Chapter Text
This new underling of that bastard had asked him to meet up at the bakery down the street, the one next to the police station.
To be honest, Chuuya didn't really know what to expect. He didn't even know why he was currently stomping down the streets, a scarf thrown lazily around his throat because he had realised it was snowing when he was getting ready earlier. Even though he never really got or at least felt too ill, it was better to be careful. Catching a cold was the last thing he needed right now, work had been pretty stressful lately. Especially with all this stuff about the trafficking going on right now, getting ill and having to call in sick at work wasn't something that he was too keen on happening – having to explain to his boss why and how exactly he got sick would be so much worse, too.
Though he maybe should've picked another coat – he was freezing through his one-layered chesterfield. At least he looked good.
He shook his head slightly, not wanting to get lost in useless thoughts as he quickly plodded through the snow. Really, couldn't his ex-partner at least stop causing him problems after he left the mafia? Was it really necessary to call him up all the time, demanding answers to stupid questions at three in the morning when Chuuya was just trying to fall asleep after an especially thought-provoking and emotionally upsetting mission? For real, didn't the mummified fish stick have any friends he could bother? And why was he awake, anyway? It wasn't unlike him to stay awake for days or randomly call up some poor Mafiosi who were just trying to have a healthy sleep schedule back in the days but now? Shouldn't he at least pretend to have his life together?
It would make his goody-two-shoes act more believable, at least. And all of that aside – it wasn’t like he ever picked up the phone when Chuuya called him. Granted, Chuuya only ever tried to call him when he was a little drunk and felt the need to cuss him out but still.
But the fact that this new subordinate – what was he called again, the weretiger? – of his called Chuuya up, sounding as nervous and as frightened as some hurt and scared bunny that was being forced into a corner, just continuously repeating the lines “Can you please come?” and “I don't know how to tell you this”... that was what somewhat worried the Mafioso, even though he wouldn't ever admit it.
Chuuya didn't know what was going on – all he knew was that stupid Dazai did something again, or at least that was what he suspected. According to the weretiger, something was wrong with the overcooked fish again and, somehow, he couldn't call anyone else. Why? Well, did it really matter? Deep down, Chuuya would've liked to believe it was because nobody knew the so-called “detective” as well as he did. He knew better than to believe in such nonsensical wishful thinking, though. It was most likely just a stupid prank anyway – if it was, Chuuya’d make sure they’d regret wasting his time like that.
At the same time, he was more than aware that it ultimately didn't matter what he thought about it or how much he racked his brain - Chuuya was still on his way to said bakery, after all. It was really a lucky, or, in his case, an unfortunate coincidence that he had today, of all days, off and could therefore afford such antics. To be honest, Chuuya didn't even really understand why he had responded in the first place, probably because the new protégé of his former partner had begged him to come. At the same time, he didn't quite understand why this suicidal freak hadn't just called him himself - well, if he was being honest, he had to admit that he had actually only answered his cell phone because he thought Dazai was the one that had called him. After all, it was his phone contact that flashed up. He probably wouldn't have picked up if it hadn't been him, he was supposed to enjoy his day off, after all. Kouyou-Ane or Mori calling him would've been a different matter but anyone else calling him on his day off? No one would even dare to think about doing something as stupid as that.
He was so lost in his thoughts the entire way, he only noticed that he had already arrived at his destination when suddenly a white haired face came into his field of vision. He should've almost been ashamed of himself for being so inattentive. If this catboy had been a hit man, he might even have had a chance not to only surprise but also attack him. At the same time he could never have actually hurt Chuuya, he was just too strong for that. It might come across as arrogant, but Chuuya didn't really care. He knew his strengths, so why pretend to be humble? That was silly, at least in his eyes.
“Ah, Chuuya-san! Thank you for coming,” the boy stammered a little nervously and Chuuya looked at him intensely, watching every movement the younger one made.
He was looking for something that could give the boy's intention away, wanting to see if it was an ambush or a trap. He found nothing but extreme nervousness, though. The taller one restlessly shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Chuuya decided that he probably didn't have any evil intentions – he sighed quietly before he eyed him again, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He made sure not to let his guard down yet, though.
“Enough pleasantries. What's wrong? Why did you call me up on my free day?”
As embarrassing as it was, he actually forgot the boy's name. Silently praying that the younger one would introduce himself politely again, he coughed into his fists, imitating his own underling.
“Ah, I'm sorry, Chuuya-san, it's... I don't really know how to explain this,” he nervously scratched his head and seemed to take a deep breath.
Since when was this guy calling him by his first name, anyway? Did he ever probably introduce himself? He couldn't recall ever telling him his name, though since he was a member of the ADA and Chuuya was a member of the Port Mafia, he was sure people already knew him. Shouldn't he still call him by his surname, though? Was this how the young people of today treated their elders? Chuuya wasn’t even that much older than the young man in front of him, it couldn’t have been more than five years, if at all. He wasn't quite sure but didn't this boy call Akutagawa by his last name, too? At least his subordinate always complained about this “stupid weretiger” and his “stupid voice”, always shouting “Akutagawa” even though they were practically next to each other, and “he would be deaf by twenty-two” if “this stupid idiot” would “continue screaming into his ear like that”. Now that he thought about it, he probably knew anything about this boy in front of him BUT his name. Did Akutagawa even know his name? Or did he just really like calling him by some stupid pet names, such as weretiger, weakling, good-for-nothing, and idiot?
“Maybe it'd be best if you'd just follow me,” the younger boy tried to smile reassuringly at the Mafioso but the man just frowned. “I promise it's not a trap,” he reassured him quickly, holding his arms defensively in front of his chest. Chuuya stifled a sigh. “Well, even if it was a trap, it's not like I couldn't just beat you up. I guess I've got nothing to worry about, huh?”
If the weretiger was offended, he sure as hell didn't show it. On the contrary, he looked relieved.
“Ah, yes, probably- Thank you so much! Follow me, please.”
Chuuya had no other choice: He followed the enemy into the bakery across from the police station - from the outside the said bakery looked surprisingly pretty, if rather inconspicuous. The doorbell rang brightly when they entered the shop - the clerk behind the counter didn't pay too much attention to them, however, he seemed to have already noticed that it was just the boy from before. The employee was an inconspicuous man in his mid-thirties with short, black hair and attentive eyes. He only gave the newcomer a quick look before turning back to the coffee machine.
