Work Text:
”The quarantine area has expanded to include Yokohama Station from the direction of Tokyo, while further from the Tokyo area, the Chinatown area to and including Motomachi has also been placed under quarantine. All shipments in and out of the port have been shut down, and the transportation ban continues...”
“Ohhh scary, isn’t it?” Dazai grinned and glanced sideways at Atsushi and Kunikida, both of whom were glued to the television in front of them.
“They’re so sensationalist,” Yosano called from the other room. “Showing people dying in the hospitals and all that.”
“This isn’t a joke,” Kunikida said, his voice muffled by the surgical mask he wore over his face. “This is a serious hemorrhagic fever that is highly contagious and-”
“Has the lifespan of a few days. It flares and dies. The whole world isn’t going to fall to pieces,” Yosano finished for him. “We just got unlucky that it landed here. I doubt the rest of Japan will suffer.”
“But we will,” Kunikida said.
Atsushi’s eyes widened over his own mask. Dazai coughed into his hand.
“You’re more dramatic than the news, Kunikida-kun.”
“I don’t want to die by bleeding out of every orifice, Dazai,” Kunikida snapped. “You shouldn’t leave the building.”
“You’ve been saying that for two weeks,” Dazai said. “We can’t just completely halt business for two weeks. We need to keep tabs on things. We still have clients--”
“Since when do you care about work?” Yosano asked.
“I don’t,” Dazai said, “but I know Kunikida-kun will be insufferable if all this passes and we have a huge backlog. That’s why I’ve been sending Atsushi-kun to take care of business.”
“You WHAT?!” Kunikida rounded on Dazai, who jumped away from him.
“He’s indestructible! And no one he’s gone to is sick, it’s-”
Kunikida tried to strangle Dazai. Yosano ignored the whole thing. Atsushi tried to get them to stop.
“We--don’t you--Dazai-san can’t die like this!”
Kunikida let go with a huff. “Do your dangerous work yourself.”
Dazai dusted himself off. “It’s not my preferred method of suicide, unfortunately. I guess I’ll let the work pile up, then.”
Kunikida glared at him.
Atsushi slipped out of the room. He had an information exchange meeting with Akutagawa to get to.
*
“I wish you’d stop sending your subordinate with unintelligible messages. What the hell does ‘I would love to die by the side of a lovely woman in the rainforests of the Amazon’ have to do with our current situation?”
“I just thought you’d want the status update.” Dazai cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pretended to type up a report for Kunikida. It was the only work they were approved to do.
He could practically see Chuuya rolling his eyes on the other line. “Well here’s some very real information: people are trying to cross the quarantine borders into the safe areas of Yokohama. Some of them because the un-quarantined areas are nice, and they believe they aren’t sick. And some because the Port isn’t quarantined and they think they can just steal a boat and escape.”
“Are you border guards now?” Dazai asked.
“The police haven’t caught on. Everyone has their hands full. It’s in our best interests to take control.”
This time Dazai rolled his eyes. “Ah, Chuuya, when will you and the other dogs at the Port Mafia learn to mind your own business?”
“Hey, this benefits your organization, too.”
“Tsk. It just makes the Port Mafia look like the good guys and that’s never good for us.”
“Would it make you feel better to know that we execute anyone we find and burn the bodies?”
“Maybe...do you?”
“Heh.” Chuuya snickered. “Mind your own business, bastard.” He hung up.
Dazai stopped pretending to type and leaned back in his chair.
Outside, the city was oddly quiet.
*
Tokyo had fallen more severely than Yokohama, but the cities were so closely linked that Yokohama felt many of the effects. Before train, air, and ground transportation stopped, plenty of people infected with the illness managed to get into Yokohama. None of the infections came from the Port, but that was because Yokohama had preemptively stopped all passenger and cargo traffic from countries with the infection. The same couldn’t be said for airline traffic.
In the Agency, they played a waiting game. Everyone took care of administrative duties. Atsushi went to meet Akutagawa for updates on things Port-side, and gave him any updates that the Agency had come across. Because the Port Mafia hadn’t ceased operations, Akutagawa had more information to give than Atsushi, and he always pointed this out. Atsushi always came back seething.
Naomi and Kyouka got masks with cute characters on them and wore them constantly, which was almost painfully adorable. Kyouka didn't really understand the concept of a virus spreading like wildfire because she’d never really paid attention to the news. If it scared her, she didn't let on.
Yosano brushed up on virus treatment methods and gathered supplies from nearby hospitals. Her Ability couldn’t heal sickness, only injuries caused by sickness. She would rather attack the source than spend time playing whack-a-mole with the symptoms.
But there was no cure. At least, not a definitive one. Aggressive treatment and the disease both fought inside the body and both left damage in their wake. The better one’s immune system, the worse the disease attacked, turning the body against itself. The thing that was meant to save the patient suddenly became the killer.
