier that Dazai had seen hanging from the net glanced off to the side and made a subtle gesture with his hand before stepping forward, expression remaining stoic.
“Our captain will be coming out shortly,” the boy said curtly before spinning on his heel and retreating back to his other crewmates.
“I can wait,” Fyodor replied, his tone dripping with false niceties. He stood unflinchingly still, his only movement being the blinking of his eyes and the opening and closing of his mouth.
“My sister always taught me it was rude to keep someone waiting,” a new voice called out, accent sounding vaguely French. Dazai watched with bated breath as a new figure appeared–the captain.
His fiery red hair rivaled the sun, thick and boisterous–which felt almost ironic, given that the man himself was rather small. Everything about him screamed power, from the golden rings sitting on each of his fingers to the way he carried himself across the plank and onto Fyodor’s ship. His presence was captivating, something that demanded you stop and pay attention to it.
The only thing that's intensity could rival this man’s was the sea itself. Out of the few pirates Dazai had encountered in the past few days, this one resembled the epitome of what he believed one should be like.
“Pleasure to see you again, Chuuya,” Fyodor said to the ginger.
“Same to you.” The man– Chuuya , as Fyodor had called him–removed the hat on his head, shaking his long hair out and bowing obnoxiously to the other captain, his lips pulled back to reveal sharp teeth. Dazai marveled at the pirate’s confidence. Even in the face of a demon, he held no fear.
“I have to ask though, what’s brought you here? I don’t recall us leaving off on the best of terms.”
“Straight to the point, aren’t ya?”
“Well, I’m quite busy. I’ve got to be back on the mainland in the next week.” Fyodor crossed his arms over his chest, his expression hardening.
Chuuya twirled his hat around in his fingers thoughtfully. “About that. I’m gonna need him.” He turned towards Dazai and gestured in his direction.
“Do I have any say in this?” Dazai asked. Dread creeped into him, settling low in his stomach and pestering his brain. Now there were two different pirate crews after the bounty his father had placed on his head.
“I’m afraid I cannot allow you to take him,” Fyodor said to Chuuya. Annoyance thrummed through Dazai as he was ignored yet again.
“I really don’t want to be kidnapped again,” Dazai groaned, his interruption louder this time.
Chuuya glanced back over towards Dazai and narrowed his starkly blue eyes to slits. His lips turned downwards to form a frown, fingers gripping tightly at the hat in his hands. “Does he ever shut the fuck up?” he asked.
“Not unless you knock him out,” Fyodor replied.
“It’s part of my charm.” Dazai flashed him an annoyingly saccharine smile. Chuuya’s face twisted into a scowl.
“Well, whatever. I don’t really care what he’s like as long as I get the money from his bounty. I’m also really fuckin’ bored of talking about this with you, so–” loud rustling emitted from behind Chuuya, growing more prominent as the seconds ticked by. An object was tossed over from the other ship from somewhere Dazai couldn’t see. “–buh-bye.”
The object rolled over onto the deck, stopping a few feet away from where Dazai was restrained. Chuuya inched over toward him, going completely unnoticed by Fyodor, whose entire focus was trained on what the crew of Arahabaki had thrown over.
“Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight,” Chuuya counted softly, so quietly that only Dazai could hear him. His bonds shifted as Chuuya began to work his fingers through them.
“What are you doing?” Dazai asked. He tried to twist his neck around to observe it himself, but Chuuya grabbed his chin abruptly and faced it forwards again.
“Stay still,” he muttered, pulling the final ropes away from Dazai’s wrists and chest, leaving him to untie his ankles himself. Dazai blinked. The ropes had been tied with intricate knots even he hadn’t been able to weasel himself out of.
He shook off his surprise and began working at his ankles. It didn’t take him long now that his hands were free, and he glanced up to see that Chuuya had abandoned him and was now back on his own ship, watching Fyodor sharply. His mouth began to move again, silently forming the numbers ten, nine, and eight.
“I would recommend getting your ass moving, Dazai,” Chuuya called down to him.
