Chapter Text
XCIV.
When they were kids, Dazai and Chuuya liked to play a game.
It was mostly for self-preservation (they were Port Mafia, after all), but over the years the game evolved into an inside joke of sorts, a little bit of normalcy they kept with them to keep their blood from running cold.
It was a game of shifting blames and feigned innocence, but mostly shifting blames. That was the thing about being partners, Chuuya used to think: when something bad happened, it was usually just the one or the other.
In their case, it was always Chuuya.
It wasn’t me, it was Chuuya! Do I look sloppy enough to break your tea-set, Ane-san? Dazai reasoned one time, even though it was him who broke Ane-san’s rare tea set from China, and he did look sloppy to begin with.
It was probably around that time Chuuya convinced himself he had a demon for a partner, because a few words from here and there, and Chuuya was assigned lessons on proper conduct and etiquette, so as to teach him to be more gentle and delicate.
Chuuya had long forgotten what their game was called, but as far as he knew, they never stopped playing.
At least, he wished.
XCV.
“So he’s the rumoured one,” Sakaguchi Ango marvelled, a hint of awe dripping in his tone. He stood next to Dazai’s sleeping figure; careful to keep his hands to himself, but Chuuya could already tell from the glint in the man’s eyes that he was dying to have Dazai examined – to gut the stinking mackerel open.
“I’ve seen the file in the office somewhere,” Ango explained, and Chuuya tried not to relish the fact that the officer chose to address him, instead of anyone else in the room. Damn right.
“There’d been cases of stolen abilities and a rogue ability user who collects them,” Ango explained. “They called him Tsushima Shuuji, but then again, you’ll never find that name in any database.”
“That can’t be Dazai-san.” The man-tiger cut in, ready to stand from his seat, until a hand stopped him. Kyouka-chan.
“...let’s hear him out.” Was all Kyouka-chan said, much to Chuuya’s surprise. Shouldn’t she hate him?
“It was problematic to begin with, because while he was gifted the power to take, he got greedy and stole the ability to nullify.” Ango took a seat and knit his hands together, forehead scrunched together. Chuuya wanted to punch the worry out of the man’s face, but he held it in.
“That’s where No Longer Human comes in,” Akutagawa added, and Chuuya had almost forgotten he was there. He met his subordinates’ gaze, and Akutagawa nodded. Here goes.
“That doesn’t explain shit why he has no memories,” Chuuya blurted out, a little harsher that intended, but effective nonetheless.
Why can’t he remember me? Lied the true question, yet Chuuya could only grit his teeth.
Ango’s eyes went wide, realization settling in, until he finally said -
“So he finally broke down.”
“Broke down?”
“You always feel incredibly exhausted after using Corruption, don’t you, Nakahara-san?” The man asked with such earnestness that Chuuya snapped up to attention, the word ‘corruption’ had him bracing for a fight.
“I – uh, yeah.” It’s none of your business, what what Chuuya wanted to say, but everyone was looking at him now. Getting ready for the same ability to be unleashed.
“It’s the same thing.” Ango sat down, face grim. “He’s been carrying the weight of so many abilities for years and now…now it finally caught up to him.”
“That’s crazy. That vagabond doesn’t break. He - ”
“He’s only human, Nakahara-san. No matter how bad he might seem.”
Chuuya glanced over at Dazai’s sleeping figure, tired after being shot with an endless barrage of questions he didn’t know how to answer, at least, not now.
Who’s Dazai?
It had to be some kind of joke – some mindless prank – Chuuya could take anything.
Anything but the truth.
XCVI.
“You really don’t remember anything?” Kunikida asked for the 100th time, glaring hard at Dazai. “None at all?”
“I’m sorry,” was all Dazai could say, sounding torn. Chuuya wondered what it was like for his partner, who used to know everything the world has to offer, to be suddenly wiped clean of everything that made him Dazai, and have people questioning him over and over for it.
Chuuya liked to think he knew Dazai well, and could immediately tell when the bastard was lying. Everyone clung to that thought, it seemed: of the last-minute table flip where it turns out, Dazai was just pretending, and had been waiting for everyone to shower him the love and affection he’d wanted all these years.