Chuuya texted Dazai one night with an interesting question. “Ask your doctor this: what is the proper way to dispose of a body of a person with a contagious disease?”
So they haven't been killing everyone, Dazai thought, or they hadn't yet captured someone who was sick. Ordinarily he would tease Chuuya, but given the gravity of the question, he decided to show Yosano.
She looked amused by the question and took the phone out of Dazai’s hand to type her answer with terrifying enthusiasm. Once she was done, she handed the phone back, grinning ear to ear.
“Are you killing them with bad info?” Dazai asked.
“No, but the descriptions are horrifying.”
Dazai would read the instructions later. He typed his own message to Chuuya: “Doesn't Mori know how to do that anyway?”
Chuuya didn't respond.
Possibly because the situation came up so rarely, Mori didn't know how to dispose of a contagious body. Dazai hoped he would have an awful time of it. A darker part of Dazai hoped that Mori would become infected.
The sun set over Yokohama, and they were spared another day.
*
Later that week, the ADA found themselves in the middle of a new quarantine zone. The office was encompassed as new cases of infection crept steadily closer to the water.
No one would leave the office.
Dazai’s phone buzzed two hours into this self-imposed isolation.
“Can someone meet Akutagawa outside your building?”
It was interesting that Chuuya spoke for Akutagawa rather than coming to deliver the message himself. He typed out a quick affirmative and snuck out while Kunikida stared at a livestream of the news.
Akutagawa waited at the street corner, a black mask covering most of his face that Dazai suspected was actually part of Rashomon. Dazai himself wore a mask provided by Kunikida, finally convinced by the spread of the illness. The street was devoid of cars, the sidewalks absent of people.
“Do you even have a cellphone?” Dazai asked by way of greeting.
Akutagawa rolled his eyes. “Does the Armed Detective Agency have the capacity to take care of a sick Ability user?”
Dazai laughed. “We’re not a hospital. We only have one doctor. Besides, I thought you killed anyone you found with the virus.”
Akutagawa shifted. “This is a member of the Port Mafia.”
Dazai frowned. Being criminals, no Port Mafia member would willingly go to a public hospital. But… “Mori’s a doctor.”
Again, Akutagawa shifted. “Boss Mori won’t treat anyone with the virus. It’s a risk to the organization.”
“Because if he dies, the Port Mafia has no Boss. Easy for us.” Dazai waved a hand. “Besides, Mori has connections. You can tell whoever sent you that we don't have any reason to help. It’s a danger to us, and you're our enemy. Treat them yourselves or let them die.”
Akutagawa sighed. Dazai thought he might leave, but instead, Akutagawa took a step towards Dazai and spoke quietly. “The patient is Chuuya-san.”
It didn't matter. It shouldn't have mattered. Dazai had a funny feeling in his chest, or maybe it was his stomach, that he couldn't name.
“Not our problem,” he heard himself say.
Akutagawa inclined his head and walked away.
Dazai couldn't move. Not his problem. It wasn't his problem. Wouldn't it be good for the ADA if Chuuya died? If Mori didn't want to get his hands dirty, it was not his problem. Mori--
It felt like a slap in the face, the realization that hit Dazai as he turned to go inside. Mori hadn't burned the infected body. Of course he hadn't. That was too risky. He would have passed it down to a subordinate.
In the end it didn't matter if Chuuya had been assigned the job or if he'd taken it. He was still sick. The survival rate wasn't good.
It was not his problem.
*
Still, Chuuya’s number was so easy to bring up on Dazai’s phone. Chuuya picked up after one ring.
“How do you know you have it?”
“Early symptoms. Why’re you calling?”
“Is this some sort of plan to send an infected person in to get us all sick?”
Chuuya scoffed. “If we wanted to do that, I wouldn’t have sent Akutagawa.”
True. “How much does this mean to you, Chuuya?”
“Huh?” Chuuya sounded incredulous. “Is that a real question?”
“It’s the most important question,” Dazai said. “Why should I help you?”
“Because I’m asking you,” Chuuya snapped, “and trust me, I didn’t want to.”
Before Dazai could respond, Chuuya hung up.
*
“If we save one of the five Executives of the Port Mafia, we’ll have them in the palm of our hand. They’ll owe us big.”
“That depends on how much they care about the Executive,” Yosano said.
“No.”
Dazai leveled his gaze with Kunikida’s glare from across the meeting room table. It felt like a battle. The others observed from the sidelines and Fukuzawa stood by the door, arms folded, listening.
“We aren't risking our organization like that. We can’t afford to treat him. We can’t afford to get sick. This could be their way of taking us down with them. Nakahara can go to a hospital and deal with the consequences.”
