Chapter Text
Chuuya Nakahara was having a great day.
He'd just gotten back from a mission, one that wasn't too frustrating but still with plenty of engaging combat (none of those damn disguise missions he'd been forced to do with Dazai back when he was still in the mafia). He’d frontloaded a lot of his paperwork yesterday, and was one easy report away from going home. Maybe he’d go on a run later: the weather was sunny, but not scorching; windy, yet not frigid. He could enjoy a quality glass of wine on his balcony, cook a proper meal while singing along to his favorite playlist. Watch a movie, perhaps? Another possibility was the essential hand coordination training that should be required in the mafia: Mario Kart. If he wanted to keep trouncing Tachihara, he had to practice. A mandatory duty, really.
So Chuuya was in a good mood when Mori sent for him. He didn’t really have an idea as to what the boss was calling him for, but he didn’t think it would be something terrible.
He was wrong.
“Hey, boss,” he greeted as he entered the room, nodding respectfully.
“Hello, Chuuya,” Mori said in response, pensive as always. He gestured for Chuuya to sit. “A certain matter has come to my attention, one that I will be needing your assistance with.” He slid a folder across the desk.
Chuuya picked it up, skimming through it briefly. The file looked to be a standard operation for the black lizards; a minor group of smugglers encroaching on mafia territory.
On the surface, nothing was out of the ordinary. But knowing Mori, something was definitely up. "So what's wrong?" he asked. "Do you think our intel is inaccurate?"
Mori smiled, a sign that Chuuya was on the right track. "Upon further examination, it is apparent that we were fed the information."
"So it's a trap? For the black lizards?”
"Yes," Mori responded. "And naturally, we cannot ignore such a bold move, so we cannot leave the encroachment alone. It would be beneficial to the mafia to learn who exactly tried to outsmart us."
"And you want me to go," Chuuya said, sliding the file back to Mori. "To spring the trap."
"No," was his boss's unexpected reply. "They want you to go."
Chuuya frowned, watching Mori's expression carefully. "They want me to go? I thought this smuggling business, or whatever the hell it is, wanted the black lizards?"
"It's much cleverer than that, Chuuya, that's what's so intriguing," Mori answered. His smile was eager, almost fascinated with the prospect. "These people, whoever they are, never intended for us not to catch the fact they fed us information. They were counting on it; our intelligence branch figured out the ‘slip-up’ with too much ease.”
“So… their real target is me?” Chuuya guessed. “But even if it is, how are they planning on executing their plan? They have to know I can easily fuck up anything they throw at me.” Almost subconsciously he pulled his gloves tighter.
Mori nodded. “Of course. That's why you'll still be going; I trust in your abilities. But just in case the mission doesn't go according to plan, I'm sending someone else with you.” His eyes held a veiled amusement.
Oh no. No fucking way.
“Don't tell me we're working with the goddamn Agency on this,” he growled, hands clenched into fists. “After everything they fucking did?! We barely just avoided a fucking war!”
Mori was still smiling. “I already contacted Fukuzawa, who also seemed interested in the prospect.”
God fucking dammit.
Chuuya's next words were forced and full of pain. “I am not doing this mission alongside a shitty bastard like Dazai.”
Sighing, his boss leaned back, fiddling with one of his scalpels. “We need soukoku for this task. It is important to discover who is behind this without jeopardizing your safety.”
“DAZAI is the one who jeopardizes my safety!!”
“So you'll do the mission.” Mori's voice was final.
After a few moments of intense internal conflict that made him want to destroy something, Chuuya felt his fury deflate into an agonizing resignation. “...Fine, dammit. But I'm not working with the mackerel for one second longer than I need to.” The thought of being around such a fishy asshole was already making him nauseous and his heart beat faster. Out of rage.
“Excellent. This mission will require preparation, so before you spring the trap, you'll be staying in a safehouse for a day together tomorrow.”
“WHAT?!”
“You're dismissed.”
If Chuuya hadn't stormed out of the office so quickly to go find that safehouse and beat up someone-- preferably a certain brunette asshole, even if it meant seeing the bastard a little sooner-- he would've noticed the smirk on Mori's face.