Chuuya would’ve done that anyway, memories or no memories, but he couldn’t even look at Dazai without his throat constricting, his hands feeling sticky with blood he couldn’t wash off.
He wondered how this Dazai would react if he knew that the same man that almost killed him was in the same room, the same knife strapped on his belt.
“What’s with his hat?” A voice jolted Chuuya back into reality, and he looked up to meet the mackerel’s gaze, and the finger pointing to him.
“Look, you shouldn’t – “ Kunikida tried to stop him.
“We’re inside the hospital room,” Dazai reasoned, looking absolutely affronted, and maybe that’s the one thing even amnesia couldn’t take away from the bandage-wasting device.
His ability to be an absolute prick.
“You got any problem with my hat, vagabond?” The response slipped out easily, the name-calling all too familiar, but this time Chuuya was saying them with tears in his eyes, knowing that this wasn’t the same Dazai.
The brunette regarded him with wide eyes, probably trying to figure out his deal, and maybe that was the part where Chuuya would beg him to remember, or react to the nickname at least – anything.
Ne, chibi, when that time comes, I need you to promise me something.
Maybe then Chuuya would remind Dazai what a prick he was, for making people promise things he knew they couldn’t keep.
I just want you to do what you do best, chibi.
It was one of the things Chuuya was good at and Dazai was shitty at, so it seemed.
“Who are you, even?” Dazai asked, and it’s the words Chuuya dreaded to hear the most, the one he wished he never had to be asked.
“The bad guy’s enemy, I guess.” Chuuya murmured, because he never knew Dazai for real anyway.
XCVII.
Dazai didn’t leave the hospital for the next few weeks, and word spread around quickly about the Demon Prodigy being confined in a stretcher. Chuuya didn’t really have to, but he stuck around with him just in case somebody got ambitious and decided to kill the bastard in his sleep, and while he didn’t appreciate hospital food, maybe Chuuya could spend a little more time in playing bodyguard.
He’d never really gone inside Dazai’s room, because that would mean talking (Chuuya has yet to be accustomed to this new Dazai, who was prim and proper and definitely not the devil incarnate Chuuya knew him to be), so most of his times were spent patrolling the area, and making friends with the nurses while he was at it.
Chuuya swore he’d only been gone for a second, just to get a new cup of coffee, until he came back to find the room empty.
Shit.
XCVIII.
“Interesting,” were Dazai’s first words to Chuuya, as he stood on the edge of the hospital rooftop, the cold wind blowing his unruly hair.
Chuuya couldn’t even begin how many times he’d been faced with this scenario: of Dazai wanting to chuck himself off a cliff, a building, a bridge – it was an occupational hazard, Chuuya figured, to be stuck with a suicidal partner – but at the same time he was glad.
If it had been anyone else, they wouldn’t have made it in time.
“…fuck you.” Chuuya spat out, a little out of breath, resulting into words that lacked their intended bite. Chuuya never told Dazai shit like get off or let’s talk about this, and he didn’t see the point of softening up for this new Dazai.
He would get off and talk when he wanted to. And Chuuya…well –
“You’re here.” Dazai whispered, eyes wide like he still couldn’t believe it; that someone came. Unfortunate how he couldn’t remember how Chuuya never failed to meet him, whether he called or not, but all that mattered right now was that he wasn’t jumping, and there was no dead look in his eyes that pricked Chuuya in the chest every time he looked at it.
“You’re not jumping,” Chuuya blurted out, wearing the same expression of shock. This time Dazai gasped, scandalized, as he yelled over the wind, “What, no! Why would I even do that?”
A thought surfaced at the back of Chuuya’s mind, as haunting as it was a relief.
He couldn’t even remember wanting to die.
For the first time since he woke up, Chuuya understood why everyone treated Dazai’s condition as form of mercy: the idiot had wanted to die for so long…he’d forgotten what it was like to live.
“What are you doing up here, then, if you’re not planning on jumping?”
“Just because someone’s in a high place doesn’t mean they’re planning on jumping.”
“Oh, trust me. I know somebody.”