Nikolai had come down from his perch at the helm to inspect the object, and prodded at it gently with the toe of his boot. Sparks flew off of it, as vibrant and radiant as the mane atop Chuuya’s head. Fyodor’s lips parted, and Dazai registered the pure, unadulterated shock on his face. Fyodor was surprised .
“Oh, shit! That’s a bomb!” Nikolai screamed, tossing his coat out in front of himself for cover.
Dazai threw himself up from the ground and sprinted to the plank that connected the ships. Two of the Arahabaki crewmakes were already stationed at the other side, holding tightly onto the plank. He rested an unsure foot on it and began to cross it slowly. The dark blue water under him crashed against the side of the ship, and moved in time with the swishing of his stomach.
A sharp boom resounded from behind him, and the plank lost its traction on Fyodor’s ship from the force. Dazai fumbled with the air in front of him, his hands searching for purchase on Arahabaki’s walls. He was met with a warm, calloused hand instead, and he gripped tightly onto the forearm of its owner as he was pulled onto the ship.
“Thank you,” Dazai breathed out, steadying himself against the side of the ship. He glanced behind him at Fyodor’s ship and snickered to himself as he watched the three pirates frantically sprint around the ship with water buckets.
His gratitude was met with silence, and when he faced forwards once again he found the crew staring at him with curiosity. Dazai tilted his head to the side, confused, and waited for one of them to say something.
“Do I have food in my teeth or something? Why are you all looking at me as if I’ve grown a third head?” Dazai asked. His grip tightened on the wood he was resting against.
Chuuya took a step forward and brought his sword out of his sheath, sticking it into the ground and leaning his body onto it. His eyes flicked up and down Dazai’s crumpled form, scrutinizing every inch of him, from his scruffy hair to his rumpled clothes. “Why is the bounty for you so high?”
Dazai paused. Since his capture had been rather early on, he had yet to get a look at the actual number his father had placed on him. All he had heard from Fyodor’s crew was quiet rumblings of a price worth all the trouble of keeping him. “Not even a hello?”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t test me, or I’ll see to it personally that your head is stuck on a spike.”
Dazai let out a low hum. “Duly noted. Well, I’m not exactly sure why.”
The captain reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of parchment. He carefully unwrapped it, smoothed out the creased edges, and turned it around to face Dazai. The brunet squinted at the small font.
His face was plastered front and center–a recent one, from when his father had forced him to get family pictures taken–with details about his figure and where to contact his father if he was found. Strict instructions for him to be taken back alive were in bold lettering.
But what caught Dazai’s eye the most was the rather aggressive reward. If he were to be returned to his father alive, the person to do so would receive a hefty seven-figure sum prize. It was enough to make anyone grow greedy.
“Oh,” Dazai breathed, bringing his eyes back up to meet with the ginger’s.
Chuuya tucked the paper back into his pocket. “If you haven’t already guessed, we want that money.”
“That I’ve gathered,” Dazai muttered.
“But I’m still curious. Why so much? All you’ve done since I’ve met you is whine and complain. Hell, you couldn’t even cross over to my ship without being a fuckin’ hassle. ” Dazai didn’t miss the contempt seeped into the man’s words.
Dazai schooled his expression into one of boredom. “My father wants me to take over his position,” he drawled.
“And?” Chuuya’s eyes sparkled with interest, and he motioned for Dazai to continue.
“I’m the only ‘heir’ he has. And I don’t want to be. That’s it.”
Chuuya hummed, dissatisfied, and straightened his back out, putting his sword back into its sheath. He turned to one of his crew members–a girl with stark black hair pulled up tightly in a ponytail and a mask that covered most of her features–and whispered something into her ear that sent her scurrying away. Dazai guessed she had been given a task or something of the sort by the determination in her steps.
“Well, it’s been awful talking to you. I wish you the worst.” The captain then turned swiftly on his heel and walked off towards the captain’s quarters, waving his hand lazily behind him in a goodbye.
Dazai’s eye twitched in irritation. He pushed off the side of the ship and made to follow Chuuya, but was stopped by another crew member, this one a man with rudish hair and a bandage stuck on his nose.
“When’s Gin gonna be back?” the man asked. His tone was carefree and his posture relaxed, and he didn’t spare Dazai a glance despite the death grip he held on him.
