Chapter Text
Dazai spun around in his chair absentmindedly. Kunikida had dragged him off of the couch kicking and screaming and dumped him into his respective desk chair about half an hour ago. The other ADA members were blatantly unphased by the duo’s antics at this point. Kunikida had given him strict orders not to move, each word punctuated by a warning whack upside the head. Dazai rubbed mournfully at the afflicted area, swearing that he would have a bald spot there by the end of the day (as per usual.)
Usually, Dazai would ignore what Kunikida had requested of him with flippant and unbothered ease, but he was simply too lazy to attempt an escape back to the refuge of the couch. Even if he could wedge himself between the stiff cushions and hide from his partner’s ire it would be so much work to do so.
Dazai accidentally broke that promise though, when he was startled by his phone ringing loudly and tumbled off the chair. Kunikida didn’t look up from his computer. Atsushi gasped and moved to help Dazai. He waved him off while rubbing the back of his head with a calculated theatrical flair. With his other hand he snatched the phone off the desktop. Dazai sat cross legged on the floor and stared at the caller ID. Dazai tensed a bit as the familiar name registered. He felt the rising urge to just ignore it, as he had ignored this particular number many, many times before.
Dazai scooted under the desk for some semblance of privacy. It was a difficult feat to achieve with such ungodly gangly legs. Atsushi seemed a little put off by this strange behavior but elected to focus on his work. Dazai took a second to prepare himself, and clicked accept call.
“Oi, took you long enough to pick up.” Chuuya grumbled on the other side. His voice was swathed from all sides by mechanical humming and metallic rattling. Dazai decided he was being driven somewhere. Executives didn’t really need to drive themselves places unless they wanted to. Chuuya fell into the latter, being independent to a stubborn degree. When Dazai had been an executive he never drove himself places. Mostly because he barely knew how, but also because it just never interested him. Dying in a car crash would probably suck, therefore he had no use for a car.
“Yeah, yeah. well you should be honored I even picked up at all!” Dazai countered, straightening up with fake narcissism. He ended up bumping his skull against the desk rather hard, which produced an amused laugh from Chuuya.
“It’s more of a chore than an honor.” Chuuya replied, his voice drier than the driest martini he’d ever downed. There was some scuffling in the background in Chuuya’s audio. His voice became difficult to parse as he seemingly pulled the phone away from his face to address the source of the interruption. Dazai could barely hear Chuuya but his voice still carried with an uncharacteristic (but not entirely unfamiliar) softness. Dazai couldn’t make out the exact words being said, but there was a shrill response to Chuuya’s reprimands.
“I know, hold on, we’re almost there.” Dazai caught as Chuuya brought the phone back up to his face. Dazai had begun to fidget with the hem of his bandages on his wrist as he waited for Chuuya to remember their conversation. He hated being ignored.
Chuuya finally addressed Dazai again, “Ugh. anyway, that reminds me why I called you.”
“Because you missed me?” Dazai replied instinctively with a grin. Bothering his former partner was engraved in his DNA after all these years. Dazai could push Chuuya’s buttons easier than he could will a breath through his lungs. Felt more natural to him, anyways.
“What the fuc-?” Chuuya cut himself off prematurely before he could finish, “No! No way in-“ Chuuya paused again, trying to figure out how to structure his repulsion to Dazai’s insinuation without swearing. There was more audible movement to Chuuya’s right, and a high pitched voice announced something with smug pride.
“No! I didn’t finish, it doesn’t count!” Chuuya exclaimed at the gall of this mystery passenger. Dazai could almost hear Chuuya’s toothy grin, could almost see the way his left canine always popped over his lower lip. He couldn’t really, of course. That was beyond him now.
Dazai leaned back underneath the desk, resting his head on the far wall of the small alcove. Obviously the person accompanying Chuuya was a child. Why Chuuya was hanging out with a kid was still unclear, but Dazai was confident that if Chuuya could just ignore the hellspawn and focus on Dazai he could extract answers out of him. Dazai frowned and tapped his knee with his index finger impatiently. Chuuya could tell from Dazai’s uncharacteristic silence that he was getting frustrated.
“Okay. I don’t miss you, shut up. Anyway. I’m on my way to the Armed Detective Agency right now.” Chuuya explained. Dazai nodded. While it was an extremely suspect decision for a mafioso to make, Dazai could easily eliminate certain scenarios.
1) Chuuya was turning himself in (perhaps with his child) to beg sanctuary within the agency’s walls
2) Chuuya was seeking to warn the agency before an attack and seek protection for the child (possibly his)
3) Chuuya was fucking with him
Chuuya would never turn himself in, so that was out. Chuuya wouldn’t call Dazai before an attack–let alone bring a child to a battlefield–so he wasn’t visiting on orders from Mori. Option three was likely, but Chuuya wasn’t as open to derailing his personal routine for the sake of entropy the way Dazai was. He took his responsibilities too seriously for that kind of shit.
