Work Text:
A year in the life
Fukuzawa knew he wasn't a perfect man.
A part from his past, obvious mistakes and naivete, he wasn't the easiest man to have around: he didn't know how to express himself very well, emotionally, and had always liked the peace and freedom that came with working alone.
That changed the moment Ranpo-kun barged into his life, bringing the chaos that only a very special, very clever, very lonely fourteen-years-old could. From that moment, Fukuzawa had another person, with zero social and practical skills, depending on him. A year later, the same kid brought home a little mouse of a boy, with red hair and the eyes of somebody that had survived more than one usually survived in their entire life.
Fukuzawa had never asked to become a father, but life had thrown fatherhood in his face and told him to deal with it anyway.
He had to step up his game. Fast.
1. Two weeks in (December 2000)
Fukuzawa was, objectively speaking, the best martial artist and sword fighter in Japan. He had proven it extensively during his life, and it was the main reason why he was in such a high request in his line of work. Maintaining his skills, though, required discipline and constant training. Every morning before breakfast, and every night before going to sleep, Fukuzawa went down to the gym that occupied the ground floor of their building and did just that.
The owner was a man in his mid-forties, that Fukuzawa and Ranpo-kun had helped a few days after moving in upstairs with a little steroids situation that had started going around his establishment, and was putting the business in danger. As a thank you, he had offered Fukuzawa unlimited use of an empty room for his training, and had given him the keys to the property. It had been extremely convenient, and Ranpo-kun had kind of implied, later, that had been the main reason he had offered his services at all for something that boring: apparently, the boy loved his sleep and Fukuzawa was loud in the living-room. Thank god they had already left the premises when he had told him.
The first time he realised someone was watching him, it was a very cold, late-December morning.
He was twenty minutes in when he felt eyes on himself, and covertly glanced towards the door: it was still closed, and there had been no sound from the outside. Fukuzawa's instincts, polished by years and years of martial arts and combat, didn't sense any danger coming from anywhere around him either. So, it was someone that didn't send his sixth sense awry, and could be as silent as a cat.
That last last definitely excluded Ranpo-kun from the list of suspects by default, and left only one possible culprit.
His mouth shifted into a small smile: it was the first time that Chuuya-kun actively sought him out, and showed interest in something he was doing. He usually spent his time silently shadowing Ranpo-kun in a very 'I'm trying to be subtle but you're not leaving my sight' way that the other kid found extremely funny and endearing. He mostly shared his space with Fukuzawa during meals, but even then he only spoke to him if he had to. Ranpo-kun usually filled the silence with his never-ending chatting, then updated Fukuzawa on “his new stray” after Chuuya-kun had fallen asleep in the room they were sharing. For example, he had told him that the child had found a nice, little bakery a few street over, and that he had pulled the funniest, most shocked face when Ranpo had bought him a pastry with custard and blueberries. Apparently, he had never had an entire one just for himself, at least that he could remember. Fukuzawa had noted to himself to find out what a decent allowance was for a kid that age, and resolved it was going to be a new expense in his monthly budget. He had wilfully ignored Ranpo-kun's knowing smirk, and would maintained it was a decision he had come to fully by himself.
So, he was extremely surprised that the child had decided that something he did was interesting enough to follow him outside. He wondered exactly for ten minutes about how he was supposed to react, in order to not scare him off. In the end, he did nothing, behaving like Chuuya-kun was a scared, stray kitten: he didn't acknowledge his presence behind the door and kept his training going as usual. By the time he opened the door to head for the showers, feeling sweaty and a little disgusting, the place was empty once again. Fukuzawa didn't let anything show on his face, and ignored completely the very faint glow of For the Tainted Sorrow that he could spy in a mirror right out of the corner of his eye, where Chuuya-kun was floating with his back parallel to the ceiling.
It took the child three days to actually show himself, and it was the result of a complete accident.
Fukuzawa had closed the door behind himself as always, but it seemed that the lock had become faulty: five minutes into the meditation that always started his routine, Chuuya-kun leaned into the door and unexpectedly crashed inside with a very loud thump.
Immediately, Fukuzawa ran to him: the boy was rubbing his head and muttering curses under his breath, cheeks flushed and eyes lowered.
“Are you alright, Chuuya-kun?”
The boy nodded.
“I wasn't following you!” He announced, completely unprompted. His brow was furrowed, his mouth pinched into a pout. Fukuzawa didn't say anything and just waited him out.
“I wasn't- I just wasn't, okay?”
Fukuzawa blinked.
“Okay.” He sat down next to him and helped him up. Chuuya-kun, seemingly taken aback, let him, kneeling next to the man. “Is there another reason why you're here?”
Chuuya-kun didn't answer, but his cheeks were a worryingly shade of crimson by then.
“You leave your left side open when you walk,” he said in the end, eyes back to the floor. “It's not good.”
Oh.
