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Had Chuuya known the punishment would be virtually useless if not for the flimsy '960' yen an hour, he would have never shaken Dazai's hand.
The singular promise of "it won't even feel like punishment!" now fell under the metaphorical weight of a bright red and yellow hat. And lest Chuuya forget, it included a matching t-shirt blazed with the company name: McDonalds
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Two weeks earlier...
-
"Alright, here's the deal."
"What deal?"
"The deal I just made up."
"You can't just make up deals, Dazai."
"So you're afraid of losing?"
"Hell no!"
"Then listen up."
What erupted was a race to get the highest marks on the last unit exams. Chuuya considered himself the strongest contender, he studied and received high marks anyway, if he wasn't skipping that is. But he could always make those days up. What made him suspicious was the very fact that Dazai had suggested the competition, and remained carefree as he always is. Chuuya knew for a fact he did not study, did not pay attention in class, nor did he ever once make a vaguely academic statement in or outside of school.
On the other hand, he kept hidden more than he revealed.
Dazai had a plan, Chuuya had fallen for enough of them to know when he was scheming. This time, he'd figure it out before Dazai had the chance to strike.
In between studying and trips to the arcade, he watched Dazai like a hawk. He followed him whenever he wandered off alone.
And the most frustrating part? Not once did he act suspicious! He talked to everyone as usual, he pissed off the teachers as usual, he pissed off Chuuya as usual! He dressed, ate, walked, and breathed the same! He even invited Dazai to a sleepover to see if he slept the same…
But then again, he could be acting too normal. therefore making him suspicious! But if he's acting normal, then he's not suspicious, unless he knows Chuuya is watching and is acting normal to avoid suspicion but ohoho he won't get the best of Chuuya that waste of space-
Chuuya had forgotten about the exams.
In a rush he crammed the night before, making his arrival to school the next day a tired and sleepless one.
Dazai scored 3 points above him.
"Loser works at McDonalds," was the first thing he said before forcing that irritating hat onto Chuuya's head. He was too flabbergasted to throw it back into his face.
—
"Why do you even have that?" He asked, the hat now sitting backwards on Dazai's head.
"I have a friend, they scored me the interview and a hat to boot."
They were next to each other on the bus, riding to the nearest McDonalds for a planned interview. One Chuuya guessed had already been planned before Dazai even won.
"You don't have to come and rub it in my face…otherwise I'll take that hat and shove it down your throat."
"Not the poor hat, trust me, it'll all work out."
He scoffed, "yeah, like trusting you hasn't gone horribly in the past."
"Hey, you might be miserable with the outcomes but I in fact have been very entertained."
"By my suffering!"
"Keep it down back there." Grunted the bus driver.
Dazai snickered, "your suffering, my enjoyment."
Chuuya took the hat and threw it out the window.
"I thought you said you were going to shove it down my throat."
"Would you rather it be my fist?" He raised a closed fist.
"Oh, no hard feelings! I didn't need that hat anyway." He tried to placate him with a hair ruffle.
"Ow."
"You're exaggerating."
—
"If I could have you two sit there, please." The interviewer instructed, seating himself behind a desk. Dazai slumped into the chair next to Chuuya's, earning a hard nudge.
"Sit up straight." Ordered Chuuya.
"My back hurts."
"It didn't two minutes ago, sit up doofus."
"Nope." He crossed his arms behind his head.
"Ahem, whenever you're ready to begin." Interrupted the interviewer.
"Right…does he have to be here?" Chuuya pointed a thumb at the relaxed Dazai. But that was no surprise.
"Er, I'm interviewing both of you, so yes. Would you prefer individually?"
"You are?! He is?! Dazai-"
"What? I gotta shoot my shot, can't have you getting all the success." He smiled, a glimmer in his eye. "We're fine to continue like this, Mr. Cross." Dazai nodded.
"Alright then…" Mr. Cross adjusted the papers in his clipboard, presumably looking at a page of questions. "You both may take turns answering as I go, who would like to answer the first question?"
"Ooh me mister! Pick me first please!" Dazai shot his hand up. Chuuya grimaced.
Mr. Cross continued, "'why do you want this position?'" He read off the page.
"Why do I want it? Well, hm…money of course!" He answered confidently.
Mr. Cross looked up at him, "is that all…?"
"Yep." He smiled innocently.
Narrowing his eyes slightly Mr. Cross turned his attention to Chuuya.
"And you, same question."
He didn't even want this in the first place, but he couldn't say that. He thought of a bullshit answer.
