Chapter Text

Chapter 1

The first time Chuuya sees the brunette in the biggest slum in Yokohama, he’s bewildered. How such a human exists is beyond his comprehension. Which is why he is put off-guard when the brunette suddenly pulls out a gun and places it at his head.

He’s smiling, but the dull brown of his eyes show there is nothing funny. Instead, his stare is bottomless, just an infinite void of complete nothingness.

When Chuuya manages to dodge his bullet and several more, also landing a few violent kicks, his eyebrows furrow. But he doesn’t look angry. That heated adrenaline that one gets, which causes the hue of their eyes to become more saturated, is not there.

Again, there is just oblivion where Chuuya looks.

It’s why the brunette finally gets a punch in, knocking the red-head far enough so that a few shacks are demolished in his wake.

But Chuuya is angry. He’s livid, and his anger shows through every pore in his body. It oozes out of him and is represented by the steam at his ears and nostrils. Just what is he? Why had he managed to catch him off-guard twice?

Chuuya wants to vent his ire on the brunette, and unconsciously show him what anger is. Not that pathetic pulling of the brows together and scowling. But he’s cut short by the mention of his fellow Sheep members being held captive by the Port Mafia. Though he’s ready to retaliate, he is struck frozen by the one thing that isn’t empty in the brunette’s eyes: his threat.

With much complaints, Chuuya allows himself to be taken back to the Port Mafia building, now surrounded by half-a-dozen men in black suits, all led by a well-known boy in bandages. Their communication happens wordlessly, every action followed through after a gesture or a look. Chuuya doesn’t like such a scheme. Where he rules as the leader of The Sheep, he talks to his members and sometimes lets their opinions sway his decisions. There’s none of this omniscient shepherd and blind sheep.

Upon arriving at the large, sky-scraper of a headquarters, Chuuya finds himself being blindfolded and navigated through the building until he finally stops. When his eyes are finally unveiled, he sees that he has been taken to a large room that’s mostly depressing in colour-scheme and bland in decorations. The walls are blood-red, which Chuuya can’t help scoff at due to how cliché it looks. All the furniture in the room consists of a black desk and matching chair, as well as two chairs opposite it and two — very unused — couches on either side of the room. But of all the things an office could have, the place is missing just one very important thing: a boss.

Chuuya is immediately shoved forward, where he’s strapped to a chair with both ropes and chains at his hands, chest and legs. It seems a bit excessive but Chuuya prides himself with the idea that they must really fear him to be going this far. Yet, he can’t understand why they hadn’t tied him up (at least his hands) on the journey here. How did they know he wasn’t going to act out?

“Where’s your boss?” Chuuya finally spits out after the guards have finished tying him up. He pulls at the restraints and finds his limbs to be immobile. He grunts. “And why did you only tie me up now? What about the journey until now?”

“My, my, aren’t you a curious one?” The familiar brunette taunts as he finally comes into the red-head’s field of view after a long while. He sways around the place like a drunk man, that pathetic excuse of a smile on his face once again. The smile that will never truly be one.

“I asked for your boss, not you, dipshit!”

“Oo~” The brunette winces, clutching his heart as he pretends to fall back due to the fiest in Chuuya’s response. But then he sobers, so automatically that Chuuya can’t help but again be left shocked by his nature. “Lucky for you, you are talking to the boss.”

Somehow, that makes more sense than anything else Chuuya has heard or seen so far. Of course this creature would be the head of the infamous Port Mafia. A man best known for his lack of compassion yet overflow of wits. No one believed that the Mafia could become even more prosperous than it already was, but they were obviously wrong. After the previous leader was assassinated by an unknown culprit two years ago, a new leader began to rule. His name was Dazai Osamu — the youngest leader in Mafia history — and no one put it against him to have killed his predecessor. Not even Nakahara Chuuya who stands before him to see truth in the people’s gossip. Chuuya also takes in how young he truly is. Everyone had their guesses of his age, some saying thirty, others betting on twenty-eight. But seeing him with his own eyes, he doesn’t look to be older than Chuuya, who’s twenty. But that could also be due to the fact that he’s devilishly handsome, even Chuuya has to admit that, if nothing else.

“I must be important if I had the boss of the Port Mafia come collect me.”

“That, you’re right about. You are as important as my left thumb, which is why I don’t let it get burnt during my arsons. I don’t like pain, you see. And you, if I didn’t capture you, you’d have been the biggest pain.” Dazai complains as he falls back into his rightful seat, the Boss’ seat. Chuuya analyses the man and the way he looks both suited and out-of-place is the large, intricately-patterned, and throne-like seat. He wonders whether it’s because the seat really belonged to the previous boss, which is why Dazai looks a haunting ghost in a Church when he sits on it.

