Chapter Text
September, Six Years & Eight Months Since the Release of Corruption
It’s not even a particularly important interview, it’s a short live one for a stupid online magazine. They’re streaming it to their site. It’s only supposed to be a couple light questions about Chuuya’s upcoming musical plans. It’s going well enough until the last question.
“Four months from now will be the seven year anniversary of when you and Osamu Dazai released your hugely successful first and only album Double Black and its diamond single Corruption. After performing with Dazai earlier this year, are you planning anything special to celebrate?”
People have asked him about Dazai a million times before. Every single time he’s given the correct response, that he’s not allowed to comment on ongoing Port Mafia Records legal disputes. It’s the answer he’d given when Dazai leaving had still been fresh, when he’d been so angry he’d had to practically force the words out.
But this time the expected answer doesn’t come out. Instead he can still see the bastard’s mocking smirk from a little over a month ago, still hear his perfectly chosen taunts that had gotten far deeper under his skin than he wanted to admit.
So instead Chuuya tells the truth. “Corruption is insanely overrated, and I would prefer to never hear Dazai’s voice for the rest of my fucking life.”
Needless to say, the interview goes viral almost instantly.
August, One Year & Five Months Until the Release of Corruption
Dazai doesn’t know what he’s doing here. He’s sitting alone at a booth towards the back of the room, but not far enough that he can’t see the stage clearly. He just wants to avoid all the bodies crowding the stage and making fools of themselves. It’s a small crowd, but they’re extremely rowdy.
Teenagers, he scoffs internally.
He’s only fifteen, but he’d never act like that. Dazai had arrived an hour ago and ordered the first thing he saw on the menu so his waiter would leave him alone. The untouched plate is sitting in front of him, he moves it around a little to make it look like he’s eating. He’s slowly nursing a cup of coffee and wishing he could just leave already.
Dazai has listened to a lot of terrible music since signing on with Port Mafia Records a year ago, but The Sheep are some of the worst. They’ve stumbled into having a semi-popular pop song playing on local radio stations, and have let this minor success go to their juvenile heads. They march around the stage like they’re more than children playing dress up and at being competent musicians.
It’s almost cute, how they throw on leather jackets and heavy makeup like that makes them dark and mature. Dazai bets he’s seen more than any of them in a week with PMR. Yet they parade around the small stage in the middle of the restaurant and greet their audience with smirks.
It’s not so much the arrogance that puts Dazai off, he’s used to that being surround by aspiring artists every day. It’s that not a single member of The Sheep has any genuine talent between the five of them. He’s read the file on all of them left by Mori when he was assigned this job, and he can’t figure out why the boss is wasting his time with this group. They’re coasting by on being attractive enough for their age and adolescent charm.
Their lead singer Shirase is barely passable at the simple melodies he attempts while flipping his silver hair. The lead guitarist is a cute girl with pink hair named Yuan that is focused so hard on not messing up she’s practically trembling with nerves. The redheaded keyboard player Chuuya plunks his way clumsily through the numbers. The bass player Akira is actually decent but in a dull, predictable way. The drummer Shougo only manages to keep the beat ninety percent of the time.
Overall, none of them are worth scouting as solo artists and Dazai doubts Mori is interested in signing them as a band. Dazai hates half the bands at PMR, but this would be a new low. They’re above this level of mediocrity.
The rest of the customers in the restaurant are idiots who don’t share his sentiments if their shrieking is anything to go by. They clap and cheer after every number, and the people harming their ears standing by the stage sing along to the insult to music.
He sighs as the band finishes a truly offensive number titled Life’s Better With a Little Party In It (the name alone is enough to annoy him) and checks his phone. The band should be wrapping up soon. He flips through a couple texts with updates on projects he’s working on.
He hasn’t been working with Port Mafia Records long enough yet to get any real challenges or music worth putting much effort into. He’s only been on a couple scouting jobs, and the artists those times had been palatable at least. He would have begged this one off on someone else if Mori himself hadn’t given it to him. He personally thinks Mori is despicable, but Dazai won’t get far in Port Mafia Records without his approval.
