Chapter Text
Sept. 1st (1995); Act one, year three
Rushing wind.
The trolley was quiet, too quiet considering the ones adjourning it rustles with the noise and laughter of students. The only sound to plague this cart was the hum of the train's mechanics working up a storm under his feet.
The boy, a lonesome such who took up just the amount of space needed, yet felt just as imposing as he would sprawled as far out as he could be.
“Oh! Sorry, didn’t realize there was someone in here!” A girl, must be a few years younger than himself, laughs uncomfortably as the door that should have been locked opens. “Wrong area, sorry!” She finds herself apologising again as she was met with silence.
Yet, only more silence follows, the boy who has not moved nor made any attempt to speak since she has opened the door stares at her with one eye. The eye that faces her is wrapped up in neat bandages, cutting through greasy brown curly hair – a mess that seemingly hasn’t been washed in what must have been months. Despite that, uncannily, the cart smells of nothing at all. For his unwashed appearance, she assumes the boy would have the smell to match it, but nothing. She is almost wondering if she is hallucinating, as he made no indication he was alive… or even human.
“Uhm..” Her voice, once chipper and giggly, is nervous and quiet now. Gentle cracks and shakes breaking through the mumble.
The boy watches as the girl curls in on herself the longer he stares, breath becoming shallow as to make the least sound possible as she gently ducks out. Her hands tremble as she moves to close the cart door, nearly falling over herself to get as far from it as quickly as she can.
Huh.. How pathetic.
The boy’s, Dazai’s, head lulls back as he moves to turn his attention back to the window beside him, watching as the trees whoosh by in a cloudy mess of green and dying brown. Beside him rests his backpack, a barrier to ensure that if any child was stupid enough to join him, they at least would be unable to get that close to him.
June 28th; Two months before the project
The bar buzzed quietly as the yellow lights bore down on the child who should not be there, left alone drinking.
He nursed the cup of whiskey as his head rested on the dark wooden bar atop his folded over arm. His other hand shuffles to flick the glass right in time for the door to click open. Dazai does not have to glance over to know who walks over and pulls out a chair beside him. His assumption is confirmed as he speaks.
“I hear you are being sent to Hogwarts.” The man hums, before a glass is placed in front of him. His order is known, considering he is more than just a regular there.
His comment was met with a little hum and another flick of his glass. “A third year student, he is just getting uncreative at this point. How does he expect me to get along with children, let alone children who have already established cliques?” His voice came out whiney as he puffs his cheeks out, uncovered eyes moving to look at the man who had joined him. In the midst of lifting a similar whiskey glass to his own, touching it to lips surrounded by stubble, a tinge of red considering he is ginger. OdaSaku.
“Sounds rough.” Came a short and ironic comment, his normal monotone.
“I don't know what to do with myself!” Comes his dramatic whine as he all but throws himself back against the barstool. If Oda didn’t know better he would have been worried the boy would throw himself off. “Do you think I’ll be able to convince him to not make me?” He blinks, ‘child-like hope’ that Oda was forced to smush.
He shook his head. “I can’t see him allowing that.” Allowing for Dazai to whine loudly before he continues. “I’m sure I can try to help you at the very least.”
And while pouting, Dazai does feel an odd sense of reassurance at the fact Oda will at least be there for him.
Sept. 1st; Move in day
The dirt layered an inch thick on the windowsill distracts Dazai from the now open lake they speed past. His lip involuntary curls in vague annoyance at the memory.
As soon as he was assigned to the case, his first action was to research into the institution. In his search, he stumbled across the fact Odasaku was not only working there, but taught there as the defence against the dark arts teacher. At the time, Dazai was a little taken aback considering Oda’s low roll, how he managed to snag such an important role. While he considered asking him about it, Dazai decided against it. After all, questioning it would not only draw more attention to the man, but could risk his position. So instead he took it as a hidden blessing.
He is, however, rather bitter about the fact he was forced to squirm through the crowd of platform ‘9 ¾’s, and now sit by his lonesome in one of the trollies. He was already bothered by a woman attempting to sell him some sweets, and now that little girl. Dazai is beyond brooding.
While he understands why he was unable to join Odasaku as the man had to leave a week before himself as a teacher, it made him no less bitter to be devalued as much as to be forced amongst the students.
