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“Can I go outside?”
It’s become Kyuusaku’s favorite question.
“When can I go outside?”
It is the most important question, by far.
“Can I go outside today?”
She loves her room and her toys and her movie collection.
“Can I go outside tomorrow?”
And she loves her books and lessons with her tutors.
“It’s supposed to be ‘a beautiful day’! The weather app said so!”
Chuuya tilts his head, considering it.
“Maybe,” he usually answers.
Kyuu’s come to understand that when Chuuya says ‘maybe’, it really means ‘no’.
“Ughhh, that’s what you always say!”
She throws her hands up in the air before crossing her arms, engaging Full Pouting Maneuvers.
“If you keep losing your temper like this, I’m gonna start saying ‘no’.”
She wants to scream and kick like she did when she was little—before she was put in that windowless cell deep underneath the mafia’s towers. But she’s learning that people expect her to “behave” now that she’s older. Even if Chuuya gives her a longer leash than most, he still doesn’t budge if she throws a fit.
“Here,” Chuuya says, holding out her sparkly, stuffed octopus as he crouches down beside her. “Squeeze your octopus. Deep breaths. You’ll feel better.”
“I don’t want to feel better! I want to go outside!”
The pressure-sensitive, color-changing octopus had come with a book about controlling your emotions. It hadn’t exactly been well-received, and yet here Chuuya was trying again anyway.
“How about your puppy?” He offers, picking up her favorite puppy plushie.
Her eyes are red-rimmed and full of betrayal as she reaches out to take the puppy. She snuggles it into her chest, crossing her arms over it. Shields still up.
Chuuya sighs, gaze dropping. “I guess it has been a while…”
He’d hoped to have more time for her—more movie nights, more ice cream breaks, more walks in the park. He knew running the mafia was a lot of work, but he wasn’t prepared for how much work Kyuu would be, and how hard it is to make time for both.
“You know what? I’ll see what I can do,” he says.
It feels like the right choice when her eyes light up, wide with delight.
“Really?! Thank you Chuu-nii!” She lurches forward and throws her arms around his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he fails to resist a grin. “No promises, but I’ll do my best, alright?”
“Okay!” She nuzzles into him gratefully.
He wraps his arms around her, one hand sweeping up and down her back in what he hopes is a soothing motion.
It terrifies him sometimes, how much power he has over her—how easily he could make a mistake that haunts her. Is he too controlling? Too protective? Does he give her more freedom and risk being inattentive? Too permissive?
It’s a marathon, not a sprint, he reminds himself, leaning his head against her hair. And although the long-game isn’t his forte, for her, he will do his best.
Chuuya begins laying plans carefully. A casual hanami picnic is on the schedule for Saturday afternoon (and into the evening, assuming the food and drink are up to standards). It’s for upper-management only, making it a safe, relatively low-stakes environment to try giving Kyuu a longer leash.
The only hurdle is convincing Dazai.
Chuuya bides his time, waiting for the right moment to bring it up. It can’t be too far from the event, or Dazai might change his mind or plot against him. It can’t be too close, or Dazai will dismiss it as too much effort to rearrange plans.
The perfect moment arrives on Thursday evening.
Dazai and Chuuya often meet on the chaise lounge in Dazai’s office at the end of a workday, cuddled up together with wine and whisky with a view of the bay through the wall of windows.
“See? I told you it would work,” Chuuya smirks, gesturing with his wineglass. “Ryuu needs positive reinforcement, just like everyone else.”
“Ugh, Chuuuyaaa~!” Dazai whines, head dropping back against the couch in exasperation. “I don’t like hearing you talk about other men.”
“Other men? He’s sixteen.”
Dazai slides his half-empty whisky onto the coffee table before draping himself across Chuuya’s lap like an oversized dog, moaning tragically all the way.
“Tch, brat,” Chuuya scoffs, but his smile is unmistakable in his voice.
He scrunches his free hand into Dazai’s hair, eliciting a contented sigh.
“My jealous baby,” he coos. “You know I like ‘em gangly and annoying.”
“And bratty,” Dazai murmurs happily.
“Bratty as fuck,” Chuuya nods.
“And with eyebrows.”
Chuuya snorts.
“That too.”
Dazai hums, pleased with himself, as he rolls onto his side to nuzzle Chuuya’s stomach.
“I was thinking about the hanami on Saturday.”
Chuuya tries not to let his tone betray him as he replies, “Yeah?”
“Mm, I was hoping you might wear that formal kimono of yours with the blue and gold lilies.”
Chuuya bites his lip, grinning at the memory.
“Last time I wore that I had to have it dry cleaned…remember?”
“What does that have to do with me?” Dazai purrs.
Chuuya rolls his eyes fondly, still swirling his fingers through Dazai’s hair.
(It was only half Dazai’s fault, in fairness…and it was worth it.)