The atmosphere was relatively calm and there weren't really any other customers - he spotted an elderly couple, but other than that, the store was empty. The selection of baked goods and confectionery seemed almost endless and if Chuuya had been more of a sweet tooth, he would have been happy, but in fact the redhead always tended towards black coffee and spicier food, matching his temperament, like his former partner often said before he tried to strangle that annoying prick. What could he do if that idiotic Dazai had no taste? It wasn't his fault, after all, if that bastard preferred sugary bean broth and caries-inducing sweets.
Really, why exactly did he come here again? He already noticed how everything about himself became tense again and how his mood automatically deteriorated, just through the thought of the brown-haired man. He decided to concentrate on something else because turning around now would've just made him look stupid.
The interior of the bakery was nothing special - kept in a simple brown with warm yellow tones, wooden furniture and warm, yellowish light, large windows with equally yellowish-orange curtains. He was not surprised that his former partner's protégé hung around in such friendly-looking businesses. Still, if whatever he called him here for really mattered, couldn't he at least have picked a more private location?
“Well, I have to warn you beforehand,” the white-haired man stammered as he nervously began to play with his fingers, “and I don't even really know how to explain this to you, because I have absolutely no explanation for... well... this - he was like this when I found him...”
Now Chuuya was a little worried, but before he really had the time to worry about what to do with this new, albeit vague, information, they stopped in front of one of the few tables in the bistro area.
At first glance the Mafioso didn't notice anything unusual - a completely normal table with two plates, on one of them was a piece of melon pan, on the other he saw something that looked like anpan with a piece of strawberry cake. This combination made Chuuya raise an eyebrow a little, but he refrained from any commentary. For now. But what caught his eye made him pause.
A little boy sat on one of the chairs, relatively slumped into himself, he might have been seven years old at most. His chin long, wavy brown hair framed his- well, not really plump but definitely roundish face and an alerted gaze met him from the corner of his large eye while he seemed to claw his fingers into his black shorts. Chuuya froze. He would always recognize these eyes - or rather this eye, as the other one was bandaged - no matter the time or situation. His mouth fell open and he wanted to say something, but couldn't really think of anything.
“You're kidding me, aren't you?”
The nervous boy, who previously stood next to him, sat down on the padded bench across from the child.
“Eh, Chuuya, that's ... Osamu-chan,” he introduced the boy, who didn't seem to react. “Osamu?” He tried again, but the little one paid him absolutely no attention. If he hadn't moved his tiny hands almost imperceptibly, anyone watching might have thought it was a doll instead of a child. “... Sorry, he doesn't really talk much.”
The white-haired man smiled sheepishly before sliding aside a bit, making room for Chuuya on the bench. At first he wanted to refuse, the desire to turn around and leave the bakery again almost overwhelmingly strong, just wanted to pretend nothing of this ever happened. He would have loved to label this as another stupid prank of Dazai's, but something prevented him from doing so. He couldn't describe it in more detail, couldn't explain why he sat down next to the tiger.
“... How did that happen?” He wanted to know soberly after a few seconds of silence, all while he did not take his eyes off the child once.
“I really don't know,” the younger one repeated with a sigh. “Dazai hadn't come to work this morning and Kunikida-san had asked me to look after him. Well, actually, he didn’t ask me directly but he was twitching already and I didn't want to be yelled at, so I went out voluntarily to see if he had just overslept again.”
Chuuya could imagine that. Dazai was never known for being punctual.
“Well, and when I didn't get an answer after knocking several times, I went to the director to get the spare key, because we know Dazai and who knows what happened ... I mean, he could've still been asleep, but he could have just as well...”
The protégé of Dazai didn't finish his sentence, but Chuuya could guess what he was going to say.
“Well, when I unlocked the door, instead of a grown-up Dazai I found ... him,” he lamely finished his story and put his hands on the table.
“He hasn't said a single word yet, but there's no way that this could be a mix-up. We don't know how that happened, but Yosano ruled out any mix-ups. She says it's clearly Dazai. But well... You can see for yourself. I went out to get him some clothes because of course I didn't want him to be in those clothes that were too big all the time and well, then I called you. I thought maybe the mafia knew more.”
So he thought it was their fault. Naturally.
“And I thought you know Dazai a lot better than I do- than any of us do since you kind of grew up together and whatnot- and maybe you could get something out of him?”
The hope in the white-haired man's eyes could hardly be overlooked when Chuuya finally turned away from the silent log in front of him and faced him. Chuuya once again considered just getting up and leaving. He also considered correcting him by stating that no, they didn’t “grow up” together, they met when they were fifteen and Dazai disappeared merely three years later, though that would’ve felt a little petty. It wasn’t like it mattered anyway.
“Okay. And how are you so sure that this is actually Dazai Osamu?”
Chuuya wouldn't deny it, the resemblance was undeniable, after all, but it still struck him as something ... very strange. Abilities couldn’t affect Dazai because as soon as they came in contact with him, No Longer Human immediately nullified any effect they could ever have on him. Accordingly, it couldn't have been the influence of any ability. Besides, according to the weretiger, the boy hadn't spoken a single word so far, so he couldn't have told them that either.
“His ability is still working,” the boy explained immediately, patting his neck once, “and Yosano did a few tests and examinations. She says it's definitely Dazai, or at least a perfect younger copy of him.”
It wasn't like Chuuya didn't believe him - it was just that it was difficult to.
He took another look at the small figure in front of his eyes before sighing softly.
“Okay. And how can I help?” Why should he even help?
The person addressed shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
“I know our organizations are not really friends, but we have a truce and ... it would be really great if ... I thought, maybe you can think of something? After all, you've known each other for so long.”
Chuuya sighed before leaning a little onto the table before bending over it as much as his position allowed him to. He was relatively good with children, after all, he hadn't been the head of the Sheep for nothing.
“Oi, kid. You still eating that?”
The boy looked at him attentively with his big, brown eye. Chuuya took off his hat and placed it on the table next to him.
“I really like strawberries, you know?” He continued, trying to sound extra calm and friendly while he took off one of his gloves before reaching for the boy's plate. He peeled one of the strawberries off the child's cake and put it in his mouth.
“Mmm, it tastes really good! Have you tried it yet?”