Speaking of such, the door of his trolley wriggles once more, making him let out a puff of a sigh in mock ‘exhaustion’.
However, as the door slides open, he gives pause at the sight.
The boy stands tall, but Dazai is not stupid enough to not see the way his hands tremble by his sides in scrunched fists. He adorns a long black coat, one in which Dazai distinctly remembers gifting him.
“Akutagawa.” He greets, his voice cold, yet he smiles. Something that sends a shiver down the boys back. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” For once, Dazai is telling the truth.
The coldness of his words leaves Akutagawa to stumble a little over his words, even if his back straightens further to overcompensate for his display of fear. “He- I was sent here at the last minute to support you.” He explains, an explanation that makes Dazai’s eyes narrow ever so slightly.
“ Support me?” He echoes, sweetness dripping off his voice, honey that burns Akutagwa’s skin as he frowns. Dazai lets out a hollow chuckle, moving to cross his arms over his chest, sitting up to lean back and tilt his head to look down on Akutagawa. “What could you do to support me?”
With a hitched breath, his hands clench as he shuffles on his feet in discomfort. It's a comment that Akutgawa does not attempt to respond to, as if he knew better than to try. A wise decision as Dazai lets out a hum, “Sit,” he instructs, something that Akutagawa immediately scrambles to do. Sitting in the furthest open spot from Dazai, his legs cross as he leans away, keeping the most space possible between them.
Ignoring the boy's discomfort, Dazai’s head tilts back to look outside the window once more, humming a gentle tune as green and brown blurred together to assault his senses once more.
~~
The “great hall” is underwhelming.
Standing in the front, the dim firelit lights bare down on him. He towers over the first graders around him, and even if short for his age (standing at 155cm) the difference was striking.
Student after student, called to the front and sorted away, followed by a cheer or holler of support. Dazai’s focus is not set on this outside stimuli, but instead on the set of professors that lined the front of the room. Most of which Dazai is able to recognize, attention specifically drawn to Odasaku, adorning the furthest right.
“Ryūnosuke Akutagawa.” That voice, the other person that was gaining most of Dazai’s attention.
He all but ignored Akutagawa’s constant (somewhat nervous) glances towards him as the boy walks up to the front, shuffling to sit on the chair, facing outside to all the students but his eyes never leave Dazai.
Whereas Dazai’s attention is on the man behind him. Fukuzawa Yukichi. The headmaster, who was not only calling out the students names, but also resting the hat that would sort them atop their head.
Wearing a long dull green kimono, his clothes clash with all the others in the room. His hair a dark grey, expression set in a calm stone-face.
The man Dazai was meant to keep a sharp eye on.
Dazai ignores the shout of the hat; Akutagawa, now dejected, shuffles to stand and walk off to his assigned table that cheered at his arrival. He only glares at the people who tried to speak or interact with him in any way.
Person after person, the sorting continues as Dazai continues to watch Fukuzawa’s every move, till it was only him standing in the front, everyone now sorted.
“Now, we have a special case.” Fukuzawa starts, “Osamu Dazai, a third year transfer.” The man announces, as Dazai’s body immediately moves to walk to the front, whispering and muttering immediately sparking up behind him. He can't blame them of course, a transfer student has never happened. He can only imagine how many strings had to be pulled to allow him to be standing here now, staring up at the headmaster of Hogwarts.
The corners of his lips tug up into a little grin, before he dramatically bows in front of the man, nearing a 90 degree angle before he stands back up, still leaning into a slight bow. “It is an honour to be allowed such a privilege. I will be in your debt.” His words ‘full’ of sincerity as he looks back up at him.
Fukuzawa’s gaze hardens, though not in an outwardly notable way. Something that only makes Dazai’s smile curl more.
The students behind watch in surprise and some in confusion, though Dazai ensured to raise his voice enough that it could echo throughout the larger room.
After what feels like an hour, Dazai slowly stands back up straight, turning to then sit himself down onto the seat in which all the other students had sat. He smiles out to the crowd of students who mumble and whisper to each other. Fukuzawa behind him seems to hesitate ever so slightly, before the hat is placed onto him.
The hat, ever the chitter-chatter, was silent for a pause.
