Chapter Text
In and out.
Explicit instructions raised by Mori to minimise the possibility of mistakes. And even more plausibly, the opportunity for Dazai to ‘accidentally’ sabotage the mission. In his own defence, when each mission inevitably shapes out to be identical to the one before it, it brings nothing but success…and boredom. No adrenaline rush, no matched fight, no running for his life and, sure, no failures, but boredom. And that’s saying something, as Dazai would consider himself easily entertained.
But no matter, this mission is a simple ‘in and out’. A break in, if you will. He, and a certain below-average-sized redhead had been sent on a retrieval mission. Downloading data off of an enemy organisation’s heavily guarded computer that was for one reason or another significant to the Port Mafia. Dazai is fairly certain this was information entrusted to him, he just hadn’t paid enough attention when it was shared during the briefing earlier that morning. Yet again, no matter, as Dazai is certain Chuuya recalls every word so much as breathed in that meeting, to such an extent that he could recite it backwards while walking a tightrope.
What a sight that would be.
Footfalls echo in the back of Dazai’s mind, thrumming in time with his thoughts and fuelling his need to get lost in them. A bad habit he finds himself more than aware of, but always falling back to. Pavement blurs before his eyes, a swirling road of concrete that actively avoids any attempt at grounding him. Rather ironic, Dazai must admit, considering the dirty earth beneath his feet is widely known as ‘the ground’ in itself. However, it would be unfair to say it serves no purpose at all, as the comforting facade of distraction settles warmly over his shoulders. Anything at all offering itself to take his mind off of the larger issue at hand will always be appreciated.
The gradual roll of bland road flows slowly under his careful footing. An insignificant rock followed by an unimportant drain. Nothing worth identifying, nothing even trying to stand out. This inevitable loss in interest causes an unwelcome thought to bloom in Dazai’s mind. Much like a weed cracking through an organised flowerbed, drying out the soil yet dampening the atmosphere.
His step falters.
‘Distraction’ as an attempt at denial of a greater issue has evidently been disproved as inefficient and grotesquely ineffective. Trying so hard to not circle back to a certain infestation of thought, does nothing but douse it in light. A shameful show that demands unwavering attention, a car crash you can’t drag your eyes from. Dazai finds himself subconsciously hyper-fixated on his shortness of breath, the swirling dizziness rocking around in his head, the chill in his limbs, and the churning, aching, pang in his stomach. You would think that a lack of food makes one feel empty, needy and exhausted. But the reality of such an experience is drastically different. It is fiery. Like the very acid sloshing in his stomach is leaking through unseen holes, taking the opportunity to scald Dazai from the inside-out. It is agony. But it is also desire. Despite his weakness, Dazai wouldn’t have it any other way. The consequential fatigue that burdens him is another thing altogether; it is much more difficult to behave normally when the very blood pumping through his veins feels thick in consistency and sluggish in efficiency.
And that is why the surrounding environment failing at serving as a sufficient distraction irritates Dazai as much as it does. But to his immense relief, there is another form of distraction Dazai finds himself enthralled to. If not the view of Yokohama, then the very person walking loudly beside him, currently pinning him with an accusatory stare.
“What’s got you looking so fucking irritated? It finally dawned on you that being annoying isn’t a good personality trait?”
Dazai can barely bring himself to respond as Chuuya would expect him to, but if Dazai so much as missed a beat, Chuuya would be picking up on his dismal scent like the troublesome dog he tries so hard to deny being. Well, Dazai isn’t one to know when to let himself loosen even a little, why start now?
“You’re just offended that I’d rather indulge in my own thoughts than strike up a conversation with you.”
The way Chuuya’s entire demeanour jolts at the weak insult is truly fascinating. Dazai has always felt a slither of awe at how Chuuya just wears his heart on his sleeve, how he willingly lets each bud of emotion bloom on his face in such a natural way it almost seems unconscious. Perhaps it is. Perhaps he has no control over it at all. And that- that just may be the most humane thing Dazai has ever had the curious pleasure of witnessing.
“Quiet you! We’ll be there soon and your loud mouth will alert them to our presence!”
“That’s rather contradictory to your last exclamation, Chuuya~”
“OH YOU THINK YOU’RE SO-“
But the sentence is never finished as Dazai swiftly silences him with a palm to the mouth. Despite the head achingly shrill sound emitting from the slug, this act was not influenced by Dazai’s annoyance, but by the sound of approaching footsteps and chatter. Eyes scanning the dull surroundings from a now strategic perspective, he narrows in on a small back-alley.
