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The Port Mafia was not ready to have Ranpo Edogawa in the lobby at six in the evening. He’d combed through all of Yokohama’s main areas, looking around tall buildings and bridges and couldn’t find him. Annoyingly, he didn’t know enough about Dazai’s past to make a good estimate of where he could be.
The mafia was not ready for him to wave his hand dismissively at the guns. Nor was it ready to hear Ranpo refer to Nakahara-San as “book-boy.”
“Whaddya want?” Chuuya grumbled after hearing the name.
“Dazai-San— is he here?”
A pause. Chuuya grabbed Ranpo and brought him outside. It was dark now. He waved a hand for a defense parade to tail them. When they were away from the headquarters, he admitted, “he’s been missing since after lunch. I can’t find him either. He keeps moving, I think.”
“Tell me about it,” demanded Ranpo, glasses on.
Chuuya explained that Dazai had disappeared around lunch and he just “had a feeling” that something was off. But he went to the graves, the bar, and some other places and Dazai wasn’t there.
“Hmm.” Ranpo adjusted his glasses. “We need to find a specific spot in Yokohama, and we have to do it by midnight.”
“Midnight?”
“Dazai plans to kill himself when the fireworks go off.”
What they didn’t know was that Dazai was sitting on a bridge in the dark singing happily to himself.
A midnight countdown. Five hours and ten minutes to go. He could do this all night and be happily dead by dawn. He’d been planning this since he knew of the trade off.
He knew Mori had always wanted Dazai back, yet was terrified of the demon he’d created. So he picked Yosano, but Dazai knew that Mori would predict Dazai would come back, Mori just wanted the satisfaction of hearing Dazai offer himself up.
What better way to go after securing the promise of a prosperous mafia and peaceful alliance between the PM and ADA? After making sure everyone he cared about would be set. He wrote a letter to Fukuzawa, thanking him for everything he did. And one for Chuuya that was tucked in the wheels of his bike.
He wrote his will with a private lawyer, and a final letter of goodbye. To whom, he was unsure, so he kept it in his pants pocket. He left his coat on his desk, along with the scarf. He wasn’t wearing much, just his dress shirt and pants, his bandages and shoes. The cold air somehow made him feel warm and calm.
Five hours to go.
==
“When I first met Dazai…” Atsushi was being interrogated by none other than Nakahara Chuuya of the Port Mafia with Ranpo Edogawa backing him. It was truly a site to be seen. “He was trying to drown himself in a river.”
“Take us there.”
They quickly grabbed Yosano and ran after Atsushi.
==
Dazai wasn’t there.
It was dark and they could barely see the edge of the river. Atsushi had fallen in and was now in the form of a tiger to try and stay warm.
Time: eleven-thirty-seven.
“Split up,” Yosano declared. “I’ll take Ranpo and go upstream. You take Atsushi and go downstream.”
==
Footsteps.
“Dazai-San!”
Dazai looked over and found Yosano and Ranpo running up the stairs to the bridge he was perched on. Time: eleven-fifty. He was rather far upstream. The lights on the bridge were out. It was only when a train passed when his narrow silhouette was revealed.
He looked over, gaze hazy. He’d left at one point to get a bottle of sake. He checked his watch. Close enough.
“Good-bye, guys,” he said, swinging a leg over. “Happy new year.” Yosano sprinted as fast as she could and grabbed Dazai’s collar. It loosened and the only thing she had was the red scarf that Mori would wear.
SPLASH!
==
Splash!
Atsushi’s ears perked up. He nudged Chuuya with his paw and signalled that he heard a sound. The two started to run upstream.
Yosano and Ranpo were running along the side of the bank. “Dazai!”
“Bastard!” Chuuya propelled himself forward and jumped into the freezing river. Atsushi was quick to follow, navigating through the icy water and biting down onto Dazai’s shirt. Of course, this turned him back into a human, but the light was enough for Chuuya to grab hold of Dazai’s arm and pull them towards the shore.
The group heaved Dazai’s body onto the shore, shivering and shaking as the fireworks went off.
“Ugh,” coughed Atsushi, collapsing on the ground.
What followed after was a blur. A Mafia car picked them all up and brought them to Chuuya’s apartment. Dazai almost died on them but Yosano brought him back by slitting his throat. His heartbeat and breaths were barely there.
Chuuya put him into the bath and put him to bed. They all sat around him in silence. Ranpo was the first to leave, then Atsushi and Yosano, exchanging her number with Chuuya.
Chuuya could barely sleep, but when he did, he curled himself around Dazai’s cold, barely alive body.
==
Dazai woke up in a familiar bed. He was in so much pain, and all he could think was “dammit!” The smell of breakfast being made wafted from down the halls.
His coat was at the edge of the bed. His bandages and scarf were there too. He’d survived… again…
Dammit.
