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One day was all anyone needed to alter the course of the future, especially for a teen in the mafia with too much curiosity for his own good.
Dazai had been tampering with old relics left from Mori’s time as a doctor, trying to stir up a suicide concoction. The last time he had done that was a few months before he officially joined the Port Mafia, and now, even at seventeen, he didn’t know what had gone through his mind to return to old habits; all he knew was that he felt compelled. Compulsion led to curiosity, and curiosity led to him being dropped in the middle of somewhere. He didn’t have time to register his surroundings before he entered the wrong shop and was chased out by some guys who looked like they came from the slums. In fact, the entire area, from what he could scope out, looked like the slums, built upon gangs and hassles for what little food and money they could get their hands on.
Chuuya was with him of course, though he didn’t know if that was for better or for worse. After they outran their fifth gang, the boy talked Dazai’s ear off, giving him a handful of “you shouldn’t be messing around with unlabeled potions” this and “shouldn’t even be touching Mori’s stuff” that. To be completely fair, the potion was stuffed in his desk, labeled with L.B., but he had no clue what that meant. Perhaps a gift from an old connection. The stuff was pitch black liquid, like crows in the dark of night, so he figured that stuff would’ve been lethal. Instead, the one time he brought Chuuya up to grace him with his presence one last time, he’d dropped the mixture on the ground and they were both transported to who-knows-where.
Dazai managed to quiet Chuuya down, dragging him to a corner behind one of the stores; they learned quickly that being loud and bold was a sure way to garner unwanted attention. They figured calling someone to pick them up would be the best option, but the odds kept outrunning them.
“I don’t even have service,” Dazai scowled, holding his phone up in the air.
“I paid extra too,” Chuuya frowned.
“Of course you would. What’s the extra cost worth if it’s not gonna help you in times like this?”
Chuuya sighed and pocketed his device. “Maybe we can find someone, ask them for help. It could be another part of Yokohama?”
Dazai mirrored his action. “Bullshit. The Port Mafia practically runs the city, and we've both been here long enough to know the ins and outs.”
Chuuya was at a loss for words, but Dazai had only meant it as a fact. They started walking down one of the many alleyways and the boy clicked his tongue in realization. “Not since the Agency was up and running.”
Well, that was something Dazai couldn’t deny. The Agency was established not too long ago, but they weren’t specifically targeting the mafia. He remembered they had something to do with the police, an alliance you could call it. Yokohama was a place full of alliances, but also neutrality. It was only recently that something had shifted in the air, where anyone could have sensed the rising tension rolling through the city. The imaginary peace treaty was bound to break at any moment, so Dazai was half-glad that he wasn’t anywhere near the place when that happened. Still, he hadn’t planned on taking a surprise trip out of town and Chuuya seemed just as determined to get back as quickly as possible.
They walked down the corridor, faces relaxed and bodies alert. The place was tight, but quiet, which allowed for the smallest of whispers to travel to unwanted ears. Which is also why Dazai stopped Chuuya as they arrived at a crossroad and were about to turn, gesturing for him to stay quiet. They peeked around the wall just in time to see a misty figure dart through the walls, and then a sharp cracking sound that echoed down the passageway. It was much too dark to register what was going on, but Dazai hadn’t spent his precious time training to not be familiar with that sound. Some major bones were definitely broken, but not enough to kill the victim. Definitely an ability user, though, so they weren’t alone.
As they took off with the victim, Dazai knew the better option would be to leave the matter alone. He knew it and chose to ignore it, Chuuya coming to the same consensus without argument. The boys followed a few steps behind, but it was hard when their target was familiar with an area that they’d never been to. They lost sight of them on more occasions than Dazai wanted to admit, but after what felt like an hour of maneuvering through desert alleyways, the man dragging the body arrived at a dimly lit mansion, the shadow following close behind. They lingered at the entrance of a gate before it opened and they traveled inside, but the boys remained on the outskirts.
“What do we do? We can’t get past the gate without the guards noticing,” Chuuya whispered.
