Chapter Text
Don’t get him wrong, Chuuya had just as much animosity for the Port Mafia as he did before he met the boy who just so happened to look like the sole reason bandage companies made any money. The Port Mafia had been hurting the members of his gang, the kids he intended to keep safe, and he simply wouldn’t let it slide.
However…the promise of his true history being discovered was an enticing offer, not to mention it would give him a chance to be around someone his age. Chuuya didn’t hate the Sheep for being young, but excluding the fact that he couldn’t remember anything before 8 years ago, he was much older then any other members of the Sheep. They put their trust into him because he was older and stronger, and it got exhausting for him at a certain point. To say he wanted to leave the Sheep for the Port Mafia was wrong, but to suggest that he wouldn’t want to experience being with someone his age was straight up offensive to Chuuya.
When he found himself playing in an arcade with Osamu Dazai, Chuuya felt himself relax for the first time in his life. He was around someone his age—who he didn’t have to protect—who he could bicker with, threaten to put 6 feet under, and feel warm around. Of course, Dazai being a member of the Port Mafia was nothing short of a problem, but fuck, was it really wrong to want to be around another 15 year old?
Not to mention the amount of bets they made over the games, the way the two danced around each other and acted—it looked as if they had been friends for years, when in reality, they met a few days prior to Chuuya’s temporary “contract” with the Port Mafia.
As the Sheep made their presence known in the arcade the two older boys were at, the feeling of excitement quickly fizzled out into fear. It didn’t help with Dazai shouting Chuuya’s full name and attracting the two curious members of the Sheep over. When they told Dazai to free the Sheep members that were captured, he called the Port Mafia,
It wasn’t that he didn’t believe that Dazai had freed the members of The Sheep that the Mafia had captured, it was that he had been so willing to discuss it in a public space, in front of The Sheep, in front of Chuuya. It was like he was tying strings, but Chuuya couldn’t tell where they were being tied. His eye brow perked in suspicion. Dazai simply smiled at Chuuya in response. A feeling of unease settled in his stomach. Something was up.
Dazai sighed and stood. “Alright Chuuya, we have to get going.”
“He’s not going with the Port Mafia!” Yuan exclaimed. Chuuya stood still, and the young girl began to have second thoughts, “Right, Chuuya?”
“You guys go on without me. Arahabaki comes first.” Chuuya said, standing his ground. As he walked out with Dazai, he forced himself to tune out the shouts of the only family he had ever known.
Discovering Rimbaud’s true intentions had taken Chuuya for a wild ride. Battling him? Even wilder.
As the two ability users moved around fluidly, dancing in motion while landing strikes in almost a never ending cycle. Rimbaud would get a good strike, Chuuya would dodge a few more, and then Chuuya would get a strike. It was like a video game boss, repeating the same cycle over and over again.
Not to mention Dazai and his battle had been worrying Chuuya—before it all came to a standstill. Time seemed to stop as the brunette and the ginger locked eyes, engaging in a silent conversation that would determine the path the two would take in order to engage Rimbaud & the ex-boss in a fair battle.
The gravity manipulator grinned, giving the nullifier a firm nod—a simple method to show that he understood the course of action. As Rimbaud attempted to push Chuuya out of the box Dazai had been stuck in, Chuuya stayed stable, pushing against the angry winds of the sub space collapsing in on him. Dazai, the ultimate ability nullifier, slid to Chuuya, grasping his hand around Chuuya’s, interlocking their fingers. A burst of blue—a few more strikes—and Rimbuad was subdued.
The two didn’t talk much after that, only listening to Rimbaud’s final words—Chuuya parting with his body to bury it somewhere respectable enough. In his mind, while he didn’t quite understand Rimbaud’s motives…he still deserved a proper burial. He was a key member to Chuuya’s past, after all.
It seemed coincidental almost, that after discovering a new piece of his past, another had to break for him. Chuuya being stabbed in the stomach by the only people he had ever trusted with a rat-poison blade showed how little he understood the meaning of family, how little he understood people. He believed that the Sheep would trust that he had their best interests at heart, that he was doing this for not only himself—but for them. As he plunged through the ground and laid against rock, Dazai’s obnoxious, grating voice had the pleasure of gracing Chuuya’s ears. How frustrating.
“Hey there Chuuya! You look like you were in a bind.” Of course, the first thing that waste of bandages had to do was make a mockery out of his situation. Maybe he was gonna kill Chuuya off—the thought of the sweet release of death by a hand tainted by the Port Mafia made the pain in his side surge back through him.
“Why are you here, you piece of shit?” Chuuya groaned. “You wanna join in on the festivities?”
“Mori sent me with a message. He wants me to invite you to officially become a member of the Port Mafia.” Dazai said monotonically. This Dazai was almost completely different from the Dazai that Chuuya had spent time with all day—he wasn’t sure which was the mask that he should look out for, and which was the Dazai that he could trust. If he could trust him. It made him uncomfortable.
