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Most people don’t realize it, but they leave impressions wherever they go.
These impressions could be something visible, like textured footprints or strands of hair. But they could also be intangible, like the smell of strong perfume or trackable radio waves released from cellphones.
Dazai considers himself far superior to the average person in his observational skills. Now, it’s nothing compared to Ranpo’s deduction abilities, but he’s an anomaly—a break in the matrix. But it doesn’t take a super detective to realize that someone’s been through the run-down building Dazai’s currently walking through.
Giant cracks spiderweb across the walls, and large craters are spread sporadically throughout the floor. Broken glass litters the space below the windows, and Dazai skirts around the edges of a demolished office desk. It looks like a hurricane blew through, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake.
Striding through the building, Dazai comes across something new: bodies. Men dressed in all black lie crushed, their spines broken by some unseen force.
“How lazy.” Dazai comments, wrinkling his nose at the mess. “He didn’t even kill this one; he’s still alive.” The body at Dazai’s feet groans, and Dazai picks up a nearby gun, spinning it idly around his finger.
“Mercy,” the man rasps. “Please.”
Dazai hesitates. Back in his mafia days, he would’ve shot bullet after bullet into the man, watching as his body pitched with each incoming projectile. But he’s part of the Agency now, and they don’t kill for no reason. So, Dazai chooses the virtuous option. He shoots a quick text to Yosano, giving his location and sending her a bandaged-heart emoji. She responds with a little knife emoji, and Dazai knows she’s on her way. The man is worth more alive than dead anyways—Dazai could always have a little fun with the man and try to learn some useful information to help the Agency.
He pockets the gun and continues his quest through the building. Each room is pretty much the same: bodies everywhere, cracks on the floors and walls, and furniture destroyed. To Dazai, the destruction is like a calling card, and he knows exactly who’s behind it all.
“HAAAAAH!”
A high-pitched scream rings out in front of Dazai, and he enters the next room, stopping in the doorway.
FWOOSH!
A gust of air ruffles Dazai’s hair as a figure in front of him releases a devastating roundhouse kick, knocking his opponent into the back wall. The man lands neatly on the floor, a red glow covering him and the ground around him. His hat is perched sideways on his head, and his coat flutters in the wind, and to Dazai, he’s the most beautiful person in the world. Then, his mouth curls up in a devious smirk.
Silently, Dazai approaches the man from behind, and when he’s close enough, he wraps his hands around the man’s face, covering his field of vision.
“Guess who—ack!” His happy announcement is cut off when the figure whirls and socks him in the gut, knocking the air from his lungs. He collapses to his knees, gasping for air, while the figure—his husband—leans over him angrily.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Chuuya seethes. Dazai looks up and meets his husband’s multicolored eyes, giving him a half-smile.
“I’m on a job.” Dazai coughs and drags himself to his feet. “I was sent to investigate a foreign company counterfeiting money here, but it seems you beat me to the punch.”
From the instant Dazai entered the building, he knew Chuuya was already there. No one else has the unique battle style of his partner, one of pure destruction and decimation. When your signature move is the crushing weight of gravity, you’re pretty easy to track.
“Well, just stay out of my way while I beat this guy.” With that, Chuuya spins on his heels and runs at the man recovering from his earlier kick. Chuuya feints with a low kick and twists into a devastating punch, breaking the guy’s nose and knocking him unconscious.
What an amazing sight.
Chuuya stands above the bloodied man, shaking out his fist as his eyes go cold, befitting a Port Mafia executive. But when he turns back to look at Dazai, his eyes fill with light, and the black holes recede, leaving a warm reddish-brown iris in one and an ocean-blue iris in the other.
“Whaddya starin’ at, bastard?” Chuuya saunters up to Dazai and cocks a hand on his hip.
“Nothing.” Dazai’s told Chuuya how beautiful he was in battle before, but his husband never appreciated the comment. For some reason, Chuuya still seemed to believe that he was monstrous in combat, that his innate skill to kill meant he was inhuman.
But that isn’t true.
Chuuya’s combat is graceful, each strike precisely coordinated to knock his opponents out as quickly as possible. And that’s not even counting the ultimate form of Chuuya’s ability: Corruption.
To Dazai, there’s no word strong enough to describe the beauty of Corruption. Despite his nullification, Corruption has a pull on Dazai that’s slowly dragging him into the singularity that is Chuuya. But he can’t explain that to Chuuya without sounding insane.
“...Hey. Earth to Dazai.” Chuuya waves his hand in front of Dazai, snapping him back to the present. Dazai captures that hand in his and puts it to his cheek, feeling the leather of Chuuya’s gloves.
“Wha—?”
Dazai silences Chuuya by leaning in, pressing his lips to Chuuya’s. His husband lets out a little surprised noise, but slowly tilts his head, accepting the kiss easily.
It’s sweet, and Dazai enjoys the feel of Chuuya’s warm lips against his. Giddiness swirls in his chest as he remembers that this is his husband. He gets to go home tonight and fall asleep next to him. He gets to wake up tomorrow and watch his husband sleep. He can share sweet kisses in the sunlight and intimate moments in the moonlight.
At one point in his life, Dazai wondered if there was any point to this thing called living. But now, Dazai knows he’s found it.
As long as Chuuya remains by his side, Dazai will continue to survive. Not only survive, but live and be happy with his friends at the Agency and his old mafia acquaintances.
Suddenly, they’re interrupted by a small “Ahem,” and they break apart quickly to see Yosano and Atsushi watching them from the doorway. Atsushi’s face is bright red, but Yosano’s is knowing, and she smirks at them as she approaches.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she says. “But I saved that guy back there. Kunikida took him into custody, and he’ll be ready for interrogation later.”
“Great!” Dazai claps his hands together. “You’re truly the best, Dr. Yosano.”
She rolls her eyes, but smiles nonetheless. Atsushi is still blushing as he approaches, and he can’t meet Dazai’s eyes.
“I gotta split.” Chuuya licks his lips, and Dazai’s heartbeat stutters. “Can’t be here when the police arrive.” He bows his head slightly to Yosano. “See ya, Agency idiots.”
But before he flies away, he pulls Dazai down by his lapels, slotting their mouths together one last time before pulling away.
“And I’ll see you later, Dazai.” His eyes darken in anticipation, and a thrill runs through Dazai. With that, Chuuya launches into the air, and Dazai watches his small, red form disappear into the night.
“Sounds like you’re having fun tonight.” Yosano jokes. “I’ll tell Kunikida to take it easy on you tomorrow.”
Atsushi clamps his hands over his ears and lets out a low moan, causing Dazai to giggle.
Life may not be all sunshine and rainbows, but as long as the people Dazai loves are by his side, he wishes to continue his life, however wretched it may be.