“Mm, maybe a minute or two,” another girl replied, her hair a sandy blonde. She stared longingly at the place the girl with black hair had been a minute ago.
The pirate groaned, tossing his head back and shaking Dazai’s shoulder slightly from where he was still holding onto it tightly. “Can she hurry?” he whined, drawing out the last syllable dramatically.
“Be quiet, Tachihara,” the black haired boy that had crossed onto Fyodor’s ship earlier snapped.
“Sorry, Akutagawa.” Dazai didn’t think Tachihara sounded remorseful whatsoever. He resisted the urge to sigh in relief when Tachihara let up on his hold on Dazai a bit, his nails no longer digging crescent moon shapes into his skin.
Gin returned shortly after and handed some rope to Tachihara, who took it and quickly secured Dazai’s hands behind his back–a mirror of how he had been restrained on Fyodors’s ship. He was then led down further into the ship and taken to a room filled with crates and spare supplies. Tachihara dumped him unceremoniously on the ground and exited, making sure to lock the door behind him.
Dazai remained quiet throughout the entire ordeal and complied complacently. He wasn’t in a hurry to spite the different crewmembers, because when they left him to his own devices–that was when he would plot his escape.
Dazai Osamu had been born with the innate ability to see the impossible. Whether that be the outcomes of various situations, what other’s hearts yearned for, or the perfect move on a chess board, they all came naturally to him.
It was something that had benefited him greatly throughout his life. He was never deceived by his father’s false promises or by the facades of others. He was deemed a genius by his tutors and dubbed “the boy that could solve any puzzle laid out before him”.
He carried this with him now as he considered his options of escape. His body thrummed with excitement at the new challenge. The terror that had come with being taken in by another crew had long since worn off, now replaced with a newfound adamance. And when Dazai set his mind to something, he would get it.
The door was almost always locked, besides when a crewmember came in to drop off a meal for him. This happened twice a day, the first at around noon and the second in the evening. He could gauge this from the small window he had been blessed with that gave a small view of the water surrounding the ship.
His noon rations should be coming soon. He planned to try and probe whomever was delivering the food into telling him something that could benefit his escape. From his minimal interactions with the bunch, Tachihara seemed to have the loosest lips.
The door opened with a start, knocking into the wall beside it and causing the floor to tremor slightly. Bright light shone through the doorway and Dazai squinted his eyes at it. Standing in front of him was the blonde girl from earlier. Disappointment about it being her rather than Tachihara disappeared when he saw that she wasn’t carrying any food with her like usual.
“I’ve been asked to get you,” she said.
Dazai blinked and stared at her. “What for?”
“Dunno. Chuuya didn’t specify.” She shrugged, turning back around and checking behind her once to ensure Dazai was following. He rose up from his position on the ground on shaky legs, holding onto a crate for a moment to allow his blood to get moving.
Dazai trailed behind the woman as she strutted towards the direction of Chuuya’s quarters. Tachihara was working on a rope on the deck, tying it tightly onto a cleat on the side of the boat in a figure eight.
“Higuchi! Would you help Gin take inventory down below when you’re done?” he called out, not picking his head up from his work.
“Sure,” she replied, flashing him a smile. He looked up and raised an eyebrow at her. Higuchi’s expression dropped, turning into a nasty scowl. “Fuck off.” The pirate giggled and busied himself moving onto the next cleat. She rolled her eyes, continuing on her path.
“What’s that all about?” Dazai asked. The members of the crew seemed more entwined than he had initially anticipated. In the few minutes he had with the door open each day while receiving his food, he’d heard them all spewing unruly jokes and poking fun at each other.
She gave Dazai a sidelong glance. “Nothing that concerns you.”
“Alright then.” The brunet tossed his hands up innocently.
The door to Chuuya’s quarters wasn’t unlike the rest on the ship, its only distinguishing factor being a “do not disturb” sign hanging off of the doorknob. Dazai flipped it around to the other side. Higuchi raised her fist and wrapped her knuckles against the door. A call of “come in!” sounded from inside the room, and she opened the door, ushering Dazai in behind her.
