Archive of Our Own

“Dad? Are you here?”

With a gentle yet firm grip on the kitchen door, a girl slides it open, hoping to find her idiot of a father after having searched for him throughout their entire home. She isn’t someone who would go shouting around, but apparently, the man is testing her patience.

However, knowing that today is a particular occasion makes the girl forgive her father’s childish attitude.

After all, she has never seen him behaving so calmly as he had for the past few days. She knows she can’t blame him.

Usually, the morning rays of sunshine would greet her with their warm, comfortable touch, filtering through the large, clear windows of the kitchen as soon as she opens the door. But the menacing clouds don’t allow the Sun to shine today. It’s a little sad, but it’s not like she can control the weather.

The lights are off, leaving the kitchen enveloped in a chilly atmosphere. Somehow, it makes her heart clench.

Finally, her curious gaze falls on her father’s figure, who’s sitting on the windowsill with one leg lazily dangling over the floor. The man’s eyes are fixed outside, looking into the distance with a hint of nostalgia. In his hand, a cup of instant hot coffee rests untouched.

“Good morning, dearest,” the man greets his daughter without turning to her. His husky tone is filled with softness and gentleness.

“Morning, dad,” she murmurs, standing just past the threshold, her hands interlaced behind her back. She doesn’t know why, but she feels like she can’t speak. And normally, she would easily tell her father everything without fear or hesitation.

However, today she believes that no matter what she says, every word might just feel wrong. She bites her lips, narrowing them into a thin line.

Her fingers start playing with her black, short skirt as if she’s fixing the creases or brushing away nonexistent dust. But her eyes can’t tear away from her father’s silhouette.

He does look lonely. Even if the corners of his lips are curved upward in a forced smile. His warm brown ringlets reach his shoulders, framing his still handsome face marked with the signs of passing time. Some wrinkles have appeared around his eyes. Her father doesn’t bother to cover them anymore as he did in the past.

Still, Dazai Osamu looks as beautiful and damned as Nakahara Chuuya tells her.

“Bring the umbrella, Sumire,” Dazai says, shattering the silence that had fallen in the cool room. His gaze remains fixed on the grey clouds outside. He puts down his cup—still untouched—as he stands up, hands hidden inside the pockets of his light slacks. “It’s going to rain soon.”

Sumire looks at her father from a distance. She catches a glimpse of Dazai’s usual melancholy in his dull eyes. Her teeth sink into her lower lip.

“Got it.” Sumire bows her head, blonde locks falling into her vision. She then turns around and heads to the entrance, retrieving the umbrella stored in the wardrobe. It belongs to Chuuya, but she’s sure he won’t mind if she borrows it for a while.

Dazai smiles at her when he joins her, locking their eyes together.

Now, Sumire can feel the familiar warmth of her father’s affection. And the weight on her chest lifts as if the Sun has just peeked from behind the clouds.

Maybe not every word will be wrong, today.

“Let’s go.”

—

Dazai Osamu could never erase from his memory the day his life changed.

The day when the two of them became three.

He and Chuuya were on a joint mission, exactly one year after the whole disaster with the Decay of the Angel and Fyodor. Dazai was still surprised that they all survived.

Somehow.

The scars left on their minds and bodies were numerous, but at least all the people he reluctantly admitted he cared about were alive.

And a year later, Dazai just hoped he wouldn’t find himself in another tragic situation like that one. No one wanted to experience something so harrowing ever again.

However, his life did take another unexpected turn eventually.

He just did not see it coming.

“Is that a child’s cry?”

Chuuya’s voice was filled with curiosity and concern, and Dazai hoped his partner was wrong. He didn’t need to involve himself with children; he wasn’t good with them.

He wasn’t a kind soul like his late best friend Odasaku, no. He didn’t know what to do with kids, and certainly, he wasn’t keen on rescuing orphans.

Atsushi was another story. Akutagawa was another one.

Anyway, the whole point was that Dazai Osamu wasn’t fond of kids.

His fear that that noise they heard might be a baby crying, though, only grew stronger as they walked deeper into the dark alley, the Sun hidden by the clouds. They couldn’t ignore that it was indeed the desperate, scared, muffled cry of an infant.

It scratched at the surface of his cold heart, so much did the child sound in distress.

Chuuya approached the garbage boxes, using gravity to move the obstacles as he avoided touching any of them.

“It’s stinky here,” Dazai remarked as he covered his nose with the sleeve of his trench coat. “Kinda disgusting.”

“I can hear the kid without a doubt, but I can’t see where they are,” Chuuya completely ignored Dazai’s complaints, continuing to move away bags of trash and smelly, rotten wooden boxes. He didn’t want to know what people threw into this alley.

“Lend me a hand, stupid mackerel?”

Dazai rolled his eyes. “Chibi is searching on the wrong side. The cry is coming from the left,” he sighed, pointing in the opposite direction.

He clearly saw Chuuya’s shoulders tense, probably irritated. An amused smirk played on Dazai’s lips.

“Couldn’t you have told me that before?!” Chuuya groaned, turning his head back and glaring at his partner.

Dazai shrugged. “Thought that a slug could discern where a sound comes from.”

“I’ll kill you—”

“Yeah, yeah, do it if you want to, Chuuya.” Dazai waved his hand dismissively, walking toward where he supposed the kid was hidden.

The muffled cry grew louder as Chuuya got rid of a pair of boxes.

Then, completely frozen with their mouths hanging open, they saw the child.

A baby lay in a small cardboard box, wrapped in a light violet knitted blanket, face red and showing the first signs of malnourishment. The cry was so desperate that it felt like someone was stabbing Dazai and Chuuya directly in their chests.

Chuuya didn’t care about the dirt anymore. He crouched on the ground and, carefully and gently, enveloped the little one in his arms, rescuing them from that makeshift crib of death.

He noticed a card by the kid’s side.

When he grabbed it, he could read only a single sentence written in a delicate handwriting.

I hope someone else will find this fragile child and raise her into a beautiful woman, because I can no longer be that someone.

So the child was a little girl, abandoned by her mother.

“There’s no name on this,” Chuuya said as he rose from the ground, the little crying girl tightly held in one arm as he passed the card to Dazai with the other hand.

Dazai took the card. There were no hints about who the mother or the girl were. “This is really a nuisance,” he groaned. “We should—”

He couldn’t finish his sentence because his gaze fell on the enchanted face of his gorgeous partner looking at the kid in his arms.

Oh, fuck.

The smile on Chuuya’s face was breathtaking.

Dazai didn’t notice that the kid had stopped crying as Chuuya had been comforting her. 

His heart skipped a beat. Then another. And another. At a certain point, he thought that he was finally going to die.

Chuuya looked astonishing with that aura of fondness for the kid in his arms. His face was glowing, his smile so bright that Dazai almost had to shield his eyes. He could still hear his heart racing inside his chest.

He had a bad feeling about this situation. If Chuuya was truly considering what Dazai feared, he wondered how he could ever have opposed this Chuuya. It would have been a battle lost before it even began.

“Osamu,” Chuuya finally turned his shining gaze to Dazai, his voice deep and low.

“Chuuya,” Dazai swallowed the lump in his throat. He tried to calm down his beating heart, his eyes fixed on his partner’s face.

Chuuya didn’t need to say it aloud. He just tilted his head, and Dazai already knew what he was asking. 

Every single fiber of his being screamed at him to refuse, to deny Chuuya from getting involved with the orphan.

But his eyes… Those fucking sapphires were shining with a glint that Dazai couldn’t resist even if he tried his hardest. Because all he wanted was for Chuuya to live happily.

Suddenly, different scenarios played in Dazai’s head one after another as he considered any possible answer and its consequences. However, all these scenarios ended up in exactly the same way.

He had no real options.

