Chapter Text
The sound of a car door slamming tore Kunikida out of his thoughts.
He was on a week-long joint mission between the Port Mafia and ADA, much to his distaste. He understood, truthfully, why the Port Mafia needed to be involved- or rather a certain individual from the Port Mafia.
Kunikida unfolded his hands from his place at the kitchen table, watching as Chuuya rounded the vehicle, speaking quietly to the driver and tapping the hood to signal their departure. He sucked in a deep breath, holding it for a few moments before the release, mentally preparing for what the week would have in store for his sanity.
It was undeniable, the strength Chuuya Nakahara carried, that strength necessary for this case. Ranpo had brought it up to the president, exactly why Nakahara was needed on the case and Dazai had apparently arranged the rest.
Leave it to the workplace hazard to invite another workplace hazard along.
A flash of auburn hair walked through the safehouse, eyes meeting Kunikida’s. Kunikida was half surprised the executive showed this early into their stay, expecting him to show up on the day they needed to infiltrate. He nodded, acknowledging Chuuya as he walked inside and set his duffle bag down in the entryway. They were situated in the countryside, a mix of wine country and farmland. The safehouse they resided in was quite larger than what the Mafia usually supplied, run down but nothing like Double Black had encountered during their time being partners.
There was nothing around for miles, the bleak yellow fields rolling in the distant view from the small window by the front door. It was perfectly situated, barely noticeable unless you were truly trying to find it.
“Nice to see you too, glasses.” Chuuya greeted, poking fun at the lack of Kunikida’s invite. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to function for a week around the mafioso.
“Hello, Nakahara.” Kunikida replied, not wanting to seem rude. He wasn’t even sure why he cared about keeping up appearances around Chuuya, he was the exact opposite of all his ideals.
Dazai didn’t seem to think so as he waltzed into the living area, smile beaming from ear to ear at the sight of his former partner. Of course, it was a painfully obvious fake smile, one he put on only during his theatrics.
“Why Chuuya!” Dazai exclaimed before deadpanning, “Ugh.”
“Fuck off,” Chuuya scoffed, walking over to the large round dining table. He pulled out a stack of files from his bag and placed them along the wood.
“Straight to it,” Kunikida nodded in approval, “I’ll go grab the others.”
Chuuya suppressed a laugh as Kunikida exited the room, neatly laying out all the documents and photographs on the table. He felt Dazai come up next to him, their arms barely brushing.
“Is he always like that?” Chuuya asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to make some sort of talk with Dazai to feel him out.
“You should know he is.” Dazai responded, voice light.
Chuuya did know, he’d spent a handful of times around Dazai’s new coworkers since the truce between organizations. They were strange, not exactly the type of people he envisioned his former partner surrounding himself with. They weren’t exactly weak, but they weren’t exactly Mafia either.
Which was why Chuuya was requested to join the assignment, they had vague information on the inner workings of the tunnel system and needed someone who could bring the place to its knees if it was called for. Ranpo, for some awful reason, seemed thrilled to explain to Fukuzawa why Chuuya was needed.
Kunikida walked out of the hallway with Yosano and Atsushi trailing behind him, the three gathering around the table. Yosano eyed Chuuya with crossed arms as her weight pressed into the side of the table, eyes untrusting and focused. Atsushi a stark contrast, eyes almost disbelieving that Chuuya actually showed for the assignment and he was in the presence of such a dangerous individual in such a docile environment.
“This is what we have on the group,” Chuuya started while pulling out different files, “They seem to be into trafficking but they’re on your radar why?”
“Trafficking.” Kunikida replied, not taking the file directly from Chuuya’s outstretched hand.
Chuuya quirked an eyebrow at his response, wondering why the secrecy on a joint assignment where information withheld could get someone killed. He dropped the papers on the table with no grace, allowing the small stack to make noise as it came in contact with wood. Only then did Kunikida reach forward and take the files, distributing them to his coworkers.
“There’s gifted individuals working with this organization, if I should even call them that, police won’t be of any help,” Kunikida continued after reading through one of the papers, “That’s why it’s on our radar.”
Chuuya hummed in response, Yosano spoke before he could respond.
“And why is it on the Port Mafia’s radar?” Yosano asked, not hiding the contempt in her voice.
“Classified information on the gifted, plus they’re encroaching on Port Mafia assets.” Chuuya responded, uninterested with the line of questioning directed towards him.