Chuuya was leaning his weight against a desk off to the side of the room, a cigarette poised between his fingers. He looked over at them and took a long drag before snuffing it out with the bottom of his shoe. Papers and quills were strewn out behind him haphazardly.
“Thanks, Higuchi.” Chuuya nodded affirmatively to her. “You’re free to go now.”
The blonde wasted no time scurrying back out onto the deck and shutting the door tightly behind her. Dazai watched as it clicked into place before turning back around to face Chuuya. He was staring at Dazai in what he deduced looked like contemplation.
“I need you to do something for me,” the captain began.
Dazai tilted his head to the side in confusion. Never in his life prior to running away had he ever been on a ship, let alone for multiple days consecutively. There wasn’t much he could do that would benefit the pirates. The lack of seasickness was simply pure luck–something he was extremely grateful for.
Chuuya took Dazai’s silence as an indication to continue. “I need you to write a letter to your father detailing that I’m the one bringing you to him.” He pushed himself off of the desk and rounded it so he was now behind it, leaving space for Dazai to sit in the chair pushed into the desk and write.
Dazai recoiled back slightly. The thought of writing to his father ignited flames under his skin, twisting and curling in anger. He steeled himself, rising back up to his full posture and staring down at Chuuya, eyes locking with the other’s.
“No. I won’t do it.” With that he turned on the ball of his foot and began walking towards the door. If this was what Chuuya wanted from him, then his room–if you could even call it that, it was more like a cell–sounded a lot nicer. He made it as far as his hand on the doorknob before warm fingers yanked at his collar, brushing against the back of his neck. The pirate let go, and the momentum carried Dazai backwards, causing him to stumble a bit as he worked to regain his footing.
“Now what was that for, hatrack?” Dazai asked sweetly. His heart seethed.
The ginger stalked forward until they were around a foot apart. “You’re going to write that fuckin’ letter exactly as I tell you to. And you will not complain or so help me God you will regret it, you son of a bitch.”
Dazai whistled, bringing his hands up in a slow clap. “What a mouth you’ve got on you! Do you kiss your mother with it?” he teased.
Rage flashed through Chuuya’s eyes, a stark contrast with their deep blue color. Dazai could see his jaw working as he grinded his teeth together, hands shaking softly at his side. For a moment, Dazai was taken aback by the life that shone through Chuuya’s entire body. Every emotion he felt was on clear display for Dazai to see. The captain made no attempts at hiding it either; it was almost as if he was proud of it.
A flash of envy rose through Dazai. How could someone like this exist? With no restraints on what he was feeling at any given moment and no fear someone could take it and use it against him. It was admirable, really. Everything Dazai was scared of.
“Fuck off, you vagabond. Thinkin’ you can wander around aimlessly.” he muttered.
Dazai clutched a hand to his heart in fake offense. “Chuuya, really, I’m astounded. Did you actually think that I had no plan when I ran away?” Chuuya leveled him with a long look, daring Dazai to challenge him. The brunet relented, choosing to drop the topic before Chuuya grew more angry.
“What is so difficult about writing one letter?” The ginger was growing frustrated, no longer just angry at Dazai’s antics. It was growing more clear that Dazai would not be able to leave without giving him a sufficient answer.
“Nothing. The problem is that it’s to him.”
Chuuya paused. He watched Dazai’s expression for a moment, then took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in defeat. “Fine. We’ll deal with that later. But for now, what the fuck did he teach you anyway?”
Dazai ducked his head down and contemplated his answer. He’d of course had many years of tutoring from people his father had hired–at which he had excelled–and he knew a good amount of various medical topics from what his father had chosen to teach him personally. This information he relayed over to Chuuya after deciding it contained some substance.
“Alright then. If you can’t write a letter, then you’re going to make yourself useful some other way.” He began shoving the papers and quills back into the desk, and the drawer shook with the vigor that he closed it. Chuuya then looked up at him, still hunched over the desk, and gave him a wild grin. “How do you feel about fishing?”
Dazai shuffled the rod around in his hands, considering what he had done to end up catching fish in the harbor while the boat was docked at a village. They were still a ways away from the kingdom Dazai was from, but they had already made a shocking amount of progress in the past few days at sea. Dazai wondered what Chuuya’s secret was to navigating the sea with such ease, if there really was any. He wouldn’t be shocked at this point if it was all instinct to the captain.