Other than that, Dazai couldn’t quite figure out what Chuuya’s intentions here were. Children added an unpredictable element that Dazai did his best to avoid. Why the fuck did Chuuya have a child? It wasn’t Elise, because Chuuya would have spoken to Elise with a bit more respect. And it wasn’t Q, because Chuuya was being a bit too lighthearted with this kid. So it was a brand new child. Was it Chuuya’s kid? Dazai tried to recall the last time he’d seen Chuuya with a woman…maybe Yuan?
“-hey, Dazai. You better not have hung up on me. You there?” Chuuya’s voice slapped him across the face and back to the current situation.
Dazai nodded, but then stupidly remembered that this was an audio medium, so he responded with an affirmative “yep.”
“Good, okay. Well, we’re almost here, so I’ll wrap this up quickly. I don’t want to elongate this encounter more than I have to.” The last bit was expressed with a notably more sour tone. Dazai agreed overall. “I need you to watch Sakiko for four days. Even you should be able to handle that.”
So the kid’s name was Sakiko. Hm.
“Who?” Dazai finally asked, his voice hitting the perfect note of exaggerated curiosity. Chuuya was quiet for a moment. Dazai shifted slightly for a more comfortable position underneath the desk.
“Sakiko.” Chuuya answered shortly. Before Dazai could demand for clarification, Chuuya changed the subject. “Okay, we’re entering the cafe now. You better get down here quickly before I storm that shitty office of yours.”
“Fine…” Dazai whined. He hung up and crawled out from underneath the desk. He placed the phone back up on the desktop and stretched while Atsushi watched with an inquiring expression that bordered on dread. Dazai did a quick scan of the office.
“Kunikida is talking to the president with Ranpo right now.” Atsushi answered Dazai’s silent question helpfully.
“Ah! Thank you Atsushi!” Dazai clasped his hands together happily. “If he asks, I’m on lunch break!” Dazai winked conspiratorially. Atsushi internally lamented being implicated as an accomplice in today’s edition of Dazai bullshit. He simply grumbled to himself as Dazai pulled on his ochre trench coat and hurried out of the agency.
Dazai rushed down the stairs to the cafe, but tried to keep his footfalls as quiet as possible. It was an old habit from his mafia days. And it was easy, really, considering how light he was, barely dignified enough to be called skin and bones. As he turned the corner he was amused by what he saw.
His old partner was standing awkwardly in the middle of the cafe. He looked hilariously out of place in his gaudy outfit. It got worse the longer he looked. Chuuya was still wearing his coat in that absurd off the shoulder style. His gray vest and cropped jacket fit him perfectly as well, something Dazai was grateful for. The hat looked just as idiotic as ever, but it would actually be more concerning if Chuuya wasn’t wearing it. Of course, the choker and matching harness were Dazai’s favorite accessories, stylish enough to admire but also strange enough to be perfect targets to tease Chuuya about. Chuuya’s auburn bangs were obscuring his eyes. He was staring at his phone intensely, attempting to type something. He got frustrated and shook the device slightly before peeling off his leather gloves to type, shoving them in his pocket.
“Chuuya!” Dazai called out as he trotted forward confidently. Chuuya’s head snapped up. Dazai noted that Chuuya had gained more freckles since they had last seen each other–during the guild mission. It took a heartbeat before Chuuya reapplied his regular annoyed expression, but a heartbeat was all Dazai needed to catch the delay. He brushed it off, continuing with bright enthusiasm: “I’m here, just like you asked! I never expected to be ordered around by my own dog, but I guess there’s a first for everything.” Dazai quipped, earning an irritated curse from Chuuya.
“Dog? Where?” A voice like a frosted silver bell rang out. A small child popped out from behind one of the plush booths. Dazai watched with detached shock as the child scrambled from the cushioned seat, nearly tripping and crashing into Chuuya’s legs. Chuuya took a step back and held out his arms instinctively in case the little girl fell. She regained her balance on her own and waved him off stubbornly. It reminded Dazai of a particular someone so much so that he laughed unapologetically. Chuuya huffed at both her refusal and at Dazai’s laugh before the mismatched pair turned to Dazai.
The little girl, who Dazai was positive was Sakiko, stared up at him with fawn-like eyes. They were the same sun-dappled brown as a fawn’s coat and carried the same innate innocence. Sakiko had long, deerlike eyelashes too. When she blinked it caused her bangs to ruffle a bit. It was actually kind of fascinating. Dazai had burned most of his own eyelashes off in an explosion years back (which he blamed fully on his shitty partner.)
“You said there was a dog? Where?” Sakiko asked Chuuya again. Her excitement was bordering on impatience. Now that Sakiko had fully revealed herself Dazai could finally put a face to the squealing voice in the back of Chuuya’s car.
Sakiko appeared to be around five years old. She was quite small. Enough to make Chuuya seem average height–which was quite a feat. Her hair was a tawny brown color, a bit darker and a bit warmer than Dazai’s trench coat. It fell around her tiny shoulders and was ridiculously fluffy. It bounced along with her when she moved, which really completed the whole effect of an overactive and overeager five year old.
Chuuya glared at Dazai, “Sorry Sakiko, there’s no dog here. Just a bitch.”