“I see..” It starts, “such a sharp mind, very ambitious hmm…” The hat thinks aloud, “Willing to get whatever you want through any means necessary.. ”
Dazai just hums out simply, god only knows how much is being left unsaid by the hat. Before it eventually yells out, with seemingly full certainty: “Slytherin!”
While cheers still rumble, it seems more hesitant and unsure as Dazai stands. He makes his way over to the table that now belongs to him, shuffling to sit down amongst the slowly dying down students. The people beside him continue to mumble and whisper amongst themselves however, just as he was about to interrupt to speak to them he himself is interrupted. Akutagawa moves from his original spot at the same table in order to sit down beside him, gaining Dazai’s attention.
Immediately, he lets out a long drawn out sigh of disappointment, he was very much hoping Akutagawa would have gotten into any other house.
Of course the boy knew better than to try and strike a conversation up with Dazai, who instead looks up to the panel of teachers, meeting a few of their eyes. Since his scene, he has felt their eyes lock on him, carefully keeping tabs on his movements as if he were an active threat. Dazai allows his eye to fall back on Fukuzawa, whose attention is drawn to the crowd, not offering him a glance
It makes him grin.
“Welcome all,” Fukuzawa begins, straightening his back as the sea of students turn their attention to him, “to the new year of Hogwarts.”
Clearing his throat, his monotone voice manages to carry throughout the room, “I can only wish for a prosperous year… and there is no better way to begin, than with a feast.” He prompts, and as if it responded to his words alone, a feast seems to appear along the middle of the long tables, Dazai does not see it unlike his gawking classmates, as he never took his eyes off Fukuzawa.
Watching as the man walks back over to sit amongst the teachers, who have their own feast. Letting his eyes linger for a moment longer, ensuring the headmaster was eating and not engaging with the teachers around him. Once he is sure, he allows himself to look away for a moment, so as to not raise any more suspicion than he already has.
Looking to the spread, he lets out a dramatic and some-what drawn out sigh. While he confesses, he isn't hungry in the slightest, he still reaches out to grab a piece of chicken in order to blend in with the rest of the students who hurriedly begin to eat.
He listens intently to the chattering behind him, the new Ravenclaw students falling over themselves to indoctrinate the newcomers. Dazai can see the same thing happening at his own table, a slight grin pulling onto his lips as he sees the students beside himself internal conflict whether to talk to him or not.
“So..” One of the students breaks the silence between them, “how did you get a transfer here?” His voice seems a little uncertain and Dazai can see the way the boy stares at the bandages that cover one of his eyes. He glances over to him with a raised eyebrow. The boy looks generic, which has Dazai flashing another close-eyed smile. Lips pulling up, he speaks.
“Oh I could not have gotten such an opportunity without the help of the headmaster, I truly am so grateful to him!” He all but beams, hands drawing together to clutch and press to his own chest. “Truly, I am indebted to him.” He lets out a seemingly longing sigh.
For some reason, the boy who spoke to him looks awfully off put by his reaction.
A smile that creaked just a little too wide. The eyes that revealed themselves in crests so dead it sent a chill up his back. Voice a mimicking drawl, trying so hard to seem genuine it came off threatening. A complete dodge of his question in the first place.
Dazai cocks his head to the side, his smile falling into a look of innocence. The boy lets out a shiver and hurries to turn away from him, not daring to ask any kind of follow up question. With a hum, Dazai looks back down to his plate to pick at the chicken.
He would say he is hurt by the coldness, but indifference is the only thing to rise in his chest.
The meal drags on until eventually a student leader of sorts stands at the foot of each table. Dazai’s attention is immediately drawn to it as the man begins to speak. “Alright first years!” He speaks, voice stuffy with pride. “Follow me, I will show you around and how to get to the dorms!” As most of the students who were not first year start to trickle out of the room, uninterested.
“Dazai-” Akutagawa behind him begins to speak, yet it is completely ignored By Dazai who stands and moves to start following after the rest of the students who move to follow after the student leader.
The halls are interesting, which is what takes most of Dazai’s attention rather than the gawking students that surround him. He watches as the paintings move and speak with the students. He watches as the staircases move on their own. He pays keen attention to each path that they don’t take, wondering what hides within each corridor.