Since his talk with Chuuya, he had been promoted in some way–now trusted to do little tasks, specifically if it required someone with literacy skills. This meant he had also gotten to see more of Chuuya now that he wasn’t locked away in a stingy storage room posing as a cell.
This Chuuya was an honest juxtaposition with the one he had initially met that day on Fyodor’s ship. He was more keen than he had let on; the first to notice if anything was amiss about Arahabaki . He was loud and honest, but not in an obnoxious manner. But what was the most apparent was his strikingly fierce loyalty.
Higuchi had nicked herself accidentally while cutting one rope free from another, and when Chuuya had peered over at her upon her small cry of pain, he had immediately called for Akutagawa to bring him bandages and supplies to clean the freshly sliced skin. Dazai had found it peculiar. Chuuya could have brushed it off, letting Higuchi tend to her own wound, small as it was, but he had insisted on patching it up himself.
Dazai shook his head. The absurdity of him thinking such high thoughts of his captor was not lost on him. He felt a tug at the end of his rod and began rapidly reeling it back in. His lack of physical strength made this increasingly more difficult.
“Stop, stop, stop,” a voice called out to him. Dazai turned around from his perch sitting on the side of the ship and locked eyes with Chuuya. The ginger was waving his arms rapidly and giving him a look that Dazai registered a beat later as pity.
“You stop. You’re looking at me as if I’m a lost puppy,” Dazai replied.
“Shut the fuck up. You’re doing it wrong.” Chuuya gave Dazai a sharp push to the side so that he could sit down next to him. “I don’t have time to be correcting idiots on how to fuckin’ fish .”
“Chuuya wounds me.” Dazai jutted his bottom lip out, willing his eyes to water dramatically.
“Yeah, yeah.” He grabbed the pole from Dazai’s hands and walked him through the steps of preparing the rod to be casted. Dazai pretended to be watching intently, but he was really just focused on Chuuya’s hands. They moved seamlessly around the rod, flicking buttons and reeling with ease. The rings that embellished each of his fingers shined under the early afternoon sun, casting rays of light around the pair.
“If you’re so rich already, why do you want more money for my capture?” Dazai interrupted.
Chuuya paused from where he was still babbling about how to properly cast. “What makes yah think I’m rich?”
“The rings.” He pointed an index finger at the bands of pure gold. Chuuya watched him curiously for a moment before he barked out a laugh. He began to shake, fits of giggles overcoming him as he tossed his head back and let the rod in his arm go slack. Dazai frowned. “What’s so funny now?”
“It’s just–” another bout of laughter, “I’m really not.”
Dazai furrowed his brow. “So you’re not just a selfish little brat that craves only money and power?” Despite the fact that the more of Chuuya he saw, the less he believed that this fit his character, he still felt compelled to clarify.
“Absolutely not.” Chuuya’s gaze turned a bit solemn. “Everything I do is for them.” He gestured around the ship and shrugged. “They’re my family. As the oldest, I have to protect them all. It’s just the way things go. Having such a large sum of money, well, it really doesn’t hurt.”
It was becoming increasingly more difficult to hate Chuuya when he spouted things filled with such genuine compassion.
“And the rings?” Dazai asked in an attempt to bring the conversation back to its usual back and forth of insults.
Chuuya snorted. “They’re more tokens of victory, honestly. Spoils of war, I guess.”
Now it was Dazai’s turn to laugh. “I knew you seemed like the sentimental type.”
“Fuck’s that supposed to mean?” The captain bristled.
“Nothing, nothing,” he giggled. Dazai reached out and snatched the pole back. “I’m going to fish now!”
“Sure.” Chuuya’s voice carried an air of smugness.
“Does the slug think I can’t follow his tutorial?”
“Who the fuck are you calling a slug?” The ginger recoiled backwards, throwing a hand out behind him for balance.
Dazai made a show of scrunching his nose up. “You look slimy. And you’re small. Slugs are small.” He winced when Chuuya socked him in the arm.
“Just get on with it.”