“Then tell that somebody that high places are for admiring the view, not jumping.”
“It’s precisely because he was admiring the view… that he wanted to jump off, idiot.”
“The view must’ve been worth the fall, then.” This time Dazai’s voice softened; so much like the bastard Chuuya raised and went through hell with; the same Dazai who stuck around long enough for Chuuya to come to his rescue, because he was petty like that.
“…Not really,” Chuuya murmured, holding down his hat to keep it from being blown away in the wind.
Not even for a million dolllars? a voice echoed in his head.
It wasn’t his own.
XCIX.
“So you’re still here.”
You don’t have to sound so disappointed, Chuuya.
“I’m not disappointed. I’m angry.”
Indeed, his predictions are both amazing and terrifying.
“He predicted being stabbed?”
He predicted you being pissed.
“What do you expect me to do? Thank you?”
I saved his life.
“By trying to kill him.”
The blade narrowly missed the heart, Chuuya. Perhaps you should start thinking why that is.
“You…No way.”
I save your partner’s life and this is what I get. The disrespect.
“But I thought you hated him?!”
You said the same thing, and you’ve saved him over and over.
“It’s different.”
Because you love him?
“He probably had something on you, didn’t he?”
We had a bet, you see.
“Good grief! You and gambling – “
It was one time!
“Really, you should’ve known better than to bet against Dazai. Nobody ever wins.”
…it was a close fight. We never did know who was going to win.
“What did you even bet on?”
Guess.
“Oh, God. You didn’t bet on me, did you?”
C.
“I heard that man Ango and Ranpo-san talking about something. Pandora’s Box, was it?”
“…what about it?”
“In the original story, the demons were let out, weren’t they?”
“…yeah.”
“They keep talking about some guy named Shuuji who had this ability.”
“…yeah.”
“Maybe this time Pandora hauled ass and stuffed them back one by one, because humanity was hellish enough.”
“He still left out one, Dazai. The job’s not done.”
CI.
“Everyone told me I was trouble.”
“…and do you believe them?”
“I think they’re right.”
“…”
“They also said I should stay away from you.”
“…and what did you say?”
“When it comes to what I should do, I’m the one who gets to decide.”
“A prick as always, I see.”
“Ne, Nakahara-san – “
“Fuck, don’t call me that. It’s so weird. Call me Chuuya.”
“Ne, Chuuya-san – “
“Drop the honorifics!”
“Look, I may have amnesia, but I haven’t forgotten my manners, Chuuya-san!”
“You never had any, shitty-Dazai. Like I said, drop the honorifics. You’re giving me the creeps.”
“…fine. So Chuuya – “
“Call me chibi.”
“Which is it?”
“Okay, fine, fine. I’ll settle for hat rack.”
“Hat rack – okay, shit, fine, so as I was saying – “
“Petite mafia works too, you know, just in case – “
“What is it with you and pet names?”
“It’s just a thought! I didn’t want you to think, like, I’m not cool or something, so I’m giving you plenty of options to choose from – “
“How about this: the little guy in black.”
“…”
“…oi. Chuuya. Are you crying?”
“I – I caught something in my eye, I can’t – “
“Ha, it’s me, isn’t it?”
“Oh, you mean your bullshit.”
CII.
A telephone conversation at 1am, between a man chained to his hospital bed and the other chained to his office desk:
“…what.”
“Chuuya-san!”
“...fuck, I told you to stop calling me that.”
“Should I call you slug then?”
“How did you – “
“It’s in my phone. So you’re the one listed down as slug.”
“…”
“Wow. You’re not crying again, aren’t you?”
“I’m not crying, shitty Dazai! I’m just – “
“Glad to hear from me, I know. But I need you to tell me one thing.”
“I don’t need to tell you anything, vagabond.”
“I think you do. I have leverage against you if you didn’t.”
“And here you say you can’t remember anything.”
“I don’t need to remember anything to recognize you as my wallpaper, slug.”
“Wallpaper – shit. What am I saved as?”
“It’s a pretty questionable picture, I think. Emphasis on questionable and pretty.”
“Take it down.”
“On one condition: tell me what I’m saved as.”
