Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chuuya sighed as he gazed down at the sight before him.

What a mess this whole thing was.

Chuuya had returned from overseas to the Mafia in disarray. Having heard that a great enemy had just been defeated — Mimic or whatever — it hadn’t been too surprising with how people were attempting to recuperate from that, but even then, it had seemed a bit over-the-top at the time.

Until Kouyou had pulled him aside and informed him that Dazai was suspected of defecting. He had last been seen on his way to help assist in fighting Mimic the day before, but there’d been no sign of him since.

Chuuya admitted that he hadn’t taken her too seriously. After all, Dazai liked to disappear every now and again when it suited him. It could be worrisome, given his hobbies, but Chuuya could always track him down so there was no need for the organization to be concerned or believe that he’d leave of all things. Dazai had wormed his way into practically every facet of the Mafia despite only technically being in charge of the guerilla forces. He had his place among them and no reason to leave.

Still, the thought had niggled at the back of Chuuya’s mind, even as he debriefed with Mori over his mission. But the Boss hadn’t said anything about it, dismissing him with his usual cunning smile.

However, it wasn’t hard to miss the squads who were sent out to search for Dazai though. Or the frantic whispers of secretaries and archivists who reported that Dazai’s name had been removed from all cases pertaining to him and anything about him personally had gone missing. Or the tense atmosphere as everyone waited for the guillotine blade of the Demon Prodigy’s plan to fall upon them.

Well, everyone except Chuuya that was.

He didn’t have time to waste attempting to figure out what that moronic bandage waster could be doing at the moment. Besides, he never saw anything to be scared of when it came to that half-drowned emo disaster; he wasn’t like the grunts, waiting for sudden retribution. The whole thing just pissed him off more than anything, Dazai disappearing without even a word. Clearly, it wasn’t his problem.

Though he did have some time to do a bit of investigating himself…

Which, of course, led to this.

Mori had called upon him to try his hand at tracking down Dazai, three days after his return. The Boss knew that if anyone could find Dazai, it would be him.

And he had.

Chuuya watched through binoculars as Dazai was packing his things away within the safe house, one that only he was supposed to know about but that Chuuya vaguely remembered him buying.

What a difference a few days can make. Chuuya thought to himself as he observed him, and it was undoubtedly true.

Gone was the dark coat that had been draped across Dazai’s shoulders like a shroud. Gone were the bandages that usually covered his right eye, offering Chuuya the rare view of both his eyes as they scanned over what else needed to be taken. Gone was the aura of hopelessness that generally plagued Dazai, a darkness that threatened to overwhelm him.

All those had been replaced.

Dazai moved with a new determination; it was not entirely without gloom, a hint of despair tinging his face whenever he paused for a moment, but it was more purposeful than Chuuya had seen him in a while. His typical black suit was traded for an outfit that was light and had actual colors in it, a bolo tie around his neck.

Most importantly, instead of that great black coat, Dazai was wearing the most ugly, tan trench coat Chuuya had ever seen.

Chuuya rolled his eyes as he lowered the binoculars.

Whether in the dark or not, Dazai’s sense of style was the absolute worst.

He stood there for a moment thinking everything over.

The Boss’s orders had been clear: find Dazai and retrieve him. With the way Dazai was hurriedly packing up, it was clear that whatever reason he’d had for sticking around this long had been resolved and he was about to go underground for who knew how long. Once he did that, there’d be no hope of finding him until he decided to reveal himself once more. If the Mafia were to take him back, it had to be now.

Chuuya huffed.

He was loyal.

His next move was obvious.

Looking down at Dazai, Chuuya retrieved his phone and dialed.

Mori picked up almost immediately. “Chuuya-kun!” His voice was bright and hopeful. “Have you found Dazai-kun?”

Chuuya heaved a great sigh, his gaze never leaving Dazai. “Sorry, Boss. No sign of him.”

He could practically see the way his boss began to pout. “Really? Not even you can find him?”

“If you wanted him found, you probably should’ve sent me out right away, Boss.” Chuuya couldn’t help but point out. “The bastard’s as slippery as an eel; he’s probably long gone if he knows what’s good for him.” Anger began to slip into his voice.

“I suppose so.” Mori turned contemplative.

“Don’t worry; I won’t stop looking, Boss.” Chuuya promised. “I’ve been trying to look in more unlikely locations, but that shithead most likely avoided that to throw me off. I’ll check the places that would put him right under our nose next. And then I’m gonna punch him for causing such a fuss.”

The Boss laughed. “Yes, you do that, Chuuya-kun, but I do need him alive. Thank you for the update.”

“Of course. As per your orders, Boss.” Chuuya slightly bowed automatically, despite Mori being unable to see it, before he hung up the phone.

Yes, Chuuya was loyal.

