Chapter Text
Chuuya lies awake, staring up at the ceiling, reciting everything that went wrong in his life that led to him ending up in the position he’s in right now.
Some of it isn’t his fault. He’s barely at fault for his insanely shitty childhood, or for the fact that the only person who ever offered him safety was Kouyou, a Mafia Executive.
Others definitely are his fault. He didn’t have to become a criminal or a murderer – especially without ever feeling bad about it. Well, sometimes he feels slightly guilty, but normally he can just ignore his conscience.
There is only one thing he really feels bad about: his biggest mistake – the one he keeps sleeping with.
With a sigh, Chuuya turns over in bed to the sight of his mission target.
Dazai Osamu, the biggest foe of the Mafia.
The man is asleep, his brown eyes closed and long lashes fanning against his pale cheeks. His hair is a complete mess, and faint imprints from the blanket mark his face.
He’s still the most beautiful person Chuuya has ever seen. Everything in him screams: mine – fueled by the knowledge that everyone feels this way when they look at Dazai. That everyone feels this need to touch. To own.
Dazai wrinkles his nose in his sleep. Chuuya wonders what he’s dreaming about – probably the next move of his master plan, in some imperceptible game of chess he’s playing against the whole world.
Chuuya could end his problems right now. Could have ended them a thousand times over by now. The simple act of killing Dazai was never the problem.
No – the real problem is that Dazai doesn’t need his ability – neither his first nor his second – to trigger the deep-seated feeling of protectiveness, one that crosses the line into possessiveness, that Chuuya has for him.
The real problem is that there isn’t a choice anymore. Chuuya made his choice the first time they kissed. Or maybe even before that.
So instead of doing what he should, instead of ending another life just as he has innumerable times before, Chuuya rolls over, closer to Dazai, until he can feel his warm breath on his skin.
When he falls asleep, it’s with the knowledge that there’s only one end to what he’s doing – or rather, to what he’s not doing: his death.
The inevitability of this does nothing to change his mind.
//////
Ten years ago
Dazai Osamu never gets to know his parents. He never learns if they wanted him, or if he was a mistake. Never learns if they loved him, or each other.
It’s one of those things he should probably care about but doesn’t.
After all, what’s the use in wondering about things you’ll never get an answer to?
Also, his is hardly an uncommon fate. Dazai is born at the end of the Great War, and the orphanage he grows up in is overflowing with kids just like him.
Children no one ever claims, and hardly anyone cares about.
//
“’Samu?” a small voice asks as someone tugs at Dazai’s sleeve.
Blinking, Dazai looks up from his book into the hesitant eyes of a nine-year-old boy with dark, messy hair.
Ryuunosuke is four years younger than Dazai and has been at the orphanage Takeo’s Home for Lost Children (no one actually knows who Takeo is) as long as Dazai can remember. He’s a shy, grumpy kid who likes exactly no one but his sister and Dazai. The hero worship would be cute if it weren’t so terrifying.
“Ryuu-chan!” Dazai simpers, grinning as he snaps the book shut. “How can I help my favorite little curmudgeon today?”
He’s been lying on the orphanage’s only couch for hours now, getting more bored with every line he reads. A bit of distraction is just what he needs.
Ryuunosuke pouts. “I’m not little! …And what’s a curmudgeon?”
“You are one!” Dazai says, his grin widening as he sits up. “So? What do you want?”
Ryuunosuke blushes just a little as he suddenly avoids Dazai’s eyes.
“Um, I… Gin…” he starts, stammering.
Dazai tilts his head, wide-eyed. He knows he’s probably making the kid even more nervous, but that’s his own fault for still getting awkward about talking to Dazai.
Such slander! He basically raised these kids!
Well, in a way, at least…
Okay, maybe raising is saying too much – but he taught him how to read, and how to pick a lock, and other totally helpful and not at all useless things!
“You gotta speak louder, Ryuu-chan, if you want me to understand you,” Dazai teases.
