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The wind was volatile when Chuuya arrived, pushing and shoving the trees in the forest around her. The irritating melody made Chuuya kiss her teeth. One foot after the other, she sauntered towards the goons who shot at her with their inadequate firearms, shocked by her abrupt landing. Gravity manoeuvring at her will, a splatter of red weight enshrouded the fodder who collapsed at her feet. She deflected another bullet, pining it into the skull of its donor. She cracked her neck and took a deep breath.
Chuuya looked past the countless Guild soldiers as she walked towards the building, eyes surreptitiously searching for the person who had her putting on her best lipstick whilst simultaneously pacing around her apartment in a panic only an hour ago. Despite the thumping in her chest, Chuuya schooled her expression into one of indifference, boredom. Dazai couldn't know the effect she still had on Chuuya after all these years.
Chuuya had looked first, enraptured by Dazai's existence after four years of her disappearance. Dazai had been eyeing the blonde boy in front of her, hands raised in a false surrender before she looked straight past his shoulder to pierce Chuuya with her gaze. Amidst the stray bullets and piercing screeches, they found each other again. Dazai's eyes were no longer the hardened brown in her youth. They seemed lighter, in colour and in the weight behind them. Chuuya observed a gentle melancholy within Dazai's eyes, accompanied by an affectionate gaze directed at her, explicit despite the few metres between them. Dazai had framed her left eye with a fucking eyebrow piercing. When had she gotten it? Was it healed? Chuuya's face scrunched up. The fucking bastard.
"Just so you know," Chuuya loudly began, before an especially precise sniper hidden within the forest momentarily distracted her. He had aimed for the back of her heart. So unoriginal. In silence, Chuuya manipulated a nearby rock to crack against the sniper's head.
"Cat got your tongue?" Dazai stuck her tongue out, tilting her head mischievously as she stepped beside the blonde boy in front of Chuuya. "I never would've assumed the mafia's tiniest weapon would be so challenged by a singular sniper, one without an ability no less." Chuuya exploded in confrontation with Dazai's new hazel eyes and her familiar quips, "Who the fuck are you calling tiny?"
"You, my darling dog." Dazai snickered at her own unfunny joke, before her elegant fingers trailed down the back of the blonde boy she was standing beside. The sprouting grape vines he sent burying into the ground vanished in an instant. The icy blue of Dazai's ability gave it a weightless quality, one that contrasted the crimson red of Chuuya's gravity planting his feet into the ground. Chuuya faintly remembered that the small boy was one of the Guild's gifted members. Whispering in his ear, Dazai explained, "I can't let you do that, sweetie."
His eyes widened. His defiant gaze swiftly morphed into one of terror upon the realisation that his legs were stuck. Envy filtered over Chuuya's gaze, slithering under her skin like a snake, as she observed how John squirmed under Dazai's touch. Chuuya's reaction needed to be the same, one that acknowledged the danger that Dazai exuded with her perspicacious mind. Instead, Chuuya just knew the most ephemeral touch against her skin would shake her to her very core. The filthiest part was Chuuya's predisposition to embrace Dazai's touch, rather snap away from it.
Chuuya watched Dazai's hands as she settled a knife at John's throat, grazing his Adam's apple. She buried the embarrassing image of her in his place with a shake of her head. Dazai smirked at Chuuya as she carefully dragged the knife further down his neck, those annoyingly hopeful eyes refusing to depart from Chuuya's own. Chuuya matched Dazai's smirk with a bitter sneer.
Chuuya had always been able to infer the meaning behind Dazai's actions. Dazai's facial expressions or one of her introspective moods never revealed insight into any of her thoughts. The knowledge was always moulded as an action directed at someone else, but truthfully meant for Chuuya, a wink, the slight emphasis on a certain word in a sentence, signals that only she could pick up on. Chuuya would translate those gestures into action and a plan, something reserved between them and only them. The smile it evoked on Chuuya's lips swiftly morphed into a hard-lined scowl.
Intentionally, Dazai had only given her one gesture tonight: the knife at John's throat. To John, the threat of impalement was evident without the movement of his feet. To the reunited Double Black, an understanding of the futility of the knife bounced between their minds. Chuuya cocked her head, observing the knife at a slightly different angle, desperate for different thoughts to occupy her mind that weren't centred around Dazai and her pretty hands and new eyebrow piercing.
Truthfully, Chuuya had not looked past the words "Dazai" and "Osamu" when tasked with reading the mission briefing. Chuuya should have been attentive in learning the identities of their enemies, as well as their all their abilities and personalities, but that singular name on paper had halted all prospects of ever continuing. How could she sit in her office skimming over a verbosely written brief when her mind weaved a tangled web of nostalgic events and their concomitant feelings? Seeing Dazai again was something Chuuya had been anticipating, waiting for the inevitable reunion where she could curse Dazai's name and profess the indignation caused by the sight of her face.
Standing face to face, however, Chuuya’s steeled heart softened. Dazai ignited a flame within Chuuya ribs, one that made her feel so devastatingly human as her stomach churned and the back of her throat burned. She swallowed. They were once friends. They were once something more.