If Mori thinks Dazai is the right person for this job because of his age he’s mistaken. Dazai finds most people his age stupid, boring, or both. He certainly doesn’t share musical tastes with them.
“Thank you, everyone, you’re too kind.” The voice of the lead singer pulls Dazai’s attention back to the stage. Shirase is smiling at the audience in a way that they probably can’t tell is fake. “We’ve just got time for a couple more songs tonight.”
“Golden Demon,” someone calls out from the crowd. It’s a girl’s voice, somewhere close to the stage. It brings a smile to Dazai’s face for the first time since the band started playing.
Shirase’s face, meanwhile, drops the phony smile. “The Sheep don’t take requests. And we especially don’t play songs by Port Mafia Records bitches.”
That’s the other thing about this job that doesn’t make sense to Dazai. Port Mafia Records has a reputation, it doesn’t try to hide it. It was just as famous for shady deals with radio stations and concert venues as it was for the music it produced. Wild rumors about drugs and other illegal business surrounded the company (most of which are obviously true). The Sheep have made their dislike for PMR vocal, so scouting them seems like a waste of time even if they were talented.
Kouyou Ozaki is one of PMR’s artists from before Mori took over as the boss. She’s a powerful singer. Anything she sings is going to be butchered by The Sheep, and Golden Demon is her latest song. It plays on the radio ten times more than The Sheep’s little song.
“Come on, Shirase,” says the keyboard player, Chuuya. He stands up and plucks one of the microphones from the guitarist and brings it in front of him. Dazai is stuck by how short he is, he hadn’t noticed when he was sitting behind his keyboard. He seems to notice the tense atmosphere of the room after Shirase’s comment and keeps his voice light and smile wide. “We’ve got the time, and Golden Demon is good enough we can ignore it comes from PMR. Plus, how can we ignore a request from such a lovely young fan?”
He lays it on thick by winking at the girl who shouted. There’s a release of tension in the air. Shirase fights off a scowl. The other band members seem torn between the two boys, but stay silent.
Dazai is entertained for the first time this evening. So they aren’t the happy little family of teenage rebels they pretend to be. Fascinating.
Chuuya and Shirase exchange a couple heated whispers but Chuuya seems to win because Shirase backs off and takes a seat on his stool with obvious discontent. The guitar player gives Chuuya an encouraging smile while the other two adjust their instruments for the number.
Dazai realizes that Shirase is sitting out for the number and is a little impressed by the singer’s pettiness. He’s really leaving his band out to dry on a song way too advanced for them because of selfish reasons. Maybe he would be a good fit at PMR after all.
Dazai is surprised when Chuuya keeps the microphone and adjusts it so it faces him. He doesn’t envy the boy. He can barely keep up with Kouyou, and he’s actually practiced with her.
Chuuya fiddles with his keys in a short tune. He flashes another big smile as if he hadn’t just had a heated argument with his lead singer that they all witnessed. “We’ll give it our best shot. Here’s Golden Demon.”
He begins to play the opening chords with a confidence that was missing from any earlier songs. His fingers glide from key to key easily, and the sound comes out smoothly. He plays it at a slightly slower tempo than Kouyou’s version, the notes softer and more melancholic.
Congratulations on your engagement
Everyone says that it’s a smart match
You’ve traded your heart for quite a sum
I hope you're satisfied with your catch
Chuuya sings the first verse just like he plays the piano, soft and smooth and with a heavy sense of sadness. He draws out the words expertly, with a clear voice that drowns out the imperfections of the other band members. It isn’t the powerful, angry ballad that Kouyou sings, it’s a painfully earnest version.
The noise that was present during the other the numbers has hushed as Chuuya continues the song with the same level of skill. The wait staff is paused as well, taking in the music with a sort of reverence.
Dazai realizes he’s frozen with his coffee midway to his mouth staring at the keyboard player. He can feel the raised hairs on his arms. He quickly sets down the mug and schools his expression into something more neutral.
He listens to the rest of Golden Demon raptly. Chuuya never falters, not at the range of the chorus, or when his guitar player gets lost in the middle of the bridge. He keeps singing and playing as if he’s the only one on stage.