The boy turns even redder before blurting it all out in one swallow. “CouldyouhelpmeandGinwithourhomework?”
Dazai squints. “What?”
Ryuunosuke probably knows that Dazai understood him perfectly, because he starts to scowl.
“Could you help me and Gin with our math homework? Please?”
Clasping his hands, Dazai jumps up.
“See? Was that so hard?”
Ryuunosuke doesn’t answer, but the scowl doesn’t leave his face. So it seems it actually was that hard.
Dazai sighs. “So, you’re third grade. What’s the topic? Algebraic topology? Do you need me to explain the difference between homology and cohomology?”
Ryuunosuke blinks. “Uh… what?”
//
It’s not algebraic topology they’re studying, but multiplication. And Gin doesn’t actually need help with it.
Which Dazai expected. Ryuunosuke tends to frame his problems as his and his sister’s problems, so Dazai doesn’t think he’s the only one who needs help.
“So, do you understand it now?” Dazai asks after working through over ten pages of simple math problems, watching Ryuunosuke’s confused but concentrated frown slowly change into a look of understanding.
The boy nods, eyes still fixed on Dazai’s almost unreadable notes as if they were spreading the word of God instead of explaining how many times six goes into thirty-six.
Dazai exchanges a look with Gin, who’s been observing them the whole time. She just shrugs in a what can you do kind of way. He chuckles.
“So, Ryuu-chan,” he starts, a bit more cautious now, “how is it going with Rashomon?”
The kid grew into his ability a few months ago, and it’s been a long road of trial and error to make it less volatile and more controllable. Dazai never really appreciated No Longer Human before Ryuunosuke’s little stunt that almost killed one of his classmates.
Ryuunosuke stiffens before answering hesitantly. “Good, I think? I haven’t hurt anyone in weeks.”
Dazai hums. “Good. Do you want to train a bit tomorrow?”
He’s not exactly the fighting type, but he’s the only one who can help at all, so he’s taken it upon himself to make sure the kid doesn’t land in juvie for maiming.
Ryuunosuke brightens at that and nods vigorously. Dazai laughs and ruffles his hair again.
He’s already dreading their teenage phases, when they’ll start being ashamed of him, the way Dazai’s classmates are of their parents.
Because, yeah, he’s totally their dad, and one day he will get them to call him that. Thirteen being too young for a single parent is just a skill issue!
//
Dazai finds Ranpo lounging on the couch he’d just been reading on, watching the news on the shabby TV that was donated to the orphanage three years ago.
His roommate and best friend gives him a nod and a hum that could be interpreted as a what’s up with a lot of imagination as Dazai sits down beside him. While Ranpo is the most genius person Dazai knows, he’s also the laziest.
“Is something interesting going on in the world?” Dazai asks, eyes flicking to the blonde newscaster gesticulating on the screen.
Ranpo shrugs. “Yokohama has a new mayor. The last one died in an accident.”
Dazai raises an eyebrow. “Accident?”
“Yeah,” Ranpo responds, eyes clearing as he turns from the TV to Dazai. “Drove off a cliff. Broken tires.”
Dazai sighs. “Well, that was to be expected after the last stunt he pulled.”
Like most politicians, the mayor had been on the payroll of the Port Mafia – Yokohama’s own personal regiment. Dazai isn’t sure how they get away with it, or if the government has simply given up on Yokohama, but it’s an open secret that the boss of the Port Mafia is pulling all the strings on what’s going on in the city. And he’s not even subtle about it.
Last week, the now-dead mayor had made a big show of bringing in a new special forces unit to join Yokohama in the fight against organized crime. For a moment, Dazai had thought someone might actually finally do something. He’d thought maybe the mayor had developed a conscience.
“And what do we think of the new one?” Dazai asks.
“See for yourself,” Ranpo murmurs, nodding at the TV, where an older woman can now be seen in a horrible orange pantsuit.