He nodded and gripped the rod with both of his hands. Truth is, he hadn’t been paying attention to any of Chuuya’s fish-catching spiel. Was he meant to let the line out now, or when the hook was already in the water?
“I really wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t have all day.”
Dazai swallowed. He mumbled the next words so quietly, Chuuya couldn’t pick them up.
“Hah? Speak up, nomad.” Chuuya’s mouth was dropped open in confusion.
“I don’t remember how to do it.”
The pirate sighed. “You’re impossible.” He brought his hands down to his sides and pushed over till he was sitting directly beside Dazai. Tan fingers moved to cover stark white. Dazai’s breath hitched slightly–something he chose to ignore for the time being. His icy cold hands warmed slightly under Chuuya’s touch.
“First, you have to undo the bail. This lets the line out. But don’t do it too much, you’ll fuck up the rod and then I’ll be pissed off because I’ll have to fix it.” Dazai nodded, his thoughts overwhelmed by the distinct smell of red wine from next to him. “Then you lock it in place to ensure that it doesn’t go anywhere.” He moved Dazai’s finger over to the switch, and the brunet flicked it into place.
“I know how to do the next part.” He was desperate to be released from Chuuya’s grip–surely because of his overwhelming distaste for the man sitting to his left.
Chuuya nodded, dusting his hands off on his pants and opting to watch Dazai cast the rod into the water. They bickered aimlessly while waiting for a fish to take a bite at the bait. It didn’t take long before Dazai felt a strong bit of resistance.
“Chuuya! There’s a fish!” he screamed, frantically fumbling to put his hands in the places Chuuya had shown him.
“So real it in?” Dazai didn’t appreciate how calm Chuuya sounded.
“Easier said than done,” he muttered. Dazai then positioned his hands on the reel and began mechanically pushing it forward. The rod was beginning to bend from the stress of the fish bearing its weight on it. Chuuya heeded Dazai to reel faster. Bubbles of water sputtered and appeared the more he reeled as the fish grew closer to the surface.
When the fish broke out of the water, Dazai felt himself untense and let out an incredulous laugh. “You know, I never thought I was going to end up fishing when I ran away.”
Chuuya looked at him in annoyance. “Don’t get sappy, asshole. I’m still holding you captive. Against the literal law. ”
Dazai hummed, breaking his eye contact with the captain. The fish was hovering above the water, tethered to the hook attached to the rod. Dazai, upon Chuuya’s instruction, carefully reeled the fish up until there was only about a few inches of line still out.
Chuuya reached out and plucked the fish off of the hook. He glanced up at the fish and back down at Dazai repeatedly. “Say, did you ever know your mother, Dazai?”
The brunet recoiled backwards. “Where did that come from?”
“It’s just that you look an awful lot like this mackerel right here.” The ginger held the fish up between them so Dazai could get a better look. Dazai’s face twisted into one of disgust, his body twisting backwards to escape the mackerel’s wet exterior.
“There is no familial resemblance between me and that ugly fish, have you lost your mind?”
The ginger was not convinced. “Akutagawa? Can you come here for a sec’?”
The man in question waltzed over from where he had been working to sharpen a silver sword on the deck. “Something the matter?”
Chuuya jumped straight to the point. “Don’t Dazai and the fish look related?”
“I suppose so.” Akutagawa’s expression remained stolid.
Chuuya erupted. His entire face lit up, with his lips opening to let out a loud howl and his eyebrows raising with mirth. But nothing could compare to his eyes. They sparkled, reflecting the deep blues of the ocean that rose and fell like waves as he shook with laughter. Dazai felt his chest tighten. He looked away, inhaling deeply and looking down below to where his feet dangled off the edge of the boat. It was growing increasingly difficult for him to be scornful with the captain for his capture when he looked like that when he laughed.
“Damn right he does.” Chuuya lightly shoved him to the side.
Chuuya clutched the bowl of stew in his hand, his eyebrows pinched together. His hands shook slightly, causing the spoon to rattle against the porcelain. Dazai stood still as a statue. The rest of the crew darted their eyes between the two men cautiously.
“You mean to tell me that when I asked you if there was anything in particular you were good at, you failed to mention you could identify different herbs just by a glance?” Chuuya seethed.