Dazai took a deep, resigned breath, scratching his nape as he closed his eyes. And his thoughts came to a halt.

He did love Chuuya a little too much, perhaps.

But it was alright.

As long as he had Chuuya by his side, fighting alongside him and loving him deeply, everything would have been fine. There was nothing they couldn’t have faced together.

I’m gonna regret this. Dazai thought before letting out a defeated groan.

“Let’s take her home, then.”

—

Sumire has heard the story of how her fathers found her thousands of times. She knows it by heart. Of course, she cannot remember that day—she was only a baby at the time—but she remembers clearly her first memories.

Her fathers smiling at her.

Their blue and brown eyes shining as they looked at her.

The sound of their laughter.

Their warm touches.

Their strong arms embracing and protecting her from the cruelty of their world.

“You looked so adorable when we found you,” Dazai chuckles as he recalls those days. “Even I couldn’t deny it~!”

Sumire rolls her eyes. “Thanks, dad. I appreciate the fact that you didn’t insult me when I was—what, six months old?!”

“Of course! I insulted infants with no problem at all, back then~”

“You’re a horrible person—”

“But I couldn’t do it with you when I first saw your tiny little being,” Dazai grins as he glances briefly at his daughter, sitting in the passenger seat of his car. “You stole my heart the second our eyes met.”

“Oh?” Sumire crosses her arms over her chest. “Did I steal your heart just like father did?”

“Know your place, you brat,” Dazai snorts with a smile on his lips, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “No one could have stolen it like Chuuya.”

Sumire wants to reply. But when her eyes fall on Dazai’s thoughtful expression, she closes her mouth and looks out the window on her left.

Even though she knows how much her fathers love each other, even though she knows the bond they share is both complicated and unique, Sumire is aware that she will never fully comprehend how deep and loyal that bond truly is. Countless times she has found herself wondering if soulmates exist.

She’s certain that her fathers are soulmates. However, even indissoluble bonds are not guaranteed to endure.

It has started raining.

—

Dazai had always believed that he could have never raised a child.

Not even if Chuuya was there to raise her together.

Being a parent wasn’t something he had ever imagined for himself. Honestly, he just wasn’t made for it.

It turned out to be even harder than he had imagined.

Dazai didn’t know anything about babies. He hated the smell of dirty diapers and of disgusting baby food. Children’s clothes? A completely new world. And how many different models of strollers could possibly exist? He had to rearrange their bathroom furniture to make space for a changing table. Chuuya bought the biggest and most expensive one, of course.

Safety precautions. Oh god, their home became the safest place on Earth for any kid.

Also, Dazai already couldn’t sleep normally, but having a baby cry at 2 a.m. every night was a torture he didn’t realize could have been that dreadful.

The dark circles under his exhausted eyes were a new accessory he didn’t desire to wear. At the Agency, his friends began to ask him why he looked so tired when all he did during the day was slack off on his desk—much to Kunikida’s immense annoyance.

They had no idea what was going on in the penthouse of Nakahara Chuuya, where Dazai had moved in a couple of months after the Decay of the Angel-Fyodor disaster (they didn’t have a better name to refer to that period, so they just ended up calling it that).

To be honest, Chuuya never said he wanted to raise the child. They made a deal to keep the little girl until they would have found a nice family willing to take her in. So, having the kid in their house was supposed to be a temporary situation.

Sure, when it was his turn to keep an eye open on the baby, Dazai got lost in her bright amethyst eyes more times than he would have ever admitted. And of course, when the child’s tiny hand wrapped around his index finger while he was feeding her, his heart stopped beating.

But certainly, it didn’t mean anything. Not even that odd warm feeling blooming inside his chest when the little creature laughed in his arms was an indicative sign of something specific.

Dazai wasn’t becoming fond of the child as the days passed. He wasn’t Chuuya, after all.

The real problem was that neither of them actively attempted to find that nice family.

At a certain point, it started to concern Dazai. He no longer had a clue of what Chuuya was planning to do. Yes, they were busy with their jobs and everything, but still, it scared him just a little.

And before Dazai could even realize it, weeks had turned into months since the day they found the abandoned child in the alley.

Even if Dazai didn’t want to acknowledge it, he had almost gotten used to waking up in the middle of the night to the little girl’s cries. He had become adept at changing diapers, his fingers moving skillfully and quickly. Even the microwave for heating up baby food no longer held any secrets for him.

Dazai would have never—ever—admitted that holding the kid close to his chest and listening to her soft breaths as she fell asleep in his arms made him melt like snow under the dazzling Sun.

Chuuya spent hours observing Dazai lulling the child in his bandaged arms, walking around the house with the shadow of a smile gracing his lips. And he knew that the tiny creature had managed to open a glimmer of light inside Dazai’s locked heart.

Until then, there had been only one person who had been able to weave his way into Dazai’s heart.

What baffled Chuuya was that for Dazai, being considered a brilliant genius, it should have been natural to quickly understand what was happening around him. Dazai should have seen all the signs that Chuuya had been sending him for a while.

Yet, Dazai didn’t understand anything until Chuuya had to make himself clear.

“So, let me see if I’ve understood this right,” Dazai sighed, sitting cross-legged on the couch as the kid laughed in her crib next to them, watching the toys moving in circles over her head. “You want to keep the baby?”

His partner grinned. “I want us to raise her,” Chuuya said softly, closing the distance between them, their knees brushing against each other. He gently grabbed Dazai’s hands in his, locking their gazes together. “I want us to be her fathers.”

Dazai held his breath for as long as he could, staring into those blue eyes that were burning his very soul.

He didn’t know that this was coming—no, actually he should have known. He just chose to ignore all the signals. Because, him? A father? That was out of the question, that was something that could have never happened—

But Chuuya was looking at him. With eyes full of love and hope, Dazai could see the future that Chuuya was imagining for both of them. It seemed like a wonderful future, a dream come true. Did Dazai deserve such happiness when he had been nothing but… him?

He subtly shook his head, blinking a couple of times to snap out of Chuuya’s spell. He wanted to say no, really. Dazai wasn’t made to be a father. He would have failed the kid at some point in the story. And he knew that he couldn’t have borne to see a child he had raised yelling at him, telling him how much they hated him.

It would have been too cruel, even for Dazai himself.

However, Chuuya’s love and devotion were reflected in his irises. His determination and stubbornness gleamed in his sapphires as well.

Chuuya had already made up his mind. He had made the decision even for Dazai. And he would have done anything to convince him.

It wasn’t that Dazai didn’t trust Chuuya, not at all. He was aware that Chuuya would have been a wonderful father. Chuuya was a good person, after all. Not like him.

Dazai was far from being a good one.

The good Atsushi saw in him—Dazai still couldn’t understand how the boy believed in that.

He shook his head again, trying to focus on the problem that Chuuya was presenting to him right now.

“Chuuya—” He began, but he immediately closed his mouth. His teeth sank into his lower lip.

“Osamu,” Chuuya whispered, leaning closer to Dazai, invading his space. His fingers played with Dazai’s. “We should be the ones who raise her.”

Oh, this is insane.

Dazai closed his eyes, once again finding himself thinking about what could have gone wrong. He had to stop his mind from wandering astray, though. There were too many ugly endings.

However, Chuuya had once told him that they couldn’t rely on possibilities. Nothing was certain in the future. So, they should have believed what they had now.

Chuuya was still staring at him, emanating a determined and reassuring aura that made even Dazai believe for a moment that everything would have been fine.

That they would have been fine.

Then, it didn’t take long for Dazai to quickly make up his mind too. He would have never admitted that he had already made unconsciously that very same decision some time ago. 

“She will never be safe with us. You know that, right, Chuuya?”

That was undeniably true. In their world, they would never have been safe. With who they were, danger and death often knocked at their door.

Wouldn’t it have been too selfish of them to raise a child in the environment they lived in?