“Are you gonna answer my other questions or not?” Chuuya snaps again, causing Dazai to stop his rant and look at him with those creepy eyes again. “And can you not look at me? I feel like you’re secretly a pervert.”

Dazai smiles and Chuuya internally groans again.

“No you don’t. You just don’t like my eyes, and the way they creep you out.” He adorns such a sardonic smile that Chuuya can’t help but want to shut up so that he can stop doing it. Why does he look like that? Like he’s fucked from the inside-out? And how the fuck he did he know?

Chuuya suppresses the shiver that tries to betray his discomfort. As this meeting unfolds, Chuuya knows he’s going to find out just how true those rumours are about the great Dazai Osamu. Including his great intelligence, which he seems to be uncovering with each passing second.

“Now, let’s cut to the chase—-”

“Finally.” Chuuya mutters, rolling his eyes but Dazai ignores him.

“—-I captured both you and your friends because, quite frankly, I don’t like any of you—-”

“That’s the fucking point, bird-brain. You act like we do what we do to get your fucking approval or something.” Chuuya yells, tugging at the ropes slightly but again, they don’t budge.

“Can you not interrupt me? The thing I dislike after pain is anger. Don’t make me angry.” Dazai warns quietly and sternly, his voice even like a true villain. One that’s so evil that he needs nothing more than the air that radiates off him to instil fear in others. However, Chuuya feels everything but fear at that moment.

“As if you can even feel anger.”

Dazai pauses.

Opens his mouth.

Closes it.

“That was a good one.” Dazai acknowledges, finally managing to stop looking like fish. Chuuya takes an unwanted mental note of the reaction. “But back to what I was saying. Your little group seems to be becoming a little unorganised and hectic. If I let that continue, it’ll only lead to countless dead teenagers as well as countless problems for me. So, in order to stop those problems before we start, I need to take you out of the equation first.” Dazai’s courteous smile still lingers on his face, something more habitual than anything else. He watches Chuuya with a keen eye for any change in his demeanour, absolutely anything that could hint at any more information at this explosive fireball of a human being. His eyes glint with surprise, also shown on his features as his jaw slackens slightly and his eyebrows rise by an unnoticeable distance. But, as expected, he’s eventually lost. Such a slow mind, Dazai wonders how The Sheep have lasted as long as they have with him as their leader and not gone rogue long ago.

“Why the hell would I need to be “taken out of the equation”?” Chuuya questions and mocks simultaneously.

“To put it simply, they don’t like you.”

Time to cue the fireworks.

Dazai watches as the red-head’s face goes from displaying surprise to then screwing up in distaste. He explodes, in Dazai’s eyes, like a firework, his shots of anger targeted in all directions, to the guards, the restraints, the room, and Dazai himself. For a minute, Dazai allows him to cool off his anger while he studies his looks. That bright hair, those azure eyes, and those perfect facial proportions. His features are almost as beautiful as Dazai’s, which is an outstanding compliment coming from the man who catches the attention of every man and woman that lays eyes upon him.

But then he gets tired of the incessant noise coming from the red-head and places his hand up in an order for silence. As expected for the billionth time in his life, Chuuya doesn’t shut up. Instead, he opts for targeting all his fury at the bandaged boy, cussing out everything from his lanky frame to the dark circles beneath his eyes.

Though he should’ve probably gotten fed-up at Chuuya’s disrespect, he actually found it interesting. Fascinating, even. It’d been a long time since someone had dared to talk back to him, especially after taking over as Boss. In fact, he’d forgotten the last time a guard had talked to him without being made to. Dazai greets Chuuya’s hot-headed temper with patience, trying to see how long it would take him to finally have the boy skinned alive, starting from his tongue and working his way down.

“If you don’t silence yourself, I’ll kill that grey-haired boy first.” At these words, Chuuya seems incapable of any more speech, as if they’d been drained out of him. Good.

Chuuya watches Dazai, his sapphires for eyes searching desperately for any sort of emotions behind those eyes. What does death mean to him? Surely he must feel something at the prospect of killing someone, whether it’s remorse or satisfaction, surely… But there is, again, nothing. It’s as if he doesn’t care.

Is that it?

Is the logic behind his lack of emotions that he just doesn’t give a flying fuck?

“Wow, you care an awful amount for someone who wishes you were dead.”

There’s silence following Dazai’s words, which only leads to the corners of his mouth dropping down. He lets it drag for a few seconds more before breaking it.

“And for a second there I almost thought you’d speak… And then I’d get to kill him.”

He’s a psycho.

Chuuya can’t help thinking the words over and over again as he watches Dazai’s smile grow menacingly large, abnormally. It’s only then when the first trickle of sweat runs down Chuuya’s back, accompanied by several others, letting him relish in his fear. The feeling is surprisingly new to him, and unnerving, which is strange as Chuuya has always known himself to be very accepting of new things.