Dazai shrugged. “ I did tell you I had some medical training. And I’ve only been here for a few days.”
“Well, you obviously failed to mention the extent of it.” He shook his head, aggressively setting the bowl of soup down beside him, resulting in a large clang.
“Gin can, too,” Tachihara piped up. The girl just scowled at him, shaking her head to signify her clear disagreement. He put his hands up and muttered a hasty apology.
“Looks like you’ll be getting a field trip, Dazai,” said Chuuya regretfully. Dazai saw him cringe a bit at the thought of letting Dazai off of the ship.
Higuchi was outraged. “We’re just going to let our prisoner off of the ship, out into the open of the public that knows exactly who he is and most likely will want to take him from us?” Her hands gesticulated wildly around her as she spoke. Dazai found himself agreeing with her, despite the fact that he was hoping for the opportunity to be let out.
His plan to escape was still ongoing–an ever changing, intricately crafted blueprint of ideas. Every time he thought of something he deemed perfect and began to execute it, setting all the moving parts into motion, some crew member would somehow disturb it. They never made any motions to suggest they had any clue what he was plotting, but Dazai had a sneaking suspicion that Chuuya at least could see right through him. His latest ploy was shifting into place in his head, the final touches being added here and there and the annoying possible disturbances being worked out.
He was caught out of his reverie by Chuuya’s voice. “He’s not going to be unattended. I’ll go with him.”
“Yes, but Chuuya it’s still dangerous–” Higuchi tried once again.
“No buts. We need these herbs for medicine.” He glanced back at Akutagawa meaningfully, a grimace sneaking its way onto his face as the other boy worked to hide a cough. Dazai assumed for the first few days that Akutagawa had a rather mean cold, one that left him at times doubled over hacking up a lung, but as time prevailed he had begun to believe something more pressing was bothering the boy. Whatever it was, Chuuya seemed fixated on gathering things to fix it.
“I’m fine,” Akutagawa said, voice slightly hoarse from the strain his throat had been under lately.
Chuuya leveled him with a flat look. “No, you’re not. You’re out of medicine and it’s getting worse again. This will only take a day. Him and I–” he jerked his head at Dazai, “–will be in and out in no time.” This seemed to be the final determining argument. With that, all of their heads snapped toward Dazai, eagerly awaiting his response.
Dazai shifted his weight between his feet, fighting off the manic grin that was begging to surface. “Must I always do your dirty work, Chuuya?”
Chuuya growled lowly. “You bastard. Have some compassion for the sick, would ya? Or has your time in the castle left you unable to have basic human empathy?”
“Ouch! A low blow from le petit pirate. I’ll have you know my levels of empathy are far superior than your height. Not that it’s a challenge, really.” He shrugged nonchalantly and watched with glee as Chuuya’s fingers clenched and his hands balled up.
“Be ready at eight tomorrow morning.” It was a clear dismissal. But Dazai was never one to follow orders–and Chuuya had no right making Dazai feel that way whenever he was cross with him. It had become a game to him, trying to see how easily he could set Chuuya off like a firecracker.
“But Chuuya,” he called, dragging out the captain’s name, “how am I meant to know when it's eight?”
“God! You are just impossible, aren’t ya?” Chuuya’s teeth clicked together as he grinded them against each other. “I’ll get someone to fetch you.”
Dazai smiled sweetly back at him, clearly wry and mocking. “I wouldn’t dream of anything less.”
Hours later, when the freshly risen sun was glinting against the water, Dazai was awoken by Tachihara smacking his sword against a spare bucket. “Captain says it’s wakey wakey time, pretty boy.”
On the deck, Higuchi and Gin were both dressing in thick layers, concealing their faces with wooly hoods and mutely colored scarves. Gin carried a bag slung over her shoulder. Together, they appeared to be two people traveling together, bundled up to face the cold weather that was becoming more apparent as the seasons transitioned into autumn.
Dazai took a moment to observe his surroundings. Arahabaki was tied tightly down to the cleats on a wooden dock, and its plank was dropped–he also made the acute realization that this plank was different from the one he had sprinted across during his grand escape from Fyodor.