He was loyal to the Port Mafia, to its members and its Boss. There was a reason why he was considered one of the most stalwart and responsible members of the organization. But…

He also was loyal to his partner, Dazai Osamu.

And certain loyalties superseded others.

For Dazai, his loyalty was different. It was born of a bond that most couldn’t even begin trying to comprehend. The two of them found each other on a different level that no one else could match. He trusted Dazai with his life and his humanity, and in turn, Dazai trusted him with his plans and his humanity.

Though on Dazai’s part, he expressed his own loyalty differently in general. After all, Dazai did not offer his loyalty to Port Mafia as a whole, he offered it to certain individuals within the Port Mafia that he found interesting and cared for in his own way.

So when Chuuya’s investigation had turned up Oda Sakunosuke’s name, being the one to destroy Mimic and allow the Boss to gain that shiny new Special Ability Business Permit, and the fact that he was dead, Chuuya could see the writing on the wall. The betrayal of his only other friend, Sakaguchi Ango, had cemented it with his role in this whole incident and Oda’s death.

Oda was one of those few to whom Dazai gave his loyalty, and his death, apparently orchestrated by Mori as a necessary sacrifice, had broken whatever loyalty might have existed between Mori and Dazai in their shared super-genius comradery.

There was no way that Dazai would stay after that.

Not that Dazai was going to stay much longer in the Mafia anyway. All the signs were there that he would be leaving, one way or another, and there had been nothing that Chuuya could do, nothing to offer him that might help him stay.

Chuuya raised the binoculars to see Dazai clearly one more time.

That Oda fellow was a good guy. No doubt he’d left Dazai some last words, some sort of mission, to help him live on. Chuuya understood that and why Dazai would leave because of it; betraying your organization for your friend’s sake was the easiest thing to understand in the world. And he could at least be grateful for that.

After all, people who planned on killing themselves wouldn’t bother to pack their things.

And Chuuya much preferred this to the alternative.

Besides, this was for the best of the organization he’d sworn his loyalty to. Dazai could not be coerced into staying, he could not be forced into working with them, especially not after such a loss. That made him a liability rather than an asset as he no doubt loathed the thought of working with them once more. At this rate, Dazai staying would be a case of mutually assured destruction.

As he watched Dazai, Chuuya’s phone rang. He picked it up without looking at the caller ID.

“Yeah?” He asked, though he had a good idea who it was.

“Sir, the final funeral arrangements have all been prepared for the morning.” The grunt on the other end reported.

“Good. You’re dismissed for your regular duties.” Chuuya ordered, before hanging up once more.

He cast one last glance at Dazai before he turned away.

If Dazai wanted to leave, he would. No one would be able to find him and he’d disappear. If Dazai wanted to leave the shadows, he would. Chuuya had no idea what he’d do otherwise, but clearly he planned on doing something.

…

If Dazai wanted Chuuya to come with him, he would have already conspired to ensure that he’d remain by his side.

And yet, here they were, the chasm of their choices between them.

Chuuya wasn’t one to force his company where it wasn’t wanted.

(Just because he understood didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.)

(Just because he understood didn’t mean that he would’ve liked some sign from his partner that he was leaving and not simply killing himself.)

(However, despite all that, for this last moment, that was still his partner.)

So he’d give his partner this instead: a clean getaway.

Mori could ask all he wanted, but this was something outside of the Port Mafia’s influence. This was something simply between him and Dazai.

Chuuya would also give Dazai’s best friend his final rites and a proper burial. It’d been a pain getting his body released from the Mafia’s morticians and finding a place to bury him in a more neutral part of Yokohama — the people working at that level clearly had no idea why he was making the effort for a low level grunt — but if Dazai turned out to be the type to visit graves, Chuuya figured he should be allowed a way to see him.

This would be his final gift to Dazai.

That was all Chuuya could do for now. With Dazai gone, it was out of his hands after that.

Without another moment of hesitation, Chuuya rocketed away using his ability, ready to continue his “search” on the opposite side of Yokohama.

He knew that by the time the tails Mori had set up to track him got to that safe house, Dazai would be long gone and not a trace would be left.

And that night, when he opened the bottle of Petrus he’d been saving, while part of it was to celebrate never having to deal with Dazai again (in the Port Mafia at least) — and that’s what he’d tell everyone that it was only that — another part of it was to mourn the loss of his partner as well.

Not that he’d be any less loyal whenever Dazai turned up again. He knew himself well enough that he had yet to forsake someone who he’d gifted his loyalty to.

Chuuya knew they would meet again, as long as they kept living.

But for now, he drank and drank until he forgot. He gave himself one night to cry tears of happiness and sadness. Then in the morning, he got up and gave Dazai’s Odasaku the burial he deserved.

And he carried on, like he hadn’t lost something else that was important to him.

Just like he always did.