Once they make it to the dorms, past the indoor waterfall, the man explains the way to get into the common room. How they are never allowed to bring others from different houses here, and to never share the password inscribed to them.
As they get into the common room, Dazai is met with a rather.. Green interior. Before he is eventually led to the shared bedrooms. One in which four other boys stayed with him. Getting settled into his assigned bed was not difficult considering he only had a single bag to unpack. He hadn't even taken much out of the bag- putting it whole into the chest that sat in front of the bed before he sat himself onto the bed.
He watches the other kids in his room, who were actually properly unpacking all of their belongings. Even chattering amongst themselves nicely, getting along. It seems as though they were pre-established friends, most likely from their first year.
Every once and a while they will spare a glance to Dazai, before hurriedly looking away once they catch his eyes considering he never stops watching. He can see the way they begin to squirm in discomfort the longer he watches. Before they eventually mumble goodnights to each other.
He waits patiently till he is sure the people in the room are fast asleep, and then waits another hour after that.
Shuffling to the box where he hid his bag, he takes it out- ruffling through it before his hand lands on an envelope. Gentle hands take it as he stands, the uncovered eye glancing around the room of sleeping students, snoring away.
His feet move without sound, eventually hovering over one of the boys who drools onto the pillow under him. His breath is steady, rising up and down carefully. Eyes fluttering with involuntary twitches, quiet hitches and snores falling from his open mouth.
Watching with a wide open eye, the darkness barely hindering his sight.
He does not linger long though, shaking his head to snap out of his distraction before turning to look at the indented window. That's where he settles himself, legs crossed before methodically taking out the paper that was in the envelope, reaching into his pocket before bringing out a pen; as he begins to write.
Sept. 2nd; Adjusting
Potions.. Potions.. Where was that?
He is squished up against a crowd as he struggles to navigate through the scrambling kids- attempting to not be late to class.
They really should fix these narrow passages.
He is almost swept away with the people as they hurry, just barely able to squeeze his way to the doorway of his first class, stumbling slightly as he catches himself on the frame. He runs a hand through his hair as he lets out a breath before collecting himself and moving to pull open the door before inviting himself in.
The class is already basically full, a handful of the class immediately turning to glance back towards him. He automatically flashes a smile to the crowd, before shuffling over to sit himself in the nearest seat to himself; close to the back, near the aisle.
There are only a few more that trickle in after Dazai, situating themselves in any free space left available. The last to enter is the teacher, an older gentleman, who walks to the front with a perfectly schooled expression.
Hirotsu, a man Dazai already knew well.
The man glances over the class, eyes lingering for a brief moment on Dazai, who keeps his expression with a friendly smile. If Hirotsu is off-put by it, he doesn't allow it to show as he introduces himself. A little back and forth with him and the students commencing-
The doors abruptly slamming open startles most of the students and Dazai finds he also jumps slightly, eyes immediately falling to the commotion just as all the other students.
The sight of fiery red hair.
It brushes past him with a breeze, storming past in what felt like a whirlwind. It takes Dazai’s breath with it, staring at the boy with wide-eyes.
He holds his head high, high enough it seems as though he looks down upon everyone else in the room around him. His cloak is the unmistakable red that is only slightly more vibrant than that on his head. It is in such a blaze Dazai almost mistook him for an ignited fire. Just as a fire, he feels himself unable to look away.
“Nakahara.” Comes the unimpressed voice of Hirotsu, who stares down at the boy who has settled himself in at the front, legs propped up on the desk, bending in an unnaturally flexible way to allow his knee to align itself with his head. All students set their eyes on the commotion, even if some pretend like they aren’t.
Dazai is not among those who attempt to pretend, he sees no need to, nor does he wish to miss even a fraction of it by playing coy.
“Sorry.” Comes a gruff (slightly squeaky if you ask Dazai) voice, a sense of bitterness Dazai can catch as he speaks. “Got held up with something’.”
And while it's clear Hirotsu considers making a scolding response, he holds his tongue with a sigh, turning away. “Just ensure you are not such a disturbance next time.. As I was saying-” As he resumes his tangent from before about his introduction to third year potions, Dazai pays no mind in turn for watching that redhead, Nakahara.
What an interesting boy.
~~
“How has your first day been?”