There.
Dazai, with much struggle, drags Chuuya into the gap before he had even noticed the approaching danger. Those slow reflexes will get the slug killed someday, he’s sure of it. As Dazai presses him against the damp wall of the enclosed space, he can feel the boy’s fiery spirit pushing back, refusing to give up the fight. Chuuya’s expression and rapidly rising chest leaves Dazai more than aware of his confusion. It’s dumbfounding, you know, the boy’s stupidity.
The constant plead for exertion causes Dazai’s arms to start burning… almost like Chuuya’s anger had spread to his sleeve, a crawling fuse engraving weight into each passing second. Before it blows, that is. Then, horrifyingly, Chuuya almost- almost overpowers him. Almost gains the advantage and peels away the layers of control right from beneath Dazai’s feet. That lone moment lasts, lingers before it finally dawns on the angry 15 year old that the enemy is several metres away, rather than directly across from him, and he stills against Dazai’s weakening hold. A burning gaze meets an icy one, and the two boys glower at one another as the voices behind the corner grow louder.
Dazai quickly dismisses the group’s conversation as irrelevant to the mission, and instead concentrates on holding back a swirling pool of nausea deep in his gut. Dry heaving in front of his partner in a far from dignified alley is not on his criteria for the day. Or ever, truth be told. Precious minutes slip away as the four-or-so men leisurely make their way down the pavement, heading away from Dazai’s planned destination. Perfect and predicted. It’s almost disappointing, actually… Success is so overrated. A little risk opens up the grand, gorgeous door for an attempt at suicide! Shame, truly.
His hand falls from Chuuya’s snarling mouth, and Dazai makes a great show of wiping it on his coat, followed by a facial expression of extreme disgust.
“Eugh, is it not below you to slobber, Chuuya?”
“I hope you live a long, fulfilling life, asshole.”
“Chuuya’s so mean!”
They cautiously exit their cover between the two buildings and continue down that familiar pavement, their destination large enough to seem like a square, bland beacon. Only 100 metres ahead looms the very building holding that oh-so important computer. Now comes the fun part, infiltration without detection. Arguably, it would be more thrilling to fight their way through, but that plan reeks of stupidity. Hacking a computer, despite its simplicity, would prove to be quite the challenge if they were being fired at by enemy guns.
Their approach is silent and unspoken, both Chuuya’s and Dazai’s train of thought so identical that there is no need for a discussion. A plan is formed through looks and signals, not a word breathed amidst the intricate movement of hands. Dazai winks, the exaggerated motion pulling an eye roll from Chuuya and successfully setting their plan into action. They need not spend ages preparing for a simple mission, after all…in and out. Right?
Right. There’s not even space for anything to go wrong! Well, so long as Dazai continues to ignore the ringing in his ears and blur of motion behind his eyelids.
Perhaps something could go wrong after all. Really quite wrong.
Screw that, he’s fine. He always pulls through. Always.
Dazai finds himself slinking at least a foot behind Chuuya, letting him take the lead and direct Dazai’s wandering mind to the back entrance Mori had implied would be deserted. A rusty old hatch that leads to a storage room, nothing interesting and nothing worth guarding. Or so it might seem to anyone other than Double Black, as they had hold of relevant intel. Intel that mapped out a passage from this very basement into the main building. It escapes him how Mori knows such a thing… but he does, and Dazai decides the risk is worth it. Dazai always decides the risk is worth it, as the worst outcome from any situation is death. Although, a painless death is preferable to one of misery… and a death with someone - perhaps a beautiful woman - will always be-
“Dazai!”
He matches Chuuya’s irritated hiss perfectly, a snarky response of his own breathed into the breeze of the March afternoon.
”What?!”
”Fucking concentrate!”
Dazai looks up slightly and takes in the discarded lock, hanging open trapdoors, and the silhouette of Chuuya at the bottom of the stairs. Oops. Maybe he should work on that habit of dissociating after all, it leaves him uncomfortably vulnerable.
“Right right, let’s get this over with.”
Dazai, slightly unsteadily, makes his way down the creaking stairs and descends into the storage room. As Mori had informed them, it was indeed scarce of anything either useful or threatening. After all, it’s merely a passage way for the two of them to get into the main holding room for the computer. Which is supposedly heavily guarded, but if Chuuya leads them through the correct hallway they should be able to sneak in utterly undetected. Honestly? Shouldn’t take more than 30 minutes, and most of that will be spent transferring data.