That night, Dazai had abandoned her loyalties to the Port Mafia and her loyalty to Chuuya. Dazai had always been equal parts insane and calculating in her ploys. Chuuya later determined that Dazai burning her car had been a deliberate obfuscation to stall for time, encouraging Chuuya not to chase after her partner. The indignation that settled afterwards pounded at her temples. Dazai's prowess in predicting her actions always caused her heart to frighten and skip several beats. Dazai had known Chuuya would seek out her car first, and thus had left Chuuya's motorcycle intact, knowing her message would have been made clear. (She didn't enjoy ruminating on whether Dazai had left the pink vehicle alone due to Chuuya's attachment towards it.)
Dazai knew her so well and her stomach twisted every time Dazai did nothing but reinforce her intimate knowledge and understanding of Chuuya. The small things Dazai undoubtedly knew - Chuuya's birthday, her favourite shade of blue, her inclination towards red lipsticks - reminded Chuuya of the relationship they used to struggle to protect. She snapped her gaze away from Dazai.
Chuuya's eyes landed on John, who was frantically searching for any semblance of an exit. His feet sunk an inch further into the ground and the red around them grew in its vividness.
Anger was the most familiar, most commonplace feeling in her mind regarding Dazai. That anger could never be hate, although Chuuya wanted it so desperately to be. There was a separate intense emotion that sizzled under her skin. Its temperament was as ferocious as anger, and equally it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Chuuya had yet to name it, but that feeling strangled her around Dazai.
"Our strategists never predicted your reunion, Double Black." John huffed, attempting to recollect his confidence. Sweat collected on his forehead.
Dazai simply yawned, a mask of indifference despite her intense gaze on Chuuya, "This is such a drag." She withdrew the knife back into the inner pocket of her jacket.
Chuuya rose off the ground. Dazai immediately ducked. It was the unfortunate Guild member who bore the brunt of Chuuya's kick, imbued with the force of her agitation around Dazai, that sent him colliding with the trees as she unburdened his feet from the pull of gravity. His bone had crunched under the impact of Chuuya's foot.
"Stop stealing my lines!" Chuuya said, reuniting with the ground and brushing the dust off her shoulder.
She took the time to really look at Dazai, who kept switching her weight from one foot onto the other. A wild head of hair which reached the curve of Dazai's waist bounced in synchronisation with her movements, the loosely defined curls framing her face in an infuriatingly flattering way. The front pieces of her hair were shorter than the rest, unique to her once evenly cut length, and her fringe had lost the bulkiness it once had.The light brunette colour contrasted so starkly to the dyed pitch black hair that Dazai wore at fifteen, hair that Chuuya had helped dye on several occasions. Once, Dazai had pitifully walked up to her, in the midst of a crucial stake-out mission, and had practically begged Chuuya to dye her roots.
Moments later, Chuuya had sat in the hotel bathroom of a random family; Dazai had assured her the family wouldn't be back for a couple of hours. Dazai sat with her back against the bathtub, head leaned back so Chuuya could rinse the excess dye. The black fluid splattered against the off-white of the bathtub. Dazai had used a cheesy metaphor to describe the blue of Chuuya’s eyes. In a fluster, Chuuya's plastic gloves had broken and the dye stained her skin whilst she hastily closed the bottle.
The worst part is that she hadn't even cared once Dazai, soaking wet hair and all, had pulled Chuuya into her lap and bombarded her neck with feather-light kisses, gentle in a way Dazai never was with anyone else. She was truly beautiful. Her lips, bottom one fuller than the top, could transform into a threatening line or an enticing smirk at a moment's notice. A sixteen year old Chuuya had been helpless when confronted with the mature darkness of Dazai's eyes and a genuine smile.
Unfortunately, not much had changed.
Ignoring the cast on her arm, Dazai looked so much healthier than during her time as an executive in the Port Mafia. Her once sunken cheeks, hollow and sharp, had slightly softened. Not only had she grown taller (Chuuya begrudgingly estimated she was around 6 '2 foot now) but she had also gained more weight. Chuuya buried the relief that pierced her heart knowing Dazai was now actually eating. Dazai was still lean, but now there was a slight fullness to her thighs and arms, which served to remind Chuuya that were no longer fifteen. Dazai was twenty-two. Four years since Dazai's mutiny.
Her clothes were no longer the daily uniform she wore - a black suit and tie. A sense of Dazai's personality was emulated in her clothes: a beige skirt, too short for the mission at hand, and a trench coat a few shades lighter than her hair that hung on her frame. She looked so frustratedly good. Chuuya rubbed at her temples.
"Why the fuck are you wearing a skirt?" Chuuya's expression of her thoughts may have circumvented the true nature of them.
Dazai kissed her teeth, "Resorting to slut shaming now, Chuuya?"
She turned around, striding towards the entrance of where Chuuya assumed Q was being kept (she had at least read the mission objective at the start of the report.)
"You know that's not what I meant," Chuuya rolled her eyes as she followed Dazai closely behind. Her eyes immediately found that long hair, which swayed with every step Dazai took. Chuuya's hand slowly reached towards the curls, but she swiftly caught herself and pulled it tight against her side. She winced, embarrassed by how much stupidity Dazai could still evoke within her. "It's just not practical, mackerel."