“I know, but,” Chuuya turned his head and stared at the girl in the crib, a small smile on her rosy lips. He never let go of Dazai’s hands; he only squeezed them. “We can protect her.”

“Chuuya—”

“Look me in my eyes and tell me, sincerely, if you can imagine our lives without her now.”

And Dazai looked into Chuuya’s ocean-blue eyes. And once again, he saw their future together reflected in those sapphires. In the sequence of frames unfolding in his mind, there was always another figure appearing in the pictures. It wasn’t just a future with the two of them anymore. A third blonde head with amethyst eyes was always present.

Dazai sighed loudly. He never stood a chance against Chuuya, did he?

“She’ll take your last name, though—”

Chuuya didn’t hesitate to crash their lips together, kissing Dazai with utmost fondness.

“I love you, Osamu,” he whispered against his lips. “Whatever you want, and,” he paused for a moment to lock their eyes together once more. “Thank you.”

Dazai was just a mere, weak, enamored man after all.

“Nakahara Chuuya,” Dazai murmured as his hands cradled Chuuya’s face, placing a kiss on his forehead. “I love you too.”

Another kiss followed. Slow and deep. A promise of a future together. A promise to protect their new family.

Dazai had never imagined that this would have become his future.

“So, it’s Nakahara Sumire. Does it sound right?”

Dazai smirked as the words rolled off Chuuya’s tongue.

“Perfect.”

Nakahara became the name of the people he loved the most.

—

“Dad?”

“Mm?”

“Did you regret keeping me with you?”

Dazai giggles. “You have been the best decision of my entire life, Nakahara Sumire.”

“Do you hate me?”

“Why did you have to take that stubbornness from your father? Haven’t you heard me? Why would I hate you when I just told you that I’ve never regretted my choice?”

Sumire shrugs. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I think that nothing would have happened if I wasn’t in the picture.”

Dazai shakes his head. “Nothing would have changed if you weren’t in the picture, indeed. You just made our lives more beautiful.”

“Is that so?”

“Sumire, you know that we do love you, right?” Dazai asks, concern suddenly darkening his face.

“Yeah, dad,” Sumire sighs. “I know.”

—

The first time Dazai brought Sumire to the Agency, she was already six years old.

And yes, he had managed to keep her a secret for that long, indeed.

To say that Kunikida and Yosano were offended would have been an understatement. Atsushi almost cried when he realized that Dazai had really become a father.

Almost.

Kyouka and Kenji made sure to make the girl feel at home, showering her with all kinds of sweets and snacks.

It feels nostalgic, Dazai thought as his mind recalled the days when Kyouka was welcomed and spoiled by the Agency’s members.

Watching her now grown up, doing the same for his daughter, was a sight he would have held close to his heart.

On the other hand, Ranpo bragged about how he had known that Dazai had a kid and was living with Chuuya from the beginning—Dazai was sure that Fukuzawa had told him, since the president couldn’t hide anything from the detective and he was the only one who knew about Sumire from the first day.

From the first week. Dazai had to clear his mind before telling Fukuzawa how his life had changed all of a sudden.

However, the little girl was welcomed into that family of extravagant people with love and affection. Dazai knew that if anything were to happen to him, the Agency would have protected his daughter. He had learned to trust his colleagues with his own life.

At first, Sumire was shy in front of so many new people, and she didn’t understand why everyone bickered with her father—she soon understood that it was nothing to take seriously; they looked like a strange family. Then, her diffidence disappeared as the days passed, and she started to really enjoy the atmosphere at the Agency. She acquired many uncles and aunts who loved her sincerely.

Sumire looked serene. And Dazai felt the weight on his chest slowly lifting and being replaced with a kind warmth.

However, that feeling didn’t last long.

After six years with the kid, Dazai thought that his anxiety about not being able to guarantee her a safe future had at least quieted down a little. He didn’t anticipate that hearing Chuuya say that he would have liked to bring Sumire to the Port Mafia headquarters would have made his heart beat erratically.

Being a father was a weird experience. Dazai started feeling emotions that he believed he was incapable of.

Rationally speaking, Chuuya saying something like that only meant that his partner was confident that nothing bad could have happened to their child. He knew that Chuuya would have killed anyone who posed a danger to Sumire.

However, it was the Port Mafia they were talking about. The Port Mafia lead by none other than Mori Ougai.

It wasn’t news that Dazai Osamu, the infamous former demon prodigy of the Port Mafia, didn’t like the man.

“You worry too much, Dazai,” Chuuya said, continuing to type his report with one hand on the computer while taking a sip of his hot coffee. “I won’t let anything happen to Sumire.”

“I know that,” Dazai groaned, sitting down in front of Chuuya on the other side of their kitchen table. “It’s just—Why let her meet Mori?!”

Chuuya rolled his eyes, setting down his cup. “He’s still my boss, you know.”

“That’s irrelevant—”

“Mori won’t get close to her, alright?” Chuuya glared at his partner, ready to start another of their usual fights.

However, when he noticed genuine concern on Dazai’s face, he dropped it. A sigh left his lips. His right hand reached out to grasp Dazai’s resting hand on the table, while his left closed the laptop. “Listen, Ane-san would love to meet her. And Hirotsu as well. Akutagawa would probably choke when he realizes that you have a child—”

“Atsushi almost cried,” Dazai interjected, chuckling and shaking his head at the thought.

Chuuya smiled, tightening his grip. “Mori won’t do anything to her, I swear.”

Dazai stared into Chuuya’s eyes. And he couldn’t deny that he had always trusted Chuuya blindly. He had no reason not to trust Chuuya on this as well.

“Fine,” Dazai breathed out, his fingers interlacing with Chuuya’s. His thumb started drawing small circles on the back of Chuuya’s hand. Touching Chuuya had always soothed Dazai’s mind somehow. He found comfort in having Chuuya within reach.

Snapping out of his trance, his heart quickened when a sudden thought crossed his mind. “I guess even Verlaine will meet her, then?”

Chuuya’s smile faltered just a little. He wasn’t even sure if Dazai had noticed it. Clearing his throat and recomposing himself, he slowly nodded. “Yeah…”

“Hope he won’t look for me after their meeting.”

“I won’t allow him to lay a finger on you,” the redhead promised, a nervous giggle escaping his lips. He took a deep breath as a familiar silence fell over them.

“Thank you, Osamu,” Chuuya muttered after a few seconds had passed, still relishing in the comfort of Dazai’s fingertips caressing his skin.

“You don’t have to thank me, Chuuya. It’s just right that she gets to know everything about us. It’s not like we’re planning to conceal who we are.” Dazai’s eyes looked down at their hands. A bitter taste suddenly surfaced in his mouth.

When he raised his gaze and met Chuuya’s, his heart skipped a beat. Chuuya was staring at him with eyes that held the fragments of their future. A future that seemed filled with the love Dazai had never believed he deserved. And yet, here he was, living a life with the man who showed him that something worth living for truly existed.

Dazai could never have imagined his future without Chuuya.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Chuuya giggled. “Still, I appreciate your trust in me.”

He simply loved Chuuya.

“Have you hit your head, today, slug?” Dazai provoked him with a teasing smile gracing his lips.

“Oi, you fucking mackerel—”

“Dads? What are you doing?”

Sumire’s little voice immediately caught their attention, prompting them to swiftly pull away their hands and turn to her.

“Nothing in particular, sweetheart,” Chuuya reassured her as she walked toward him. He opened his arms to lift her onto his lap. Dazai couldn’t help but smile at them. Chuuya smiling at their daughter might have become his new addiction.

“Nee, Sumire-chan, you’re going to meet more uncles and aunts tomorrow. Excited?” Dazai asked, his eyes fixed on his lover and their daughter.

Sumire tilted her head, looking confused, which made her fathers chuckle at her adorable expression.