Fukuzawa waited a bit more, tilting his head a little: so, Chuuya-kun was worried. It made sense, he supposed: the boy still hadn't said much about what had brought him to Yokohama, starving, filthy and alone. He knew he was an orphan, and didn't have any memories of before he had turned up in Suribachi City. Fukuzawa was sure Ranpo-kun had been able to deduce more, since they had met him, but he hadn't offered anything to add to his story, and Fukuzawa could respect that. Whatever it had been, it was something that had scarred the boy deeply enough that he still looked at Fukuzawa like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He couldn't really trust him yet, but apparently still felt the need to keep him as safe as possible in his own way.
He smiled softly, and patted his head affectionately, ready to stop at the first signs of distress. Instead, Chuuya-kun face turned surprised, but didn't move away. Rather, he seemed to slightly lean into Fukuzawa's touch, and by the look on his face, he wasn't even sure why himself.
“You're very observant, Chuuya-kun.” The boy finally looked at him at that. “You have a very good eye. I leave my guard down, sometimes.”
“You shouldn't!”
“That is certainly true. I shouldn't count on an attacker to be weaker than I am.” Even though, really, that included almost everybody in Japan. He tilted his head. “Have you ever properly trained, Chuuya-kun?”
The boy shook his head, vigorously, and waited for him to keep going.
“Pity. You have good instincts, and it shows. You're also already really strong and energetic, I think it'd be good for you.” The boy's mouth fell open at the compliments. “Would you like me to do it, maybe?”
“What?”
“Train you, of course. I'm pretty good with the sword as well, if you're interested.”
“Ranpo-kun told me you're the strongest in Japan!” He shouted, jumping on his feet. “Would you teach me? Really?”
Fukuzawa chuckled.
“With pleasure, Chuuya-kun.”
It started with Fukuzawa instilling some discipline into the boy: he had meant every word he had told him, but his strength was raw and unchecked, and he needed to keep it under better control.
Chuuya-kun had scoffed and squirmed on his knees for weeks, before he had enough grip over himself to stay still for hours on end.
It took him two whole years, which was really nothing, before Chuuya-kun could hit him in one-on-one combat, and another one for him to disarm Fukuzawa with a sword. Neither of them knew who was the most shocked, when that happened.
Fukuzawa wasn't surprised when he went to become one of the strongest martial artists Japan had ever seen, when he grew up.
He never really asked Fukuzawa to stop training him, though.
(Late December 2010
Dazai had never been a morning person, nor he had ever cared for workouts. He could handle himself just fine during a battle, and was good in that ruthless, no-rules kind of combat style that the Mafia had developed over the years. But he had always preferred to be the brains behind a mission, rather than the brawn.
Chuuya, however, had no qualms whatsoever waking up at the crack of dawn, and absolutely loved his training sessions with Fukuzawa-san. Dazai never got the appeal, and more than once made fun of the slug when was then too tired at night to stay awake until the end of their weekly movie. He was funny, Dazai thought, with the way he always ended up sprawled on the couch, drooling out of the corner of his mouth. He never appreciated the doodles Dazai draw on his face, when that happened. It was sad how he didn't understand his creative flair.
It was a Tuesday morning when he decided to join him.
He had started spending the night at Chuuya's, lately, anxiety creeping in every time he left him alone for too long. He slept well, these days, draped over the Chibi's body, head tucked under the other's chin and his dog's hand in his hair. He felt relaxing, somehow.
Waking up on his own was horrible. Having no idea if the Chibi was alright was even worse.
That morning, he slipped out of the covers and the apartment, reaching the gym where he knew Chuuya and Fukuzawa trained.
He arrived towards what it probably was the end of the session to see the slug almost hitting Fukuzawa-san with his fist, before the man turned swiftly and elbowed Chuuya on his back, sending him on the floor. Half a moment later, the Chibi jumped up and went straight to the other man's middle, before skirting to the side at the last second and knee him in the stomach, arms clutching his and shoving him flat on the mat.
Speechless, Dazai whimpered, wide eyes taking in every move, fingers flexing at his sides. He felt his cheeks warming up worryingly, his palms getting sweaty, like he was getting sick. Chuuya was a vision, even while wiping sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, the tendons of his neck straining, face flushed and happy. He turned, saw him, and smiled. Dazai's breath staggered.
He swallowed, nodded towards him and ran the fuck out of there. He was definitely about to get something. He needed Yosano-san. And the day off.
If Chuuya looked at him weird, when he got back home to find him buried under his comforters, he mercifully didn't say anything about it. He dropped his bag on the table and sat beside him, petting his hair gently and a little pitifully.
When he looked back at that day, months later, after he realised his feelings for the Chibi, he slapped his face, hard, and almost screamed: he really had been a fucking idiot. And he had lost so much time that he could've spent watching the Chibi fighting.
Chuuya's training became his favourite time of the week. At least, until Fukuzawa-san banned him from it after the time he... vehemently let the Chibi know just how cool he was when beating up somebody else. Half-way through the match. In front of Fukuzawa-san. With his tongue way more down his throat than it was probably appropriate.
Dazai didn't regret it one bit.)
