Chapter Text
It was dark, and it was silent.
Awareness came to Chuuya slowly, his consciousness stirring in bits and pieces as he struggled to break through the fog clouding his brain, registering a hard surface beneath his head and hip. Where was he? He had been home, right? Enjoying a rare day off and reading on his couch in worn jeans and his favorite T-shirt, bare feet propped up on the cushions. Then there had been a knock. The last thing he remembered was moving to answer it, sure he was about to come face to face with Dazai trying to disrupt his peaceful day with some crazy story or prank like always.
He couldn't remember anything after opening the door. Had he passed out?
The redhead tried to open his aching eyes and see where he was, but quickly realized something was pressed tightly against his lids, keeping them closed. He shifted, trying to lift a hand to the offending obstruction and found resistance. His arms wouldn't budge. He shook his heavy head, trying to clear the haze that continued to muddle his thoughts, and realized there was pain at various points throughout his body. Something was digging at the thin skin of his wrists and elbows. He wiggled, and realized there was rough rope bound tightly around his joints, wrenching at his shoulders and pinning the limbs behind his back.
What the fuck?
More shifting on the hard ground, which was definitely NOT the plush carpet of his penthouse, and he found the same rough rope pinning his ankles and knees together. The material scraped at his ankles, thankfully the delicate skin at the back of the knees was protected by his jeans, but already, he could feel the rope burn that had developed under the rest of the bindings.
Is this Dazai's twisted idea of a joke?
Chuuya tried to open his mouth to chew the idiotic mackerel out - only for his sluggish mind to realize his mouth was already open. He bit down against the ache in his jaw, feeling the slight give of firm rubber, and slid his tongue under the curve of a ball gag. The chemical taste that he hadn't noticed before suddenly flooded his mouth, overwhelming his taste buds and filling his nostrils as he sucked in a harsh breath.
What the actual fuck!?
A flash of panic jolted through his chest before it was promptly replaced with annoyance. That was enough of this shit. Whatever the hell the game was, Chuuya wasn't playing. The redhead reached for Upon the Tainted Sorrow, fully intending to rip the bindings from his body and fling himself at Dazai or whoever the hell thought this was fucking funny!
…
Nothing.
The Mafioso felt the building anger drop away quicker than it had appeared. He tried again, reaching for that wild energy to control gravity that was always swirling inside, only to be met with stillness.
Fuck. Shit. No, no, no.
The panic was rising against his wishes as he began twisting against the ropes. He uncurled his fingers, twisting them, reaching up to try and feel for the ropes binding his wrists - and was stopped by a rough surface. He paused, tracing fingertips across the material. Burlap. There was a sheet of burlap encasing his hands on all sides, preventing him from making contact with anything. He jerked his ankles against the ropes, a slight brush against his bare toes confirmed the same burlap was covering his feet too.
Chuuya began twisting wildly, swearing up a storm through the gag in his mouth. Barely being able to hear his own shouts, his brain supplied the last piece of information about his captivity - his ears were blocked. He was unable to reach up and feel what was there, but the pressure implied some kind of moldable earplug. The struggling grew as the Executive thrashed on the hard floor, unable to see or hear anything, the only sensations on his skin being the clothes he wore, the ropes that bound him, and the rough weave encasing his extremities.
Chuuya's breathing grew quicker, more difficult with the ball gag partially blocking his airway. He fought against the rapidly rising panic, trying his best to breath through his nose as weakened muscles strained against the thick ropes. This was no prank from Dazai. His former partner wouldn't trap him like this, weakened and without his ability.
His wild struggles had shifted Chuuya across the floor slightly, and as he twisted one more time something stopped him, tugging at his ankles and holding him firm in place. The Mafioso stopped, shifting his legs back and fourth to feel the vibration through the floor of metal sliding across tile. A chain. He was chained to the fucking floor. Just as that realization hit him, an icy cold brushed his side, eliciting a jolt and muffled yelp of shock. He shifted, feeling the frigid sensation seep through his clothes where they pressed against the floor.
Water.
Fucking dammit.
He could already sense the level rising up the side of his skull where it rested on the tile. Wherever he was, it was flooding. And there was shit he could do about it.
Chuuya strained his bound limbs, rolling onto his stomach before using the chain fastened to his ankles to brace against as he slid his torso backwards, finally managing to sit upright on his heels. The water was rising at a steady rate, soaking into the knees of his jeans, already a couple inches high. The Executive shook his head, strands of wet hair hitting his cheek. The lack of senses was disorienting, Even with the ground hard beneath his knees it was becoming hard to tell which way was up and which was down.