Dazai laughs humourlessly, clutching his stomach in a show of amusement, however, it only causes Chuuya’s face to screw up in disgust. Whatever the hell this guy is on about, he’s not going to hear a word of it — he doesn’t want to listen to a psychotic bastard, especially the boss of the Port Mafia.

After a while, Dazai stops again. Chuuya realises that this is probably going to continue happening, the bastard stopping and starting like some robot. Dazai frowns once again, staring into Chuuya’s eyes, almost as if trying to see into his soul. The red-head feels the latter’s invasive eyes ripping into him, tearing him apart until he’s nothing but his darkest secrets and most haunting desires. He wants to scream at him to stop and for him to get those disgustingly merciless eyes off of him. It feels like torture, a form that only Dazai is capable of with his innate obsession for knowledge.

“You can talk now.” Chuuya wants to, he wants to call Dazai out on just how crappy an excuse of a human being he is, but he doesn’t. Not after being told to. He just stares back at the brunette, trying to make up for what little emotions he has with the burning fury of his own. “If that’s the case, then we’ll just get straight to it. However, I doubt you’ll listen to me after what I just did. Are you going to listen to me?” Dazai questions, lazily

“No.” Chuuya knows Dazai knew his answer but he replies all for the sake of making the fact as clear as daylight.

“Fine. I’ll just explain it and then see if that brain of yours really is as useless of an organ as I think it is.” Dazai’s eyes grow sharp but Chuuya’s become sharper. “The Sheep plan to overthrow you as their leader because they hate how powerful you are. Essentially, that’s the reason why you were picked as their leader in the first place. Nakahara Chuuya, the best martial artist and combatist in Yokohama, self-trained in so many different styles that there’s no move he hasn’t mastered to perfection. Isn’t that right?”

Chuuya grunts.

“At the end of the month, they plan to go on a rampage around the city to exude their dominance. All of this will be done, of course, with the weapons they’ve managed to steal from some of the weakest storage spaces in Yokohama. However, the main way in which they will show their superiority is through killing you. Once they do that, they believe people will cower before them.” Dazai laughs and Chuuya almost joins him, but for the exact opposite reason. “It’s so stupid, I think even you’d know that.” Chuuya rolls his eyes as a way to project his hatred for the latter but also to find a reason to look away from his piercing stare for even just a second.

“And who the fuck lied to you?”

Dazai simply tilts his head in confusion.

"Who made you think I’d believe your bullshit?” Chuuya explains, venom spilling from his words,

“No one, except myself.” Dazai answers truthfully, gleaming at the scowl on the red-head’s face. “Y’know what?” He begins as he suddenly jumps off his head and an idea pops into his head.

“What?”

“You let them try and kill you.” Chuuya stares at him as if he’s just pissed himself. “Go on. Give them a clear and foolproof way to finally end you and they’ll take it without hesitation.” Chuuya wants to scoff at Dazai and half of one even leaves his mouth before it dies away after looking into the latter’s eyes. They’re so clearly on display that anyone can read them, even a child. But what makes Dazai’s eyes so special is that there’s nothing in them to hide. He doesn’t need the countless curtains shielding his private emotions from the world like Chuuya does. Which is why he begins to grow fearful again at the honesty in those mud-brown eyes. He looks so serious and so intent on getting Chuuya to see what he sees that part of Chuuya even dares to believe him.

“Shut the fuck up.” He murmurs eventually, tugging at the chains unsuccessfully once again. “And get me the hell out of this! I’m not going to fucking do anything to you!”

“I know.”

“Then fucking untie me already. You only bothered to tie me up when I came here and not before, what’s the deal about that? I asked you that once already!” Chuuya goes back to a topic he wants to handle more, something that will take his mind off of the incessant itch on the back of his neck.

“You weren’t going to do anything, I knew that. So there was really no point. As for now, I did it to see your reaction. You clearly loved believing you were dangerous enough to be tied so effectively but that’s really not the case. I could probably untie you right now but I’m too lazy to get the guards to do it.”

“No, you’re just a bandaged bitch.”

“How many more alliterations are you going to use to insult me? First it was ‘bandaged bastard’ and now ‘bandaged bitch’?” Dazai questions scornfully but the latter just smirks. He’s always been quite proud of his insults, which often come to him on the spot.

“What can I say? They describe you perfectly.”

Dazai grows bored again, seeing as there is no more use for a tied up boy in the middle of his office. He waves his hand unconsciously and goes back to lay in his chair as Chuuya is partially untied and escorted out of the room forcefully.

“What about my friends?!” Chuuya shrieks, struggling as several guards try to subdue his rage.

“Calm your pretty little head! I’ll let them go.” Dazai yells over Chuuya’s shouts, rolling his eyes when the male still doesn’t cease his screams even though he clearly heard him. Dazai grumbles as now he’s at his least favourite stage in a plan. The waiting stage.