2. Two months in (Beginning to middle of February 2001)
Fukuzawa was packing his bag, getting ready for a job that would take them to Sapporo for a couple of weeks. A noise from the doorway caught his attention, and he turned to find it empty.
“Chuuya-kun, you can come in if you wish.”
At first, nothing moved, and Fukuzawa waited patiently. Then, Chuuya-kun slowly lowered himself back to the floor, his Ability fading around him. He seemed sheepish, like he had just been caught while snooping around, even after Fukuzawa had told him many, many times that this was his home, and could go anywhere he wanted, whenever he wanted.
He smiled a little and got closer to the boy, kneeling down in front of him with a reassuring smile.
“Can I do anything for you, Chuuya-kun?”
The boy quickly shook his head. Fukuzawa waited some more.
Chuuya-kun bit down on his lip and lowered his eyes.
“Ranpo-kun said you got a job in Sapporo.” He mumbled. When he didn't add anything else, Fukuzawa nodded.
“Mmh. A politician up there received some threats and decided to hire me until after the elections.”
“Oh.”
Chuuya-kun fell silent, seemingly not wanting to add anything else, but he didn't move from the door. Fukuzawa tilted his head, confused.
“Do you need any help?” Another shake of his head. “Are you sure?” Chuuya-kun nodded. “Do you need any new clothes, then? I thought we got some good warm options last time we got you some, but if you want more to bring with you we can go again-”
Something very weird happened at that: Chuuya-kun jerked his eyes up, wide and- wait, was he scared?
“I'm sorry!”
Fukuzawa blinked, puzzled.
“What for?”
Chuuya-kun took a moment to reply. He chewed on his inner cheek, fists closed and brow furrowed.
“I-” he licked his lips, trying to find the right words. “I- I don't know.” He admitted, distraught. “But I- Whatever it is, I can do better. I- I like it here. It's nice. I don't want to go away.”
“I mean,” Fukuzawa scratched his cheek, thinking. “It's fine if you don't want to leave. I can talk to someone to take you in for-” He stopped short when he realised the child had actual tears in his eyes, that he was fighting to not shed. Chuuya-kun was a very proud kid, so Fukuzawa didn't comment on those. He simply lowered his head more so he could look at him straight on.
“I- I can do better,” he repeated, lip trembling a bit. “Just tell me-”
Finally, Fukuzawa actually got it.
“Chuuya-kun, you know you're coming with us, don't you?”
From the shock written all over his face, he really, really hadn't.
“I... I am?”
“Of course, Chuuya-kun. Obviously, if you'd prefer stay in Yokohama, I can arrange it for you, but-”
“I don't want to!” He blurted out, emphatic. “I want to go with you!” Then, he blushed, embarrassed, and lowered his eyes to the floor again.
Fukuzawa smiled softly at him and patted his head gently.
“I'm sorry, Chuuya-kun. It's the first job outside the city I got since you arrived, I should've told you personally that we were all leaving together. Ranpo-kun probably took it for granted.”
“You don't have to-”
“I do, I believe. I'm the grown-up here: to make you feel safe is my job, and evidently, in this instance, I failed. I'm sorry.”
Chuuya-kun' surprise was palpable, his mouth open in a perfect O. It was probably the first time an adult had apologised to him for something, Fukuzawa realised, and had told him he cared about him being safe. At least, that the boy could remember. Fukuzawa's heart squeezed, and his eyes turned sad.
He smiled at the kid.
“Ranpo-kun has a bag for you, Chuuya-kun. We leave in the morning.”
The boy nodded and scuttered away, his feet tapping on the corridor's floor quickly before he dived into his bedroom.
With an heavy sigh, Fukuzawa got up and went back packing, mind running.
Two weeks later, a little over two months after Chuuya had started living with them, Fukuzawa called him in the living room. Ranpo-kun was there too, a knowing smile on his face that confused Chuuya more than he already was.
“Chuuya-kun, as you know, we've been trying to find your family since we've found you.”
Chuuya quietly nodded: they had tried to use Ultra-deduction on him, but Ranpo-kun had looked at him for a moment before he had shaken his head and had told them he could find nothing. Chuuya had seen his lips twitching a bit, his pupil constricting minutely, and wondered what had distressed him. He didn't think he was lying; just, he hadn't found anything that they could use to find his family and, whatever else he had seen, he wasn't going to share. It had been disappointing, in a way, and reassuring at the same time. He just- wasn't really sure what he was supposed to feel anymore, was the thing: he hadn't know where he came from, then he had found a family with the Sheep, and now that was over. He was starting to feel more at home with Fukuzawa-san and Ranpo-kun: he felt warm, here, the other two's tentative affection making him comfortable and cared for. He was starting to get used to Fukuzawa-san calm demeanour, to Ranpo-kun's chaos and obsession with sweets. He was almost ashamed that there was a big part of him that didn't want to leave, move away and start all over again with people he didn't know. Again. Chuuya knew he was only ten, but he was tired.
“I'm sorry to tell you,” Fukuzawa-san was still saying. “But we still haven't found anything about it yet. We'll keep trying, though, I can promise you that.”