The child didn't reply, it just kept looking at him.
Chuuya was not discouraged by this - he was already used to children being suspicious and not answering directly. So he stole another strawberry from the cake, although he wasn’t really all that hungry, and chewed on it.
“You should try it, it's really delicious,” he smiled gently before getting up and walking around the table, only to crouch on the floor next to the little one so that they could see eye to eye, at least roughly. The boy had followed his movements suspiciously and was still looking at him with skepticism, though he also still refrained from moving too much.
Chuuya just kept smiling, even trying to smile a little more.
“My name is Chuuya, Nakahara Chuuya. And yours?”
The boy didn't reply.
“You know, the big boy over there, the one with the white hair, says your name is Osamu Dazai. Is that correct? You don't have to answer me if you don't want to. But I would like to be able to address you somehow, by a name, I mean. Otherwise I could just give you a name.”
Playfully thoughtful, he tilted his head, propped it up on his hand. He rested his arm on his thigh. The boy's gaze never departed from his.
“Hmmm, you sulk a bit like a fish. How about Mackerel?”
The corners of the little one's mouth twitched and Chuuya knew he had him now. He tried not to show his joy.
“I think that suits you. Mackerel. What do you think, pal? Mackerel is pretty f-”
“Shūji.”
Chuuya paused when the boy interrupted him. Shūji? He had never heard that name before. Briefly he gave the protégé Dazai's a questioning look, but the latter looked at him with a mixture of confusion and astonishment.
“Shūji?” Chuuya repeated and the boy looked at him again, shortly before he looked away. That seemed to be his way of confirming the Mafioso's statement.
“I see. Glad to meet you, Shūji. How old are you?”
Shūji remained silent - at first Chuuya feared that the boy would now fall completely silent again. Not that he could blame him, he didn't expect the little one to immediately tell him all of his secrets, his life story, or anything like that. He wasn't expecting anything at all. In all honesty, he didn't even begin to wonder what he should think about this entire situation. What if it was just a stupid prank? Although, the white-haired boy didn't really look like a good liar and Chuuya's knowledge of human behaviour was actually quite good, or so he’d like to believe. No, he didn't expect him to do something like that. But still. It wasn't an ability, that much was clear. Then what could trigger something like that? Who or what could turn the idiotic bastard into ... a toddler? A young child? It was hard to guess his age.
“Six,” the boy muttered softly, almost so quietly that he didn't hear him.
But only almost.
“What, six? No way! Then you’re almost all grown up by now, huh?”
Shūji did not reply, but Chuuya was feeling more confident now.
“Say, Shūji, do you like strawberries too?” When there was no answer, he smiled a little wider.
“But you must like crabs, don't you?” The boy's head shot automatically in his direction, even if just a little bit, and his smile widened triumphantly. He knew that would work. Back when Dazai was still his partner, he quite literally only ever ate canned crabs and sweets when they were together. It was almost sad when Chuuya had visited him in his shipping container and found the huge pile of empty cans there. At least he ate something, Chuuya had stated with resignation at the time.
“That's what I thought. Hey, how about I invite you to a plate of crabs?” The boy seemed to hesitate before looking around the bakery. Chuuya patiently waited for an answer, which finally came. Shūji got up and for a moment Chuuya felt the need to hug the little child, something that surprised him mildly. He was rather small for his age – not like Chuuya was the one to point that out.
“Is that a yes?”
Shūji nodded. Chuuya turned to the white-haired boy who had been quiet up to this moment and who was now looking at him with wide eyes.
“Wow, I don't know how you did it,” he just mumbled, “but thanks. Really. Is it okay if...? I mean, I can trust you with him, right? Surely you will not harm him... right?”
Almost indignant, Chuuya rose completely.
“Oi, listen! I may be with the Port Mafia, but that doesn't mean I'm just going to kidnap some poor, innocent child without any reason for it! Really, who do you think I am? Mori?” He snapped at him as quietly as possible, after all he didn't want to scare off the few guests who were in this bakery.
“Sorry, I didn't mean it like that,” the taller one seemed to feel really bad, which is why Chuuya just sighed in exasperation, “it’s just, if it’s actually Dazai-”
“Well, weretiger-”
“Atsushi is just fine,” the boy interrupted him almost harshly and finally Chuuya had a name to call him by. He was starting to feel a little silly, childish even, if he was being honest, always thinking “weretiger” or “white-haired boy” as if there wasn't anything else outstanding about this boy. Well, not like he’d know, it’s not like they’ve met each other all that often.
“I would even prefer Atsushi a lot,” Atsushi, as Chuuya now knew, continued mumbling, “oh, it doesn't matter. Can I give you my number so that we can keep in touch?”
“Sure, I guess.”
Chuuya really did not give a damn. He should probably be more worried about this, right? Oh, he really didn't care enough.
The two ability users quickly exchanged their numbers before Chuuya held out his hand towards Dazai, no, Shūji. It didn't surprise him that he didn't take it, so he put on his hat instead.
“Tell me, Shūji, where are your parents?” He asked the child when he left the bakery with him.
When the boy didn't reply, he added, “I'm sure they're worried, don't you think so?”
Of course he knew that Shūji - or rather Dazai, he should definitely try to find out more about this confusing names situation when he had the time - had lost contact to any legal guardians, otherwise he would certainly not have ended up in the mafia, but maybe he could get some information out of the child.
“It must be strange for you, isn’t it? When two strange men suddenly take care of you?”
Shūji was silent and Chuuya barely suppressed a sigh.
He wasn't surprised that the younger one didn't speak to him, of course not, after all he was a quasi-stranger to him, but at the same time he wondered why he was accompanying him at all. Well, maybe Shūji just needed a little more time to get used to him, to warm up to him. Chuuya didn't blame him.
How long would Dazai stay like that, though? He could only wonder. Hopefully not forever, that’d be anything but good. Well, it would of course be a brutal blow to the ADA and in that sense good for the Port Mafia, especially if they could get their hands on him again because he was too small to defend himself or get away again now, but at the same time ... Chuuya would deny should anyone ever ask him about it, but he didn't want Dazai to come back to the mafia, especially not as a child. Especially not if it meant that Mori would get his hands back on him.