“What?!”
“In your contacts. Tell me what I’m saved as.”
“…it’s stupid.”
“Humor me.”
“I’ve humoured you long enough, you shitty mackerel!”
“…”
“…oi, Dazai.”
“…what.”
“I’m hearing sniffling sounds. Are you – are you crying?”
“…so what.”
“Wait, so you’re actually crying, like for real, Oh God am I alive what is happening – “
“What do you think I am, Chuuya? I may have lost my memories but I can still feel things, you know.”
“…you don’t understand, Dazai. Even with your memories, you never cried.”
“Not in front of anyone, probably.”
CIV.
“You saved my life,” the man-tiger smiled, yellow-purple eyes shining. “Well, technically, I saved yours first, but you gave me a job and a home and a family.”
“Sounds fake,” Dazai scoffed, and the man-tiger laughed along with him, followed by the most painful set of words Chuuya never thought he would hear:
“I wish it were. This might’ve been easier, then.”
CV.
“You were horrible,” Akutagawa muttered, still looking uncomfortable without his usual demonic coat. “You beat me up for the slightest mistakes and shoot me five times just to make sure I got it. I have nightmares because of you.”
“I – “ Dazai tried to say.
“Don’t ever say you’re sorry,” Akutagawa gritted out, but there was no real malice on them, only pity.
“You made me strong, Dazai-san.” Akutagawa finished. “That’s all there is.”
CVI.
“Someone once said, you can’t know everything about a person, not even yourself. That’s what we call potential,” the little girl murmured, voice wistful before she turned to Dazai.
Chuuya couldn’t see the look on her face, but she had to crying, otherwise Dazai wouldn’t look at her like that.
“You were the one who told me that,” Kyouka-chan whispered. “You told me 35 people are nothing.”
Dazai met Chuuya’s eyes, cocking his head in question, and Chuuya mouthed: I’ll explain later.
“I’ll forgive you, Dazai-san. Just try to remember. Come back.”
CVII.
“What a horrible price you’ve paid,” Ane-san told Dazai, brushing the hair out of his eyes. She turned to Chuuya, lips pursed, and it’s a softer version of Ane-san that she only reserved just for Chuuya:
“He doesn’t remember anything? Not even you?”
Chuuya stayed silent, and hoped it was enough for an answer.
“I’ve always seen through you, Dazai-kun.” Ane-san turned her attention back to Dazai, who only blinked at her with dazed eyes. “I knew you were lying about that one time you broke my tea-set.”
He’s not lying this time, was the unspoken truth, but Ane-san spared Chuuya.
CVIII.
“I knew it was going to end like this,” Mori-san murmured, a little wistful. “I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”
For someone who just lost the thing he valued most, Mori-san regarded Dazai with warmth Chuuya didn’t know existed – especially from the ruthless Boss of the Port Mafia.
“Elise-chan knew you were going to be her downfall,” Mori-san continued, voice cracking at the edges. “And you know what she told me?”
“’Save him, Rintarou. He’ll save the world one day.’”
Everyone but himself, Chuuya wanted to say, but thought otherwise.
CIX.
Later than night:
“They say I used to be a detective.”
“You’re still one. It’s not like they fired you, or anything.”
“They say I was kicked out of the Port Mafia.”
“Defected, actually, and not without destroying personal property while you’re at it.”
“They called me the Demon Prodigy.”
“Don’t get a big head – you weren’t that smart.”
“Ranpo-san said I stole many abilities. That I called myself the one-eyed reaper, back then.”
“You’ve always been the real chuuni.”
“…Who am I really, Chuuya-san? Like, specifically.”
“You’re a lot of things, DazaI.“
“…”
“But most of all, you’re stupid.”
CX.
Did you tell him who you are?
“He knows my name.”
Names are just names, Chuuya.
“And yet you go batshit crazy when no one remembers yours.”
Mine’s different. I’m a god.
“And I’m the executive of the city’s worst criminal organization.”
And does he know?
“He knows what I do for a living, and I’ve told him about you. He’s fine with it.”
So you didn’t.
“…I didn’t see the point.”
That’s horrible, Chuuya.