“Too many guards,” Dazai mused.
“Yeah,” Chuuya said like it was obvious. “Clearly that’s a sign to turn around.”
“But it also means there’s something valuable inside. Let’s go.”
Instead of walking up to the entrance, they rounded to the side of the gate facing a canal. It wasn’t as crowded as the frontside, but there were guards stationed at each corner of the fence. They silently knocked one out and Dazai used a few knives to pin his clothing to the corner pillar of the gate to make it look as close to a guard on duty as he possibly could. There were probably easier options, but they all required something he couldn’t give up: time.
The other side was not what he was expecting. The smell hit him first, something so unpleasant that he almost lost his composure. From the looks of it, Chuuya wasn't faring any better, but it wasn't time to break down from something silly as an awful smell. There was a possibility that it was poison, but he'd taken the time to ensure that he wouldn't have to worry about another weakness. He guessed Chuuya hadn't taken the extra precaution, but he was still alive and standing, so Dazai took that as a good sign.
More guards littered the garden grounds and it was starting to feel a little ridiculous. Either they were seeking out the reincarnation of paranoia, or whatever was hidden in this house was as valuable as it seemed. Regardless, they needed someone’s help and any matters surrounding that hardly affected him. They used the plants and darkness to their advantage until they got to the side of the mansion. A few windows were lit, but only one on the second floor showed signs of activity.
Once Dazai made sure they were in the clear, he pointed to the sole lit window. “Up you go.”
“We didn’t come here to eavesdrop on useless information,” Chuuya argued.
“We aren’t supposed to be here at all. And information is never useless if you know what to do with it.”
“...Are you sure about this?”
Dazai pouted. “Are you doubting me?”
Chuuya answered with a quick eye roll, but he scaled the building while Dazai stood watch on the ground. The uncertainty in the other boy’s eyes was a comical hit to the stomach and lingered in his mind.
It was a while before he came back down. When he did, Chuuya's brows were pinched in concern and his eyes held a deep sense of conflict. Dazai didn’t care to ask. The other boy would tell him when he felt like it.
“They’re coming down,” Chuuya said flatly.
Dazai’s senses sharpened and he looked at the other boy with one wild eye. “Why didn’t you—oh nevermind.”
“Dazai—”
“No time!”
He pulled Chuuya to the side and into the brush, where they watched through the branches. Half a second later, a door opened where they were standing and two people walked out. Chuuya sent him a silent glare; Dazai returned it with a pleasant smile. A man in his forties walked like business couldn’t wait, and beside him, a boy around their age limped and carried his weight through a cane. He moved with the shadows, all mysterious and cold, and Dazai didn’t like it.
They followed the men down to a boathouse near the canal, staying under the veil of the bushes. Warm light bled through the covered windows and it contrasted with the dark of night. The older man shoved a key up the lock and the boy silently followed him inside. Dazai would’ve tried slipping inside, or at least getting closer, had there not been a singular guard standing watch outside the building.
That might’ve been an overstatement—he just stared blankly, expectantly, like he was waiting for something worth his time. Dazai wasn’t going to take the risk. Thankfully, right before the door shut, Chuuya flung a pebble out and kept it ajar, enough so that they could pick up on hints of the conversation.
He quickly realized that whatever the issue was, it was discussed with terms he wasn’t familiar with, names or places he was sure didn’t exist anywhere in the world. Maybe it was code words, which were always used as a precaution, but it didn’t seem likely. By the time the two men had traveled from the boathouse back to the front gate, Dazai could only make sense of one thing: a drug outbreak was nearly upon them. Anticlimactic at most and such a waste of time. Right before they finished the deal, Dazai made a last-minute decision to follow the kid, since brokering with older people was always a drag.
Chuuya went along without complaint as they followed him through the shadows. It wasn’t long before their presence was acknowledged.