“We aren't so different from the Port Mafia. They may be criminals but I don't think they would want to kill the only other Ability organization that they stand a chance uniting with. The government’s Ability users aren’t trusted and won’t help if needed because they don't want to take sides. We, however, have proven that we can help them if they need us. And they do need us.”
“There isn't a treatment for this virus,” Kunikida said. “We would be playing a waiting game with a live bomb.”
“If I may,” Yosano stepped forward. “I would be willing to treat Nakahara out of a personal interest in this virus. Treatment won’t be kind. I would rather test my methods on an enemy of the organization.”
Dazai grinned. “Well, there you go! Easy!”
“Not easy!” Kunikida cried. “How do we stop the spread of infection?”
“We create a sterilized area in the basement,” Yosano said. “I know how to handle this. The virus isn't transmitted through the air, only through bodily fluids and droplets. Precautions will need to be taken. Only one other person should be able to come in and out to deliver supplies and food. Maybe to assist me should I need it. We can have a separate washing unit to sterilized used clothes and bedsheets. I have some contacts that can get me what I need. Mori should also be more than willing to donate medical supplies to us.”
Dazai turned to Kunikida again, an expectant look on his face. Kunikida turned to Fukuzawa.
“President.”
“Their plan is sound,” Fukuzawa said. “As long as no one deviates from the plan, including the patient. No one else from the Port Mafia should be allowed access for the duration of the treatment. And we will only take the one patient. If there are others who have fallen ill at the Port Mafia, Mori can do with them as he wishes.”
Kunikida slumped.
Dazai might have felt guilty, but mostly he felt relieved. He wasn't sure why. It didn't really matter what happened, in the end. He just wanted the ADA to have leverage.
Yosano turned to the others. “I need your help setting up.”
*
The exchange happened like a drug delivery done under cover of night. The ADA didn't have to do a thing until Chuuya appeared at the doorstep of the entrance that led straight to the basement. How he got there was entirely up to the Port Mafia or, in the absence of them being willing to sacrifice men, Chuuya himself.
Two shadowy figures appeared heading towards the ADA. Dazai recognized Akutagawa’s coat and found himself surprised. Akutagawa had decided to help Chuuya despite personal risk.
Chuuya still wore his hat. Dazai wanted to laugh, but the laughter died as they came into the glow of the ADA building lights.
The paleness of Chuuya’s skin, Dazai expected, but not the bruises under his eyes. Literal bruises. His lips were chapped and purple, and his hair hung limp over one shoulder. The coat Chuuya wore over his clothes swallowed him up, and one hand clutched the edges together over his chest. He stood, unsteady, as the two ADA members looked him over.
“This way,” Yosano said. She led them inside, Dazai bringing up the rear. Her make-shift containment unit was well-lit and well-furnished, but they could not quite hide the concrete walls and lack of windows that made it a basement.
The bed and medical equipment had been placed in a makeshift “room” separated by clear sheets of plastic that Yosano managed to hang up. This helped create another barrier between the main ADA and Chuuya. Yosano outlined rules for whenever they were in this “room.” She and Dazai were the only ones allowed, and they would both have to wear protective gear. Dazai didn’t follow her and Chuuya, preferring to wait on the other side of the plastic sheets to watch Akutagawa.
Yosano gestured for Chuuya to place anything he wouldn’t need in a bin next to the bed. He took off his hat and coat, folding the latter neatly. He toed off his shoes. Dazai would have laughed that he wore pajamas under his coat at any other time. Now, it just made Yosano’s job easier.
She got to work setting up the IV while asking Chuuya a series of questions. Akutagawa hovered next to Dazai, both of them observing from a distance. Dazai almost wanted to tell Akutagawa to leave, but he didn’t. This was Yosano’s domain. Here, she was the boss. So he waited.
And listened. Chuuya had started feeling ill five days ago. Four days ago, the ADA had received the news and begun preparations. The first symptoms had been relatively mild: fever, fatigue, red spots under the skin, and nausea. The city being as alert as it was, Chuuya knew that his illness would get far worse.
So far the most severe symptoms reported in hospitals hadn't affected Chuuya yet, but already the disease differentiated itself from a common virus. Bruises, Chuuya said, had started to form all over his body, a sign of the virus affecting his blood’s ability to clot.
Dazai could see some of the bruises on Chuuya’s arms, large and deeply purple. If he hadn’t known better he would’ve thought Chuuya had been in a series of ill-fated fights. A strange sort of anger welled up in his chest, and he curled his hands into fists.
Yosano finished setting up the IV and discarded her gloves. Taking a step back, she turned towards Dazai and Akutagawa.
Akutagawa asked, “What are you going to do to him?”
“Kill him,” Yosano answered with a grin. Akutagawa started forward, but Dazai grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back. Yosano rolled her eyes. “Of course I’m not going to kill him. I don’t want to deal with the trouble that comes of disposing an infected body.”