Chuuya tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, noticing that it had only recently grown longer. “You’re coming with me to work tomorrow, okay?”

“Are these people at your work as nice as at dad’s?” She asked, curiosity evident in her voice. Her eyes brightened as she looked at Chuuya.

“Nope, they are scary—Ouch—!” Dazai reached for the spot where something had hit his arm. “Chuuya—”

“Don’t scare her, you shithead.”

“Language—”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Chuuya ignored Dazai and placed a kiss on Sumire’s forehead. “They are not scary, and they’re surely going to adore you.”

Sumire continued to gaze into her father’s eyes. She had never doubted his words. And she didn’t have a reason to start now.

“Okay,” she smiled, causing Chuuya to release a breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Dazai kept rubbing his arm as Chuuya began telling their child about his work.

Of course, he didn’t mention the darker sides of it. She was still too young, after all. They could have saved her from the harsh realities of the world until she had grown older.

—

“You never told me why uncle Paul hated you.”

Dazai chokes, almost losing the control of the car. When he regains his composure, he nervously laughs. “Well, it’s a long story.”

“We have time, now.”

“We do, that’s right.” Dazai takes a deep breath. “But I’ll tell you about that one another day.”

Sumire sighs, giving up the topic that her father is clearly trying to avoid. “Alright.”

—

When Sumire was eight, she asked her fathers to take her to see the ocean in Okinawa.

They were having dinner together as usual; Chuuya wanted to try a recipe he got from Hirotsu a few days prior, and both Dazai and Sumire couldn’t wait to taste the delicious meal that Chuuya was preparing.

After hearing Sumire’s wish, Dazai and Chuuya, genuinely caught off guard, stared at each other in bewilderment. To be honest, they did not expect her to ask to see the ocean two thousand kilometers away since Sumire had never asked them for anything. However, once the initial stupor passed, both of them felt quite relieved. Finally, even their daughter was starting to make her own requests.

“Of course,” Chuuya nodded as he looked at his daughter, sitting on the other side of the table next to Dazai. “But why Okinawa?”

“Uncle Paul said he would have loved to take his partner there.” Sumire cut a piece of the fish on her plate as she explained. The bright shade of purple of her eyes glimmered. “It sounded magical the way he talked about it.”

After hearing that, both Dazai and Chuuya tensed up, raising their gazes from their plates and staring at each other once again.

Dazai slowly swallowed his bite. “I see,” he said, clearing his throat after drinking from the glass of water on his right. “Did he say anything about… his partner?”

“Nope,” Sumire shook his head, completely oblivious. “So, I asked him why they didn’t go.”

Chuuya felt a bead of cold sweat on his temple. “Did he tell you?”

“He only said they never got the time,” she concluded, shrugging her shoulders as she looked at both of her fathers.

Dazai and Chuuya sighed in relief, their eyes slightly closing as they let go of their tension. Sumire thought it was weird but didn’t investigate further. Instead, she took another bite of her food.

“Can we go?” She asked with her mouth full.

“Sure, why not,” Dazai breathed out, leaning back in his chair.

“I’ll make the reservations after we’re done here,” Chuuya added, finishing the wine in his glass.

One day, they would tell Sumire about the day they met. They would tell her about how they hated each other’s guts but inevitably trusted their lives in each other’s hands. About how their bond had been strong since Chuuya kicked Dazai the first time they met at Suribachi.

They would tell her about how they became the most feared duo in all of Yokohama, and how they fell apart only to find each other again years later.

They would tell her everything, someday. Just not that night.

Sumire would have understood. Because she was as smart as Dazai and as kind as Chuuya. She would have never judged the people who saved her and were raising her as their daughter.

After all, she loved her fathers. Even if they kept their secrets and unhappy stories to themselves, without sharing anything dark and shady with her. They were still doing their best. She was young, but she knew it better than any other eight-year-old kid. Foolishness wasn’t part of her being.

However, she was still a kid, indeed. And her love for her fathers won over everything else when they spoiled her and fulfilled her wishes.

Waking up in Okinawa in a luxurious bedroom overlooking the ocean was a wonderful wish only her fathers could have granted.

It didn’t matter that Chuuya had to promise Mori he would take a couple of extra missions the following week, or that Dazai had promised Kunikida that he would finish all his work and double it upon his return (not that Dazai intended to keep his word, of course).

The smile on their daughter’s face as she gazed at the immensity of the ocean from that island would have been rewarding more than enough.

They went for a walk in the late morning, finding solace in the refreshing shade cast by the trees lining the road, shielding them from the scorching summer Sun.

Sumire was filled with enthusiasm, skipping and laughing, delighting in the gentle breeze and the serene sight of the deep blue ocean.

She looked like any other child of her age. She looked happy. Her amethyst eyes sparkled brightly as the sunlight gently kissed her face.

And seeing her so joyful, Dazai and Chuuya couldn’t have wished for anything more.

Dazai had briefly entertained the thought that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t such a bad father. It was true that Chuuya kept reassuring him that he was doing a wonderful job with Sumire, but even as he smiled back and kissed him dearly, Dazai couldn’t fully believe him.

There was a persistent voice that reminded him of how awful of a person he was. It was hard not to listen to it when everything reminded him of what he had done in the past. Yet, sometimes, Odasaku’s voice was stronger than his own. Sometimes, Dazai could have just tuned down all the noises and let himself breathe.

And with Chuuya’s love and Sumire’s happiness, Dazai believed that he could have been satisfied enough with this life.

He couldn’t help but smile fondly at his daughter as she grabbed the railing and leaned out, mesmerized by the tranquil blue expanse, with Chuuya steadying her by the waist. Her warm golden hair waved along with the summer breeze, her echoing laugh carried by the wind.

Oh, Dazai really loved these two people who had turned his life upside down. He could never have imagined a future without them.

He let his smile turn into an annoying smirk.

“Your summer vacation is ending soon, Sumire~”

“Why do you have to remind her about it, Osamu?!” Chuuya glared at him, turning his head over his shoulder.

“I don’t want to go back!” Sumire shouted, looking at the ocean with a gleeful grin, while Chuuya tightened his grip to prevent her from leaning too far forward. “I want to stay here with you forever!”

Dazai wished for the same thing. He would have loved that.

However, he was an adult and he knew that all beautiful things must come to an end.

—

“Do you remember your first day of school?”

Sumire turns to her father, crossing her arms on her chest. She took that from Chuuya. “How could I not when you keep reminding me of how cute I was with my uniform and—”

“—and your shyness resurfacing on your face!”

“I was a kid, dad!”

“You looked more confident when you began middle school, though.” Dazai giggles as the memory of his daughter in the typical sailor uniform comes back to his mind.

“That’s because—” Sumire sighs, dropping her arms. “Dad kept telling me I looked pretty. Of course I ended up believing him.”

“Chuuya was right. He never lies,” Dazai smiles.

“…Was I pretty?” Insecurity suddenly spills into her tone.

“You’ve always been. Now at sixteen as well as back then.”

“…Liar.”

“I also never lie, Sumire dearest. You should know that.”

—

Sumire didn’t have Dazai’s blood in her veins, but surely being surrounded by him—and by other brilliant people—had a certain influence on her scholastic results during middle school.

She never knew what coming in second place meant, as the first place in rankings had always been reserved for her name. Teachers adored her for her politeness and gentleness. She took those traits from Chuuya; everyone at the Agency and at the Port Mafia knew it.

Sumire never really had problems with her classmates either, and this resulted in her being elected as the class representative almost every year. She didn’t exactly enjoy that role, yet she didn’t despise it either. Actually, she kinda liked being there for her friends and being the bridge between her classmates and the teachers. After getting used to it, a certain feeling of pride bloomed in her heart.

And being the top student was kind of a compensation for her when she knew she lacked in other aspects.