Water closed over the back of his calves and Chuuya sucked in a breath as panic began to wash over him in waves. More twisting and tugging at the ropes around his wrists and elbows, but still nothing gave. Air hissed through his nose rapidly, breathes quickening as the fear began to build.
He was trapped. He was blind, deaf, ability-less, thoroughly bound and chained down. He didn't know where he was or if anyone knew he was even missing.
The water rose up his lower thighs and Chuuya found himself lifting off his heels in an attempt to raise himself a few inches. He needed to try and get to his feet, to last as long as he could. He just had to hope that someone would come and help him before it was too late.
Please. He silently begged. Someone fucking help me.
Dazai was running.
Dazai was running as fast as his lanky legs and under-worked lungs would allow him to. He had to make it in time, he would accept no other outcome. He had run this hard only once before - and that time he had been too late. Dazai had heard the gunshot, had run through the door just in time to see Oda hit the ground.
The blood of his best friend had soaked his hands.
He would not be late this time. He couldn't lose anyone else so important to him. He refused.
.
.
.
Several minutes earlier …
"Has anyone seen Kunikida? He's not in the back offices and he yelled at me for ten minutes yesterday just so I would promise to be here on time today!"
Atsushi glanced at the clock. "Wow, you are on time today Dazai. How did Kunikida manage that?"
"He guilt-tripped me." Dazai whined in reply. "He told me told me if I was late and we didn't get to this interview on time then we'd be making some sweet old lady wait longer than needed for us to find her missing family heirloom."
Atsushi squinted at his mentor dubiously.
"And … that worked?" He sounded doubtful.
"Ahh! Atsushi, I'm hurt! Of course it worked! I care very much about such things you know."
"You only care about committing suicide with a beautiful woman," Atsushi deadpanned "I highly doubt that explanation worked on you."
Dazai pouted for a few more seconds before the scrunched lips morphed into a delighted grin.
"You're right! Kunikida said he'd pay off five percent of my tab downstairs if I arrived on time today."
"Of course." Atsushi sighed.
The shape shifter opened his mouth to say more, but was promptly cut off by their resident masochist calling towards them from the hall leading to the back offices.
"Either of you know where Ranpo is hiding?"
Both men shook their heads at the doctor.
"Damn," she huffed, walking over "He was supposed to meet me here this morning. He said he found some new wine-filled chocolates he wanted me to try."
"Maybe he changed his mind and is keeping them all to himself." Dazai joked. He gulped seconds later when Yosano shot him her meanest glare.
"I know you think you're funny. But I might actually hurt someone if they promise me wine and then back out."
A creak sounded, and three heads turned expectantly as the main door suddenly opened.
"Was anyone expecting a package?" Tanizaki entered with his sister, a plain brown shoebox clutched in his hands.
"No?" Dazai answered.
"Oh. Well it was sitting on the floor just outside the door when we walked up."
"I wonder if I bought new shoes online and forgot?"
Yosano snatched the box with a gleeful smile and pulled out a small blade to slice away the tape sealing it.
"That would be extremely unlike you to forget about shoes."
"Shut up Dazai. Just cause you have a mind like a steel trap, doesn't mean we all do."
Yosano wrenched open the lid, only for her smile to fall in confusion. Atsushi peered over her shoulder as the others all leaned inward to see the contents. Dazai reached a curious hand out, removing the top item.
"A DVD?"
Atsushi's questioning tone was reflected in the expressions of the others.Dazai shrugged, turning to pull the nearest laptop towards him and pop out the disc drive as Yosano shoved the box back at Tanizaki.
"I suppose the only answer we'll get is if we watch it."
The brunette popped the disc in, pushing the slot closed and crossing his arms as they all waited for it to play.
A black screen split by a thin horizontal white line popped up. A digitally distorted voice began to speak, the white line wavering with every sound.
"Greetings to the Armed Detective Agency and the Port Mafia."
Dazai's eyes narrowed at the introduction.
"Naomi," he said, voice dropping into a more serious tone "get the President. Now."
The dark haired girl scurried away as the voice continued, unbroken by Dazai's order.
"This City is broken. You are the cause. The Tripartite system was intended to be a crutch for this city, a method of control. But that control is what is breaking this city apart. Your organizations are incapable of working together, so how can you expect to hold this city together. You play at having an alliance, but the second your views become misaligned, you throw all pretense of getting along out the window."