"Because…I want to work hard and learn new skill…" His gaze wandered over to Dazai, who looked like he was trying out new expressions with his face. "…s." The answer was slightly distracted but Mr. Cross seemed pleased with it. Chuuya nudged Dazai again.
"What? I'm not doing anything~"
The interview continued like this. Dazai responded with the worst, most absurd answers to each question no self-respecting person would think of saying outright. At least that was Chuuya's thought. Eventually after a few questions Chuuya fell into a rhythm, blocking out Dazai's nonsense he answered calmly and determined. The effort he put in being some way to spite Dazai's lack of care. When it was over he let out a relieved breath, and walked out of the building with Dazai and a promise from Mr. Cross that he'd get a call if he was accepted.
They went out for food, and after he'd eaten enough to be satisfied he confronted Dazai.
"What the hell was that all about?"
"What was what about?" Dazai fluttered his eyelashes, a french fry sticking out of his mouth.
"You almost ruined the entire interview."
"Au contraire my little friend-"
"I'm not little."
"Au contraire! Listen, I just made it a 10000x easier for you."
"Easier for me?! How? You were a distracting bastard the whole time."
"You see, by making myself look like the worst possible employee, I made you look like a saint in comparison. Any mistake you made would be null at just the thought of having to hire me! Therefore, they'll come running, practically begging you to start as soon as you can." He picked up another french fry, pointing it straight at Chuuya.
"That's…actually kind of genius."
He shrugged, "I knew you'd come around."
"Doesn't mean I like it. You're still making me work, and you don't know for certain they'll actually hire me." He countered, taking the fry from Dazai's hand.
"You know I'm right." He took the fry back. "Any second and they'll call you."
"You don't know that!" Growing frustrated again he grabbed the other end of the fry.
"Hey that's precious cargo there!" Dazai pulled back on his end.
"Well stuff it up your-" Before Chuuya could finish his sentence, and as the 'precious cargo' ripped in half, Chuuya's phone rang in a familiar tune.
They both looked over at it on the table.
"Think he wants the fry?" Dazai said with a straight face.
"Oh God damn it, go to hell."
—
Already bored with the repetitive actions he'd been trained to do, Chuuya messed with the buttons on the register. So far he'd had three customers and with each peppy 'hi welcome to Mcdonalds!' he lost a little more patience, and perhaps sanity. After the callback from Mr. Cross himself, Chuuya had agreed to start the following saturday, however, he never said just how long he'd be here. He contemplated the parameters of the bet itself, why hadn't he thought to set a time limit? For all he knew Dazai intended him to keep this job until the end of the year! No way. When the day was over he'd turn in his hat and freely say all the 'negative language' he wasn't allowed to use. He heard the bell ring, great here comes another anno-
Fuck shit. He thought. It was Dazai.
Instead of forcing a smile he kept a cold face.
"Hello there! I am a loyal customer here for lunch!" Dazai announced, ever so cheerful. He came up to the ordering counter and leaned against it. "What's with the face? I thought the staff was welcoming here, do I have to call your manager?"
"What. Are you doing. Here." He grunted.
"For lunch, I said! Are you deaf too or just purposefully ignoring me? I'm racking quite the list of complaints here and I haven't even ordered." He said, tapping the watch on his wrist. "I don't have all day. Come on, smile!"
"I hate you so much."
"That's no way to talk to a customer. C'mon~ say it."
He groaned under his breath, looking around to make sure his manager wasn't actually there to witness this.
"Welcome…I guess."
"You can do better than that." Dazai tsked. "What if I had just gotten divorced and needed a burger to cheer myself up? Do you believe your behavior would help my mental state?"
"You are sixteen. And your mental state is already fu- messed up."
He gasped, "oh wow the great Chuuya can't even swear. This is better than I thought."
"Get on with it, 'loyal customer.' What d'you want?" He resisted the urge to grab his collar and tell him exactly how he felt standing behind a register in a ridiculous hat, harassed by his best friend and worst enemy. (Same difference.)
"Hmm…" Dazai pretended to think very seriously on the matter, his finger and thumb under his chin in a sideways L shape. "I would like…" He paused for dramatic effect. "…A hamburger."
"Idiot thats all we sell here-!"
"Then you should have no problem making it! Except, do you think you could do one tiny thing for me? If it's not an issue?" He asked innocently, eyes wide.
His whole existence was an issue, but Chuuya played along. For now.
"What is it? Allergy?"
"Oh yes! So you are well aware. I happen to be allergic to beef, do you think you could accomodate for that."
Chuuya stared at him harshly.