“I guess I could be convinced,” Chuuya starts, watching a mischievous grin spread across Dazai’s face.
“Oh? Does Chuuya perhaps require a demonstration?” Dazai tilts his head to look up at Chuuya with salacious intent. “I assure you, I am thoroughly equipped to reward you for your services.”
“I’m well aware,” Chuuya coos back. “But I had something else in mind.”
“Yes?” Dazai breathes, eyes lighting up.
“I wanna bring Kyuu to the Hanami.”
Dazai blinks once, twice, before his lips slip into an impressively pitiful pout.
“Very funny,” he mumbles.
“I’m not kidding. I want to bring her.”
“Ugh,” Dazai flops back dramatically.
“It would be good for her, and she needs to get out more eventually.”
“Yes, yes, children need fresh air and enrichment, I know.”
Dazai wasn’t planning on Kyuu tagging along, probably clinging to Chuuya and crawling all over him, or else running around causing trouble, forcing Chuuya to run after her and make sure she doesn’t maim anyone or cause any property destruction. On the contrary, he was planning on having Chuuya’s attention all to himself.
“Do we have to?” Dazai demurs. “I was rather thinking we might have a picnic blanket off by ourselves, in a far corner, maybe beside a grove of sakura trees dense enough that we could sneak off and hide beneath their branches for a little sip and snuggle…a tipple and tickle…perhaps a bit of liquor and licking?”
Chuuya snorts, biting his lip as he tries not to laugh.
“Flowers and fondling? Bento and blowjobs? Sake and sucking?”
“Dazai.”
“Yes?”
Chuuya shakes his head fondly, hand sliding out of Dazai’s hair to caress his cheek. Dazai tilts his head back as he preens, basking in the warmth of his sun.
“She’s nine years old. She’ll be a zombie by ten at the latest. I’ll send her home, and then you and I can have all the fun we want.”
He tucks Dazai’s hair behind his ear, warm with affection.
“You think I don’t want to see you lying in the grass with petals in your hair, as pink as your cheeks while I undress you?”
Dazai thinks he would purr if he could.
“Maybe you can wear that blue kimono of yours,” Chuuya murmurs. “I love the way it brings out your eyes.”
“We would match,” Dazai says.
“Mmhmm. Just you and me beneath the sakura trees...”
“Just us, my love?”
“Always us, my love.”
Chuuya leans down, and Dazai sits up half-way to meet him, lips pressed together for the first of many, many more kisses to come tonight.
Chuuya breaks the good news to Kyuu the next day, perhaps a bit too early in the day, as she spends the rest of it bouncing off the walls like a bouncy ball on cocaine. At bedtime, Chuuya can barely get her tucked under the covers, even with the promise of reading not one, but two storybooks!
Starting early in the morning, Kyuu begins texting Chuuya almost incessantly (using the phone he gave her for emergencies, mind you).
Little Monkey: wen r we leeving.
Little Monkey: wen r we leeving?
Little Monkey: /
Little Monkey: ?
Little Monkey: ??/
Little Monkey: i want ice creem forr luntch
Little Monkey: can we hav ice crème at the piknik/
Little Monkey: wen r we leveing??
Little Monkey: can i wear my Pusheen pjs plz?
(Kyuu has not yet mastered her kanji, digitally or on paper)
Chuuya makes his way to Kyuusaku’s apartment a bit after five in the afternoon. He would’ve been earlier, except when he stepped out of the bedroom in his navy-blue kimono and matching scarlet haori bedecked in blue lilies outlined in gold…a certain bastard with octopus arms made a very persuasive argument in favor of Chuuya running a smidge behind schedule.
“Kyuu-chan?” Chuuya calls, stepping into the genkan and pretending he doesn’t notice her hiding in the corner behind the door.
“RAARR!”
She jumps onto his back and kicks and squiggles her way up to wrap her arms around his neck.
“REAR-NAKED CHOKE!” She screams.
“What? That’s not a rear-naked,” he scoffs, privately relieved Dazai isn’t within earshot to make the highly inappropriate innuendos he knows Dazai would be making. “That’s not any kinda choke.”
“SUPLEX!” She cries, ignoring the criticism, trying (and failing) to tug him backwards.
“Ugh, I shouldn’ta let you watch WWE,” he sighs, wincing when she yanks on his ear. “Oi, enough!”
“TOREANDO PASS!”
“That’s not even—! …never mind. Just get off already!”
“FIGHT ME!”
“Oh, you wanna fight, huh? Alright, you asked for it.”
He grabs her arms before dipping down sharply, sending her flying completely overhead. If he were throwing anyone else, he’d let them smack into the ground. But since this is his little monkey, he carefully catches her and play-wrestles her to the floor, locking his arms around her neck.
“See? Now this is a choke.”