He hardly admitted that he missed him. That he felt abandoned and even betrayed. But he noticed that the bastard was doing better in the ADA. That he laughed more, even when Chuuya was pretty sure it wasn't always very honest. And also, even if Chuuya himself was corrupted and beyond saving, then that didn’t automatically mean that he wished other people to be the same. Besides, it was better for Dazai when he was no longer directly under Mori's control.
The time in the mafia had broken him completely while simultaneously putting him back together again – but obviously it didn't do the same thing to Dazai, and he was glad about it. Although he’d always hate Dazai for everything he’d put him through. Chuuya might be loyal and stubborn, some might even dare to call him too trusting, but forgiving and forgetting wasn't exactly one of his strengths.
The delicate voice of Shūji, which he almost overheard, tore him out of his thoughts.
“I don't know,” he muttered, “where my parents are. But I don't really care either. I woke up and the boy from before was there. I don't know what happened, I don't really care. And I don't think I really have any other choice than to follow you.”
How old was Daza-Shūji again? Six? It amazed Chuuya how well he was already able to express himself.
“You don’t care?”
When the boy did not reply, even after a few moments of silence, Chuuya decided that he would not dig any further - for the time being.
“Huh, I think I understand. That must have been pretty scary, right? For you, I mean. When you wake up and suddenly don't even know where you are, surrounded by strangers... that sounds pretty scary to me. I would've been scared shitless.”
He didn't even try not to swear – it wasn't like it actually mattered, right?
Chuuya looked down in surprise when Shūji suddenly clung to his coat with his tiny hand. He seemed to be freezing, something Chuuya only noticed now. He wasn't even wearing a jacket. Why didn't the child complain before? Or at least mention anything about it?
Almost immediately, Chuuya paused before taking off his scarf and wrapping it around the boy instead. The child looked at him in surprise, his eye widened.
“Aren't you cold at all? You must be freezing. Come on. How about if we go to my place and I order you crabs instead of going to a restaurant?”
Hadn't anyone taught this brat not to go with strangers? It really didn't surprise him that Dazai would do this as a little kid. He must have always been both stupid and suicidal. But now that he was suddenly almost cute, Chuuya unfortunately worried.
“... Okay,” the boy replied a little more quietly, but his hand did not let go of the coat. With his other hand he grabbed the scarf and buried his nose in it.
Unfortunately, that was too cute, damn it! Who allowed this bastard to act all cute and shy? Chuuya hated to admit it but he had a soft spot for things and beings he deemed “cute” – puppies, for example, but apparently also this brat. Amazing. That definitely wouldn’t cause him any issues later on.
Now with a child in tow, Chuuya headed home again. He tried to hurry up a little as he didn't want to expose the child to the merciless weather for longer than necessary.
Still, it took him much longer than usual to get home - which was understandable, after all, the six-year-old had short legs which was to be expected for his age. Admittedly, Chuuya was amused that Dazai was now the smaller one, but for the boy's sake he refrained from making any comments. He didn't want to scare Shūji off again, now that he finally seemed to trust him somewhat. No, that was probably a bit hasty – of course the smaller one didn't actually trust him, it was like he said earlier, he didn't really have a choice. But still. He seemed to warm up to him at least slowly and he really didn't want to ruin that with a stupid joke or something like that.
Shūji certainly didn't complain about the cold, something Chuuya gave him credit for on the one hand, but on the other hand he couldn't prevent his heart from contracting a little at the thought that the boy might already be used to it. He really didn’t know anything about his former partner’s upbringing – though he had always thought he was a little too sensitive to be a former street kid like Chuuya. Then again, he’d always been a good actor and Chuuya was certain he often dramatically exaggerated his discomfort to annoy others. He had a pretty high pain tolerance, after all.
After finally arriving in the hallway of his flat, the redhead quickly took off his outer clothing, meaning his coat and shoes, before he helped the now more noticeably trembling Shūji out of his little shoes and took off his scarf. To his amazement, Shūji seemed reluctant to give it back.
“You can keep it if you want, but I still have to hang it up to dry.”
As so often, Chuuya didn't really know how to read his former partner's gaze. It was a little bit more embarrassing that he couldn’t do it now as he was a child, though.
Unfortunately, Chuuya could not offer Shūji any suitable slippers, but he noticed due to the shaking body of the boy that he would definitely have to put him into other clothes. At the very least he couldn't let him keep walking around in whatever it was that Atsushi had picked out for him while looking like he was about to freeze himself to death. Thus, while the boy looked around his hallway with his teeth chattering from the cold, Chuuya went straight to his bedroom to see if he had at least something for the boy to wear, though he was fairly certain anything he owned would be too big for him. Depending on how long the little one would stay with him, he would have to go buy new clothes, but for now he definitely owed him some tasty crabs, warm clothes, and a hopefully not too conspicuous interrogation.
He finally found a black T-shirt that said “PARTNERS IN WINE” right next to the picture of a wine bottle - Dazai had given it to him as a joke when they were younger. It would only be appropriate if he gave this terrible aberration of a shirt to his younger self, wouldn't it? After all, his older version had given Chuuya this shameful, anything but stylish top. At this point the executive simply ignored the fact that he had still not thrown it away.
After looking for a few seconds, he also found socks for the little one that should at least not slip right off of his feet - at first he thought about bathing the boy, but maybe he should first ask him if that would be okay for him.
“Chuuya?”
He almost dropped the shirt and socks in shock. Inwardly he could only scold himself - he should be able to be more careful and attentive! Really, he shouldn't be so surprised by a little dwarf. But he hadn’t expected the brat to follow him into his room.
“What is it, kid?” Chuuya asked after recovering from his near-heart attack.
“... I like your apartment.”
Chuuya hadn't expected that - he tried not to let his amazement at these words appear directly on his face. Instead, he gave the younger one a hopefully friendly smile.
“Thanks, I like it, too. Obviously. I mean, I'm living here, after all, it would suck if I didn't like it. Hey, kiddo, tell me, you must be cold. How about if I ran you a warm bath? Can you bathe yourself on your own?”
Almost defiantly, the child crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Of course I can.”
Chuuya was definitely a tad too happy that the boy's voice was beginning to sound a little livelier and more confident than before. He also talked to him more, even went out of his way to start a conversation with him. That made Chuuya breathe a sigh of relief, something the boy seemed to misunderstand - Chuuya spoke quickly so as he would not have to explain that it reassured him that Shūji was just being a little shy at first and wasn't actually that, well, almost dead inside… without wanting to sound dramatic or anything.