“In return for saving my life?”
Dazai shrugged, “Uh—I don’t really even care what you do, I’m just here for the blood bath.” He paused for a minute before continuing, “Mori is a pretty demanding employer. The moment I joined the Port Mafia, he put me in charge of the army.”
“Now that the two of our enemies, The Sheep and the GSS have allied…we have to shut them down before they become completely coordinated. If I do my job by noon today, they’ll all be dead.” Dazai finished.
Chuuya let his anger seep through as his ability illuminated his body, a vibrant red surrounding his body. He was in no condition to fight, but to protect the Sheep, he would die for those kids. They had bright futures ahead of them, even if they didn’t have the same fondness for Chuuya anymore. “You’re really gonna kill those kids?” The ginger asked, tone raising.
“Our policy never changes.” Dazai shrugged. “That being said, there is another possibility. If someone who was familiar with the enemy asked me not to go through with it, I’d take that under advisement.”
“Someone on your team, you mean?” Chuuya grunted.
“Right! A fellow colleague in the Port Mafia. I can trust one of my own.” Dazai responded.
“So you wanna make a deal? You really are the devil.” Chuuya called back to the moment he felt uncomfortable earlier—when Osamu Dazai had made that call. It surged back through him. Everything in his body was screaming at him, telling him to turn around and leave—the only thing that he could find a semblance of disagreement from was the god that was contained inside of Chuuya’s body. Chuuya didn’t really take Arahabaki’s opinion too seriously though, considering the God of Wrath would always want chaos.
“Don’t forget though! I won all those games we bet on, and I intend on working you to the bone.” Dazai grinned. Chuuya could feel how malicious his smile was, a shiver running throughh his body. How could the King of The Sheep be so stupid—of course playing and betting on games with a member of the Port Mafia would come back to bite him in the ass!
“I’m gonna tear you to shreds one day.” Chuuya growled, though the aura surrounding his body disappeared with Chuuya’s weakened strength.
“I like the look in your eyes. Like a wild beast!” The brunette grinned. Chuuya growled again, however, it was quieter—he was sure that Dazai didn’t hear it.
“Just don’t kill the kids.” Chuuya replied, the fight dissipating out of his body.
“Very well.” Dazai nodded. “Listen up everyone! As we discussed earlier, none of the kids are to be harmed.” He shouted, before turning and walking to the crowd to lead them out to battle the GSS members.
Chuuya processed that sentence for a split second. “I see. He knew this was all gonna happen, and he planned accordingly…it all started with that call at the arcade! Damnit!” The ginger felt a flash of anger run through his body and weakly punched the rock beneath him, growling to a boy that couldn’t hear him. His vision blurred, finally, and Chuuya found himself resting his head against the rock and shutting his eyes.
When the gravity manipulator woke again, he was on an incredibly uncomfortable bed. His waist was wrapped delicately in itchy bandages, and hoodie was off on the side of the bed, leaving him in his red shirt and his pants. The first thing Chuuya did upon waking was survey the room—and he did not expect to see the cause of all his problems, the demon spawn, waste of bandages, shitbag, idiot—Dazai, who looked like he was just on his way out.
Immediately waking up and inconveniencing the devils day would make anyone feel better. Chuuya weakly called out to the brunette, “Hey Dazai! Are the kids safe?”
Dazai whipped around like a deer in headlights, as if he wasn’t expecting Chuuya to quite be awake yet. “Why, good morning Chuuya! How’d you sleep?”
“Answer the damn question.”
Dazai walked back to Chuuya and hovered over the ginger, who was using his arms to push himself up into a sitting position. His legs still felt numb—it hadn’t been that long since he was stabbed, he could tell.
“Yes, the kids are safe.” Dazai rolled his eyes. “Why you want to protect the same people who stabbed you in the stomach is beyond me, but whatever. I stay to my word.”
“I want to protect them ‘cause they’re just kids. They still have a future ahead of them, they deserve to live it.” Chuuya firmly responded. Dazai’s eyes flickered with an unidentifiable emotion, his eyebrow quirked up ever so slightly.
“Mori needs you in his office in 20. It’s the biggest door to the right down this hallway.” Dazai said after a few minutes, turning and leaving.
Chuuya was left with thousands of questions and a feeling of warmth in his stomach. The knot of distrust and paranoia Dazai had built in their most recent moments together had been untangled ever so slightly. Chuuya wouldn’t say he was good at picking up on lies, but the way Dazai had spoken and asked his second question, his expression after Chuuya answered…even after the sly trick the younger boy had pulled, Chuuya felt the smallest semblance of trust in Dazai.
A small seed of trust was all Chuuya needed, judging by the fact that he knew no one else in the Port Mafia anyway. He supposed he’d just have to deal with it.