“Heh.” Chuuya smirked.
“There is no sure-fire treatment, as I’m sure you already know,” Yosano continued. “How severe the disease will get, I won’t know until it happens, and there’s no stopping the course of the virus once it starts. We can attack the virus with antiviral medication and hope that it wins the battle before the virus does. The fatality rate is quite high...and then there’s my Ability.”
“What about your Ability?” Akutagawa demanded.
“If things get bad, I can use my Ability to heal injuries caused by the disease. That won’t stop the virus itself, but it can buy us time. So if, say, Nakahara is bleeding out, my Ability can close the wounds opened by the virus. But the virus can make the same thing happen again, and I have limits. Most organ failure, I can’t heal. The things that can cause organ failure are varied and too many of them have nothing to do with injury. In that case, we’re out of luck.”
“But we’re the best option,” Dazai said, noting that Akutagawa had looked ready to protest. “Because the Port Mafia’s best doctor is too good to help his men.”
“Your doctor is not the head of your organization,” Akutagawa pointed out.
“Anyway,” Yosano said, “we can take it from here.”
Akutagawa looked like he was going to argue, but Chuuya spoke up. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
Akutagawa hesitated, then nodded and walked out.
Which left them alone with Chuuya.
“If you’re coming any closer, you need to put on your gear,” Yosano said.
Dazai glanced at Chuuya, who regarded him warily. “I’m not,” he said after a moment. “Just let me know if anything changes.”
*
Despite being Yosano’s assistant, Dazai wasn’t needed. Kunikida berated him for sitting around when they had a patient to take care of, but Dazai couldn’t bring himself to volunteer for unnecessary time in Chuuya’s presence. If anything, he felt relieved.
He put it down to hating Chuuya so much that he’d rather let Yosano do all the work than suffer in Chuuya’s presence.
This continued until almost noon the second full day they had Chuuya under their care, when Yosano called Dazai into the basement and threw a doctor’s coat, a pair of gloves, a face mask, and a hair covering into his arms.
“I have to go to the nearby hospital,” she told him. “Someone in the government let slip about my Ability and they want to test it on a patient who’s bleeding out. Watch him. His condition is shitty. You don’t have to call me unless he’s actively dying. His drip is set, so don’t mess with that. Got it?”
Dazai almost withered under her glare. “Got it!”
She brushed past him, out the door.
Dazai took his time covering himself up. It felt silly, taping his gloves to his sleeves or putting on waterproof boots just to go a few feet over. The goggles that rested over his eyes must have looked horrible, but not as bad as the hair cap. With a deep sigh, he rounded the corner and headed towards the makeshift barrier.
“Hey, Chuuya, I’ve finally gotten a fashion sense almost awful enough to rival yo-” He choked on the last word.
Chuuya was doubled over, choking into a basin.
Dazai groaned. Audibly, because he didn’t care that Chuuya could hear. He strode into the room and straight up to the bedside, not sure exactly what he would do when he got there aside from rile Chuuya up.
Chuuya retched, and Dazai winced as vomit hit the bottom of the basin. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. The smell...it smelled like vomit, but also metallic. He craned his head to get a better look, against all instinct, and his heart sped up.
Blood. It was blood.
Chuuya’s entire body convulsed as he retched again. Dazai reminded himself of Yosano’s words. Chuuya’s condition was shit. He didn’t need to call her unless Chuuya was actively dying.
Handle this like you would handle any sick person, Dazai told himself. He didn’t handle sick people. He never really cared for people. He’d seen people rub each others’ backs before as a sign of comfort. The thought of doing that to Chuuya seemed wrong somehow. They’d never been the sort for gentle touches. But punching him in the face wouldn’t help.
Dazai forced himself to reach out and placed his gloved hand on Chuuya’s back. He let it rest there for a moment, and then he dragged his hand up and down in a mechanical sort of motion.
“What are you doing?” Chuuya choked.
“There, there,” Dazai said, the words sounding bland and not at all comforting. “You’re doing great, Chuuya.”
“What the fuck,” Chuuya muttered. “I-” Another retch cut him off.
“There, there,” Dazai repeated, a bit more insistently. This time, Chuuya swatted at his arm. The effort was weak, and Dazai kept his hand where it was.
Chuuya caught his breath. “Get your hand off me, asshole,” he hissed. “I’m done.”
“Oh.” Dazai took a step back. Chuuya glared up at him, the effect muted by how awful he looked. “You’re throwing up blood. That sucks.”
“No shit.” Chuuya glanced at the basin and swallowed. “Is it too much to ask you to do something about this?”
Dazai took another step back. “Me?”
“Yes, you. I can’t get up, and your doctor isn’t here.”