“I’m trying to spare him from the remembering the darkest days of his life! How is that horrible?!”
By doing that, you’ll be sparing him the best ones too.
“Oh, right. Because of Odasaku.”
…You really do deserve each other.
“Huh?”
You’re both equally stupid.
CXI.
“I don’t care if you don’t remember me,” Chuuya Nakahara said, in a voice not quite his, as he appeared in Dazai’s room without as much as a sound. “I still think you’re trouble.”
Dazai stared at the redhead, unsure what prompted him to tell Dazai that one, trivial fact at two in the morning (and way past visiting hours, too), but he figured he should at least show some semblance that he understood, even though he had no idea what the fuck was going on.
“I - sure.”
"You look horrible too, with that new haircut. It's bad enough you learned how to style your hair sideways. Now you look even more dangerous with shorter hair."
"I - thanks?"
"It's not a compliment."
"Oh."
"Let's see," the redhead continuer, pacing around the room with hands folded behind his back. "“You never use shampoo. You never wash your coat, and one time you tried to mix vodka with bleach.”
Dazai knew most of it were insults, yet he couldn't help but shudder. “That sounds disgusting! Dangerous, but most of all disgusting!”
“You used to steal all of that Mafia Boss’ wine and blame it on Chuuya. You say his hat consumed his mind.”
“I – “ Dazai tried to say, but bit back his tongue. It wasn’t his first time hearing that he used to be an asshole. Maybe he still was.
“Look, it’s a good hat.” Dazai conceded, “I’d even say it looks good on him – “
“You’re a pervert who likes to fantasize about your partner and his choker. Sometimes you fantasize about him wearing sweater paws. There is no in between.”
“This partner – “
“It’s Chuuya, of course.”
“You talk like you’re not him.” Dazai pointed out.
“That’s because I’m not.”
Now Dazai knew that was impossible, because how can’t he be Chuuya when Chuuya was right here, but then again, the redhead that stared at Dazai wasn’t the hat-wearing chibi he knew, if only for a little while.
Dazai knew he shouldn’t ask, but –
“Who are you, then?”
Chuuya's blue eyes glowed with power. “According to the legends, I’m the god of calamity. They called me Arahabaki.”
Dazai remained silent. It's not everyday people barged into his room claiming they were gods, he figured.
“Chuuya called me a pain the ass.”
He's right, Dazai almost blurted out, but thought otherwise.
“You, on the other hand, once referred to me as the evil stepmother getting in the way of Snow White and his Prince.”
“…I don’t remember this.”
“Of course you don’t. Which is why I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Doing what…exactly?”
“You win, mortal. I concede. He needs you more than he’ll ever need me. You were right when you predicted two things.”
“…I predicted what?”
“One, I helped you.”
“…”
“Two, even if I didn’t, I’d still end up falling for it.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because you and I are one and the same, Dazai Osamu.”
“I don’t even know who I am.”
“And yet you still care for the chibi.”
CXII.
A conversation between an amnesiac and an all-knowing god, between smuggled-in root beer:
“What was I like, you know, as a partner?”
“You made Chuuya clean up everything.”
“Were we janitors or something?”
“It’s like trash cleaning up other trash, if you ask me.”
“Was I…was I really that horrible? Because, you know, lots of people seemed to hate me.”
“I’ve been inside your mind, Dazai Osamu.”
“…”
“What always terrified me most are not the horrible things you’ve done.”
“…”
“I’ve seen you commit crimes and felonies enough to get you executed a thousand times over, and because of you, I’ll never be able to keep a straight face whenever I hear the word ‘top’.”
“…”
“You’ve always been painfully human, Dazai Osamu. You and the chibi both.”
CXIII.
“This didn’t come from me, but tell Chuuya that he has no need to worry. He’ll inherit the business soon enough.”
“You mean he’s going to be the next boss?!”
“Like I said, you didn’t hear this from me. Also, remind him to wash his hat. You’re both hopeless snobs so I’m starting to worry about you two.”
“He doesn’t wash his hat?!”
“His coat too, but like I said, you didn’t hear this from me. Confiscate the pack of cigarettes he always keeps on his left pocket if you want him to live until eighty.”