"That…is the main ingredient…in a hamburger."
"It's not too important. Well, can you? Or do you wish me dead?"
"Kinda. I mean…what do you want me to do about it??"
"Just take all the beef out and shabam! I'm still living and breathing and speaking with my undeniable charm!"
"Fine." Every syllable came through gritted teeth.
"Wonderful! I might even give you a tip, but oh-! There's just one more thing…" He didn't give Chuuya a moment, immediately going off on a rant:
"I'm deathly afraid of the sight of green vegetables so maybe you could hide the lettuce from sight, but make sure to sure to use the crunchy bits if I don't hear a crunch when I bite in I will complain and don't under any circumstances let the mustard and ketchup touch condiments were never meant to mix and don't eventhinkaboutaddingmayoandputoneofthosefancystickflagsataninteydegree angleontopofthebunandpickoffallthosepeskysesameseedstoowhileyou'reatitand—"
At some point the words started to blend together.
It was at that moment Chuuya decided he would become rich no matter what, therefore never having to work again.
"You know I just take the orders right? I don't actually make them."
"Oh. Onto plan B gottogobyeseeyousoonImeanIhavesomewheretobeyouwon'tseemeokbyeee~"
He watched as Dazai made a 180 turn and back through the front doors, disappearing down the street.
This was bad. Plan B?
He almost had a moment to breathe a sigh of relief, at least he took a few normal orders from sane customers before he saw another glimpse of Dazai.
Correction, ahem, Mr. Oba Yozo in a clearly fake wig. The only other thing he changed was his jacket.
The conversation went as follows:
"Good afternoon, I am Oba Yozo, yes that is my name. A shameful life I live, ordering a hamburger in this economy."
"Get out Dazai before I report you for costumer fraud."
"That's not a thing-!"
"Get out!"
Next Chuuya met a suspiciously similar gentleman who made the bold choice of wearing sunglasses indoors.
"Ah what a joint ya got here! I go by Takeo Kimura, but don't tell anyone it's quite an embarrassing name."
"Are you serious? Are you being absolutely f-"
Then it was the lady Kazuko…and yes it came with a shrill and exaggerated voice.
"I'm rich you know, but I decided to give this place a chance."
Chuuya hated to admit that he started to crack by this one. He'd been standing on his feet for hours, staring at a blank wall no one bothered to decorate more often than not.
Lastly, as it seemed Dazai's creative prowess for new characters had slowed, he did not even wear a disguise at all.
"Shuji Tsushima's the name, but don't bother remembering it, it's a secret."
"Hell's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm thinking of writing a book, using that as a penname."
"Why I gotta hear this now…?"
"Because," he grinned, all too slyly, "your misery will be center stage to my heartwrenching novel on the human psyche!"
"I'm your fucking guinea pig."
"Well, I only just now thought of it! And now that I think again, I'm too lazy to write a novel. Come on-" he grabbed the hat off Chuuya's head. "-your shifts over."
He'd completely forgotten about that.
"Fine, but can you just be Dazai now?"
"Ya miss me?"
"'Least you're 10% less annoying than whatever characters you came up with."
"What an interesting obsevation, what would you say the ratio is?"
"I am not getting into that."
Chuuya changed out of his work clothes and clocked out, joining Dazai outside. He noticed Dazai kept the hat, held between both hands. He stared at it thoughtfully.
"For the record," Chuuya started, a bit mumbly. "You know you could damn well write a novel."
"Hm." He looked up from the hat, and smiled in that fake way he always did. "Nice try, writing isn't going to take all my attention from annoying you."
He plopped the hat back on Chuuya's head, ruffling his hair under it in the process. He looked off into the distance as they started walking down the street, and as Chuuya fixed his hair. He spared one glance, seeing that one glimpse of something else behind Dazai's eyes.
"And, just for the record of course," Dazai broke the brief silence, still not looking at him, "I knew you'd get the job, regardless of my involvement. And you damn well know you'll enjoy the money."
"Hrm, almost a compliment, lucky me. You just want me to use the money on the arcade."
He turned his head back to the other, all glimpses of sincerity gone.
"You got me." He said softly.
Chuuya didn't believe his own theory. He knew that Dazai knew he was struggling lately with affording school supplies.
"Damn you bastard." He muttered under his breath, a small smile at the truth that he or Dazai would never say aloud.
But they both knew.
When Chuuya got his first paycheck, he practically ran to the store to buy the new fancy supplies he'd had his eyes on for weeks. In the check out line he handed the cashier the last item he'd picked up: a fountain pen, for a certain aspiring writer.
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