Again, Chuuya nodded, trying to not show the relief that part of him was feeling.
“It's fine if you're confused on what to feel. It's normal. Sometimes, what we wish for in life it's contradicting, and you went through a lot in the last few years. You don't have to hide it, we understand.”
Chuuya felt his cheeks heating up, and scratched his cheek in embarrassment. He glanced up at Fukuzawa-san: his face held no judgement whatsoever, and his smile was fond.
He was wondering why this had called for a house meeting when Fukuzawa-san took a deep breath, and reached into his bag to grab some official-looking papers just to stare at them for a moment, nervously.
“That said, there's something I was thinking about. As you know, Ranpo-kun here was made my ward from the state a while ago,” Ranpo-kun's grin widened, and raised two fingers in a victory sign. Chuuya couldn't avoid chuckling a bit. “It makes it easier and more stable for the both of us. And I was thinking, maybe, you'd like for me to start the same process for you as well?”
Chuuya blinked and tilted his head.
“What do you mean?”
“Right now, you're living with us, but it's not official. Having you become my ward would make it so.”
“Would that change a lot?”
“Well, right now, there's nothing binding you to us. If you'd like it to be, it'd make your living situation more stable and legal.”
Chuuya blinked again. Fukuzawa-san pushed the documents towards him, and he had a peek without really seeing them. He could hear his heart beating faster than he could ever remember in his ears, his palms becoming a little sweaty, his breathing worked up. He swallowed.
“Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why would you do that?” He felt his eyes prickle, but he refused to let any tears fall down. “It's a lot of trouble. Why?”
“Because I want to, Chuuya-kun,” he replied, eyes serious. “If you're uncomfortable with it, I won't do it, but I think it'd make our life easier and let you know that you're here to stay.”
“You're stuck with us, shrimp!” Ranpo-kun added, reaching out across the table to ruffle his hair. “Might as well make it official!”
“It's your decision. You don't have to feel pressure to go ahead with it, of course, we can keep living like this. But if you do want to, I can start the process first thing tomorrow. The lawyer that took care of Ranpo-kun's case will handle yours as well. He's a good man. And Taneda-san has offered to speed up the proceedings, if necessary. But you can think about it as long as-”
“I want to!” he blurted out. His cheeks were on fire, by then, but Chuuya didn't care at all. “Please, Fukuzawa-san! I want you to! I want to stay! If you want me to.” He added at the end, rushing the words out like they burned on his tongue. Ranpo-kun laughed loudly
“Told you he would say yes, Fukuzawa-san!”
“Yes, Ranpo-kun, you did.” He looked happy, too, thought Chuuya. It felt weird, seeing Fukuzawa-san being happy just because he would be able to keep him. Not a bad weird. Just, different. Chuuya kind of liked the fuzzy feeling in his chest as well.
Chuuya-kun had just jumped off his chair and had sped to the kitchen to get some take out menus for dinner, when Ranpo-kun had turned to him, head tilted to the side.
“You didn't tell him we're setting base in Yokohama for good?”
Fukuzawa finished picking back up the documents and shook his head.
“Didn't want to overwhelm him.” He put the papers in their folder and wrote a little note on a sticker for himself.
“When are you telling him, then?”
He shrugged.
“I have the feeling that, right now, Chuuya-kun would see it exclusively as himself being a burden. It won't happen for another few months, since we need time for the Skilled Business Permit to get granted anyway. I'll tell him after the court hearings are over and he's more settled here.”
Ranpo-kun smiled, before getting off his chair and stretching.
“I'll join Chuuya-kun. I think I want Thai food, tonight. It's good for celebrations.” And left the room.
Fukuzawa smiled at the closed door, shaking his head a little amused. His kids really were something else.
(Mid of June 2011
“So, like, all three of you were actually appointed as Fukuzawa-san's wards by a proper judge?” Three heads nodded at the same time. Dazai furrowed his forehead. “That's... interesting.”
“Why? Weren't you under Mori-sensei's care?” Yosano-san asked him, drinking some of her wine. Next to her, Ranpo-san shoved some crisps in his mouth.
“Well, yes,” he answered, leaning a bit into Chuuya's hand when it started to rub his scalp. “But it's not like we went through legit ways for it to happen: I had no legal guardian left, he took over.”
Chuuya hummed and twisted his nose. Dazai really wanted to kiss it.
“I suppose it makes sense the bastard wouldn't.” He conceded in the end, eyes turning cold as ice like always when he thought of Mori-san. “God forbid he did something decent for once in his life.”
“To be fair, Chuuya, we were Mafia. The legal route was never our first choice. Or the eleventh.”
Plus, going that way would have Dazai's past in the open for anybody to know, and nobody wanted that.
“Technically, he was Mafia. You weren't, yet,” Ranpo-san corrected him, mouth still half-full.
“Point taken. Still too much criminal activity around us to go to a judge for something like this. We had somebody forge the right documents just in case and never really did anything else about it. Worked like magic, I have to say.”