“I think you’ve mistaken me for his nanny – “
“You’re his partner, dimwit. You’re supposed to know all of this. Also, if he doesn’t answer your calls, chances are he’s drowning himself in liquor back in his suite, so check up on him and make sure he doesn’t get alcohol poisoning.”
“I don’t want to stalk him, Arahabaki – “
“Please. You used to take pictures of him in his sleep. You don’t get to talk to me about stalking.”
“But – “
“He’s always been more than a vessel to me, Dazai Osamu. Just like he’s always been more than a partner to you.”
“…then why don’t you tell him all of this? By yourself?”
“Because you and I were one and the same, stupid mortal.”
“…”
“We both want him to be free.”
CXIV.
Chuuya knew something was wrong when he woke up in a hospital bed.
He wasn’t injured, per se, but he knew something was off the moment he felt a heavy weight settle on his waist, and something warm pressed on his neck. He didn’t remember getting up from his own room and moving somewhere else, but somehow he’d gotten to a fucking hospital and rented a hospital bed complete with the IV and –
“Morning, chibi ~ “A voice murmured behind him, definitely the last voice he’d wanted to hear, making Chuuya’s entire body stiff at the thought – that, and other places.
He considered flying to the ceiling, but for some reason his power wouldn’t work and he ended up rolling off the bed instead.
“Fuck!” Chuuya tried to grab the blankets, with no avail.
Dazai’s face peeked from the edge of the bed, hair ruffled from sleep, as he regarded Chuuya with a smile too bright for the morning, and too genuine for Chuuya’ heart to handle.
“Now, now, chibi. The nurses might get some ideas.” The bastard crooned, so of course Chuuya’s natural instinct was to grab him, drag him off the bed so his stupid face would kiss the ground.
If the nurses saw something like two men rolled on top of each other that early in the day, they chalked it up to tangled wires and faulty equipment.
CXV.
Later, Chuuya realized that it wasn’t just the morning.
The rest of Chuuya’s day went frightfully silent, with no god speaking inside his head, and his hands – his hands had finally lost all its red.
Chuuya tried calling Corruption, tried praying to the grantors of dark disgrace, and Chuuya wondered if this was another curse: this silence.
CXVI.
Later in the afternoon:
“I see. So the queen chose to bite the apple to save Snow White and his prince.”
“Are you sure you’re not a psychic?”
“Dazai tells us these stories all the time. He specifically liked making Snow White analogies.”
“And?”
“Now I understand why.”
“…”
“He said, ‘Here’s what they don’t tell you in the fairytales, Ranpo-san. Snow White was never poisoned. It was all a test to see if the Prince would save her, and if he does the Queen would bite the apple instead.’”
“Snow White sounds evil.”
“Snow White sounds reckless, if you ask me. Hoping for the prince to save her until the bitter end.”
“Can’t they just all live together? Why does the queen have to go? Fuck that apple. Why does she even have to bite it?”
“Maybe she never wanted to be queen.”
“Was it because she lost?”
“It was the only way to save both of them, Mr. Fancy Hat. Maybe she’d grown a soft spot for Snow White, maybe she just wanted the Prince happy.”
"That doesn't sound like the evil queen I know."
"She was never evil, Mr. Fancy-Hat. Lonely, sure. But never evil."
CXVII.
“Someone told me you’ll be the next Mafia boss.”
“Does this someone go by the name of Higuchi Ichiyou?”
“Uh, no.”
“Whatever. It’s pretty obvious, anyway.”
“Wow. Arrogant, aren’t we?”
“I prefer the term confident.”
“Right. So by the way…this someone also wants to remind you to do your laundry.”
“I have a walk-in closet, Dazai. Clothes are no issue for me.”
“It’s an issue if you haven’t washed them for weeks, Chuuya.
“I just bought this coat, mackerel.”
“It’s not your coat. It’s your hat.”
“Oh, yeah? What about my hat? You have any problem with it, shitty Dazai? If you say one more word – hey, give it back! “
“Ew, it smells! When did you last wash it?!”
