Chapter Text
The fact that this entire plan worked in the first place is probably nothing short of a miracle, but Chuuya takes a bit of a sick pleasure in knowing that the reason Dazai lost his new pet project was because of a stupid, theoretically unobserved quip. He imagines it must have been quite a surreal experience, tossing an unconscious body behind you only to turn around and find that it never hit the ground, and is in fact no longer in the building. Maybe he did that little eyebrow crease he does when he’s actually been surprised by something. Maybe he’s getting chewed out by whoever is in charge of him over at the detective agency right now. One can only dream.
Akutagawa did nothing short of fantastically well. Sending him on this mission was a gamble Ougai was willing to take, but Chuuya had been considerably more nervous about it. Because Akutagawa tries, he really does, but he’s the last gift Dazai left the port mafia and if you look at him in the right light you can almost see the glowing digits of the emotional time bomb on the back of his neck. But he kept his calm and caught the body without a fuss, and because of that Chuuya is now being lead down to the holding cell that the tiger’s been stashed in until they figure out what to do with him.
The dungeon is one of those buildings that’s hidden in plain sight; just outside of downtown, larger than most of the buildings around it but not conspicuously so. The upper floors contain offices, some wholesale interior design shops, and rentable event spaces, and during the daylight hours is swarming with people, less than half of whom are properly mafia-affiliated. However, the building happens to be just large enough to justify a deep and spacious foundation (”in case of earthquakes”), and possesses several unmarked buttons in one particular fingerprint-protected elevator, set just barely aside from the others. And, of course, in exchange for a very competitive rental rate, every contract contains an explicit agreement about what happens to civilians who enter the lobby between the hours of 22:00 and 3:00.
The dungeon itself doesn’t start until a full story underneath the ground floor, to allow for soundproofing, and the hallways always smell like antiseptic and stale air. It is by far the port mafia’s least beautiful building, and Chuuya is fortunate enough to spend exceptionally little time in it. Akutagawa, on the other hand, is in his element, and if Chuuya felt so inclined he could catch the way Akutagawa very quickly rolls his eyes at the way Chuuya’s nose scrunches. The cells themselves are dark (to allow for blinding with flashes of light if someone manages to escape) and mostly empty, so the weretiger’s white hair catches Chuuya’s eye before Akutagawa can explain who he is.
The tiger’s still sleeping, tucked away with his back resting on the far corner, but Chuuya can tell from here that he’s inappropriately pale and his clothes are hanging loose in places they shouldn’t (whether this is the fault of the clothes themselves or a side effect of starvation is harder to tell from the doorway). Despite this, his face still manages to be soft, and when Chuuya crouches to get a better angle on him the effect only increases. His knobby, scuffed-looking arms are loosely curled around his legs, and it’s very obvious that he hasn’t slept, drug-assisted or not, for a very long time.
In theory, the tiger’s being left here for Akutagawa, who has mostly taken over Dazai’s former role of adapting atypical recruits to their new lives. In practice, these methods are morally questionable at best, horrifically cruel at worst, and are most importantly only effective for a limited time. There are, of course, the select few that come out of it indoctrinated into a life of crime, but it only takes one glance at the weretiger for Chuuya to determine that he’ll either be shattered beyond use in a day or hold out obstinately until he gets himself seriously hurt. He obviously should be moved as soon as possible, but...
Chuuya looks up at the ceiling for a few seconds before interrupting Akutagawa in the middle of his sentence. “What if I took him?”
Akutagawa sighs through his teeth and covers his eyes with one hand. “You weren’t listening.”
“I got the briefing before I came down here.” Chuuya admits. “Good work, by the way.”
“Thank you.” Akutagawa says pointedly, leaning back against the wall near the cell door. He contemplates the offer for a second and then sighs, again. “However, he was given to me to manage, and-”
Chuuya almost rocks back to sitting, but the floor seems to be a little wet and he thinks better of it. “Yes, but I don’t think this is going to work.”
Akutagawa sighs, longer this time, and pinches his nose bridge for a few seconds before looking down at Chuuya. “Are you asserting your authority as an executive?”
Chuuya meets his eyes. “Yes. Is that a problem?” Akutagawa’s forehead creases in several new and inventive places, and they simply look at each other for a minute.
Akutagawa breaks first, to cough. “Fine. You call the boss.”
“Sure.” Chuuya pulls his phone out of his pocket and stands. “Don’t kill him while I’m up there.”
Akutagawa just glares for Chuuya’s entire trip down the hallway, and Chuuya snickers to himself while the elevator doors slide closed. The first breath of air in the lobby feels delightfully fresh, and Chuuya takes a minute to appreciate having functioning lungs before dialing Ougai.
Ougai, true to form, picks up on the first ring. “I expected you to call.”
“Hello.” Chuuya says. “Then you already know what I’m going to ask.”
“Of course!” Ougai exclaims, clapping once like he actually just guessed it. Elise is making a faint complaint in the background, but it’s too quiet to hear and Ougai is clearly ignoring her. “I’m supportive. Your subordinates have always exceeded expectations, I see no reason to keep him away from you if you want him.”
Chuuya glows a little. “Thank you.”
“However,” Ougai adds, clipping the consonants. “I’m sure you are aware that this is someone that we can’t afford to let go.”
Chuuya taps a finger against the edge of the phone. “I understand.”
Ougai breathes a little sigh of relief, and the mood lifts again. “Then he’s all yours. I’ll leave the two of you alone for a week or so, as a personal favor.”
Chuuya smiles, almost docking his hat out of habit. “I appreciate it.”
“I’m expecting great things from you, Chuuya.”
Chuuya’s smile turns into a grin, and he pings a driver on his other phone. “I won’t let you down.”