Odasaku’s office was quite hidden if Dazai says so himself, but with enough free time, he can find just about anything. Which is how he now sat in Oda’s office, nursing a cup of water and glaring at it as if his stare would have the will to turn it into whiskey.
“It was okay,” Even if the day dragged on a bit, he did not mind the classes very much. Seeing Oda in his second period was also somewhat nice. “Though I did meet a rather disruptive shorty.” He hums in though, mostly to himself. “Do you know a ‘Nakahara’?”
Oda, who was steadily drinking tea, hums in though, looking down to some papers on his desk. “That name is on my attendance, though I don’t believe he showed up for class.”
A comment that makes Dazai frown slightly, leaning back in his chair, allows it to balance on the back two stands. “Hm.. no matter,” As he looks back to him, cocking his head. “Anything I should know before I track the teachers?” Cocking his head to the side.
“Nothing that you shouldnt already know.” Oda assures in return.
It makes Dazai nod, extravagantly lifting his hand to scratch his chin. “One more question. Is there a Lupin b-”
He is unable to finish his sentence, as a look of disappointment levels itself on him.
“No.”
Grin stretching across his face, he leans his chair back forward.
He guesses this office will do for a place to wind down.
Sept. 20th; Try-outs
There is one thing that Dazai did appreciate when it comes to this, and it's the loose guidelines for the things he has to do on his day-to-day.
Standing in the entrances, Dazai watches silently, neck starting to cramp from looking up for so long. Eyes trailing and snapping around to follow the students that fly in the sky, swerving and weaving. Dazai didn’t care about anyone else that sore through the sky though, no. He had his eyes on one specifically.
Faster than the rest, flying by with impeccable speeds as if he were trying to rip through the air itself. Dodging the people who try to block him with ease as he scores fake point after fake point.
Quidditch try-outs.
After the last three weeks, most of Dazai's attention has surrounded a certain red-head who had the misfortune of catching his eye. Every other day was spent following close behind the boy, observing his every move. He got permission for it so long as he doesn’t lose track of his main objective, so it's not like it was a problem. The only problem is his dear fiery friend seems to be catching on.
After another score is placed by Nakahara (or as Dazai has come to learn, Chuuya) it's clear the rest of the players become a little fed up.
Considering the way Chuuya slowly floats down on his broom, looking less than happy, Dazai can infer he was doing a little too much for a try-out game. In Dazai’s opinion it was not nearly enough though.
Even if it was merely a practice game, Dazai felt the way he held his breath throughout. He had been watching as if it were impossible to tear his eyes away as the boy shot through the air with such ease it almost convinced Dazai he was made for the shitty wooden thing. Even though he was miles away in the air, he could have almost seen the wide spread grin that painted his expression. Filled with pure enjoyment and such thickness of competition. Like he is willing to rip the throats of those he flies alongside.
Once the boy touches the ground, Dazai decides he has seen enough.
While shoving his hands into his pockets, he spins on his heels and moves to walk out of the greyed archway, the gravel path under his feet leading him back towards the castle of a school. Despite the try-outs, it is rather cloudy, only due time before it begins to rain-
“OI!” A shout draws Dazai from his thoughts as his body lazily moves to glance back at the bark, a hand grabbing his shoulder with a grip tight enough it sends a ping up his neck, making his eye twitch ever so slightly. “Just who the hell are you?”
Ah… he never quite got a good look at his eyes as Chuuya had quite the habit of blocking them with his hair. But now as they glare daggers at him, he can see the way the two colours of his irises fought. A blotchy mess of brown and blue, fighting for control that neither got.
“Hahh?!” Another bark comes from the very noisy boy, his other hand moving to snag Dazai collar as he is yanked to his (very low) level.
“You are much shorter up close.”
The incorrect thing to say apparently, considering the hand that was previously on his shoulder, very quickly pulls back and connects itself hard with Dazai’s stomach. Hard enough that Dazai instinctively wrenches slightly as he falls forward, clutches his stomach with a groan of pain. “I’m only 14, I’m still growing, asshole!” He spits in response to his insult.
The comment draws a snicker from Dazai’s mouth despite the fact he is still slouched. “Keep dreaming, shorty.” He sneers through his teeth, glancing up to him with a grin.
A certain thrill filled itself in Dazai's chest as he saw the way Chuuya’s face flushed red in unmistakable rage. The way his facial muscles snarl up, twisting to show every emotion that passes through his body.