He doesn’t tighten it enough to cut off blood-flow the way he would sparring, letting her grunt and squirm and attempt to wriggle out.
“Chuu-nii!” She whines, increasingly frustrated.
“You said you wanted to fight,” he teases.
Her hand shoots up to reach for his hair, but he dodges smoothly. Unfortunately for her, he had his hair yanked enough times as a kid to see that one coming.
“You wanna fight dirty, huh?”
He unlocks his arms to tickle her ribs, getting a good few giggles and a couple squeals out of her before he stops. He’s careful with her autonomy, never holding on too tight or too long. He wants her to know that his strength will always be her sword and shield, never a weapon against her. Kyuu’s loyalty is a gift, and Chuuya learned the hard way how much it hurts when that gift is made into a noose.
“I think we can get you started on some proper grappling soon,” he says, “but right now we gotta get you ready to go.”
“Can I wear my Pusheen jammies?” She lights up.
“Well, technically you can,” he starts, resisting the urge to say ‘no fucking way’, “but I got you something I think you might wanna wear instead.”
He picks up the zippered dry-clean bag that he carefully set aside during the scuffle.
“Whoooa,” Kyuu gasps, stars sparkling in her eyes. “What’s that?”
“Open it and see,” Chuuya grins.
She approaches carefully, reaching for the zipper like it’s a sacred relic of an ancient civilization.
Disbelief and delight fill her face as the contents are revealed—a plum-gray kimono littered with delicate, blush-pink cherry blossoms. A matching, pink obi wraps around the waist, and a tastefully contrasting violet haori drapes over the shoulders. Kouyou also helped him pick out some sakura barrettes to go with it.
“This is for me?” She asks.
“Sure is.”
For a second, she almost looks like she’s about to cry.
Then, “THANK YOU CHUU-NII!” She flings her arms around him, burying her face into his chest.
He’ll never get over this feeling. No matter how much luxury he surrounds her with, some gifts are still so wondrously meaningful to her. It’s addictive. He’ll spoil her rotten in no time.
Kyuu puts on the base layers by herself, then Chuuya helps her with the obi and clips her bangs out of her eyes with the barrettes.
“I’m so PRETTY!” She shrieks in front of her bedroom mirror, twisting and turning to see the kimono from every angle. “I look like KYOUKA-CHAN!”
“You sure do,” he agrees out loud, but in his head, he’s already thinking about all the teenage boys he’s going to have to murder in the next ten years.
In fact, he’d better get her martial arts training started sooner rather than later.
All throughout the limo ride to the park, Chuuya coaches her on proper hanami behavior and the people she can expect to meet there.
“The frowny guy in a black coat with super-short ugly bangs is Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.”
“Frowny guy,” Kyuu repeats.
“And the lady with the white mask with her hair up is Akutagawa Gin, Ryuu’s younger sister. She gets mistaken for a dude a lot, but she’s a chick. And even if she looks kinda scary, don’t worry, she’s very nice.”
“Scary not-dude lady.”
“Uh-huh. And if you see a really shitty bowl-cut, that’s Kajii. Don’t take any lemons he offers you.”
“Why not?”
“He makes lemon-shaped bombs. They look like lemons, but they explode.”
“Cool!”
“Not cool at a picnic.
“Is Kyouka-chan gonna be there?” She asks, swinging her zori-clad feet.
“Yes, but be polite. She’s not here just to play with you. A Hanami is for socializing, but also for enjoying the sakura blossoms. You don’t want to overstep to the point of pestering, or else she might resent you.”
Kyuu nods very seriously.
He doesn’t want to fill her head with anxiety, but he doesn’t know if anyone’s ever told her this before, so he errs on the side of over-explaining.
“As long as you’re respectful, no one will have any reason to find fault with you. Got it?”
“Got it,” she nods again, then pauses, frowning. “Is Dazai going to be there?”
“Yes,” Chuuya admits. “Later, but you don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”
“Fine,” she huffs, deflating.
He slides an arm around her shoulders, leaning in and tilting his head so they’re closer to eye-level with each other.
“Remember, if he gives you any trouble, you just tell me and I’ll kick his ass, alright?”
She hesitates, and he’s entirely unsure he’s convinced her.
But then she leans into him, nuzzling her head into the crook of his shoulder.
“Okay,” she says.
His eyes fall shut as relief sweeps through him, squeezing her just a bit closer. He’s so grateful for her trust he could almost cry.
“I won’t let you down, baby girl. I promise.”
I’ll protect you.
Her little hands wind into the front of his kimono, not quite clinging, not quite hugging, but something in between. She’s surprisingly quiet for the rest of the ride, but radiating contentedness, both of them soaking in the warmth of this connection.
At least, until the limo pulls up alongside the park.
“Is this it?!” Kyuu pops upright, craning her head to look through the windows.
“Yep. Now, wait—hang on!”