“All right, I'll run you a bath, then. Can you get out of your wet clothes by yourself? And would you like to take off your bandages?”
The last question he asked casually, but it did interest him more than he was trying to show - he dared to doubt the child's body looked as violated as his ex-partner's, but that didn't stop him from wondering what a child needed that many bandages for.
“Of course I can,” the boy just repeated defiantly again - perhaps too bolshy for his age - and Chuuya had to hold back his amused snort. “Well then, I'll leave you to it.”
Chuuya crossed the hallway of his house one more time to get into the bathroom. Once there, he switched on the light, because even if it was still relatively early, it was a cold winter day and correspondingly not too bright outside. He could use the extra light. Besides, it wasn’t like his tiny window was capable of lighting up the entire room anyway.
For a rather long moment he was a little upset with himself for not owning anything that could make the bathroom more comfortable for the little boy, no water paint, no toys to play with in the tub, not even a rubber duck, nothing – but then again, it wasn’t like he had any reason to own that kind of stuff. He hoped the extra foam and bubbles would make up for it anyway. He poured the bath additive generously into the bathtub before turning on the warm water and measured the temperature with his wrist - it shouldn't be too hot for a child, right? Chuuya’s never been too good with temperatures, he often overestimated other peoples’ abilities to deal with extreme temperatures.
He shrugged once before turning around to find Shūji standing in the doorway. The sight of it made Chuuya laugh. Honestly, sincerely laugh. The younger one glared at him with almost angry eyes, but Chuuya really couldn't take it seriously. Not when he was standing there with his feet trapped in his pants and the top around his neck. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't stop laughing. It was just too funny.
Under other circumstances he might have felt bad about laughing at a little kid, but right now he couldn't care less. It was just too cute. Chuuya didn't deny it - Dazai was cute, at least now that he was so young and little. It was hard to even imagine that the badly dressed brat was the loudmouth Dazai - although he had to admit that the two looked amazingly alike. The younger one had the same big eyes, only Chuuya didn’t even think they were as empty as usual. No, the light in them didn't seem to have burned out as much as they did when Dazai was fifteen. He couldn't stop his chest from tightening a bit. Whether from jealousy or the pain that it had come to this in the first place, he couldn't tell.
Maybe he should take advantage of this, find out as much as possible about his stubborn ex-partner in order to get back at him for everything he had done to the older Mafioso. He definitely deserved it.
But when he looked into the boy's eyes, which were sparkling with anger and shame, he couldn't bring himself to tease him. Instead, he helped him get out of the top.
“Do you need help with the bandages?”
It took a while, but when Dazai- no, Shūji was finally undressed and freed from the bandages, Chuuya helped him into the bathtub. He tried not to wonder about some of these scars and wounds on the small body, that was something he could worry about later.
He ignored the fact that he shouldn’t even worry about it in the first place. It was none of his business, after all.
When his little foot came into contact with the hot water, he jerked back a bit, but since he wasn't complaining out loud, Chuuya just hoped the water wasn't too hot after all. As soon as the boy was sitting in the tub, Chuuya informed him that he would be checking up on him in fifteen minutes and that if he needed help, then he should just call him. With these words he left the bathroom and sat down in the kitchen.
Chuuya took a deep breath.
He hadn't the faintest idea how to deal with this whole situation, let alone what to think about it. It all seemed so surreal. Question after question popped up in his mind - how did that happen? Who was this little child who was now sitting there in his bathtub? Was it really Dazai? Why did he call himself Shūji? And why did he even agree to take him in in the first place?
Chuuya really needed to learn more about all of these things. What should he be thinking? How should he react? How should things go on now? There he sat, face buried in his hands in the dimly lit kitchen, unsure of what to do, what to think, feeling almost pathetic because something as stupid as that confused him so much.
He decided to stop overthinking for a minute and at least order the poor soul the promised food. It wasn’t like he had any idea what else he could do right now.
After making that phone call – he ordered some gyoza for Dazai and a small dish for himself as he wasn't really feeling hungry and he preferred to cook for himself than to eat out or order something, thanks to his dearest Kouyou, he was capable of taking care of himself and he valued a somewhat healthy lifestyle – Chuuya put down his phone again and took another deep breath.
He couldn't help himself – as he deeply breathed in, his gaze wandered off and while he stared into the endless nothingness, a quiet voice whispered in the back of his head. He was trying to ignore it, he really was, but what was he supposed to do when everything around him had been too quiet today? All he wanted to do today was relax and prepare for the next couple of days. Work was going to be tough. Instead, he ended up with some bratty child in his bathtub. Wonderful. Since when was he living the life of his boss? And in Chuuya’s case, it wasn’t even something he particularly enjoyed or willingly engaged in.
Ah, that wasn’t funny. Scolding himself in his mind, he got up again and made his way to his wine cabinet. He wasn't about to get drunk– he couldn't even drink all that much, begrudgingly registering that he was, indeed, a lightweight – even if he would deny it if anyone ever was bold enough to mention it – but maybe some alcohol would calm his nerves down. Seriously, Chuuya was way too young for all of this drama. He was only twenty-two and this close to going bald because of Dazai.
Leave it to Dazai to ruin his day without even doing much... well, he certainly had to have done something to end up the way he was now, way younger than before. That is, if it was actually him. It’s not like Chuuya had any reason to completely trust the ADA’s doctor. But it also wasn’t like they had any reason to lie to him about something as absurd as this. Hell, he doubted they were creative enough to come up with a scheme like this. Dazai loved to dress up as random civilians or even things to annoy him, sure, but this was something that he shouldn’t be capable of. Thus, he himself was fairly certain that the young boy had to be Dazai. However that may be possible.
Taking out one of his less expensive wine bottles – as this definitely wasn't an occasion that'd justify him opening one of the more pricey bottles from his collection – he quickly poured some of the red liquid into his wine glass, taking a sip and sighing softly.
It was late in the afternoon only, not even evening yet, but Chuuya couldn't help it. He was tired already. His day off was now officially wasted taking care of some random brat that happened to be Dazai. He didn't even know how long this whole affair would drag on. Obviously Chuuya had no choice but to take care of the shrunken dwarf and hope that Atsushi would get in touch with him soon with news.