“Eh, I still prefer Fukuzawa-san' style, I have to say.” Ranpo-san concluded, stealing Yosano-san's glass and downing it.
“Ranpo-kun! What the hell!”
The two of them started to bicker, Yosano-san clearly very close to fratricide, while Ranpo-san seemed to find her reaction very funny. Dazai, too, found himself chuckling. He turned to Chuuya, who was looking at him with very serious, kind of sad eyes.
“What's wrong?” He asked him, nuzzling the palm of his hand.
“Nothing,” he answer, biting his lip. “It just seems unfair, you know?”
“What does?”
He shrugged.
“Fukuzawa-san found me. I was really, really lucky. I just wish he had found you as well.”
“Eh, what can we do,” he said. For a second, he thought of how it would've been, growing up with a family like this, with Fukuzawa-san as a father figure and trusted siblings to watch over him. He sighed. “It's fine. I still ended up at the Agency, in the end. I just took a longer road to get here.” He smiled at his boyfriend, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Also, I have to say, I kind of prefer not seeing you as a brother. It would've made our relationship extremely weird, even for my standards.”
Chuuya laughed a bit at that, and Dazai pulled him in to kiss him. Ranpo-san and Yosano-san gagged, but Chuuya gave them the finger and kept kissing him.
Yes, thought Dazai. Finding Fukuzawa-san would've probably made his life way, way easier. But he would still willingly go through a hundred hells, if that meant finding Chuuya again in the end.)
3. Eleven months, eight days in (November 2001)
Chuuya-kun was behaving in a very weird way, Fukuzawa noticed.
He was always extremely punctual to their morning sessions, often times so eager that he actually beat Fukuzawa in front of the door and had to wait for the man to join him.
Today, Chuuya-kun emerged from his bedroom dragging his feet, face grumpy and eyes shiny and unfocused. Either the child had not slept a blink, that night, or something was wrong. With how flushed his cheeks were, Fukuzawa was ready to bet on the latter.
He got closer and knelt down in front of the boy. Chuuya-kun didn't protest when Fukuzawa went to touch his forehead, and that made the man frown: it wasn't like he was expecting a big reaction, but not even a protest that he was fine and it wasn't necessarily? Not an embarrassed blush because “really, Fukuzawa-san, I'm fine”? Suspicious.
The boy was burning up. How he was even able to stand up, he didn't know.
“Chuuya-kun, you should go back to sleep, today.”
He watched as the boy's face pinched in confusion, lips pursued and tongue poking out in concentration.
“Training,” he managed to say, after a few seconds. Fukuzawa shook his head.
“Not today, Chuuya-kun. You need rest.”
The child's brow furrowed even more, and he pulled himself back a little.
“I do not. I slept all night.”
“You're sick.”
“I'm not.” He sounded genuinely upset by the mere insinuation. “I never get sick. I'm fine.”
Fukuzawa's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Without warning, he scooped Chuuya-kun up and leaned him on his shoulder. The fact that the boy barely had the energy to exhale a thin sound of protest, fist grabbing at his yukata, told him everything he needed to know.
Chuuya-kun was back asleep before they even reached his room.
Chuuya-kun's temperature was worryingly high.
Fukuzawa settled him in his room, where it was quieter. Ranpo-kun still spent most of his day near the boy, reading him a novel with soft voice. The book was bad, by the sound of his live-commentary, and Ranpo-kun had figured out who the culprit was by page twelve, but he still diligently finished it for him. He honestly doubted Chuuya-kun had enough wits to understand that Ranpo-kun was doing it for him, but Fukuzawa still appreciated him trying.
On his end, he took care of the practical part of having a sick child under his care.
He had called an old friend of his, that had re-directed him to an army doctor she had met during the war. After a few routine questions, he had deemed the situation under control, and told Fukuzawa to monitor the fever for the next twenty-four hours.
“Take him straight to the hospital if he can't move his neck or if he stops eating or drinking entirely. Otherwise, he should be getting better in a couple of days. Give him some paracetamol if the fever goes over 38.5 degrees.”
So, that was what he had done. He had kept him under watch for the entire time, leaving him alone with Ranpo-kun only to make him some okayu with ginger to feed him with. Chuuya-kun, even out of it for the temperature, still managed to eat a few spoonfuls, and drank plenty of water before falling back asleep again, cheeks flushed and breathing laboured. Ranpo-kun stared at him, looking worried.
“Are you sure this is all we can do?”
Fukuzawa squeezed the towel he had soaked in warm water over a basin, and lowered it on the child's forehead. He nodded.
“Tanabe-sensei will drop by tonight to check him out just in case, but he should be fine. Just needs lots of rest.”
At least, he hoped that was the case.
A few hours later, getting up to get some dinner ready for Chuuya-kun, he felt something pull at his yukata and stop him: Chuuya-kun was clutching the fabric, pulling with surprising strength for how weak he was supposed to be. By the way his eyes were glazed and half-lidded, he didn't think the boy had even realised what he was doing.