Chuuya winced again, the old nickname had so easily slipped out. She willed herself to pull herself together as they descended the stairs of the dilapidated building, each step making an unbearable squeaky creak. The pungent smell of old wallpaper filled the air; an undertone of death accompanied the aroma.
Dazai continued in her path for a few moments. She stopped. She looked over her shoulder, smiling eyes meeting Chuuya's own, before declaring, "Concerning over what I wear isn't something I've had to do in years, slug."
Chuuya looked down at her own black trousers. In the Port Mafia, femininity was seen as weakness. Kouyou, ever since their first meeting, had been urging Chuuya to wear dresses and skirts and heels. It wasn't that Chuuya didn't want to. Chuuya's role in the Mafia was different to Kouyou’s control of delicate assassins and the brothel girls. It was men - vicious brawlers - who followed her every command. Ensuring their loyalty was Chuuya's first priority once she had ascended into the role of executive. She couldn't show up to battle in a beautiful sundress and expect her enemies and own men alike to perceive her as dangerous, as someone not to cross. Men respected masculinity. Chuuya abided by their perception of dominance.
It settled under her skin, stretching across her ligaments and bones. She gazed at the tights on Dazai's legs. Perhaps that burden was no longer weighted on Dazai. In front of her, Dazai shed her trench coat, revealing a button up shirt underneath.
Dazai was an enigma, with her vague declarations and gentle looks. Chuuya sensed something akin to content in Dazai's words.
Every word Dazai spoke erupted a maelstrom of emotions within her. On one side, her head pounded in a rage. Dazai had absconded from the mafia, from the boss, from Chuuya. It was simple; Dazai had renounced any and all ties of loyalty. Chuuya's blood had been sent rushing from the crown of her skull to the tips of her toes with the fact that Dazai hadn't left even the slightest hint of where she had gone. In its place, Dazai left nothing but a burning car and loose ends that had never been tied up. Chuuya had paced around her apartment for days, frantically searching for something that proved that everything had meant something. It had taken a while for her to admit it, but Chuuya had been hurt by Dazai's unexplained departure.
Dazai hadn't only cut off any association with the mafia that night. She had effectively tore away from their relationship and, without a single warning, the existence of them as Double Black. Their status as girlfriends ceased to exist.
When Chuuya walked around any of the floors of the Port Mafia's complex, an abundance of pitiful looks mocked her. How humiliating it was to be interrogated by the boss on where her girlfriend had gone and having to scream that she didn't know because Dazai hadn't told her anything. The boss had smirked at Chuuya's outburst. Her teeth had grinded together. The boss promoted her to executive the next day. The rage bubbled and sizzled every time Chuuya heard her introduction as the Port Mafia's youngest executive. The singular noun anguished her, because it was always meant to end in an 's'. Ever since, her title has always bothered her.
Chuuya never let that pain show again.
But, what had penetrated her heart the most was the stream of memories that echoed through her head those few days after Dazai's disappearance was confirmed to be an intentional one. The late night walks along the beach of Yokohama, the spontaneous hair-dyeing sessions, the endless banter that flowed so easily between them, even now.
On the other side, Chuuya had found some closure, a sense of satisfaction knowing Dazai wasn't living under the constant terror of the boss and the rife tension that seemed to always fill the air of the Port Mafia building. She respected the Boss's leadership, but their relationship wasn't anything more profound than that of a pawn and a grandmaster. Chuuya really hoped Dazai had abandoned carrying her preferred pistol, the one with an unsettling accuracy and dull grey colour. Chuuya was stuck. Dazai wasn't. When news of Dazai's newfound position as a detective at the ADA, the boss's horrified expression erupted a chuckle out of Chuuya that had to be stealthily hidden behind a cough or two.
She should've known Dazai would never be satisfied living a life of early retirement. Her mind was too recondite for such a monotonous life. Dazai's brain needed to constantly be switched on and occupied with constructing the most efficient strategies to destroy an enemy or piecing together the pieces of a detective case. Chuuya had always admired it, yet she was glad she didn't carry the burden of a genius mind.
That isn't to say Chuuya was unintelligent. No, Chuuya was always good at reading between the lines. Dazai's departure had been catalysed by the death of her friend, Oda. Dazai had mentioned him once or twice, and every time a sparkle would appear in her eye. A slither of envy would overcome Chuuya and so when Dazai had left, Chuuya cursed her regard for Dazai’s emotional boundaries and swallowed down the bitter taste of regret of not having asked about Oda any further. When Dazai had burnt her car, it was a message begging Chuuya not to follow her.
Chuuya didn't follow and she resolved not to. Instead, Chuuya moved on. She persisted in her role as an executive, a weapon to be manipulated.
Chuuya shoved Dazai towards the railing, overtaking her position as they continued down the incessant, spiralling steps. Dazai appeared to almost tumble over the rail, which had Chuuya's heart spike for a split second, before Dazai burst into laughter at Chuuya's impulse to grab at Dazai's black waistcoat.
"You're so caring, slug. That was always your biggest flaw." Chuuya could hear the patronising grin in Dazai's tone as they continued down the stairs.
"Would you like to know something?" Chuuya spat the words, the malice in her tone contradicting the tug at her heart.
Dazai replied, "Go on." The pause that followed was interrupted by the whines of the wooden steps beneath their weight.
"You've ever heard of Petrus?" Chuuya inquired. She paused and turned to face Dazai.