“You can come out now,” the boy said raspily. Dazai took that as a cue and stepped out lazily, just as the boy turned to meet his eye. His face was taut, and his lips were set in a thin, hard line. He eyed them warily, but Dazai could smell the hint of surprise, like he hadn’t expected two kids his age to be following him. Still, he shifted his weight tiredly and asked, “Your business?”
“Where are we?” Asking simple questions before cutting to the real reason usually worked in his favor.
The other boy raised an eyebrow, as if that was a joke. “The deepest of whatever hell you believe in, where you can’t even see the light of your Saints.”
A beat of silence passed and Chuuya bristled. “Huh?”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Dazai shook his head amusedly.
“Stupid questions receive stupid answers,” he stated flatly, briefly pulling out a pocket watch like he had better places to be.
“I meant that quite literally.”
The other boy’s eyebrows raised slightly before settling back into his stoic expression, perhaps with a little more suspicion. Nevertheless, he said, “Ketterdam.”
Chuuya muttered under his breath, “Never heard of that.”
“Neither have I. But worry not, mystery guy,” Dazai smiled cheerfully and whipped out a map, unfolding it. “Do be kind and point us to where ‘Ketterdam’ is.”
But the boy was frozen, and for the first time, concern broke out and tainted his features. With a cautious step forward and the clack of his cane hitting stone, he murmured, “What is this?”
Dazai held the paper out so the boy could get a good look. “A map?”
Dark eyes flickered to meet his. “Clearly.”
“Well, as one might say, stupid questions lead to stupid answers.”
The other guy straightened, still keeping an eye on the map. “One might also say you don’t mock a man who is willing to spare some information.”
Dazai laughed without humor, stuffing the map back into his coat. “You haven’t given us anything worthy yet.”
“I gave you a name. Start with that.” And he was off, signaling the end of the conversation.
But Dazai wasn’t done, and one look at Chuuya’s face made it clear that he wasn’t either. They quickened their pace to keep up, but it wasn’t long until they sidled up and walked by the boy’s side. He seemed to be ignoring their presence, but the longer they traveled, the more suspicious Dazai became, and he’d rather not be unknowingly led to another gang.
“Shall we try again?” he asked lightly and the boy stopped abruptly, grip tightening on the crow-shaped handle of his cane.
If Dazai had been anyone else, perhaps some lackey with lower-level training in the mafia, he wouldn’t have caught the glint in the boy’s eyes that meant one thing only. He swung his cane in a low arc, clearly aiming for the legs, but Dazai was quick to grab the shaft, securing it in his grip. He didn’t want to pull out his gun, since that would just add to the rising tension and that was the last thing they needed. The boy wasn’t making it easy, but Dazai knew how to deal with that type of behavior.
It was a new method he’d been meaning to try, but he hadn’t had a good reason to test it out until now. Chuuya, the idiot slug, decided that now was a good time to step in, placing himself an inch in front of Dazai.
“Brekker, was it? We’re not here for trouble. Quite the opposite, actually.”
“Who are you?” he growled, gripping his cane with such intensity that Dazai thought his glove might rip.
“Perhaps I’ll tell you if you stop aiming that cane at my leg?” The other boy didn’t budge and Dazai tilted his head. “You’re outnumbered.”
The boy grinned icily, “That’s never stopped me.”
Dazai’s hand graced the gun under his coat, quite unhappy that he’d have to kill his only source of information. He had no choice when, in his moment of hesitation, the boy ripped his cane out of Dazai’s grasp with unknown strength and swung a wide, but precise arc. Before he could shoot a warning shot, Chuuya lunged and within seconds, Brekker was now restrained under the faint glow of Chuuya’s ability.
“Bastard,” Dazai hissed, shooting his coldest glare at him. Chuuya only shrugged and returned a not-so apologetic look. His black gaze fell back down to Brekker, who was panting from the restraint against gravity, and it probably wasn’t doing any favors for his bad leg. “Why did you use our last resort?”
“Don’t look at me like I did something wrong. If you want to get out of here as soon—”
“I do. But you should know better than to just reveal what you are when you don’t know where you are.”