“After some thought,” the woman says, her voice monotonous and her eyes a bit too far away to look compelling, “we decided there’s no need for help from the government after all. A new special force would only use up the taxes of Yokohama’s hardworking citizens. I think it’s more important to look into social structures and think about what we can do for our city instead of making up vague evils that have to be fought.”
The speech earns her polite applause.
Dazai sighs. “Well, at least it’s probably not going to get worse. Just the same sort of spineless, bumbling idiot as everyone else.”
Yokohama – and the whole of Japan – has never truly recovered from the Great War. Sure, people go to work, school, or university again, and there is – at least some – social structure, but it’s all a façade.
The wages are too low, commodities too expensive, and democracy a lie. The powerful control the weak.
“Do you sometimes think we could do better?” Dazai asks, almost casually, as if he hadn’t thought about it many times before.
“All the time,” Ranpo responds.
They exchange a grin, and Dazai fishes a slightly dented piece of candy out of his pocket. He throws it at Ranpo, who catches it easily.
“For you. I stole it from Kyaki,” Dazai quips.
Kyaki is the director of the orphanage and a complete tool. He’s one of only two people even working here, and his only job seems to be insulting kids or telling his – far more competent – colleague Hana everything she’s doing wrong.
“Thanks,” Ranpo smiles, as earnest as his ever-present air of arrogance allows, as he unwraps the candy.
//
Atsushi and Kyouka are the newest additions to Takeo’s Home for Lost Children.
“I trust you’re all going to treat our newcomers right!” Hana declares as she ushers the two kids to sit down at the table beside Dazai and Gin.
The gray-haired boy stammers a quiet “H-hello,” while the girl stays completely silent. Then Atsushi eats as if he’s never done so before. He finishes his food in under two minutes and turns bright red when he realizes the astonished looks he’s getting.
“You want mine too?” Dazai asks and pushes his plate over to the kid.
Atsushi’s eyes begin to sparkle. “Really?”
He looks as if he’s going to cry if Dazai changes his mind now.
“Sure,” Dazai answers easily. He’s never been a big eater.
“Thank you so much!” Atsushi cries out before wolfing down Dazai’s portion just as fast as he did his own. When he finishes, he bows, then looks up at Dazai as if he’d just given up one of his arms for him instead of a mediocre helping of mizutaki.
“No problem,” Dazai says lightly. He hopes the kid isn’t that hungry all the time. Good, plentiful food isn’t exactly a given here.
//
Atsushi and Kyouka turn out to be just as adorable as Ryuunosuke and Gin. Kyouka and Gin actually become fast friends, which makes Dazai wonder what they talk about when they’re alone. Or if they talk at all. He wouldn’t be surprised if they just exist beside each other in complete silence.
Neither of them is a big talker.
Atsushi, on the other hand, talks quite a lot – more than any of the kids at the orphanage besides Dazai himself. He’s a bit awkward about it, but also probably the purest soul Dazai has ever met. Maybe even a bit too nice, but he’s eight, so Dazai will let it slide.
He starts to vie for Dazai’s attention the same way Ryuunosuke does. Naturally, they become bickering rivals. Especially when it turns out Atsushi has an ability too and also starts training under Dazai – even though Dazai is still not the best teacher. He’s sure it won’t take long for his ‘students’ to surpass him.
Tragically for everyone else, Dazai finds their little rivalry and fighting over him extremely endearing, so he never stops them – which might lead to their animosity escalating even more.
Whoops.
Well, in Dazai’s defense, he’s also still a child. He can’t be the wise, responsible soul all the time!
(No one has ever called him that.)
//
Director Kyaki never develops a work ethic, or even starts caring for his charges. Still, he begins spending more and more time at the orphanage outside his working hours.
Ranpo and Dazai deduce easily that his wife left him. Quite an impressive step in the current social climate. She must have truly hated him.
“Nakajima,” Kyaki’s voice booms through the building as he holds up a pan. “What the fuck is that?”
Atsushi blinks up at the man towering over him. “A pan?” he asks, uncertain.
Kyaki does not seem to like that answer.