But Kyuu’s already out the door, making a beeline down the path into the park.
“Wait!” Chuuya snaps, using his ability to shoot up alongside her (he hates running in zori).
“Oi! Don’t go running ahead! You can wander around when we get there, but I want everyone to see you arrive with me.”
“Really? Why?”
“So they know you’re one of my people,” he says.
He bought the kimono she’s wearing for the same reason. Whether or not she knows it, they make a powerful, unmistakable image. Kyuu is claimed now, and she walks with the privileges, prestige, and protections of Chuuya’s vicious dominion.
“If anyone has a problem with you being there, they can talk to me or fuck off.”
“Yeah, fuck off!” Kyuu punches the air victoriously.
“Don’t say fuck when we get there, though.”
“Why not?”
“You gotta show people that you can behave properly to earn their trust.”
“What if I don’t wanna earn their trust?”
“It’s usually best to leave that door open. Once it’s closed, you’ll have a hard time getting it open again. And besides, mafia means family. You may not like these people, but you do have to be civil. Alright?”
“Ugh, fine,” she sighs, falling in step beside him.
There are smaller Hanami parties scattered throughout the park, but the mafia’s gathering is clearly distinguishable by both its size and grandeur. Lights are already strung up in the trees, set to glow once the sun sets. Luxurious, cushy blankets are arranged in a neat cluster around an exceptionally resplendent, tall sakura, all the splendor of fireworks and grace of clouds condensed among the branches of a single tree in a rainbow of pinks.
Not to mention the food—a hundred bento boxes straight from the Port Mafia’s own Michelin-starred kitchens, stuffed with crispy karaage and tempura and every variety of sushi, alongside appetizers and sweets galore. Every blanket is loaded with sakura mochi, sakura rice cakes, sakura macarons, sakura cupcakes, sakura chiffon cakes, sakura crackers, sakura chuhai beer, and probably more sakura-themed things than Chuuya cares to count.
“Ah, Chuuya-kun.”
Chuuya turns to find Kouyou nearby with a shot of sake in one hand and the long handle of her sunshade in the other.
“You look positively regal this evening, my boy,” she lilts with a smirk and a knowing glint in her eye.
Read: Someone’s getting laid tonight.
“Thank you very much, Ane-san,” he croons back.
Read: At least that makes one of us.
Her eyes crinkle in amusement, refraining from laughing out loud (and risking having to explain innuendos to the little one).
“And how are you today, Kyuu-chan?” Kouyou smiles pleasantly, tilting her head down to address Kyuu, who leans into Chuuya’s side only half-consciously.
“Do you remember Kouyou-ane-san?” Chuuya asks.
Kyuu looks Kouyou up and down, uncertain. This strange, elegant lady certainly seems familiar in a distant way, but she reminds Kyuu most of her earliest days in the mafia, which are a hazy blur of fear and pain.
“It’s been a while, so you might not,” Chuuya continues, bringing a hand to rest on her far shoulder, comforting and steady. His sleeve drapes around her back like a canopy to hide under. “But Ane-san helped me pick out your kimono.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Kouyou waves him away gently. “Chuuya-kun did all the work himself. He only asked for my opinion because he wanted to be sure you would like it.”
Kyuu ducks her head in what she hopes is an appropriately polite bow.
“Thank you, Ane-san,” she says.
“Aren’t you just darling?” Kouyou coos. “Oh, she’s every bit as darling as my Kyouka-chan! Chuuya-kun, you must let me have her over for tea!”
“We’ll see about that,” he squints. “But just tea, none of your etiquette lessons.”
“Tch, you say that like my lessons didn’t save your uncouth ass on many an occasion.”
“Your instruction was very useful, but not exactly age-appropriate. Some of that shit scarred me.”
“Scarred?” Kyuu pipes up, eyes wide. “You…you hurt Chuu-nii?”
She balls her hands into little fists, glaring up at this potential threat.
“What? Wait, no. Baby girl, not like that,” Chuuya says in a rush, crouching down beside her. “Ane-san never hurt me. I was- I was kidding.”
Kyuu’s brow scrunches.
“Kidding? Then, why’d you say that?”
Kouyou’s soft laughter breaks Kyuu’s attention.
“My dear, sometimes people exaggerate details or events in the hopes it will amuse others,” Kouyou explains, gaze shifting to Chuuya as she adds, “sometimes with mixed results.”
“Very funny,” Chuuya drawls.
“That’s not funny at all,” Kyuu huffs, still frowning, albeit more confused than concerned now.
“Perhaps you could use more of my lessons, Chuuya-kun,” Kouyou smirks.
Chuuya groans, “…maybe.”
“Come visit with me later, my dear,” Kouyou says, half-turning to walk away. “Both of you! Kyouka-chan will be sitting with me if you’d like to see her.”
Kyuu looks at Chuuya with (more) stars in her eyes. “Can we, Chuu-nii?”