Dazai groaned loud enough for the entire ADA to hear before stalking over and grabbing the basin from Chuuya’s hands. Yosano had gone over cleaning procedures with him, and he carried them out, returning with a clean basin a few moments later to place on the cart of medical supplies next to the bed. It was one thing to have to clean up after a sick person in theory. It was something Dazai never wanted to do again in reality.
Chuuya leaned back against the bed, closing his eyes. His hair stuck to his forehead, sweat soaking the strands. His expression seemed pinched, like he was in pain. The only time Dazai had seen Chuuya looking worse was after Corruption.
“You look horrible,” he blurted out. “That was horrible.”
“You’re a shit nurse,” Chuuya said, not opening his eyes. “I don’t know why she chose you.”
“I volunteered.”
Chuuya cracked open his eyes and Dazai grinned at him.
“Just my luck.”
“I wouldn’t want poor Chuuya to be surrounded by strangers!” Dazai cried.
“Anyone is better than you,” Chuuya said.
“That hurts, Chuuya. What if those are the last words you ever said to me? Would you regret them?”
“I’d be dead.”
Dazai took in Chuuya’s appearance and how out of place he looked in the hospital bed. The words themselves were out of place coming from Chuuya’s mouth, although Chuuya didn’t seem to have a problem with them.
“I thought I was the one making the death jokes,” Dazai said. Chuuya shrugged and closed his eyes again. Shifting on his feet, Dazai glanced around. There was a chair folded up against the wall, and he took it and sat near the bed. Not next to it, but not far away enough for it to be awkward.
Chuuya’s breath hitched, and a coughing fit took over his body. Less than an hour had passed. Dazai hoped Yosano wouldn’t take long. This day would be excruciating.
“Does it hurt?”
“Yeah, it hurts.”
“Oh.”
“Are you having fun?”
“Not really.”
“Neither am I.”
Dazai fiddled with the tape on his sleeves. His bandages were a “medical biohazard” according to Yosano. He looked up to find Chuuya watching him.
“What?”
Chuuya’s shoulders hitched. He covered his mouth and doubled over, and Dazai half stood up, ready to shove the basin under Chuuya’s head.
Then strangled laughter broke the silence. Chuuya shook, the laughter becoming a mixture of gasping and coughing, but Dazai saw the expression on his face. He knew that expression well. Chuuya was mocking him.
“That’s rude, Chuuya,” Dazai said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“I’m sorry,” Chuuya managed. He wiped his eyes and smirked at Dazai. “You look like something out of a bad science fiction movie.”
Dazai mocked gasped. “I’m insulted!”
“You look like the waste of hospital materials you’ve always wanted to be,” Chuuya said. “Seriously, I wish I could take a picture. But I don’t have my phone…” He looked annoyed now. “I have work to do-”
“Such a workaholic! Why don’t you enjoy your time off?” Dazai asked.
“I’m not lazy,” Chuuya said. “Besides, unlike those of you holed up in the Agency, my subordinates are still out there. I’d like to know how they are.”
“Huh.”
“It’s because of the Port Mafia that there aren’t more infections,” Chuuya added.
Dazai couldn’t really deny that. “The Port Mafia has more manpower than the Agency. We can’t really do much about an outbreak with our numbers.” He tsked loudly. “Stupid Ango telling everyone about Yosano. Now I have to sit here and babysit you.”
“You think it was Ango?”
“Who else would it be?” Dazai rolled his eyes. “Not that Yosano’s Ability will work as an experimental treatment, but you already heard about that. All it’s doing is causing more pain.”
“I guess it depends on how severe the virus is,” Chuuya said. He glanced down at his hands. “Honestly, this is the last way I thought I’d go.”
Dazai felt his throat close. He laughed, loud enough for it to echo in the room. Chuuya’s head jerked up, his expression confused.
“What’s so funny?”
Dazai stopped laughing. “Don’t be dramatic. You’re always dramatic.”
“Huh?!” Chuuya pointed a finger at him. “Says the idiot who covers himself in bandages every single day, walking around like some sort of mummy. Now what’s dramatic?”
“You and your oversized hat,” Dazai said.
“It’s not oversized. It’s the perfect size.” Chuuya rubbed his hands over his face. “Ugh, I haven’t had a proper shower. I haven’t felt this disgusting in ages.”
“You look disgusting,” Dazai chimed in.
“Thanks,” Chuuya said.
“No problem.” Dazai leaned forward. “How does it feel?”
“How does what feel?”
“Being sick with this thing.”
“Why?” Chuuya raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to die from it?”
“Suffering isn’t my thing,” Dazai said, “and frankly, it looks gross. So I’ll just take your word.”