What concerned her the most was that she didn’t possess any ability. She was not born gifted.

If she started thinking about her fathers being two of the most powerful ability users in the whole country—if not in the entire world—she would have ended up in a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts that led her into a spiral of sadness.

Sumire knew that she wasn’t related by blood to either Dazai or Chuuya. She couldn’t have inherited an ability just because they were the people raising her.

However, she found comfort in Ranpo, since he was just like her. He wasn’t an ability user, yet the Agency could have never faced what it did without Ranpo. Sometimes, she remembered that even Verlaine lost most of his ability. She still wasn’t aware of how, and that was a story she was thrilled to listen to, one day. 

The thought of not being the only one without an ability made her feel better.

Besides, Ranpo told her countless times that she didn’t need a gift to survive a life with Dazai and Chuuya as her fathers. She did not understand what Ranpo meant. However, she didn’t waste too much time on Ranpo’s elusive words.

Her days were mostly similar to any other peer of hers, spending afternoons with her friends at the school club, going to karaoke, and even participating in study groups at her friends’ houses when exams approached—she would have never brought any of her friends home, as meeting her fathers would have marked her own demise.

And yet, Sumire didn’t know that even without meeting her friends, Dazai would have probably ruined her life if it weren’t for Chuuya. She had underestimated what jealousy could do to him.

There were signs of Dazai’s jealousy as she grew up. Her long blonde hair framed her pretty face with soft waves, and her amethyst eyes only attracted more attention from her classmates. During summer, some light freckles sprinkled over her cheeks and nose. Together with her bright smile, they gave her some kind of divine vibe—as Dazai put it.

She also noticed her friends getting nervous whenever Dazai picked her up from school, but she didn’t think too much about it. She could never have imagined the kind of effect it had on Dazai when she told him that there was someone she liked.

It wasn’t her fault! She believed she could confide in them without worrying about anything; she believed she didn’t need to keep secrets from Dazai and Chuuya!

Sumire learned that maybe certain things were better kept to herself.

“I will kill whoever this person Sumire likes is—!”

“Osamu! Let her be and don’t even think about laying a finger on a kid—!”

“This is bullshit! My beloved Sumire is too young for love—!”

“Oh really? I remember you confessing your love to me the day we met at fifteen—!”

“That’s beside the point, Chuuya—!”

“She’s fourteen—!”

“A kid, indeed—!”

When Sumire heard them yelling at each other just as she came back from school, she decided to close the door and go somewhere else. Anywhere, really, but not home. She didn’t want to hear Dazai whining at her again.

There was a bar with good sweets and drinks in the same building as the Agency. That place could be a nice refuge.

That day, not many customers were inside, and there were no members of the Agency either. It was perfect.

She took a seat and ordered her favorite red velvet cake. When the waitress left, she let out a deep breath, finally.

Having to deal with a protective father was not something she was mentally ready to face. At least, not on an empty stomach. When the waitress returned to place the cake in front of her and Sumire was about to take her first bite, the bell at the door rang, shattering the silence in the room.

She had a bad feeling as her blood froze.

“Oh, Sumire-chan!”

However, she breathed again, relieved when she heard that it was only Atsushi. Followed by Akutagawa, yes. But they were not her fathers.

“Can we sit here?” Atsushi asked with a warm smile on his face. Sumire nodded, smiling back.

She remembered the days she first met them. They were younger, and Atsushi was more enthusiastic. Now, he looked quieter, more similar to his boyfriend. Akutagawa’s face didn’t show any signs of him being over thirty; he actually looked quite young as always. He appeared more serene, though. perhaps it was thanks to Atsushi.

All Sumire knew about them was that they had a rough childhood. They had not been as fortunate as her. That was why she always felt a little uncomfortable around them. A little guilty. Even though both of them had been nothing but nice to her. She really liked them. However, she couldn’t completely shake off that odd feeling.

“What brings you here?” Atsushi asked after ordering for himself and Akutagawa.

Sumire sighed. “Osamu is going out of his mind. Again. I don’t want to stick around my fathers while they are arguing.”

“Is this about your crush?” Akutagawa smirked, already knowing the answer.

Sumire’s cheeks slightly flushed, Akutagawa’s words causing her to turn toward the window on her left. Both Akutagawa and Atsushi giggled.

“Stop it...” Sumire murmured, pouting like a child.

“To be honest, I agree with Dazai-san,” Akutagawa closed his eyes, a smile on his lips. “You’re too young for love, young lady.”

“What?!” Atsushi turned to Akutagawa, a frown between his eyebrows. “She’s not?! She’s thirteen—”

“I’m fourteen!”

“She’s fourteen!” Atsushi corrected himself. “Ahh, young love sounds so beautiful. Leave Sumire alone!”

Akutagawa shook his head, slightly amused. “What would you know about it, jinko?”

“This is not about me, Ryuu!” Atsushi crossed his arms over his chest. The waitress arrived with their orders, and silence fell over the table. Once they were alone again, Atsushi resumed his defense. “Anyway, I think Sumire is smart enough to know how to deal with her love life herself, without Dazai-san sticking his nose in her business. I side with Chuuya-san.”

“Why making her break her heart over a silly teenage crush—”

“Because that’s how love works?”

“Again, what would you know?”

“Ryuu—”

“Wow, you sound exactly as my fathers,” Sumire interjected, mesmerized by the banter between the couple. She had finished her cake while Atsushi and Akutagawa replayed the same scene that was happening at home. She could definitely tell that they had been influenced by her fathers. Not sure how things went among them all, though.

“That’s not true!” They exclaimed simultaneously, causing Sumire to jolt in surprise.

“Relax! It’s not a bad thing,” she chuckled as she grabbed her bag and stood up. “Make sure to send me the invitation to the wedding! If you don’t make me the maid of honor, I’ll be offended~”

She bowed at them and couldn’t suppress a laugh as she saw their faces turn completely red. Waving her hand in the air, she closed the door behind her.

“She’s clearly Dazai-san’s daughter,” Atsushi murmured between his lips, giggling nervously.

“She should have taken more after Chuuya-san,” Akutagawa cleared his throat, attempting to suppress his embarrassment.

“I agree…”

—

“It’s okay, Sumire. I’m here.”

Dazai’s arms had always been comforting. Sumire always felt safe when her father hugged her tight.

She couldn’t see anything as Dazai blocked her vision, keeping her close against his chest.

Screams of pain, noises of some kind of abilities, and deafening thuds on the ground were all she could hear.

The three of them were only returning home together after a long day for each of them when they were surrounded by people who didn’t bring anything good.

It happened too fast for Sumire to realize the situation they were trapped in. All she could remember was her father holding her with no intention of letting her go.

And while Dazai shielded his daughter, Chuuya fought alone against ability users who arrived one after another. It wouldn’t have been a problem if Chuuya didn’t need to worry about Dazai and Sumire. The girl had no power to protect herself, and even though Dazai had faced worse in the past, he was now focused on protecting their child. He wasn’t thinking about his own self, exposing him to potential danger.

This was the situation that Dazai and Chuuya had feared since the beginning. However, they expected their fears to become reality one day. They couldn’t escape their past, after all. They had made enemies along their journey. Facing consequences at some point was unavoidable.

They had no clue who these people were, nor who had been angered enough to send assassins after them. The list of potential enemies was surely long.

But that was a problem for another time.

Chuuya had to get rid of all of the garbage quickly.

After a stolen glance at Dazai, who nodded back as a sign that he understood his intentions, Chuuya didn’t hold back anymore.

Dazai ran with Sumire’s hand intertwined with his, finding a place where they could wait for Chuuya to finish the job. Out of breath, his heart beating loudly, Dazai turned to check on Sumire. And when he noticed that she was trembling, he wrapped his bandaged arms around the small figure of his kid, making them slowly crouch on the ground.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Dazai whispered, one hand gently resting behind the girl’s head, the other pushing her closer against his chest. “Everything is gonna be alright.”