It’s not a perfect rendition, he’s a bit pitchy on the high notes. Dazai can’t help being impressed at the raw talent though. He can’t remember the last time he heard someone so musically gifted just playing a song they liked with this level of expertise.
Chuuya Nakahara, he thinks to himself as the restaurant explodes into applause as the song comes to a close. Where the hell did Mori find you?
Dazai pays for his meal and slips out of the restaurant before the band can play anything else. He got what he came here for. He glances back as he walks out the door though. Shirase has taken over again, but he only has eyes for the short redhead back to playing music so crude it makes him sound unremarkable.
Dazai wonders how Mori is going to get him out from under The Sheep. He wonders why he ended up playing with people so far beneath him. He wonders when he’s going to get a chance to meet him properly.
For the first time in his life, Dazai is excited to work on music with someone.
November, One Year & Two Months Until the Release of Corruption
There have been a lot of adjustments to his life since signing with Port Mafia Records, but Chuuya thinks the worst one is having to deal with fucking Osamu Dazai.
The smug bastard popped up constantly despite having his own projects to work on while Chuuya mostly does vocal training with Kouyou or Hirotsu. Yet Dazai was somehow always there, chiming in that he was still pitchy. Chuuya is ready to kill him.
He’d expected to hate working with PMR. He’d heard so much about their underhanded business and savageness while playing with The Sheep. It’s surprising how well he fits in here after how his employment originally started.
He’d been forced into a recording contract with the threat of PMR buying out Gelhert Sound Services and dropping The Sheep after they’d finally gotten a record deal with GSS after months of hard work. The other members of the band had turned on him when they heard Port Mafia Records was interested in him as a solo artist. He can still hear Shirase accusing him of being a sellout, still feel the drop in his stomach that came with the words from one of his best friends.
The one to broker the deal had been, of course, Dazai, who had watched on smiling while Chuuya had watched the band who had become his family over the past years discard him. That alone was enough to make Chuuya hate the guy.
He’d been ready to hate Ogai Mori as well. The man’s reputation made him sound like evil incarnate, a demon who didn’t care about any of his acts as long as he was profiting. Then Chuuya had met the man.
Mori had been refreshingly honest with him, never pretending that he hadn’t tricked Chuuya into being here. Chuuya had been taken aback. He struggled to keep up as Mori casually commented Chuuya was the most gifted singer he’d met in recent years and with a bit of training had real potential. Chuuya had stumbled through a thank you while Mori moved on to his plans for Chuuya as an artist with PMR.
He’s not expected to put out any music right away, rather he’s supposed to learn more about the business while he trains his voice into recording shape. Chuuya just nodded as he was assigned to work under Kouyou Ozaki, grammy-nominated Kouyou Ozaki, and tried not to look like the overwhelmed fifteen year old he was.
The conversation had changed yet again while Elise had charged into the room. She’d come straight up to Chuuya, declaring that she loved The Sheep, him in particular, and gosh his hair was pretty. Chuuya noticed Mori’s allowance of the interruption and open look of adoration towards the girl and quickly slipped into his most charming smile.
Mori dismissed him after he promised to sing for Elise soon. But before Chuuya left Mori casually mentioned he’d admired Chuuya’s mother’s music as well. He even had some of her old compositions lying around, he’d get around to searching for them.
Chuuya’s throat had tightened as he forced out that he’d like that. He’s never told a single person about his family, not even The Sheep. He preferred to keep it that way. He clamped his hands around his wrists to keep steady.
Mori ignored his obvious discomfort and went back to chatting with Elise about shopping for new outfits. Chuuya realized why Elise had seemed so familiar as he walked out, he’d seen her at a show at a small restaurant in L.A. a couple months ago, she’d been close to the stage and requested Golden Demon.
He couldn’t help but smile and shake his head as he walked out of the room. Ogai Mori was not to be messed with. He’d been manipulated every single second of their meeting, and even before that, yet he couldn’t help but respect the man.
That was two months ago, and he’s only seen Mori in passing since. Every time he’d been sure to be as courteous as possible. Mori always kept that knowing smile on his face and informed him he was pleased with his progress. It kept Chuuya motivated to keep working hard.