“Sure thing,” he grins.
Next, Kyuu spies a woman with dark hair, but no mask on her face.
“Is that Gin-san?” Kyuu asks.
“Hm? Oh, no that’s Yosano-sensei.”
“Sensei?” Kyuu stiffens at the word. “Is she a…?”
“A doctor, yes, but she’s nothing like the old boss. She’s a very nice doctor,” Chuuya reassures her. “Most doctors like to help people, actually. Here, let me introduce you.”
Kyuu snatches Chuuya’s hand and holds on tight as they approach the supposedly “nice” doctor. Chuuya squeezes her hand in his own.
“Yosano-sensei,” he calls, smiling brightly when Yosano turns to find him.
“Hello, Chuuya-san. Oh, who’s this?”
Yosano smiles at Kyuu, but Kyuu senses something off in the way Yosano glances at Chuuya. Discomfort? Fear?
“This is Kyuusaku-chan,” Chuuya says. “The old boss took her in as a special project. Eventually decided she was too unstable and locked her away. But we know better now,” he pauses, giving Kyuu a smile that’s just for her, “don’t we?”
Kyuu grins back at him.
“She doesn’t have any family that we know of,” Chuuya continues, “so she’ll have to make do with me.”
Kyuu watches as the discontent she saw on Yosano before vanishes, although Kyuu still isn’t sure why it was there to start.
“We set her up with an apartment in the towers, so now she can pester me all day, every day. Isn’t that right?”
“You never answer my texts!”
“I answer your texts every day. But I can’t just drop everything and respond every time you text me. That phone was supposed to be for emergencies, for the record.”
Yosano laughs.
“Well it’s nice to meet you, Kyuusaku-chan,” Yosano says, bowing politely.
“Oh!” Kyuu freezes, rapidly recalling how to bow. “It’s nice to meet you too!”
She manages a stiff, formal bow, probably deeper than the situation requires. But it passes muster based on Yosano and Chuuya’s expressions.
Chuuya introduces Kyuu to Ryuunosuke and Gin next.
“Frowny guy,” Kyuu says.
“Hah?” Ryuu narrows his eyes at her.
Gin giggles behind her mask.
“And scary not-dude lady.”
Chuuya sighs.
“Akutagawa Ryuunosuke and Akutagawa Gin,” he belatedly corrects her.
Gin bows elegantly, “It’s nice to meet you, Kyuu-chan.”
“Wow,” Kyuu gasps, and tries her best to bow as smoothly as Gin.
“Gin-chan here is very skilled with a knife—even better than Kyouka-chan. She might be able to teach you a thing or two sometime.”
“Really?!” Kyuu jumps.
“Chuuya-san is too kind,” Gin says, a pink blush peeking out along the edge of her mask. “He is much more skilled than I am, but I would be happy to share what I know with you.”
Ryuu coughs.
“Is that really an advisable course of action?” He asks over Kyuu’s head.
“Leave the advising to me,” Chuuya says, not harsh, but firm.
Ryuu nods deferentially, coughing again.
“Are you sick?” Kyuu asks.
Ryuu freezes, taken aback.
Chuuya tries to intervene, “That’s not really—”
But Ryuu shakes his head, “Yes, I am.”
Kyuu furrows her brow, deep in concentration.
“Then why is Gin-nee-san wearing a mask instead of you?”
Perhaps most surprisingly of all, Ryuu laughs. Or at least, he makes a huffing noise that could pass for laughter from someone as emotionally constipated and emo as him.
“Don’t worry, it’s not contagious,” he explains.
“Oh, okay,” Kyuu says. “Well, get better soon!”
He nods again, “Thank you.”
Chuuya leads Kyuu to an empty blanket located in a prominently central location beneath the big sakura tree.
“Here,” Chuuya sits them down and opens a basket for her to look inside. “We got coloring books and crayons and a cherry blossom origami kit. And here, sparklers for later when the sun starts to set.”
“Whoa!” Kyuu gasps, searching through the contents of the basket reverently.
“And don’t forget, your stuffed animals are in the car if you want them.”
She throws her arms around him, squeezing tight.
“Thank you, Chuu-nii.”
She snuggles into him, overwhelmed with the sensation of care—of mattering to someone wonderful—as he wraps his own arms around her, carefully laying his head on her hair so he doesn’t squish the barrettes.
They color together for a while, interspersed with snack breaks every time Kyuu spots another sakura-shaped food she wants to try. Then Kyuu colors on her own whenever some annoying person comes over to talk to Chuuya.
“Dazai.”
Kyuu looks up when she hears Chuuya calling out to her nemesis.
There he is, in a formal blue kimono just like Chuuya’s, intruding on Kyuu’s good mood like a fart. Why can’t he just go be stinky somewhere else?