“I know that. Do you think I’m a fucking idiot? But what the fuck is that?!”
He holds the pan closer to Atsushi’s face, pointing at something Dazai can’t make out.
Atsushi shrinks back, blinking. “Still a pan…?”
“It’s dirty!” Kyaki exclaims. “And you were on dishwashing duty today, weren’t you? This is why none of you will ever make it in life – because you don’t take anything seriously!”
He looks around at the children, glaring at every single one of them as if they’re personally at fault for everything going wrong in his life.
Tears gather in Atsushi’s eyes. He starts to whimper.
Dazai wants to stand up. He wants to do something – but Ranpo’s hand on his shoulder stops him.
They exchange a look. The message is clear: there are some fights that aren’t worth fighting.
Atsushi will survive washing the dishes again, and later Dazai can give him the pudding he didn’t want anyway.
Because it’s pointless. If Dazai steps in now, Kyaki will just find another reason to yell at Atsushi later – at a time when Dazai isn’t there.
So Dazai lets it go.
He can’t do anything anyway.
But then Kyaki starts paying too much attention to the girls under his care. His gaze lingers just a bit too long. Stays on long hair and still-developing curves for a moment longer than it should.
And for the first time in his life, Dazai is scared.
The worst day of Dazai’s life – so far – starts like any other.
He goes to school, is bored out of his mind in every subject, and spends his energy annoying as many teachers as possible, always skirting the edge of detention.
He makes his way back home with Ranpo. They spend the whole bus ride deducing things about the people around them – just loudly enough to be heard.
“She’s cheating on her husband,” Dazai chirps. The woman looks up, alarmed.
“And he got fired but hasn’t told his mother yet that he’ll need her support again,” Ranpo adds. The man looks around, spooked.
“Right, he’ll move back in with her,” Dazai continues. “Basement, I think…?”
Ranpo hums and shakes his head. “No. Attic.”
Dazai squints, tilts his head – then notices what he missed. He sighs dramatically. “I’m never going to beat you at this game.”
Ranpo grins around the lollipop in his mouth. “Damn right you won’t.”
They haven’t even set foot in the building yet when Kyouka rushes toward them, stumbling over her words, completely frantic.
“Kyouka,” Dazai stops her, keeping his voice as calm as he can. Her panic is contagious. “Slow down. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“It’s – it’s Gin,” Kyouka manages between gasps. “She’s in Kyaki’s office, and it’s been over half an hour already, and you said we shouldn’t – but he threatened to hurt me, and Ryuu and Sushi are still at school and–"
Dazai doesn’t need to hear any more.
His face goes blank.
He has to do something – but he can’t. He can’t do anything. He can’t–
It doesn’t matter.
He’s already running.
He barrels down the hallway, nearly knocking over an unsuspecting cleaner, and slams Kyaki’s office door open.
Gin is there.
To Dazai’s relief, she’s still fully clothed – but she looks deeply uncomfortable. She’s sitting on a chair directly across from Kyaki, nothing between them. His hand is on her thigh.
Dazai moves before he can think – something so out of character it would almost be amusing in any other situation.
“Stop!” he snarls, slightly breathless as he pulls Gin away.
She looks at him with such overwhelming relief that Dazai’s chest tightens painfully.
Kyaki stares at him like he's dirt stuck to the sole of his shoe.
“And who the fuck do you think you are,” he asks, “telling me what to do?”
He doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. Just annoyed.
“You can’t just–” Dazai starts, but Kyaki cuts him off.
“I can’t just what? You’re all mine. No one gives a fuck about any of you. I fucking own you.”
He steps closer. Dazai instinctively pushes Gin behind him.
“You can’t protect her,” Kyaki continues. “You’re just some dirty scum I’ll throw out on the street if you get in my way.”
Another step closer.
Now he’s so close Dazai can smell his sour breath.
Kyaki grins – and then his hand is on Dazai’s cheek, almost cradling it.