“Classified?” Yosano pressed, eyes flicking from the paper to meet Chuuya’s discolored eyes.
“As in we want to know their gifts, possibly to acquire them.” Chuuya responded, uncaring.
“Interesting,” Dazai mused, tossing the papers onto the table and taking a seat. He threw his arms behind his head and closed his eyes with a small smile playing on his face.
Kunikida would’ve thought it was a tactic to annoy him, or possibly everyone in the room if he wasn’t the detective he was. He noticed a minute change in Chuuya’s demeanor, his grip on the table tightening, the air constricting ever so slightly. Kunikida eyed the executive for a moment, papers still laying in his hand.
He wasn’t afraid, he knew Chuuya couldn’t turn against them in this moment, not with No Longer Human sitting next to him. It was more of an interesting predicament than one that would instill fear.
“Our current plan is to infiltrate together after gathering information on their movements with our close proximity,” Kunikida said, “We will begin tomorrow morning on a rotating schedule until we feel we’ve gathered the intel we need.”
“That’ll never work,” Chuuya laughed- full on laughed. Dazai’s slight smile betrayed him as it inched up his face.
“Why?” Atsushi asked almost frantically, nerves building inside of him.
“We can gather intel on a schedule, sure,” Chuuya recovered, “Infiltrating together is a terrible idea.”
“Unfortunately the shrimp is correct,” Dazai hummed, eyes still closed, “We need to go in one-by-one or in groups.”
“That is not what we agreed on at the office.” Yosano replied, head swiveling to Kunikida for back up on the situation.
“New information has arisen." Dazai said nonchalantly.
“No, we have not even scouted the tunnels yet.” Kunikida argued.
Dazai gestured to the papers in front of himself noncommittally, bringing his head back to an upright position but keeping his eyes closed. Kunikida wanted to strangle the man doing everything but speaking clearly about his thoughts.
“The Port Mafia had an informant who let us know this group had been compromised by another organization,” Chuuya explained, temper running short for the back and forth.
“And we’re supposed to believe you?” Yosano bit, placing the documents in her hand on the table and crossing her arms.
“Key word, ‘had’.” Dazai chirped.
“What else do you have to believe?” Chuuya fought, “Do you have confidential documents regarding the group?”
“Do you have any proof this informant even existed?” Kunikida shot back, taking a defensive stance behind the table.
“You askin’ for his death certificate?” Chuuya gently put his hands in his pocket, “You think we get those kinds of things?”
“I don’t feel like I am reaching with my assumption you could be giving us false information.” Kunikida doubled down.
Kunikida watched the glint of anger glaze in Chuuya’s eyes, his relaxed stance with hands deep in his pockets- something was boiling. He couldn’t bring himself to care, he could never trust a member of the Port Mafia, never allow them a moment of absolvement from the destruction they caused and countless lives they took. It was a direct clash of his current views on Dazai, who although used unconventional methods occasionally, seemed to want to be part of something that wasn’t downright illegal.
“Command or Black Lizard?” Dazai questioned, his voice cutting through the tension in the room.
“Command.” Chuuya affirmed, refusing any further information on the subject.
“Akutagawa?” Atsushi asked, the name barely leaving his mouth.
“He’s fine, kid.” Chuuya sighed, shuffling through the papers briefly before picking one up and extending his arm to give it to Kunikida. Again, Kunikida refused the paper until Chuuya placed it on the table and slid it towards him. He looked down to see a case file, one with the bold words Command M. 624, Intel.
“Not that I was wondering,” Atsushi quickly said, peeking over to read the file in Kunikida’s hand.
Kunikida skimmed the file which detailed how a unit of the Port Mafia had contact with one of the alleged members of the group they were currently attempting to infiltrate. They had gathered intel regarding the abilities some of the members had, including a multiplier ability which allowed the gifted individual to essentially clone people, with their gift.
He hated to admit it, but Chuuya was on the right path with their plan. Infiltrating together was not a good idea if they all became cloned and had to fight off each other’s abilities. It was deadly, one wrong judgement call and it could be the real person. Kunikida pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose before meeting Chuuya’s eyes from across the table.
“Fine,” Kunikida relented, “We will decide after gathering more intel.”
“I knew you’d come to your senses, Kunikida!” Dazai exclaimed, finally opening his eyes to stare directly into Kunikida’s, “Next time, just take the files from his hand.”
“How’d you even know that,” Yosano sighed, resigning to a chair to pick through the files more.