“I don't think the shrimp wants you to go, Fukuzawa-san,” Ranpo-kun said, getting up, a smirk on his face. “You stay, I'll make him some dinner.”
Fukuzawa stared at him, more than a little concerned.
“Please,” the boy said, almost offended. “How hard can it be to make some okayu?” and he left.
Fukuzawa was almost sure he was going to burn their kitchen down in less than twenty minutes. He stared at the room's door, undecided, until Chuuya-kun let out a distressed whine that brought him back to the present.
“It's okay, Chuuya-kun,” he murmured, squeezing his hand. “I'm not going anywhere.”
The child's fist relaxed a bit, but he didn't let him go. Fukuzawa patted his head, gently, and couldn't help a little smile.
The kitchen didn't get destroyed, in the end: Ranpo-kun ordered in both their dinner and Chuuya-kun's okayu, and they promptly arrived half an hour later. Fukuzawa was grateful: he really rather liked his house the way it was.
The fever broke late at night of its second day. Chuuya-kun, famished, immediately asked for omurice and takoyaki, two of his favourites. Fukuzawa took it as a good sign. The child didn't remember anything from the previous two days, but Fukuzawa was sure he wouldn't easily forget the way he hadn't let him go for the better part of them. Maybe he wasn't doing a completely horrible job, after all.
(July 2011
Every single joint of his body was in pain. He felt heavy, impossibly warm and freezing at the same time. Even his fucking eyes hurt.
A warm, wet towel was gently lowered on his forehead, giving him a little relief. Slowly, he opened his eyes, straining them to focus on Chuuya's face hovering a few inches from his own. He had a deep frown on him, and was munching on his lower lip, worried. Dazai vaguely felt the impulse of kiss his worry away, but he wouldn't have been able to raise a finger, let alone his entire torso.
“Akiko-nee is bringing some medicine over,” he told him, rubbing Dazai's temple with his thumb. “She should be here any minute. Do you think you can eat something first?” Dazai leaned into the touch, but couldn't form an answer. Just the idea of food made his stomach flip in an unpleasant way, and he felt nausea start to creep in. “Mh? Please, Dazai. You need some energy. Just a few spoons of okayu. I made it with ginger, it'll help with the nausea and the fever. What do you think?”
Dazai's honest answer would've been a hard pass. But. Chuuya had made it especially for him, to help him feel better. He could put up with a couple of bites.
He nodded, slowly, and let Chuuya help him sit up. He fed him small spoons of the rice slowly, murmuring encouraging words after Dazai's every bite, like he was proud of him for doing something as basic as swallowing porridge. It felt really weird, he thought. But a pleasant kind of weird, that made him feel good about himself, and all fuzzy and warm inside.
Yosano-san arrived a few minutes later, and Chuuya helped him to some pills, making him washing them down with some water before lowering him back on the mattress.
Yes, Dazai thought, drifting off. It was really nice, this warm, comforting feeling in his chest. He'd really love to get used to it.)
4. One year in (6th December 2001)
Chuuya-kun was off, Fukuzawa had noticed in the last few days.
Not in the same he had been when sick, thankfully. He was, instead, kind of distracted: spacing out in the most random moments, tripping on his feet during training, even dropping a pot full of boiling water and almost getting scalded.
It was that last accident that really made him realise something was up, and could potentially be dangerous.
“Uh? I'm fine, Fukuzawa-san,” Chuuya-kun said, when he tried to ask him directly. “I don't know what you mean, really.”
Now, Fukuzawa didn't consider himself to be particularly talented in picking up on other's feelings, but he knew this kid enough to know when he was deflecting. Chuuya-kun was an incredibly independent child, and didn't like leaning on others when we was struggling, which made sense with his history.
He blinked, staring at Chuuya-kun measuring flour for their dinner.
Fukuzawa had a basic grasp of cooking but, honestly, he didn't have much time since they had opened the Agency, and Ranpo-kun was- well. Fukuzawa didn't really want their apartment to become a bunch of rubble and ashes. So they had resorted to ordering in most days, until Chuuya-kun had come back with a book of recipes and eyes set, clearly on a mission to improve their diets. Apparently, Ranpo-kun had told him later, he had overheard two women talking about the importance of nutrition while they were out and, the more he had listened, the more determined the look on his face had become. It had taken him a minute to realise it wasn't just because the kid wanted to have proper meals, but that he wanted to make sure Fukuzawa and Ranpo-kun were properly taken care of as well. Didn't matter than the latter was four years older than him, or that the former was an adult that could take care of almost anything by himself.
He still didn't like to talk about the time he had spent on the streets, or the years he had with the Sheep, the juvenile group that had taken him in when he found himself alone in the world and with no memories. Fukuzawa had put together bits and pieces, though, from random sentences he had said, or the bit of research he had done himself after taking him in, or his reactions to the most basic things sometimes. If he thought back about how he had been when he had just gotten here almost a year ag-
He stopped.
Oh.
Of course.
He was an idiot.