"The exorbitantly priced wine?" Dazai answered, hands entering her pockets.
Chuuya looked directly into her eyes, "The day you left the mafia, I opened up an '84 bottle in celebration. We never really got along." I was fucking angry when you left.
Dazai's smile withered slightly, her lips straining to keep their upwards direction. She replied, "Of course you did, my loyal dog." I know you were.
Chuuya couldn't quite figure out what the old nicknames meant. She fell back into old habits.
"I'm not your stupid dog!" Chuuya exclaimed. They approached the final descent of stairs towards the basement.
"Your loss at our arcade bet says otherwise, Chuuya," Dazai stated, elongating the syllables of Chuuya's name. "Besides, why do you still wear that necklace I got you if you insist so passionately on not being my dog?"
Chuuya instinctively clutched the choker, decorated with a singular skull charm, around her neck. "It's just fashionable." Chuuya insisted.
Dazai laughed, "You? Fashionable? The only fashionable thing about you is perhaps your taste in shoes."
"You think so?" Chuuya inspected the black business shoes on her feet, lifting one of her legs up to get a closer look.
Dazai paused for a moment before declaring, "Nope!"
Dazai narrowly dodged the lethal kick aimed at her head by leaping down a couple of steps. She flung her hair over her shoulder.
"Chuuya, you can't expect to actually hit me when I'm so familiar with all of your attacks, with all of you." Dazai smiled at her, sickeningly sweet and familiar. The deadly poison of Dazai's lips seeping into the hole of Chuuya's heart, filling it up with disdain and apprehension and something frustratingly soothing under all the violent emotions.
"Just shut the fuck up!" Chuuya yelled, using her gravity to quickly reach the same step as Dazai. Everything about Dazai - her eyes, her mannerism, her voice - made Chuuya so temperamental. "Why are you talking to me as if we're old buddies? Who gave you the right to chat with me so casually?" Chuuya grabbed both of Dazai's shoulders, her superior strength easily pinning Dazai against the wall. Dazai's hand instinctively came to clutch Chuuya's wrist. Chuuya looked up into Dazai's eyes. A shadow was cast over her face, concealing the hazel of Dazai's eyes.
She snapped back, "Too fucking caring. It really was your biggest problem. Even now, why do you even care how I address you?" Her eyes became sharper, piercing Chuuya's own. "Haven't you already moved on, Chuuya? I'm here for the mission, forgive me for not wanting to jeopardise it by arguing with the likes of you." She resembled her fifteen year old self, the sharp tongue on her aiming to whip the receiver of her vicious words into shock. Chuuya recognised her, finally.
"I was getting tired of the good girl act." Chuuya released her grip on Dazai's shoulders and averted her eyes towards the silver glint of Dazai's eyebrow piercing. "You were mafia at heart. You still are and forever will be, Dazai."
"You're wrong." Dazai said, a resolve in her eyes that trapped Chuuya with its weight. Dazai grabbed Chuuya's wrist. Chilling fingertips stung against the pulse at her skin. Chuuya breathed out at the grounding feeling of her ability vanishing. With Dazai's touch, she wasn't just Arahabaki's vessel. The God retained its place merged inside her, but her control of him was handed over to Dazai.
"You're wrong." Dazai repeated, finality imbued in her tone. Dazai pushed a strand of hair that had escaped Chuuya's loose ponytail behind her ear.
"I know," Chuuya admitted gently, tearing her arm away from Dazai's nostalgic touch. Chuuya was the one with a tainted heart. Dazai had painted over her own darkened soul with marks of light, with good deeds. Chuuya’s taintedness had only sunk deeper into her very being. As she continued down the final few steps, the feeling in her arm slowly returned. What was Dazai trying to do? Chuuya rubbed her knuckles against her forehead to try to ease the pain inside her head.
She looked forward. The tangled roots and branches of a dark tree completely engulfed the lowest level of the building. Q was positioned in the heart of the tree, arms stretched outwards, supported by the tree's fortification.
"Sleeping beauty awaits their saviour," Dazai remarked, heading closer to the mission's objective.
Chuuya snickered, "Beauty isn't exactly the word I had in mind."
Dazai began scrutinising her own nails, absent of nail polish and bitten, and said, "You're not very sweet for someone so petite. Hey! That rhymed." A playful smirk rested on her lips.
Chuuya furrowed her eyebrows.
Dazai continued, "Give me your knife." She held her hand out in expectation, wiggling her fingers.
"Don't you have your own goddamn knife?" Chuuya accused. Dazai's banter was so achingly familiar. Dazai's voice was downright sultry.
Dazai dug around the pockets of the trench coat in her arms, before pulling out a blade with a red handle, "Wait! I snatched yours earlier just in case." She giggled.
Chuuya's hands flew into the air, "You have your own knife, so why the fuck are you stealing mine?"
"You know I've always liked stealing your things." Dazai's laughter echoed in the dim room as she stepped towards Chuuya.
Chuuya flinched back.
Dazai's perceptive gaze instantly noticed, and something that Chuuya recognised as regret flashed on Dazai's face for a split second, before her characteristic smirk returned. Dazai's waistcoat emphasised the litheness of her thin waist. Chuuya unashamedly looked Dazai up and down. Dazai was always purposeful, so when she covered the distance between them, Chuuya's breath hitched in her throat.