Dazai really did not have any intention to provoke him- not on purpose at least… But now?
“You fucking- why the hell are you stalking me?!” Chuuya ends up asking instead of continuing to dwell on Dazai’s provoking comments.
With a little groan, Dazai forces himself to stand back up straight, hands brushing off the vest that Chuuya crinkled with his punch. Collecting himself as he hits off Chuuya’s hand that is still tangled into his collar. “Chuuya is so self-centred. Why would he think I was stalking him, hm?” Cocking his head to the side.
“How the hell do you know my name then?!”
“Have you never heard of attendance?”
“Attendance my ass! You are stalking me!”
“Crazy much? Why would I stalk some kid who barks so loud?”
Back and forth they bicker, the more they do, the more Dazai’s grin spreads and the more Chuuya’s scowl deepens.
“I really ought to kill you.” Chuuya spits sharply, voice gruff with a certain earnest that a shiver runs up Dazai spine.
He conceals it with a cock of his head, mocking. “If you are, please do your best to keep it as painless as possible. Oh, and quick if you can.” The response immediately causes Chuuya to bristle in what seems to be a surprise.
“You fuckin freak..” He ends up mumbling, both not expecting and resenting Dazai’s words.
Dazai simply offers a smile in response, which only seems to piss Chuuya off all the more as he moves to shove past him aggressively. “Just leave me the fuck alone. If I catch you watching me again, I’ll kick the shit out of you, alright?” He spits, not sparing Dazai a glance back.
All while Dazai turns to face him. “Kay,” He calls back, not bothering to suppress the grin on his face, one that strains differently than the rest.
…
With a gentle sigh, Dazai lets his eyes linger on Chuuya before he vanishes into the school, before letting his eyes fall back to the arena where they both came from. His hand comes up to rub the stomach where he was hit.
That kind of hurt.
Sept. 29th;
The breeze always wakes him.
Sitting atop a rock, he hums a gentle tune to himself, the only sound that isn’t suffocated by the tall trees that surround him.
The envelope propped on his knee, his only source of vague entrainment as he writes the most absurd of things onto the paper with the fountain pen he holds. His handwriting is neat, despite the fact he is forced to write on such an uneven surface.
As soon as he signs off the paper, he blows on the ink to encourage it to dry faster. Even if he made the ink spread ever so slightly in a drip. Once he deems it good enough, he folds it before tucking it in the envelope. Dramatically licking it closed for an audience that isn’t there, letting his face drop slightly as his arms do as well, looking down at the envelope.
It feels like hours of just staring at the paper, until he is interrupted by the distinct sound of ruffling leaves and the snap of a twig.
Right on cue.
His eyes slowly trail up to where the noise came from, meeting eyes with a now familiar brown-blue, wide in shock.
“Keeping me waiting, so cruel.” His voice light and taunting, watching as a whirlwind of emotion passes itself across Chuuya's face, making his grin stretch, leaning forward on his rock as he carefully tucks the envelope away into his cloak. “Oh? Did you honestly believe no one was able to notice your clumsy sneak outs to the forbidden forest? It’s frankly a miracle I’m the only person who has confronted you for it. With how sloppy you are, you should be sitting across Fukuzawa with the threat of a three week suspen-”
He is unable to get through the rest of his mocking, as a foot connects itself with the side of his shoulder. With unexpected force, he is thrown off the rock and into the nearest tree, crashing into it with a slight cough, sliding down the now slightly bent wood.
Blinking a few times, he allows himself to slouch as blood steadily drips from the bandages wrapping themself around his left eye. Uncovered eye slowly moves to look back up to Chuuya who now leers over him with a deep scowl. “What? Did you think I wouldn't keep to my damn word?” He spits with venom lacing each word, disdain spiralling in his eyes as they glare down at Dazai.
“Ah, if that were the case I would be dead as well-” Once more, he is interrupted by a sharp kick to the face, head snapping to the side so sharply it sends a sharp pain up his spine from his neck. Slowly, he looks back over to Chuuya with an unchanged expression, red irritation sprouting from where he was kicked easily. He proceeds to spit the blood welding in his mouth from a bitten tongue onto Chuuya’s shoe. “Quite the strong kick you have there,” He comments in an off-handed tone as his head cocks to the side. “Strange.. For such a small stature, you pack quite the kick.” Wincing as Chuuya stomps on his shoulder, pinning him to the tree.