Sumire was aware that for both her fathers, scenes like what she had just witnessed were normal. However, only now did she realize how deep and dark the world her fathers lived in could be. And she had only seen the surface of that world.

Words failed her. She wasn’t crying either—she had never really cried. All she could do was grab her father’s coat and bury her face into his chest, relishing in the safety of his embrace.

Dazai’s heart broke as Sumire held him tight. This was exactly what he didn’t want to expose her to. Feeling her trembling against his body was one of the worst sensations he had ever felt.

He hugged her tightly, whispering into her ears comforting words and promising that it would all be over soon. Chuuya wouldn’t take much longer.

They didn’t need to wait for long.

“It’s over.” Chuuya’s voice felt like a breath of fresh air, indeed.

Sumire stopped shivering, and Dazai loosened his hold just enough to allow her to peek over his shoulder. Her eyes immediately found Chuuya standing unwounded, holding his hat in his hands as he waited for them to reach him. He didn’t look like he had just fought some dangerous ability users. No, Chuuya seemed to glow under the warm light of the sunset as if he had just stepped out of a fashion magazine.

That was the charm of her father. 

“You were fast, Chuuya dearest.” Dazai smirked as he rose on his feet and offered a hand to his daughter. She grabbed it and held on tightly.

“They weren’t strong,” Chuuya scoffed, placing his hat back on his head. “Just too many.”

“As if that would ever be a problem for you.”

Chuuya smirked. “Let’s go home.”

Sumire couldn’t help but stare at her fathers, who looked back at her with reassuring smiles.

However, shivers kept running down her back. But she couldn’t let them know that she was actually scared. It was so normal for them to dance with death that they didn’t notice how terrified Sumire truly was. And she didn’t want them to know.

She wasn’t a fighter. She hadn’t been raised as an ability user. She wasn’t prepared to encounter dangerous people when coming back from school.

Nakahara Sumire was a normal girl with exams and silly crushes as her only concerns. Yet, she was the daughter of an infamous duo that could obliterate an entire organization of ability users in just one night.

She hadn’t realized it until that day.

Somehow, it felt scary, but also wickedly reassuring.

Sumire had heard her fathers fight quite often, but it was never as bad as when they fought once they got home. She hadn’t been there when it started—she had gone straight to her room to take a shower, to rid herself of the dirt she felt on her body and to allow herself a moment to think about what had happened.

But she heard them shouting and yelling so loudly that, for the first time, she felt genuinely guilty.

They were fighting because that night they had put her in real danger. And they realized that Sumire would have always walked an uncertain path.

Her heart started beating loudly in her chest when she approached the living room, where her fathers were fighting.

“She could have died, Chuuya!”

“She did not, Osamu!” Chuuya yelled back. “We said we would protect her, no matter what.”

“What would we do if this happens when she’s alone?!” 

Rarely did Dazai lose his composure. Rarely did Dazai raise his voice. Chuuya calmed down and grabbed Dazai’s hands.

“She will always have us,” he said softly as he closed the distance between them. “We’ll arrive to save her. We’ve saved our friends countless times.”

“I don’t want her to risk her life because of us—”

Sumire couldn’t bear to hear her father’s broken voice. And despite people seeing her as a good person, she knew that deep inside she was only an egotistic girl.

“Dads?” She walked into the room, making them aware of her presence.

They both turned, letting go of each other’s hands.

“Sumire,” Dazai breathed out, immediately walking toward her. “I though you went to sleep.”

“I heard you fighting,” she bit her lower lip, a lock of her blonde hair falling across her face, covering her right eye. “What’s happening?”

Chuuya followed Dazai and stopped beside them, raising his hand to ruffle her hair. “Nothing you need to worry about, sweetheart.”

She looked at both her fathers. “You have never fought like this before…”

Upon hearing her words, Dazai and Chuuya stared at each other, confusion evident on their faces. They were so used to their fights that they had never really considered how they might appear from an outsider’s perspective. They must have sounded terribly mad at each other, right?

Realizing how much they must have worried Sumire, they couldn’t help but laugh wholeheartedly.

“We are so sorry, Sumire,” Chuuya said between laughs. “But this is actually what we’ve been doing since the day we met.”

“We’ve spent the majority of our time fighting each other,” Dazai added, calming down with a smile appearing on his lips as he glanced at his partner. “It would be weird if we didn’t fight at all.”

Chuuya nodded. “It’s our way of loving each other.”

“Ew, Chuuya, don’t say it like that!”

“Shut up, stupid mackerel.”

Sumire felt her heart return to a regular rhythm as she watched her fathers joke with each other. There were things about Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya that she knew she would have never fully understood.

“Can you promise me that you won’t ever leave me?”

She didn’t need to know everything about them. She didn’t want to know everything. All she wanted was for their little family to stay together for a very long time.

“What’s gotten into you, huh?” Dazai chuckled.

“We won’t go anywhere, Sumire,” Chuuya reassured their daughter.

“Promise me?” She pleaded with her eyes. They shimmered with an intense shade of deep purple this time.

Dazai and Chuuya stared at each other, a little confused by the sudden concern in Sumire’s voice.

However, if she needed to hear it, they would have promised her the world.

“We promise.”

—

“You know, I think you’re wrong when you say that dad never lies.”

“Do you really believe so?”

Sumire nods, not looking at Dazai. Her eyes observe the trees passing by as the car speeds along the road.

“Yes. Dad lied to me.”

—

Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya have saved Yokohama and danced on death’s palm countless times. It didn’t matter what kind of tragedy threatened their peace; Dazai and Chuuya would have always emerged victorious.

Everyone started to believe that they were invincible. A duo that not even death would have been able to stop.

They were simply unbeatable.

That’s why no one had ever imagined that it wouldn’t have been an enemy to seal their demise.

Dazai came back home early, not expecting to find anyone. He could still hear Kunikida yelling at him as usual, but Dazai couldn’t really find the energy to lift a finger. So, he decided to leave work earlier.

He had tried to ignore that odd weight on his chest all day long. It shouldn’t have been anything serious anyway, just an annoying sensation.

But as soon as he opened the door, he realized how stupid he had been to ignore that feeling. A couple of loud coughs from the living room shattered the eerie silence of their house.

“Chuu—”

The coughs grew worse and worse, one after another.

And an irrational panic started to cloud his mind.

Without even taking off his shoes, Dazai ran, his heart beating erratically. And when he crossed the threshold of the living room, his breath caught in his throat.

He didn’t want to believe his eyes.

Chuuya was crouched on the floor, one hand steadying himself while the other covered his mouth, attempting to stifle his painful fit of coughs.

There were spots of blood on the floor. His partner was coughing up blood.

Dazai felt his world crumbling. Only then did he understand how serious the situation was. Whatever was happening to Chuuya, Dazai felt it in his soul that it was absolutely, completely wrong.

Chuuya heard Dazai arrive and slowly turned his head, only to be met with Dazai’s pale face and a gaze filled with fear and pure terror.

He felt his own heart breaking. Chuuya couldn’t help but let a smirk play on his lips, even as a rivulet of dark blood ran down his chin. “Do I look that bad?”

Dazai approached him and knelt by Chuuya’s side, helping him sit back slightly. His mind was a mess, a labyrinth of chaotic thoughts and incomprehensible feelings.

“What’s happening?” He asked, his voice a weak whisper brushing against Chuuya’s ears.

Chuuya coughed another time, his hand still over his mouth to prevent more blood from spilling. He bit his lower lip before turning to Dazai, a bitter smile on his face.

He did not regret his choice of keeping Dazai in the dark about his condition. And yes, he had been selfish, but Chuuya’s only wish was to see Dazai living in the light.