"Why are you acting like this?" Dazai inquired, walking her fingers up Chuuya's black sleeve. She looked directly into Chuuya's eyes. The statement was so ambiguous; Dazai never liked to confront the truth directly. No, Dazai was trying to infer the answer from Chuuya's response. Chuuya seethed.
She punched Dazai in the gut.
"Too fucking slow. That was your biggest flaw, Dazai." Chuuya yelled. Dazai was hunched over one knee, mouth sporadically breathing the air that was knocked out of her in and out of her lungs. Dazai glared up at her, promising a challenge.
Chuuya's feet left the ground in an instant. Dazai had leaped on top of her, her weight sending them both crashing to the ground. Chuuya's head banged against the ground, a tremendous pain deluged her skull. Dazai's body was sprawled all over Chuuya, holding her arms down. Her hat flew off her head. Her threat thumped with the knowledge that Dazai had reacted; her blood rushed through her veins. Chuuya smirked. She was still the only one who could entice such a reprisal from Dazai.
"What was that, Chuuya? Your demeanor is the same as that of a guard dog. The only things you know how to do are to attack and obey." Dazai squeezed Chuuya's arms tighter and scoffed, "Can't even talk to me without lashing out."
In sheer spite, Chuuya raised her head up despite the ache where it had collided with the ground, "You don't exactly make it easy. What exactly do you expect me to say, Dazai? You're the enemy. Our alliance is temporary and when the Guild is defeated things will go back to normal. You're nothing but a traitor." Chuuya wrapped her legs around Dazai, before twisting them around so she was sitting on Dazai's stomach, legs squeezing around her. Dazai's skirt had slightly hitched up. Chuuya grabbed the fabric and tugged it, forcing the skirt to cover more of Dazai's thighs. Chuuya reiterated, "You're nothing but a traitor."
"You're nothing but a weapon." Dazai retaliated. She clutched Chuuya's collar and dragged Chuuya until their faces were inches away. "Maybe, we're both as bad as each other. Neither of us have ever truly been human."
Chuuya hummed. The proximity of their lips distracted Chuuya from Dazai's sentiments.
"Tell me what's on your mind, Chuuya." Dazai requested, her tone equally parts torrid and baleful.
Chuuya's resolve crumbled. She rested her forehead against Dazai's lips and cursed. When she lifted her head, Dazai smashed their lips together. Chuuya gasped before vehemently kissing back. Her eyes shut. The tug of their lips flooded Chuuya with a carnal desire as her body shifted against Dazai's. Dazai sucked on Chuuya's bottom lip, forcing her lips open, whilst circling her uninjured arm around her waist, dragging them impossibly closer. Chuuya melted. She had forgotten the feel of Dazai's lips against hers, their movements synchronised in a way only Double Black could be. The thump of Dazai's heart was amplified against Chuuya's chest. The kiss wasn't gentle, a viciousness defined the dance of their lips, enticing an embarrassingly desperate sound from Chuuya. The sound only seemed to encourage Dazai to kiss her harder and harder. Her hand trailed from Chuuya waist's down to her thigh, pressed against the side of Dazai's stomach, and lightly squeezed. Dazai lifted her torso up from her supine position, forcing Chuuya to maneuver backwards onto Dazai's lap. Chuuya’s fingers found their way under Dazai’s untucked shirt, grazing the soft skin as Dazai pressed up impossibly close against her.
The smile tugging on Dazai's lips would haunt Chuuya every night she slept alone.
That terrifying thought punctured the sensuous ambiance in Chuuya's mind. Their lips parted irritatingly slowly. The lids of Dazai's eyes opened and she immediately pinned her gaze to Chuuya's lips, before lifting her eyes to match the forlorn expression that Chuuya knew decorated her own eyes as she got back on her feet.
"Let's go," Chuuya said, penetrating the silence between them. Chuuya reached to return her hat to its place on her head. Dazai started ascending from the floor. Chuuya turned to Q, prepared to cut them free from the tree's branches, before remembering Dazai had stolen her knife.
Dazai's feet guided her right beside Chuuya. She pointed the knife at Q's throat. Chuuya cast a sidelong glance at Dazai.
"Not going to stop me?" Dazai asked, as if they hadn't just passionately made out on the floor.
Dazai's curls had become frizzy, with the coils overlapping each other, and her lips had a swollen look to them. The ruby of Chuuya's lipstick rested comfortably as a smear across Dazai's lips.
Chuuya responded, matching Dazai's indifference, "My orders were to bring them back alive, but seeing their face reminds me of all the men I've had to bring home in body bags because of their curse. Do what you want."
Dazai made a show of twirling the knife around, before stabbing the tree bark next to Q's face.
Chuuya tutted, "You've sure gotten soft."
"It's strategy. As long as they're alive, the Mafia also need me alive to counteract their curse." Dazai explained.
"As if the boss would actually try kill you," Chuuya retorted, watching as Dazai cut the child free from their entrapment.
Dazai paused a moment before replying, "You'd be surprised, slug."