He stopped. Would it be very mean of him if he gave Akutagawa the number of Dazai's new protégé? He was really tired of listening to the dark-haired man rant the whole time. Weretiger here, weretiger there. Really, it was even more annoying than all the talk about his precious but also dearly hated “Dazai-san”. Did Akutagawa even know how obsessive he was at times? Or was it maybe even normal, in a twisted way? No, this could not be. Something was wrong with the poor boy. Well, he had been a subordinate of Dazai, of course there was something wrong with him. Chuuya was too tired to care.
Gosh, he definitely was being too salty towards his poor subordinate today. It wasn't his fault that he got pretty passive-aggressive when he was tired or overworked. Maybe he should ask Kouyou if he could take a day off tomorrow, too. Hopefully, this whole situation would be solved by tomorrow, maybe he would have time to relax then. Though, he wasn't as suicidal as the waste of bandages, which basically meant he definitely wouldn't call up Kouyou one day prior of the day he wanted to get off. Definitely not. Especially not with how busy work had been lately.
He sighed again. Why was he sighing all the time? Stupid. God, he felt so stupid.
It took about ten minutes until he had quietly emptied his glass while he was scrolling through social media - he was already feeling a little lighter, which was probably a sign that he had had enough for today. After putting the glass away, he went to the bathroom to check on the boy. It was awfully quiet.
When he entered the bathroom, he paused. Not a second later, sheer panic overcame him and he shot forward, reached into the still quite warm water and fished for the boy who was completely submerged.
He got a hold of him and practically dragged the poor boy back to the surface. His bathtub wasn't too big, let alone deep, but apparently it was enough for a mini Dazai to try and drown himself.
Really, Dazai was such an idiot! Already this suicidal as a damn brat!
Said brat wriggled like an animal that feared to be eaten, he splashed almost wildly around him. But Chuuya ignored for the time being how soaked himself and the bathroom were, because Shūji coughed. His small body shook terribly and Chuuya couldn't help but want to hug him. God, he sure was moody today.
“Are you nuts?!”
Chuuya was beside himself with worry and so he did what he did best - get angry. At least that’s probably what that idiot would say.
He was thinking about Dazai way too much today. Then again, that wasn’t really his fault, considering who was sitting mere inches in front of him right now.
“Really, you can't just-”
The child's trembling cough interrupted him and he paused. The boy looked at him with large, almost fearful eyes and immediately his heart contracted.
“I just wanted to see how long I can hold my breath,” he mumbled and Chuuya would love to facepalm himself.
How stupid he was! Of course, the six year old wasn't as suicidal as his adult version. Of course, he wasn't trying to drown himself in some random man's bathtub.
And now he had scared the poor child too. Crap.
Shūji was sitting at the other end of the tub, as far away as possible from what he probably thought was a large and angry adult. The foam in his hair made him look even smaller.
Chuuya didn’t know what to say for a moment.
“... You scared me.”
Chuuya took a deep breath before attempting a reassuring smile.
“Excuse me, I'm sure I scared you, too, right? That wasn't my intention.”
The child was silent, just looked at him with wide eyes, still trembling. Chuuya could imagine how fast his little heart had to be beating and shameful guilt washed over him.
“It's just that I know someone who regularly tries to- ah, doesn't matter. I shouldn't have scared you like that, I'm really sorry. You okay?”
Gradually he began to fear that Shūji would never say a single word again, although of course he also knew somewhere deep down that he was being a bit dramatic. The boy was frightened, of course he would be silent for now.
“... Well, how long can you hold your breath?”
The boy was quiet for a few seconds.
“... a minute, I think.”
“What, really? A minute? Until I interrupted you or before that?”
“Until you interrupted me.”
“No way.”
“Yes way! It's true!”
“Show me and I'll believe you ... maybe.”
Some time later, Shūji was dressed warmly, cuddled up on the couch in front of the television, while Chuuya was busy cutting his food for him so that he’d be able to eat it more easily despite knowing that he was probably too old for that already.
Shūji was able to hold his breath for almost a minute, by the way, which was pretty impressive considering the fact that he was six. However, when one considers that Dazai could hold his breath for ten minutes, if not longer, it was a little bit less impressive by comparison. Chuuya had already been proud of his two minutes when he was younger, but of course Dazai had to be better than him at everything.
Well, objectively speaking, he knew that wasn't true. There were many things that Chuuya was way better at than Dazai. For example, he was a better fighter. He was more careful and endured more, he was the better cook too. He was better with children in the long run, he obviously looked better, and his hair was much softer. He was better at many things. Yet, in Dazai's presence it seemed like none of that mattered.
He hated him. So much.
But how could he hate that little boy who was sitting there so peacefully on the couch, cuddling up and watching some cartoon that was currently on TV like a normal child? Even if he remembered what things this little boy would eventually do once he was older, he just couldn't bring himself to blame him. He was just a child, and Chuuya had a soft spot for children.
Besides, he knew that Dazai wasn't the monster he saw in himself every time he looked into the mirror. He knew that Dazai was so much more than that. He knew about the soft smiles the taller one never seemed to notice, the ones that always appeared on his face whenever he was sure nobody was watching. The soft, small, and honest ones he didn't even notice whenever his favorite song was playing. He knew the way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about his dearest late friend, Oda, or the way he bit his lower lip whenever he was scheming something, the awfully insidious twinkle in his eyes that came with it. Chuuya knew the way he quietly hummed to himself as soon as he broke into his apartment, thinking Chuuya was still on duty and he knew the look of genuine confusion on his face when he was proved wrong, and he also loved to catch him off-guard when he returned the favor and hid the most random things in Dazai’s apartment. He knew the way he tensed up before overly compensating with a clownish act as soon as he realized he was showing or had shown actual emotions. Chuuya knew Dazai, he prided himself with knowing what he was like at his worst and yet, he never told anyone. He lied to himself, trying to convince himself that it wasn't because he knew Dazai trusted him, it wasn't because he didn't want to let him down, didn't want to hurt him or whatever, that it was because he saw no use in it or because he wouldn't stoop that low just to embarrass his former partner, that he was too mature for their younger selves’ shenanigans. It definitely wasn't because it made him feel... well, something that Dazai allowed himself to let Chuuya see him at his weakest. He probably did it to manipulate him again, anyway, to use him. Or that's what he said. Chuuya knew that Dazai craved to be understood, he craved for the loving embrace of someone. He was just terrified. Terrified of being vulnerable, terrified of commitment, terrified of being hurt again.