“Or are you going to step in for her?” he murmurs. “You’re awfully pretty for a boy.”
Dazai’s breath hitches.
I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this.
But then Gin whimpers behind him and- and he can’t. But he has to.
He nods. “Sure.”
What then happens does not make sense. Because Dazai does not have any experience in that department, only an understanding of the chemical reaction behind lust, but the way Kyaki’s eyes darken, pupils blown wide, is too fast.
He almost launches himself at Dazai. He tastes awful. The only thing Dazai can think about is that Gin is still in the room. He has to get her out of here.
But Kyaki’s hands are everywhere – yet not forceful. He’s almost gentle…? But that does not make sense. This is about power, not feelings or even physical contact. It’s always about power.
When the director pulls away, his eyes are soft, and it’s so, so wrong. They are both breathless, though for completely different reasons.
“I love you,” Kyaki says, and now Dazai really has no idea what’s going on anymore – but he also doesn’t have to wonder any longer. Because before Kyaki can say more, there’s blood spilling out of his mouth, and his eyes go empty. He crumples to the floor in front of Dazai, who’s left standing, shaking.
His brain is not catching up with what happened at first, but there’s something buried in Kyaki’s chest, dark and sharp. And then it’s gone again.
Dazai blinks. How can that…?
He turns to the door, and there stands Ryuunosuke, pale and just as shaky as Dazai.
And Kyaki is dead.
//
The police come and go. They don’t get a single word out of anyone, and no one ever bothered to record the abilities of the kids at Takeo’s Home for Lost Children.
So while it’s very obvious who the suspects are, they don’t understand how Kyaki was killed. Even the untrained eye can see it wasn’t a simple knife.
Dazai knows this will have consequences, but he can’t be bothered to think about that now. Instead, he lies on his bed, on the mattress that always feels the slightest bit moist – probably moldy – and stares at the ceiling.
“I love you.”
Why did Kyaki say that? He did not love Dazai. He probably didn’t even know his name. So what…?
He’s pulled out of his thoughts when the mattress dips as Ranpo flops down on the bed beside him. They’re silent for a few minutes. Or maybe an hour. Dazai can’t say. Or care. Time is relative anyway.
“Gin told me what happened,” Ranpo finally says.
Dazai doesn’t respond. He wouldn’t know how to respond even if he wanted to.
“You have a second ability,” Ranpo adds after a few more minutes pass.
Dazai blinks. Once. Twice. That’s not what he thought the other boy would say.
“What?”
“You have a second ability,” Ranpo repeats.
Dazai frowns, finally meeting his best friend’s gaze.
“What? No, that’s… It’s not possible to have two abilities.”
But is he actually so sure about that? He saw how Kyaki looked at him. Full of adoration, almost devotion. Dazai is sure he would have done anything Dazai said in that moment.
Ranpo shrugs.
“Just because there are no documented cases of it doesn’t mean you can’t have two abilities. It’s the only explanation.”
Dazai doesn’t think it is. There are a lot of other explanations. Kyaki could have been on drugs, or just fucking with Dazai’s brain, or just completely off his rockers. But if Ranpo says there is no other explanation…
“You know, Dazai,” Ranpo continues, “when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”
Again, Dazai blinks, unbelieving. Then he huffs. Then he chuckles.
“Are you quoting fucking Sherlock Holmes at me right now?”
Ranpo shrugs.
“Maybe I am.”
Dazai chuckles again. He doesn’t know what to do with this new information, but that’s a problem for later.
For now, he’s just thankful Ranpo is here. With his hard truths and no pity or attempt at comfort. The other boy would be horrible at that.
Then Ranpo falls back onto the bed, fumbling around before holding a chocolate bar in front of Dazai’s face.
“Eat it.”
Dazai grimaces. He doesn’t feel like eating, but he still takes it. Ranpo would just annoy him until he did anyway.
Then it’s silent again.
“You know I love you, right?” Dazai finally says, lighthearted, but still completely serious.