Again, Dazai's ambiguous statements only served to heighten Chuuya's curiosity. Dazai knew everything about her childhood and time in the Sheep, yet Chuuya remained in the dark of how Dazai had joined the mafia. Chuuya rushed to position Q on her back the second their limp body escaped captivity. Dazai grabbed the freakish doll. She took a deep breath before embarking on their journal up the numerous flights of stairs.
Before she took the first step, Dazai whispered, "Wait."
"What is it?" Chuuya snapped, her foot pausing on the first step.
Dazai placed a hand on Chuuya's shoulder, slipping a piece of paper beneath the strap of her bra. "Call me when this mission is over." She said.
Chuuya didn't respond. Chuuya pushed a stray hair behind her ear, reminding her of Dazai's earlier touch. She began climbing up the stairwell. Dazai didn't speak either. Only once Chuuya could see the illumination of the exit door frame did she collect her thoughts. The maddening ideas and conflicting feelings vibrated in her mind, pounding against her head and colliding with each other. She didn't hate Dazai. She had always known this, but their reunion had only consolidated this fact in her mind. What she hadn't predicted was the feeling of relief that had washed over her the second their eyes met. Dazai escaped from the horrors of the mafia - she was happier. It was so easy to see the constant upturn of Dazai's lips and her new style, to understand what it meant for Dazai. A symbol of prerogative.
So, why the fuck had Dazai kissed her? And not just kissed her, but had made out with her in the middle of an abandoned building in front of a sleeping Q after four years of no-contact. Definitely not their first time during an important mission, but especially weird when Dazai hadn't answered a single one of Chuuya's calls throughout these years. Chuuya had thought Dazai would want nothing to tie her to the mafia anymore, including herself.
And Chuuya had kissed her back. She hadn't even resisted. When she returned from this mission, she really needed a glass of wine and several hours alone. Chuuya shook her head in an attempt to clear her mind.
"Hey, Dazai! Give me that doll." She demanded, glaring at the brunette behind her. Dazai was playing with the doll's hands and feet, puppeteering it to walk up the railing. Chuuya found herself wondering whether this was the same Dazai that had thrown herself on to Chuuya a short while ago.
"No way. This is my insurance." Dazai smiled - a fake one. Perhaps she was dejected by Chuuya's silence when she extended the opportunity to reconnect. Its fabricated nature made Chuuya assume Dazai knew she would receive that call in the next few weeks. Chuuya would call; Dazai would answer her ringing device to the tune of 'Hi, slug!'
"Just give it here, you crazy bitch!" Still looking at Dazai, Chuuya was about a step away from leaving the door as she cursed, "For fucks sake give the doll-"
Q made a heavy noise as they were knocked off Chuuya's back. A tentacle slithered around Chuuya's waist, squeezing her stomach like a child grabbing a dog's tail. The tentacle flung her into the sky, too fast for her to react meaningly. Her vision was hazy. The manipulator of the tendril monologued about the stiffness of his shoulder. All she could do was yell as her body was whipped in polarised directions, the trajectory of the tentacle changing in a split second, as if unable to make up its mind. Ultimately, the crashing pain of smashing into the wooden building overcame her as she landed on her knees, prepared to face the enemy in front of her.
A head of slimy black hair oozed out of his head. A similar blue-black was spread across his eyeballs, omitting any light within them. His voice was mechanical, void of any visceral emotion. He was barely human. Resembling an alien in human skin, the suit he wore seemed to further enhance the façade. Human clothes looked incorrect on his frame. The elongation of his neck, twisting and snapping, signified some kind of ability. Those vile tentacles, a murky green, writhed as he stood eerily still. They seemed desperate to move. The grip on her waist had been powerful. Chuuya steeled herself, ready for combat.
That was until Dazai fucking Osamu stepped on her head, sending her face plummeting to the ground. The idiot.
"I'd expected no less from the Guild!" Dazai began, no actual admiration in her tone. "What amazing power!"
Chuuya squirmed, attempting to wriggle Dazai's foot off, as she screamed, "Get off of me! Dammit!”
Dazai spun in a circle, dramatically removing her foot from Chuuya's head. She'd have to wash her hair again. Chuuya groaned.
"So, what's the plan?" Chuuya asked as she accepted Dazai's hand extended in invitation to get her up. This wasn't the time for arguments. The monster growled, neck alarmingly long. The appendages snapping out of his arm became more volatile in their movements. Chuuya was positive that hadn't been in the report.
"What do you mean, 'what's the plan?'" Dazai replied confidently. Chuuya desperately wanted to punch her again. "All I need to do, slug, is touch him with my little finger."
Chuuya hummed in acknowledgement, content with the answer provided.
That was until a humongous tentacle rushed over her head from her left side and directly collided with Dazai's side. First, Chuuya considered the fact that touching Dazai left no effect on the monster in front of them. Second, the knowledge of Dazai slumped against a tree slapped Chuuya across the face. Her eyes widened as she called out Dazai's name. Gravity washed over her as the power of her fist disintegrated the flesh of the tentacle coming at her.
"That punch," the man spoke without a hint of humanity in his tone, "was strong."
Her feet picked up speed, sprinting through the cloud of dust left behind by the tentacles, before her mind could process her actions. Instinct carried her feet. Their first reunion in four years and Dazai might be dead. Her objective loyalty to the mafia screamed at her to not care about a traitor but Chuuya's heart had always had a stronger pull than her mind. This was Dazai, her first partner, friend and heartbreak all in one. Her panic manifested as a tightness in her chest.