“Chuuya,” Dazai smiles at Chuuya as he approaches.
It makes Kyuu frown. Dazai doesn’t smile like that. He smiles like a snake. Or at least, he’s supposed to.
And Chuuya!
Chuuya’s smiling right back at him! Soft and warm and open and something and it makes Kyuu want to scream and kick!
She looks back and forth between the two of them, smiling and staring at each other. Barf. Why do they look at each other like that? That’s not how either of them look at anyone else!
Including her.
Is Dazai more important to Chuuya than Kyuu?
Anger builds in her chest as Dazai sits down beside Chuuya. Their hands brush together. Their voices are soft and low even though they aren’t talking about anything important or interesting.
“Of course, my love,” Dazai murmurs in reply to something Kyuu didn’t hear.
My love?! Who does Dazai think he is?!
Their eyes haven’t left each other for a moment since they spotted each other. It’s like Chuuya just forgot Kyuu exists!
It’s one offense too far, and Kyuu picks up the nearest piece of mochi and punts it at Dazai.
He jerks when the mochi bounces off his cheek. Then both of them turn to look at her, although it’s not exactly the attention she wanted.
“Why hello, Kyuu-chan,” Dazai smiles at her, and he’s a snake again, scaly and deceitful.
Kyuu only sticks her tongue out at him.
Chuuya rolls his eyes, and Dazai simply shrugs, plucking the projectile mochi off the blanket and popping it into his mouth.
“Are you enjoying the Hanami so far, Kyuu-chan?” Dazai asks.
“I was,” she pouts, crossing her arms.
“Kyouka-chan’s here now if you wanna go see her,” Chuuya offers.
If Kyuu had hackles, they would be raised.
“No,” she mumbles.
She doesn’t want to go anywhere. She wants to stay here and make sure Chuuya keeps paying attention to her.
“I wanna stay with Chuuya.”
Dazai nods very seriously, “That’s understandable.”
Then Chuuya looks at Dazai again with that look. With that look. That gooey-soft look that makes Kyuu even angrier.
“Chuu-nii! I’m cold!” She declares, deciding to force the matter.
“Oh, do you want your coat? Or…” Chuuya trails off as Kyuu aggressively nudges her way under his arm and halfway into his lap.
She glances up to find Dazai looking down at her, not with the rage she’d expected (or the defeat she’d hoped for), but instead an amused quirk on his lips.
(What Kyuu doesn’t know is that Dazai isn’t worried about losing a contest over Chuuya’s affections. He has special grown-up privileges he can use to keep his place in Chuuya’s heart, like doing special grown-up things during special grown-up fun-time, which is why he’ll always be Chuuya’s one and only soulmate-lover-husband. Not that any of that matters. He’s completely worked through his jealousy issues. Totally.)
Dazai and Chuuya talk about boring, stupid stuff like Kyuu isn’t even there, although Chuuya pets Kyuu’s hair every now and then.
But the anger doesn’t dissipate, festering into annoyance that itches and prickles under her skin.
She grabs another piece of mochi and chucks it at Dazai, cutting him off mid-sentence.
“Tch, Kyuusaku…” Chuuya grumbles.
Kyuu huffs, preparing for a lecture.
When the mochi she threw bounces off her forehead and lands in her lap.
“Huh?”
Kyuu looks up to find Dazai turned away…very suspiciously.
She picks up the mochi and throws it back at Dazai.
“Oi!” Chuuya snaps.
But he’s decidedly ignored as Kyuu and Dazai both reach for more ammo.
Kyuu tosses a macaron at Dazai.
Dazai punts crackers at Kyuu.
“Stop wasting food!” Chuuya fruitlessly attempts to intervene even as Kyuu wriggles out of his lap to grab projectiles.
Kyuu snatches up a handful of pink popcorn and throws it at Dazai.
Dazai ducks, holding his hands up to shield his face from the spray. But it’s a feint, using it to hide the motion of grabbing a bento box full of used cupcake wrappers and whips it towards her so the wrappers shower down on her.
“Dazai! Don’t encourage her!”
And then it dawns on Kyuu, looking at the irritation radiating off of Chuuya…
…Dazai likes to goof off, too?
He’s not frowning and telling her to behave like Chuuya is.
She watches as Chuuya scowls at Dazai, yanking him by the ear to pull his head down and start sorting crumbs out of his hair.
“Ow! Chuuya! That stings!”
“It had fucking better,” Chuuya mutters, jerking extra hard at a grain of sticky rice.
“Ouch!”
And then Kyuu is laughing, falling onto her back as giggles overtake her.
She’s laughing so hard, she doesn’t notice Chuuya loosening his grip on Dazai’s ear, letting him sit up again as he fixes Dazai with that look…
“Thank you,” Chuuya murmurs, too soft for Kyuu to hear.
Dazai smiles at him…
“Of course, my love.”