Right now he’s on his way to meet Kouyou. He adjusts his tie as moves through the PMR office. Kouyou had forced him to start dressing in suits instead of “delinquent nonsense.” He misses his leather jackets. The suit jackets are much less comfortable.
Chuuya manages a speck of his old look with a leather choker. Dazai told him it looked like a dog collar, but Chuuya doesn’t take fashion advice from losers who wrap themselves in bandages (for reasons Chuuya is still trying to figure out).
He arrives to the area of the building Kouyou unofficially dominates. The decor is more refined and all the people who work here keep their tones light and know better than to disturb the woman with the corner office.
He nods to a couple people as he approaches that office and raps on the door a few times. He hears a voice call him in and enters with a grin already on his face.
If the worst part of his new employer is Dazai, the best part is Kouyou.
“Chuuya,” says Kouyou, as if she’s surprised he’s there and hadn’t told him to be here at this exact time (being late was a mistake he made once that he’s never going to repeat). She looks up from the papers she’s reading to smile at him. “I was just finishing up. Why don’t you pour us some tea?”
It’s not a request. He nods anyway and crosses over to her outrageously expensive tea set and gets to work making two cups. Kouyou swears by tea as good for the vocal cords and makes Chuuya drink it constantly.
He sets one of the cups on Kouyou’s desk and holds onto the other while he takes a seat in one of the plush chairs in front of the desk. He blows on it as he watches Kouyou make meticulous notes on documents that appear to have nothing to do with music.
Kouyou finishes her work and slides it into a folder easily. She calmly sips her scalding hot tea. “How’s your voice doing today?”
“It’s fine. I already ran through the morning warm ups.”
Kouyou nods, looking pleased. Chuuya had been intimidated the first time he’d been sent to Kouyou, figuring she’d see working with him as a waste of time. Instead she seemed to care about Chuuya as a person first and an artist second. Sure, she was sharp and god help you if you pissed her off. But she also took the time to really get to know Chuuya, to ask him questions and remember the answers.
Chuuya may respect Mori, but he cares about Kouyou. It hurt more to disappoint her as a person than as a mentor. He wants to be worthy of all the effort she’s put into making him a better singer.
“I had something new I wanted you to take a look at,” says Kouyou. She sifts through the papers on her desk to bring out a stack of sheet music. She flicks through the pile. “I could use another pair of eyes on the second verse. It’s not flowing.”
Chuuya takes the sheet music she hands him and steals a pen from the desk. He skims the beginning to get the feel of the song before focusing in on the section Kouyou wants him to look at.
He frowns at the page, he tends not to write down his own music. He prefers to hear things played out rather than read them. It just makes more sense to him. Kouyou is trying to strip him of this habit, but they haven’t made much progress. She says it’s fine for him but then other people won’t be able to play the song how he wants them to. He bites back his reply that he doesn’t write music for other people.
The door opening catches both of their attention. Kouyou is displeased at the lack of knocking, Chuuya is displeased at the person who walks in. Dark brown eyes meet his and Dazai smirks lazily as he enters the room.
“Kouyou! Sorry to interrupt,” says Dazai, not sounding sorry at all. He made his way to the desk and handed the folder in his hand to Kouyou. “Mori wanted me to drop this off for you. I didn’t know chibi would be here.” He directs his taunt at Chuuya and leans against the chair next to his.
“I am fifteen, I am still growing,” Chuuya snaps back immediately. He regrets it when Dazai’s smile just widens. He fights down the anger with a glance towards Kouyou. Normally he’d tell Dazai exactly where he could shove his childish games but he doesn’t want to loose his temper in front of Kouyou. She seems to be ignoring the two of them in favor of reading whatever Dazai handed her anyway.
“I’ve heard that anger can stunt your growth,” says Dazai. His tone is light and airy, but you can see the delight in his eyes. “You should work on that temper of yours, Chuuya. I don’t think you can afford to lose any inches.”
Chuuya takes a measured breath instead of punching him. He gives him the dirtiest look he can and goes back to studying the sheet music Kouyou gave him. He feels Dazai reading with him over his shoulder and continues to ignore him.