“Damn right,” He spits in response, raising an eyebrow. “Why the hell are you here, huh? Why are you following me? Why are you harassing me?” He snarls, leaning over to get far too close to Dazai.
Dazai lets out a shallow hum, staring up at him. “And why should I tell you?” His voice holding a certain hollowness that he watches as Chuuya's face distorts into that of discomfort.
“Damn bastard-” Only for Chuuya to be abruptly interrupted, falling back with a yelp of pain of his own, stumbling and clutching his stomach. He lets out a curse as he snaps to look down.
Stretching his neck with a crack, Dazai readjusts his grip on the wand in his hand, before flashing Chuuya a cheeky grin. “How embarrassing for youuu~” He sings from his spot against the tree, before pushing himself up to stand with a groan, moving to stretch out his back.
“That's cheating.” Chuuya sneers in response, hand clutching his stomach as he stumbles slightly, glaring harshly.
Dazai only chuckles, leaning forward. “Can’t cheat if there aren’t rules established,” before tucking his wand back into his cloak. “Here I was trying to help you, yet you go and attack me. What a brute.” His voice mocking.
He groans in response, forcing himself to stand back up straight as he storms back up to Dazai, grabbing his collar. “Using magic like a damn coward.” He snarls, yet Dazai holds his head high.
“I don't see how it's any different to your physical advantage.” Says off-handedly, rolling his eyes. “What, can Chuuya not do magic? Don’t tell me he is inept.” His voice taunts once more, offering a smirk.
“I am not!” Chuuya is quick to spit in response, “I really should kill you.” He snarls as an add-on, moving to shove Dazai back into the tree behind him harshly, earning him a slight wince as his smirk falls into something more distant.
“Keep saying that, but you never go through with it. Why not just go ahead and do it already.” He mocks in response, his voice a sneer, an edge of irritation tainting the words. It seems to make Chuuya more angry as he pulls Dazai off the tree only to slam him back into it hard once more.
Enough force it forces the air out of his lungs, winding him enough it forces him to gasp in a few breaths visibly. Something that seems to make Chuuya’s expression sing with pride.
“So.. strong.” Dazai’s voice chokes slightly, moving to stare at him through his eyebrow, “Unnaturally so-”
He is interrupted once more with a swift punch to the face, snapping his head to the side for the second time in one night. With a sigh, he glances back with his visible eye. “The fuck are you implying?” Chuuya’s face twists in a rage Dazai has yet to see in his month of watching. It makes his gut twist, whether it’s in pleasure or disdain he is not sure.
“What does Chuuya think?” He hums, and once more he is met with a harsh punch to the stomach, and then another, and another.
Dazai leans over with a groan, Chuuya pants with visible rage.
“Got.. it out of your system yet?” He mumbles, struggling to stand back up straight, swallowing the meal from earlier that wants to resurface.
“Who the fuck are you?” He spits in response, glowering down at him, body buzzing visibly with a rage Dazai could only dream of.
He lets out a little hum of amusement, “so unobservant. Chuuya didn't even pay enough attention in attendance to put a name to me?” Despite everything, he still has enough to taunt him. Though he is met with a hand to his throat, slamming him harshly back into the tree behind him.
Eye trailing down, he lets his hands come up in defense. “So sensitive… I’m hurt that you don't recognize me from orientation, I thought I gave quite the impression.” Raising his eyebrow, “It's not everyday you get a transfer.”
Dazai is able to watch the dawn of realisation on Chuuya’s face, as well as the twist of confusion afterward as the hand on his throat tightens. “The hell…” he mumbles under his breath, “You’re the one who made a scene by bowing like that- but why?” He spits.
Dazai just hums in response, one of his hands coming to grab the one on his throat. “I guess it's due time I formally introduce myself..” He trails off, fingers squirming under Chuuya’s hand before prying it off. An action that makes Chuuya take a few steps back away from him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before he is met with a mock curtsy. “Osamu Dazai, a pleasure to finally have a solid conversation with you, Chuuya Nakahara.” He hums, before standing up straight.