“Just a bit,” Ranpo-kun patted his shoulder and popped a sweet in his mouth. He sucked on it for a few seconds, his eyes staring at Chuuya-kun's back while the child kept on cooking. He swallowed and smiled at him. “It's fine though. The chipmunk trusts you. You'll make it good again.”
Fukuzawa hoped the kid was right once again. Being a father was hard.
Fukuzawa was driving quietly among the trees, Ranpo-kun asleep beside him and Chuuya-kun silently looking at the woods around them.
“Are we there yet?” the boy asked, his nose stuck to the window.
He had never really got the chance to explore the Country before starting to live with them, he had told them over the months, had always stuck to Suribachi City and Yokohama even before he found the Sheep – at least, from what he could remember. Maybe he came from around Hokkaido, or maybe from all the way down in Kumamoto or Kagoshima. Maybe one day he'd get some memories back and he'd be able to remember the places he saw, other than the people who had raised and loved him. Fukuzawa felt quite conflicted about that, if he had to be honest with himself: Chuuya-kun had fit so well within their small, broken family, had found his place among them and thrived. He loved teaching him to fight, how to use his strength, how to assess his opponents and their weaknesses and use them to his advantage. He loved to teach him about literature and poetry and how beautiful Japan was, how important history was to build a better future for everyone. Fukuzawa loved this kid with bright eyes and a clever head that never seemed to get tired of learning, and exploring, and surprise him. It was incredibly selfish even to think about it, and he'd never, ever say it out loud, but he found the idea of finding Chuuya-kun's original family and lose him to them quite scary. He'd never stop trying though. It wasn't about him, after all. Sometimes, he believed, we do what we know it's best even if it breaks us. And helping Chuuya-kun reclaim his past and his loved ones... well, it was going to be worth the heartache. See one of his kids smiling happily always was.
“It's not going to take much longer,” Fukuzawa said, and sneaked another peek in the review mirror: Chuuya-kun had finally turned away from the trees and nodded. Usually, he'd have shifted to move closer to the front seats and leaned in-between them, jittery after sitting for almost an hour. Seeing him still this subdued even when out exploring the Country – something Chuuya-kun usually jumped at every chance he got – made his heart squeeze painfully. He didn't show it, though, and sent a small smile his way. “Should be there in a few minutes.”
The kid nodded again and went back to watch their surroundings. After a few minutes, his voice piped up.
“Is the assignment going to take long, you think?” he asked, voice a bit detached, like he was just trying to make some chitchat to be polite. Fukuzawa didn't sigh.
“It's not an assignment.”
“Uh?” the smallest spark of curiosity. He heard the kid moving around until his head poked out between the two front seats, finally a bit interested. “It's not a job? Where are we going then?”
Fukuzawa took a left turn and smiled a bit.
“You'll see in a few minutes.”
“Ah? Why can you tell me? Is it a secret? Why?”
“It's a surprise,” Ranpo-kun muttered, and yawned loudly.
“A surprise? Why?” the child tilted his head and frowned, confused. “It's not anybody's birthday, is it?”
He sounded suddenly a bit panicky, but before he could calm him down, Ranpo-kun chuckled and twisted around on his seat, looking at the other kid from over his head rest. That couldn't be safe, he vaguely thought, before sighing.
“It doesn't have to be a special occasion, you know. Sometimes, it's just nice to surprise people.”
“I know that!” was the vehement reply. “It's just-”
“I just thought it'd be nice to have a day off all together,” he interjected, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He could feel Chuuya-kun's questioning eyes on the nape, but he didn't acknowledge them. “Taneda-san came here last year and told me it's really interesting for a day trip. I thought it might be worth a try.”
Ranpo-kun, next to him, hummed lowly in agreement. Chuuya-kun' sharp eyes, however, did not leave his neck: the child was clever, even if he didn't see himself as such, not yet. But he was, picking up on new concept and clues extremely easily, putting them together swiftly and, usually, getting the point pretty easily. Another few seconds, and he went back to looking silently out of the window.
When they finally arrived at their destination, they used a moment to properly take the Akibasan shrine in: the entire area around the temple was decorated and covered in snow, full of people dressed in their winter kimonos, eating rice cakes and having fun. They spent there the entire afternoon, the kids marvelling in front of the priests' ability with the bow, and the way they wrote in the air with their fire sticks. Fukuzawa appreciated it as well, but he was mostly happy to see Chuuya-kun's gaze slowly clearing out, his eyes starting to shine and his lips turning up into a smile when he tried shooting arrows and got showered with compliments by one of the priests. He was, indeed, a good shot and a quick learner, and Fukuzawa smiled when the boy looked his way with eyes twinkling for a job well done.
Later, watching Chuuya-kun walk through the fire, the first person doing so after the priests had finished, fearless and happy even in the anniversary of one of the worst day of his life, he could not avoid feeling his chest swell with pride. Ranpo-kun, who was eating a dorayaki right beside him, patted his back and said nothing, approvingly.
This father thing was, indeed, very, very, hard. Fukuzawa would not change it for the world.