That was all his heart desired.

As Dazai stared at Chuuya’s relaxed yet pained expression, a sudden, atrocious thought crossed his mind, drowning out all others.

Please, tell me I’m wrong.

Dazai had known for a while that something was off with Chuuya, lately. He looked skinnier, a little paler, with hollowing cheeks. However, Chuuya didn’t show any sign of actually being sick. And when Dazai asked him if something was wrong, Chuuya kept insisting that he felt fine, dismissing it as a figment of his imagination.

Dazai desperately wished that it was just a mere joke of his mind.

Yet, Dazai should have recognized that Chuuya had been lying for his own sake. He should have seen through his crafted smiles and melodious laughter. He should have noticed the pain hidden behind his eyes.

When Chuuya said that everything was fine, Dazai should have known that he saying it just because Chuuya didn’t want to drag Dazai into the hell he was going through. He should have known that Chuuya was the only one who always put him first, risking his life with no hesitation just to save him. It was obvious that Chuuya loved Dazai so deeply that he would have done anything just to ensure that Dazai could live a life worth living.

He would have even begun to lie if it meant he could keep Dazai safe.

Dazai didn’t think that Chuuya was capable of lying to him. Because Dazai himself was incapable of lying to Chuuya.

He wanted to scream.

But now, as he held Chuuya in his arms, who appeared so fragile and exhausted, he could see all the lies that Chuuya had told him for his sake.

How foolish his chibi had been.

His heart shattered into thousands of pieces. He heard the noises loudly inside his chest as the pain spread throughout his entire body, reaching his soul.

And the silence that descended upon them was too suffocating for Dazai. “Who hurt you—?”

“No one, Osamu,” Chuuya replied, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, resting his head against Dazai’s chest. “It’s just Arahabaki.”

He had already suspected as much. But he didn’t want to accept it. It couldn’t be true.

Please, Chuuya, tell me you’re lying.

Dazai’s eyes squeezed shut, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His lungs were suddenly deprived of air. “What?”

He didn’t want to believe it.

Tell me it’s not true, Chuuya, please. It can’t be true.

“We always knew so little about it,” Chuuya shook his head, his bloodied hand gripping Dazai’s. He could feel all of Dazai’s fear and anger coursing through his veins. “I think my body can’t resist its power anymore.”

Dazai felt desperate. His mind still tried to deny the reality.

“Are you talking about Corruption?” Dazai felt like something was choking him in that moment, like chains wrapping around his neck trying to suffocate him. Trembling, he gently clasped Chuuya’s wrist. “I won’t let you activate it anymore, just—”

Don’t let it be true. Please, you can’t let Arahabaki have you.

“Osamu.” Chuuya tightened his grip on Dazai’s hand, his faded blue eyes now searching for his.

Don’t do this to me, Chuuya.

“You just need to rest—”

It was weird to hear Dazai attempting to conceal his fear and panic. Chuuya knew that Dazai had fully grasped the gravity of the situation. And he felt his weakened heart ache at the pain he was causing his beloved.

It would have been unavoidable. Something that not even they could have defeated, no matter how strong or powerful they were. From all they had learned over the years, nothing could have hinted that Arahabaki’s power would have eventually slowly, inexorably consumed Chuuya’s human body.

Maybe Chuuya had activated Corruption too many times in his life. And now, Arahabaki demanded its toll.

No one could have ever foreseen this.

Chuuya’s hand reached for Dazai’s cheek, preventing his voice from escaping his lips. Their eyes locked together. Dazai despised that Chuuya looked so relaxed in his embrace. He loathed that Chuuya was smiling faintly. The warmth of Chuuya’s touch burned against his cold skin. He hated how much he loved that feeling.

Chuuya, please.

“Chuuya,” Dazai whispered, leaning his face closer to Chuuya’s. “We’ll find a solution.”

Stay with me.

The small chuckle that escaped Chuuya’s lips was followed by another cough. The pain that crossed his face was like a stab right into Dazai’s heart.

“I don’t believe there’s a solution, Osamu.” His thumb caressed Dazai’s cheek, which was slowly getting wet. What an extraordinary event, seeing the demon prodigy shed tears for me. “I can feel it.”

Dazai felt as though he were the one about to die. Tell me you’re lying.

“You can’t know for sure unless we try.” Dazai didn’t realize that he was crying. He had never believed he was capable of crying. His grip on Chuuya’s wrist tightened further. “Please, Chuuya.”

“It’s useless.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Osamu?”

Dazai didn’t want to hear him. He shook his head, eyes closed. His body shivered as he tried not to listen to Chuuya’s weak yet still authoritative voice.

“Promise me that you won’t follow me.”

Dazai wanted to scream.

“How can you ask me something like this—”

“Promise it. I can’t go otherwise.”

“You can’t go! Chuuya—”

“Sumire needs you. And you need her.” Chuuya summoned the strength to draw Dazai’s face even closer and press their lips together. The blend of blood and tears was like an intoxicating poison.

That was the kiss they both detested the most.

“I’ll be waiting for you, Osamu. But, please, don’t follow me. I’ve learned to be patient with you, so don’t be in a hurry. Because Sumire needs her father.”

“Sumire needs her other father as well.” Dazai let a sob escape his mouth. He couldn’t bear the pain any longer. He didn’t want to live without his partner in this cruel world. He couldn’t do it. “I need you.”

“What are you saying, Osamu? I’ll always be by her side. Just as I’ll be by yours. Have faith in me.”

Dazai felt Chuuya’s energy leaving his body. His own heart stopped beating; his eyes opened wide.

It couldn’t be real.

“Chuuya, please, don’t leave me—”

“I love you, Osamu.” Chuuya whispered, his voice a feeble murmur. “Take care of our daughter.”

“Ch-Chuuya—” Dazai wanted to follow him. Living in a world without Chuuya seemed worthless. 

Sumire needs you.

But there was still another Nakahara who needed him.

Dazai loved Chuuya more than anything else; nothing was more important than his Chuuya. Yet, someone else needed him more than he could ever understand. And Dazai couldn’t stop his shattered heart from loving a Nakahara.

“I-I promise I’ll take care of our daughter.”

Dazai couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t have kissed Chuuya anymore. He couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t have held Chuuya in his embrace. That he wouldn’t have laughed and fought with Chuuya. That they wouldn’t have fallen in love with each other all over again every single day as they had for the past decades.

How could this have happened? They were fine that morning, they had breakfast together. Chuuya was fine. He hugged Sumire tightly before she left for school and kissed Dazai before they parted ways for work.

How could his entire world have collapsed in mere seconds?

Dazai’s Sun wouldn’t have shined any longer.

“I love you too, my love.”

When Chuuya stopped breathing, his face serene with his eyes closed, a scream of pure pain ripped through the sky of Yokohama.

—

When Dazai parks the car, the rain stops. He turns to his left and smiles at the girl staring straight ahead. “Seems like we won’t need the umbrella.”

She murmurs something in agreement, but she looks lost in thought as Dazai lets his gaze study her. And he wonders how many thoughts are running wild in her mind.

He can’t blame her. His head, too, is a mess. But he’s learned to ignore it over time.

“Ready?” He asks. A sigh leaves his lips.

Sumire finally turns around, her golden hair covering half of her face. She stares into her father’s eyes. She doesn’t speak. With a small nod, she opens the door and jumps out of the car, allowing her long legs to stretch.

She’s grown tall for being sixteen. She’s already five or six centimeters taller than Chuuya.

When he gets out of the car, Dazai takes in a deep breath. The air smells of rain. He looks up at the sky. The Sun is peeking behind the grey clouds, and shy rays reach the ground. There are too many trees surrounding the area, but he can hear the sound of the ocean in the distance. There’s a small flower shop next to the majestic walls. The old owner bows her head when she sees them.