And the fact the mission reconnaissance didn’t officially start until tomorrow night, but he couldn’t let Dazai reach the site before him! That bastard would definitely fill the whole place with traps and pranks for the purpose of making him suffer.
(By now, Chuuya should have realized that one of the few things Fukuzawa and Mori agreed on was that much amusement could be derived from watching soukoku interact.)
~~~
Dazai absentmindedly spun a pen between his fingers, twirling it back and forth, staring at the computer screen in front of him but not really seeing it. Thinking, always thinking, but this time his thoughts were consumed by a new, fleeting interest: Fyodor. He couldn't yet discern what the man's special Ability was, other than that Fyodor had apparently used it on a guard when he had been captured. Crime and punishment... Obviously, on the surface, the foolish concept of a punishment was death, after a human had committed a number of sins. This would align with Fyodor's view of God and humanity. Interesting, with more secrets lurking beneath the surface. A momentary challenge that Dazai was content to think about instead of the utterly boring mission reports (he could push all of those onto Atsushi or Junichiro anyway).
But he did glance up when Fukuzawa and Ranpo entered the room, noting immediately how business-like the President’s expression was, and how his gaze briefly flickered to Dazai. Hm. Dazai wasn’t certain what exactly was going on, but it most definitely had something to do with either the mafia or Fyodor.
His suspicions were, as always, confirmed when Fukuzawa stated, “Dazai. Can I speak with you for a moment?”
He just nodded, wordlessly standing and following the President to his office. They were all still dealing with the cannibalism incident, so Fukuzawa likely wanted his predictions and thoughts on Fyodor.
“Sit,” Fukuzawa instructed, and Dazai complied. “I received a note from Mori regarding a mission in the mafia.”
In that unfortunate instant, Dazai knew exactly where this was going. The look on Ranpo’s face as he casually munched on chips confirmed this fact.
…Namely, he would have to take his dog for a walk. He felt only hatred and disgust at the thought, though the concept was intriguing. The mafia not only needed soukoku, but the difficulties they must have been encountering were ones currently unknown to Dazai. This lack of awareness was odd; he could easily hack into their system if given the right resources, so the fact this had passed under his radar ignited a small spark of interest in a normally dull world.
“Do I have to?” was the response he settled on, though he toned down his usual flippancy. “I don’t want to work with such an infectious slug!”
“He’ll do it,” Ranpo announced unhelpfully, popping another chip in his mouth.
“Excellent,” Fukuzawa stated with a satisfied nod. “I will inform Mori, who should be speaking with Nakahara now.”
Ah. This meant that the shrimp would naturally be furious, which meant he would naturally seek out Dazai to vent his anger. He felt himself shudder at the thought of being around someone so repulsive and tiny. But this mission did seem a touch interesting, and Chuuya was his dog so giving him another partner would be foolish, everyone knew that. All this just meant Dazai would have to be a good owner and let his dog bark at him.
"This mission is in southern Yokohama, about an hour away from the Agency," the President continued. "You'll need to take note of the situation first, so you and Nakahara will be staying in a safehouse near the site."
The rising disgust and nausea at the thought was mitigated as Dazai imagined how angry Chuuya would be right now. The expression on his face had to be beautiful (as beautiful as an ugly slug could be, obviously), and Dazai wished he could have seen it.
"I suppose I'll have to leave now then," he said, exaggerating a sigh. He knew Chuuya would be even more furious if Dazai made it to the safehouse before him, so naturally he had to get there right away. He’d planned another suicide attempt later that evening, but obviously, harassing Chuuya took precedent. This was just a fact of life, a logical constant in the universe.
“I will inform Mori,” Fukuzawa responded, standing. “You are dismissed.”
“Nah, you won’t have to inform ‘im,” Ranpo countered through a mouthful of snacks. “It’s soukoku, he knows it.”
The President nodded gravely.
With a falsely cheery wave, Dazai waltzed out of the office, grabbing a marker from the office whiteboard, already thinking up numerous ways to annoy his dog tonight (the mission and official reconnaissance is tomorrow but planning and gathering information is key in case the chibi’s brutish strength messes something up). Kunikida eyed him suspiciously, but didn’t stop him from walking out the door.
A small part of him noticed that between Fyodor and Chuuya, the silent void was just a little bit quieter today.