“This sequence of chords isn’t going to work,” says Dazai. He reaches over Chuuya to cross out a section with Chuuya’s pen that he hadn’t even felt him grab. Chuuya wants him to be wrong, but he isn’t.
That’s the most irritating thing about Dazai. For all his insults and nagging and posturing, he was a musical genius. And he was insufferable about it. He could read a piece of music once and pick out all the problems in detail, or recognize off notes when he heard them easily. He constantly told Chuuya he was pitchy, which means he probably is.
The songs Dazai worked on were musically perfect, from start to finish. But it was almost clinical, there was no deeper emotion or feeling to anything. It was beautiful in a cold, distant way. Chuuya couldn’t stand any of it.
“The real problem is the lyrics,” argues Chuuya. He takes the pen from Dazai and scribbles on the words that sound off to him. Dazai hums but doesn’t disagree. Chuuya squints as he tries to come up with better words. He can’t do it with just paper though. “Hey, Kouyou, can we take this to somewhere with a guitar or a piano? I want to sound it out.”
“I leave it in your small hands,” says Dazai brightly. He exits Chuuya’s personal space to stand up fully. He nods to Kouyou and waves obnoxiously to Chuuya as he skips out of the office.
Chuuya rolls his eyes at his retreating form and turns back to Kouyou. She’s watching him with a thoughtful look that makes him slightly uncomfortable. “I’ve been puzzling over the problem with that song all week. You two could be a lot more useful if you stopped all the theatrics and collaborated.”
“He starts it,” mutters Chuuya under his breath. He sees Kouyou narrow her eyes in disapproval and quickly speaks again. “Plus, like I could get anything done with shitty Dazai constantly putting down all my ideas and calling me an untalented beansprout.”
“Dazai knows you’re talented, Chuuya,” says Kouyou. She looks disappointed in him in a different way, one that instantly makes him feel smaller. She speaks as if she’s explaining something he should already know. “He’s the one who scouted you to sign with Port Mafia Records.”
Chuuya scrambles for what to say. He has to swallow hard before he can get the words out. “I thought Mori sent Elise to scout me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Chuuya,” says Kouyou, shaking her head. “Mori might dote on the girl, but she’s only nine years old. He would never leave business decisions up to her. PMR would only sign pretty boy bands if she had her way. Mori only sends people whose opinions he trusts to find new acts.”
Chuuya tries to make sense of that. Dazai has belittled him in every single conversation he’s ever had with him, from the moment they met while he was still part of The Sheep. He constantly mocked his height and went of out his way to bother Chuuya. Yet he was the one who recruited him?
Kouyou continues on as if he isn’t having a personal crisis in front of her. “I was surprised when I read Dazai’s report on you. I’d never seen him be so complementary of someone. He wrote that your version of Golden Demon was musically extraordinary and with a bit of work could outshine the original. He included strategies on how to get you to sign with PMR and recommended moving as quickly as possible. I’ve rarely seen him put so much effort into an assignment.”
Kouyou states all of this matter of fact, and Chuuya has to work to keep his face somewhat neutral. On the inside he was reeling, Dazai thought his singing was musically extraordinary? He can’t correlate the words with the Dazai he knows. Then he catches on to the rest of what Kouyou said.
“Please, like anyone could ever sing Golden Demon better than you could, Kouyou,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. Kouyou’s bright smile lets him know he said the right thing. She chooses not to comment on it though.
“Let’s go work through the trouble with this verse then,” she says, standing up and leading the way out of the room, knowing he’ll follow. She takes them to a room a couple doors down that holds Kouyou’s favorite work piano.
Chuuya half pays attention as they walk along. Kouyou has read Dazai’s report, which means that it still must exist somewhere. Which means he can steal it. He’s already got a handful of ideas where it could be.
Chuuya is going to hang it on his god damn wall…wait no, then Dazai might take it and destroy it.
He’s going to have to make a million copies.
February, Eleven Months Until the Release of Corruption
The most annoying thing about Chuuya is that he keeps surprising Dazai (and there are plenty of annoying things about Chuuya). Ever since he’d opened his mouth and started singing Golden Demon with an irritating amount of skill and grace Dazai found himself constantly caught off guard by the small redhead.