A polite smile graces Dazai’s lips. He bows his head in return.

Sumire reaches her father’s side and, to Dazai’s surprise, she grabs his hand. She hasn’t done this in years. Her hand feels warm to the touch, and it’s a little bigger, of course. His daughter is really growing. In a moment of silliness, Dazai wishes that Sumire would stop growing and remain his little girl. A foolish, unrealistic wish, indeed.

He can’t help but laugh at himself as he closes his eyes and tightens his grip.

They start walking toward the gate, the sound of their steps reverberating on the wet ground.

But after only a couple of steps past the gate, Sumire halts as if she’s forgotten something important. She realizes that they’re empty handed.

“What’s wrong?” Dazai asks, looking at her as he stops as well.

Sumire shakes her head, letting go of her father’s hand. The stronger wind makes her golden hair wave as she turns around. “Go ahead, I’ll be right back.”

“Sumire—” Dazai tries to call her, but she’s running back to where they entered.

Another sigh escapes his lips. He puts his hands in the pockets of his trench coat. “There’s nothing to do, I guess.”

Alone, Dazai starts walking again, without turning his gaze to the sides. There’s nothing worth his attention anyway. His destination is a little further. He can’t help but notice that there’s no one else around. Probably because it was raining just a few minutes ago. He avoids the puddles while his eyes are always fixed ahead. He knows the way by heart.

After a couple of minutes, he stops in front of a well-kept grave. And his heart clenches, as it does every time his eyes fall on the stone. Reading the engraved name feels like going through the heartbreak all over again.

“Hello, Chuuya.”

The first chirps of some birds fill the silence that follows his low voice.

“It’s been exactly a year since you made me promise that I wouldn’t have followed you.”

Dazai smiles as he tries not to let his voice quiver. But it’s hard. He still can’t believe this reality. He doesn’t like it.

The memories of that day are still too fresh. Still a wound too open. Not that it will ever heal. Dazai is surprised that he’s still breathing in a world where Chuuya is no longer present.

How is he holding on?

“See, chibi? I’m keeping my promise,” he murmurs, dropping his head back and gazing at the sky. The clouds have almost dissipated already. The warmth of the Sun kissing his face feels nice. It seems like someone is still whispering his love to him.

If tears threaten to spill, Dazai makes sure not to let them fall. He doesn’t cry anymore.

“Our daughter is really a nice person, you know? She took after you.”

Nakahara Sumire wasn’t born with an extraordinary ability like Dazai and Chuuya. She doesn’t have a particular talent, but she’s good at everything she does. She is witty and sly, yet she possesses the kindest and purest soul that Dazai has ever known.

He’s not biased.

It’s the truth.

She is Chuuya’s daughter, after all.

After they shared with her the stories that shaped their lives, she grew even more wary of the world. And despite knowing how powerful Dazai, Chuuya, and all the other people she calls family are, she doesn’t like the deadly dance that humanity has been engaged in throughout its existence.

It doesn’t matter that she is loved and protected.

Sumire is still scared of the world.

She is also Dazai’s daughter, indeed.

“She’s taller than you. She was already a year ago, if you remember, but she’s even taller now. That, she’s taking after me.” Dazai laughs at his foolish statement. Sumire cannot inherit anything from him, for both obvious biological reasons and because he doesn’t want her to resemble him in any aspect.

Sumire is a better person than he could ever try to be.

Dazai sighs and looks back at the grave. It hurts so fucking much.

“Nee, Chuuya.” Dazai’s heart clenches again. His hands, still inside his pockets, tremble. “I miss you.”

His voice is filled with regret. If only he had found out what was wrong with Chuuya earlier, maybe he could have—

“I’m back—!”

Sumire’s cheerful voice snaps Dazai out of his thoughts. He turns around, taking a deep breath, and waits for his daughter to reach him.

After a couple of seconds to stabilize her breathing, she smiles at him. She looks like she has been running; her hair looks messier than before, which makes Dazai smile affectionately.

“I thought you would have chosen white lilies like the last time,” Dazai points out, nodding toward the flowers Sumire holds.

She shrugs before crouching down, removing the withered bouquet from the vase to replace it with the fresh one. “Dad loves red camellias, though. They suit him more, I think.”

Dazai’s mouth falls open. Chuuya has always loved bright colors for his flowers.

He chuckles. “I think so too.”

Sumire finishes replacing the bouquet and stands back next to Dazai. Silence settles between them, broken only by the wind whispering through the leaves of the trees surrounding the place.

After a few moments lost in her head, she takes a deep breath. “Hi, dad.”

Dazai’s smile fades at the sound of her soft voice. He steps back, giving them space, yet he keeps his gaze fixed on his daughter and the grave. He observes in silence.

“You know, I don’t like lies. And you lied to me,” Sumire says, her gaze dropping to her shoes as she hides the withered flowers behind her back. She shivers, her grip tightening on the stems. “I’ve been so angry at you for months.

Dazai hears the pain in her voice. He has been mad at Chuuya too.

“Then, my anger turned into sorrow. And I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to think about the pain that you’ve been going through alone. I also wondered why you never told us what was happening. Why did you have to carry that pain all alone?” Her voice quivers, her fingers gripping the stems of the old bouquet so tightly they almost whiten.

Even Dazai doesn’t know why Chuuya never told him anything. There weren’t any secrets between them, so why did Chuuya hide his pain? Didn’t Dazai love him enough?

Dazai’s teeth sink into his lower lip, his fists clenching.

Wasn’t our love enough for you to share your pain and your sorrow with me, Chuuya? Sometimes, I hate you so much, slug.

“I miss you, dad.”

Sumire’s eyes usually hold the light of the Sun, but now they are filled with wistful sadness. They are shaded by long eyelashes that half-hide her tears.

Eventually, a tear falls down her cheeks. Then, another one follows suit. And another one. And another.

However, when she raises her gaze, on her lips, a smile glimmers under the rays. “I miss you so much.”

Dazai hates hearing Sumire cry. It breaks his already shattered heart. He hates that she wants to appear strong for his sake. She’s still only a child. She shouldn’t be here grieving her father.

His arms envelops her, and she hides her face against Dazai’s chest, muffling the sobs escaping her lips. The bouquet falls from her hands. Some flowers lose their petals as they hit the ground.

Dazai tightens his grip as he kisses Sumire’s head, letting her pour out all the emotions that she’s been holding back for too long.

The wind blows strongly, forcing Dazai to close his eyes. When he opens them again and looks at the grave, he sees a familiar redhead standing next the stone. His arms are crossed over his chest, and a grin graces his perfect lips. Chuuya looks younger. He’s twenty-two again.

Dazai smiles at him, holding his breath. He really misses him.

I’m sorry, Chuuya.

His voice doesn’t come out; only his lips move.

Is life truly worth living without you by my side? I don’t know the answer, but for the moment, I think I’ll have to stay here.

He holds Sumire closer, even as he feels her calming down.

I still love you as mush as I did the first day.

When he closes and opens his eyes again, the wind soars, ruffling his chocolate ringlets.

Chuuya no longer stands next to his grave. But the smile on Dazai’s lips doesn’t fade.

You’ll have to wait for me a bit longer, my love.

“Let’s go home, Sumire-chan.”

Someday, I’ll see you again, Chuuya.

—

“Do you think that dad can hear us?”

“Of course. He’s always watching and protecting us, after all.”

“I miss him, dad.”

“I miss him too, sweetheart. I miss him so much that it hurts.” Dazai smiles bittersweetly. “But when you miss him, just look at the Sun.”

“And if it rains?”

“It means that he’s taking a break. Probably because we’re giving him too many headaches.”

I love you, Osamu.

“But don’t worry.”

Take care of our daughter.

“Chuuya is always looking after us.”