Chuuya took a deep breath, which turned into a cough. Once he managed to get his breathing under control, he said, “It feels like I’m falling apart from the inside out. Everything hurts. It hurts to breathe. I can’t even sleep because it just hurts all the time. I feel nauseous. Everything feels heavy. I keep smelling blood.”
Dazai blinked as the words hit him.
“That’s dramatic,” was all he managed to say.
Chuuya opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by another voice calling out, “Please tell me everyone is still intact.”
Yosano strode into the basement, heading straight for her own supplies. Dazai felt himself relax.
“Not really much I could do for them,” she continued without waiting for an answer. “I’m guessing everything is normal here?”
“Chuuya was gross. He threw up blood,” Dazai said.
“He does that,” Yosano said.
“He should stop.”
Chuuya coughed. “Sorry that my insides are bleeding, asshole.”
Dazai stood up, stretching. “Guess I’ll sterilize myself of your germs. Something I’ve always wanted to do.”
Chuuya didn’t respond. He was looking down at his lap again, his hands clenched around the blanket pooled between his legs.
Dazai frowned. He hated thinking about everything that was wrong with Chuuya. He knew the symptoms of the virus and he’d heard Chuuya describe his own experience, but it was another thing entirely to see it.
“Chuuya?” It was almost too quiet to hear.
“Sick,” Chuuya managed, gritting his teeth.
Dazai was about to move when Yosano brushed past him, grabbed the basin and held it under Chuuya’s head.
“You can get undressed if you want,” she said to Dazai, completely calm, as if her patient wasn’t about to be violently ill.
Dazai turned and walked out. He heard Chuuya retching, but he didn’t look. He peeled off the protective layers and tried to ignore the sounds coming from the other side of the barrier, but it had become harder to just switch off ever since he left the Mafia.
Eventually it stopped, and Yosano was talking to Chuuya, but Dazai didn’t hear what she said. Gloves discarded, the rest of his gear set to wash, he debated staying to listen.
Instead, he went upstairs.
*
“He’s getting worse.”
Words that Dazai expected but didn’t want to hear. Not after Kunikida told him that he looked sick, not the illness kind of sick but the kind of sick someone looks after having seen something traumatic. There was that annoying sentence left unsaid but Dazai knew Kunikida wanted to say it: “he was your old partner.”
But he wasn’t Dazai’s partner now. That time had passed, and Dazai had no intention of turning back to old things. But late into the next day Yosano called him down into the basement again, partly because she needed to sleep and partly because she needed to talk to him.
As he geared up, she watched him, her mouth a thin line. Finally, she said, “I need you to make decisions for him.”
Dazai paused in taping his glove to his sleeve and stared at her. “For Chuuya?”
“He won’t be able to make decisions, and we agreed that the Port Mafia wouldn’t be able to send someone here,” Yosano said.
“What do you mean?” Dazai glanced over to Chuuya’s bed. Chuuya slept fitfully, only his hair visible over the blankets.
“He had a seizure this morning,” Yosano said. “He’ll have more. The fever affects his capacity to think, and chances are he won’t be conscious for much longer. Or if he is, he won’t be able to make sense of anything. He’ll be bleeding from everything. We talked about this. I can show you a document I drew up before this began, and he signed it.”
“Document?” Dazai finished putting on his gear, and he and Yosano switched places. She started stripping hers off. Dazai hovered close to the barrier so that they could carry on their conversation.
“When people get sick, if they have time, they’ll usually create a document to express their wishes so that people know what they want when they can no longer decide for themselves,” Yosano explained.
“Right.”
“Well, it’s usually a family member, but since Chuuya doesn’t have any, he decided you’d be the next best thing.” She smirked. “Not sure why. Probably because you used to be partners.”
“That was stupid of him,” Dazai said without thinking.
Yosano raised an eyebrow. “Well, I hope it won’t come to that, but the virus seems to affect healthier people in worse ways. Either way...don’t do anything without me. I’ve set him up for the next few hours for things he’ll get through his IV.”
“Go to sleep,” Dazai said. “If he doesn’t talk, I’ll be fine.”
“And if he does?”
“I’ll wake you up to deal with him.”
“Do that and I’ll murder you.”
Dazai laughed and turned to face Chuuya.
An hour after Yosano left, he was almost wishing that Chuuya would talk. Dazai sat perched on the edge of the chair by Chuuya’s bed, unable to do anything but watch Chuuya’s disease take minute by minute. Chuuya shook and twitched, never falling completely still. Dazai wanted to take his temperature, but he didn’t. Blood stained Chuuya’s sheets, but Dazai didn’t dare try to see where it came from.
Three hours later, a sob tore itself from Chuuya’s throat. Dazai jumped up as Chuuya lurched forward, upper half nearly falling off the bed. He vomited blood onto the floor.
Dazai cursed and pushed Chuuya back onto the pillows. Blood leaked from the corner of Chuuya’s mouth, and he twisted away from Dazai’s grip, trying to get to the other side of the bed. Dazai held him in place.