Dazai had resolved to not underestimate the boy after that but it just kept happening. One day he’d walked in on him and Kouyou speaking conversational Japanese. He’d been horrified to learn that not only could Chuuya sing and play the piano, but he could also play the guitar and write music too.
Dazai’s music was superior, of course, but Chuuya always managed to wring out more emotions from the song than Dazai would.
Dazai made sure to surprise Chuuya just as often. It wouldn’t do for this whole business to be one-sided. The memory of Chuuya discovering Dazai could sing never failed to bring a smile to his face. He can still see the redhead’s dumb open-mouthed stare. His voice had been so squeaky when he’d accused Dazai of keeping secrets.
Chuuya still spent most of his time with Kouyou though. Dazai isn’t sure why Mori is keeping him on such a tight leash. Chuuya’s voice had been a little rough around the edges when he’d started, but it wasn’t anymore. He wasn’t involving him in any major music projects, which Dazai thought was a waste.
Dazai, meanwhile, has more work than ever. He’s given song after song to edit and make less terrible. He approves album covers and marketing strategies. His desk is an unending stack of tasks that keep him occupied if not bored out of his mind.
So Dazai has to get his entertainment when he can. That’s why he’s blowing off a meeting to beat Chuuya for the fifth time at the arcade fighting game they’re playing.
Chuuya lets out a hilarious amount of swears as he watches his character die again. Dazai had barely had to taunt him into coming. He’d casually implied that Chuuya was too stupid to beat him and Chuuya had practically dragged him here.
“Fuck,” says Chuuya again. He looks out of place in his suit among the other arcade customers. They both do. Everyone else is giving them a wide berth, which Dazai prefers.
“Nobody likes a sore loser, Chuuuuuya,” gloats Dazai. He smirks at the fuming redhead. “What have I won again? You have to be my errand boy for the next month?”
“Shut the fuck up.” Chuuya is glaring at the game, as if it’s his fault for letting him down. The lights of the arcade glow on his skin, turning it as red as his hair.
“Unless Chuuya thinks he can beat me? I could use a slave for two months.” Dazai holds up another set of quarters, already ready to beat Chuuya again.
“I won’t be here in two months.”
Dazai almost drops the quarters. He can’t fight the automatic frown. Chuuya seems surprised that he didn’t know.
“Kouyou’s going on tour in Asia,” says Chuuya. He shrugs. “She asked me to come with her.”
Dazai vaguely recalls hearing about plans for setting up the tour. He hadn’t been part of them, but he knew it was happening. It shouldn’t be such a shock that she’d ask Chuuya to go with. Kouyou adored Chuuya.
But it was a shock. Chuuya was going to be gone for months. Dazai plays with the quarters in his hand absentmindedly. It didn’t matter really. He could find new ways to amuse himself. He could-
“You could come with.” Chuuya seems just as surprised at his own words as Dazai.
See? This is what he means. Despite all his efforts, Chuuya keeps doing things that Dazai doesn’t expect.
It’s annoying.
Dazai blinks quickly to try and process the offer. “Unlike you, I actually have work to do here,” says Dazai, dismissing the idea easily. “I don’t just follow Kouyou around like a lap dog.”
“Tell Mori you want to experience a new side of the business,” says Chuuya, ignoring Dazai’s attempts to piss him off. He looks calculating and serious. It’s not a look Dazai sees often. “You want to hear how music sounds in different arenas so you can account for it. You want to learn more about international markets so you can be more successful in generating sales for PMR overseas.”
All of that sounds exactly like something Dazai would say, and exactly like something Mori would go for.
Dazai hums as if thinking it over. Chuuya is tense, watching him. He smirks at Chuuya. “Well, I suppose I could tag along, if Chuuya is going to miss me so much if I don’t.”
Chuuya scowls immediately. “Never mind, stay here and rot.” He rolls his eyes and starts to walk away.
Dazai falls in step with him, slipping the quarters back in his pocket. “It makes sense that you need me to come, they don’t let dogs fly unsupervised overseas-ow! Chuuya’s elbows are so pointy!"