Chuuya looked back at him with a thinly veiled look of disdain if not disgust.
“That was the corniest shit I’ve ever seen…”
His eyes widen immediately in response, a blush of embarrassment almost threatening to come to his face, hidden with the shadows cast by the trees. “Well now I won't tell you what I was going to say-!”
“Dazai, Nakahara!” A new voice comes, interrupting their moment abruptly, as both of them snap to look to where it came from.
A familiar older man trekking through the trees before stopping in front of them, disappointment painting his expression.
“Hirostu!” Dazai offers a smile, cocking his head to the side. “Amazing timing. I was going to tell you that Chuuya here was sneaking out into the forbidden forest, and he ended up dragging me allll the way out here to beat me up!” His voice draws out as he looks over to Chuuya who immediately sputters at the accusation.
“Bastard! You were out here waiting for me!”
Hirotsu raises his hand to stop both of them. “I am not interested in the bickering you two, follow me, both of you are to be checked out by the nurses.” His eyes especially linger on Dazai who just flashes him a smile. Which makes him sigh, shaking his head as he turns to start walking. Once his back is turned, Dazai looks to Chuuya to stick out his tongue mockingly. An action that makes Chuuya’s eye twitch, but before he can lash out, Dazai is already skipping to follow after Hirotsu.
Begrudgingly, Chuuya shuffles to do the same.
~~
“Owww!” Dazai whines dramatically as alcohol is used to wipe the cut on his cheek caused by Chuuya.
“I don't know what the hell you are complain’ about, you broke two of my damn ribs!” Chuuya immediately snaps back in response to Dazai’s dramatic overreaction.
“You broke my arm!” Dazai is quick to argue back.
“Both of you shut it.” A woman snips back. Her hair cut into a bob, a butterfly clip pinning it back. Yosano was her name, a volunteer nurse amongst the students, snippy considering the late time.
Dazai’s arm was wrapped in a cast after he outright refused to drink the potion that was supposed to fully fix said broken arm. After seeing Chuuya nearly throw it up after it was forced down his throat by Yosano, he didn’t even let the women pry open his jaw. So now she works to apply a new bandage to his face, matching the now fresh bandage over his eye.
The two boys sulked in response to the scolding by the older girl, Chuuya slouching slightly in his bed with a scowl. Huffing as he squirms on his bed to get comfortable, turning so his back is to the two of them, seemingly to sleep after he was not cleared to leave till the morning.
Yosano lets out a sigh, turning her attention back to Dazai with a little frown, glancing to the hand that was not wrapped in a cast. “You..” She trails off, as if trying to find the correct words.
Dazai just stares up at her with wide eyes, a stare that makes her skin itch. She pushes through, moving to grab his hand, and while he allows it, the action in-itself feels deeply wrong. “These burns. What are they from?” She questions, flipping the hand to showcase his seared palm. Raises scar tissues obscuring a majority of the skin that was there. Spreading like lightning up his fingers, the sight causes her to wince even if she saw it a few times while dressing his wounds (And there were a lot of wounds caused), as not all of the marks on his hands were scars, some of it reddened with dried, recent, blood.
She does not want to imagine what is hiding under the bandages around his wrist.
When she looks back up, she is met with a distant look. Uncovered eye wide and unseeing, staring at her blankly as if they were staring directly through her. “Pretty forward, commenting on someone's scars like that.” He hums off-handed, cocking his head to the side as he stretches his palm to show it off more, Yosano can see the way the raised scar tissue crawls up his wrist before vanishing under said bandages.
She frowns gently, “you don't have to tell me, just..” She glances around with a sigh, “be careful. Especially with magic.”
Dazai responds with a smile. “Kayy,” Drawing the words out with a cock of his head, eye cresting as his lips twitch. Yosano, cutting her losses, sighs and stands. “Just get some sleep. With all due respect, I’m not staying up to babysit either of you.” Readjusting her uniform as he steps back. “If you need anything, tell me in the morning.” Which is the only goodbye he gets before Yosano steps out.
Sitting alone, he glances over to Chuuya’s back, watching it rise and fall steadily.
Kicking off the blanket on him, his legs swing over as he gets off the bed. Feet moving across the floor without sound as he steps out.
He sees no need to loiter here.