“It’s none of your business! Give it back!”
“Wow, is it me or have you shrunk?”
“Dazai I swear if you don’t let go this instant – “
“…”
“I didn’t ask you to drop it you stupid fuck!”
CXVIII.
Chuuya didn’t know who the fuck taped a flashdrive to his hat.
At first he thought it was a rip, with the audacious masking tape sticking at the inside of his hat, until Chuuya picked it off and a flashdrive dropped into the ground, much to their surprise.
“I didn’t know your hat had a secret compartment, “ Dazai murmured, kneeling down, while Chuuya shot him a death glare.
“You did this, didn’t you.”
“All I did was remind you – “
“Is this why you wanted me to do the laundry?”
Here's a little reminder. A voice whispered in his head, faint but there.
Relief flooded in his chest – he didn’t know how long he waited to hear that voice – and before he knew it he was crying; silent tears streaming down his face.
“Arahabaki?”
Tell that Dazai my debt is paid.
"Wait, what debt? What does Dazai have to do with all of this - ?"
Don’t forget me, ne, Chuuya?
CXIX.
“Just slam it in.”
“I – I don’t think – “
“Come on, Chuuya. I’m ready.”
“Fuck. Can’t you just move a little bit – “
“Come on, Chuuya! Faster!
“I’m coming!”
“Uhm, Nakahara-san? Dazai-san? Could you quiet it down a little bit? The other patients think…you’ve been doing other things that setting up the movies.”
CXX.
They were pictures of Chuuya.
Some of them he already knew, like pictures of them as soukoku, when missions got too tough and just had to capture to the moment – and there were stolen shots too, lots of them .
There was Chuuya with his mouth hanging open, probably dozed off after his third or fourth time using Corruption. There was Chuuya raising a glass, eyes glazed, already drunk after his fourth or fifth glass of martini.
There was Chuuya, red-nosed and puffy-eyed, while he cried his heart out over some underrated chick-flick.
“They’re all pictures of you,” Dazai commented, scrolling through the folder. There was still no recognition from his gaze, yet Chuuya still imagined a younger version of Dazai tripping over bushes just to get these stolen shots.
“They’re actually pretty good,” Dazai murmured over a picture of Chuuya with his hat off, hair loose and a big smile on his face. Chuuya didn’t even remember smiling that much, but he had to be smiling because of something the photographer had said – of the man in front of him.
“This could be worth a million dollars,” Dazai commented, and this time Chuuya stared up at the man, wearing the same million-dollar smile of his own, and agreed.
What a million-dollar sight, indeed.
CXX.
There are two reasons why Arahabaki tolerated soukoku:
1.) There was only one person in the world who could tolerate Chuuya;
2.) There was only one person in the world who could tolerate Dazai.
As far as he knew, gods of calamities never gave out blessings -
Yet there he was, hoping his wish wouldn't be a curse.
May you find peace in each other's chaos.
CXXI.
“Hello!" Dazai appeared on the screen, waving a bandaged hand, wearing his tan coat like he always did.
"If you’re watching this, it means everything went according to plan."
Chuuya and Dazai - the one with a blank stare and uneven haircut - shared a look.
"Yes, I’m talking to you, chibi." Dazai chuckled, adjusting the camera for a better angle. " If my guess is right, you’re probably watching this on your own right now, probably already on your second glass of wine. Or if you’re not alone, I guess you still have the god with you. Who knows."
"For all I know, I could be dead, and if that’s the case, then it’s about fucking time. Took the world long enough."
"He's very edgy, isn't he?" Present Dazai snickered, and a small part of Chuuya wished he could tell the man the reason behind it; if only it would bring back the semblance of the Dazai he once knew.
"So yeah." Past Dazai cleared his throat. Reddish-eyes bored through the camera, and Chuuya had the eeriest feeling the man was staring at him all the way from the past.
"One time you asked me what I thought of a world without abilities.
It is possible, Chuuya, but not with me."
So if you’re really watching this, like I know you are -
I want to tell you one thing:
There’s a reason why I have bandages on my neck and wrists, chibi. There’s a reason why everything had to be this way. What I did – what I did was unforgivable – but it was the only way."