Ranpo makes a pretentious noise. “Damn right you do.” Then, quieter: “I love you too.”
And this would have been really cute, but Dazai just can’t stop himself.
“We are being really gay right now, you know?”
Ranpo snorts.
//
Hana gets fired. Not because she actually did anything wrong or knows anything, but because the police need someone to go down. And putting possibly innocent orphans on the street just looks bad.
Dazai thinks the woman actually cared for them – a bit, at least. Just not enough to fight for them. He can’t fault her for that. Everyone has to fight for themselves in the world they are living in.
The new director is an unfriendly man with dull eyes and a horrendous taste in shoes. His name is Saburo, and he does not seem to be a big fan of children either. Though instead of giving them negative attention, he does not pay them any attention at all. Sometimes it seems he doesn’t even know he’s working in an orphanage and not some vacant building with him being the only inhabitant.
All that would be fine — and actually a big step up from Kyaki. But he also doesn’t give them any food.
Which would still work for Dazai. The meal at school is more than enough to get him through the day, but it isn’t for the others.
Ranpo practically goes into hibernation without his daily dose of sugar, and Atsushi is even worse — his tiger metabolism works too fast for the little food he gets. The Akutagawa siblings aren’t much better. Before coming here, they lived on the street, where there was never enough food around.
Being in that situation again triggers some kind of trauma response, and they grow quiet and angry.
It takes two weeks before Dazai can’t take it anymore. He plays the situation through his head again and again, thinking about what actions he could take. He thinks about Ranpo telling him he has a second ability…
Because if that’s true…
He thinks about how ready Kyaki had seemed to do whatever Dazai wanted. But how had he triggered that reaction?
Was it the touch? Was it the kiss?
None of the others had ever reacted like that. Because they were kids? Or because they knew him?
There are too many unknown factors. Dazai cannot calculate the outcomes of his actions.
Still, he has to do something. Inaction is even worse than the possibility of a wrong action.
So, on the third Monday since they got a new director, Dazai goes to the office — which he’s avoided like the plague since Kyaki’s… passing.
Dazai stands in front of the office door for a few — endless — seconds before finally knocking.
“Come in,” comes the dark voice of Saburo from inside.
The office looks just the same as it did when Kyaki was still director. Dark and impersonal.
Saburo does not look up from the document in front of him when Dazai enters. For a moment, Dazai just stands there — awkwardly.
Finally, Saburo sighs, annoyed.
“What,” he asks, still not looking up.
Almost in a trance, Dazai steps forward, not really knowing what he has to do now. He knows what he wants, but he doesn’t know how to get it.
He stops right in front of the desk, and before he can think better of it, he places his right hand on Saburo’s left hand, which is holding a ballpoint pen.
Touch seems to be a highly possible trigger for whatever second ability Dazai might have, right? He would really prefer not to go any farther.
When Saburo looks up, he just seems confused. So maybe touch isn’t the right way to go. Or maybe Ranpo was wrong. Maybe Kyaki truly was just crazy.
But then Saburo’s eyes finally focus on him, and Dazai can pinpoint the exact moment the man’s breath stops — pupils dilating, the faintest hint of a blush creeping onto his cheeks. Like a teenager with a crush.
So maybe it’s looking. But a lot of people look at Dazai and don’t have this reaction. Is it intent? Or the undivided attention?
“I—” Dazai starts, still uncertain where he wants to go with this. “You— you need to give us food. Now.”
His words are blunt. No charm. None of his usual wit.
Saburo still nods immediately, grinning at Dazai as if he’s just told him he won the lottery.
“Yes. Sure. Whatever you want.”
It’s terrifying. It’s easy.
It makes Dazai feel powerful, because even if he doesn’t really understand this new power yet, it changes everything.
This means he finally can do something.
//
The next time Dazai watches the news and hears about how great everything is, while knowing there’s a new drug ring building up in Yokohama, he has another epiphany.
He doesn’t have to just think he could do better anymore.
Dazai knows he can do better. He will do better.