“For fuck’s sake, Dazai—”
“Quit yelling,” he spat. “Bring him here.”
They settled into a dark corner of an alleyway, but Dazai didn’t allow himself to rest. They had business to settle, and leisure only got in the way. Brekker rested against the wall, since Chuuya had been kind enough to lighten the effects, but still kept it as a precaution. Dazai hadn’t spared him a look since he’d revealed their ability too early on.
“Would you talk?” Chuuya snapped. Brekker spared him a glance, but Dazai’s gaze remained straightforward. That only enraged Chuuya further, as if he wasn’t the one to put them in the situation at hand. He marched towards him. “Listen, I don’t know why you wanted to be secretive—”
“Save the explanation,” Dazai said in a hard tone. “Focus on what you caused,” he nodded at the boy leaning against the other side of the alley.
Chuuya took one long glance at Brekker before calmly walking over, fisting his hand in the collar of his shirt. “Alright, start talking before we kill you and track down another unlucky soul for information.”
“You can’t—” he started, but Chuuya shoved him roughly against the stone wall.
“No! I won’t accept excuses. Start talking.”
But the boy only inhaled a shaky breath. “Let go of me,” he said in a low voice, but Dazai could hear the layers of menace behind it.
Brekker’s cane flew into Chuuya’s hand and he handed it over, releasing his hold on him and taking a step back. “Fine. Violence won’t solve this. It’s simply an exchange for information.”
“Chuuya—” Dazai started.
“No!” he yelled, a bit too loud. “You told me to handle this, so let me handle it.”
Dazai’s gaze only hardened and he averted his eye, “I said nothing of the sort.” But he kept quiet.
Chuuya regained his composure and turned back to the other guy. “It’ll be quick if you cooperate. You’re hired for a job, correct?”
The boy tilted his head in disdain. “I don’t give out something for nothing.”
“Brekker—”
“Kaz,” he corrected. “Call me Kaz.”
Chuuya shook his head, and even without seeing his face, Dazai knew he was rolling his eyes. “Kaz, then. Would our intentions be clearer if I told you we aren’t from here?”
Kaz’s eyes scanned the darkness above. “It doesn’t serve me any purpose.”
“It does. We need a favor.” Dazai narrowed his eye, not liking the direction of the conversation.
“I told you I don’t give out something for nothing.”
“What do you want, then? Money?”
For a moment, Kaz’s eyes glittered, but it died out when he met Dazai’s gaze. “Depends on what you need.”
“What we need is a way to get home,” Chuuya said simply.
They engaged in a staring contest, one filled with cold, brittle tension settling upon them. Kaz relented and shook his head. “No. No amount of kruge will buy your way back to your universe.” Dazai could see the anxiety building up inside Chuuya, but he was keeping up a valiant effort of not letting it show.
“Then what if we help you on the job?”
“I don’t need help.”
“It’s either that or we leak it. It’s only a matter of time until we find someone else willing to help us.” Dazai let his brows lift in satisfaction when Chuuya realized he found the target.
“You wouldn’t—” he snarled, taking a step forward, but Chuuya held out a hand.
“No, I wouldn’t,” he admitted. “But that’s only if you keep being difficult.”
“I already know who I want on the job, and it’s not you two.”
Chuuya was at a loss for words, but Dazai jumped in. “Oh please, you haven’t even given us a chance to prove ourselves useful.”
“I don’t need proof of anything,” Kaz shifted his hand on his cane. “No matter how powerful you claim to be, it’s simply too many people on the job.”
The more people involved, the more risk it causes, Dazai could understand that. He briefly met Chuuya’s eyes and shook his head. There’s always another possibility, but perhaps that’s a little too
optimistic for the situation they’re stuck in.
Before they left, Dazai couldn’t help but throw in a parting jab over his shoulder. “You better get the job done before the entire city finds out about it. I hear news travels fast in Ketterdam.”
He didn’t miss the masked panic growing in Brekker’s eyes.