Present Dazai rubbed his bandaged neck and wrists, probably trying to recall the phantom pain. Chuuya always chalked it up to Dazai's quirky fashion sense, but he knew that something dark lurked beneath those bandages - a lot of scars that probably never healed.
"You wanted to be free, don’t you?
And I’m the same."
"Are you okay, Chuuya?" Present Dazai asked, sparing Chuuya a worried glance.
But all Chuuya could think about were the words he'd said to Dazai many years ago, that time the man asked him what he thought of a world without abilities, and Chuuya replied about not needing Dazai anymore - no more being stuck with his shitty mackerel ass.
"You probably hate me so much right now, don’t you? I’m sorry for putting you through with all of that. By now, I imagine you cleaned up my mess for me, and I really can’t thank you enough for it. I know Arahabaki keeps telling you to get a new partner, and I’m glad you didn’t."
Chuuya's throat constricted.
"Ne, Chuuya, did you know?" Past Dazai smiled at the camera, wearing the same devilish smirk Chuuya knew all too well, and loved all the same.
"All abilities are borne from pain, and that’s why some people can’t let go of theirs. Because they’re still in pain. And I know yours all too well, Chuuya. I know why you call it For the Tainted Sorrow.
You don’t know about this, but your god and I made a deal. We made a deal out of whom you needed the most, chibi. Me or him.
I never lost a bet, but I think I’m starting to doubt it."
Chuuya's mind went back to the days where he thought he'd die without an ability. He'd always considered himself a capable person, being the Port Mafia's Best Martial Artist, and with his skills, no doubt Chuuya could punch his way out of anything. With or without ability.
He thought doing all of it without Dazai, and his chest caved in at the thought.
"But if by chance, that I’m watching this with you, right now –
Yes, I’m talking to you, Dazai Osamu –"
Present Dazai shot Chuuya a look akin to panic. "How did he know - "
"I suggest you go with whatever it is you have planned. I won’t tell Chuuya how you had dinner reservations for two at his favourite restaurant –
"Wait what - "
"Or how you talked his favorite rock band into coming –"
"Since when did I - "
"Or how you had elaborate plan because you didn’t want to let him go –"
It was Chuuya's turn to shoot Dazai a look of panic. "Excuse me?"
"But like I said, I won’t say a word. Especially about how much you love the chibi despite his height complexity, how you actually kissed him that time he wore the apron ‘kiss the cook’ –"
Chuuya shot Dazai a withering glare. "You what."
"Or how, for all it was worth, you’d stick around for him."
Chuuya noticed Dazai avert his eyes. The Dazai in the screen kept his voice light, gaze straight -
Present Dazai was turning red in the ears, his cheeks, and he wouldn't look at Chuuya.
"Yes, you love him very much, but that’s our little secret."
Chuuya turned to the Dazai on-screen, just in time to see the man wink, and wondered if he'd heard the words right.
"Everything you need to know about me (also if you need blackmail materials on everybody), it’s on one of the folders in this drive, if you want it.
Also, it’s encrypted, so good luck with that. You can do it."
BONUS:
“Did he just confess to you? For me?”
“…I guess?"
"You were right, chibi. I - no, he really was an asshole."
"You're talking about yourself, shitty Dazai. You're literally - "
"I can't believe he hijacked my moment! He knew I was there all the time, it was just a ploy - "
"What the fuck is your problem? You're literally trying to compete with yourself!"
"It's different! He has memories and I don't! How the fuck am I supposed to know your favorite restaurant?!"
"Look, we don't have to go there. We can just find - "
"And your favorite rock band! I don't know who they are!"
"Would you calm the fuck down? I'll sing for you if I have to - "
"I don't have an elaborate plan, Chuuya. Even if I did, I forgot all about it."
"I know. And I'll stay with you, anyway."
"..."
"...wait. This is exactly what you wanted."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You knew this would happen."
"What, no way!"
"Not you, I mean the old Dazai, which is - ah, fuck it! Fine! I love you! There! I said it!"
"Aww, I love you too, Chuuya ~"
"Keep that up...and I think we'll do just fine."