No, Dazai wasn't a monster. He was just a scared and traumatised overgrown child, just like everyone else was deep down. His ex-partner just dealt with this by being an absolute ass most of the time.
He hated him.
“There you go. I hope you like it.”
To please the child, he had put a few more shrimps on the plate as a small little extra - he knew what Dazai liked and what he didn't like.
“Thank you.”
Shūji began to eat his meal, putting the plate next to him on the couch and Chuuya would have loved scold him for it, simply because he absolutely didn't like it as it was way too risky for him, he didn't want any stains on his beautiful and expensive couch, but he suppressed all reactions and hurried quickly into the kitchen to get his own food. He had scared the child enough for today. As soon as that had happened, he sat down next to Shūji on the couch and grabbed his cell phone to see if he had any new messages. He had.
''Chuuya-san, please excuse the disturbance! (*_ _)人 I hope everything went well so far! Yosano doesn't really know much more, but she thinks this whole situation might take a little longer to be resolved.''
''Did you manage to get more information out of Dazai-san?''
''Just maybe?''
''(〃＞＿＜;〃)''
'' Oh, by the way, this is Nakajima Atsushi. (´• ω •`)ﾉ''
"But I think you were already able to guess that…"
'' Hahaha… sorry for the spam.''
''Yosano found abnormalities in his blood! She thinks it could be some drug?''
''How strange. I’ve never heard of a drug like that.''
''Have you?''
''I mean, you are with the Port Mafia, after all.''
''Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you’re an expert on drugs because of this… or that your organization has anything to do with it.''
''How is he doing?''
He was already regretting giving the boy his number. Honestly, it reminded him of the way Dazai texted him – though, with Dazai, it was definitely way more complicated than that. Sometimes, he would spam for hours on end, using the dumbest kaomoji imaginable. Then, he ghosted people for weeks on end, left them on delivered and never answered his phone. Really, it was like playing Russian roulette. Yet, he was already used to Dazai texting him like that. With Atsushi, on the other hand... It definitely was kind of annoying. He would definitely give Akutagawa his number. Or, just maybe, he should give Atsushi the younger man’s number, just to annoy the heck out of him. It might end up being amusing. Gosh. Did he spend too much time with Dazai? Well, he knew for a fact he didn’t. And yet, it seemed like the brown-haired mess was rubbing off on him anyway. He held back an annoyed sigh.
Apparently, his face seemed to give away just that.
“Is everything okay, Chuuya?”
Shūji looked at him with a piercing gaze and for a moment, Chuuya felt like he was staring directly into his soul. Then again, Shūji was just a kid and the worst thing he could probably find there wasn't as important to Chuuya.
“Ah, yes, I'm sorry if I startled you. Everything's fine.”
If Shūji didn't believe him, he didn't show it. Still, Chuuya felt bad for lying because the boy didn’t seem convinced, he didn’t want to push him away again.
“It's nothing, really, just- the boy who introduced you to me keeps spamming me. As I said, don't worry, okay?”
Finally, the boy nodded and they continued to eat in comfortable silence while watching TV. Chuuya hadn't watched the cartoon that was playing in ages – he couldn't help but feel slightly amused by the almost fascinated expression of the younger one next to him.
After a while, with both of them already having finished their food and the late afternoon changing into early evening, Chuuya felt himself dozing off a bit. Was he really that old that he took a nap while watching cartoons with a kid? He was only twenty-two, after all.
“Chuuya, who's this Osamu-guy that the other boy kept mixing me up with?”
Chuuya paused – his tired brain needed a moment to comprehend.
“Oh, that's... well, that's someone you somewhat resemble. Don't worry about it.”
“The woman called me Osamu, too.”
“What woman?”
“The one with the butterfly hair clip.”
What woman with what butterfly hair clip? Chuuya tried to concentrate, to remember if any agent of the detective agency wore some accessories. The agency didn't have many female employees, though, if he remembered correctly.
“I think she was a doctor. She ran some tests on me,” Shūji continued, almost mumbling and Chuuya remembered.
“Oh. She did?”
“Yeah, I think everyone thinks I’m him.”
“Huh.”
“Why do they think I'm him? Who is he?”
“Well, he's... a friend of ours. Or something like that. Please don't worry about it, okay? I know it's easier said than done but it's no use worrying, lad. 'Kay?”
Shūji didn't respond but Chuuya decided to seize the opportunity. But before he could start asking questions about the small boy next to him, he looked up at him with an unreadable expression.
“Why did you take me in?”
Again, Chuuya paused. He wasn't quite sure how to answer this question.
“It's because of this Osamu, right? You also confused me with him. But it isn't like a grown up man to take in some random kid without any intentions. Tell me, Chuuya, what are your intentions with me?”
Chuuya looked at him, puzzled.
“Hah?”
Shūji's expression didn't falter in the slightest.
“You fed me, you gave me new clothes, you bathed me, and now you're letting me watch TV. What for?”
Chuuya didn't know how to respond. He couldn't just say “yeah, so, you're this guy I know who was shrunken or something and is now a clueless six-year-old” but he also had a feeling that Shūji wouldn't just let the topic slide. He also felt like he kind of owed him an explanation. In fact, he could imagine how weird and creepy it must be for this small child to be at the mercy of a total stranger.
“Well, it's complicated,” Chuuya started, trying to hide his annoyance - if not frustration - about even having to have this talk with him, “I don't really know what to say. You see, Atsushi's a … well, not exactly friend, let's just say a colleague of mine and I promised him to take care of you until he knows more about whatever is going on... because he believes you showing up might have something to do with a case of ours. I basically know just as much as you do. But why don't you tell me more about you? Maybe who your parents are so we can try to reach them?” Not like Chuuya was actually going to do that.
“I know you won't do that.” He was completely deadpan. “You could've just called the police when you found me and yet, you didn't. You're not going to try to contact my parents.”
Chuuya wasn't sure whether to be impressed or annoyed by this child's conclusions as, while he wasn't wrong, he was being somewhat cheeky.
“Atsushi's a detective,” he said while rolling his eyes, trying hard not to be annoyed by the lack of information that the brat was giving him, “so he's working on it. Involving the police would be unnecessarily complicated.”