"Hey! You okay?" Chuuya asked.
Dazai wiped the blood from her mouth and chuckled, "Yeah."
"No, you're not. What happened back there?" Chuuya said, eyes scanning over Dazai's injured form. Her arm was already in a cast.
"Those tentacles are strange," Dazai declared, "I can't disable them with my ability."
"No way." Chuuya refuted, twisting around to face the creature once more. "There's no exception to your disabling ability."
"Then, there's only one possible answer. It isn't a gift at all." Dazai explained as she stood next to Chuuya.
Chuuya rolled her eyes, "Come on, Dazai. You've got to be joking with me, right? If it isn't a gift, then what is it?"
"Who knows?" Dazai giggled. "We'll just do things the old fashioned way. How about Operation Shame and Toad?"
Chuuya's hands rested against her hips as she huffed, "Huh? What is this, Rain Beyond the Window? I'm not sure that would work."
Dazai shuffled closer to her before wrapping an arm around Chuuya's waist. Chuuya shifted her weight to lean closer towards Dazai, their sides now pressed closely together. Chuuya kept her eyes on the monster in front of them, with its erratic tentacles threatening to attack at any moment, if only to hide the slight dust of pink on her cheeks from Dazai's observant gaze.
Dazai ruffled her hair and laughed. "Come now, have my tactical decisions ever led us astray before?"
"Stop ruining my hair," Chuuya squawked before humming with a frustrated acceptance. The one thing Chuuya could assert about Dazai, without a doubt, is that her meticulous mind only came up with the most astute strategies in any given situation. Dazai being right all the time only made her that much more unbearable. Casting one last look at the enemy, she moved into position behind Dazai.
"Hey, hey!" Dazai yelled to draw the creature's attention.
It responded with an imitation of the human desire to go home, "Once I dispatch this enemy, I will rest."
It had failed to address either of them during this time. Chuuya shivered. Arahabaki scratched the surface under her skin. Tentacles began pulsating, a harbinger for what was to come. Chuuya seized Dazai's shoulder's, sharply pushing her down as the tentacles went for their attack and flung her legs to destroy the tips of the weapons. Dazai rolled away, stupidly, Chuuya thought. Before they could be withdrawn, Chuuya launched her hands to grab them, circling the tentacles around her wrists and harshly pulling towards herself.
It stumbled. Chuuya used the opportunity to run across the tentacles and penetrate its stomach with a clean-cut punch. Chuuya stared directly into its vapid eye sockets. Beastly, inhumane, disgusting. She didn't fear it. Chuuya stared harder and smiled wider as she relinquished her fist. Its face showed no inkling of pain or discomfort. The pale features lacked any form of animation.
What a nuisance.
Chuuya stomped directly on the void hole in its abdomen, the pull of gravity cradled her as it transferred to what she now determined to be as equally as human as herself. He crashed into the floor. She recognised his expressionless face, the inability to process pain and otherworldly appearance. Arahabaki laughed, the waves manifesting as a horrid feeling in her core. Chuuya was as human as the creature in front of her. It was easy to see. Her eyes met Dazai's. The hazel eyes appeared stern, as if able to read and disapprove of her thoughts.
Her hold on his gravity didn't waver as she landed on the ground and murmured, "It's time for a nap, octopus."
"Nicely done!" Dazai quipped, words connoting a sense of out-of-place persiflage.
"I can't believe you!" Chuuya scoffed as she crossed her arms. Dazai simply stuck her tongue out.
A sonorous rumbling emerged from the creature of the floor, "I'd rather not move, but I still have to fulfil my deal with Francis."
His body struggled against Chuuya's gravity, mere strength enabling him to propel a tentacle slicing off the cast on Dazai's right arm. The tendril instantly changed its course to whorl around Dazai's chest, shoving her brutally against the tree. Chuuya caught herself shouting out the brunette's name. The temptation to scan Dazai for injuries was immediately replaced with the instinct that screamed at her to turn around. Glistening light emanated from the body of the creature, which was now more akin to an ocean's whirlpool than any possible creature. The ocean-blue lump was viscous in its movement as its mass expanded rapidly, tentacles folding over each other to create something with the quality of iniquity. From within the light emerged a wide, tall, dreary mass that resembled a gargoyle.
Chuuya's jaw slacked open. "You've got to be kidding me," she voiced her disbelief. Still, her hands remained steady with confidence and her legs kept their fiery urge to attack. Fear never overwhelmed her, even when faced with such inhumanity.
Yet, her heart dropped when Dazai's shaky voice choked out, "Chuuya, there's something you should know before I die..."
"You're not fucking dying in a place like this!" Chuuya's head snapped to face Dazai and she scrambled across the floor to inspect her missing arm. Dazai was slouched pathetically against the same tree as before. Chuuya's hand was inches away from touching Dazai's shoulder before she heard a gentle laugh settling against Dazai's mouth.
"How do you," Dazai’s apparent amusement in Chuuya's worry forced her to pause to catch her breath, "fall for that gag every fucking time?" Her gentle laugh transformed into something more feral and unregulated as she pulled a kneeling Chuuya closer to her body. The scrunch of Dazai's nose was somewhat cute. Chuuya cursed herself for continuing to allow such devastating thoughts to reach her head.