The sound of moving cardboard draws Dazai’s attention and he sees Chuuya’s ability uncovering the narrow doorway that undoubtedly leads to their destination. It couldn’t look more like a stereotypical ‘secret passage’ if it tried. Actually, he’s surprised discovering it didn’t involve pulling a book on a bookcase to activate some cliché secret mechanism.
Dazai swiftly follows Chuuya into the dark entranceway and out of the bland, box-filled cellar. A faint scent of moss meets his nose and he curiously notes the stone walls and gritted floor - it’s clear that, due to disuse, no furnishing had felt like a necessity. To his misfortune, neither had a source of light, either.
As he had hardly been keeping track of their movements, it brings a slight element of surprise when the narrow hallway opens up into a much larger, brighter and nicer appearing room. A room unmistakably containing a displayed, softly buzzing computer. Jackpot.
“Chuuya, I’ll go and work on the computer as I fear the mere thought of allowing you near such important technology.”
The look on Chuuya’s face is pure fury and Dazai quickly cuts off whatever retort he was about to spit back at him.
”And besides! Somebody needs to keep watch and stop anybody from interfering with this important mission! Of course I would be a better option, but it’s only fair to let the dog-“
”Shut up Dazai and get a move on! We’ve not got all fucking day.”
Dazai plants himself down on the conveniently placed chair and obnoxiously cracks his fingers. Pointedly ignoring the irritating sound, Chuuya takes his place beside one of the two entrances to the room and fixes his stance into one of alertness and concentration. Dazai has his doubts that anybody will bother them, as guards often station themselves outside what they are protecting, not on the inside. Well, so long as the two boys are quiet, rational and don’t hang around for more than a few minutes. It’s understandable to assume their enemy is underprepared, but underestimating them is a whole different matter that Dazai does not want to find himself involved in. Underestimating an opponent is careless, stupid and completely uncalled for. A rookie mistake, Chuuya would probably call it. It will be beneficial to make this mission a short one, he concludes.
The computer silently powers on at a brief brush of the keys, and it displays a title screen requesting a password. Once more, Dazai is unsure of how Mori acquired this specific information, but he did, and Dazai obediently feeds the keyboard the code it’s asking for. The screen spends a few precious moments unhelpfully ‘loading’ before it opens up to the beautiful sight of file upon file.
”I’m in, Chuuya~”
Dazai purrs, unnecessarily proud of his accomplishment considering the sheer simplicity of it.
”I don’t give a shit until you’ve actually get ahold of the data.”
Dazai seriously doubts he’ll massively care even once he’s managed that task too. Huh…guess the slug can never be pleased. He focuses once more on locating the file titled ‘AJ650’ rather than the boy across the room…or the radiating pain spilling from his stomach. Dazai can’t help but notice how it’s gotten considerably worse over the afternoon, and how the vague dizziness swimming in his mind had also become more potent. How pathetic. It isn’t like him to let a little nausea affect him so drastically. Annoying.
He clicks on the correct file before he had even processed he’d located it. His reflexes are clearly much more up to date than Chuuya’s, not that that’s at all surprising. He opens ‘AJ650’ and shares all of the contents to the Port Mafia’s computer known as ‘BigBoy’ (named by Dazai himself) and smirks as the loading process begins. A fabulous effort on his part, he must admit. Perhaps he could even tell Mori that Chuuya had been slacking off.
”It’s processing! I know, I know…I’m amazing.”
”Shut up and get over here. The computer’ll log itself off once it’s finished.”
As Dazai had predicted, Chuuya does not at all sound impressed with him. Is it really that hard to get a little appreciation around here?!
Dazai scrunches his nose slightly as a particularly insistent pang radiates from the back of his head. The beginnings of a migraine digs its talons into the back of Dazai’s skull and refuses to release him. Of course. He feels a bubble of frustration swirl in his chest and he sharply turns away from the computer, getting to his feet.
Ah.
Big mistake.
His mind reels and his vision swims. The computer doubles in front of him and he thinks he stumbles backwards away from it. His head is a blackhole and is actively sucking the very consciousness from him. His fingers go numb, then his legs. His vision fades to an overwhelming darkness and the last thing he sees is a flash of red hair moving towards him. Every sensation abandons him in a vast void of nothingness, not as peaceful as sleep but just as mind-numbingly empty. At last consciousness slips between his fingers and reality frays at the edges.
Then-
Nothing