The absence of a certain crew member was also accounted for. “Where’s Akutagawa?” Dazai asked.
Higuchi looked up from where she was tucking her shirt into a tiered, ruffled maxi skirt. “Bed. Chuuya told him to stay there while you two get the medicine.”
Dazai nodded. “Is Tachihara helping get the medicine as well?”
She shook her head. “He’s making sure Ryuu’s alright.”
“Which he’s not, so hurry the fuck up!” Tachihara’s muffled voice called out from behind one of the doors on the ship.
As if on cue, Chuuya came bustling out from another door that led deep into the labyrinth that was below deck. His usual pirate-esque clothes had been substituted for more typical townfolk ones, and the jewelry he was so infatuated with was missing from his person.
“Quite the disguise, Mr. Nakahara,” Dazai remarked. Chuuya ignored him, instead shoving similar looking clothes into his arms and moving away to talk to Gin and Higuchi. Dazai returned back to his room and changed quickly, choosing to leave his clothes in a heap on the ground.
When he got back, Gin and Higuchi had both dispersed into the mazes of ships in the harbor, and Chuuya busied himself counting out money to use to purchase the herbs. Dazai hovered over his shoulder, unsure if he should contribute.
The two girls returned shortly after, both shucking off their layers immediately upon arrival. Chuuya looked at the two expectantly.
“The only guards we spotted are positioned deeper. They’re wearing the colors of his kingdom, though.” Higuchi jerked her head in Dazai’s direction.
“Are they putting up signs?” Dazai asked. The wanted poster was still fresh in his memory, often the source of his insomnia at night as he mulled over how many people were looking for him–how difficult it would inevitably be to completely outrun his father. He wasn’t the type to give up, but he could recognize when he’d likely been bested.
Gin spoke up this time, eyes darkening. Dazai could feel her frown from under her mask. “I saw some pinned to the walls of a few shops. Those guards Ichiyou mentioned had more tucked into their belts, no doubt handing them out to people passing by.”
Dazai his bottom lip, turning the situation over in his head. He’d only visited this kingdom once in his youth with his father. It was popular among pirates for its winding streets, beautiful port, and most notoriously, its market. Anything a person could ask for could be bought there–currency varied, with some using the standard coins and others paying in anything else they could find, from expensive jewelry to verbally exchanged secrets and messages. It was a place for bartering, and more importantly, it was disorienting . Wherever you entered, it was unlikely you would be exiting that way. Tourists unfamiliar with the roads ran the risk of getting trapped for days on end.
A thinly veiled snicker interrupted his thoughts. Dazai cocked his head to the side and locked eyes with Chuuya, who had his hand over his mouth in an attempt to mask some of the laughter. “I can hear you thinking,” Chuuya said.
Dazai paused. There was something different about Chuuya–a peculiar connection he could feel buzzing between them whenever the other was near. He wasn’t used to others figuring him out. If anything, he preferred them not knowing him. It was much simpler to slip through the cracks, just existing rather than living.
Until Chuuya had come along, strolled into his life and abruptly whisked him out of his blissful ignorance.
He took a breath and began to explain. “It’s easy to get lost in the crowds of people. Dressing in these clothes will make us more inconspicuous as well, and the plentiful alleys serve as cover. I also think it’s unlikely the guards will really patrol the market. These ones in particular like to move in groups, and they rarely separate. It’s unrealistic for them to be able to all move together through that market.”
Chuuya hummed, tapping his fingers against the side of his belt. “You seem to know an awful lot about this city, so you can be our guide.” He gave a light shove to Dazai’s back. “Let’s get moving.”
Dazai shrugged. “I haven’t been here in years. I don’t actually know where I’m going.”
He was met with a tight lipped smile. “Better than whatever I’ve got.”
Higuchi waved goodbye to them, then sternly grabbed Gin’s arm and waved her hand around as well when she noticed she wasn’t participating in her send off party. “Good luck you two!”
Dazai dipped into a bow and promptly tripped over his feet as Chuuya kicked the back of his knee. And with the sun high in the sky, dancing over the horizon, the two set off down the plank and into the bizarre kingdom.