==
“Please talk to me,” Chuuya said, sitting next to Dazai. He’d found the man attempting to put on more clothes.
Dazai did not try to talk. He remembered his list and his letter. His letter had been ruined by the water and his list was done, floating around his office. Though all the names were crossed out, he still felt like it was incomplete.
A sudden hand grabbed the front of his shirt. “Dazai!” It pulled him forward slightly. It wasn’t intimidating, he knew Chuuya wouldn’t hurt him.
Yet he talked.
“I’m… I’m sorry.”
“You’re not sorry. You’re never sorry.”
“…Not about this… I’m sorry for blowing up your car… and leaving you after everything without a trace or word.”
The grip only tightened. When Chuuya spoke, his voice shook. “I thought you’d died. I thought I’d never see you again.”
Dazai opened his mouth before closing it. He paused. “You’d be happier if I were dead.”
“How can you say something like that?!”
“Because it’s true.”
“I-I— That's not true, Dazai.”
“You’re always saying so. How you wished I’d finally do it. How you hate me… Everyone hates me, and I’m fine with that.”
“If I hated you, why do I let you stay here most of the time? Why didn’t I stop you from killing Mori? Why…” He yanked Dazai up to pretty much have their noses touching. Hollow, lost brown eyes stared into almost pleading blue eyes. “If I hate you, then why have I been in love with you for years?”
His breaths were heavy and panicked.
“You have a weird way of showing it,” replied Dazai. Was it Chuuya’s imagination, or was Dazai leaning closer? “…Chuuya…” The name was breathed right against his lips.
He dropped Dazai. “What are you playing at? What are— why…”
“I don’t wanna lead you on, Chibi… I don’t want to be the one who breaks your heart…” Because he cared about him.
“Do you even love me? Or are you messing with me?”
“I… I don’t know how to love someone… I’m sorry.”
“I can teach you!”
Dazai smiled softly. “Heh, don’t bother. You’ll find it a waste.” His fingers picked at some scabs on his scarred arms. There was no pain, despite him reopening a cut. Chuuya reached out and held his wrists.
“If you want, I can teach you,” said Chuuya.
“Don’t waste your time and emotions on someone who is incapable of being loved.”
“You’re loved, Dazai. Everyone at the Agency loves you… Atsushi, Yosano, Ranpo…” He bit his lip before blurting out, “I love you!”
“Love isn’t enough for some people… but maybe it’ll be enough for me… partner.”
“Does that mean you’re willing to try?”
“I’ll give you three months— if I don’t feel it, then I’ll throw myself off the Port Mafia building.” Which was Dazai’s way of saying he would give it a try.
=
For the coming days, Chuuya kept watch over Dazai like a hawk. Dazai would often try to find ways to hurt or kill himself, but none of it was serious.
Chuuya arranged a little date idea for Dazai. Scheduled two weeks ahead.
“Do you think you can make it to then?”
Dazai shrugged.
Two weeks later, the two of them found themselves in a fancy sushi restaurant, dressed to fit in with the upper rich class who were also dining. They talked, Chuuya kept the conversation light and watched Dazai’s alcohol intake.
Afterwards, they went to a remote location of the city near the forest. Dazai cautiously held Chuuya’s hand.
“Are you—?”
“Enjoying myself? I am, but I have no idea why.”
“That’s okay.”
“I think it’s because I’m with you, but it feels weird going out on a date with a slug.”
“Heeey!” Chuuya swatted at Dazai with his free hand. “How’d it feel to watch people eat your family, Mackerel?”
“Quite horrifying. We should do this again, Chuuya. I had fun.”
=
They went on many more dates. Some were candlelit dinners, others were long walks around the city, or just staying home to watch movies and TV series.
Chuuya’s apartment became Dazai’s as well. Bandages were always stocked in the cabinets, cans of crab were of abundant supply. He got his own dresser with his own clothes, the coat rack now had two coats instead of one.
Some days, they’d stay home all day on Dazai’s bad days. Sometimes they’d talk, or Chuuya would hold Dazai with the utmost care. Sometimes they’d fight and refuse to leave the apartment until it was resolved. It was rough, and a lot of work on both ends. It was rewarding.
Dazai kissed Chuuya after the three months. He kissed his lips before Chuuya rolled over and let himself be spooned.
After the three months, there was still a long way to go. Dazai fixed his bridges with everyone. He attempted to get closer to his colleagues and former colleagues. He ensured that the Port Mafia thrived and that the truce held strong.
==
Many years passed. He and Chuuya took on apprentices. The Mafia held strong against new foes who thought they could win Yokohama. When they retired at age fifty, their apprentices took over.
They bought a small place for themselves to grow old together.
"It turned out alright in the end, right Dazai?” Chuuya said, both hands holding Dazai’s left hand. Two matching rings glinted in the sunlight.
“That’s right, Chuuya,” replied Dazai, pulling him gently and kissing him. “Thank you.”