“Chuuya. Calm down.”
Chuuya’s eyes opened and he searched Dazai’s face, unable to focus on any one thing. His pupils looked wrong.
“D-dazai?”
“Yeah. Stop moving.”
Chuuya’s teeth chattered. One hand reached up and clutched at Dazai’s sleeve. “What happened?”
“What?”
“C-corruption...d-did I go t-too far?”
Dazai shook his head and put his hand over Chuuya’s, intending to pry Chuuya’s fingers from his sleeve. But he stopped, his hand folding over Chuuya’s smaller one.
“F-feels w-worse,” Chuuya whimpered. Dazai noticed tears on his cheeks. Chuuya would hate himself for showing such weakness. Right now Chuuya probably wasn’t even aware of it.
“You’ll be fine,” Dazai said. “Just keep it together. I’ve never been wrong, right?”
Chuuya nodded, closing his eyes. His grip on Dazai’s sleeve tightened for a moment before he let go, and Dazai swallowed.
Chuuya trusted him so easily.
Yet in this moment, there was not a thing Dazai could do.
It didn’t get better. Dazai didn’t expect it to, but Chuuya didn’t wake up again. He hacked up mouthfuls of blood, which turned Dazai’s stomach. He almost wanted to wake up Yosano, but he didn’t. She needed her sleep. There was nothing she would be able to do at the moment, either.
But his hands shook as he turned Chuuya on his side for the fifth time so that he wouldn’t drown in his own blood.
Yosano rushed into the room and shoved Dazai aside with a “Why didn’t you call me?” and as he stumbled back, Dazai saw for the first time how bad it was.
The blankets and sheets of Chuuya’s bed were now soaked with blood. Blood dripped onto the floor and dried in small puddles under the bed. Dazai had managed to keep most of it off himself, but Chuuya had been bleeding out.
“I can use my Ability on him,” Yosano said. “It’ll stop some of the bleeding and give us more time for the antivirals to work.”
“Do you need your tools?” Dazai managed to ask.
Yosano shook her head.
Dazai swallowed. “Do it.”
He stepped back as Yosano activated her Ability.
It was the last time either of them would sleep for days.
*
The human body could only bleed for so long.
The second time, there was less blood, externally. The internal bleeding showed up as a livid bruise on Chuuya’s stomach, spreading towards his back and chest turning his pale skin purple and blue and black, and it was too much to fix so they started over again.
Yosano had gotten a ventilator from a nearby hospital during the preparation for Chuuya’s arrival. Dazai watched as she shoved the tube down his throat. His lungs were not just drowning in blood, they were failing, and there wasn’t anything they could do about it because it wasn’t an injury. The same thing happened to Chuuya’s liver. It was probably happening to his heart.
Dazai held down Chuuya’s shoulders as Yosano used her Ability for the third time, pinning him to the bed as a wide-eyed Chuuya choked against the tube in his throat and tried to launch himself off the bed.
The fourth time, Chuuya had a seizure that stopped his heart, and Yosano couldn’t say whether it was because of his high fever or some sort of bleeding in the brain. The antivirals weren’t working. They weren’t strong enough. That much was becoming clear. Anyone else in Chuuya’s position would have been dead long ago.
“I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up,” Yosano said. “I’m running out of medication and supplies.”
“One more time,” Dazai told her.
The spread of the virus had been halted, but most of the hospitals nearby were running low on supplies as well. People were either recovering or being allowed to die.
Chuuya had trusted Dazai with his life.
Dazai spent the night thinking. It shouldn’t have mattered that Chuuya trusted Dazai. Dazai hadn’t asked to be trusted. He’d never told Chuuya that the trust was well-placed. They were enemies. It benefited the ADA if Chuuya lived, but ultimately if he died, that was one less Mafia Executive they had to deal with.
After four years of not seeing each other, Dazai remembered the first time he met Chuuya as a member of the ADA. Chuuya had come to harass him. Chuuya had let him go. In many ways, Chuuya hadn’t changed.
Chuuya’s life was in Dazai’s hands, but ultimately Dazai couldn’t do anything. He’d always thought of their relationship as unbalanced. Chuuya depended on Dazai to use Corruption and not die.
And Dazai had depended on Chuuya’s Corruption to get them both out of situations alive where they might have otherwise died.
Akutagawa and Atsushi would make a good pair to fight against the enemies of the city. Just like Dazai and Chuuya had been a good partnership. Their time was over. Double Black didn’t need to exist anymore.
And Chuuya? Did he not matter because he was no longer part of that old partnership?
Mori seemed to think so. He’d placed Chuuya in enemy hands and hadn’t tried to treat Chuuya himself, nor had he tried to pull connections to get Chuuya into one of Yokohama’s hospitals.