…with that smile.
“Anything for you.”
Kyuu eventually concludes that she and Dazai can share custody of Chuuya, at least for now, and she wanders off to find Kyouka.
On her way, she accidentally stumbles into a man with gray hair and a monocle who smells of that fancy tobacco Chuuya keeps in a box and never lets Kyuu sniff.
“Hello there, young miss,” the man greets her.
“Oh, hello,” she says.
“You must be Kyuusaku-chan.”
“Yeah. And you must be monkle-san.”
“Ah, you mean monocle.”
“Yeah, that.”
“You can call me Hirotsu, if you like.”
“Nah,” a redheaded boy lounging at Hirotsu’s side says. “I like monkle-san. I think I’m gonna start calling you that.”
Kyuu squints at the bandaid on his nose, even as he gives her a friendly smile and wave.
“What’s wrong with your nose?” She asks.
“Huh? Oh, uh…” he pauses, then grins. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Sure,” she shrugs.
He leans in and gestures for her to do the same.
“It’s a disguise,” he says.
Kyuu leans back, skeptical.
“Well it’s not a very good one.”
He chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head,
“You think?”
She finally makes her way over to Kyouka and Kouyou.
“Nee-san!” Kyuu cries, practically throwing herself down to sit at Kyouka’s side.
“Oh, hello Kyuu-chan,” Kyouka greets her, polite as usual.
“You two are just too darling together!” Kouyou coos, growing misty-eyed (and pink in the face from her alcohol consumption).
“I got sparklers!” Kyuu announces, holding up a handful of the sticks for Kyouka to see. “Chuu-nii said I can only use them over the gravel, though. Do you wanna go light ‘em?”
Kyouka is wide-eyed with wonder, looking to Kouyou for approval first.
“Go play, darling,” Kouyou says.
Beside her, Yosano shakes her head, “Be careful, girls.”
“Yes, sensei,” Kyouka bows very nicely.
“Yessensei,” Kyuu says, doing her best to copy Kyouka’s perfect posture.
They run off to the graveled walkways, still in view of the picnic blankets, and light their sparklers just as the sun starts to set. Kyuu runs around with her sparkler so the light trails behind her. Kyouka warns her not to run, so Kyuu resigns herself to drawing pictures in the air.
“Ooh! Is there a red one? It’ll look like a blood volcano!”
Gin joins them, and Kyuu begs for a game of tag. She runs around in circles, squealing and giggling more than she can remember in her entire life.
The sky grows dark, and Kyuu collapses on the grass in a panting pile, finally realizing that she’s grown quite sleepy.
She yawns as she picks herself up and wobbles off in Chuuya’s direction, guided by tealights on the picnic blankets and strings of lights in the trees.
That’s when she spots them, Dazai and Chuuya, snuggled up against each other in a way that leaves her perplexed.
Dazai nuzzles his face into Chuuya’s hair, presses a kiss to his temple, then says something that makes Chuuya smile.
Smiling at each other, again, when they’re not even looking at each other!
Kyuu comes to a halt close enough to watch them, wondering.
They don’t look at each other the way they look at other people. Their gazes linger longer on one another. Their expressions soften. There’s an energy between them in the way they lean toward one another and hover by the other’s side that she can’t describe or label. It’s a sense of familiarity in their awareness of each other, in the way their movements accommodate the other, flowing together like a subtle, magnetic dance.
What does it mean?!
“Kyuu-chan?” Chuuya calls her, having sensed her gaze.
Kyuu’s too sleepy for further investigation tonight.
“I’m tired,” she says, half-walking, half-stumbling her way onto the blanket and curling up on her side next to Chuuya.
“All worn out, little monkey?” He asks, petting her hair as she snuggles in, resting her head on his leg.
“Yeah.”
“You wanna go home?”
She yawns against his knee, “Yeah.”
“Alright. I’ll text the driver.”
“And you’ll come say goodnight when you get back?”
“Always.”
She dozes off in a matter of moments, but when she wakes up, Chuuya’s gone.
“W-where’s Chuu…?”
“He’ll be right back,” Dazai says, highly sympathetic to Chuuya-withdrawals.
Kyuu pushes herself upright, yawning, still drowsy. And, since Chuuya isn’t here, it occurs to here that this is the perfect time to ask Dazai a question she’s been pondering.
“Hey,” she starts, with the confidence of a person who has not thought far beyond the word ‘hey’.
“Yes?”
“Do you love Chuu-nii?”
Dazai blinks once, twice, not surprised to have been caught (after all, he knew she was watching), but rather surprised she was bold enough to comment on it.
“Yes,” he answers, with that fond smile spreading across his face. “I do.”
Kyuu scrutinizes him for a while, unsure. Chuuya might trust Dazai, but Kyuu doesn’t. Love is supposed to be a beautiful thing. Kyuu hasn’t known many beautiful things in her life—and those she has tended to be a lie. Chuuya is the exception.