(6th of December 2011
When they arrived in Odawara, the festival was already in full swing. The streets around the temple were colourful and busy, red paper lanterns everywhere and an amazing smell coming from the food stalls lining the streets.
“This is nice,” Dazai said, blowing on his rice cakes. He took a bite and sighed, happily. “I didn't know they had a fire matsuri this close to Yokohama.”
“Yep,” Chuuya answered him, looking around with a faint smile on his face. A little further away, Kunikida-kun and Tanizaki were waiting for Yosano-san and Naomi-chan to finish buying whatever they had set their eyes on, while Fukuzawa-san was keeping an eye on Ranpo-san to avoid a search mission in the woods around them. “We used to come here pretty much every year when I was younger.”
“Uh?”
His boyfriend chewed on a piece of cake and smiled, eyes still a bit sad.
“Fukuzawa-san noticed I was in a mood close to the anniversary of them finding me,” he kept going. “So he thought going away for the day might distract me. I mean, he never outright said it but, you know, it was clear.” He shrugged and popped the rest of his food in his mouth, licking his lips after swallowing. “And it kind of worked. It didn't make me forget, but I liked the archery and the fire sticks and the walking in the fire. It actually helped not feeling as shitty by the end of the day. So, we kept it up for a few years afterwards.”
“And then what happened?”
“Life, I guess,” Chuuya interlaced their fingers together, swinging their hands a bit. By now they were crossing the archway that led to the temple's courtyard, where the priests were starting their work. Behind them came the rest of the ADA, chatting and joking around among themselves. “When I entered Uni I didn't have much time for anything, and it kind of took over anything else in my life. I still helped around the Agency, and spent as much time as I could with the people I cared about, but otherwise I pretty much didn't leave my room unless I was in class. And then it kind of just- remained something I used to do but not anymore, you know? Something that made me feel better when I was a kid. Comforting, but not really something to do now that I was an adult.”
“That sounds really silly.”
Chuuya chuckled.
“I know. I was trying to be a grown up really badly.”
“What changed?”
The other shot him a look, smiling at him the gentle smile that was only reserved for very few people in his life. The fact that Dazai was one of them would never cease to amaze him. It made him feel warm.
“Com'on,” he said, offering his hand. “Want to try the bow and arrows with me?”
“... I don't think that'd be great idea.”
“Wimp.”
“No, really, I think I'd be an active danger to anyone nearby. I'll just content myself with watching the Chibi~”
It voice took a sly tilt towards the end that made Chuuya chuckle while leaving him behind.
Even then it was, indeed, a very nice view for Dazai's eyes. Some of the priests present even seemed to recognise Chuuya as the kid from a few years, and they seemed happy to catch up with him. Apparently, the slug had been extremely curious over the years, and the men were amused enough by his questions and abilities that actually taught him some of their moves and skills.
Chuuya was happy to pick them up again. Him writing Dazai's name in the air with fire seemed a bit over the top and very cheesy, according to Yosano-san's gagging noises and Ranpo-san's muffled comments, but they were clearly just jealous.
It was only after he had walked through the fire that Chuuya came back to him, leaning his back against Dazai's chest and humming approvingly when his arms circled his to pull him even closer. Chuuya's hair was a very soft, nice perch for Dazai's chin. A little further away, Yosano-san and Naomi-chan were trying to pull Kunikida-kun towards the flames. The man was putting up a noble resistance, but Dazai knew he was going to lose and would, in fact, walk.
“I had missed this place,” Chuuya's voice brought him back.
“Did you?”
“Mh.”
“We should come back next year, then,” he muttered. Kunikida-kun had, indeed, lost his battle, and had been pushed among the flames. He quickly made his way through, yelping when his naked feet touched the coals. “Make it a tradition. Relax a bit among ourself in a company retreat of sorts. I think it'd be good for everyone.”
“... Tell that to Kunikida-kun.”
Dazai would've, seriously, but the man was, for once, not yelling at him, and he was enjoying the change.
Chuuya kept chatting about the other times he'd be there, how they used to take almost the entire week off after the first year, how he had endeared himself to the priests and how interesting it had been to learn from them, how grateful he had been for their kindness. Dazai listened on, face probably giving away what an old sap he was becoming since he had started this relationship.
A little further away, Fukuzawa-san was watching over his family like an hawk, while one of the priests talked to him with a serene expression on his face. The man turned his head a bit, catching sight of them, smiled and nodded. Somehow, he felt like directed specifically to Dazai himself. He knew that Fukuzawa-san liked him, and was happy for Chuuya. He knew that, theoretically, but in that moment, it felt like even more true, even though they hadn't exchanged a word.
He heard Chuuya call his name, and we turned back to him: he was smiling up at Dazai, face amused, like he had noticed he had lost him a little while ago. He flickered his forehead.
“You still with me?”
“Always,” he answered. He must've had a very serious, very intense expression on, because Chuuya tilted his head and waited him out. Dazai didn't know what he was about to tell him when he opened his mouth, but he knew it was going to be big. “We should move in together.”
Well, he thought, while Chuuya blinked at him, stunned. That surely was big enough.)