Soft footsteps sounded as Fukuzawa approached the group and spoke softly so as to not drown out the voice in the video.
"I have Mori on the phone. The Mafia received the same video at the same time and is currently watching it."
Dazai tensed, but resolved to keep his focus on the current problem in front of them. His complicated feeling towards Mori would have to take a backseat for now.
"You place your own values and needs over that of this city or each other. So, I have created this little test. A way of proving my words to be true. To prove your organizations could never truly work with each other. To prove your existence is detrimental to this city."
The wavering white line vanished, replaced by six photos filling the screen in it's entirety. Six photos, of six very familiar faces.
Ranpo …
Kunikida …
Kyouka …
Tachihara …
Akutagawa …
Chuuya …
Dazai felt a chill run down his spine.
No. Please no.
The voice did not heed Dazai's silent plea.
"I have taken the liberty of acquiring some of your members and placing them in … let's say, somewhat perilous situations. Without access to their abilities of course."
Yosano was fuming beside him. Atsushi was trembling with barely contained worry. Dazai could feel every muscle in his body tensing. A fight or flight reaction, but instead of either or the other, it was both - the desire to wring this mystery enemy's neck and the desire to race and save his people right this instant.
"All six of the people on this screen will be dead within the hour. Less if you took your time opening this box. However, you might be able to save them. In the bottom of the box you received are three envelopes, each containing a name of one of your missing members and the address of where they are located. But their only chance is for your organizations to rely on one another. The Mafia has the locations of the Detectives, and the Agency has the locations of the Mafiosos."
Dazai twitched as Mori's voice began echoing from the phone pressed against Fukuzawa's ear, demanding the addresses in the Agency's envelopes. But as the President opened his mouth to respond, the mysterious voice batted away that possibility.
"I would advise against trying to exchange locations. The Agency and Mafia headquarters are too far away from their respective missing persons to make it in time. You'll just have to trust each other."
A scoff echoed from the laptop speakers.
"I expect both your organizations will be down a few members an hour from now. Good riddance."
Dazai jolted as the voice continued, slipping into an increasingly furious rant about how toxic their organizations were, about the damage they had inflicted on the city.
Mori and Fukuzawa were arguing over the phone, growing increasingly loud and heated as they threw the blame back and forth.
Atsushi was stumbling over his words, freaking out about Kyouka's disappearance as he had only thought her out for a walk that morning.
Dazai paid attention to none of it. He had been frozen at first, his worry for multiple people freezing him in place temporarily. But his brain sorted the new information quickly. He couldn't help his fellow agency members, he had to trust the Mafia. And despite Fukuzawa's efforts, no amount of arguing would sway Mori if the doctor didn't want to help, so it was out of his hands.
That left the Mafiosos.
Dazai couldn't care less about the Black Lizard member, and with the envelopes right there in front of them, he trusted Atsushi would break out his panic momentarily to go after Akutagawa.
That left Chuuya.
His Chuuya.
At the words 'Good riddance' the former Demon Prodigy had turned and ripped the box from Tanizaki's frozen fingers, grabbing the three envelopes and tearing open the first one.
Akutagawa.
He shoved the paper into a panicking Atsushi's chest before tearing open the second.
Tachihara.
He tossed that one over his shoulder and tore open the last one.
Chuuya.
He took off for the door, ignoring the shouts of surprise that followed him and leaving the other detectives behind to figure the rest out. Time was of the essence, they didn't know how long that box had been sitting on their floor. It had been at least twenty minutes, if not more, between Dazai walking in and the Tanizaki siblings arriving to find the package.
The voice had said they had an hour.
He could only hope that the rest of the Agency and Mafia would put aside their petty grudges in favor of saving lives.
Down the stairs and out the door to the busy morning sidewalk. People milled about, unbothered by the lanky detective flying past them, his tan trench coat streaming along behind him. As he moved, a map of the city rotated in his head. The address in the envelope was an old abandoned gym. A small one in a more run down part of the city.
Hailing down a taxi and navigating traffic would take too long at this time of day, so Dazai ran. He wove around people, cut through alleys, jumped a fence and ran straight through traffic. Anything to shorten the distance. Anything to get there just seconds faster. His lungs burned, beads of sweat gathered on his forehead and back, and still he ran as fast as he could. Faster than any of his friends ever thought him capable of.
He couldn't be late.
Not again.