She clambers up to her feet, puts on her toughest glare and leans in, staring Dazai right in the eyes.
“If you ever hurt Chuu-nii or make him sad, I’ll kill you.”
Wide-eyed, for a moment, Dazai can’t even breathe. Until he bursts out laughing, covering his mouth with one hand to try to contain the giggles.
“I MEAN IT!” Kyuu stomps at the indignity, hands fisted by her sides.
“No-no, I believe you!” Dazai says, panting as he attempts to regain his composure. “I believe you, I do! And I’m very glad to hear you feel that way.”
“You…do?”
“Yes. Chuuya needs more people like you—people who would do terrible things for his sake… Do you love Chuuya, Kyuu-chan?”
“Yes, of course I do!”
“Good,” Dazai nods. “Then perhaps we can get along for his sake, too.”
Kyuu squints at him again, still unsure.
But finally, she nods in return. Truce forged.
“The fuck is this?” Chuuya asks, having only just stumbled upon the tail-end of the negotiations.
“I believe it’s bedtime!” Dazai says. “Off you go!”
Chuuya scoops Kyuu up and carries her down the pathway out of the park to the road, where the limo waits to take her back to the towers.
Kyuu almost dozes off in his arms again, warm and safe and secure, only waking at the slight jostling as he settles her into the car.
“You’ll come say goodnight?” She asks again.
(He always does, but it can’t hurt to double-check.)
“Promise,” he says, smiling warm and soft and safe for her.
Kyuu thinks to herself that, while Chuuya might not look at her the way he looks at Dazai, he looks at her with a smile that’s just for her, and she might like that even better.
Chuuya takes his haori off and drapes it over her before buckling her seatbelt, petting her hair one last time before closing the door and letting the car drive away.
Today was fun, Kyuu decides.
No, better than that. Today was wonderful.
Kyuu drifts back off to sleep, dreaming of all the fun she’ll have on her next day out.
. . .
“This way,” Chuuya says, leading Dazai through the trees, hands linked between them.
The sounds of the party fade behind them, and before long, it’s just the two of them, sneaking through the dark like kids.
“Chuuya, how far is this?”
“It’s just through here.”
Chuuya gives Dazai a tug, pulling him through the brush to a grove of sakura trees more spectacular than any Dazai’s ever seen.
The branches and petals entwine above them to make a canopy. Strings of fairy-lights drape through the branches like fireflies, casting just enough light to make out a blanket in the grass, a bottle of sake, and the soft contours of Chuuya’s face. Chuuya’s breathtaking, exquisite face.
“It’s beautiful,” Dazai says, knowing to appreciate his lover’s work when all he really wants to do is appreciate his lover’s body. Then, with a smitten grin, “You’re beautiful.”
It’s true. Chuuya’s an absolute vision in his kimono—rich, dusky blue and royal red bringing out the highlights and lowlights of his hair and his eyes and the sharpness of his grin and the porcelain perfection of his skin and oh Dazai wants.
Chuuya kisses him, hot and sweet and sticky with the desire of a confident lover. Chuuya kisses him knowing he will get everything he wants—knowing he has everything he wants. And it makes Dazai’s chest ache for more.
“But Chuuuyaaa,” Dazai pouts. “I wanted to take care of you.”
“No reason you can’t,” Chuuya smirks.
Chuuya holds out his hands to Dazai, who takes them reverently, lowering both of them to the soft blanket on the ground. Dazai’s barely seated before Chuuya lays down and rests his head in Dazai’s lap, staring up at him with undisguised affection.
“My love,” Dazai croons, desperately grateful for the angel in his lap, and bottomlessly despairing over the insufficiency of words to make his feelings known.
His darling, dearest Chuuya, always giving, giving, giving, never even wanting anything in return.
He tenderly rearranges his legs, cupping the back of Chuuya’s head as he crosses his ankles to make a more comfortable rest for Chuuya.
“My love,” Chuuya purrs back, reaching up to caress Dazai’s face.
He can’t help it. Dazai rearranges again to lay beside his lover, too overwhelmed by devoted desire to resist a moment longer. He must hold. He must touch. He must please.
He cradles Chuuya close and kisses him with aching tenderness, reaching into Chuuya’s kimono to start untying each and every fastening that keeps him from his lover’s skin.
Chuuya moans at Dazai’s touch, tilting his head back to let Dazai kiss down his neck.
Dazai’s fingertips finally brush precious skin, and Chuuya gasps and shivers for him. Dazai’s mind begins to run wild, already imagining a thousand ways to please his angel tonight.
“Mm, fuck, Osamu…” Chuuya sighs, cheeks already pink from more than just alcohol.
Dazai kisses his neck, long and savoring, and murmurs into his skin,
“Anything for you.”