Chuuya observed the rise and fall of Dazai's chest.
She grabbed the collar of Dazai's shirt, lifting them both up before raising her fist threateningly.
Dazai only laughed harder. "How about you concentrate on finding a way to kill that thing," Chuuya pointed at the overgrown gargoyle behind them, "instead of your second rate magic tricks?"
Dazai raised her hands in a false surrender, "It's hopeless. We should probably give up." Chuuya loosened the grip she had on her shirt.
"But?" Chuuya prompted, looking up at Dazai with expectation.
"But, I think you know that we have one more possible course of action." Dazai gently removed Chuuya's hand.
Chuuya forcibly pushed Dazai against the tree, a visceral reaction, as she questioned, "It's not what I'm thinking, is it?"
Dazai's silence answered her question enough. Chuuya pressed her lips together, contemplating on whether unleashing corruption was the only way.
"Of course, if I don't get to you in time, you'll die." Dazai declared. "It's your decision, Chuuya."
Chuuya's body froze. The thought of Dazai failing to save her hadn't even crossed her mind for a moment. She knew Dazai would be there, like the way Chuuya’s red lipstick continued to adhere to Dazai’s lips, parasitic in its persistence. She was sick of Dazai's games and her presence and her prevaricating words. So, Chuuya decided to grab the nape of Dazai's neck, forcing her to bend down to be eye level with Chuuya, before tentatively biting Dazai's bottom lip. Hazel eyes widened in surprise. Chuuya pinched her cheek before letting go. She couldn't let Dazai win this final game between them.
"I hate it when you say stuff like that," Chuuya breathed out as she turned to face the enemy. "It always means I don't actually have a choice."
Then, she walked closer to the monster, rolling her shoulders backwards. Every step was agonising, as if she was stepping on blades. Chuuya knew what was to come. Chuuya dug her nail so deeply into her wrist to expose the vivid red of the blood inside her. The pain grounded her, a final reminder of the person she so desperately wanted to be.
As she separated each individual finger from the black gloves engulfing them, she murmured, "Granters of dark disgrace, you need not wake me again."
The beginning was always the worst part, where her consciousness was evenly split with Arahabaki. The destructive force sparked at her fingertips first, before ensnaring Chuuya's movement with its tangling might that climbed up from her fingers to her arms and simultaneously from her stomach to her neck. She couldn't escape. All functions of the human body were given over to Arahabaki, the God of Calamity, whilst Chuuya so desperately wished to take a breath. She tried; she knew it wasn't possible. Power surged through her very blood and struck down any notion of autonomy. Arahabaki's overwhelming presence obscured her consciousness, warning Chuuya to bury it deep within her before her mind deformed. Like the pricking of a needle, Arahabaki summoned the necessity for Chuuya's body to jolt at the sensation without allowing her the mobility to do so. She could no longer move. Arahabaki took a furious step forward.
It went dark. Chuuya's mind crumbled into unconsciousness as her body ripped itself apart. Chuuya's last thought was the maddening shine of Dazai’s new eyebrow piercing.
Slender fingers wrapped around her wrist, subduing Arahabaki with an elegant finality. The God roared in rage at the chains that imprisoned its might. That's all it could do when confronted with No Longer Human, certainly Chuuya's favourite ability. She adored the absence of brutality the ability demanded, a simple touch was enough to conquer even the most merciless abilities.
"You've annihilated the enemy. It's time to take a break, slug." Dazai's tone was almost caring.
The blur that swarmed Chuuya's eyes faded away as she came face to face with the havoc she caused. Craters in the ground were accompanied by clouds of dust and grime above them. The irritating sound of the trees had erupted again in the wake of the force of all of Chuuya's potent attacks, the might invoking a strong wind to pass through the forest. Blood spiralled around her, escaping through the wounds Arahabaki had so sadistically torn on her skin. They were bound to scar disgustingly, ugly and protruding to settle on top of her skin. Nausea pounced at her throat.
Her knees folded underneath her. Chuuya crumbled onto the floor, barely holding herself steady on one knee.
"Why didn't you stop me earlier?" Chuuya weakly questioned.
"You always look so beautiful in that form." Dazai confessed, before kneeling facing Chuuya’s left side. "I couldn't resist."
Chuuya laughed without any humour, "And you always spit out that same sweet lie." She coughed out a splatter of blood.
"You know it's not a lie." Dazai said, brushing the dirt away from under Chuuya's eye. "It terrifies you to admit it."
Chuuya really didn't like the topic at hand. She changed it, "I only used corruption because I trusted you, mackerel. You better take me to the extraction point." She mustered a genuine smile to give to Dazai.
"Of course, Chuuya." she reassured.
This time, when everything went black, Chuuya was comforted by the warmth of Dazai's arms wrapped around her side and Dazai's chest pressed against her face. She was safe. She would wake up alone, undoubtedly, but the memory of Dazai's silky words and soft lips would compel her to call the bitch, even after the panic Dazai's betrayal had cost her. Her hat was safe at least; Dazai would have definitely retrieved it from where it fell off her head.
Kouyou is going to kill her.