“You cannot go to the police because you're in the mafia,” Shūji continued, seemingly ignoring everything the older one had said.
Chuuya paused.
“...yes, I am. Damn it, you annoying brat, why are you asking me questions if you're already answering them yourself?”
“I want to see if you're lying to me and if, to what extent.”
Stupid smartass.
“Okay, well, listen up now, you brat. I don't know how to explain this to you but I don't have any answers, either.” Chuuya tried his hardest to remain calm, softly kneading his wrists. “All I can say is that I've got to take care of you until that stupid tigerboy can think of something better, okay? Seriously, you're fucking annoying.”
It took him a moment to realise what he'd said and why the boy was now quiet. He even avoided looking into his face, instead tracing the pattern of the blanket on his lap.
“...look, I didn't mean it like that. It's just- You know, grown-ups hate it when they can't answer questions, when they don't know what to say. It's got nothing to do with you, I'm sorry for taking it out on you. You're- you're not annoying, I'm annoyed by myself.”
Even though Shūji didn't respond, Chuuya was sure he was listening to him. Hell, this was getting way more complicated than expected. He did not sign up for this kind of bullshit.
“Kid, I'm sorry, really. I didn't mean to scare ya.”
“You didn't.” He looked at Chuuya, deadpan. “You're less scary than I expected someone from the mafia to be, that's all.”
“Haaaaaaa?! You are… urghs, cheeky brat!”
And yet, Chuuya couldn't help but laugh, partly because he was relieved the boy wasn’t as upset anymore. What a stupid brat Dazai had always been.
“Now, would you like to finally introduce yourself probably or do I have to act like the bad Mafioso that I am and force you to spill the beans, huh?” Chuuya joked and it seemed like the boy next to him was slowly relaxing again, getting more comfortable.
“While I'd like to see you try,” what a rascal, Chuuya couldn't help but think, “I think I'll try to introduce myself properly. I'm Shūji. Tsushima Shūji. I'm six years old and I was born in Goshogawara. My father's a politician and my mother's constantly in the hospital. My aunt taught me how to read. I like to draw and crabs.”
Chuuya blinked. He couldn't believe how easily this little boy was telling him all of this when his older counterpart, Dazai, never spoke about his childhood.
“I'll start school soon,” the boy continued, “and then my father would like me to study something that’s similar to what he’s doing. My brother's seventeen and is studying politics. He used to play hide and seek with me. My parents won't even notice that I'm gone because I'm their problem child and they're never home anyway. I think they're relieved, even. The maids probably think I'm pulling a prank on them again.”
The boy softly shook his head.
“I don't want to go home. I like staying with you. You count the seconds of how long I can hold my breath while I’m underwater and you order me tasty food. You even gave me your scarf even though it's cold outside. You're nice to me and you let me watch cartoons. You even watch them with me. I'd rather stay by your side than go back home to these mean servants who constantly bully and harass me.”
Chuuya didn't know how to respond, he really didn't. It was almost like Shūji was begging him to let him stay.
“You haven't bullied or harassed me yet and even though you're supposed to be mean and evil, you're one of the nicest people I've ever met.”
The child finally looked at him but the seriousness in his eyes almost made him choke.
“Let me stay at your place, Chuuya. You won't even notice I'm here and I will even play with you if you want me to. I can't cook but I am good at learning. And I promise I won't cause any problems.”
Was this child being serious? Why did he sound so desperate? Chuuya didn't know how to react. Didn't Chuuya already tell him that he was going to take care of him for the time being?
“Ay, calm down, will ya? I already told you that I'm taking care of you until we know more.”
Shūji looked at him, almost seeming puzzled.
“But I told you my name and where I was born. Shouldn't you be able to track down my family...?”
Goddamnit.
“Well, yes, technically speaking... but I mean, Atsushi thinks there's probably more to this and... yeah, I mentioned that case and... I guess I don't- you can stay here for now.” Chuuya finished his sentence lamely, already exhausted by the idea of having a child around for an unknown amount of time. He liked kids, he really did and he prided himself with the fact that he was good at looking after them but at the same time, he was a busy man, he was way too young for this kind of responsibility – the role of a permanent caretaker instead of a babysitter – and this wasn't any child. It was Dazai. If anyone from the Port Mafia caught wind of this, it'd turn into a much bigger deal than it already was. Really, he wasn't the right candidate to look after this younger version of his ex-partner, not even in the slightest. Shūji seemed to be a nice kid but how was he supposed to explain this to Kouyou, or worse, Mori? If Mori caught wind of this, he’d be in big trouble for hiding it from him, and then everything would be...
Chuuya didn’t dare to finish that thought.
But the devastating smile he got from the little one was everything he needed to make a final decision.
“Give me a minute, will you? I gotta call my supervisor real quick.”
“The mafia boss?”
“Jesus, no. A co-worker of mine. Gimme a minute, okay? I gotta pretend to be sick so we can go shopping tomorrow, she definitely won’t give me a day off on such short notice. You need more clothes. I can't let you walk around in my oversized clothes or the ones Atsushi picked out for you.”
Shūji smiled at him. It made his heart ache.
“Okay! Thanks, sir.”
“No need to get all formal, lad. Just, I don't know, continue to call me Chuuya, ‘kay?”
“Okay. I planned on doing so anyway.”
“Fucking brat.”
“That's a curse word, sir.”
“Don't pretend to suddenly care or else, I'll show you what a real member of the mafia is capable of!”
They looked at each other for a minute before Shūji started cackling and Chuuya couldn't help it, he also began laughing. He didn't fail to notice how sweet the younger one's laugh was, though. He was such a sweet kid. How did this rascal turn into that suicidal maniac?
“Really? What are you going to do then, Chuuya? Kick my head in?”
Chuuya grinned.
“Oh, trust me, kiddo, I'm going to do something far worse.”
And because he knew his former partner, his grin turned somewhat twisted, mimicking that evil grin of his boss.
“I'm going to hang you upside down and spin you until you puke. And then I'll tickle you until you pass out.”
Shūji looked at him, his eyes widening before he laughed.
“I'm sorry, please don't!”
“That's what I thought, you smartass.”
“I'm not a smartass!”
“You most definitely are. And now hush, I've got to make a phone call.”