“Secrets, secrets!” Dazai replied.
The group continued scanning over the files Chuuya had brought, picking apart anything remotely valuable. Surprisingly, they worked together cohesively after the fight about what to do, collaboratively sharing anything that stuck out.
The sun had long set by the time Yosano pushed a file towards the middle of the table and rubbed her temple.
“I think we’ve covered enough ground for the night,” Yosano said, resigned, “Who will run intel tomorrow?”
“Dazai and I will run tomorrow,” Kunikida replied, “And I agree, let's reconvene tomorrow.”
With that, the group dispersed from the table.
Kunikida walked down the hall, turning the light on as he made his way to his small and cramped room. It wasn’t ‘terrible’ but it was one of the worst places he’d stayed. There was a small bed in the middle of the room, covered in sheets he had brought from his dorm to make the stay more comfortable, along with a nightstand and small mirror. The thought of the things that had happened in the safehouse made Kunikida’s skin crawl.
Brushing off the thought was easier said than done as Kunikida recoiled walking to one of the small bathrooms to clean himself up to sleep. He returned quietly to his room before locking the door and laying on the bed, leaving the lights on and staring up at the ceiling.
Down the hall, Yosano felt indifferent to her dwellings. They were the same as Kunikida’s except the new addition of a broken vanity next to the door. She had also brought her own sheets, remembering first hand what it was like to be in a Port Mafia safehouse. As she laid in bed, she wondered how Atsushi was coping with everything, seeing as he was mainly brought along for experience rather than his ability.
Before she was able to shut the lights, she shoved the vanity in front of her locked door.
-
Kunikida woke with a startle to dim yellow lights still beaming from above.
He hadn’t expected to fall asleep, he barely even remembered closing his eyes. Uneasiness was something that seeped into his bones staying in a place like this. Kunikida blinked a few times before fumbling for his glasses next to him, only to realize they were still perched on his face. He sat up, running his hand over his face before getting up to shut the light and officially put a close to the day.
When he made it to where the lightswitch panel was on the wall, he found his hand gripping the doorknob instead. He couldn’t understand was was drawing him to open the door and check on the rest of the house, probably something as simple as feeling like the main protector in this situation. He knew his coworkers could fend for themselves, but he didn’t want them to.
With the invisible force calling him out into the common area, he switched off the lights and began to silently walk through the hallway. All five of the doors in the hallway were shut with the exception of where Chuuya would be staying. His room was further down the hallway, separated from the others by a bathroom and small broom closet.
The hair on the back of Kunikida’s neck stood as approached the executive’s room, doubting if he should even be approaching him unarmed. Best case scenario, he pushed the door open to find Chuuya sleeping on the bed, worst case… Kunikida couldn’t bring himself to conjure up what could possibly be the worst case scenario. The old wood boards creaked underneath his sock-covered feet in front of the door before he placed a hand on the door. He pushed it open slightly, hoping to catch a glimpse of red hair splayed across the pillow with no threat in sight.
As Kunikida pushed the door open a fraction, we could tell the room was empty. Chuuya’s bag was lying on the bed, which was adorned in his personal sheets and large comforter, obviously expensive. Kunikida suppressed a snort at the amount of pillows the executive had on the bed and the dark burgundy color of his sheets; Mafia money was not something to rival as it came with a large price.
Withdrawing from the obviously empty room, Kunikida turned around and crept into the common area, careful not to cause any more floorboards to creak. He was met with complete darkness aside from a small lamp that was left on in the small kitchenette. It caused a stark contrast in the way he viewed the area earlier. Going against all ideals, he found the common area something he chalked up as ‘fond’, as if he could feel the heartbeat of the house beneath his feet while staring into the dim yellow light emitted from a worn out bulb.
The light barely touched the table where papers describing various crimes lay untouched, awaiting the sunlight to peak in from the undrawn curtains. Kunikida rolled the thought over in his mind about how much violence this safehouse might have seen, how at one point the common area he was sneaking around in wearing yesterday’s clothes could have once held a gaggle of Port Mafia members, bloody and crazed after a mission.
His ideals quickly took hold of the thought and threw it out the window. A feeble light coming from an outdated lamp wouldn’t shake him. He was here on official business, helping innocent people who needed him, working with a Port Mafia executive only because the case called for it.