These thoughts swirled in Dazai’s head, almost connecting but not quite, as he watched Chuuya convulse again on the bed.
*
Chuuya’s eyes snapped open and he clawed at his throat, choking on the breathing tube as Yosano pulled it out.
Yosano swatted his hands away, tossed the tube aside, and grabbed Chuuya by the chin, forcing Chuuya’s gaze up and to the side, to look at Dazai.
Dazai stood close to the bed, his own hands behind his back. “Listen to me,” he said, raising his voice so that he could be heard clearly. Chuuya’s eyes struggled to focus, but he was paying attention, which was good enough. “As soon as Yosano moves away, I need you to activate Corruption.”
Chuuya’s eyes widened and he choked. Yosano dug her fingers into Chuuya’s skin.
“I need you to do this,” Dazai insisted. “You can’t ask why, I don’t have time to explain, but I need you to trust me. Activate Corruption. I’m right here. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Chuuya stared at Dazai, clearly not understanding his intentions.
Dazai gritted his teeth and forced out one word: “Please.”
Yosano let go of Chuuya and stepped back.
Chuuya closed his eyes. His shoulders rose and fell erratically, for a moment. And then he took one clear breath that seemed to still the air in the room.
His lips moved. Dazai couldn’t hear the words, but he knew them by heart.
Dazai had seen Chuuya use Corruption many times, but never when Chuuya was in such a terrible physical condition. Chuuya sat up like his body was being pulled into position by strings. He raised his right hand, a small black hole spinning lazily at his fingertips as the ink of his Ability raced up his arm. Dazai sucked in a breath as he watched Chuuya’s skin disappear under the tide of Corruption, and it was as if Chuuya himself were being swallowed by the void.
Chuuya’s head tilted, and Dazai realized that Chuuya was staring at him, his eyes pinpricks in a completely dark face, grin a slash of red with white teeth bloodstained as he bared them at two people he couldn’t even recognize.
Dazai lunged forward, one ungloved hand reaching out, and grabbed the one part of Chuuya that was safe to touch: his hair.
Corruption drained from Chuuya’s skin as quickly as it had come, and Chuuya’s eyes met Dazai’s for a brief moment. He stuttered out a breath, which may have contained Dazai’s name, but it morphed into a cough. Blood spilled from Chuuya’s mouth down his chin and dripped onto his shirt. His eyes rolled back and he slumped onto the sheets.
Yosano grabbed Dazai’s arm and yanked him away. He stumbled and the back of his legs hit the chair. He sank down onto it, staring but not seeing Yosano work on Chuuya’s body.
What happened next, he couldn’t remember. He came to sitting in the kitchen, with a cup of tea steaming in front of him and Kunikida standing by the stove.
He didn’t know what to say for once, and Kunikida let him be silent.
*
An apology spoken at a funeral would be useless, but Dazai thought about it all the same.
Yosano didn’t call him until the following afternoon, and Dazai was fully prepared to help her burn Chuuya’s body.
But she stood by the basement entrance in no protective gear save for the mask covering her mouth and the gloves on her hands.
“I’ve sterilized the area,” she said, and Dazai stared at her, shocked that she would get rid of the body on her own. But she continued, “I’ve sent Chuuya’s blood for testing and it came back negative for any signs of the virus. The people at the lab asked me how I did it, and if I could reproduce the results in other patients.” She laughed, tinged with bitterness. “I told them that they wouldn’t like that. In the end, I didn’t do anything, did I?”
“You kept him alive,” Dazai said.
“Corruption killed the virus,” Yosano said. “But yeah, if I hadn’t been there, he would’ve died anyway. Because you’re a terrible doctor.” She tilted her head. “But your plans don’t fail.”
Dazai offered her a tired smile. “Thank you.”
Yosano shrugged. “We get to ask a few favors of the Port Mafia now. I’m fine with that. I have a few things I want to ask Mori.” Her eyes crinkled and Dazai could tell she was grinning. Mori wouldn’t like whatever she had to ask of him.
That bastard would deserve it.
She walked past Dazai, who headed towards Chuuya’s bed. Now that the virus was gone, he didn’t need to put on layers of extra stuff just to be in the same room.
He walked straight up to the bed and took Chuuya’s hand, covering it with his own.
Chuuya’s skin felt cool. He met Dazai’s gaze with tired eyes. He still couldn’t sit up, and an IV snaked from his arm to bags of liquid dripping into his veins at a steady rate. His lips were so chapped that they cracked when the corners of his mouth twitched into some kind of unreadable expression.
“You’re like a cockroach,” Dazai said quietly. “Can’t get rid of you.”
“I’d take you with me,” Chuuya rasped.
And after the week they’d had, Dazai hoped that Chuuya would.