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft noise coming from outside of the safehouse. Kunikida’s guard immediately went up as his eyes darted to the window where the curtains weren’t pulled shut. He could see two figures outside, sitting facing each other on the worn down bench in front of the house.
Kunikida reached for his notebook, ready to pounce at a moment's notice, only to hear faint laughter creeping in through the glass. He recognized the figures outside as his partner, Dazai, and Chuuya Nakahara, the god damn terrible person he hated being around. He wanted to bust open the front door and scold his partner, wringing out Chuuya in the process. Before he could act on anything, the words being exchanged hit his ears.
“That’s not how it happened,” Chuuya said, muffled slightly by the structure separating them from Kunikida.
“Oh right, because my memory is so terrible!” Dazai replied, laughing slightly at the end.
Kunikida had never heard this side of his partner, ever. It wasn’t the god-awful fake laugh he put on at work, it wasn’t something sinister or cold. It wasn’t the contempt that occasionally slipped into his voice, laughing as if he was standing on the outside looking in on the most obvious joke. It was different- it had a softened edge. It hit the air like something exchanged between two beings it was solely reserved for. It was still Dazai, still had the torque in his voice, the monotonous nature, but it was meaningful, like everything he had ever been was reduced by a singular laugh in Chuuya’s direction.
Nothing of it made sense to Kunikida, he knew the two were partners in the Port Mafia, he knew of the destruction and devastation they had caused together. He knew, acutely, just how well the two worked together, even now after years of no contact and numerous fights- they were unstoppable. Yet Dazai hated Chuuya, loathed everything about the man according to his own testimonies- and there were testimonies of not wanting to work with a low-life, dumb dog who would blow off his own head if his spine didn’t keep it attached. And Chuuya hated Dazai, beating him senseless on multiple occasions according to Dazai.
“Shut it,” Chuuya’s deep voice reverberated quietly through the wall, “I drug your ass in there, half alive and you still-”
It was cut off by a laugh; Dazai’s laugh. Again. Followed by a chuckle from Chuuya, who had long forgotten what he was trying to make a point about.
Dazai’s head fell forward as he laughed, covering his mouth as if he were aware of the noise he was making. There was no way for him to know Kunikida was silently watching from the darkness of the common area, but it made him aware he could very well be caught by the two.
Kunikida still couldn’t wrap his head around what he was seeing- they hated each other. Rivals, enemies at best. They had wished death upon each other with Kunikida as witness, he couldn’t understand why the moonlight was showing a genuine, relaxed smile on Dazai’s face as he obviously recalled a memory he blatantly wanted to have the correct story on. It didn’t make sense the way Chuuya looked at him as he laughed, as if he was proud of the moment, of the upper hand he obviously had in their conversation.
Could Chuuya even have the upper hand in a conversation with Dazai? It wasn’t as if Kunikida thought him to be the brainless idiot Dazai had made him out to be, but against Dazai nobody had the upper hand- not even in simple conversation. Kunikida knew any upperhand anyone had over him was something carefully orchestrated, meticulously planned, even if it was in a joking manner.
Kunikida watched intently as Chuuya said something, his words low and in a whisper, unable to be heard. Something that must’ve held weight by the way Dazai’s expression changed before Chuuya continued to explain himself. He spoke the words so low that they couldn’t be made out through the thin sheet of glass and wood separating them, Kunikida wouldn’t have known he said anything if he wasn’t staring with vigor.
Dazai replied to Chuuya’s statement, head nodding in what seemed to be an understanding or agreement. The look he wore was one Kunikida had never witnessed, it was still sharp and all-knowing, but it was relaxed, which was something Kunikida thought he had seen a multitude of times. Dazai slacking off, sleeping in the office, head thrown back and headphones on uncaring to the world were all things Kunikida had chalked up to his coworker being relaxed and unbothered. Really, the look he was witnessing in the dark of the safehouse, was the closest to truly relaxed Dazai had ever been.
His eyes creased slightly around the edge, his lips twitching as if he only had full feeling in half of his face. Moonlight highlighting his sharp features, dancing in the softer features. It had to be a dream, a terrible, awful thing his mind conjured up to cope with the fact his coworker was outside, in a Port Mafia safehouse, talking to a Port Mafia executive and laughing with him.
Remembering himself, Kunikida straightened immediately, unsure of why he even watched the two for the short amount of time he did. He turned on his heel, placing careful steps until he reached his quarters for the next week.
Kunikida laid his head on the pillow and willed away any remnants of what he just saw.